TTTurtle - What did Frodo write in Elvish? Read on and discover!
Camellia Gamgee Took - Yes, Mr. Frodo's in a pickle for sure. Bramblethorn knows now what Sam means to him.
FrodoBaggins1982 - The mental image of Bramblethorn with a face full of ink and a quill up his nose is priceless! If Frodo had been in less of a state of horribly depressed shock, he might have done just that! Would have enjoyed it too, let me tell you! You were the first to guess correctly in regards to the Elvish, as you'll see in this chapter.
Endymion - Can the Mayor read Quenya? We'll find out pretty soon! Bramblethorn is going to have to show himself soon, at least to the Mayor if no one else. The story continues.
Seregon - Regarding Chapter 7 - Yes, I'm giving Sam a little more forwardness than usual in having him draft a message to the Mayor. Normally, he would be reluctant to "get above his station" that way, but it's his Frodo we're talking about here! Frodo being in trouble is probably the only thing that might make Sam go out on a limb like that. I was also thinking in terms of book cannon and how Sam eventually becomes Mayor himself. Those leadership qualities you mentioned had to have started somewhere, eh?
And with regard to Chapter 8 - You read my mind as to Frodo's condition. We'll be taking care of him right soon. After all, Bramblethorn doesn't want to lose him yet. He has plans, the nasty creature! And who is going to decipher Frodo's message? See below!
Misstook1420 - No, Sam wouldn't have wanted Frodo to sign that document. Frodo cares so much for Sam that a threat to him is more than he can handle in his current state. Stay tuned to see what Frodo wrote!
Aratlithiel - Thanks for your tremendous compliments on Chapter 8! Glad you liked the imagery with the candle. Shame on Bramblethorn indeed! Using Sam to get to Frodo is just the kind of heartless, despicable thing he would do!
Kyotyred - Hurrah! Another reader comes forth! It's good to have you join us! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, and thank you for your kind words. More excitement ahead, as we find out just what Frodo was up to with that bit of Elvish.
Chapter 9 - Revelations
Sam, Merry and Pippin arrived in Bywater in the night. The Eagle Feather Inn was not impressive, but it wasn't shabby either. The innkeeper was pleasant and efficient, having the hobbits checked into their room and the ponies stabled in a matter of a few minutes.
The trio spent a short while in the common room of the inn, listening for more clues as to Bramblethorn's appearance in the area. The crowd was thinning out by that time, and it was plain that nothing more was to be learned that night.
Instructions were left with the innkeeper to the effect that any messages from Michel Delving were to be brought to their attention immediately. Sam hoped fervently that the Mayor would take his message to heart. Writing to the Mayor was not an action commonly taken by a gardener, but Mayor Whitfoot seemed to be a solid fellow, and had a reputation for taking an interest in the concerns of all of the good citizens of the Shire. If the presence of Rushford Bramblethorn in the Shire didn't qualify as a concern of the citizens, Sam couldn't think of what would.
Merry, Pippin and Sam retired for the night, planning to start looking for clues regarding Bramblethorn's presence and Frodo's whereabouts the following morning.
~*~
~*~The next day~*~
Bramblethorn was going to town. It was afternoon and time to meet his courier for an update. No sooner had the ink of Frodo's signature dried than the document was placed in the hands of the courier and sent on its way to Michel Delving. The courier had ridden through the remainder of the night to deliver the message early in the morning. Bramblethorn had arranged to meet the courier to verify that the Mayor had received the parcel, and to set a new time to meet for an update.
He reluctantly conceded that he must make some provision for his prisoner as well. Frodo was looking decidedly unwell, and it would seriously endanger him to let him go without at least something to drink for much longer. Bramblethorn wanted Frodo to be coherent and aware when he fulfilled his promise to take him. He wanted him to be strong enough to remain conscious, to struggle at least enough to make it exciting. It wouldn't do to have Frodo pass out due to hunger and thirst in the middle of it all.
