Endymion - I love your feedback! Thanks for keepin' it real! Musn't poor
Frodo heed the call of nature in his present state? Certainly. Taking the
liberty of assuming such things are being seen to. Also, it was tempting to
let Frodo whack Bramblethorn real hard with something on his way out the
door, but I can't keep that nasty critter down! Any attempt in that
direction resulted in a villain with a headache and a very bad mood. Poor
Frodo! If you think he got it bad just for sneaking out - - - And you're
right - it might have ended the story sooner than we'd have liked!
FrodoBaggins1982 - Yeah, I know. The old sprained ankle thing. Used, and re- used, it's true. I just couldn't think of any other way to slow him down, and letting Bramblethorn just catch up with him unaided by providence bored me too much. (Why are we writers so darn sadistic, anyhow?) Please forgive me?
Camellia Gamgee Took - Glad you enjoyed the action in the last chapter. Adding to the "to do" list - oil door hinges!
Aratlithiel - You are not alone at all in being glad to see Frodo with a backbone. I figure anyone who can carry a splinter of a Morgul Blade in his shoulder for 17 days must have some fight in him!
Misstook1420 - Don't cry! Frodo's ok, I promise!
Seregon - Yes, Bramblethorn is a bit of a psycho, isn't he? He's also an egomaniac. Lovely combination of character traits there! There will be more sparring between Frodo and Bramblethorn, certainly. Whether you could call it development of their relationship is up for debate. I'd say they have a lust - hate relationship. Bramblethorn lusts after Frodo, Frodo hates him!
Aelfgifu - Whence the name of my villain? Rushford is the name of my friend's cat, to whom I owe an apology for misusing his name this way. He's a charming creature, really. "Bramblethorn", to me, sounds like something you don't want to step on with bare feet. It's prickly and nassssty, yes, precious!
And now, since the action is speeding up a little and you guys have expressed consternation at being left in suspense, why don't we update a little early?
The Way of Vengeance Chapter 7 - Progress
Bramblethorn looked down at Frodo thoughtfully from the doorway. How long would the stubborn hobbit hold out against signing the document? So far Frodo was putting up considerable resistance, but Bramblethorn could tell his prisoner was frightened. He had seen it in Frodo's eyes. Those blue orbs widened in undisguised terror every time Bramblethorn touched him.
There had to be a limit, some point at which Frodo's resolve would fail him. Bramblethorn had robbed him of his freedom, had rendered him completely helpless. Surely physical discomfort would wear him down as well. There was only one thing to do, and that was to keep at his prisoner, to be relentless. Perhaps it was time for them to chat once again.
He watched Frodo turn from him as he reached down to stroke his hair. Good. He was making progress then. Once he had wanted Frodo to accept him, to be willingly in his company, but for now Bramblethorn found that it was enough that Frodo fear him. He had resolved to keep the promise he had made to strike fear into Frodo's defiant heart. It would be satisfying to see proud Frodo Baggins, who had scorned him so utterly, cowering before him.
He paused for a moment, thinking. How hard would Frodo fight him when the time was at hand? He hoped to meet with at least a small amount of resistance. It would make it more interesting, more exciting. It was difficult to resist the temptation to have him now. The thought of that pale skin by the candlelight, that voice pleading with him between cries of - what? Pain, pleasure? Perhaps both? Those eyes - he pushed the thoughts away reluctantly. There was yet more to accomplish before then, and it must be seen to.
Removing the gag so Frodo could speak, Bramblethorn smiled. "It's so hard for me to stay away from you, Frodo," he began. "I'm immensely glad of your company." He knelt on the floor beside his prisoner.
Frodo had recovered somewhat from the beating Bramblethorn had given him and was glaring at his captor, a look that scarcely needed to be explained verbally. Bramblethorn smiled. "Just think, we've got the time and the privacy to get to know each other better," he said with a wink.
"I know you as well as I care to," Frodo shot back. He turned away and lay on his side with his back to Bramblethorn, letting his gaze bore into the wall. The very sight of Bramblethorn sickened and infuriated him.
"Such irresistible charm you have," he taunted his captive. "Certainly one of the endearing qualities that drew me so inexorably to you." He ran one hand lightly down Frodo's side, lingering over his ribs. Frodo twisted away from his touch.
