Disclaimer: All characters and places depicted are the sole property of the JRR Tolkien Estate; my only claim to fame is this small piece of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

Medical Disclaimer: While extensive research has been done, none of the cures or procedures depicted in this story should be used without first consulting a medical professional. Also there may be graphic medical details and wee hobbit behinds in this chapter, so if that makes you squeamish, you'd better pass.

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Frodo awoke briefly, only aware that he was some place warm and secure. The body that was wrapped protectively around his own, shifted and he felt himself being carried tenderly and then laid onto soft bedding. He whimpered at the loss of the person who had held him so lovingly but sank, nonetheless, into the pallet. He slept.

“…Wake him? Needs to eat somethin’… will rouse soon…. Exhausted…battle worn…”

He heard these words, not immediately comprehending they’re meaning. He struggled towards wakefulness and gradually his eyes slit open. Aragorn and Sam were doing something with the blankets and then he felt his rear end lifted as someone began wiping him with a warm, wet cloth then he was being wrapped within some sort of nappy. This, more than anything, brought him to full awareness.

“What…?” He murmured.

“There, there, Master, nothin’ for you to concern yourself with. “Just takin’ care o’ your business is all.” Sam said, soothingly.

Frodo relaxed then, as the full meaning of the words registered, his eyes flew open. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed.

“Jes’ doing for you is all, jus’ like normal. You can’t very well do for yerself jes yet. It ain’t no problem. Jes’ usin’ some o’ that left over nightshirt that weren’t cut into strips. They’re lots softer than that wool blanket we tried at first, an’ they clean up jes’ like they was never soiled. I jes’ take ‘em outside and let the snow do its business, then wash ‘em up nice and clean, let ‘em dry so they’s nice an’ warm like, then we’re all set,” Sam said, completely unaware of how his words were affecting his Master.

Frodo’s face colored almost purple and he weakly tried to bat the gardener away. “Sam! What do you mean by ‘taking care of my business’? Just what have you been ‘doing for me’ anyway? Stop that this instant’” he said pushing at his friend who was engrossed in fastening the nappy. “This is too humiliating to bear. I am completely capable of taking care of my own business, thank you very much, ” he said, trying to move away from the wrapping of his most private parts.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but you ain’t. Yer weak as a kitten and I mean to make sure yer comfortable. Now, you jes’ let me do my duty an’ then you can do yers’, if you take my meanin’, the gardener said with a smile.

If possible Frodo blushed an even brighter red. “I most certainly will not, now stop what you are doing this minute,” he commanded weakly.

Aragorn smiled down at the distraught Ringbearer. “Frodo, we couldn’t very well let you lay in your own filth, now could we? Don’t let it concern you. We’ve been doing this for quite some time now,” the healer said, using his most clinical tone.

Frodo blushed almost black, then found he had no more energy to fight the two and fell back weakly.

“There, tha’s more like it. Finished. Now see that weren’t so bad, now was it?” Sam said cheerfully.

Frodo was beyond words and just glared up at the gardener. “This ends now, Samwise. In the future, I will carry out my privy duties without further assistance,” Frodo growled.

Showing a rare moment of temper, Sam turned on him. “You will do whatever it takes to get better, Mr. Frodo. And if that means I have ta’ clean you up and all, tha’s the way it’s gonna be, you here me?”

Frodo’s eyes widened at the vehement tone. He had never seen this side of Sam. He could see the concern and stubborn refusal to be browbeat in Sam’s eyes and laid back, resigned to his fate.

“I’m right sorry, Mr. Frodo, for speakin’ outta line an all, but you need to know that we’re only tryin’ to see that you get well. When Strider here says yer well enough to be up I’ll help you to the privy, but until then I mean to keep takin’ care o’ you jes’ like always.” Sam rose stiffly and left.

“Aragorn… who else … who else is helping me to ‘do my duty’?” Frodo said nervously.

“Just myself and Sam, Frodo. Try to put it out of your mind. If you feel stronger, next time, perhaps we can arrange for you to use the pot like the others,” he said with a smile.

This seemed to mollify the Ringbearer and he sank back down muttering only ‘… humiliating’ under his breath.

Aragorn smiled once again. “All right, Frodo, now that that is behind us,” he snickered at his little play on words as Frodo glared up at him, “I think we should discuss some of the events of the last few days.” The ranger’s demeanor abruptly changed. He looked down at Frodo with steely determination. “You are never again, to open my healer’s pouch unless I give you permission. Some of the contents, given in too large a dose, will act as a poison especially to hobbits that are significantly smaller than men. Do we understand each other?”

