Title: Come To Morning
Author:
sunryderArtist:
stephantomVerse: BBC Sherlock
Word Count: 23,868
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: John/Sherlock
Warning: character death
A/N: AU/Fusion with Lord of the Rings, but written that you should be fine with next to no understanding of that universe. Many THOUSANDS of thanks to
greenie1980, my beautiful beta, without whom I couldn't have done this. Any mistakes are mine.
Summary: John Watson was a Shire Hobbit, born and bred, and he was terrible at it. He'd expected to spend his life bored and more than a little alone, but then Sherlock had come. Now he was running around Middle Earth trying to stop a killer while still avoiding Mycroft's lectures, and pretending he wasn't half mad in love with an Elf.
PLEASE go look at the stunning art found
HERE.
stephantom blew my artistically challenged mind with this, and I'll forever adore her for it.
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6 "You can only come to morning through the shadows."
-J.R.R. Tolkien
John Watson was a Shire Hobbit, born and bred, and he was terrible at it.
His mother was a Took, and that family's legendary sense of curiosity had led young John up a tree, while had gravity led him back down again. John damaged his leg in the fall and the half-drunk healer who was too accustomed to fixing stubbed toes and hangovers had set the bone wrong, leaving little John to spend his life with a limp.
(The other Hobbits liked to whisper that all John's oddness had started there.)
John had been so bothered over his leg that as soon as he was able, he'd limped straight to the old witch woman who lived in the ratty house halfway between Bree and Buckland and insisted that she teach him how the useless healer should've done things. After than John had hobbled out to her house day after day for weeks and demanded that she teach him everything she knew about medicine so that the next time one of his fellow Hobbits needed healing they'd have someone around who knew how to tend to them properly. When the witch woman declared that she had nothing more to teach him, John went on and demanded the same teaching from every other healer in the Shire.
There was quiet gossip amongst the other Hobbits about how all that learning was unnatural, but for the most part everyone wrote it off as one of those phases young people were so prone to go through. It was the general assumption that sweet John Watson would soon find a lovely Hobbit girl who would cure him of all these silly notions about medicine and he'd settle back into the family business with the whole affair forgotten.
However, the day John started roaming into Bree to consult with a human healer, his fellow Hobbits decided that things had gone too far. They sat him down for a good meal (for all weighty Hobbit conversations must be conducted on a full stomach) and John was scolded by his parents, then his sister, then his neighbours, then the nosy widow down the street, then the head of the Took family, and finally the healer who'd crippled him in the first place. (Needless to say, that last confrontation hadn't gone particularly well.)
John had ignored them all and when he finished his meal he stomped home and found Stamford the Dwarf waiting in the small herb garden to the front of John’s house. Apparently the doctor over in Bree had said there was nothing he could do for Stamford's troubles but there was a Hobbit who he thought ought to be able to help. For all his irritation at his fellow Hobbits, John was grateful that at least the humans thought he wasn’t an idiot.
Tending to patients was always the best thing to calm John down, and he'd seen to Stamford straight away. (Digestive problems, all the Dwarf needed was peppermint tea, brewed strong, and drunk with his meals for the next few weeks.) Afterwards John had walked the rather genial Dwarf to his front door, only to see a Wizard standing at the end of the walk drawing long puffs on his pipe and staring at them both with a smile in his eyes.
Mind you, John hadn't known the rather intense, grey-cloaked human was a wizard at the time, he'd just assumed that one of the more eccentric travellers through Bree had come over to see him at his Hobbithole in the Shire. It wasn't until Stamford sobered and dipped his head in respect that John thought anything might be odd. "Gandalf, it's an honour to greet you." the dwarf said, elbowing John in the side to make him to genuflect in whatever way suited a Hobbit, but John merely raised an eyebrow at Stamford like it was a ridiculous suggestion.
"I am Stamford son of Stamfred of the Grey Mountains, and this is John Watson."
The Wizard gave John a long and appraising look, and the Hobbit merely gave a polite nod in reply. Gandalf grinned at John as though he'd passed some test by not puffing out his chest and pretending he was above the outlander staring at him. "I've heard a great deal about you Doctor Watson."
John snorted, "All of it distasteful, I'm sure. And I doubt any of them called me 'Doctor'."
"We cannot control the foolish decisions of others, and any who does not recognize your gift is nothing less than a fool." The wizard said with a very determined puff on his pipe.
John scoffed at the Wizard's fine words and asked, "How can I help you, sir?"
