++++++ Author's note 17 September 2003 ++++++++
In this chapter, I made the embarrassing error of having placed Buckland on the wrong side of the Brandywine. Those who read the story prior to this date are aware of my oops, but if you're reading it now, you're getting the cleaned - up geographically correct version!
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Aratlithiel - True, I'm up to no good regarding Frodo's well - being here. Or at least Bargo and Reginard are!
Aelfgifu - Glad you liked the exchange between Saradoc and Bilbo. That was fun to write. I like the idea of Bilbo being a bit fired up and sharp as a tack. And yes, you had advance notice of what's cooking here, but you're still showing up to take it all in. Thanks a million!
Krista - Relatives like Bilbo and Merry are a blessing indeed.
Iorhael - Frodo is a dear, isn't he? How those boys can be so nasty to him is just wrong! Caution. Bumpy road ahead.
Endymion - As I said to Emma, look for more of those arguments between Bilbo and Saradoc. They're gonna be butting heads again, you can bet on it!
QTPie - 2488 - Are those boys the nastiest hobbits in the Shire, or what? And yes, just like their real life counterparts, they only want revenge when they get just what they deserve by way of punishment.
FrodoBaggins1982 - If you're amazed at what those guys can get up to now, keep reading. They're going to take advantage of an opportunity to pull a REAL nasty stunt now.
Iolauslvr - Welcome! Cliffhangers? Who, me? Guilty! I hope you'll keep coming back for more of this story!
TTTurtle - Frodo has some backbone, that's certain. Whether he knows it or not, he's a brave young hobbit. But for Frodo, two against one is not twice the fun, as we will see here.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
A/N - And now as a much - deserved reward for your awesome reviewing, here's a rather long chapter with plenty of action and angst for everyone!
Chapter 6 - More Than Mischief
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland September 1389 late afternoon~*~
"Bilbo Baggins, you old - "
Bilbo held up a hand to stem the tide of mock - invective that was surely about to burst from Rory's lips, and chuckled. "Mind your language, Rory. Women and children are present you know," Bilbo said, gesturing to Esmeralda and Merry as they all stood in the doorway.
"I'll take that for you, Bilbo," Saradoc said as he accepted Bilbo's pack and handed it off to a young lad to stow in the guest quarters. "Did you have a pleasant journey from Hobbiton?"
"Quite pleasant, Sara." Bilbo's eyes widened as his gaze fell upon Merry. "Is that young Meriadoc? Great stars, lad, how you've grown!" Merry grinned as Bilbo ruffled his hair. They had not seen each other for several years, and he truly had grown a great deal in the time between the visits.
The echo of a door slamming down a long corridor and running feet caused the entire group to turn and look through the parlor and down a hallway. "Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo shouted as he sprinted toward them.
Bilbo threw his arms wide as Frodo crashed into him. "Frodo, lad!" he laughed gaily. "And I thought Merry was getting big," he teased, stepping back to get a good look at the somewhat gangly tween. "I know you eat a proper meal, boy, but I can't for the life of me figure out where you're stowing it."
Frodo laughed in spite of himself. He'd heard many varieties of comments regarding his rather spare frame, but Bilbo had a different way of saying it that didn't make it sound like an insult. "I just spread it out evenly, Uncle," Frodo answered, much to Bilbo's delight.
"That sense of humor is all Baggins," the old hobbit crowed fondly, draping an arm over Frodo's shoulders as the entire group moved away from the door.
"It's good to see you again, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said quietly as they made their way deeper into the Hall. "I've missed you since your last visit."
Bilbo nodded and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I haven't made the trip more often, Frodo. Have you been staying out of trouble then?" Bilbo did his best to give Frodo a stern look.
Frodo colored a little as he answered. "I've done my best, inasmuch as trouble will allow," he said.
There was something in Frodo's tone that caused Bilbo to pause momentarily. Was Frodo still having problems with the other lads? Bilbo's last visit had opened his eyes to the true extent of Frodo's difficulties at the Hall. He worried that the lad was still holding back from telling all that occurred on a daily basis regarding his situation. Was the boy afraid to speak further, or was he just trying to stay out from under foot? Bilbo made a mental note to gently pry more specifics from the lad later on when they had some time alone together.
Time together would likely come on another day, Bilbo reflected. For now, there was plenty of news and gossip to catch up on, and the elder hobbits would likely gather in Rory's parlor and talk long into the night as usual. Frodo and Merry would be welcome, certainly, but the conversation would likely continue for much longer than the attention spans of two young lads would endure.
~*~after nightfall~*~
Bargo took a good, long drink of ale and belched appreciatively. He and Reginard sat together in the night shadows at the river's edge, watching late travelers coming and going on the Bucklebury Ferry.
"Good ale," Bargo remarked. They had managed to raid some out of the stores earlier in the day when nobody was looking in their direction. They sat drinking it now, and were getting a little tipsy as they lounged at the base of a big tree.
There were a couple of the Big Folk preparing for transport from the other side of the river, a scruffy, surly pair of Men with horses and a few small packs. Their grumbling voices could be heard from the short distance where the two hobbit lads were sitting, and bits of the conversation carried through the otherwise still air of the early Autumn night.
"Dammit, Dolan! Tradin's no good 'round these parts," the shorter of the two groused. "This trip warn't good fer half o' what the last one got us." The man's thick brogue could be heard clearly as he hefted a pack onto one of the horses' backs.
The other man grunted as he strapped another of the packs in place behind the saddle. "Don't I know it, Fergus," the man replied, his accent far less noticeable. "We'll make up for it, with a few hands of cards or something else."
The hobbit lads snickered softly to themselves. Traveling traders then, looking to buy and sell whatever they could scrounge up. The Big Folk they always saw along the Brandywine never seemed to be much to look at or to listen to. They were always in need of a good bath and always complained about not having as much money as they wanted. A pretty sorry bunch, to say the least.
Reginard sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowing and a grin spreading slowly across his ale - flushed face. "Hey, Bargo. I know how we can help those fellows make some extra money on the side. Of course, they'll have to spend a little up front, but isn't that the way business is done?"
"How's that, Reg?" Bargo queried, still watching the men.
"Your ma ever threaten to sell you down the river?" Reginard asked, smirking.
Bargo looked at him in irritation. "What's that got to do with anything?" It wasn't any of Reginard's business what his ma had threatened him with.
"Well, I was just thinkin' we ought to sell Frodo to the Big Folk. He's not good for much around here except for takin' up space, and everyone would just think he'd run off or something." He considered. "Those gents there would probably take him off our hands for a fair price." He sported a nasty grin. "And I still don't think we've gotten quite properly even with him for setting the Master on us that time."
Bargo started laughing. "That would be a grand joke, wouldn't it? Can you imagine the look on the little rat's face?" He pictured Frodo gaping in shock, his eyes wide in terror. "You said you'd think of some way to get him, even if it took forever. Well, it took a while, but not that long," Bargo chortled. "What do you think they'd do with him, anyway?"
Reginard swigged his ale and voiced his thoughts. "Do I care?" He downed more ale. "Seriously, they'd probably sell him off at a profit, or put him to work themselves," he said, not elaborating on what kind of work he was thinking about. "They get a good deal and an opportunity to make some money, and we get a little coin of our own and have a great laugh. Everybody's happy."
"Everybody but Frodo," Bargo chortled.
"So what?" Reginard said with a nasty smirk. "I'd like to see that pale - faced bookworm nit put in his place. I'd sell them Mr. Meriadoc Brandybrat too, but with his father being Master of the Hall, he'd be missed right off."
A thoughtful look crossed Bargo's ruddy face as he turned to Reginard. "That little snip of a Brandybuck would miss Frodo, I suspect."