He finished his preparations and paused briefly on his way out, standing in the doorway to gaze at his sleeping prisoner. He realized he found Frodo to be even more remarkable than he had guessed. More headstrong, more noble, more resilient. It almost seemed a shame to break such a spirit. Almost.
~*~
Frodo had been sleeping again. Whether it was night or day was unknown to him as he lay in the windowless room. He stirred groggily. It was then that he smelled the food. By the light of the candle he saw a tray with some bread and cheese, some fruit and a flask of water. He wondered if he was dreaming again. Perhaps Bramblethorn wasn't going to let him die of starvation after all. As it was, he felt barely strong enough to force himself to sit upright.
It was a bit tricky at first, but Frodo was able to reach the food with his hands bound in front. No feast had ever tasted as good as this modest repast. He had lost track of how long it had been since he had eaten, and his thirst was nearly maddening. The relief of water finally coursing down his parched throat was nearly enough to make him weep.
How long was Bramblethorn planning to keep him there? Surely it would take little time to get the signed document to the Mayor in Michel Delving. What might take longer was for the Mayor to act upon it. And once that had been achieved, what next? Bramblethorn had made no promises as to Frodo's future, at least none that Frodo cared to contemplate.
Feeling a little better for a full stomach, Frodo lay down and closed his eyes again. Being asleep was far better than being awake, and since he had signed the document, Bramblethorn wasn't kicking him back to alertness anymore. His feelings of guilt for having betrayed all the Shire - for he believed he had done just that - combined with his fears for Sam were burdens that lay heavily upon him in his waking hours.
When he slept, sometimes he dreamed. The dreams weren't always a refuge, and he would wake in a cold sweat, each breath coming rapidly and painfully. Upon his signing of the document retracting his testimony, he had effectively signed away any protection he might have had against Bramblethorn's taking his crude advances to the next level.
Bramblethorn had no reason now to refrain from cruelly using him as was his original intent. Frodo knew he could expect no mercy from Bramblethorn when the time came. He had angered his captor with his constant defiance of him, and Bramblethorn would be sure to take that anger out on him, body and soul.
He prayed that Bramblethorn would not harm Sam now that he had what he wanted. Or rather, Bramblethorn thought he had what he wanted. Frodo almost smiled to himself as he thought about the words he had inscribed in Quenya under his name. It was a long shot. He rather doubted that anyone in the Mayor's office had bothered to learn any Elvish.
Perhaps years from now, someone with some knowledge of Quenya would look at the document and realize what had happened. It would be too late to stop Bramblethorn from achieving his aims, but at least, eventually, someone would know the truth.
~*~
After a good breakfast that even satisfied Pippin's prodigious appetite, the trio from Hobbiton set out to see what they could learn about Bramblethorn. The hobbits Merry had heard speaking at the Green Dragon said the rumor of his presence was being heard in Bywater. If that were true, somebody somewhere should have something to say about it.
In addition, Sam had brought with him a portrait of Frodo he had seen many times at Bag End. It was fairly recent, and had been commissioned by Bilbo and drawn by a local artist with great skill. The plan was to ask if anyone had seen a hobbit resembling Frodo, or knew of Rushford Bramblethorn. It could be a long day, Sam surmised.
They canvassed the area around the town square before luncheon, with no important results to speak of. Everyone who looked at Frodo's portrait said they had not remembered seeing anyone who resembled the hobbit in the picture. They had not heard any talk about Rushford Bramblethorn either. Any description of Bramblethorn was met with a shake of the head. Nobody seemed to know about him.
After luncheon, they began to check the other inns and some local businesses. By suppertime, they were tired and hungry, and deeply frustrated with not having turned up any clues. A good portion of the town remained to be searched, and it looked like another long day lay ahead of them.
As they returned to the inn, the innkeeper met them with a smile. "You lads have been expected, you have!" He exclaimed with far more energy than Sam, Merry or Pippin felt they could muster after their long day. "If you'll follow me, your supper is waiting."
Sam's eyes must have asked the question before his voice could catch up. The innkeeper continued, "As fine a table as I've seen in many a day, and awaiting the guests of honor." The innkeeper led them through the common room to an area toward the back. A curtain closed off a small private dining room.
