10. Outbreak

A small group of concerned hobbits stood together in little Mosco’s room. They watched as the two ill children – Daisy and Mosco – slept fitfully, tossing and turning. Milo looked tired and anxious; Frodo, beside him, was slightly pale, and his blue eyes were troubled, but he squeezed Milo's hand reassuringly. Merry, leaning against his older cousin who had wrapped one arm comfortingly around his shoulders, was white as a sheet, his grey-blue eyes wide and filled with unshed tears, trembling a little. The Broadbelt couple looked as distraught as Peony and Milo had been the day before, holding and comforting each other.

Dr. Bolger, alone, was as composed and calm as he ever was, and surveyed the sleeping patients slowly. "This is indeed a difficulty," he said quietly, and with a sigh.

Ferdirand, Daisy’s father, gained as much control over himself as he could. "So Daisy has croup?" he asked hesitantly, his face pale.

Dr. Bolger nodded slowly. "I’m afraid so," he confirmed; "although I believe it is a slightly milder case. When was the last time she came in contact with Mosco?"

"A few days ago." Lila raised her tear-streaked face from her husband’s shoulder. "She and Dickon played with Mosco here for a few hours."

Dr. Bolger chewed on his bottom lip and glanced back at the sleeping children. "Then I believe that one of you should stay here, while the other goes back home to make certain Dickon does not become ill, as well." He smiled reassuringly. "Don’t worry; not everyone who comes in contact with croup comes down with it."

Lila and Ferdirand excused themselves to walk further down the hall and discuss their decision, while Merry stepped forward to speak with Dr. Bolger. "Pippin won’t get it, will he?" he asked fearfully. "Should he go back to Bag End?"

Dr. Bolger put a gentle hand on Merry’s shoulder. "Don’t worry, lad. I’m sure Pippin will be fine. I think he’ll be perfectly safe at the Broadbelts' – not to mention a help there."

Merry nodded and stepped back, allowing the doctor room to examine Daisy. The girl certainly did not look anywhere near as ill as poor Mosco in the bed beside her, but her face was pale and her breaths were still labored.

As Dr. Bolger finished his examination and stepped back from the bed, the Broadbelts returned. "We’ve decided that I shall stay here," said Lila shakily, leaning on her husband. She managed a small smile at the surprise that registered on the others’ faces. "The poor little dears need a mother’s touch, with all these menfolk about."

Dr. Bolger returned the smile and nodded. "Very well, then," he said. "If you’re sure. Then I would suggest that you leave soon, Ferdirand, to lower the risk of carrying the illness back with you." His tone was remorseful, and Daisy’s father patted his shoulder gratefully as he walked past him and knelt by his daughter’s bed to say goodbye.

"I’m staying here, too," Merry declared firmly. "I can’t bear to sit back helplessly and wait for them to get better."

Everyone turned to look at the determined young Brandybuck, whose arms were folded across his chest as he fixed Dr. Bolger with a look that plainly said that he would not be dissuaded. The doctor smiled. "Very well, Master Meriadoc," he conceded. "I can see that nothing any of us could say will change your mind."

Merry nodded with a smile, and shot a triumphant glance up at Frodo. "Well then," said Dr. Bolger more briskly. "If that’s decided, we’d best get to work. Merry, could you please assist Milo in making some more toast-water for Daisy? Frodo, please go see what you can do for Mosco – he seems to be growing more restless. Perhaps you should use that linseed poultice again." Everyone hurried off to their tasks, and Dr. Bolger went back over to Daisy’s bedside, allowing Ferdirand and Lila to say farewell to each other in the hall.

***

The first thing Daisy noticed as she slowly awoke was the nagging itch in her throat, and the terrible dryness of her mouth. She felt someone bathing her face with a cool cloth, and realized that she was leaning against the chest of someone sitting behind her on the mattress, her head resting on the person’s shoulder.

She moaned softly in annoyance as the itch in her throat grew steadily worse. There was a sharply intaken breath from whoever held her. "Daisy? Are you awake?" She recognized the voice immediately, but it was a moment before she could answer.

"Mer?"

