Chapter Thirteen: Race in the Night

Frodo’s arm was tightly bandaged and the hobbits slowly made their way towards the Broadbelts’ farm. Sam and Merry stayed on either side of Frodo, supporting him when he stumbled. The sun had nearly set now, and they were still about two miles away from the Broadbelts’.

Merry anxiously kept an eye on Frodo’s injured hand, which had developed a slight purple tint to it that troubled him. The bleeding had stopped, but that did not ease his concern. Frodo’s face was very pale, and his azure eyes were clouded and dull. His dark curls were plastered to his brow with sweat, though he continued to tremble as if with cold.

Frodo was in worse pain than he would let on. His right hand was numb, but it felt as though fire coursed through his veins everywhere else. He suspected that there might have been venom in the bite, but he did not wish to slow them down with unnecessary worry, so remained silent.

They continued slowly, and Frodo stumbled more and more often. Through the trees and bushes ahead, Merry thought he could see an opening. ‘Good!’ he thought with relief. ‘We can let Frodo have a quick rest there.’ Aloud, he said, "I think I see a clearing up ahead. Let’s make for it and we can rest there for a few minutes." Sam agreed, and Frodo merely nodded his head.

Upon reaching the small clearing, Merry ran a little ways ahead to see if the Broadbelts’ house was in sight yet. It was not. He turned around just in time to see Frodo suddenly begin to sway, and then collapse into Sam’s arms. "Frodo!" Merry cried, racing back toward the two. Sam gently eased Frodo down into the grass and Merry frantically felt for his cousin’s pulse. It was there, uneven and faint, but present.

"What’s wrong with him?" Merry asked anxiously, though he knew that Sam knew no more than he did.

Sam’s brown eyes were brimming with tears as he shook his head. "I don’t know, Mr. Merry! Let’s check that bite."

Merry gently took Frodo’s limp hand and undid the bandage. There was some dried blood around the gashes, but the wounds themselves seemed to have closed up already, leaving only scars that showed an astonishingly bright red against the pale skin. The purple color, too, had faded, and in its place were two broad, red streaks coming up from the scars. Sam hesitantly touched one of the cuts and quickly withdrew his hand. "It feels like fire!" he gasped. Merry felt Frodo’s forehead and recoiled as well. The skin was burning hot to his touch. He looked at Sam, wide-eyed. "I think that there was poison in that bite," said the gardener slowly. "He needs a doctor, and mighty quick too."

Merry nervously glanced around. The sun had now set, and they were still at least a mile from the Broadbelts. He looked back at Sam, who was pouring water on the bandage and placing it on Frodo’s forehead.

There was no choice. Merry swallowed hard and dropped his pack. He took out his canteen and slung the leather strap over his shoulder. "I’ll go fetch the Broadbelts," he said quietly.

Sam looked up. "All the way? By yourself? In the dark?"

Merry nodded. "I must. Frodo doesn’t weigh much, but if you and I carried him we’d take too long to get there."

Sam sighed and used the wet cloth to stroke Frodo’s burning face and throat. "If it’s the only way to help ’im, then I guess we don’t have no choice. All right then, you go fetch the Broadbelts and I’ll stay here with Mr. Frodo. Are you sure you can make it the whole way by yourself?"

"Yes. I’ll run just as quick as I can." Merry knelt down beside his cousin and quickly placed a kiss on Frodo’s damp forehead. "Be well, cousin," he whispered, and squeezing Frodo’s hot hand one last time, he waved good-bye to Sam and ran off through the trees.

"Good luck, Mr. Merry!" Sam called after him. "An’ come back quick," he added softly, with a sorrowful glance at his unconscious master.

Merry ran like he’d never run before. Like a small, grey shadow he flew through the forest, his furry feet hardly touching the ground. All the while, the deathly pale face of Frodo burned in his mind, giving him speed he had not even known he had. He stumbled over a tree root, regained his balance and put on another burst of speed.

He ran for a full fifteen minutes before pausing or slowing down, and even when he did, it was only for a quick gulp of water, a deep breath, and then he was off once more. He tripped again, and this time he fell, but he quickly scrambled to his feet and continued. As the ground began to rise, gently at first, and then more and more steeply, his pace slowed to a jog, and then a quick walk. A stitch had begun to form in his side, and he took another drink of water to ease it. The hill seemed to go on endlessly, but finally, he reached the top, and the most welcome sight he had ever seen greeted him: the Broadbelts’ farm.

