FIC: Hourglass - Chapter Eight - The Vanishing Trick

Here's this week's new chapter. No smut here (sorry - I'm saving that for the next chapter!) but rather a lot of angsting. I have redeemed myself a bit by giving Sam a few little chinks of happiness here and there and I decided not to end it too miserably. I'm estimating this fic will probably run to twelve chapters - so we are definitely on the homeword road and now I have decided exactly (well, pretty much!) where I'm heading - I'll try and complete it soon-ish! In this chapter - Sam attempts to tell Frodo how he feels (but bumbles it up a bit) groan... and Asher stakes his claim.I hope you enjoy! :)FIC: Hourglass - Chapter Eight - The Vanishing TrickAUTHOR: IgrainePAIRING: F/S F/OCRATING: NC-17 - This part is PG-13TIMELINE: Pre-QuestSUMMARY: Frodo is drawn onto a dangerous path, but how can Sam protect what isn't his?DISCLAIMER: These characters (well, most of them) belong to JRR Tolkien. I promise to return them unharmed. I make no money.CHAPTER EIGHT – The Vanishing TrickFrodo led Sam into the darkened study, pausing as he entered to light the lamp that stood upon the desk. As the oil flared and brightened within the glass globe, it illuminated the disorder that surrounded it, moth white papers fluttering in ghostly piles and dark mountains of leather bound account books locked with brass. Taking the lamp and drawing away the light, he moved over to empty hearth and placed it on the mantle piece, where it cast a softer glow over the patterned carpet and the easy chair, leaving the rest in darkness. “Sit down, Sam,” Frodo said, ushering Sam into the chair. Sam opened his mouth to argue, but then thought better of it and perched down on the edge, his eyes following Frodo as he dragged his desk chair across the room, bumping into furniture and tearing up threads in the fine carpet. He rested it opposite Sam’s chair and then sat down on it and waited. Sam’s heart thudded in his ears and his mouth was dry as he tried to wrestle from his mind exactly what it was that he had come to say. Whatever it was seemed senseless now as he sat here in the middle of the night, having drawn Mr Frodo from his bed. Time ticked slowly in the quiet room, the wild, beautiful music still trembling on the air. Sam knew that there were words that must be spoken, but when he reached into his mind to retrieve them, he could find only a tangled dark, hidden behind clouds, irretrievable and receding further, vaporising under his master’s stare. Frodo waited and when it seemed that the ringing silence would deafen them both, he spoke. “Sam, what is it that you wanted to say?” he said wearily, lowering his head into his hands and rubbing his temples with long elegant fingers. Sam took a deep breath, watching the slow motions of Frodo’s fingers, massaging circles over his shadowed brow. “I…” Frodo looked up, his eyes flashing brilliance and fire, Sam took another breath and then closed his mouth, his breast rising and falling. Then he shook his head and looked down at his feet. “I wanted to see you were safe, Mr Frodo, I was worried about you being alone here – with him…”Frodo sank back into his chair. “With Asher?” he said. “Their name is Yarrow, Sam, they are travellers from Bree.”“You can’t trust him, sir,” Sam said, vehemently, his voice betraying his fear.“There’s no reason for you to be concerned about me, Sam,” Frodo said shortly, his eyes darting to the vacant hearth. “Ain’t there?” Sam said, a savage twist of jealously taking the breath from his body, leaving him trembling. Frodo’s eyes looked wild, seemingly disconnected from the calm formality of his words, they roved about the ashes and the dust, as if seeking a diversion. Sam looked down at the rug, chasing the patterns as once he had done as a child, playing with the colours as if they were flowers in a garden, conforming to his designs. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, sir,” he said. Then, feeling a flush of fear creeping up his neck, he added. “I care for you, more than I can rightly say.”Frodo shifted in his chair, his pale hands tracing the carved wooden arms of the wide chair they rested on, his fingers sinking into the deep hollows, burying themselves. “I care for you, sir,” Sam repeated, quietly, closing his eyes.“I know, Sam,” Frodo said, his voice a soft whisper. “I know how much you do for me.”Sam trembled; sensing the imbalance between their thoughts, fearing the moment was slipping through his fingers. “No, sir, I don’t think you…”He was interrupted by a noise from somewhere in the smial that sounded like glass shattering. Frodo flinched and Sam raised his head, begging that his eyes might convey the love that could find no release. “It’s late, Sam,” Frodo said quickly, rising from his chair, his eyes darting nervously across to the door.Sam stood up and closed the distance between them. “Mr Frodo, are you afraid of him?” he said, boldly looking Frodo in the face, even as his legs were buckling beneath him. Frodo’s eyes locked with Sam’s and for a moment they stood dazzled, enthralled, a shock of alarm paralysing Frodo into silence. “Just say the word and I will throw him out of the smial, guest or no,” Sam