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...

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

And So, the Battle Begins

Chapter 2

It was sometime after the midday meal that Aragorn had gone to his foster father's room for advice as to what the latest disease the Ring-bearer could have contracted. He described how the bald spot on Frodo's head was circular, crusty, but seemingly not irritating to the hobbit as he denied any frequent itching in that area, but admitted it did from time to time. "He did not even know that he was missing any hair and very insulted when it was insinuated that he did not wash regularly," the Ranger smiled as he remembered the appalled look coming from those overly large blue eyes.

"Yes, they are meticulous when it comes to their overall appearance and grooming habits," Lord Elrond said nodding his head in agreement.

The Lord of Imladris, dressed in flowing white robe with gold filigree, was standing at a pedestal that held up an old, but well kept thick book. It's binding was white with vellum pages that had yellowed over the years. Aragorn recalled the same book Ada had used many a times when it came to ailments of Man. He was always referring to it whenever the young Estel had come back from an excursion with his brothers bearing red hives, or the time he was very sick and blisters popped up all over his body.

"Ah, I think I may have what ails our young hobbit," Elrond announced, his brows crunched together as he read the symptoms off,"crusty...mmhmm, ring...mmhmm...broken hair roots...mmhmm. Here we go. The remedy. Mix one tablespoon of molded cheese, combine with...boil it down to liquid...and..." Lord Elrond's face went ashen as he read the last instructions to himself.

Strider did not like it when his foster father became quiet, especially when reading from that book. It always meant horrible news for the recipient of the medicine. He had to know, though, if not for Frodo's sake, for his. "Ada, what is the matter?" he inquired moving closer to Lord Elrond and the book of remedies.

The Lord of Imladris pointed at the page so that his foster son may read, backing up, rubbing his temples as if he were anticipating a strong headache.

The Ranger's finger followed down the list of ingredients, including administration and the duration the patient must take the medication to be effective. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no!" Estel exclaimed as he too backed away from the book, brooking himself against a shelf for the worse migraine he was ever going to have.

"Cousin!" Merry chirped as he entered Frodo's and Sam's room. "I have heard the news. You have a bug growing in you!"

"Not just a bug, Merry, Aragorn said it was a worm!" Pippin chimed in, jumping onto his elder cousin's bed finding the edge of the quilt and exposing Frodo to the rest of the world. "Let me see?"

"Go away," Frodo said, grabbing his covers back over his head.

Sam could put up with a lot of antics coming from his master's cousins, but did not take kindly them saying that Frodo had bugs growing in him. "Now, you two just go on about your business and stop rustling up your cousin. Can't you see he's not havin' a good day."

"He never has anymore good days, Sam. Not since..." Pippin trailed off as he realized he stuck his foot in his mouth.

"Way to go there," Merry said making Pippin feel smaller than he already was.

"No, it is all right, Merry," the gentle hobbit said, pushing the covers back off his face, gathering his youngest cousin into his arms. "Do not worry, Pip, I know you did not mean anything by it," Frodo whispered into Pippin's ear, patting his back.

"Whoa! You are almost as bald as a babe's behind!" Pippin said as he got a good view at the back of Frodo's head. Being the curious hobbit that he was, the shireling brought his finger up to the spot, wanting to see what it felt like.

"PEREGRIN TOOK!" came Gandalf's boisterous voice, busting even a deaf hobbit's eardrum.

Pippin's head whipped around, hands quickly jerking back from Frodo's head to rest on his cousin's weskit, clutching at the fabric.

"Sorry, lad, but sometimes your inquisitiveness gets you more than you bargain for. You do not want to be infected as well?" Gandalf questioned, his eyes softening as he approached the Ring-bearer's bedside.

"Ew," his face squinting as if he had just been given Castor oil, waving his hands in front of him," bugs growing in me, no thanks. You can keep your worm to yourself, cousin. No hard feelings," the rascally cousin joked, hopping down from the bed to stand by Merry.

Merry had backed off the bed after he had come back to his senses at Gandalf's entrance, deciding that the second safest place for him would probably be behind Sam.

