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.

Chapter 13

A Sense of Family

Hours later when Frodo awoke, he found, once again, the room's occupants deep in slumber. He realized that these people had sacrificed much for him and the thought of how much they valued him, and his well being, brought tears to his eyes. Sam stirred feeling, somehow, aware that his Master had awoken. Seeing that his Master was in distress and interpreting it as pain, he rose and crossed quickly to his side.

"Mr. Frodo are you in much pain? Should I fetch Miss Blossom or Mr. Strider?" He asked anxiously.

"No Sam, I was just momentarily overwhelmed by the love and friendship you all have shown to me," his voice croaked.

Sam looked at him, confused, as he brought a cup of water to Frodo's lips. "It's no different than how you've always treated all of us, Mr…uh, Frodo," Sam said shyly.

"But Sam...did you just call me Frodo?" Frodo asked, his voice full of awe.

"Uh...yes sir. I hope I haven't overstepped none," Sam said, anxiously.

"Say it again, Sam, please," Frodo asked, excited.

"Umm...Frodo?" Sam said quietly.

"Oh Sam...you called me Frodo," Frodo exclaimed in delight. Sam smiled to see the obvious happiness in his Master's eyes at this simple gesture.

Blossom, Gandalf and Strider entered the room at a run, thinking the worst by the commotion Frodo's excited voice had caused. Bell stirred, wondering what all the fuss was about.

"He called me Frodo!" Frodo chortled. "Sam called me Frodo!" He said again, for those who might have missed it. The entourage smiled then laughed in amazement, much to the extreme embarrassment of the gardener, who was, by now, a bright red. Sam began to wonder seriously if this had been a mistake.

Frodo continued to smile as Blossom felt his forehead and declared no touch of fever could be felt. She turned to the red-faced gardener saying, "This is the best medicine of all, Sam, and don't you forget that. Sometimes where medicines fail the true love of friendship will heal the most ill of patients." Sam didn't think he could be more embarrassed but quickly showed he could. He smiled hesitantly at the group. She turned back to her charge. "Now my dear boy, it is time for a bath and more tea and broth," she said firmly.

"But...uh...I don't think that's really necessary," Frodo stammered, looking about him at the obviously amused gathering.

"Oh indeed it is, my sweet hobbit. You must be feeling better indeed to feel so uncomfortable about another bath," she said with a grin.

Frodo blanched, his eyes wide. "Another?" he croaked.

"Yes, my friend. We wouldn't have dreamed of allowing you to lay in the sweat and offal brought on by your sickness," she continued, barely able to contain a chuckle at the hobbits discomfort.

"Offal?" Frodo asked, a frightened look in his eyes thinking what must have had to be taken care of while he was unconscious.

"Well of course, Frodo. Even while you were unconscious your body continued to function as normal," Blossom's face contorted into a wide grin, no longer able to hold back at the humor of the situation.

Strider, at last, had pity on the poor hobbit and decided enough was enough. "Be at peace, Frodo. At all times we were careful to protect your dignity. Do not let Blossom tell you otherwise," he said reassuringly. Frodo relaxed slightly.

"Bell, Sam let's heat some water and get the tub filled for our dear hobbit," Blossom said, knowing the fun was indeed over and snapping back into healer mode.

The water was heated and lavender oil added. As an after-thought Strider broke athelas leaves into the awaiting bath, whispering the ancient words as he did. Blossom and Bell quitted the room to allow Frodo his privacy but Frodo was still nervous about the situation.

"As you are prone to falling asleep at the most inopportune times I think perhaps, we will start with the tea and soup before we clean you up, Mr. Baggins," Strider said with a smirk.

As Frodo drank the tea then the broth, he looked nervously at the wizard, the sympathetic Sam and at Strider, completely unaware of the nourishment he imbibed. When at last it was time for the dreaded bath, Strider gently lifted the covers and snaked a towel over Frodo's groin. He then removed the nightshirt slipping it carefully over the healing arm. He removed the counterpane and tenderly lifted the embarrassed hobbit and bore him to the awaiting bath. Frodo's breaths were coming faster at the thought of all of these spectators watching, or worse, bathing him as he was obviously too weak to do for himself. As he was lowered into the bath, the towel firmly fixed around his hips and the broken leg propped up on the end of the tub, his nervousness dissolved as the warm, sweetly scented water covered him up to his neck. Strider slowly lathered a flannel and carefully washed his upper body. He then moved to the legs and nether regions where Frodo abruptly stopped him.

"I am perfectly able to wash myself," he said indignantly.

