Recaptured - Chapter 113

Author: Llinos
Beta: Marigold

Conflict Before The Storm

"My dear Dysgwr, I promise you Meriadoc did get some sleep – why he is sleeping right now." Faramir looked anxiously between the disgruntled healer and the Lady Éowyn, hoping to avoid an unfortunate diplomatic incident. They were standing in the passageway outside Merry's room having been ejected by Merry's carer just after the hobbit had finished talking to Sam and had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

"I understand your concerns good sir," Éowyn smiled sweetly, although she was feeling far from sweet after being told by Dysgwr in no uncertain terms that she and Lord Faramir were not to disturb his patient again without his leave. "But I assure you that I would not have woken Merry if the whole outcome of the present assault against Mordor had not depended upon his immediate assistance."

"I see," the healer looked more than a little sceptical, "and what exactly did you require a gravely wounded halfling to achieve in the middle of the night from his sick bed?"

"Exactly what he did!" Éowyn retorted, her voice was still honey sweet, but her eyes were beginning to flash with that spark that Faramir found delightful and daunting at the same time. "I know that the halfling looks like a small child, but surely by now Master Dysgwr you must understand that Merry has talents and strengths beyond his appearance, even above his own people's standards."

"Nevertheless, he is very badly wounded and needs his rest." Dysgwr was not to be usurped in his own domain. "My Lord Faramir I understand that you are the ruler of this City now, but in this House I have complete charge of those under my care – only the Warden may gainsay my authority over them and I must insist that Meriadoc is not to be disturbed again without my permission."

"Then you would see the City fall in ruins and the entire war be lost in order to maintain your authority?" Éowyn would not have pursued the argument but for the fear the need could arise again. "Merry did not complain at the disturbance, he saw the importance of what was needed."

"The perian does not always know what is best for him." Dysgwr retorted, he was getting quite red in the face now. "He frets, he does not eat and now you awaken him when he should be sleeping, how will he recover if he does not have a firm regime?"

"Without his help last night the whole of Middle Earth might have been lost!" Éowyn could not understand the man's short-sightedness, "I love Merry dearly and would not see harm come to him, but this was vital for the deliverance of us all!"

Éowyn and Dysgwr stood glaring at each other and Faramir noticed that, in spite of Éowyn's left arm still being bandaged and supported and her right only recently restored to feeling, her dainty fists were clenched as she barely controlled her temper. "Master Dysgwr these are not ordinary times," Faramir attempted to bring peace between the two. "Please see that the Lady Éowyn and I only acted in the common good and that I am sure Meriadoc was not irrevocably harmed."

"My Lord Faramir," Dysgwr's voice started to increase in volume, although he was still respectful to the City's hereditary Steward, " I am a Healer. I just want my patients to receive the best care possible – I am worried about the perian and Milady Éowyn is…"

"…is as concerned for his well-being as any of us." Faramir interrupted the man, his own voice getting a little louder. Faramir seldom, if ever, lost his temper, but the sight of Éowyn at odds with the well-meaning healer was enough to make him become very heated. Something about Éowyn brought all his protective instincts to the fore, although she did not seem to be particularly in need of his assistance.

"Master Dysgwr, I know you are upset," Éowyn said, trying to calm her rising temper, "but I cannot undertake to promise never to disturb Merry again without your leave. It might be very…"

"Éowyn? Please, what's the matter?" A small voice emanated from the chamber, followed by a small figure clad in a long white nightshirt and clinging to the doorframe for support.

"Meriadoc!" Dysgwr wheeled around on the hobbit in exasperation. "What are you doing out of bed? Get back at once."

"I… I heard loud voices," Merry flinched a little, shivering with the cold. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing that need worry you, Merry," Éowyn was at his side and took his hand to gently lead him back inside the bedchamber. "Come on now, back to sleep."

As Dysgwr helped Merry back into the too big bed, with both Éowyn and Faramir hovering anxiously, he suddenly gulped a little sound of shock. "Oh my Pip! What is it?"