Merry laughed softly and continued to dab her face with the cloth. "Right on the first guess," he said lightly, trying to keep her spirits up. Daisy slowly opened her eyes, and blinked a few times to focus on the face above her.

"…Thirsty…" She whispered, wincing at the pain in her throat the action caused. Merry quickly bent sideways, and then she felt the rim of a cup pressed to her lips.

"Here, Daisy," Merry said from above her. "It’s toast-water to help you feel better."

Daisy felt his arms pulling her upwards so that she was sitting up, and she obediently opened her mouth for the toast-water to be poured in. It had a rather bland taste, but certainly not unpleasant, and soothed her throat as it went down.

"Thank you, Mer," she murmured after draining nearly half the cup. Merry set it back down on the little nightstand by the bed and stroked her hair. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Daisy was silent a moment as she considered the question. "Not too bad," she said slowly. "My throat hurts, but I feel a little better now. I think I’m going to cough soon, though, and that hurts." She swallowed against the increasing itch and shut her eyes again.

"Coughing will help you get better quicker," said Merry quietly. "And Dr. Bolger’s making some tea that will help your throat, too."

"Does it taste good, Mer?" Daisy asked hopefully, opening her eyes and leaning her head back to look at him.

Merry chuckled. "I don’t know," he said, "but I should think so – Dr. Bolger’s sweetening it with cherry."

Daisy licked her lips and closed her eyes once more. "Mmm," she whispered. "I like cherries. Do you like cherries, Mer?"

"Of course. I love cherries."

"When I’m all better, I’m going to ask mama to make a cherry pie."

"Mmm. You’re making me hungry just talking about it."

Daisy giggled slightly. "You’ll get the biggest piece," she promised; "And then Mama and Papa, and then Dickon, then Frodo, and then Pippin."

"What about you?"

"I’ll just take what’s left over," Daisy replied softly as she drifted back to sleep.

Merry smiled and kissed her forehead. "Get well soon, Daisy," he whispered.

Dr. Bolger came over with the wild cherry bark tea. "How is she?" he asked quietly.

Merry shifted Daisy into a more comfortable position. "She was awake just a moment ago," he said, "and she drank a little of the toast-water," he gestured to the cup on the nightstand. "She said that she felt like she needed to cough again, but it hurts her throat."

The doctor patted Merry’s arm and set the cup of tea beside the toast-water. "See if you can wake her up again," he said, "and get her to drink some tea, if she can. Once she’s got some of that in her, she’s going to have a bath to help her breathing."

Seeing Merry’s face redden, Dr. Bolger chuckled and patted his hand. "Don’t worry, dear boy!" he said, keeping his voice low. "Lila will be giving her the bath, although I shall help. You’ll be staying in here, helping Milo and Frodo with poor little Mosco."

Merry relaxed visibly and gave a sigh of relief, and Dr. Bolger chuckled again before straightening. "I’ll check back in a few minutes," he said; "but now, let me go see to Mosco." Patting Merry’s hand once more, he went over to the other ill child’s bed.

Just as Dr. Bolger began examining little Mosco, Frodo, who was at the other side of the room fetching a new nightshirt from the dresser, covered a sneeze with his hand. The doctor looked up sharply. "Frodo," he said, "don’t even try to tell me you’re all right. That’s the third time you’ve sneezed – that I’ve heard – and you’re still looking a bit pale. What’s ailing you?"

Frodo paused as he was returning to Mosco’s bedside, and hesitated a moment before answering. "I’m sure its nothing," he said lightly. "Just a cold – nothing to worry about." He proceeded to Mosco’s bed and folded the nightshirt on the table, stubbornly ignoring Dr. Bolger’s questioning eyes that were still locked on him.

"Frodo."

Dr. Bolger came over and put his hand on Frodo’s shoulder. "Even if it is ‘just a cold,’ I need to know."

Frodo sighed and looked up. He started to insist again that it was nothing serious, but the thought suddenly occurred to him that if it was a cold or some such malady, the two ill children might catch it. He did not wish to add to their already serious ailment. "I’ve just got a stuffy nose and a bit of a headache," he confessed with a sigh.

