Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to put them in different situations.

I would first like to thank Budgielover for giving me this plot bunny. During our first ever telephone conversation, I was telling her of my son's experiences with me being the one who always gave the medicine chasing him all over the house. She suggested a Frodo story, as always, Aragorn being the one giving the medication. This story will parallel the hard time I had getting rid of Ringworm of the scalp. In our time, the only way to get rid of it is by oral medication called Griseofulvin, most nasty tasting stuff ever. Even masked in popsicles, my 3 year old son could tell there was medication in it. So, I had to hold him down, and shut his mouth to make him swallow. Of course I was the "Mean Mommy" and my son went to Daddy every time after his dose.

And So, the Battle Begins

        It had been a fortnight since Frodo woke in Rivendell, and he was most excited because Lord Elrond had given his permission for him to take a bath, being able to submerge his entire body in water without having to worry about his opened shoulder wound.

        According to Lord Elrond, it was healing quite nicely, some puckering to be expected, and a little red, but other than that, healed enough so that Master Frodo could bathe normally.

        Frodo was slowly padding down the hallway towards the bath house with Sam trailing behind him, carrying towels and a special soap Arwen had made to soothe the young master. It was made of Eucalyptus and Lilacs. A relaxing smell to the senses she had told him.

        "Sam, really, I was perfectly able to carry my own bath things," Frodo tried to scold, but knew better than to try to put out his gardener. Especially when it came to his well being.

        "Sir, Lord Elrond said that you could go only if'n you had someone with you," he reminded his master, his green eyes peering over the towels he held high in his hands, balancing the soap resting on top.

        "My dear Sam. What would I do without you?" Frodo sighed, smiling.

        Sam knew he did not have to answer that. It was a statement; a flat fact that Frodo knew he probably would have burned himself out of his hole by now without the help of his gardener and dearest friend.

        They entered the bath house through the overgrown evergreen arbor. Earth tone brown stones carpeted the walkway from the entrance fanning out as it encircled the natural spring. Billows of steam rose from the water's surface, the warmth being contained by the intertwining palm leaves forming a canopy.

        Already, Frodo could feel himself relax as the steam opened up passageways, inhaling deep with every breath he took. He was going to enjoy his bath.

        It was almost time for luncheon when the vibration of footsteps on pavement filtered through the water, causing a rippling effect. Frodo felt the rise of the water against his face, water rushing over his ears. This, however, does not phase the young master of Bag End. He was taught long ago by his father that water should not be feared as he did not once look up at what was making the disturbance as he continued floating on his back. He had learned to float many years back along the Brandywine River. He had invited his cousins, Merry and Pippin, to join him on an afternoon of picknicking and hearing Uncle Bilbo's tales. Merry had showed him how easy it was to float up on his back, the sun warming his face. Frodo took to it like fish to water. As the rippling slowed, Frodo could detect the footsteps with his keen hobbit hearing,even under water, suddenly stopping at the pools edge. "Probably Sam," the young master said to himself his eyes closed,"to remind me I have had soaked long enough".

        His stiff shoulder was loosening up as he relaxed in the warmth of the water and all too soon, Frodo had to leave the soothing embracing waters. "Yes, Sam, I am almost done," Frodo said aloud as he finally opened his eyes. His feet hit the bottom of the natural pool, sand instead of mud, squishing between his toes when his opened eyes revealed the intruder standing feet from him. It was not Sam, but Aragorn. Quickly turning his back, as all hobbits are modest about their body, "You startled me, Aragorn. I did not realize that you were in here. I thought it was Sam coming to collect me for lunch."

        Aragorn had come on behalf of Sam. Sam had been concerned that he noticed hair seemed to be missing as he massaged his master's scalp. Instead of upsetting Frodo, he had excused himself early, stating that he was going to check on luncheon and would be back in time to fetch Mr.Frodo from his bath. He did not however, do that first, he instead sought out Strider to come and discover for himself the mystery of his master's missing hair.

        "I am sorry to disturb you. I did not think you would mind my company, Frodo," Aragorn apologized as he had removed his boots, hiking the Elvish robe he wore above his knees as he put his feet into the warm water.

        "I would trust you to not look when I exit, then? I would hope to still have some privacy before we set out on the journey?" Frodo talked with his back to Aragorn, blood rushing to his cheeks.