"Go ahead, Frodo. Struggle while you have the strength, for you won't always," Bramblethorn told him. "You can already feel your hunger and thirst, can't you? They will grow, Frodo. They will fill your mind and overwhelm all other thoughts until they are your constant companions."
Frodo could feel Bramblethorn's breath on the back of his neck and he felt a chill wash over him. Was there no end to his cruelty? Anger flared again as the hand moved once more, tracing along the waistband of his breeches.
"You are horrid beyond description," Frodo said fervently. He refused to look at Bramblethorn. "You deserved your exile and you deserve it still."
"How ironic it is that the one who sent me away shall be the one who brings me back." Bramblethorn nuzzled the back of Frodo's neck mockingly as he spoke. "I have been anticipating the day of my return, Frodo. I've waited so long for you." He grasped Frodo and rolled him onto his back. "But then again, I have you here with me now, do I not? There you are, only inches away and completely irresistible." He planted a kiss on Frodo's neck, which brought on a fit of writhing and twisting.
"You disgust me!" Frodo cried, his voice breaking. He felt violated and helpless, with no control over anything that happened to him. Resistance, though very probably futile, was his only refuge. If a cruel fate were all that awaited him, he would not go to meet it quietly.
~I may not be able to prevent this from happening, but I swear I shall fight you!~ Frodo clutched at the thought, using it to anchor himself as firmly as possible against the storm breaking within him.
"What did you say, Frodo? Did I hear you beg for more?" Bramblethorn asked nastily and continued kissing Frodo's neck roughly while reaching a hand inside his torn shirt.
"Stop! You have no right to do this to me!" Frodo shouted in fear and horror, as Bramblethorn's hands caressed him in a way that had little to do with gentleness and nothing to do with love.
"I care not if I have the right. I have the desire, and I have you, Frodo." Bramblethorn released him with a rough shove. "The more you defy me the more attention I shall lavish upon you, beloved."
Finding the remnants of his voice, Frodo retorted, "Why must you do this? Surely someone who returns your affections -"
"I suppose I simply enjoy a challenge, Frodo," Bramblethorn interrupted in a sarcastic tone. "You, my love, are most certainly a challenge." His tone changed again, to the icy, heart-piercing promise of approaching doom. "And I shall certainly enjoy you."
Frodo tried to pull away, his face turned from his tormentor. He hated himself for crumbling to pieces every time Bramblethorn touched him. He could be brave until those hands roved over his body, threatening to take by force what would never be freely given. He wanted to fling back a stinging reply, but he could find no words.
"Frodo, make it easier on yourself. Sign the document." Bramblethorn urged him. "The longer you play this stubborn game, the more you will suffer."
"I will not comply with your wishes," Frodo answered, his voice trembling slightly. "Not any of them."
Bramblethorn stuffed the gag back in Frodo's mouth and paused to make sure his bonds were still secure. Satisfied with his work, he placed his hands on Frodo's shaking shoulders and told him, "Save your strength then, my lovely one, for you shall need it!"
He rose and left the room again, pondering as he went. Frodo would definitely break down eventually. What else could he do, a helpless prisoner with his choices limited to having only terror and misery to keep him company, or his captor with his taunting and his invasive, searching hands.
~*~
Two days with no news! Sam was almost beside himself with anxiety. He, Merry and Pippin had spent an entire day searching the countryside and had found no trace of Frodo. The next day they had gone into town and begun to ask the residents of Hobbiton if they had any information regarding his whereabouts. Nobody had seen or heard anything, but there were many offers of help.
News traveled fast, and it seemed everyone was talking about the mystery. There had been volunteers who had been quick to assist with extended searches of the area surrounding Hobbiton, but none of them had found anything that pointed to an answer. There were also the few who were of the opinion that wherever old Bilbo had gone, Frodo had likely followed. After all, Frodo was the nephew of Old Mad Baggins, and had lived with him for a number of years. Perhaps Bilbo's eccentricities had passed to the young Master of Bag End, along with the property itself.
Taking a break from walking the length and breadth of the town, Merry and Pippin had stopped into the Green Dragon. Maybe there they might be able to spread the word to hobbits traveling from other settlements.