Dr. Bolger placed one hand under the dark, tousled curls and felt Frodo’s forehead. "And a slight fever," he said, dropping his hand. "Have you been ill at all in the past week?"

Frodo sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. "I did have a rather nasty encounter with thornapple seeds a few days ago," he said; "but besides that, no. And I haven’t been around anyone sick, either, until yesterday."

Dr. Bolger sat on the bed beside him, careful not to jar Mosco. He felt Frodo’s forehead again, closing his eyes for a moment. "Does your throat itch at all?" he asked, looking closely at Frodo’s face.

"A little bit."

The doctor sighed. "Frodo," he said, "I think you’ve got croup."

Frodo’s eyes widened. "But I can’t have croup!" he exclaimed softly. "I’m too old for it – you said so yourself!"

Dr. Bolger shrugged. "It is very rare, but not entirely unheard of for someone of your age to get a very mild case of the illness," he explained. "Just like a slight head cold – nothing serious. The oldest hobbit I know of to have come down with croup was thirty-four.

"And besides that," he continued, patting Frodo’s shoulder, "that Fire Snake bite all those years ago probably makes you more prone to this type of illness – although I doubt it will get any worse than it is now."

Frodo shook his head and looked down at his hands, lying in his lap. "Then do I need to leave?" he asked, gesturing towards Mosco, still asleep in the bed.

Dr. Bolger slipped an arm around Frodo’s shoulders. "No, lad," he said. "The worst thing that could happen would be that Merry would get a bit of the cold symptoms, too."

"You don’t think he’s in any danger of getting a serious case?" asked Frodo quickly, looking up.

The doctor shook his head. "I doubt it," he said, glancing back at the object of their discussion, now giving Daisy slow sips of the tea. "Generally, croup is mild and nothing more than a nuisance – and even when there is an outbreak, there are usually only one or two severe cases. I believe Merry will be perfectly fine."

"What about Pippin?" Frodo pressed worriedly.

Dr. Bolger smiled and ruffled his curls. "You worry far too much, lad," he teased lightly, hoping to ease Frodo’s anxiety. "I’m sure Pippin will be just fine, as well – perhaps a bit of a head cold, like you… but ’twill take more than a simple case of the sniffles to keep that boy down for long!"

Frodo chuckled a little, feeling greatly relieved, and stood up. As he returned to his earlier task of unbuttoning Mosco’s damp nightshirt, Dr. Bolger came to his side and helped him slip the garment over the sleeping boy’s head. "Tell me about your encounter with thornapple seeds," he said as they worked. "Surely you did not have a serious reaction?"

Frodo briefly told him about Pippin’s soup, trying his best to avoid sounding as though he was blaming his young cousin for the incident, and when he had finished, Dr. Bolger shook his head in bewilderment. "It was a miracle that that old woman was there," he said; "without aid, you would have died, like as not."

Swallowing hard, Frodo nodded, buttoning up Mosco’s new nightshirt. "I know. And poor Pip felt terribly guilty about it – he thought it was all his fault that I got sick in the first place."

Dr. Bolger said nothing for a moment, then patted Frodo’s shoulder and straightened. "Well, if you’re comfortable here, I’ll go check on Daisy," he said. "Try to wake Mosco up and give him some of that cowslip tea. I’ll be back in a few moments with something else," he added mysteriously, then without allowing Frodo to question the meaning of his words, he smiled and walked over to Merry and Daisy.

Frodo shrugged and shook his head, and continued with his task; managing to wake Mosco up a bit and lean him against his chest so that he could give him slow sips of the tea. Mosco was too groggy to speak, and simply leaned against him and obediently swallowed the tea as it was poured into his mouth.

Only when more than half the cup was drained did Frodo set the cup on the nightstand, lay down beneath the coverlet and make sure Mosco was in a comfortable position beside him. He was grateful for the rest; he had scarcely slept at all since his arrival, and it was now an enticing temptation.

Mosco made no noise, and Frodo surmised him to be asleep again. After struggling for several minutes, he eventually gave up, and surrendered himself to sleep as well.

