~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Acknowledgements - Many thanks to Frodo Baggins of Bag End who helped me to
answer the question of what to do with my villain now that he has served
his purpose. His insightful answer to that question provided me with this
chapter, which I believe to be a satisfying end to this story. His own
writings at fanfiction.net and on his website are well worth your time.
Here's a link -
Mae Govannen, Frodo.
Thanks also to everyone who has followed and reviewed this story chapter by chapter as I posted it, never failing to encourage, provoke thought, and beg for frequent updates. Future thanks to all who take the time to read it from start to finish wherever they find it floating in cyberspace. -Mbradford May 17, 2003
Also, if you feel so inclined, please check out the follow up to this story, a 3 chapter story set at Bag End called "Sound, Silence and Solace." Frodo will need Sam's support as he deals with his emotions in the wake of his ordeal. Not a long story, but a little angsty and a little sweet. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Reviewers -
FrodoBaggins1982 - Sam is great! We should all have a Sam! I haven't planned any tomato throwing in this chapter, but who knows what will be happening as Bramblethorn is herded over the border!
TTTurtle - A story where Sam's in trouble and Frodo comes to the rescue? Hmmm. Now there's an interesting prospect! I'll have to turn that over in my mind a few times and see what happens!
Misstook1420 - Sam is not just your average gardener is he? A guardian angel if there ever was one!
Aratlithiel - Yes, we did do some angst in the last chapter. There's a little bit here, but it's toned down. The third story in this series is mostly finished, but I will possibly be revising it some.
ZoSo Gamgee - Baggins - "If Frodo weren't so busy hugging him -" Hear that Sam? There's a line forming! Sam hugs are just the thing to make everything all right. Seems everyone is sorry to see this end, myself included. It's been great fun!
Aelfgifu - What does happen to Bramblethorn? See below! And yes, Trilliah's artwork is wonderful. Eventually both this story and the pics she has drawn will be on Library of Moria too.
Endymion - Perhaps someday we may see Bramblethorn again. If I have an idea and he fits in, who knows? And now, Frodo is on a mission.
~*~
Chapter 15 - Crime, Punishment, and the Nature of Mercy
It was no use. Frodo closed the book in frustration when he realized he had just read the same paragraph for the third time in succession. His thoughts turned again to the subject that had occupied them so frequently since his return to Hobbiton - Bramblethorn.
In the few days that had passed, Bramblethorn had indeed been displayed before the public in the larger towns. He had been brought to Hobbiton earlier that day, and a platform had been erected in the town square. Bramblethorn had been installed there under guard with a placard nearby that read "Know your enemy, lest he come among you."
It was very late at night now, and with the sunrise Bramblethorn would be taken to the border of the Shire and cast out. There was sure to be a crowd of hobbits lining the roads from Hobbiton all the way to Buckland, jeering and waving. Frodo sighed, thinking of all that had happened and of putting the matter to rest at last.
But was it really being put to rest? If so, why did he feel there was something yet to be done, or something that still must be confronted? He laid the book on the table beside Bilbo's comfortable old armchair and rose to his feet. It was madness, what he was about to do, but somehow he felt he could not truly begin to heal from his experience without the effort.
He walked into the kitchen and pulled a small earthenware cup and pitcher from a cabinet, and walked back through the parlor to the front door. Locking the door behind him, he ventured into the garden and to the water pump to fill the pitcher. That accomplished, he set off down the path toward the town square before he could give himself reason to reconsider his actions.
The wooden platform came into view eventually, and was lit by only a small lantern. Frodo could see the shadowy figure of the Shirriff on guard, standing a few yards ahead and facing the platform, his back to the path and to Frodo.
Gathering his thoughts and his courage, Frodo approached the Shirriff slowly. Upon hearing footfalls behind him, the Shirriff turned and regarded Frodo suspiciously. His suspicion turned to something close to open astonishment as he recognized the young hobbit.
"Master Baggins! What brings you out here at this late hour?" he questioned, looking curiously at Frodo and the pitcher of water he was holding.
Frodo took a deep breath before speaking. He had come this far, and he wasn't about to turn back now. "I must speak with him," Frodo told the Shirriff, trying to sound sure of himself.
The Shirriff gave Frodo an odd look, and asked, "Are you certain? After everything - "
"Yes," Frodo replied, his voice surprisingly steady. "I am. I feel somehow that I must," he said, hoping the Shirriff would grant his request.
"Very well, Master Baggins, but I shall be ready at hand," the Shirriff replied and led Frodo forward to the edge of the platform.
Bramblethorn was sitting down and leaning back against a sturdy wooden post. His hands were bound behind him, and he looked rather haggard. His punishment had been carried out to the letter thus far, and he had been given low rations of food and drink, and kept bound, even as he had kept Frodo.
He opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the unexpected sight of Frodo standing in front of him. "Well, well," he said in a tired voice. "You must find this an enjoyable thing to behold indeed. Coming by to gloat, Frodo?"
Bramblethorn's voice had lost much of the sharp edge of arrogance that had cut through his words when he had taunted Frodo during his captivity. Though Frodo was sure his enemy was not in any real danger, he could see that Bramblethorn was indeed suffering noticeable discomfort.
"No," Frodo answered slowly. "I do not find it enjoyable at all, and I haven't come to gloat as you've said."
"Indeed?" The word was laden with sarcasm. "But why not, Frodo? Here you are, with the chance to see me in a condition similar to yours when we last spoke. Surely that is a priceless treasure to you, all things considered."
"It is not my habit to treasure such things, Bramblethorn." Frodo's voice was soft, with no trace of anger or scorn.
"No, Frodo? And why, do you suppose, could that be?" Bramblethorn searched Frodo's face, looking for some reason why Frodo, who must surely hate him more than he had ever hated anyone else in his entire life, should be standing before him now, calmly addressing him.
Frodo sighed. "Mine is not the way of vengeance, Bramblethorn," Frodo said, returning the other's gaze steadily. "The only things such a way can lead to are misery and pain, and there have been enough of both."
"All right, Frodo. So why have you come?" Bramblethorn seemed genuinely curious now. After all, he could hardly have expected something like this. It would never occur to him that his former captive would not want to cause him pain equal to that which he had suffered himself.
"I have no proper answer to that question," Frodo replied. "In fact, if anyone were to find out I was here, I would have much explaining to do." The thought of the lecture he would undoubtedly receive from his protective gardener nearly brought a smile to Frodo's face. "Are you thirsty, Bramblethorn?"
The façade of sarcasm cracked just a little when Frodo asked that question. Disbelief began to take its place instead. "You have brought me water to drink, when I provided you with scarcely enough to keep body and soul together?" The disbelief began to evolve into suspicion as Bramblethorn fell into his old habit of viewing others' motivations as being similar to his own.
"Do you wish to see me humbled, Frodo?" Bramblethorn asked. "To see me begging you for the mercy I denied you? Is that what you want?"
"I want no such thing," Frodo stated as he handed the cup and pitcher to the Shirriff and nodded, signaling him to give some to Bramblethorn. "It is not the nature of mercy to be used as a path to revenge," he answered, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Mercy exists for its own sake, Bramblethorn, not to be used for gain of any sort."
Frodo's abductor did not refuse the cup the Shirriff held to his lips. He drank the cold, clear water thirstily, having been in the hot sun for hours on end as the day had worn on. It was true that he had suffered nowhere near the thirst he had forced upon Frodo, but his discomfort had been considerable.
When he finished drinking, Bramblethorn continued to question Frodo. "Ah. So you've come to discuss the nature of mercy? A noble pursuit, certainly."
"I have come to bid you farewell, Bramblethorn," Frodo answered decisively. "That is all I desire. I wish you to go away and trouble me no more." There. The words had been spoken, plainly and without ire, a simple statement of truth and honesty.
"You desire nothing more? No greater satisfaction after all that has passed between us?" Bramblethorn found himself admiring Frodo anew, and in more ways than he once did. There was more there than striking beauty and unusual grace, more than a cultured voice speaking unintelligible words in the throes of dreams.
It struck him that even in the windowless room where no light had reached in from outside, Frodo had not truly been in darkness. He had been in the presence of a light of his own making, an inner glow of hope, truth, and love. A remarkable creature, indeed.
"No, there is nothing more I ask, or have ever asked." Frodo wanted Bramblethorn to understand that he was not motivated by hatred or a need to avenge the wrongs his enemy had wrought against him. Perhaps one day Bramblethorn would discover that such things were needless and only led to more of the same.
"Then you shall have your wish, so it seems," Bramblethorn replied. "I am told my exile is to be made permanent by all available means."
"And you will not seek me out again?" Frodo didn't know why he was asking. Even if Bramblethorn swore upon the stars that he would not come to find Frodo at any time in the future, it was doubtful Frodo would have believed him.
Bramblethorn's sarcastic smirk made a brief reappearance, and that slightly suggestive tone crept into his voice. "I don't think so, Frodo." He held Frodo's gaze for a moment. "We have nothing in common. As handsome a pair as we make together, I fear it just wouldn't work out."
Frodo smiled in spite of himself. Some things just never changed, he mused. "Safe journey, Bramblethorn." Frodo turned to the completely dumbfounded Shirriff and collected the cup and pitcher, and walked back up the path, toward home.
