Disclaimer: obviously I do not own Lord of the Rings.
A/N: my stories will be very dark, after all I have a lot of dark personality. I'm not evil, or anything like that, just depression. I'm planning to cut myself too, but I'm scared to use a kitchen knife.
Chapter One
"Aha!"
Frodo had finally found what he was looking for. He was staring at a small room twenty feet above the Tower. There was no way anyone would try to find him here. He was so sick of Sam and his cousins running after him like worried parents, urging him to have proper meals and spend more time with them and the rest of the Fellowship, to do more work. Hadn't he done enough work already? He had carried the Ring across Mordor, for star's sake! What else did he have to do? He had even assisted Merry and substituted Pippin's duties while they were busy searching for the troublesome Took.
What really happened was that the four hobbits were out in the city, trying to occupy themselves. Frodo was practically dragged there. According to Merry, a hobbit cannot be kept indoors at all times. They need to go to inns and pubs, relax, have some fun and drink. Frodo hardly agreed. Was Merry serious? He, Frodo Baggins, heir of Bilbo Baggins and only son of deceased Drogo and Primula Baggins was not going to get himself drunk in front of so many people. And then Pippin had so suddenly disappeared. Fool of a Took. Frodo didn't want to go look for him again. He didn't know why he was acting so selfish lately, but he had stuck to spending time alone. He didn't want to do anything normal, like eating or drinking, paying attention. Frodo simply thought he was healing from the destruction of the Ring. Whatever. But last night he woke up feeling peculiarly strange, with dreams of ice and a long queue of people walking non-stop over and down a frozen valley. Merry would go and shout at him for being an unfeeling cousin. Frodo didn't care anymore.
He didn't care very much about anything. Sitting down, he leant against the wall and took out his most valuable treasure. A penknife. Then he did what most people would not expect a well-educated person like him to do. He rolled up his sleeve and dug the blade into his flesh. Blood coated the silver. and dripped into small puddles on the floor.
Now that was over, Frodo could go back to doing what he was supposed to be doing. He looked everywhere. He checked every nook and cranny. Every inn and pub. Every lodge and hotel. Every restaurant. Asked every inn-keeper he knew whether they had seen young Peregrin Took on their way to work. No one had the correct answer. Frodo fought back the urge to scream loudly until his throat was on fire. And still Pip wasn't in sight. Frodo let out a sigh and staggered to his feet. His arm flared with pain as he rolled his sleeve back down. That was his first ever cut. He'd never been diagnosed with depression so he had never known word-to-word what the sensation would be like. The feeling of relief that occured when he ran the penknife through his skin wasn't surprising though.
He had better things to worry about. Pippin. His mind was clearer so maybe he could find Sam and Merry. Maybe they had found him. And with that thought motivating him, he exited the basement.
Chapter Two
Okay, so he was wrong. Very wrong. Neither Sam nor Merry had found a single trace of Pippin. Quite the opposite. They had hoped Frodo had located him, and to their disappointment, particularly Merry's he arrived just as empty handed as them. So they had no other option than to turn to choice two: alert the authorities and begin a huge search party. They marched to the Throne Room in stony silence, Merry leading. King Elessar was seated upon his usual chair, doing absolutely nothing. Merry wanted to strangle him, but again, he had no idea until now, so he decided to keep it in.
"Is something wrong, my dear friends?" he enquired. "you look troubled."
Frodo and Sam remained unresponsive, while Merry broke into chorus.
"Pippin's gone. Missing. Can't find him."
"Have you searched properly?" Aragorn asked with a frown, leaning forward with barely surpressed anxiety, but no more than the thirty-four-year-old Meriadoc Brandybuck.
"Yes," he said. "its been four hours since we last saw him. He's still a child, Aragorn, I'm worried, its not like him to run off like that,"
"Don't you fret, dear Merry, I will call all related parties and a search party will be organised," said the King, "with all three of you in it," he added hastily as Merry opened his mouth indignantly.
"What are you going to do?" Frodo questioned.