In actual fact, Mosco was not asleep, but simply too tired and sore to move. As he felt Frodo’s breaths even out and the arms around him loosen, he slowly opened his eyes. At first, he could see nothing but the white of his older cousin’s shirt, but then he turned his head slightly and was able to look around the room.

Over Frodo’s side, he could see Merry and Daisy on a mattress at the other side of the room, sipping what appeared to be tea, and wondered when she’d arrived. He didn’t remember it. But he was too tired to dwell on it, and eventually relaxed again and resettled himself against Frodo.

It was comforting to have someone beside him, and he buried his face in his older cousin’s shirt, breathing in the familiar scent of ink, trees, and something else he could not place; something sweet and fresh, almost like new Spring meadow-grass. It was interesting, he realized, that he would learn so many things about those he knew well – things he’d never truly noticed before – when he was ill.

Mosco smiled a little to himself, licking his dry lips and finding that they still tasted faintly of cherry from the tea. He realized just then that the pain reliever he’d been given earlier was beginning to wear off, and his smile faded as his ribs began to ache.

He groaned softly in exasperation; he was tired of the pain in his ribs and he was tired of being ill. He wanted to be well again, able to run and play as he had been doing not three days before. Not for the first time, he wished his mother was there to comfort him – he had still not fully found out where she had gone.

His groan woke Frodo, who shifted Mosco so that he could see the boy’s face. Mosco hadn’t even realized he’d been crying, but tear streaks marked his damp cheeks, and he found his vision slightly blurry as he looked up at his older cousin.

"Mosco," Frodo whispered, gently wiping away another tear that slid down the child’s cheek. "What is it? Are you in pain again?"

Mosco nodded miserably, and sniffed back tears, finding that his throat was beginning to hurt. "Can I… have something to drink, please?" he asked quietly, as Frodo sat up, pulling him up to lean against him.

"Of course." Frodo reached carefully, trying not to jar Mosco too much, and retrieved the cup of tea from the nightstand. "Do your ribs hurt?"

Mosco nodded again, taking a sip of the tea. It soothed his throat as it went down, although it did not stop the itch in his chest from building. "I’m g-going to cough again," he said softly, inwardly groaning at his own weak and trembling voice, as he pushed away the cup. "I don’t want t-to…" Just before he felt the itch become unbearable and braced himself for what would inevitably follow, he thought he heard coughing coming for the other side of the room.

But he had no time to dwell on it; he felt Frodo pull him close, rubbing his back gently, as the unavoidable coughing fit began. Mosco could not even think while it lasted; he simply concentrated on getting it over and done with. He felt the now familiar fire race up his throat with every wracking cough, and the pain in his ribs was near-agony.

When at last the fit passed, he closed his eyes and sagged against Frodo, completely exhausted. He vaguely felt his cousin’s hands stroking his curls, and was able to make out some of the comforting words Frodo was murmuring.

"…It’s all right, now, Mosco…it’s over…rest now, I’ll…something to ease your ribs…"

Mosco let Frodo gently ease him back down into the bed, covering him with a quilt, and felt his older cousin press a quick kiss to his forehead, before rising and walking away. The ill child could hear his soft departing footsteps and wondered hazily where he was going. He felt very small, all alone in his bed.

Just as he was beginning to fall into warm, peaceful sleep, he heard a soft cry from the other side of the room. Curious for the moment, and eager to take his mind off his own pain, he opened his eyes, gingerly rolled over, and searched for the source of the noise.

At last, his eyes fell upon Daisy, also alone on her large mattress, and looking forlorn and distressed. Her long dark curls were messily strewn over the pillow, framing her face and adding to the pale appearance of her skin. Her eyes were tightly shut, but even from across the room, Mosco could see the tears sliding down her cheeks.

Somehow, the sight of someone sharing his own suffering gave him new strength, and without knowing exactly why, he slowly slipped out of bed, taking along his quilt, and made it across the room to sink down on the mattress beside Daisy.

The girl had been sobbing quietly, but upon feeling him sit down beside her, she gulped back her tears and looked up.

"Hullo," Mosco said softly, his voice hoarse from his recent coughing fit.

Daisy blinked at him for a moment, as though puzzled to find him there. "Hullo," she said finally, her own voice nearly as scratchy and painful-sounding as his. She slowly, and with difficulty, sat up, and continued to stare at him questioningly.

