Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.
Author's note at the end.
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Eleven: In the House of Gandalf the White
Frodo walked past Sally's horse like a man walking to his own execution. With each step he took towards the small cabin he tensed in apprehension for the fate that awaited him there.
Sally couldn't stand to see him like this. Though the source of his pain was a mystery to her, she shared it with him. As he passed her she climbed down carefully from her saddle. "I'm coming with you," she said.
Frodo stopped and turned slightly to face her. A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth, a look of bittersweet nostalgia for an echo of his past. He shook his head and told her gently, "You don't have to." He knew that nothing he could say or do would keep her away.
"But we stand together," she stated firmly. She spoke quietly, too quietly for him to hear her. He was already several steps ahead and she looked after him with uncertainty. What could he fear? Those words spilled out of her for her own benefit, an affirmation of her purpose. Exactly what she needed to make her feet follow him.
Legolas heard her. Her soft tone could not deceive his sharp ears. He smiled inwardly as he watched her trail after her master, understanding at last the source of her devotion.
Only steps away from the cabin, its weather-beaten door flew open with a powerful force. Sally gasped in surprise and looked to its cause.
A fiercely tall, amazingly aged, elderly man stood in the doorway bathed in white. His robe was white. The hair on his head and face were white. The starkness of him was so pure, he seemed to glow. When he spoke, his voice boomed into the air with such strength that Sally nearly cringed to hear him. "Frodo Baggins of the Shire," he said in stern greeting, "too long it has been since your shadow has darkened my door."
"Hello, Gandalf," Frodo said in his soft voice. His manner did not do well to hide his heavy heart.
Gandalf turned his back on them and retreated to the interior of his home. "Come in, if you must," he said bitterly.
Sally frowned as she followed Frodo into the darkened cabin. If he welcomed them, he did so only reluctantly. The old man held the same enthusiasm for this meeting that Frodo did.
Gandalf turned his attention to a small table and began to prepare tea. Sally watched him as he reached into a cupboard to pull down a third cup to accompany the two he had already set out. She remembered that Legolas had said that he had waited. Waited and planned for this.
The old man sighed deeply as he set the teapot over the fire. "I have dreamt of this day," he said. "I have prayed for this day and now that it has come, I find it … anticlimactic." His disappointment was evident.
Frodo let out a breath he had held for too long and hung his head low. "I know what you must think of me," he said sadly.
Gandalf snorted softly and settled on a stool near the open fireplace. "You know nothing," he spat. He would not face them, preferring the indifferent company of the teapot he watched. "Yes, you have come to destroy the Ring. We should all bow to your grand benevolence."
His mocking tone only served to push Frodo back into the shadows as he receded further into his own guilt. "I suppose I deserve that," he said.
"Why?" Sally asked, unable to contain her outrage.
Frodo looked to her as if startled by her presence. He shook his head in warning. "Sally, don't."
"But sir," she protested, "with the burden you bear—"
"With the burden he bears he could have destroyed us all on a whim," Gandalf pronounced loudly, interrupting her with his grand voice. "But in his blind arrogance of having noble intentions, his actions have been nothing short of godlike." He stood from his stool, once again reaching his impossible height. He turned to face her, fixing her with a piercing gaze that awakened an old fear inside of her. She suddenly remembered he was a powerful wizard. "Don't misunderstand," he said in a gentler tone as he spoke to Sally alone. "I am grateful that Frodo is who he is. Circumstances could have been a great deal worse for us had it been otherwise."
"Then why do you speak to him like this?" Sally demanded. She knew, somehow, that she was supposed to be afraid of him, but she didn't care. "He deserves better. I may not know him as you do, but you don't know ME at all. I chose him as my friend, in the truest sense of the word and I will stand by him until the quest is finished." Instead of shrinking away from the towering wizard she stepped up with each assertion until she stood toe to toe with him. "You may think of him in what horrible manner you see fit but if you choose to use that hateful tone in my presence, I will defend him."
