FIC: Hourglass - Chapter Seven - Staring at the Sun

Here we go again. Chapter seven has given me some headaches this week - so it's no wonder poor Frodo's feeling a bit under the weather. Much as I would have liked for Sam to come in with all guns blazing - putting things to rights - I fear there is a little way to go before this situation can be neatly resolved. BTW - I thought I ought to add that I'm not putting this fic through beta before posting - so there are most likely many grammar mistakes in there. These are entirely my own. I will require a beta at some point, but I'd like to get it all written first. I like to write quick, without too much rewriting and then hone it down. I hope all the errors aren't too distracting! Edited to add - this fic has now betaed by the lovely blackbird_song and I have edit-posted up the new version. Thanks for reading! :)TITLE: Hourglass - Chapter Seven - Staring at the SunAUTHOR: IgrainePAIRING: F/S F/OCRATING: NC-17 - This chapter is rated PG-13TIMELINE: Pre-questSUMMARY: Frodo is drawn onto dangerous paths. But how can Sam protect what isn't his?DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to JRR Tolkien. I promise to return them unharmed. I make no money.CHAPTER SEVEN – Staring at the SunOn the outside once again, hammering to be heard, Sam held blindly to his resolution, even as his heart grieved to be once more seeking admittance to the place that held his heart in thrall. Looking for signs of life, he peered in at the darkened windows, but all he could see was the curve of the wall at the mouth of the passage, flickering in and out of fitful shadow, beckoning and seducing him in turn. Sam gritted his teeth in frustration, biting down waves of jealousy. He may as well have been looking into the hourglass once again, full of yearning, watching the silver garden forming grain by grain until it was complete. It left him lonely and aching to enter that forbidden world where time stood still and hours had no meaning. Within the glass there was a remote, timeless beauty that seemed eternal as it sparkled in his hand, but with the brief pressure of Frodo’s hand on his shoulder, he had known that his time had run out and he must put the precious thing down on the mantle piece and take his leave. Dutiful and silent, he put down everything that meant anything to him. But not anymore, even if he had to sit down on the doorstep and be soaked to the skin, he would not put these feelings back and leave them to gather dust.Rain pouring off his curls into his eyes, mingling with bitter tears, Sam pounded until his fists were sore, hearing the echoes resounding off the walls, carrying shock waves down the hall and along the passage. After what seemed like hours, Sam sat down in defeat, the rain running through his fingers as they lay splayed on the cold stone, he watched as little rivulets formed and dispersed, seeking other paths. Half slumped with his back against the door, he was totally unprepared when the door was suddenly pulled open from within and he found himself tumbling face down upon the polished hall floor, his torso tangled over the threshold, whilst his feet were still soles upwards in the rain. Taking a breath, he slowly raised his head, blinking the water from his eyes and what he saw made his heart grind to a standstill. Asher held the lamp high in his hand, casting half his face in darkness and lengthening his shadow so that it slid off to the right like the tail of a cloak. His eyes were dark with mistrust as they looked down at Sam spread-eagled on the floor in a pool of rain. “What are you doing here?” he said, his eyes piercing something in Sam that shrank away from their touch. Sam slowly got to his feet, something setting hard within him, strong and impenetrable. “I want to see Mr Frodo,” Sam replied.“Don’t you know what time it is?” Asher replied, a twist of irritation in his voice. “Aye,” Sam said, striding forwards.Asher stepped into his path and thrust out the blazing lamp, making Sam step backwards to avoid the hot glass. “Your master is sleeping,” Asher said, his voice soft but unyielding. “You shouldn’t disturb him when he is sleeping – it would be an unpardonable offence, wouldn’t it?”Sam shook his head. “I wouldn’t disturb him if it weren’t needful.” “And what’s so important that it won’t last the night?” Asher continued, “The garden won’t wither in eight hours nor the smial crumble into the hill.” Asher stepped forwards, towering over Sam. “Go back and look after your own.”