"And Baggins - "
Frodo stopped as Bramblethorn's words reached him. Without turning around, he answered. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
~*~The End~*~
Mae Govannen, Frodo.
Thanks also to everyone who has followed and reviewed this story chapter by chapter as I posted it, never failing to encourage, provoke thought, and beg for frequent updates. Future thanks to all who take the time to read it from start to finish wherever they find it floating in cyberspace. -Mbradford May 17, 2003
Also, if you feel so inclined, please check out the follow up to this story, a 3 chapter story set at Bag End called "Sound, Silence and Solace." Frodo will need Sam's support as he deals with his emotions in the wake of his ordeal. Not a long story, but a little angsty and a little sweet. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Reviewers -
FrodoBaggins1982 - Sam is great! We should all have a Sam! I haven't planned any tomato throwing in this chapter, but who knows what will be happening as Bramblethorn is herded over the border!
TTTurtle - A story where Sam's in trouble and Frodo comes to the rescue? Hmmm. Now there's an interesting prospect! I'll have to turn that over in my mind a few times and see what happens!
Misstook1420 - Sam is not just your average gardener is he? A guardian angel if there ever was one!
Aratlithiel - Yes, we did do some angst in the last chapter. There's a little bit here, but it's toned down. The third story in this series is mostly finished, but I will possibly be revising it some.
ZoSo Gamgee - Baggins - "If Frodo weren't so busy hugging him -" Hear that Sam? There's a line forming! Sam hugs are just the thing to make everything all right. Seems everyone is sorry to see this end, myself included. It's been great fun!
Aelfgifu - What does happen to Bramblethorn? See below! And yes, Trilliah's artwork is wonderful. Eventually both this story and the pics she has drawn will be on Library of Moria too.
Endymion - Perhaps someday we may see Bramblethorn again. If I have an idea and he fits in, who knows? And now, Frodo is on a mission.
~*~
Chapter 15 - Crime, Punishment, and the Nature of Mercy
It was no use. Frodo closed the book in frustration when he realized he had just read the same paragraph for the third time in succession. His thoughts turned again to the subject that had occupied them so frequently since his return to Hobbiton - Bramblethorn.
In the few days that had passed, Bramblethorn had indeed been displayed before the public in the larger towns. He had been brought to Hobbiton earlier that day, and a platform had been erected in the town square. Bramblethorn had been installed there under guard with a placard nearby that read "Know your enemy, lest he come among you."
It was very late at night now, and with the sunrise Bramblethorn would be taken to the border of the Shire and cast out. There was sure to be a crowd of hobbits lining the roads from Hobbiton all the way to Buckland, jeering and waving. Frodo sighed, thinking of all that had happened and of putting the matter to rest at last.
But was it really being put to rest? If so, why did he feel there was something yet to be done, or something that still must be confronted? He laid the book on the table beside Bilbo's comfortable old armchair and rose to his feet. It was madness, what he was about to do, but somehow he felt he could not truly begin to heal from his experience without the effort.
He walked into the kitchen and pulled a small earthenware cup and pitcher from a cabinet, and walked back through the parlor to the front door. Locking the door behind him, he ventured into the garden and to the water pump to fill the pitcher. That accomplished, he set off down the path toward the town square before he could give himself reason to reconsider his actions.
The wooden platform came into view eventually, and was lit by only a small lantern. Frodo could see the shadowy figure of the Shirriff on guard, standing a few yards ahead and facing the platform, his back to the path and to Frodo.
Gathering his thoughts and his courage, Frodo approached the Shirriff slowly. Upon hearing footfalls behind him, the Shirriff turned and regarded Frodo suspiciously. His suspicion turned to something close to open astonishment as he recognized the young hobbit.
"Master Baggins! What brings you out here at this late hour?" he questioned, looking curiously at Frodo and the pitcher of water he was holding.
Frodo took a deep breath before speaking. He had come this far, and he wasn't about to turn back now. "I must speak with him," Frodo told the Shirriff, trying to sound sure of himself.
The Shirriff gave Frodo an odd look, and asked, "Are you certain? After everything - "
"Yes," Frodo replied, his voice surprisingly steady. "I am. I feel somehow that I must," he said, hoping the Shirriff would grant his request.
"Very well, Master Baggins, but I shall be ready at hand," the Shirriff replied and led Frodo forward to the edge of the platform.
Bramblethorn was sitting down and leaning back against a sturdy wooden post. His hands were bound behind him, and he looked rather haggard. His punishment had been carried out to the letter thus far, and he had been given low rations of food and drink, and kept bound, even as he had kept Frodo.
He opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the unexpected sight of Frodo standing in front of him. "Well, well," he said in a tired voice. "You must find this an enjoyable thing to behold indeed. Coming by to gloat, Frodo?"
Bramblethorn's voice had lost much of the sharp edge of arrogance that had cut through his words when he had taunted Frodo during his captivity. Though Frodo was sure his enemy was not in any real danger, he could see that Bramblethorn was indeed suffering noticeable discomfort.
"No," Frodo answered slowly. "I do not find it enjoyable at all, and I haven't come to gloat as you've said."
"Indeed?" The word was laden with sarcasm. "But why not, Frodo? Here you are, with the chance to see me in a condition similar to yours when we last spoke. Surely that is a priceless treasure to you, all things considered."
"It is not my habit to treasure such things, Bramblethorn." Frodo's voice was soft, with no trace of anger or scorn.
"No, Frodo? And why, do you suppose, could that be?" Bramblethorn searched Frodo's face, looking for some reason why Frodo, who must surely hate him more than he had ever hated anyone else in his entire life, should be standing before him now, calmly addressing him.
Frodo sighed. "Mine is not the way of vengeance, Bramblethorn," Frodo said, returning the other's gaze steadily. "The only things such a way can lead to are misery and pain, and there have been enough of both."
"All right, Frodo. So why have you come?" Bramblethorn seemed genuinely curious now. After all, he could hardly have expected something like this. It would never occur to him that his former captive would not want to cause him pain equal to that which he had suffered himself.
"I have no proper answer to that question," Frodo replied. "In fact, if anyone were to find out I was here, I would have much explaining to do." The thought of the lecture he would undoubtedly receive from his protective gardener nearly brought a smile to Frodo's face. "Are you thirsty, Bramblethorn?"
The façade of sarcasm cracked just a little when Frodo asked that question. Disbelief began to take its place instead. "You have brought me water to drink, when I provided you with scarcely enough to keep body and soul together?" The disbelief began to evolve into suspicion as Bramblethorn fell into his old habit of viewing others' motivations as being similar to his own.
"Do you wish to see me humbled, Frodo?" Bramblethorn asked. "To see me begging you for the mercy I denied you? Is that what you want?"
"I want no such thing," Frodo stated as he handed the cup and pitcher to the Shirriff and nodded, signaling him to give some to Bramblethorn. "It is not the nature of mercy to be used as a path to revenge," he answered, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Mercy exists for its own sake, Bramblethorn, not to be used for gain of any sort."
Frodo's abductor did not refuse the cup the Shirriff held to his lips. He drank the cold, clear water thirstily, having been in the hot sun for hours on end as the day had worn on. It was true that he had suffered nowhere near the thirst he had forced upon Frodo, but his discomfort had been considerable.
When he finished drinking, Bramblethorn continued to question Frodo. "Ah. So you've come to discuss the nature of mercy? A noble pursuit, certainly."
"I have come to bid you farewell, Bramblethorn," Frodo answered decisively. "That is all I desire. I wish you to go away and trouble me no more." There. The words had been spoken, plainly and without ire, a simple statement of truth and honesty.
"You desire nothing more? No greater satisfaction after all that has passed between us?" Bramblethorn found himself admiring Frodo anew, and in more ways than he once did. There was more there than striking beauty and unusual grace, more than a cultured voice speaking unintelligible words in the throes of dreams.
It struck him that even in the windowless room where no light had reached in from outside, Frodo had not truly been in darkness. He had been in the presence of a light of his own making, an inner glow of hope, truth, and love. A remarkable creature, indeed.
"No, there is nothing more I ask, or have ever asked." Frodo wanted Bramblethorn to understand that he was not motivated by hatred or a need to avenge the wrongs his enemy had wrought against him. Perhaps one day Bramblethorn would discover that such things were needless and only led to more of the same.
"Then you shall have your wish, so it seems," Bramblethorn replied. "I am told my exile is to be made permanent by all available means."
"And you will not seek me out again?" Frodo didn't know why he was asking. Even if Bramblethorn swore upon the stars that he would not come to find Frodo at any time in the future, it was doubtful Frodo would have believed him.
Bramblethorn's sarcastic smirk made a brief reappearance, and that slightly suggestive tone crept into his voice. "I don't think so, Frodo." He held Frodo's gaze for a moment. "We have nothing in common. As handsome a pair as we make together, I fear it just wouldn't work out."
Frodo smiled in spite of himself. Some things just never changed, he mused. "Safe journey, Bramblethorn." Frodo turned to the completely dumbfounded Shirriff and collected the cup and pitcher, and walked back up the path, toward home.
"And Baggins - "
Frodo stopped as Bramblethorn's words reached him. Without turning around, he answered. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
~*~The End~*~