Wow! Almost 60 reviews in 6 chapters! You guys are really spoiling heck out
of me, and I thank you!
LilyBaggins - Thanks for reviewing chapter 2! Merry and Frodo are definitely quite close in this story. I hope you'll stick around for the rest of the tale! Frodo will definitely need some coddling later on!
Daisy Brambleburr - Those boys are just the most awful things! Now Frodo is on his way to Bree and who knows what else!
QTPie - 2488 - I am pretty mean to poor Frodo, aren't I? I'm glad you're enjoying the story so much. Those Big Folk are creepy indeed, and I promise more creepiness.
Krista - I don't think Bargo and Reginard can spell 'conscience', much less have one.
FrodoBaggins1982 - Bilbo and Merry will miss Frodo for sure, and they're not going to be happy!
FantasyFan - Thanks for joining the fun! Bargo and Reginard are just as nasty as they can be. You've got Merry and Bilbo pegged when you say they won't belive Frodo ran away.
Iorhael - Amazing how far Bargo and Reginard were willing to go to have their laugh, isn't it? What an evil revenge to take against someone who only just wanted them to leave him alone!
Aratlithiel - You saw the original version before I added a truckload of angst, so you would know if the version I posted was better! Our tough little Frodo soldiers on.
Endymion - Yes, Frodo's in some trouble, and there's no Sam to save him. Bilbo is where all hope will have to come from. As to who might be interested in Frodo, we'll be finding out in a few chapters!
Trust No One - We'll see if Frodo fights back. He's pretty scared, that's for sure!
Camellia Gamgee - Took - You want more? You got it!
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Chapter 7 - Into Thin Air
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, the following morning~*~
Merry banged on Frodo's door impatiently. "Frodo, wake up! You've slept through first and second breakfast!" Merry thumped the door again in exasperation. "Lazybones!"
When there was no answer to his prompting, Merry turned the knob and was surprised when the door opened. He had twisted the knob more as a reflexive action than for any other reason, knowing that Frodo typically locked his door. He and Frodo had both been up late the night before, and perhaps Frodo had been too tired to care.
The door swung open slowly, and Merry entered the room. Although Frodo wasn't there, nothing unusual met his gaze. The bed was unmade and the covers rumpled and cast aside, but that was normal. Frodo had a habit of not making his bed immediately in the morning. The weskit Frodo had worn the day before was dangling over the back of a chair.
Merry decided to go in search of Bilbo to ask him if he had seen Frodo yet that morning. Bilbo was usually the first and last person to see Frodo every day when he came to visit. Merry smiled when he thought of the ever - strengthening bond between the two. They just seemed to understand each other and the connection they shared went beyond merely having a surname in common. They seemed able to say more to each other with a single glance than they could with a hundred words.
Wandering the corridors of Brandy Hall, Merry could find neither Bilbo nor Frodo. The door of the library stood ajar, and Merry poked his head in for a look. He didn't see anything moving, but he stepped inside to make sure. Only silent books were there to greet him, waiting patiently to tell their tales to any who turned their pages.
Pausing briefly to pick up an old book from one of the tables, Merry thought about how much Frodo seemed to like this room with its many dusty old texts and mysterious maps. He had never developed a great affinity for it himself. The musty smell of all the old books and the unusual quiet of the place simply didn't suit him as it did his bookish cousin.
If he couldn't find Bilbo, Merry decided he would look for Frodo by himself. That might even be the best thing to do if Frodo had gone looking for a place to be alone for a while. There were few present at Brandy Hall who could break Frodo's solitude without receiving pained looks and monosyllables in response, and Merry was one of them.
As Merry stepped out into the sunny courtyard, one of the subjects of his search appeared in the form of Bilbo, smoking his pipe and looking off into the distance.
"Good morning, Meriadoc," Bilbo said with a cheerful grin as Merry approached him.
"Good morning, Uncle Bilbo," Merry answered. "Have you seen Frodo? He wasn't at breakfast and he's not in his room."
Bilbo frowned. "No, lad, I haven't seen him yet. I assumed he was with you. Have you looked in the library?"
"Yes. He wasn't there either." Merry drew a pattern in the dirt with his toe. He was starting to worry now. If Frodo weren't with Bilbo or himself, where would he be? Over the years he had grown to dislike the idea of Frodo wandering by himself with the likes of Bargo and Reginard about.
