QTPie 2488 - That's the trouble with each chapter - they end! Merry stood
up to those two with true Brandybuck spirit, didn't he?
Krista - I'm sure Bilbo wouldn't mind if you lent him a hand in teaching Bargo and Reginard a little respect!
Aelfgifu - Glad you liked the conversation between Bilbo and Saradoc. A lot of things needed to be said!
Aratlithiel - I don't know whether Bargo and Reginard are worse than Dolan and Fergus. They're all in need of a smack upside the head, if you ask me!
Endymion - You described Saradoc very well when you said he seems to be someone with a lot of responsibilities to shoulder and no time to deal with things that aren't serious. Well, he's got something serious to deal with now, hasn't he?
TTTurtle - Yes, Frodo is old enough to understand what Fergus is insinuating. Whether he's kidding just to scare Frodo or not, it's doing the job.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Merry was most certainly fuming. No doubt about it!
Daisy Brambleburr - Reginard did deserve what he got, and a lot more besides. There are good people in Bree as well as bad ones, and we'll just have to hope Frodo meets some of the good ones!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 9 - Shelter From the Storm
~*~Bree Road, nightfall~*~
The second full day on the road had been nightmarish in Frodo's opinion. He had spent the entire previous night sitting upright, bound to the tree. His tattered nerves kept him awake for much of the time, his imagination running full bore as Fergus' words played through his head again and again. He didn't know which would be the worse fate - being sold like an inanimate object or becoming the 'personal property' of these two ruffians.
Sleep seemed a distant memory. The last true, restful slumber Frodo remembered had been rudely interrupted and ended with him bound and in the hands of these uncaring Big Folk. From the sound of things, it might be a long while before such a simple comfort as a good night's rest would be allowed him again.
"Oy, but this road's a poxy excuse," Fergus grumbled. It had been Dolan's turn to ride with Frodo in his care, and as the young hobbit was handed down into Fergus' hands, he was dismayed to find himself being squeezed a little tighter and a little longer than necessary.
Frodo fought the embrace instinctively, but it only tightened further. "Stop yer twitchin', lil' thing," Fergus ordered. "I've a feelin' ye better git used to cuddlin' up close like." Frodo tried to keep from trembling.
Dusk was approaching swiftly, and with it a change in the weather. The wind had picked up and carried a noticeably damp chill, and Frodo felt it keenly through the thin shirt he wore. Reginard and Bargo hadn't thought to include Frodo's cloak in the bargain.
"The road may be a sight worse by morning, Fergus," Dolan observed as he scanned the darkening sky. "We've got rain coming, I'll warrant. Let's get to work." The ritual of setting up camp began, but not before Frodo was made secure again. They mercifully allowed him to lie down this time, still bound hand and foot, and he dozed off and on as the men went about their business. The first drops of rain fell as the men got the fire burning.
Dolan was searching the bundles and packs the horses had been carrying. "Where's the tent, Fergus?" They had been in the habit of carrying a large piece of heavy, water - resistant fabric that could be stretched out over tree branches to act as a makeshift tent of sorts. It didn't appear to be among their gear at present.
"Use yer eyes an' ye might find it," Fergus quipped insolently.
"You packed the gear. You forgot it, didn't you?" Dolan shook his head in utter disgust. "I'm going to be loading the gear from now on, Fergus. That's the last time I let you forget the tent for remembering the ale." Fergus liked his pints well enough, and he had indulged in a few prior to stowing the gear for the trip, the result being the now glaring omission of the tent.
Frodo spoke before he could stop himself. "The trees."
"What's that, halfling?" Dolan asked, moving to kneel where Frodo lay.
"The trees can provide shelter," Frodo said as he shivered. "Fallen limbs, twigs and leaves. We used to build shelters as children, as a game." He only shared the information with them because he didn't want to spend the night in the rain. He didn't care if the men were worse off for exposure to the elements.
"So you know how to keep the rain off your back, do you?" Dolan had the grace to look surprised, perhaps even impressed. "You might prove useful yet, halfling."
