Far Beyond, part 5
Jul. 23rd, 2010 11:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603Title: Far Beyond
Rating: adult eventually, this chapter PG13ish
Pairing: Frodo/Elliot (Vik) Stablor (misspelling is intentional), possibly Frodo/Aragorn, although no slash in this chapter
Summary: Frodo travels far to the north of Fornost to a Ranger outpost to visit his friend Aragorn. Naturally he runs into more trouble than he expected when he encounters guards at the gate.
A/N: I'm totally writing this for myself and I'm indulging all my kinks of all kinds! So...you know, I'm not going to gentle it down or try to make it more canon or relevant to Arda-verse or whatever. It's just Frodo and Detective Stabler and Aragorn and Rangers and jail and interrogation and love and domestic and scary hikes maybe and most definitely kittens and adventures and it takes place in Middle-earth and I'm just having fun with it and letting it go and do whatever! There may even be mpreg at some point! Or dolphins! Who knows! :D This is my summer fun project! :)
ALSO...this chapter and many of the others (except for the first) are unbeta-ed. I'm more going after my creative flow than perfection, but please feel free to tell me if I make an obvious mistake!
Previous parts:
chapters 1-4
“The color is already returning to your cheeks,” Faramir said to Frodo.
Frodo managed a wry smile. “That means Captain Stablor will be eager to return me to my cell, I suppose.”
“Captain Stablor is not so bad,” Faramir said. “I know you’ve not seen the best of him, but he is a dear friend and a good Ranger.”
“Perhaps,” Frodo said, letting him know by his tone that he did not really believe it. “I apologize, Faramir. You’ve been good to me. I do not mean to speak ill of your friend.”
“He has a gentle heart,” Faramir said.
“Tell me,” Frodo said, eager to divert the conversation. “Who is on healing duty when you must guard the gate?”
“We rotate duties. For the most part, only a few of us are on healing duty. Estel is by far the most experienced, and I have worked under him for many years.”
“And yet he’s never mentioned me,” Frodo said. “Huh.” He did not know why, but that hurt a little. Although come to think of it, Frodo did not remember him speaking about Faramir or Stablor or the other fellow whose name escaped him at the moment.
“He rarely speaks at all,” Faramir said. “Only when necessary.”
“He’s not like that when he’s in the Shire,” Frodo said. “Then again, I feed him well there.”
“You must bring out a different side to him.” Faramir looked at him knowingly, eyebrows raised.
Frodo laughed. “Ah, I see where you are going with this, but you can’t make me believe that Captain Stablor has a gentle heart.”
Faramir shook his head with a small smile on his lips. “Come, Frodo, you should drink some water.”
He helped Frodo up so that he was in a sitting position, propped by pillows. Frodo gladly sipped the water, which relieved his dry throat. He felt queasy and his head ached. This time his recovery seemed much slower than the last time. He did not know how he could explain to these men that unless they sentenced him to death, that putting him in prison would have the same effect.
Stablor looked down at the plump mass of shivering teary-eyed patheticness that was Gaion. He slammed the door to the interrogation room behind him, reveling in the way the man flinched. Frodo had been far braver. Thinking about Frodo lying weak but very much alive sent a curious warmth through him. Those blue eyes left him breathless – Stablor would love to sit across from Frodo under different circumstances and just drink in the intelligent beauty of those eyes. He longed to have a friendly conversation between equals.
“I didn’t do nothing,” Gaion said, and his hands shook. “You fellows have the wrong man.”
“Why then do you tremble and weep like a child?” Stablor demanded. It should not be hard to get a confession out of this sack of putrid cowardice.
“I’ve never been in jail before, not even once,” Gaion whined. “Please don’t put me back there, I’m innocent!”
Stablor paced a few times, saying nothing, reveling in Gaion’s growing fear.
Halbarad, who had been in the corner, one leg perched on a stool, asked in a deadly quiet voice, “Where did you get the shimflower?”
“What?” Gaion looked up in surprise. “The what?”
“The shimflower,” Stablor added. “Where did you get it? Surely a pathetic lying sack like yourself would have no talent in farming. So you must have purchased it from someone. Where did you get it? Who did you buy it from?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gaion said, but he looked away, quickly. A poor liar, too. The best kind of criminal to break. A slow tight smile spread over Stablor’s face. He knew from experience how much it frightened the low lives he interrogated. Faramir had once described it as a crocodile smile, cold and cunning, albeit without the teeth, the kind of smile to make people want to turn in their own mothers.
“Once again, where did you get the shimflower?” Stablor asked.
“The halfling offered to take it for me!” Gaion suddenly burst.