"What's the matter Merry?" Éowyn tucked the covers cosily around him, but Merry was trembling and sniffing back tears that threatened to fall. "Is something amiss with Pippin? Is he hurting?"

"Oh terribly, milady," Merry hugged his arms around himself, wishing he could enfold Pippin in them right now. "He's very frightened – something terrible has happened to him."

"Did he speak with you Merry?" Éowyn asked caressing his brow gently, "I know that you must not talk with him – are you finding that too difficult?"

"No but…" Merry shivered again and looked up at Éowyn, his eyes filled with fear and dread, "I just felt his mind, it's hard to explain exactly, but just as I get the same wounds and hurts, when he's very upset or afraid, it's as if I'm feeling it too."

"What is he afraid of?" Faramir questioned quietly. "Is he in pain?"

"He is, the burns on his feet and other things, but mostly this!" Merry pulled apart the top of his nightshirt and the other three could see the stigmata of a chain mark burnt into Merry's neck.

"Are those marks what they appear to be?" Éowyn's voice was filled with horrified awe at the sight.

"How did you do that to yourself?" Dysgwr frowned at his patient, "Merry you haven't been trying to smoke your pipe I hope."

"Yes Éowyn," Merry did not even bother to deny the pipe. He had actually had one or two puffs, courtesy of King Théoden, but he hadn't burnt himself with it. "Pip has got… no I don't understand it… it can't be!"

"Merry, you must stop fretting yourself over your friend this way." Dysgwr was mostly concerned with his immediate patients and their well-being. "I'm sure that Mithrandir and the Lord Aragorn will take excellent care of him."

"No! No you don't understand!" Merry seemed in terrible anguish now, It's… it's, he doesn't know what to do. He told Legolas, but he said Pippin must ask Gandalf… but…but, oh Éowyn this is terrible!"

"Merry what is it?" Faramir was completely mystified about whatever was in the hobbit's mind that he found so disturbing. "Can you explain what's wrong with Pippin?"

"Pippin thinks he is the Ringbearer, he is certain of it!" Merry hardly understood how Pippin thought that. His cousin was inclined to rash acts it was true and sometimes got a little confused over things, but he was not easily deceived, having a suspicious nature and a nose for the truth. "He thinks that Gandalf and Aragorn have been seduced by the Ring and that they want to take It from him, so he believes he must now take It himself to Mount Doom in order to complete the Quest."

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"Drop! Droppit!" As Smagnu screamed at the troll he thrust all his weight onto the chain, pulling it so hard that Groll actually sat down hard on his behind and looked round to see what was tugging him.

Grutfley, who a few weeks before would have thoughtlessly fed any small orc to the troll if told to, grabbed a flaming brand from Bloggin's cooking fire and jammed it into the troll's arm. The great creature grunted in annoyance and swatted at Grutfley, dropping Sniggin in the process. The little orc scrambled on all fours to hide behind Smagnu and peeped out to see the troll holding its arm and complaining with a deep rumbling moan. It let go and started to grope around trying to grab hold of another little orc "Fud! fud!" was all it seemed able to say. The little orcs scattered in panic – all but Bloggin who stood resolutely behind his stew-filled cauldron.

"Quick!" Smagnu shouted to Bloggin. "Give it the fugging fud!" Bloggin, with an agility that surprised both Smagnu and Grutfley, leapt up on to the troll's leg, landing with both feet. In his hand was a ladle full of troll stew and he sloshed it accurately straight into the great drooling gob.

"Fud – you eat fud!" Bloggin shouted at Groll and then nimbly leapt down again and scooped up another ladleful and held it up towards the monster.

"Fud!" Groll reached out and picked up Bloggin in his great fist. Smagnu tugged on the chain once more and Grutfley advanced with the flaming brand. "Fud – gud!" The troll exclaimed looking at Bloggin and then, quite delicately for such a great beast, it took the ladle from Bloggin's hand and slurped the stew. "Guud fuud!" it drooled. and put the ladle in Bloggin's hand again and set the orc back down by the stew. Once more Bloggin ladled up stew and jumped up on the troll's leg and fed the concoction to the hungry Groll.