He walked a few paces away to where their gear was piled, and Frodo's eyes widened as the man drew a sword from its scabbard. The hobbit swallowed hard as Dolan stood over him with the gleaming blade. "You're going to help us get some shelter up around us before that storm gets here."
Fergus drew a small, sharp knife from his boot and severed Frodo's bonds. "Yer workin' with me," he said as he pulled Frodo to his feet. Frodo felt the stirrings of hope within him. Were they going to allow him to remain unbound? His hopes were dashed when, a moment later, Fergus tied one end of a long rope around Frodo's wrists, binding them in front. The other end was made fast to the sturdy leather belt at the man's waist.
Dolan lead the way, his sword in hand, and Fergus followed with Frodo in tow. Once deep enough in the woods to start collecting the necessary materials, the work commenced with Fergus collecting longer branches and laying them across Frodo's outstretched arms. When he had loaded the little hobbit up with all he could carry, Fergus collected his own armful of branches. Dolan used his sword to hack sections of leafy underbrush away until he carried a large heap of them. Several trips in and out of the wood were made and the raw materials of a shelter were gathered in the camp.
Frodo gestured with his hands toward a couple of larger trees nearby. The trees had thick limbs stretching out low to the ground. "You use the longer branches to brace against the tree limbs." Frodo grasped a long, thick branch with both hands and wrestled it into place. A few minutes later, a makeshift wall of branches leaned at an angle against the tree limbs, creating an area that was somewhat sheltered from the wind.
With the help of the men, Frodo leaned more branches against the others at the opposite angle, creating a space under a peaked roof. The work was taking longer than it would have if they had allowed him his freedom. The shelter so far was long and narrow, but would fit all three of them well enough. They began to fill in the spaces with smaller branches, then arranged the leafy bush cuttings over all as further protection. Fergus and Dolan completed the part of the roof that was too high for Frodo to reach.
"If you throw a thick layer of leaves over all of it, you'll stay warm and dry despite the rain," Frodo instructed. When the shelter was completed, he sank down to sit on the ground beside it, too tired to move further. The irony of helping to see to the comfort of the men who offered him none was a bitter thing for him to bear.
The rain was beginning to fall in earnest now, and Frodo felt the droplets soaking through his shirt, chilling him. He shivered miserably and sneezed several times as Fergus unleashed him.
"We'd better get him inside before he gets sick," Dolan said. "We won't get a decent offer on him if he's obviously unwell." Again, the statement of the practical, with no concern shown for the actual suffering of the subject of the conversation. Frodo was too weary to struggle against the hands that dragged him into the shelter and bound his ankles. He lay shivering in the shelter without the benefit of a blanket to cover him.
After a while, he was joined by Dolan and Fergus, and allowed a ration of the simple meal they had prepared. The bedrolls were laid out on the ground and as Frodo hovered between sleep and waking, he felt fabric being laid over him.
"Goin' soft on 'im, are ye, Dolan?" Fergus teased. "Smitten by 'is sweet lil' face, then?"
"Shut it, Fergus," Dolan replied as he laid his cloak over Frodo's shivering body. "Like I said, he's no good to us if he catches his death out here."
Frodo didn't hear Fergus' gibe or Dolan's response. He was already asleep along the back wall of the shelter, curled up under Dolan's cloak. The rain poured down steadily, but the shelter held and they passed the night as comfortably as they were able.
~*~Bree Road, morning~*~
Frodo stood in two inches of cold mud as Dolan readied the horses for the last leg of the trip. He had been shaken from his slumber early, before the sun had risen. The men were tired of staying outside in the cold, damp weather, and had decided to leave early with the goal of arriving in Bree that night.
Frodo sneezed and slid in the mud, nearly falling but for Fergus' hands gripping his forearms. He winced as the fingers dug into his arms painfully.
"One more day of this, and then a warm, dry inn," Dolan sounded relieved as he spoke.
"A warm, dry inn an' a cold mug of ale," Fergus said with a grin. He gave Frodo a shake. "Wanna have an ale wi' me, halfling?"
"I'm not old enough to drink ale," Frodo mumbled. Even if that weren't true, he was sure he could find more pleasant drinking companions than his present company.
