Title: The Way of Vengeance
~*~The Return of Rushford Bramblethorn~*~
Author: Mbradford
Rating: R for violence, non-consensual slash implications , light Frodo/Sam
Disclaimer: Again, I don't own them, with the exception of Rushford Bramblethorn. He's my fault. I also invented an Inn in Bywater.
Summary: Sequel to "In Safekeeping". Rushford Bramblethorn has been banished from the Shire for his attack on Frodo Baggins two years previously. Tired of exile in Bree, he wishes to return to the Shire. He kidnaps Frodo, intending to force him to recant his testimony against him.
Author's notes: This story is the sequel/continuation of "In Safekeeping". It was not part of the original plan to continue that story, but comments in reviews indicated the original was too short! Thanks to Endymion for making that comment, which set those plotbunnies loose again!
If you have not read "In Safekeeping", this story will still make some sense, but you will likely understand it better if you check out the one that spawned it. (Shameless story plugging!!!)
Finally, apologies in advance for any careless destruction of canon (up to and including expansion of the powers of the Mayor), warping of the fabric of time and space, or other foolish transgressions.
Chapter 1 - From Shadows Returning
THE PAST - Shire Reckoning 1401
From "In Safekeeping" Chapter 3
~*~ Sam knew then that Frodo was in trouble. A scholarly hobbit who treated his books with loving care, Frodo would never leave a book lying on the ground. Sam picked the book up carefully, holding it in his hands as if it were a tiny, wounded bird. "Mr. Frodo," he whispered. "Where have you gone to?"
Voices! Sam thought he had heard voices! Being careful not to make a sound, he moved slowly through the trees in the direction the sound had come from. The look on his face changed from fear to horror as he heard the exchange between the speakers.
"Keep begging, Frodo. Not that it will do any good, but I like the sound."
Bramblethorn! That - that filthy-minded orc-spawn! Sam could find no adequate epithet in the common tongue that was equal to the task of describing the hideous blight that was Rushford Bramblethorn. His heart nearly stopped to hear Frodo's voice answering, little more than a broken sob.
"P-Please. D-don't do this."
White-hot fury exploded behind Sam's eyes. He cursed himself for not bringing some sort of gardening implement to use as a weapon. It would have to be his bare hands that tore that creature limb from limb. ~*~
THE PRESENT - Shire Reckoning 1403
Bree. Noisy, dirty, overcrowded with big folk. Bree was no place for any self-respecting hobbit, Rushford Bramblethorn reflected bitterly. Bree was, in his case, a punishment - a consequence. He had ended up in this vile place as a result of the Mayor's decree of banishment for what the old fool had termed "crimes against nature".
It all came down to the fact that desire had overcome sensibility, and he had acted upon his impulse. Not that he was sorry - the only thing there was to be sorry for, in his opinion, was the unfortunate appearance of that meddlesome gardener before he could reach the fulfillment of his desire.
Blast Samwise Gamgee! And blast Frodo Baggins, for that matter! Baggins' testimony, witnessed by that wretched servant of his, combined with rumors of past transgressions of a similar nature, had been enough to cause the Mayor to decree Bramblethorn's banishment from the Shire, and he had been marched to the borders by a large group of hobbits with flaming torches. Nothing had been proven, really. In the Shire, absolute proof wasn't always needed. If he were deemed a threat by enough of the prominent citizens, The Rules allowed for him to be cast out.
Bramblethorn stared bitterly at his tankard, then took another swallow of his ale. Frodo Baggins. Blue-eyed, pale, beautiful Frodo, the irresistible creature that had doomed him to dwell in this sewer. He chuckled to himself. Not that his amorous tastes had always included lads, but Frodo was exceptional. He wasn't done with that lovely young imp yet, not by a long shot.
He finished his ale and rose from the table, carelessly dropping a few coins on the tabletop for the barkeep. He strode out the door and down the muddy street, contemplating his plans as he went. Two years in Bree were enough. It was time to go home, and he would be allowed to stay - that was, as soon as Frodo recanted his testimony. And he would recant, Bramblethorn thought, an ugly smirk crossing his face. Oh, he most certainly would!
~*~
Bounders! What a ridiculous bunch of self-important fools, thought Bramblethorn. The Bounders were, in theory, appointed to watch the borders of the Shire for incursions of ill-intentioned big folk, orcs and the like. Bramblethorn had not seen a single Bounder as he had skirted the borders of Shire, seeking the shortest route to Bywater. Once across the borders, it would be a simple matter to travel under cover of darkness to the town and prepare for the next phase of his plan.
He would rest for a day or so once he was safely holed up in Bywater. Four days of traveling cross-country from Bree had left him dirty and road- weary. Not that he would find many comforts upon reaching his objective. His proposed lodgings were not luxurious by any standard, but they would do. There were some old, abandoned smials outside the town proper that were all but forgotten, and some were still sound enough to use as decent shelter.
