Winter : Brandy Hall : Frodo Age 14

TOLKIEN DISCLAIMER : I don't own anything Tolkien, he owns it. Please don't use any of my original characters without my permission. This is slightly AU, presuming Frodo knew Gandalf at a young age. Thank-you. -Rufferto

PERSONAL DISCLAIMER : I was going to make this one the exclusive for the fanzine Febobe is planning, but I have another idea for that one. There is : No Slash, No Sex, No Profanity, etc.

SYNOPSIS : Frodo has an eating disorder. He cannot digest anything because he has pain in his stomach. He will have to have an operation in order to take care of it or he will die.  Gandalf will perform the operation on Bilbo's request after the true nature of Frodo's illness is discovered by a visiting hobbit Doctor from Bree who practices 'new medicine'.


Frodo curled his legs up under his chair sipping from his warm mug as he shivered a little. It was cold and in the hall a birthday party was happening. One of his many cousins, he'd forgotten the name, all he really could think about was that he wished he was anywhere but here.  He hated parties because he was always the 'odd' one out. His parents were not around to introduce him, and he was always exchanged from one Aunt to another... whomever happened to be free at the moment. 

The Applemint tea was soothing is throat which had been dry and itchy all day.  He was almost fourteen.  It had been a couple of years since his parents died, but he felt like it was yesterday.   Everyone had told him time and again to 'get over it', and finally he just pretended he had so as to get them to stop complaining. Most of the time he ended up fending for himself. He didn't mind though, he liked being alone, it meant he could read and dream...and sometimes...he could even feel the touch of his mother's hand if he closed his eyes and wished hard enough.  But she would never be there when he opened them.

Frodo sighed, finding it difficult to concentrate on the story he was reading. He reached up and rubbed his chest, it was awfully achey...he wanted to go in and refill his cup, but he knew that one of his Aunts would chide him for not being a part of the games going on at the party. He sighed and ran his hand through his thick, somewhat mussy, curls and leant his head against the back of the chair, his eyes staring out a nearby window at the frost that was thick upon it and the wind beyond. 

He tried not to think about it but he longed for a pair of warm arms to circle around him and someone that he could lay his head against as they consoled him...but no one ever had any time, there were too many other children.  He put his small hand to his lips and covered a hoarse cough a faint tear trickling down his cheek.  The teenager wiped the tear away angrily and huddled in the chair. He was thirsty...his throat was dry, but he didn't -want- to be in a room filled with people having fun.

And there were plenty of things to eat too, things he -liked- to eat but he didn't really feel all that hungry. In fact...he hadn't really eaten much all day.

"Frodo, good gracious, dear. What on earth are you doing here alone in our parlor when everyone is in the main hall." his Aunt Esmerelda had been looking for Frodo ever since she'd seen him look rather pale after he'd eaten something at dinner. Smiling kindly, the large woman put her hand against the teenager's forehead, "Well, you're not sick, dear, but something's the matter isn't it?"  She sat down in a nearby chair, "You can't spend all of your cousin Jemmy's birthday party here. It's not right, dear. You need to be with people."
"I know tummy..." he looked up at her with big round eyes and sniffled plaintively, "It hurts a little..please...can I just go lie down in my room?"

"Oh, Frodo Frodo." Esmerelda shook her head with a sigh. "Your cousin is about to give away presents and there's one for you, you know, so you'd best come with me now. I think you need something to drink too, you're sounding a bit parched there, my boy. Come on; give me your hand now. I'll take you inside."

Frodo sighed; he knew there was no getting around it now. He tentatively slid to his feet, at least he was feeling steady now and he didn't think he was going to fall down. He looked up at his aunt looking for all the world as though he'd rather do anything other than go into that party.

Esmerelda shook her head, inwardly she wished that it was okay to let Frodo have his way, but if they did he would keep himself locked away all the time and he would never get over what happened. She put her arm around his shoulders, lending him a bit of support as she took him out into the hall where lantern lights and loud laughter and merrymaking assaulted his eyes and ears.
Frodo's stomach felt queasy when he saw one of his cousins stuff his face with birthday cake and offer him a piece. He shook his head quickly, trying not to offend but not in the least interested in food right now. Something to drink…now that was a different story.

Once they were inside, someone else took Esmerelda's attention. And so Frodo was very relieved to be left on his own once again. He made his way over to the punch bowl and eyed the contents of the table, lemonade or punch. No apple juice…he looked hopefully around for some tea and found a lukewarm pot of it to refill his mug with. Eagerly the young Baggins sipped.

Then he began to cough…and sputter…clutching the table for support…. for he had drunk too quickly and inhaled the tea the wrong way. He clenched his stomach…barely hearing the shouts of alarm as well-meaning relatives hurried to his side.

The room began to sway…and swim about him…. and young Frodo Baggins' eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.