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A Small and Passing Thing  by Lindelea

Chapter 46. While Samwise was Away

Freddy began to improve rapidly now that there was no barrier to his eating generous portions of nourishing food. Within two or three days he was already able to walk again, with assistance, and began the daily journey down the hall to the bath room, loudly anticipating the day when he’d be allowed to walk down the lane to Bywater and its attractions: the Green Dragon and the Ivy Bush. Those who watched him relaxed, though not completely. They’d seen improvement before, after all.

Frodo convinced Estella to go back to Great Aunt Camellia, for he’d seen lines of strain on the young face, and the look in her eyes was too old for one of her years. Great Aunt Camellia was a lively old hobbit, and though she was over a hundred years old, in her heart she remembered what it was to be a tween.

’I’ll watch over him, midge,’ Frodo said on the eleventh of March, escorting Estella to the door. The Boffins’ coach waited to take her to Waymeet.

’You can count on cousin Frodo,’ laughed Zinnia, Folco Boffin’s older, married sister, who had arrived with the coach to provide a proper escort. ‘He’s the responsible sort!’

’Indeed,’ Frodo said dryly. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’ Zinnia laughed again, and Estella smiled faintly. She had heard too much of the Story to speak lightly of Frodo and responsibility.

’You’ll take care of your ancient and creaking bones, I hope,’ she said softly.

’If I don’t, then faithful Samwise will!’ Frodo said cheerily. ‘Don’t you worry about Freddy and me. The Cottons are the finest hosts in the Shire.’

’Don’t you listen,’ Zinnia said to Estella. ‘The Boffins are out to prove him wrong!’ She looked at Frodo. ‘You tell Freddy we’ll take good care of his little sister, and that he’d better be on his toes by the time she comes back!’ Taking Estella’s hand, she ran lightly with her charge down the steps to the waiting coach, waited for Estella to step in, and stepped up herself, turning to wave. ‘Good bye!’ she called.

’Safe journey!’ Frodo called back. He joined the Cottons in singing the coach down the lane, then went to seek out Freddy.

’She’s off?’ Freddy asked. Frodo nodded. ‘Good, that’s one less worry,’ he said.

’Now you sound like Merry,’ Frodo commented.

’Of course I do not!’ Freddy said, insulted. ‘Merry never worries about worrying, he just does it!’ His face brightened as he saw a face peek in at the door. ‘Samwise!’ he called. ‘I thought you were off already!’

’Just hitching the pony; the waggon’s all loaded,’ Samwise said, entering the room. ‘I came to see if Mr Frodo wanted to come along this time.’

’Mmm, perhaps the next journey, Sam,’ Frodo said. ‘I have to keep an eye on this miscreant, you know, or he might take it into his head to pop out of bed without notice.’

’I’m half Took, after all,’ Freddy said complacently.

’You might have to sit on him, then,’ Sam said. ‘Are you up to the task?’

Frodo patted his belly. ‘I’ve been eating extra portions in anticipation,’ he said. ‘I ought to make quite a proper weight if put to the test.’

Young Tom’s voice was heard calling through the open window. ‘He’s all hitched and ready to go, Sam!’

’I’d better go,’ Samwise said. ‘I want to check on those plantings in the far Northfarthing; they ought to be growing at a fair pace, considering the way things are going in Bywater.’

’Safe journey, Sam and swift return,’ Frodo said.

’You take care of yourself, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said in answer. ‘Don’t try to get the whole story written before I get back; I’ll only be gone a fortnight.’

’We’ll see you on the twenty-fifth, Samwise my lad, and I promise to keep a watchful eye on your master,’ Freddy said cheerily.

’I’ll make it easier for him, by staying near to keep a watchful eye on him!’ Frodo said, poking Freddy on the arm with the stem of his pipe. ‘And by the time you get back, we’ll be ready to fetch my things from Crickhollow, for Bag End may well be completed in the next week or ten days’ time!’

’We’ll have a grand old hole-warming, shan’t we, Sam?’ Freddy said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I can hardly wait!’

Sam paused in the doorway to take a good look at his master. Frodo had filled out on Mrs Cotton’s good cooking since he had laid his writing aside for the nonce. There was a brightness to his eyes, a relaxation in his stance as he stood by his cousin’s bed, one hand slipped casually into a pocket, the other holding his pipe. ‘We shall indeed,’ Sam said in answer to Mr Freddy’s question. ‘It’ll be the finest hole-warming since my old gaffer moved into Number Three.’

’Well then, you’d better hurry back!’ Frodo laughed, ‘...and you cannot do that unless you depart.’

’Yes sir, Mr Frodo,’ Sam said, and with a last nod to Freddy he was gone. They heard the farewells of the Cottons, Sam’s call to the pony, the fading clip-clop of hoofs in the yard, and then Frodo sighed.

’What was that for?’ Freddy asked curiously.

’I hate goodbyes,’ Frodo said. He put his pipe in his mouth again for a long draw. In truth, he was glad to be out from under Sam’s watchful eye for a space, but he’d never say so in all the world. He knew Sam had got in the habit on the long, terrible journey, but surely, safe in the Shire, they could relax their vigilance at last?