Strider raised his eyebrows at the invalid and placed the flannel in Frodo's sprained, outstretched hand. The hand trembled and Strider was uncertain as to whether it was due to the hobbit's weakness or his attempt to keep his dignity. He averted his eyes as Frodo winced, his hand objecting to the activity and determinedly washed his unexposed regions. He was panting, a sheen of sweat on his brow, in the short time it had taken to deem himself clean.

"Enough, Frodo," Strider said firmly. "You have unnecessarily over exerted yourself for the sake of modesty. We are all males here and this is not something you need be embarrassed about," he said, concerned that the hobbit had overtaxed his weakened body. Frodo looked at him pleadingly. Strider's voice gentled. "Let's wash your hair, all right?" Frodo nodded and Strider began to pour cups of water over the sweaty curls. He lathered and rinsed the hair until it shown a shiny chestnut.

Sam had placed toweling on the floor by the fireplace and more towels on the hearth, not wishing his Master to catch a chill. Strider gently lifted Frodo from the bath with the towel still in place and set him on the warmed towels by the fire. He was quickly covered and dried with the heated towels, the now sodden privacy towel removed from underneath the dry ones. A nightshirt was slowly lowered over his torso and the towels removed. Gandalf and Sam had replaced the dirty linens with clean ones and Strider carried Frodo to the awaiting nest. He was covered with a thick blanket and the healer set about replacing the sodden bandages with dry. Frodo was pleasantly surprised at how much better he felt, the bath having washed away the smell of sickness. After the trauma of the bath and having had a warm, if scant meal, exhaustion crept over the hobbit. He gladly gave into it and slipped into slumber. The three friends left him to rest and joined Bell and Blossom in the kitchen for the morning meal.

"I fear it is time for me to return home," Blossom said, her voice containing a note of sadness. "Frodo is out of danger and my poor plants need to be cared for."

Strider nodded. "I will stay until he is healed then, I too, will need to depart. It has been most enjoyable spending time with such wonderful people and I am loathe to return to my solitary wanderings, but it is necessary," he said with regret.

Sam and Bell looked at the two, saddened by the dissolution of their little group of newfound friends.

"Sam, if you would be so kind as to hitch up my wagon and I'll be on my way," Blossom said.

Sam nodded and left to find Goldenrod and Pansy's Girl who had been happily frolicking with the other ponies during the duration of the visit. He brought the wagon to the front of the smial and Blossom, now in her shirt and pants once again, climbed up onto the seat with a hand from Sam. She placed her healers satchel next to her on the bench and looked down at the assembly.

"Sam, come out to my home in a weeks time, or sooner if you like and tell me how Frodo is faring, all right? Watch after your Master for me, dearest Samwise, and always remember to show him how much he means to you. No matter what you have been ingrained to believe, class is an unnecessary barrier that keeps us from developing and enjoying friendships with others. Do not allow the misguided teachings of "class", "place" or "station" to interfere with your obvious feelings of brotherhood with Frodo. He needs to feel a sense of belonging and family and I know you will strive to give him those things," Blossom instructed. Sam nodded determinedly and told her, once again, that his Master would never feel abandoned or alone again. And that he would be the companion as well as the gardener for as long as Frodo needed him to be. Blossom smiled knowing that Frodo was, indeed, being left in good hands.

"Dundain, Anna en suilannad an Elrond (Give my greetings to Elrond), ah hanned le an lin an lin gwend a curu (and thank you for your friendship and skill)*. Please return and visit with me. That invitation is for you, as well, my wizard friend. Let us not allow so much time to pass again," Both Strider and Gandalf smiled and nodded, reassuring the hobbitess that they would redouble their efforts to visit.

Lastly she turned to Bell. "It has been my privilege and honor to rekindle our friendship and to work side by side with such a wonderful person," she said. Bell blushed a deep crimson but stepped forward and took Blossom's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Thank you, Mistress," she said quietly.

With that Blossom clicked her tongue as she flicked the reins and the wagon slowly moved down the lane. At the curve she turned back and waved to her friends. They did not see the tears that slowly rolled down her face.

They watched until she was gone from sight then re-entered the smial. Strider went to Frodo's room and was surprised to see the hobbit not only awake but attempting to rise from the bed.

"Frodo! You should have waited for one of us to return. Just where do you think you are going, my friend," Strider exclaimed. Frodo had managed to push himself up to the headboard before vertigo and exhaustion had stopped him.

"I...uh...I needed to ...uh...use the chamber pot, Strider, but haven't the strength to lower myself to the floor other than falling to it, that is," Frodo said, attempting to use humor to cover his embarrassment.

