To the reviewers:
Emma - What is that nasty hobbit planning to do? Plenty! As to Pip's age, I'm likely doing some of that canon-twisting I warned of. I had images from the movie in mind. He was old enough there to be causing havoc at Bilbo's party, so he's old enough to be getting in on the action here. Merry and Pippin will definitely play a part in chapters to come! And how will Bramblethorn get Frodo to recant his testimony? Ahh.read on!
Endymion - Will a certain Ranger make an appearance? Not in this fic, but maybe in another one in the future. This will be an all-hobbit cast of characters.
Mariole - Yes, so far Frodo has been safe. As to the future, please read on. Not promising a smooth ride for our beloved hero, but I can safely say his own creator has put him through worse!
Trilliah - (My beta!) Glad you enjoyed the shift of perspective and contrast in chapter 1 between Bramblethorn's planning and Frodo's. Already tempted to give that villain what he deserves? Ohh, just wait!
Seregon - Angst ahoy! Yes, there will certainly be an element of angst involved throughout.
The Way of Vengeance
Chapter 2 - Let the Games Begin
Things were going as planned. Bramblethorn looked around at his surroundings with satisfaction. Or at least, he mused, as much satisfaction as a musty, abandoned smial could provide. Some worn furnishings had been left behind by the previous occupants, and the hearth was undamaged. The roof left something to be desired, having cracked in many places, allowing dirt to collect in small piles on the floor beneath the worst of the cracks. Roots from the grass and shrubbery on the hill above hung down between support beams, some tendrils swinging just above Bramblethorn's head. The damaged roof might leak in a rainstorm, but he would worry about that should the need arise.
He had obtained some provisions in Bywater. Firewood was stacked in the corner of the room that had once served as a small parlor. He had procured a tinderbox and some candles, and some basic food items. A supply of fresh water had also been stored. All was in readiness, and only one thing remained - Frodo Baggins.
Bramblethorn paused briefly and studied his reflection in the remnant of a broken mirror. He was neither tall nor short as hobbits went, but sturdily built, broad across the chest and shoulders. Thick, curly hair of a sandy brown fell not quite to his shoulders, framing a face that was both intelligent and intense. He prided himself on having a rather authoritative, commanding presence, the effect of which was usually that he got what he wanted.
He smiled. There were indeed things he wanted, and he had plans to deal with them in short order.
What a lonely little place this was, Bramblethorn thought. But he would not be alone! Absolutely not. He would have the company of another, whether the other was willing or not. Judging by his established track record with his proposed companion, he felt certain the issue of willingness was already decided and not in his favor.
No matter. Even if he had failed before to gain Frodo's companionship on one level, he would certainly have it on another. Frodo was stubborn and headstrong. It might take a few days together before Bramblethorn could persuade him to sign the document recanting his testimony. It would be an interesting game, and Bramblethorn was poised to make the first move.
~*~
At last! Frodo finally felt that all the preparations for his cousins' visit were complete. It had been a long day of checking and re-checking, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything that would make the visit pleasant for everyone. Just seeing Merry and Pippin was always good, but it happened so seldom that he always took pains to do small extra things. Having plenty of mushrooms on hand for Pippin was a good idea, as they were his favorite. Merry was especially partial to Blueberry muffins in the morning, so plenty of blueberries were needed.
It was late afternoon, and he had just finished with a last sweep through his home, making sure everything was straightened, dusted, pressed and polished. Everyone should have a visit from relatives every few months or so, he mused. It would certainly cause their homes to be neat and tidy!
He stepped outside and headed for the garden. It was teatime and Sam was still working away, oblivious to the hour. The midsummer sun beat down on the ground with a withering force, and Sam's greatest labor was just keeping the plants green. He seemed to be doing well in that department. Despite the blazing heat, the flowers and vegetables were green and healthy.
"Sam," Frodo called. "The tea is ready. Come in out of that sun for a while and rest."
"I'll be right in, Mr. Frodo!" Sam answered, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He took the hoe back to the shed and checked to make sure he locked it behind him as he left. Not that there was really any need, since the theft of garden tools was unheard of in Hobbiton. It was just part of his daily ritual, something he always did without really thinking about the reason.
Frodo was pouring the tea as Sam came into the kitchen. It was nice and cool inside Bag End - one of the advantages to living in a hole in the side of a hill. Sam sank gratefully into a chair and sighed in appreciation.
"A funny thing about tea, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, taking a sip from his cup. "No matter the weather, hot or cold, it always sits just right with you."
