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The wind was cold and the sky gray, as icy rain pattered against the window pane. Frodo held a cushion in his lap and watched the window unhappily. It had been raining and sleeting for days now, and the Hill and Row were all of mud.
Frodo found himself in a predicament. Sam was gone to Michel Delving, attending to his mayoral duties, and though he’d been due back the day before last, he hadn’t appeared. No doubt his absence was due to the roads- Frodo wasn’t worried on that account. His predicament came from the date approaching. Tomorrow would be his anniversary sickness and he could already feel it gathering.
He wasn’t desperate- the sickness had grown steadily less devastating as the years passed, but he knew he was about to be in a bad way. Still, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He had everything he needed- athelas steaming, plenty of water on hand, as well as foods that were easy on the stomach.
He was gathering himself to make another effort at his preparations, when there was a soft knock at the door. Frodo winced and pulled himself to his feet. He couldn’t think who it could be. He wasn’t expecting anyone and with the roads the way there were... But then again, he’d had so many dogged unexpected visitors since Sam’s election. Frodo steeled himself. There were some hobbits who could be very bothersome. Fortunately, whatever boyhood training that forced him to pretend niceness when he was being made to suffer, had been ground away over the course of his hardships. Frodo Baggins had no niceties left to give.
He opened the door and to his relief, the two hobbits standing on his doorstep were Marigold and Daisy Gamgee.
“Hullo,” Frodo said softly. He realized belatedly that it was Thursday, his standing appointment for tea with the two women, though that wasn’t until later that afternoon. Daisy was holding a basket with a linen cloth over the contents. Maybe they had decided to come visit him and make tea at Bag End. Frodo’s features softened.
“Mr. Frodo?” Marigold blinked at him from the stoop, “are you alright?”
“I’m afraid I’m feeling poorly. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can manage tea today,” he said apologetically. Perhaps it wasn’t true that he had no niceties left- but they were all reserved for the Gamgee family.
“Well of course not,” Daisy said, nodding, “the anniversary is tomorrow.” Frodo blinked.
“You know about that?” He asked weakly.
“Of course we do,” Marigold said, “it’s why we’ve come.”
“Ah?” Frodo said puzzled.
“What with Sam being off,” Marigold continued, “you didn’t think we’d just leave you to struggle through it. It sounds right nasty from what our Sam has said of it.”
“It’s- Yes,” Frodo stepped back, “Sorry, please come in.” The Gamgee sisters did. Frodo led them to the kitchen and set the kettle to boil out of habit. Daisy put her basket on the table and began unpacking. There were jars and bottles, filled with salves and oils from the looks of things and dried herb bundles. “I am grateful,” Frodo said, sinking into a chair. He was unhappy to feel the room spin. “I didn’t know Sam had spoken on it. It’s something that we try to keep quiet.”
“What for?” Marigold asked. Daisy sent her a stern look but Marigold ignored her.
“Well, we thought it would worry people for one. And also it’s not proper having a magic sickness. Not very hobbit-like.” In the years since their return, Sam had always quietly cared for him when the sickness came.
“Well I can’t say I know anything about that,” Daisy cut in before Marigold could speak, “but Sam spoke to us on it. We hoped you wouldn’t be minding.”
“No. Of course not.”
“Anyway he had to tell us, what with all his experiments,” Marigold said. Frodo blinked.
“Experiments?”
“These,” Daisy said, motioning to the bottles, “this is Sam’s work.”
“Oh?”
“Daisy helped him,” Marigold added, glancing at her sister.
“Not much,” Daisy shrugged, “once he got a handle on it.”
“I’m sorry, a handle on what?”
“Liniment making. Salves, oils, tinctures, the lot. These are all kingsfoil curatives.” Frodo gasped.
“Sam did all that?”
“He had our smial reeking of kingsfoil. We all thought the Gaffer would put a stop to it, but Dad never spoke a word against his potion making. He knew it was for you.”
Frodo felt a deep pang of love. Sam had never spoken of such.
“Oh dear. I’m sorry he made your home reek. I wonder why in the Shire he didn’t do all of that up here.”
“Reckon it was to be a surprise for you,” Marigold said and laughed. Frodo shook his head and sank into silence.
After a time, he excused himself and retreated to the parlor to lay down in front of the fire. The dizziness was getting to be too much and the ache was starting. He hadn’t been there long before Daisy entered the room and peered down at him.
“Sir?”
“The pain is beginning. That’s all,” Frodo said quietly. Daisy nodded and sat down on a stool, pulling it close. She uncorked one of the bottles she’d brought with her.
“Sit up, if you can. Let’s get some of this salve on it.” Frodo sat up blinking at her words. His head was swimming. Daisy held the bottle between her knees and reached for his buttons. Frododrew in a breath, realizing that she intended to apply the salve herself.