Sniggin overcame his fear and crept out from behind the now smiling Smagnu to help his brother and they took turns hand feeding the troll, filling the ladle and clambering on it's knee to pour more stew down its gullet.

"Guud fuud! Groll get gud fud!" Groll repeated every so often, slathering his chops together with every mouthful.

"Listen to that," Smagnu elbowed Grutfley who was watching in awe, the brand forgotten and smouldering in his hand. "It knows its name!"

Sniggin proffered the ladle once more and Groll opened his great mouth wide, waiting for the delivery, but the bold little orc withheld it now. "Want it? Want it, Groll?" he asked cheekily.

"Guud fuud gis, gis Groll! Gud fud!"

"No," said Sniggin, holding the ladle in front of Groll's mouth but not pouring. "It gud stu! say 'gud stu'! Groll."

Groll rumbled a little then took hold of Sniggin around his waist and started to take the ladle from his hand, but then put it's great head on one side and muttered, "gud stu, gis Groll gud stu!"

"There you are," Sniggin reached out and poured the ladle into Groll's maw again, "now put me down – down! And I'll get you more – more!"

Groll seemed to understand this and put the little orc down so he could fetch more stew.

"Well done, Bloggin," Grutfley patted the orc on the shoulder, "You and Sniggin done right well, and now Sniggin's even taught it some manners."

"D'yer think you can make more of that stew?" Smagnu asked letting the chain dangle from his hand now that Groll seemed relatively happy. "I think we might need it."

"I can Cap'n," Bloggin nodded. "Our dada used to say he could make stew out o' nuffin and he teached it to me, too."

"You had a dada?" Grutfley asked with interest. Orcs usually did not know much about their own origins generally being as old as dirt and enslaved to one master or other for as long as memory served. "Yewoch!" The brand had burnt down in Grutfley's hand and he dropped it with a yell of pain. "Fugging thing!"

"Fug, fug!" growled Groll. He had seen Grutfley apparently brandish the hot stick towards Bloggin and then swear and shout angrily. He also vaguely remembered from a few minutes earlier that the fat orc had burnt him with the hot stick. "Fug, fug." The troll swung out and clouted Grutfley off his feet, knocking him several yards to land on top of Smagnu who dropped the chain and both orcs ended up on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

Sniggin and Bloggin immediately rushed to the aid of their commanders, along with several other of the bolder little orcs. Groll started stalking after Grutfley with a murderous look on his face. Grutfley was still struggling to get to his feet as Bloggin turned to confront Groll. "No! leave!" he shouted at the troll. "Get fud – get stu!" and he scampered off to the cooking pot, which was still half full and refilled the ladle, holding it out enticingly to the appreciative diner.

Groll did not spend long making up his mind and, forgetting Grutfley, lumbered after Bloggin again and resumed his interrupted dinner.

"Fug me – that was close!" Grutfley accepted Sniggin's arm to struggle up to his feet once more. Smagnu was already up and had regained a hold on Groll's chain. "I guess Bloggin and you got a better way of handling it than me and Smag. It certainly likes its grub!"

"Phwar!" Smagnu waved his hand in front of his face. "Bit too much I'd say. I know you put some junk in that stew Bloggin, but I didn't think it was that bad. Just try not to stand down wind of it when it lets go, keep it away from the fire and, whatever you do, don't smoke."

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"Come on Peregrin, up you go." Gandalf lifted Pippin up onto Shadowfax and then frowned. He had felt the hobbit stiffen at his touch, not in the guilty way that young Peregrin Took might have reacted to having his ear seized after being caught out at some mischief, but almost as if he found the wizard's touch distasteful. In all of the years the wizard had known this lad, never could he recall Pippin reacting in such a way to him.

"Are you all right Pippin?" He asked with concern in his voice. Admittedly he knew he had given the hobbit a terrible burden to carry, but the youngster usually responded with enthusiasm and determination or, more often than not these days, resolute bravery. Never before had Gandalf encountered aloofness in this particular hobbit.

"Go good Gandalf, thanker you." Pippin had tried to get the words right. It was difficult to be on your dignity when you sounded like a four-year old.