"Shall we check the hayloft together?" Bilbo suggested as if reading Merry's thoughts. Merry nodded and they walked side by side down the path toward the barn in the distance. Upon reaching it, they found the doors open and the cats preening or chasing each other playfully.
Merry made a beeline for the ladder and climbed it quickly. He was glad to see that it was standing in its proper place, propped against the edge of the hayloft. Motes of dust danced in the morning sunbeams and there were certainly no sleeping hobbits in the hay. "There isn't anyone here," Merry called down to Bilbo.
"Where else should we look, lad?" Bilbo inquired. Merry knew all the places Frodo tended to go when he was looking for privacy, all the favorite crevices and corners a young hobbit lad could tuck himself into.
"Let's try the river pool where I taught him to swim," Merry suggested. It was a little cool in the mornings for swimming lately, but the secluded spot was a good place to spend a quiet moment otherwise. "It's a nice place, and just as good for reading and being alone as it is for swimming." Bilbo nodded and they set off together in the direction of the pond.
~*~The Bree road, morning~*~
Warm. It felt good to be warm again as the morning sun stole over him. Frodo blinked and tried to clear the haze from his vision with only partial success. Two doses of the sleeping drug in one night had left him quite groggy, and he fervently hoped the men had run out of the dreadful potion. His eyes drooped shut again.
Someone nudged him and the indifferent shove brought him back to his surroundings. "Wake up, little one. It's time to move on." Dolan shook Frodo lightly. "First, something to eat and then back on the road." He removed the gag and helped Frodo to a sitting position against a tree trunk.
Frodo eyed the man warily, wondering whether any chance for escape would present itself. So far, neither of these Big Folk had truly harmed him, but that didn't keep him from feeling suddenly very small and very scared. He tugged at his bonds again, hoping against hope that they had somehow come loose in the night.
"That won't help you any," Dolan said, shaking his head. "The only way you're getting loose is if we allow it. We're still a couple of days out from Bree, and the journey will be easier for you if you cooperate," he suggested. "You're going whether you behave or not, halfling."
Frodo remained silent. He really didn't feel like having a conversation with either of these men. The only thing he wanted to hear them say was that they were taking him back where he belonged, and he doubted they would say anything of the sort. Then again, if he were to speak, perhaps they would realize that he was a person, rather than livestock to be sold at Market. What was it the man had called him? Halfling?
"My name is Frodo," he said softly, not looking at the tall figure standing over him.
"All right then, Frodo. You have a name and you want me to know it. Fair enough." The man gestured to his companion who was loading up the horses. "That's Fergus, and I'm Dolan. Not that it matters so much, as we're not going to spend enough time together to get to know each other very well."
Frodo gathered his courage and forged ahead. "Do you really mean to just sell me to some stranger regardless of his purpose and simply walk away?" He searched the man's expression for some hint of compassion, some twinge of guilt that he might use to his advantage. He found none. The eyes that gazed back at him held no pity or remorse.
"That's the idea," Dolan informed him. "I know what you're up to, and you might as well forget it," he said, his tone becoming colder. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm going to see what a helpless little thing you are and change my mind. We bought you intending to make a profit, and that's exactly what we're going to do with you."
So much for that idea, Frodo thought bitterly. When a local farmer's dog had a litter of puppies, they were given away to good homes, and their new owners carefully chosen. It seemed the same courtesy was going to be denied him by these soulless men.
Frodo was startled from his thoughts as Dolan began to unbind his hands. "Don't try anything foolish. I'm only doing this so you can eat and take care of any other necessary business before we leave," he explained. "I'll be watching the whole time, so any attempt to escape will be a waste of energy." He looked pointedly at Frodo. "Besides which, Fergus has a bit of a temper, so I advise you not to push him."
Dolan left Frodo's hands free, but tethered him to the tree by wrapping a length of rope around his midsection. He produced a plate with a sparse breakfast of some cooked meat and bread and a flask of water. Frodo ate in silence. It wasn't especially good fare, but it would help him keep his strength up.
After allowing Frodo to finish eating, Dolan released the rope that bound him to the tree and unbound his ankles. He pulled Frodo to his feet and marched him a short distance away from the camp into the forest to relieve himself, keeping a firm grip on the back of the hobbit's collar all the while.
When they arrived back at the campsite, Fergus had stowed most of the gear and the horses stood ready. Frodo began to feel his fear rising again as he realized they were about to take him even farther from home and all that he had ever known.