"I reckon you're right, Bargo," Reginard replied, considering. "But think about it. Brandybrat still wouldn't really know what happened, would he? Just like everyone else, he would think that Frodo just finally had enough of the Hall and took off."
Bargo looked as steadily at his companion as his ale intake would allow. "You serious, Reg? You really think we could pull a stunt like that?"
Reginard's grin became a little more predatory as he rose to his feet. "Get ready to have some fun, Bargo," he said. "We're not gonna be bored tonight."
The stocky tween began to walk toward the men on the shore, swinging his arms casually at his sides and whistling an off - key tune. "Good evening, gentlemen," he called.
Both of the men looked up at the same time, a little surprised to see one of the Shire Folk walking the banks at night. "Whattaya want, halfling?" the one called Fergus grunted.
"My friend and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation." He gestured behind him at Bargo. "We've got a way to help you make a little of that money you say is so scarce these days, if you're interested."
"And just what kind of proposition could a pair of youngsters like yourselves have to offer, eh?" Dolan said sarcastically, clearly unimpressed with the swaggering tween before him.
"What if we could get you something at a bargain price that you could sell to someone else for a pile of coins? Something that we maybe don't have much of a use for, but someone else just might?" He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest. "What do you say?"
"Depends on just 'ow good a deal yer makin' us," Fergus said, looking down at Reginard. "What're the goods?"
"Not what, good sir, but who. We got this orphan boy hanging about, and we could do without him, we reckon. We'll make you a good price on him, and you might be able to sell him off to someone who'll get a job of work out of him - or something else," Reginard said rather crudely.
"That so?" Dolan asked, considering. "One of your own, some reject who doesn't pull his weight?" He frowned at Reginard and continued, "What good would that do us? Who'd pay good coin for something like that?"
"He's physically sound and he's in his right mind," Reginard answered. "He's just a little skinny and bookish. But he's a pretty one, if that counts for anything."
"What's yer price, halfling?" Fergus figured if the price were low enough, maybe there could be some profit even from a single skinny orphan. He and Dolan had some contacts in Bree who just might be willing to pay a fair bit depending on what use they could have for such a creature. If this one were fair to look at or able - bodied enough to be a laborer, he might bring a decent price after all.
Reginard considered. "Twenty gold pieces. Like I said, we don't need him, so we're not asking much. Surely you'd be able to sell him off for double that, I would think."
"So sure, are ye boy? If that's so, then why are ye willin' to take so little fer 'im?" Fergus leaned in close to Reginard and gazed at him intently. "I ain't payin' naught 'til I see 'im and make sure 'e's as you say 'e is."
"Fair enough," Reginard agreed. "If you'll give us an hour, we'll bring him to you. You won't be disappointed."
"For your sake, I hope not," Dolan growled. "Wasting an hour of good travel time isn't doing us any good."
"One hour then," Reginard said, and turned to call back up the bank. "Hey Bargo, on your feet. We've got a job to do."
~*~
Dolan gave Fergus a sidelong glance, then looked back up the path where the two hobbits had disappeared. "I'm none to sure of what we're getting ourselves into," he muttered.
"Aww, quit frettin' like a fool, Dolan." Fergus slapped him on the back. "It's a short trip to Bree, an' we'll be able to handle a li'l halfling well 'nough."
"I don't worry that we'll be able to handle him, small as he's likely to be," Dolan responded. "I'm more concerned with the implications of what we're considering. It's a dangerous game, kidnapping folk and selling them into servitude, Fergus."
Fergus scowled. "So ye're scared to do it, is that it?" He continued to bait his companion. "I always knew ye were a bit o' the coward."
Dolan spun to face the man who made the snide remark. "You listen to me, you bloody sot," he began rather hotly. "I'm not afraid to do it, I just have the wisdom to consider it from all angles. We'll have to be careful not to let the wrong people catch us at it, or the game is up. I want to spend this winter somewhere comfortable, not in a stockade for trading in slave labor."
"Takes coin to be comfortable, Dolan," Fergus reminded him. They had been a bit short of that lately and here was a chance to make up their losses in one deal. "Are ye goin' to let yer principles stand in th' way o' business?"
"The depth of my moral fibre is none of your concern," Dolan replied, his confident manner returning. "Business is business, and I've dealt in illicit goods before to make ends meet. It's just going to be a new challenge to have those goods walking and talking."
At any rate, it would only be a few days' journey to Bree. Dolan supposed he could deal with a bit of a challenge for such a short time, especially if it meant being warm and well - fed through the winter months.
~*~
"If you think Lobelia's scowl could curdle milk on a normal day," Bilbo was saying with a rakish gleam in his eye, "you should have seen her then!"
Saradoc, Esmeralda and Rory burst into laughter at Bilbo's tale. Merry was sound asleep on a sofa nearby, having given in to sleep a short while before, and Frodo merely smiled. He had never actually met the Sackville - Bagginses, but he had heard Bilbo speak acerbically about them on occasion.
"Bilbo, you had better watch your step," Saradoc cautioned. "I know you've encountered trolls and dragons in your travels and more besides, but Lobelia is, well, something of a different sort altogether."
"Hmmm, yes," Bilbo acknowledged. "Lobelia is - " He paused, and allowed a sour tone and expression to cloud his voice and features. "Lobelia is - family." He spoke the last word as if making a pronouncement of certain doom, and laughter erupted around him once again.
Frodo's head snapped up suddenly as he realized he had nearly nodded off where he sat. He supposed he had better say good night, or he would end up in the same state as Merry, who was snoring softly across the room.
"May I be excused?" Frodo asked politely as he rose from his chair. "I think it's time I turned in," he continued with a yawn.
Bilbo rose and hugged him. "Certainly, my boy. I fear we've wearied you with our endless prattle," he said with a wink. "Sleep well, Frodo lad."
"I'm sure that I shall," Frodo answered with a smile. "Good night everyone."
Frodo departed for his room with a warm glow in his heart. Bilbo's visits, while somewhat infrequent, were always occasions when laughter came easily to him and his spirits were lifted noticeably. He walked the distance to his room feeling happier than he had in some time.
Frodo's room was near the end of a long corridor that was mainly occupied by guest rooms. Unless there was a major event going on, such as Harvest Festival or Yule, many of the rooms lay vacant. Frodo had purposely asked to have his room in that part of the Hall for the privacy it afforded, caring little for the distance he had to walk to most of the common areas.
He closed the door behind him as he entered, and it latched with a soft click. He locked it as was his habit, and made his way to the bed. He was so tired from the day's excitement that he got no further with his nightly routine than the removal of his weskit, which he draped haphazardly over the back of a chair. He lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes, and soon peaceful sleep stole over him.
~*~
Bargo and Reginard hovered outside the open window and peered in cautiously at Frodo's sleeping form across the room. A little moonlight filtered in behind them, giving just enough illumination for them to be able to see Frodo, sound asleep and motionless but for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He looked so peaceful, as if for the moment he had no cares to trouble him. Reginard smiled to himself. All that was about to change.
"Got everything we need?" Reginard asked in a whisper, poking through the bag Bargo carried.
"Sure do," Bargo answered, taking a brief inventory of the contents.
"Between the two of us, we should be able to handle him easy," Reginard said with confidence. "I don't suppose he'll come quiet - like, though." It was a lucky break that Frodo had chosen a room in a mostly empty section of the Hall. If there was a little noise associated with what was to transpire, it was doubtful it would be heard.
"If he gets too riled up we can use this." Bargo brandished a small vial of clear liquid. He pulled the cork from the top and held it out to Reginard, who took a quick whiff and stumbled backward with his nose wrinkling.