Gandalf cocked his head to one side and regarded her with a curious expression. The Frodo he remembered did not take to bringing companions and if he felt so compelled, a young, human female would not be his first choice. What could make her so special? Could she possess some quality he could see with close inspection? He bent down and looked into her face. She set her jaw in determination not to look away.
There, in her eyes, he saw it. The devotion, the faithfulness that survived even death itself. He recognized her then and in that instant, he understood everything. "No doubt about that," he said softly unable to suppress his smile. He straightened and returned to his tea. The water had just begun to boil. "Your grammar has improved greatly," he added with amusement.
"Gandalf!" Frodo protested loudly. His eyes had grown wide in shock.
The wizard looked back to Frodo and his smile faded at the look of warning he received. The mystery had yet to be revealed to all who were present and Frodo was not ready for that to change. For the moment, Gandalf would respect his wishes. "You are right, young Sally," he said, returning his attention to cups and steeping tea. "I do not hate Frodo. I love him dearly, as you must. If my tone holds venom, it is for myself and not for him."
"You've done nothing wrong," Frodo said to him. His remorsefulness had overtaken his brief panic. He was not fearful of this meeting as Sally had earlier believed. He was repentant. He had sinned and had the opportunity to come for forgiveness. Now that the moment had come for him to ask, he found himself unworthy. He did not like the way he looked through Gandalf's eyes for he believed that was the truest vision of himself. "I should have rid myself of this when I was asked to."
"Doing nothing, Frodo, was my crime," Gandalf replied. He offered them the tea he had prepared and returned to his seat by the fire. Each of them held their cups like forgotten props not knowing that they were to drink from them. "Destroying the Ring was as much my responsibility as it was yours. I was leader of the Fellowship while it was intact. I was supposed to provide guidance, but in your hour of need, when the Ring's power caught you in its delirium, you did what you did and I did nothing to stop you." The cup had all but disappeared in the old man's hand as he brought it to his lips. He held his head back and emptied the contents in one long drink. He then placed the empty cup back on the table. He neither wanted nor needed props.
The implications of the wizard's statements hung heavily in the air. "What did he do?" Sally heard herself ask in a tiny voice.
Gandalf took a shuddering breath before he answered her. "He remade the world." He said the words but he could not bring himself to face her. Maybe she would not understand the scope of his meaning and her disbelief would keep her innocent. But he did not want to watch her as he related the tale. He did not want to see her face and the eyes that were the window to the soul she held. "In all honesty, he panicked," he continued. "The Ring itself rid us of Sauron but his evil spread like a virus across all of Middle Earth. Frodo used the Ring to unleash powers Sauron had ignored. He influenced the earth itself to move as many out of the path of evil as he could."
"But not everyone?" Sally asked as if she were merely an audience. She held the reality at bay until she could better deal with it. 'Frodo: the Reshaper of Middle Earth' would be filed away with 'Frodo: Changer of Swords into Umbrellas' until the ideas became less terrifying.
"The race of men chose to face the evil on their own," Gandalf explained. "It is their world you have come to call home. What few he could save from Sauron's evil dwell on the other side of this mountain. They can only be reached through Moria."
"Not all of them," Frodo said suddenly, quietly. "You forgot the Shire."
Gandalf looked at Frodo with unbearable sadness. "I could never forget the Shire, Frodo," he said.
Sally looked to her employer whose mind seemed lost in painful memories. This was important. This Shire was not the company for which she worked. This was something different, bigger, more personal, much more dear. "What happened to the Shire?" she asked with a deep desire to know.
A single tear trailed down Frodo's cheek as he remembered the magnificence of his power. He felt so much pain at what he had become. No matter how good his intentions or how many had benefited from his deeds, what he had done was horrifying. Only more horrifying was the yearning to do it all again. The power still called to him in a siren song that would never cease. For Sally's sake he denied it. For Sally's sake. "I placed it out of reach," he said finally, "away from this plane of existence, where nothing can ever touch it or harm it again."