Home. Now there was a curious concept. Did he really have a home to be taken from? The idea of home brought to mind a space of one's own warmed by cherished memories and shared with one's closest loved ones. When Frodo thought of the Hall, the only things that came to mind were the crowded, cavernous dining room, and the courtyard where he couldn't even read in peace without being tripped over by someone.
Wherever he was, he always seemed to be in the way. No one said as much within his hearing, but he could see the irritated looks they gave him. Brandy Hall was Merry's home, but it would never truly be Frodo's. Even so, it was strange to be away from it, on this unfamiliar road that led to places he had never seen.
Frodo had always been curious about the world outside the Shire and had listened with eagerness to the stories of those few who had ventured past its safe, familiar borders. He had longed to see it for himself, but not like this.
Dolan was binding his hands again, and Frodo began to fight him, pulling away in dread and terror. "No! Can't you see what you're doing is wrong?" he cried as he twisted in Dolan's grasp.
Fergus stopped loading the horses and strode over to slap him squarely across the face. "Don't give us any of yer lip, little thing. The folk who'll be wantin' to buy ye from us won't care if ye 'ave some bruises on that pretty face o' yours." He leaned closer and his eyes narrowed. "Like as not, they'll put some marks on ye themselves," he said ominously.
The blow had indeed stilled the young hobbit momentarily, and a red mark showed against his pale skin where the man had struck him. Fergus' words chilled him thoroughly as he thought of all they could mean.
In the next moment, Frodo was lifted onto one of the horses, and Fergus was settling himself behind him. "Ye're kinda small fer one o' yer kind, ain't ye?" The man ruffled Frodo's hair condescendingly. "Ye ain't even all the way grown, I'll wager."
"Would it matter if I said I wasn't?" Frodo said quietly. He doubted that it would matter to the men that the one they held against his will was really a mere youth.
"I don't reckon ye'll be sayin' much of anythin' fer now," Fergus responded as he tied the gag back in place. "Just sit still an' we won't have to knock ye out again."
Not having much choice in the matter, Frodo complied. He wondered miserably if anyone had even noticed that he was gone. The only two who might have were Merry and Bilbo, and Frodo wanted nothing more than to see them again.
~*~Buckland, early afternoon~*~
Bilbo and Merry found the swimming pond as deserted as the barn had been. The elder hobbit's face was lined with worry as he gazed at the still water sparkling in the sunshine. It was now past luncheon and it would take most of another hour to walk back to the Hall. He made up his mind to talk to Sara if Frodo hadn't turned up on his own by the time they got back.
Visions of Frodo lying injured from some accident sprang to mind, and were followed by more chilling images as Bilbo recalled his conversation with Frodo the day before. Those older lads were up to no good, and it was plain that Frodo was their preferred target. If they were responsible for any harm to Frodo, he would see to it personally that they were punished severely.
Ever since finding Frodo in the hayloft a few years ago, bruised and despondent after an encounter with the two, Bilbo had been entertaining thoughts of taking the lad home with him to Hobbiton. Every time he would work himself up to the point of being ready to make the suggestion, doubt would conquer him and he would hold back. What did he know about being the guardian of a tween?
On the other hand, he seemed to have a better grasp of Frodo's state of mind than his current guardians. He could tell when Frodo was holding something in, and it seemed that more often than not these days that was the case. Tweens could certainly be moody, he reminded himself.
But Frodo wasn't just any tween, he mused. There was something about him, a spirit that set him apart from all of the others at the Hall. If Bilbo had ever had a son, he would have hoped that the lad would have that special something, that spark that endured all adversity to shine through in bursts of brilliant light.
Bilbo hadn't spoken his thoughts yet, but the idea of doing so weighed more heavily upon him with each visit he made to the Hall. The obvious loneliness and pain he had seen in Frodo's young face during their discussion in the library several years back had gone straight to his heart. If the events that he had heard about continued to be commonplace, he doubted that he could hold back much longer.
He and Merry exchanged anxious glances and walked in silence back up the path, toward the Hall and hopefully, an answer to the question of Frodo's whereabouts.
~*~The Bree Road~*~
"Fergus! Someone's coming!" Dolan sounded the alarm, hearing the sound of hoofbeats a distance behind them. "Let's get off the road. We can't be caught with a captive halfling in plain blasted sight!"
Frodo felt Fergus' arm tighten around his waist uncomfortably as the horse left the road and they plunged into the cover of the trees. He wondered how much noise he might be able to make through the gag. Would the other folk on the road be able to hear him?
