A/N: Ah... ::sighs:: I do so miss writing Frodo... after all the hobbit I
am writing is just a solemn, confused child... not the Frodo we know and
love ::sigh:: GREAT! I'm such a sadist I torture myself!
::random hobbits point and laugh while Sam tosses an apple at me:: "Ha how do you like it!"
::walks away with hands in pockets and head bowed::
~~~
Chapter 23 --- Prophesies
The thick mist gave way to a pool of stars rippling as if a stone had bee dropped into it. Then, as it was sudden, it seemed that a shower of pebbles were falling into it and the stars became blurred and the blackness receded. There was a cry, echoing in the depths of his ears, "Mr. Frodo!" and there came cries, cheers and hysteria by many high and frightened voices. A loud snap filled all the sound and it died and by great knowledge and experience with such matters he knew that it was bone. The blackness sped away and a blurred image came into his head. He stepped forward and he saw about him many hobbits holding pitchforks and torches and their eyes were filled with fear and concern. He stepped forward again and saw that they were all staring at a small point that was so very clear in his mind. He even walked past the sturdy gardener who he knew so very well, still as stone as if frozen with fear. Light shone at his feet but the image became blurred and cast far away into memory. A dark shadow loomed over him and he feared for the little gardener. A tall man, full of malice and strength and looking rather pleased with himself stood just as still, his eyes shining with venom.
He turned again and saw the point with painful clarity. A pile of broken wood and thick clouds of dust were settling all round. There was a stinging silence that made every shifting board of wood bang clearly and loudly in his head. It shifted loudly supporting some slight weight... the weight that shattered the structure it had once been. Two other hobbits were kneeling down and they moved as if through water, as if the shock had made their limbs so very heavy and tears ran unchecked down their faces, otherwise frozen in shock. One he knew too well. Small and chipper Peregrin Took kneeled and touched a broken beam of wood and above his hand rested a limp and furry foot, pertruding from the mass of sharp, broken wood. He noted the round drops of blood sluggishly running down the limp foot, supported by the beam. He stepped forward and clearly saw a small, fair hand, pale and limp as the foot, scratched and bleeding.
He didn't want to know. He didn't want to look. He didn't have to look. He knew, very well, who this poor soul was. But he reached out and a voice came to his head, "Do not touch the water!" He pulled away as if stung and the water swirled before him and the blackness followed and the stars glittered as the images faded back into the thickness of the mist.
"Frodo!" Envin sat up in bed panting heavily. At the moment his eyes adjusted his sister came running in and jumped on the bed.
"Envin! Envin!" she was carrying Rosie, clutching the kitten protectively. "They've gone!" she cried. "And they forgot to say goodbye to Rosie!" The little girl wept.
"Oh there there dear," he held her close and rocked her gently.
"Do you think we'll ever see them again?" she whimpered, stroking her kitten.
Envin sighed and stared at the stars out his window, "I do hope so." He kissed her head and rocked her again and whispered to the stars, "I wish I was as sure as you are, Queen Evenstar, your visions do little for my hope."
~~~
Sam too had awakened that night hearing fretful cries in his dreams. They echoed in his memory as he regained focus but they did not stop. Quickly he knew his master was in trouble. He clamored, clumsily, to his feet and made ready to run to his master's side when he remembered that they had been right next to each other. He bent again and snatched the flailing hands. Frodo tossed his head in the midst of a nightmare and cried out murmuring incoherently.
"Calm not, Mr. Frodo, be calm. Ain't no one gonna hurt you here."
At hearing the voice Frodo slowed, still whimpering and he curled close to the warmth Sam offered. He clutched at Sam desperately as if he were slipping out of reach. Frodo screwed his eyes shut and whimpered as if in pain. He clutched at Sam's hands and collar, trying to keep hold, trying desperately not to get lost. But in the end he let go and turned swiftly huddling into a ball and hitching with sobs. Sam saw his crown of curls rising and falling as he sobbed and held his knees, sniffling and weeping.
