This is a repost!!!
Special thanks to Lily Baggins and Althea for help in some of the corrections in the story.

Disclaimer: The characters and places depicted are all the creation of JRR Tolkien, and I am only trying to emulate him in my own small way. *sigh*.

Medical disclaimers: Methods of treatment and medicines used have been researched for validity, however are used in this story simply for fictional purposes. In other words, don't try this at home; seek a professional-- yadda, yadda, yadda.

This chapter contains some graphic medical situations. This was necessary to describe the full scope of Frodo's wound and the subsequent debriding of the wound that will lead to his eventual healing. Just wanted to warn you ahead of time....

A/N: I apologize for my long absence, but have been unable to deal with RL issues and writing. Oh, that I could just write all the time, but unfortunately, it seems not to be. So, accept my profound apologies. I’ll try to do better, I promise. Tree

Chapter 10

"The Scouring of Frodo"

Gandalf smirked and Strider grinned as Blossom rushed to retrieve Bell then ushered her back into the room along with the tea service. She carried toweling, more bedding, a small length of rope and, most importantly, her healer's bag, which bulged with any and all manner of medicinal supplies.

They heard Sam come in through the kitchen. Blossom went and retrieved him as well, sitting him beside Strider in her former chair. Next she took Bell's shoulders and pressed her into another seat next to Sam. They all looked up at her with a mix of curiosity, amusement and apprehension as she began to pace in front of the four chairs.

"All right. We need to get a few things clear before we begin. First," and she stopped her pacing and gazed into each waiting face, "we are going to be doing some things that may seem brutal and even look like torture, to Frodo," she looked hard now at Samwise Gamgee. He gulped as her gaze fell on him and frowned worriedly. She knelt down in front of Sam's chair. She took his hands in hers and spoke softly. "You must realize that we do these things because if we do not, Frodo will surely die." She softly rubbed the backs of Sam's hands with her thumbs. "He cannot save himself. He needs our help. And it will seem a hard thing but it is vital, vital Sam that you understand that we are doing what we do because we must, so that he will survive. We all love him very, very much and that is why, although he will scream, beg and cry for us to stop, we cannot. Can you do this Sam, for your Mr. Frodo? If you cannot, you should leave and not one person in this room would think you a coward or doubt your loyalties. But, before we start, we must know. You will have to trust us that we truly are trying to save his life, no questions asked once he begins to suffer." Her old gray eyes looked into young damp hazel and she waited for the answer she knew he would give.

Sam gulped convulsively. "Yes Miss Blossom, I would like to stay, but your words have made me mightily scared, they have. I would do anything, even hurtin' him so, if it'll make him come back to us and live," he whispered, his voice shaking.

"We are all scared, Sam, but I know you would rather be here with him than with your sisters," Blossom smiled into Sam's young face. "First Dunedain, we will need to remove that draining tube in his head that you so artfully placed." Strider smiled and nodded.

"Shall I assist you, or would you rather assist me?" He asked as he rose and moved towards the bed.

"I would be honored to assist you, Hallaer," she replied with a grin. She gently pulled Frodo up and held him to her chest while Strider maneuvered himself to sit facing her with Frodo between them. He unwrapped the gauze slowly until the chestnut curls sprang forth from beneath. He washed the head wound with athelas water and gently clipped the sutures that held the tube in place. He slowly began to pull the tube from between the cracked bones with steady, even pressure. Frodo mewled weakly but otherwise, showed very little resistance. Blossom's blouse was damp with sweat from the burning body by the time Strider had finished. He coated the wound with an oily balm and then bound fresh gauze and padding over the incision before lowering Frodo back onto his pillows.

