Chapter Seventeen: Visitors

Frodo was awake for several hours, and together, Bilbo and Sam managed to coax him into eating a bit more. His cough started up again, and he was obliged to drink the herbs mixed in with the tea. This made him drowsy, and it was not long before he was asleep again. "His fever is down," Dr. Bolger remarked, feeling his patient's forehead and wrist. "And his breathing is better. Those trillus herbs work well." He stifled a yawn. "If you feel comfortable enough, Mr. Baggins, I think that I shall take a short nap. I won't be of much use to Frodo if I fall asleep on my feet."

Bilbo smiled gratefully. "Of course," he said. "You must be exhausted. Sleep as long as you need."

Thanking him, Dr. Bolger left the room, and Bilbo turned back to Frodo, Merry and Sam. He saw in surprise that Sam had fallen asleep beside Frodo, his head nestled against Frodo's shoulder. Merry was sitting beside them, holding one of Sam's hands in one of his own, and Frodo's uninjured one in his other, staring into space.

Bilbo fondly stroked Sam's sandy curls. "Sleep well, Sam," he murmured. "You deserve the rest. Knowing you, you probably haven't slept once since Frodo was bitten." This thought brought him back to his nephew, and he watched Frodo's face, holding the injured hand in his own. His nephew's face was nearly alabaster white, and too thin, even for him. But his sleep was untroubled, and the lines of pain that had formed on his brow were smoothed away. Bilbo gently stroked his cheek, noting that it was not so fiery hot as before. At his uncle's touch, Frodo sighed and his lips curved into a slight smile.

Smiling himself, Bilbo looked at Merry. The young hobbit was still staring into space, evidently deep in thought. "What is it, Merry?" Bilbo asked softly. "What're you thinking about?"

Merry snapped out of his daydream and blinked. "Oh. Just things..." he trailed off. "May I go see Dr. Bolger, if he's not asleep?"

Bilbo nodded slowly. "All right, Merry," he said, studying the lad shrewdly. "But don't disturb him if he is asleep."

Merry grinned and carefully climbed off the bed. "I won't," he promised as he went out the door.

Bilbo shook his head. He knew that Merry was hiding something, but he also knew better than to press the matter. 'I suppose he'll tell me when he's ready,' the old hobbit thought. 'But I wonder what he is hiding?'

Merry sped down the hall and into the study, where Dr. Bolger was staying. The Broadbelts had offered to set up a small cot for him, but he had declined, saying that the sofa in the study was quite comfortable enough. The door was open, and peeking in, Merry saw the doctor, sitting on the sofa, smoking his pipe and staring at the wall, lost in his own thoughts.

Merry softly knocked on the round, chestnut-painted doorway. Dr. Bolger jerked out of his thoughts, and he looked up, smiling as he saw who it was. "Hullo, Merry," he said in a tired, but cheerful voice. "Do you need something? Frodo isn't worse, is he?"

Merry shook his head. "No sir," he said. "But I wanted to ask you a question, if you aren't too busy."

Laughing, Dr. Bolger patted the sofa. "Of course not," he said as Merry shyly sat down beside him. "Now, what is it you would like to ask me?"

There was a moment of silence before Merry answered, in a voice barely above a whisper. "It's Frodo," he began, feeling strangely nervous. "He's not getting worse or anything," he quickly added, seeing the doctor's brow furrow with worry. "It's just that...well, he's so ill, and I-I just wish I could help somehow."

Dr. Bolger grinned with relief and ruffled Merry's curls. "Is that what is troubling you?" he said, looking down with amusement at the hobbit lad who would not meet his eyes, as though he feared that he had done something wrong. "There's nothing selfish about that, if that is what you're thinking - quite the contrary. Of course you can help -- I need as much of that as I can get. How would you like to be the Official Doctor's Assistant?"

Merry looked up with surprise. "I would love it!" he exclaimed, then whispered to himself, "It's turned out just like Mrs. Broadbelt's story!"

