mpreg ficlet: Illness
Started this yesterday, finished it today. Actually ran it through the spellcheck. ;) Here ya go... and I know I didn't go into as much detail as I could've on some parts (even though it's one of the longest of these mpreg bits so far, being 2.5 pages single-spaced); just look at it as leaving room for embellishment at a later date. :D
_Illness_
Yule was a quiet affair, for all that the elves were accustomed to hosting a modest celebration in honor of their youngest and shortest resident. The reason for the unusual restraint in the festivities, in spite of the presence of the hobbit's dearly beloved cousin, began a week prior to the holiday.
The elder hobbit abruptly fell ill with what he called a common flu, and despite his misgivings regarding how the hobbit had contracted the ailment -for he'd thought he held control over such things in his valley- Lord Elrond concurred with the diagnosis. He made sure the hobbit was made as comfortable as possible in his own room to wait out the duration of the symptoms. He also ordered Frodo to remain away from his 'uncle' to guard his health, and by natural extension, the health of the babe he carried.
Frodo obeyed this command... for just over a day. After that his inclination to see to Bilbo and assure him of his presence proved too strong against the verbal injunction, so he defied orders and appeared at his uncle's bedside about midday, at first going unnoticed in the general commotion. The elderly patient had just been ill, and his nephew snuck in during the flurry of activity involved in cleaning up the mess. Frodo went directly to Bilbo, holding his hand comfortingly as he quietly made his nearness known.
First to notice him was an aid to Lord Elrond, who crouched next to the intruder and whispered in his ear, "Master Hobbit, you should not be here. You could become ill yourself."
Frodo glared at him. "I will remain here," he declared resolutely.
The elf knew better than to push the matter with the legendary stubborn one, so he retreated to bring his lord's attention to the situation. Elrond appeared sooner than Frodo would have liked. "Frodo, I told you to stay away." His voice conveyed thinly veiled impatience and annoyance.
Frodo looked up at him with his most repentant, beseeching look. "He was always by my side when I was ill; I want to do the same for him."
Elrond sighed and rubbed his forehead before replying, "I'm sorry, but the risk to your health is too great for me to allow this."
With a frown, the hobbit crossed his arms over the belly that was growing quite prominent, ignoring the jabs the babe gave him as a result of the motion. "I insist on staying."
"Frodo, no. You cannot. Now, if you will not cooperate, I can force the matter, but I do not think either of us wants to go that far." Elrond stood firm, his will unyielding to the halfling's manipulation.
Frodo sighed heavily and looked down -to say he looked down at his feet would be in error, for he had ceased to be able to see his feet about a month previous, but he did look in that general direction- and reluctantly ceded the argument. "You must at least allow me to see him once the worst has passed," he appealed, turning his pleading eyes upon the Lord of Rivendell.
"Once the worst has passed, you may remain here all you like," Elrond confirmed, and the hobbit departed after one last look at his former guardian.
From that point, Elrond kept a careful eye on Frodo, fearful that even the brief exposure to illness could sicken the pregnant hobbit, whose natural defenses were no doubt lowered by what he bore, as was normal. For many days he remained healthy, increasingly impatient that his uncle should 'turn the corner' so he could see him. He was at long last allowed to enter on the fifth day, but, as luck -or perhaps fate- would have it, that night he himself began to feel distinctly ill.
Frodo recognized the uneasy roiling of nausea with dread, knowing full well what it portended, as he had left behind that particular symptom of his other condition several months before. He rightly dreaded Elrond's discovery of his predicament, and upon the elf's sweeping entry into the room the next morning, he wanted to weep his apology (but resisted, desiring to have some shred of dignity left to him when all was over). Bilbo was understandably sympathetic and offered to allow Frodo to remain in his bed until he felt well enough to be moved, and to Frodo's surprise, Elrond agreed, for he would not need to relocate his supplies or worry about thoroughly cleaning another room when all was said and done.
