Author notes:
Special thanks to Slightly Tookish and Ariel for betaing.

Year: 1381

Saradoc brushed a hand across his wife's brow. It still felt warm to the touch. He sighed and gently stroked some damp curls from her forehead before pulling the blanket tighter around her. Esmeralda had come down with a dreadful cold and had been forced to stay in bed all day. The smell of illness still lingered about the room and Saradoc found it a little too warm for his liking. Nonetheless, he lay down beside her with a sigh, just as the crying started - again.

He groaned and closed his eyes. He had always thought the walls of Brandy Hall remarkably thick and noise-absorbent, but Berilac had a voice louder than any he had ever encountered. He chuckled a little. Like father, like son. If the saying was really true, then Mac and Adamanta had a lot to look forward to.

He nestled deeper into the pillows and was about to drift off when a light tap at the door roused him. Esmeralda stirred but did not wake. Mother had given her a strong draught for the night. After the knock was repeated, Saradoc reluctantly got up, half believing it would be his brother asking for advice. "Who is it?"

"Frodo," was the barely audible reply. That came as a surprise. Frodo had come to accept him and Esme in his own way, but he seldom sought them out.

"What is it, lad?" Saradoc asked upon opening the door, but the question was unnecessary.

Face pale in the dim light of the corridor and tears shimmering in his eyes Frodo looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

Saradoc covered mouth and nose with his hand, not knowing what else to do. The sharp, biting smell of vomit lingered about the boy and parts of the lad's nightshirt were covered with the disgusting, smelly mess.

"I couldn't stop it," Frodo whimpered, tears streaming freely down his cheeks.

Casting a helpless glance over his shoulder Saradoc felt his heart sink. Swiftly he stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him. Esme could not help him, not today. Hesitantly he went past Frodo and looked into the opposite room. It was too dark to see anything, but the stench that greeted him when he entered was enough to tell Saradoc that he didn't really want to know just how sick Frodo had been.

Feeling the child's helpless and ashamed eyes upon him, Saradoc felt even more forlorn. For a moment he pondered knocking on his brother's door but the sound of Berilac crying stayed him. Mantha and Mac had other things to worry about.

"Come, lad," he finally said and placed a hand on what he thought was a clean spot on the boy's shoulder. Abruptly he drew his hand back when he touched wet but quickly realised that Frodo was drenched in sweat and trembling, chilled and recovering from the aftermath of a violent spell. "Let's get you cleaned."

With his head bowed Frodo let himself be guided to the bathing chambers, his steps just a little wobbly.

"Can you get undressed?" Saradoc asked while lighting the lamps. Frodo nodded and slowly slipped from his nightshirt, trembling like a leaf. Saradoc watched him with compassion. The small, pale body gleamed with sweat, and goose bumps had risen on his skin. Drawing himself away from the pitiful sight Saradoc walked over to the cold fire hoping that some warm water would still be found in the kettle. He was lucky. The water wasn't as warm as he would have liked it to be but it was better than washing Frodo with the cold one.

"Sara." It was a whisper, a plea. "Sick."

Saradoc spun round, grabbed the nearest basin and brought it to Frodo just in time. The boy retched, his body bending almost double with the violence of it. His knees gave way and Saradoc tried his best to hold him upright feeling just as miserable as his young charge. He had never been in a similar situation. When he was young and Mac had been sick, his mother had dealt with it. He could have kicked himself for not waking her now. And why did this have to happen while Esme was ill, anyhow? Surely she would manage better. The only thing he was able to do at that moment was to tell his stomach that it was not as weak as it felt. He needed someone to clean the mess in the boy's room, and he needed to get the lad washed and to bed, and - oh! - he needed for this to just stop! Saradoc almost laughed at that. A wonderful Master he would be if he couldn't even handle a sick child.

Frodo, wretching dryly after the first bout, sank against his chest, shaking with silent sobs. "I'm sorry," he whispered again and hot tears drenched Saradoc's nightshirt. He could all but feel the child's shame.

"There's no need to be," he comforted and combed his fingers through damp curls. Fingers, he realised, that trembled. Apart from feeling uncomfortable Saradoc suddenly became aware of the worry steadily growing within him. The lad hadn't caught Esme's illness, for she had suffered from a fever alone. Could Frodo have caught some kind of flu, then? It wouldn't be unusual at this time of year. Should he send for the healer?

Saradoc glanced down at the exhausted form of his fosterling and shook his head to clear his mind. He shouldn't look for problems. "Did you eat something that disagreed with you?"

Frodo shook his head. "I just woke up and was sick."

"Yes, that I saw," Saradoc smiled, deliberately trying to be more cheerful than he felt. "Better now?"

Frodo closed his eyes, then nodded and Saradoc felt him grow heavier. He shook the child gently. "No lad, don't go to sleep. Let us get you washed and then see if we still have a bed for you."

Frodo voiced a protest as Saradoc helped him to his feet and made him walk to the washstand to clean his face and rinse his mouth. He was as pale as a sheet and his legs were rather weak, but when Saradoc got a damp cloth to wash his back and chest he thought that Frodo already looked a lot better. Or perhaps that was only his wish to see the lad healthy and get this night over and done with.

When he was finished, Saradoc wrapped Frodo in the biggest towel he could find and scurried off to find him a nightshirt and get someone to take care of his room.