"Did you have enough breakfast?" Gandalf hoped the subject of food might make Pippin a little more forthcoming. "Did you get some syrup?"

"Did." Pippin said and then added, because he really could not help expanding on the subject, "two times."

"That was nice. Look, I've got you some fresh bread and a bit of cheese in case you're hungry before we stop." Gandalf had remembered Pippin's complaint the previous day about getting too hungry, just as he and the other hobbits had during their journey from Rivendell. Hobbits, he knew from long experience, needed to eat more frequently than big people, as their little bodies could store less energy.

Pippin looked rather disdainfully at the proffered linen wrapped bread and cheese and then turned his head forward, not meeting the wizard's eyes. "No thanker you. We go wait at all othrers stopping too and get we dinner."

Now Gandalf was very worried. Pippin refusing good food boded very ill. Had he guessed Gandalf's deception and was now sulking with him? "Take it anyway," the wizard was not going to let Pippin get the better of him on this and placed the package firmly in Pippin's hand. "You know you will get hungry before everyone else and we don't want that."

"No." Pippin decided to be monosyllabic instead, at least that way he would not sound ridiculous. He kept hold of the food but refused to look at Gandalf. Inside his heart was crying, for he was sure Gandalf was lost once more. He had been so happy when the wizard had returned after falling to the Balrog in Moria and now it seemed Gandalf was lost once more but this time forever – to the Ring. That must be why It had come to him – Gandalf had decided that he or Aragorn was strong enough to wield It against the Dark Lord. But Pippin knew this was not true – Gandalf himself had said, 'no one can wield It but Sauron', so the Ring had at last seduced his mentor and guide. Pippin felt very alone.

The wizard was silent for a moment, thinking through the situation. He was not sure exactly how he had expected Pippin to react to finding the 'Ring' around his neck, probably frightened and garrulous, asking him what to do. He had not expected this resolute silence, especially from Peregrin Took. He needed to talk to the lad and get Pippin talking back.

"I'm feeling weary this morning," he said in a conversational way, "I'll ride with you to fetch Windfola, if you don't mind." Without waiting to find out if Pip did mind, Gandalf leapt upon Shadowfax and sat behind the silent hobbit. "What's wrong Pippin?" He asked trying not to sound too concerned, "you're very taciturn this morning."

"What it is tassy turn?" Pippin mumbled grudgingly, his curiosity getting the better of his determination to keep as guardedly silent as possible.

"Quiet." The wizard replied tersely, urging Shadowfax forward.

"You asked we question!" Pippin retorted crossly, "why we got go be quiet?"

"No, that's what I meant," Gandalf laughed now, in spite of the tenseness between them, "I said you're very quiet this morning."

"No you not did Gandalf," Pippin was indignant, "You sayed we tassy something."

"Oh dear," the wizard sighed deeply, "Pippin taciturn means quiet – I wanted to know why you're not talking very much today – what's wrong?"

"We thinks you got knows Gandalf," Pippin was not used to such careful attention from the wizard, that had to mean something, should he confront him? Did Gandalf know he had the Ring?

The wizard put his arm around Pippin's chest and pulled him in close to whisper in his ear, "You know now that you are the true Ringbearer, Peregrin." Gandalf hated himself for what he was doing to his dear little Pippin, the baby of the four young hobbits that had set out on this great Quest and probably the most vulnerable, but this was no time for sentiment; he had to think of the greater good and he steeled his resolve.

It was no whim that had made him convince Elrond to allow Merry and Pippin to accompany Frodo, he had known from the start that the best way to confuse and confound the enemy was with deception and stealth and using the other hobbits as decoys had always been a possibility in his plans, to say nothing of having other hobbits to take the Ring should anything happen to Frodo. But, Istari though he was, Gandalf had never envisioned it being so painful.

"You can't go have It Gandalf." Pippin's voice was firm and resolute and surprisingly calm, making the wizard raise his eyebrows in surprise. "We not gone give It at you."

"I don't wish It Pippin," Gandalf whispered in the pointed ear again, "I never did. I would not take It from Frodo, even when he offered It to me freely and I certainly will not take It from you."