If Sam was uncomfortably curious, Pippin was positively suffering. "Merry, what is all this?" he asked incredulously.
"Very interesting, to say the least," Merry answered him, as they were guided to the table.
The feast laid out before them was amazing. Whoever had planned this was serious about his cuisine indeed. Sam stared in wonder. Where had all this come from, and who had provided it? As they were about to sit down, the fattest hobbit any of them had ever seen emerged through the curtains. Sam was hard put to conceal his shock.
"Mayor Whitfoot!" he gasped, surprised to see the important hobbit in Bywater, and inviting them to supper as well. There must be some mistake. His Gaffer would never believe this, Sam reflected.
"Yes, young fellow, the very same," said the portly, gray-haired hobbit. "Thank you for joining me for supper, lads! Which one of you is Samwise Gamgee?"
"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Mayor, but that's me," Sam stammered. There he was, a gardener, face to face with the Mayor himself, and invited to supper with him as well! Sam recovered from his astonishment enough to introduce Merry and Pippin.
"Saradoc's young lad, aren't you?" Mayor Whitfoot greeted Merry.
"Yes, Sir." Merry shook the Mayor's hand. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Mayor."
Turning to Pippin, he exclaimed, "And young Peregrin Took! The last time I saw you, you were knee-high to a Dwarf! I remember you hiding behind your Ma's skirts while your father and I were chatting at the Free Fair."
Pippin smiled and shook the Mayor's hand, blushing furiously. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir."
Mayor Whitfoot addressed Sam again. "I received your letter by courier early this morning," he said. "A second courier came from here in Bywater and left a message for me this morning as well. I felt I should come to Bywater in person, and right away, because I believe you would be quite interested in the contents of that second message."
Mayor Whitfoot had the attention of all three hobbits at his table immediately with that statement. As they sat down to supper, the Mayor gave them the details.
"Samwise, to start with, I was very concerned when I got your letter. A disappearance in the Shire is a serious thing. Of course, this is not the first time a Baggins has disappeared from the Shire as I recall."
Sam found himself opening his mouth to speak defensively, before he remembered it was the Mayor he was about to chastise for criticizing Mr. Frodo's family. He bit back his comments and listened.
"What stirred me about it and made me feel that it wasn't just more eccentric foolishness was your mention of that Bramblethorn scoundrel." The Mayor's eyebrows went up as he spoke the name. "If he truly is abroad in the Shire again, he must be dealt with expediently."
"Now, as to the second document I received this morning." Mayor Whitfoot drew a small scroll out of his vest and laid it on the table. "I found it to be an interesting coincidence that you should mention Bramblethorn in your letter, and that I should receive on the same morning a message from that very individual." A collective gasp went up from the other three hobbits gathered around the table. "What I have here is a signed statement by Frodo Baggins, retracting his testimony regarding the Bramblethorn affair."
Shocked looks passed from one hobbit to the next. Merry gaped in open astonishment, and Pippin looked as if he'd just seen a herd of oliphaunts walk through the room.
"That's impossible, Mr. Mayor, Sir!" Sam exclaimed, his face ashen. There was no chance that Mr. Frodo would sign such a document. It had to be a forgery!
"I agree with Sam, Mr. Mayor," Merry said evenly as Pippin nodded in affirmation beside him. "That incident was very upsetting for Frodo, and it has taken him the better part of two years to come to peace with it. Why would he ever retract his testimony?"
"I am wondering the same thing, my lad." The Mayor opened the scroll and laid it flat on the table for all to see. "But here it is, signed and sealed." Sam leaned over it and examined the signature. It was definitely in Frodo's hand. But underneath it was something that caused him to gasp involuntarily.
"Mr. Mayor, Mr. Frodo did sign this document, it's certain." Merry and Pippin gaped at Sam, unable to believe what they were hearing. Sam spoke again, his voice betraying his emotion as he did. "Look under his name for a moment, please, Sir." Sam pointed to the delicate characters inscribed beneath Frodo's signature. "Mr. Frodo has been teaching me to read and write some Elvish, Sir. I'm no scholar like Mr. Frodo, but I can read that."
