Shreds of Doubt

Recaptured – Chapter 121

Author: Llinos
Beta: Marigold

"Whass that?" Sam clutched at Frodo's arm as he heard the scraping noise once more. "There's something out there!"

"Hush Sam," Frodo squinted into the darkness trying to make out the dark shape that seemed to flicker from rock to rock. "I thought at first it was just the shadows, but now I see it's not."

"Perhaps it's an orc," Sam drew his sword, ready to defend his master to the death, "or even that wretch Gollum."

"I think it is Sam," Frodo put his hand on Sam's sword arm, pushing it down, "Sméagol? Is that you? Come here, come to Master."

"Don't do that Mr Frodo!" Sam was even more alarmed at the thought of Gollum being close by than he was at the prospect of doing battle with an orc. At least he could fight an orc and not have to bandy words with it or give it the benefit of the doubt the way Frodo might again do with that benighted creature. "He's a danger Mr Frodo, he's already betrayed you once – don't let him near again."

"I don't trust him either Sam," Frodo said gently, "but better to have him close at hand and know what he is up to than to be in fear of his approach all through our wait."

"I'm not so sure of that, Mr Frodo." Sam raised his sword once more. "He was almost the death of you before, he'll pull some wicked trick again or my name's not Samwise Gamgee!"

"Sam, I know." Frodo stood now and stepped out into the darkness beyond their hiding place beneath the overhang of rock. "But what else would you suggest? I prefer to know where he is than not, so we must either kill him or endure him. There is no other choice and I have no stomach for killing him, therefore we must tolerate him." Frodo turned balefully back to Sam, his eyes so full of sorrow and pity that Sam melted, "It won't be for long now – just until Pippin gets here."

"Masster whass he doing here? Iss waiting for hiss Sméagol?" The whining voice brought back to both the hobbits the dreadful treachery of the creature and froze both their hearts as they remembered Cirith Ungol. "Wicked Masster he's tricksy, waiting for Sméagol to trap him and beats him again."

"You're the tricksy one!" Sam spat out in ill-concealed temper. "Leading Mr Frodo into that great spider's lair! I ought to put an end to you right now!" He lifted his sword and brandished it as if to strike.

But Gollum fell on the ground at their feet, his bravado vanished at the sight of the cold blade, "Don't hurt us with nassty cruel steel! Let us live, yess live just a little longer. Lost, lost! We're losst. And when Precious goes we'll die, yes, die into the dust." He clawed up the ashes of the path with his long fleshless fingers, "Dusst!" he hissed.

Sam's hand wavered. He was angry and filled with righteous indignation at the terrible danger the filthy sneak had led his master into, but he also felt pity for the wretched creature grovelling before them in the dust. "Get up then! Get up and be silent. I will not kill you if you behave and remain quiet. No! Don't try to sneak off." Gollum was starting to back away from the two hobbits, his fear of the blade vying with his desire to be near the Precious. "Come and sit right here where I can keep an eye on you."

Gollum, fearful of Sam's anger crept forward, "Don't hurt poor Sméagol, poor, poor Sméagol, it not our faults if She be angry!" Gollum wound his body in a snake-like fashion around the rock that Frodo was sitting on. "We didn't know She would jump on Masster. She jumpsess on anything that moves."

"But you knew the giant spider was there," Frodo looked admonishingly at the cringing brute, "didn't you? You must have seen it before."

"No Masster, no." Gollum looked at the ground, knowing the Master of the Precious would see the lie in his face.

Frodo did not see the deceit, but he heard it easily enough. "It doesn't matter now anyway," he sighed. "You cannot help what you do. Just don't try any more of your nasty tricks or Sam will finish you off with his blade and that will be an end of you. Now get away from me and let me rest."

Gollum uncurled from Frodo's feet and slunk over to lie on a rock several yards away from Master and the Precious, mumbling to himself the whole time, "Thinks we's so tricksy and the hobbitsess are most tricksy too. All the little hobbitsess, even the not seeing one and the no talking one, even they tried to trick poor Sméagol."

"What did you say?" Sam followed Gollum to his new patch and hissed the question at him. Frodo had closed his eyes and was taking no more notice of the benighted creature, but Sam had caught the last muttered part of his grumbling. "What did you do to the other hobbits?"

"She was angry, not our fault. She wanted hobbitsess, we promised Her hobbitsess and She was angry." Gollum as usual appeared to be talking more to himself than answering Sam, but a horrible cold realisation was creeping over the hobbit at the chilling words.

"You led them on to it," Sam reached forward and grabbed Gollum by the neck. "Didn't you? What happened? Tell me now! Quickly!"

Gollum looked up at Sam, the cringe suddenly replaced with a look of triumph at the distress he was causing. He realised all at once that here was a chance to hurt the stupid fat hobbit. The Master's servant obviously cared about what had happened to the other two, but he wouldn't kill Sméagol, not unless Master said so. "She sucked him dry, it was what She wanted! The blind one, he didn't know which way was where. So Sméagol helped him along. We remembered what the hobbitsess did to us so we tricksess the other hobbitsess. She needed to eat – needed more fresh blood – not Sméagol, we don't taste so good. But the other hobbitsess were ripe, couldn't run, too blind, couldn't hear the screams – not the other one, the little one – so we loses him."

"What did you do? You foul thing!" Sam's heart was pounding now as he realised the truth of what Gollum was telling him. He had led Mr Merry to the terrible spider. Sam had thought he hadn't quite killed Her and Gollum had wanted to placate the thing for his master's escape. So the snivelling thing had led poor blind Mr Merry to his death.