Merry felt almost like he was committing an evil, or at least disrespectful deed himself as he ordered a half-pint of ale. This was no time for indulging in such things. He consoled himself with the thought that he really didn't want it all that much. It would just look a little more natural if he were having an ale like the other hobbits gathered there, rather than merely walking around asking strange questions or listening to conversations.
He and Pippin hoped they might catch some snippet of an exchange that would lead them in the right direction or that they would meet with someone who had some knowledge of where Frodo might be. Sam had chosen to remain at home. Neighbors and friends had been stopping by the Gamgees' residence in a steady stream since the alarm had been raised, and Sam didn't want to leave his Gaffer to handle all of them. Pippin was waiting for Merry at their table, keeping his ears open for anything unusual. Merry paid for the ale and went back to join his younger cousin.
"Anything, Pip?" He asked, resuming his seat.
"Not yet, Merry." Pippin looked at his tankard thoughtfully. Everyone he had spoken with so far had not seen Frodo for days, and in some cases, weeks. It didn't help that Frodo spent a lot of time alone. As a result, many of the Hobbiton residents wouldn't see him often on general principles. They wouldn't know if he had disappeared or was just buried in a book in his study.
Pippin had arrived back at Bag End the day they had discovered that Frodo was missing, only to find Sam and Merry waiting for him with nothing new to report. All three of them had passed that day in a fruitless search. Which was better? Bad news or no news at all, Pippin wondered to himself.
Merry sighed and sipped his ale. Voices swirled and drifted around the two hobbits. A part of a song or tale over here, a joke and a burst of laughter over there. Merry and Pippin were sitting near the bar, and they could hear parts of the conversations as patrons ordered ales and food. A group of three hobbits had just walked up and placed their order, and were talking amongst themselves as they waited for their ales.
"I tell you, I heard it in Bywater," one of them said. "Might be just jabbering and foolishness, but I heard he's been seen there a few days ago."
Merry's ears perked up a little and he listened more closely. News from Bywater? Who had been seen there? Were they talking about Frodo?
The conversation at the bar continued. "That fellow as was banished by the Mayor a while back? That's a cart load, I reckon," The second hobbit said to the first speaker. "He was marched across the borders by a torch wavin' crowd, sure as I'm breathin'".
The third hobbit laughed and gave his input. "Don't know what you lot are goin' on about anyhow, since you wouldn't know 'im from your pony's arse if he was standin' on your doorstep."
Banished? Merry turned this over in his mind a few times. They weren't talking about Frodo then. The last time he could remember anyone being banished from the Shire was two years ago, and -
He stopped in the middle of raising his tankard to his lips and his hand, tankard and all, hovered a few inches above the table. The last hobbit to be banished from the Shire, indeed the first in a very long while, was Rushford Bramblethorn. And he had been banished for attacking Frodo! Merry nearly spilled his ale.
The three hobbits had moved away from the bar after that, and Merry didn't dare follow and ask them for details. That would be an admission that he had been listening in on their conversation, which might cause more trouble than it was worth. Besides, it didn't sound like they knew anything specific regarding Bramblethorn's exact whereabouts.
Pippin looked at him in alarm as Merry thumped his tankard back against the table and stood up abruptly. "Merry? What is it?" the younger hobbit asked, looking up at his cousin.
"Pip, we're going to Bywater. Let's go find Sam and tell him."
Normally, Pippin would have been sorely averse to the idea of leaving a half-finished tankard of ale in his wake, but there wasn't much that was normal about this day. His cousin Frodo was nowhere to be found, and judging by Sam's reaction, something bad was afoot. He stood and followed Merry out the door and back to Bagshot Row.
~*~
Sam was sitting outside smoking his pipe and staring off into the distance. He looked up and stood when he saw Merry and Pippin coming up the path.
"Sam!" Merry called, a touch of excitement in his voice. "We overheard something at the Green Dragon that might be of some value."
Sam seemed to recover a little of his energy when he heard Merry's statement. "What did you hear, Mr. Merry? Has someone seen Mr. Frodo?" He asked, a little breathlessly.