"Whooo, that's powerful. Where'd you get it?" He gazed again at the small vial of clear liquid, wondering what a real snort of it would do.
"Nicked it from the healer's stores the last time I got sent in for a fix - up. He gave me a good toot of the stuff and I nodded right off. Woke up an hour later with some new stitches in my leg and a dizzy head. I swiped it for the keen buzz, but if you just dump some of it on a cloth and hold his nose in it, he won't be too much trouble."
"Perfect. Time's wasting, so let's go get him," Reginard said gleefully, as he slowly pulled himself up and over the edge of the windowsill. He swung one leg and then the other over the sill and dropped quietly to the floor beneath the window. Bargo followed, and his pack scraped against the sill.
Reginard flinched at the noise and looked toward his sleeping prey. Frodo stirred restlessly, and his eyes fluttered open to behold the intruders.
Suddenly fully awake, Frodo sat up abruptly and hissed, "Get out of my room!" The sound of his own voice surprised him as it resonated in the otherwise silent space. He hadn't realized he could produce a sound so tense and filled with suspicion and hatred.
"Oh, we will, Frodo," Reginard answered. "And you're coming too. Isn't that right, Bargo?" Bargo moved forward a few steps from the window, reaching into his pack for something.
Frodo got to his feet nervously. Just what did Reginard mean by that? Another raid on the farmer's mushrooms? Did they plan to make him steal ale from the storehouses for them? He steeled himself and stood his ground. He was no longer a little lad anymore, but a tween. He'd had it with Bargo and Reginard pushing him around, and the sight of them standing brazenly in his room uninvited in the middle of the night made him flush with anger.
"No. I'm not going anywhere with you," he spat. "Leave by the door or the way you came in, I don't care which. Just leave!" His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he fought to breathe evenly and to stare his enemies down with cold cobalt flames burning in his eyes.
"Easy, Frodo. No need to get excited." Bargo stepped forward again, not taking his eyes from Frodo's. Frodo stood stock still, pale in the light of the moon as Reginard and Bargo slowly approached him.
"I will not be party to any more of your late night raids or antics," Frodo elaborated. His resolve began to waver slightly as he looked quickly from one lad to the other. In spite of his confident speech, he involuntarily took a step backward.
"Antics, he says," Reginard smirked. "But Frodo, this is so much better than anything we've done together before. It's much more exciting, I promise you."
As if on cue, they both lunged forward. Frodo reacted instinctively and brought a fist up into Reginard's jaw with a force that surprised both assailant and intended victim. Bargo took the opportunity to drop his pack and duck behind Frodo, leaving him effectively surrounded.
"Brilliant shot, rat. It's the last one you'll get." Something ugly came into Reginard's eyes as he straightened and faced Frodo again. The look on the older lad's face caused a chill to crawl down Frodo's spine. Reginard was smiling.
At that moment, Bargo grabbed Frodo from behind, locking his arms behind his back. As Frodo struggled to free himself from Bargo's grasp, he opened his mouth to shout for help. Before he could make a sound, a hard slap landed squarely across his face as Reginard backhanded him.
Reginard reached into Bargo's pack and drew out two small coils of rope and a piece of cloth. "Hold him, Bargo," he growled, approaching with deliberate, menacing steps.
Frodo was dizzy from the shock of the blow he'd received, and fear had begun to seep into him. Whatever the two were up to this time, it was serious. "Let me go!" he said, his voice sounding fuzzy for the ringing in his ears. "HEL - " The shout ended almost as soon as it began, as Reginard thrust the cloth into Frodo's mouth and tied it behind his head, gagging him.
"This can be easy, Frodo, or it can be hard," Reginard intoned as he unwound the first coil of rope. Frodo struggled harder and Bargo pulled upward on his arms, causing him to wince and cry out. The gag effectively stifled the sound and the sharp cry of protest was reduced to a muffled grunt that carried no farther than the far side of the room.
Reginard handed the rope to Bargo and stepped behind Frodo. "Tie him up, Bargo. If he won't come along of his own accord, we'll just have to drag him." Reginard added his strength to the battle with the struggling youth, forcing Frodo face - down onto the floor. Bargo bound Frodo's wrists behind his back, being none too gentle about the process.
Frodo was still writhing and kicking, refusing to go down without a fight. His anger and fear warred with each other as one of his large, hairy feet slammed into Bargo's shin. Bargo retaliated with a kick of his own, his foot connecting sharply with Frodo's side. "Blasted rat! I'll teach you to kick me!" He drew back to strike again, but Reginard held him back.
"Let's just finish the job, Bargo. Time is short." Suiting action to words, Reginard grabbed the second coil of rope away from Bargo and tied Frodo's ankles together. Frodo lay completely bound before him, breathing hard and staring up at him with undisguised hatred.
"Better get that stuff ready," Reginard told his cohort. "I think he's angry with us." Sarcasm ran like the Brandywine from that voice.
What stuff? Frodo's mind reeled in fury and panic. Angry? Of course he was angry! How dare they barge into his room and assault him? How dare they subject him to such treatment!
Bargo held another cloth in his hand, this one folded neatly and smelling of something strange. As Bargo brought the cloth closer to Frodo's face, Frodo tried to roll away from him. Reginard knelt down and pinned Frodo in place, reaching out to grip his chin and hold his head still.
~No! You cannot do this!~ Frodo's mind shouted in the absence of his voice. They mustn't! If they rendered him unconscious, he would have no chance to fight back, or even to know where they were so intent upon taking him in the middle of the night.
Frodo sucked in a lungful of air as the cloth descended over his nose. He held his breath stubbornly. A sweat broke out on his brow as he struggled not to inhale. ~Can't breathe! Hopeless! Eru, help me!~
"Come on, rat! Have a good whiff!" Reginard sneered as Frodo trembled with the effort to avoid the inevitable. In the next instant, the battle was over as Frodo's oxygen - starved lungs betrayed him and he inhaled at last. In the end, holding his breath had been the worst thing he could have done, as it caused him to inhale more deeply than normal.
The powerful fumes invaded and began to claim him. He heard Bargo's voice as if it were coming from a great distance, rather than from right next to him. "Remember when we said you were worthless, Frodo? Well, we take it back."
Frodo's vision tunneled to a pinpoint and his head swam mightily. Not worthless? They took it back? What did that mean? He couldn't see and he couldn't move. He could no longer feel the stinging of his face from Reginard's slap, or the dull ache in his side where Bargo had kicked him. He plunged down into the blackness that rose to meet him.
Bargo and Reginard wasted no time in gathering up their burden. The left by means of the door, deciding that was better than trying to shove Frodo's limp form through the window. The hallways were completely deserted, and they emerged out into the night through a lesser - used exit.
~*~
It wasn't too far to the ferry, and they hurried up the path bearing Frodo between them like a lifeless rag doll. Seeing the two men up ahead, they slowed and worked their way down the slope of the bank where they paused to lay Frodo on the ground nearby.
"Right on time and exactly as promised," Reginard said, rubbing imaginary dust from his hands. "Well?"
"What did you do to him?" Dolan muttered as he knelt to get a closer look at Frodo's bound form. "You mess him up too bad, he won't be worth anything to us."
"No harm done, I swear it," Reginard said with a smile. "Just a whiff of something to make him cooperate." He reached out to Bargo who put the vial into his hand. "If you take him, we'll give you the rest of this." He held the vial up. "He's likely to be a bit unhappy when he wakes up, so you might need it."
For the time being, Frodo was completely unaware of what was happening. The two men looked down at him, sizing him up. He was a little skinny, just like that smart - ass halfling said, and he was obviously a young one. "Not very old is he?" Dolan asked curiously.