Sam let go of Gollum's neck before his temper ruled him and he squeezed the life out of the hateful wretch. He sank down on the ground, tears welling in his eyes as he thought of poor Merry, helpless and blind at the mercy of that horrific monster. "At least he couldn't have seen it," he gasped, holding back his sobs with effort.

"Seen what Sam?" Frodo opened his eyes and gave him a puzzled look. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing Mr Frodo, you just take your rest, you need it." Sam rallied himself. There was no need to go upsetting his Master now, there would be time enough later to mourn Mr Merry. But even as the words left his lips Sam realised he had to say something to Frodo. What if Merry were dead? Who was that talking to him with the message about Pippin and the Ring and what had happened to Pippin? Had Mr Merry, blind and all, escaped the giant spider? It did not seem possible. "Well, there is something I have to tell you," Sam cast his eyes round at Gollum. "That devil there, he gave Mr Merry to that spider, there's no point us waiting for Mr Pip, that wasn't Mr Merry talking to me – it couldn't have been, he- he's… Mr Frodo, your cousin, your Merry's dead!"

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'Think! You have to stay alert!' Merry could feel his mind closing down. It did not want to deal with anything going on around him any more. He felt his eyes flickering shut and his consciousness begin to swim and swirl like a leaf caught in a stream. He tried to catch the leaf, grasped it with both hands, he had it!

His eyes shot wide open as he was prised away from his little corner of the rock face again and swung upside down by his leg; was dropped; caught again by a scythe-like claw that cut his arm and tossed up into the air to turn, catlike, and land once more on all fours and scuttle back to press himself into the wall of stone. Merry was breathing fast now. The monster that had him was playing with him like a cat torments its prey. He was just that – prey – this thing was going to eat him. There was a flash of vision and the hobbit saw his body being torn to pieces as the fell beast, holding him down with one talon, ripped strips of flesh and intestine from his still warm carcass and Merry's mind started to drift away again.

A sudden clanking noise in front of him brought his attention abruptly back to the present. He stared at the thing that had landed about 3 feet away, trying to focus and work out what it was and what he was meant to do with it. A sword! Fight! He had to fight – how? Merry knew that if he did not do something soon the creature would be on him and it would all be over, but somehow he could not make his legs work or his body obey any of the orders he was trying to send it. Vaguely he remembered something that Boromir and Aragorn had told the hobbits in the early days of the Quest, when they had been travelling through Hollin. Full of bravado and derring-do he and Pippin had been then, there was nothing they would not try, battle with ogres, orcs and goblins, fight with dragons if need be. Now that need had come and there was something important that the men had warned them about. Too much fear can drive you to the point of not caring any more, losing all sense of danger and doing strange things like curling up and falling asleep. That was what Merry wanted to do now. They had called it something, battle weariness, or some such.

No! He could not succumb to that, it would be like giving up. He and Pippin had laughed at the time at the very idea, but now that he was close, it suddenly made perfect sense, it made dying easier to bear.

The sword! He needed to get it. Scrambling, more in panic than in speed, he lurched on all fours, keeping a wary eye on the beast and grabbing up the blade and scuttling back to the wall again. He wouldn't… couldn't attack it himself. He watched and waited, all his concentration on staying awake and not giving in to the warm promise of sleep and oblivion.

Merry jumped with shock as the beast let out a terrifying snarl and snagged at him again, pulling him away from the wall, its drooling fangs only inches from his face. He almost screamed in terror but was suddenly aware of jeering and cheering coming from somewhere nearby. There were people there; surely they would help him?

He wriggled out of the claw, ripping the last shred of sleeve from his shirt and tearing another furrow down his already bloody arm. He tried to see past the monster to where the people were, if he could perhaps manoeuvre around there, then they could get him to safety. He made a feint with the sword, causing his tormentor to lurch to the side, then stabbed down with the sword, using two hands, into the great scaly foot. The creature howled with pain and rage, but veered away from him. Pulling the sword back out again, Merry moved around the cave wall towards the voices. He only had a short time now he was certain. He had gambled that he could reach the safety of the onlookers before the beast recovered from his attack for it was certain to stop playing and tear him to pieces now he had enraged it so.

Dimly the little hobbit looked up at the raucous sounds. The noises were coming from the other side of a metal barred gate and through the railings he could see faces too, although none that he recognised, they seemed wrong and distorted somehow. "Please, let me out!" Merry begged anyway, "It will eat me if you don't let me out!"

Cacophonic laughter greeted his request even when he caught hold of the bars and rattled them, a second roar of mirth assailed his ears.

Merry squealed in panic as the beast scooped him up again, lifting him this time by the middle. His mind was starting to shut down again, as the creature squawked with distaste and dropped him once more, tossing him up slightly as if he were a hot chestnut pulled too hastily from the fire. He flipped over and landed on all fours, looking frantically at the gate and back up at the beast, not sure where to turn for help. He tried the gate once more. "I can't get out! Help me… please…" it hit Merry all at once! These were orcs on the other side of the gate, of course! He began to piece together the last couple of hours. The beast had flown with him into Mordor, back to its home probably, so these were its keepers and it was certain they would not let him out for any reason. These winged creatures probably brought morsels like him back all the time.

His thoughts were interrupted as he was seized again, but not lifted off the ground. The great jaws dug around his waist, firmly enough to hold him still, but not enough to bite into his flesh. Merry writhed and beat at the nose of the thing with his little sword, too close to stab and only able to flail about. The beast let go suddenly, almost spitting him out in disgust, and snapped at his arm – the hobbit pulled it away just in time.