"Next, we will need to try and lower his fever, once again, before beginning further treatments. I fear that if we do not we will increase the risk of seizure with his temperature as high as it is," the hobbitess murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "Bell, Sam would you be so kind as to refill the tub with lukewarm water? No doubt it will feel very cold to Frodo but I do not want it to be any hotter than that." Bell and Sam left, Sam to hall the water into the kitchen and Bell to heat it on the stove. After it was hot, Sam hauled it to the tub where it was mixed with cold. Strider gently disrobed the hobbit and bore him to the bath, gradually lowering him into the tepid water. Frodo's eyes fluttered weakly open and a small gasp escaped his parched lips. Blossom permitted Frodo what last remaining dignity he possessed by allowing Strider, with Gandalf's assistance, to bath the boy while she laid out all that would be needed on a small tray. Bell quickly changed the bedding while Sam prepared more hot water for the bathing of the arm and for medicinal teas. Blossom mumbled quietly to herself as she set out tinctures, tonics and herbs that were relevant to Frodo's care. When she was satisfied, she rose and carried her treasures with her, relocating to the kitchen. She instructed Sam to make various teas in different pots and to keep them warm by the fire.

"Dittany is a very good herb for fever, as is yellowherb," she passed these packets to him. "Bittertea is a superb treatment for purifying the blood as is calendula, or marigold as you know it. This is important in ridding Frodo's body of the infection that is so aggressively attacking him. The boneset will help his bones to knit faster," she murmured as she pressed all of these into the gardener's hands and chuckled at the look of confusion on his face.

"Mistress, how many teas would you be wantin' then?" he asked astounded.

"The best thing, I think, would be to make a nice stew first. Make it full of vegetables, very heavy on the garlic, Sam," she looked at him as she said this to make sure he understood. He nodded, and then she continued. "Use beef stock. He won't be able to chew much, so we'll probably just concentrate on the broth, so make it rich. Add the marigold, leaves and flowers, boneset, yellow herb, some cabbage, Echinacea root, ginseng root and astragalas root, chopped finely, mind you, cayenne and maybe some yarrow," she listed, ticking off the ingredients on her fingers.

"Mistress, will he, umm, like the taste or will we be havin' to force it down 'em?" Sam asked, knowing how picky his master could be.

"Sam, it will be delicious, in fact make enough for all of us." Sam looked skeptical. "It's good for you and it'll put hair on your chest," she said this last with a thump to Sam's chest and turned and walked briskly back towards Frodo's room.

"Ma'am?" Sam asked, wondering why anyone would want hair on his or her chests.

"Oh, and Sam?"

Sam whipped his head around and saw Blossom had stuck her head around the corner of the kitchen.

"Ma'am?"

"The tea. Use the dittany, willow bark and Echinacea for those. We'll need to sweeten that, of course. You could make a tea using all three," she turned introspective. "Yes, yes, I see no reason why that should not work." She came out of her reverie, "Well, snap to it, Sam. Times a wastin'. I'll send Strider or Bell in to help you," she smiled and disappeared once again.

Sam stood staring at the space formerly occupied by the healer/herbalist, his mouth hanging open. Bell rounded the corner and laughed at her son.

"Sam, dear, close your mouth. You look tetched," she said with a chuckle. Strider was following the matron slowly, bent nearly double to avoid hitting his head.

"Mr. Strider, sir, what are all of these pouches and how are we to know which is which?" Bell asked worriedly. Strider smiled as he pulled the bench out to accommodate his long legs, relieved to not have to bend over any longer.

"I believe that is why I was told to assist you, Bell. Lets see," he pulled each pouch to him and read the labels written in the crisp even script of the herbalist. "Ah, dittany, excellent choice. Makes a somewhat bitter tea that is very good at lowering fevers, as is this one, yellowherb. Here we have the willow bark that is also for fevers, but also for pain. You probably use that here, don't you?" Bell nodded.

"What about this one? I'm right sorry sir, but I'm fair poor at my letters. What is it?"

"Echinacea or purple cone flower..." Strider began.

"Oh, Aye, we have that in Mr. Frodo's flowerbed," chimed in Sam, from the counter by the stove.

"Very good, Sam. A very attractive flower but, more importantly, a powerful healing herb. The roots have the miraculous curative powers against all manner of infection," Strider said.

"A good thing to be knowin'," Sam said quietly.

"We will steep the roots first then add them to the stew. We can use the flowers and leaves, along with the other herbs, to make Frodo's tea. I suggest liberal amounts of honey for this part," Strider said with a grimace.

