Far Beyond, part 6
Jan. 14th, 2011 06:24 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 in the future, possibly Frodo/Faramir in the future
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! :)
A/N: this chapter is pretty mild. No interrogation, no heavy angst, etc. Also, if you watch SVU, you'll know that Cragen is Det. Stabler's supervisor in SVU. Of course he's here in Middle-earth! :D Hurray, crossovers!
Previous chapters
“Are you here to see Cragen?” Frodo asked, releasing the cool cloth he held and stepping back from Cragen’s sick bed. He tried to hide the trembling in his hands. He longed to brush past Stablor and escape into the back room where he could roll bandages in peace. In no way did he wish to be alone with Stablor for any amount of time. He could not bear those piercing, suspicious eyes on him. He could not help a fear that Stablor would change his mind and decide that he belonged in prison again. Just thinking about the dark, dank stony cell that had made him so ill made sweat break out on his brow.
“How is he doing?” Stablor asked him.
“Oh, he still has a high fever,” Frodo said, refusing to meet Stablor's eyes. “He’s sleeping now.”
Stablor moved closer to Frodo, and Frodo flinched, stumbling back against the wall, nearly knocking over the pitcher of water at Cragen's bedside. He fumbled for it and caught it, but half of the water spilled out on the floor, soaking part of his sleeve. He felt foolish when Stablor laughed.
“Come now,” Stablor said in a soft voice. “I’m not going to hurt you. But I’m sure you have heard by now that Gaion refuses to confess.”
Frodo looked up, now meeting Stablor's gaze with hot fury. “Then let me into your questioning room,” he said. “He’ll say something incriminating to me. You could listen outside the door.”
“Nay,” Stablor said, chuckling a bit. “He’s dangerous, and he bears you no good will at the moment.” He paused a moment, and there was a smile, almost embarrassed, and then he asked, “Let me ask you a question and you must answer honestly.”
“I have told you no lies as of yet,” Frodo said, matching his gaze with equal strength. He trembled all over now, but now it was less from fear and embarrassment and more from anger at everything that had happened to him since he had arrived in this nightmare of a village.
Stablor gave him that thin smile that indicated his patience was waning, and then asked, “Did you or did you not make love to Gaion, even once?”
Heat rose to Frodo's cheeks. “Is that what he claims?” He shook his head, his heart thudding in his ears. “Is that what he claims?” he repeated, more to himself this time. His lips twisted into revulsion, and he caught something strange, almost wistful, in Stablor's eyes, though he could not pinpoint just what it was.
“Fair enough. You have answered my question,” Stablor said. “I must return to my duties, but I shall return.”
After he left, Frodo collapsed onto a stool, his shoulders slumped forward, thoroughly spent. He was trembling, and for that he was ashamed. Stablor was a bully, the worst kind because he believed himself to be working on the side of light. He had those icy eyes that probed deep and held a depth of compassion and love, if only it could be released.
“Oh, please,” Frodo scoffed to himself. “Stop that nonsense at once.”
Faramir stepped in the room.
“Are you well, Frodo?” he asked with concern.
Frodo nodded, but in truth he felt bone-weary, aching.
“You look pale,” Faramir said. “Take a rest. You have been working hard. Cragen is sleeping now anyway. Come, Frodo.” Faramir's hand fell on Frodo's shoulder and squeezed. A sense of well-being seeped through Frodo. A friendly touch was certainly pleasant and needed.
“Yes,” Frodo smiled up at Faramir. “Perhaps I shall rest a bit. But you will wake me if he--?”
Faramir nodded and then smiled softly at Frodo. “I promise to do so.”
Cragen’s fever delirium broke the next day, just like that. Sweat drenched his body and his eyes fluttered open, now clear and piercing. He studied Frodo in curiosity, really seeing him for the first time.
“What sort of creature are you?” he asked. “Not a child of Men, not an Elf.”
“I'm a hobbit, a halfling from the Shire. You look like you’re feeling better.”
“Were you the one who sang and talked to me?” Cragen managed in a croak. He grasped Frodo’s arm. His grip was not hard, but there was an iron strength, a sort of ruthlessness behind it.
Frodo nodded. “You looked like you could use some cheering.” He swallowed a hard lump in his throat. At any moment, Cragen would learn that to the Rangers in this camp, Frodo was but a common criminal, due to go to trial, even if they had Gaion in custody as the main suspect. Gaion wasn't talking and they had no proof against him. They did have proof against Frodo.