The sight cheered him and gave new strength to his weary limbs. He raced down the hill, nearing the farmhouse with every stride. ‘Almost there!’ he thought joyfully. ‘Almost there!’ He climbed up another small hill and finally, reached the dirt path leading to the door. He dashed to the door, rang the bell, and with a gasp flung himself down on the step.

The round, yellow door was opened by Lila, still in her day clothes, but with her long, thick curls loose and cascading down her back nearly to her waist. At the sight of the young hobbit lad panting on her doorstep, she quickly set down her candle and picked him up. "Merry-lad!" she cried. "What are you doing here at this hour, and all alone? What has happened?" She set Merry down in an armchair and hurried into the kitchen to get him something to drink.

Merry did not even attempt to speak until he had taken several large gulps of the ice-cold water that was given to him. "Frodo," he gasped at length, "was bitten by a… by a snake, he… n-needs a doctor… badly." He paused to catch his breath. "He’s b-burning with… fever. I think there was poison in the bite."

Lila’s sky-blue eyes widened and her freckled face turned pale. "Where is he now?" she asked anxiously.

Merry took another drink of water and then answered, "Sam’s with him. In a glade about…a mile from here."

"You ran all that way alone?" Lila asked incredulously.

Merry nodded, and at that moment, Ferdirand came in. Merry and Lila quickly informed him of the situation, and he immediately decided to ride his old pony and fetch the doctor immediately. "Lila," he said as he hastened out the door, "Daisy’s still sleepin’ but she’s been getting a mite restless so you might want to see to her." With that, he vanished out into the night.

For several moments, there was silence, and then, all at once, Lila jumped to her feet. "I’m going to go tend to Frodo right now, and bring him here," she announced, grabbing her dark-blue shawl and draping it over her shoulders. "He’ll be better off waiting indoors for the doctor than out there in the wilderness." She seemed to be speaking to herself, but she suddenly turned to Merry. "Merry, dear," she said, "I know this is asking a lot, but do you think that you could stay here and watch Daisy? I’ll be as quick as I can."

Merry was silent a few moments before replying. He was torn between wanting to go get Frodo himself, and staying with dear little Daisy. Of course he had missed her and wished very much to see her, and he would feel better having Frodo inside rather than out in the wilderness, where he could take care of him… "Of course I’ll stay with Daisy, Mrs. Broadbelt. If it’ll help Frodo, I’ll do anything. But are you sure you can go all that way alone in the dark?"

Lila’s pretty face broke into a smile. "Thank you, Merry. And I’ll be fine by myself. With a lantern I’ll probably get there faster than you did. I’ll bring your cousin back, safe and sound, faster than you can say ‘Baggins!’" She laughed and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead before hurrying out the door.

***

Back in the clearing, Sam was still faithfully trying to cool Frodo’s skin with the wet cloth, and he did seem to be making a small improvement. His young master’s forehead was not quite so fiery hot as it had been before, and a little color had returned to the white face. Sam kept the wound unwrapped, hoping that the steadily dropping temperature would aid in its cooling.

About half an hour had passed and Sam was nearly dropping off to sleep when Frodo stirred and groaned softly. Instantly, Sam’s head jerked up and all drowsiness left him. "Mr. Frodo?" he said hopefully, smoothing back the damp curls from his master’s brow. Frodo gave a soft cry and his eyebrows furrowed. "Mr. Frodo?" Sam said again, more urgently this time. "Mr. Frodo, wake up!"

Frodo’s eyes slowly fluttered open, overly bright with fever. "S…Sam?" he said hoarsely.

Sam grinned with relief and dabbed Frodo’s forehead with the damp cloth again. "Yes, Mr. Frodo, I’m here," he said softly. "And I’m mighty glad you’re here, too."

Frodo smiled slightly. "Me…too…Sam," he whispered. Then he looked around in sudden confusion. "Where’s…Merry?"

Sam gently lifted his master’s head and pressed the rim of the water bottle to his cracked lips, carefully pouring a small amount of the water into Frodo’s mouth. Frodo swallowed slowly, and after another mouthful, Sam lowered his head back down into the grass and resumed the task of bathing his forehead. "He went to get help, Mr. Frodo," he said. "He’s gone to get the Broadbelts."