Gandalf smirked at John, knowing from the slight blush to his cheeks that John knew full well he was a talented doctor, but that didn’t make it any less lovely to have someone actually say it. "Truthfully, I thought I might be able to help you, Master Doctor."
John folded his arms across his chest, adopting a defensive position and ignoring the way Stamford glowered at him for doing anything that might be considered an affront to the wizard. "Really, and what might that be?"
Gandalf chuckled again and leaned on his staff as he strode up the walk and settled himself down on the Hobbit-sized bench in John's garden. "I'm on my way to Rivendell, to the house of Master Elrond, the great Elven healer." John froze, willing himself not to leap to any conclusions about the conversation. "I thought you might like to come along with me."
John tamped down his flair of excitement and asked, "Sorry, why would you be willing to take me with you?"
"I've spent the last month travelling around the Shire, and you're the only interesting thing I've found since I've been here."
"Oh now, that's a bit harsh."
"I admit, your pipe weed is lovely," he gestured with the pipe between his lips as though that would make it more true, "and your ale isn't bad, but the whole of the Shire is so petrified of the outside world that they panicked at the mere thought of men coming to visit you, even here on the edge of Buckland. They live in hiding, ignoring the realities of life in this world. All of them… except for you. You go seeking it. And from the whispers I've heard, you were preparing to move to Bree anyway, so why not go somewhere where they've still got something still to teach you?"
John stopped himself from accepting the plan quite so easily, "Why would an Elf be willing to share the secrets of their healing with a Hobbit?"
"Because a wizard asks them to! Now tell me child, are you going to keep on questioning your turn of fortune or are you going to accept it for the luck it is?"
"Do you always insist that people make life-changing decisions at the drop of a hat?"
"You know your answer already, John Watson. It's a waste of my time and yours to pretend otherwise." The small Hobbit and the elderly wizard stared at one another for several long moments, Gandalf trying to goad John into going while John was busy trying to get the measure of this man sitting on his little wooden bench and offering to whisk him away like a dream come to life.
John said yes, just as the wizard knew he would, and took an hour to pack up a few of his journals, some extra clothes, and got himself stopped by Harry on the way out the door. There had been yelling (by John), throwing of things (by Harry), and eventual storming out (by John). He ignored the shouting and threatening to see him disowned and walked on to Bree with the wizard and the Dwarf by his side.
They'd made their way to the town with no fuss over the course of the next few days, with Stamford telling raucous stories and John pestering Gandalf to learn anything the wizard might be in the mood to teach. John had really been quite pleased with the trip, even when they reached the end and he'd been left at a tavern to watch Stamford get increasingly inebriated while the Dwarf attempted to drink various human patrons under the table.
John rather enjoyed watching Stamford go so far past the deep end of drunk that he started singing songs in Dwarfish and didn't quite realize that no one could understand him well enough to join in. But the best part of it all was the stories the humans would tell when they lost hold of their own tongues and forget that they all pretended they weren't impressed by the other peoples of this world.
He was mostly amused by the ramblings, but when one of the men started in on how someone reputable had seen Elves in the forest nearby, John couldn't help put pay attention. Apparently the apothecary had had an Elf in his shop just yesterday and had been spreading the news around. Now, there were humans either avoiding the woods entirely, or sneaking out at night in the vain hope that they'd catch sight of the Elves traveling past. When the drunken ramblings turned in a direction that made John's stomach churn, he stepped away from the conversation to chat with one of his patients who'd come in to say hello.
The night dragged on and the whispers of Elves continued until finally John couldn't take his curiosity anymore. Stamford was just drunk enough that he didn't quite remember the particulars of his promise to Gandalf to stay with the Hobbit and John managed to convince Stamford that he ought to stay and defend the tavern rather than traipse through the woods with John, which Stamford was more than keen to do.
The Hobbit ducked out the tavern door and took off for the town's gate at a lopsided dash. The moon was high, covering the already dirty town in long shadows and making it appear just as ominous as the foul men back at the tavern.
For the most part John enjoyed tracking down all the excitement he could find, since it didn't occur naturally in the Shire. He liked the adrenaline that came with the bustle of a day where he actually did something. That rush was easier to find in Bree, but there were still those moments when all John wanted was a moment to himself, a moment to let his imagination run off into the quiet.
John strolled slowly through the trees outside the town's wall, less concerned about seeing the Elves now that he was away from the heat and crass conversation of the tavern. He looked up and saw the stars through the branches above him, taking some solace he didn't want to admit to in the fact they were the same here as they were those few miles away at home.