"The effort nearly killed him," Gandalf added before Sally could digest Frodo's answer. "He slept for twenty years." Slowly the wizard came to his feet again. He faced his old friend with remembrance and all the heaviness of sorrow that came with it. "There were times I thought I should kill him for what he had done, for what he could yet do. But I left the Ring to him and watched over him until he awoke." With softly placed steps he stood before him more closely than before, looking down upon him as a father to his prodigal son. "I failed him again and I could never forgive myself. I could have saved you centuries of pain."
At last Frodo looked up and met the old man's eyes. "We all wish we had done things differently," he said. "I will not blame you for my weaknesses."
Gandalf placed his hands gently on the smaller man's shoulders. "You are the last of your kind here, Frodo," he said gravely. "Soon your task will be done and all our suffering will come to an end." In one moment, they stepped towards one another and arms encircled in an embrace of fellowship and in their quiet sadness each found something they had longed for…forgiveness.
* * *
Piper had always been the type who loved road trips but that was because she had good friends to take with her. Traveling across state lines with the big man in the driver's seat had proven to be more interesting than she had hoped. Seeing him pump gas in his tailored suit amused her immensely but nothing could suppress the joy she found from the curious glances they received each time they stopped to eat. She must have looked like a rock star with her bodyguard from the looks and whispers she caught.
Sometimes Grigor would slip from his stalwart persona and they would share memories of their lives. He would talk about his days in the police department and she would relate tales of being a fan magnet at comic conventions. He did not talk about his current employment and she said very little of her friends. Neither of them spoke aloud of where they were going or why.
As they entered the teeming cacophony of New York City, Piper watched him narrow his eyes at something he saw in the rear view mirror. She frowned at him with worry. That action had become almost obsessive. "Why do you keep doing that?" she asked finally.
"We're being followed," he answered simply.
Piper's eyes grew wide in surprise. She swiveled around in her seat to look at the road behind them. "No kidding? Really?" she asked with excitement. Several car lengths behind them, she saw a dark sedan, similar to theirs, with tinted windows to obscure the mysterious occupants.
"I noticed them in Indiana," Grigor remarked. If he had any great concern about this revelation, he veiled it skillfully.
"We've stopped at least three times since then!" she said incredulously. Her heart began to beat fast. Her road trip suddenly became less fun.
"They don't seem interested in catching us," he replied in a voice of utter calm, "only finding out where we're going."
Piper turned herself back in her seat. Her mind reeled from this new fear. She knew what they were after. "Merrick," she whispered.
The name did not escape Grigor's attention. He looked at her through the rearview mirror. "Your friend who ditched you?" he asked. "You think they're after him?"
Piper nodded faintly, trying to piece it all together in her mind. "Sally called and asked him to do something in New York. He wouldn't say what, only that it was too dangerous." As she spoke, Grigor pulled their car over to the curb in a spot that obviously was not meant for parking. This action transformed her fear into a panic. "What are you doing? Why are you stopping?" she demanded.
For the first time since she had ever climbed into his car, Grigor turned around to face her. No mirrors this time. "Don't worry," he told her reassuringly. "I'm just going to ask for some help."
Piper looked out the side window to see where they had stopped. Although a street sign hid the precinct number, she knew where they were. "From the cops?" she asked frowning.
"Old friends," Grigor corrected as he climbed out of the car. "Just stay here until I get back." After giving his last instruction he left her.
Piper watched him climb the steps of the police station as her fear gave way to quiet despair. She didn't have to look behind her to know of the dark sedan's presence. It was waiting, waiting for her to move, waiting for her to lead them to Merrick. What help could the police give them? This was beyond the simple world of cops and criminals. This was evil itself. Evil looking for Merrick. Evil chasing Sally.
She shouldn't have come to New York. She had to make it right. She had to lead them away, away from all she loved.
When Grigor would return, he would find an empty car.
* * *
Gandalf proved he could prepare more than just tea. He had spent part of his unnaturally lengthy life perfecting culinary skills in humble settings. Sally had come into this believing only hot dogs could be prepared over open fires, but now she took the last bite of a roasted duck that would have put any restaurant in Chicago to shame.
Forgiveness was best served over a feast.
The old wizard smoked contentedly at his pipe while Frodo and Sally cleared the table. For the moment, however brief, they felt at home.