~*~*~

A while later, Saradoc sat at the family kitchen table with a nice, hot cup of tea. Frodo sat close beside him, his own cup still more than half-full and his head lying against Saradoc's chest. He was fast asleep and only Saradoc's arm, safely wrapped about him, kept him from falling from his chair. Merimac sat opposite them, a finally quiet Berilac cradled in his arms.

"I envy you," Mac said, weariness written all over his face and in his voice. Berilac was either suffering from colic or teething a little early. Whichever it was had left him screaming for hours and even though Merimac and Adamanta now took turns walking him around the smial both parents inevitably were kept awake by the boy's fussing. "Your lad is asleep." Mac glanced pleadingly down at the bundle in his arms and was answered with a look just as pleading from its grey-green eyes. "Want to trade?"

Saradoc chuckled. "Had you offered that half an hour ago, I would have gladly accepted. Right now, I am content; keep your son."

Merimac sighed heavily. "I don't know where he finds the energy to be up all night. He's tired or he'd be trying to sit up himself rather than lying in my arms but…" he trailed off.

"In need of a holiday, eh?" Saradoc smiled.

"A long one, please, far away from any children who have forgotten that they are supposed to sleep. Blissful sleep. Even Mother isn't quite sure what caused this outburst. 'Sometimes babies just have to cry' she said to me, but I swear if I don't get more than a handful of hours of sleep each night, I'll soon be crying as well." Merimac shut his eyes and, once closed, they seemed unwilling to open again. "You're sure you don't want to trade?"

"Not at all," Saradoc replied and tightened his grip around Frodo's shoulder. "Besides, even if Mantha didn't rip your head off in the morning, you would regret your trade soon enough."

"Mantha would welcome a good night's rest as gratefully as I would. Believe me, if I put Berilac to bed now he'll be screaming again in a matter of seconds. He's spoiled rotten already," Merimac cradled his son in spite of his words, then smiled wickedly. "I would miss him, too, of course, but I would also know what to do with an evening without a child."

Saradoc laughed. "You're incorrigible - and would probably be dead to the world if Berilac let you sleep."

Merimac made no reply, but quietly sipped his tea. A knock at the door made them look up. The old nurse stood in the doorway looking unbearably more awake than either of them even though her hair was tousled and her yellow bathrobe was all but a fetching sight. Their nightshirts probably didn't look much better either. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sirs," she said, "but Master Frodo's room's ready now."

"Thank you, Lavender," Saradoc replied and gave her a grateful look. "I'm sorry to have waked you, but…"

"That's no problem at all, sir," she quickly assured him. "I've seen worse than this."

She probably was right. Saradoc remembered Lavender as a shy, tweenaged girl. She had started work in Brandy Hall when he was about four and had been a faithful friend and caretaker of young Bucklanders ever since, including caring for three beautiful children of her own.

"It seems this young master is finally asleep as well," she nodded at little Berilac and Merimac breathed a sigh of relief.

Lavender smiled. "Do you still need me, sir?"

Saradoc shook his head. "Thank you. You may go to bed now and so shall we, I think."

At that, Merimac nodded and downed the rest of his tea. Saradoc gathered Frodo in his arms, careful not to disturb his slumber. He had no difficulty lifting the child and though a smell of sickness still lingered about him, the lad's cheeks had at last got a little colour. Frodo stirred and blinked but Saradoc hushed him. "Just getting you to bed, boy," he informed the child and was surprised but also relieved to find Frodo not protesting that he could walk on his own.

Merimac smiled. "You couldn't give him away either, could you?"

"Not if I don't have to," Saradoc answered feeling the truth of his words. He longed to have a son of his own, an heir, yet he had come to realise that he loved this boy as much as if he were his own flesh and blood. "It isn't easy, though. I'm glad for every bit of trust he shows me. So many things have changed and sometimes I wish Aunt Primie could somehow advise me what to do."

Merimac studied him for a long moment. ""His lack of trust still bothers you."

Saradoc shrugged. "It does Esme more than me but, yes, sometimes it bothers me too. If only I could see what is going on in that head of his."

"I fear that you'll never learn," Merimac said and Saradoc felt those words far weightier than his brother's light tone sounded. The younger gave him a wink as Saradoc stopped before Frodo's door. "Good night, brother-mine. May sleep find you as swiftly as I hope it will find me."

Saradoc watched him leave with a smile before entering Frodo's room. The boy was growing heavy in his arms and he was grateful that Lavender had thought to keep a candle lit so that he could see his way to Frodo's bed. The room smelled of soap now and the floorboards before the bed were still wet from the mop, but the linens were dry and clean.

Gently Saradoc stroked one of Frodo's curls back and tucked the lad in. His eyes rested on him just a moment longer than was usual. Frodo blinked as if sensing his gaze and the hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth as he perceived Saradoc. "Good night," he whispered his eyes already dropping again.

"Good night." Saradoc breathed a gentle kiss upon the lad's brow, his heart swelling with the simple welcoming gesture. Tiredly, he got up and with a long last look at his charge stumbled into his room to curl up on his bed once more. Esmeralda didn't even stir, but made a small sound as he touched her brow. It was a little cooler than before. Saradoc let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding. Being a father was not easy - not easy at all. However, he felt thrilled to have managed it by himself and that Frodo had allowed him to help him. That fulfilment in mind, Saradoc nestled into the pillows and drifted into deep, peaceful sleep.

~THE END~