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May. 3rd, 2008 12:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
claudia603This is a little early, but...
Happy Birthday, dear
I er...wasn't sure I would have a fic for you, but about an hour ago, this bizarre thing just came out...I'm sorry, it's not beta-ed, barely edited, but it just had to come out. And it's following the "theme" in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
baranduin's frolijah story in which Frodo and Gildor are friends in the Undying Lands...:-)
Title: The Language of Waves
Rating: G
Summary: Gildor and Frodo have an adventure in the sea.
Hours after his swim, Frodo’s hair had nearly dried, although his clothes were still damp and salty. He lay on the sand, fully satiated and relaxed. With his eyes closed, he listened to the waves. One after the other, they crested and collapsed into foam before hissing over the wet-packed sand. In time he heaved himself up onto his elbows and watched twinkles dance over the white-capped turquoise waves. Haze hung over the sun like a delicate golden veil.
“I must now claim confidence in your ability to swim.”
Frodo startled. He had not heard anyone behind him, although that was a usual occurrence, living among the Elves. Frodo smiled at Gildor. “Thank you.” He laughed. “I have not quite your confidence. If the current took a turn, I am certain it would be beyond my abilities.”
Gildor settled beside him on the sand. “I must admit, it seems still a novelty to see a hobbit diving comfortably in the waves like a dolphin.”
“The waves have a language of their own,” Frodo said. “I have been listening all morning.” He turned to Gildor with sudden inspiration. “Actually, they are very much like Elves. Sometimes they sound young and whimsical, full of cheerful song. Other times their timbre is deep and somber. They are ancient and young at the same time. And let us not forget that they can be roused to great fury when the need arises.”
Gildor threw his head back and laughed. “Very wise.”
“What brings you to the beach, Gildor?” Frodo asked.
“Actually, I should like to show you something, if you would not mind. I did not wish to show you until I thought you were confident in the waves.”
Frodo looked at him. “Now you have me curious.”
“Come, follow me, if you will.”
Gildor leaped to his feet with startling grace and walked into the sea. Frodo followed him. Soon the waves lapped around his waist. He leaped forward into the sea and paddled forward, just as he had all that morning. Gildor led him past the breakers where the sea suddenly turned smooth and glassy. Frodo followed Gildor toward a cluster of rocks.
Gildor often looked behind him, making sure that Frodo did not grow tired. Frodo had not. He was far too intrigued by where Gildor was leading him to grow weary. As they neared the rocks, the waves grew rough. Gildor paused and said, “I will carry you through this short part of our journey. The waves will dash a beginning swimmer against the rocks if you do not have a care.”
Frodo allowed Gildor to wrap his arms around him, holding him close to his body. Frodo trusted Gildor and closed his eyes. He did not know how Gildor did it with his extra burden, but somehow he swam forth with extraordinary strength, joining forces with the fury of the waves.
Gildor released Frodo, and Frodo’s eyes flew open. He was surprised to find that they had entered a quiet cove. The tumultuous waves loomed and crashed just behind them, and yet they were unable to break into the peaceful cove.
Within this cove, the sea was calm and glassy. Frodo kept himself above surface by kicking gently and moving his arms just below the clear surface. He peered downward. The water was so translucent that he saw bouquets of corals glistening in shades of peach and lavender at the bottom. Frodo had only heard of such creatures in Elvish tales, and he was rendered speechless by their glimmering beauty. Brightly colored fish -- in shades of orange, yellow, black and white striped, and pink -- darted below them. Gildor smiled and then dove under the surface. Frodo watched him reach the sandy bottom. Gildor snagged a peach-colored shell and glided back to the surface. “This is a treasure you’d not easily find on the beach back where you were.”
Frodo laughed. “My turn, then.” He dove under the waves and propelled himself downward. He felt free and alive, as if he were flying through a deep blue sky, far from cares or pain. The deeper he swam, the cooler the water. Diamond-colored fish swam past him. Frodo felt wonderfully free, as if he could fly. He wrapped his fist around a blue spiral-shaped conch shell before pushing off from the bottom toward the shadow of Gildor’s legs.
He broke surface, gasping for air. They took turns diving under and retrieving treasures. As the game continued, the sun traveled from the center of the sky to just off the horizon.
“I suppose we should go back then,” Frodo said. Streaks of pink and orange had fallen across the smooth water. “Bilbo will begin to wonder whether I’ve been swallowed by the waves.”
“I do believe you have been,” Gildor said. “You mentioned whimsical and young and furious and somber, but you failed to mention magical.”
“Magical indeed.”
“Come, climb on my back,” Gildor said.
Frodo gladly obeyed, because his muscles had grown quite weary, and Gildor brought him back to the beach just as the sun slipped below the horizon and stars filled the sky.