"Alone?" Frodo asked in alarm, making as if to rise, only to stop with a wince as the quick movement made his head spin again.

"Yes sir, beggin’ your pardon, sir," said Sam worriedly. "But when you fainted, there wasn’t nothin’ else to do. Someone had to stay ’ere and watch you, and someone had to go get help." He paused, and gently touched the wounds on Frodo’s wrist, quickly withdrawing his fingers as his master gave an involuntary gasp of pain. "I don’t mean to worry you, sir, but I think there might be a bit of poison in that bite."

Frodo nodded weakly. "I… thought so." He suddenly gasped again as a new wave of fiery pain shot through his body. Sam’s gentle fingers on his wounds suddenly felt like burning knives and he let out an involuntary yelp, jamming his teeth into his lip to stifle further cries.

Instantly, Sam withdrew his hand and gently caressed Frodo’s brow. "I’m terrible sorry, sir," he murmured. "I didn’t mean to hurt you." He saw tears coursing down Frodo’s pale cheeks and his own eyes watered. He guiltily hung his head. "I should’ve protected you, Mr. Frodo," he whispered, more to himself than his master. "I should’ve kept you safe." He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to keep from crying.

With an effort, Frodo raised his uninjured arm and grabbed Sam’s hand, pressing it weakly. "It’s not your fault, Sam," he said softly. "If anyone, it’s my own fault for jumping right into that… that creature’s path. But I’d rather it be me than you or Merry." He closed his eyes and fell silent, gritting his teeth as another wave of pain shot through him. Sam gratefully squeezed Frodo’s hand and gave him some more water.

The two hobbits sat like this for another half hour: Sam, sitting by his master’s side, pressing Frodo’s hand every so often and getting a weak squeeze in return, and continuing to bathe his face, hands and throat with the cloth. As time went on, Frodo’s hand presses became weaker and weaker, and finally, his hand went completely limp in Sam’s. "Mr. Frodo?" cried Sam in alarm. There was no response. "Frodo!" he called again, pressing the side of Frodo’s throat for a pulse. It was there, and his breathing, though somewhat shallow, was steady.

Sam surmised that Frodo had either gone to sleep or had lost consciousness again. Judging by the renewed fiery feel to his master’s skin, he felt that it was probably the latter.

***

Merry quietly walked down the hall of the Broadbelts’ home and softly opened the round, yellow door of Daisy’s room. He entered, and gently placing his candle on a small table, he knelt down at the bedside and watched the soundly sleeping hobbit lass. Her beautiful dark curls were tied in two braids and she had a thin white nightgown on. Even in sleep, she had a smile upon her face, and her cheeks were as rosy as ever. Merry smiled, and reaching out, he gently brushed back a stray curl from her face.

But at the touch, Daisy stirred and opened her eyes. She sleepily scanned the room and when her eyes fell on Merry, she squealed with delight and launched herself into his lap. "Mer back!" she cried joyfully, all sleep forgotten.

Merry hugged her tightly and grinned. "Yes, I’m back," he said. "And do you know what? I’ve a present for you."

Daisy’s green eyes lit up. "Present for me, Mer?" she asked excitedly. "Where? Where’s the present?"

Merry laughed and picking her up, he carried her into the sitting room where his pack lay beside the armchair. "It’s in there," he said, setting her down. "But it’s a surprise. You have to shut your eyes, and I’ll get it out."

Giggling, Daisy covered her eyes with her small hands, and Merry silently rummaged through his pack. He glanced back at her, and saw a tiny sliver of green between her chubby fingers. "No peeking!" he said in mock severity. With a shriek of pleasure, Daisy covered her eyes completely again. Merry pulled his treasure out of the pack, and holding it behind his back, he said, "You can open your eyes now."

Cautiously, Daisy peeked through her fingers, and then dropped both hands with an excited squeak as she saw what Merry pulled from behind his back. It was a small box of beautiful, white wood. On the sides, each corner was decorated with the carving of a small daisy, and on the lid, carved in a firm, flowing script—at that point Merry had given the secret away and asked Frodo to help him shape the letters—was Daisy’s name, in the center of a large, namesake flower.

The child gasped and her eyes widened as she looked up at Merry. "For me, Mer?" she asked softly. "For Daisy?"

