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Aug. 31st, 2004 05:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603Previous chapters:
Under the Starlight 1: Gossip
Under the Starlight 2: Fireworks
Title: Under the Starlight: Silvery Light
Author: Claudia
Rating: G through R (?)
Summary: This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time and only just gotten the courage to try -- it will be a tale that goes from pre-quest through post-quest, from a variety of viewpoints. There will be slash, but there will be warnings on slashy chapters so that if slash isn’t your cuppa, you can pass on those chapters. Basically I’m just filling in some gaps in the book and hoping it comes out all right! ;-)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them.
Frodo opened his eyes, his heart heavy like a boulder sunk deep inside. He lay in bed under the covers, staring up at the ceiling, fully awake. Leafy shadows, brought to life by silvery moonlight and a stiff breeze, flickered on the walls. There was no sound but the distant croak of frogs and chirping of crickets.
Gone.
The dream had been disturbing enough but to wake and find some of it to be true caused the boulder inside to sink deeper.
In the dream, Frodo had been but a bystander. Bilbo had tottered along a pathway in the woods. He hummed, fluttering his handkerchief in one hand, his walking stick in another, walking along at a spry pace. No dwarves were anywhere in sight, which Frodo found odd, since they had planned to travel together for a time. The path grew precipitous, and it dropped down on one side to a raging river. On the other side, a cliff reared up to unknown heights.
Bilbo stumbled, let out a startled cry, and he tumbled into the rushing waters of the river. Frodo yelled for help, but nobody could hear him, since he was not really part of the dream. He could only watch in helpless horror as his dear cousin struggled to stay above surface.
Frodo now climbed out of bed, rubbing his chilly fingers together and trembling. He did not bother to light candles as he dressed, donned his cloak, and slipped out of Bag End.
He walked down the road, just past where the party had been. Where just hours ago, there had been laughter and music and the pop of fireworks, now it looked cold and abandoned. A brisk chill breeze rattled the lanterns still strung up in the trees. The cleanup would start at first light, but now, seeing the ragged remains of where good times had just been, when his heart was light, made him swallow against a lump and walk forward more swiftly.
He could keep going. There was nothing for him here in Hobbiton. He could follow Bilbo. He had a good idea of where he had gone and he had studied enough of maps.
He swallowed the thought: If he had wanted you to come, he would have taken you.
The thought pierced him like a dagger, and he looked up at the stars, feeling more alone than ever before.
He did not know where he planned to go, but he walked for hours, passing out of Hobbiton and into the woods. The trees were still and sleepy, and they blocked out what little silver light filtered down from the moon.
He had just stumbled into a clearing, when he froze, biting back a gasp. One of the Big People lay curled in sleep around a smoldering fire. Before Frodo could back away, the Man had rolled up into a sitting position, and he had his bow aimed at Frodo. He wore a worn green cloak and leather boots creased with age. Dark eyes gleamed dangerously in the faint light. Frodo stumbled back with a cry, and the man dropped the bow as if it had burned him and held out his hands to show he meant no harm.
“I am sorry, do not flee,” the man said in a low voice. “I did not see it was only one of the halfling folk. Your people do not usually wander in the woods at night.”
“Who are you?” Frodo asked, his heart thudding. He had never before met one of the Big Folk, besides Gandalf. He knew they were meant to be dangerous – they had recently had terrible trouble in the Southfarthing due to thieving bands of Big People, but despite having had the man’s arrow aimed at him, Frodo felt only a wildly sharp sense of curiosity.
“I am sorry I alarmed you,” the Man said. His voice was low and throaty. "I am called Halbarad. I mean no harm to you or your folk.” He looked at Frodo in curiosity. “May I ask you what you are doing abroad so late?”
Frodo smiled and settled on the edge of a dead log, pulling his cloak close. “I woke from a restless dream. A walk is sometimes the only balm.”
“But you are far from your village. It seems more than a casual walk, Mr. Baggins.”