“What halfling?” Stablor asked, pretending surprise. He mockingly looked around the room, as if looking for the halfling.
Gaion looked relieved to put the blame on someone else. He shook his head, his lower lip still trembling. “This halfling from the Shire I met in Bree. Sweet, good-looking fellow, from a good family. He said he was coming up to these here parts to meet a friend. He offered to take the shimflower. I don’t know what he wanted to do with it, but I let him have it.”
“You just let him have it?” Halbarad asked. “For free? Just like that?”
“Yeah, I mean, I sold it to him,” Gaion said, swallowing uncomfortably.
Caught in another lie, Stablor thought triumphantly.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Stablor said. “Where did you get the shimflower?”
“A man, an old man, dressed all in white.”
“An old man and a halfling,” Halbarad chuckled. “What a tale.”
“An old man?” Stablor raised his brows and looked at Halbarad. He perceived that Gaion spoke the truth here. It was the only time he had so far. “What else can you tell me about this old man?”
“He had a long white beard. He was very old. He said this was the best shimflower, that it grew just north of Bree and it was pure and that there were Rangers up north of Fornost who wanted it. I didn’t want to travel all that way and this halfling was willing. He’s the one you want, not me. I don’t know where he is, I just know he was headed up this way.”
“What sort of relationship did you have with this halfling?” Stablor asked.
“Oh, we was just chance travel acquaintances. We kept each other company a few days in Bree.”
“Did you have relations with him as you might with a maid?”
Stablor watched as a fresh idea seemed to dawn on Gaion. The man had no clue how to mask his thoughts. “Yeah,” he said with a sly smile. “I banged him hard.”
Stablor winced, but he asked, “Was he willing?”
“More than willing,” Gaion said. “He wanted the shimflower. That’s how he paid for it. A good tight lay, he was,” Gaion said, enjoying his tale in the telling.
“What did he do with the shimflower when you gave it to him?” Stablor asked.
“He put it at the bottom of bag, under his clothes and books.”
Stablor pounded his fist on the table. Gaion flinched and cried out.
“I think you’re a liar,” he shouted. “I think you put that leather pouch deep inside the halfling’s bag so that he wouldn’t know he had it. I think you had someone on the inside here ready to steal his bag once he was past the gate. I think you gave it to him so that if he got caught, it was no skin off your back!”
“Did you catch him?” Gaion asked in alarm.
“We caught him, yes,” Stablor said, now lowering his voice to a deadly level. “He claims he has never seen the shimflower before. But he did name you as the person who likely put it in his bag without his knowledge.”
“That lying slut of a Shire rat!” Gaion yelled in sudden temper. “I should have slit his throat! I’ll break his neck if I ever see him again!”
Stablor grabbed Gaion by his collar, lifted him out of his chair, and slammed him against the wall. “You’re a really brave man, there, Sir Gaion, taking advantage of a trusting halfling and letting him take the fall for you. Real nobility in your blood, huh? Do you steal from old ladies, too? Kick pups? Murder children?” With every accusation he slammed his fist against Gaion’s side. Gaion cried out in pain and fear, blubbering all the while.
“Captain Stablor—“ Halbarad warned.
But Stablor could not stop. He acted in a white heat of rage. If the scouts had not found Gaion, Frodo would have been slain for a crime he did not commit. Stablor’s protective nature toward the vulnerable came out now and he beat Gaion in a blind rage. Gaion would confess, and he would confess in blood.
“Captain Stablor!” Halbarad’s strong arms pulled him back. “That’s enough! He has not confessed.”
Stablor paused, catching his breath. Halbarad was right. It would be no good to slay the only person who could clear Frodo by his confession. Gaion was whimpering on the floor, blood streaming out of his nose. Stablor rubbed his aching brow. He had gone a bit too far as usual, and there would be consequences. Cragen wouldn’t like it at all. Faramir and Halbarad disapproved, although with the liking Faramir had taken to Frodo, he might not disapprove as much as usual.
“We’ll take him to the healing cottage,” Stablor said to Halbarad.
Frodo was asleep when Halbarad and Stablor arrived with Gaion.
Faramir ran to help. “What did you do?”
“He’s a piece of vile garbage,” Stablor said.
“You should not have beat him,” Faramir said in a thin voice. “Cragen will not take kindly to this.”
“He refuses to confess,” Stablor hissed to him. “I know he put the shimflower in Frodo’s bag now. But without his confession we can’t clear Frodo. He will still go to trial.”
“We still have a fortnight,” Faramir said. “Keep Gaion in jail, but do not lay another hand on him. He may yet decide to confess. Let’s give him the idea that confessing could be to his advantage.”