He walked on, moving through the darkness with relative ease. He would get to his shelter, clean up and lay aside some necessary provisions, then make for Hobbiton the next day. Then, the next phase of his plan could be completed. I am coming, Frodo Baggins, he thought with malicious glee. And we shall meet again.
~*~
"The post is here, Mr. Frodo!" Sam's chipper voice filled the kitchen as he entered the room with two letters in his hand. Frodo turned and caught sight of Merry's dignified script on one of the envelopes as Sam placed them on the table. The second was sure to be written in Pippin's somewhat careless scrawl.
"As I thought, Merry and Pippin are confirming their plans to visit this week. They'll be here in a matter of a couple of days, and I'm nowhere near ready for them," Frodo sighed as he slipped the letters back into their envelopes.
"It does take some preparin' when Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin are comin' by, I suppose," Sam agreed. "Especially in the pantry, if you follow me," he added, and Frodo laughed.
"Pippin has the appetite of two hobbits at least, and Merry's not much better," he conceded. "I need to air out the guest rooms and make sure there are fresh linens on the beds. I know the garden is keeping you busy, Sam, but could you find time to go to the Market for me?"
"It wouldn't be no bother at all, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied readily. Frodo didn't ask him to do much more than keep the garden, but he made himself available to assist however he could. Without Bilbo there, Frodo was left to take care of Bag End largely on his own. Any help Sam could give him was always welcome, but seldom asked for.
Sam folded the list Frodo gave him and placed it in his vest pocket. It was late morning now and he was ahead of schedule with his chores for the day. It would be no great effort to slip off to the Market in the afternoon, and he would be back by teatime.
Merry and Pippin were scheduled to stay at Bag End for a few days. No special plans had been made, but the idea was to catch up on goings on in Buckland and Tuckborough. Frodo had not seen his cousins since the Yule celebration at Brandy Hall last winter. It was high summer now, and a busy time for both of his cousins. Even so, Merry had been assured by his father, the Master of Buckland, that things would not collapse entirely if he were absent for a short time. Pippin had received similar assurances from his family at the Great Smials, and both had arranged to travel to Hobbiton.
The flurry of preparations at Bag End was well underway, and continued for the remainder of the day. Sam returned from the Market with what he termed enough to feed a legion or Frodo's cousins, whichever showed up first. Guest rooms were readied and the parlor put in order.
It was late in the evening when Frodo tumbled gratefully into bed, sinking into dreams almost as soon as his eyes fluttered closed. Things were, for the most part in order, and all was going as planned.
~*~To be continued~*~
Author: Mbradford
Rating: R for violence, non-consensual slash implications , light Frodo/Sam
Disclaimer: Again, I don't own them, with the exception of Rushford Bramblethorn. He's my fault. I also invented an Inn in Bywater.
Summary: Sequel to "In Safekeeping". Rushford Bramblethorn has been banished from the Shire for his attack on Frodo Baggins two years previously. Tired of exile in Bree, he wishes to return to the Shire. He kidnaps Frodo, intending to force him to recant his testimony against him.
Author's notes: This story is the sequel/continuation of "In Safekeeping". It was not part of the original plan to continue that story, but comments in reviews indicated the original was too short! Thanks to Endymion for making that comment, which set those plotbunnies loose again!
If you have not read "In Safekeeping", this story will still make some sense, but you will likely understand it better if you check out the one that spawned it. (Shameless story plugging!!!)
Finally, apologies in advance for any careless destruction of canon (up to and including expansion of the powers of the Mayor), warping of the fabric of time and space, or other foolish transgressions.
Chapter 1 - From Shadows Returning
THE PAST - Shire Reckoning 1401
From "In Safekeeping" Chapter 3
~*~ Sam knew then that Frodo was in trouble. A scholarly hobbit who treated his books with loving care, Frodo would never leave a book lying on the ground. Sam picked the book up carefully, holding it in his hands as if it were a tiny, wounded bird. "Mr. Frodo," he whispered. "Where have you gone to?"
Voices! Sam thought he had heard voices! Being careful not to make a sound, he moved slowly through the trees in the direction the sound had come from. The look on his face changed from fear to horror as he heard the exchange between the speakers.
"Keep begging, Frodo. Not that it will do any good, but I like the sound."
Bramblethorn! That - that filthy-minded orc-spawn! Sam could find no adequate epithet in the common tongue that was equal to the task of describing the hideous blight that was Rushford Bramblethorn. His heart nearly stopped to hear Frodo's voice answering, little more than a broken sob.
"P-Please. D-don't do this."
White-hot fury exploded behind Sam's eyes. He cursed himself for not bringing some sort of gardening implement to use as a weapon. It would have to be his bare hands that tore that creature limb from limb. ~*~
THE PRESENT - Shire Reckoning 1403
Bree. Noisy, dirty, overcrowded with big folk. Bree was no place for any self-respecting hobbit, Rushford Bramblethorn reflected bitterly. Bree was, in his case, a punishment - a consequence. He had ended up in this vile place as a result of the Mayor's decree of banishment for what the old fool had termed "crimes against nature".