“Are you a healer?” Cragen asked. “I've not seen you before.” His eyes grew sharp, still friendly, but with a tinge of suspicion.
“I’m, er, well, not exactly,” Frodo stumbled, flushing under Cragen’s keen gaze. “I’m a friend of Estel’s, but when I arrived, he was not here. He's still not here. Faramir was kind enough to allow me to help him.”
“Ah,” Cragen said. He released his grip on Frodo's arm. “I suppose we could keep one another company then.”
Frodo let out a breath of relief, but he still felt sick to his stomach. This man would be harsh when he found out what Frodo was accused of. Frodo wanted to keep Cragen from learning about him not only because of that harshness but because he wanted just one person in this village to befriend him, someone who did not see him as a criminal.
“Would you like to hear a tale?” Frodo asked, keeping his voice light-hearted as he wiped the sweat from Cragen's brow. “I hear there are spiders of enormous size in the forest of Mirkwood. My cousin fought several of them off with a single sword.”
“You don't say...” Cragen said, and he closed his eyes to hear the tale.
When Stablor returned to the healing cottage hours later, he peered in to check on his Captain. He found him propped up in bed in a game of cards with Frodo. Frodo was laughing loudly at some jest Cragen had made, and Cragen's eyes were crinkled with laughter, a sight Stablor had not seen in many years. A pink flush was over Frodo's pale cheeks, and his eyes were brilliant blue, intoxicating even. Stablor felt his cock grow hard and warm and he shifted his legs. In doing so, the floor creaked, and Frodo and Cragen both looked to him.
“Good evening, Stablor,” Cragen said.
“You are looking well, Captain,” Stablor said, nodding. “And you, Frodo? How are you feeling?”
Frodo had gone pale and the light in his eyes faded, much like a flower when a raincloud covered the sun. He crossed his arms in front of him, clearly uncomfortable.
He abhors me, and I suppose with good reason.
Well, to be fair, Frodo had not been cleared yet, so Stablor still needed to be wary around him, to still look at him as a potential criminal. Stablor knew in his heart that Gaion was guilty, that Frodo had been caught up in him because he had been naïve about befriending strangers, but there was always the possibility that Gaion and Frodo were involved in the crime together and now were both trying to sell each other out.
“I am all right,” Frodo said quietly. “Pardon me,” he then said to Cragen. “I will leave you two to talk. I have to straighten the closet for Faramir.” He brushed past Stablor, careful to avert his gaze.
“Frodo has been most helpful and cheering,” Cragen said. Then he smiled, and Stablor tried to disguise his surprise. He had never seen Cragen crack a smile. Perhaps his illness had done him some good, gotten him some much needed rest. “Go on, Vik. I'm all right. I just need to sleep a bit.”
Vik nodded and left. On his way out, he decided to divert and seek out the supply pantry. He found Frodo on a step stool on his tip toes, straining to reach something on the top shelf.
“What do you need up there?” Vik asked.
Frodo stumbled backward in surprise and could have had a nasty fall off the stool, but Vik reached out, lightning-fast, to catch him.
“Steady!”
Suddenly Stablor's arms were full of the halfling, and Stablor caught the pleasant soapy smell of his skin and his sturdy but slender body fit so pleasantly in his arms. He was reluctant to release him, but he helped to steady him on the stool again.
“Thank you,” Frodo said breathlessly, his cheeks red. “What are you doing here?”
“You don't think much of me, do you?” Stablor asked.
Frodo let out a sigh. “Would you, if our positions were reversed?”
“You understand, that I must assume guilt. The shimflower was in your bag.”
“The trial has not happened yet,” Frodo said, lifting his chin. His lips were so close, so pink and lush, kissable. It took all of Stablor's will to not lean in and capture those lips in his. In this, he would be wrong and if Cragen found out about it, he would face serious trouble. “Nobody has assigned me guilt. Only you.”
Only you.
With that, Frodo had cut off opportunity for something – Stablor was not even sure what, exactly-- to grow between them, and Stablor felt suddenly lonely, caught in a snare of his own making. Not since his Barod's death had he felt anything aside anger and sadness toward the world.
“I take it then,” Stablor went on bitterly,“that you would prefer that Cragen continue to think of you as an angel of mercy, a healer with a soft voice.” He had no idea why he wanted to cause hurt, but he found it was a way to divert him from staring at those lips, wanting them.