Frodo's face fell as if he had been left on his own to fight off a Barrow-wight, which he did quite well he reminded himself, wondering what Gandalf was fussing about now.

Seeing the distress upon the young hobbit's face, Gandalf proceeded to explain. "Frodo does not have a bug or worm," staying off Pippin's protest, "but a type of fungus. They call it Ringworm, because it forms a circle under the skin. It is highly contagious if not treated."

'Uh, oh' Sam thought to himself. Here it comes. The real reason Gandalf was sent in here. Sam backed up into Merry who also seemed to realize that it was going to get mighty crowded in this large space and quick.

At that same instant, Aragorn and Lord Elrond entered the chambers, with Lord Elrond bearing a tray laden with one medium sized brown earthenware bottle.

Frodo's eyes widened when he had seen how big the bottle was, watching the Lord of Imladris approach the side table, relieving himself of the small burden.

"Frodo," Lord Elrond addressed, "we have prepared the medicine you need to take," raising his eyebrows eying the hobbit. Then he uncorked the bottle pouring a small amount of a thick orange pungent smelling fluid onto a spoon and held it to the Ring-bearer's mouth.

Merry could smell the foul-smelling medicine from here and anticipated a problem if this Man, Wizard and Elf thought in the least they were going to get him to swallow that, they were going to have a fight on their hands. He smiled.

"Um, cousin," Merry stuttered stubbing his toe into cement, "Pip and I, well, we just remembered that...we have to GO!" Merry burst out, grabbing onto his cousin's wrist, closing the door behind them as they disappeared into the hallway.

Frodo stared blankly at his cousin's act of desertion. Traitors, he mumbled, his arms crossed in front of his chest, the spoon still lingering in front of his face.

"Well, Master Baggins?" Lord Elrond asked.

The gentle hobbit thought he had better get it over with. At least it was just this one spoonful. Sighing, he closed his eyes, opening his mouth hoping that the concoction did not taste as bad as it smelled. He felt the spoon sit on his tongue as his lips closed over it, the utensil extracted quickly.

Aragorn stood rigid, watching the hobbit's face as he imagined Frodo letting the medicine sit on his tongue instead of swallowing it quickly down. The eyelids that were once closed, popped opened eyes as big as blue saucers. The nose scrunched up in disgust as his alabaster skin slowly turned a shade of green. Recognizing that all too familiar look, Estel wasted no time as he took one step back as the contents in the hobbits mouth spewed out like a water fountain covering the bed linen, Lord Elrond's and Gandalf's robes, and poor Sam.

The Ring-bearer was doubled over spatting out what medicine lingered on his tongue. He needed water and now. Crawling to the other side of his bed, his shaking hand managed to pour the water from the pitcher into his cup, emptying its contents into his mouth. Taking a few moments to regain his composure, Frodo finally lifted his head, leering at his so called friends.

"Well," Lord Elrond said wiping his hands with a handkerchief he produced from a hidden pocket within his robes, "it seems that we must try it again," he proclaimed turning to pour another spoonful of medicine for the Ring-bearer to take.

Frodo's eyes widened his mouth going dry,"Oh, no! I can go bald. I am not taking that again!" the Ring-bearer refused, holding his ground, arms folded in defiance.

Lord Elrond had never had to show any authority in his own house. It was a given respect. Even his own children did not treat him this way. Taking a deep breath, he tried another tactic with the stubborn Ring-bearer. "Master Baggins, I have all night and as you see plenty of the tonic ready at my disposal. So, you can act your age and take your medicine the easy way, or..." He hated threats. He really did, but these hobbits had put his house into turmoil more times than he cared to count, "Or we can go another route," putting the fear of Elbereth into Bilbo's cousin.

Sam noticed his master's demeanonr change quite quickly, lowering his arms, as his face fell. But something in those eyes as he witnessed the blue orbs scanning his surroundings made him think twice.

"All right, just let me have another glass of water first?" he asked as he held up his cup.