"He's almost twenty - one," Bargo said. "He's not a child anymore." What Bargo failed to mention was that at his age, Frodo certainly wasn't an adult either.
Fergus joined Dolan, gazing down at the unconscious prisoner. A little pale, but fine - boned. There were some who would pay a handsome price for such a good - looking youth. He looked at Dolan and raised one eyebrow, then gestured for Dolan to step a short distance away with him.
The men backed away and spoke together in low voices for a few moments, then Dolan turned to the hobbit lads and said, "All right. It's a deal. Twenty gold pieces for your orphan boy." He looked down at Frodo and then back to Bargo and Reginard. "I don't usually deal in live goods, but business is slow, so I'll take a chance." He counted out twenty coins as Fergus lifted Frodo and draped him over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
Dolan accepted the vial from Bargo, tucking it into his pocket. Fergus draped Frodo's limp form over the back of one of the horses, and the men prodded them onto the path that led toward the village of Bree.
"Goodbye, Frodo," Reginard whispered. "Pleasant journey." He and Bargo turned and walked back up the path, unconcerned with the fate to which they had just condemned one of their own.
~*~
The first thing he noticed was his throbbing head as the effects of the drug subsided. A dull ache had spread from the base of his skull forward, and now its tendrils reached out to the space behind his eyes. He opened them gingerly, trying to get a look around him.
Frodo realized that he was outside as a chilly breeze struck him. He could hear the whisper of the leaves in the trees that rose around him, although he could see little in the darkness. Perhaps he couldn't see, but he could certainly feel. The wind pricked him sharply through the thin fabric of his shirt and he shivered against it.
His first reaction was to try to curl in upon himself, to hold in what warmth his own body could provide him. The attempt was only partially successful, as he could not wrap his arms around his chilled torso with his hands bound.
It was as if one sensation at a time presented itself to him. Now he could feel the roughness of the rope against his skin. Coherent thought began to push away the cobwebs and confusion the drug left in its wake, and he remembered the scuffle. He remembered that he had lost. What had he expected, with two of them bearing down upon him?
He groaned, but the sound that reached his ears was only a murmur. There was something in the way, blocking it. Frodo recalled that Reginard had stuffed the gag in his mouth and prevented him from calling for help, from pleading with any who might have heard and come to his aid.
Where were they, then? Where had Reginard and Bargo gone? Was he alone and lost, left bound and helpless somewhere beyond the Hall? Tales of the Old Forest came to mind and he wondered if they had dumped him over the gate into that benighted space where it was rumored that the very trees moved of their own accord.
"Look, e's wakin' up." So he wasn't alone! But whose voice was he hearing? It was deeper and rougher than either Bargo's or Reginard's, and the accent was definitely not of the Shire.
He blinked, attempting to focus his vision. The blurred edges of the images began to sharpen into the terrifying sight of two Men looking down at him. His eyes widened and he recoiled in shock and trepidation. He had seen some of the Big Folk from afar, but he had never been so close to them. Now he was frightfully close to these two, and he was - he was a captive!
A tall man with dark hair and a hawkish, beaky nose jutting from a thin face was reaching out toward him now, and Frodo tried to back away. He only managed to wriggle a few inches backward as a hand pulled the gag away from his mouth.
"Where am I?" He asked, his voice shaking. If this was a joke, it wasn't funny anymore. "Where are Bargo and Reginard?" He looked around wildly, uncertain as to whether the two would be a welcome sight or not at that point.
"So many questions," Dolan said calmly. "Your friends are not here, halfling. They have left you in our care, it seems."
"They aren't my friends!" Frodo's statement of the obvious seemed to amuse the man. Frodo forged ahead. "What do you mean, they've left me here?"
"They sold you to us," Dolan told him plainly and simply, as if discussing the weather. "We bought you from them for a fair price, and we hope you will bring fairer still when we get to Bree."
Frodo was aghast at what he was hearing, and suddenly the meaning of Bargo's parting words became painfully clear to him. Not worthless. They had sold him like a bushel of apples! It took a moment for the rest of the man's words to register, and when they did, Frodo fought a wave of panic.
"Bree?! I don't want to go to Bree!" Frodo's voice was trembling. "I want to go home, please! I - I'm not for sale. Take me back! Let me go!"
Frodo could see the other man more clearly now. He was not quite as tall as the first, and had shoulder - length reddish hair that hung down into his eyes, and a beard that was in need of trimming. A bath would have improved the appearance of both of them.
"So ye aren't fer sale, ye say? Someone ought to have told them as accepted our coins." The red - haired one was speaking, and Frodo tried to absorb the meaning of the words.
Bargo and Reginard had kidnapped him and sold him to these Big Folk! They were taking him to Bree, and -
"What are you going to do with me?" Frodo blurted. He wasn't sure that he wanted to hear the answer. He waited, petrified with fear.
Hawk - beak was unpacking a couple of bedrolls and some other items as they prepared to make camp for the remainder of the night. "When we get to Bree, we'll see about finding an interested party to take you off our hands," he said, throwing a careless glance at Frodo.
Terror overwhelmed Frodo completely at the man's words. "No! You can't do this!" he shouted. "Let me go, please!" He began to struggle anew against his bonds in sheer desperation.
The red - haired man spelled out the meaning of his companion's words as he checked the security of Frodo's bonds. "If ye're lucky, some wealthy fellow will buy ye as household help. An' if ye're not," he merely shrugged.
Frodo might have been a youngster by hobbit standards, but he knew enough to understand the meaning of the words the man spoke. These men didn't care what became of him. They cared only for the money they might make by selling him to the highest bidder.
"I am not a thing to be bought or sold!" Frodo cried desperately, disbelief warring with his fear. His struggles mattered little, as the ropes that held him were secure. "Please, if you take me back your money will be returned to you, I swear it!"
The hawkish one laughed. "So sure, are you?" He fixed Frodo with an icy stare. "From what those other two said, there isn't anybody who would give up any coin to get you back. Besides, why would we want our money back when we can at least double it by selling you off?" There was no emotion in the voice at all, just a cold indifference that frightened Frodo more than any mockery ever could.
"No, please! You mustn't take me away!" Frodo fought against his bonds furiously, calling out for help into the empty woods as he did so.
The red-haired man turned to his companion. "Dolan, gimme that stuff the other halflings used on 'im. 'E's gonna hurt 'imself if 'e doesn't calm down, and I'm not listenin' to this all night."
The other man dug a piece of cloth out of a pack and poured something onto it from a small vial. Frodo remembered seeing the same thing happen in his room when Bargo and Reginard had attacked him. The red - haired man approached Frodo again with the cloth in his hand.
"What are you doing?" Frodo cried in terror. "No! Get away from me!" Any further protests were silenced as the cloth descended over his nose and mouth and was held there by a strong hand. Frodo's head was pressed back against the ground as he fought for air. Unable to avoid it any longer, he breathed in, and the drug went to work almost immediately. Sound faded to a buzz in the background and the forms of the men became hazy and indistinct as darkness claimed him once again.
"Aww, I think we upset 'im," Fergus chortled. "Right cute when 'e's scared, ain't 'e?" The gag was returned to its former position.
"I'd say he's a bit wound up," Dolan agreed. "We've got three more days to Bree with this little thing to deal with." He shook his head ruefully. "We might have made a big mistake, Fergus."
Fergus gazed at the unconscious hobbit. "Nah, I don't think so. 'E might be a wee bit o' trouble, but we'll get somethin' for 'im, I think."
They made camp and took turns at watch, making sure their 'investment' was secure for the night.