"Are you…feeling all right?" Mosco asked at last, a little awkwardly. He could think of nothing else to say – as his own pain was his ruling thought at the moment, it seemed to be the easiest topic to talk about.

Daisy hesitated a moment before answering. "Not really," she said honestly, rubbing her eyes as though ridding them of sleep. "I just had a dreadful bout of coughing a moment ago."

"Me too." Mosco felt strangely relieved, having someone who truly understood his pains to talk to. "When did you get here?" he asked after another pause.

"Last night," she answered, covering a small cough with her hand. "You were asleep." Mosco nodded, and they lapsed into silence again.

"Where is Merry?" Mosco asked, clearing his throat a little and then wincing at the pain that erupted in his raw throat.

"He went to get… something," said Daisy after thinking a minute. "I didn’t quite hear what it was. Something to help my coughing, I suppose." She sighed, and lay back down. "I hate being alone when I’m sick," she mumbled, barely audible.

Mosco nodded again. "So do I," he agreed. "I feel so small in bed all by myself…" He trailed off as an unexpected tickle in his throat caused him to cough slightly.

Daisy sat up again. "D’you want to lay here?" she asked slowly. "You can sleep on that end, and I’ll sleep on this end." A smile touched her pale lips. "I did that with Merry once, when Frodo was sick with that Fire Snake bite."

"Thank you," Mosco mumbled, returning the smile, and laying down on top of the coverlet at the opposite side of the bed and wrapping his quilt about him. "I heard about that. Frodo was very sick, wasn’t he…?" He trailed off groggily, and fell asleep before hearing Daisy’s murmured response.

"Yes…just like we are now…"

***

When Frodo, Merry, Dr. Bolger, and the other two adults returned several minutes later, they stopped short in the doorway, seeing both soundly sleeping children on the large mattress. Lila looked at Dr. Bolger with a small smile. "Now I’ll feel guilty for waking Daisy up to put her into a bath," she whispered.

Dr. Bolger returned the smile. "We can let them sleep for a while," he said. "They need all the rest they can get. That also gives the rest of us about ten minutes of rest, ourselves." He looked especially at Milo, who had dark circles beneath his eyes and was doing his best to keep them open. Mosco’s father had not slept more than a few minutes since Dr. Bolger’s arrival and the news of the severity of his son’s illness.

"I’ll just sit in a chair by the bed," said Milo, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep, "so that I’ll hear them if either wakes up."

Dr. Bolger smiled again and patted Milo’s shoulder. "Oh no, you don’t," he said. "You’re going to be to get some real rest. Mosco and Daisy will be fine; we’ll let you know the instant either of them wakes up."

Milo looked reluctant, but as Frodo, Merry and Lila joined Dr. Bolger in reassuring him, he sighed. "Very well," he said; "but don’t let me sleep too long. Give me a half-hour, not more."

"An hour," Dr. Bolger argued firmly. "Don’t worry, Milo. I give you my word that you’ll be notified as soon as they begin to stir."

Milo sighed again, and reluctantly made his way down the hall and into the Master Bedroom, leaving the door open just in case. As no further sound came from the room after he’d flopped onto the bed, the others surmised him to be asleep.

After checking on each of the patients quickly, Dr. Bolger and Lila both retired into the kitchen for some much-needed tea, while Frodo and Merry volunteered to stay with the ill children. They pulled up two cushioned chairs and sat by the mattress silently for a while, each in their own thoughts.

"You know," said Merry suddenly, causing Frodo to jump, "Daisy was playing with Pip just before she got sick." He looked up at his older cousin, concern clear in his face. "I’m worried about him."

Frodo looked at him a moment, then got to his feet, suddenly scooped Merry up, and grinning, sat back down in his own chair, the nearly-tweenage lad in his lap. Merry looked surprised for a moment, and then could not resist a smile as he settled comfortably against his older cousin. "Aren’t I a little old for this?" he asked, shifting a little to fit and swinging his long legs over the side of the chair.