continued, leaning to press the words, soft and close against pale skin. “I ain’t never seen you look this way, sir, it’s as if you’ve taken fright.” And as he spoke, his mouth moved closer to the snow white skin of his beloved’s neck, halting, speaking softly, he longed to comfort him with all the power in his possession. “ Please, just say the word…” Darkness and silence and the pale glowing skin under his mouth, trembling, Sam closed his eyes. “Tell me to stop, if you want to…” he whispered, running a line of hesitant kisses along Frodo’s throat. He felt the breath withheld, shuddering under his mouth; he felt the hands clutching at his shirt, digging into his skin. From somewhere deep inside the smial, the music resumed, slower this time, but utterly beguiling. Sam’s tongue darted out and drew cool, long notes across his lover’s skin. Unthinking, he pulled Frodo tighter against him. “Oh…I’ve missed you,” he moaned low in his throat as Frodo bent backwards like a reed. Cool air washed over him, long sweet notes penetrated the silence, dragging his senses into thoughtless bliss, closing his mind and opening his desires. Telling him what to do. “Sam...” Sam heard Frodo’s voice as if from the other side of sleep, a far distant shore, separated by sea. “Sam!” It was harder now, louder and it jumped into his conscious mind like the fall of an anvil. It hurt. Opening his eyes with a start, he drew away, his head whirling, as if he had just fallen through infinity and touched the cold, bright stars. He opened his fists and released Frodo, stepping back in blind amazement, wiping his mouth nervously, his eyes startled. What have you done now, Samwise? You took without askin’ – you pressed him for what you had no right to…The music had stopped and the door was open, a cold draught blew in from the passage. A dark figure stood on the threshold, watching, still and unblinking, a pipe dangling from his right hand. Frodo stumbled backwards, breathing hard and fast. He turned to Asher, a hectic flush upon his cheeks, his eyes glistening and bright. “Is he troubling you?” Asher asked Frodo, his eyes piercing Sam’s and holding him, breathless and shamed, running his hands through his tousled hair.“Frodo,” he gasped. “Please don’t send me away!”“Shall I throw him out?” Asher said, turning to Frodo, with a strange amusement in his eyes.“You’ve been eavesdropping!” Sam cried, a sudden defiant rage surging up in him, overriding his guilt. Frodo closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the desk. Asher pressed forwards into the room; his glimmering eyes fixed on Sam. “No more!” Frodo cried, suddenly, causing both hobbits to stop dead and listen. Sam’s heart pounded as he watched Asher’s eyes soften and grow vulnerable under Frodo’s anger, his strength and power abating, replaced by something utterly defenceless. “I’ll not have any more…of this,” Frodo continued, pausing for breath, his head bowed and defeated. “I am going to sleep in the parlour. Where you both sleep is your concern. I trust you will not kill one another in my absence.” As Frodo left the room he looked at Sam and the sorrow in his eyes was so marked that Sam felt it like a shaft shot through his heart and knew all of a sudden that he had made a grievous error. He stood for a moment, disbelieving, his body shaking with reaction. Then he made a swift resolution and headed for the door.“Crawling back to your hole?” Asher said, from behind.Sam swung back to face him. “Why don’t you just go – you ain’t wanted here!” he cursed, wildly careless of any danger. “Is that what your master says?” Asher replied, his soft voice slipping slowly through Sam’s mind like dark threads. “Is that his request?”Sam shook his head, “Nay, he’s too much a gentlehobbit to fling you out on your ear, but I ain’t – I see through you!”Asher shook his head. “No, Gardener, you see nothing. I’ve seen it all…”A cold fear stole through Sam’s body. “Leave us be,” he said, protecting the greatest glory of his life, his only concern now.Asher paused for a moment and then stepped closer, his voice trailing to a whisper. “You like tales, don’t you?” he said. “Well, I could tell some fine tales…” Sam shook his head, “No,” he said, stepping away. “What good would that do you?” “Little,” he agreed. “It would only cause pain.”“And why would you want to do us harm? We saved your life!” “Let him go.”“I’ll never let him go,” Sam said and his heart rang with the truth of it.“Let him go and you will free him from pain, you will save his life,” Asher said, pulling Sam against him firmly, Sam’s body was hard and protesting, twisting under his hands, angry tears welling in his eyes.“I love him – I don’t care who knows it!” Sam said, struggling to free himself, his face slipping against midnight blue silk, tears leaving marks of black, his quick breaths drawing in the warm intimate scent of the stranger’s skin. “But your master will be shunned. It will destroy him and you will have to leave your post in shame. Is that what you want? Surely it is better he leaves now and then none of this shall come to pass. For I’ve seen it and I know the harm it brings…” his voice rumbled through the rippling silk, burning Sam’s ears as he fought to free himself.