The thought ended abruptly as Fergus threatened, "One peep an' I'll thump ye senseless!" Frodo hadn't forgotten the slap earlier and he didn't doubt the ruffian would keep his promise.
"Don't ye even move, I'm warnin' ye," Fergus hissed. The threat was completely unnecessary, as Frodo couldn't move against the man's grasp if he tried. Dolan rode up next to them, keeping his horse remarkably still as the other travelers rode past their hiding place.
"This could be a long trip if we have to keep ducking into the trees," Dolan observed. He addressed Frodo directly. "You had better be worth all this trouble," he said, looking directly into the diminutive prisoner's eyes. As those eyes began to swim with unshed tears, he looked away. This was business, nothing more. So what if the little thing was frightened?
When the road was well clear of the other travelers, the men urged their horses out of the trees and onward toward their destination. As the afternoon wore on, they met no one else. It wouldn't have mattered if they had, Frodo realized glumly. They would just hide him among the trees, away from the eyes of anyone who might be inclined to help him. They would keep him bound and gagged in silence, unable to call attention to his predicament.
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland~*~
Bilbo paused in the courtyard to rest and smoke his pipe, and Merry continued on his way into the Hall. Hunger and worry gnawed at him as he made his way to his father's study. He hoped his father was alone so they could talk privately for a few minutes.
Fortunately, the door to the Master's study was open and Saradoc was the only occupant of the room. He smiled when Merry entered, but the smile faded to a look of concern when he saw his son's expression. "Merry, what troubles you, lad?" he asked quietly.
"It's Frodo," Merry answered. "Uncle Bilbo and I have looked everywhere for him and we can't seem to find him."
Saradoc sighed. "He hasn't been about all day then?" Merry shook his head. "You know how he tends to wander off by himself, lad. Sometimes all the noise and bustle becomes a bit much for him, I suspect." He allowed the smile to return to his face. "I'm sure he'll turn up in time for supper. You cannot keep a tween from the table, after all."
Merry frowned. "What if he's fallen and got hurt? What if Bargo and Reginard have done something to him?" Merry spoke urgently, his voice betraying his growing concern. "We have to find him, Da."
"Now, Merry, there's no need to seek trouble where there's naught to be found," Saradoc said soothingly. "Frodo has not said a word about any trouble with Bargo and Reginard in a great while. I'm certain that Frodo has just slipped away on his own to find a little peace and quiet. You know he seems to need it from time to time, and we should allow him to seek it." He placed a hand on Merry's shoulder and guided him toward the door. "Give him a little more time yet, lad. He'll come home."
Merry wanted to believe his father's words, but Frodo had been gone all day! Merry couldn't shake the feeling that something just wasn't right, and his talk with his father had done nothing to ease his worry. "Don't you care if Frodo's gone?" he blurted tactlessly.
Saradoc was visibly taken aback. "Of course, I care! Meriadoc, what kind of a question is that?"
"I'm sorry, Da." Merry looked at his toes. "I'm just worried, that's all."
Saradoc's tone softened once again. "We all care about Frodo, lad. He's a youngster of a different sort, and a little hard to pin down. I'm sure you understand that even better than I." Merry did understand. Nobody at Brandy Hall knew Frodo as well as he did.
"I've just never seen him go off on his own for a whole day without a word to me or anyone else, Da," Merry explained. It pained him that Frodo would neglect to say something to him. Wasn't he Frodo's closest friend? Why wouldn't Frodo tell him where he was off to?
"Frodo's not a child anymore, Merry." Saradoc looked thoughtfully at his son. "In a few years, you'll be a tween too, and you'll be wanting more independence and personal space, just as Frodo is now."
He smiled, remembering what it was like to be a tween. It was a wonderful, but sometimes frustrating stage in a young hobbit's life when the desire to control one's own environment to some degree often met with resistance from elders who refused to see the maturity of the young one. He realized with a start that Merry was already showing signs of that frustration and a growing tendency toward independent thought and action. It couldn't be helped any more than seasons could be kept from changing. His lad was growing up.
"I suppose you're right about Frodo wanting his space," Merry conceded. "I just wish he had said something so I wouldn't worry."
"You're a good friend to Frodo and he's well aware of that fact," Saradoc told his son. "When he gets back, let him know you were worried. I'm sure he'll be contrite and promise never to do it again."
"He'd better," Merry said grumpily, and wandered away toward the dining hall.
