FIC: Hourglass - Chapter Four - Breaking Glass

I've just returned from a very drizzly week in Wales and I've managed to finish chapter four! Sorry for the long wait between chapters, but RL has been a beast, and I've been off line for a week. I hope you enjoy this latest installment and I promise that the next few chapters will follow more swiftly.Thanks for your patience! :DFIC: Hourglass - Chapter Four - Breaking GlassAUTHOR: IgrainePAIRING: F/S F/OCRATING: NC-17 - this part is PG-13SUMMARY: Frodo is treading a dangerous path but can Sam hold onto what isn't his?DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to JRR Tolkien. I make no money and promise to return them unharmed.CHAPTER FOUR- Breaking GlassThe parlour glowed the colour of old honey, crystallised in the jar and a thick, sweet warmth, curled around his cold body and drew him in. Frodo lay on the carpet beside the couch, his eyes heavy lidded with sleep, one hand resting on the patterns of diamonds and flowers and the other curved around the shadow of the hobbit that lay beside him, his head now thrown back against the arm of the couch. Dark hair hung across chestnut, light over darkness, white skin cradling the echo of brown. No other soul was in the room, only the life in the fire and the leaping candle’s flame. The silence was so pronounced; it seemed to Sam that if he were to enter he would first have to break through glass. Slowly, Frodo lifted his head and looked at Sam with a clear blue gaze that seemed to pass right through him and out of the window beyond. Sam felt a sudden lurch of fear.“Mr Frodo, where are the others?” he asked, his throat tight.Frodo clambered to his feet and seemed to visibly shake himself awake. “They’ve gone, Sam. I don’t know where – they left him behind, with me…”“When are they coming back?” Sam asked, alarm twisting his hands into fists.“Before Yule, two weeks, perhaps.”“Two weeks! And you’re left to – to care for him alone?” “Well, so it would seem.” Frodo sounded a little terse and his fingers rippled through his hair and straightened his shirt cuffs abstractedly.Sam frowned, his master seemed ill at ease and Sam was desperate for a moment alone with him, he had been longing for it all day and now the hour was growing late he was beginning to feel the precious time slipping through his hands. He looked behind him at the open doorway and heard the rustlings in the hallway where the healer was warming her feet. “Mr Frodo…” he began, laying a hand briefly upon Frodo’s arm. Frodo looked up at Sam in surprise. Sam stopped, took a breath and then stepped backwards, his body trembling. “Shall I put the kettle on?” he said, softly, reigning back tears of frustration.“I think that would be useful,” Frodo replied, looking down at his creased shirtfront. Then he raised his eyes once more to catch Sam within a gaze so stormy and dark, it nearly made Sam choke and he would have touched Frodo again, if he hadn’t already withdrawn to such a great distance. “Is the patient within, Mr Baggins?” The healer stepped over the threshold and, instantly, they both drew apart as surely as if a chasm had opened up between them and left them stranded.~ ~ ~ Sam was stirring dried flowers of camomile into a pot of hot water, breathing in the bitter steam as he curled the spoon around the base of the big brown pot, creating little vortices and ripples, allowing the infusion to strengthen.Camomile would ease his sleep, as the sage bath would relax his muscles and the soft linens soothe his tender skin. His master’s best, from the oak chest in his master’s room, lavender scented and soft as eiderdown. They had slipped the clean, cream brushed cotton over his head as they held him between them, such a slight weight, despite his height. He had been awake, his eyes flashed over Frodo’s face carelessly, but he hadn’t troubled to speak. The healer had prescribed camomile to ease his sleep and she had laid him in the guest bed, all newly made with white sheets as crisp as the snow that lay sparkling on the window ledge. The fire was banked to last the night and a lamp was set close against the bed so that he wouldn’t take fear if he woke with fever. Frodo had listened carefully to every word, nodding in understanding. The healer would stay overnight in the little room across the hall where Mr Pippin slept whenever he came to stay. It was so small that Pippin could walk his legs up and down the opposite wall if he stretched himself across the tiny bed, which was more like a cradle than ought and spread with a patchwork quilt of green and gold. She would be there in case of serious alarm, otherwise, she said, she’d be glad of a good night’s rest. Frodo was with him now. He said he would be happier to stay, disregarding the healer’s insistence that the patient would be well enough without such attentions. But Frodo was firm and no one argues with Mr Frodo when he has his mind set on a thing, so she had backed out of the room, muttering to herself and shaking her head, resigned that the gentlefolk would do as they would, foolish or no. Frodo had drawn a chair close against the bedside and sat down with a book, reading by the poor lamplight and Sam had been left with no choice but to turn and leave the room. Somehow it seemed that amidst the confusion of the day, they had lost sight of one another and had become estranged. “Is it done?”Sam turned, startled at the sudden rent in his thoughts. The healer stood in the doorway, eyeing Sam with bright, curious eyes.