~*~To Be Continued~*~
In this chapter, I made the embarrassing error of having placed Buckland on the wrong side of the Brandywine. Those who read the story prior to this date are aware of my oops, but if you're reading it now, you're getting the cleaned - up geographically correct version!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Aratlithiel - True, I'm up to no good regarding Frodo's well - being here. Or at least Bargo and Reginard are!
Aelfgifu - Glad you liked the exchange between Saradoc and Bilbo. That was fun to write. I like the idea of Bilbo being a bit fired up and sharp as a tack. And yes, you had advance notice of what's cooking here, but you're still showing up to take it all in. Thanks a million!
Krista - Relatives like Bilbo and Merry are a blessing indeed.
Iorhael - Frodo is a dear, isn't he? How those boys can be so nasty to him is just wrong! Caution. Bumpy road ahead.
Endymion - As I said to Emma, look for more of those arguments between Bilbo and Saradoc. They're gonna be butting heads again, you can bet on it!
QTPie - 2488 - Are those boys the nastiest hobbits in the Shire, or what? And yes, just like their real life counterparts, they only want revenge when they get just what they deserve by way of punishment.
FrodoBaggins1982 - If you're amazed at what those guys can get up to now, keep reading. They're going to take advantage of an opportunity to pull a REAL nasty stunt now.
Iolauslvr - Welcome! Cliffhangers? Who, me? Guilty! I hope you'll keep coming back for more of this story!
TTTurtle - Frodo has some backbone, that's certain. Whether he knows it or not, he's a brave young hobbit. But for Frodo, two against one is not twice the fun, as we will see here.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
A/N - And now as a much - deserved reward for your awesome reviewing, here's a rather long chapter with plenty of action and angst for everyone!
Chapter 6 - More Than Mischief
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland September 1389 late afternoon~*~
"Bilbo Baggins, you old - "
Bilbo held up a hand to stem the tide of mock - invective that was surely about to burst from Rory's lips, and chuckled. "Mind your language, Rory. Women and children are present you know," Bilbo said, gesturing to Esmeralda and Merry as they all stood in the doorway.
"I'll take that for you, Bilbo," Saradoc said as he accepted Bilbo's pack and handed it off to a young lad to stow in the guest quarters. "Did you have a pleasant journey from Hobbiton?"
"Quite pleasant, Sara." Bilbo's eyes widened as his gaze fell upon Merry. "Is that young Meriadoc? Great stars, lad, how you've grown!" Merry grinned as Bilbo ruffled his hair. They had not seen each other for several years, and he truly had grown a great deal in the time between the visits.
The echo of a door slamming down a long corridor and running feet caused the entire group to turn and look through the parlor and down a hallway. "Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo shouted as he sprinted toward them.
Bilbo threw his arms wide as Frodo crashed into him. "Frodo, lad!" he laughed gaily. "And I thought Merry was getting big," he teased, stepping back to get a good look at the somewhat gangly tween. "I know you eat a proper meal, boy, but I can't for the life of me figure out where you're stowing it."
Frodo laughed in spite of himself. He'd heard many varieties of comments regarding his rather spare frame, but Bilbo had a different way of saying it that didn't make it sound like an insult. "I just spread it out evenly, Uncle," Frodo answered, much to Bilbo's delight.
"That sense of humor is all Baggins," the old hobbit crowed fondly, draping an arm over Frodo's shoulders as the entire group moved away from the door.
"It's good to see you again, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said quietly as they made their way deeper into the Hall. "I've missed you since your last visit."
Bilbo nodded and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I haven't made the trip more often, Frodo. Have you been staying out of trouble then?" Bilbo did his best to give Frodo a stern look.
Frodo colored a little as he answered. "I've done my best, inasmuch as trouble will allow," he said.
There was something in Frodo's tone that caused Bilbo to pause momentarily. Was Frodo still having problems with the other lads? Bilbo's last visit had opened his eyes to the true extent of Frodo's difficulties at the Hall. He worried that the lad was still holding back from telling all that occurred on a daily basis regarding his situation. Was the boy afraid to speak further, or was he just trying to stay out from under foot? Bilbo made a mental note to gently pry more specifics from the lad later on when they had some time alone together.
Time together would likely come on another day, Bilbo reflected. For now, there was plenty of news and gossip to catch up on, and the elder hobbits would likely gather in Rory's parlor and talk long into the night as usual. Frodo and Merry would be welcome, certainly, but the conversation would likely continue for much longer than the attention spans of two young lads would endure.
~*~after nightfall~*~
Bargo took a good, long drink of ale and belched appreciatively. He and Reginard sat together in the night shadows at the river's edge, watching late travelers coming and going on the Bucklebury Ferry.
"Good ale," Bargo remarked. They had managed to raid some out of the stores earlier in the day when nobody was looking in their direction. They sat drinking it now, and were getting a little tipsy as they lounged at the base of a big tree.
There were a couple of the Big Folk preparing for transport from the other side of the river, a scruffy, surly pair of Men with horses and a few small packs. Their grumbling voices could be heard from the short distance where the two hobbit lads were sitting, and bits of the conversation carried through the otherwise still air of the early Autumn night.
"Dammit, Dolan! Tradin's no good 'round these parts," the shorter of the two groused. "This trip warn't good fer half o' what the last one got us." The man's thick brogue could be heard clearly as he hefted a pack onto one of the horses' backs.
The other man grunted as he strapped another of the packs in place behind the saddle. "Don't I know it, Fergus," the man replied, his accent far less noticeable. "We'll make up for it, with a few hands of cards or something else."
The hobbit lads snickered softly to themselves. Traveling traders then, looking to buy and sell whatever they could scrounge up. The Big Folk they always saw along the Brandywine never seemed to be much to look at or to listen to. They were always in need of a good bath and always complained about not having as much money as they wanted. A pretty sorry bunch, to say the least.
Reginard sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowing and a grin spreading slowly across his ale - flushed face. "Hey, Bargo. I know how we can help those fellows make some extra money on the side. Of course, they'll have to spend a little up front, but isn't that the way business is done?"
"How's that, Reg?" Bargo queried, still watching the men.
"Your ma ever threaten to sell you down the river?" Reginard asked, smirking.
Bargo looked at him in irritation. "What's that got to do with anything?" It wasn't any of Reginard's business what his ma had threatened him with.
"Well, I was just thinkin' we ought to sell Frodo to the Big Folk. He's not good for much around here except for takin' up space, and everyone would just think he'd run off or something." He considered. "Those gents there would probably take him off our hands for a fair price." He sported a nasty grin. "And I still don't think we've gotten quite properly even with him for setting the Master on us that time."
Bargo started laughing. "That would be a grand joke, wouldn't it? Can you imagine the look on the little rat's face?" He pictured Frodo gaping in shock, his eyes wide in terror. "You said you'd think of some way to get him, even if it took forever. Well, it took a while, but not that long," Bargo chortled. "What do you think they'd do with him, anyway?"
Reginard swigged his ale and voiced his thoughts. "Do I care?" He downed more ale. "Seriously, they'd probably sell him off at a profit, or put him to work themselves," he said, not elaborating on what kind of work he was thinking about. "They get a good deal and an opportunity to make some money, and we get a little coin of our own and have a great laugh. Everybody's happy."
"Everybody but Frodo," Bargo chortled.
"So what?" Reginard said with a nasty smirk. "I'd like to see that pale - faced bookworm nit put in his place. I'd sell them Mr. Meriadoc Brandybrat too, but with his father being Master of the Hall, he'd be missed right off."
A thoughtful look crossed Bargo's ruddy face as he turned to Reginard. "That little snip of a Brandybuck would miss Frodo, I suspect."