Pippin piped up from across the table. "What does it say, Sam? What was cousin Frodo trying to tell us?"
Sam's voice began to tremble as he looked around the table at the Mayor and Frodo's cousins. "It says, 'Captive in Bywater.'" Nobody spoke. They were staring at the page, amazed at their incredible luck, and Frodo's quick thinking under pressure. Frodo had indeed signed the document, but added the line in Elvish to let them know he had been forced to do so. It was just pure luck that Sam had been given access to the document and seen the message written there.
"Mr. Frodo is here, somewhere in Bywater!" Sam had forgotten entirely about his supper.
~*~
Bramblethorn returned to the smial with a sense of satisfaction. His courier had confirmed delivery of the signed document to the Mayor that morning, and all that remained now was to await the reply. Undoubtedly the Mayor would want to meet with him as soon as possible. He would meet with the courier again the following afternoon in hopes that the Mayor's reply had been delivered.
He stopped by the door of the room where his captive lay sleeping. He opened it and gazed into the gloom, his eyes lingering on Frodo's bound form in the corner. A cursory inspection revealed a pale, fragile - looking creature, sleeping fitfully on the dirt floor.
Frodo's head tossed from side to side, and words escaped his lips as he writhed in the grip of a dream. "Amin delotha lle!" He breathed. "Amin feuya ten' lle!"
Bramblethorn frowned to himself. It was naught but gibberish! Frodo was a mystery, to be sure. A fascinating, infuriating, alluring mystery indeed. He closed the door and propped the chair up under the knob again, then paused in the hallway to light his pipe.
"Pleasant dreams, Frodo," he said to the emptiness. As he walked away from the door, his eyes narrowed somewhat and a slight smirk spread across his face.
~*~To be continued~*~
A/N - Translation of Frodo's Elvish
Amin delotha lle - I hate you
Amin feuya ten' lle - You disgust me
Source - www.grey-company.org
Camellia Gamgee Took - Yes, Mr. Frodo's in a pickle for sure. Bramblethorn knows now what Sam means to him.
FrodoBaggins1982 - The mental image of Bramblethorn with a face full of ink and a quill up his nose is priceless! If Frodo had been in less of a state of horribly depressed shock, he might have done just that! Would have enjoyed it too, let me tell you! You were the first to guess correctly in regards to the Elvish, as you'll see in this chapter.
Endymion - Can the Mayor read Quenya? We'll find out pretty soon! Bramblethorn is going to have to show himself soon, at least to the Mayor if no one else. The story continues.
Seregon - Regarding Chapter 7 - Yes, I'm giving Sam a little more forwardness than usual in having him draft a message to the Mayor. Normally, he would be reluctant to "get above his station" that way, but it's his Frodo we're talking about here! Frodo being in trouble is probably the only thing that might make Sam go out on a limb like that. I was also thinking in terms of book cannon and how Sam eventually becomes Mayor himself. Those leadership qualities you mentioned had to have started somewhere, eh?
And with regard to Chapter 8 - You read my mind as to Frodo's condition. We'll be taking care of him right soon. After all, Bramblethorn doesn't want to lose him yet. He has plans, the nasty creature! And who is going to decipher Frodo's message? See below!
Misstook1420 - No, Sam wouldn't have wanted Frodo to sign that document. Frodo cares so much for Sam that a threat to him is more than he can handle in his current state. Stay tuned to see what Frodo wrote!
Aratlithiel - Thanks for your tremendous compliments on Chapter 8! Glad you liked the imagery with the candle. Shame on Bramblethorn indeed! Using Sam to get to Frodo is just the kind of heartless, despicable thing he would do!
Kyotyred - Hurrah! Another reader comes forth! It's good to have you join us! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, and thank you for your kind words. More excitement ahead, as we find out just what Frodo was up to with that bit of Elvish.