The entire setup would have been most agreeable but for how abominable Frodo felt. Whether it was due to his weakened constitution, or to the fates taunting him, he wasn't sure, but he was absolutely miserable between the vomiting, the eagerness of his intestines to expel everything at once, and the aches he could feel in every inch of his body. The days passed hazily, though he knew several had to have passed -no hobbit could possibly be put through six baths in one day!- he was unsure of the exact number, and couldn't find it in himself to care, since it wasn't enough to make the symptoms go away.
Elrond attended him as well as he could, constantly plying him with drinks and liquids; some were teas, some were soups, sometimes it was simply water, but Frodo dreaded their appearance at his bedside, for too often what went down came back up (and if it somehow stayed down, it was never long before it showed up again in another manner). He tried to refuse them, but even when fully well he couldn't match the elf's strength, and so ended up taking them anyway. When they would invariably reappear a short time later, he thought it would teach Elrond the futility of trying, but the healer kept insisting, time after time.
Sometimes in his brief periods approaching lucidity, Frodo thought he heard a note of worry in Elrond's voice, whether directed at him or someone else in the room he wasn't sure, but quickly dismissed the notion. He'd never seen Elrond concerned to the point that the worry seeped out in his voice, and didn't think it possible for the impassive elf to reach that landmark of emotional expression. Dropping back into the haze of heat and hurt, he would soon have other things to concern himself with.
This was especially true sometime in the evening on the first day of Yule. As Frodo collapsed to the bed after yet another round of seeing those darn liquids twice, he felt sharp pain all through his stomach. This particular complaint being new, he cried out as he curled up on his side, perhaps hoping to dull the pain by giving it little space to work. Elrond promptly appeared from wherever he had been before and gently placed a calming hand on his charge's head before carefully working his other hand into the tangle of hobbit to find out what was the matter. He felt the muscles tensing again even before it made Frodo smother a gasp, and immediately recognized the problem.
Pausing to give instruction to an assistant to bring some relaxant tea, he moved his hand to rub the hobbit's back while shushing him. When Frodo calmed a bit under the healer's touch, Elrond assured him, "It will be all right."
"Will I lose it?" The slurred voice, undeniably exhausted, still held a tangible note of fear.
"No, no. The babe is still fine. Being ill has made your body want to practice for the birth. It's not uncommon in later months."
"Practice?" The fever-hazed eyes were confused and uncomprehending.
"Never mind that," Elrond retracted. "It will pass, and you'll be fine. The babe will be fine," he emphasized, smoothing the hobbit's lank curls back out of his eyes. Frodo seemed to understand that, at least, and passed into a weary sleep by the time the other elf returned with the requested tea.
~~~~
Frodo blinked, then yawned and stretched from where he lay on his side, realizing only after he'd done so that he shouldn't have -a number of parts of him were rather stiff and sore. The movement attracted the attention of Bilbo, sitting next to him on the bed, and his uncle leaned over Frodo's back to look closely at him. Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Frodo said irritably, "Bilbo, what are you about? Stop looking at me like that."
To his surprise, Bilbo grinned widely. "Good to have you back, my boy!" he said cheerily. "I should have known you wouldn't let all of Yule slip by."
Frodo rolled over to better examine his uncle. Had he finally gone mad? "Bilbo, whatever are you talking about?"
"It's the last day of Yule! For a while, we'd thought you were going to miss it entirely."
"Yule comes about every year whether or not I'm actually aware of it," Frodo thought it reasonable to point out, albeit in a bit of a mumble, as he was already feeling sleepy again.
"Yes, yes, but that's not the point," Bilbo replied, patting Frodo's shoulder. "The point is that you're awake now, and it's Yule. Can't an old hobbit be happy about that?"
Frodo let the matter drop without further comment, for he was completely and thoroughly confused. But then, with Bilbo, that wasn't all that unusual, and his mental faculties were decidedly lacking at the moment, which did not help.
He had almost gone back to sleep when he heard Bilbo say, "Frodo's awake!" to someone who Frodo could not see. A shadow loomed over him, and he opened his eyes and turned his head to see Elrond implacably staring at him. "Good to see you awake," the elf said. "How do you feel?"