The older man burned with fever, and he had knocked his pillow to the ground. Frodo could not bear to watch him suffer. He picked up the pillow and tucked it under the man’s head and then tucked the blanket over him. The man was bald with light blue eyes, stern like Captain Stablor’s, as if he had seen much in his life.
“Who is he?” Frodo asked Faramir. “I’ve not yet seen him around the village.”
“That’s Captain Cragen,” Faramir said. “He’s been busy fortifying Fornost as of late. He took ill and some of his men brought him here. He is our leader, a kinsman of your friend Estel. We call him Captain, although he’s really far above that. Stablor is a Captain and he’s above Stablor in command.”
“Oh.” Frodo remembered something that disturbed him. During the interrogation in which Stablor was so harsh to him, he remembered Faramir saying something about Cragen having caught wind of something about his arrest. His stomach sank.
“Do not be frightened,” Faramir said. “I am certain he does not know you or why you are here.”
“But.”
“You heard what I said to Vik, that he knew about you?”
“Vik?”
“Ah,” Faramir chuckled. “That’s Captain Stablor’s nickname. But you need not worry. Cragen only knows that someone was arrested for shimflower. He does not know who you are or your name or where you come from.”
Frodo released a sigh of relief. He then was able to relax enough in Cragen’s presence to make him as comfortable as possible. He did not know much about the healing arts yet, but he could do little things to make a patient more comfortable. Sometimes he sang songs from the Shire, sometimes he wiped him down with a cool, wet cloth. Other times he just held his hand when he seemed to be in pain from the feverish muscle aches. Frodo remembered all too well how it felt to be very ill and alone.
One day he sat beside Cragen, cooling his brow and speaking soothing things to him, holding his hand.
Someone cleared his throat behind Frodo, and Frodo flinched, nearly falling off the stool. When Frodo saw who it was, he tensed.
“I see you’ve taken kindly to your new duties,” Stablor said. His gaze on Frodo was unfaltering, but for the first time, Frodo perceived something softer in his gaze.
TBC
Rating: adult eventually, this chapter PG13ish
Pairing: Frodo/Elliot (Vik) Stablor (misspelling is intentional), possibly Frodo/Aragorn, although no slash in this chapter
Summary: Frodo travels far to the north of Fornost to a Ranger outpost to visit his friend Aragorn. Naturally he runs into more trouble than he expected when he encounters guards at the gate.
A/N: I'm totally writing this for myself and I'm indulging all my kinks of all kinds! So...you know, I'm not going to gentle it down or try to make it more canon or relevant to Arda-verse or whatever. It's just Frodo and Detective Stabler and Aragorn and Rangers and jail and interrogation and love and domestic and scary hikes maybe and most definitely kittens and adventures and it takes place in Middle-earth and I'm just having fun with it and letting it go and do whatever! There may even be mpreg at some point! Or dolphins! Who knows! :D This is my summer fun project! :)
ALSO...this chapter and many of the others (except for the first) are unbeta-ed. I'm more going after my creative flow than perfection, but please feel free to tell me if I make an obvious mistake!
Previous parts:
chapters 1-4
“The color is already returning to your cheeks,” Faramir said to Frodo.
Frodo managed a wry smile. “That means Captain Stablor will be eager to return me to my cell, I suppose.”
“Captain Stablor is not so bad,” Faramir said. “I know you’ve not seen the best of him, but he is a dear friend and a good Ranger.”
“Perhaps,” Frodo said, letting him know by his tone that he did not really believe it. “I apologize, Faramir. You’ve been good to me. I do not mean to speak ill of your friend.”
“He has a gentle heart,” Faramir said.
“Tell me,” Frodo said, eager to divert the conversation. “Who is on healing duty when you must guard the gate?”
“We rotate duties. For the most part, only a few of us are on healing duty. Estel is by far the most experienced, and I have worked under him for many years.”
“And yet he’s never mentioned me,” Frodo said. “Huh.” He did not know why, but that hurt a little. Although come to think of it, Frodo did not remember him speaking about Faramir or Stablor or the other fellow whose name escaped him at the moment.
“He rarely speaks at all,” Faramir said. “Only when necessary.”
“He’s not like that when he’s in the Shire,” Frodo said. “Then again, I feed him well there.”
“You must bring out a different side to him.” Faramir looked at him knowingly, eyebrows raised.
Frodo laughed. “Ah, I see where you are going with this, but you can’t make me believe that Captain Stablor has a gentle heart.”
Faramir shook his head with a small smile on his lips. “Come, Frodo, you should drink some water.”