“Captain Stablor, please,” Frodo said, his pride leaving his face, leaving his eyes wide and vulnerable again. “Please do not tell him yet.”
“Why not? He has no power over you until the trial.”
“I don't want,” Frodo swallowed, looking miserable. He shook his head and tried again. “He is the only one who doesn't, who doesn't think of me as a—who just sees me.”
“What did you want from the top shelf?” Stablor broke in brusquely.
“The cleaning solution – it's--”
Stablor snatched it from the shelf and handed it to Frodo. “There you go.”
“Thank you,” Frodo said reluctantly, keeping his eyes lowered.
“Take good care of Cragen,” Stablor said before he left.
Cragen and Frodo enjoyed one another’s company very much. Frodo told him tales from the Shire. In return Cragen spoke about the Dunedain from long ago. Frodo hung to his every word, so hungry was he for tales and history. It reminded him of when Strider came to visit him in the Shire and they would stay up late into the night. Stablor kept his word and said nothing to Cragen about Frodo's situation.
Frodo and Cragen often played cards until late in the evening until Faramir had to sternly remind both of them to get some rest.
“How did you come to be here in this Ranger camp?” Frodo asked.
“Like many here, I am a former guard of Minas Tirith, banished from the White City because Denethor abhors and fears the Dunedain. Here I lead patrols, labor to keep this land safe, and when there is a matter of legality, I stand in judgement. Thankfully that does not happen often among my Men. It is not a job I cherish. There is so much darkness in the outside world I do not relish finding it among my own men.”
“Yes there is much darkness,” Frodo said, swallowing. “But,” and he wanted to say that so much of it came from Men, but he did not dare. “There is also much to rejoice in, much beauty and magic. My cousin used to tell me about the Elves--”
“I once believed that,” Cragen said. “But when my son perished because of a foolish reason,” and Cragen's eyes hardened. He was silent for several moments. His jaw clenched and he breathed, as if trying to control himself from weeping. “I am sorry. It is only that he swallowed shimflower to make himself stronger, so he thought. My dear Barod. My dear, sweet son. His death took the light out of our Vik—Captain Stablor's eyes, too.”
“I'm so sorry, Cragen,” Frodo said, clasping his hand. Then he added, “What has this to do with Stablor?”
“They were lovers.”
Frodo's hands turned numb and he stared into Cragen's pain-filled eyes. Lovers. Captain Stablor had had a Ranger lover, a man, not a maid. Dead because of shimflower, that which he had accused Frodo of smuggling into the village.
“Are you ill?” Cragen asked sharply. Then, “Perhaps you should lie down.”
“No, no, I am all right,” Frodo said, his heart thudding. The room seemed too bright. Captain Stablor in love, his love would be fierce and protective, especially to one smaller and not as physically strong as he. And shimflower, the very herb that Frodo had been caught with in his bag, had killed him. No wonder he hated him with such fury. “I am all right.” But he was shaking now, trembling in his hands, although he tried to press them together. “Cragen, I'm so sorry about your son.”
“Thank you,” Cragen said.
Faramir came in then. “Is everything all right?”
“Perhaps you should give Frodo a break. He looks pale.”
“Take a rest,” Faramir said to Frodo. “This is an order.”
Frodo manged a weary smile which did not reach his eyes. “Yes, I think I will.”
He patted Cragen's hand again. “I am so sorry for your loss. I did not know.”
“Your heart is kind,” Cragen said. “I thank you for it.”
Frodo trudged out of the room. He should be kinder to Captain Stablor, more understanding. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Cragen say to Faramir, “What a dear thing, that halfling.”
Frodo sighed. Cragen would not think so for long, he knew.
TBC
Rating: adult eventually, this chapter PG13ish
Pairing: Frodo/Elliot (Vik) Stablor (misspelling is intentional), possibly Frodo/Aragorn in the future, possibly Frodo/Faramir in the future
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! :)
A/N: this chapter is pretty mild. No interrogation, no heavy angst, etc. Also, if you watch SVU, you'll know that Cragen is Det. Stabler's supervisor in SVU. Of course he's here in Middle-earth! :D Hurray, crossovers!