Merry threw himself back at the railings, "I beg you, let me out, I won't taste good, I'll give it indigestion. Please don't let it eat me! Please!" He hardly knew what he was saying any more, he was trembling with fear and was hurt and tired. It was all too much; the suffering had reached a crescendo and he no longer cared what became of him. He sank down in front of the railings and curled into a ball, his arms over his head, resigned to let the beast take him now. There was nowhere to run and no escape, he might as well let the thing have him and be done with it. Sobbing into the ground he had one last thing left to do – Gandalf would surely forgive him one last little message after all. He whispered in mindspeak, 'bye pip – i love you – evrer and evrer.'

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"Sam, what are you talking about?" Frodo looked from Gollum to Sam in horror. "What's happened to Merry? He talked to you in your mind. You were so sure it was him Sam. What's changed your mind?"

"It's that little sneak there," Sam almost growled at the wizened up creature. "He took Merry into the spider's lair and gave him to her, like he tried to do with you, only this time he did it!"

"Sméagol?" Frodo took a step forward. "Is what Sam says true? Did you lead Merry onto the spider?"

"We had to Masster," Gollum crept towards Frodo on his hands and knees, "She was angry with uss… She needed more meat. We gave Her the blind hobbit, he couldn't run and he couldn't see. He wouldn't have got out anyway, orcs would have got him, they would have been cruel – tortured him, beaten him," he sidled closer to Frodo until he could whisper the words in a sibilant hiss, "rape him, they would, pretty little hobbit. Better to give him to Her. She was hungry, finished him off quick, Sméagol kind to the blinded hobbit."

"Why you!" Frodo drew his sword and made as if to strike at Gollum, but the flash of temper passed as the pathetic thing cringed and caught hold of the hem of his coat, kissing and fawning at him. "Get off me! Go and sit over there and keep quiet, I don't want to hear any more of your lies."

Frodo and Sam slumped back down to sit, each with their head in their hands, glancing every so often back at Gollum, curled up and muttering to himself. "You know he's lying Sam," Frodo said at length. "Merry wouldn't just give up, he… well he did speak to you, didn't he? That's how we got the message to wait for Pippin."

"I don't know Mr Frodo," Sam looked up and scratched his head, "I could've been mistaken, that's all. I mean how do I know it wasn't just my own memory playing tricks on me? I may've just remembered the story and something made me think it was Mr Merry."

"What was the story Sam?" Frodo realised that he had not actually told him just what the secret was that he and Merry had kept all these years.

"I vowed to Mr Merry I never would tell," Sam shook his head. He hated to keep things from his Master, but a promise was a promise.

"Are you certain that nobody else ever knew?" Frodo asked, "I mean what if Merry told someone?"

"Oh believe me Mr Frodo," Sam looked up in horror, "Mr Merry wouldn't have told anyone – not that story, it was…" He paused for a moment and looked pointedly at the other hobbit. "No! You're right!" Sam suddenly exclaimed, half in excitement and half in worry. "He told me, just at the end. It was so fast. Not like telling the story in real time – he just kind of said, 'remember that Sam?' and I did. But there was a bit more, I'd forgotten until now!"

"What was it Sam?" Frodo was smiling now as he knew what Sam was about to say.

"He told you Mr Frodo!" Sam gasped and sat down, giving Frodo a quizzical look. "Didn't he?

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"Evenin' Mr Frodo, how you fairing? All alone tonight I see." The landlord of the Green Dragon, unusually, was himself serving the ale that evening.

"Yes, Mr Juggins," Frodo reached for his coins, "I asked Bilbo to come down, but he was busy with his books."

"I was thinking more of your cousin!" The landlord passed the foaming mug over the bar to Frodo, "That Brandybuck lad – whass 'is name? Merlidoc?"

"Meriadoc," Frodo corrected. "No Merry's not feeling so well. He was due to go home today anyway, but he's laid up in bed proper poorly."

"Hmm." The landlord looked away and said no more, not even expressing regret at Merry's indisposition, which Frodo found odd. Normally hobbits were inordinately interested in each other's health and would have enquired as to the nature of the malady, the frequency of occurrence, the symptoms in great detail and the expected recovery time, together with any family history or expected relapses.

On the other hand, Frodo did rather suspect that Merry's sudden illness was possibly due to a self-inflicted cause and that if, as the older cousin suspected, he had over-indulged in The Green Dragon the day before, his indisposition was more likely a massive hangover.

"I know what ails him!" Malo Bluebush was sitting at the long bench in the tap room, obviously with nothing better to do than eavesdrop on other folk's conversations. "That there cousin of yourn he wants to try suppin' a bit less ale an' mindin 'is manners 'e do!"

"And what would you know about it Mr Bluebush?" Frodo asked warily, hoping Merry had not been too disgraceful.

"He was more than a little pot-valiant yesternoon, he were." Malo's voice was a little loud for Frodo's liking. "Drinking strong ale at his age an' all. Still them Brandybucks is queer enough anyway, don't think nuffin' they do would surprise decent proper Shire folks.

Frodo resisted the immediate urge to get into a defensive position, after all, he didn't actually know what Merry had done. "Come now Malo, they're just regular hobbits like anyone else, I lived there long enough."

"Hmp!" Malo's face was triumphant with a 'that proves it' look. "'Nuff said!"

"Mr Juggins, another mug of ale for Mr Bluebush if you please." Frodo decided bribery would probably be better than trading insults at this point. "Now then Malo," Frodo slid onto the bench beside the sour-faced hobbit. "What exactly was my cousin up to?"

Frodo, with the help of several eye witnesses, heard the whole story of how Merry had got drunk on strong porter, was smoking a pipe – at his age – bold as brass! Then to cap it all had stood on the table and sung rude songs, insulting almost every family in the Shire, including the Bagginses, and that was saying something! By the time the whole tale was finished, Frodo had bought 3 mugs of ale a piece for at least six disgruntled hobbits, but, mostly through his placatory manners and generosity had managed to convince them that it was just a laddish prank and he had done it for a dare. That it was not normal Brandybuck behaviour and – the songs? Well yes, Frodo managed to convince them that Merry was extraordinarily clever at making up verses on the spot and that these lines were all original and had never been sung in Brandy Hall and would never be performed in public again. Even this last was a stretch for Frodo and he had secretly kept his fingers crossed under the bench as he made the solemn undertaking.