“You wouldn’t do it!” Sam cried. “You’re a coward!” Asher let him go and watched as Sam struggled to catch his breath. “You don’t know me,” he said. “I won’t let him go no-where with you!” Sam cried vehemently. “Tomorrow I am taking him with me and we shall not return,” Asher stated. “It is what he wants.”“He’s said that?” Sam gasped, a cavern opening within his heart. “He is restless, don’t you see that?” Asher said. “This place is destroying him and you are trying to chain him to it – burying him alive.” Sam shook his head. “This is his home.”“This is a prison cell,” Asher replied. “He’s unhappy here, you know that.”“He’s lonely. I can make him happy,” Sam said, his voice thick with tears, his mind beginning to feel the deadening truth covering his hope with a blanket thick as the ice on the Water.“You see the truth at last,” Asher said. “You’re no fool – gardener. You want the best for Frodo.” Sam still shook his head, even as his heart came slowly to a painful resolution. “I don’t trust you,” he said. “If Frodo were with you I’d never sleep easy again.”“I would take good care of him – we’re like kin.”“You ain’t nothin’ like him! He’s good and fine and honourable and you’re … you’re nowt but a common trickster!” Sam shouted, his hands clenching into fists of rage. “Let him make his choice,” Asher replied coolly, walking slowly to the door. “He didn’t send me away – remember that.” Sam watched Asher leave, a blank despair settling in his heart as he watched the light flickering and guttering out, leaving him in darkness. ~~~Soft white sand sucks his toes deep deep down where the pearled shells lie buried. He can uncover them if he sinks a little further, pulls a little harder. They emerge, glimmering in the sunlight, radiant with soft colour, palest pink, orange and blue, all held within a cup of gold – the brilliance of which the sun can not diminish. He picks up the shell and runs his hands over the smoothness, the delicate tracery intriguing his fingers, giving his body a gentle pleasure. The sea breeze stirs him, his skin tingles under its whispering caress. The sea; it is ever present. Sometimes before, sometimes behind, sometimes within. It is his lover and his friend – it is his maker, his mother. It sings to him – eases his pains, makes him sigh and nestle into the sand, furled and complete. It makes him complete. When the veil falls, as it inevitably will, pulling him back, up and out of the water, gasping for air – he feels the vacancy – the emptiness that longs to be filled. The water rushes past his ears, roaring, spinning in a vortex, casting him up to where the cushions lie hard under his head, pressed against a damp, cold cheek. He raises his hand, touches his own face, realises, remembers…Here. The parlour. Asher and Sam sleeping in chairs, their faces soft in dreams, all anger and pain erased. All gone. Asher is leaving today. Sam is staying. I am staying. We will be alone once more, together. I have deceived Sam. Sam deserves better. I have betrayed Asher. I have deceived them both…“You’re awake?” Frodo raised his head and looked at Asher who lay half covered by a blue blanket, his eyes still bleary with sleep as he shook himself awake, glancing towards the peacefully sleeping gardener – who slept curled around himself, his head buried under his arm. “Sleep well?” Asher stretched and ran his hands through tangled braids. “I had dreams,” Frodo replied, sitting upright, his mind clearing and drawing back into focus. “Tell me.” Asher rose and sat down beside Frodo on the sofa.“I think I’d rather have some tea,” Frodo replied honestly.“Samwise is still asleep.”“I think I can manage,” Frodo replied, looking at Sam briefly, a stab of pure joy running through his veins at the sight of him.“I’ll help,” Asher replied. “I’ll find us some food.”“I don’t think you know what you’ve let yourself in for. The pantry’s bare.”“Don’t you worry, Frodo. I can make a meal from thin air.”“It will be most welcome, Asher,” Frodo said, following him out of the room and down the passage to the kitchen, leaving Sam to sleep. ~~~ When Frodo and Asher had breakfasted and consumed two large pots of tea between them, they sat back in their chairs and regarded one another curiously.“Why didn’t you send him away, Frodo?” Asher said suddenly, breaking the silence that hung heavy between them.“I don’t want to hurt him,” Frodo replied, trying to evade any deeper questioning.“You should dismiss him for that,” Asher observed, crossing his legs at the ankle. Frodo stood and moved over to the sink, tipping in water from the kettle and swirling it with his hand, hoping that his face betrayed nothing of the torment of his heart. “When are you going?” he asked lightly, piling plates into the water.“Soon, before the sun rises over the hill,” Asher replied. Then, after a short pause, he added. “Will you walk with me as far as the woods?”Frodo’s hands stilled and he looked down at the submerged cup under his hands, tealeaves dancing in the water, like tiny ants. “You want me to come?”