"Oh please don't cry," Sam put a hand to his shoulder. "I promise you are safe. You are safe. There ain't no dark things out to get you no more."
Frodo didn't care for the words made no sense. He shook his head and murmured, rocking back and forth, it was all a maddening jumble to him. It just didn't add up! And there *were* dark things, lurking in the dark holes that were torn away from his spirit, away from his mind. And they taunted him and laughed and beat him endlessly *endlessly*! Why couldn't his protector do away with those! Why couldn't his protector make him understand? It was all so confusing. It was all so frightening.
In that moment, as Sam stared helplessly at his master, shaking his head and rocking in a monotonous motion. He watched in horror and knew this was no longer that brazen and cheeky tween that flew out of trees to his rescue and dried his tears. This was no longer the kind master that taught him to read and brought him cool juice while he gardened on the hot summer days. Sam had to live with this. His master was dead. The hobbit he knew had left him so long ago and he had only memories. Only memories that sent pain and joy through him all at once. "I might as well wrap 'em up in a box and bury 'em in the earth and put up a little stone and there my master would lay. Dead and in his grave." And in his weeping Sam grabbed Frodo from his dazed rocking and held him so close that his bright eyes stared fearfully into Sam's. They didn't stay like that for long, for Frodo quickly looked away as a weak animal would submit to his dominant master. Sam wept in his heart and held him close like he would a son. He stroked his curls gently and Frodo sighed, easing into the protection he so desperately needed. Sam leaned over Frodo until he was lulled back into a shadowy sleep and then he tucked him back away and watched him a while longer. His pale face seemingly dead in the glow of moonlight.
And there lay the body of Frodo Baggins no longer inhabited by the vibrant spirit that once brought light and love into the lives of so many.
...but did that necessarily mean he was dead and gone forever?
~~~
A/N: Short, prophetic, and terrifying... so whaddya think.. sorry for the shortness but I'm hoping to post more often now to compensate for that... ::holds out little tin cup:: reviews?
::random hobbits point and laugh while Sam tosses an apple at me:: "Ha how do you like it!"
::walks away with hands in pockets and head bowed::
~~~
Chapter 23 --- Prophesies
The thick mist gave way to a pool of stars rippling as if a stone had bee dropped into it. Then, as it was sudden, it seemed that a shower of pebbles were falling into it and the stars became blurred and the blackness receded. There was a cry, echoing in the depths of his ears, "Mr. Frodo!" and there came cries, cheers and hysteria by many high and frightened voices. A loud snap filled all the sound and it died and by great knowledge and experience with such matters he knew that it was bone. The blackness sped away and a blurred image came into his head. He stepped forward and he saw about him many hobbits holding pitchforks and torches and their eyes were filled with fear and concern. He stepped forward again and saw that they were all staring at a small point that was so very clear in his mind. He even walked past the sturdy gardener who he knew so very well, still as stone as if frozen with fear. Light shone at his feet but the image became blurred and cast far away into memory. A dark shadow loomed over him and he feared for the little gardener. A tall man, full of malice and strength and looking rather pleased with himself stood just as still, his eyes shining with venom.
He turned again and saw the point with painful clarity. A pile of broken wood and thick clouds of dust were settling all round. There was a stinging silence that made every shifting board of wood bang clearly and loudly in his head. It shifted loudly supporting some slight weight... the weight that shattered the structure it had once been. Two other hobbits were kneeling down and they moved as if through water, as if the shock had made their limbs so very heavy and tears ran unchecked down their faces, otherwise frozen in shock. One he knew too well. Small and chipper Peregrin Took kneeled and touched a broken beam of wood and above his hand rested a limp and furry foot, pertruding from the mass of sharp, broken wood. He noted the round drops of blood sluggishly running down the limp foot, supported by the beam. He stepped forward and clearly saw a small, fair hand, pale and limp as the foot, scratched and bleeding.