"Aww, that's too bad. Cute, but too bad," Fergus teased. "Yer not too young fer drinkin' ale, lil' thing," he said, catching Frodo's gaze briefly. "Yer not too young fer a lotta things."
Frodo caught his breath and held back tears with difficulty. If his prospective buyers were anything like Fergus, his future was to be miserable indeed. Best not to think about that, he decided. Besides, his head hurt. He sneezed again.
Fergus lifted him up onto the horse and mounted, pulling Frodo tight against his chest. The men spurred the horses forward into the pre - dawn mist, making for their destination at a brisk pace, considering the condition of the road.
Frodo tried to imagine the village of Bree. He'd heard there were other hobbits there, but would he see any of them? Would there be any chance that they would try to help him, or would he find they cared little for the plights of others? The men had mentioned an inn. What of the innkeeper? Frodo was hoping to attract the attention of someone, anyone who might intervene on his behalf. He held to the hope that someone out there would care what happened to him.
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, morning~*~
Merry kicked angrily at a clump of grass along the path. It was all so wrong! How could Frodo just disappear without a trace? It didn't make sense. If Frodo had been so despondent that he wanted to run away, Merry thought he should have seen it coming, maybe recognized a sign of some kind.
And everyone else was just as bad, if not worse. If everyone hadn't made Frodo feel so lost and alone all the time, he would probably still be there and all would be well. It irked Merry that he hadn't even been able to get his own father to take Frodo's absence seriously at first. Oh, everyone took it seriously now, since enough time had passed to make it obvious that something was amiss.
Merry's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices nearby. He scowled and prepared to make a detour, not wanting to see or talk to anyone in his present mood. As he stepped off the path and into the trees, the voices became clearer.
"You're full of it, Bargo," a voice rose in challenge. "You couldn't have pulled that off nohow."
"You're wrong, Paddy. Look here." There was silence for a moment.
"Where'd you get a gold coin, you weasel? You don't make any more than any other apprentice 'round here," Paddy observed.
"I don't have just one, either. I've got ten, and so does Reg," Bargo crowed proudly. "I told you, we got 'em from the Big Folk down at the river."
"You really expect me to believe that you got them to pay you twenty gold pieces for takin' Baggins off your hands?"
Merry's eyes grew large and he listened intently, concealing himself behind a sturdy oak tree. Just what was he hearing? An image began to form in his mind as he listened. He imagined Frodo taken against his will to the ferry, and Reginard and Bargo walking away with coins jingling in their pockets. Rage began to build as he waited for his worst fears to be confirmed.
"They gave us twenty gold coins for him, or I'm your sister," Bargo said, sounding immensely pleased with himself. "He's probably almost to Bree right now with his new friends."
Bree! Merry's heart was beating frantically. The men had taken Frodo to Bree, and for what purpose? Merry was sure it couldn't be good. Something had to be done, and now! Trying to move silently, Merry hurried away toward the Hall to tell his father and Bilbo what he'd heard. They had to go to Bree and bring Frodo back!
Once out of sight of Paddy and Bargo, he broke into a run and didn't stop until he reached his father's study. Saradoc and Bilbo were both inside, and having a very serious discussion from the look of things. This was more serious than anything else, Merry decided, and he burst through the door, out of breath and pouring out his story in a rush.
"They sold him! They gave him to the Big Folk at the river and he's gone to Bree, and - " "Meriadoc Brandybuck, what's gotten into you?" Saradoc asked incredulously. "Bilbo and I were having a conversation, and I expect you to explain your interruption." He regarded his son sternly.
"Slow down there, Merry lad," Bilbo said, guiding Merry to a chair. "Now what are you on about?"
"They sold Frodo to the Big Folk, Uncle Bilbo! He's gone!" Merry's voice trembled slightly as he continued. "Bargo and Reginard got twenty gold coins from the men and they took Frodo to Bree. I heard Bargo say so."
Bilbo's face went white and he stared mutely at Merry. Saradoc recovered first and regarded his son with disbelief. "Merry, that is absurd. Bargo is just telling tall tales as usual. There is no possible way that he and Reginard could have sold Frodo!"