"I see that you have come to your senses, my lad," Gandalf said as he retrieved the pitcher of water and poured its contents into the cup.

Slowly, Frodo put it to his lips and after taking a few sips, nodded that he was ready.

Aragorn had a feeling that this was going too easy, but maybe he had misjudged the hobbit.

As soon as Lord Elrond closed in the distance between the spoon and Frodo's mouth, a small hand came up from nowhere, knocking the spoon and its contents onto Elrond's robes, as the cupful of water splashed Gandalf in the face.

Yep, I misjudged him the Ranger said to himself as the sneaky shireling crawled out of reach of searching hands, leaping off the bed, headed toward the door.

Frodo had just a few more Man sized feet to go before he reached freedom. Just as he grasped the doorknob, a force snatched the squirming Ring-bearer off his feet, carrying him back to the bed restraining his arms across his chest.

"Let me go, Aragorn! Let me go!" Frodo yelled out, kicking out into the air.

The Elf had recovered his composure long enough to pour another spoonful of medicine. Turning around he strode over to the semi restrained halfling.

Sam did not know what to make of this situation, but they knew best he supposed. He excused himself quietly and quickly. He would have to deal with his master's wrath soon enough.

Outside the door, Sam ran into the cousins that had taken off earlier, deserting his cousin.

"I see our cousin is taking his medicine well?" Merry inquired as he heard thuds and bangs coming from behind the closed door.

"You should know better, Merry," Pip said, "leaving Frodo in the hands of those Big Folk. He..." Pip stopped as a voice yelled out, followed by their cousins voice reciting words in Elvish obviously not thanking them. A sly grin crossed the youngest cousin's face. "He's holding his own."

"You hold his mouth, he bit me!" Gandalf bellowed.

Frodo had gotten loose as he kicked at the medicine, hitting his intended target, again soaking Elrond with the Orange liquid.

The Ranger tackled the Ring-bearer who feigned hurt, holding his hurt shoulder letting out a yelp. Fearing that he had really hurt Frodo, he loosened his grip and received a kick in his shins as the hobbit slid out from under him.

Anger getting the better of him, not because of the pain, but because he had been outsmarted, Estel grabbed Frodo's ankles, dragging him across the floor. He then gathered the squirming, kicking body once more into the air, finding his seat on a divan. Taking his strong legs, he crossed them over the little body in scissoring him in. Taking one of his Man sized arms, hugged the Ring-bearer, restraining both arms while having one hand free, forcing open the little mouth.

Realizing the Ranger had the best of him, Frodo's blue eyes teared up as Lord Elrond neared, once again with the horrid liquid.

Looking into those big blue depths, Estel's anger faltered, "I am sorry, Tithen Min, but you have to take it."

Seeing his ploy did not work, the gentle hobbit's face hardened and an Elvish word spurted forth from his mouth.

"Oh, my, such language. I only hope Bilbo washes your mouth out with soap after we got done here!" Strider said, holding tighter upon the stubborn hobbit.

Seeing his chance, the Lord of Imladris shoved the pungent liquid into the small mouth, Aragorn assisted by pinching the lips tightly together after the spoon had been removed to prevent Frodo from spitting it out.

Noticing that the hobbit had not swallowed it yet, long fingers held the nose closed and the other hand stroked the stretched neck, manipulating the muscles to force Bilbo's cousin to down the medicine.

Frodo's body betrayed him, swallowing the liquid. Soon the hands disappeared and the spent hobbit inhaled deeply of the free air he had been denied.

Straightening his back, Lord Elrond pulled at his robes, tucking a strandof hair back behind his pointed ear, he addressed the wearied Ring-bearer, eyes locking, "Now, Master Baggins, we only have one more dose tonight then twice a day for the next six weeks," he stated and at that the Master of the Houses of Healing exited the room without looking back, taking his earthenware bottle with him.

Strider loosened his grip on the Ring-bearer, his arms numb as if he had battled a troop of Orcs, letting the small figure slide to the floor in a heap.

"Most stubborn," was all Gandalf said as he also exited the room in a huff, nursing the thumb that had been bitten.