"I reckon you're right, Bargo," Reginard replied, considering. "But think about it. Brandybrat still wouldn't really know what happened, would he? Just like everyone else, he would think that Frodo just finally had enough of the Hall and took off."
Bargo looked as steadily at his companion as his ale intake would allow. "You serious, Reg? You really think we could pull a stunt like that?"
Reginard's grin became a little more predatory as he rose to his feet. "Get ready to have some fun, Bargo," he said. "We're not gonna be bored tonight."
The stocky tween began to walk toward the men on the shore, swinging his arms casually at his sides and whistling an off - key tune. "Good evening, gentlemen," he called.
Both of the men looked up at the same time, a little surprised to see one of the Shire Folk walking the banks at night. "Whattaya want, halfling?" the one called Fergus grunted.
"My friend and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation." He gestured behind him at Bargo. "We've got a way to help you make a little of that money you say is so scarce these days, if you're interested."
"And just what kind of proposition could a pair of youngsters like yourselves have to offer, eh?" Dolan said sarcastically, clearly unimpressed with the swaggering tween before him.
"What if we could get you something at a bargain price that you could sell to someone else for a pile of coins? Something that we maybe don't have much of a use for, but someone else just might?" He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest. "What do you say?"
"Depends on just 'ow good a deal yer makin' us," Fergus said, looking down at Reginard. "What're the goods?"
"Not what, good sir, but who. We got this orphan boy hanging about, and we could do without him, we reckon. We'll make you a good price on him, and you might be able to sell him off to someone who'll get a job of work out of him - or something else," Reginard said rather crudely.
"That so?" Dolan asked, considering. "One of your own, some reject who doesn't pull his weight?" He frowned at Reginard and continued, "What good would that do us? Who'd pay good coin for something like that?"
"He's physically sound and he's in his right mind," Reginard answered. "He's just a little skinny and bookish. But he's a pretty one, if that counts for anything."
"What's yer price, halfling?" Fergus figured if the price were low enough, maybe there could be some profit even from a single skinny orphan. He and Dolan had some contacts in Bree who just might be willing to pay a fair bit depending on what use they could have for such a creature. If this one were fair to look at or able - bodied enough to be a laborer, he might bring a decent price after all.
Reginard considered. "Twenty gold pieces. Like I said, we don't need him, so we're not asking much. Surely you'd be able to sell him off for double that, I would think."
"So sure, are ye boy? If that's so, then why are ye willin' to take so little fer 'im?" Fergus leaned in close to Reginard and gazed at him intently. "I ain't payin' naught 'til I see 'im and make sure 'e's as you say 'e is."
"Fair enough," Reginard agreed. "If you'll give us an hour, we'll bring him to you. You won't be disappointed."
"For your sake, I hope not," Dolan growled. "Wasting an hour of good travel time isn't doing us any good."
"One hour then," Reginard said, and turned to call back up the bank. "Hey Bargo, on your feet. We've got a job to do."
~*~
Dolan gave Fergus a sidelong glance, then looked back up the path where the two hobbits had disappeared. "I'm none to sure of what we're getting ourselves into," he muttered.
"Aww, quit frettin' like a fool, Dolan." Fergus slapped him on the back. "It's a short trip to Bree, an' we'll be able to handle a li'l halfling well 'nough."
"I don't worry that we'll be able to handle him, small as he's likely to be," Dolan responded. "I'm more concerned with the implications of what we're considering. It's a dangerous game, kidnapping folk and selling them into servitude, Fergus."
Fergus scowled. "So ye're scared to do it, is that it?" He continued to bait his companion. "I always knew ye were a bit o' the coward."
Dolan spun to face the man who made the snide remark. "You listen to me, you bloody sot," he began rather hotly. "I'm not afraid to do it, I just have the wisdom to consider it from all angles. We'll have to be careful not to let the wrong people catch us at it, or the game is up. I want to spend this winter somewhere comfortable, not in a stockade for trading in slave labor."
"Takes coin to be comfortable, Dolan," Fergus reminded him. They had been a bit short of that lately and here was a chance to make up their losses in one deal. "Are ye goin' to let yer principles stand in th' way o' business?"
"The depth of my moral fibre is none of your concern," Dolan replied, his confident manner returning. "Business is business, and I've dealt in illicit goods before to make ends meet. It's just going to be a new challenge to have those goods walking and talking."
At any rate, it would only be a few days' journey to Bree. Dolan supposed he could deal with a bit of a challenge for such a short time, especially if it meant being warm and well - fed through the winter months.
~*~
"If you think Lobelia's scowl could curdle milk on a normal day," Bilbo was saying with a rakish gleam in his eye, "you should have seen her then!"
Saradoc, Esmeralda and Rory burst into laughter at Bilbo's tale. Merry was sound asleep on a sofa nearby, having given in to sleep a short while before, and Frodo merely smiled. He had never actually met the Sackville - Bagginses, but he had heard Bilbo speak acerbically about them on occasion.
"Bilbo, you had better watch your step," Saradoc cautioned. "I know you've encountered trolls and dragons in your travels and more besides, but Lobelia is, well, something of a different sort altogether."
"Hmmm, yes," Bilbo acknowledged. "Lobelia is - " He paused, and allowed a sour tone and expression to cloud his voice and features. "Lobelia is - family." He spoke the last word as if making a pronouncement of certain doom, and laughter erupted around him once again.
Frodo's head snapped up suddenly as he realized he had nearly nodded off where he sat. He supposed he had better say good night, or he would end up in the same state as Merry, who was snoring softly across the room.
"May I be excused?" Frodo asked politely as he rose from his chair. "I think it's time I turned in," he continued with a yawn.
Bilbo rose and hugged him. "Certainly, my boy. I fear we've wearied you with our endless prattle," he said with a wink. "Sleep well, Frodo lad."
"I'm sure that I shall," Frodo answered with a smile. "Good night everyone."
Frodo departed for his room with a warm glow in his heart. Bilbo's visits, while somewhat infrequent, were always occasions when laughter came easily to him and his spirits were lifted noticeably. He walked the distance to his room feeling happier than he had in some time.
Frodo's room was near the end of a long corridor that was mainly occupied by guest rooms. Unless there was a major event going on, such as Harvest Festival or Yule, many of the rooms lay vacant. Frodo had purposely asked to have his room in that part of the Hall for the privacy it afforded, caring little for the distance he had to walk to most of the common areas.
He closed the door behind him as he entered, and it latched with a soft click. He locked it as was his habit, and made his way to the bed. He was so tired from the day's excitement that he got no further with his nightly routine than the removal of his weskit, which he draped haphazardly over the back of a chair. He lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes, and soon peaceful sleep stole over him.
~*~
Bargo and Reginard hovered outside the open window and peered in cautiously at Frodo's sleeping form across the room. A little moonlight filtered in behind them, giving just enough illumination for them to be able to see Frodo, sound asleep and motionless but for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He looked so peaceful, as if for the moment he had no cares to trouble him. Reginard smiled to himself. All that was about to change.
"Got everything we need?" Reginard asked in a whisper, poking through the bag Bargo carried.
"Sure do," Bargo answered, taking a brief inventory of the contents.
"Between the two of us, we should be able to handle him easy," Reginard said with confidence. "I don't suppose he'll come quiet - like, though." It was a lucky break that Frodo had chosen a room in a mostly empty section of the Hall. If there was a little noise associated with what was to transpire, it was doubtful it would be heard.
"If he gets too riled up we can use this." Bargo brandished a small vial of clear liquid. He pulled the cork from the top and held it out to Reginard, who took a quick whiff and stumbled backward with his nose wrinkling.