Chapter 9 - Revelations
Sam, Merry and Pippin arrived in Bywater in the night. The Eagle Feather Inn was not impressive, but it wasn't shabby either. The innkeeper was pleasant and efficient, having the hobbits checked into their room and the ponies stabled in a matter of a few minutes.
The trio spent a short while in the common room of the inn, listening for more clues as to Bramblethorn's appearance in the area. The crowd was thinning out by that time, and it was plain that nothing more was to be learned that night.
Instructions were left with the innkeeper to the effect that any messages from Michel Delving were to be brought to their attention immediately. Sam hoped fervently that the Mayor would take his message to heart. Writing to the Mayor was not an action commonly taken by a gardener, but Mayor Whitfoot seemed to be a solid fellow, and had a reputation for taking an interest in the concerns of all of the good citizens of the Shire. If the presence of Rushford Bramblethorn in the Shire didn't qualify as a concern of the citizens, Sam couldn't think of what would.
Merry, Pippin and Sam retired for the night, planning to start looking for clues regarding Bramblethorn's presence and Frodo's whereabouts the following morning.
~*~
~*~The next day~*~
Bramblethorn was going to town. It was afternoon and time to meet his courier for an update. No sooner had the ink of Frodo's signature dried than the document was placed in the hands of the courier and sent on its way to Michel Delving. The courier had ridden through the remainder of the night to deliver the message early in the morning. Bramblethorn had arranged to meet the courier to verify that the Mayor had received the parcel, and to set a new time to meet for an update.
He reluctantly conceded that he must make some provision for his prisoner as well. Frodo was looking decidedly unwell, and it would seriously endanger him to let him go without at least something to drink for much longer. Bramblethorn wanted Frodo to be coherent and aware when he fulfilled his promise to take him. He wanted him to be strong enough to remain conscious, to struggle at least enough to make it exciting. It wouldn't do to have Frodo pass out due to hunger and thirst in the middle of it all.
He finished his preparations and paused briefly on his way out, standing in the doorway to gaze at his sleeping prisoner. He realized he found Frodo to be even more remarkable than he had guessed. More headstrong, more noble, more resilient. It almost seemed a shame to break such a spirit. Almost.
~*~
Frodo had been sleeping again. Whether it was night or day was unknown to him as he lay in the windowless room. He stirred groggily. It was then that he smelled the food. By the light of the candle he saw a tray with some bread and cheese, some fruit and a flask of water. He wondered if he was dreaming again. Perhaps Bramblethorn wasn't going to let him die of starvation after all. As it was, he felt barely strong enough to force himself to sit upright.
It was a bit tricky at first, but Frodo was able to reach the food with his hands bound in front. No feast had ever tasted as good as this modest repast. He had lost track of how long it had been since he had eaten, and his thirst was nearly maddening. The relief of water finally coursing down his parched throat was nearly enough to make him weep.
How long was Bramblethorn planning to keep him there? Surely it would take little time to get the signed document to the Mayor in Michel Delving. What might take longer was for the Mayor to act upon it. And once that had been achieved, what next? Bramblethorn had made no promises as to Frodo's future, at least none that Frodo cared to contemplate.
Feeling a little better for a full stomach, Frodo lay down and closed his eyes again. Being asleep was far better than being awake, and since he had signed the document, Bramblethorn wasn't kicking him back to alertness anymore. His feelings of guilt for having betrayed all the Shire - for he believed he had done just that - combined with his fears for Sam were burdens that lay heavily upon him in his waking hours.
When he slept, sometimes he dreamed. The dreams weren't always a refuge, and he would wake in a cold sweat, each breath coming rapidly and painfully. Upon his signing of the document retracting his testimony, he had effectively signed away any protection he might have had against Bramblethorn's taking his crude advances to the next level.
Bramblethorn had no reason now to refrain from cruelly using him as was his original intent. Frodo knew he could expect no mercy from Bramblethorn when the time came. He had angered his captor with his constant defiance of him, and Bramblethorn would be sure to take that anger out on him, body and soul.