Frodo sat on the floor like a child would as if he had been scolded after having a tantrum, mulling over his mind the "Or else" statement the Lord of Imladris had just enforced.

tbc

I do not own these characters, they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to put them in impossible situations.

And So, The Battle Begins: Part 3

With great difficulty, Strider, Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and even Bilbo had a part convincing Frodo that he needed to take his medicine. Every day and night, it had become a struggle. Bribes worked at first letting the hobbit take it on his own, but in the morning, Sam would find orange colored stains on hidden cloths tucked under his master's pillows. Desperation winning out in the hopes the stubborn Baggins did not lose all his hair and become contagious to the other dwellers of the house, the gardener regretfully told on Frodo.

Lord Elrond tried another way to get the hobbit to take his medicine; having the cook blend the medication in with the hobbit's morning porridge and evening soup. Frodo thought that he was still getting his medication, but by the conventional method. The Lord of Imladris would give him an orange colored syrup as a placebo, questioning just one time of why it tasted sweeter.

"Well, Frodo Baggins, I have been experimenting with some alternatives and this one seemed to taste better, does it not?" Lord Elrond asked, not really lying to the Ring-bearer. Just perceiving it from a different point of view.

Frodo nodded in agreement that his medicine did taste sweeter, then he questioned why some of his food tasted odd.

"The medication could have some effect on your perception of taste, Frodo. It will improve once you have finished the required dosing."

So, from that moment on, the Ring-bearer took his medicine laced food without question. Thinking his taste buds were off. It worked out quite well for the remaining weeks; Frodo only had a few more left until one fateful night when Pippin accidentally got a dose. Sam had arranged for the cousin's to come dine with his master. Pippin had mistakenly sat at the wrong end of the table after the gardener had set out the soup.

"Master Pippin, you need to sit over here, I prepared each seat special," the gardener fibbed, wringing his hands into each other. Even though his back was turned to his master, he could feel those big blue eyes of his bore into his blond head, feeling heat rise in his cheeks.

"Sam?" Frodo asked as he witnessed his gardener's weird behavior, "If Pippin wants to sit in my seat this evening, I think that will be just fine. It seems we are all eating the same thing, and having the same drink. I see no harm," the master of Bag End surmised.

Sam bowed his head in defeat,"Yes. As you wish, Mr. Frodo," he replied placing a napkin in Frodo's lap.

After a few moments, Frodo noticed Sam still fidgety setting out the rest of the meal, pouring some of the finest Elven wine into the glasses. "Sam, please sit down and join us. We are quite capable of serving ourselves," the master of Bag End said.

"Yes, sir," Sam answered and made his way to sit next to Frodo at the small round table.

"It smells delicious. The cooks here do a splendid job in preparing meals. I guess after Uncle Bilbo has been here for so long, he has educated them in hobbit cuisine," Merry said as he dipped his spoon into his thick beef stew, inhaling its aromas.

"How are you feeling cousin? Is your hair growing back? I have not heard any more late night fights with Lord Elrond. I also heard that Gandalf's thumb is much better. He can now hold his staff," Pippin teased his elder cousin.

"Keep going, lad, and you may find that you are unable to hold a mug of ale," Frodo teased back, taking a bite of his stew. He let the savory broth linger on his tongue, his mouth bursting with flavor. Before he would just take a spoonful and gulp it down. Tonight was different. "It seems as if my taste is coming back, though. Ever since taking that medicine, my sense of taste has gone awry, do not you agree, Sam?"

Sam had gone pale when Frodo spoke. His attention had been totally on Master Pippin as he was about to take his first bite of his soup.

"Sam? What is wrong with you this eve? Something bothering you?" Frodo inquired of his gardener.

"Pardon? No, sir," he said, bowing his head waiting for Pippin's reaction. He knew there would be one. He wanted to see how good the porridge and stew would disguise the foul medicine, so he had himself a taste. His first reaction was to down some ale before he gagged on it. He did not know how Frodo could withstand it, so he had been adding some honey in the porridge and extra spices in the soup. Tonight, however, he did not have time to mess with the stew before the guests arrived and then one thing led to another, forgetting all about doctoring it.