"Do not try to move on your own again, I implore you. You have lost a great deal of blood from the surgery and are weakened from your injuries. I would not want to find you collapsed on the floor. If for no one else, think of Sam and how frightened he would be were he to see you in such a state," Strider said with concern.

Frodo's face paled, "Of course, poor Sam would be quite beside himself, wouldn't he?” “How foolish of me," he said, the thought having never occurred to him until Strider had mentioned it.

Strider sighed and closed the door behind him. He moved to the bed and drew back the covers. Frodo looked at him in alarm. "What are you doing?" He asked nervously.

Strider looked at him, puzzled. "I am helping you to use the chamber pot, Frodo," he answered.

"Oh...no...no, I don't...no, that's truly not necessary, I assure you," came the stammered reply.

Strider's eyebrows rose quizzically. 'Frodo, if you are unable to leave the bed how else do you propose to do this?" he asked quietly. The hobbit looked away. Strider retrieved the bedpan from under the bed and lifted Frodo's narrow hips, setting it in place. He was re-covered and Strider smiled at him reassuringly. "I will wait outside the door. When you are finished call to me." He left the room, closing the door behind him. Since the ceiling was so low, he sat down against the wall, stretching his legs out before him, and waited.

Frodo sat on the cold pan for a few moments, his eyes wide, before he was finally able to relax and complete his business. "Strider?" He called shyly. "I am finished." Strider re-entered the room, slipped the pan out from under him and left the room. He returned shortly and saw that Frodo had turned towards the wall.

"Frodo?" He asked in concern, placing his hand on the hobbit's shoulder.

"It is humiliating enough to be given a bath, but to have to have someone assist me to...to...well, it is an affront to basic hobbit dignity," he whispered. His voice shook with emotion. Strider frowned. He knew, from observation, that hobbits were a fairly conservative race. Their privacy was one of their most closely prized possessions. To have to have someone assist them in their bodily functions would have been a great embarrassment indeed.

"Frodo, sometimes we must rely on others to help us attend to our needs when we cannot do for ourselves. There is no shame in it; it is simply how it is. I am a healer and you should not feel ill at ease in front of me. I much prefer doing things this way than endangering your health and safety by allowing you to try and wrestle with a chamber pot."

Frodo turned to look at him. "It's just that I've never had to rely on someone else to care for this aspect of my life. I cannot help but feel self conscious but I do agree that I am unfit to leave my bed at the present time, and suppose I will have to adjust until I can," he said quietly.

"I have a surprise for you," Strider said with a grin and desperately wanting to lift Frodo's spirits. "Close your eyes." Frodo closed his eyes, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Strider gently lifted the hobbit so that he was propped against many pillows and against the headboard. "Now, don't move...I'll be right back." He could hear the swiftly retreating footsteps then the scurry of many footsteps re-entering the room. Something that smelled delicious was placed on his lap and he smiled widely. "All right, Frodo. Open your eyes," Strider said with a chuckle.

Frodo opened his eyes and saw that everyone in the room stood about him smiling. He looked down and saw that instead of the standard soup there were four small covered dishes on his tray. He went to lift off one of the lids, but his hands trembled then fell back to the coverlet. Sam quickly pulled a chair up to the bed and lifted the lid off of the first dish.

"This'n is one o' my favorites when I'm sick, Mr. Frodo. Me mum always makes it just for me, until now, that is. I asked her to fix some for you since Mr. Strider said you could move on to soft foods," Sam said cheerfully. "It's an apple and raisin steamed pudding with honey, nutmeg and cinnamon," he smiled at Frodo and Frodo couldn't help but smile back at his friend. Sam removed the next cover. "This here is a nice bit o' vanilla custard with some brandied peaches a' top o' it." His mouth began to water as the aroma accosted him. Frodo, though touched by Sam's devotion and attentions, could not help but smile. The picture of a truculent and picky child being convinced by an elder of the palatability of his dinner went through his mind.

He chose the steamed pudding as his first choice and obediently opened his mouth as Sam brought spoonfuls of the indulgence to his lips. Although everything looked and smelled wonderful, he soon found himself full, much to the dismay of his friend. Sam left the room with the tray muttering something about 'eating like a bird' and a drowsy hobbit settled back against the pillows. Strider had moved to his regular spot on the corner and was diligently smoothing and sanding the long stick of wood.

"Where is Blossom, Strider?" he murmured.

"She has deemed you on the mend and decided it was time for her to depart back to her home," Strider said quietly.

Frodo felt a sense of loss but understood the old hobbit's need to return to her smial and her plants. He sighed. "What are you making, Strider?" He asked sleepily.