Merry told Sam what he and Pippin had overheard of the conversation at the bar. "I didn't hear any names mentioned, but Sam, how often does someone get banished from the Shire? It's a rare occurrence!"
Sam's face drained of color and he sat down and let his head fall forward into his hands. If Rushford Bramblethorn had indeed come back to the Shire, they would have to find Frodo, and quickly. The thought of that creature laying a hand on Frodo again was unbearable.
"This shouldn't have happened!" Sam said miserably. "I should have been there, Mr. Merry! I should have - "
"Sam, you take wonderful care of Frodo," Merry consoled him. "You can't be everywhere at once. Not even Gandalf could do that, and he's a wizard!"
"Part of me knows that, Mr. Merry," Sam replied, scrubbing a hand across his face wearily. "But there's another part that says I've failed him, and I'll be failing him until he's home where he belongs."
Merry's heart swelled with pity for the hobbit sitting beside him. If Frodo so much as cut his finger in the kitchen, Sam would fret terribly in response. ~Thank the Valar that Frodo has someone like you, Sam,~ he thought. ~We should all have such good fortune.~
Pippin sat down on Sam's opposite side and twisted a blade of grass between his fingers. "We'll find him, Sam. You'll see," Pippin said, giving Sam a small, hopeful smile. "Merry and I are going to Bywater," Pippin announced. "Are you coming too, Sam?"
Sam weighed the options. He thought going to Bywater was a good idea, but he was also in favor of alerting Mayor Whitfoot. If Bramblethorn was indeed back in the Shire, the Mayor had better know about it. Merry and Pippin could get to Bywater quickly on their ponies. Michel Delving was a longer journey, and Sam was on foot. He made a decision.
"I'd like to come along, if I could, Mr. Pippin," he answered. "I know I don't have a pony to ride, but I promise not to slow you down," he stated firmly. He could alert Mayor Whitfoot to the Bramblethorn rumor by post and would get a message out to him immediately.
"Two ponies, and three hobbits," Merry mused. "We'll just take turns riding. It's not a great distance anyhow," he said thoughtfully. "I would leave the ponies here and suggest we all go on foot, but I think they might be useful."
It was agreed. Immediately after supper they would depart for Bywater and continue to search for information there. Finally, a place to begin! The information wasn't much, but it was the only thing they had to work with.
Sam wrote a brief message to Mayor Whitfoot explaining what Merry and Pippin had overheard and the fact that Frodo had gone missing. He asked the Mayor to contact him by post as soon as possible at the Eagle Feather Inn in Bywater. He was sure that Mayor Whitfoot would remember both Frodo and the incident two years ago. The rarity of such events in the Shire made it memorable to begin with.
Merry had suggested that Sam hire a courier to take the message to Michel Delving immediately, rather than trusting it to the post. Merry paid the courier himself, and the message was sent with urgency.
A grim expression lingered on Sam's face during supper. When Merry had mentioned the possibility that Bramblethorn was back within the borders of the Shire, it was all Sam could do to construct a coherent thought. If Bramblethorn did anything to Mr. Frodo resembling what Sam had prevented him from doing two years ago, Sam was determined he would do more than just hit the beast with a rock.
~*~
Day passed into night and night into another day with Frodo largely unaware. He slept when he could, but if Bramblethorn wandered in and caught him napping, he would be awakened by a sharp kick, usually followed by a nasty laugh or suggestive comment.
If Bramblethorn himself was sleeping, Frodo would have a little bit of peace, but his discomfort interfered with his ability to take advantage of it. His captor had been right about his hunger and thirst becoming more noticeable. His appetite was not quite up to the legendary standard of most hobbits on general principles, but he was accustomed to good, square meals at regular intervals.
He tried not to focus on the fact that he was sleep deprived, hungry and thirsty, frightened and in pain. If he thought about those things, they would most certainly overwhelm him. He tried to think of something else.
He closed his eyes and remembered how he had cried in Sam's arms that day in the woods two years ago, and Sam had just held him and whispered quiet assurances. Much of his fear had drained away then, leaving peace in its wake. He tried to remember how it had felt, to have protective arms around him and gentle words whispered into his ear, and tried to live in that moment somewhere in his mind.