        "Yes, but first, I have some salve that Lord Elrond would like me to apply to your shoulder. He said it works well when combined with the steam from the spring," the Ranger of the North said so as to get close to the Ring-bearer to inspect the problem to Sam's satisfaction. He did not actually lie to Frodo, his foster father did want the salve applied to the hobbit's injured shoulder, he just did not specify when and where.

        Frodo tried to calm himself as he felt the tension rebuilding in the once loosened shoulder muscle. He was so tired of being sick. What would salve hurt? With a resounded sigh, he nodded and backed himself through the water into Aragorn's dangling legs.

        "This will not hurt a bit. I promise," Aragorn told the visibly shaking hobbit. He could see from his angle, the goose bumps erupting all over the hobbit's arms as he had them folded in front of him, hoping to prevent any glimpses from the Ranger's eyes. Shaking his head a bit at Frodo's modesty, Strider dipped his fingers into the jar then briskly warmed the salve between his fingers before applying it to the Ring-bearer's shoulder.

        Flinching at the sudden touch, Frodo tensed his shoulder as he felt strong hands work the salve into the sore muscle. Within mere minutes, the Ring-bearer's tension left, giving into the eucalyptus aroma from the salve as it permeated his senses, his head rolled forward, chin resting on chest.

        The Ranger took this opportunity to get a really good look at his charges head. At first he did not see anything, but when Frodo's head relaxed further onto his chest, one of his many curls fell to the side, revealing a bald area just below the crown. Without creating suspicion on the Ring-bearer's part, Aragorn leaned in as if putting pressure upon the injured shoulder, peering closer at the infected area. His healers eye detected that the hair had broken off close to the scalp, creating a circular pattern covered with crusty brown patches. There was no indication that there was new growth underneath.

        Frodo's eyes opened when the rhythm of Aragorn's hands slowed, reflecting the Ranger's face mighty close to the his head. The Ring-bearer grabbed Strider's wrist, twisting beneath it, bringing forth all the strength he had, pulling the man into the water.

        Aragorn sputtered as he rose out of the water, wiping the remaining rivulets from his eyes. He had not realized that Frodo had been watching, catching him off guard.

        "What are you doing, Strider?" the innocent look of the Ring-bearer hardened into anger as he moved away out of the Ranger's grasp, feeling around his head at what had Aragorn's attention forgetting all modesty.

        "I am sorry, Frodo," he said, wringing the water from his hair,"but Sam was concerned that you were going bald."

        "Bald? Me? What in the world gave him that idea?" Frodo replied, still trying to feel for the bald spot.

        "Here, let me show you," Aragorn said as he approached the Ring-bearer slowly, hoping that there would not be any reprieve.

        That was not to be, though. Frodo treaded water backwards soon feeling the cold wet rock against his back, with Strider's outstretched hand looming over him. He was trapped, and he wanted to disappear. He glanced at his chest, eyeing the Ring. It seemed to call out, inviting him to put it on again.

        "Frodo!" Aragorn spoke sternly. He was not asking, he was telling as he eyed the Ring-bearer fighting the urge to fly.

        Frodo snapped his head up, his eyes no longer on the Ring but on the future King of Gondor.

        "Please, Frodo. Come over here and let me look. I saw something before you gave me a bath," Aragorn chuckled as his voice became softer, lifting himself up out of the spring, sitting on the rock's edge.

        Not knowing why, the fear Frodo felt left and he found himself smiling, laughing at his own immature actions. Of course he knew Aragorn would not hurt him intentionally. It was his potions he feared the most. Frodo crossed the pool to where Aragorn sat and once again found his scalp being the center of attention.

        Aragorn, finished with his examination, and before he could let the hobbit protest, he plucked the startled hobbit out of the water, setting him on the cold ledge while he got up to retrieve one of the fluffy towels that had been laying by the fire. He then came back and wrapped that same towel around the Ring-bearer, standing him on his feet.

        Surprise written all over his face, Frodo said nothing to Strider.

        "What?" Strider asked amused by this hobbit's modesty,"I promise, I did not look. Now, let's get you back to your room before you turn into a prune, or worse freeze. You look very pale."

tbc...