And From My Horse I Fell
By: ChocolateEclar
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I making any profit from Fire and Hemlock by Diana Wynne Jones.
Summary:
Fire and Hemlock one-shot. Pre-FH. The fact that she gave him sweets every time she came was what Tom was most concerned about when he was too small to know she was just using him, like a trainer using dog treats on a puppy. (Partly a continuation of "Finding Janet")
The fact that she gave him sweets every time she came was what Tom was most concerned about when he was too small to know she was just using him, like a trainer using dog treats on a puppy. When Tom had been littler and newly arrived at the orphanage, Charles had stolen any comforting candy he had been given though, so that was part of the pleasure he used to feel over the little presents.
There was always talk of adoption of Charles then for he was a bright boy, but the woman seemed to enjoy showering them both with attention. Charles had eventually been adopted. He was much older than Tom and only took Tom from the orphanage when his younger brother was eleven so that he could impress people by taking care of his sibling.
Tom was too old to wonder if he were getting sweets when the lady came now. The thrill had gone and was now replaced by a deep sort of caution rooted in him around the woman. He was nearly fifteen and still under Charles's care, if it could really be called that. Charles worked mostly, and when he did not, he was off with some friend or another. There was no time for a younger brother who could do little more than make his own poor meals and be trusted to walk to school. After a time, Charles only came to make sure Tom was not destroying the house. Otherwise, he was apparently with some woman. Tom was not sure how he felt about this, but it was definitely a great deal of happiness about being given a form of half-freedom from his brother.
The lady who had visited them back in the orphanage came by one of the many times Charles had not shown up in weeks. Tom was always afraid in those times that Charles would never come back to pay the bills and wondering for the fifth time if maybe he should be looking for a job instead of studying for his exams. What work could a fifteen-year-old who had very little aside from a cello the woman had given him years before do though?
He was taking pictures with Charles's camera when the doorbell chimed. He had the idea then that perhaps he could be a photographer. He was setting the camera on a shelf to take his picture, but stopped to go to the front door. He had to shove aside the unopened mail first and then right the fallen coat rack before he could slide the lock and open the door. The sight of the woman in her neat clothing and light curls surprised him but not so much that he did not say, "Miss Laurel."
"Tom," said the lady with a faint smirk that made the other wary and happy simultaneously. There was a curious feeling in his chest that he had only felt towards a classmate of his after she had smiled at him. "Is Charles around, dear?"
Tom smiled, as if this were his own private joke, and said, "No, he's with his girlfriend." I think, he added silently to himself.
"Good good," said Laurel, while she bustled by the boy and stepped lightly over the mail. "I just needed to speak with you."
Tom nodded and lifted his pile of extra reading off the couch in the tiny living room, so that Laurel could sit. His mother's old copy of a book of ballads so worn through that the title was illegible was sitting on top and fell off of the pile when Tom set it down in the bookshelf in the corner. The book flipped open to a ballad his mother had always loved and made sure he knew, Tam Lin.
One line popped out at him for a moment, and then the moment passed. Tom put the book back on the shelf with the others, as Laurel spoke, "Wouldn't you like to visit Hunsdon House this summer? It's going to be special this year, I can assure you, and I already sent word to Charles to ask permission for you to come alone…"
Tom sighed and nodded. He liked the collection of art at Hunsdon House, if nothing else, and he wanted to sketch the portrait of the swirling violins. He had decided that he could do that if photography did not work out. He had a feeling all his photos were going to come out with parts cut off because he always had problems centering the picture when he took them.
"Wonderful," chimed Laurel, as she smoothed her skirt. "Just know that you cannot run from me this time, Tom." She then stood up and left with a "Farewell for now, dear." Tom thought his brief time at Hunsdon House as a child an odd sort of thing to mention, but he dismissed it and went back to taking his own picture.
He was rather pleased with the result, but when Charles returned at the end of the week and took his camera back and all the photos Tom had taken, Tom soon forgot about it and went to sketching. Of course, it was not until one fateful day that he learned what had become of his photograph.
"There came a wind out o' the north,
A sharp wind an' a smell,
A dead sleep it came over me
And from my horse I fell;
And the Queen o' Fairies she took me
In yon green hill to dwell"
- Tam Lin
A/N: And there's another of my odd attempts at Fire and Hemlock fanfiction. I've had this one partially written for quite a while, but only recently did I decide to finish it. Now, please review. I know this is one strange story, but I felt the pull of posting another FH fanfic so strongly, so don't resist your urge (in your case, to review) either.