It all came down to the fact that desire had overcome sensibility, and he had acted upon his impulse. Not that he was sorry - the only thing there was to be sorry for, in his opinion, was the unfortunate appearance of that meddlesome gardener before he could reach the fulfillment of his desire.
Blast Samwise Gamgee! And blast Frodo Baggins, for that matter! Baggins' testimony, witnessed by that wretched servant of his, combined with rumors of past transgressions of a similar nature, had been enough to cause the Mayor to decree Bramblethorn's banishment from the Shire, and he had been marched to the borders by a large group of hobbits with flaming torches. Nothing had been proven, really. In the Shire, absolute proof wasn't always needed. If he were deemed a threat by enough of the prominent citizens, The Rules allowed for him to be cast out.
Bramblethorn stared bitterly at his tankard, then took another swallow of his ale. Frodo Baggins. Blue-eyed, pale, beautiful Frodo, the irresistible creature that had doomed him to dwell in this sewer. He chuckled to himself. Not that his amorous tastes had always included lads, but Frodo was exceptional. He wasn't done with that lovely young imp yet, not by a long shot.
He finished his ale and rose from the table, carelessly dropping a few coins on the tabletop for the barkeep. He strode out the door and down the muddy street, contemplating his plans as he went. Two years in Bree were enough. It was time to go home, and he would be allowed to stay - that was, as soon as Frodo recanted his testimony. And he would recant, Bramblethorn thought, an ugly smirk crossing his face. Oh, he most certainly would!
~*~
Bounders! What a ridiculous bunch of self-important fools, thought Bramblethorn. The Bounders were, in theory, appointed to watch the borders of the Shire for incursions of ill-intentioned big folk, orcs and the like. Bramblethorn had not seen a single Bounder as he had skirted the borders of Shire, seeking the shortest route to Bywater. Once across the borders, it would be a simple matter to travel under cover of darkness to the town and prepare for the next phase of his plan.
He would rest for a day or so once he was safely holed up in Bywater. Four days of traveling cross-country from Bree had left him dirty and road- weary. Not that he would find many comforts upon reaching his objective. His proposed lodgings were not luxurious by any standard, but they would do. There were some old, abandoned smials outside the town proper that were all but forgotten, and some were still sound enough to use as decent shelter.
He walked on, moving through the darkness with relative ease. He would get to his shelter, clean up and lay aside some necessary provisions, then make for Hobbiton the next day. Then, the next phase of his plan could be completed. I am coming, Frodo Baggins, he thought with malicious glee. And we shall meet again.
~*~
"The post is here, Mr. Frodo!" Sam's chipper voice filled the kitchen as he entered the room with two letters in his hand. Frodo turned and caught sight of Merry's dignified script on one of the envelopes as Sam placed them on the table. The second was sure to be written in Pippin's somewhat careless scrawl.
"As I thought, Merry and Pippin are confirming their plans to visit this week. They'll be here in a matter of a couple of days, and I'm nowhere near ready for them," Frodo sighed as he slipped the letters back into their envelopes.
"It does take some preparin' when Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin are comin' by, I suppose," Sam agreed. "Especially in the pantry, if you follow me," he added, and Frodo laughed.
"Pippin has the appetite of two hobbits at least, and Merry's not much better," he conceded. "I need to air out the guest rooms and make sure there are fresh linens on the beds. I know the garden is keeping you busy, Sam, but could you find time to go to the Market for me?"
"It wouldn't be no bother at all, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied readily. Frodo didn't ask him to do much more than keep the garden, but he made himself available to assist however he could. Without Bilbo there, Frodo was left to take care of Bag End largely on his own. Any help Sam could give him was always welcome, but seldom asked for.
Sam folded the list Frodo gave him and placed it in his vest pocket. It was late morning now and he was ahead of schedule with his chores for the day. It would be no great effort to slip off to the Market in the afternoon, and he would be back by teatime.
Merry and Pippin were scheduled to stay at Bag End for a few days. No special plans had been made, but the idea was to catch up on goings on in Buckland and Tuckborough. Frodo had not seen his cousins since the Yule celebration at Brandy Hall last winter. It was high summer now, and a busy time for both of his cousins. Even so, Merry had been assured by his father, the Master of Buckland, that things would not collapse entirely if he were absent for a short time. Pippin had received similar assurances from his family at the Great Smials, and both had arranged to travel to Hobbiton.
The flurry of preparations at Bag End was well underway, and continued for the remainder of the day. Sam returned from the Market with what he termed enough to feed a legion or Frodo's cousins, whichever showed up first. Guest rooms were readied and the parlor put in order.
It was late in the evening when Frodo tumbled gratefully into bed, sinking into dreams almost as soon as his eyes fluttered closed. Things were, for the most part in order, and all was going as planned.
~*~To be continued~*~