~*~To Be Continued~*~
LilyBaggins - Thanks for reviewing chapter 2! Merry and Frodo are definitely quite close in this story. I hope you'll stick around for the rest of the tale! Frodo will definitely need some coddling later on!
Daisy Brambleburr - Those boys are just the most awful things! Now Frodo is on his way to Bree and who knows what else!
QTPie - 2488 - I am pretty mean to poor Frodo, aren't I? I'm glad you're enjoying the story so much. Those Big Folk are creepy indeed, and I promise more creepiness.
Krista - I don't think Bargo and Reginard can spell 'conscience', much less have one.
FrodoBaggins1982 - Bilbo and Merry will miss Frodo for sure, and they're not going to be happy!
FantasyFan - Thanks for joining the fun! Bargo and Reginard are just as nasty as they can be. You've got Merry and Bilbo pegged when you say they won't belive Frodo ran away.
Iorhael - Amazing how far Bargo and Reginard were willing to go to have their laugh, isn't it? What an evil revenge to take against someone who only just wanted them to leave him alone!
Aratlithiel - You saw the original version before I added a truckload of angst, so you would know if the version I posted was better! Our tough little Frodo soldiers on.
Endymion - Yes, Frodo's in some trouble, and there's no Sam to save him. Bilbo is where all hope will have to come from. As to who might be interested in Frodo, we'll be finding out in a few chapters!
Trust No One - We'll see if Frodo fights back. He's pretty scared, that's for sure!
Camellia Gamgee - Took - You want more? You got it!
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Chapter 7 - Into Thin Air
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, the following morning~*~
Merry banged on Frodo's door impatiently. "Frodo, wake up! You've slept through first and second breakfast!" Merry thumped the door again in exasperation. "Lazybones!"
When there was no answer to his prompting, Merry turned the knob and was surprised when the door opened. He had twisted the knob more as a reflexive action than for any other reason, knowing that Frodo typically locked his door. He and Frodo had both been up late the night before, and perhaps Frodo had been too tired to care.
The door swung open slowly, and Merry entered the room. Although Frodo wasn't there, nothing unusual met his gaze. The bed was unmade and the covers rumpled and cast aside, but that was normal. Frodo had a habit of not making his bed immediately in the morning. The weskit Frodo had worn the day before was dangling over the back of a chair.
Merry decided to go in search of Bilbo to ask him if he had seen Frodo yet that morning. Bilbo was usually the first and last person to see Frodo every day when he came to visit. Merry smiled when he thought of the ever - strengthening bond between the two. They just seemed to understand each other and the connection they shared went beyond merely having a surname in common. They seemed able to say more to each other with a single glance than they could with a hundred words.
Wandering the corridors of Brandy Hall, Merry could find neither Bilbo nor Frodo. The door of the library stood ajar, and Merry poked his head in for a look. He didn't see anything moving, but he stepped inside to make sure. Only silent books were there to greet him, waiting patiently to tell their tales to any who turned their pages.
Pausing briefly to pick up an old book from one of the tables, Merry thought about how much Frodo seemed to like this room with its many dusty old texts and mysterious maps. He had never developed a great affinity for it himself. The musty smell of all the old books and the unusual quiet of the place simply didn't suit him as it did his bookish cousin.
If he couldn't find Bilbo, Merry decided he would look for Frodo by himself. That might even be the best thing to do if Frodo had gone looking for a place to be alone for a while. There were few present at Brandy Hall who could break Frodo's solitude without receiving pained looks and monosyllables in response, and Merry was one of them.
As Merry stepped out into the sunny courtyard, one of the subjects of his search appeared in the form of Bilbo, smoking his pipe and looking off into the distance.
"Good morning, Meriadoc," Bilbo said with a cheerful grin as Merry approached him.
"Good morning, Uncle Bilbo," Merry answered. "Have you seen Frodo? He wasn't at breakfast and he's not in his room."
Bilbo frowned. "No, lad, I haven't seen him yet. I assumed he was with you. Have you looked in the library?"
"Yes. He wasn't there either." Merry drew a pattern in the dirt with his toe. He was starting to worry now. If Frodo weren't with Bilbo or himself, where would he be? Over the years he had grown to dislike the idea of Frodo wandering by himself with the likes of Bargo and Reginard about.
"Shall we check the hayloft together?" Bilbo suggested as if reading Merry's thoughts. Merry nodded and they walked side by side down the path toward the barn in the distance. Upon reaching it, they found the doors open and the cats preening or chasing each other playfully.