Bilbo wasn't so sure it was impossible. He had heard and seen things that were more absurd by far in his travels, and after the looks he had seen in the eyes of those two miscreants the evening before, he didn't doubt that they could get up to more than just simple garden - variety tween mischief. "Did you hear anything else, lad?" He said breathlessly.
"No, Uncle. Nothing important." Merry's gaze met his father's. "You've got to go to Bree and bring him back, Da. You've got to save him!" Merry sounded as desperate as was possible for a lad his age.
"Merry, I think you should have some tea and calm yourself. I will talk to Bargo and Reginard myself, but I am not mounting an expedition to Bree on the strength of a wild rumor." Merry looked as if he was going to protest, and Saradoc gave him a stern look. "See to it now, and let's have no more talk of this until we have more information."
He shooed the protesting lad out the door and closed it, shaking his head. "What young lads won't dream up - " he stopped, seeing that Bilbo wasn't listening. "Bilbo?"
Bilbo was staring ahead, unmoving, with a grim look on his face. If Saradoc had been looking at anything besides the old hobbit's expression, he would have seen that Bilbo's hands were shaking ever so slightly. Suddenly, Bilbo turned and strode purposefully toward the door of the study.
"Bilbo, where are you going?" Saradoc asked, fearing he already knew the answer.
"I'm going to Bree, Sara," Bilbo said, his voice cold as the Fell Winter. "I'm going to Bree, and when I find Frodo, I'm taking with me back to Bag End." He didn't wait for a reply, but walked down the hall in a cloud of barely restrained fury.
A moment after Bilbo had passed, another door opened slowly, and a curly blonde head popped out. Merry looked up and down the corridor, and was relieved that his father hadn't emerged from the study to see him there. He stepped into the hallway and turned, running to follow Bilbo.
Bilbo was going to Bree to rescue Frodo! "I'm coming with you, Uncle," Merry whispered to the silent hallway. He hadn't yet thought of how he'd manage it, but Merry was determined to be there for Frodo. He'd show his father what was just a wild rumor and what was the truth!
~*~To be continued~*~
Krista - I'm sure Bilbo wouldn't mind if you lent him a hand in teaching Bargo and Reginard a little respect!
Aelfgifu - Glad you liked the conversation between Bilbo and Saradoc. A lot of things needed to be said!
Aratlithiel - I don't know whether Bargo and Reginard are worse than Dolan and Fergus. They're all in need of a smack upside the head, if you ask me!
Endymion - You described Saradoc very well when you said he seems to be someone with a lot of responsibilities to shoulder and no time to deal with things that aren't serious. Well, he's got something serious to deal with now, hasn't he?
TTTurtle - Yes, Frodo is old enough to understand what Fergus is insinuating. Whether he's kidding just to scare Frodo or not, it's doing the job.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Merry was most certainly fuming. No doubt about it!
Daisy Brambleburr - Reginard did deserve what he got, and a lot more besides. There are good people in Bree as well as bad ones, and we'll just have to hope Frodo meets some of the good ones!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 9 - Shelter From the Storm
~*~Bree Road, nightfall~*~
The second full day on the road had been nightmarish in Frodo's opinion. He had spent the entire previous night sitting upright, bound to the tree. His tattered nerves kept him awake for much of the time, his imagination running full bore as Fergus' words played through his head again and again. He didn't know which would be the worse fate - being sold like an inanimate object or becoming the 'personal property' of these two ruffians.
Sleep seemed a distant memory. The last true, restful slumber Frodo remembered had been rudely interrupted and ended with him bound and in the hands of these uncaring Big Folk. From the sound of things, it might be a long while before such a simple comfort as a good night's rest would be allowed him again.
"Oy, but this road's a poxy excuse," Fergus grumbled. It had been Dolan's turn to ride with Frodo in his care, and as the young hobbit was handed down into Fergus' hands, he was dismayed to find himself being squeezed a little tighter and a little longer than necessary.
Frodo fought the embrace instinctively, but it only tightened further. "Stop yer twitchin', lil' thing," Fergus ordered. "I've a feelin' ye better git used to cuddlin' up close like." Frodo tried to keep from trembling.
