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Dreamflower's Mathoms II  by Dreamflower

Written for frolijah_fan_54, for the Baggins Birthday Bash exchange on LiveJournal.)

Title: Surprises and Secrets
Author: Dreamflower02
Request: "I'd like to have Frodo and Bilbo - hurt/comfort (Frodo hurt & Bilbo comforting) that requires a modification of a planned birthday party and results in some very unusual/special gifts being given."

 Surprises and Secrets


“I’m so sorry, Bilbo! I’ve ruined everything!”

“I will not hear another apology. You were helping a friend and neighbor--there is nothing for which you need to apologize. Now, you get comfortable, and let me put this pillow under your foot.” Bilbo tucked and fussed, and Frodo finally began to relax, though his disappointment did not subside. He had been trying to help the Widow Rumble get her washing in before a sudden rainsquall ruined it. A misstep in the wet grass as he ran had resulted in a badly sprained ankle.

It was bad enough to be in pain and to be laid up, but the timing could not be worse--his and Bilbo’s joint Birthday was in two days, and Mistress Salvia had made it clear that he was to stay off his foot and stay in bed with it elevated for at least three or four days. He would certainly not be up in time to take part in the party that Bilbo had planned. Frodo groaned. The Brandybucks were probably already on their way from Buckland--there would be no time to let them know.

“Frodo, I am going to go and get some fresh ice from the cellar. Mistress Salvia said to keep that ankle cold until the swelling subsides. You drink that tea she left for you, and then I will need to go to my study for a while and write some quick notes to go out by Quick Post. We will just postpone the Party for a while.”

“I’m so--” He stopped as Bilbo held up a stern finger.

“No. Do not apologize!” He smiled, and reached down to smooth the dark curls away from Frodo’s forehead, and then leaned over to place a kiss on his brow. “I’m very proud of you lad, and a delay in having a party is a very small price to pay.”

Frodo sighed, and watched as Bilbo turned and left the room, and then he picked up the tea. He sniffed it, and made a face. Chamomile, vervain, and willow-bark, among other things. Honey would scarcely disguise the taste. Still, he drank it dutifully, for Bilbo had gone the expense of having the healer in.

By the time Bilbo returned with the ice, to refresh the pack that Mistress Salvia had applied, Frodo was beginning to feel drowsy. The pain had subsided to an icy numbness, and when Bilbo left the room quietly to go write the notes to let people know of the postponed party, Frodo had begun to drift off.

He awoke to the delightful smell of mushrooms, as Bilbo entered the room with a tray. Blinking, Frodo glanced out the window, and realized it was past teatime.

“I thought,” said Bilbo, as he helped Frodo to wash his face and hands, “that we would take ‘tupper’.” Frodo grinned at the silly word his cousin had come up with to describe a late tea or early supper. Bilbo had come up with it one day when Merry had been there visiting, the first year Frodo had come to live at Bag End.

They chatted companionably for a while, and then Bilbo made some more of the tea left by the healer, and tucked Frodo up for the night.

________________________


It was scarcely sunrise, when Frodo woke up feeling rather urgent. His uncle had assisted him the night before to use the chamber pot without putting any weight on his foot, but Frodo was not sure if he could wait this morning. Uncle Bilbo was not always an early riser. Just as he was beginning to feel that he would have to risk trying it by himself, there was a tap on the door, and then his cousin peeked in.

“Ah! You are awake, then? Do you need some help?”

Frodo sighed gratefully. “Yes, I do, Uncle!”

Once Frodo had finished seeing to his morning needs, Bilbo settled him back in the bed, and propped his ankle up on the pillow. It was beginning to ache again, but it was no longer the sharp excruciating pain of the day before. It had now become a rather persistent, but dull, throbbing ache.

First breakfast rapidly made an appearance--tea, and fruit juice, and porridge, and some of Uncle Bilbo’s famous honeycakes.

Bilbo had brought him a small stack of books, to help while away the time, and Frodo settled in quite happily, with one of his favorites--a translation by Bilbo of the story of Beren and Lúthien.


Just as he was getting to one of the most exciting parts of the story, there was another tap on the door. Was it time for second breakfast already?

When the door opened, Frodo found himself grinning in surprise--for the one bearing the loaded tray was young Sam Gamgee.

“Sam!” Frodo exclaimed. “Come in! Come in!”

“I brung your second breakfast, Master Frodo,” the lad said. “Mr. Bilbo put lots on the tray and extra plates and all--he said you might like to have my company while you et.” Sam blushed as he put the heavily laden tray down upon the bedside table.

He pulled the chair closer to the bed, and soon the two of them were enjoying sausages, fried potatoes, eggs and scones, with plenty of butter and brambleberry preserves.
“Missus Rumble is awful sorry about your poor ankle, Master Frodo. She’s telling’ everbody about how you got hurt helping her.”

Frodo blushed. “Yes. Well, I should have been more careful. I hope she doesn’t blame herself.”

Sam sighed. “Well, it wouldn’t’ve happened if you hadn’t’ve been helping her. But I don’t see as how anyone could be to blame for it.”

Frodo chuckled. “You are so wise for your age, Sam.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to blush. He changed the subject. “Mr. Bilbo says as how Merry is going to be here anyhow--even though the Party is off.”

Frodo nodded. “Uncle Sara, Aunt Esme and Merry will probably be here sometime today; they would have already left to come here before Uncle Bilbo could send out the notes.”

Sam grinned. He and Merry had formed a firm friendship over the last couple of years, since Frodo had come to live full-time at Bag End. Sam always looked forward to Merry’s occasional visits to Hobbiton.