Merry made a beeline for the ladder and climbed it quickly. He was glad to see that it was standing in its proper place, propped against the edge of the hayloft. Motes of dust danced in the morning sunbeams and there were certainly no sleeping hobbits in the hay. "There isn't anyone here," Merry called down to Bilbo.
"Where else should we look, lad?" Bilbo inquired. Merry knew all the places Frodo tended to go when he was looking for privacy, all the favorite crevices and corners a young hobbit lad could tuck himself into.
"Let's try the river pool where I taught him to swim," Merry suggested. It was a little cool in the mornings for swimming lately, but the secluded spot was a good place to spend a quiet moment otherwise. "It's a nice place, and just as good for reading and being alone as it is for swimming." Bilbo nodded and they set off together in the direction of the pond.
~*~The Bree road, morning~*~
Warm. It felt good to be warm again as the morning sun stole over him. Frodo blinked and tried to clear the haze from his vision with only partial success. Two doses of the sleeping drug in one night had left him quite groggy, and he fervently hoped the men had run out of the dreadful potion. His eyes drooped shut again.
Someone nudged him and the indifferent shove brought him back to his surroundings. "Wake up, little one. It's time to move on." Dolan shook Frodo lightly. "First, something to eat and then back on the road." He removed the gag and helped Frodo to a sitting position against a tree trunk.
Frodo eyed the man warily, wondering whether any chance for escape would present itself. So far, neither of these Big Folk had truly harmed him, but that didn't keep him from feeling suddenly very small and very scared. He tugged at his bonds again, hoping against hope that they had somehow come loose in the night.
"That won't help you any," Dolan said, shaking his head. "The only way you're getting loose is if we allow it. We're still a couple of days out from Bree, and the journey will be easier for you if you cooperate," he suggested. "You're going whether you behave or not, halfling."
Frodo remained silent. He really didn't feel like having a conversation with either of these men. The only thing he wanted to hear them say was that they were taking him back where he belonged, and he doubted they would say anything of the sort. Then again, if he were to speak, perhaps they would realize that he was a person, rather than livestock to be sold at Market. What was it the man had called him? Halfling?
"My name is Frodo," he said softly, not looking at the tall figure standing over him.
"All right then, Frodo. You have a name and you want me to know it. Fair enough." The man gestured to his companion who was loading up the horses. "That's Fergus, and I'm Dolan. Not that it matters so much, as we're not going to spend enough time together to get to know each other very well."
Frodo gathered his courage and forged ahead. "Do you really mean to just sell me to some stranger regardless of his purpose and simply walk away?" He searched the man's expression for some hint of compassion, some twinge of guilt that he might use to his advantage. He found none. The eyes that gazed back at him held no pity or remorse.
"That's the idea," Dolan informed him. "I know what you're up to, and you might as well forget it," he said, his tone becoming colder. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm going to see what a helpless little thing you are and change my mind. We bought you intending to make a profit, and that's exactly what we're going to do with you."
So much for that idea, Frodo thought bitterly. When a local farmer's dog had a litter of puppies, they were given away to good homes, and their new owners carefully chosen. It seemed the same courtesy was going to be denied him by these soulless men.
Frodo was startled from his thoughts as Dolan began to unbind his hands. "Don't try anything foolish. I'm only doing this so you can eat and take care of any other necessary business before we leave," he explained. "I'll be watching the whole time, so any attempt to escape will be a waste of energy." He looked pointedly at Frodo. "Besides which, Fergus has a bit of a temper, so I advise you not to push him."
Dolan left Frodo's hands free, but tethered him to the tree by wrapping a length of rope around his midsection. He produced a plate with a sparse breakfast of some cooked meat and bread and a flask of water. Frodo ate in silence. It wasn't especially good fare, but it would help him keep his strength up.
After allowing Frodo to finish eating, Dolan released the rope that bound him to the tree and unbound his ankles. He pulled Frodo to his feet and marched him a short distance away from the camp into the forest to relieve himself, keeping a firm grip on the back of the hobbit's collar all the while.
When they arrived back at the campsite, Fergus had stowed most of the gear and the horses stood ready. Frodo began to feel his fear rising again as he realized they were about to take him even farther from home and all that he had ever known.