Dusk was approaching swiftly, and with it a change in the weather. The wind had picked up and carried a noticeably damp chill, and Frodo felt it keenly through the thin shirt he wore. Reginard and Bargo hadn't thought to include Frodo's cloak in the bargain.
"The road may be a sight worse by morning, Fergus," Dolan observed as he scanned the darkening sky. "We've got rain coming, I'll warrant. Let's get to work." The ritual of setting up camp began, but not before Frodo was made secure again. They mercifully allowed him to lie down this time, still bound hand and foot, and he dozed off and on as the men went about their business. The first drops of rain fell as the men got the fire burning.
Dolan was searching the bundles and packs the horses had been carrying. "Where's the tent, Fergus?" They had been in the habit of carrying a large piece of heavy, water - resistant fabric that could be stretched out over tree branches to act as a makeshift tent of sorts. It didn't appear to be among their gear at present.
"Use yer eyes an' ye might find it," Fergus quipped insolently.
"You packed the gear. You forgot it, didn't you?" Dolan shook his head in utter disgust. "I'm going to be loading the gear from now on, Fergus. That's the last time I let you forget the tent for remembering the ale." Fergus liked his pints well enough, and he had indulged in a few prior to stowing the gear for the trip, the result being the now glaring omission of the tent.
Frodo spoke before he could stop himself. "The trees."
"What's that, halfling?" Dolan asked, moving to kneel where Frodo lay.
"The trees can provide shelter," Frodo said as he shivered. "Fallen limbs, twigs and leaves. We used to build shelters as children, as a game." He only shared the information with them because he didn't want to spend the night in the rain. He didn't care if the men were worse off for exposure to the elements.
"So you know how to keep the rain off your back, do you?" Dolan had the grace to look surprised, perhaps even impressed. "You might prove useful yet, halfling."
He walked a few paces away to where their gear was piled, and Frodo's eyes widened as the man drew a sword from its scabbard. The hobbit swallowed hard as Dolan stood over him with the gleaming blade. "You're going to help us get some shelter up around us before that storm gets here."
Fergus drew a small, sharp knife from his boot and severed Frodo's bonds. "Yer workin' with me," he said as he pulled Frodo to his feet. Frodo felt the stirrings of hope within him. Were they going to allow him to remain unbound? His hopes were dashed when, a moment later, Fergus tied one end of a long rope around Frodo's wrists, binding them in front. The other end was made fast to the sturdy leather belt at the man's waist.
Dolan lead the way, his sword in hand, and Fergus followed with Frodo in tow. Once deep enough in the woods to start collecting the necessary materials, the work commenced with Fergus collecting longer branches and laying them across Frodo's outstretched arms. When he had loaded the little hobbit up with all he could carry, Fergus collected his own armful of branches. Dolan used his sword to hack sections of leafy underbrush away until he carried a large heap of them. Several trips in and out of the wood were made and the raw materials of a shelter were gathered in the camp.
Frodo gestured with his hands toward a couple of larger trees nearby. The trees had thick limbs stretching out low to the ground. "You use the longer branches to brace against the tree limbs." Frodo grasped a long, thick branch with both hands and wrestled it into place. A few minutes later, a makeshift wall of branches leaned at an angle against the tree limbs, creating an area that was somewhat sheltered from the wind.
With the help of the men, Frodo leaned more branches against the others at the opposite angle, creating a space under a peaked roof. The work was taking longer than it would have if they had allowed him his freedom. The shelter so far was long and narrow, but would fit all three of them well enough. They began to fill in the spaces with smaller branches, then arranged the leafy bush cuttings over all as further protection. Fergus and Dolan completed the part of the roof that was too high for Frodo to reach.
"If you throw a thick layer of leaves over all of it, you'll stay warm and dry despite the rain," Frodo instructed. When the shelter was completed, he sank down to sit on the ground beside it, too tired to move further. The irony of helping to see to the comfort of the men who offered him none was a bitter thing for him to bear.
