Chapter 14: Laughter is the Best Medicine

Frodo remained confined to bed for the next three days, but he was never alone. Sam stayed with him the entire time, holding his hand while he slept and sometimes while he was awake. Merry and Pippin were very often there as well and Bilbo came each morning, afternoon and evening. The four took their meals with Frodo. They also napped with him to make sure he rested enough. As time passed, they had to get increasingly creative in their efforts to keep an increasingly restless Frodo settled down. They read to him, sang to him, told jokes, whatever could get a laugh out of their most beloved friend. Aragorn and Gandalf also went the extra mile in keeping the injured hobbit entertained.

The fourth day Frodo was very relieved and surprised that his daily demand to be allowed to get out of bed was finally being heeded. Elrond watched him closely as he slowly made the circuit around his room, leaning heavily either on Sam’s arm, thrilled to be out of bed, even if he could only take small, very slow steps and had to confront the frightening reality of how very weak he still was. And how glad he was to get back into bed again, soaked in sweat and breathing hard from the effort, but triumphant.

The Elf healer thought they had both learned something that day about Frodo’s limits and he hoped they would both pay heed to it - that the wounded hobbit was not yet strong enough to go far, notwithstanding how much he willed it to be so himself and that he was also much stronger than mere look would suggest. It gave them both much to think about it.

Frodo obediently stayed in bed the next day until the evening when against Sam’s better judgement, the gardener gave in to his master’s pestering after dinner to help him around another walk while Merry and Pippin returned the empty dishes to the kitchen. The circuit was just as slow and Frodo would have fallen had Sam not been there to catch him, but it didn’t seem quite so strenuous this time. The elder hobbit’s features were still pinched with pain and fatigue though by the time Sam eased him back into bed, both of them pleased with the progress but also relieved that it was over.

“Thank you, Sam,” Frodo said as his guardian tucked him in. He sighed. “I don’t remember being this tired last time. It’s taking so long to feel any better.”

“You weren’t hurt as bad last time, me dear,” Sam said gently as he brushed back a sweaty curl from his master’s eyes.

Frodo looked at his dearest friend. “You remember it all, don’t you, Sam? Both times.”

“Of course. I can’t forget, not any of it.”

Frodo looked away. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I wish you could. You need more than this.”

Sam sat down at his side and took his hand. “Just get well. That’s all any of us needs.”

“I’m trying, Sam.”

“I know you are, dear.” He leaned down to brush his brow with a kiss. “Sleep now.”

Frodo closed his eyes and was fast asleep before his cousins had even returned. Sam dozed in the chair next to him, softly snoring, his hand still clasped around his master. Merry and Pippin softly kissed their cousin goodnight and curled up next to him.

The next two days brought increasing strength to Frodo and with that greater vitality, came the increasing need to test himself against what he could accomplish besides coming close to memorizing the names of all the Elves from the First Age, having heard those tales more than once in the short span of time he had been ‘imprisoned’, as he began to call it, in his bed.

In the middle of hearing Pippin read a tale from that age, he tossed a pillow at his youngest cousin and said abruptly, “I don’t want to hear anymore, Pip dear.”

The tween, Sam and Merry looked at each other shocked and dismayed that the scholarly hobbit had said such a thing. Then Pippin looked at his cousin and saw the mischievous smile, the loving, teasing challenge to return the tossed pillow in kind that sparkled in his eyes. The youngster hesitated a moment, nearly quivering in his desire to do so, but not wanting to hurt his cousin or even upset Sam who was looking concerned. Merry looked just as excited to start something, but also held back. To Sam’s dismay, the expression on Frodo’s face did not change. Pippin hastily put down the book, squealed in delight and tossed the pillow back which Frodo threw back with a laugh. Soon before Sam’s horrified eyes, a free-for-all pillow fight between the three cousins was in progress, such as had not been since they were child and tweens. It was just the outlet Frodo needed for all the nervous energy that had been building in him, but Sam watched worriedly at first for his wounds to be aggravated or for him to become overtired. He quickly rescued the book from between the oldest and youngest of the cousins to keep it from being damaged and then sat back and watched his master’s drawn features come back to life and nearly glow as Frodo knelt on the bed and lobbed pillow after pillow after his cousins and was similarly assaulted by them. His worries faded as he smiled to hear them all laugh, especially Frodo who was laughing harder than he had for months.

“Come on, Sam!” he cajoled. “You have to have some fun, too!”

Sam smiled. “You’re having enough fun for both of us, dear,” he said. Their eyes met and Frodo smiled and Sam’s heart skipped a beat just to see the beauty of that, then the elder hobbit went back to the game.

The gardener’s smile faltered when Frodo suddenly let out a loud howl. He twisted around so fast on the bed that his legs got tangled in the sheets and he nearly fell. He caught himself, then turned a mock-enraged look on his youngest cousin.