He felt a sharp pain in his leg. "You sleep when I let you," he heard Bramblethorn say. "It's my game, and my rules," a whisper in his ear informed him. "I can remind you, if you like," Bramblethorn said ominously, and Frodo shrank back as the hands laid hold of him again.
~*~ To be continued~*~
FrodoBaggins1982 - Yeah, I know. The old sprained ankle thing. Used, and re- used, it's true. I just couldn't think of any other way to slow him down, and letting Bramblethorn just catch up with him unaided by providence bored me too much. (Why are we writers so darn sadistic, anyhow?) Please forgive me?
Camellia Gamgee Took - Glad you enjoyed the action in the last chapter. Adding to the "to do" list - oil door hinges!
Aratlithiel - You are not alone at all in being glad to see Frodo with a backbone. I figure anyone who can carry a splinter of a Morgul Blade in his shoulder for 17 days must have some fight in him!
Misstook1420 - Don't cry! Frodo's ok, I promise!
Seregon - Yes, Bramblethorn is a bit of a psycho, isn't he? He's also an egomaniac. Lovely combination of character traits there! There will be more sparring between Frodo and Bramblethorn, certainly. Whether you could call it development of their relationship is up for debate. I'd say they have a lust - hate relationship. Bramblethorn lusts after Frodo, Frodo hates him!
Aelfgifu - Whence the name of my villain? Rushford is the name of my friend's cat, to whom I owe an apology for misusing his name this way. He's a charming creature, really. "Bramblethorn", to me, sounds like something you don't want to step on with bare feet. It's prickly and nassssty, yes, precious!
And now, since the action is speeding up a little and you guys have expressed consternation at being left in suspense, why don't we update a little early?
The Way of Vengeance Chapter 7 - Progress
Bramblethorn looked down at Frodo thoughtfully from the doorway. How long would the stubborn hobbit hold out against signing the document? So far Frodo was putting up considerable resistance, but Bramblethorn could tell his prisoner was frightened. He had seen it in Frodo's eyes. Those blue orbs widened in undisguised terror every time Bramblethorn touched him.
There had to be a limit, some point at which Frodo's resolve would fail him. Bramblethorn had robbed him of his freedom, had rendered him completely helpless. Surely physical discomfort would wear him down as well. There was only one thing to do, and that was to keep at his prisoner, to be relentless. Perhaps it was time for them to chat once again.
He watched Frodo turn from him as he reached down to stroke his hair. Good. He was making progress then. Once he had wanted Frodo to accept him, to be willingly in his company, but for now Bramblethorn found that it was enough that Frodo fear him. He had resolved to keep the promise he had made to strike fear into Frodo's defiant heart. It would be satisfying to see proud Frodo Baggins, who had scorned him so utterly, cowering before him.
He paused for a moment, thinking. How hard would Frodo fight him when the time was at hand? He hoped to meet with at least a small amount of resistance. It would make it more interesting, more exciting. It was difficult to resist the temptation to have him now. The thought of that pale skin by the candlelight, that voice pleading with him between cries of - what? Pain, pleasure? Perhaps both? Those eyes - he pushed the thoughts away reluctantly. There was yet more to accomplish before then, and it must be seen to.
Removing the gag so Frodo could speak, Bramblethorn smiled. "It's so hard for me to stay away from you, Frodo," he began. "I'm immensely glad of your company." He knelt on the floor beside his prisoner.
Frodo had recovered somewhat from the beating Bramblethorn had given him and was glaring at his captor, a look that scarcely needed to be explained verbally. Bramblethorn smiled. "Just think, we've got the time and the privacy to get to know each other better," he said with a wink.
"I know you as well as I care to," Frodo shot back. He turned away and lay on his side with his back to Bramblethorn, letting his gaze bore into the wall. The very sight of Bramblethorn sickened and infuriated him.
"Such irresistible charm you have," he taunted his captive. "Certainly one of the endearing qualities that drew me so inexorably to you." He ran one hand lightly down Frodo's side, lingering over his ribs. Frodo twisted away from his touch.
"Go ahead, Frodo. Struggle while you have the strength, for you won't always," Bramblethorn told him. "You can already feel your hunger and thirst, can't you? They will grow, Frodo. They will fill your mind and overwhelm all other thoughts until they are your constant companions."