"Here is some more, sir. Miss Blossom said we was to chop them up real fine like and add them to the stew." Sam looked warily over his shoulder. "Miss Blossom said I was to make enough for everyone and that it would put 'hair' on me chest," he said seriously.

Strider exploded into laughter causing both hobbits to jump back in alarm. He held up his hand, using the other to cover his mouth and quell, somewhat, the chuckles that still issued forth. Smiling, he looked at the various pouches. "All of these things are very healthy, even for hobbits who are not ill. Plus they are quite tasty. The garlic, which you already use, and the cabbage are very potent curatives for infection, as are onions."

"That must be why she instructed me to put a lot of garlic in the stew," Sam said to himself.

"I am sure. The marigold leaves and flowers work along the same line as does the cayenne, Echinacea, ginseng, and astragalas roots. The yarrow and boneset are not ones I would have thought of, though they are excellent additions. The yarrow will help staunch the blood flow while the boneset will help Frodo's bones to knit faster."

"Staunch what blood flow, Mr. Strider?" Sam asked, uneasily.

Strider shifted uncomfortably on the bench and took a deep breath. Finally he looked at Sam. He glanced at Bell but by the look in her eyes he could see she already knew what was to come. She began gathering the herbs and roots for the stew and slipped over to the counter with the cook pot to chop them up. Strider cleared his throat and said," We are going to vigorously scrub Frodo's wound, Sam. It will be painful and bloody, I'm afraid. Blossom is trying to create with all of this," he motioned to all of the pouches, "a powerful cure for the infection, as well as the fever, pain and loss of blood," he said quietly, his eyes sad.

"I understand, sir. I know you are all tryin' to help 'em. It's just hard is all, to hurt him so," Sam whispered. Strider nodded his understanding as he pulled the small gardener to him.

"I know, Sam," he whispered. He gently pushed the hobbit away and glanced over at Bell who was wiping her eyes with her apron. When she saw them looking at her, she pointed to the stewpot.

"Onions," she said quietly. Strider smiled, as did Sam. He organized the pouches into two piles--one for tea and one for stew and then rose into his bent position, leaving the Gamgee's with the preparations.

When Blossom came back into Frodo's room she smiled in satisfaction at seeing her young friend clean and, apparently, resting easier. His fever was still very high but Frodo looked more relaxed and restful against the newly changed linens. Gandalf was on the other side of the bed contemplatively puffing his pipe; one hand loosely held Frodo's left. Blossom smiled a brief, cheerless smile at him before directing all of her attention to Frodo.

"Frodo. Frodo, I need you to wake now so that we may talk, dear one." She repeated this perhaps two more times until Frodo's eyelids fluttered and fever glazed eyes cracked open. While his face was generally pale his cheeks were a bright red. He licked dryly at his lips and Blossom poured him a cup of water, tilting him towards her as she brought it to his lips. He drank thirstily then she lowered him slowly back down onto the pillow.

"Who am I, Frodo?" she asked as she mopped his face with a cool cloth. The question seemed to stymie the hobbit. His eyebrows knit in confusion and he blinked several times trying to bring her face into focus.

"You are...you are Blossom. Did I miss tea, Blossom?" he rasped worriedly.

"Yes Frodo, but it is of no matter. I have something we need to discuss with you, my boy, and I need you to concentrate very hard so that you understand what we are about to do. Do you think you can do that for me, Frodo?" Blossom's voice shook with emotion even though she had tried, and failed repeatedly, to think of Frodo as just another patient. Strider entered the room at that moment and smiled grimly at Frodo. Frodo returned the smile weakly. The ranger began layering cloth about the rope and tying it off on the sides of the bed. Frodo returned his gaze to Blossom.

"Blossom, tell me, what has you so upset?" he asked weakly, worried for his friend.

"You, Frodo. You have me so upset," she replied quietly.

"What have I done to cause you such pain? I would never hurt you, Blossom, surely you know this," he said, his voice breaking.