Dr. Bolger laughed. "So Lila told you her story, did she? I remember my cousin telling me about young Loridor's illness: worse case of pneumonia she'd ever seen. She had not thought he would make it. But," he added with a draw of his pipe, "it's as I've said, we hobbits are tough to kill. It takes a lot to get us down." He chuckled. "That is an encouraging thought, is it not?"

Merry nodded with a grin. "Very," he agreed, now freed of the strange shyness that had fallen upon him earlier, and once again feeling a companionship with the doctor. "You know, Frodo had pneumonia a couple years ago, when he lived in Brandy Hall." His expression grew serious. "Dr. Hornblower didn't think that he would pull through. But he surprised everyone by waking up suddenly, just like Loridor did. Maybe they're related." His grin returned and he laughed at his own statement.

Dr. Bolger laughed as well, putting his arm around Merry's shoulders. "Maybe they are, lad," he said. "Maybe they are."

<<>> Four Days Later <<>>

"Frodo!"

The hobbit lad, sitting on the window-seat of the guestroom, turned around as he heard his name called. "Peony! Milo!" he exclaimed happily, in a voice only slightly hoarse.

The two visitors hurried across the room and enveloped him in a warm hug. "We were beside ourselves with worry," Peony whispered, kissing him on the cheek. "Bilbo sent us a letter, and - oh, but let's not speak of that now." Her face lit up with a smile. "The important thing is that you're on the road to recovery!" Peony hugged him again, and as she pulled away, Frodo noticed that even though she was smiling, tears glistened in her eyes.

He did not have time to pursue this matter, however, for Milo patted him on the back and asked, "So, how're you feeling now, lad?"

Frodo smiled brightly, his whole face lighting up with happiness. "Much better, thank you - especially now that I have visitors, of course." Milo grinned and ruffled Frodo's dark curls. "Where has Merry gotten to? And what about Sam? I wouldn't expect him to be anywhere but by your side."

"Merry is outside, playing with Daisy and Sam has gone to have a bit of rest in the doctor's room. Bless him, he's hardly slept at all since we arrived."

There were a few moments of silence, and the hobbits could hear a bluebird singing cheerily outside the window. Presently, Milo patted Frodo's shoulder and stood up. "I wish I didn't have to cut our visit short, Frodo," he said. "But your Uncle Bilbo wished to talk to me for a moment." He ruffled Frodo's curls and left the room, leaving Peony and Frodo alone.

With a smile playing on his lips, Frodo propped his elbows up against the windowsill and watched Merry running away from Daisy outside. When she caught him, he let her tackle him to the ground. She then sat on his stomach and began tickling him mercilessly, seeming to sense where his most ticklish spots were. He yelled for help, laughing almost to the point of tears while trying to break free of her small, nimble fingers.

Frodo watched these proceedings with amused interest, until he suddenly realized that he himself was being watched. Peony was looking at him closely, her arms folded and her face thoughtful. "What?" Frodo asked in confusion; it was rather unnerving to fall under one of her shrewd stares. Peony did not answer, and continued to carefully study her nephew. He was still much too pale, but there was a very slight hint of rosy color to his cheeks now, and his intense blue eyes were no longer fever-bright. "What is it?" Frodo asked again, blowing a stray curl from his face.

This time, Peony smiled and shook her head. "Nothing, Frodo," she said. "It's just that you seem to be recovering well. I'm so very glad."

Frodo smiled back as she suddenly pulled him into another hug. Resting his head on her shoulder, he closed his eyes contentedly. "I'm fine now, Aunt Peony," he assured her, then blinked at what he said. He had never called her 'Aunt' before; she had always seemed like more of an older sister, as Milo was an older brother.

The two pulled apart, and stared at each other rather comically before laughing helplessly. "I don't know what's come over me," Peony gasped when she had downsized her laughter to small giggles. "Here I am, being sentimental while we have not had the chance to talk at all." Frodo chuckled and they moved to the sofa, which was more comfortable for two to sit on together.

