Aria e Memoria (Breath and Memory)

An eighth LOTR fic by Iorhael

AN:

1. Again, I would like to express my gratitude to everybody who has spared their time reading and leaving encouraging messages to Nasty Hobbitsess.  This sequel is dedicated to you all.

2. I got many great friends that I really treasure from posting stories here, MBradford, Krista, Endymion, Blue Jedi Hobbit, JohnLennonAcrosstheUniverse, AndysPrincess, FrodoBaggins87 – to name a few.  Please don't be mad if you don't find your name here.  You're still treasured!

3. I got my inspiration for this sequel and its title from a great piece of a song by Alessandro Safina.

ARIA E MEMORIA (BREATH AND MEMORY)

Vive il ricordo

Di quell primo momento

Magico incontro

In un giorno di vento

E le parole che

Non ho trovato mai

Come per miracolo

Per te le trovai

Io ti chiamai passione

Incanto ed armonia

Parole antiche

Parole nuove

Venute da chissa dove

Ti dissi che sei un sogno

Che sempre sognero

Tu sei aria e memoria

E sempre ti amero

Aria e memoria

E storia di una storia

Respiro e sento

Che tu mi vivi dentro

E l'infinito adesso

Esiste e so cos'e

E saper amare come io amo te

Ti chiamero passione

Incanto ed armonia

Parole in piena

Che come un fiume

Si gettereanno nel cuore

To parlero d'amore

Finche non dormirai

Sarai aria e memoria

Non mi lasciare mai

Vivid memories
Of that first moment
Magical encounter
On a stormy day
And the words
I'd never before found/lost to me 'til then
Came to me for you like a miracle


I called you passion
Enchantment and harmony
Old words
New words
Came from nowhere
I told you you were a dream
That I shall always dream
You are my breath and my memory
And I will always love you

Breath and memory
A tale within a tale
I breathe and feel
Your life in mine
Eternity dawns since my love for you
Has shown me what love really is


I will call you passion
Enchantment and harmony
Words with meaning
Flowing through my heart
Like a river
I will talk to you of love
Until you slumber
You will be my breath and memory
Please don't leave me.

4. Last but not least, I'd like to make a confession.  There is someone behind all this that has always given me priceless words of encouragement ever since the first chapter of NH.  She is my primary reason to keep continuing NH and to keep on writing.  She is Emma.  (I think you knew that!)

Summary: Sequel to my first fic, Nasty Hobbitsess.  There will be a lot of winding healing processes here.

~ Prologue ~

I'm standing before a lengthy mirror, outstretched from the floor to the ceiling of my humble room.  The mirror, with its delicately sculptured, mahogany rim, feels out of place here.  Nothing in this tiny closet is as luxurious, sophisticated, and expensive-looking as this cheval glass.  There is only a mattress – no bed frame and certainly no bedside tables.  The mattress is lying in the left corner near the window – a window that is mostly kept shut as I can't stand the chilling wind.  A small, shabby drawer accompanies the bed in the right corner.

In my opinion it would be much more appropriate and correct – right – that I should have the drawer moved to the left near the window and the mattress in the drawer's place.  But for such an arrangement I would unmistakably need someone to help me, as I would never be able to do it myself.  The drawer, no matter how shabby and dilapidated, is still too weighty for me.  I have no energy left for that.  I even have to force myself to get up from the mattress.

But tonight I need all the effort to get up and get dressed as I've been summoned.

This afternoon one of Merry's guards came over my room and told me that Merry would like to talk to me.  In private.  Swallowing hard, I could do nothing but comply.  It was an order anyway, not something that I was free to choose.  And correspondingly, I have been waiting for that, waiting to speak with Merry.

It's been so long since I last saw him and although he has been kind enough to let me stay in one part of his quarters, keeping his own word not to leave me by myself, I can't help feeling abandoned by him.  Has he finally grown tired of me and… sated merely by possessing the Ring?  Will he forget me bit by bit?

And ever since the human guard left the room, I've raided my drawer, searching for something decent enough to wear.  But I've found nothing close to fair or even middling so far.

I'm staring at piles of ragged, filthy clothes – if one can even call them clothes – in deep frustration and pull out the least soiled shirt.  I'm sure it used to be white but now it has more brownish stains than its original tone.  I spread it out to see its condition further, and with loud heaves I shake my head.  I surely can't wear it; the shirt has been completely tattered at the back.  I can't remember how it came to this condition but it pains me greatly to see it like that.

I dig deeper and my hands and eyes rest upon another shirt which is grimier but still in one piece.  I wrench it out from the others, feeling slightly more hopeful, and hold it up to the mirror.

I remove my similarly torn night shirt and put it on.  Just then I realize something is wrong with it.  I grin grimly at my reflection.  The shirt is not shredded but has lost all its buttons.  My eyes lock themselves on me in the mirror.  The grin slowly vanishes, replaced by the brimming of tears at the bottom edges of the other Frodo's eyes.  I close my eyes in anguish as I feel tears verging in my eyes too.  I wonder who has been so cruel as to tear this shirt apart.  I cannot recall when it happened and what came afterwards.  Involuntarily I tighten both hems to protect myself from the chill that materializes out of nowhere and … my nakedness.

Loud, harsh knocks quake the door and send me back from my reverie.  My eyes fly open and I flee to the door, one of my hands still clasping at my shirt.  I open the door with a bit of impatience.  Will it be Merry, who finally realizes that he has ignored me too long?

The door cracks open, leaving my mouth to gap widely as my eyes catch the sight of a figure standing in front of me, looking forlorn.

"Samwise?"  I murmur shakily as it never crosses my mind that he is going to show up.  What is he doing here?  Where is Merry?

Then I ask Sam that very question, as I really, really miss my cousin.

"Samwise, where is my Merry?"

* * *

Sam could not believe what he was hearing.

"Where is my Merry?"

The question repeated over and over in his ears and his eyes shone questioningly, stuck to the pair of blanched, quivering lips from which the question had come.  Sam stared into a pair of once brilliant, but now subdued and dreary, eyes, and into a face so fair it looked almost ethereal.

The lips once again shut entirely.

Eyes battened down, covered completely by pale lids.

Yet the face was still fair, delicate, and ethereal, despite the sudden, drastic drop of the body temperature.

Gasping audibly, the revelation struck Sam like a jolt of lightening.  Frodo was lost to him again!

Too shaken up by sorrow to do more urgent things – such as untying his master – Sam could only wrap himself around Frodo and sob quietly.

… until a warm hand fell heavily on his shoulder.

"Sam."  A low, husky voice called on him as if from a faraway place.  Sam raised his head and turned around.  Strider…  Aragorn.  Oh.

"Mr. Aragorn, Sir…"  Sam's subsequent words caught in his throat.  He could only gaze at the human helplessly.

"Come on, Sam."  Aragorn's voice softened.  "We should cut Frodo loose."

The hobbit nodded, numb with pain.

TBC

AN: Please review and tell me your expectations for this.  I'd really appreciate that.