"Shush. There, there my dear. It was nothing you did. I am just worried about your health, my boy," she said soothingly. Frodo closed his eyes in relief, a sigh escaped him as his body relaxed slightly. The eyes slowly crept back open and he lay watching her, knowing there was more to come. She smiled as she gave him another swallow of cool water. "Frodo, your arm has a very bad infection in it. If we do not try to removed as much of it as is possible you will die." Frodo showed little or no reaction to this statement, reflecting back to his parents. "We can try to stop the infection by scouring the area and then soaking it or applying poultices or..." Blossom looked away quickly then back into Frodo's eyes, "we can remove the arm." Gandalf and Strider watched as Frodo's face contorted in fear and anger.

"No. I cannot allow you to do that, Blossom. Let me go if you must, but I cannot, will not, live without my arm." His breaths came in shallow pants and he tried to weakly shrink away from the hobbitess and Gandalf. Strider watched in shocked confusion, still not able to fathom how anyone of intellect could choose no life at all versus the sacrifice of a limb. Tears slid silently down his face.

"Frodo. Frodo Baggins! You will calm yourself this instant or I will sedate you," Blossom said brusquely. Frodo stilled his movements and fell back, exhausted, against the pillows. He eyed her warily. "Why do you think I am sitting here telling you all of this? Don't you understand, I am merely stating how things are? I did not say I was going to amputate, did I, young man?" Frodo shook his head weakly. "Of course not. I would never do such a think without consulting you first. I know how you feel about your abilities to use your arm and hand to write. I know how, without it, you would be lost. But I had to tell you what we were going to do instead, to prepare you." Frodo swallowed thickly and sighed in relief. "Frodo. We are going to scour the cut and flush it repeatedly to try and rid your body of the infection. It will be very painful and though we would do anything to spare you this agony, it is necessary if we are to save your life." She wiped tears from her eyes as she spoke.

Frodo smiled weakly up at her. "I trust you, Blossom. I know you always have my best interests at heart and know how I feel about matters such as these," he whispered hoarsely.

Blossom smiled wanly in return. "I would gladly take this pain upon myself, if I could, Frodo." She sponged his face again. "I love you dearly, lad. I just wanted you to know," she whispered.

"Blossom, you have been my mother in every sense of the word except for biology. I love you as well, I always have," Frodo murmured. Blossom sobbed as she pulled Frodo to her in a quick embrace. She released him slowly and laid him back on to the pillows. He smiled encouragingly up at her.

"Sam, Bell, Gandalf and Strider are all here, my boy, to try and make this as quick and easy as is at all possible," she said.

"No, not Sam. I could not subject him to that, Blossom. He is very sensitive and ..." Frodo rushed to articulate.

"And will not leave you, no matter what you would say, Mr. Frodo," came the heated retort from the doorway. Sam crossed to the bed and took Frodo's good hand in his. "I will not be sent from you when you need me most, Master," Sam said, his stance and expression one of stubbornness and determination beyond reasoning.

"Sam..."

"No, I say. I here by willfully disobey you, Master. I'll not leave and that's final," he said firmly.

"Sam, you realize I will have to dock your wages for this act of mutiny," Frodo said with a deadpan face.

Sam smiled, "Aye sir, I do, and with no complaints from the likes of me either." He squeezed the feverish hand and turned to Blossom.

"Stew's ready as is the tea, Mistress," he said firmly.

"Thank you, Sam. Will you bring a cup of the tea please, for Frodo?" Blossom said as she pulled her satchel out and began searching through it. Sam left to retrieve the tea as Blossom turned to Strider. "Is he strong enough, in your opinion Estel, to be sedated?" Strider could tell how tense Blossom was by her use of his name 'Estel' but chose to ignore the slip.

"Yes, his head wound is all but healed. I do worry about the high fever and, with what we are about to do, the likelihood of a seizure," he said quietly. Frodo seemed unaware of their presence, the long conversation and forced concentration to the subject matter having robbed him of his strength.