The two cousins spent a restful afternoon playing at Kings, and after teatime Freddy took a nap without much insistence on anyone’s part. He got up from his bed to have supper at the Cottons’ kitchen table, another milestone on the path to recovery, and after supper he sat for a bit in the parlour with Frodo and Mr Cotton and the Cotton sons, smoking companionably and discussing the spring planting.

The next day was beautifully warm and sunny, and Freddy persuaded the Cotton lads to carry him down the steps to the yard. There, leaning on Frodo’s arm, he walked slowly into the meadow behind the barn, and the two cousins had a picnic luncheon, spending the afternoon dozing on a blanket in the sun. Mrs Cotton and Rosie brought their tea to them there, and at the cousins’ insistence joined them, for they’d brought enough food for a Shiremoot, or so Freddy maintained.

As the Sun sank lower in the western sky, Frodo persuaded Freddy to walk with him back to the house. When they reached the steps, Freddy insisted on climbing them himself with only Frodo’s arm to steady him. Flushed and exhausted, he paused at the top to savour his accomplishment. ‘Shall we go to the Green Dragon on the morrow, cousin?’ he asked when he’d got his breath back.

’Only if you allow us to take the waggon,’ Frodo answered. ‘I’m drained from all the exercise we’ve taken this day.’

’Very well, my venerable and ancient cousin,’ Freddy said. ‘I defer to your superiority of years.’

’You, defer? This is an historic occasion!’ Frodo said. ‘Let us celebrate by taking supper in bed.’

’An excellent suggestion,’ Freddy said, and Frodo glanced at him in alarm.

’What’s this?’ he said. ‘You haven’t gone and overdone, have you, and this after I promised the midge I’d watch over you!’

’O yes,’ Freddy said. ‘You’ll watch me all the way to my ruin, no doubt.’

’Come,’ Frodo said more seriously. ‘Put your arm over my shoulders and lean on me; we’ll soon have you tucked up.’ Mrs Cotton looked up sharply and came over to take Freddy’s other side, and between them, they got him onto his bed.

’I’ll see to his night-shirt, Mrs Cotton, whilst you dish up his dinner,’ Frodo said. ‘Whatever it is, it smells delectable.’

’Quite,’ Freddy agreed, and Mrs Cotton breathed a sigh of relief. The lad might have overdone, but he hadn’t gone off his feed, thankfully.

When Freddy was fed and tucked up, he fought his closing eyelids long enough to hold a hand out to Frodo. ‘Many thanks, cousin,’ he said sleepily. ‘I think I will get better.’

’Of course you will,’ Frodo said sternly, taking the hand and giving it a squeeze.

’I don’t know how I’d do it without your help,’ Freddy said. A yawn distorted whatever he meant to say next, and Frodo patted his shoulder.

’Go to sleep, cousin,’ he said softly. ‘I shall see you bright and early in the morning.’

***

The next morning Farmer Cotton poked his head in at Freddy’s door to say good morning. ‘You’ve not breakfasted yet?’ he asked.

’I was waiting for Frodo,’ Freddy said. ‘He seems to have overslept; at any rate, he has not brought my breakfast tray as he promised. Perhaps he meant for me to fetch it myself.’

‘Nay, lad,’ Farmer Cotton said hastily, ‘I doubt that. I’ll go see what’s what—you stay in the bed!’ He’d heard from Mrs Cotton how the lad had overdone the day before.

Farmer Cotton went to the next door along the passage and tapped lightly. There was no answer. Perhaps Mr Frodo was in the bath room, making his early morning ablutions. The good farmer found the bath room empty, however, and in the kitchen neither Mrs Cotton nor Rosie had seen the gentlehobbit up and about. The Cotton sons were all out in barn or byre or field, no use asking them. Perhaps Frodo had overslept, but it certainly wasn’t like him to do so.

Farmer Cotton went back to Mr Frodo’s door, tapping a bit louder. ‘Mr Frodo!’ he called. ‘Mr Frodo?’ He eased the door open. Ah, it was as he’d suspected. Mr Frodo had overslept this morning. The room was still dark, there was a lump in the bed, the only sound was the soft breathing of a sleeper. ‘Mr Frodo?’ the good farmer said, not wanting to startle the gentlehobbit. He frowned when no answer came; he hadn’t thought Mr Baggins a deep sleeper.

He crossed to the window to throw open the shutters, letting in the bright morning sun which flooded the room and sparkled on a white jewel that the sleeping hobbit clutched tightly. Mr Frodo wasn’t asleep, for he hadn’t wakened to the call or the light and his eyes were partway open, but he seemed half in a dream.

‘Mr Frodo?’ Farmer Cotton said, feeling the first faint stirrings of alarm. ‘Mr Frodo, are you all right?’

’It is gone for ever,’ Frodo said, his half-open eyes staring into nothingness, his hand tightening on the jewel until the knuckles shone white, ‘and now all is dark and empty.’

’Not dark at all, ‘tis a beautiful spring morning!’ Farmer Cotton said, but Mr Frodo didn’t hear him, not at all. The farmer was just about to find one of his sons to send for the healer when Mr Freddy spoke from the door.