Previous chapters
“Are you here to see Cragen?” Frodo asked, releasing the cool cloth he held and stepping back from Cragen’s sick bed. He tried to hide the trembling in his hands. He longed to brush past Stablor and escape into the back room where he could roll bandages in peace. In no way did he wish to be alone with Stablor for any amount of time. He could not bear those piercing, suspicious eyes on him. He could not help a fear that Stablor would change his mind and decide that he belonged in prison again. Just thinking about the dark, dank stony cell that had made him so ill made sweat break out on his brow.
“How is he doing?” Stablor asked him.
“Oh, he still has a high fever,” Frodo said, refusing to meet Stablor's eyes. “He’s sleeping now.”
Stablor moved closer to Frodo, and Frodo flinched, stumbling back against the wall, nearly knocking over the pitcher of water at Cragen's bedside. He fumbled for it and caught it, but half of the water spilled out on the floor, soaking part of his sleeve. He felt foolish when Stablor laughed.
“Come now,” Stablor said in a soft voice. “I’m not going to hurt you. But I’m sure you have heard by now that Gaion refuses to confess.”
Frodo looked up, now meeting Stablor's gaze with hot fury. “Then let me into your questioning room,” he said. “He’ll say something incriminating to me. You could listen outside the door.”
“Nay,” Stablor said, chuckling a bit. “He’s dangerous, and he bears you no good will at the moment.” He paused a moment, and there was a smile, almost embarrassed, and then he asked, “Let me ask you a question and you must answer honestly.”
“I have told you no lies as of yet,” Frodo said, matching his gaze with equal strength. He trembled all over now, but now it was less from fear and embarrassment and more from anger at everything that had happened to him since he had arrived in this nightmare of a village.
Stablor gave him that thin smile that indicated his patience was waning, and then asked, “Did you or did you not make love to Gaion, even once?”
Heat rose to Frodo's cheeks. “Is that what he claims?” He shook his head, his heart thudding in his ears. “Is that what he claims?” he repeated, more to himself this time. His lips twisted into revulsion, and he caught something strange, almost wistful, in Stablor's eyes, though he could not pinpoint just what it was.
“Fair enough. You have answered my question,” Stablor said. “I must return to my duties, but I shall return.”
After he left, Frodo collapsed onto a stool, his shoulders slumped forward, thoroughly spent. He was trembling, and for that he was ashamed. Stablor was a bully, the worst kind because he believed himself to be working on the side of light. He had those icy eyes that probed deep and held a depth of compassion and love, if only it could be released.
“Oh, please,” Frodo scoffed to himself. “Stop that nonsense at once.”
Faramir stepped in the room.
“Are you well, Frodo?” he asked with concern.
Frodo nodded, but in truth he felt bone-weary, aching.
“You look pale,” Faramir said. “Take a rest. You have been working hard. Cragen is sleeping now anyway. Come, Frodo.” Faramir's hand fell on Frodo's shoulder and squeezed. A sense of well-being seeped through Frodo. A friendly touch was certainly pleasant and needed.
“Yes,” Frodo smiled up at Faramir. “Perhaps I shall rest a bit. But you will wake me if he--?”
Faramir nodded and then smiled softly at Frodo. “I promise to do so.”
Cragen’s fever delirium broke the next day, just like that. Sweat drenched his body and his eyes fluttered open, now clear and piercing. He studied Frodo in curiosity, really seeing him for the first time.
“What sort of creature are you?” he asked. “Not a child of Men, not an Elf.”
“I'm a hobbit, a halfling from the Shire. You look like you’re feeling better.”
“Were you the one who sang and talked to me?” Cragen managed in a croak. He grasped Frodo’s arm. His grip was not hard, but there was an iron strength, a sort of ruthlessness behind it.
Frodo nodded. “You looked like you could use some cheering.” He swallowed a hard lump in his throat. At any moment, Cragen would learn that to the Rangers in this camp, Frodo was but a common criminal, due to go to trial, even if they had Gaion in custody as the main suspect. Gaion wasn't talking and they had no proof against him. They did have proof against Frodo.
“Are you a healer?” Cragen asked. “I've not seen you before.” His eyes grew sharp, still friendly, but with a tinge of suspicion.
“I’m, er, well, not exactly,” Frodo stumbled, flushing under Cragen’s keen gaze. “I’m a friend of Estel’s, but when I arrived, he was not here. He's still not here. Faramir was kind enough to allow me to help him.”
“Ah,” Cragen said. He released his grip on Frodo's arm. “I suppose we could keep one another company then.”