John thought for a moment that this whole plan was ludicrous. After all, he was still close enough to the Shire that he could walk home and Harry would be so happy to have him back that they'd write off the whole matter as a misunderstanding. He could go back to his sane little life, settle down with one of the more spirited Hobbit lasses, and maybe find a way to pretend he was normal.
John had himself partly convinced when a scream cut through the silence of the woods and John went running towards it. He followed the faint thumps of a fight deeper into the forest and found himself stumbling to a stop at the top of a rise, looking down through trees at a scene that made his blood boil.
Several of the drunken fools from the tavern had made their way into the woods, obviously trying to track down the Elves that everyone was whispering about. John was sure the men were too stupid to have found any signs of Elves on their own, so it had to be a case of dumb luck that had led them into a collision with an Elf maiden out for a midnight stroll.
The maiden was shorter than John had expected, but still lean and lovely, and managing to look poised despite the circle of four human men who'd crept in on her to leer at her. One of the humans took a staggering step towards her and something in John's mind snapped. He released a great bellow and barrelled down the hill, sparing a thought that this was absolutely insane just before he slammed his slight frame into the man's vulnerable knees.
The human hadn't even turned to look at the Hobbit dashing towards him, which meant John was unheeded as the man dropped to the ground with a pained scream. The other men were too shocked to respond, leaving John free to jump on one of the others and use his medical knowledge to pop out the man's kneecap. The maid was quicker on the uptake than the two remaining men; she reached into the folds of her dress, pulled out a long, curved knife and had it to the throat of the first man to react, stopping him as he tried to dive for John.
The man froze, then shifted his weight to go after the Elf, obviously thinking that she didn't know what to do with the knife she was wielding. The maiden flicked her wrist and sliced the man across his cheek, stopping him in his tracks. The last man standing dove forward to protect his friend and John darted forward and crashed into him, forcing him backwards but not stopping him. The man cursed in a way that John found entirely inappropriate in front of the lady and grabbed for John's shoulders, but the little Hobbit dropped out of range and rolled out of the way. The man was too drunk to easily follow the darting Hobbit and by the time he finally straightened up to lurch after John, the Hobbit had a thick branch in his hand and he struck the man across the face and sent him dropping to the ground.
John turned back to aide the maiden, and found his presence was now unnecessary. Every man left conscious was cowering on the ground before a furious Elf who had stormed upon the scene. He'd swung the maiden around behind him to protect her and had a long, curved sword in his hand, held with the point down but the tense line of the Elf's muscles made him look ready to slice any of them in two.
"Leave now and I'll let you drunken fools go back to your village." One of the men sputtered and the Elf flicked his sword so the point was directed at the man, "You get drunk to the point of oblivion every night and you won't remember a bit of this until someone tells you what happened to your knee. You," he pointed the sword to another, "are a sheep and an idiot who will get yourself killed if you continue to spend your time with these men, and you," the Elf pointed his sword directly between the last man's eyes. "are a blight on the name of man and I would be doing your species a favour if I put you down." The Elf paused for a moment and let that truth hang in the air before he finished, "Leave now and I'll let you all continue to be a waste. I'm not in the mood to dissect one of your species."
The men limped to their feet and hefted their stunned companion up behind them and stumbled out of the forest. "You..." the Elf turned his blade on John and announced, "are interesting."
"Are you a seer?" John asked in confusion, dropping his branch when he realized he still had it hefted to swing.
"No, just observant." He sheathed the sword and turned to check on the maiden who had moved to the side of the clearing and now stood peacefully beside a tree. The Elf strode back to her and glanced over her with those observant eyes to be sure she was well.
John did his best not to stare at them both, but he couldn't help himself. The moonlight slanted through the trees and cast them both in a bright, unearthly glow, exactly the way Elves were always pictured in story books. The maiden was beautiful, of course, with her loose blonde hair tumbling down her back, and her white dress set alight. But the man... he was perfect. His black hair didn't hang straight like the books said an Elf's should, instead untamed curls tumbled down his forehead and into his knowing gray eyes, every inch of him lit up in the pale moonlight like a fallen star.
The moment was over almost before it began and the Elf stepped back over to John, giving him a quick look over before asking, "Rivendell or Rhovanion?"
"Sorry, what?"
"Are you trying to make your way to Rivendell, or to Rhovanion?"