"You should prepare yourself before you go to the Gates," Gandalf said suddenly.
The statement shattered their reverie. Sally felt the tension begin to rise again. "What do you mean?" Frodo asked uneasily.
"You know precisely what I mean, Frodo," the old man said, throwing him a knowing glance. "The dwarves do not trust humans. You will have to shed your glamour."
Frodo froze. He shut his eyes tightly and braced himself on the table. The mere suggestion terrified him. "But Gandalf…I ….I can't," he said in short breaths. Even with his eyes closed, he knew Sally watched him. He knew she was worried and frightened. He knew she didn't understand.
"Do you need me to do it for you?" Gandalf posed the question harshly. Frodo immediately gave him a look conveying his terror that the wizard might carry through with his threat.
Gandalf came to his side and again laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. "I understand you've worn it for a long time," he said more gently, "but you won't make it through Moria alive as a man."
Sally came to his other side. She wanted to reassure him. "What are you afraid of, Frodo?" she asked.
He looked at her, shaking his head in utter anguish. "I'm not afraid for myself, Sally." And he wasn't. He couldn't name his fear but he had carried it with him from the first day he had met her. He knew the moment would come when the last of his secrets would be stripped away. But now was too soon.
"You have no choice, Frodo," Gandalf said firmly.
He knew it was true. He knew his old friend was right. He backed away from them. His eyes never left Sally. "I'm sorry," he said. He wasn't ready but that didn't matter anymore.
"For what?" she breathed. She didn't care about his glamour or what he hid beneath it. Her faithfulness to him knew no bounds.
"For this."
No sooner had the air carried the words, the man she had known as Frodo Baggins ceased to be. For a moment she saw him as he truly was, the same face, the same hair, the same warm eyes, just a smaller version, purified to the essence of all she loved of him.
All she remembered…she remembered.
She staggered backwards to the door. In that instant with one look into his true face, all of the memories awoke in her. Nothing had prepared her for this. Overwhelmed by emotion, lost in a sea of a remembered life, she opened her mouth to cry out.
"Master Frodo…" she sobbed.
Frodo took a step towards her. "Sam?"
She shook her head. Too much. Too much. She couldn't sort it out. Where did Sam begin and Sally end? The faces, the fire, the life returned. Too much. The door came open behind her and she darted out into the shelter of the trees.
Away.
* * *
Across an ocean, Merrick Brandenburg collapsed into a chair in the lobby of his hotel. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed. His king was dead, long ago on a battlefield no one would ever remember. The Ring still existed, worn by a friend whose face he might never see. And never again would he hear the joyful voices of his kin in Brandyhall. All gone. But somehow, once again, Merry got left behind.
* * *
Grigor Grigorovitch Kaplik hid himself behind the tinted windows of his car. He looked down at his hands and remembered the feel of the axe handle. He would never find an axe big enough for them. He mourned for the memory of the Glittering Caves and the warmth of a welcoming fire. He held bitter tears at bay as the mysteries of his life revealed themselves to him. As a dwarf, Gimli, son of Gloin, could mourn openly for all he had lost…but he was a big man now.
* * *
Piper Tune leaned against the concrete façade of a boutique on Fifth Avenue. Her back slid down the wall until she crumpled into the sidewalk. She wrapped her arms around her knees and began to rock back and forth. Over and over she muttered to herself, "Fool of a Took. Fool of a Took."
TBC
Author's note: Did I tell you they were going to get better? ( Remember WAY back when I said I'd had writer's block? This chapter was the reason. I had just figured out what would trigger Sally's ultimate realization that she was Sam. After that I couldn't stop thinking of what that would do to her. Sitting down and writing her in the early chapters while she was still in blissful ignorance proved very difficult. But thanks to the wonderful support from you, the reader, I got over my problem.
Thank you as always with your generous reviews.
Chapter Twelve: "The Breaking of the Fellowship" Everyone recovers from their initial shock. Legolas helps Sally cope with her duality while Gandalf convinces Frodo that he should continue his quest without Sally. Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin discover the joys of cellular phones.