"I know. He will be pushed to his absolute limits tonight, that is why I wish to dull as much of it as is possible," the healer said. She pulled forth four packets from the bag and laid them on the tray. "I have four very potent painkillers available. One I would only use if absolutely necessary. I have ground valerian root, arnica or I could make a paste from poppy seeds. She hesitated, looking up into Strider's eyes. "I also have ground mandrake root." Strider's eyes darted quickly to hers.

"I know, Dunedain. I know the correct dosage for a hobbit is but a few grains. But with Frodo being significantly weakened by his other injuries plus his lack of appetite, I am unsure of its effects on him. All of these herbs have the same problem but not as severe as mandrake," she said contemplatively. She chose a small packet filled with a black dust. "The poppy, I think. I will give him a fairly large dose and hope he will lose consciousness within a few minutes time," she looked up at Strider who nodded his agreement. She rose and moved to the dresser. Carefully she measured out the black dust into a small wooden spoon she carried in her bag. She went to the kitchen and returned moments later with a jar of Bell's strawberry preserves. She spooned some of the preserves into a bowl adding the ground poppy seeds to it and mixed it thoroughly. At last she turned and crossed to Frodo who had fallen back into a fevered doze. She gently shook him until his eyelids crept half open. "Frodo, I need you to take this medicine. All of it," she said. When Frodo groaned, she smiled. "It tastes very good, my dear, I promise." Frodo still looked disinclined to believe the healer, but Blossom firmly began spooning the concoction between his lips. Frodo had always loved strawberries. Blossom had even planted a special strawberry patch besides her house just for Frodo. She never ate them as they made her deathly ill, but made luscious pies, jams and other desserts which she would serve on their tea days, just for Frodo. He swallowed timidly at first, but after tasting his favored fruit, willingly accepted each spoonful until the medicine was gone.

"Good Frodo. Good. Now rest a moment while I see to some last details and then we can begin," she whispered soothingly.

"'Wish all medicine tasted that good," Frodo mumbled.

Hot water was brought to the bedside and more cold placed on the fire to heat. Pouches of powders and strange looking implements were boiled and then placed on pristine cloth on the tray. Blossom and Strider gently tied Frodo's left hand, upper body and legs, mindful of the broken one, to the bed. Sam brought the tea and Blossom once again tried to wake Frodo. After three tries Frodo's eyes slit open.

"Tea, Frodo," she said bringing the cup to his mouth.

"No...no,than' you, Blossom. No' thirs'y," Frodo mumbled, his eyes rolling up into his head.

"I'm sorry, Frodo, but I must insist." She nodded to Gandalf who slipped behind Frodo raising the very relaxed hobbit up against his chest. Frodo's head lolled precariously to the right. Frodo moaned grumpily as he was forced to semi-wakefulness.

"Nooo...so sleepy. Don' wan' tea," he grumped.

"Just a little, dear." Blossom looked up at all who were now assembled about the bed. "He *must* receive the tea every hour until his fever has broken," she said fervently. All nodded their understanding. Gently she spooned the tea into Frodo's mouth and watched as he swallowed each spoonful. Finally after about half a cup was gone she set the cup aside and allowed Frodo to rest against the pillows.

Strider smiled encouragingly at her. He tied the wounded limb firmly at the wrist and with a nod; Blossom indicated they were ready to begin. The basin with the polluted water was removed and the arm tenderly patted dry. Thick yellow pus continued to ooze from the gash and Blossom grimaced at the swelling above the cut that had yet to be dealt with. She took the tincture of iodine and flooded the arm until it was stained a sickly orange. She then sprinkled the powdered arnica over the area she planned to concentrate her efforts on. She chose a sharp blade and spoke briefly to her assistants.

"Hold him steady, both his shoulders and thighs. Strider, if you would be good enough to hold his right arm for me," she said. The only outward sign of emotion from the healer was a slight tremor of her voice as she poised to deliver the cut. After everyone was in place she bent to her task, inserting the blade above the cut and slicing across the top, down and then across the bottom, including the original gash, forming a large letter 'I'.