Merry smiled and placed the box in her small hands. "Yes, Daisy, just for you," he said. "Do you want to put it in your room, so it will be safe?" Daisy nodded enthusiastically, and grabbing Merry’s hand, she pulled him down the hall and into her room.

Reverently, she placed it on the little table, beside a little rag doll. She stepped back, admiring it, and then turned to Merry and suddenly threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Mer!" she cried. "Very pretty box! Very pretty!" Merry returned her hug, thinking with delight, ‘Just as I imagined! At least there is something to be happy about now.’

Daisy abruptly pulled away, and suddenly her face was serious. "Where’s mama, Mer? And papa?"

Merry blinked at her sudden change of subject, and then, instead of answering, he sat down in a rocking chair and pulled her up into his lap. "Well, Daisy," he said slowly, his happiness fading as suddenly as it had appeared, "Frodo got very sick on our way here—"

"Fro?" Daisy repeated in dismay, her green eyes going wide as she twisted to look up at him. "Fro bad sick?"

Merry nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, and so I had to run here and get help. Your papa’s gone to get the doctor, and your mama’s gone to find Frodo. Sam’s with him. They’ll be back soon, don’t worry."

Daisy turned around in his lap so that she was facing him fully. She reached up one small hand to wipe away a tear that was sliding down Merry’s cheek. "Mer worried," she whispered. For a moment she looked frightened. Then, she patted Merry’s cheek and brightened. "Mama will find Fro an’ Sam," she said reassuringly. "An’ the doctor will make him all better." She smiled at him, her trusting, angelic smile. "Silly Mer, to worry! Daisy will take care of you!"

Merry grinned, wiping away his tears. "Thank you, Daisy," he said. "I’m glad you’re taking care of me. And you’re right, your mama will find Frodo and the doctor will make him better."

***

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam called, hoping to get some response from his unconscious master. "Frodo?" Still nothing. Frodo’s eyes remained firmly closed, his dark lashes in striking contrast with his pale skin. He had been like this for too long, in Sam’s opinion, and still he showed no signs of waking.

Sam still continued to stroke his master’s face with the wet cloth, but the burning heat would not relent. The wounds opened up again, and Sam tore another strip of his sleeve off and used it to staunch the bleeding.

Despite himself, Sam’s head began to nod tiredly, and he lay down on his back beside Frodo. He kept his master’s hand in his own, and caressed it gently with the damp cloth. His eyelids began to feel leaden, and slowly and involuntarily, they slid shut, and sleep overcame him.

Sam was jerked awake by a sudden change; of what, he could not tell at first. He sat up quickly and looked at Frodo. No change had come over his pale face, but something was different. Sam touched his master’s forehead and drew his hand back in surprise. "Why, he’s gone cold!" he exclaimed softly to himself. "That can’t be a good sign. I’ll wager that’s some work of that nasty poison; tryin’ to make it seem like he’s gettin’ better but all the while makin’ him worse." He shook his head. "He needs a doctor, real soon. I wonder how far I can carry…" he trailed off as he caught sight of a figure, carrying a lantern, slowly coming through the trees towards him. "Hoy!" he called, standing up and waving his arms. "Hoy! Over here! We need help!" The figure turned, and to Sam’s astonishment, he saw that it was a hobbit woman. She ran towards them, and as she neared, he recognized her as Lila Broadbelt.

"Where is Frodo?" she asked breathlessly as she came up.

"Right over here," said Sam, too relieved to voice his surprise. He knelt beside his master.

Lila set the lantern down and felt Frodo’s forehead. "He’s freezing," she said worriedly, and looked up at Sam. "Is he as light as he looks?"

Sam nodded. "Are you going to carry him?"

Lila nodded. "Yes. I’ll need you to carry the lantern for me." With a mother’s tenderness, she lifted Frodo up, gently nestling his dark head against her shoulder. Sam grabbed his pack as well as Frodo’s along with the lantern and trotted along after her. "How did you know we were here?" he asked after a moment. "Did Mr. Merry get there?"

"Yes," said Lila without slackening her pace. "Ferdirand has gone to get the doctor, and Merry is staying home with Daisy." She turned to Sam and smiled. "Don’t worry. We’re not far, and Dr. Bolger is the best there is. He’ll be able to heal Frodo."

"I hope you’re right," Sam said softly.

