Old Winyards

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A Visit From the Doctor

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Chapter: Fifteen
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Authors: Catherine and Thuri
Rating: A
Warnings: Language.
Summary: Elladan pays Frodo a visit.

"All right, all right, I'm coming, keep your hair on!" said Daisy, as the doorbell rang for the fifth time. "What the bloody– Oh! Dr. Peredhel! Oh, Lord, I'm glad you've come, sir! Mr. Frodo's been that sick for so long, and I don't think your pills have done him that much good, begging your pardon, and our Sam's been right worried about him for ages, he has, and he can't seem to sleep enough, for all he sleeps twelve or fourteen hours a day, with naps besides. And he looks terrible, he does. I ain't never seen anything like it in me born days.”

Elladan looked down at Daisy, doing his best to take in her Westcountry-tinged babble of information. "Slow down, please, and repeat all the pertinent information as succinctly as possible." Her blank expression reminded him that he was no longer talking to his medical students. "Sorry, Daisy. Just tell me the important stuff, again. I’m a bit too slow to catch it all when you go so fast."

Daisy did as she was asked, walking him toward the master bedroom as she did so. She knocked perfunctorily on the door, too involved in her conversation to remember that she was now supposed to wait for someone to tell her to enter.

And Frodo dove beneath the covers.

"Daisy!" yelped Sam, covering himself quickly and soothing Frodo with his available hand, "Haven't you learned to wait, yet?"

She turned a fetching shade of raspberry. "Oh, Sam, I– I'm sorry! I'm sorry to you, too, Mr. Frodo, Sir. D - Dr. Peredhel's here to see you, Sir." With that, Daisy Gamgee turned tail and ran out of the room faster than when she'd won the hundred-yard dash on Sports Day.

Elladan cleared his throat. "Care to come out of there, any time soon, Frodo?" he asked, somewhat imperiously, thoroughly enjoying the whole situation.

"Is she gone?"

"Yes," chorused Sam and Elladan.

Frodo emerged from the blankets again. "We're getting a better lock, Sam."

"You mean, one with a remote control?" muttered Sam, cursing himself for having forgotten to lock the door.

Elladan smirked.

Frodo groaned. "Maybe. Elladan, hello. I'm sorry, I forgot what time you were coming."

"So I gathered," laughed Elladan. "Sam, do you want me to give you some time to dress and get on with your day?"

"No, that's all right," Frodo jumped in. "Sam... Sam should stay, if it's all right. He's more familiar with what's going on with me than I am."

Elladan looked sharply at Sam, who held his gaze, unflinching.

"That's quite all right," said Elladan, allowing a smile at last to overtake his angular face. "That's excellent, in fact." He reached for the robe that had been slung over the chair he intended to occupy and tossed it to Sam. "Since you're not the patient here, I do think that you should put something on, though," he said, still enjoying himself far too much.

Sam tugged the robe on, and fastened it under Elladan's watchful eye.

Elladan stifled a laugh at Frodo's disappointed look as Sam covered himself up. "All right, Frodo, now just what's been going on with you?"

"I'm sick," Frodo replied, turning his attention back to Elladan. "Still. I'm too tired to do much of anything, keep getting dizzy, and I'm having trouble concentrating on anything."

Elladan pulled out his notebook and scribbled, briefly. "How long have you been sick, now?" He flipped back through his notes, pretending to look for information as he waited for Frodo to speak.

Frodo blinked. "I... Sam? How long has it been?"

"Well, if you want to know the truth of it..." He shifted uncomfortably. "I think it's been since the night of the party."

"Frodo?" asked Elladan.

Frodo swallowed. "I think... actually, it may've been the week before that, that I was first feeling run down."

Elladan made a note in his book, his look of studied neutrality now slotted firmly into place. He glanced at Sam, who was swallowing at a lump in his throat. "Any fever, back then? Difficulty moving or breathing? Anyone have a fever around you?"

"I've had a fever off and on, since. Worst when you were here before, though it seems mostly to have gone, now. I've gotten sleep paralysis a time or two, and night sweats. I don't remember anyone being sick..."

"I do," said Sam. "Mari had mono, she did. I don't know why I didn't think of this before, love. We even joked about it last week."

Elladan nodded, earnestly and wrote the information down. "How about your appetite, Frodo? Any changes?"

Frodo shrugged. "I haven't had one. I'd have lost a great deal of weight, I think, if Sam hadn't been making sure I ate."

Sam blushed and took Frodo's hand, wanting desperately to kiss it.

Elladan made the necessary note. "Any pain, anywhere?"

"Not really, no," Frodo replied, thinking it over. "I've been achy, but I figured that was the fever."

Elladan made a non-committal noise in his throat and scribbled.

"You've had the headaches, too, love," reminded Sam, squeezing Frodo's hand.

"Oh. And headaches, yes."

Elladan frowned and scribbled. "Any loss of vision? Seizure activity? Difficulty speaking?"

Frodo looked at Sam. "I... I haven't noticed any..."

Elladan looked at Sam, probingly.

"Just that little bit of delirium during the worst of it," said Sam, biting his lip.

"Delirium?" Frodo asked, eyes widening.

"Well, you were a little far gone, love. Talking in your sleep, an' all. I'm afraid I had a bit of fun with you, there."

Elladan bit back his laughter, but his eyes sparkled. "How long do you sleep at a stretch?"

Frodo was blushing. "Um. Twelve, fourteen hours a night."

Elladan nodded, scribbling and underlining. "O.K., Frodo, let's feel you up."

Sam blushed as Elladan approached. "Frodo-love, where do you want me to be?"

Frodo smiled. "Wherever, Sam. You've felt me up enough..."

Sam blushed a crimson that Elladan nearly made note of in his book as a medical oddity before he managed to restrain himself. "You can stay, Sam. Just give me room to work, and don't hit me when I have to touch certain parts of him."