Frodo shrugged and smiled a little. He was used to folk thinking him queer for wanting to venture beyond usual borders. Then he startled. “How did you know my name?”
Halbarad laughed, stirring the embers of his fire with a rough stick. “I am a friend of Gandalf the Gray.”
“Are you?” Frodo said. “How do you know him?” He imagined telling Sam about this in the morning. The younger hobbit’s eyes would widen and light up the way they always did at the mention of Elves or anything not particularly Shire-bred.
Halbarad laughed. “Hobbits are inquisitive. Gandalf told me of you. Just know that Bilbo has passed by safely and that I have known Gandalf for many years.”
“Did you see Bilbo?” Frodo asked.
Halbarad nodded. “I did. How could you not hear the stamping of dwarves through the woods, like oliphaunts.”
Frodo laughed, and for the first time since Bilbo’s departure, the heaviness deep down in his belly eased somewhat. “Tell me more of the Outside,” Frodo said.
“I should love to do so,” Halbarad said. “Under a different set of stars. But regretfully I must rest again, as I must move on at first light.”
Frodo nodded, and he stood. “Sir, you need not sleep under the stars with naught but pine cones under your back. I’ve room in Bag End—“
Halbarad broke into laughter, but he stopped when he beheld Frodo’s genuine concern. “Mr. Baggins, I appreciate your offer of generous hospitality, but your neighbors would turn you out if you brought in a strange man out of the wild to sleep in your guest room.”
Frodo snorted. “It is no less queer than the comings and goings of Gandalf. For my part, I care not if the neighbors choose to idle their time away gossiping. In fact.” He smiled wickedly. “I should like it very much if you would jump out from behind a bush and frighten the Sackville-Bagginses the next time they come snooping around.”
Halbarad laughed with him but said, “Nay, Frodo. I thank you for your generous offer, but it is my duty to sleep under the stars.”
Frodo bowed. “It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance then, Halbarad.”
Halbarad took Frodo’s hand and pressed it between his two much larger hands. “The pleasure has been mine.”
“We shall meet again,” Frodo said with a nod. “And then I should like to know more about how you and Gandalf met and why you sleep in the woods of the Shire and where you come from and where you have seen oliphaunts that you know how they sound…”
Halbarad had already curled back onto the ground, his cloak over him so that he was now he lay barely discernible in the shadows.
Frodo turned back, homeward, strangely invigorated.
***
Frodo slept late, and when Sam came to wake him, he groaned and covered his head with his pillow. He had a vague recollection of a long walk and the strange encounter with Halbarad in the woods.
“Sir, there’s a racket outside, folk demanding to know what happened last night with Mr. Bilbo.”
“Tell them to go away.”
“I’ve tried, but they’re refusing to go until they know what’s what.”
“You mean the Sackville-Bagginses,” Frodo said. They were the last people he wanted to deal with first thing in the morning. “And they can sit out in the garden under the hot sun all day for all I care.”
Despite the busy sound of post-party cleanup coming from the field, he fell back asleep.
He was woken much later by pounding on the door, the frantic padding of Sam trying to get to the door before Frodo woke, and the raucous laughter of his young cousins Merry and Pippin as they pushed into the front hallway. Sam valiantly tried to hush them, but they’d have none of it.
“Still in bed at noontime, is he?” Pippin cried in delight. “Oh, this is good!”
“Oh, let him sleep,” Merry said. “We’ll raid his pantries meanwhile and then he’ll be out of bed lickety-split, you can count on it.”
Frodo grinned. He was already out of bed.
TBC
Under the Starlight 1: Gossip
Under the Starlight 2: Fireworks
Title: Under the Starlight: Silvery Light
Author: Claudia
Rating: G through R (?)
Summary: This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time and only just gotten the courage to try -- it will be a tale that goes from pre-quest through post-quest, from a variety of viewpoints. There will be slash, but there will be warnings on slashy chapters so that if slash isn’t your cuppa, you can pass on those chapters. Basically I’m just filling in some gaps in the book and hoping it comes out all right! ;-)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and make no money from them.