Home. Now there was a curious concept. Did he really have a home to be taken from? The idea of home brought to mind a space of one's own warmed by cherished memories and shared with one's closest loved ones. When Frodo thought of the Hall, the only things that came to mind were the crowded, cavernous dining room, and the courtyard where he couldn't even read in peace without being tripped over by someone.
Wherever he was, he always seemed to be in the way. No one said as much within his hearing, but he could see the irritated looks they gave him. Brandy Hall was Merry's home, but it would never truly be Frodo's. Even so, it was strange to be away from it, on this unfamiliar road that led to places he had never seen.
Frodo had always been curious about the world outside the Shire and had listened with eagerness to the stories of those few who had ventured past its safe, familiar borders. He had longed to see it for himself, but not like this.
Dolan was binding his hands again, and Frodo began to fight him, pulling away in dread and terror. "No! Can't you see what you're doing is wrong?" he cried as he twisted in Dolan's grasp.
Fergus stopped loading the horses and strode over to slap him squarely across the face. "Don't give us any of yer lip, little thing. The folk who'll be wantin' to buy ye from us won't care if ye 'ave some bruises on that pretty face o' yours." He leaned closer and his eyes narrowed. "Like as not, they'll put some marks on ye themselves," he said ominously.
The blow had indeed stilled the young hobbit momentarily, and a red mark showed against his pale skin where the man had struck him. Fergus' words chilled him thoroughly as he thought of all they could mean.
In the next moment, Frodo was lifted onto one of the horses, and Fergus was settling himself behind him. "Ye're kinda small fer one o' yer kind, ain't ye?" The man ruffled Frodo's hair condescendingly. "Ye ain't even all the way grown, I'll wager."
"Would it matter if I said I wasn't?" Frodo said quietly. He doubted that it would matter to the men that the one they held against his will was really a mere youth.
"I don't reckon ye'll be sayin' much of anythin' fer now," Fergus responded as he tied the gag back in place. "Just sit still an' we won't have to knock ye out again."
Not having much choice in the matter, Frodo complied. He wondered miserably if anyone had even noticed that he was gone. The only two who might have were Merry and Bilbo, and Frodo wanted nothing more than to see them again.
~*~Buckland, early afternoon~*~
Bilbo and Merry found the swimming pond as deserted as the barn had been. The elder hobbit's face was lined with worry as he gazed at the still water sparkling in the sunshine. It was now past luncheon and it would take most of another hour to walk back to the Hall. He made up his mind to talk to Sara if Frodo hadn't turned up on his own by the time they got back.
Visions of Frodo lying injured from some accident sprang to mind, and were followed by more chilling images as Bilbo recalled his conversation with Frodo the day before. Those older lads were up to no good, and it was plain that Frodo was their preferred target. If they were responsible for any harm to Frodo, he would see to it personally that they were punished severely.
Ever since finding Frodo in the hayloft a few years ago, bruised and despondent after an encounter with the two, Bilbo had been entertaining thoughts of taking the lad home with him to Hobbiton. Every time he would work himself up to the point of being ready to make the suggestion, doubt would conquer him and he would hold back. What did he know about being the guardian of a tween?
On the other hand, he seemed to have a better grasp of Frodo's state of mind than his current guardians. He could tell when Frodo was holding something in, and it seemed that more often than not these days that was the case. Tweens could certainly be moody, he reminded himself.
But Frodo wasn't just any tween, he mused. There was something about him, a spirit that set him apart from all of the others at the Hall. If Bilbo had ever had a son, he would have hoped that the lad would have that special something, that spark that endured all adversity to shine through in bursts of brilliant light.
Bilbo hadn't spoken his thoughts yet, but the idea of doing so weighed more heavily upon him with each visit he made to the Hall. The obvious loneliness and pain he had seen in Frodo's young face during their discussion in the library several years back had gone straight to his heart. If the events that he had heard about continued to be commonplace, he doubted that he could hold back much longer.
He and Merry exchanged anxious glances and walked in silence back up the path, toward the Hall and hopefully, an answer to the question of Frodo's whereabouts.
~*~The Bree Road~*~
"Fergus! Someone's coming!" Dolan sounded the alarm, hearing the sound of hoofbeats a distance behind them. "Let's get off the road. We can't be caught with a captive halfling in plain blasted sight!"
Frodo felt Fergus' arm tighten around his waist uncomfortably as the horse left the road and they plunged into the cover of the trees. He wondered how much noise he might be able to make through the gag. Would the other folk on the road be able to hear him?
