Title: A Little Inconvenience

Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FBoBE/"Febobe")

Rating: G (K)

Warnings: Food descriptions, light humour.

Summary: In Minas Tirith after the Quest, Frodo comes down with a terrible cold. Elrond attends him.

Notes: Originally published on my LJ as a treatfic for Elwen when she had a cold in June 2011.


"Why do I keep getting into these blasted predicaments?" snuffled Frodo, swiping at his nose with a handkerchief.

"Because you have endured so much, and been so long deprived of proper nourishment and rest, that your body cannot defend itself well enough." Matter-of-factly Elrond stirred several drops of essential oil into a basin of heated water, then set it on a tray and slid it up over Frodo's legs. "Lean forward and inhale the vapor. I would like to drape a large towel over your head as a tent to help direct the steam to you and not all over the room."

"Suit yourself." Frodo leaned forward, still sniffling and blinking, and breathed in deeply...which prompted a fit of coughing. Gently Elrond patted his back, allowing the paroxysm to subside before draping the towel.

"How are the chills now? Any better?"

"A little. Of course, it only took three blankets and a shawl." Darkly Frodo peered out from beneath his tent. "My throat still feels terrible. Like someone's scraped glass down the insides."

"Do you think you could swallow at all? I can give you some medicine to help, and a little soup after. Perhaps some other easily swallowed treats as well."

"Nothing is easily swallowed just now." Frodo's voice came, muffled, through the towel. "But I suppose I could try - no promises."

"That is all I ask, tithen min. Five more minutes of steam, and then I shall give you your medicine, and you may rest while I fetch you a tray."

"Worst cold of my life," muttered Frodo stuffily.

After five more minutes, a sizable two table-spoonfuls of syrup of wild cherry and lemon thyme with coltsfoot "to help your cough," and a cup of ginger tea with honey, Elrond pronounced Frodo ready to rest and wait for lunch. Tucked up in bed and propped on pillows, the little Ringbearer sighed irritably, glancing toward the window with envy. Not that he felt very much like being up and about when he wasn't ill, but being confined to bed was not his idea of a good day, nor was blowing his nose until he felt like a fog-horn.

Soon enough, however, Elrond returned, settling a substantial tray in front of him, and that seemed interesting enough to warrant an inspection. Fortunately, everything seemed to be either soft or liquid, so he took a closer look.

A glassful of apple-juice...mashed sweet and white potatoes...a mugful of golden chicken broth...circles of hot, delicately buttered toasted white bread with strawberry-jam on the side...carefully turned-out soft-boiled eggs in a small bowl...a light, clear mushroom soup with an air of onion about it...warm rice with blueberries...and...a little dish containing...

"Elderberry ice-cream," Elrond announced with a slight smile. "I thought elder most suitable for a cold."

"You would," Frodo muttered sulkily. "I'm tired."

"Then allow me to feed you."

Frodo opened his mouth to argue, but could find no reasonable protest, so he settled for letting Elrond pop a spoonful of potato past his lips instead.

No use letting perfectly good food go to waste.

Especially ice-cream.

-the end?-