Moonlight in Sapphires

by Tainted Tears

[INCOMPLETE] An adventure just waiting to be taken. A story just waiting to be told. An account of Frodo’s story in his PoV, during the events PreQuest through to PostQuest.

Title: Moonlight in Sapphires

Author: Crystal Charmer

Genre: Drama/Fantasy/Action/Adventure/Horror/Angst/Supernatural

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Moderate violence, some sexual references and acts, some torture, some abuse, some disturbing content

Summary: An adventure just waiting to be taken. A story just waiting to be told. An account of Frodo's story in his PoV, during the events Pre-Quest through to Post-Quest.

Disclaimer: All characters recognized in The Lord of the Rings books are under copyright of J.R.R Tolkien. The character Tigerlily Tighfield and the song that Frodo sings both belong to Shooting Starlight.

-oOo-

Chapter 1 – In the Beginning

Thrimidge, the year 1377, SR

Bustling commotion rampaged throughout the Hall and covered all of the silence up with a noisy blanket. Everywhere I turned it felt like a struggle in a wave of legs and layered skirts. It certainly was common for me to bump into someone, or at least for someone to collide into myself.

Although I thoroughly enjoyed these family visits to Brandy Hall, often they became rather horrible. I always looked forward to meeting my relatives, especially those that didn't make such a fuss over me - treating me like a small pup.

However, it was also a little despairing, because, although I tried to include myself, I felt quite outcast by everyone else.

During visits with family here were always rather tiresome. Mumma and Papa greeted the other guests with their own stories of small talk, whilst I preferred to escape into Brandy Hall's beautiful library, or to break outside into the green hills, away from all of the crowds.

I'm not sure why I liked it this way. Perhaps because I did not feel so trapped.

Trapped.

I jumped aside just in time to avoid Uncle Saradas from colliding into my arm. Shrinking back against the wall, I followed him with my eyes until he stumbled out of the room.

Sighing, I leant my head against the hard wood and stared at all of my relatives - dancing merrily and chortling with one another as if they did not have a care in all of Middle-earth. I could not see my parents anywhere.

The more that I continued to think of those wonderful, fascinating books in that quiet little room, the more that my mind became obsessed with them. And the more that I seemed to keep obsessing over them, the greater that my need to escape the snare of Hobbits swarming the rooms of the Hall had become.

My parents had always said that - even from a very young age - I had secretly craved a secret desire to read. At first, it struck most Hobbits as being rather odd, as it was not usually "proper" for most children to be this completely interested in scholar behaviour. It was a little more common for young lads and lasses to be running and playing freely over the rolling green hills of the Shire, causing their own mischief and playing games. I also spent much of my time doing exactly the same things, however, now and again, there was nothing more pleasant than settling down beneath a shady tree with a good book.

Or so I thought, anyway.

Running from the confounded room, I headed into one of the quieter corridors trailing through the large place, and made my way towards the library, although at times I had to dodge my small body away from the stampede of my young cousins storming past.

Confusticate them, I thought, with a roll of my eyes.

I had almost arrived at my destination when I heard someone calling my name. I glanced over my shoulder to meet Aunt Amaranth's dark-eyed gaze. I had done nothing of any wrong, yet for some particular reason I felt somewhat guilty under her stare.

"Frodo?" she questioned, in a voice of hidden confusion. "Are you all right? Why are you here all by yourself, lad?"

I had always liked Aunt Amaranth. She was Mumma's eldest sister, and the vision of her standing there, with her hands on her hips and her dark hair pinned back neatly, almost demanded respect. She was strong in her speech; what that she had to say to others - and often what she had to say to me. However, what I admired most of all about my dear aunt was the fact that she listened to me. If I ever needed someone to talk to in Brandy Hall, she was always willing to lend an ear to what I had to say - no matter how insignificant it my have sounded to others.

"Hello, Aunt," I replied back, with a forced smile. "I was..." However, I could not seem to finish what my head had planned to say, and instead I just stood there, looking quite foolish.

There were so many ways that I required my tongue to speak at present, yet I could not find the right words. My aunt's lingering stare of uncertainty was beginning to make me feel rather nervous, in all honesty, and I knew that it would not be long before that she would start asking questions. At least, I hoped that it would not last for too long.

"Why don't you come back in, now?" she suggested, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Your Uncle Saradoc and Aunt Esme are wanting to meet you."

I sighed to myself and nodded, rather half-heartedly. O, I cannot lie; I adored my aunt and uncle. I saw them quite frequently, as Mumma and Aunt Esme were indeed close, and pleasured in one another's companionship. They were always so very kind towards me - the both of them. Inside, I hated the thought of disappointing them, especially when I was their guest. Confound my guilt, I sighed to myself.