"Never too old for comfort," Frodo replied with a returning smile, shaking his head and causing his curls to bounce. One of the dark ringlets brushed the top of Merry’s nose and he chuckled a little.

"Although I’m afraid I don’t have much comfort to give," Frodo continued, sobering. "I’m worried about Pip, too." He paused for a moment and looked down at Merry, whose smile had faded, replaced by the same look of apprehension he’d worn earlier. "But I spoke with Dr. Bolger about it," he said, "and he says that even when there is an outbreak of croup, generally only one or two come down with severe cases. Pippin should be fine."

Merry was silent, thinking over his cousin’s words. "At least put worrying aside until tonight," Frodo added with a smile, ruffling Merry’s honey-colored curls. 

"Very well," Merry agreed with a chuckle, slapping Frodo's hands away from his hair. "I’ll stop worrying – for now." He grinned, a bit of his usual mischievous self showing in his bright blue-grey eyes, and opened his mouth to say more, but just then, they heard footsteps behind them. They turned to see Dr. Bolger entering the room, a cup of steaming liquid in his hand.

"Hullo, lads," he said in a low, but cheerful voice. "Faring well?"

"They’re still asleep," Merry answered, quickly hopping off the chair, slightly embarrassed that the doctor had seen him in the rather undignified seat in Frodo’s lap. Dr. Bolger graciously did not mention it; although he chuckled slightly and there was a playful glimmer in his eyes. Frodo smirked as Merry blushed slightly, and he shot his older cousin a glare of halfhearted annoyance.

"Well then," said Dr. Bolger briskly, "Frodo, could you please come over here and sit on Mosco’s bed for me? Merry, you come as well."

Puzzled, the two young hobbits obeyed, and looked up at him questioningly. The doctor came over to the bed, standing before Frodo, still holding the cup of what they now recognized as some sort of tea in his hand.

"Now Frodo," he said, using a tone that, with its underlying hint of amusement, immediately put the young hobbit on his guard, "I’ve prepared some tea for you – elderberry with a bit of thyme mixed in. Will you drink it?"

Frodo raised his eyebrows. "Dr. Bolger," he began, "That’s not necce—" He was abruptly and unexpectedly cut off as Dr. Bolger suddenly thrust the cup to his lips and poured a rather large amount of tea into his mouth.

Astonished at this sudden turn of events, Frodo struggled to push the cup away from his mouth, but the doctor was anticipating his move. "Merry," he said calmly, visibly having difficulty stifling his laughter, "please restrain him for me while I make sure he drinks the rest of this."

Grinning rather maliciously, Merry did as he was told, ignoring the accusing glare he received from Frodo as he pinned his cousin’s arms firmly to his sides, wrapping his own arms tightly around Frodo’s chest to make doubly sure he did not escape.

Dr. Bolger, obviously taking great delight in Frodo’s predicament, allowed him to swallow one mouthful of the tea before pouring the next one in. Frodo had stopped struggling, accepting his fate, and resigned himself to glaring halfheartedly at both the doctor and his cousin.

Unable to speak or free himself from the two laughing conspirators who held him firmly in place on the bed, Frodo reluctantly swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the bitter, earthy-tasting liquid, occupying himself with thoughts of revenge.

At last, the final vile mouthful of the tea was swallowed, and Dr. Bolger removed the cup, placing it on the table. He was having difficulty in keeping his laughter low, and Merry had buried his face in Frodo’s shoulder to muffle his own mirth.

"Feeling better now, Frodo?" Dr. Bolger asked, laughing all the harder as Frodo gagged, trying to rid himself of the bitter taste the tea had left in his mouth.

"Why yes," Frodo replied sarcastically. "In fact, I’m feeling so much better that I think I could get up now!"

Merry raised his head, eyes wide, and the grin vanished from his face. "Dr. Bolger," he said quickly, "I don’t think it would be a good idea to let Frodo up yet."

"I think you’re right, lad," Dr. Bolger agreed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "No sense in risking harm to ourselves, eh?"

"Couldn’t agree with you more," Merry grinned, tightening his arms as Frodo began to struggle in earnest.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, if you don’t let me up right now, I’ll…" Frodo trailed off as he managed to free one arm and promptly wiped his mouth with the sleeve. "Ugh, I am never drinking any of your teas again!" He grumbled, looking at Dr. Bolger. "Couldn’t you have sweetened it at least?"