The thought ended abruptly as Fergus threatened, "One peep an' I'll thump ye senseless!" Frodo hadn't forgotten the slap earlier and he didn't doubt the ruffian would keep his promise.
"Don't ye even move, I'm warnin' ye," Fergus hissed. The threat was completely unnecessary, as Frodo couldn't move against the man's grasp if he tried. Dolan rode up next to them, keeping his horse remarkably still as the other travelers rode past their hiding place.
"This could be a long trip if we have to keep ducking into the trees," Dolan observed. He addressed Frodo directly. "You had better be worth all this trouble," he said, looking directly into the diminutive prisoner's eyes. As those eyes began to swim with unshed tears, he looked away. This was business, nothing more. So what if the little thing was frightened?
When the road was well clear of the other travelers, the men urged their horses out of the trees and onward toward their destination. As the afternoon wore on, they met no one else. It wouldn't have mattered if they had, Frodo realized glumly. They would just hide him among the trees, away from the eyes of anyone who might be inclined to help him. They would keep him bound and gagged in silence, unable to call attention to his predicament.
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland~*~
Bilbo paused in the courtyard to rest and smoke his pipe, and Merry continued on his way into the Hall. Hunger and worry gnawed at him as he made his way to his father's study. He hoped his father was alone so they could talk privately for a few minutes.
Fortunately, the door to the Master's study was open and Saradoc was the only occupant of the room. He smiled when Merry entered, but the smile faded to a look of concern when he saw his son's expression. "Merry, what troubles you, lad?" he asked quietly.
"It's Frodo," Merry answered. "Uncle Bilbo and I have looked everywhere for him and we can't seem to find him."
Saradoc sighed. "He hasn't been about all day then?" Merry shook his head. "You know how he tends to wander off by himself, lad. Sometimes all the noise and bustle becomes a bit much for him, I suspect." He allowed the smile to return to his face. "I'm sure he'll turn up in time for supper. You cannot keep a tween from the table, after all."
Merry frowned. "What if he's fallen and got hurt? What if Bargo and Reginard have done something to him?" Merry spoke urgently, his voice betraying his growing concern. "We have to find him, Da."
"Now, Merry, there's no need to seek trouble where there's naught to be found," Saradoc said soothingly. "Frodo has not said a word about any trouble with Bargo and Reginard in a great while. I'm certain that Frodo has just slipped away on his own to find a little peace and quiet. You know he seems to need it from time to time, and we should allow him to seek it." He placed a hand on Merry's shoulder and guided him toward the door. "Give him a little more time yet, lad. He'll come home."
Merry wanted to believe his father's words, but Frodo had been gone all day! Merry couldn't shake the feeling that something just wasn't right, and his talk with his father had done nothing to ease his worry. "Don't you care if Frodo's gone?" he blurted tactlessly.
Saradoc was visibly taken aback. "Of course, I care! Meriadoc, what kind of a question is that?"
"I'm sorry, Da." Merry looked at his toes. "I'm just worried, that's all."
Saradoc's tone softened once again. "We all care about Frodo, lad. He's a youngster of a different sort, and a little hard to pin down. I'm sure you understand that even better than I." Merry did understand. Nobody at Brandy Hall knew Frodo as well as he did.
"I've just never seen him go off on his own for a whole day without a word to me or anyone else, Da," Merry explained. It pained him that Frodo would neglect to say something to him. Wasn't he Frodo's closest friend? Why wouldn't Frodo tell him where he was off to?
"Frodo's not a child anymore, Merry." Saradoc looked thoughtfully at his son. "In a few years, you'll be a tween too, and you'll be wanting more independence and personal space, just as Frodo is now."
He smiled, remembering what it was like to be a tween. It was a wonderful, but sometimes frustrating stage in a young hobbit's life when the desire to control one's own environment to some degree often met with resistance from elders who refused to see the maturity of the young one. He realized with a start that Merry was already showing signs of that frustration and a growing tendency toward independent thought and action. It couldn't be helped any more than seasons could be kept from changing. His lad was growing up.
"I suppose you're right about Frodo wanting his space," Merry conceded. "I just wish he had said something so I wouldn't worry."
"You're a good friend to Frodo and he's well aware of that fact," Saradoc told his son. "When he gets back, let him know you were worried. I'm sure he'll be contrite and promise never to do it again."
"He'd better," Merry said grumpily, and wandered away toward the dining hall.
~*~To Be Continued~*~