"Right my lad!" Frodo muttered as he made his way home to Hobbiton, "We'll see just what you've been up to!" The thing that had surprised Frodo most of all was not Merry's drunken bout, but the fact that young Samwise Gamgee had been there and had not mentioned it to him. That was not like Sam, he usually told Frodo everything, even things he wouldn't tell Bilbo.

"So!" Frodo threw open the door to the bedroom without knocking, "Meriadoc Brandybuck, what have you been up to in The Green Dragon?"

"Ohh hush Frodo, you make too much noise," Merry pulled the pillow over his head and groaned.

"Not as much as I gather you were making yesternoon!" Frodo pulled the pillow away, "Merry! What possessed you?"

"Please Frodo, have pity," Merry tried to grab the pillow back, "I'm not a well hobbit."

"Little cousin, I am not playing," Frodo sat down on the side of the bed and, grabbing Merry's shoulders, sat him upright. "I want an amazingly good explanation as to why you were making a drunken exhibition of yourself in the pub and causing a disgrace to the name of Brandybuck or I shall be packing you off to Buckland along with a very stiffly worded letter to your father."

"You wouldn't Fro," Merry tried to make innocent wide eyes, but he was too woosy to manage more than a bleary gaze. "Please Fro, not with my head and all! Please, don't tell my Da!"

"Merry, seriously," Frodo took a little pity and let Merry lie back down on the bed, "I can't just let it go, it's not like you and I'm really worried. What possessed you Merry?"

"Fro, I'm sorry," Merry covered his eyes with his arms. "I made a mistake, thought I could manage more porter than I could, that's all."

"But you don't drink porter," Frodo pulled the arms away. "Meriadoc look at me, you don't even like it. I remember you tried a sip once and hated it… and Merry, you do know that I know when you're lying to me."

"I'm not!"

"Merry?"

"Fro…"

"Sam was there," Frodo announced suddenly, "I'll go and ask him about it. I suspect he brought you home – didn't he? I probably need to go and apologise to him as well for your behaviour."

"No!"

"What?" The panic in Merry's voice was not lost on the astute older cousin. "Why not – I've apologised to everyone else on your behalf."

"I-I want to do it myself, Fro." Merry stuttered, "I really should be the one to apologise to Sam."

"No, no." Frodo said with over emphasised concern. "You're far too poorly, you stay in bed and I'll go and sort things out with Sam." Frodo realised that he had found the catalyst that would bring the truth from his wayward younger relative. He stood up and, patting Merry solicitously on the arm started for the door.

"Frodo…" Merry's voice was almost a whisper. He was in a terrible quandary. He had promised Sam he would never tell, but he also knew that if Frodo confronted him with an apology on Merry's behalf the young gardener would inevitably break down and spill out the whole story. "Fro… please, don't… if- if I tell you, you have to promise me something."

"What do I have to promise?" Frodo came back to sit on the bed. "It had better not involve wagers, fireworks or Mrs Juggins' oldest lass!"

"No, Fro, it's… well you have to promise never to tell another living soul." Merry sat up now and caught hold of Frodo's hand, "Please, as long as you live and most of all, you must never, never tell Sam."

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"So he told you – everything?" Sam looked at the ground, too embarrassed to face Frodo realising that he knew the whole truth about his Gaffer nearly catching him drinking strong porter and smoking, and how he let Mr Merry pretend it was him and got himself so drunk he insulted everyone in the pub.

"He did," Frodo nodded, "and the only reason I'm telling you now is because Merry has already told you – in his message."

So, so…" Sam processed the information to see if it came out good news. "That must mean, that the message was real and Mr Merry is alive!"

"Of course it does." Frodo gave a small laugh, "Because only Merry knew that I knew the whole story – you didn't – not until Merry told you in your mind. So that means the spider didn't kill him; the message was real and we do have to wait for Pippin!"

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Éowyn and Faramir rode fast and in silence. Drâmym and Ŭnomer rode just behind them, on either side of Dysgwr, his horse, Diawl Goch, guided by the other two, while the man just hung on for his life. Had this been but a day ago he might have complained, but given what had just happened to little Merry, he kept silent and concentrated on staying on board.

Although it was not spoken as the five rode on, desperately hoping to reach the Black Gate before the battle commenced and knowing they would not be even close, each of them realised how much young Merry had come to mean to them all.

Éowyn's tears were whipped away by the stinging wind in her face as she wept freely for the loss of her dear and loyal friend. Not only was her heart wrung by the thought of what he might be suffering, but also by the knowledge that, in the end, she had failed him.

Faramir too, cursed himself for being a party to Merry's escape from the Healers, he should have known that no good would come of the deception and then, in his desperation to defeat the Nazgûl, he had failed to keep any arrows back which might have saved Merry from the fell beast.

Drâmym could not help thinking of when he had first met Merry. The little hobbit had been blind and in need of protection and yet it was Merry who had saved his life, pulling an arrow from his back and binding the wound and then selflessly taking off his own fleece to wrap the hurt Rider in to keep him warm.

Ŭnomer went over and over in his mind how close he had come to bringing the fell beast down, how he could clearly see Merry's face and how the rope had found its mark with the first throw. And yet… yet somehow the rope had been pulled through his fingers. The terror in his heart still resounded painfully as the image of the dreadful winged horror, with Merry clutched in its talons, flew gradually out of his sight.