He prayed that Bramblethorn would not harm Sam now that he had what he wanted. Or rather, Bramblethorn thought he had what he wanted. Frodo almost smiled to himself as he thought about the words he had inscribed in Quenya under his name. It was a long shot. He rather doubted that anyone in the Mayor's office had bothered to learn any Elvish.
Perhaps years from now, someone with some knowledge of Quenya would look at the document and realize what had happened. It would be too late to stop Bramblethorn from achieving his aims, but at least, eventually, someone would know the truth.
~*~
After a good breakfast that even satisfied Pippin's prodigious appetite, the trio from Hobbiton set out to see what they could learn about Bramblethorn. The hobbits Merry had heard speaking at the Green Dragon said the rumor of his presence was being heard in Bywater. If that were true, somebody somewhere should have something to say about it.
In addition, Sam had brought with him a portrait of Frodo he had seen many times at Bag End. It was fairly recent, and had been commissioned by Bilbo and drawn by a local artist with great skill. The plan was to ask if anyone had seen a hobbit resembling Frodo, or knew of Rushford Bramblethorn. It could be a long day, Sam surmised.
They canvassed the area around the town square before luncheon, with no important results to speak of. Everyone who looked at Frodo's portrait said they had not remembered seeing anyone who resembled the hobbit in the picture. They had not heard any talk about Rushford Bramblethorn either. Any description of Bramblethorn was met with a shake of the head. Nobody seemed to know about him.
After luncheon, they began to check the other inns and some local businesses. By suppertime, they were tired and hungry, and deeply frustrated with not having turned up any clues. A good portion of the town remained to be searched, and it looked like another long day lay ahead of them.
As they returned to the inn, the innkeeper met them with a smile. "You lads have been expected, you have!" He exclaimed with far more energy than Sam, Merry or Pippin felt they could muster after their long day. "If you'll follow me, your supper is waiting."
Sam's eyes must have asked the question before his voice could catch up. The innkeeper continued, "As fine a table as I've seen in many a day, and awaiting the guests of honor." The innkeeper led them through the common room to an area toward the back. A curtain closed off a small private dining room.
If Sam was uncomfortably curious, Pippin was positively suffering. "Merry, what is all this?" he asked incredulously.
"Very interesting, to say the least," Merry answered him, as they were guided to the table.
The feast laid out before them was amazing. Whoever had planned this was serious about his cuisine indeed. Sam stared in wonder. Where had all this come from, and who had provided it? As they were about to sit down, the fattest hobbit any of them had ever seen emerged through the curtains. Sam was hard put to conceal his shock.
"Mayor Whitfoot!" he gasped, surprised to see the important hobbit in Bywater, and inviting them to supper as well. There must be some mistake. His Gaffer would never believe this, Sam reflected.
"Yes, young fellow, the very same," said the portly, gray-haired hobbit. "Thank you for joining me for supper, lads! Which one of you is Samwise Gamgee?"
"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Mayor, but that's me," Sam stammered. There he was, a gardener, face to face with the Mayor himself, and invited to supper with him as well! Sam recovered from his astonishment enough to introduce Merry and Pippin.
"Saradoc's young lad, aren't you?" Mayor Whitfoot greeted Merry.
"Yes, Sir." Merry shook the Mayor's hand. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Mayor."
Turning to Pippin, he exclaimed, "And young Peregrin Took! The last time I saw you, you were knee-high to a Dwarf! I remember you hiding behind your Ma's skirts while your father and I were chatting at the Free Fair."
Pippin smiled and shook the Mayor's hand, blushing furiously. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir."
Mayor Whitfoot addressed Sam again. "I received your letter by courier early this morning," he said. "A second courier came from here in Bywater and left a message for me this morning as well. I felt I should come to Bywater in person, and right away, because I believe you would be quite interested in the contents of that second message."
Mayor Whitfoot had the attention of all three hobbits at his table immediately with that statement. As they sat down to supper, the Mayor gave them the details.
"Samwise, to start with, I was very concerned when I got your letter. A disappearance in the Shire is a serious thing. Of course, this is not the first time a Baggins has disappeared from the Shire as I recall."