Frodo's reaction was immediate. His eyes flew open in surprise and his back arched upward trying to escape the assault on this all to tender area of his body. A high shrill scream escaped his lips as he swung his head violently back and forth. Sam increased the pressure on Frodo's shoulders effectively immobilizing his upper body. Silent tears coursed down his face as he watched his Master struggle with the last of his strength. Blossom continued as if unaffected by her patient's cries. Slowly she pulled the center part of the 'I' open revealing the frothy core of the infection above the cut. The underlying tissue was almost black but, thankfully, the top part of the incision’s under layer was a bright and healthy pink. Blood and yellow exudates erupted and ran down the quivering limb. Blossom smiled and looked up at Strider. "We are indeed in luck, Dunedain, the infection has yet to progress past this point." She sounded hopeful as she pointed to the top of the incision. Strider returned her hopeful smile.

"Are you ready for the coarse cloth, Blossom?" he asked.

"Not yet. I wish to flush this area first with the tincture." So saying, she proceeded. The sweet, sickening smell of decaying flesh accosted them, filling the room. Sam gagged, as his gorge rose and he was afraid he would vomit at any moment. He turned away, as did Bell and Gandalf at the sight of the gushing wound.

"Now I am ready, Estel," Blossom said in a hushed voice. "This will be the most painful part for Frodo but you must continue to hold him steady," she said quietly, her eyes moist. She gulped and then began to apply even, steady pressure above the incision, milking downwards to push out any infection possibly hidden beneath the skin's lip. Blood gushed over the outstretched arm as Frodo's screams, and the bucking of his body, increased. His broken leg strained against the bindings and, with a glance, Strider could tell it would need to be reset. Frodo's pain was of such intensity that he had refractured the limb, but was oblivious to the lesser of the two pains.

Blossom, satisfied that the area above the incision had yet to be affected, staunched the bleeding with a pure, white cloth, which she then tossed, unceremoniously, to the floor. Her concentration now fixed on the necrotic tissue as she took up the coarse cloth and began to scrub the area of both infection and blackened tissue alike.

Frodo refilled his bruised chest and screeched in agony. His eyes flew open and fastened on Sam's hazel ones.

"Sam," he wailed. "Help me. Make them stop. Please!!!!" he screamed.

His Master's cries knifed directly into Sam's heart and he sobbed knowing he was utterly helpless to rescue Frodo from his pain. Sam was struck with the similarity of one scrubbing a particularly difficult spot on a cook pot. He turned suddenly to his right and vomited onto the floor. He spit and Bell brought a cup to his lips to help him rinse the bile from his mouth.

"Alright there, Samwise?" Blossom asked in concern. Sam nodded weakly, but did not release his hold on his Master's shoulders.

Frodo thrashed like a wild man, thrumming his feet against the mattress, oblivious of the broken leg and testing the strength of the restraints. Then, suddenly, he became perfectly still. All heads shot up as one and watched as his impossibly wide blue eyes glazed over and rolled up into his head. His body bucked uncontrollably as his brain fired impulse after impulse to his already taut muscles. His bowels and bladder evacuated, his body losing all ability to control itself.

"Sam! Remove the pillow under his head and place the bolster under his neck!" Strider yelled. Sam quickly obeyed causing Frodo's head to tip backwards.

"Now that rag over there...quickly roll it and place it between his teeth," Blossom barked. Sam moved to comply but this was hampered by Frodo's jaw being tightly clenched as his teeth ground together. Finally, the rag was in place and they all stood helplessly watching until, at last, the fit passed. Frodo's body was eerily calm and then he began to gag. Blossom, with Strider's help, swiftly released the restraints on Frodo's left side and rolled him to the edge of the bed. A fountain seemed to erupt from the hobbit's mouth as he projectile vomited across the room. Finally he was reduced to dry heaves and Bell washed his face of the residue. They slowly rolled him back onto his back and reattached the bindings. Blossom’s head dropped to her chest as she swiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of one bloody hand. The pause only lasted a heartbeat and then she turned back to her task.

"Let's finish this for I could not bear to do it again," she murmured tiredly.

Strider touched her arm and she looked up at him, her eyes deep pools of misery. "Blossom, allow me to finish for you. You are near collapse from worry and exhaustion," he whispered.