Frodo looked guiltily up at the future King. “I… I am sorry, Aragorn. I was not myself, I assure you, and would never have done it if not influenced by Lorelei. Was anyone hurt? Is everyone alright now?” He said with concern.

“Yes, they are all well now. But this could have been most serious had I not awakened when I did. I understand that you were being influenced by Saruman, who cares little for what would have happened to the members of the Fellowship, but I need your assurances that in the future, you will try to use better judgment and let your subconscious mind be your guide.”

Frodo nodded emphatically. “I will, Aragorn.”

“Very good. Now tell me how you are feeling,” the healer said as his mien changed to a clinical one.

“Sore and drained. My wounds are troubling me, I am afraid, and my head is pounding.” Frodo said weakly.

“We can remedy that easily enough, my friend. I will prepare some willow bark tea and perhaps, add a very small amount of mandrake root to help dull the pain. I hesitate to use the mandrake root, as it can be poisonous if given in too large a dose. But if I give you only a flake or two it should be sufficient considering your body size,” he mused. “Speaking of body size, Frodo, you need to regain some of your weight. Are you hungry?”

“Starved!” said the hobbit, his eyes lighting up. “I don’t suppose Sam has prepared one of his glorious meals lately?”

Sam, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation from beside the fire, spoke up. “I got some rabbit stew a’ cookin’ and some o’ those fried biscuits to go with it, Mr. Frodo. Mr. Legolas has been right good ‘bout keepin’ us all in meat. If’n you don’ want that I can make up a nice broth for ya, and fry up some mushrooms to go with it,” the gardener said hopefully.

“Oh Sam, you are a marvel,” Frodo whispered. “I could eat a bear, right now. I’d love to have some of your stew and biscuits, oh and a whole plate of mushrooms, if you have them,” the hobbit said, obviously ravenous.

Aragorn and Sam chuckled at Frodo. “Be ready in a shake, Master,” Sam said as he stirred up the fire and retrieved the dried mushrooms from his pack. He placed a small pot of water on the coals and dropped the mushrooms in to plump them up then dropped them into a pan sizzling with fat. The aroma of the delectable dish filled the cave and soon Frodo’s mouth was watering in expectation.

A cup of the medicinal tea was brought to him; flavored with the secreted ginger, and then Sam was by his side with a plate and bowl filled with food. He ate hungrily and when sated sank back against his bedding. His stomach full, his eyes began to drift close. The last thing he heard was the gentle chuckling of Gandalf as the Istari sank down beside him.

Seven days passed before Aragorn deemed Frodo fit for travel. Bill was packed up and knapsacks were shouldered as Frodo was lifted into Aragorn’s arms. He frowned, saying that he could walk, but when Aragorn placed him on his feet, he was overwhelmed by dizziness and his hip began to throb painfully. At last, he acquiesced and was lifted once more into the mans’ arms, his body cradled within the crook of Aragorn’s arm and secreted beneath the Ranger’s cloak.

They exited the cave, giving one last look back at the place that had, for so long, been their home.

Pippin’s eyes widened as they began their descent. “Gandalf look!” he said pointing up the path past the caves’ mouth. The Fellowship looked to where he was pointing. What they saw caused all of them to gasp in surprise. The blizzard had all but stopped below the caves’ entrance, but above it the Redhorn Pass was indiscernible, the snow coming down heavily.

“Saruman has closed the pass to us, but there are other ways which we make take, although I am loathe to do so,” Gandalf said sadly.

“I’m sorry, Gandalf. I have delayed our journey because of my stubborn pride,” Frodo said worriedly.

Gandalf rallied and turned to the hobbit, whose face peeked from beneath the cloak. “Nonsense, my boy, there is yet hope, and you are not to blame for our delay. It is fate, and no man, or hobbit, can control or direct fate. We will travel, hopefully safely, to Hollin. There we will decide our next course of action.”

Frodo nodded and ducked beneath the cloak once again. Gandalf looked up at Aragorn, who studied the wizard, openly concerned. “There is yet hope,” the Istari whispered.

The End

Thanks to all of you who have been so kind and generous with your reviews. I hope that you will join me on my next adventure with Frodo and the gang. tree