"Ugh, what's in this?" Pippin cried, tossing the spoon back into the beef stew, splashing its juices onto his weskit, staining it.

Frodo stopped his utensil in mid-air, his eyebrows quirking over the tweenager's undignified response. "What is wrong,cousin? Not to your liking?"

"It tastes odd, metallic like. How can you eat it?" Pippin exclaimed, finishing his glass of wine wiping his face with his sleeve.

"Now, cousin, mine is absolutely delicious. Let me have a try of yours," Frodo suggested.

Sam had come back to himself when he heard his master volunteer his services to taste the younger cousin's meal. "No!" he burst out.

The three cousins looked appalled at the gardener's outburst, then at each other.

"I mean, I can get him some more, we have plenty," Sam recovered, hopping down from his seat, quickly reaching for Master Pippin's bowl.

"Sam?" the gentle hobbit spoke quietly. "I will try Pip's. If it is tainted, then the cook must know about it," the master of Bag End reasoned. Frodo got to his feet, approaching the gagging tweenager. "Pip, go over and try mine, lad."

Pippin hesitantly dipped his spoon into the steaming soup, coming up with just some broth. He took a deep breath before inserting it into his mouth. This time, the lad did not gag and smiled at his elder cousin as he swallowed.

Frodo's stomach lurched, anticipating that he would encounter the same taste he had these last few weeks, taking a bite of Pippin's soup.

Sam could not take it any longer, confessing,"I had ta, sir. You were getting worse, and I found the medicine you had spit out. Lord Elrond was only making it easier on you. I hated seeing you all upset everyday," the gardener cried out seeing his master's face reddened, thin lips firmly set.

"Um...let's go, Pip," Merry encouraged grabbing the younger cousin out of the room by the sleeve,"Frodo has something on his mind, and I am not staying around to hear it." Merry and Pippin left the room together, but the ones left could hear Merry talking to someone,"Hello, Lord Elrond, Frodo was just finishing his soup. Go right on in."

The Lord of Imladris did not need his to use his gift of foresight to tell him that there was tension in the air between the Ring-bearer and his gardener as he entered the room, his warm colored robes trailing behind him. His long graceful fingers held the earthenware bottle that Frodo had come to associate with his medicine, but now knew better it was just a sweetened syrup.

"You have no need of that, my Lord," the gentle hobbit began,"it seems as if my cousin has unknowingly taken my dose this night," Frodo concluded gracing Lord Elrond of what he had learned.

"I see, Master Baggins," Elrond spoke quietly, pushing his robes aside so that he may kneel humbly in front of the Ring-bearer. "We saw no other way, Frodo. We only deceived you to make you well," his old insightful eyes lingering in the depths of deep blue the color of the sea.

"I am not a child. I have been beyond my tweens for many years," the gentle hobbit said crossing his arms in front of him, never turning away from the grey eyes.

It was hard to suppress the chuckle rising in the half-elf, but he managed as he became stern with the mild mannered hobbit, "As I recall, we did give you a chance to redeem yourself, but Samwise found evidence that you were not taking your prescribed medicine. Gandalf's thumb has now only recovered from the marks you left him as well as tormented my foster son."

At the last, Frodo turned away from the Lord of Imladris, not wanting him to see tears overflow onto his cheeks.

After a few moments of no reply from the Ring-bearer, Elrond rose from his knees, "I will send Estel in to give you your medicine, Master Baggins," he said as he exited the room.

“Won’t you have a bite, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked his master for the fourth time that morning trying to get him to eat the porridge that sat in front of him. The gardener did not hear a peep out of the gentle hobbit the last evening after finding him still on the floor in a heap after getting his second dose of medicine. Frodo had fought, but lost to Strider,Ranger of the North. Bilbo had kept Sam and his master's cousins out of harm's way until Frodo had calmed down, but Sam could take it no longer being away from Frodo and snook away from the sleeping Bilbo. When the gardener found Frodo on the floor, the stubborn Baggins had refused all help from the Gamgee lad, finally dragging his tired sore body to bed in the wee hours of the morning. To Sam’s recollection, Frodo had not spoken to him at all since rising from beneath a heap of covers, his hair all in a muss, wearing the same clothes.