"Well now," Peony said thoughtfully, taking Frodo's hands in her own. "What can I tell you about? Goodness, you've only been gone five days and it seems like five months! Let me see....oh, did I tell you about Addie Sandybanks' birthday? Quite a nice party it was, and Addie looked so pretty! You should have seen how her face glowed!" She sighed wistfully. "It was just like my 11th birthday party - only mine took place in Hobbiton; in the Party Field, actually. Oh, I can still remember the lights strung all through the Party Tree, shining so beautifully, and the dances, and the food..." She trailed off and sighed again.

Frodo laughed, causing her to stare at him in confusion. "Peony," he said teasingly, "there you go again! You sound just like Pearl Took -- only she daydreams about her coming-of-age party." He imitated a high, girlish voice. "I'm going to have a long satin gown -- oh no, not violet, silly; blue! And I'll wear my diamond necklace and I'll have that rose pin -- no, not the gold one, Pervinca, the silver one that Papa gave to Mama on her birthday..." He sighed, imitating Peony exactly.

Peony playfully threw a pillow at him. "I sounded nothing like that!" she said indignantly. "Besides," she added, "I wore a red velvet dress for my coming-of-age party."

Frodo smirked and began to make a remark about silly tweenage girls and dresses, but just then, the door opened, and Milo and Bilbo walked in. "Hullo," Bilbo said cheerfully, coming to sit down beside Frodo as Milo sat beside Peony. He brushed Frodo's dark curls from his forehead so that he could feel it for any signs of fever. "Still a bit warm," he muttered to himself, before smiling brightly and patting Frodo's shoulder. "What were you and Peony laughing about in here?"

The four talked for a little over an hour, but then Frodo began to tire, so Peony and Milo left. Sam awoke and came in just as Bilbo was helping Frodo to bed. "Hullo, Sam," Frodo said in a tired, hoarse voice, but he smiled.

Sam brought his stool over. "Hullo, sir," he said. "How're you feelin'?"

Frodo yawned. "Tired."

Bilbo patted his hand. "Then I'll let you rest, my dear boy," he said. "I shall be in the sitting room, if you need me." Frodo nodded and Bilbo kissed his forehead before leaving.

For several minutes, there was silence in the room, broken only by Frodo's soft, slightly raspy breathing. "Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked hesitantly. Frodo did not open his eyes, but he turned his head toward him.

"Yes, Sam?"

Sam paused. "I was just seein' if you were awake." Frodo's only response was a slight nod of his head.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Merry came in, with Daisy tagging along at his heels. Sam put a finger to his lips to signal them to be quiet, but Frodo opened his eyes and smiled slightly. "Hullo, Merry," he said softly, as his young cousin came over and sat in Bilbo's chair. Seeing Daisy follow him and climb up into his lap, Frodo's smile broadened. "And hullo, Miss Daisy."

Daisy grinned and climbed up on the bed. "H'lo, Fro," she said. "Daisy came to see you."

Frodo chuckled softly, covering up a small cough with his hand. "Did you indeed? Well, I'm very pleased to see you, as well."

"You don't look good," Daisy said solemnly, reaching out and touching Frodo's pale cheek. "You look sick."

Frodo fondly combed his fingers through her thick, soft curls. "I'm sure I do," he said with another cough.

Merry took his hand. "How're you feeling, Frodo?"

"I'm much better, Merry," Frodo replied, closing his eyes. "I'm just a little tired, is all."

Sensing that it was time to go, Daisy climbed gently off the bed. "G'night, Fro," she whispered, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. Frodo smiled, and Daisy grabbed Merry's hand. "Come on, Mer," she said briskly, pulling him toward the door. "Time to go. Fro needs lotsa sleep so he can get all better."

Merry shrugged apologetically and let her pull him out of the room. "Sleep well, Frodo," he called from down the hall.

Sam scooted his stool closer and listened to Frodo's breathing. It was soft and even, with only the slightest rattle to it. Taking Frodo's hand he stroked it gently. "Sweet dreams, Mr. Frodo," he murmured. "And get well soon."

TBC...