“I can do it,” he said. Daisy gave him a look.
“I’m not thinking it’s a good idea, you holding a glass bottle. You don’t look very steady,” she frowned, “besides, it’s to be applied to your whole shoulder. You can’t reach the back.”
“But,” Frodo protested weakly, “it’s not proper.” Daisy blinked.
“Don’t you worry on that now,” she said.
“But.”
“We’re family aren’t we?” Daisy asked quietly. Frodo stilled and stared up at her. Daisy smiled a little unsurely. “You may not be wed to Sam, but it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it?” Frodo was struck speechless, warm feelings overpowering him. Daisy patted his hand. “Come on Mr. Frodo, let me see your shoulder now.” Numbly, Frodo nodded and let her open his shirt.
“It’s a bit gruesome,” he warned.
“That’s alright. I’ve seen my share of injuries,” she said as she pulled back his shirt revealing the blotched swollen skin. She uncapped the bottle and took a bit of salve onto her figures, warming it before touching his shoulder.
“Thank you,” Frodo said quietly. Daisy nodded, working in silence for a time. Frodo closed his eyes, breathing in the calming scent of athelas. “Daisy,” he said after a moment and opened his eyes, “if we are family, then perhaps you could call me Frodo.”
“Oh,” she said, her expression brightening, “dear lad.”
“It just seems...” Frodo trailed off.
“Frodo then,” she smiled. Frodo nodded and sank into silence again. Daisy worked the salve into his shoulder, her touch gentle. The pain dulled as she worked.
“That’s better,” he said quietly, “What is that? It’s not just kingsfoil is it?”
“It’s got something numbing in it,” Daisy said, “I’m not sure what. Sam spent an age trying differs curatives. We’ll have to ask him. It’s making my fingers feel a might numb too.”
“Oh dear.”
“Never you mind,” Daisy told him and pressed on, “it’s not hurting you, is it, if I touch over the scar?”
“No, you’re not hurting me,” Frodo said.
“Good,” Daisy said, “can’t believe someone would be nasty enough to hurt you like this.”
“Oh well,” Frodo murmured.
“I’m that sorry. I ought not make you think of such,” Daisy said quickly.
“It’s alright,” Frodo said looking up at her. Her hands were warm on his chilled shoulder, and the salve was melting into his skin. “I can’t help but think about it when it’s like this. It’s a comfort, actually, to have someone kind speak on it.”
“Oh,” Daisy nodded uncertainly. “Well, just you know we all are hoping this wound will heal proper, and not pain you like this each year.”
“It gets a bit easier, each year,” Frodo murmured.
“I am so very glad to hear that,” Daisy said. “Dad was in such a worry that first year, when Sam come down, all in a panic. And then today, Dad was pacing about, worried poor dear. He won’t come up because he says he doesn’t want to crowd you, and he don’t feel he can do any good.”
Frodo gazed up at the ceiling. He felt drunk on the smell of athelas.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, “I never want to worry your family. And he can come up, if he wants. He’s always welcome. You all are.”
“I told him as much, but he’s stubborn. Still, if Sam doesn’t turn up by this evening I think Dad will come up.”
“I don’t expect Sam,” Frodo said quietly, “the roads are all flooded. And the land is all of mud. He can’t drive it nor walk it. And I would hate for him to try it.”
“If there’s anyway through, though, he’ll be here.”
“I know.”
Frodo sighed. He’d tried to get Sam to let him set up some kind of dwelling for them in Michel Delving, but Sam was still stubbornly holding out against it.
“We could get a little house in town. Make it easier on both of us,” Frodo had prodded him one evening back in the summer.
“Hey?” Sam blinked, “no need surely.”
“No?”
“I’ve a place to bed down, and you feel better here. I don’t want you in some cold loud little house,” he sniffed, “not when you feel ease here. Honest, as much as I would love to see you more often, it warms me, knowing you’re growing stronger each day in the place you love most. And there’s my sisters and Dad close at hand.”
“I am stronger,” Frodo protested, “and besides, I worry so about you.”
“Me?”
“You say you’ve a place to bed down- Yes I’ve seen it. It’s a closet in your office, it’s not a proper home.”
“That’s cause my home is here,” Sam murmured.
“Yes and you only get to see it every week, and that’s if you are lucky,” Frodo said. Sam grumbled something. Frodo had caught the words house and stairs muttered with disdain.
“Do you have something against houses?” Frodo asked. Sam scowled.
“They are fine,” he said. Frodo narrowed his eyes and watched him. Sam folded his arms, and added a muttered, “for other hobbits.”