Frodo opened his eyes, his heart heavy like a boulder sunk deep inside. He lay in bed under the covers, staring up at the ceiling, fully awake. Leafy shadows, brought to life by silvery moonlight and a stiff breeze, flickered on the walls. There was no sound but the distant croak of frogs and chirping of crickets.
Gone.
The dream had been disturbing enough but to wake and find some of it to be true caused the boulder inside to sink deeper.
In the dream, Frodo had been but a bystander. Bilbo had tottered along a pathway in the woods. He hummed, fluttering his handkerchief in one hand, his walking stick in another, walking along at a spry pace. No dwarves were anywhere in sight, which Frodo found odd, since they had planned to travel together for a time. The path grew precipitous, and it dropped down on one side to a raging river. On the other side, a cliff reared up to unknown heights.
Bilbo stumbled, let out a startled cry, and he tumbled into the rushing waters of the river. Frodo yelled for help, but nobody could hear him, since he was not really part of the dream. He could only watch in helpless horror as his dear cousin struggled to stay above surface.
Frodo now climbed out of bed, rubbing his chilly fingers together and trembling. He did not bother to light candles as he dressed, donned his cloak, and slipped out of Bag End.
He walked down the road, just past where the party had been. Where just hours ago, there had been laughter and music and the pop of fireworks, now it looked cold and abandoned. A brisk chill breeze rattled the lanterns still strung up in the trees. The cleanup would start at first light, but now, seeing the ragged remains of where good times had just been, when his heart was light, made him swallow against a lump and walk forward more swiftly.
He could keep going. There was nothing for him here in Hobbiton. He could follow Bilbo. He had a good idea of where he had gone and he had studied enough of maps.
He swallowed the thought: If he had wanted you to come, he would have taken you.
The thought pierced him like a dagger, and he looked up at the stars, feeling more alone than ever before.
He did not know where he planned to go, but he walked for hours, passing out of Hobbiton and into the woods. The trees were still and sleepy, and they blocked out what little silver light filtered down from the moon.
He had just stumbled into a clearing, when he froze, biting back a gasp. One of the Big People lay curled in sleep around a smoldering fire. Before Frodo could back away, the Man had rolled up into a sitting position, and he had his bow aimed at Frodo. He wore a worn green cloak and leather boots creased with age. Dark eyes gleamed dangerously in the faint light. Frodo stumbled back with a cry, and the man dropped the bow as if it had burned him and held out his hands to show he meant no harm.
“I am sorry, do not flee,” the man said in a low voice. “I did not see it was only one of the halfling folk. Your people do not usually wander in the woods at night.”
“Who are you?” Frodo asked, his heart thudding. He had never before met one of the Big Folk, besides Gandalf. He knew they were meant to be dangerous – they had recently had terrible trouble in the Southfarthing due to thieving bands of Big People, but despite having had the man’s arrow aimed at him, Frodo felt only a wildly sharp sense of curiosity.
“I am sorry I alarmed you,” the Man said. His voice was low and throaty. "I am called Halbarad. I mean no harm to you or your folk.” He looked at Frodo in curiosity. “May I ask you what you are doing abroad so late?”
Frodo smiled and settled on the edge of a dead log, pulling his cloak close. “I woke from a restless dream. A walk is sometimes the only balm.”
“But you are far from your village. It seems more than a casual walk, Mr. Baggins.”
Frodo shrugged and smiled a little. He was used to folk thinking him queer for wanting to venture beyond usual borders. Then he startled. “How did you know my name?”
Halbarad laughed, stirring the embers of his fire with a rough stick. “I am a friend of Gandalf the Gray.”
“Are you?” Frodo said. “How do you know him?” He imagined telling Sam about this in the morning. The younger hobbit’s eyes would widen and light up the way they always did at the mention of Elves or anything not particularly Shire-bred.
Halbarad laughed. “Hobbits are inquisitive. Gandalf told me of you. Just know that Bilbo has passed by safely and that I have known Gandalf for many years.”
