Gandalf the Gray had no idea what to expect when he arrived at Bag End as soon as the spring season arrived. Snow still coated the ground in certain places, though by this point in early April it had mostly melted.

Flowers were beginning to bloom, breaking the monotony of those three dull, positively freezing months.

Gandalf hadn't been to the Shire since September, when he took part in Bilbo and Frodo Baggins' birthday celebration. Everyone adored his traditional fireworks displays, and he was grateful it happened to be too cold for young hobbits to be outdoors as of yet. They usually chased the old wizard down at first sight, demanding a personal performance.

Gandalf trecked up the hill, damp from a shower the night before, and rapped three times on the round green door with his old wooden staff. He carried a bag of treats for Frodo, newly come to Bag End only a year before...this very month in fact.

When no answer came after a few minutes, Gandalf rapped again, wondering if the hobbits were having a bit of a lie in. Bilbo tended to rise at the crack of dawn, though he was getting older.

"Hold on, I'm coming," A voice replied finally, to the wizard's relief, and the sound of the door unlocking followed. Bilbo opened the door, his mouth opening in shock at the sight before him. He still wore his dressing coat, looking rather awful in Gandalf's personal opinion. Not at all the cheerful host he remembered from the autumn.

"Gandalf..." Bilbo whispered, and blinked, as though the wizard could be an illusion of some kind. "What a surprise...as always of course. Though dear me, I wish you'd written a note first, for the timing of this visit is rather..." he turned a shade of green, and excused himself to the privy.

Gandalf arched an eyebrow, and let himself inside, just in time to hear violent retching in the distance.

"Uncle Bilbo...are you all right?" Frodo's voice appeared, and the tweenager stumbled out of his bedroom, stopping short of the new arrival. "Gandalf!" Frodo embraced his friend around the waist, and Gandalf chuckled warmly at the lad's enthusiasm. Frodo raised his head a moment later, his enormous blue eyes full of curiosity. "Bilbo said you probably wouldn't be here till the May festival."

"I never pass up the chance to pop in on old friends if I am nearby," Gandalf replied thoughtfully. "What is wrong with your Uncle?" he peered more closely at the pajama clad tween, who looked just as tired as his guardian.

"We've both been ill since last night," Frodo admitted. "Bilbo got it worse than me, the stomach flu, that is. I was so frightened I had the Gaffer send for the healer...just in case." He groaned softly. "As a matter of fact..." He took a few steady breaths, and Gandalf encouraged him to use the privy if he must.

"Gracious," Gandalf murmered as Bilbo came back, prespiration all over his deathly pale face. Gandalf hadn't seen the hobbit this ill since their stay in Lake Town 50 years before"It is a good thing I came when I did, then, Bilbo. Go lay down, and once you're both comfortable, I'll make a bit of a draught that I'm sure will help."

Bilbo looked at the wizard wearily. "I'm sorry I've not much to offer today," He admitted. "Frodo and I are both rather badly off. But yes, I would appreciate a draught, if you wouldn't mind."

Gandalf urged the older hobbit down the hall, and headed for the kitchen. It rarely disappointed, with a large quantity of food in the pantry. He set down his old sack onto the table, and began to rumage through it.

A snowglobe created by the elves for Frodo sat off to the side as he found a few of his glass phials. He always carried special medicines with him, just in case. He heated water in the large, cast iron pot, and poured two mugs of ginger tea. After adding a dash from a dark green liquid from one of the containers, muttering a few words over the brew whilst stirring.

He carefully carried the mugs down the dim corridor, nearly tripping over Bilbo's books. The older hobbit lay curled into a ball under the covers, clearly trembling. The curtains were closed to prevent the bright morning sunlight from hurting his sensitive eyes.

"Bilbo...try to sit up, lad, so you can drink this. I'll bring Frodo his mug, and you will hopefully feel a difference soon enough."

The thought of drinking anything made Bilbo's stomach churn, but he knew he couldn't take much more of this dreadful business.

He did as Gandalf advised, accepting the warm mug, which smelt of ginger tea much to his relief. "Sip slowly now," the wizard warned, and Bilbo waited until the liquid wasn't scalding before taking a drink. He closed his eyes as it coated his stomach, and thanked Gandalf again shortly before he left the room.

The tea...or whatever it was...sent Bilbo into a deep, comfortable sleep within half an hour. He dozed peacefully, dreaming of Rivendell, with the large water falls, the sweet smell of fresh foilage and elven spices.

When Bilbo awoke, it was dark outside. He sat up with a start, wondering what in the name of the Shire had just happened.

He touched his stomach, more than a bit shocked that the nausea he experienced for two days straight had all but vanished.

"Frodo..." Bilbo slid out of bed, and scurried to his nephew's room, where Gandalf had fallen asleep in the chair by the window. He could smell old Toby in the air, and the wizard's pipe sat unlit on the floor.

Bilbo tiptoed past the wizard to the tween's bedside, feeling the boy's forehead. He touched his own, and sighed with relief. The fever had broken at last.

He thought it best not to wake either of the sleeping forms, and backed quietly out of the room.

The next morning he awoke as he used at dawn, smiling softly at the sight of the pink and orange sky. He felt tired, but generally in good health, and was pleased to find Gandalf smoking out on the front step.

"Ah!" Gandalf removed his pipe. "Good morning!"

Bilbo nodded. "In deed it is," he replied. "What in heaven's name did you give us yesterday?" he asked, and Gandalf's blue eyes twinkled with mirth.

"If I told you, lad, then what would be the magic in it?" he winked. "Feeling better, I take it?"

Bilbo sat down, stretching his legs for a moment.

"In deed," he replied. "It appears Frodo is as well. I suppose we will see when he wakes for certain."

"I suppose I am in for a proper visit, now, eh?" Gandalf asked, blowing a smoke ring much to Bilbo's delight.

"Of course," he agreed. "Goodness...poor Frodo and I have been ill off and on all winter," He said. "I used to have an iron constitution."

Gandalf chuckled. "That is because you lived alone for many years, my dear Bilbo," he replied. "And adopted a lad with a rather weak one if I recall. All of those worries you told me of regarding Frodo at Brandy Hall. I daresay, he is lucky to have you as his guardian now."

Bilbo blushed. "I always wonder if I'm doing the right thing," he said. "If it weren't for Bell Gamgee and her excellent advise this past year, I daresay I would have been in over my head. There are days I would have taken on Smaug than see my dear boy suffer." he shook his head. "No matter. Having Frodo here has been such a blessing for a lonely old hobbit."

Gandalf smiled, watching as the pink and orange shades turned slowly to a crystal blue.

"Im glad you adopted Frodo as well," Gandalf agreed. "From what you told me about the Hall, he was sadly neglected. A right shame, too. Such a good boy, at that." Another smoke ring.

"Yes." Bilbo smiled. "Well, Gandalf, what would you say for first breakfast? If my lad wakes from the smell of bacon and eggs, we'll know all is right in the world."

Gandalf stood up slowly, and agreed wholeheartedly.

"I would be much obliged, my friend," he said, before following Bilbo once again through the green door.