Umm... Sorry?

Chapter Three

Back in Frodo’s bedroom, the one hobbit was beginning to gain some color back in his alabaster cheeks. While Meryl kept pressure on the wound as Stormy had instructed, Quicksilver found a dressing gown and she and Spork (an oddly named hobbit lass :p ) clothed him. Various sighs of disappointment were heard throughout the room as his much beloved form disappeared beneath clothing once again. Arryle eyed the company critically and shook her finger at those assembled.

“Now, now! Remember ladies, we have to keep everything PG!” and she spared a warning glance for Meryl whose hand, still applying pressure to the wound, had also disappeared under the fabric. Meryl smiled wickedly but said nothing.

Hewene, unable to contain her worry, broke into sobs and had to be restrained or she would have fallen onto her lord in her grief. Little Tata, though, was quicker than Hewene. She darted past her sisters and jumped onto the bed to wrap herself tightly around Frodo’s unconscious body. It took several other haremites to dislodge her as she cried inconsolably onto his shoulder. Frodo groaned as they pulled her off of him and the sound caused several of the ladies to swoon in answer.

“Oh VERE is dat ‘ealer?!” cried Ellin Estel, her soft accented voice mirroring perfectly the torment they all felt. Mel took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Juliebeth rode as quickly as she could, I am sure. All we can do now is wait and hope.”

And wait they did. A fire was lit to warm the room and Elanorh brought tea and sweet juice for when Frodo woke, an event that they all hoped would be soon. The tension and worry was thick enough to cut with a knife. Each lady was terrified for Frodo’s well being, but they also each held an unspoken concern for how the injury was going to affect him. Surely, they had gotten him home in time to save his life, and that, of course was paramount, but…. Cion leafed through the pages of the appointment book wondering sorrowfully if she would ever write names in it again. The thought struck her with such despair that she almost threw the thing in the fire. Lily sat down on the bed opposite Meryl and gently stroked Frodo’s cheek, willing him to waken.

“Open your eyes, my sweet. Don’t torment us so.” She bent and kissed his brow and at that moment, Frodo’s bright blue eyes fluttered open. He looked about at the gathered ladies packed tightly into what had previously been considered a spacious room.

“Yes?” he asked of the assemblage, and it seemed then that he became aware of where Meryl’s hand was and he blushed crimson. “I think I can hold that, my dear” and he tried to push it away, but she would have none of it.

“It’s still bleeding, Frodo.” Stormy told him gently. “We need to keep the pressure there so that you won’t lose any more blood. We’ve called for a healer and he’ll be along very soon. You just lie quiet and we will tend you.” The head of every haremite bobbed in enthusiastic agreement. Frodo looked about at the crowd of ladies and felt quite self-conscious to be the center of attention.

“I feel a right fool in all this, you realize?” he responded weakly. “My own fault, entirely. I should never have been so careless with such a sharp instrument.”

Opaline shushed him with a gentle caress of his cheek. “Oh, dear, it was an accident! And you were being so sweet to help. How could anyone fault your actions? No, it was just bad luck, but I hazard to say that we won’t ever let you risk…. Um,…yourself, in such a way again.” The vigorous nods were fervently repeated.

The mood in Frodo’s bedroom was much improved by the time Juliebeth returned with Goldenberry. The lovely maid elbowed her way in with her basket still on her arm to where Lily still sat and she pulled out the vial that the elven healer had given her.

“They told me this would cure you, Frodo, so I came back with it as soon as I could.” She unstoppered the cork and poured a tiny amount of the liquid into the spoon that Lily handed her. “Drink this, my sweet!” She carefully tipped the medicine into his waiting mouth and every haremite watched intently, rapt as his little pink tongue licked the tasty stuff off his lips. A collective sigh of swoony delight echoed all round the room.

Frodo’s color improved almost immediately and he moved his legs, experimenting. “The pain is gone!” he exclaimed. “I feel wonderful!” He looked down at where Meryl still held the bandage. “I really think you can let go now,” he said pointedly. Meryl pouted, but did as he bid. Frodo sat up, gingerly, and reached for his leg. “Yes, it feels nearly healed! What a marvel you have brought us, Goldenberry!” The ladies beamed and Frodo laughed. “I am a lucky hobbit to have such prompt and attentive ladies to care for me. I feel almost as good as new!”

“Well, we aren’t going to let you out of this bed yet, my love,” Rosie countered making it quite apparent that she was prepared to do just about anything she needed to keep him resting. “You lost a lot of blood and you will be weak for days! Just you lie quiet and we will care for you as it has always been our delight to do.”

Frodo acquiesced, he was feeling a bit weak after all, and with all his ladies in attendance, he didn’t want to further their dismay by collapsing into their arms again (although he secretly suspected that many of them would enjoy that too!). He eyed Rosie appraisingly and settled back.

“Let’s take a look at this cut and see how it’s faring, shall we?” Goldenberry waved Lily and Rosie away and gave Meryl a stern look before she sat on the bed beside him. Several of the lasses jostled in for a closer look, Ghyste led the pack after having elbowed several others out of her path. Frodo looked about at the tight circle of curling tresses and heaving bosoms and felt like a laboratory specimen being examined.

“Some decorum ladies!” Elenillor cried as she was thrust out of her position a very eager Narya. “You’d think we were in a barroom!” The shoving stopped (at least overtly) and a reverent hush settled over the room as the ladies strained to get a peek at the injury. Goldenberry lifted Frodo’s nightshirt, carefully so as only to expose the wound (murmurs of protest were quickly silenced) and pulled the blood-soaked fabric that had been serving as a bandage away from his skin.

“What’s this?” she asked holding up the cloth. The edge was decorated with lace and was obviously from one of the ladies’ undergarments. Elenya blushed.

“It’s from my petticoat, Goldenberry. I had to have something to cover the wound with so I tore it off,” she replied. “I’ve always wanted to do that! We tied one part around his leg and the other I stuffed down his pants.” She turned a darker shade of red as her choice of words drew chuckles from the assembled ladies but drew herself up proudly, knowing she had done the right thing.

“Well, that was fast thinking, and probably saved his…life. Thank you.” The other ladies also patted her on the shoulder and Elenya beamed. Ariel stuck out her tongue at her because she hadn’t thought of it.

“Well, he’s still got an open wound here, though the bleeding has stopped. I’ll wait till my friend the elven healer (you know, the green one?) comes and together we will stitch this closed. It was a clean cut and should heal well if tended with care.” Goldenberry looked around and noticed the circle of haremite heads had gotten closer in. “Which, I am sure, I can count on?” she added pointedly. The ladies all nodded in swift agreement and some toothy, not so innocent grins. Goldenberry rolled her eyes. This was going to be an interesting convalescence.

 

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