There he sat, still under a portion of the covers with his arms crossed defiantly.

“No, I will not. There may be poison in it, if you must know,” the hobbit said weakly, grimacing when he moved just a little.

“Mr. Strider wound not be puttin any poison in your food, sir, beggin me pardon. They were only trying to help," Sam said, then taking a glance at his master, saw that he was holding his left wrist very close to his body.

"You are right, Master Gamgee, I would do no such thing to our worthy Ring-bearer," Strider's rough voice echoed through the opened doorway. A moment later the Ranger entered the sunlit room limping carrying an earthenware bottle in his bandaged right hand. He also brandished a beautiful blue purplish discoloration upon his left cheek.

"I have another dose for you this morning, my friend, and I have brought reinforcements," the Ranger smiled as Arwen made her entrance.

"Hello, Frodo," her musical voice floated into the air, softly approaching the gentle hobbit's bed. She touched his forehead, brushing away a stray curl as her other hand lightly stroked his throat.

Frodo remembered the melody as the Elf maiden comforted his soul after she had brought him across the Ford, protecting him from the Ringwraiths. His mouth opened in awe, but a honey sweet liquid coated his tongue and even without realizing it, he swallowed. The little hobbit remained entranced within Arwen's song as he was guided to lay back onto the feather pillows until something jolted his left wrist and the ethereal connection was broken.

"Frodo?" Aragorn asked in concern, there at the bedside. "What is it Tithen Min?"

Shaking his head, the Ring-bearer gasped for breath trying to ride through the pain, tears streaking his cheeks.

Aragorn noticed upon investigation that Frodo's little hand was swollen, and after rolling up the Ring-bearer's sleeve with his good hand, revealed the swelling continued to the elbow. In the meantime, Arwen had scooted herself to the other side of the bed, taking up stroking the hobbit's brow.

"Frodo, it's broken!" Estel exclaimed feeling along the little arm for any other breaks.

"Broken? Sir, you've been in pain all night and you did not tell your Sam?" the gardener scolded.

The gentle hobbits face grimaced, trying without success to remove his arm from the Ranger's probing fingers. Giving up, he turned, looking into the kind eyes of Lord Elrond's daughter.

To deter the hurt Frodo from regretting anything he might say, Strider gave the Ring-bearer's gardener a job. "Sam, go get some ice and bandages, please."

Glad to help, Sam padded out the room, "Yes, sir, be back in two shakes."

"Tithen Min? What happened to your arm?" Aragorn pressed again for an answer to his question.

Frodo turned his head to look into steel grey, "Las...Night. How's your...face?" he swallowed thickly, the pain subsiding. He did not remember his arm hurting this much, but of course, no one was messing with it then.

Aragorn brought his left hand to the right side of his cheek, touching it lightly. He remembered that he had the hobbit cornered, about ready to give him his medicine. That was when Frodo ducked and his fist met the wall. Grabbing for the braces, Frodo was swung around, flailing hands making contact to the left side of his face. He thought he had heard a gasp and crunch, but did not think much of it as the Ring-bearer had sat on the floor dejectedly after receiving his medicine. In fact, Frodo had not struggled when the Ranger forced it upon him. He just thought the little hobbit had given up.

Arwen continued stroking the Ring-bearer's brow, humming softly. The hobbit's breathing grew less labored, as blue eyes slowly closed to the song the Elf maiden wove as layers of warmth surrounded Frodo, separating the little one from his pain. Lifting her head to gaze in her betrothed eyes, she whispered, "He is resting now."

A half smile crossing his face, Aragorn replied,"Maybe we should have used your talents from the very beginning. You always had a way with the opposite gender, my love," he finished knowing all too well how rested he felt after spending time with Arwen.