The rain was beginning to fall in earnest now, and Frodo felt the droplets soaking through his shirt, chilling him. He shivered miserably and sneezed several times as Fergus unleashed him.
"We'd better get him inside before he gets sick," Dolan said. "We won't get a decent offer on him if he's obviously unwell." Again, the statement of the practical, with no concern shown for the actual suffering of the subject of the conversation. Frodo was too weary to struggle against the hands that dragged him into the shelter and bound his ankles. He lay shivering in the shelter without the benefit of a blanket to cover him.
After a while, he was joined by Dolan and Fergus, and allowed a ration of the simple meal they had prepared. The bedrolls were laid out on the ground and as Frodo hovered between sleep and waking, he felt fabric being laid over him.
"Goin' soft on 'im, are ye, Dolan?" Fergus teased. "Smitten by 'is sweet lil' face, then?"
"Shut it, Fergus," Dolan replied as he laid his cloak over Frodo's shivering body. "Like I said, he's no good to us if he catches his death out here."
Frodo didn't hear Fergus' gibe or Dolan's response. He was already asleep along the back wall of the shelter, curled up under Dolan's cloak. The rain poured down steadily, but the shelter held and they passed the night as comfortably as they were able.
~*~Bree Road, morning~*~
Frodo stood in two inches of cold mud as Dolan readied the horses for the last leg of the trip. He had been shaken from his slumber early, before the sun had risen. The men were tired of staying outside in the cold, damp weather, and had decided to leave early with the goal of arriving in Bree that night.
Frodo sneezed and slid in the mud, nearly falling but for Fergus' hands gripping his forearms. He winced as the fingers dug into his arms painfully.
"One more day of this, and then a warm, dry inn," Dolan sounded relieved as he spoke.
"A warm, dry inn an' a cold mug of ale," Fergus said with a grin. He gave Frodo a shake. "Wanna have an ale wi' me, halfling?"
"I'm not old enough to drink ale," Frodo mumbled. Even if that weren't true, he was sure he could find more pleasant drinking companions than his present company.
"Aww, that's too bad. Cute, but too bad," Fergus teased. "Yer not too young fer drinkin' ale, lil' thing," he said, catching Frodo's gaze briefly. "Yer not too young fer a lotta things."
Frodo caught his breath and held back tears with difficulty. If his prospective buyers were anything like Fergus, his future was to be miserable indeed. Best not to think about that, he decided. Besides, his head hurt. He sneezed again.
Fergus lifted him up onto the horse and mounted, pulling Frodo tight against his chest. The men spurred the horses forward into the pre - dawn mist, making for their destination at a brisk pace, considering the condition of the road.
Frodo tried to imagine the village of Bree. He'd heard there were other hobbits there, but would he see any of them? Would there be any chance that they would try to help him, or would he find they cared little for the plights of others? The men had mentioned an inn. What of the innkeeper? Frodo was hoping to attract the attention of someone, anyone who might intervene on his behalf. He held to the hope that someone out there would care what happened to him.
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, morning~*~
Merry kicked angrily at a clump of grass along the path. It was all so wrong! How could Frodo just disappear without a trace? It didn't make sense. If Frodo had been so despondent that he wanted to run away, Merry thought he should have seen it coming, maybe recognized a sign of some kind.
And everyone else was just as bad, if not worse. If everyone hadn't made Frodo feel so lost and alone all the time, he would probably still be there and all would be well. It irked Merry that he hadn't even been able to get his own father to take Frodo's absence seriously at first. Oh, everyone took it seriously now, since enough time had passed to make it obvious that something was amiss.
Merry's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices nearby. He scowled and prepared to make a detour, not wanting to see or talk to anyone in his present mood. As he stepped off the path and into the trees, the voices became clearer.
"You're full of it, Bargo," a voice rose in challenge. "You couldn't have pulled that off nohow."
"You're wrong, Paddy. Look here." There was silence for a moment.
"Where'd you get a gold coin, you weasel? You don't make any more than any other apprentice 'round here," Paddy observed.
"I don't have just one, either. I've got ten, and so does Reg," Bargo crowed proudly. "I told you, we got 'em from the Big Folk down at the river."