“Nearly,” Sam replied, putting the lid on the pot and warming his hands upon it.“That’s good,” she said. “He’ll be less trouble to your Mr Frodo if he’s asleep.”Sam’s eyes snapped open and he turned to the old hobbit easing herself down into a chair. “What do you mean?” he said. “Only that trouble follows trouble. Foolish acts lead to foolish acts. It would be better for your master if the stranger rests and leaves with the sunrise.”“Will he be well?” Sam asked, surprised.“Well enough – he’s just taken chill. The brew I gave him will take care of that and the sleep will settle his fears, no doubt he will be good enough for the road.”Sam began to pour a cup of tea and then, after a moments hesitation, laid out two more cups and filled them also, the ochre liquor as it passed, steaming into the thick green mugs, made his head swim unpleasantly. When they were full he passed a cup to the healer and set the other two on a tray to take into the guestroom. She thanked him and blew on it, veiling her face in steam.“But what if he means to stay?” Sam said slowly, watching the steam wreathing around her head like a coil of rope. “Mr Frodo mentioned two weeks – his brothers have left without him.”“Then you must be vigilant, Samwise - be cautious, be attentive – draw him away if he moves too close. They’re an old family, Samwise, and they’ve moved over many lands and learned many tricks along the way. They are charmed but perilous all the same. Never trust ‘em, Samwise.”“I don’t much care for that kind of talk,” Sam said sternly. “I’ve met many the same and they’ve been solid enough and never stolen naught nor cut me short. Besides, they could play music like I’ve never heard since – wonderful, it was!” She sipped at her tea and laughed low in her throat. “Oh yes, their music can charm the birds from the trees, sure enough.”“Mr Frodo ain’t no fool, he’ll see through any funny business. Meanwhile, I’ll help take care of him and ask around for the others - they can’t have gone far. I’ll tell them he’s well enough and ready to take the road.”“If you say so,” she said, her eyes twinkling above the rim of her mug. “I’ll just carry this through – I’ll bid you goodnight,” he said, nodding his head and taking the tray in his heads with a firmness that brooked no more arguments. The healer put down her mug and rose to her feet.“Aye, aye – I’ll be off – goodnight young Samwise, I’ll be gone in the morn if all’s well.”Sam was just about to leave the room when there was a sharp, hurried tapping at the back door. “Who can this be at this time of night?” Sam put down the tray once more and unlatched the back door, letting in the cold blast of the winter’s night. “Daisy – is that you?”“Aye – let me in, Sam!” Sam held wide the door and Daisy entered the room, moving close against the stove, nodding at the healer in respectful silence and shivering in her wet woollen cloak. Her brown curls were decorated with snowflakes and her hands were red, where they clasped her cloak at the neck. Sam closed the door and stood before her, his face serious and set, knowing where his duty lay even before the words passed his lips. “It’s dad?”Daisy nodded, sniffing. “Aye, he’s worsening, Sam. Mari and me well, we didn’t know what to do for him and we thought the healer might be up here with that poor lad and we hoped you’d come!”“You keep warm, Daisy, you look half frozen. I’ll go and talk with Mr Frodo.”Sam took up the tray and left the room, a hardness settling like ice within his heart, shielding him from the pain of loss.~ ~ ~ Frodo hadn’t moved for over an hour. Sitting in the flickering lamplight his eyes skimmed lines of blank verse, rendered utterly meaningless by twenty readings, familiar words fragmenting into nonsense. Asher lay in the bed beside him, curled beneath the sheets like a comma, his black hair spread upon the pillow, a darkly rolling wave, and yet Frodo wasn’t certain if he was truly sleeping, for as Frodo sat and tried to read, he was aware of sense of scrutiny. In the echoing quiet, even his most intimate thoughts seemed exposed and his eyes would flicker fitfully to the young hobbit again and again, hoping to catch those other eyes alert and staring, but always, there was the semblance of sleep and soft dreaming and no reason to believe otherwise. A soft rain broke against the window and the fire sizzled and flared in the draught from the chimney. Frodo shivered and shuffled down in his chair, wondering what was taking Sam so long with the tea. It was with relief that he saw the shadows lengthening on the wall and the hall light seeping over the floor, reaching his feet. He lifted his head and let out a heavy sigh as Sam pushed quietly into the room, a tray