Frodo could feel Bramblethorn's breath on the back of his neck and he felt a chill wash over him. Was there no end to his cruelty? Anger flared again as the hand moved once more, tracing along the waistband of his breeches.
"You are horrid beyond description," Frodo said fervently. He refused to look at Bramblethorn. "You deserved your exile and you deserve it still."
"How ironic it is that the one who sent me away shall be the one who brings me back." Bramblethorn nuzzled the back of Frodo's neck mockingly as he spoke. "I have been anticipating the day of my return, Frodo. I've waited so long for you." He grasped Frodo and rolled him onto his back. "But then again, I have you here with me now, do I not? There you are, only inches away and completely irresistible." He planted a kiss on Frodo's neck, which brought on a fit of writhing and twisting.
"You disgust me!" Frodo cried, his voice breaking. He felt violated and helpless, with no control over anything that happened to him. Resistance, though very probably futile, was his only refuge. If a cruel fate were all that awaited him, he would not go to meet it quietly.
~I may not be able to prevent this from happening, but I swear I shall fight you!~ Frodo clutched at the thought, using it to anchor himself as firmly as possible against the storm breaking within him.
"What did you say, Frodo? Did I hear you beg for more?" Bramblethorn asked nastily and continued kissing Frodo's neck roughly while reaching a hand inside his torn shirt.
"Stop! You have no right to do this to me!" Frodo shouted in fear and horror, as Bramblethorn's hands caressed him in a way that had little to do with gentleness and nothing to do with love.
"I care not if I have the right. I have the desire, and I have you, Frodo." Bramblethorn released him with a rough shove. "The more you defy me the more attention I shall lavish upon you, beloved."
Finding the remnants of his voice, Frodo retorted, "Why must you do this? Surely someone who returns your affections -"
"I suppose I simply enjoy a challenge, Frodo," Bramblethorn interrupted in a sarcastic tone. "You, my love, are most certainly a challenge." His tone changed again, to the icy, heart-piercing promise of approaching doom. "And I shall certainly enjoy you."
Frodo tried to pull away, his face turned from his tormentor. He hated himself for crumbling to pieces every time Bramblethorn touched him. He could be brave until those hands roved over his body, threatening to take by force what would never be freely given. He wanted to fling back a stinging reply, but he could find no words.
"Frodo, make it easier on yourself. Sign the document." Bramblethorn urged him. "The longer you play this stubborn game, the more you will suffer."
"I will not comply with your wishes," Frodo answered, his voice trembling slightly. "Not any of them."
Bramblethorn stuffed the gag back in Frodo's mouth and paused to make sure his bonds were still secure. Satisfied with his work, he placed his hands on Frodo's shaking shoulders and told him, "Save your strength then, my lovely one, for you shall need it!"
He rose and left the room again, pondering as he went. Frodo would definitely break down eventually. What else could he do, a helpless prisoner with his choices limited to having only terror and misery to keep him company, or his captor with his taunting and his invasive, searching hands.
~*~
Two days with no news! Sam was almost beside himself with anxiety. He, Merry and Pippin had spent an entire day searching the countryside and had found no trace of Frodo. The next day they had gone into town and begun to ask the residents of Hobbiton if they had any information regarding his whereabouts. Nobody had seen or heard anything, but there were many offers of help.
News traveled fast, and it seemed everyone was talking about the mystery. There had been volunteers who had been quick to assist with extended searches of the area surrounding Hobbiton, but none of them had found anything that pointed to an answer. There were also the few who were of the opinion that wherever old Bilbo had gone, Frodo had likely followed. After all, Frodo was the nephew of Old Mad Baggins, and had lived with him for a number of years. Perhaps Bilbo's eccentricities had passed to the young Master of Bag End, along with the property itself.
Taking a break from walking the length and breadth of the town, Merry and Pippin had stopped into the Green Dragon. Maybe there they might be able to spread the word to hobbits traveling from other settlements.
Merry felt almost like he was committing an evil, or at least disrespectful deed himself as he ordered a half-pint of ale. This was no time for indulging in such things. He consoled himself with the thought that he really didn't want it all that much. It would just look a little more natural if he were having an ale like the other hobbits gathered there, rather than merely walking around asking strange questions or listening to conversations.
