FIC: A LITTLE AFFLICTION 1/?
AUTHOR: Lily Baggins
RATING: PG-13
Disclaimers. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Productions, and I only give them interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that all medical treatments contained herein are purely for entertainment value and are not meant to replace professional medical advice.
Author's Note: While the Frodo in my head is always movie-verse Frodo, I am going to point out that here, I'm really following movie-verse by making Frodo 33 when he leaves on the Quest, just as it appears in the movie. It will become clear as you read why I'm doing this. :)
And no, I have no idea why I'm writing this. I have a bit of writer's block on "Mathom," and this plot bunny just up and well, you know. I will continue "Mathom" when I get out of the lull.
*****
Wine glasses clinked, forks and knives scraped, and laughter rang out around our heavily laden table. It was a festive occasion---what was not to be happy about? Sauron was defeated and many comrades had been reunited. At the head of the table sat the King and Queen, their faces smiling as they toasted their guests in merriment.
"Mr. Frodo, you're starin' at that lamb chop again instead of eating it."
I admit, I had *not* been eating very much, despite the numerous pairs of eyes watching me and gauging every bite I put in my mouth. They meant well---all of them---but it *did* grow just a bit wearisome at times. However, I reminded myself---if they had not initially pressured me to eat after waking in Ithilien, I might not be here right now.
"All right, Sam . . . I'll try a bit more of it, if that will make you happy." It did look and smell appetizing, golden brown and perfectly seasoned. And my appetite was nearly in full working order---that had little to do with why I hadn't been eating well.
Cutting the chop with my knife and fork as best I could with my maimed hand, I cautiously took a bite---and regretted it. As I bit down, a sharp pain in the back of my jaw flared up---that blasted nagging tooth again.
"Mr. Frodo?"
I scowled at him---not in irritation, really, but because it was nearly impossible to do anything BUT scowl with this pain assailing my mouth. Ah . . . in the left side of my jaw, very far in the back . . .
"I'm sorry, Sam---my tooth aches just a bit. Nothing to worry about, but chewing is most unpleasant."
His eyes grew wide as he stared at me. "That tooth is still hurting you? A bad tooth ain't nothing to make light of, master. Why . . . my Aunt Willow died from a corruption of the jaw. Begging your pardon, sir, but you ought to get Strider to look at it."
I stared at him over the rim of my wine glass. "I'm sure I don't have a 'corruption,' Sam. And besides, one of the healers in Lothlorien looked at it long ago. He said it was my 'wisdom' teeth coming in---you know, mortals get a third set of crunching teeth when they come of age. It can be painful---like a teething baby, I suppose. He gave me some powder to put on it, though I've none left."
"You still ought to get Strider to look at it."
"That's King Elessar to us, Sam, and I'm quite certain he now has better things to do with his time than poke around in hobbit mouths scrutinizing their teeth." As I said it, I took a sip of the wine, cringing as the cool liquid flowed over the raw-feeling area.
*****
The next three days were nearly enough to make me regret my prior words to Sam. The pain in my mouth was growing worse---nearly a constant ache---interrupting my sleeping and my eating. A few days earlier I had been able to chew on one side; now it hurt to even work my jaw.
And that morning when I had gotten out of bed to wash up I looked in the mirror, quite shocked at how pale and tired I appeared from such a minute thing as a tooth coming in. I even felt the a tad feverish, but I had grown up in Brandy Hall among youngsters and knew that even tiny hobbits cutting teeth often had slight temperatures.
Opening my mouth as widely as I could, I did my best to peer inside. Whatever it was, it did not look pleasant---I could tell that the gum around the sore area was whitish, surrounded by intense redness and swelling. And I fancied, as I pressed a bit on my cheek and jaw, which I should probably not have done, that my face on that one side was slightly swollen. Ah well . . . such is the price we pay for maturing. It was a natural thing I was undergoing.
Breakfast that morning was not a pleasant affair. I sat watching Sam and Pip and Merry eat their eggs and sugar-basted ham and honeyed rolls and fresh strawberry jam and had to pretend to be hungry---and chew without pain. I was able to eat a few of the scrambled eggs and small pieces of roll---but not much before I just gave up, feeling miserable.
"Frodo . . . is your face swollen?"
At Merry's words both Sam and Pippin of course raised their heads from their plates and treated me to intense scrutiny.
"Swollen? Of course not." I did my best to smile.
"Well, you did have that bit of a toothache a coupla days ago, sir," Sam reminded.
"A toothache?" Merry asked, and grinned. "Overindulging in sweets again, cousin? Who can blame you, after so long without. But if you keep hurting, you should let someone see to that, you know."
"I will," I promised, wanting to turn the conversation away from my health and suddenly feeling very tired even though I'd just risen from bed. "If it pains me too badly I shan't hesitate to seek help for it." The truth was, I was terrified to seek help---I had never had much experience with having my teeth worked on before and was determined to ride out the pain if I could.
"As I said earlier, sir, you ought to get Strider to look at it," said Sam, speaking around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
I couldn't help but smile as I shook my head. Sam would never change. "Sam, all three of you are younger than I am---you have this to look forward to also. It's nothing . . . if it gets worse I'll go to a place I spotted down the road a bit and get some more powder to ease the ache."
I gingerly took a bite of egg, hoping I was convincing.