"You'll see, Frodo," was all the King said.
The next morning, Frodo was awoken in a very strange manner. His hair had lengthened beneath his shoulder blades, his fringe of brown reached nearly past his eyes, and worst of all he was not in his usual nightgown. Well, male nightgown would be proper. Instead, Frodo was in a female clothing, much to his horror. Before he could help himself, he released a yelp, and leaped up from bed, and was immediately pushed down. Looking up, he saw the King and Gandalf watching him each with a very amused expression on his face.
"You did this, did you not, Gandalf, for mirth?" Frodo accused hotly.
"I?" said the old man. "I did most certainly not! Frodo, I don't think I am the one to tell you this, but it seems that you have awoken like so,"
"What?"
"He speaks the truth," the King said calmly.
"I hate you," Frodo mumbled under his breath. "does anyone else know?"
"Everyone,"
Frodo muttered something in elvish, which Gandalf could not mistake for anything other than a curse.
"You better get used to it," the King said quietly, smiling as he and the wizard exited the Ringbearer's bedroom, "you are now a beautiful hobbit-lass called Frodo Baggins," causing the said person to mutter another swear word or the whole sentence damned,
"Curse everyone and everything that is aware of my existence on Middle-Earth."
Chapter Three
They were now seated at the long table used to hold the banquet three days ago. The King had called Lord Elrond and his sons to the meeting as well and everyone was simply waiting patiently for the meeting to begin, except for Merry, who was tapping his fingers on the wooden surface loudly, implying he would stand up right now and leave had not this been a meeting the King of Minas Tirith had conducted. Everyone was ignoring this. Arwen's eyes were on the King's, as if expecting him to say something any moment now and Frodo was staring blankly at the opposite wall, distracted. Sam was watching Merry anxiously, as if worried he might explode. Merry was known to be very overprotective of anything related to Pippin just as Sam was of Frodo. However, they were in front of a lot of people and therefore he wasn't very sure the Brandybuck would be so irrational.
The meeting began at half past two exactly, held in the Great Hall with eleven members present and all of the Fellowship, all that except, for Pippin himself. The conductor was the King of Minas Tirith.
"As you might have already figured, we are gathered here today to discuss the possible whereabouts of Peregrin Took," the King started, watching all involved parties in case they dared to interrupt.
When no one moved from their spot, he sat back down, clasped his fingers and continued,"As for the answer of that enquiry, I do not believe he has gone far, or crossed the borderlines of Gondor."
It was Merry who spoke first.
"So you think he's still here?" he asked, shaky with relief.
"I daresay,"
"Oh, I thought he was going to say Pip was out of bounds," Merry whispered to Sam and Frodo, who were sitting on either side of the distraught hobbit. Frodo smiled and squeezed her cousin's larger hand, but it did not quite reach her eyes. The King would have pointed this out right away, had not the situation been so desperate. Instead, he gave the Queen a look and pointed at Frodo with his eyes. She understood and the message was interpreted well.
"Very well, the council is over. Everyone will look for Pippin and return to the palace at five o'clock. Understood?"
"Yes, your majesty," most chorused, but the Fellowship remained silent with worry on the task ahead. Pippin was still but a child and if he was injured Merry would fight the whole of Gondor if it meant saving him. They could only hope for the best.
Chapter Four
Pippin cried out in pain as the man's boot collided with his ribcage, shattering whatever was there. Cracks echoed throughout the narrow alley. Within the haze of pain, Pippin began to reach a conclusion. As the man neared, he gathered all of his energy and planted a two-footed kick into the man's gut.
Get out, he ordered himself. Find a guard or an inn-keeper. Someone. Anyone!
Ignoring the fuming man reaching towards him with one hand, the other on the area where Pippin had attacked him, he dashed to the other side of the cobblestone pathway, past garbage bins and dead rats. As he was running, the faintest noise alerted him. Men? Orcs? No -
"Pippin - Pippin!"