END
Happy Birthday, dear gentlehobbit!!!!
I er...wasn't sure I would have a fic for you, but about an hour ago, this bizarre thing just came out...I'm sorry, it's not beta-ed, barely edited, but it just had to come out. And it's following the "theme" in
baranduin's frolijah story in which Frodo and Gildor are friends in the Undying Lands...:-)Title: The Language of Waves
Rating: G
Summary: Gildor and Frodo have an adventure in the sea.
Hours after his swim, Frodo’s hair had nearly dried, although his clothes were still damp and salty. He lay on the sand, fully satiated and relaxed. With his eyes closed, he listened to the waves. One after the other, they crested and collapsed into foam before hissing over the wet-packed sand. In time he heaved himself up onto his elbows and watched twinkles dance over the white-capped turquoise waves. Haze hung over the sun like a delicate golden veil.
“I must now claim confidence in your ability to swim.”
Frodo startled. He had not heard anyone behind him, although that was a usual occurrence, living among the Elves. Frodo smiled at Gildor. “Thank you.” He laughed. “I have not quite your confidence. If the current took a turn, I am certain it would be beyond my abilities.”
Gildor settled beside him on the sand. “I must admit, it seems still a novelty to see a hobbit diving comfortably in the waves like a dolphin.”
“The waves have a language of their own,” Frodo said. “I have been listening all morning.” He turned to Gildor with sudden inspiration. “Actually, they are very much like Elves. Sometimes they sound young and whimsical, full of cheerful song. Other times their timbre is deep and somber. They are ancient and young at the same time. And let us not forget that they can be roused to great fury when the need arises.”
Gildor threw his head back and laughed. “Very wise.”
“What brings you to the beach, Gildor?” Frodo asked.
“Actually, I should like to show you something, if you would not mind. I did not wish to show you until I thought you were confident in the waves.”
Frodo looked at him. “Now you have me curious.”
“Come, follow me, if you will.”
Gildor leaped to his feet with startling grace and walked into the sea. Frodo followed him. Soon the waves lapped around his waist. He leaped forward into the sea and paddled forward, just as he had all that morning. Gildor led him past the breakers where the sea suddenly turned smooth and glassy. Frodo followed Gildor toward a cluster of rocks.
Gildor often looked behind him, making sure that Frodo did not grow tired. Frodo had not. He was far too intrigued by where Gildor was leading him to grow weary. As they neared the rocks, the waves grew rough. Gildor paused and said, “I will carry you through this short part of our journey. The waves will dash a beginning swimmer against the rocks if you do not have a care.”
Frodo allowed Gildor to wrap his arms around him, holding him close to his body. Frodo trusted Gildor and closed his eyes. He did not know how Gildor did it with his extra burden, but somehow he swam forth with extraordinary strength, joining forces with the fury of the waves.
Gildor released Frodo, and Frodo’s eyes flew open. He was surprised to find that they had entered a quiet cove. The tumultuous waves loomed and crashed just behind them, and yet they were unable to break into the peaceful cove.
Within this cove, the sea was calm and glassy. Frodo kept himself above surface by kicking gently and moving his arms just below the clear surface. He peered downward. The water was so translucent that he saw bouquets of corals glistening in shades of peach and lavender at the bottom. Frodo had only heard of such creatures in Elvish tales, and he was rendered speechless by their glimmering beauty. Brightly colored fish -- in shades of orange, yellow, black and white striped, and pink -- darted below them. Gildor smiled and then dove under the surface. Frodo watched him reach the sandy bottom. Gildor snagged a peach-colored shell and glided back to the surface. “This is a treasure you’d not easily find on the beach back where you were.”
Frodo laughed. “My turn, then.” He dove under the waves and propelled himself downward. He felt free and alive, as if he were flying through a deep blue sky, far from cares or pain. The deeper he swam, the cooler the water. Diamond-colored fish swam past him. Frodo felt wonderfully free, as if he could fly. He wrapped his fist around a blue spiral-shaped conch shell before pushing off from the bottom toward the shadow of Gildor’s legs.
He broke surface, gasping for air. They took turns diving under and retrieving treasures. As the game continued, the sun traveled from the center of the sky to just off the horizon.
“I suppose we should go back then,” Frodo said. Streaks of pink and orange had fallen across the smooth water. “Bilbo will begin to wonder whether I’ve been swallowed by the waves.”
“I do believe you have been,” Gildor said. “You mentioned whimsical and young and furious and somber, but you failed to mention magical.”
“Magical indeed.”
“Come, climb on my back,” Gildor said.
Frodo gladly obeyed, because his muscles had grown quite weary, and Gildor brought him back to the beach just as the sun slipped below the horizon and stars filled the sky.
END