Fear, Chapter 13 - Awakenings

by Ariel (lgreenaw@kcnet.org)

Rating: PG-13 for medical details and high angst

Warnings: This fic is rated for graphic medical details, contains some violence (fights) and hints at darker themes, but contains no slash or sexual themes.  

Disclaimer: The characters are Tolkien's - I make no profit but my own pleasure from using them in fiction.  

Story description: Falls can be deadly - especially if you are a very young Frodo Baggins.  A brooding cousin and a fabulous necklace form the backdrop for this tale of angst and heartache, dire injury and long healing.

Author's Note:  See?  I told you, be patient and I would be back with more Frodo.  If you are reading this and think I haven't updated in months, you might want to check the previous chapters.  I know that none of the people who usually get author alerts from me got one when I updated the last time.  

~*~

Chapter 13 – Awakenings

"Oh, please, Frodo, I am only trying to bathe you! Daisy?"

Primula's voice caught in her throat as her son began to struggle. He had been calm when they started his bath, watching her movements with curious eyes that would periodically unfocus and glaze over. He let her undress him and wrap him in a towel without a word, but when she'd bent to lower him into the water, he panicked. A soft cry rose in his throat and he clung to her desperately, as if terrified. Primula didn't know what to do - they'd bathed him since his accident, but this was the first time they'd tried to do so while he was somewhat conscious. The vigorous reaction frightened her.

"It's all right, sweet… Mumma has you. I won't let go… " She hugged her son to her and looked over her shoulder to where Daisy was coming around to help. "What ever is the matter with him now?!" she asked, the anxious tone of her voice providing a barb she could not conceal.

Daisy reached across the tub and added her arms to Primula's in supporting the small boy's body. "There, there, Frodo. We have you!" she said in a bright, cheerful voice. She looked up into Primula's worried face and smiled reassuringly. "He's still terribly dizzy, poor thing," she said with compassion for both mother and son in her voice. "It's probably hard for him to hang suspended over the water like that. He's got nothing under him, see?" The healer placed one hand under his head and the other under his bottom to support the child. She nodded to Primula and together they lowered him into the waiting bath. Frodo clung to his mother so tightly that it wasn't until he was still, settled on the firmness of the tub's bottom and his head lay cushioned by some towels that he began to relax. He opened his eyes again and, seeing Primula's face leaning close over him, gave a little sigh and snuggled against the towels. Primula transferred his death grip on her arm to the side of the tub and sat back shaking suds off her hands.

"Maybe I've pushed him more than I ought today," admitted Daisy. "He's still not good at being moved - that'll take more time, I think, but he's done so much better than I could've hoped I suppose it encourages me."

"Yes…" Primula picked up the pitcher of warm water and drizzled it carefully over Frodo's pale chest. "I do understand how remarkably he is recovering." She laughed but her dark brows kept their worried crease. "Still, I can't help wishing I would wake up one of these mornings to see him leap from the bed hale and hearty again." She laughed, but it was a forced little thing. "Foolish, aren't I?" Frodo closed his eyes and sighed, the warmth and flow of the water, the sound of his mother's voice and the fact that he was blessedly still again, comforting him.

Daisy smiled from the other side of the tub and reached for a flannel. "Well, you want to see him completely well - and I'll not say that's a fool's hope - but you must give him time." She carefully leaned Frodo's torso against her arm giving Primula the flannel and access to his back. "This was very serious, Primula. I'd not expect him to be even walking by the fall, despite his progress." She stroked his pitifully shorn head regretting the forsaken curls. "His poor little brain has had a nasty shock; it'll take some doing to get things back in order again."

Primula nodded. It was an assurance she had been given many times already but that didn't stop her from worrying whenever he became difficult. Daisy had assured them that his recovery had been remarkable - and that his injury could have been much worse than it turned out - but still Primula could not eradicate the seed of doubt; how would he have fared if another had treated him? She glanced guiltily at Daisy who crouched by the tub side cooing comfortingly into Frodo's ear. She was very grateful to the healer for saving her son's life, of course, but the longer he lingered in this state of shattered awareness, the more that doubt grew. Would Clearwater have cut a hole in her son's head? She worked the soap into a lather and spread it in slow circles across Frodo's back. The boy's tension eased further and he relaxed against Daisy's arm till the healer was supporting his whole weight. Primula rinsed him with another pitcher of warm, clean water and Daisy laid him carefully against the towels again.

Drogo had no such doubts about his choice of physicians - trusting Daisy implicitly - but he hadn't had Clearwater as a physician his whole life. He also didn't value Menegilda's opinion, but, despite herself, Primula did. She had looked up to her brother and his wife for too long to be able to completely disregard their feelings on the matter. She picked up the flannel again and began washing Frodo's legs. If only she could be as confident as her husband. It seemed ungrateful to question Daisy's practices, to expect more than the progress Frodo had made during the past week, but seeing her son still so seriously affected by the injury made her want to hold someone responsible. She wanted to shake them and ask them 'why' until her fury was satisfied. She felt helpless and angry, and unjust though she knew it was, some of that anger touched her friendship with Daisy.