"You really expect me to believe that you got them to pay you twenty gold pieces for takin' Baggins off your hands?"
Merry's eyes grew large and he listened intently, concealing himself behind a sturdy oak tree. Just what was he hearing? An image began to form in his mind as he listened. He imagined Frodo taken against his will to the ferry, and Reginard and Bargo walking away with coins jingling in their pockets. Rage began to build as he waited for his worst fears to be confirmed.
"They gave us twenty gold coins for him, or I'm your sister," Bargo said, sounding immensely pleased with himself. "He's probably almost to Bree right now with his new friends."
Bree! Merry's heart was beating frantically. The men had taken Frodo to Bree, and for what purpose? Merry was sure it couldn't be good. Something had to be done, and now! Trying to move silently, Merry hurried away toward the Hall to tell his father and Bilbo what he'd heard. They had to go to Bree and bring Frodo back!
Once out of sight of Paddy and Bargo, he broke into a run and didn't stop until he reached his father's study. Saradoc and Bilbo were both inside, and having a very serious discussion from the look of things. This was more serious than anything else, Merry decided, and he burst through the door, out of breath and pouring out his story in a rush.
"They sold him! They gave him to the Big Folk at the river and he's gone to Bree, and - " "Meriadoc Brandybuck, what's gotten into you?" Saradoc asked incredulously. "Bilbo and I were having a conversation, and I expect you to explain your interruption." He regarded his son sternly.
"Slow down there, Merry lad," Bilbo said, guiding Merry to a chair. "Now what are you on about?"
"They sold Frodo to the Big Folk, Uncle Bilbo! He's gone!" Merry's voice trembled slightly as he continued. "Bargo and Reginard got twenty gold coins from the men and they took Frodo to Bree. I heard Bargo say so."
Bilbo's face went white and he stared mutely at Merry. Saradoc recovered first and regarded his son with disbelief. "Merry, that is absurd. Bargo is just telling tall tales as usual. There is no possible way that he and Reginard could have sold Frodo!"
Bilbo wasn't so sure it was impossible. He had heard and seen things that were more absurd by far in his travels, and after the looks he had seen in the eyes of those two miscreants the evening before, he didn't doubt that they could get up to more than just simple garden - variety tween mischief. "Did you hear anything else, lad?" He said breathlessly.
"No, Uncle. Nothing important." Merry's gaze met his father's. "You've got to go to Bree and bring him back, Da. You've got to save him!" Merry sounded as desperate as was possible for a lad his age.
"Merry, I think you should have some tea and calm yourself. I will talk to Bargo and Reginard myself, but I am not mounting an expedition to Bree on the strength of a wild rumor." Merry looked as if he was going to protest, and Saradoc gave him a stern look. "See to it now, and let's have no more talk of this until we have more information."
He shooed the protesting lad out the door and closed it, shaking his head. "What young lads won't dream up - " he stopped, seeing that Bilbo wasn't listening. "Bilbo?"
Bilbo was staring ahead, unmoving, with a grim look on his face. If Saradoc had been looking at anything besides the old hobbit's expression, he would have seen that Bilbo's hands were shaking ever so slightly. Suddenly, Bilbo turned and strode purposefully toward the door of the study.
"Bilbo, where are you going?" Saradoc asked, fearing he already knew the answer.
"I'm going to Bree, Sara," Bilbo said, his voice cold as the Fell Winter. "I'm going to Bree, and when I find Frodo, I'm taking with me back to Bag End." He didn't wait for a reply, but walked down the hall in a cloud of barely restrained fury.
A moment after Bilbo had passed, another door opened slowly, and a curly blonde head popped out. Merry looked up and down the corridor, and was relieved that his father hadn't emerged from the study to see him there. He stepped into the hallway and turned, running to follow Bilbo.
Bilbo was going to Bree to rescue Frodo! "I'm coming with you, Uncle," Merry whispered to the silent hallway. He hadn't yet thought of how he'd manage it, but Merry was determined to be there for Frodo. He'd show his father what was just a wild rumor and what was the truth!
~*~To be continued~*~