“You liked Crickhallow didn’t you?”
“It done fine for a night,” Sam allowed. Frodo sighed.
“What a night.”
“Kept you safe that night,” Sam said with a little more warmth. Frodo smiled.
“It was the first time you came and got in bed with me.”
“We was short,” Sam said shyly. Frodo cuddled him and kissed his cheek. “And,” Sam added, “and I was scared.”
“I was too.”
“And we got comfort bedding down together,” Sam murmured, “and for the first time I think I started to see how good it felt being close to you.”
“I’m extraordinarily fond of the place just for that reason,” Frodo mused.
He smiled, comforted by the memory. Sam was out there somewhere, and he’d see him again soon. And then he’d feel those warm arms wrap around him and Sam’s voice in his ear.
Frodo dozed for a time, his thoughts- when he had them- firmly focused on Sam, so that he was startled when he felt a hand touch his forehead.
“Easy,” Daisy murmured.
“Sorry,” Frodo said, and was surprised at how weak his voice sounded. A cool cloth was pressed to his cheeks and forehead. He took a breath. “Could you please ask Sam to come in here?” Daisy was silent a moment.
“Sam’s not here. Remember?”
“Oh. I can’t think why I asked that. I must be half asleep,” Frodo murmured, awash in dizziness. “Sorry. Sorry. I know he’s not here.”
“I reckon he’s on his way,” Daisy said quietly, “you know him.”
“Stubborn.”
“Mmhm.”
Silence spread around them as Daisy worked, first cooling his face and neck, then applying more salve to his shoulder. Frodo drifted.
“He’s not just stubborn.”
“No, I know,” Daisy said fondly, “he’s a good boy.”
“He’s,” Frodo murmured and trailed off for a time. Then he said, “Sam doesn’t like it when I compare him to a silmaril.”
“No? Now that’s a pity,” Daisy said softly patting his hand.
“Blushes. And stammers, and the like.”
“Isn’t that just like him?” Daisy tisked.
“But. But. He is, you know,” Frodo’s voice trailing off uncertainty.
“Is he?” Daisy soothed.
“He is my light in the darkness,” Frodo murmured. Daisy paused at this, then she bent and kissed his head.
“You rest, dear,” she told him. Frodo closed his eyes, but it didn’t stop the room spinning.
“You’ll stay close?” Frodo asked softly.
“Yes of course.”
⁂
Frodo opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. It was dark but there was a glow of moonlight peeking out from behind the heavy winter curtains in his room. Moonlight and no sound of rain- a good sign for the roads.
What wasn’t better was his shoulder- he felt worse and he was freezing and aching. Frodo groaned, wriggling to lie closer to Sam. Sam was warm and even if he didn’t wake he’d always shift to let Frodo cuddle close. Frodo sighed as Sam’s warmth began to ease his chill. He was about to drift off again when he gasped and jolted fully awake.
“Sam!”
He let out a few sharp wordless cries of joy as he clung tight to Sam. Sam groaned and his eyes opened. Frodo was overwhelmed enough that he couldn’t bring himself to apologize for waking him. Sam smiled sleepily at him and slipped his arms around Frodo’s back, kissing him.
“Hey there,” he murmured.
“When did you get in?”
“Late. I was glad to see you sleeping. Sorry for being late.”
“Couldn’t be helped, my dear. I knew the roads would be impossible. How did you manage?”
“Came byway of Needlehole. Ground is harder and the roads higher. Not a bad trip. Just took longer.”
“I’m glad. I hated to think of you struggling along on a pony who might step wrong.” Sam kissed his ear and Frodo sighed. “How did I get back here? Last I knew I was in the parlor. You didn’t carry me did you?” Frodo asked, pressing his face to Sam’s neck. “I’m too heavy for that. You’ll hurt your back.”
“I didn’t. You was already back here. Dad said he walked you back. You don’t remember?”
“No.”
“Ah well.”
Frodo closed his eyes as Sam rubbed his back.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Not very wretched. Mostly dizzy and cold. There’s less pain than last year. At least so far.”
“I’m sorry for not being here when it started.”
“It’s alright. Your sisters looked after me.”
“Mm. I’m glad for that.”
Frodo closed his eyes, feeling peace settle on him.
“Daisy is going to stop calling me Mr. Frodo.”
“T’s,” Sam frowned but didn’t open his eyes. “S your name,” he said sleepily. There was a pause.
“Isn’t,” Frodo mumbled. He was falling asleep.
“Is.”
“No,” Frodo frowned, too sleepy to remember what it was they were arguing about.
“Hmmmf.”
“Hm.”
Sam tightened his embrace and kissed his forehead. Frodo felt himself smile and then he drifted to sleep.