"Of course," I replied, unsure of where to look. "I am sorry, Aunt. I'm being very rude." I shuffled my feet against the floor, awkwardly.

Her lovely laugh, clear and affectionate, rang suddenly through the buzzing corridor and she squeezed my arm with tenderness.

"Dear boy - do not say such a thing! You are formed of nothing but purest politeness, Frodo. Now, go on."

My elder relatives could say such remarks, and yet still appear admirable of all who lingered nearby. However, it was a rather different story for young Hobbit children of almost nine years, such as myself. My elders perhaps craved these family gatherings, but for a young Hobbit-lad, it became extremely dull after the first few hours, and something inside of me seemed to yearn for some relief. No wonder Aunt Amaranth wished for me to mingle with others. She may have already seen that the boredom was beginning to chip away at me.

I nodded in reply and trudged back into the main hall, my head spinning with the number of faces I kept passing. I would never remember all that stood there, even if I memorized all of my relatives' names many years from now. I brightened up, however, at the sight of my Uncle Saradoc waving me over to speak to him, his pleasant brown eyes smiling warmly at my young face.

"Hullo, there, Frodo!" he greeted, ruffling my hair a little and offering me a friendly grin. "Wandering, are we?"

"I'm afraid so," I answered quietly, wishing that my tone of voice would pull itself out of the shadows. I very much despised seeming such a grey soul in front of my family, especially when everyone else seemed to be having a rather fulfilling experience.

Uncle seemed to notice it, however, and at that very moment I wished to kick myself for showing it in such a way. What is the matter with me? I thought bitterly, now and again my blue irises glancing longingly at the hovering butterflies that were dancing on the air outside. I am spoiling everything for everyone else. How selfish of me.

"Ah! I understand that these gatherings can be a little overshadowing, lad," my uncle reassured warmly, if not teasingly.

I shifted uncomfortably and turned to face Aunt Esme, who was shaking her head mockingly in her husband's direction, her soft brown curls bouncing on her shoulders. It made me feel a little better on the inside, knowing that she understood what I was feeling at this very moment. It was comforting, and I smiled at her, to show her my gratitude.

"There's someone I would like you to meet, Frodo dear," interrupted Aunt Esme, after noticing my predicament, and, standing in front of me, brought another lass with her - slightly older than her, but with striking resemblance to my aunt. She was tall, and appeared amiable, with her bright, shining grass green eyes and her round, rosy cheeks. I had never seen her before in all of my life, but yet, I felt remarkably comfortable around her.

"You must be Esme's charming nephew, Frodo," he said, holding out her hand. "I'm your Aunt Prisca. My, look how you've grown! I haven't seen you since you were a tiny baby - look how handsome you are!" She took to gushing and I immediately felt embarrassed. However, I returned the gesture and shook her hand, smiling a little.

"Pleased to meet you, Aunt Prisca."

Her elegant face beamed into her sister's at my answer, clearly rather touched. "Why, I'm very pleased to meet you also - and what good manners you have, lad! Although," she added, mocking sceptically. "I have heard rumours of your mischievousness from a few sources. I take it you can be quite the rascal sometimes?"

I stared – anywhere but straight at her, trying with all of my might not to burst into fits of uproarious laughter. Yes, I told myself, hiding my smirk. However we shall not speak of that tonight. I would dearly like to avoid a lecture.

It was true; I was often known for playing my own share of pranks and causing my own kind of trouble. I never played off for harm, nor for anything truly serious. Although, I did not object to stealing few vegetables from a garden, playfully splashing someone in the lake or playing a practical joke.

I did not bring this up in front of my aunt, however.

She smiled at me, brushing a few of my dark curls out of my eyes, neatening it. "Your parents must be terribly proud of you."

Oh, I thought, clenching my teeth against what she had just complimented me with. O, why must they say things such as this? At that moment I felt my face glowing ever brighter. I have always wondered what the real purpose of those remarks really is. Why must anyone continue to flatter anyone, in order to allow them to feel uncomfortable? Oh, yes, it may be because it is courteous, but I've never really considered it as anything proper. It just seems so unnecessary.

"Thank you," I squeaked, unsure of what to say in return. I knew I could not repeat what had just flickered through my mind at that moment.

Very unnecessary indeed, were the exact words that had flickered through my mind as I left her side earlier, ruffling my curls back into their usual messy state with a roll of my eyes.