"Um... tired," the hobbit replied slowly. "Stiff..." He could see a tray of food passing by out of the corner of his eye and he blanched. He sincerely hoped that wasn't for him; he wouldn't be able to manage it.
"And not enjoying the thought of food, I see," Elrond supplied with a hint of mirth. Frodo shook his head in agreement, and Elrond directed the elf to put the tray on the table over by the fireplace. "Bilbo, my friend, if you do not mind taking your supper over by the fire, I'd like to have a word with Frodo."
"Quite all right," the elder hobbit agreed, and the elf now divested of the tray helped Bilbo off the bed.
Once Bilbo was seated in an easy chair and had begun eating his repast with relish, Elrond gracefully sat on the edge of the bed next to Frodo, who had a distinct look of trepidation gracing his pale features. "Do not worry, we will not discuss now the actions that led to this point. But Frodo, know that you have taken quite a risk, and for a time there was doubt about the outcome," Elrond reprimanded sternly.
If it was at all possible, Frodo whitened further. "Wi-will everything be all right? I-is...?"
"Yes, all is well with the child. You, on the other hand, have exhausted yourself quite thoroughly and will need considerable recuperation in addition to lots of fluids, for you are rather dehydrated." As if to emphasize the point, a cup of something was delivered into Elrond's hand.
Frodo was relieved to find it was only a simple broth, and it tasted wonderful on his parched tongue. He only hoped it would stay down.
Elrond did not speak again until after he finished feeding Frodo and followed the broth with some cool water. "Now, I will not keep you from the sleep you need. We will talk more on the morrow if you are feeling more improved."
Frodo didn't reply, but simply allowed the elf to carefully tuck him in, and let himself enjoy being taken care of. Just this once.
Elrond briefly touched the hobbit's forehead as he quickly fell into slumber; warmer than was normal, but far from the fever that had raged just yesterday. Yes, he was beginning to recover. He would need to do so quickly, to muster his strength for the birth that would come all too soon. Two months, perhaps a bit more, if Elrond was any judge. And then all would be over, for good or ill.
~~~~
_Illness_
Yule was a quiet affair, for all that the elves were accustomed to hosting a modest celebration in honor of their youngest and shortest resident. The reason for the unusual restraint in the festivities, in spite of the presence of the hobbit's dearly beloved cousin, began a week prior to the holiday.
The elder hobbit abruptly fell ill with what he called a common flu, and despite his misgivings regarding how the hobbit had contracted the ailment -for he'd thought he held control over such things in his valley- Lord Elrond concurred with the diagnosis. He made sure the hobbit was made as comfortable as possible in his own room to wait out the duration of the symptoms. He also ordered Frodo to remain away from his 'uncle' to guard his health, and by natural extension, the health of the babe he carried.
Frodo obeyed this command... for just over a day. After that his inclination to see to Bilbo and assure him of his presence proved too strong against the verbal injunction, so he defied orders and appeared at his uncle's bedside about midday, at first going unnoticed in the general commotion. The elderly patient had just been ill, and his nephew snuck in during the flurry of activity involved in cleaning up the mess. Frodo went directly to Bilbo, holding his hand comfortingly as he quietly made his nearness known.
First to notice him was an aid to Lord Elrond, who crouched next to the intruder and whispered in his ear, "Master Hobbit, you should not be here. You could become ill yourself."
Frodo glared at him. "I will remain here," he declared resolutely.
The elf knew better than to push the matter with the legendary stubborn one, so he retreated to bring his lord's attention to the situation. Elrond appeared sooner than Frodo would have liked. "Frodo, I told you to stay away." His voice conveyed thinly veiled impatience and annoyance.
Frodo looked up at him with his most repentant, beseeching look. "He was always by my side when I was ill; I want to do the same for him."
Elrond sighed and rubbed his forehead before replying, "I'm sorry, but the risk to your health is too great for me to allow this."