She hesitated then nodded and slowly rose. She crossed to the basin and washed the gore from her hands and forearms. The wastewater was discarded and the basin refilled with near scalding water. Strider briskly lathered and washed before retaking Blossom's spot then he picked up a new cloth and resumed debriding the wound. Frodo was, thankfully, unconscious but still moaned and wept as he swung his head back and forth on the newly replaced pillow. At long last Strider gave a relieved sigh and, taking a pitcher of very hot water, flushed the arm and wound into a deep basin. Blood and putrefied tissue filled the basin, which Bell took and discarded. Strider immersed the arm in clean, warm water as he scrutinized the wound. Finally satisfied that, at least visually, the wound looked clean, he removed the arm and laid it gently on a stack of pure white toweling. It continued to bleed as he sprinkled powdered goldenrod, calendula and rue onto the incision. He loosely packed the wound with a cotton cloth then turned to Blossom who sat in the corner watching him work.

"Blossom, did you prepare a poultice for the wound?" he asked gently, noting the slump of the healer's shoulders and drawn look of her face.

"Of course, Estel. It is in the kitchen. I wanted it to warm a bit before applying it," she whispered, her eyes never leaving the patient before her. "I shall retrieve it and then we can let him rest," she said and rose. As she left the room she ran two fingers softly down the side of Frodo's face, a look of tender care upon her face. She returned with a small pan and gently spread the contents over the cotton until it was caked with the mixture.

"Beggin' you pardon, Mistress, but what is that?" Sam asked quietly.

"It is a mixture of bearsweed and rhubarb root, Sam," she answered clinically. "It will draw out the rest of the infection in the arm." She finished and then backed away allowing Strider the room he needed to suture the wound.

"Are you just gonna leave that in his arm then?" Sam asked in alarm as he watched Strider make the delicate stitches, closing the wound with the poultice inside.

"Yes Sam. See how Strider has left a small opening at the bottom? That will act as a drain for the wound and, when the cotton is no longer needed, we will remove it from the opening and stitch the rest of the wound closed," she said as they watched the ranger finish his work.

"I think, after we've reset the leg, that we should dose and feed Frodo. Then we need to eat as well. He will need to be bathed again before allowing him to rest for a time." Sam looked up at her noting how she swayed from fatigue as she slowly spoke. He rose, offered her a chair, which she gratefully took, then went to get the stew for Frodo and his caregivers. Strider was washing the broken leg when Sam returned. The arm had been splinted and heavily bandaged and lay on a large pillow. Strider slowly began to pull the bones back into place. Frodo cried out and Sam rushed to his side. He took his Master's hand and squeezed it reassuringly as he spoke words of love and encouragement. Strider was now resplinting the leg and wrapping it in long, canvas strips to hold the bones in place.

Bell appeared at the bedside with a basin of warm water, a flannel and soap. She gently lathered and rinsed Frodo's face, chest, arm, legs, hands and feet, drying each area as she went. Strider washed Frodo's back, groin and backside of the excrement and held him aloft as Bell changed the bedding.

"Bell, burn all of the bedding and surgical rags and then we will help you scrub the floors, bedrails and tables with strong soap," Blossom said.

"Destroy the linens? Why Mistress?" Bell asked in surprise.

"We do not know what causes infection in one person and yet another will be spared, only that if areas where patients are kept appear clean but have not been scrubbed with strong soaps and the linens destroyed after surgery, the patients usually do not recover."

"Do you think it could be an evil that lives in the wound, or some such, Mistress?" Bell asked, looking embarrassed.

Blossom smiled. "I find it hard to fathom that it is that, exactly. I do not, generally, hold with superstition. No one really knows what causes the sickness there is only supposition. I prefer to believe it is a simple matter of cleanliness." She picked up the debris from the surgery off of the floor and began moping up the vomit from both Sam and Frodo. Bell fetched very hot water, adding her home cleaning liquid that soon caused everyone to tear and cover their mouths in order to breath easier. Strider carried his bundled patient from the room to avoid the fumes. After wiping all the surfaces, they mopped the floor. When the room was declared clean they built up the fire. Frodo was then nestled into a cocoon of sheets, pillows and comforters. Blossom checked him one last time, examining the arm and leg specifically. After Frodo was covered snuggly, everyone relaxed at last.