“Did you see Bilbo?” Frodo asked.
Halbarad nodded. “I did. How could you not hear the stamping of dwarves through the woods, like oliphaunts.”
Frodo laughed, and for the first time since Bilbo’s departure, the heaviness deep down in his belly eased somewhat. “Tell me more of the Outside,” Frodo said.
“I should love to do so,” Halbarad said. “Under a different set of stars. But regretfully I must rest again, as I must move on at first light.”
Frodo nodded, and he stood. “Sir, you need not sleep under the stars with naught but pine cones under your back. I’ve room in Bag End—“
Halbarad broke into laughter, but he stopped when he beheld Frodo’s genuine concern. “Mr. Baggins, I appreciate your offer of generous hospitality, but your neighbors would turn you out if you brought in a strange man out of the wild to sleep in your guest room.”
Frodo snorted. “It is no less queer than the comings and goings of Gandalf. For my part, I care not if the neighbors choose to idle their time away gossiping. In fact.” He smiled wickedly. “I should like it very much if you would jump out from behind a bush and frighten the Sackville-Bagginses the next time they come snooping around.”
Halbarad laughed with him but said, “Nay, Frodo. I thank you for your generous offer, but it is my duty to sleep under the stars.”
Frodo bowed. “It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance then, Halbarad.”
Halbarad took Frodo’s hand and pressed it between his two much larger hands. “The pleasure has been mine.”
“We shall meet again,” Frodo said with a nod. “And then I should like to know more about how you and Gandalf met and why you sleep in the woods of the Shire and where you come from and where you have seen oliphaunts that you know how they sound…”
Halbarad had already curled back onto the ground, his cloak over him so that he was now he lay barely discernible in the shadows.
Frodo turned back, homeward, strangely invigorated.
***
Frodo slept late, and when Sam came to wake him, he groaned and covered his head with his pillow. He had a vague recollection of a long walk and the strange encounter with Halbarad in the woods.
“Sir, there’s a racket outside, folk demanding to know what happened last night with Mr. Bilbo.”
“Tell them to go away.”
“I’ve tried, but they’re refusing to go until they know what’s what.”
“You mean the Sackville-Bagginses,” Frodo said. They were the last people he wanted to deal with first thing in the morning. “And they can sit out in the garden under the hot sun all day for all I care.”
Despite the busy sound of post-party cleanup coming from the field, he fell back asleep.
He was woken much later by pounding on the door, the frantic padding of Sam trying to get to the door before Frodo woke, and the raucous laughter of his young cousins Merry and Pippin as they pushed into the front hallway. Sam valiantly tried to hush them, but they’d have none of it.
“Still in bed at noontime, is he?” Pippin cried in delight. “Oh, this is good!”
“Oh, let him sleep,” Merry said. “We’ll raid his pantries meanwhile and then he’ll be out of bed lickety-split, you can count on it.”
Frodo grinned. He was already out of bed.
TBC
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no subject
Date: 2004-08-31 03:59 am (UTC)He walked down the road, just past where the party had been. Where just hours ago, there had been laughter and music and the pop of fireworks, now it looked cold and abandoned.
...and ended with such lightness! I do adore hobbit-Big Folk encounters, especially if they're as respectful and friendly as this one. Halbarad shows up in the most interesting places, doesn't he?
:)
no subject
Date: 2004-08-31 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-31 09:47 am (UTC)Nice foreshadowing for Frodo's later leave-taking and for his meeting with the NEXT Big Man!
no subject
Date: 2004-08-31 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-31 04:21 pm (UTC)I mean, can't see them resisting setting up a little cottage over by an apple orchard or something like that and let the quest be damned.
I am really enjoying this little canon-fest. I hope you will continue.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-31 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-31 12:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-31 12:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-31 07:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-01 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 03:52 pm (UTC)*giggles at
and stealsMerry and Pippin*no subject
Date: 2004-09-07 07:42 pm (UTC)