A Little Ficlet....
I'm trying to get back into the swing of things with writing. Slowly. Very, very slowly. :)
Title: Flicker
Rating: G
Characters: Frodo, Sam
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"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked quietly as he eased the door of the study open. "Will you be needin-?" But he paused when he saw his master fast asleep, his dark head resting peacefully against the worn pages of the Red Book.
Sam slipped into the room, taking great care to avoid the first creaking floorboard. The light of the old oil lamp that sat on the edge of the desk wavered as he approached and crouched next to his master's chair. His breath caught as the faint golden glow played across Frodo's features, which seemed softened by the gentle light. The creases on his brow were gone, as were the deep pools of black and blue that normally framed his eyes. All that remained was the single brush of silver amidst the curls behind his ear, but even that appeared muted by the flame. It was a trick of the light, he knew, but it seemed to Sam that he was seeing Frodo as he had been, all those years ago, when pain and despair lived only in the dark places of the world.
He could have stayed there forever with his heart singing in his chest the way it was. But as the night deepened, a chill began to spread through the room, and frost crept slowly across the window. It would do neither of them good to stay there and catch cold.
He leaned and pressed a gentle kiss to Frodo’s forehead.
“Mmm…Sam?” came the low slur. Frodo stirred and the dying flame flickered; the light shattered across his face and the vision was gone.
"Come now, Frodo dear.” Sam wiped at his eyes and cleared the thickness from his throat before continuing quietly, “We'd best get you to bed. You'll do yourself no favors by sleeping on this terrible hard desk. Easy now, Sam will help you."
He wrapped an arm around Frodo’s waist and led him from the room.
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Title: Flicker
Rating: G
Characters: Frodo, Sam
-----
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked quietly as he eased the door of the study open. "Will you be needin-?" But he paused when he saw his master fast asleep, his dark head resting peacefully against the worn pages of the Red Book.
Sam slipped into the room, taking great care to avoid the first creaking floorboard. The light of the old oil lamp that sat on the edge of the desk wavered as he approached and crouched next to his master's chair. His breath caught as the faint golden glow played across Frodo's features, which seemed softened by the gentle light. The creases on his brow were gone, as were the deep pools of black and blue that normally framed his eyes. All that remained was the single brush of silver amidst the curls behind his ear, but even that appeared muted by the flame. It was a trick of the light, he knew, but it seemed to Sam that he was seeing Frodo as he had been, all those years ago, when pain and despair lived only in the dark places of the world.
He could have stayed there forever with his heart singing in his chest the way it was. But as the night deepened, a chill began to spread through the room, and frost crept slowly across the window. It would do neither of them good to stay there and catch cold.
He leaned and pressed a gentle kiss to Frodo’s forehead.
“Mmm…Sam?” came the low slur. Frodo stirred and the dying flame flickered; the light shattered across his face and the vision was gone.
"Come now, Frodo dear.” Sam wiped at his eyes and cleared the thickness from his throat before continuing quietly, “We'd best get you to bed. You'll do yourself no favors by sleeping on this terrible hard desk. Easy now, Sam will help you."
He wrapped an arm around Frodo’s waist and led him from the room.
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