"It's for medical purposes only, I'm sure," allowed Frodo.

Sam blushed even harder, and Elladan did scribble, then.

"I know the difference," muttered Sam, contemplating a dive under the pillows.

"You don't have to stay," Frodo offered gently.

"Yes I do," said Sam. "I want to stay. I just don't want to turn red all the bloody time."

Elladan laughed. "My sister has that problem," he said, putting on his stethoscope and moving in toward Frodo. "Sit up, Frodo," he said.

As he completed the auscultation, he slid the instrument out of his ears. "Now let me check your glands," he said, reaching for Frodo's neck and probing under his chin. Once he'd checked the armpits, he instructed Frodo to lie down, and pulled the covers down. "Nice to have patients that come to their appointments properly undressed," he said, archly.

Frodo went nearly as red as Sam.

Elladan travelled methodically down Frodo's body, palpating lymph nodes and organs as usual. When he came to the liver, he took particular interest. "Does this hurt?" he asked, pressing into the organ in question.

“Not especially,” said Frodo.

"That’s good," said Elladan. He travelled farther down, checking lymph nodes in the groin and examining Frodo's genitalia with total disinterest. "Everything all right in this area?" he asked.

Frodo chuckled softly, as he caught Sam nodding out of the corner of his eyes. "Yes, everything's fine."

Elladan smiled, professionally, and moved on. He covered Frodo up at the end of the exam, and scribbled some more in his notebook, searching back through it before flipping it shut. "Now comes the fun part," he said, turning for his case.
"The fun part?" Frodo asked, raising an eyebrow. "Please don't tell me you've a rectal thermometer in there."

"As a matter of fact..." Elladan wiggled his long, flexible eyebrows, reached into his case dramatically, and pulled out a phlebotomy kit. "You need a blood test, Frodo."

Sam swallowed, hard, and vowed not to faint. He had a hard time watching needles going into cloth, never mind skin. And if he was going to see such a whacking great thing going into Frodo's arm... He closed his eyes and squeezed Frodo's hand.

"Where do you want it, Frodo, the neck or the chest?" joked Elladan

Frodo groaned. "Oh god... My veins just all disappeared, I could feel it."

"Right, then, the neck it is." Elladan tied off his arm and palpated the vein, encouraging it to come to the surface. "Gotcha!" he said, inserting the needle into the vein, hitting it perfectly before slipping the tube on inside the sheath. He took the blood he needed and withdrew the needle. "Now press down hard on this," he said, stuffing a thick piece of gauze over the puncture and placing Frodo's thumb over it. "It's all right, Sam,” he said, squeezing Sam’s shoulder sympathetically, “you can open your eyes. No more needles."

"You're still the only one who can find my veins," Frodo remarked, holding the gauze down.

Something in the tone of Frodo's last words caught Elladan's attention, and he whirled around just in time to see Frodo slump against Sam. He whipped out the pressure cuff and had it on Frodo in seconds. "90 over 60. Well, you won't be going into the hospital for hypertension any time soon," he joked. "I'd drink a bunch more coffee, and load up on the salt, if I were you." He looked at Sam. "Does this happen often?"

"Only that day on the hill, as far as I know," said Sam. "And then, he was unconscious."

"Is that why I passed out?"

"Hard to say," said Elladan. "I suspect that it could have been a factor, but you also had a fever, that day, quite high, according to what Sam told me, and you'd been in the sun and gone without food for quite a while, so we really can't be sure."

"Oh." Frodo nodded. "I'm messed up, aren't I?"

"In layman's terms, basically, yeah," said Elladan, nonchalantly. "But then, I've known that about you for several years, now..."

"So you're saying I've always been messed up? I thought you weren't a psychiatrist."

"Oh, I didn't have to be a psychiatrist to know that," said Elladan, "I just had to know you." He ducked as Frodo tried to hit him with a pillow.

"You're all evil."

Elladan discarded his latex gloves before he sat back down in the chair and faced Frodo. "I think you may have mono, Frodo. Sam, that means that if you get so much as an unexpected headache in the next six months, I want you in for a blood test, as well."

Sam blanched, and then turned ever so slightly green.

Elladan ignored Sam’s bilious turn. "Mono attacks the immune system and the liver, among other things, so that means no alcohol, Frodo, not so much as a drop. I'll contact you with the test results as soon as I get them. In the meantime, have fun, but pay attention to the need to sleep, and do as Sam tells you in the eating department.”

He rose and stretched. “It’s nice to see you, Frodo. Damn! I’ve got about a million appointments. I'd invite you for drinks, but that's not wise, right now..."

Frodo nodded. "I'm a pathetic lightweight, anyway. And if you were serving wine..." he shrugged. "I'd be no help at all." He was still lightheaded, feeling as if he was fading in and out of the conversation.

Elladan reached over and felt Frodo's forehead. "I didn't think I'd taken that much blood," he frowned. "Maybe I should invite myself over for one of Daisy's afternoon teas, instead. She's famous at the office, you know."

"She don't make 'em unless there's company," grumbled Sam.

"Elladan counts as company," Frodo pointed out, leaning against Sam.

Sam snaked his arm around Frodo. "That's true, enough. And if I help her in the kitchen, she might let me have a bit, on the side." He brightened considerably.

“You could join us for tea, Sam,” said Frodo, gently.

Sam blushed. “Only if Dr. Peredhel don’t bring no needles,” he muttered.

Elladan laughed. “No needles, Sam, I promise! Frodo, I have to go, or Mrs. Bracegirdle will have a fit in my waiting room.” He gave Frodo’s shoulder a squeeze. “Bye for now. I'll see myself out." He waved, leaving the room with his case and four tubes of Frodo's blood.
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