When the meal was finished, Sam gathered up the dishes onto the tray. Then he hesitated and blushed once more. “Master Frodo,” he said, ducking his head, “seeing as how your birthday’s tomorrow, I wanted to give you your present today, while it’s still proper.”

“Why Sam! A present?” Frodo looked surprised. The Gamgee clan usually gave a joint gift to Uncle Bilbo, one which served as both Bilbo’s and Frodo’s gift.

Sam nodded. “My mum sent up some of her cherry tarts for you and Mr. Bilbo. But this is for you.” He reached in his pocket and held out his hand.

It was a marble. “Sam! That’s a bull’s-eye aggie!” Frodo grinned and took the marble to look at it. “I didn’t know you had one of those!”

Sam grinned back. “I won it off of Jolly Cotton t’other day! Do you like it, Master Frodo!”

“I do, very much Sam! As soon as I’m better, we shall play, and I’ll give you a chance to win it back!”

Sam laughed. “I’d like that, Master Frodo, but I don’t see as that’s likely. You’re ever so much better at marbles than me!”

“Well, you are getting better all the time, Sam!”

Sam left to take the dishes away, and Frodo went back to reading.

The day passed comfortably enough, with Uncle Bilbo coming in to keep him company from time to time. After luncheon, the Widow Rumble came herself, with the birthday gift of a blue pocket handkerchief and profuse apologies for his injury. Frodo thanked her for the gift and reassured her that he did not hold her to blame for his sprain.

Shortly after that, it was Aunt Dora.

“Good afternoon, Frodo dear.” She bent to pinch his cheek, as she had always done. Perhaps one day she’d realize that he was a tween now, and too old for that sort of thing. But she was fond of him, so he tried not to wince.

“I was sorry to hear of your mishap, Nephew. But I am very impressed with your Kindness. It is always Proper to Help One’s Neighbors.” She sat down and smiled at him.

“Thank you, Aunt Dora.” In spite of the sententious way she had of speaking, Frodo was very fond of her as well. She might worry a lot about what was proper, but she had a very generous heart.

“I have your Birthday Present,” she said, as she reached into her reticule. She took out a small package wrapped in brown paper. “Your father made this, and gave it to me on his own Twenty-Second Birthday.”

Frodo opened it curiously. It was a small box made of oak, a small flower carved upon the lid. Tears unexpectedly came to his eyes, as he thought of his father making this for his sister. “Thank you, Aunt Dora,” he whispered huskily, and sniffed.

She smiled, and handed him a handkerchief. “You are Most Welcome, Frodo dear. I do think that your dear Papa would have liked you to have it.” She rose and kissed his brow, and took her leave.

It was just after teatime, when Frodo heard voices in the hall, and realized that his Brandybuck kin must have arrived.

Sure enough, the door opened seconds later, to admit his Uncle Saradoc, Aunt Esmeralda and Merry. Merry rushed over to him.

“Frodo! Uncle Bilbo said you were hurt!” His little face was anxious.

“Yes, I was very silly and slipped and hurt my ankle.”

Uncle Sara came over. “Yes, we *heard* how it happened, Frodo! I’m not surprised you were helping someone else when it happened.”

Frodo blushed again. “Well, anyone would have done the same.”

Aunt Esme chuckled warmly. “But it was not *anyone* who did so. It was you, so pardon us if we feel a bit proud of you.”

“Aunt Esme!”

“Does it hurt dreadfully?” Merry still looked worried.

“Not so very dreadfully, now, sprout,” Frodo answered. “It hurt much more when it first happened.”

“I wish you weren’t hurt, Frodo!”

“I know, sprout, but it will be better soon.”

“But not in time for your party!”

Frodo reached out his arms, and Merry came over to him to receive his embrace. “The best part of the party is here, Merry. You came!” He squeezed his little cousin fiercely. He was always surprised to realize how much he had missed Merry until he saw him again.

Bilbo allowed Merry to take supper in the room with Frodo, and then, after much discussion and pleading from two pairs of wide young eyes, gave in to allowing Merry to sleep in Frodo’s bed.

___________________________________


The next morning, Merry was collected by his mother for a wash and to get dressed, and Bilbo came in to share first breakfast with Frodo.

“Happy birthday!” he exclaimed, as he placed the tray on the table.

“Happy birthday,” said Frodo, smiling. “Do you mind very much, Uncle, opening the top drawer of my bureau? The one on the very top is yours--and would you mind passing out the others to those who are here?”

Bilbo went over and opened the drawer, taking out the wrapped parcels he found there. One of them was small and flat, and had his name upon it in Frodo’s neat handwriting. He carried it back over to the chair by the bed, and sat down. He placed the parcel on the tray, and took another very small one from his breast pocket, to place next to it.

The two of them ate their breakfast in silent companionship, and then Frodo said, “You go first this time, Uncle.”

Bilbo carefully drew away the paper. “Oh my Frodo! This is wonderful!” It was a carefully done watercolour painting of the rooftree atop the Hill. “I can almost count the leaves!” he exclaimed.

“And now for yours, Frodo-lad.” He handed the tiny fabric wrapped parcel to Frodo, who took it curiously. Frodo untied the ribbon, and pulled the fabric off.

“A key?”

“You have lived here for more than a year and a half. I think that it is time you had your own key to the smial. You are old enough to be trusted in this, I think.”

“Uncle Bilbo!” Frodo was overwhelmed. His own key to Bag End!

Suddenly Bilbo stood up, and with a look of determination, said “There should be no secrets between us, Frodo. I am going to tell you something which no one else in the Shire knows about.” He turned away for a second, and then turned back. “I have something to show you.” He reached into his trouser pocket, drew it forth, and opened his hand.

“A ring, Uncle Bilbo?”

“Yes. A ring. Let me tell you about this ring…”





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