To be continued
AUTHOR: Lily Baggins
RATING: PG-13
Disclaimers. The usual. I make no money off of this and do not own these characters, much to my chagrin. They belong to Tolkien Enterprises and New Line Productions, and I only give them interesting---and usually unpleasant---ways to spend their time. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that all medical treatments contained herein are purely for entertainment value and are not meant to replace professional medical advice.
Author's Note: While the Frodo in my head is always movie-verse Frodo, I am going to point out that here, I'm really following movie-verse by making Frodo 33 when he leaves on the Quest, just as it appears in the movie. It will become clear as you read why I'm doing this. :)
And no, I have no idea why I'm writing this. I have a bit of writer's block on "Mathom," and this plot bunny just up and well, you know. I will continue "Mathom" when I get out of the lull.
*****
Wine glasses clinked, forks and knives scraped, and laughter rang out around our heavily laden table. It was a festive occasion---what was not to be happy about? Sauron was defeated and many comrades had been reunited. At the head of the table sat the King and Queen, their faces smiling as they toasted their guests in merriment.
"Mr. Frodo, you're starin' at that lamb chop again instead of eating it."
I admit, I had *not* been eating very much, despite the numerous pairs of eyes watching me and gauging every bite I put in my mouth. They meant well---all of them---but it *did* grow just a bit wearisome at times. However, I reminded myself---if they had not initially pressured me to eat after waking in Ithilien, I might not be here right now.
"All right, Sam . . . I'll try a bit more of it, if that will make you happy." It did look and smell appetizing, golden brown and perfectly seasoned. And my appetite was nearly in full working order---that had little to do with why I hadn't been eating well.
Cutting the chop with my knife and fork as best I could with my maimed hand, I cautiously took a bite---and regretted it. As I bit down, a sharp pain in the back of my jaw flared up---that blasted nagging tooth again.
"Mr. Frodo?"
I scowled at him---not in irritation, really, but because it was nearly impossible to do anything BUT scowl with this pain assailing my mouth. Ah . . . in the left side of my jaw, very far in the back . . .
"I'm sorry, Sam---my tooth aches just a bit. Nothing to worry about, but chewing is most unpleasant."
His eyes grew wide as he stared at me. "That tooth is still hurting you? A bad tooth ain't nothing to make light of, master. Why . . . my Aunt Willow died from a corruption of the jaw. Begging your pardon, sir, but you ought to get Strider to look at it."
I stared at him over the rim of my wine glass. "I'm sure I don't have a 'corruption,' Sam. And besides, one of the healers in Lothlorien looked at it long ago. He said it was my 'wisdom' teeth coming in---you know, mortals get a third set of crunching teeth when they come of age. It can be painful---like a teething baby, I suppose. He gave me some powder to put on it, though I've none left."
"You still ought to get Strider to look at it."
"That's King Elessar to us, Sam, and I'm quite certain he now has better things to do with his time than poke around in hobbit mouths scrutinizing their teeth." As I said it, I took a sip of the wine, cringing as the cool liquid flowed over the raw-feeling area.
*****
The next three days were nearly enough to make me regret my prior words to Sam. The pain in my mouth was growing worse---nearly a constant ache---interrupting my sleeping and my eating. A few days earlier I had been able to chew on one side; now it hurt to even work my jaw.
And that morning when I had gotten out of bed to wash up I looked in the mirror, quite shocked at how pale and tired I appeared from such a minute thing as a tooth coming in. I even felt the a tad feverish, but I had grown up in Brandy Hall among youngsters and knew that even tiny hobbits cutting teeth often had slight temperatures.
Opening my mouth as widely as I could, I did my best to peer inside. Whatever it was, it did not look pleasant---I could tell that the gum around the sore area was whitish, surrounded by intense redness and swelling. And I fancied, as I pressed a bit on my cheek and jaw, which I should probably not have done, that my face on that one side was slightly swollen. Ah well . . . such is the price we pay for maturing. It was a natural thing I was undergoing.
Breakfast that morning was not a pleasant affair. I sat watching Sam and Pip and Merry eat their eggs and sugar-basted ham and honeyed rolls and fresh strawberry jam and had to pretend to be hungry---and chew without pain. I was able to eat a few of the scrambled eggs and small pieces of roll---but not much before I just gave up, feeling miserable.
"Frodo . . . is your face swollen?"
At Merry's words both Sam and Pippin of course raised their heads from their plates and treated me to intense scrutiny.
"Swollen? Of course not." I did my best to smile.
"Well, you did have that bit of a toothache a coupla days ago, sir," Sam reminded.
"A toothache?" Merry asked, and grinned. "Overindulging in sweets again, cousin? Who can blame you, after so long without. But if you keep hurting, you should let someone see to that, you know."
"I will," I promised, wanting to turn the conversation away from my health and suddenly feeling very tired even though I'd just risen from bed. "If it pains me too badly I shan't hesitate to seek help for it." The truth was, I was terrified to seek help---I had never had much experience with having my teeth worked on before and was determined to ride out the pain if I could.
"As I said earlier, sir, you ought to get Strider to look at it," said Sam, speaking around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
I couldn't help but smile as I shook my head. Sam would never change. "Sam, all three of you are younger than I am---you have this to look forward to also. It's nothing . . . if it gets worse I'll go to a place I spotted down the road a bit and get some more powder to ease the ache."
I gingerly took a bite of egg, hoping I was convincing.
To be continued