Author's note at the end.
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Eleven: In the House of Gandalf the White
Frodo walked past Sally's horse like a man walking to his own execution. With each step he took towards the small cabin he tensed in apprehension for the fate that awaited him there.
Sally couldn't stand to see him like this. Though the source of his pain was a mystery to her, she shared it with him. As he passed her she climbed down carefully from her saddle. "I'm coming with you," she said.
Frodo stopped and turned slightly to face her. A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth, a look of bittersweet nostalgia for an echo of his past. He shook his head and told her gently, "You don't have to." He knew that nothing he could say or do would keep her away.
"But we stand together," she stated firmly. She spoke quietly, too quietly for him to hear her. He was already several steps ahead and she looked after him with uncertainty. What could he fear? Those words spilled out of her for her own benefit, an affirmation of her purpose. Exactly what she needed to make her feet follow him.
Legolas heard her. Her soft tone could not deceive his sharp ears. He smiled inwardly as he watched her trail after her master, understanding at last the source of her devotion.
Only steps away from the cabin, its weather-beaten door flew open with a powerful force. Sally gasped in surprise and looked to its cause.
A fiercely tall, amazingly aged, elderly man stood in the doorway bathed in white. His robe was white. The hair on his head and face were white. The starkness of him was so pure, he seemed to glow. When he spoke, his voice boomed into the air with such strength that Sally nearly cringed to hear him. "Frodo Baggins of the Shire," he said in stern greeting, "too long it has been since your shadow has darkened my door."
"Hello, Gandalf," Frodo said in his soft voice. His manner did not do well to hide his heavy heart.
Gandalf turned his back on them and retreated to the interior of his home. "Come in, if you must," he said bitterly.
Sally frowned as she followed Frodo into the darkened cabin. If he welcomed them, he did so only reluctantly. The old man held the same enthusiasm for this meeting that Frodo did.
Gandalf turned his attention to a small table and began to prepare tea. Sally watched him as he reached into a cupboard to pull down a third cup to accompany the two he had already set out. She remembered that Legolas had said that he had waited. Waited and planned for this.
The old man sighed deeply as he set the teapot over the fire. "I have dreamt of this day," he said. "I have prayed for this day and now that it has come, I find it … anticlimactic." His disappointment was evident.
Frodo let out a breath he had held for too long and hung his head low. "I know what you must think of me," he said sadly.
Gandalf snorted softly and settled on a stool near the open fireplace. "You know nothing," he spat. He would not face them, preferring the indifferent company of the teapot he watched. "Yes, you have come to destroy the Ring. We should all bow to your grand benevolence."
His mocking tone only served to push Frodo back into the shadows as he receded further into his own guilt. "I suppose I deserve that," he said.
"Why?" Sally asked, unable to contain her outrage.
Frodo looked to her as if startled by her presence. He shook his head in warning. "Sally, don't."
"But sir," she protested, "with the burden you bear—"
"With the burden he bears he could have destroyed us all on a whim," Gandalf pronounced loudly, interrupting her with his grand voice. "But in his blind arrogance of having noble intentions, his actions have been nothing short of godlike." He stood from his stool, once again reaching his impossible height. He turned to face her, fixing her with a piercing gaze that awakened an old fear inside of her. She suddenly remembered he was a powerful wizard. "Don't misunderstand," he said in a gentler tone as he spoke to Sally alone. "I am grateful that Frodo is who he is. Circumstances could have been a great deal worse for us had it been otherwise."
"Then why do you speak to him like this?" Sally demanded. She knew, somehow, that she was supposed to be afraid of him, but she didn't care. "He deserves better. I may not know him as you do, but you don't know ME at all. I chose him as my friend, in the truest sense of the word and I will stand by him until the quest is finished." Instead of shrinking away from the towering wizard she stepped up with each assertion until she stood toe to toe with him. "You may think of him in what horrible manner you see fit but if you choose to use that hateful tone in my presence, I will defend him."