Frodo let out a breath of relief, but he still felt sick to his stomach. This man would be harsh when he found out what Frodo was accused of. Frodo wanted to keep Cragen from learning about him not only because of that harshness but because he wanted just one person in this village to befriend him, someone who did not see him as a criminal.
“Would you like to hear a tale?” Frodo asked, keeping his voice light-hearted as he wiped the sweat from Cragen's brow. “I hear there are spiders of enormous size in the forest of Mirkwood. My cousin fought several of them off with a single sword.”
“You don't say...” Cragen said, and he closed his eyes to hear the tale.
When Stablor returned to the healing cottage hours later, he peered in to check on his Captain. He found him propped up in bed in a game of cards with Frodo. Frodo was laughing loudly at some jest Cragen had made, and Cragen's eyes were crinkled with laughter, a sight Stablor had not seen in many years. A pink flush was over Frodo's pale cheeks, and his eyes were brilliant blue, intoxicating even. Stablor felt his cock grow hard and warm and he shifted his legs. In doing so, the floor creaked, and Frodo and Cragen both looked to him.
“Good evening, Stablor,” Cragen said.
“You are looking well, Captain,” Stablor said, nodding. “And you, Frodo? How are you feeling?”
Frodo had gone pale and the light in his eyes faded, much like a flower when a raincloud covered the sun. He crossed his arms in front of him, clearly uncomfortable.
He abhors me, and I suppose with good reason.
Well, to be fair, Frodo had not been cleared yet, so Stablor still needed to be wary around him, to still look at him as a potential criminal. Stablor knew in his heart that Gaion was guilty, that Frodo had been caught up in him because he had been naïve about befriending strangers, but there was always the possibility that Gaion and Frodo were involved in the crime together and now were both trying to sell each other out.
“I am all right,” Frodo said quietly. “Pardon me,” he then said to Cragen. “I will leave you two to talk. I have to straighten the closet for Faramir.” He brushed past Stablor, careful to avert his gaze.
“Frodo has been most helpful and cheering,” Cragen said. Then he smiled, and Stablor tried to disguise his surprise. He had never seen Cragen crack a smile. Perhaps his illness had done him some good, gotten him some much needed rest. “Go on, Vik. I'm all right. I just need to sleep a bit.”
Vik nodded and left. On his way out, he decided to divert and seek out the supply pantry. He found Frodo on a step stool on his tip toes, straining to reach something on the top shelf.
“What do you need up there?” Vik asked.
Frodo stumbled backward in surprise and could have had a nasty fall off the stool, but Vik reached out, lightning-fast, to catch him.
“Steady!”
Suddenly Stablor's arms were full of the halfling, and Stablor caught the pleasant soapy smell of his skin and his sturdy but slender body fit so pleasantly in his arms. He was reluctant to release him, but he helped to steady him on the stool again.
“Thank you,” Frodo said breathlessly, his cheeks red. “What are you doing here?”
“You don't think much of me, do you?” Stablor asked.
Frodo let out a sigh. “Would you, if our positions were reversed?”
“You understand, that I must assume guilt. The shimflower was in your bag.”
“The trial has not happened yet,” Frodo said, lifting his chin. His lips were so close, so pink and lush, kissable. It took all of Stablor's will to not lean in and capture those lips in his. In this, he would be wrong and if Cragen found out about it, he would face serious trouble. “Nobody has assigned me guilt. Only you.”
Only you.
With that, Frodo had cut off opportunity for something – Stablor was not even sure what, exactly-- to grow between them, and Stablor felt suddenly lonely, caught in a snare of his own making. Not since his Barod's death had he felt anything aside anger and sadness toward the world.
“I take it then,” Stablor went on bitterly,“that you would prefer that Cragen continue to think of you as an angel of mercy, a healer with a soft voice.” He had no idea why he wanted to cause hurt, but he found it was a way to divert him from staring at those lips, wanting them.
“Captain Stablor, please,” Frodo said, his pride leaving his face, leaving his eyes wide and vulnerable again. “Please do not tell him yet.”
“Why not? He has no power over you until the trial.”
“I don't want,” Frodo swallowed, looking miserable. He shook his head and tried again. “He is the only one who doesn't, who doesn't think of me as a—who just sees me.”
“What did you want from the top shelf?” Stablor broke in brusquely.
“The cleaning solution – it's--”
Stablor snatched it from the shelf and handed it to Frodo. “There you go.”
“Thank you,” Frodo said reluctantly, keeping his eyes lowered.