“Mr Frodo is my own.” The words passed his lips before he was even aware he had conjured them and the shock of them was evident on both their faces. Asher’s skin washed pale and a bright spark was ignited in his eyes. Sam saw it and it filled him with foreboding. “Go home, now,” Asher said and his voice was firmer now and held within it an unnamed threat. But Sam was determined that he would not go without seeing that Frodo was well. “Let me pass,” Sam persisted, pushing against Asher’s hip, forcing his shorter frame through the gap between the stranger and the wall. Asher pushed against him more insistently and span Sam round so that he was pressed with his back tight to the panelling, which dug uncomfortably into his skin. Holding his breath, Sam felt his courage waver for a moment as the young hobbit took hold of his collar and forced his head back against the wall, holding the fabric tight in a trembling fist. “Go home, Samwise,” he whispered, causing a jolt of fear to ripple through Sam’s body. Black eyes bored into his. “What were you doing,” Sam said, his voice quavering and choked, “wandering about the smial at night?”“That’s none of your concern,” Asher replied, “don’t go getting yourself into trouble, gardener.”“Loose your hold – you ain’t going to harm me,” Sam said, clutching his throat and feeling the hand there relaxing and slipping down his chest. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” Asher said, looking at his hand in horror as if he could hardly believe what it was capable of. “No – I ain’t,” Sam replied and pushed his body free, causing Asher to stumble back across the hall, the lamp set on the floor behind sending his shadow dancing across the beams, as if fleeing for its life. Both catching their breath, they faced one another across a pool of light, turning as one to the sound of a door latch clicking open. Frodo stepped out into the passage, a candle in one hand, his nightshirt glowing moon white in the aureole of light. He stood for a moment and stared into the hall, silent and grave. “Sam?” Frodo said, “You’re here.”“I am, Mr Frodo,” Sam replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought that I would look in and see that all was well, as I hadn’t been up today. I’m sorry it should be so late…”“What time is it?” Frodo asked, looking for all the world as if had just returned from another realm and forgotten his own name. “It’s just after twelve. Well, that would be my reckoning,” Sam stated confidently.“Been studying the stars?” Asher said, an amused smile playing across his face as he looked down at his own long and slender feet, turning them this way and that. Frodo yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Well, if we are all to be up at this hour, at least let’s sit down comfortably in the warm.” Glancing towards Sam, Frodo started. “Sam! What’s happened to you? You’re wet through!”Sam glanced down at his wet coat and dripping feet. “Sorry, Mr Frodo, I’ve made a mess of the floor, an’ all.”“Come on through into the kitchen and get yourself warm, never mind the floor.” Frodo insisted, turning down the passage. “Been in the river too, Sam?” Asher whispered, his eyes darting up to scorch Sam.“I ain’t no fool,” Sam said quietly.Asher looked aslant. “Nor am I, Gardener,” he said and turned down the passage, pacing in and out of shadow until he disappeared out of sight.He thinks he owns the place – he thinks he owns my Frodo…Sam stooped to pick up the lamp. The glass was now blackened with soot and he turned down the wildly blazing wick carefully before following after, his heart resigned to wait. ~ ~ ~ Frodo rested his back against the kitchen wall, his head swimming. He came – he came to me…if only it had been five o’clock – all would have been different. But it is too late – too late. Oh, Sam, why didn’t you come before?There wasn’t much time to still the racing of his heart and gather his wits as the guilt and confusion crept over his skin. Biting his nails anxiously, he wandered over to the hearth and sat down, the horrifying awkwardness of the situation caving in around him. Oh, Sam, how I longed for you…But now – now he had done what he had done, surely he had given up all rights to Sam’s heart. Not that he had ever had any in the first place; no, Sam’s heart belonged to the innocent earth. “Why?” Frodo looked up as Asher looked down at him, his eyes searching and needful as they raked Frodo’s own, his hands covering his, pulling them away from his mouth. “Why, Frodo?”Frodo shook his head and sat down on one of the chairs, profoundly shocked and trembling in every limb. “Are you cold?” Asher asked and looked about him for something. Spying a cloak hanging on a peg by the back door, he walked over and grabbed it, throwing it over Frodo’s shoulders just as Sam walked into the room, flooding the darkened room with light. Frodo saw it. The look of hurt that washed over Sam’s soft, open face, a face that hid nothing. Frodo had to close his eyes, a headache thundering beneath. “Come and get warm, Sam,” he said softly. But Sam didn’t move, only stared at Frodo. He could feel Sam’s gaze even as he chased the little dancing lights. “Have you eaten?” Sam said. Frodo slowly opened his eyes once more, the shock of light making his pupils shrink to nothing. “You always get headaches when you don’t eat, Mr Frodo.” Sam said, a solemn vulnerability in his voice. Frodo smiled softly through the pain. “You always know when I have a headache.” “You can’t bear the light,” Sam said, tears thick in his throat.