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CHAPTER 13 -- ICICLES IN THE NIGHT
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Frodo lay where he was on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He was miserable…that much was certain. He was as comfortable as he possibly could be but he was miserable. The last 48 hours had been the worst in his life. He'd never been this drunk before and his stomach was queasy. He was also shaking from cold. Every part of him was cold. He wanted…well…he wanted to be warm…to be loved…and to be held…he wanted it so much he could taste it. But the one chance he'd had at love…had been thwarted and he had no idea where she was now. Chloe would have been able to get him to his bedroom…she would be holding him in her arms now…She would be telling him how wonderful he was and how much she liked being with him.
His mind went to Marigold. She was a gentle lass…but hardy….though she was a Gamgee. He couldn't possibly consider her. Why not though? She was sensitive and caring….would she consider him? Probably not after tonight.. He was sure that he'd made such a bad impression she'd run for miles. He looked at her as she entered the room again. She'd stopped to wash her face and bring a big basin of water and soap a couple of towels slung over her shoulder. She looked a little funny in his clothes and he had to smile. And for some reason…he giggled.
Marigold peered at him strangely, not entirely sure what Frodo Baggins had to laugh about and certainly if he didn't stop she'd have to tell him a thing or two! She pulled up a stool near the couch so she could sit and regarded him. He was a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot though they gazed at her with an intensity that made her shiver. "What's so funny?" she asked as she wrung out a cloth and wiped some soap on it.
"N…nothing." Frodo smiled looking at her. He imagined waking up next to her every morning…how nice that would be. Was she a good cook? If the Gaffer insisted…Frodo wouldn't have a choice. He -would- do the right thing though if it came down to it. Everyone already thought he was odd.
She started to wash his face and he couldn't help but continue giggling. Something was making him lightheaded. She put her hands on her hips for a moment and glared at him in annoyance. "Now Mr. Frodo…you have to let me clean you up."
"I am.." he gasped. "Its just…funny…" he smiled then and her temper melted. It was the alcohol affecting him. She remembered once finding Sam after he and Rosie had had an argument and he was drunk like this. Giggling at nothing. "M..marigold…can I ask you something?" he finally calmed down enough to make a coherent sentence.
She resumed cleaning his face and behind his ears, moving the warm water down his neck It felt very good…and her hands were soft. "Yes, Mr. Frodo. Go ahead…" she rinsed the cloth and began to wipe the soap away now, lifting his head up so that she could get to the back of his neck.
"Are you spoken for?" Frodo asked bluntly….he would not have been so blunt if he had been himself but he wasn't and his mind was not especially clear. She began to work on his chest. Frodo tensed slightly as he hadn't had anyone touch that particular area in a long time.
It was finally Marigold's turn to blush. She stared at Frodo for a long moment, "No." she shook her head at last…her mind had drifted to Tom…Rosie's brother. He was Frodo's complete opposite. A down to earth hobbit that she had been quite taken with for a long time now. He worked hard and he was sensible and dependable. She had a feeling that Frodo had a hard time being sensible. She felt a little sorry for him though. He lived all alone in this huge smial with no one to take care of him. She wasn't thinking about consequences or anything, her mind was entirely on making Frodo feel better.
Frodo didn't pursue the line of questioning, closing his eyes as she continued to wash him. The giggles fled as quickly as they came and depression was setting in again. He didn't understand why his mind was so out of context…then…he remembered something important. Something very important. The Ring. The Ring had been in the clothes Marigold had thrown away. His eyes popped open and he grabbed her wrist fiercely, causing her to shriek in surprise.
"Marigold…" he spoke rather desperately. "My clothes…where are they? There's something I need to get…" he tried to struggle to sit up but his head was too dizzy and he fell back on the pillows. Marigold frowned at him and tried to dislodge her wrist. From somewhere, strength had come to him and he did not release her, his fingers digging in.
"Mr. Frodo…what are you talking about…" Marigold gasped, "You're hurting me…"
He didn't hear her. "My vest…bring it to me! I need it…I need it…" He shoved her roughly away and towards the door…causing the basin of water to slosh to and fro and spill a bit onto the floor. Marigold stared at him in shock. She'd never seen Frodo look so…dangerous before. Even as week as he was from somewhere within him he'd drawn from a terrible strength. "Get it now!" he snapped desperately. "NOW!" His eyes flashed in torment as he shouted at her.
Fear gripped her heart and she scrambled to her feet, rubbing her wrist where bruises were already developing. She ran off down the hall back to the kitchen to rummage through the hamper she'd thrown his clothes in. She had no time to think…her heart was beating rapidly. He had looked like he might have hurt her futher if she didn't do as he said! It was the drink…she'd heard tales of how it made people have mood swings.
Rosie ran back, clutching his vest to her and started when she saw Frodo lying on the floor. He'd apparently tried to get up and slipped on the water. He lay there shivering and curled up into a little ball. She knelt down beside him and touched his shoulder. He flinched violently and looked up at her. Seeing the vest he snatched it away from her and tore at a pocket…his fingers closing around something within. He didn't show her but he apparently had what he wanted for he threw the vest away and his fist clutched something.inside. He held it close to him and refused to uncurl….tears rolling down his cheeks as his body shook with sobs and cold.