“Take good care of Cragen,” Stablor said before he left.
Cragen and Frodo enjoyed one another’s company very much. Frodo told him tales from the Shire. In return Cragen spoke about the Dunedain from long ago. Frodo hung to his every word, so hungry was he for tales and history. It reminded him of when Strider came to visit him in the Shire and they would stay up late into the night. Stablor kept his word and said nothing to Cragen about Frodo's situation.
Frodo and Cragen often played cards until late in the evening until Faramir had to sternly remind both of them to get some rest.
“How did you come to be here in this Ranger camp?” Frodo asked.
“Like many here, I am a former guard of Minas Tirith, banished from the White City because Denethor abhors and fears the Dunedain. Here I lead patrols, labor to keep this land safe, and when there is a matter of legality, I stand in judgement. Thankfully that does not happen often among my Men. It is not a job I cherish. There is so much darkness in the outside world I do not relish finding it among my own men.”
“Yes there is much darkness,” Frodo said, swallowing. “But,” and he wanted to say that so much of it came from Men, but he did not dare. “There is also much to rejoice in, much beauty and magic. My cousin used to tell me about the Elves--”
“I once believed that,” Cragen said. “But when my son perished because of a foolish reason,” and Cragen's eyes hardened. He was silent for several moments. His jaw clenched and he breathed, as if trying to control himself from weeping. “I am sorry. It is only that he swallowed shimflower to make himself stronger, so he thought. My dear Barod. My dear, sweet son. His death took the light out of our Vik—Captain Stablor's eyes, too.”
“I'm so sorry, Cragen,” Frodo said, clasping his hand. Then he added, “What has this to do with Stablor?”
“They were lovers.”
Frodo's hands turned numb and he stared into Cragen's pain-filled eyes. Lovers. Captain Stablor had had a Ranger lover, a man, not a maid. Dead because of shimflower, that which he had accused Frodo of smuggling into the village.
“Are you ill?” Cragen asked sharply. Then, “Perhaps you should lie down.”
“No, no, I am all right,” Frodo said, his heart thudding. The room seemed too bright. Captain Stablor in love, his love would be fierce and protective, especially to one smaller and not as physically strong as he. And shimflower, the very herb that Frodo had been caught with in his bag, had killed him. No wonder he hated him with such fury. “I am all right.” But he was shaking now, trembling in his hands, although he tried to press them together. “Cragen, I'm so sorry about your son.”
“Thank you,” Cragen said.
Faramir came in then. “Is everything all right?”
“Perhaps you should give Frodo a break. He looks pale.”
“Take a rest,” Faramir said to Frodo. “This is an order.”
Frodo manged a weary smile which did not reach his eyes. “Yes, I think I will.”
He patted Cragen's hand again. “I am so sorry for your loss. I did not know.”
“Your heart is kind,” Cragen said. “I thank you for it.”
Frodo trudged out of the room. He should be kinder to Captain Stablor, more understanding. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Cragen say to Faramir, “What a dear thing, that halfling.”
Frodo sighed. Cragen would not think so for long, he knew.
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 02:41 pm (UTC)I love when you put Frodo in this position and I'm not really sure why. *g*
Suddenly Stablor's arms were full of the halfling, and Stablor caught the pleasant soapy smell of his skin and his sturdy but slender body fit so pleasantly in his arms. He was reluctant to release him, but he helped to steady him on the stool again.
Oh, that is fucking PLEASING.
Mmm the UST in this chapter was SO NICE. *growls*
Now on to the smex!!
no subject
Date: 2011-01-15 12:03 am (UTC)wheeeee!!! Well you know what part I said I'd write for you next because you're awesome! *wink grin* :)
no subject
Date: 2011-01-15 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 04:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-15 12:03 am (UTC)(ha, love your icon)
no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-15 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 11:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-15 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-15 12:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-15 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-15 02:15 am (UTC)BOY OH BOY - you can cut the tension between Frodo and Stablor with a knife!! I'm so glad that Frodo has found in Cragen one person who sees him for himself without a cloud of suspicion - although who knows how long that will last!! But now Frodo knows a key piece in the puzzle - I can't wait to see where you take us next!!
*BIG HUGS*
no subject
Date: 2011-01-15 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-18 06:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-18 12:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-07-10 09:17 pm (UTC)I know it's 2014 I guess you don't like write it anymore but answer me please...
Cécile ++