"I think I know what you mean, Sam." Frodo regarded his gardener fondly. "As hot as the weather is today, you would think a hot beverage would be the very last thing you would want, but it always tastes wonderful."
Sam had a way with words, making simple but wise statements that always seemed to fit the occasion. Whatever needed saying, he could always find a plain, forthright way to say it. Frodo had grown to appreciate Sam all the more for his plainspoken approach to conversation. Few words were really needed between them much of the time - they could share a companionable silence just as gladly and easily as a long conversation.
"Sam, you must be careful working in the sun all day. Your Gaffer would be furious with me if I allowed you to work yourself to collapsing," Frodo said earnestly. "The heat can be dangerous."
"I know, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied. "I've been takin' some shade and water every so often as need be. Besides, I have a promise to keep." Sam's face seemed to flush slightly.
"Sam?" Frodo regarded him quizzically. For once, he wasn't quite sure where Sam was leading him.
Sam wasn't sure why he had mentioned that himself. Two years earlier he had arrived just in time to snatch Frodo from Bramblethorn's clutches, and he had sworn at that time to never be far from his master. If anything ever happened to Mr. Frodo - Sam let the thought go, not wanting to follow it to any sort of conclusion.
"I promised not to leave you, Mr. Frodo," Sam explained, regarding his teacup as he spoke. "I won't go droppin' over in the garden, not with makin' you that promise."
Frodo reached across the table and laid his thin, pale hand over Sam's larger tanned one. "I'm glad, Sam. I don't know what I would do without you."
Sam smiled back, and the two of them shared a quiet teatime together. It was one of those times when few words were needed, and everything was right - just a lazy summer afternoon fading into a lovely evening, chores all done for the day and everything in place for the day to come.
~*~
The sun was going down, and the shadows began to deepen. From the concealing cover of the bushes, Bramblethorn watched Sam leave Bag End. Very good, he mused. The last two years must have been very peaceful. Frodo's watchdog had relaxed his vigilance as he'd hoped. It would be a simple matter of waiting until full darkness and gaining entry. When the lights had gone down in the windows of the parlor, he would wait a short while longer. If he could get inside quietly, he could keep to the shadows and choose his moment.
He settled back to wait out the short time left before making his move. Two long years of exile in Bree, two years of simmering in anger and frustration. He was going to enjoy this.
~*~To be continued~*~
Emma - What is that nasty hobbit planning to do? Plenty! As to Pip's age, I'm likely doing some of that canon-twisting I warned of. I had images from the movie in mind. He was old enough there to be causing havoc at Bilbo's party, so he's old enough to be getting in on the action here. Merry and Pippin will definitely play a part in chapters to come! And how will Bramblethorn get Frodo to recant his testimony? Ahh.read on!
Endymion - Will a certain Ranger make an appearance? Not in this fic, but maybe in another one in the future. This will be an all-hobbit cast of characters.
Mariole - Yes, so far Frodo has been safe. As to the future, please read on. Not promising a smooth ride for our beloved hero, but I can safely say his own creator has put him through worse!
Trilliah - (My beta!) Glad you enjoyed the shift of perspective and contrast in chapter 1 between Bramblethorn's planning and Frodo's. Already tempted to give that villain what he deserves? Ohh, just wait!
Seregon - Angst ahoy! Yes, there will certainly be an element of angst involved throughout.
The Way of Vengeance
Chapter 2 - Let the Games Begin
Things were going as planned. Bramblethorn looked around at his surroundings with satisfaction. Or at least, he mused, as much satisfaction as a musty, abandoned smial could provide. Some worn furnishings had been left behind by the previous occupants, and the hearth was undamaged. The roof left something to be desired, having cracked in many places, allowing dirt to collect in small piles on the floor beneath the worst of the cracks. Roots from the grass and shrubbery on the hill above hung down between support beams, some tendrils swinging just above Bramblethorn's head. The damaged roof might leak in a rainstorm, but he would worry about that should the need arise.
He had obtained some provisions in Bywater. Firewood was stacked in the corner of the room that had once served as a small parlor. He had procured a tinderbox and some candles, and some basic food items. A supply of fresh water had also been stored. All was in readiness, and only one thing remained - Frodo Baggins.
Bramblethorn paused briefly and studied his reflection in the remnant of a broken mirror. He was neither tall nor short as hobbits went, but sturdily built, broad across the chest and shoulders. Thick, curly hair of a sandy brown fell not quite to his shoulders, framing a face that was both intelligent and intense. He prided himself on having a rather authoritative, commanding presence, the effect of which was usually that he got what he wanted.
