Umm... Sorry?

Chapter Six

Goldenberry heard about Erendis’ theory and had to agree it had merit. She had been far too busy since the accident to spend any time with Frodo herself and she began to suspect that fact had spared her. A sneaking suspicion of something else was also growing in her mind. The symptoms DID seem familiar, but the ‘malady’ that they suggested was impossible! She finally determined to meet with her friend the elven healer and to see if there was any way her notion could be true.

In Avallone, at the shop of her friend, Goldenberry also met Elrond. It seemed word had gotten around that Frodo had been injured so, knowing the other healer had attended him, he had come to visit to find out what had happened.

“Oh, he’s fine now,” Goldenberry assured him. “But it’s the lasses I am worried about. They’ve been showing some signs of a condition I was of the belief would not be possible for them to… here at least.”

“What do you mean?” Elrond asked innocently.

“Well,” Goldenberry said, not knowing exactly how to put it. “I haven’t actually checked, not wanting to alarm anyone, but I am beginning to suspect that healing draught might have cured more than just Frodo’s wound.” She looked up at Elrond uncomfortably. “If I may ask, my lord, did you ever place any kind of magic on our household to insure that there would never be any more, um… little Bagginses?”

Elrond blinked, still not comprehending. “There is no magic other than the that of the isle itself on you. Frodo was so badly wounded that he couldn’t…” and there the elven lord stopped, gulped and realization dawned in his face. “Oh, no!” he whispered and stared at the hobbit maid. “You aren’t serious!”

Goldenberry blushed. “Well, I’ll have to check, but he did accidentally get an overdose of the medicine. My friend here said it wouldn’t harm him, but I was wondering if perhaps it healed more than was intended?”

The green skinned healer started to giggle, and almost choked on his oatmeal cookie. “Well,” he said still grinning, “I’ve never used it on a hobbit before so I can’t say what every side effect might have been, but I suppose it’s possible.” Elrond gave him a stern, worried look.

“But this can’t be!” he protested. “It goes against everything we planned when we brought him here!” He turned his increasingly frantic eyes to Goldenberry. “How many of the hobbit ladies are experiencing these ‘symptoms’?” he demanded.

Goldenberry wished she could be anywhere else. “Um, nearly… all of them?” she answered in a soft voice.

Elrond blanched and the green skinned elven healer almost fell out of his chair roaring with laughter.

“I think we need to pay a visit to Bag End West right NOW!”



Frodo was pretty sure he should have been ashamed of himself.

Ever since the ‘incident’ and subsequent healing, there had not been one instant that his mind hadn’t been on… well, things he should have been ashamed of himself for! But he couldn’t seem to help it! It was as if he had suddenly become a young lad of 30 again – and like all lads of that age, he was preoccupied with a single driving purpose. The only difference between the days Frodo had been 30 and the present was that this time he had a host of lovely maidens with which to explore this ‘preoccupation’; thirty lovely hobbit lasses who wanted nothing but to spend their time with him. Yes, he was positive he should have been ashamed of himself, but the lure of their loveliness could not be denied. He would find himself reading, or trying to work and the sudden flash of a lovely throat or the heaving of a generous bosom would elicit a response he could not hide. And it wasn’t as if his attentions were unwelcome, indeed, the ladies seemed quite pleased with the change in him, though as the days went by, fewer and fewer of them felt up to the challenge. He couldn’t understand it – he was feeling wonderful, very ‘healthy’, said those who had been in a position to know, but lately many of those he had spent time with were complaining of fatigue and an odd sickness that occurred most frequently in the early morning.

The ladies’ illness did worry him. He feared that he was the cause, but as a life long bachelor, he had no reason to suspect it was other than something he had been exposed to that was to blame. He tried to be consolatory and tended those who were sick as sweetly as only he could, but nothing seemed to help. There was also the poor hobbit’s dawning realization that he was running out of haremites who were interested in sharing his bed. Normally this concern would have been the least of his worries, but lately he could not seem to keep his mind on less carnal matters. He only hoped the handful that had not fallen ill would remain unaffected – or he would become one very frustrated hobbit!


TBC

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