S.R. 1391, April 27
Frodo opened his eyes and looked around. His desk had been cleared of books and papers and even his favorite carved animals; in their place were a pitcher and cups, a large bowl, some small towels, and a variety of strange packets and small bags. The window was shuttered against the bright afternoon sun. The big, overstuffed chair from the parlor had been brought into his room, as had one of the 'Big Folk' chairs; and the hearth now glowed with a steady, crackling fire. The flames seemed to be wavering about more than was good for them... everything was... He closed his eyes tightly for a moment. Everything was spinning.
He still felt cold, and the heat from the now-crackling fire in his room's fireplace felt so good on his face. He looked up as Bilbo came into the room carrying a tray containing several mugs.
"Oh Bilbo," Frodo sighed. "This must be the dizzy, shivery part that you told me about."
Bilbo smiled and sat down next to him on the bed.
"Yes," he agreed. "Here, sit up a bit, my lad. This is just apple juice. You need to drink as much as you possibly can."
Bilbo slid another pillow behind Frodo's head and shoulders. Keeping the blankets nicely tucked around him, Bilbo helped Frodo to drink the warmed, sweet juice.
"And now a bit of soup. Drink it slowly, that's it."
"Where is everyone?"
"Let me think." Bilbo alternated feeding Frodo the warm, nourishing soup, with pieces of bread spread thickly with jam and honey. He knew the boy wouldn't be interested in eating for too much longer.
"Gandalf dragged Aragorn out of here and back to his room, although he wanted to stay." Frodo finished the soup and lay back, smiling at the mental picture of the wizard dragging Aragorn away. "...and then he went to have a bit of a talk with Master Hamfast about... plants and herbs. He said he was also going to wander into Hobbiton for a talk with some folks, and would be back later."
"Wizards are so busy," murmured Frodo. "Always dashing about."
"How do you feel, dear boy?"
"Still shivery, but I'm not as cold as before, Bilbo. My head feels awfully..." Frodo frowned, trying to figure it out. "... swimmy. I know I'm not moving, but it feels like I'm spinning. Or maybe the room is spinning, I can't tell." He snuggled deeply into the soft, warm blankets. "I think I might sleep a little more." He sighed and closed his eyes, his voice growing softer. "It's not so bad, Bilbo, don't worry. There's just the hot part to get through... I'll... be fine soon..."
It hasn't even begun, Bilbo thought. He bent and kissed the boy's cheek, then lay his head on Frodo's shoulder and closed his eyes for a moment. My poor brave lad, it hasn't even begun.
A faint moan brought Bilbo quickly to Frodo's bed. The boy's eyes fluttered open.
"What is it, Frodo? Tell me."
"M. . my head hurts," Frodo murmured. "S. . so dizzy, Bilbo."
"Shhh, it's all right." Bilbo picked up a small cup from the table next to the bed. "Aragorn prepared this for you; a headache often comes with fever."
"Aragorn?"
"He's trained as a healer. Isn't that a bit of luck? I've been talking with him a great deal today." Bilbo helped Frodo to sit up a little. "Hold your breath and drink it all down, dear boy. It's a touch bitter."
Frodo held his breath and swallowed the liquid, then drank thirstily from a mug of fresh water that Bilbo held for him.
"What... what time is it?"
"It's early evening. Lay back now. We've had a quiet day. Aragorn has needed a bit more rest, but we've spent quite a bit of time together, talking. He has so many stories he wants to tell you. He's begun reading the books you gave him; he's especially enjoying the one about..."
Frodo closed his eyes, letting Bilbo's soft voice swirl around him. He felt so dizzy, and the headache was just pounding and pounding at him. Bilbo was tucking the blankets around him... stroking his hair... The pain eased a little bit... then a little bit more... maybe Aragorn knew how to make... maybe the drink had something sleepy in it... so sleepy... everything... drifting..
Somewhat later, Gandalf returned to find Bilbo in Aragorn's room, consulting with the Man about herbs and teas. Bilbo had his back to the doorway, and as Gandalf stepped into the room, Aragorn looked up, a question in his eyes. Gandalf shook his head, once, then sat on the bed.
"How is our small patient?"
"Asleep," said Bilbo. "We can still leave his side for brief periods, through today and perhaps tonight. But tomorrow..." Bilbo sighed. "He must be watched every moment, Gandalf, until... until it is safe."
Aragorn was nodding. "His fever is rising slowly. Swamp malaise brings fever and pain. There is confusion also, and weakness, but none of those symptoms account for why it is so greatly feared." He looked grim. "At some point in the second day, sometimes the third, the fever suddenly rises dangerously high; it is quick and unexpected, and there is delirium so frightening.." His eyes met Bilbo's.
"Yes," said Bilbo. "I will never forget it. It was as if my deepest fears had come to life. I remember hearing the others who were ill, screaming.. some fighting with the healers and trying to escape whatever demons they saw before them."
Gandalf looked from one person to the other, each seemingly re-living a nightmare. "Bilbo, what does Frodo most fear? Death, like his parents? The dark? Getting lost?"
"Trolls?" asked Aragorn with a small smile.
Bilbo thought about it. "If I had to guess, it would be... being left alone. Abandoned."
"Something happening to you perhaps, Bilbo," suggested Gandalf. "You are all he has."
"Perhaps." Bilbo sighed and stood up. "I'll prepare some dinner for us. Would you sit with Frodo later, Gandalf? He has been hoping to see you."
"Of course, my friend."
After Bilbo left, Gandalf looked at Aragorn and shook his head once more.
"If there is athelas in this part of the Shire, I was unable to find anyone who knew of it," said the wizard.
"It was a slim hope at best," said Aragorn. "It is many days' ride to where I am certain it can be found. With luck, Frodo's fever will not climb dangerously high, but if it does, there are other things we can do. Untreated, this illness can bring death; sometimes the onslaught of such fever and delirium are too overwhelming, and the body and mind cannot find their way back." He sighed. "That is rare, thankfully. Most recover fully."
"Aragorn, you will be of no use to Frodo if you worry yourself into exhaustion."
Aragorn nodded, then turned his gaze to the beautiful spring day he could see from his window. "It is difficult for me to remain indoors for this length of time. Did you enjoy your day abroad, in such a peaceful village?"
"A most uncurious lot, these hobbits," replied Gandalf with a chuckle. "No one seemed to care or question why I was making inquiries. The Shirefolk tend to their own business and would rather not know more than is necessary about what any meddlesome outsider might be up to."
"It sounds as if Bilbo is quite unique."
"He is, indeed."
"Does no one wonder why Frodo has not been seen?"
"Ah, now that is another matter entirely. An entire delegation of children --- or tweenagers, perhaps, most of them our next-door neighbors, I believe --- demanded to know what I had done with him. The youngsters are a spirited bunch, at any rate. I told them that Frodo is a bit under the weather and will be staying in bed for a few days." Gandalf smiled. "I suspect they were disappointed that it was such a mundane explanation. My reputation as a 'conjuror' can only suffer because of it!"
"Under the weather; if it were only that simple." Aragorn took a deep breath. "Gandalf, you cannot imagine what this delirum is like. Before you found me, I would have sworn I saw..." He closed his eyes for a moment. "For a child to go through this..."
"You were alone, Aragorn. Whatever Frodo sees, he will know that he is not alone. We are here with him."
Aragorn shook his head. "Whatever he sees, Gandalf, he will believe it to be real. And nothing we do or say will convince him otherwise."
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