That was Frodo's voice, Pippin realised. Why did it sound so girly? Never mind! He had to get to him! Following the voice of his dear cousin, he reached a wooden door. The sounds of his captors were beyond him now. All Pippin cared was making sure Frodo heard him. So he raised his voice. If Frodo was on the other side of the door, then he could let him in. Away from the huge scary man.
"Frodo - Frodo!" he shouted, hands cupped around his mouth.
"There he is!"
Pippin turned and groaned. Not now, of all the times in the world. Thinking of the only thing he could do, he gave another kick to the approaching man and used the rubbish bins to trip the others, then leapt into the hole near the door.
Chapter Five
"Aragorn!" the elf's normally calm voice was turned into a shriek. "Is it true? Pippin's been captured?"
"There's a reason why I told you to be at the meeting on time, Legolas," admonished the King. "and yes, its true. I thought I saw his cloak outside the Inn of the Daily Delivery."
Suddenly, Frodo sprang up from between Merry and Sam. Merry's eyes widened and he pulled away, then turning to his cousin with a defiant expression, hands on hips.
"What are you trying to do, Fro? Strangle me? One hobbit is already who-knows-where, thank you very much, so don't bother."
"I'm sorry, Merry!" Frodo wailed, trying not to look hurt. "But did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Pippin's voice!"
Merry stared.
"Say that again?"
"I'm telling the truth, Merry! I heard him, I really did!"
Merry made a motion that indicated they didn't have enough time and Frodo should quickly say what she wanted to quickly. "Okay, okay, where?"
Frodo hung her head shamefully. "I don't know... somewhere over there between the alleys Aragorn found Pippin's cloak..."
"Lets split up," the King suggested. "I'll go with Faramir, he knows the city better than I do...Sam you go with Legolas, Merry on the alley on the left and Frodo on the opposite...I don't know, Frodo, it could've been just your imagination because you wanted to see Pippin again quicker."
Frodo shook her head stubbornly. "No! I know it was Pip!"
"All right, but be careful," he returned, after exchanging a worried look between Sam and himself. "we didn't survive the war for you to get yourself caught up in something else dangerous," Merry added before he too left.
Frodo paused where the two ends of the road met, careful of being caught and what it would do to Pippin's chances of being found. Somewhere to her left, a man had uttered a curse, and it was most likely what Pip would do if he wanted to escape on his own. Do his famous Pippin Kick.
Praying her cousin was still alive, she dashed down the road at maximum, heart beating like a drum and sweat beading beneath her fringe. As she went, she spotted a gaping hole in the wall that was just big enough for her small size. She bent down - and got a surprise. There were people in there!
But no Pippin. Stupid nosy Frodo. You should learn to mind your business and do what your elders tell you to. She turned and was planning to return to Faramir when she heard something that sparked her interest.
"Oi, halfling! All right there? We don' need no broken bones for one who's s'posed to be brought back in one piece!"
Frodo froze in place, breathing heavily. Pippin. Thank goodness. There was no response. Please be okay, please be okay, please, oh, please...What she did afterwards was even more stupid than accepting Smeagol's help. In her panicked haste, she darted forwards, tripped over a few pebbles and bumped into the wall, sending loose ones into the hole, which created a ruckus louder than an Oliphaunt.
The men snapped their heads to the source of the noise, but Frodo, quick with fear, had hid behind a broken-down piece of someone's old wardrobe, trembling from head to foot. What now? Should she go get Merry and Sam? Or call for the King? Oh, what was going to happen now?
Frodo closed her eyes and unsheathed Pippin's sword from the belt loop in her skirt, which had been found in the same clutter of rubbish too. She had to do this. Pippin had saved her life so many times already. He was one of her closest friends. Her cousin. It was her turn now. She must do this. For Pippin.
Chapter Six
I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't mean to break the cookie jar. Pippin thought weakly, his vision slipping in and out of focus. I was only trying to get something yummy to eat. It took him a while to realise that it wasn't his mother's sweet, loving voice, but one of the men who were trying to take him for ransom. Pippin didn't want to, but he had overheard the King and Gandalf speaking about it once. Even Merry didn't know. But they must be looking for him by now. It had been a day. Pippin's energy was wearing away now. He felt like collapsing.