"Whooo, that's powerful. Where'd you get it?" He gazed again at the small vial of clear liquid, wondering what a real snort of it would do.
"Nicked it from the healer's stores the last time I got sent in for a fix - up. He gave me a good toot of the stuff and I nodded right off. Woke up an hour later with some new stitches in my leg and a dizzy head. I swiped it for the keen buzz, but if you just dump some of it on a cloth and hold his nose in it, he won't be too much trouble."
"Perfect. Time's wasting, so let's go get him," Reginard said gleefully, as he slowly pulled himself up and over the edge of the windowsill. He swung one leg and then the other over the sill and dropped quietly to the floor beneath the window. Bargo followed, and his pack scraped against the sill.
Reginard flinched at the noise and looked toward his sleeping prey. Frodo stirred restlessly, and his eyes fluttered open to behold the intruders.
Suddenly fully awake, Frodo sat up abruptly and hissed, "Get out of my room!" The sound of his own voice surprised him as it resonated in the otherwise silent space. He hadn't realized he could produce a sound so tense and filled with suspicion and hatred.
"Oh, we will, Frodo," Reginard answered. "And you're coming too. Isn't that right, Bargo?" Bargo moved forward a few steps from the window, reaching into his pack for something.
Frodo got to his feet nervously. Just what did Reginard mean by that? Another raid on the farmer's mushrooms? Did they plan to make him steal ale from the storehouses for them? He steeled himself and stood his ground. He was no longer a little lad anymore, but a tween. He'd had it with Bargo and Reginard pushing him around, and the sight of them standing brazenly in his room uninvited in the middle of the night made him flush with anger.
"No. I'm not going anywhere with you," he spat. "Leave by the door or the way you came in, I don't care which. Just leave!" His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he fought to breathe evenly and to stare his enemies down with cold cobalt flames burning in his eyes.
"Easy, Frodo. No need to get excited." Bargo stepped forward again, not taking his eyes from Frodo's. Frodo stood stock still, pale in the light of the moon as Reginard and Bargo slowly approached him.
"I will not be party to any more of your late night raids or antics," Frodo elaborated. His resolve began to waver slightly as he looked quickly from one lad to the other. In spite of his confident speech, he involuntarily took a step backward.
"Antics, he says," Reginard smirked. "But Frodo, this is so much better than anything we've done together before. It's much more exciting, I promise you."
As if on cue, they both lunged forward. Frodo reacted instinctively and brought a fist up into Reginard's jaw with a force that surprised both assailant and intended victim. Bargo took the opportunity to drop his pack and duck behind Frodo, leaving him effectively surrounded.
"Brilliant shot, rat. It's the last one you'll get." Something ugly came into Reginard's eyes as he straightened and faced Frodo again. The look on the older lad's face caused a chill to crawl down Frodo's spine. Reginard was smiling.
At that moment, Bargo grabbed Frodo from behind, locking his arms behind his back. As Frodo struggled to free himself from Bargo's grasp, he opened his mouth to shout for help. Before he could make a sound, a hard slap landed squarely across his face as Reginard backhanded him.
Reginard reached into Bargo's pack and drew out two small coils of rope and a piece of cloth. "Hold him, Bargo," he growled, approaching with deliberate, menacing steps.
Frodo was dizzy from the shock of the blow he'd received, and fear had begun to seep into him. Whatever the two were up to this time, it was serious. "Let me go!" he said, his voice sounding fuzzy for the ringing in his ears. "HEL - " The shout ended almost as soon as it began, as Reginard thrust the cloth into Frodo's mouth and tied it behind his head, gagging him.
"This can be easy, Frodo, or it can be hard," Reginard intoned as he unwound the first coil of rope. Frodo struggled harder and Bargo pulled upward on his arms, causing him to wince and cry out. The gag effectively stifled the sound and the sharp cry of protest was reduced to a muffled grunt that carried no farther than the far side of the room.
Reginard handed the rope to Bargo and stepped behind Frodo. "Tie him up, Bargo. If he won't come along of his own accord, we'll just have to drag him." Reginard added his strength to the battle with the struggling youth, forcing Frodo face - down onto the floor. Bargo bound Frodo's wrists behind his back, being none too gentle about the process.
Frodo was still writhing and kicking, refusing to go down without a fight. His anger and fear warred with each other as one of his large, hairy feet slammed into Bargo's shin. Bargo retaliated with a kick of his own, his foot connecting sharply with Frodo's side. "Blasted rat! I'll teach you to kick me!" He drew back to strike again, but Reginard held him back.
"Let's just finish the job, Bargo. Time is short." Suiting action to words, Reginard grabbed the second coil of rope away from Bargo and tied Frodo's ankles together. Frodo lay completely bound before him, breathing hard and staring up at him with undisguised hatred.
"Better get that stuff ready," Reginard told his cohort. "I think he's angry with us." Sarcasm ran like the Brandywine from that voice.
What stuff? Frodo's mind reeled in fury and panic. Angry? Of course he was angry! How dare they barge into his room and assault him? How dare they subject him to such treatment!
Bargo held another cloth in his hand, this one folded neatly and smelling of something strange. As Bargo brought the cloth closer to Frodo's face, Frodo tried to roll away from him. Reginard knelt down and pinned Frodo in place, reaching out to grip his chin and hold his head still.
~No! You cannot do this!~ Frodo's mind shouted in the absence of his voice. They mustn't! If they rendered him unconscious, he would have no chance to fight back, or even to know where they were so intent upon taking him in the middle of the night.
Frodo sucked in a lungful of air as the cloth descended over his nose. He held his breath stubbornly. A sweat broke out on his brow as he struggled not to inhale. ~Can't breathe! Hopeless! Eru, help me!~
"Come on, rat! Have a good whiff!" Reginard sneered as Frodo trembled with the effort to avoid the inevitable. In the next instant, the battle was over as Frodo's oxygen - starved lungs betrayed him and he inhaled at last. In the end, holding his breath had been the worst thing he could have done, as it caused him to inhale more deeply than normal.
The powerful fumes invaded and began to claim him. He heard Bargo's voice as if it were coming from a great distance, rather than from right next to him. "Remember when we said you were worthless, Frodo? Well, we take it back."
Frodo's vision tunneled to a pinpoint and his head swam mightily. Not worthless? They took it back? What did that mean? He couldn't see and he couldn't move. He could no longer feel the stinging of his face from Reginard's slap, or the dull ache in his side where Bargo had kicked him. He plunged down into the blackness that rose to meet him.
Bargo and Reginard wasted no time in gathering up their burden. The left by means of the door, deciding that was better than trying to shove Frodo's limp form through the window. The hallways were completely deserted, and they emerged out into the night through a lesser - used exit.
~*~
It wasn't too far to the ferry, and they hurried up the path bearing Frodo between them like a lifeless rag doll. Seeing the two men up ahead, they slowed and worked their way down the slope of the bank where they paused to lay Frodo on the ground nearby.
"Right on time and exactly as promised," Reginard said, rubbing imaginary dust from his hands. "Well?"
"What did you do to him?" Dolan muttered as he knelt to get a closer look at Frodo's bound form. "You mess him up too bad, he won't be worth anything to us."
"No harm done, I swear it," Reginard said with a smile. "Just a whiff of something to make him cooperate." He reached out to Bargo who put the vial into his hand. "If you take him, we'll give you the rest of this." He held the vial up. "He's likely to be a bit unhappy when he wakes up, so you might need it."
For the time being, Frodo was completely unaware of what was happening. The two men looked down at him, sizing him up. He was a little skinny, just like that smart - ass halfling said, and he was obviously a young one. "Not very old is he?" Dolan asked curiously.