Dysgwr grit his teeth in silent agony at the rough jostling to his rear end of the unaccustomed saddle, but the tears that fell unashamedly down his face were for poor Merry. The Healer had grown very fond of the young hobbit, his fortitude, his tenacity, his bravery and, most of all, his polite and respectful manner. What he must be suffering now Dysgwr dared not even let his mind ponder on.

"Oh Merry!" Éowyn suddenly pulled up, jerking Gaseg Wen to an abrupt halt. The mare seemed to sense her rider's distress and need and stood stock still as Éowyn sat with her face buried in her hands as she sobbed deeply.

"Éowyn?" Faramir had ridden past but turned about and brought his horse to stand beside her, as the others reined in and looked on. "What is it?" Faramir hardly dare ask for fear of the answer. "Did Merry call you?"

"No." Éowyn's voice was small and distant. "He called to Pippin – he said 'goodbye'!"

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"Noooo!" Even Shadowfax tossed his head and kicked up a rear heel at the sudden cry. "No! Not! Not! Gandalf not let he!!"

"Pippin what's wrong?" Gandalf was taken aback at the sudden cry. "What's the…" before the wizard could finish the sentence Legolas was by their side and had caught hold of Pippin, lifting him down from the horse and holding him tightly in his arms, as if he would squeeze all the pain and sorrow out of his small friend.

Pippin, his arms hung about Legolas's neck whispered in the elf's ear, "Did you go hears he too? It no no no trues Legolas, why he go say that and he not go speak us now?" The elf of course made no reply but Pippin could feel his tears hot on his own face. The hobbit himself was too deeply distraught and disbelieving of what he had heard to even cry.

"Pippin!" Gandalf leapt from Shadowfax and turned the small figure away from Legolas. Gimli too had dismounted and was trying to separate them in order to discover what had happened. "Tell me what's wrong!" The Wizard shook him a little, "Now!"

"Merry…" Pippin sank against Gandalf, his voice lost in the Wizard's robes, "Merry, he sayed us in we minds… sayed he loved me… sayed he bye at me. He goed to be dying Gandalf."

"But Pippin," Gandalf knelt to look Pippin face to face, "he was getting better in the Houses of Healing when we left him. Did he relapse?"

"Not." Pippin shook his head, too stunned to explain easily what he had felt, the terror and hopelessness that had come unbidden with the sad last message. "He not be there – he go out of there. Be somewhere most of scared and scared! Oh Gandalf, Merry he so afraid it and he so tired, not can't do he any more! He just want go get dead!"

"Pippin, are you sure?" Gandalf suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder from above and looking up saw that it belonged to Legolas. The elf nodded his head, his face engulfed in great sadness, confirming what Pippin had said. Gandalf turned back to Pippin and ran his hand over the hobbit's brow and looked deeply into his eyes, finding no deception or mistake there. "Pippin, I don't know how this has come about, but do not assume that all is lost just from a feeling. Perhaps Merry has become more ill, but he is being well cared for and you must concentrate on the matter in hand – will you do that? For me? Please?"

Pippin sniffed his anguish back and took Gandalf's hand and held it tightly, "Will try."

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"Mr Frodo, I think we have to move from here," Sam was surveying the landscape nervously again. ""We've been here far too long and I have a terrible feeling, as if we were being watched by unfriendly eyes."

"Well we're being watched, that is for certain," Frodo agreed, indicating Gollum. The creature was sitting a little way away from the two hobbits, untrusted and untrusting, winding his hands endlessly together and muttering a constant litany of blame and hate against Master, Master's servant and himself. "Although I'm not sure he bothers me any more Sam, he's just a pathetic little anachronism, who should have left this life years ago."

"There's more though." Sam turned to Frodo, the worry written all over his face. "I feel as if one of those Nazgûl creatures is near and that if we stay here much longer we will be caught."

"Do you think he could be leading them to us?" Frodo nodded towards Gollum, then called out. "Hey Sméagol, come here. What are you doing?"

Gollum sidled over and knelt before Frodo, "Whassit wants from uss. We be good to them now, we promises. No more liess, no cheatings the little hobbitsess."

"You'd better not." Frodo said fiercely. "Are you leading Sauron's servants to us? Do the Nazgûl know where you are?"

"Sméagol good to hobbitsess now," Gollum whined looking up at Frodo with wide eyes. "Not betray them. Not like Masster betrays poor Sméagol."

"You did it once," Frodo pointed out. "How do we know you won't do it again?"

"Get down!" Sam suddenly threw himself at Frodo and knocked him off his feet, half pushing him and half pulling him under the rocky overhang that had been their hiding place for the past several days. Even as the hobbits took cover the sound of galloping hooves came to their ears followed by the sight of four jet-black horses and black garbed riders, one riding slightly ahead of the rest. He was taller and his beast more ill-favoured than the others, for it was huge and hideous, its face like a frightful mask, more skull than living head. Although the Rider was clad from head to toe in black this was no Ringwraith, but a living man, but terrifying and ominous for all that.

Gollum looked about in panic and started to follow after the hobbits, but he stumbled and fell in the path of the Riders, cringing down in terror in the road.

The leader lifted up a hand, bringing his entourage to a halt. "What is that foul beast in my path?" One of the followers dismounted and almost invisibly drew long lash whip from his cloak. He cracked the lash snaking towards Gollum and the end wrapped around the writhing creature, catching him by the leg.

"Arrsssshhh! Leave us agggrrrhh." Gollum pulled and fought at the trapping thong until the rider reeled the struggling creature in and caught him by the neck.

"It is a disgusting piece of excrement." The rider looked up at his master, "Shall I strangle it Lord?"

