Disclaimers: None of the characters or places in this story are owned by myself all rights belong to the Tolkien Estate. No financial compensation was received, only the joy of writing this AU story. Hope you enjoy.

Medical Disclaimers: Medical procedures and cures used in this piece of fiction are mostly of a fictitious nature and should not be used at home. Consult a licensed medical professional before being foolish enough to try these on yourself.

Twists of Fate Chapter 4

After Sam had gone, Gandalf methodically stripped Frodo and placed him into the warm bath. Immediately the water turned a sick, yellowish, brown as the clay dissolved. Gently, he sponged away as much of the mud and grime as possible, all the while speaking quietly to Frodo. When the water was too dirty and cloudy to be of much use, he lifted the hobbit gently out, wrapping him in a thick quilt, and laid him by the fire. He then emptied the tub, refilled it with clean, warm water, and returned the hobbit to the bath. Frodo’s body trembled violently during both washings and Gandalf noted the hobbit was now sporting a fever to add to his list of maladies. He soaped and washed the tiny body, rinsing him thoroughly and removed him, for the last time, from the tub. Gandalf had seen no additional injuries and was thankful for that, but the head wound continued to ooze blood, as did the gash on his arm. As he dressed and bundled Frodo in warmed blankets and transferred him to the bed, he felt gently at the head wound.

“Oh Frodo, my dearest boy, I wish I had listened and watched more closely while Elrond was tending the injured. If you should die because of my negligence, I should never forgive myself,” the wizard whispered. A small gasp came from behind the wizard, and he whirled to see Sam looking pale and shaken, a hobbit matron was with him holding a small bottle of some sort of liquid and a black bag.

“Die? Mr. Gandalf, … you said he’s goin’ ta die?” sobbed Sam.

“No Sam, at least we will do all in our power to avoid that fate. I am sorry. I did not realize you were there or I would have chosen my words more carefully,” the wizard apologized.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but I don’t want ‘careful’ words, I want the truth, if you take my meaning?” Sam said vehemently.

Gandalf smiled, “Very well, Samwise, but first, please introduce me to this lovely hobbitess that has accompanied you,” he smiled as he tried to change the subject, and beamed at the charmingly plump hobbit matron standing slightly behind Sam. She blushed a deep crimson at the complement.

“Oh go on with you, sir, I’m Sam’s mother ‘tis all. When I heard Mr. Frodo was injured I came straight away. I’ve had some small bit ‘o healin’ trainin’…nothin’ major, mind you, but I think I can be of help with the poor dear. Me name’s Bell Gamgee, but it’ll be just Bell to you, Mr. Gandalf, sir.” Gandalf’s eyebrows shot up. Bell laughed at this, reading his expression, “Yes, I knows ya, sir, what with all the stories Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo have told us, I feel like we’ve already met, and all. Now, if you two will help me get the dear boy up on these pillows, we’ll make him comfy, then we’ll see if we can’t wake him,” she said, sweeping in and taking over Frodo’s care with authority as she would one of her own.

Gandalf smiled. He felt remarkably better knowing the young matron was more in her element than he. He nodded to Sam and gently they moved Frodo so his head was raised a bit and cushioned on two feather pillows. Gandalf had placed a loose bandage over the back of Frodo’s head and now the blood began to seep into the pillow.

“Dear me, that won’t do,” tsked Bell as she raised Frodo slightly by the neck and shoulders and placed a thick bandage on the back of his head, and covered the pillow with a thick towel. Slowly she lowered him back into place. She went to her bag and retrieved more pads and wrappings then asked Gandalf to pull Frodo up so she could see the wound. He pulled Frodo to his chest, his large hands supporting the small body like a babe. He moved his right hand in slow circles over the tiny hobbit’s back. Bell saw tears in the wizard’s eyes and she gently laid her hand on his arm. She then turned to look at the damage done to Frodo’s head. Her face paled and a small gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes met Gandalf’s over Frodo’s head and he nodded sadly. She turned to Sam, “Samwise, go fetch Mr. Frodo’s clipping shears for me, dear,” she said in a tremulous voice.

Sam’s eyes grew round. “Shears, what would ya' be needin’ them for, mum?” he asked hesitantly.

“I need a closer look at Mr. Frodo’s head wound dear, so please do as I say and bring them to me,” she said gently.

“Aye mum,” Sam said, thinking how displeased Frodo would be when he woke up and a chunk of his hair was gone. He ran and fetched the shears and Bell set to carefully clipping the hair from the area of the wound. When she was finished she gently cleaned the area with warm water and placed another heavy pad across the back of Frodo’s skull. She then began winding rolls of gauze around his head to hold it in place. Next, she arranged the pillows so that Frodo’s head was cradled between them but not touching overmuch on the wound. Additional pillows were placed behind these so that he was lying at a slight incline. She secured his head in place, not wishing him to move suddenly and further open the wound, with additional lashings of cotton strips. Sam watched in consternation, trying to understand the strange arrangement. Bell then placed two pillows under the broken leg, one under the knee, to elevate the damaged limb slightly. She placed hot bricks, wrapped in cloths, around the shivering form. Finally she stood back and surveyed her efforts and deemed them acceptable with a nod and a grim smile.