"Then what we got go do with It?" Pippin turned his head awkwardly to look up at Gandalf. "Give we It at Strider?"

"You'll know when the time comes." Gandalf said enigmatically. "Eru will guide you, little one."

"Eru?" Pippin echoed in surprise, "We thought that your job Gandalf."

"Ah here's Legolas and Gimli with the horses." Gandalf leapt down from Shadowfax, thanking Eru for the timely interruption of reaching their destination. "Do you remember what you have to do, Pippin?"

"Got talk in we heads at Legolas." Pippin recited as if bored with the repetition. "Not got talk at Frodo or Merry or Éow or more people not saying here – only Legolas and got talk we got the Ring now. Got say we give It to Strider. But Gandalf…"

"No that's all you need to worry about for now Pippin." Gandalf mounted Windfola as Legolas with Gimli seated behind on Arod fell into place alongside Shadowfax and the three great steeds set off to the vanguard to begin the day's journey.

The four finally reached the head of the great army; Gandalf feeling relieved to have escaped further questioning from Pippin but still feeling a great burden of guilt and unease; Legolas, seething with impotent anger at the duplicity of the wizard and the callous treatment of his hobbit; Pippin, confused, frightened but firmly resolute that they were giving the Ring to no one but the fiery mountain and Gimli, wondering why everyone looked so cross.

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TBC

A/N: Quick chapter – no? Well I also had a lot of real life to do this week as half my bedroom, together with a big bit of loft, is becoming a bathroom. I had to clear everything, including three computers and my Merry, Pippin, Smagnu and Sam (I didn't get Frodo for my birthday) house and all their furniture. Jeesh are they ever pissed off.

Nevertheless, I am quite proud that I managed to do this chapter as well and plan to do another as quick as poss. Even Marigold doesn't know what's hit her. – This is the new, improved Llinos at your service. So if you wanna join in the chat or ask questions or say something rude to me – get your comments in quickly!

Heddwch

Llinos

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Comments and Counter Comments (or as sensible people call it 'chat')

Dear Reader: More Éowyn and Faramir!
Llinos: Your wish is my command :-)

Jay of Lasgalen: Another chapter so soon! Great, it's like the old days!
Llinos: I hope to carry on this way too – if I can and if everyone wants.

Lindelea: I keep imagining what kind of Thain Pippin became...
Llinos: Or will become, depending on whose version you read

Artemis-chan: if all or most Hobbits had the ability to mind-speak. Do YOU have something planned in regards to that?
Llinos: Hey steady on – I'm not Tolkien :-)!

sam (camilliatook@hotmail.com): This is my favourite angst story, followed by Moria's Revenge, another great story.
Llinos: I must be all right at angst then.

 :) : A chapter for Moria's Revenge and Recaptured all in the same week!
Llinos: And now another Recap chapter – I really must get a life!

:) : Okay, since Pippin has part of the "weight" and all with the Ring will the fake one have to be destroyed as well?
Llinos: Well Pippin will probably think It does.

aelfgifu: and I am feeling a teeny weeny bit guilty at what I plan to put Pip through in RATM now.
Llinos: aha! Then don't do it, Emma!

QTPie: I miss Merry. Will there be more of him coming up?
Llinos: I know – so do I but he's kinda busy being ill and isn't supposed to talk to Pip, but then he doing a good job of playing Cupid, even if he doesn't realise it.

Eldarin Queen: thats not nice what gandalf had to do to the poor thing.
Llinos: Still, I suppose you have to feel sorry for Gandalf too. Do you yet? No – oh well.

roadkill-writer: They are practically cute, in a kinda ugly, orcish way. Give them a kiss from me,
Llinos: Ewch! No, especially after what Bloggin's been eating!

Kookaburra: And I just
Llinos: Aaarrrrgghhh! Someone just kidnapped or killed Kookaburra in the middle of her review!

meatball: NO! NO PIPPIN! It's fake!! The Ring is fake!
Llinos: Hush meatball – don't tell him – you'll spoil the story.