***

Daisy strung another blue bead on the string. "All done!" she said happily. "Now neck’ace is all ready for mama!"

Merry tied the ends together in a firm knot and handed it to her. "Good job, Daisy," he said. "Now, would you like to—" He was cut off by the sound of hurrying feet outside the door, which burst open to admit two hobbits. One was Ferdirand, and the other, Merry guessed, was the doctor.

Dr. Bolger was a kind looking hobbit, reminding Merry a little bit of Bilbo, with thick brown curls that were streaked with grey and a gentle face. He looked tired and worn, and there were deep lines beneath his eyes, but he still managed to give Merry and Daisy a friendly smile.

Catching sight of Merry, Ferdirand came over to him. "Where’s Lila?" he asked breathlessly.

"She went to find Frodo and Sam," Merry answered. "She should be back any minute now."

With perfect timing, the door burst open again and Lila entered, carrying a limp Frodo in her arms. Behind her trotted Sam, carrying the packs and the lantern.

Ferdirand quickly took the lantern and packs from Sam. The packs he placed on the floor in the sitting room, and the lantern he hung inside the barn where it belonged. Lila all but ran down the hall and into the guestroom, with Dr. Bolger following quickly behind. Ferdirand got Sam a cup of water and invited him to sit down, but the faithful young gardener adamantly refused, and went with Ferdirand down the hall. Merry and Daisy, forgotten for the moment, followed more slowly, and peeked around the doorway.

Dr. Bolger was examining Frodo’s wound while Lila was wrapping the covers snugly around him. Sam sat on a stool beside the bed, stroking his master’s uninjured hand and trying his best to stay out of the way. Merry cautiously crept in, Daisy tagging along at his heals, and watched the proceedings silently. Daisy too, sensing the seriousness of the situation, remained quiet, watching with round, curious eyes as the doctor examined his patient.

At length, Dr. Bolger straightened up and stepped back. "Well?" Sam prompted when he did not speak. "What’s wrong with Mr. Frodo? Is it poison?"

The doctor nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. "Yes, it is poison, Samwise," he said. "Poison from a Fire Snake’s bite." Seeing Sam’s distraught expression, he knelt down in front of the young hobbit and gently brushed away a tear from Sam’s cheek. "But do not worry, Sam," he said softly, with a reassuring smile. "I have seen this before, and I know how to treat it. In fact, Farmer Maggot’s son, down in Buckland, was bitten by a Fire Snake just last month, and he’s right as rain now." He took care not to mention that Farmer Maggot’s son had hardly received any venom from his bite.

But Sam was cheered, and he asked, "What can we do?"

Dr. Bolger examined Frodo’s wounds again. Without a word, he took out a small knife and carefully opened one of the cuts again. Frodo cried out and struggled to move his arm out of the doctor’s firm grip. "What’re you doing?" Sam demanded angrily, stroking Frodo’s brow. "You’re hurtin’ him!"

Dr. Bolger looked up at him, with eyes full of genuine sorrow. "I’m sorry, Samwise," he said gently. "But I must open those wounds again. It is the only way for me to heal him." With careful precision, he opened the other gash as well, again causing Frodo to cry out. Sam anxiously stroked Frodo’s forehead, whispering comforting words in his ear.

The doctor went through his bag and brought out a small jar filled with some dry, green powder. "May I have a glass of water, please?" he asked Lila. "These herbs need to be dissolved in it."

Lila hastened out, and Dr. Bolger turned his attention back to Frodo’s wounds, which were bleeding heavily. He dabbed his finger in the blood, looked at it closely, and evidently satisfied, dabbed the blood away and bound the wrist once more with a clean bandage. "For now, all we can do is keep him cool," he said when he had finished, finally answering Sam’s earlier question. "He may seem cold at the moment, but it’s only a trick of the poison. Outside, he may be cold as ice, but inside, he is still burning up. We must not let him get too warm." He gently pulled the covers back and Frodo immediately began to tremble.

"Does he have a nightshirt or something cool to wear in his pack?" Dr. Bolger asked, looking at Merry. The young hobbit, glad to be of use at last, jumped up and hurried out into the sitting room to fetch Frodo’s pack. Daisy followed close behind him, her green eyes filled with worry. "Fro be all right, Mer?" she asked softly.

"I hope so, Daisy. I hope so."

TBC...