Dr. Bolger smiled at him. "As I said to you before, I think you’re old enough to take unsweetened medicine." he chuckled again. "It did not seem necessary to waste precious cherry juice or honey to sweeten a simple dose of tonic for a grown hobbit."

"Was it necessary to hold me down while you did it?" Frodo asked, wiping his mouth again. Dr. Bolger took pity on him and poured a glass of water from the pitcher on Mosco’s dresser.

"Would you have taken it willingly?" he asked in return, handing him the water. Frodo mumbled an answer, unintelligible, as he had a large gulp of water in his mouth. Dr. Bolger smiled proudly and folded his arms. "Well then, it was necessary. And quite fun," he added with a playful wink at Merry.

"I’d hate to think you knew about this evil plot earlier, Merry," said Frodo as he swallowed his mouthful of water. Merry grinned, keeping his firm grip around his cousin’s chest, still pinning Frodo’s other arm to his side.

"I might’ve known a little something," Merry said innocently, restraining the laughter that threatened to bubble out. "I’ve always wanted to do that to you…" he added in a mumble, which Frodo heard. Merry was given a playful cuff on the ear, and he loosened his grip and fell back onto the bed, laughing.

Just as Frodo turned to him, no doubt with vengeful intentions, there was a noise at the other side of the room, interrupting their much-needed respite from the melancholy that had settled over the house. All three heads shot up to see Daisy stirring on her mattress, whimpering a little.

Dr. Bolger quickly crossed the room, with the other two at his heels. They reached the mattress just as Daisy slowly opened her eyes halfway. The girl blinked several times, her brow furrowing slightly. "D-dr. B-bolger?" she gasped, clutching fistfuls of the bedsheets in her hands.

"I’m here, lass," the doctor whispered soothingly, stroking back the dark, tousled curls from where they plastered in tendrils on her cheeks and forehead. "What ails you?"

"M-my throat h-hurts," she whimpered, shutting her eyes. "…g-going to cough again…"

Dr. Bolger and Frodo positioned themselves to support her as the coughing fit began, but Merry left the room, muttering something about "telling Milo that she was awake." In truth, he could not bear to stand by, helplessly, listening to her anguished cries in-between the wracking coughs that shook her slight frame. To see her sweet face streaked with tears and twisted in pain was more than he could endure.

Finding Lila in the washroom readying a bath, he silently watched her working. She did not notice his presence until she reached up for a bottle of herbs. She jumped as she saw him standing in the doorway; and then her pretty face broke into a weary smile.

"Hullo, Merry-lad," she said, pouring the dried herbal powder into the warm water of the tub and mixing it with her hand. "Something you need?"

Merry shook his head. "No," he said, his voice choked with restrained tears. "But Daisy’s awake, and coughing dreadfully."

Lila’s face paled. "Oh dear," she murmured, quickly drying her hands on her apron. She hastened to the door, but stopped as she saw Merry’s unusual silence and distraught expression. Intuitively, she bent and pulled him into a comforting embrace, running her fingers through his golden curls as she would her son’s.

"Don’t worry, Merry," she said softly; "Daisy and Mosco will be just fine in no time – you’ll see." She allowed the lad to wet her dress with his silent tears, and waited patiently until he raised his tear-streaked face and smiled wanly at her.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I’m sor—"

Lila quickly cut him off. "Nonsense, lad," she said, "nothing to be sorry about. I’ve been worried too. But Dr. Bolger’s the best doctor in the Shire, and if he can’t heal them both, no one can."

Merry nodded and wiped the remnants of his tears away. "Thank you," he repeated. Lila ruffled his curls fondly. Ever since they’d first met – and especially while they’d tended to Frodo after his Fire Snake bite – she and Merry had gotten along well with one another. They each understood each other, and over the years, Merry had come to think of Lila as almost another Aunt.

"Think nothing of it," said Lila, giving him a last gentle smile, before hurrying down the hall and into Mosco’s room.

TBC...