Gandalf cocked his head to one side and regarded her with a curious expression. The Frodo he remembered did not take to bringing companions and if he felt so compelled, a young, human female would not be his first choice. What could make her so special? Could she possess some quality he could see with close inspection? He bent down and looked into her face. She set her jaw in determination not to look away.
There, in her eyes, he saw it. The devotion, the faithfulness that survived even death itself. He recognized her then and in that instant, he understood everything. "No doubt about that," he said softly unable to suppress his smile. He straightened and returned to his tea. The water had just begun to boil. "Your grammar has improved greatly," he added with amusement.
"Gandalf!" Frodo protested loudly. His eyes had grown wide in shock.
The wizard looked back to Frodo and his smile faded at the look of warning he received. The mystery had yet to be revealed to all who were present and Frodo was not ready for that to change. For the moment, Gandalf would respect his wishes. "You are right, young Sally," he said, returning his attention to cups and steeping tea. "I do not hate Frodo. I love him dearly, as you must. If my tone holds venom, it is for myself and not for him."
"You've done nothing wrong," Frodo said to him. His remorsefulness had overtaken his brief panic. He was not fearful of this meeting as Sally had earlier believed. He was repentant. He had sinned and had the opportunity to come for forgiveness. Now that the moment had come for him to ask, he found himself unworthy. He did not like the way he looked through Gandalf's eyes for he believed that was the truest vision of himself. "I should have rid myself of this when I was asked to."
"Doing nothing, Frodo, was my crime," Gandalf replied. He offered them the tea he had prepared and returned to his seat by the fire. Each of them held their cups like forgotten props not knowing that they were to drink from them. "Destroying the Ring was as much my responsibility as it was yours. I was leader of the Fellowship while it was intact. I was supposed to provide guidance, but in your hour of need, when the Ring's power caught you in its delirium, you did what you did and I did nothing to stop you." The cup had all but disappeared in the old man's hand as he brought it to his lips. He held his head back and emptied the contents in one long drink. He then placed the empty cup back on the table. He neither wanted nor needed props.
The implications of the wizard's statements hung heavily in the air. "What did he do?" Sally heard herself ask in a tiny voice.
Gandalf took a shuddering breath before he answered her. "He remade the world." He said the words but he could not bring himself to face her. Maybe she would not understand the scope of his meaning and her disbelief would keep her innocent. But he did not want to watch her as he related the tale. He did not want to see her face and the eyes that were the window to the soul she held. "In all honesty, he panicked," he continued. "The Ring itself rid us of Sauron but his evil spread like a virus across all of Middle Earth. Frodo used the Ring to unleash powers Sauron had ignored. He influenced the earth itself to move as many out of the path of evil as he could."
"But not everyone?" Sally asked as if she were merely an audience. She held the reality at bay until she could better deal with it. 'Frodo: the Reshaper of Middle Earth' would be filed away with 'Frodo: Changer of Swords into Umbrellas' until the ideas became less terrifying.
"The race of men chose to face the evil on their own," Gandalf explained. "It is their world you have come to call home. What few he could save from Sauron's evil dwell on the other side of this mountain. They can only be reached through Moria."
"Not all of them," Frodo said suddenly, quietly. "You forgot the Shire."
Gandalf looked at Frodo with unbearable sadness. "I could never forget the Shire, Frodo," he said.
Sally looked to her employer whose mind seemed lost in painful memories. This was important. This Shire was not the company for which she worked. This was something different, bigger, more personal, much more dear. "What happened to the Shire?" she asked with a deep desire to know.
A single tear trailed down Frodo's cheek as he remembered the magnificence of his power. He felt so much pain at what he had become. No matter how good his intentions or how many had benefited from his deeds, what he had done was horrifying. Only more horrifying was the yearning to do it all again. The power still called to him in a siren song that would never cease. For Sally's sake he denied it. For Sally's sake. "I placed it out of reach," he said finally, "away from this plane of existence, where nothing can ever touch it or harm it again."