She rinsed him again with the final pitcher full of rinse water and reached for another towel. Frodo's eyes were closed, his dark lashes damp and arrayed peacefully against his flushed cheek. He might have been asleep but Primula noted he still held tightly to the tub's side as if to keep a firm grasp on his spinning world. She stood, holding her arms out and Daisy lifted the boy out of the bath. He moaned in protest and opened his eyes again, seeking his mother. As skilled as Daisy was at handling him in this state, he still sought Primula for comfort. That felt oddly satisfying. For all her discomfort with his current state, his need for her was a reassuring constant. She wrapped the towel about him and hugged him close, carrying him over to the bed to carefully dry and dress him.

In the week since the fall Daisy had selflessly stayed with them in Brandy Hall so that she could be on call if Frodo developed the 'brain fever' or any other complication she had warned them about. Luckily, Frodo had escaped any of these terrifying maladies but he was not yet what Primula would have called healed. He was still listless and dazed, speaking to them after his first coherent 'Mum' as if from his dreams although with each passing day he showed signs of steady improvement. His eyes were now able to track and hold an object as it passed across his line of sight and he seemed to have moments of clarity, when his sharp little brows would furrow and he seemed to be trying desperately to focus. He sometimes seemed able to understand what was going on around him, but most of the time, he behaved as a sleepy child trapped just at the verge of waking.

The cut Daisy had made was almost healed; only the threads of her stitches still remained, sticking incongruously out of Frodo's flesh. Today they would be removed and Daisy would return home to her own family. Primula and Drogo had attended her instructions closely and had become competent to tend him in her absence. The healer would still be visiting daily to continue guiding them in his recovery but Primula could not help feeling relieved that she would have her little family to herself again. It would be one more step towards the normality she desperately wanted to regain.

But Frodo was hardly normal yet. It was as if he was an infant again for she needed to take care of all his needs. At first they had swaddled him but Primula had quickly learned to read the signs that said he needed the privy - just as she had when he was a fauntling. He wouldn't yet eat by himself but was beginning to show marked preferences for the thicker, heartier fare that Cook was preparing for them. He had even managed a soft lamb stew full of potatoes and leeks for that day's lunch and the satisfied smacking of his lips told her how much he had appreciated it. It soothed his mother's heart to see him eating heartily, but she also noticed a trend in his habits that subtly disturbed her; his favorites seemed to have changed. Bread pudding, which he had long preferred over any other food, was no longer as eagerly consumed as a steaming bowl of mushroom soup and the turnips that Frodo had always turned his nose up at were now readily accepted. The lethargy would be temporary, the confusion would lift - Daisy had assured her of these things - but Primula could not help feeling the shift in his preferences was an indication the accident and perhaps its radical treatment had really changed her son. Her reason knew it might, that such a traumatic incident was bound to leave some mark on him, but seeing even these innocuous signs of it filled her with an unreasoning fear. She felt as if his feet had suddenly been set on a dread path from which there was no turning. It was a fanciful notion, of course, but it made her desperate to have her son back exactly as he was before.

She toweled him off gently, her loving touch singling out each finger and toe for particular attention, and again marveled at the way his body had changed from the chubby little infant he had been. He still had the soft pad of baby fat on his cheeks and along his belly and softening the abruptness of his knobby knees, but elsewhere his limbs had outgrown the roundness of babyhood. He seemed half a babe, half a young hobbit boy - but it suited him somehow. His close-cropped hair also revealed the emerging angularity of his face and showcased his huge, expressive eyes. The dark brows above them began to haltingly crease, as if he was stirring and becoming irritated by her attentions. His nose wrinkled and he tried to roll onto his side seeming to want to go back to the sleep the warm bath had lulled him into.

One the greatest difficulties his caretakers had been faced with had been the fact that, other than the broken arm and gash on his face, his body had remained as strong as it always had been. If he didn't want Primula or Daisy to do something for him, he was fairly able to resist them - and the confusion of his mind made it difficult for him to understand they were trying to help.

"There, there, poppet. Mummy is only trying to dress you now!" she cooed. Her hand soothed his brow and he gave a sigh and relented, his unbroken arm coming up to rub his nose in a gesture that was so achingly normal that it brought tears to Primula's eyes. "Yes, my sweet, we'll be done in a moment and you can rest," she sniffed. "This has been a big day for you and now the stitches are coming out. Daisy says you have done so well that she's going to be able to go home. It will be you and Mummy and Da from now on just as it has always been." She leaned over and kissed his soft cheek drinking in his fresh washed little boy smell and smiling at the little frown of impatience that crossed his sleepy features. That was blazingly normal for him as well.

