Title: Quel Kaima
Chapter: 1/1
Author: Coriandra
Beta Reader: Phoenixqueen
Rating: G
Summary: Frodo seeks some support when alone
and in pain one evening in Rivendell.
Disclaimers: I own nothing other than the story plot and am
in no way profiting from this writing. The symptoms and treatments
described in the story are strictly for entertainment purposes and
should not be considered medical information or advice.

Warning: Sick Hobbit fluff, pure and simple

_____________________

Night was falling in Rivendell. The colour of the sky was almost identical to the deep blue shade of Vilya, Ring of the Air wore on the hand of the Lord of Imladris and the stars sparkled like the silver embroidery in his robes. A large, crackling fire burned brightly in the corner and the faint but unmistakable scent of pine and cedar from the scented logs floated through the room. Ordinarily, Frodo would have found pleasure in these things, but this night, they only irritated him. The willow and licorice tea he was drinking kept his pain to a tolerable level, but did nothing about the dizziness and general depression he was feeling.

If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Frodo had just recovered from the Nazgul wound and was almost ready for the quest when he came down with a miserable cold that had kept him in the sick room for a week. Now he was over the cold but had a painful earache.

Will this ever end? he wondered dismally as he glanced at a clock on the mantle.

Frodo had been alone in the room for over three hours. It was a pleasant enough room, with racks of cups and pinewood cupboards filled with every type of herbal tea imaginable. The walls were painted light blue and the furniture was covered with turquoise velvet. The wall facing south was made entirely of glass giving a beautiful view of the sky and the forest outside. What Frodo liked most, however, was that it was somewhat distant from the main area of the house. No one knew how he was feeling, or even where he was and at first he preferred it that way. He didn’t want a lot of visitors coming in and out of the room and he certainly didn’t feel up answering a lot of questions or trying to carry on a conversation. Of course, it was good to be speaking Elvish again just as he and Bilbo had at Bag End, but there was a time for everything and this wasn’t it, Frodo thought. On the other hand, his condition seemed to be getting worse and the isolation only added to that. Finally, after drinking his last cup of medicinal tea, he decided he could take it no longer and stumbled out the room to find the one person who always knew how to comfort and encourage him.

Frodo staggered down the hall, leaning against the wall for support and stopping frequently to recover his strength. At last he came to Bilbo’s room and collapsed just across from the door. He wondered if he would get his strength back soon. At the point, however, he was past caring either way. As he lay with his back against the wall, he closed his eyes and tried to relax. The next moment however…

“Mr. Frodo! Are you all right?” cried a voice to his left. Frodo spun around and screamed as the side of his head slammed against the wall. Bilbo’s door burst open at that moment.

“What on Middle Earth…?” he exclaimed. Then he saw Frodo on the floor with tears of pain pouring from his eyes and Sam next to him, looking even more distressed. “My goodness! Come in here quickly!” he gasped as he helped his nephew to his feet.

Bilbo led Frodo over to the bed and arranged the pillows behind his back. Sam, always the practical one, quickly hung a pot of water in the fireplace knowing hot water would probably be needed. Then he joined Bilbo at Frodo’s side, hoping to somehow make up for the trouble he thought he caused.

“Where does it hurt, lad?” Bilbo asked gently, after making his nephew as comfortable as possible. Frodo said nothing, but weakly lifted his hand to his left ear. Sam tried to stifle a sob, but wasn’t entirely successful.

“Are you all right?” Frodo asked. He had very little energy to speak, but was able to draw strength from his concern for Sam.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Frodo.” Sam wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “It was all my fault, Mr. Bilbo. If I hadn’t shouted, he wouldn’t have turned his head suddenly and then…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Sam,” Frodo assured him. “I’ve had an earache for hours, that’s why I was out there on the floor.”

“Really?” Sam asked. Frodo nodded. “But I made it worse, didn’t I?” Sam continued. “If you hadn’t hit it against the wall…”

“Samwise, what you did was perfectly understandable,” Bilbo declared. “You were alarmed by what you saw, as anyone would be, and you cried out. I would have too. And what of Merry or Pippin? Would they, in all likelihood have reacted any differently?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam replied reluctantly, but with some relief.

“So rather than try to cast blame,” Bilbo continued, “What we need to do now is to get him a healer.”

During this dialogue, Frodo again found his energy level slipping, but the last statement aroused his consciousness somewhat.

“Strider….please, Bilbo?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“Who? Strider?” Bilbo looked a bit confused as he considered this.

“He wants Aragorn the Dunadan,” Sam explained. “I’ll get him, Mr. Bilbo. I know where he is.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Bilbo said bringing some medicinal tea, and putting his arm around Frodo while it cooled slightly. Frodo closed his eyes and let his head flop against his uncle’s shoulder. The pain was still there, but it didn’t seem as problematic now.

**************************

“Good evening, Frodo. Having some problems?”

Frodo, who was almost asleep, looked up in surprise. Aragorn was sitting next to the bed dressed in linen and velvet rather than his usual traveling clothes. In fact, he was better dressed than Frodo had seen him since the Council of Elrond.

“Ah…good evening, Strider,” Frodo said barely able to take his eyes off the intricate crimson embroidery in Aragorn’s grey shirt. “Did I pull you away from something important? I hope not, but if I did….”

“None of that. You’re important too,” Aragorn told him firmly. “and not just because you’re the Ring-bearer. I would have come anyway, for you or any other hobbit. Now, how can I help you?”