“No, you’re right, I can’t…” Frodo said, dropping his head into his hands.“Neither can you take your drink,” Asher said, dropping down in the chair opposite Frodo and looking straight at Sam. Frodo saw Sam flinch, even as he moved over to the pantry, intent on his purpose, pretending not to hear, but the words went in, Frodo could feel them flying like arrows through the air – hitting their mark. “You don’t need to do that, Sam,” Frodo protested, as he craned his neck to see Sam returning from the pantry with an armful of eggs and bacon.“Why not, it’s my job?” Sam said stubbornly, “And the best thing for a hangover.”Frodo fell back into his chair, closing his eyes against the thudding pain, the very idea of food causing his stomach to lurch violently. He wouldn’t stop him, it seemed Sam needed to do this and he didn’t want to have to send him away, not with the hurt still swimming in his eyes. “How is your Gaffer, Sam?” Frodo asked, determined to break the uncomfortable silence.Sam turned from breaking eggs into the pan. “Better – he’ll be on his feet soon enough. I should be back at work tomorrow, sir.”Frodo felt Asher watching him, assessing his reaction. “It will be good to have you back,” he said, honestly, even as his stomach tied itself in knots and his heart thundered. He raised his eyes to Sam’s gentle smile and felt Asher’s foot curling possessively around his ankle.He remembered how he had seduced Sam with the same caress and shivered at the memory of their touches, the meaning of which still eluded him. Only the assertion of his own love and his failure to express it, ran clear in his mind, like a cold, dark river. A hopeless journey, for Sam could not return such a love. It belonged to this other hobbit now, this stranger, who could possess every inch of his body and even lay claim to his soul, but left his heart cold. “There you are, Mr Frodo. Try and eat something,” Sam handed Frodo a plate of fried bacon and eggs piled on a thick wedge of crisp golden bread. Frodo looked down at it in dismay.“I’m sorry, Sam. I can’t eat this,” Frodo said, closing his eyes to block out the sight of Sam’s tenderly prepared meal. “Then can I have it? It looks good,” Asher said, leaning forwards to take the plate from Frodo’s lap.Sam frowned and stepped between them. “That’s for Mr Frodo,” he said.“Sorry, Sam. I’m sorry you’ve gone to such a lot of trouble, I just don’t think I can. It’s better Asher has it – I wouldn’t want it to go to waste. Anyway, I owe him a meal.”Asher smiled, accepting the plate and fork from Frodo’s hands. “Well, I didn’t like to say anything, but I could eat a horse, well, several horses, actually.” Asher took a large mouthful, his eyes on Sam. “And maybe a few cows.”Sam walked back to the corner and rustled about with the teapot, warming and measuring, trying not to watch his warm gesture of faithfulness being devoured by a cocksure hobbit with his feet on the fender. Frodo curled up in his chair and despite his anxiety, began to feel once more the warm waves of sleep washing over him, recollecting the strange and powerful dreams that had woken him earlier, bathed in a cold sweat. They had seemed to come from a part of his consciousness so deep and intimate it felt like looking directly at the sun - somehow capable of doing him great and immeasurable harm. He fell asleep so easily tonight, as if he had taken a sleeping draught – staying awake was an unbearable strain and yet he was frightened to leave these two together and knew he must not allow himself to relax completely. Asher used his last piece of bread to mop his plate clean, finished it up and then put the plate down on the floor beside his chair. “So, you’re well enough, then?” Sam said, picking it up with a frown. Asher smiled. “Well enough...”“Then you will be moving on soon?” Sam asked lightly, his voice betraying his doubt.Asher’s smile broadened and he stretched out in his chair. “Yes, tomorrow, as it happens. I won’t be outstaying my welcome.” A flicker of relief passed over Sam’s face and his shoulders relaxed over the pot sink. “Your family coming back for you?” Sam asked, trying not to sound interested.“No,” Asher said and Frodo’s eyes flashed open.“You’re meeting with your brothers on the road?” Sam asked, wiping the plate clean.“No,” Asher smiled, closing his eyes. Frodo sat forwards in his chair. “But they will want to know where you are!” he cried, Kern’s dark words still ringing in his ears… He’s in your charge. I’m trusting you, Mr Baggins. Remember that? Aye – I’m trusting you.“Probably,” Asher replied.“They’ve been at the Ivy Bush, causing some trouble, so I’ve heard,” Sam said, scrupulously scrubbing the frying pan.