He didn't want to know. He didn't want to look. He didn't have to look. He knew, very well, who this poor soul was. But he reached out and a voice came to his head, "Do not touch the water!" He pulled away as if stung and the water swirled before him and the blackness followed and the stars glittered as the images faded back into the thickness of the mist.
"Frodo!" Envin sat up in bed panting heavily. At the moment his eyes adjusted his sister came running in and jumped on the bed.
"Envin! Envin!" she was carrying Rosie, clutching the kitten protectively. "They've gone!" she cried. "And they forgot to say goodbye to Rosie!" The little girl wept.
"Oh there there dear," he held her close and rocked her gently.
"Do you think we'll ever see them again?" she whimpered, stroking her kitten.
Envin sighed and stared at the stars out his window, "I do hope so." He kissed her head and rocked her again and whispered to the stars, "I wish I was as sure as you are, Queen Evenstar, your visions do little for my hope."
~~~
Sam too had awakened that night hearing fretful cries in his dreams. They echoed in his memory as he regained focus but they did not stop. Quickly he knew his master was in trouble. He clamored, clumsily, to his feet and made ready to run to his master's side when he remembered that they had been right next to each other. He bent again and snatched the flailing hands. Frodo tossed his head in the midst of a nightmare and cried out murmuring incoherently.
"Calm not, Mr. Frodo, be calm. Ain't no one gonna hurt you here."
At hearing the voice Frodo slowed, still whimpering and he curled close to the warmth Sam offered. He clutched at Sam desperately as if he were slipping out of reach. Frodo screwed his eyes shut and whimpered as if in pain. He clutched at Sam's hands and collar, trying to keep hold, trying desperately not to get lost. But in the end he let go and turned swiftly huddling into a ball and hitching with sobs. Sam saw his crown of curls rising and falling as he sobbed and held his knees, sniffling and weeping.
"Oh please don't cry," Sam put a hand to his shoulder. "I promise you are safe. You are safe. There ain't no dark things out to get you no more."
Frodo didn't care for the words made no sense. He shook his head and murmured, rocking back and forth, it was all a maddening jumble to him. It just didn't add up! And there *were* dark things, lurking in the dark holes that were torn away from his spirit, away from his mind. And they taunted him and laughed and beat him endlessly *endlessly*! Why couldn't his protector do away with those! Why couldn't his protector make him understand? It was all so confusing. It was all so frightening.
In that moment, as Sam stared helplessly at his master, shaking his head and rocking in a monotonous motion. He watched in horror and knew this was no longer that brazen and cheeky tween that flew out of trees to his rescue and dried his tears. This was no longer the kind master that taught him to read and brought him cool juice while he gardened on the hot summer days. Sam had to live with this. His master was dead. The hobbit he knew had left him so long ago and he had only memories. Only memories that sent pain and joy through him all at once. "I might as well wrap 'em up in a box and bury 'em in the earth and put up a little stone and there my master would lay. Dead and in his grave." And in his weeping Sam grabbed Frodo from his dazed rocking and held him so close that his bright eyes stared fearfully into Sam's. They didn't stay like that for long, for Frodo quickly looked away as a weak animal would submit to his dominant master. Sam wept in his heart and held him close like he would a son. He stroked his curls gently and Frodo sighed, easing into the protection he so desperately needed. Sam leaned over Frodo until he was lulled back into a shadowy sleep and then he tucked him back away and watched him a while longer. His pale face seemingly dead in the glow of moonlight.
And there lay the body of Frodo Baggins no longer inhabited by the vibrant spirit that once brought light and love into the lives of so many.
...but did that necessarily mean he was dead and gone forever?
~~~
A/N: Short, prophetic, and terrifying... so whaddya think.. sorry for the shortness but I'm hoping to post more often now to compensate for that... ::holds out little tin cup:: reviews?