"The effort nearly killed him," Gandalf added before Sally could digest Frodo's answer. "He slept for twenty years." Slowly the wizard came to his feet again. He faced his old friend with remembrance and all the heaviness of sorrow that came with it. "There were times I thought I should kill him for what he had done, for what he could yet do. But I left the Ring to him and watched over him until he awoke." With softly placed steps he stood before him more closely than before, looking down upon him as a father to his prodigal son. "I failed him again and I could never forgive myself. I could have saved you centuries of pain."
At last Frodo looked up and met the old man's eyes. "We all wish we had done things differently," he said. "I will not blame you for my weaknesses."
Gandalf placed his hands gently on the smaller man's shoulders. "You are the last of your kind here, Frodo," he said gravely. "Soon your task will be done and all our suffering will come to an end." In one moment, they stepped towards one another and arms encircled in an embrace of fellowship and in their quiet sadness each found something they had longed for…forgiveness.
* * *
Piper had always been the type who loved road trips but that was because she had good friends to take with her. Traveling across state lines with the big man in the driver's seat had proven to be more interesting than she had hoped. Seeing him pump gas in his tailored suit amused her immensely but nothing could suppress the joy she found from the curious glances they received each time they stopped to eat. She must have looked like a rock star with her bodyguard from the looks and whispers she caught.
Sometimes Grigor would slip from his stalwart persona and they would share memories of their lives. He would talk about his days in the police department and she would relate tales of being a fan magnet at comic conventions. He did not talk about his current employment and she said very little of her friends. Neither of them spoke aloud of where they were going or why.
As they entered the teeming cacophony of New York City, Piper watched him narrow his eyes at something he saw in the rear view mirror. She frowned at him with worry. That action had become almost obsessive. "Why do you keep doing that?" she asked finally.
"We're being followed," he answered simply.
Piper's eyes grew wide in surprise. She swiveled around in her seat to look at the road behind them. "No kidding? Really?" she asked with excitement. Several car lengths behind them, she saw a dark sedan, similar to theirs, with tinted windows to obscure the mysterious occupants.
"I noticed them in Indiana," Grigor remarked. If he had any great concern about this revelation, he veiled it skillfully.
"We've stopped at least three times since then!" she said incredulously. Her heart began to beat fast. Her road trip suddenly became less fun.
"They don't seem interested in catching us," he replied in a voice of utter calm, "only finding out where we're going."
Piper turned herself back in her seat. Her mind reeled from this new fear. She knew what they were after. "Merrick," she whispered.
The name did not escape Grigor's attention. He looked at her through the rearview mirror. "Your friend who ditched you?" he asked. "You think they're after him?"
Piper nodded faintly, trying to piece it all together in her mind. "Sally called and asked him to do something in New York. He wouldn't say what, only that it was too dangerous." As she spoke, Grigor pulled their car over to the curb in a spot that obviously was not meant for parking. This action transformed her fear into a panic. "What are you doing? Why are you stopping?" she demanded.
For the first time since she had ever climbed into his car, Grigor turned around to face her. No mirrors this time. "Don't worry," he told her reassuringly. "I'm just going to ask for some help."
Piper looked out the side window to see where they had stopped. Although a street sign hid the precinct number, she knew where they were. "From the cops?" she asked frowning.
"Old friends," Grigor corrected as he climbed out of the car. "Just stay here until I get back." After giving his last instruction he left her.
Piper watched him climb the steps of the police station as her fear gave way to quiet despair. She didn't have to look behind her to know of the dark sedan's presence. It was waiting, waiting for her to move, waiting for her to lead them to Merrick. What help could the police give them? This was beyond the simple world of cops and criminals. This was evil itself. Evil looking for Merrick. Evil chasing Sally.
She shouldn't have come to New York. She had to make it right. She had to lead them away, away from all she loved.
When Grigor would return, he would find an empty car.
* * *
Gandalf proved he could prepare more than just tea. He had spent part of his unnaturally lengthy life perfecting culinary skills in humble settings. Sally had come into this believing only hot dogs could be prepared over open fires, but now she took the last bite of a roasted duck that would have put any restaurant in Chicago to shame.
Forgiveness was best served over a feast.
The old wizard smoked contentedly at his pipe while Frodo and Sally cleared the table. For the moment, however brief, they felt at home.