balanced in his hands, backing in with careful tread, trying not to make too much noise. Frodo nodded to the chest of drawers and Sam settled the tray on top, peering at the patient as he took up two mugs, one in each hand and indicated the sleeper with a nod of his head. Frodo shook his head and stood up, relieving Sam of one of the mugs and whispering for Sam to place the other close beside the bed. Sam’s solid presence seemed at once to dissipate the strange atmosphere that had been building in the room like a bank of cloud. Frodo felt relieved and put out a grateful hand, squeezing Sam’s shoulder gently and affectionately. Sam seemed to draw a deep, strengthening breath and when he exhaled Frodo could feel it trickling warmly past his ear, making him want to catch it quickly within his own mouth – comforting and reviving. Such a kiss would dispel any half-formed desires that may have been awakened in the hours between their last meeting. Forgetting himself, he raised a hand and gently rippled his fingers through the curls that hung heavy at the nape of Sam’s neck, provoking soft shudders. “Mr Frodo…” Sam sounded uncertain, so Frodo stepped back and let his hand fall, seeing at once the heaviness in Sam’s limbs and the sorrow in his eyes. “What is it?” Frodo asked and the fear flared within him as he faced the prospect of a withdrawal. “I have to go home, sir.” Sam’s voice was flat and toneless and Frodo’s heart lurched at the loss of the warmth he craved. “Oh, of course…” Frodo began, looking down at the pool of light on the floor, “It’s late, I’ve kept you long enough.”Sam spoke hurriedly, “It’s dad, he’s been took bad and Daisy’s been up to fetch me home.”“Then you must go, Sam.”Sam paused for a moment as if searching for words, his feet shuffling restlessly on the carpet. When he finally spoke, his voice was thin and unsteady, “I’m sorry I missed the five o’clock. I wanted to come…”“It’s all right.” Frodo spoke quickly, a dismissal. “I would’ve come…”“I understand,” Frodo held open the door. “You need to take care of your family, I’ll be fine. You get off home, Sam. But please make time to rest, you look tired.”Sam stood on the threshold. He looked up at Frodo with unspoken questions still unanswered in his wide, hazel eyes. “Goodnight then, sir,” he said, unable to move, his feet seemingly rooted to the floorboards. “Goodnight, Sam.”Frodo watched Sam thoughtfully, wondering how many excuses he had been practising and how many had been rejected before this one arose. Sam was sorry for it, that much was clear, but the unease was obvious even as he nodded his final, hesitant farewell and turned down the passage, flaring in and out of the lamplight, until he was absorbed into the deep well of shadow that lay beyond the kitchen door. When Sam’s footsteps finally died away, Frodo closed the door and turned back into the fire lit room, resigned to his future, feeling the vastness of it opening up before him as he sat down once more beside the bed. As he settled himself once more to read, he felt again the flickering unease and his heartbeat caught up the erratic rhythm, shortening his breath and breaking his concentration. He rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head as a great heavy wave of exhaustion washed over him. Reaching over to grasp the abandoned mug of tea, he glanced towards the bed and saw, with a leap of alarm, that he was being watched. Black eyes, as black as pools of ink and alive with inquisitiveness and brilliance, tiny flames breaking and dividing inside the swelling circle of each wide pupil, hypnotising, dark lashes framing slanting lids half parted, drowsy and heavy. Frodo was caught and captured, mouth startled in a gasp, his hand upon the warm curve of the mug, hovering, slipping on air. “Hello,” Asher spoke softly; pushing a lock of dark hair behind one sharply pointed ear.Frodo stared blankly for a moment, recovering his wits, untangling his tongue. He looked at the mug that sat half captured. “Would you like a drink?” he said, offering it.Shifting in the bed, the stranger dragged himself half upright, shoving a pillow behind his back and coughing hoarsely into his hand. Frodo passed the mug over carefully, feeling cool fingers brushing for a moment against his own. Asher nodded and smiled briefly, still watching Frodo from beneath long lashes as he took long thirsty sips. When he had drained the mug, he passed it back and Frodo took it and held it in his hands. “Thank you, Frodo,” he said, wiping his long, curving mouth with the back of his hand.Frodo was a little startled at the mention of his name, but said nothing about it – sitting down on the chair, unable to drag his eyes away from the dark thrall of the hobbit’s face. Intrigued and afraid, he watched as the other regarded him with open curiosity. “You live alone?” Asher said, looking around the shadowed room. “Yes,” Frodo replied, running his fingers along the ridges of the mug he still cradled. Suddenly caught up in a paroxysm of coughing, Asher bent forwards and the quiet solemnity was broken and overtaken by more mundane concerns. Frodo rose and made to wake the healer –alarmed at the ferocity of the attack. But Asher held out a hand and Frodo stopped in the middle of the room, frozen and undecided. “It’s all right – don’t call her,” he whispered, between breaths. “You’re not well,” Frodo replied, feeling the weight of responsibility settling once more on his shoulders and half hoping for respite. But the young hobbit was shaking his head and beckoning him back. “You’re certain?” Frodo asked. “Yes – come back.”