With a frown, the hobbit crossed his arms over the belly that was growing quite prominent, ignoring the jabs the babe gave him as a result of the motion. "I insist on staying."
"Frodo, no. You cannot. Now, if you will not cooperate, I can force the matter, but I do not think either of us wants to go that far." Elrond stood firm, his will unyielding to the halfling's manipulation.
Frodo sighed heavily and looked down -to say he looked down at his feet would be in error, for he had ceased to be able to see his feet about a month previous, but he did look in that general direction- and reluctantly ceded the argument. "You must at least allow me to see him once the worst has passed," he appealed, turning his pleading eyes upon the Lord of Rivendell.
"Once the worst has passed, you may remain here all you like," Elrond confirmed, and the hobbit departed after one last look at his former guardian.
From that point, Elrond kept a careful eye on Frodo, fearful that even the brief exposure to illness could sicken the pregnant hobbit, whose natural defenses were no doubt lowered by what he bore, as was normal. For many days he remained healthy, increasingly impatient that his uncle should 'turn the corner' so he could see him. He was at long last allowed to enter on the fifth day, but, as luck -or perhaps fate- would have it, that night he himself began to feel distinctly ill.
Frodo recognized the uneasy roiling of nausea with dread, knowing full well what it portended, as he had left behind that particular symptom of his other condition several months before. He rightly dreaded Elrond's discovery of his predicament, and upon the elf's sweeping entry into the room the next morning, he wanted to weep his apology (but resisted, desiring to have some shred of dignity left to him when all was over). Bilbo was understandably sympathetic and offered to allow Frodo to remain in his bed until he felt well enough to be moved, and to Frodo's surprise, Elrond agreed, for he would not need to relocate his supplies or worry about thoroughly cleaning another room when all was said and done.
The entire setup would have been most agreeable but for how abominable Frodo felt. Whether it was due to his weakened constitution, or to the fates taunting him, he wasn't sure, but he was absolutely miserable between the vomiting, the eagerness of his intestines to expel everything at once, and the aches he could feel in every inch of his body. The days passed hazily, though he knew several had to have passed -no hobbit could possibly be put through six baths in one day!- he was unsure of the exact number, and couldn't find it in himself to care, since it wasn't enough to make the symptoms go away.
Elrond attended him as well as he could, constantly plying him with drinks and liquids; some were teas, some were soups, sometimes it was simply water, but Frodo dreaded their appearance at his bedside, for too often what went down came back up (and if it somehow stayed down, it was never long before it showed up again in another manner). He tried to refuse them, but even when fully well he couldn't match the elf's strength, and so ended up taking them anyway. When they would invariably reappear a short time later, he thought it would teach Elrond the futility of trying, but the healer kept insisting, time after time.
Sometimes in his brief periods approaching lucidity, Frodo thought he heard a note of worry in Elrond's voice, whether directed at him or someone else in the room he wasn't sure, but quickly dismissed the notion. He'd never seen Elrond concerned to the point that the worry seeped out in his voice, and didn't think it possible for the impassive elf to reach that landmark of emotional expression. Dropping back into the haze of heat and hurt, he would soon have other things to concern himself with.
This was especially true sometime in the evening on the first day of Yule. As Frodo collapsed to the bed after yet another round of seeing those darn liquids twice, he felt sharp pain all through his stomach. This particular complaint being new, he cried out as he curled up on his side, perhaps hoping to dull the pain by giving it little space to work. Elrond promptly appeared from wherever he had been before and gently placed a calming hand on his charge's head before carefully working his other hand into the tangle of hobbit to find out what was the matter. He felt the muscles tensing again even before it made Frodo smother a gasp, and immediately recognized the problem.
Pausing to give instruction to an assistant to bring some relaxant tea, he moved his hand to rub the hobbit's back while shushing him. When Frodo calmed a bit under the healer's touch, Elrond assured him, "It will be all right."
"Will I lose it?" The slurred voice, undeniably exhausted, still held a tangible note of fear.