Sam finally arrived with the much needed ice, which was immediately applied to the swollen hand while the Ring-bearer was in limbo, Arwen's song holding him above the pain.

Lord Elrond was soon to follow, entering Frodo's room, bringing with him the bandages that Sam could not reach as well as a medicinal concoction to inhibit infection. Looking upon the sleeping hobbit, steele eyes were sympathetic,"How does Master Baggins fare, Estel?"

"Once his hand is set and bound, he will be fine. Arwen is taking care of any discomfort, but she cannot mentally hold him all night. Have you brought any herbs for pain?" Aragorn asked his foster father as he accepted the bandages, setting them aside to be used to secure the splint.

"Yes, I did. Does this have anything to do with your colorful cheek?" Elrond eyebrows raised, mixing the herbs in a fine piece of linen before tying it together with string. He then placed the bag into a cup where he poured hot water, letting the herbs steep before removing them.

"It was difficult to get him to take his dose, and there was an altercation. I did not realize he was hurt. He did not say a word," sorrowful eyes taking in the sleeping form, brushing a dark curl away from closed eyes.

"Most stubborn," another voice had entered the conversation. None of them had to turn around to know that it was the Wizard standing in the archway, ts-king. Behind the Wizard's robes hung back Merry, Pippin and Bilbo.

"What has happened to my boy?" Frodo's Uncle questioned the Lord of Imladris as he by passed the Wizard traversing the room to his nephew's bed as fast as his creaking joints could take him.

"Now, Bilbo, we have done nothing. Frodo just has an injured hand. Aragorn has informed me he will be just fine," Elrond explained, bending to the old hobbit's level.

"Then why all the fuss?" Bilbo asked, tapping on Aragorn's arm signaling him to give him a boost onto his heir's bed. Once positioned, he immediately saw the swollen hand, fingers so big that he did not recognize his nephew's delicate fingers. "Oh, my poor boy," he gasped placing a wrinkled hand upon Frodo's covered knee. "What are you going to do for it?" the old voice asked, keeping a guardian's eye on the relaxed face.

"It will be bound until it heals, Bilbo," the Ranger informed the older hobbit. Seeing the distraught look on the worried face, he added, "Do not worry, I have seen that hobbits heal very fast if the matter of his shoulder is not proof enough."

"Yes, we Baggins' are a tough lot, aren't we my boy," Bilbo whispered to his sleeping nephew.

Something was tugging at his light filled blanket, pulling it across his injured hand. The hand throbbed at first, but it was now to the point where he could not ignore it. He heard voices as he floated between dreaming and waking, unable to make out what was being said. All he knew was the pain was increasing tenfold.

"He...waking..."

"Hold him...daughter..."

"Listen...song, Frodo...He's...fighting"

"Almost done..."

"My boy..."

"Bilbo?" Frodo cried out, becoming fully conscious, Azure blue eyes opening to bright light and pain.

"Estel, get the tea I prepared," Lord Elrond said with urgency as he finished binding the little hand with the fine linen cloth.

Frodo turned his head to the speaking voice, the crowned head bending over him, pulling linen up and down like a threaded needle as if sewing. He pieced together when the cloth came up, the pain in his hand and arm increased. He began to kick his legs, trying to raise his shoulders.

"Elladan, Elrohir, hold him," the Elf Lord commanded his sons, ceasing the wrapping.

Big hands secured his legs to the bed, as another pair of hands forced him back onto the pillow. Panting, Frodo closed his eyes, clenching the coverlet with his good hand, tears staining his cheeks. Then a familiar voice whispered into his ear.

"Bilbo?" he sniffed, slowly opening his eyes again peering into those of his dearest Uncle. He saw Bilbo's arm reach out, but not toward him. When it came back into view, the hand was grasping a cup.

"Now, my boy, I want you to take this. It will help with the pain. You understand?" Bilbo questioned his heir.

"I do not want it," he refused, shaking his head.