"He's almost twenty - one," Bargo said. "He's not a child anymore." What Bargo failed to mention was that at his age, Frodo certainly wasn't an adult either.
Fergus joined Dolan, gazing down at the unconscious prisoner. A little pale, but fine - boned. There were some who would pay a handsome price for such a good - looking youth. He looked at Dolan and raised one eyebrow, then gestured for Dolan to step a short distance away with him.
The men backed away and spoke together in low voices for a few moments, then Dolan turned to the hobbit lads and said, "All right. It's a deal. Twenty gold pieces for your orphan boy." He looked down at Frodo and then back to Bargo and Reginard. "I don't usually deal in live goods, but business is slow, so I'll take a chance." He counted out twenty coins as Fergus lifted Frodo and draped him over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
Dolan accepted the vial from Bargo, tucking it into his pocket. Fergus draped Frodo's limp form over the back of one of the horses, and the men prodded them onto the path that led toward the village of Bree.
"Goodbye, Frodo," Reginard whispered. "Pleasant journey." He and Bargo turned and walked back up the path, unconcerned with the fate to which they had just condemned one of their own.
~*~
The first thing he noticed was his throbbing head as the effects of the drug subsided. A dull ache had spread from the base of his skull forward, and now its tendrils reached out to the space behind his eyes. He opened them gingerly, trying to get a look around him.
Frodo realized that he was outside as a chilly breeze struck him. He could hear the whisper of the leaves in the trees that rose around him, although he could see little in the darkness. Perhaps he couldn't see, but he could certainly feel. The wind pricked him sharply through the thin fabric of his shirt and he shivered against it.
His first reaction was to try to curl in upon himself, to hold in what warmth his own body could provide him. The attempt was only partially successful, as he could not wrap his arms around his chilled torso with his hands bound.
It was as if one sensation at a time presented itself to him. Now he could feel the roughness of the rope against his skin. Coherent thought began to push away the cobwebs and confusion the drug left in its wake, and he remembered the scuffle. He remembered that he had lost. What had he expected, with two of them bearing down upon him?
He groaned, but the sound that reached his ears was only a murmur. There was something in the way, blocking it. Frodo recalled that Reginard had stuffed the gag in his mouth and prevented him from calling for help, from pleading with any who might have heard and come to his aid.
Where were they, then? Where had Reginard and Bargo gone? Was he alone and lost, left bound and helpless somewhere beyond the Hall? Tales of the Old Forest came to mind and he wondered if they had dumped him over the gate into that benighted space where it was rumored that the very trees moved of their own accord.
"Look, e's wakin' up." So he wasn't alone! But whose voice was he hearing? It was deeper and rougher than either Bargo's or Reginard's, and the accent was definitely not of the Shire.
He blinked, attempting to focus his vision. The blurred edges of the images began to sharpen into the terrifying sight of two Men looking down at him. His eyes widened and he recoiled in shock and trepidation. He had seen some of the Big Folk from afar, but he had never been so close to them. Now he was frightfully close to these two, and he was - he was a captive!
A tall man with dark hair and a hawkish, beaky nose jutting from a thin face was reaching out toward him now, and Frodo tried to back away. He only managed to wriggle a few inches backward as a hand pulled the gag away from his mouth.
"Where am I?" He asked, his voice shaking. If this was a joke, it wasn't funny anymore. "Where are Bargo and Reginard?" He looked around wildly, uncertain as to whether the two would be a welcome sight or not at that point.
"So many questions," Dolan said calmly. "Your friends are not here, halfling. They have left you in our care, it seems."
"They aren't my friends!" Frodo's statement of the obvious seemed to amuse the man. Frodo forged ahead. "What do you mean, they've left me here?"
"They sold you to us," Dolan told him plainly and simply, as if discussing the weather. "We bought you from them for a fair price, and we hope you will bring fairer still when we get to Bree."
Frodo was aghast at what he was hearing, and suddenly the meaning of Bargo's parting words became painfully clear to him. Not worthless. They had sold him like a bushel of apples! It took a moment for the rest of the man's words to register, and when they did, Frodo fought a wave of panic.
"Bree?! I don't want to go to Bree!" Frodo's voice was trembling. "I want to go home, please! I - I'm not for sale. Take me back! Let me go!"
Frodo could see the other man more clearly now. He was not quite as tall as the first, and had shoulder - length reddish hair that hung down into his eyes, and a beard that was in need of trimming. A bath would have improved the appearance of both of them.
"So ye aren't fer sale, ye say? Someone ought to have told them as accepted our coins." The red - haired one was speaking, and Frodo tried to absorb the meaning of the words.
Bargo and Reginard had kidnapped him and sold him to these Big Folk! They were taking him to Bree, and -
"What are you going to do with me?" Frodo blurted. He wasn't sure that he wanted to hear the answer. He waited, petrified with fear.
Hawk - beak was unpacking a couple of bedrolls and some other items as they prepared to make camp for the remainder of the night. "When we get to Bree, we'll see about finding an interested party to take you off our hands," he said, throwing a careless glance at Frodo.
Terror overwhelmed Frodo completely at the man's words. "No! You can't do this!" he shouted. "Let me go, please!" He began to struggle anew against his bonds in sheer desperation.
The red - haired man spelled out the meaning of his companion's words as he checked the security of Frodo's bonds. "If ye're lucky, some wealthy fellow will buy ye as household help. An' if ye're not," he merely shrugged.
Frodo might have been a youngster by hobbit standards, but he knew enough to understand the meaning of the words the man spoke. These men didn't care what became of him. They cared only for the money they might make by selling him to the highest bidder.
"I am not a thing to be bought or sold!" Frodo cried desperately, disbelief warring with his fear. His struggles mattered little, as the ropes that held him were secure. "Please, if you take me back your money will be returned to you, I swear it!"
The hawkish one laughed. "So sure, are you?" He fixed Frodo with an icy stare. "From what those other two said, there isn't anybody who would give up any coin to get you back. Besides, why would we want our money back when we can at least double it by selling you off?" There was no emotion in the voice at all, just a cold indifference that frightened Frodo more than any mockery ever could.
"No, please! You mustn't take me away!" Frodo fought against his bonds furiously, calling out for help into the empty woods as he did so.
The red-haired man turned to his companion. "Dolan, gimme that stuff the other halflings used on 'im. 'E's gonna hurt 'imself if 'e doesn't calm down, and I'm not listenin' to this all night."
The other man dug a piece of cloth out of a pack and poured something onto it from a small vial. Frodo remembered seeing the same thing happen in his room when Bargo and Reginard had attacked him. The red - haired man approached Frodo again with the cloth in his hand.
"What are you doing?" Frodo cried in terror. "No! Get away from me!" Any further protests were silenced as the cloth descended over his nose and mouth and was held there by a strong hand. Frodo's head was pressed back against the ground as he fought for air. Unable to avoid it any longer, he breathed in, and the drug went to work almost immediately. Sound faded to a buzz in the background and the forms of the men became hazy and indistinct as darkness claimed him once again.
"Aww, I think we upset 'im," Fergus chortled. "Right cute when 'e's scared, ain't 'e?" The gag was returned to its former position.
"I'd say he's a bit wound up," Dolan agreed. "We've got three more days to Bree with this little thing to deal with." He shook his head ruefully. "We might have made a big mistake, Fergus."
Fergus gazed at the unconscious hobbit. "Nah, I don't think so. 'E might be a wee bit o' trouble, but we'll get somethin' for 'im, I think."
They made camp and took turns at watch, making sure their 'investment' was secure for the night.
~*~To Be Continued~*~