TBC
CHAPTER 13 -- ICICLES IN THE NIGHT
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Frodo lay where he was on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He was miserable…that much was certain. He was as comfortable as he possibly could be but he was miserable. The last 48 hours had been the worst in his life. He'd never been this drunk before and his stomach was queasy. He was also shaking from cold. Every part of him was cold. He wanted…well…he wanted to be warm…to be loved…and to be held…he wanted it so much he could taste it. But the one chance he'd had at love…had been thwarted and he had no idea where she was now. Chloe would have been able to get him to his bedroom…she would be holding him in her arms now…She would be telling him how wonderful he was and how much she liked being with him.
His mind went to Marigold. She was a gentle lass…but hardy….though she was a Gamgee. He couldn't possibly consider her. Why not though? She was sensitive and caring….would she consider him? Probably not after tonight.. He was sure that he'd made such a bad impression she'd run for miles. He looked at her as she entered the room again. She'd stopped to wash her face and bring a big basin of water and soap a couple of towels slung over her shoulder. She looked a little funny in his clothes and he had to smile. And for some reason…he giggled.
Marigold peered at him strangely, not entirely sure what Frodo Baggins had to laugh about and certainly if he didn't stop she'd have to tell him a thing or two! She pulled up a stool near the couch so she could sit and regarded him. He was a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot though they gazed at her with an intensity that made her shiver. "What's so funny?" she asked as she wrung out a cloth and wiped some soap on it.
"N…nothing." Frodo smiled looking at her. He imagined waking up next to her every morning…how nice that would be. Was she a good cook? If the Gaffer insisted…Frodo wouldn't have a choice. He -would- do the right thing though if it came down to it. Everyone already thought he was odd.
She started to wash his face and he couldn't help but continue giggling. Something was making him lightheaded. She put her hands on her hips for a moment and glared at him in annoyance. "Now Mr. Frodo…you have to let me clean you up."
"I am.." he gasped. "Its just…funny…" he smiled then and her temper melted. It was the alcohol affecting him. She remembered once finding Sam after he and Rosie had had an argument and he was drunk like this. Giggling at nothing. "M..marigold…can I ask you something?" he finally calmed down enough to make a coherent sentence.
She resumed cleaning his face and behind his ears, moving the warm water down his neck It felt very good…and her hands were soft. "Yes, Mr. Frodo. Go ahead…" she rinsed the cloth and began to wipe the soap away now, lifting his head up so that she could get to the back of his neck.
"Are you spoken for?" Frodo asked bluntly….he would not have been so blunt if he had been himself but he wasn't and his mind was not especially clear. She began to work on his chest. Frodo tensed slightly as he hadn't had anyone touch that particular area in a long time.
It was finally Marigold's turn to blush. She stared at Frodo for a long moment, "No." she shook her head at last…her mind had drifted to Tom…Rosie's brother. He was Frodo's complete opposite. A down to earth hobbit that she had been quite taken with for a long time now. He worked hard and he was sensible and dependable. She had a feeling that Frodo had a hard time being sensible. She felt a little sorry for him though. He lived all alone in this huge smial with no one to take care of him. She wasn't thinking about consequences or anything, her mind was entirely on making Frodo feel better.
Frodo didn't pursue the line of questioning, closing his eyes as she continued to wash him. The giggles fled as quickly as they came and depression was setting in again. He didn't understand why his mind was so out of context…then…he remembered something important. Something very important. The Ring. The Ring had been in the clothes Marigold had thrown away. His eyes popped open and he grabbed her wrist fiercely, causing her to shriek in surprise.
"Marigold…" he spoke rather desperately. "My clothes…where are they? There's something I need to get…" he tried to struggle to sit up but his head was too dizzy and he fell back on the pillows. Marigold frowned at him and tried to dislodge her wrist. From somewhere, strength had come to him and he did not release her, his fingers digging in.
"Mr. Frodo…what are you talking about…" Marigold gasped, "You're hurting me…"
He didn't hear her. "My vest…bring it to me! I need it…I need it…" He shoved her roughly away and towards the door…causing the basin of water to slosh to and fro and spill a bit onto the floor. Marigold stared at him in shock. She'd never seen Frodo look so…dangerous before. Even as week as he was from somewhere within him he'd drawn from a terrible strength. "Get it now!" he snapped desperately. "NOW!" His eyes flashed in torment as he shouted at her.
Fear gripped her heart and she scrambled to her feet, rubbing her wrist where bruises were already developing. She ran off down the hall back to the kitchen to rummage through the hamper she'd thrown his clothes in. She had no time to think…her heart was beating rapidly. He had looked like he might have hurt her futher if she didn't do as he said! It was the drink…she'd heard tales of how it made people have mood swings.
Rosie ran back, clutching his vest to her and started when she saw Frodo lying on the floor. He'd apparently tried to get up and slipped on the water. He lay there shivering and curled up into a little ball. She knelt down beside him and touched his shoulder. He flinched violently and looked up at her. Seeing the vest he snatched it away from her and tore at a pocket…his fingers closing around something within. He didn't show her but he apparently had what he wanted for he threw the vest away and his fist clutched something.inside. He held it close to him and refused to uncurl….tears rolling down his cheeks as his body shook with sobs and cold.
TBC