"No – wait!" The Lord narrowed his already slitted eyes and looked carefully at Gollum. "I know this creature, it follows the halfling. He must be near. Tie it up and we will wait, perhaps he will come for it. The halfling will show himself and then the Prize will be ours! Then you may strangle it!"

Frodo and Sam watched from their hiding place with horror as Gollum was bound hand and foot, wailing and screaming the whole time. As the riders threw him down on the ground and settled down to wait, Frodo whispered in Sam's ear, his voice so quiet even Sam could barely hear him. "I have to go and rescue him Sam."

"No Mr Frodo!" Sam almost said aloud, so great was his panic. "That just what they want – whoever they are."

"I'll use the Ring." Frodo drew it from around his neck. "They are not Ringwraiths so they won't see me. It's all right Sam, I feel strong with it now! The Ring is slightly less than It was and I feel equal to It – I can control It – I promise."

Before Sam was able to raise further objections Frodo stood and took the Ring from round his neck. He hissed urgently, "No Frodo! Don't – you'll be caught!"

But it was too late – Frodo was gone.

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"Whass the hold-up?" Grutfley was a seasoned fighter and had seen many a skirmish in his time before he'd worked his cushy number as chief torturer in the Black Tower, but no matter how many times he went into battle, waiting always made him nervous. "When's this frigging battle gonna start?"

"I dunno," Smagnu sat warming his hands in front of the small campfire, "no point in being too eager ter get killded. It'll happen soon enough."

"Is thass right? Cap'n Smag?" Sniggin standing next to Smagnu, happy to wait on his commander, had, unlike Grutfley, never actually seen action before. "Is we all gonna get killded?"

"Well it don't have to happen." Smagnu said, "Yer gotcha bow 'n' arrows an' yer knows how to use 'em."

"Yessir!" Sniggin was so proud of the bow his Captain had given him. "Right Cap'n!"

"And now yer got yer woad," Smag looked carefully at the blue painted little orc. "Whass that stuff made of any way?"

"Oh this an' that Cap'n." Sniggin was proud of his adornment, Bloggin had finger-painted a large blue stripe across his face. "It's s'posed to be a rainbow, but we only got the one colour."

"It's very good." Smagnu assured him. "An' Bloggin's idea of keepin' behind the trolls is sound. So you've got a good chance of getting by."

"Well Cap'n Smag," Sniggin peered into Bloggin's cooking pot still bubbling on the fire. "Blog thinks now it might be best if'n we goes in front of Groll. We thinks we'd be able to get it to go where we wants it now an' then the others'll follow."

"Right Snig." Smagnu mulled this over for a moment. "What d'yer think Grut? Theys might just have summat there."

"Yeah – true enough," Grutfley considered the position. "But I'll go with 'ems. Just to keep an eye. The others can get behind like we said."

"Right enough." Smagnu and Grutfley had decided that they wanted themselves and all the orcs in their battalion to get through this battle without being killed and they had decided the best way to do that was not to kill the enemy unless directly attacked. Marking all the orcs in their command with blue woad had been a stroke of genius by the two little brothers, so perhaps letting them lead the trolls would be a good move too. "But try to stay out o' trouble if'n yer can." Smagnu looked around at the vast army, "Wonder what the hold up is though?"

"And where's that brother of yourn got to." Grutfley grumbled. "He's bin gone a while now. Wonder if'n he's found owt out about whass goin' on."

Even as Grutfley spoke an out of breath Bloggin arrived, dodging around Groll who appeared to be asleep on his feet, and saluting to Smagnu and then Grutfley as he gulped his breath back. "Beggin' your pardon Cap'n Smag," he panted, "I bin all round me best telltales an' I thinks we's off soon as."

"Well whass the delay then?" Grutfley demanded, "Why're we still waitin' here?"

"What I heared," Bloggin squatted down and took out the dagger that Grutfley had given him and started to give it it's fifty seventh polish, "there's some of the enemy comed to the big gate and is askin' to parlay with the powers as be. Seems they wass waitin' here fer the biggest boss as they could get to show up."

"Well who was that then?" Smagnu asked with interest, "The General? Number One, - no I heared he's gone. The Great Master hisself?"

"They's said it was a Great Lord sent from the Black Tower from Barn-Door." Bloggin furrowed his brow as if trying to catch an elusive thought. "He wuz called summink – The Mouse of Sauron – or summink!"

"Yeah – that'd make sense." Grutfley agreed. "So did they go out and parlay yet?"

"No," Bloggin had gleaned his information from the best sources, listening surreptitiously in places where he passed unnoticed as just another lesser and stupid orc, "They had to take summat with 'em. Well a someone I finks. It was a enemy spy what they got an' they wanted to show it to thems."

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"Come forth!" the heralds cried. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then for ever. Come forth!"

Pippin turned and glanced up at Gandalf with a crooked smile and a shrug, "No things is happnening!" he remarked wryly.

"Hush Pippin," Gandalf frowned down. "Not the time for hobbit pertness."

"Well what you are to go do?" Pippin had never really caught on that this kind of questioning annoyed the wizard.

"Peregrin Took! If you don't…" Gandalf was silenced by a long rolling of great drums like thunder in the mountains, and then a braying of horns that shook the very stones and stunned men's ears. And thereupon the door of the Black Gate was thrown open with a great clang and out of it rode an embassy from the Dark Tower.

At its head there rode a tall evil shape, mounted upon a hideous black horse with a skull-like head and in the sockets of its eyes and in its nostrils there burned a flame. The rider was robed all in black and black was his lofty helm.

Pippin gasped at the sight, thinking this was one of the Nazgûl, remembering how they had ridden on horses in the Shire and at the Ford of Bruinen.