"Tea and broth?" Strider asked and Blossom saw that he held a cup in both hands.

She smiled. "You read my mind, Estel," she said cheerily. Strider slipped behind Frodo, pressing his back against the headboard and sitting the hobbit up against his chest, his head resting against Strider's shoulder.

Very slowly Blossom spooned the liquid into the side of their patient's mouth as Strider gently stroked his throat. They watched as Frodo slowly swallowed each spoonful. It was a laborious process but eventually, both cups were emptied and Strider slipped out from behind him, lowering him to the pillows.

Sam passed bowls of the fragrant stew and slices of crusty bread around. All were quiet as they ate, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Excellent Bell, Sam," said Gandalf. Everyone nodded in agreement and Sam was also pleasantly surprised at how good the stew had turned out. After everyone was sated Blossom rose and crossed to the bed. She lovingly wiped Frodo's brow and looked up as Strider joined her.

Gandalf came up behind her and placed a knarled hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly and then smiled up at him.

"Rest, my friend. I will watch over him now. All of you have worked tirelessly but now it is time to sleep and regain your strengths. Be proud of a most difficult job well done," he murmured.

"Normally I would fight you on this, Gandalf my friend, but I am so weary I cannot," she said as she rose slowly and walked down the hall to a room Bell had readied for her. Sam and Bell finished cleaning up the kitchen and banking the fires before retiring themselves, to their rooms. Blossom entered her room and quietly snicked the door closed. Later, as Strider walked to his own room, he paused at Blossom's door and listened helplessly to the muffled sobs coming from within.

To be continued-

I have received so many glowing reviews that it leaves me a bit overwhelmed. I wish to thank each of you who have read and enjoyed the story so far.

FrodoBaggins87- Thanks so much for your comments. I'm glad you continue to enjoy the fic.

BraellyraLeatherleaf - I don't know what it is about healing a sick Frodo that is so entertaining. It must be the Florence Nightingale complex or something. I only know that I am so entranced with the character I want to protect and help him, which always comes after we batter and bruise him, it seems. LOL. Thanks so much for enjoying Blossom. I really have enjoyed her character immensely and am thinking of using her possibly in a future story.

Elwen - Welcome, welcome, my friend. I continue to be in your debt for starting the story and hope you continue to find it entertaining. I wonder what you must think of all that has happened since that first chapter. I bet you never thought I would be such a tormenter (or knowing me, maybe you did!) of the poor thing.

Kathira - I absolutely love Aragorn in 'healer mode' and wished there had been time in the move to draw this out a bit. I am thrilled that you enjoy my characterizations. I try to place myself in each character's body and talk like I imagine they would talk. I think this makes them sound more like real people. Thanks again and please, continue to read even if you can't review every time. You're always welcome in my little cubicle of the world.

Lindahoyland - Hello again, my faithful reviewer! I kind of think (makes sense huh?) like Blossom and since I tend to think too much and worry, I've learned from first hand experience that what Blossom said about thinkers is very true. I'm really pleased that I've pulled you into my stories and that you are such a faithful follower. I look forward to hearing from you again.

Althea - I'm delighted you like Blossom. Sometimes OC's can be an annoyance and I'm glad that everyone, so far, has accepted her so completely. Don't worry too much about our boy; I would sooner cut off my own right arm than put him in such dire straights that he couldn't be cured.

Tulip Proudfoot - My Elvish really sucks, but I thought it would be appropriate to have Blossom have a deeper understanding of the Elves and their world, so decided she should know some Elvish so that she could have communicated while she was in Rivendell. Poor Frodo indeed. LOL.

Wydinel Sheergale - Welcome first time reviewer!! Tolkien is probably rolling over in his grave at all the horrible things we subject his characters to. I too, am leery or OC's, and try my best to always make them believable. Glad you like Blossom, as I do too.