-oOo-

The softest glimmer of a smile cornered the edge of my lips as I felt the warm breeze flutter delicately over my cheeks and through my dark curls. I snuggled myself into the emerald grass, resting the book in my lap, with a strange feeling enveloping over me, as if I had escaped. Escaped from the pushing vice of crowds inside Brandy Hall, and had broken free into the hills of the Shire, where I could relax, and not feel under so much pressure.

This is what I wished to feel, I told myself triumphantly, resting my back against the tree. I feel a lot better.

The adults had all begun to speak of more complicated subjects now; things that I did not understand. I had begun to feel even more bored than ever, and something inside of my soul was screaming at me to get away. I listened to it, and obeyed. There wasn't a chance that I was going to stay in there when I could be enjoying myself, out here, in the fresh air. It was just so beautiful and perfect.

I sighed happily, and opened the leather binding, in order to read those pages. As I did, I began to sing gently to myself, because not only was I doing something that I was indulging myself in, I also felt rather pleased with myself for getting out when I could.

"So many things I do not know,

As this path unfolds for me,

Clutching my life amongst it's tow,

The meaning which I do not see.

While my heart's curiosity grows,

Willing to hear what others have said,

This lifetime that the past has sewn,

The road that lies ahead.

Yet my hope will not falter true,

For bravery is never far away,

I will stand strong for through and through,

Rejoicing in every blissful day.

And now before my eyes I see,

The trail that waits for me to tread,

Some events just may be up to me,

On the road that lies ahead."

It had always been one of Mumma's favourite songs, and she had often sung it to me several times when I was a lot younger. She had informed me some time ago, that during the time when I was a tiny babe, she had used it as a substitute lullaby to send me off to sleep on those difficult nights. It had always calmed me, and delivered me pleasant dreams for the night. Or at least, I preferred to think so. Mumma had been singing it ever since she was a young lass - no more than a tweenager, and she had picked it up many a time from her own mother.

It had such a beautiful melody, and the words meant so much to me, I could not help but sing it to myself at the moment; also considering the fact that I was rather pleased with what I had just done, and what I was now involved with. However, I was cut short from a second helping by a tiny, curious little voice that my ears picked up almost instantly:

"What are you singing?"

I glanced upward, only to gaze directly into the small, round face of a tiny Hobbit-lass, looking no more than to be six or seven years of age. She stared back at me with her large, mahogany eyes and twirled one of her dark curls idly around one of her chubby little fingers.

Once again, she was someone whom I had never met before. Another hidden family member? I thought, slightly annoyed. This is why I often detest family gatherings - I have no idea who any of them are! Still not having moved an inch since I had first looked at her, I realised that I must do something other than merely stare at her in this way, in the case that I could as well be threatening her! So, I blinked at her unusually, and shut my book on itself with a small thump.

"Hello, there," I said, hoping I sounded friendlier than I felt. "What might your name be?"

At first, it seemed as if the young girl did not understand what I was talking about. But then, her childish face broke out into an innocent grin, and she giggled sweetly. "I'm Tigerlily," she told me proudly, puffing out her small chest. "Tigerlily Tighfield."

Ah, my mind told me. The Tighfields'. They all mostly reside in the area of the same name, quite a way away from Buckland or Hobbiton. She must have travelled quite a way to be here today. I laughed a little at her confident posture and tilted my head slightly to one side, taking her in from every side. She really was a tiny little thing, and I could not help but admire her for being so outspoken.

"It is very nice to meet you, Tigerlily," I replied kindly. "I am Frodo Baggins."

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" she asked with inquisitiveness, squatting down to sit beside me, her voice taking on a rather high pitch.

I turned to her, showing her the book I had secretly snatched from the library. "Reading," I said simply.

She frowned, screwing up her nose. "Why?"

At first I blinked, not sure that I completely understood such a peculiar question. Why? Why am I reading? At first, I wondered if I should tell her of the congested feeling that I had inside of the Hall, but, in the end, decided not to. After all, she was just a young lass, who perhaps did not have the cares that I did. So, instead, I smirked at her, opening the book to the first page.

"Why?" I repeated, shaking my head to myself with a little humour. "I am reading because I like it."

"I can't read that well," Tigerlily pouted, drawing her knees up to her chin and flopping her arms over them. "I can only read some of the words in my Daddy's books at home."

I flicked open page upon page with my small fingertips, listening to what she had just said, and once again, became enthralled in my own memories. I could remember, ever since I was able to, I had never found any difficulty at all with the ability to read. Papa had explained to me, many a time that I seemed to - strangely enough - have already acquired that skill. Inside of myself I knew that that was ridiculous. I had just mastered it at a very early age, and I was indeed grateful.

"Here," I said kindly, sitting closer and opening it in front of her. "I will read it with you."