“My left ear has bothered me for the last three hours or so,” Frodo explained, taking a deep breath. “I was feeling all right this morning, just over my cold but I started having problems later in day with my ear and by tonight, it was really hurting.”

“Just the one ear?” Aragorn continued. Frodo nodded. “And have you had any other problems?”

“No, but I don’t have much energy and the pain, I think would be really bad if I wasn’t drinking willow tea.”

“I see. Well, it sounds like you have a middle ear infection,” Aragorn concluded. “Have you ever had one before?” Frodo shook his head.

“Sam got one, very badly when he was ten,” Bilbo pointed out. “Remember that, Frodo?” Frodo nodded and cringed with embarrassment.

“Middle ear infections are quite common in human children especially when they get colds,” Aragorn commented moving his chair closer to the bed, “and hobbits are probably at risk for them too because of your size. Now I have to examine you to confirm that.”

“Do you really have to, Strider?” Frodo asked, fully expecting it to be painful.

“Yes, Frodo, of course I do,” Aragorn smiled. “Just relax. It should only take a few minutes.” Frodo signed with resignation and nodded his head slightly.

Bilbo’s arm tightened around Frodo’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Sam, without waiting for an invitation climbed on the bed and held out both his hands as he smiled encouragingly. Frodo took them gratefully, hoping he wouldn’t squeeze too tightly and cause Sam pain.

Nobody likes a whiner, Frodo reminded himself. And anyway, things could be worse during the quest. In fact, they probably will be worse, so I better get used to this.

“Am I hurting you, Frodo?” Aragorn asked as he gently checked for swelling under his jaw.

“No, Strider, please continue”, Frodo told him, still holding Sam’s hands tightly. Aragorn pressed a bit more firmly, but Frodo didn’t cry out, or resist physically, so he concluded that was a truthful answer. After Aragorn checked his throat his briefly, Frodo had to put his head down so Aragorn could look in his ear. Bilbo shaded Frodo’s eyes from the small lamp and stroke his hair soothingly. Sam’s eyes watered slightly, but he said nothing even though Frodo’s grip was almost crushing his fingers. There was a collective sign of relief from all three hobbits when Aragorn was finally finished.

“Definitely a middle ear infection,” he announced after just a few seconds, even though they seemed more like hours. “And there don’t seem to be any complications from it.”

“I expect a warm wash cloth would be good, Mr. Strider?” Sam suggested.

“As a matter of fact, I was just going to suggest that,” Aragorn told him, seeming surprised. “Would you mind getting it?”

“The warm cloth is to put over your ear, Mr. Frodo,” Sam explained as he gently undid Frodo’s hold on his hands. “It’ll help with the pain and Strider’s probably going to mix some different oils for your ear, just like my healer did for me. Remember, Mr. Frodo?”

“Oh yes,” Frodo told him, trying to sound more upbeat than he felt. “I remember too, that you were a lot braver about everything than I’ve been.”

“Me?” Sam exclaimed, trying not to laugh as he brought the cloth in the bowl of warm water. “I wasn’t that brave, sir, begging your pardon. In fact, I was real scared I was, but nobody likes a whiner.” Frodo looked up in surprise. “And besides that, you were there with me holding my hands and that helped more I could have imagined.”

By now, Frodo was too exhausted to be surprised again, but he was able to give Sam’s words some serious thought. Giving Sam emotional support when he had been sick and upset was so natural to him that Frodo had given it no other thought up until then. And did Sam feel the same way about what he had done for Frodo? Maybe, or perhaps since he had experienced it himself, he had an idea what a difference it made. Either way, if these small gestures could make such a difference, Frodo imagined what a difference the Fellowship would make when they stuck together for their common purpose. Although he had previously doubted the outcome of the quest, Frodo now felt hope being renewed inside him.

Aragorn poured a bit of safflower oil into a bowl then removed three small bottles from his healing bag. After mixing in two drops from each bottle, he poured the oils into a small cobalt bottle with a dropper. Then he filled the bowl with hot water and placed the cobalt bottle in it to warm the oils.

“Garlic and mullein oil, isn’t it?” Sam asked as he watched. “That’s for the pain, Mr. Frodo,” he explained when Aragorn nodded, looking surprised. “And the other bottle had tea tree oil I believe, to get rid of the actual infection.

Sam blushed as the others looked at him, obviously impressed by his knowledge. “I’m no healer by any means,” he said shyly, “but I know what worked for me.”

When the oil had been warmed sufficiently, Aragorn handed the bottle to Bilbo with instructions to give Frodo three drops and then carefully block his ear with cotton to keep the oil from spilling. As Bilbo administered the treatment, Frodo felt a sense of peace that he hadn’t had since he was living in the Shire, while the situation with the Ring was still unknown.

He and Sam would survive the quest, he knew that now. And they would make sure that the hobbits and all the other free people had the chance to live in the same peace and safety he was experiencing at this moment. For now, however, he would enjoy it for as long as he was able to and not worry about anything else.

After insuring that Frodo was comfortable, Aragorn left the bottle on the side table and gave Bilbo some brief instructions about when and if to call him during the night. The two of them exchanged a few words in Elvish as they walked to door together and Sam dimmed the lights, noticing that Frodo was almost asleep.

Bilbo then walked quietly back to the bed and covered his nephew with a quilt. “Quel kaima, my boy,” he said softly. Frodo smiled as his eyes began to close. “That’s Elvish for have a good sleep,” Bilbo whispered to Sam, who had glanced at him questioningly.