"I've been meaning to ask you about that," began Daisy hesitantly as Primula eased a clean nightshirt over Frodo's head. "My Feyland is coming by later to collect me but you know I'll be back tomorrow. And at any time, I'll come quick if you need. I'm not so worried about Frodo any more, he's doing so splendidly, but I'm wondering how you'll manage. It's an awful strain on the two of you, and if Drogo is called away again…"

Primula stiffened, suddenly uncomfortable and Daisy felt the barrier that had grown between rise again. "I am certain that will not be necessary," she assured the healer. "Drogo is not likely to be required again. It was a family emergency. Rory… Dodinas…" She flushed but quickly regained her composure. "The services of a solicitor were needed to settle a rather unique situation. I doubt my brothers will be in such a condition again. The matter is settled and as such, I would expect you not to speak of it again." Her tone was formal and, though not unkind, brooked no discussion. Daisy had lived in the Baggins' apartments for nearly a week, sharing their hopes and fears and providing them the benefit of her skills but she had never lost her awareness of the differences of their station. Drogo was rather cavalier about it and treated her intrusion with good humor, but Primula, as with every Brandybuck she had ever tended, retained a distance that Daisy found strangely reassuring. She had grown up in Buckland revering the Brandybuck family as the masters of the land. Scrutinizing them as closely as she had for the past days disquieted her. Perhaps it was because it was what she was used to, but she rather preferred not knowing some of the sordid details of their tightly interconnected family. It seemed easier to respect them when she wasn't privy to all their faults.

"Very well," Daisy curtsied to show that she had taken the entirety of Primula's meaning. "But you should take my advice, my lady, and accept help with Frodo whenever it's offered." Daisy shook her head firmly at the denial she knew was forthcoming. "You'll not be needing me so much, the boy's well on the mend now, but if you could, take on someone to help with the little things. It's as much for Frodo's sake as your own, Primula," she insisted. "I know you hate others seeing him like this, but getting him out, putting him in touch with new things and people can't do nothing but help. He has a lot of healing to do. Any little nudge you can give him'll help stir things up and exercise that brain of his."

Primula eyed her as if she wished the healer had asked for anything else, but Daisy knew her advice would be heeded. As much as the hobbit lady wanted to shield her family from inquisitive eyes and gossip, she wanted her son healed more. She would do as Daisy instructed.

"Right then. Why don't we take care of this last bit of business and I'll let you be?" Together they turned Frodo lengthwise of the bed so Daisy could have unfettered access to the left side of his head. He grumbled in protest at being disturbed and rolled onto his right side, unintentionally giving Daisy a clear field of view. "Yep, best do this quick while he's still sleepy. Shouldn't hurt, but all the same…" She leaned over and pushed the short, dark hair aside to reveal a tiny grey patch of skin where the hair had been shorn right down to the surface. The square cut was nearly healed over and the only thing that showed where the incision had been was the shiny white scar and the fine black threads. In a movement almost too quick for Primula to follow, Daisy snipped the small stitches pulled them out of Frodo's head. "There…" the healer breathed. "Those little holes will scab over and heal and you won't have no more worry about it."

"What about the hole you've cut into his skull?" asked Primula, concerned. "I expected you to do something for that at the very least!"

"Not much I can do, ma'am," said Daisy shaking her head. "He'll heal that up better than anything I could do in a few months time. The bone is already filling in a little. You can feel it under the scar." She ran her fingers over the spot on Frodo's head where she had performed the pressure relieving removal but Primula shook her head, shuddering.

"No, I will… take your word on it. If you say it will heal, I believe it. I was only…" She blushed, embarrassed. "It still unnerves me to think that there is naught between my son's brain and the outside world than a layer of skin. And with him still so unbalanced... What if he falls or bumps his head again?"

"That's another reason I suggested you take the help," Daisy answered seriously. "He's getting his strength back fast, but his reason's coming slower. He might be a small boy, but if he starts to fight you over something, you'll need to get him controlled right quick before he does himself some harm. You know how fast these youngsters can move! Lor, my Mae can be quick as a wink when she puts her mind to it. Luckily, she's good as gold most of the time, but Frodo doesn't quite understand what's happened to him yet. I don't know if he'll be a problem, but I suspect he'll want to be up and about long before he's ready to. I'd line up some folks to aid you in case you need them - preferably ones old enough to be responsible but young enough to still be quick. There's no harm in being prepared. And I'll be here in a twinkling if you need - but, well,…" Daisy's cheek flushed. "My husband's been asking when I was coming home and all. He doesn't think it seemly for me to be staying here with you fine folks."