‘Is aught amiss?’

’Your cousin’s not himself; I think he’s ill,’ Farmer Cotton said worriedly.

With the help of his heavy walking stick Freddy made his way to the bed and sank down. His keen glance took in the jewel, clutched in a desperate grasp, and knowing the jewel’s function, he put up a restraining hand. ‘No healer,’ he said. ‘It would only grieve my cousin and be a bother to him.’

’Do you know what’s wrong with him?’ Farmer Cotton said.

Freddy nodded. ‘I have a good idea,’ he said. ‘I’ll sit with him as long as he’s ill; you can bring me my breakfast here as easily as you do to my own bed, after all.’

’Yes, Mr Freddy,’ Farmer Cotton said. He didn’t feel right about leaving Mr Frodo so, not calling in the healer, but then he didn’t exactly look sick. Farmer Cotton wasn’t sure just how he looked. The word lost came to mind, and he shook himself in irritation for letting his mind wander into fancy. ‘How long do you suppose...?’

’O I’d imagine this will last only a day or two,’ Freddy said confidently. In truth he had no idea, but he didn’t want a healer or a lot of well-meaning folk bothering Frodo in his present state. ‘I’ll sit with him until he wakens. Don’t you worry, Farmer Cotton, he’ll be fine.’

’Very well, Mr Freddy,’ Farmer Cotton said, reassured by the gentlehobbit’s self-possession.

Fredegar waited through the day with Frodo. Some instinct kept him talking of all the good things he could think of: the taste of bread fresh from the oven, the sky on an autumn evening, the scent of rain on parched ground, the feel of a cool breeze on a hot day. He was terribly worried, though he did not show it to Mrs Cotton or Rosie when they’d bring him yet another meal or cup of tea. Either the jewel had lost its potency, which he doubted, or the memory of evil which had assailed Frodo was so strong that the power of the jewel waned by comparison.

He wished Samwise were here, but there was no way to get a message to the gardener. Sam was somewhere in the far Northfarthing, and who knew where? By the time a message reached him, this might be over, for good... or for ill. Merry, Freddy thought, but no. Merry kept his own delicate balance. Frodo would not want him worried over something he had no power to affect. Freddy did not even consider calling Pippin, a child still in Freddy’s estimation, but then, he’d had little waking time with his young cousin since that last evening at Crickhollow. He’d like to take the time to get to know Pippin better, hear the story from his and Merry’s and Sam’s perspective someday... but his thoughts were wandering.

Freddy was still weakened from his own fight, but stubbornly he stayed by Frodo’s side throughout the day and into the night, turning aside the Cottons’ inquiries with a smile and brief reassurance. Farmer Cotton, finding him dozing in the middle night, exhaustion writ plain across his features, privately resolved to call the healer for the sake of both gentlehobbits on the morrow.

Mr Freddy must have known what he was talking about, for though Mr Frodo had showed no sign of hearing or seeing anyone that day, he was up early the next morning as if nothing had happened. He wakened with surprise, as a matter of fact, to find Freddy dozing on a chair drawn up next to his bed.

’What’s this?’ Frodo said. ‘What’s happened?’

’You had a bit of a bad spell,’ Freddy said. ‘Scared the good farmer half out of his wits, and it was only my silver tongue that kept them from pouring draughts down your throat in an effort to ease your distress or whatever their aim might be. Personally, I always think draughts quite distressing on their own merit.’

’A bad spell?’ Frodo echoed, confused. ‘What, in the night?’

’No cousin, the whole and entire day. It’s tomorrow already, you see.’

’You’re not making any sense,’ Frodo grumbled, sitting up and swinging his legs to the side of the bed. He put a hand to his head and grunted. ‘Dizzy,’ he murmured.

’I expect you’re light-headed from lack of sustenance,’ Freddy said. ‘Do you want me to bring you a tray?’

’Can you walk that far and back again, balancing a tray in the bargain?’ Frodo said acidly.

‘No,’ Freddy said. ‘I just thought it would be nice of me to offer.’

In spite of himself, Frodo laughed, and at the sound Rosie Cotton stuck her head in at the door. ‘Ah, you’re awake!’ she said brightly. ‘Ready for breakfast?’

’Bring it on!’ Freddy said. ‘I’m not sure I could walk to my room this morning without a bit of aid, so I’ll just have mine here in the company of my esteemed and ancient cousin.’ He jumped as Frodo poked him, and swatted at Frodo’s hand.

’ ‘ere now, watch out!’ Frodo creaked in his best imitation of an elderly gaffer. ‘Ye’ll bother me rheumatics, ye will, and I’ll gi’ ye what for if’n ye do, young whippersnapper! Show some respect for yer elders!’

’Now, now, gaffer,’ Freddy soothed. ‘We’ll have some nice thin gruel for you shortly, just the way you like it, won’t we, lass?’

’Yes Mr Freddy,’ Rose said with a smile at his nonsense. It was good to see him on the mend, nearly his old self again, though it would take some months before he’d be able to assume the name “Fatty” again. ‘I’ll be right back,’ she promised, and went to the kitchen to inform her parents that both their charges seemed to be on the mend.






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