“That should slow the swelling of that bump on his head and keep him as comfortable as possible. Thank goodness you found him when you did, Mr. Gandalf, and you got him bathed as well.” She made a weak attempt to sound cheerful, but her face was pinched with worry. Gandalf smiled at her wanly.

“I would do anything for this dear boy,” he said quietly as he stroked Frodo’s curls back from his clammy forehead.

“Mayhap we can bring down his fever with a cup o’ ginger tea. I’ll just go put the kettle on,” she said tremulously.

“I can do that, mum,” Sam volunteered with a smile. He very much wanted to help do something for his Master. “You jes’ stay here and watch ‘oer the Mr. Frodo.” He rose quickly and headed towards the kitchen.

Once Sam was out of the room, Bell collapsed into the closest chair, and buried her face in her hands. She had tried so hard to appear positive, holding her emotions in check in front of Sam, but the damage to Frodo’s head was extensive, and she felt a deep loss already. Gandalf reached over and pulled her to him. He patted her back softly as he spoke soothingly, “Mistress Gamgee, we must remain strong for both Frodo and Sam. I have sent for a Ranger friend of mine who knows much in the art of healing, there may still be hope for Frodo. I asked Sam to bring something to try and rouse him. He said you had some mixture that might be of use, did you bring it?” Gandalf asked gently, trying to momentarily distract Bell.

Bell looked up at Gandalf, and drew her apron across her face trying to compose herself. “Thank you, sir. Yes, I brought it, but it is only what I use on my Hamfast’s shirts. I don’t know what good it will do here, for this young one,” she said hesitantly as she watched the slow rise and fall of Frodo’s chest.

“If it is what I think it is from Sam’s description, it could well be worth our time. We must try, my dear lady. For if Frodo does not wake we may truly lose him,” he said gently.

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Frodo could not remember being as happy as he was right now, at least not since before the tragic death of his parents. Here they were, together again, a real family. He smiled widely and laughed as they strolled along the small creek.

“Popkin, why do you smile so widely? And what *are* you laughing at?” Primula asked, with a smile of her own.

“I am just so very happy, I suppose. I can’t seem to stop smiling,” he gave her a kiss on her cheek.

“Frodo, you are so beautiful to my eyes. I wish, I truly *wish* you could stay here with us. I have missed you so very much,” Primula turned a sad smile to him and then to Drogo.

Frodo’s face fell. “I am not planning on leaving, mum. My life has been so lonely. First, I lost you,” he grasped their hands tightly in his and his eyes glistened with moisture, “then Bilbo left. I cannot go back to a life of such utter solitude when I have all that I want here before me now,” he sucked in a shaky breath and pulled them both to him in a tight embrace.

Drogo pulled back and gently let his finger trace the outline of Frodo’s face. “You were so young when we were taken. We would love to be with you, lad, but it is not your time. We have been granted these few days and the miracle of your presence, but it shall not last. You will have to return and live your own life. Great things will happen in your lifetime, Frodo, great things. If you are not there, if you died before your time, a great evil would overcome Middle Earth and all would be laid to ruin. Each living thing has a destiny in this world. You still have not fulfilled yours, my dear boy,” he said gently. Primula moved to Drogo, and he pulled her close to him. Frodo clutched their hands convulsively.

“What could I do, that would be so important? How could my solitary existence make a difference? Surely, you exaggerate. I was but a single, simple hobbit of the Shire. I had nothing but my books and Bag End, and I would have lived a long life alone and then died with nothing to show for it, unlike most hobbits,” he asked, tears filling his eyes. “I wish to stay with you. Please do not leave me again,” he cried.

“Oh Frodo, we love you so, but surely you know we are ever with you,” exclaimed Primula. “My dearest love, for a time you may still visit with us, but that time will end. Those whom you left behind cry out for you even now, can you not hear them?” she asked.

Faintly, Frodo could hear whispers of voices. People he had loved and cared for, but he resisted. *Here* was where he belonged, so he fought them, trying to add permanence to his time with his parents. He shook his head, struggling to rid them from his mind.

“They love you so, Frodo. You must return to them eventually. Do not fight it, dear one,” whispered Primula. She smiled lovingly at him. As if her words were a prophecy, Frodo watched in grief as Drogo and Primula began to diminish in appearance, before his eyes. Their voices became mere whispers, and although Frodo tried desperately to hold onto their hands, they gently were pulled from him, until at last they were gone. At the very last, as the tenuous threads of that existence retreated, Frodo heard his mother say “ I love you, Popkin. Don’t be afraid, we will see one another again,” and then they were gone.

Bell Gamgee removed the stopper on the small glass bottle. Immediately the room was filled with the bitter smell of ammonia. She and Gandalf drew back instinctively at the sharp odor, their eyes watering.