"Rivendell. Sorry, how did you-"
"You're obviously not suited to be spending much time in Bree."
"And what makes you so sure of that?"
Before he could say anything further the maiden stepped forward and placed a hand on the Elf's shoulder, trying to pull his attention back to her, but whatever she was about to say was drowned out by white light from Gandalf's staff at the top of the rise. "Ahh, here you are, John. I thought that something less than fortunate had happened to you, especially since I told you to wait for me at the inn."
John had the grace to flush before replying, "Actually, you told Stamford to stay with me but didn't specify that we were supposed to be stay at the inn."
Gandalf just snorted then stepped forward to meet them with his own circle of light. He took a good look at the Elves before him and offered them a bright smile. "Master Sherlock, it is a pleasure to see you again... and you as well Lady Molly." It sounded like Gandalf tacked her name on as an afterthought, and judging by the tight-lipped hello she gave the wizard, she knew it was meant to be.
"Gandalf," Sherlock replied in a warm tone, "It's good to see you as well, it has been too long since you've graced our people with your company."
Gandalf laughed, "Graced you? Sherlock the last time we spoke to one another you called me a dunder-headed waste of an education."
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the wizard like he was ridiculous to still be harping on about that. "You were being a fool at the time, while at this moment you seem to have taken charge of one of the more interesting creatures I've come across in the last several hundred years, so you must be going through one of your less ridiculous phases."
"Wizards never have unintelligent phases, Sherlock. We may go through periods of foolishness but that never makes us less than brilliant."
Sherlock looked like he could argue the point, but instead scoffed and headed deeper into the woods. John stared after him, some part of him shouting at him to follow the Elf, despite the glower that the maiden had turned on John for his interest. The Hobbit even took half a step after the Elf before Sherlock stuck his head back around one of the trees and declared, "Are you coming?"
"We have things to collect at the inn, you know." Gandalf replied easily.
Sherlock scoffed, "Boring" and headed back into the woods.
Gandalf gave a gentle smile, as though he'd long passed the point where he got frustrated with Sherlock's behaviour. The wizard waived John to follow after Sherlock and said he'd gather their things from the inn and give their farewells to Stamford before he caught up. John paused and very nearly declared that he should go back with the wizard, at least to say goodbye to Stamford, but Gandalf leaned forward and whispered, "If you leave him now there's a good chance that he'll have roamed off entirely by the time we catch up to their party." John tried to shrug, like the thought of not seeing Sherlock again didn't tear up something inside of him but Gandalf gave an understanding smile and pushed John off to follow the Elf.
Sherlock went through the forest at a quick walk, just fast enough that John's short legs had to dash to keep up with him. John caught up to Sherlock quickly enough, while Molly trailed behind, trying to look ethereal and looking constipated instead. John didn't have to look at her more than once to know that she was unhappy with this arrangement and for a moment John suspected that she'd arranged to stumble upon the men, just so Sherlock could rescue her, but John brushed the idea off as mad.
"How did you know?" John asked as they darted around a tree.
"I pay attention."
"Yes, you explained that part, but how did you know?"
The Elf tilted his head ever so slightly and stared at John for a moment like he'd just done something odd. Sherlock turned his attention back to bounding through the trees and replied, "The cut of your coat means you came out of the Shire rather than one of the rougher Hobbit settlements. You were roaming in the open air of the forest rather than staying in the safety of town, despite being a new place, which implies you were so unhappy there you left. And you got involved with big people business."
"How did my doing the right thing tell you that I was going somewhere?"
Molly raised a displeased eyebrow at the Hobbit who dared question her companion while Sherlock replied, "Your ‘right thing’ meant running into a fight against armed men three times your size. That makes you reckless with a thirst for adventure, and that means you could never have been comfortable in the Shire. Meaning you're leaving for someplace where you might fit in."
"You got all that from me going on a walk?" Sherlock shrugged like it wasn't that impressive and John replied, "That was brilliant."
Sherlock stopped and stared at John like it was the first time in years that he'd been startled by something. "Really," John shrugged and stepped past Sherlock and further into the forest.
Sherlock stayed standing in stunned quiet and replied, "That's not what people normally say."
John looked over his shoulder, "What do they normally say?"
"Antolle ulua sulrim."
John smirked, "And what does that mean?"
"In Common? Piss off."
John laughed at the dirty words coming from the posh Elf and both of them pressed on into the forest, this time walking side by side.
Part 2