“Peregrin Took!” he roared. “Nothing was said about tickling!”

Pippin beamed at his beloved Frodo with his most innocent smile. Before he could get any words out, Frodo fell on him and reached under his arms and soon he had the tween squirming and squealing in delighted fits. That abruptly ended when Frodo twisted around again as he fought off Merry’s attack of tickling the bottom of his feet just as Pippin had moments before. Frodo threw himself at Merry’s stomach then, both howling with laughter as Merry doubled over, trying to stop his cousin from reaching him, but Frodo’s fingers still found their way in. Sam’s smile reasserted itself as he watched his dearest friend be so happy.

“Help me, Sam!” Frodo cried when he fell under another of Pippin’s attacks. “Save me!”

Sam watched the melee for a moment more to decide the best way to defend his master. He settled on the most simple and direct approach and sat on his master’s feet, crossed his arms and gave Merry and Pippin his most fierce frown. That stopped the two of them for the space of three quick heartbeats, then they glanced at each other and launched themselves at the stocky hobbit, both of them reaching for either side of Sam’s neck where it connected with his shoulder. The look of shock and horror that the two had unerringly gone to the gardener’s vulnerable spots, rendering him incapable of defending his master was almost comical as he toppled over.

Frodo smiled. “Thank you for trying, Sam,” he said as he fought off another attack. “I had no idea they still remembered where you were ticklish.”

“You should have known we would remember, Frodo,” Merry said as he launched himself at his cousin. “After all, I’ll be Master of the Hall one day. Who knows what’s important to remember or not?”

“And I’ll be Took and Thain,” Pippin said, dragging his elder under. “Do you surrender?”

“Never!” Frodo cried and threw himself at both of his cousins. They all went down, squealing, in a tangled mass of limbs.

All the loud noises had brought a small audience to the door, unnoticed at first by the four hobbits. Arwen smiled, Aragorn and Gandalf softly laughed. Elrond was hard pressed not to smile himself. “I’m glad the Ring-bearer is regaining his strength. I hope he has enough left for the Quest,” was his dry comment.

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Gandalf assured. “You can see he’s in good hands.”

As they watched Frodo gained the advantage for the moment over his cousins. He knelt over them victoriously, but it was very short lived as he lost his balance when he was pulled back down. He would have fallen on his sore shoulder had not six hands immediately reached out to steady him, two of them an instant before the other four. “Thank you, Sam,” Frodo said breathlessly before he re-entered the fray.

“Yes, the very best,” the wizard said with a laugh.

Pippin looked up then and belatedly saw that they had an audience. “Gandalf! Aragorn! Come join us!”

“Yes, do!” Frodo seconded. “But on my side! I’m being overwhelmed!”

“Then Lord Elrond has to be on our side,” the impetuous Took said. He looked at the Elf lord eagerly as Sam stared at him aghast for such audacity.

Arwen laughed softly as she looked to see how her father would respond. “I thank you for the invitation, Master Peregrin,” the Elf said gracefully, “but I regret that I must decline.”

“But I will not,” Aragorn said and waded into the fray with a smile.

The hobbits squealed in delight and Arwen laughed, as she imagined her husband having just as much fun with their son. A raised eyebrow and glint deep in his eyes was the only reaction her father made as Pippin and Merry crawled over all their king, trying to find a vulnerable spot with Frodo defending him as best he could, all of them laughing in unvarnished delight.

The Maia and two Elves watched the melee with glad hearts. Frodo would be exhausted by the end and lucky if his wounds didn’t reopen, but they were all happy and relieved to see him so joyful, so radiantly alive. The light that shone from him was nearly blinding if one stared right at it. From where Sam sat they could tell from his loving smile and gaze he was doing just that.

May they all remember the joy of this day as they make their way into the dark, Elrond thought. May the light of it shine against the black is to come.

The three observers turned to leave before it was over, but at last it was.

“I don’t know why we worried so much about you, Frodo,” Merry said as he tried to catch his breath. “You gave as good as you got.”

“What do you expect?” Pippin said. “He’s been doing nothing but sleeping and staying in bed for days and days.”

Frodo threw another pillow at him.

When Elrond returned later that night, he saw the four hobbits sprawled out together on the large bed, cuddled up against Frodo. All of them still had smiles on their faces, the largest of them gracing the eldest. He was moved to place his hand against Frodo’s brow and brush at his dark curls. It had been thousands of years since he had done that to any of his children. “Remember this day,” he murmured into Frodo’s ear.

Frodo mumbled in his sleep and nuzzled closer to Merry who was nearest him. The younger hobbit reached out put his arm protectively around his cousin.

“Remember,” Elrond repeated, moved once more by such simple, deep love. Gandalf is right, the Elf thought, Frodo is in the very best of hands.