Sam found himself opening his mouth to speak defensively, before he remembered it was the Mayor he was about to chastise for criticizing Mr. Frodo's family. He bit back his comments and listened.
"What stirred me about it and made me feel that it wasn't just more eccentric foolishness was your mention of that Bramblethorn scoundrel." The Mayor's eyebrows went up as he spoke the name. "If he truly is abroad in the Shire again, he must be dealt with expediently."
"Now, as to the second document I received this morning." Mayor Whitfoot drew a small scroll out of his vest and laid it on the table. "I found it to be an interesting coincidence that you should mention Bramblethorn in your letter, and that I should receive on the same morning a message from that very individual." A collective gasp went up from the other three hobbits gathered around the table. "What I have here is a signed statement by Frodo Baggins, retracting his testimony regarding the Bramblethorn affair."
Shocked looks passed from one hobbit to the next. Merry gaped in open astonishment, and Pippin looked as if he'd just seen a herd of oliphaunts walk through the room.
"That's impossible, Mr. Mayor, Sir!" Sam exclaimed, his face ashen. There was no chance that Mr. Frodo would sign such a document. It had to be a forgery!
"I agree with Sam, Mr. Mayor," Merry said evenly as Pippin nodded in affirmation beside him. "That incident was very upsetting for Frodo, and it has taken him the better part of two years to come to peace with it. Why would he ever retract his testimony?"
"I am wondering the same thing, my lad." The Mayor opened the scroll and laid it flat on the table for all to see. "But here it is, signed and sealed." Sam leaned over it and examined the signature. It was definitely in Frodo's hand. But underneath it was something that caused him to gasp involuntarily.
"Mr. Mayor, Mr. Frodo did sign this document, it's certain." Merry and Pippin gaped at Sam, unable to believe what they were hearing. Sam spoke again, his voice betraying his emotion as he did. "Look under his name for a moment, please, Sir." Sam pointed to the delicate characters inscribed beneath Frodo's signature. "Mr. Frodo has been teaching me to read and write some Elvish, Sir. I'm no scholar like Mr. Frodo, but I can read that."
Pippin piped up from across the table. "What does it say, Sam? What was cousin Frodo trying to tell us?"
Sam's voice began to tremble as he looked around the table at the Mayor and Frodo's cousins. "It says, 'Captive in Bywater.'" Nobody spoke. They were staring at the page, amazed at their incredible luck, and Frodo's quick thinking under pressure. Frodo had indeed signed the document, but added the line in Elvish to let them know he had been forced to do so. It was just pure luck that Sam had been given access to the document and seen the message written there.
"Mr. Frodo is here, somewhere in Bywater!" Sam had forgotten entirely about his supper.
~*~
Bramblethorn returned to the smial with a sense of satisfaction. His courier had confirmed delivery of the signed document to the Mayor that morning, and all that remained now was to await the reply. Undoubtedly the Mayor would want to meet with him as soon as possible. He would meet with the courier again the following afternoon in hopes that the Mayor's reply had been delivered.
He stopped by the door of the room where his captive lay sleeping. He opened it and gazed into the gloom, his eyes lingering on Frodo's bound form in the corner. A cursory inspection revealed a pale, fragile - looking creature, sleeping fitfully on the dirt floor.
Frodo's head tossed from side to side, and words escaped his lips as he writhed in the grip of a dream. "Amin delotha lle!" He breathed. "Amin feuya ten' lle!"
Bramblethorn frowned to himself. It was naught but gibberish! Frodo was a mystery, to be sure. A fascinating, infuriating, alluring mystery indeed. He closed the door and propped the chair up under the knob again, then paused in the hallway to light his pipe.
"Pleasant dreams, Frodo," he said to the emptiness. As he walked away from the door, his eyes narrowed somewhat and a slight smirk spread across his face.
~*~To be continued~*~
A/N - Translation of Frodo's Elvish
Amin delotha lle - I hate you
Amin feuya ten' lle - You disgust me
Source - www.grey-company.org