“And what have you heard?” Asher said. “You convince your master here that I’m a thief – he’s already insinuated it near enough!”Frodo shook his head, longing for Asher to keep quiet, wanting Sam to go home, desperate to keep him safe. “Well, all I can say is there are some that would say they were made a fool of,” Sam said, carefully, stacking plates.“Fools are born, not made,” Asher replied.Sam dried his hands and walked over to the hearth carrying three mugs of tea. “Sit down, Sam, you’ve done quite enough,” Frodo replied, longing for Sam to make his excuses, despite the comfort of his presence.“Thank you, sir,” Sam replied and settled himself at Frodo’s feet. Asher looked down at Sam, his eyes glittering in the firelight, his toes tapping to an invisible tune. “Do you have any music in this place?” he said. Sam looked up at Frodo, wondering how he could live with such a mannerless creature. “You play?” Frodo asked, interest sparking in his eyes.“I do, we all do,” Asher replied. “We’re blessed in that way.” “I’ve often thought it would be a wonderful thing to make music,” Frodo said. “I’ve tried a pipe, but could only make a sound like the wind.”Asher laughed. “That’s common enough.” “We have a pipe somewhere,” Frodo said. “Bilbo used to play on it from time to time.”“In the top cupboard on the left of the fireplace in the study,” Sam said, unable to resist, even though his eyes betrayed his discomfort.“Sam! You know this smial better than me,” Frodo said, amazed.Sam shrugged and walked out the room to retrieve the well concealed treasure. “Been here long enough, sir,” he shouted, “Ought to know it all by now.”“He doesn’t miss a trick, does he?” Asher whispered to Frodo when they were once again alone.“You’re really going tomorrow?” Frodo said leaning across and putting a hand on Asher’s knee. “You have to go so soon?”“I would rather go before they come for me,” Asher said. “I don’t want them to follow.”“But what shall I say – should they come?” Frodo said, fear lurching in his heart and desperate need curling his hand on Asher’s knee, clutching at safety.Asher laid his hand over Frodo’s and stroked it lightly with his fingers. “I told you I was going away and that you would have to wait. But I won’t forget you Frodo, I never forget a promise.”Asher leaned forwards and laid his lips lightly over Frodo’s, tracing them with his tongue then pulling away; sitting back heavily as Sam re-entered the room. Frodo trembled, unable to resist, even though his heart was torn in two and sick with the need to be close to his Sam. Sam gave Asher the pipe and Asher took it in his fingers, dancing them up and down the silken wood, admiringly. “A good piece - what would you have me play?” he asked.Sam looked at Frodo and Frodo collapsed back on his cushions sighing. “Anything you please,” he said. “Surprise us.”Sam settled himself once more at Frodo’s feet, his hair crinkling up by the warmth of the fire, golden where the curls had dried, darker underneath. Frodo looked down and had to restrain his fingers from resting where they desired, soft on the nape of Sam’s neck. Frodo watched Sam’s eyes closing as Asher put the pipe to his lips and breathed a soft note into the air. The room seemed to embrace it and hold it steady as it grew wings and took flight, followed by another and another. Beautiful and sad, it was, and full of inexpressible longing. Frodo watched Sam shivering and Frodo’s eyes welled with tears. Notes hung in the air like butterflies, hovering and drifting, fluttering out into the darkness, where they faded to echoes. When the last note died - circles of diminishing sound spreading like rings in dark water, Sam seemed to fall back into himself, just as once he had done in Frodo’s arms, sobbing his climax. “That was the finest music I ever heard,” Sam said, his voice small in the air that was still reverberating with the beating of wings.“That was beautiful, Asher, thank you,” Frodo said, watching as the dark hobbit gently laid the pipe across his knee, stroking it softly as though it were alive. Sam looked up at his master. “Mr Frodo, may I speak with you alone?” he said, breathless and quiet. Frodo felt a jolt of fear and looked across at Asher. “Frodo’s tired, he needs to go to bed,” Asher said, looking at Sam with hard possessiveness in his eyes. “It won’t take long, sir,” Sam continued, ignoring Asher, his eyes wide with supplication. Why now, Sam? I don’t know if I can bear it. Both your leaving or your love would break me to pieces…But it seemed Sam would not be denied and despite Asher’s dark looks, Frodo rose to his feet. “The study?” he said, determined not to set one foot in the parlour. Sam nodded and followed Frodo to the door. “Why don’t you go to bed, Asher?” Frodo said, looking back at the other hobbit, who was pouring himself a drink from the wine bottles on the shelf. “I will wait, Frodo,” he said and raised the glass to his lips. To be continued…