“I can see now that Sam was correct in his description of your …er…cleaner,” he rasped, as he covered his nose with his robe.

“It’s me mum’s recipe. Hamfast has the whitest shirts in the Shire and that’s sayin’ somethin’, him bein’ a gardener and all. But, aye, it’s an awful stench,” gasped Bell. She took a small rag and added just the slightest amount of the liquid to it, then quickly stoppered the small bottle. “Mr. Gandalf, sir, you might want to hold him steady, this may be a shock to his poor body,” she warned.

Gandalf nodded and pulled Frodo upright against his chest. A pillow was placed behind his head as a precaution, if he moved. Bell took the rag and placed it against Frodo’s nose. The reaction was immediate as Frodo began twisting and struggling against the rag. His body convulsed and lurched against Gandalf’s chest, a single sob escaped his lips.

“Nooo,” he cried. The anguish and despair uttered in that single word caused Bell to immediately remove the rag and whisper comforting endearments to the poor soul. Now Frodo was openly weeping, “Gone,” he said, “They are gone and I am alone,” he cried softly.

Gandalf gently lowered him back into his nest of pillows, softly stroking the tangled curls. “There, there, my boy. Open your eyes, Frodo.” Nothing happened as Frodo struggled to stay on that other plane of existence. “Frodo Baggins, open your eyes. You will do as I say, young hobbit, for it is unwise to irritate a wizard,” Gandalf strove to sound demanding, but his voice trembled and quavered with concern.

Sam had entered with the asked for tea but upon hearing his Master’s call of distress, almost dropping the tray in his haste to be at his side.

Frodo slowly opened his eyes. Gandalf, Bell and Sam were each struck with the look of loss in the deep blue depths. “They…were…wi’…me,” Frodo mumbled. “But..now….I …have…los’…them…all…’oer…agin. I.. am…alone. Bilbo? Bilbo? Where ess Bilbo? Don’ leave…don’ …leave, me…agin. I …am ….so. Lonely. Pleass, pleass…don’ …leave…me,” and then he wept.

Sam’s mouth dropped open. He rushed to Frodo’s side, kneeling down by his Master. He took his hand and softly, he caressed it. “I’m here, Mr. Frodo. It’s your Sam. I ain’t gonna leave ya, Mr. Frodo, an’ you won’t be lonely no more, sir. Forgive me; I didn’t know how it was. I always thought you liked bein’ alone, sir, but never again. I couldn’t bear the thought of you bein’ lonely, sir,” he cried, tears running down his face.

“The poor child,” gasped Bell. “He musta’ felt like everyone was abandoning him,” she whispered.

“I am certain Bilbo never meant to make him feel so,” murmured Gandalf. “What with Peregrine Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck always underfoot, who would have thought he would still feel the separation from Bilbo so keenly.”

“Aye, Mr. Gandalf, sir, they were here a bit. But they thought he was better and had to return to their homes and duties. It’s my fault. He never said ought to me about bein’ lonely. He’s had no one like Mr. Bilbo to read to or listen to stories or just have a simple pipe with after supper. I *am* a ninny hammer, jes’ as me Gaffer always says! He mentioned once or twice, how quiet it had been at Bag End. I shoulda’ seen how he weren’t himself lately, noticed the looks on his face when he asked me ta stay and sup with him,” Sam berated himself. Bell softly patted Sam on the shoulder.

Frodo’s blue eyes had locked onto Sam’s face. “Sam,” he said quietly, his body trembling violently, “tell Bilbo I am goin’ to sleep a bit more; I ‘ave a frightfa’ hea’ache. An’ tha’ I’ll join ‘im fo’ second brea’fast, would you, ma frien’? But, Sam, don’ tell ‘im I don’ feel well, you know ‘ow he worries so.” Frodo slurred, and smiled weakly up at Sam’s worried face. Sam looked quickly over at Gandalf and then his mum, confusion and worry evident on his face. Gandalf gave him a quick nod, and Sam gulped.

“’Course, Mr. Frodo. I’ll let ‘em know right quick, sir,” he stammered.

“Dear, dear Sam,” Frodo sighed and smiled slowly. His eyes began to drift shut. “So…tire’d…. so…cold, Bilbo. I am so col’, Uncle,” he murmured as he felt the last vestiges of consciousness leaving his body, and a comforting, soothing darkness slowly cradle him. He was slipping, slipping away slowly and he was so drowsy. So comfortably warm and at peace, he smiled slowly as he was gently engulfed by oblivion.

Now a moment to thank those that have left reviews:

JesusFreak- Thank you so much. I am so tickled that I could ‘amaze’ you LOL, and am pleased that you enjoyed the way that Strider was described. I’ve always thought one reason we are so drawn to his character is the mix of compassion and danger that he emits. Thanks for the tip about the book. I’ll look into it.

Leia Wood- Thanks again for reviewing. Like I said to JesusFreak, Aragorn has always been a character that was both frightening and gentle, and I guess I am attracted to his compelling personality.