"Peace Pippin." Gandalf's hand rested comfortingly on the hobbit's shoulder, "This is no Ringwraith, but a living man. It is the Lieutenant of the Tower of Barad-dûr – a renegade from the race of the Black Numenoreans – he is high in the favour of Sauron and far more cruel than any orc."

Pausing before the assembled company he looked them up and down and laughed. "Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?" he asked. "Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least!" he mocked turning to Aragorn with scorn.

Aragorn said nothing but took the other's eye and held it until the Messenger looked away, turning instead to Gandalf. "I am the Mouth of Sauron and I am a herald and ambassador and may not be assailed."

"No one has threatened you." Gandalf replied. "You have naught to fear from us until your errand is done, but unless your master has come to new wisdom then with all his servants you will be in great peril."

"So!" said the Messenger, "Then thou art the spokesman, Master Gandalf Greybeard and thou shalt see what comes to him who sets his foolish webs before the feet of Sauron the Great. I have a proof for you that your schemes shall fail." He signed to one of his guards who came forward bearing a bundle across his saddle. "Show them the spy!"

The guard pulled the outer cloth off the shape that lay face down across his horse and revealed a figure, clad in an elven cloak, hobbit sized and with plain to see hobbit feet. The hood of the cloak was pulled up over the head and the little figure made no stir, either unconscious or dead.

The Gandalf and Aragorn gasped in dismay and Pippin cried out in anguish.

"Show them more," commanded the Mouth of Sauron. The guard lifted up the elven cloak, throwing it across the hobbit's head, revealed the coat of mithril mail that Bilbo had given to Frodo and a small sword strapped about the hobbit's waist – the one Sam had worn.

Aragorn made to move forward, his hand upon his sword, but before he could act, two guards moved in front of the rider with the hobbit, allowing him to turn and make good his retreat inside the black gate.

"There is naught to be gained from an attack upon me." The Mouth of Sauron held up his hand in authority. "Your spy is finished as are your endeavours should you choose to continue with this conflict. I know what we have here! Dwarf-coat, elf-cloak, blade of the downfallen West and spy from the little rat-land of the Shire, here are the marks of a conspiracy. Sauron knows what he has and now It will be His! Lay down your arms and hear the Dark Lord's terms now – your war is lost!"

***********************************************************************************************************

TBC

A/N: First I have to thank Marigold again (grinding of teeth and rending of garments!) for a small plot bunny (she just said "vital" but I shall ignore her) and I can't reveal what it is as it will give the plot away – so she'll have to wait for bouquets other than the usual thanks for fighting me over various piddling items er beta-ing.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, I have answered some of the salient and intelligent points that have been made with, in the absence of wit and verve, thoughtful consideration. So 'ere we gooooooooooooo!:

(Marigold says I've had too much ginger wine – personally I blame her!)

Q & A

Periadoc  oh, oh!! Do I see our favourite orcs coming to the rescue? Hehe!! I hope so! Keep writing!
Llinos: Hmm – I think they might have their work cut out with the battle. Nice try though!

naboolah: don't get too sidetracked by the world cup Llinos, i don't know if you watch rugby
Llinos: No – too busy writing Recaptured :-)!

Honey Dipped Rose: Hey there. I haven't reviewed in God knows how long! I am so very sorry. Please forgive ... ;)
Llinos: Well just so long as you don't forget again! :-)

HDR: Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I was still here. Probably don't remember me with all your other reviewers, not to mention I've changed my username twice.
Llinos: Well I might if I knew what your name used to be.
HDR: Just out of curiosity... does anyone here know where I could find a Beta reader? I have a Merry, Pip fic written .. but I'm not about to post it w/o a beta read.
Llinos: Ah that hardest to find commodity, a good beta. I'd lend you Marigold, but she even has a waiting list now.

lindelea: Anyhow, quivering with fear, here. Please rescue Merry soon?
Llinos: Well not too soon – if ever, I mean where's the fun in that?

siah: Claw's debut is one of my favourite additions to the new recaptured continued listing.
Llinos: Hmm – don't know if Merry would agree with you.
siah: The rhyme and the fact that Gandalf had told Legolas as well as Pippin at some point in their long lives how it went was delightful. I guess I imagine that Gandalf knew all of them as children and that is a common bond they share.
Llinos: Yes – you can't help feeling that for sure and I like these little hints at the on-going relationship, although I have Gandalf present at the "Welcomefest" for both Merry and Pippin.

Samwise the Strong: SCREW PIPPIN!
Llinos: Now there's an invitation!
Samwise the Strong: How could such bad things happen to Merry, the best Hobbit!
Llinos: Well, it's because he is the best hobbit that they happen! You always hurt the one you love!

Feng-huang: Begging forgiveness on being late, but I wanted to congratulate you on your story. I was around when it first was posted, and I must say, it's been a real drag since the new rules have been put up. Nonetheless, your story is beautifully written and well thought out. It's hard to follow a plotline as extensive as Tolkiens', even with the information given, so I would like to congratulate you as well as all other authors of exceptionally long fanfics. Can't wait until the next chapter!
Llinos: Why thank you – I can't think of anything smart or ironic to say to such politeness – simply charming!

pippin-the-thain: 'Dreamerings in We head, Legolas.' aw! i love that word -- dreamerings --it better not be copyright llinos...coz its mine now!! mwahahahahahaha!
Llinos: You may have it my darling, if you like it so much, with pleasure. Perhaps I could give words as Christmas pressies this year, that'd save a bob or two! Any one else want one?

Kookaburra: I love how you've written the fell Beast. Never seen that before - very original and unique.
Llinos: Yeah – but she's no Icicle!
Kookaburra: And in response to emma- I'd be happy to set up an illustration page, or a fanart page on your site. Have people sent you pictures they've done of Recap?
Llinos: I'll let you two artistic types discuss this among yourselves.