He helped Frodo up so that he was in a sitting position, propped by pillows. Frodo gladly sipped the water, which relieved his dry throat. He felt queasy and his head ached. This time his recovery seemed much slower than the last time. He did not know how he could explain to these men that unless they sentenced him to death, that putting him in prison would have the same effect.
Stablor looked down at the plump mass of shivering teary-eyed patheticness that was Gaion. He slammed the door to the interrogation room behind him, reveling in the way the man flinched. Frodo had been far braver. Thinking about Frodo lying weak but very much alive sent a curious warmth through him. Those blue eyes left him breathless – Stablor would love to sit across from Frodo under different circumstances and just drink in the intelligent beauty of those eyes. He longed to have a friendly conversation between equals.
“I didn’t do nothing,” Gaion said, and his hands shook. “You fellows have the wrong man.”
“Why then do you tremble and weep like a child?” Stablor demanded. It should not be hard to get a confession out of this sack of putrid cowardice.
“I’ve never been in jail before, not even once,” Gaion whined. “Please don’t put me back there, I’m innocent!”
Stablor paced a few times, saying nothing, reveling in Gaion’s growing fear.
Halbarad, who had been in the corner, one leg perched on a stool, asked in a deadly quiet voice, “Where did you get the shimflower?”
“What?” Gaion looked up in surprise. “The what?”
“The shimflower,” Stablor added. “Where did you get it? Surely a pathetic lying sack like yourself would have no talent in farming. So you must have purchased it from someone. Where did you get it? Who did you buy it from?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gaion said, but he looked away, quickly. A poor liar, too. The best kind of criminal to break. A slow tight smile spread over Stablor’s face. He knew from experience how much it frightened the low lives he interrogated. Faramir had once described it as a crocodile smile, cold and cunning, albeit without the teeth, the kind of smile to make people want to turn in their own mothers.
“Once again, where did you get the shimflower?” Stablor asked.
“The halfling offered to take it for me!” Gaion suddenly burst.
“What halfling?” Stablor asked, pretending surprise. He mockingly looked around the room, as if looking for the halfling.
Gaion looked relieved to put the blame on someone else. He shook his head, his lower lip still trembling. “This halfling from the Shire I met in Bree. Sweet, good-looking fellow, from a good family. He said he was coming up to these here parts to meet a friend. He offered to take the shimflower. I don’t know what he wanted to do with it, but I let him have it.”
“You just let him have it?” Halbarad asked. “For free? Just like that?”
“Yeah, I mean, I sold it to him,” Gaion said, swallowing uncomfortably.
Caught in another lie, Stablor thought triumphantly.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Stablor said. “Where did you get the shimflower?”
“A man, an old man, dressed all in white.”
“An old man and a halfling,” Halbarad chuckled. “What a tale.”
“An old man?” Stablor raised his brows and looked at Halbarad. He perceived that Gaion spoke the truth here. It was the only time he had so far. “What else can you tell me about this old man?”
“He had a long white beard. He was very old. He said this was the best shimflower, that it grew just north of Bree and it was pure and that there were Rangers up north of Fornost who wanted it. I didn’t want to travel all that way and this halfling was willing. He’s the one you want, not me. I don’t know where he is, I just know he was headed up this way.”
“What sort of relationship did you have with this halfling?” Stablor asked.
“Oh, we was just chance travel acquaintances. We kept each other company a few days in Bree.”
“Did you have relations with him as you might with a maid?”
Stablor watched as a fresh idea seemed to dawn on Gaion. The man had no clue how to mask his thoughts. “Yeah,” he said with a sly smile. “I banged him hard.”
Stablor winced, but he asked, “Was he willing?”
“More than willing,” Gaion said. “He wanted the shimflower. That’s how he paid for it. A good tight lay, he was,” Gaion said, enjoying his tale in the telling.
“What did he do with the shimflower when you gave it to him?” Stablor asked.
“He put it at the bottom of bag, under his clothes and books.”
Stablor pounded his fist on the table. Gaion flinched and cried out.
“I think you’re a liar,” he shouted. “I think you put that leather pouch deep inside the halfling’s bag so that he wouldn’t know he had it. I think you had someone on the inside here ready to steal his bag once he was past the gate. I think you gave it to him so that if he got caught, it was no skin off your back!”
“Did you catch him?” Gaion asked in alarm.
“We caught him, yes,” Stablor said, now lowering his voice to a deadly level. “He claims he has never seen the shimflower before. But he did name you as the person who likely put it in his bag without his knowledge.”
“That lying slut of a Shire rat!” Gaion yelled in sudden temper. “I should have slit his throat! I’ll break his neck if I ever see him again!”