At that Primula smiled and this time it was a truly sincere and grateful one. "I know it's been hard on you," she said softly. "And I haven't helped, I am sure. You must think me some type of ill-tempered monster the way I have snapped and been so horrible to everyone. You've given above and beyond what you might have and I do want you to know how greatly we appreciate your work."

"Oh, ma'am," Daisy assured her, her face flushing from the heartfelt praise. "It's nothing. I've dealt with all types of parents in my line. None of them're too chipper when their child's hurt. You've acted no worse than others have before you. You pay it no mind." She patted Primula's hand warmly. "I really do understand. You see to it Frodo gets better, you take care of him and I'll never think a cross word about you. I promise."

Primula looked down at her sleeping son. The deepening shades of evening had thrown his face into shadow, but his precious form drowsed contentedly under the dim whiteness of his bed shirt. She stroked the gentle curve of his shoulder. His firm solidity and steady breaths, his mere presence and steady improvement were tangible evidence of all that this healer had given her. When he was calm like this, Primula wondered why ever she doubted that Daisy had performed a miracle. She leaned over her son and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"You have my most earnest word that I will do just that," she promised.

~*~

Things were getting better, but he was still dizzy and confused. His head didn't ache so much and gratitude for that gift was all he could feel for a long time.

It came to him that several days must have passed,... Or at least he thought they must have. He remembered sunlight through his open window and then seeing his mother by his bedside as moonlight filtered into the room. He remembered the smell of food and feeling contentedly full but he could not recall eating. His memories were oddly jumbled and he was not certain if they had happened in anything like the order he recalled them.

One coherent thought that tickled the back of his mind and coalesced there as his reason began to reassert itself was the question of what had happened to him? He could remember a morning in Brandy Hall eating grape jam on his biscuits and giggling as he'd darted to avoid his mother's dampened handkerchief and her attempts to wipe the remains of them from his face. Then the scene faded into a blaze of light like stepping from a dark smial into the brightness of midday, but there was literally nothing, no memory at all, beyond it. His next awareness had been here in his own bed with the world spinning mercilessly and his stomach just beginning to identify hunger from the omnipresent nausea of motion. It was hunger that woke him this time too, for little else could stir him from the blissful respite from vertigo that only sleep could provide.

It was dark again. He opened his eyes and could tell from the moonlight glinting off the edges of furniture that it must have been deep night. Stars glittered in the patch of velvet sky above his bed but there was no sound to be heard but the soft whisper of breath as other hobbits slept nearby. He stirred and regretted it the instant his fragile hold on stability faltered. He whimpered and closed his eyes again, but the tiny murmur had been enough to catch a pair of loving ears and drag their owner to wakefulness. He heard the rustling of sheets and a grunt as someone heaved a large, tired body from the bed to shuffle quickly, if stumblingly, to his side.

"What's this?" came a sleepy voice that flowed over his mind like a soothing blanket. "You are going to wake your mother with your fretting, and we can't have that..." A warm hand gently stroked his brow and he felt the creases that discomfort had put there ease.

"Da..." Frodo sighed, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. The faint odor of pipeweed and musk filled the space between them and he drew it in with a deep, satisfied breath. "Da, you're... home!" His voice was whispered and halting but the relief in it was clear. His father drew in his own ragged breath, struggling to hold back the cry that sudden, overwhelming joy threatened to elicit from him.

"Yes...ss..." he said through tears. "I was gone today, but I am back. You noticed! Oh, Frodo!" Drogo, trembling with elation but, careful not to jostle him, climbed onto the small bed and wrapped his great arms around his son's prostrate body. In the warmth of that beloved embrace, Frodo's dizziness was eased and he struggled to lift his free arm to hug his father back. A stifled but delighted laughter warmed Frodo's cheek and Drogo pressed a trembling, reverent kiss on his son's temple. "I'm back," he whispered lovingly into his child's ear. "I will always come back to you."

Frodo smiled softly though his eyes remained closed. He sighed, contented, and settled against his father, the feeling of being safe and loved beyond measure easing both his heart and mind. Drogo made no sound but Frodo could feel tears on the cheek his father held pressed against Frodo's brow. They laid together in silent joy for a long time, each taking in the warm presence of the other, until at last Frodo was forced to speak. He could deny his need no longer.

"Da?" he whispered softly as if loath to break the spell of succor those loving arms had cast. Drogo's embrace tightened briefly and Frodo could feel the muscles of his face moving into a broad smile as if even the child's halting and as yet slurred speech was music to his ears.

"Yes, my dearest boy?" he sighed. His son opened his crystal bright eyes and his father's torment-weary heart rejoiced at the sight of him at last alert and aware.

"I'm...hungry..."

TBC