"No, no. The babe is still fine. Being ill has made your body want to practice for the birth. It's not uncommon in later months."
"Practice?" The fever-hazed eyes were confused and uncomprehending.
"Never mind that," Elrond retracted. "It will pass, and you'll be fine. The babe will be fine," he emphasized, smoothing the hobbit's lank curls back out of his eyes. Frodo seemed to understand that, at least, and passed into a weary sleep by the time the other elf returned with the requested tea.
~~~~
Frodo blinked, then yawned and stretched from where he lay on his side, realizing only after he'd done so that he shouldn't have -a number of parts of him were rather stiff and sore. The movement attracted the attention of Bilbo, sitting next to him on the bed, and his uncle leaned over Frodo's back to look closely at him. Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Frodo said irritably, "Bilbo, what are you about? Stop looking at me like that."
To his surprise, Bilbo grinned widely. "Good to have you back, my boy!" he said cheerily. "I should have known you wouldn't let all of Yule slip by."
Frodo rolled over to better examine his uncle. Had he finally gone mad? "Bilbo, whatever are you talking about?"
"It's the last day of Yule! For a while, we'd thought you were going to miss it entirely."
"Yule comes about every year whether or not I'm actually aware of it," Frodo thought it reasonable to point out, albeit in a bit of a mumble, as he was already feeling sleepy again.
"Yes, yes, but that's not the point," Bilbo replied, patting Frodo's shoulder. "The point is that you're awake now, and it's Yule. Can't an old hobbit be happy about that?"
Frodo let the matter drop without further comment, for he was completely and thoroughly confused. But then, with Bilbo, that wasn't all that unusual, and his mental faculties were decidedly lacking at the moment, which did not help.
He had almost gone back to sleep when he heard Bilbo say, "Frodo's awake!" to someone who Frodo could not see. A shadow loomed over him, and he opened his eyes and turned his head to see Elrond implacably staring at him. "Good to see you awake," the elf said. "How do you feel?"
"Um... tired," the hobbit replied slowly. "Stiff..." He could see a tray of food passing by out of the corner of his eye and he blanched. He sincerely hoped that wasn't for him; he wouldn't be able to manage it.
"And not enjoying the thought of food, I see," Elrond supplied with a hint of mirth. Frodo shook his head in agreement, and Elrond directed the elf to put the tray on the table over by the fireplace. "Bilbo, my friend, if you do not mind taking your supper over by the fire, I'd like to have a word with Frodo."
"Quite all right," the elder hobbit agreed, and the elf now divested of the tray helped Bilbo off the bed.
Once Bilbo was seated in an easy chair and had begun eating his repast with relish, Elrond gracefully sat on the edge of the bed next to Frodo, who had a distinct look of trepidation gracing his pale features. "Do not worry, we will not discuss now the actions that led to this point. But Frodo, know that you have taken quite a risk, and for a time there was doubt about the outcome," Elrond reprimanded sternly.
If it was at all possible, Frodo whitened further. "Wi-will everything be all right? I-is...?"
"Yes, all is well with the child. You, on the other hand, have exhausted yourself quite thoroughly and will need considerable recuperation in addition to lots of fluids, for you are rather dehydrated." As if to emphasize the point, a cup of something was delivered into Elrond's hand.
Frodo was relieved to find it was only a simple broth, and it tasted wonderful on his parched tongue. He only hoped it would stay down.
Elrond did not speak again until after he finished feeding Frodo and followed the broth with some cool water. "Now, I will not keep you from the sleep you need. We will talk more on the morrow if you are feeling more improved."
Frodo didn't reply, but simply allowed the elf to carefully tuck him in, and let himself enjoy being taken care of. Just this once.
Elrond briefly touched the hobbit's forehead as he quickly fell into slumber; warmer than was normal, but far from the fever that had raged just yesterday. Yes, he was beginning to recover. He would need to do so quickly, to muster his strength for the birth that would come all too soon. Two months, perhaps a bit more, if Elrond was any judge. And then all would be over, for good or ill.
~~~~