He and Pippin hoped they might catch some snippet of an exchange that would lead them in the right direction or that they would meet with someone who had some knowledge of where Frodo might be. Sam had chosen to remain at home. Neighbors and friends had been stopping by the Gamgees' residence in a steady stream since the alarm had been raised, and Sam didn't want to leave his Gaffer to handle all of them. Pippin was waiting for Merry at their table, keeping his ears open for anything unusual. Merry paid for the ale and went back to join his younger cousin.
"Anything, Pip?" He asked, resuming his seat.
"Not yet, Merry." Pippin looked at his tankard thoughtfully. Everyone he had spoken with so far had not seen Frodo for days, and in some cases, weeks. It didn't help that Frodo spent a lot of time alone. As a result, many of the Hobbiton residents wouldn't see him often on general principles. They wouldn't know if he had disappeared or was just buried in a book in his study.
Pippin had arrived back at Bag End the day they had discovered that Frodo was missing, only to find Sam and Merry waiting for him with nothing new to report. All three of them had passed that day in a fruitless search. Which was better? Bad news or no news at all, Pippin wondered to himself.
Merry sighed and sipped his ale. Voices swirled and drifted around the two hobbits. A part of a song or tale over here, a joke and a burst of laughter over there. Merry and Pippin were sitting near the bar, and they could hear parts of the conversations as patrons ordered ales and food. A group of three hobbits had just walked up and placed their order, and were talking amongst themselves as they waited for their ales.
"I tell you, I heard it in Bywater," one of them said. "Might be just jabbering and foolishness, but I heard he's been seen there a few days ago."
Merry's ears perked up a little and he listened more closely. News from Bywater? Who had been seen there? Were they talking about Frodo?
The conversation at the bar continued. "That fellow as was banished by the Mayor a while back? That's a cart load, I reckon," The second hobbit said to the first speaker. "He was marched across the borders by a torch wavin' crowd, sure as I'm breathin'".
The third hobbit laughed and gave his input. "Don't know what you lot are goin' on about anyhow, since you wouldn't know 'im from your pony's arse if he was standin' on your doorstep."
Banished? Merry turned this over in his mind a few times. They weren't talking about Frodo then. The last time he could remember anyone being banished from the Shire was two years ago, and -
He stopped in the middle of raising his tankard to his lips and his hand, tankard and all, hovered a few inches above the table. The last hobbit to be banished from the Shire, indeed the first in a very long while, was Rushford Bramblethorn. And he had been banished for attacking Frodo! Merry nearly spilled his ale.
The three hobbits had moved away from the bar after that, and Merry didn't dare follow and ask them for details. That would be an admission that he had been listening in on their conversation, which might cause more trouble than it was worth. Besides, it didn't sound like they knew anything specific regarding Bramblethorn's exact whereabouts.
Pippin looked at him in alarm as Merry thumped his tankard back against the table and stood up abruptly. "Merry? What is it?" the younger hobbit asked, looking up at his cousin.
"Pip, we're going to Bywater. Let's go find Sam and tell him."
Normally, Pippin would have been sorely averse to the idea of leaving a half-finished tankard of ale in his wake, but there wasn't much that was normal about this day. His cousin Frodo was nowhere to be found, and judging by Sam's reaction, something bad was afoot. He stood and followed Merry out the door and back to Bagshot Row.
~*~
Sam was sitting outside smoking his pipe and staring off into the distance. He looked up and stood when he saw Merry and Pippin coming up the path.
"Sam!" Merry called, a touch of excitement in his voice. "We overheard something at the Green Dragon that might be of some value."
Sam seemed to recover a little of his energy when he heard Merry's statement. "What did you hear, Mr. Merry? Has someone seen Mr. Frodo?" He asked, a little breathlessly.
Merry told Sam what he and Pippin had overheard of the conversation at the bar. "I didn't hear any names mentioned, but Sam, how often does someone get banished from the Shire? It's a rare occurrence!"
Sam's face drained of color and he sat down and let his head fall forward into his hands. If Rushford Bramblethorn had indeed come back to the Shire, they would have to find Frodo, and quickly. The thought of that creature laying a hand on Frodo again was unbearable.