NarsilC: Wow, this story has come a long way!
Llinos: I know – I'm knackered!

sam: Pip giving Gandalf a hard time for sneaking up on him was priceless!
Llinos: Yes – do not mess with hobbits for they are sarcastic and quick to dish out irony!
Marigold: Poor Merry! I loved what you did with my idea about him *touching* his parents as his terror had nowhere else to go,
Llinos: Ah but it was your own special idea AND you got me to listen – a feat in and of itself!

aelfgifu: great chapter! And I just loved the two versions of poetry!
Llinos: I'm not too sure how Legolas feels about it – I mean it's not very "elvish" is it?

Eldarin Queen: NONONONONNOO! I strictly FORBID you to do any more harm to my Merry, or i will call hobbit protection services on you and i mean it.
Llinos: But just think – how can Merry be brave heroic and wonderful if nothing terrible ever happens to him?

Sakura123: I'm gettin really tired of Éowyn... and Faramir... the two annoying-est duo in a fanfiction to date... oi I always did find them a bit odd in the book, the T.
Llinos: What just in my fanfic – or generally? Some folk like 'em – but you can't please everyone – really – I know I've tried – given up now though!

Sue: Sorry I haven't reviewed for so long but I have now caught up and enjoying this wonderful journey. Another new character, looking forward to see what Bloodclaw gets up to.
Llinos: Still thinking of eating Merry I think – she's such a picky eater though – doesn't like that elven rope.

Jeodo Brandybuck: I loved all of it and it will have to squeeze in among my shelf of favourite chapters. (Move over all of you Recaptured chapters!)
Llinos: Are they shuffling about and elbowing each other? I'd like to see that!
Jeodo: Of all of the Pippinspeak so far, I love the word "dreamerings." I'll add that one to my personal dictionary, along with "promsis."
Llinos: Oh rats! I just gave it to Pippin-the-Thain up there. Perhaps you could share it? No squabbling now!

Sandy Kay (Iris Sandydowns: Then Pippin practicing his speaking by reciting nursery rhymes. So cute! The rhyme about the catto, is that original? I've never heard it before.
Llinos: Ah neither had I until Pippin whispered it in my ear and then Legolas told me the proper words.
Sandy: Pippin still believes he's carrying The One Ring! I hope he doesn't decide to do something foolish!
Llinos: Sensible hobbits! Where's the fun in that?
Sandy: And the beast itself! Ick! I loved getting inside its head, though. I actually started feeling sorry for her in a way. She's just acting on instinct. Almost never getting the sort of food she likes, and then not being allowed to take it up into the caves she enjoys.
Llinos: Now stop that – no starting fan followings for the fell beast!
Sandy: I wonder if any of the orcs who are watching poor Merry being a mouse for the fell beast will recognize him as Smagnu and Grutfley's "big Pip?" At least he's got that elven rope! I would probably lose all hope for him without that rope! I'm obsessing over it!
Sandy: One last thing and then I'll shut up: Dysgwr is about to get a taste of battle! He's going to wind up a hero, isn't he? :D
Llinos: Okay! Step away from the plot and put the surmising on the table and nobody gets hurt!

:): Pippin is really going to need some speech therapy if he can survive everything you're doing to him!
Llinos: Me? Oh I'm the least of Pippin's problems!
:):I liked when Gandalf "snuck up" on him and scared him when he was trying to get Legolas to mind speak again.
Llinos: Well he should know bettrer!
:):Can't wait to see more of Smagnu and Gruftley
Llinos: Well this chapter should please you – unless of course you don't like lots of Frodosam!

Baylor: Oh, Pip. So much trouble for such a little hobbit, and this to top it all off: "then it go grumble jumble when We says things."
Llinos: Oh you like "grumble jumble Baylor? That's your Crimble pressie sorted then!
Baylor: So Merry has been captured by a dinosaur (or close to it)! The creature's POV was fantastically written, and the ending cruelly frightful. Don't leave our brave Meriadoc in such dire straits for long, please!
Llinos: I know, I know – but it's hard not to – especially when Marigold likes it so much!

Gillian: Question, when Merry cried out to his mother, father and pippin, would he have possibly reached legolas too and the elf simply did not say anything for umm...obvious reasons?
Llinos: Aha a question I believe I can actually answer! No he didn't because Merry shut his mind down to all his usual correspondents – that was why he found his parents – the mind terror was so great it just had to go somewhere!

Xena: Pippin's dream was interesting, I knew right away something was wrong, considering he was talking normally!
Llinos: Okay – you get a large gold star! Very well spotted!
Xena: I also like that the fell beast now has a name besides "fell beast." Bloodclaw scares me, she really shouldn't play with her prey!
Llinos: Oh no she should – otherwise Merry would be eaten by now!

Pip4: Aw, poor Merry, poor Pippin, poor everyone.
Llinos: Does that include poor Llinos? No I guess not.

ssj3 Thomas: I can't believe I didn't review the last chapter.
Llinos: That's all right – just don't let it happen again! :-)
ssj3 Thomas: Oh, and bad bad fell beast. and poor Éowyn.
Llinos: Well poor Merry really – although she is feeling pretty bad.

Dear Reader: More Éowyn and Faramir...Yeah, yeah, I know I sound like a broken record...But I still want more Éowyn and Faramir...
Llinos: Perhaps you'd like to have a word with Sakura123 above! :-)

shirebound: This is the scariest thing I've ever read! I'll be peeking through my fingers at Chapter 29, if my heart can take it.
Llinos: Perhaps I need to write more horror! I scared Marigold too and she knew it was coming!