"Oi!" the door shook under the weight as the man thundered on the surface. Pippin had cleverly tied a piece of string through the lock and around the door knob with a fishermen's knot, a trick Pervinca had taught him on one of Pippin's fishing trips with Uncle Saradoc. "Open the bloody door, halfling!"
Not exactly the brightest, are they? Frodo thought dimly, faintly annoyed as she dug her sword against the wood, turning the men's attention to another direction. Kakarde whipped around, squinting at where Frodo sat hidden, wrapped in a dust-caked cloak.
"Hey, its moving! There's a little kid there!"
Frodo gulped. Great. Now you've done it. A figure approached from behind and she did the first thing she could think of. Please work. Please.
"Miaow," she hissed. "Miaow!"
"Seriously?" the man muttered. He seized a nearby stone and hit it at the lump of grey. Hard. Frodo repressed the urge to cry out. She didn't exactly have a high pain tolerance. Not since Cirith Ungol. If they discover me, I'm dead.
Pippin woke up feeling very confused. What was he doing here again? Then the memories came flooding in like liquid. He had to get out of here. Now!
Then suddenly, warm arms surrounded him in a comforting embrace, the scent of vanilla and strawberries filled the tiny room and his limited sense of smell. Wait... that wasn't possible... "Frodo?"
"There aren't only few doors to get free, Pip," Frodo whispered tenderly, stroking the uninjured tip of her cousin's back and smiling sadly at Pippin's appearance. He looked terrible. He was barely wearing anything, his uniform torn and his golden curls stained with crimson. Bruises and deep cuts littered every part of the teenager's exposed flesh. Frodo tried not to cry, for the sake of her little cousin, but could not, the tears escaped their borders and dripped freely down her cheeks onto the concrete in continuous plops.
"Oh, my poor, brave cousin," she said through her tears, cupping his cheek and planting a loving kiss there. "We're going to get you out of here." She lifted Pippin up into her arms and lifted. He wasn't heavy, but what happened after was not a good sign at all. It seemed Pippin had just realised what was happening.
"What are you doing here?" he hissed, sounding very much like Frodo a few seconds ago.
"I'm saving you. I can't leave you here, in such a state," she replied, not quite meeting the younger hobbit's pain-filled eyes. She knew what he was on about and desperately wished he wasn't going to bring it up. But then again, Pippin was not that dumb.
"Get out of here, Frodo!" he said as quietly as possible. "You can't stay here!"
"I'm not going to leave you here!" Frodo said back incredously. "If you really think you can change my mind you've got another thing coming!"
Pippin's head lolled onto her shoulder. Frodo's breath got caught in her throat, eyes widening in fear and panic.
"No - Pippin!" she gasped, holding his face in her hands.
"You," Pippin mumbled dazedly. "you listen to me, you creaky, old - "
"No, you listen to me!" Frodo cried, distressed. "I'm not going anywhere! Come on, we have to go! They'll be back any minute! Pip, come - " Pippin made a sound that made Frodo almost drop him.
"Pippin?" she managed timidly.
"I..fell down. From up there...Frodo...those men...its not me they really want - " Pippin's eyes weren't focusing anymore.
"Hush," Frodo said breathlessly. "they won't find us. How are you feeling?" Stupid lass, of course he's not feeling good -
"I don't feel good..." Pippin murmured, breathing heavily. The hand on Frodo's shoulder was getting sweaty. "I think something is broken inside... Someone stomped on my chest," he muttered, before his eyes rolled into his head and he fell onto the floor with a thump.
Frodo examined him carefully with escalating concern, whispered, "I'll be back. Hang in there, Pip," and was about to run out when a voice caught her attention, causing her insides to go cold.
"I heard two talking this way," said a voice. "and definitely one of them was the Ring-bearer's, the one we were looking for. Looks like a job well done."
Frodo bit her lip, silencing her tears. This was it. She was done for.
To be continued...