The ranger smiled secretively. "Some crutches for you, Frodo. I took the liberty of measuring you for these as you slept. It will be some time before you have the necessary strength, especially in your arm, to use them but I thought now would be as good a time as any to get them ready for you."

"They are beautiful," Frodo murmured. He gazed at the intricately carved and smoothed wood. Small vines had been inlayed along their length and he could not help but marvel at the amount of work that had gone into such a functional item. "You have put far to much work into such a utilitarian device," he commented.

"Not at all, Frodo. The elves taught me as a boy that all things created should be a thing of beauty, even the most mundane," Strider smiled at the memory.

Frodo's eyes had drifted closed and Strider moved to the bed to remove the extra pillows and lower him down.

"Thank you...Strider...for taking care of me," the hobbit mumbled dreamily.

Strider smiled and gently moved the curls from Frodo's forehead. "Not at all, small one. It was my honor to get to know you and those close to you," he whispered. "May the Varda always watch and guide you," he added softly.

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

Frodo improved steadily over the next few weeks. Bell had returned to her own household after that pivotal week of his recovery, but continued to bring tempting meals over to the smial. Sam was true to his word and had walked, many times, out to the Bogs smial to apprise Blossom of his Master’s condition. Strider and Gandalf had stayed at Bag End and delighted in seeing the hobbit slowly regain his strength. He was still too thin, by hobbit standards, but under the watchful eye of his gardener, never failed to eat often even if little or no evidence of it was noticeable on his lean frame. This continued to be a source of frustration for Sam who could not fathom how his Master could have such a picky appetite and lack of girth. Sam had settled into Frodo's old room with his meager possessions. Frodo had told him to remove his old belongings to the mathom room, but Sam enjoyed the assorted collection of unusual knickknacks that had either been given to his Master or that he had found for himself on his many walks, and opted to keep things as they were. He had very few items to display and easily found shelves to house these without having to disturb the treasures.

Frodo had also been enjoying short excursions into Bag End's gardens, carried by Strider and placed gently on a low chaise with pillows, to bask in the sun, and that is where Sam found him this day. His Master's eyes were closed, a small smile on his lips, as he listened to the calls of birds and the buzz of insects, surrounded on all sides by the sweetly scented flowers.

Sam sat down beside him on a low bench and pulled his pipe from a pocket. Frodo opened his eyes and gazed at his friend, his eyes fixed longingly, on the pipe. Sam noticed this and produced his Master’s pipe from another pocket with a smile.

"Sam, you are a marvel. However do you do it?" Frodo exclaimed in wonder. Sam looked at him, confused. Frodo chuckled. "You always seem to know what I'll need," he elaborated. Sam blushed and slowly filled the pipes with leaf, handing Frodo's to him. After they were contentedly settled, curls of sweet smelling smoke wreathing their heads, Sam turned to his friend to ask him what he had wanted to ask him for many days. It had been brought to Sam's attention that he, too often, asked Frodo how he was feeling. So he had tried to stop being such a fusspot, but this had nearly driven him to distraction. He decided enough time had elapsed between his inquiries and broached the subject.

"Umm...Mr. Frodo, how are you feeling? Are you in any pain, sir?" he asked timidly.

Frodo smiled. "Why Sam, you lasted longer than I thought possible. No small feat for such a devoted friend, I'll wager."

Sam blushed. "I meant no offense, sir..."

"None taken, dear Sam, and no need to apologize," he reassured the gardener with a smile. "As to your questions, no, I am not in any pain and I feel almost like myself again." Strider had removed the drain from the wound and stitched the opening closed the previous week and Frodo was quickly re-gaining full use of the arm. "Strider and I have been exercising my arms and my other leg so that I will have the strength to use the crutches. I've even been allowed to get out of bed on my own as long as he is present," he said happily. Sam frowned, not liking the idea of Frodo doing anything that might result in a fall or another injury. "He has even permitted me to use the chamber pot unattended and to take a bath without assistance," he continued. He turned to his companion and beamed. "I feel very much like my old self again, Sam," he said.

Sam felt a great surge of thankfulness for Blossom and Strider. He reflected on how something so everyday as good health could be a source of joy that few people even considered until it was taken from them. The friends basked in the sun, talking and laughing, content with their place in life, until Bell arrived later and declared it suppertime. Strider came to get Frodo and only then did they quit the garden and retire to the kitchen, secure in the knowledge that the verdant lawns and flowerbeds would greet them the next day and that Frodo's strength and the feelings of family and belonging were, at last, within his heart and his home.

Please read on in the Epilogue...