A/N: A (late) birthday mathom for our dear Frodo Baggins! This evil little plot bunny came from our discussion on allergy medicine, if you recall, mellon nin, and what Eleon said about Nyquil having alcohol in it…Yes, I have a strange mind. I hope you enjoy, it’s just a bit of silliness really, short and sort of pointless. I tried a different writing style than I’m used to, and I hope it turned out! God bless, Ellie

~Allergies~

“Frodo, come look at these flowers here,” Sam calls to me as we explore the garden outside the guest house. It has been three days since we arrived in Minas Tirith, and we have been so busy lately that we haven’t had time till now to admire the garden right outside our door.

“What are they?” I ask, glancing down at a patch of lovely orange and yellow flowers that I have never seen before.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think they grow in the Shire,” Sam says, kneeling to examine them closely. “Smell them!” he says a moment later, sniffing one of the blooms.

I bend over and smell one, and it is very nice, sort of fruity and summery.

“Let’s take some in and put them in the vase on the table,” I suggest, brightening at the idea of flowers in the bland stone room.

~*~*~

“All right, Frodo, what’s wrong?” Merry demands that evening as we are all sitting down to dinner in our house.

“What?” I ask, not sure what he means.

“You’ve been sniffing and sneezing all day. Are you catching a cold?” he asks.

I shrug, suddenly sneezing again.

“Hmm…” Sam says, thinking. “I don’t think it’s a cold. I think you’re allergic to something, Frodo.”

“Me? Allergic?” I question. I’ve never been allergic to anything that I know of.

“After dinner you’re going to see Aragorn about that,” Sam says.

“Sam, do I have to? I’m fine, really!” And I sneeze again. All right, maybe I’m not “fine”, but I’m not sick, either.

“You’re seeing Aragorn after dinner,” Pippin says, and I don’t argue, knowing that Merry will agree with them. If all three of them are against me, I know I’ll never win.

~*~*~

“Yes, you’re definitely allergic to something,” Aragorn says. I am sitting in his gathering room, trying not to sneeze and pretending I’m just fine. “It’s probably those lovely flowers you and Sam put in your rooms. Sam says they don’t grow in the Shire, and a lot of Gondorians are allergic to them.”

I frown. “A hobbit, allergic to flowers? Is that even possible?” I glance over at Sam, who shrugs.

“It’s been known to happen, occasionally,” he replies.

“Well,” Aragorn continues, handing me a small green bottle of something that smells nasty. “Take this and you should be fine. But I do suggest getting some different flowers in that vase, just in case the medicine doesn’t work.”

~*~*~

“I don’t need the medicine, Sam. You got rid of the flowers, I should be fine now,” I assure him, trying to sound convincing. And I sneeze immediately afterwards.

“Take it, Frodo,” he orders, pushing the cup at me.

I sniff, and say, “How about I put it by my bed, and if I need it later, I’ll take it.”

Sam consents. “If you want to, but please take it if you need it.”

“I will Sam, goodnight.” He hugs me, then leaves my room, shutting the door after himself.

I glance at the door, then, making sure he isn’t still within earshot, I grab the cup and drink the medicine.

To my surprise, the taste isn’t all that bad. Actually quite nice. It doesn’t work instantly, and for a few minutes afterwards I am still sneezing and trying to breathe right, but after a while it seems to work fine.

I drift off to sleep rather swiftly tonight, and sleep soundly.

~*~*~

“Frodo? Are you all right?” Merry asks as we sit down to breakfast. There are now purple lupines in the vase, a flower we have all across the Shire.

“Yes, why?” I ask, feeling sort of strange.

“You’re awful happy today…” he says, looking at me frowning. “A bit too happy, seems to me. What was in that stuff Aragorn gave you?”

I frown, concentrating on the question. After a moment, my mind is completely blank. “I… I dunno…” I say, reaching for my mug. I had taken a bit more of the medicine this morning, since I had woken nearly unable to breathe. Why, I have no idea, since the flowers are gone. Maybe they left their pollen floating about the house, or something.

My hand misses the mug and I glare at it, thinking about telling it to stay put. I reach again, and miss again.

“I think we need to take you to see Aragorn again,” Pippin says, trying not to laugh at me.

“I’m fine, Pip,” I say, forcing my mouth to say the words right.

“I don’t think so, dearest,” Sam says, helping me to my feet and taking me down the hall to Aragorn’s rooms.

~*~*~

Aragorn shakes his head, unable to keep from laughing when he sees the state I am in. I don’t know why he is laughing, but suddenly I have the urge to laugh with him, and everything seems hysterical.

“I am sorry, Frodo,” he says. “It’s just, the allergy medicine has alcohol in it, and I told you to take the amount a full grown Man would take. I guess hobbits would take smaller doses.”

Sam giggles, then puts a hand over his mouth to stop.

I laugh. “Well,” I slur. “Shouldn’t be too bad, I am a hobbit, after all.”

“Can you handle this on your own, Sam? I’ll try to find the right amount for him,” Aragorn says, standing up.

“Yes, sir. I’ve handled enough drunk hobbits before,” he says, smiling mischievously at me.

~*~*~

That night I get the right dose, and the effects of the medicine have worn off. The flowers are gone, and Sam transplanted them in the garden so I can go out there without worrying about it.

I still don’t know what was so funny though. Oh well, I suppose that’s for another story.

~Finis~