"You should prepare yourself before you go to the Gates," Gandalf said suddenly.
The statement shattered their reverie. Sally felt the tension begin to rise again. "What do you mean?" Frodo asked uneasily.
"You know precisely what I mean, Frodo," the old man said, throwing him a knowing glance. "The dwarves do not trust humans. You will have to shed your glamour."
Frodo froze. He shut his eyes tightly and braced himself on the table. The mere suggestion terrified him. "But Gandalf…I ….I can't," he said in short breaths. Even with his eyes closed, he knew Sally watched him. He knew she was worried and frightened. He knew she didn't understand.
"Do you need me to do it for you?" Gandalf posed the question harshly. Frodo immediately gave him a look conveying his terror that the wizard might carry through with his threat.
Gandalf came to his side and again laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. "I understand you've worn it for a long time," he said more gently, "but you won't make it through Moria alive as a man."
Sally came to his other side. She wanted to reassure him. "What are you afraid of, Frodo?" she asked.
He looked at her, shaking his head in utter anguish. "I'm not afraid for myself, Sally." And he wasn't. He couldn't name his fear but he had carried it with him from the first day he had met her. He knew the moment would come when the last of his secrets would be stripped away. But now was too soon.
"You have no choice, Frodo," Gandalf said firmly.
He knew it was true. He knew his old friend was right. He backed away from them. His eyes never left Sally. "I'm sorry," he said. He wasn't ready but that didn't matter anymore.
"For what?" she breathed. She didn't care about his glamour or what he hid beneath it. Her faithfulness to him knew no bounds.
"For this."
No sooner had the air carried the words, the man she had known as Frodo Baggins ceased to be. For a moment she saw him as he truly was, the same face, the same hair, the same warm eyes, just a smaller version, purified to the essence of all she loved of him.
All she remembered…she remembered.
She staggered backwards to the door. In that instant with one look into his true face, all of the memories awoke in her. Nothing had prepared her for this. Overwhelmed by emotion, lost in a sea of a remembered life, she opened her mouth to cry out.
"Master Frodo…" she sobbed.
Frodo took a step towards her. "Sam?"
She shook her head. Too much. Too much. She couldn't sort it out. Where did Sam begin and Sally end? The faces, the fire, the life returned. Too much. The door came open behind her and she darted out into the shelter of the trees.
Away.
* * *
Across an ocean, Merrick Brandenburg collapsed into a chair in the lobby of his hotel. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed. His king was dead, long ago on a battlefield no one would ever remember. The Ring still existed, worn by a friend whose face he might never see. And never again would he hear the joyful voices of his kin in Brandyhall. All gone. But somehow, once again, Merry got left behind.
* * *
Grigor Grigorovitch Kaplik hid himself behind the tinted windows of his car. He looked down at his hands and remembered the feel of the axe handle. He would never find an axe big enough for them. He mourned for the memory of the Glittering Caves and the warmth of a welcoming fire. He held bitter tears at bay as the mysteries of his life revealed themselves to him. As a dwarf, Gimli, son of Gloin, could mourn openly for all he had lost…but he was a big man now.
* * *
Piper Tune leaned against the concrete façade of a boutique on Fifth Avenue. Her back slid down the wall until she crumpled into the sidewalk. She wrapped her arms around her knees and began to rock back and forth. Over and over she muttered to herself, "Fool of a Took. Fool of a Took."
TBC
Author's note: Did I tell you they were going to get better? ( Remember WAY back when I said I'd had writer's block? This chapter was the reason. I had just figured out what would trigger Sally's ultimate realization that she was Sam. After that I couldn't stop thinking of what that would do to her. Sitting down and writing her in the early chapters while she was still in blissful ignorance proved very difficult. But thanks to the wonderful support from you, the reader, I got over my problem.
Thank you as always with your generous reviews.
Chapter Twelve: "The Breaking of the Fellowship" Everyone recovers from their initial shock. Legolas helps Sally cope with her duality while Gandalf convinces Frodo that he should continue his quest without Sally. Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin discover the joys of cellular phones.