Stablor grabbed Gaion by his collar, lifted him out of his chair, and slammed him against the wall. “You’re a really brave man, there, Sir Gaion, taking advantage of a trusting halfling and letting him take the fall for you. Real nobility in your blood, huh? Do you steal from old ladies, too? Kick pups? Murder children?” With every accusation he slammed his fist against Gaion’s side. Gaion cried out in pain and fear, blubbering all the while.
“Captain Stablor—“ Halbarad warned.
But Stablor could not stop. He acted in a white heat of rage. If the scouts had not found Gaion, Frodo would have been slain for a crime he did not commit. Stablor’s protective nature toward the vulnerable came out now and he beat Gaion in a blind rage. Gaion would confess, and he would confess in blood.
“Captain Stablor!” Halbarad’s strong arms pulled him back. “That’s enough! He has not confessed.”
Stablor paused, catching his breath. Halbarad was right. It would be no good to slay the only person who could clear Frodo by his confession. Gaion was whimpering on the floor, blood streaming out of his nose. Stablor rubbed his aching brow. He had gone a bit too far as usual, and there would be consequences. Cragen wouldn’t like it at all. Faramir and Halbarad disapproved, although with the liking Faramir had taken to Frodo, he might not disapprove as much as usual.
“We’ll take him to the healing cottage,” Stablor said to Halbarad.
Frodo was asleep when Halbarad and Stablor arrived with Gaion.
Faramir ran to help. “What did you do?”
“He’s a piece of vile garbage,” Stablor said.
“You should not have beat him,” Faramir said in a thin voice. “Cragen will not take kindly to this.”
“He refuses to confess,” Stablor hissed to him. “I know he put the shimflower in Frodo’s bag now. But without his confession we can’t clear Frodo. He will still go to trial.”
“We still have a fortnight,” Faramir said. “Keep Gaion in jail, but do not lay another hand on him. He may yet decide to confess. Let’s give him the idea that confessing could be to his advantage.”
The older man burned with fever, and he had knocked his pillow to the ground. Frodo could not bear to watch him suffer. He picked up the pillow and tucked it under the man’s head and then tucked the blanket over him. The man was bald with light blue eyes, stern like Captain Stablor’s, as if he had seen much in his life.
“Who is he?” Frodo asked Faramir. “I’ve not yet seen him around the village.”
“That’s Captain Cragen,” Faramir said. “He’s been busy fortifying Fornost as of late. He took ill and some of his men brought him here. He is our leader, a kinsman of your friend Estel. We call him Captain, although he’s really far above that. Stablor is a Captain and he’s above Stablor in command.”
“Oh.” Frodo remembered something that disturbed him. During the interrogation in which Stablor was so harsh to him, he remembered Faramir saying something about Cragen having caught wind of something about his arrest. His stomach sank.
“Do not be frightened,” Faramir said. “I am certain he does not know you or why you are here.”
“But.”
“You heard what I said to Vik, that he knew about you?”
“Vik?”
“Ah,” Faramir chuckled. “That’s Captain Stablor’s nickname. But you need not worry. Cragen only knows that someone was arrested for shimflower. He does not know who you are or your name or where you come from.”
Frodo released a sigh of relief. He then was able to relax enough in Cragen’s presence to make him as comfortable as possible. He did not know much about the healing arts yet, but he could do little things to make a patient more comfortable. Sometimes he sang songs from the Shire, sometimes he wiped him down with a cool, wet cloth. Other times he just held his hand when he seemed to be in pain from the feverish muscle aches. Frodo remembered all too well how it felt to be very ill and alone.
One day he sat beside Cragen, cooling his brow and speaking soothing things to him, holding his hand.
Someone cleared his throat behind Frodo, and Frodo flinched, nearly falling off the stool. When Frodo saw who it was, he tensed.
“I see you’ve taken kindly to your new duties,” Stablor said. His gaze on Frodo was unfaltering, but for the first time, Frodo perceived something softer in his gaze.
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2010-07-23 05:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-24 01:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-24 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 09:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 06:37 pm (UTC)I liked Frodo taking care of Cragen. He needs someone to care for him.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 09:33 pm (UTC)Poor Cragen. Even on SVU, he gets very little love! :)
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Date: 2010-07-23 07:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-23 10:28 pm (UTC):D
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Date: 2010-07-24 12:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-24 02:31 pm (UTC)LOL
I love his face. I can so see Frodo sweetly caring for this poor sick man!
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Date: 2010-07-24 03:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 07:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 06:35 pm (UTC)**hugs**