"Well, it seems to me, it is not taking your medicine that has gotten you into this mess. If I did not know any better, your behavior reminds me much of Lotho Sackville-Baggins; throwing a fit when things did not go his way. I did not raise you to disobey your elders, and if memory serves, everyone here is very much older than you, except your cousins," Bilbo smiled looking at Pippin and Merry standing in the corner. He continued when he peered into the young eyes, "You are not too old for me to take you over my knee, Frodo Baggins. Now, where is the gentle hobbit that I know still exists inside this head? Take this for me," the older Baggins commanded instead of asking, the cup pushing onto Frodo's lips, parting them.

Fresh tears sprang from his eyes as he drank the sweetened liquid listening to what his Uncle said. He did not want to disappoint Bilbo, his cousin's words hitting home.

"That's my good boy. Now lay back and let the medicine do its work. Lord Elrond is almost finished. Your old Uncle will stay right here with you," Bilbo's voice gentled, stroking Frodo's smooth brow, tightly holding the lads hand in his.

Blue eyes were slowly hidden behind long lashed lids, Frodo's muscles relaxing as the tea took hold of the hurting body, dulling its senses.

Elrond had finished strapping the limb to the splint not soon after the younger Baggins fell asleep. He had slowed the treatment, listening to the conversation between the two hobbits. He did not mean to eavesdrop, but his keen sense of hearing picked up on every word. "I am done. Sons, you may release him. He will be asleep for sometime."

Bilbo looked about the room, noticing everyone staring at him in awe. They were flabbergasted that this old hobbit had such a hold over his cousin, making even a non-relative cringe at his speech.

"What? It takes a stubborn Baggins to manipulate another Baggins just as stubborn. He'll be all right now. I do not think you will have anymore problems out of him. It is beyond me why you just did not come to me in the first place when he started giving you all trouble," Bilbo tsked, once again tapping Aragorn on the arm to help him down. "Well, I think it is time for tea. Lads," he motioned for Merry and Pippin to accompany him, "let's go to my room and have a look see. I am sure the cooks have already brought up the tray."

At the mention of food, Frodo's cousins followed their Uncle out of the room like two puppies.

Night had fallen the next time the Ring-bearer awoke to soft snores at his bedside. Several candelabras had been lit, bathing the room in a soft warm glow. Blinking his eyes several times to bring them into focus, the blue orbs adjusted to the light, making out a large form sitting in a chair on his right side. Something heavy lay on the bedside, making the mattress sink in. Moving a small finger, it lightly brushed against a hairy finger covered with cloth. He quickly jerked his hand back when the bed shifted beneath him.

"You are awake, Tithen Min. How do you feel?" the rough, but gentle voice of the Ranger vibrated above him.

He remembered his injured hand, but the pain was very dulled, "Not hurting much," he said turning his head to find the owner of the snores because it most definitely was not Strider.

"Sam is sleeping," Aragorn answered for him.

"Oh," the Ring-bearer said, feeling the heaviness between the Ranger and himself. He knew he had behaved badly, and the last thing he had wanted to do was cause harm to his friends or worse yet have his Uncle chastise him like a child. Trying to hold back his tears thinking of how much of spoiled brat he acted like, they came anyway.

Seeing tears upon Frodo's face, Aragorn leaned closer, wiping them away carefully with his bandaged hand. "Are you in pain, Frodo?" kind eyes searching the little ones face.

Frodo nodded, but stilled Aragorn when the Ranger had started to reach to the side table for a cup. "I am not hurting, just pained that I...I hurt you. I...I am sorry," he apologized, hesitantly touching the bandaged hand.

A large finger brushed away stray curls from the Ring-bearer's eyes, "I too, am sorry. I did not mean to ignore your hurts or feelings. Truce?"

"Truce...until next time," a mischievous grin grew across Frodo's face.

"Until next time then. I would hate to miss a most admirable adversary. You will be happy to know that you are done taking your medication for your head, but now, Ring-bearer you will start on another for your injured hand," Aragorn smiled back, blinking as he thought he saw a flicker in the Ring-bearer's blue eyes that was not enhanced by the candle light.

The End.