Young Frodo

by Overlithe

part7      ~~1368~~ a dream

            Drogo stood by his wife and son the air was warm despite the date.  He offered what support he could to Primula.  The small group of close relations both of Took and Brandybuck lineage and also a few Bagginses stood quietly at the gravesite.  It was a quiet simple internment kept short mostly for Primula’s benefit.  She still tired easily after her long and premature labor.  Drogo had held up well as had Primula until Bilbo read his ‘gift’ and gently placed the poem with a single rose with the baby before she was laid to rest.  At the sight of Bilbo’s tenderness and the sound of the beautiful words all restraint was lost and Drogo and Primula openly wept, Frodo pressed between them.

            Bilbo looked on in sadness tears also welled up in his eyes. It was indeed a sad day in Buckland.  Bilbo looked around at the group of grieving relatives no one had been able to suppress their tears of grief over the loss of such a wee one.

The little family made their way back to Brandy hall and the common room.  A fire was burning in the hearth and food had been set out.  Primula found a comfortable chair in the corner and collapsed exhausted.  Frodo was squirming in her arms no doubt he was hungry and probably needed to be changed as well but her energy was gone.

She made eye contact with her younger cousin and close friend Esmeralda and motioned for her.  “Can you take Frodo for a bit dear?  He needs a change and a feed but I just can’t right now.  I just need a few minutes dear.”  Esme took Frodo from her and looked at him longingly. He is such a sweet child she thought.  “Of course luv, I’ll take care of him for a bit you just relax.”

Primula couldn’t relax but as Frodo was taken from her and safe in the arms of her cousin she shut down.  She stared quietly at the flickering light of the fire the flames danced and crackled.  “Things are so changed yet so much the same,” she thought.  Tears again formed unbidden in her eyes and she wept for her child and for her brother who would never remember her.  Then she dozed off into sweet forgetfulness.

She saw him a dark haired handsome young hobbit and wondered who he was he seemed to be on a journey.  Thoughts of Bilbo raced to her mind but this was not he.  The hobbit turned and looked at her and the eyes of her infant son stared back at her.  His eyes bore a suffering she had never seen in any hobbit in her life.  Then she was comforted by a small voice, “I will look after him mother”.  It whispered to her soul and she knew that her daughter would always be with Frodo she was a part of him whether he knew it or not.

Primula awoke with a start a sense of uneasiness remained on her soul.  She vaguely remembered a dream she had been having.  She closed her eyes to try and recall what it was that had disturbed her so.  The eyes of her child again flashed before her and then she calmed remembering.  Frodo would not have an easy life she did not know how she knew or what would befall him.  Yet she knew her tiny innocent son would one day suffer much and there was naught to be done for it…


Part 8   resilience

            Drogo was in awe of his wife.  She had always been an exceptional hobbit, strong willed and brave.  But never had she shown more strength than she had over the weeks that followed the death of her first child.  Indeed Primula was as strong as any of them. Bilbo had left shortly after the Funeral but vowed to keep a close watch on all of them.

            It appeared that any worry that was expended on Primula was a waste as she kept herself so busy with the affairs of her home she did not have time to play out her sadness.  Drogo knew it was there; it was an underlying tension in their daily lives. At the end of each busy day she would finally give in to her sadness and weep for the child she had lost.  Even so it was a happy time for them aside from this one thing.  Frodo grew fat and strong.  He was a playful energetic infant from early on.  Yet he would sit and watch the adults of Brandyhall with undivided attention at times.  He seemed to absorb everything he saw and heard.  Many in the hall commented on the strange Baggins baby so alert and attentive for his age.

            The Bagginses were undeterred by the talk and of course they realized how special and different their son was.  Both his parents and some of his closer Brandybuck relations showered him with love and attention.  Frodo was thriving and all things considered he was doing much better than had been expected 6 weeks prior at his birth.

Primula insisted that it was the love given to him.  And no one could find fault with her summation of the situation.  Indeed Frodo should not have done so well, he had been far too small and thin to be expected to thrive yet he did.

            Frodo had been so well and so hearty that all were surprised when in the cold of December just before the Yule Frodo suddenly became ill.  He awoke in the night with a screaming cry that jolted his parents from their sleep.  Never had he uttered such a wail as he had that night.  Primula knew immediately that something was wrong and went to pick up her beloved Frodo.  He was hot, so hot that she could feel the heat coming from him before she even touched him.  Primula held him and tried to comfort him but Frodo would have no part of it.  He writhed and screamed pulling his legs up tight to his belly.  A blotchy rash marred his pure white skin.

“Drogo call for a healer!  He is so sick,” Primula called to him.  She continued to hold the infant as he squirmed in discomfort.  She tried to feed him and he nursed for a few moments then cried louder and then vomited all he had taken.

Drogo Baggins had not even stopped to respond to his frantic wife but ran from his quarters so quickly he did not even dress.  He ran through Brandyhall as he had when he had needed the midwife some how this felt more urgent.  He found himself at the door of Beriac Brandybuck the closest healer in Buckland pounding frantically he hoped the hobbit was home.

He saw a flicker of light as a lantern was lit and then heard the door latch as it opened.  “Master Drogo, what is it sir?  It must be quite urgent for you to come with out a lamp to light your way!”

“Erm, well yes sir it is, Urgent I mean.  Our young Frodo has taken ill in the night with Fever we have never seen him in such a state.  Primula is frantic you must come at once.”  Drogo was almost pulling the gentlehobbit out of the door.  “Now just wait Mr. Baggins I must get some things together!”  Drogo became extremely short with the good doctor.  “NO, you’ll come NOW!” he hollered.  The last time someone made me wait I lost my daughter….” He stopped and broke down in unabashed tears.  Drogo fell to his knees on the doorstep his grief and fear brought back to his mind.

“Of course Drogo, the healer knelt beside him I will not delay I only need a few supplies is all.  Come you will help me and we will go together.”  Drogo pulled himself together and stood. “Of course Beriac, forgive me. I know you will come. It’s just that the grief is still too new.  I don’t think I could bear it if anything were to happen to Frodo.”

“Drogo, my friend there is no need to explain you and Primula have done very well but these fears are to be expected.  Now let us go have a look at that Son of yours.”

Drogo was lost in his own thoughts as he briskly walked/ran home with the healer.  He felt as if he were undone.  He really did not know if he could stand to watch his beautiful child suffer.  Yet deep with in himself he knew that this was only the beginning for Frodo.