Her bright face bloomed into a beam, and she moved over to sit beside me, peering eagerly to gaze at it.

We sat there for a while, shaded and secluded under the summer-green shadows of the leaves that shielded us from the sun, and her glaring rays. I read the poetic, inspiring words aloud to young Tigerlily, and often stopped to give her time to understand some of the more difficult parts. I enjoyed reading it aloud; somehow it felt as if I were telling it to myself.

"That was a good story," she smiled, stretching out amongst the dew-covered grass as the tale came to a close.

Yes, indeed it was. I was ready to open my mouth in reply to tell her such, when I heard Aunt Prisca's voice coming distantly from across the hills. I turned my head and smiled as she made over to us, gathering her skirts and waving delicately at the two of us.

"Oh, there you are, Tigerlily!" she proclaimed, rolling her eyes a little with mock annoyance. "I wondered where you may have gotten to – I was beginning to think you'd wandered off somewhere."

The young lass scrambled clumsily to her feet and ran into Aunt Prisca's legs, squeezing them tight. "Mummy, Frodo read me a story!" she blurted out, whirling around to look at me, her cheeks shining.

I grinned inside. So, she is Aunt Prisca's daughter... I almost chuckled at how coincidental the whole mishap was. That makes the two of us cousins, then. Second cousins, to be precise. How funny! I folded the book in my lap and smirked pleasantly at my aunt.

"She is a very good listener," I added.

"Oh, that was very nice of you, Frodo-lad!" perked Aunt Prisca, her green eyes seeming to sparkle in the sunlight. She glanced down at her daughter – who was attempting to hide beneath her dress – and tickled the side of her face. "Wasn't that nice of Frodo, love?"

Tigerlily, who was smothered by layers of fabric, mumbled out an incoherent: "Mmeth," followed by a mischievous giggle.

Unable to hide her humour, Aunt Prisca fixed her attention back on me, a short sugary laugh escaping from her lips. "I do hope she hasn't been spawning trouble upon you Frodo, dear," she said, addressing me and struggling to get her skirts back from her daughter's clutches. "Although I'm not quite sure I can say the same for me – Tigerlily!"

Tigerlily sniggered in reply, finally peering out from her hiding place and smiling cheekily at me.

"I liked the story, Mummy," announced the little lass proudly, tossing a few curls of darkest russet over her shoulder, and tugging attentively on her mother's dress, her big brown eyes staring.

"Of course not," I grinned, replying to Aunt Prisca's previous question. "She was no trouble. In fact, she was quite good company." I lay out the book across my lap again, eager to continue where that I had previously left off. Secretly I wondered what time now stood at, and if it were time for us to leave yet and return home.

I do hope not, I thought, grumbling a little in my head. I always enjoy it here in Buckland. I love the sense of freedom I get, whenever I am here. The Brandywine, the forests...it's just wonderful.

As I sat there, pondering to myself, and somehow blocking out the Tighfields' conversations as if hey were not there at all, I suddenly felt the urge to spend some time wandering. After all, I had picked up the words "getting late" and "leaving soon" from my aunt, so I secretly wanted so spend some time here until I had to leave.

Scrambling to my feet, book in hand; I took off across the green blades of grass, with no explanation of why I was doing so. For all anyone could have guessed, I was running away...far, far away, where no one would ever find me and never hear of my name again.

For that moment, I just...wished to do something wild – something free, something...

"Frodo!" I heard little Tigerlily call out behind me, her voice pinched with confusion. "Where are you going?"

But, to be completely honest, I had no idea myself where I was running to. Somewhere, buried inside, my soul was screaming at me to get up and run – to escape. I could not explain why. All I knew was that it sounded interesting. So I did. I ran. I ran all the way down, over the few emerald hills and I keep going, watching the sun setting in the sky until...

...I stopped, to catch my breath.

I must stop doing these spontaneous things, I scolded myself with a chuckle, failing down on the warm grass and closing my eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning; the book cast aside at my hip. It was then that I could almost hear Aunt Prisca's reply to whatever her daughter had called out to me, drumming in my ears – as clear as if she were standing next to me.

"He seems like a very strange lad to me, darling...whatever did he read to you?"

I did not know whether to laugh out loud, or to shrink inside. Instead, I shrugged it off, and let the lavender sky swallow me up, until there was nothing left but stars, leaves and dew. All a mix of nature.

A mix of the Shire.

-oOo-

Months in the Shire Calendar

Afteryule: January

Solmath: February

Rethe: March

Astron: April

Thrimidge: May

Forelithe: June

Afterlithe: July

Wedmath: August

Halimath: September

Winterfilth: October

Blotmath: November

Foreyule: December