"This shouldn't have happened!" Sam said miserably. "I should have been there, Mr. Merry! I should have - "
"Sam, you take wonderful care of Frodo," Merry consoled him. "You can't be everywhere at once. Not even Gandalf could do that, and he's a wizard!"
"Part of me knows that, Mr. Merry," Sam replied, scrubbing a hand across his face wearily. "But there's another part that says I've failed him, and I'll be failing him until he's home where he belongs."
Merry's heart swelled with pity for the hobbit sitting beside him. If Frodo so much as cut his finger in the kitchen, Sam would fret terribly in response. ~Thank the Valar that Frodo has someone like you, Sam,~ he thought. ~We should all have such good fortune.~
Pippin sat down on Sam's opposite side and twisted a blade of grass between his fingers. "We'll find him, Sam. You'll see," Pippin said, giving Sam a small, hopeful smile. "Merry and I are going to Bywater," Pippin announced. "Are you coming too, Sam?"
Sam weighed the options. He thought going to Bywater was a good idea, but he was also in favor of alerting Mayor Whitfoot. If Bramblethorn was indeed back in the Shire, the Mayor had better know about it. Merry and Pippin could get to Bywater quickly on their ponies. Michel Delving was a longer journey, and Sam was on foot. He made a decision.
"I'd like to come along, if I could, Mr. Pippin," he answered. "I know I don't have a pony to ride, but I promise not to slow you down," he stated firmly. He could alert Mayor Whitfoot to the Bramblethorn rumor by post and would get a message out to him immediately.
"Two ponies, and three hobbits," Merry mused. "We'll just take turns riding. It's not a great distance anyhow," he said thoughtfully. "I would leave the ponies here and suggest we all go on foot, but I think they might be useful."
It was agreed. Immediately after supper they would depart for Bywater and continue to search for information there. Finally, a place to begin! The information wasn't much, but it was the only thing they had to work with.
Sam wrote a brief message to Mayor Whitfoot explaining what Merry and Pippin had overheard and the fact that Frodo had gone missing. He asked the Mayor to contact him by post as soon as possible at the Eagle Feather Inn in Bywater. He was sure that Mayor Whitfoot would remember both Frodo and the incident two years ago. The rarity of such events in the Shire made it memorable to begin with.
Merry had suggested that Sam hire a courier to take the message to Michel Delving immediately, rather than trusting it to the post. Merry paid the courier himself, and the message was sent with urgency.
A grim expression lingered on Sam's face during supper. When Merry had mentioned the possibility that Bramblethorn was back within the borders of the Shire, it was all Sam could do to construct a coherent thought. If Bramblethorn did anything to Mr. Frodo resembling what Sam had prevented him from doing two years ago, Sam was determined he would do more than just hit the beast with a rock.
~*~
Day passed into night and night into another day with Frodo largely unaware. He slept when he could, but if Bramblethorn wandered in and caught him napping, he would be awakened by a sharp kick, usually followed by a nasty laugh or suggestive comment.
If Bramblethorn himself was sleeping, Frodo would have a little bit of peace, but his discomfort interfered with his ability to take advantage of it. His captor had been right about his hunger and thirst becoming more noticeable. His appetite was not quite up to the legendary standard of most hobbits on general principles, but he was accustomed to good, square meals at regular intervals.
He tried not to focus on the fact that he was sleep deprived, hungry and thirsty, frightened and in pain. If he thought about those things, they would most certainly overwhelm him. He tried to think of something else.
He closed his eyes and remembered how he had cried in Sam's arms that day in the woods two years ago, and Sam had just held him and whispered quiet assurances. Much of his fear had drained away then, leaving peace in its wake. He tried to remember how it had felt, to have protective arms around him and gentle words whispered into his ear, and tried to live in that moment somewhere in his mind.
He felt a sharp pain in his leg. "You sleep when I let you," he heard Bramblethorn say. "It's my game, and my rules," a whisper in his ear informed him. "I can remind you, if you like," Bramblethorn said ominously, and Frodo shrank back as the hands laid hold of him again.
~*~ To be continued~*~