“Is there anything you need?” Asher shook his head and fought for breath. After a moment he spoke, in quite a different voice, soft as a young fauntling. “Have they gone?” he said. “Your brothers left – they said they would come back for you,” Frodo replied.Asher seemed to accept the situation and relaxed once more against the pillows. “So it’s you and me, then?” he said, quirking a brow. Frodo smiled and sat down on the chair, fiddling with the lamp to distract himself from the awkwardness he felt. How could he share his home with a stranger? One who seemed to hold the key to so many secret longings and to so much that made him feel afraid? Asher coughed once more. “And one other – who has gone?”Frodo’s heart dipped. “Sam,” he said. “Sam…” Asher replied, his lilting voice curling the name around his tongue musically. There was a moment’s silence and then Asher leaned over and looked down at the books on the floor. “Shall we tell tales?” he said, catching Frodo’s eye.“Do you like to read?” Frodo asked, his curiosity sparking.“From my mind,” Asher replied, tapping his temple lightly. “From memory?”“We find little use for books.”“Then you’re a true storyteller,” Frodo said, eagerly, “Such as my uncle. He loved his books but he relished the telling of a tale by heart more than anything, the weaving of words from his own imagination was better than any book upon a library shelf!”Asher smiled and he looked at once younger and softer. “He held a captive audience?”“He did - they would hang on his every word!”“A true storyteller!” Asher said, admiringly. “Yes – he was…” “You miss him.”“Yes, I do. He was a wonderful hobbit.” Frodo felt his soul yearning to be opened, delighting in the opportunity to share in the memories that he treasured, sudden joy overwhelming his trepidation. “I have heard tell of him,” Asher said.“You have heard of my uncle?” “Bilbo Baggins of Bag End. Not much misses our ears – news flows through Bree as swift as the tides.”“You come from Bree?” Frodo sat forward with interest, feeling a thrill at the possibility that he might gain news of Bilbo. “We have a settlement there – we travel through the festivals but always return to the Greenway. All of Middle-earth can be heard along the old road, if you put your ear to the ground and listen.”“And you saw him? You saw Bilbo?” Frodo asked, his eyes luminous.Asher smiled as he watched Frodo, a fond expression of baffled pleasure on his face. “We did, briefly.”“Was he well?” “Well enough.”“Did he speak to you? Did he tell you where he was going?” Frodo asked, heedless of the need for restraint, with the relief of hearing that Bilbo had been seen. “He passed through quietly, heading for the woods of the world. He told no stories.”“He was alone?”“Yes.”“There were no elves?”“Elves don’t come close to Bree, Frodo.”Frodo was silent a moment, feeling the weight of ignorance settling upon him. “But he was in no danger?” he said.“We are all in danger.”“Bilbo…”“None was on his heels, we saw only one shadow as he slipped along the road.”Frodo took a shaky breath and tried to calm his breathing. “Don’t fear for your kin, Frodo. He’s a bold adventurer, isn’t he?” “He was once, a long time ago.”“He returned home with great treasures and his name remembered in tales.”“Yes, but he is old now and he travels alone.”“There are those that will guide him home. The old paths are not unguarded yet, the borders are protected.”“But you said there was danger – that we are all in danger?” Frodo said, urgently, staring hard into fierce eyes.Asher sighed and closed his eyes as if unable to withstand the burning questions that flared in Frodo’s gaze. “I’m sorry – I’m tiring you. I will leave you to sleep,” Frodo said. “You don’t have to go,” Asher said, holding out a hand and grasping his shirtsleeve as Frodo bent to pick up the pile of books that lay on the floor.Frodo looked at the slender brown hand and spoke softly, “You should sleep.”Asher sighed and collapsed back against the pillows, his face showing signs of strain as he coughed deep in his throat. “You’ll come and talk with me tomorrow?” he asked, his eyes flickering open once more. “Yes,” Frodo replied. “Call out if you need anything in the night.”Asher nodded and closed his eyes and Frodo turned down the lamp so that it burned with a low orange glow. Then he turned and stepped slowly towards the door.“Sam – is he your lover?”The voice startled Frodo and his body shook so violently that the books nearly slid from his arms. Taking a deep unsteady breath, he faced the tunnel of the lamplit passage. “No,” he said and left the room, leaving the door ajar. To be continued…