“Just to the woods. I want to show you the secret path. I have a camp there, it’s a lonely place but I think you will like it.”Frodo paused for a moment, assessing. The lure of the open hills and the cold, clear air seemed to offer a few hours of release before he must face his future and the hurt in Sam’s eyes. “Yes, all right. I’ll walk with you to the woods,” Frodo replied, feeling he had some duty towards Asher, at least a gesture of friendship, for all that they had shared.“Good,” Asher said, leaping to his feet with a smile and bounding over to Frodo and hugging him from behind. “Thank you,” he whispered in Frodo’s ear. “You’re beautiful.”Frodo didn’t respond, but finished the washing up calmly as Asher disappeared to change back into his travelling clothes and boots. When he had finished, he made sure that there was enough breakfast left for Sam and then disappeared down the smial to gather his walking cloak and staff and attend to a few other small matters. Passing the parlour, he slipped in quietly and walked up to where Sam was still softly dreaming, heedless of time, a beautiful peace in his face where it rested, curved around his outstretched hand. Carefully, Frodo slipped a piece of parchment under his hand and then, being careful not to disturb him, trod silently out of the room, joining Asher in the hall, where he waited now fully dressed and booted and eager at the door.“Ready?” Asher said, raising a brow. “Yes,” Frodo replied. “Let us hurry, I want to be back before sundown.”Asher smiled as Frodo unlatched the door and stepped out into the sweet, cold air. There was a pale blue mist hanging over the garden, secretive and ghostly and the fields beyond were almost obscured from view. No one would see them; they would slip away quiet as elves in a silver twilight. At the end of the garden Frodo stopped at the gate and waited for a moment, not knowing why, only that he wanted to look at his home and see it clearly once more before he turned onto the road.“Coming, Frodo?” Hearing the call, Frodo moved to follow but as he turned away, he felt the smial calling to him, dragging him back like an irresistible tide. “Coming!” he shouted, pulling himself away and hurriedly following the trail of darkness in the grass, up over the hill and out into the mist. ~~~The first thing Sam noticed upon waking was the smell of the room. It smelt of old oak and soft well used leather, overlaid with ash and embers and damp. Remembering where he was, he sat up slowly, feeling his muscles lock and spasm as he uncurled himself from the chair. The second thing he became aware of was the silence. Although common enough for an early morning in Bag End, upon this occasion it filled Sam with foreboding, for there was not one sound in the smial, not even the creaking of the timbers or the ticking of a clock – nothing. Sam had sat up for most of the night, keeping watch over his master and a cautious eye on Asher – who had curled up in the hearthside seat opposite Frodo, sinking down into the warm folds as if staking his claim. Sam was indignant to find himself pushed to the shadows but was glad to be close at hand. Comforted that Frodo could come to no harm under the safekeeping of his silent vigil, he had relaxed into the soft leather chair and let his guard down for a moment to relax. He hadn’t meant to sleep at all, but somehow, in the darkness, listening to the soft breaths of the dreamers and watching the soothing trance of the flames, his pain had gradually abated and a quiet peace settled within him – a garden of sleep he could not resist and slowly he had entered and was lost. He slept heavily and nothing had woken until now, his hungry belly protesting that it was past dawn. Sam looked around. The room was empty. Blankets lay in a heap on the floor and cushions were scattered. There was a soft hollow in the sofa where Frodo had lain. Filled with a blind panic Sam raced hurtling down the smial.“Mr Frodo? Mr Frodo!” Calling until he was hoarse he stumbled into the kitchen and stopped and stared at the remains of breakfast that lay upon the wide table, a plate and a cup set for one. Slumping down in a chair, Sam’s head fell down onto the smooth, honey scented wood with a soft thud. He’s made his choice. He’s gone and there’s nowt you can do for him now.Sorrow made him translucent, a cold vessel that could never be filled. There was a damp warmth beneath his cheek; he smelt the beeswax, tasted salt in his mouth and something else, something soft and creased clenched in his fist. Slowly raising his wet face he looked down at what he held in his hand. Smoothing it out on the table, uncreasing, pressing down with his hands meticulously, he stared at the slanting script with vacant eyes.Please wait for me Sam. I’ll be back before sunset or else I am lost!He read the brief message fifty times before he was convinced. It was Frodo’s hand that much was certain and contained within it was the promise of hope. The last line, though ominous, did sound like the kind of thing written in jest and Sam could sense Frodo’s dark humour underlying the hastily scribbled words. Getting up and clasping the parchment against his face as if to inhale the good news, he made a solemn vow. Stay strong, Mr Frodo. Stay strong for me and I’ll be waiting here with a candle burning, ready to welcome you home. To be continued…