He smiled. There were indeed things he wanted, and he had plans to deal with them in short order.
What a lonely little place this was, Bramblethorn thought. But he would not be alone! Absolutely not. He would have the company of another, whether the other was willing or not. Judging by his established track record with his proposed companion, he felt certain the issue of willingness was already decided and not in his favor.
No matter. Even if he had failed before to gain Frodo's companionship on one level, he would certainly have it on another. Frodo was stubborn and headstrong. It might take a few days together before Bramblethorn could persuade him to sign the document recanting his testimony. It would be an interesting game, and Bramblethorn was poised to make the first move.
~*~
At last! Frodo finally felt that all the preparations for his cousins' visit were complete. It had been a long day of checking and re-checking, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything that would make the visit pleasant for everyone. Just seeing Merry and Pippin was always good, but it happened so seldom that he always took pains to do small extra things. Having plenty of mushrooms on hand for Pippin was a good idea, as they were his favorite. Merry was especially partial to Blueberry muffins in the morning, so plenty of blueberries were needed.
It was late afternoon, and he had just finished with a last sweep through his home, making sure everything was straightened, dusted, pressed and polished. Everyone should have a visit from relatives every few months or so, he mused. It would certainly cause their homes to be neat and tidy!
He stepped outside and headed for the garden. It was teatime and Sam was still working away, oblivious to the hour. The midsummer sun beat down on the ground with a withering force, and Sam's greatest labor was just keeping the plants green. He seemed to be doing well in that department. Despite the blazing heat, the flowers and vegetables were green and healthy.
"Sam," Frodo called. "The tea is ready. Come in out of that sun for a while and rest."
"I'll be right in, Mr. Frodo!" Sam answered, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He took the hoe back to the shed and checked to make sure he locked it behind him as he left. Not that there was really any need, since the theft of garden tools was unheard of in Hobbiton. It was just part of his daily ritual, something he always did without really thinking about the reason.
Frodo was pouring the tea as Sam came into the kitchen. It was nice and cool inside Bag End - one of the advantages to living in a hole in the side of a hill. Sam sank gratefully into a chair and sighed in appreciation.
"A funny thing about tea, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, taking a sip from his cup. "No matter the weather, hot or cold, it always sits just right with you."
"I think I know what you mean, Sam." Frodo regarded his gardener fondly. "As hot as the weather is today, you would think a hot beverage would be the very last thing you would want, but it always tastes wonderful."
Sam had a way with words, making simple but wise statements that always seemed to fit the occasion. Whatever needed saying, he could always find a plain, forthright way to say it. Frodo had grown to appreciate Sam all the more for his plainspoken approach to conversation. Few words were really needed between them much of the time - they could share a companionable silence just as gladly and easily as a long conversation.
"Sam, you must be careful working in the sun all day. Your Gaffer would be furious with me if I allowed you to work yourself to collapsing," Frodo said earnestly. "The heat can be dangerous."
"I know, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied. "I've been takin' some shade and water every so often as need be. Besides, I have a promise to keep." Sam's face seemed to flush slightly.
"Sam?" Frodo regarded him quizzically. For once, he wasn't quite sure where Sam was leading him.
Sam wasn't sure why he had mentioned that himself. Two years earlier he had arrived just in time to snatch Frodo from Bramblethorn's clutches, and he had sworn at that time to never be far from his master. If anything ever happened to Mr. Frodo - Sam let the thought go, not wanting to follow it to any sort of conclusion.
"I promised not to leave you, Mr. Frodo," Sam explained, regarding his teacup as he spoke. "I won't go droppin' over in the garden, not with makin' you that promise."
Frodo reached across the table and laid his thin, pale hand over Sam's larger tanned one. "I'm glad, Sam. I don't know what I would do without you."
Sam smiled back, and the two of them shared a quiet teatime together. It was one of those times when few words were needed, and everything was right - just a lazy summer afternoon fading into a lovely evening, chores all done for the day and everything in place for the day to come.
~*~
The sun was going down, and the shadows began to deepen. From the concealing cover of the bushes, Bramblethorn watched Sam leave Bag End. Very good, he mused. The last two years must have been very peaceful. Frodo's watchdog had relaxed his vigilance as he'd hoped. It would be a simple matter of waiting until full darkness and gaining entry. When the lights had gone down in the windows of the parlor, he would wait a short while longer. If he could get inside quietly, he could keep to the shadows and choose his moment.
He settled back to wait out the short time left before making his move. Two long years of exile in Bree, two years of simmering in anger and frustration. He was going to enjoy this.
~*~To be continued~*~