Bookworm2000 - With people like you pulling for him, Aiden has got to be
all right! Yes, Dolan could have an opportunity to redeem himself to some
degree if he does rat on Fergus.
Distortion - That was a tough chapter. Certainly a bumpy ride for both Frodo and Aiden!
Krista - You'll learn more of Aiden's fate in this chapter. I don't mind if you show up late with a review. You always show up, and that's the awesome part.
Eiluj - Thank you for the answer to Camellia's question! I believe you're absolutely right about PJ's Bree and why it's so dark and so hobbitless. It really drives home the fact that the rest of Middle Earth is not the comfortable, safe place the Shire is. Comparing it to the Cantina scene in Star Wars was a great parallel.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Eiluj found your other Gavin. He's in Tathar's story "Always a Silver Lining", and it sounds like he's a lot nicer fella than mine!
Curious Cat - Frodo has indeed gone from the skillet into the fire. Hope for Dolan? There may be some yet. At least he's not hanging out with that wastrel Fergus anymore! Merry is facing a lot of changes in his life here. Not only is he growing up, he is having to face being separated from his longtime friend. These are things most of us have gone through too. I agree that the time lapse between chapters can be critical in keeping the tension going, and that's the number one reason for my daily posts.
Iorhael - We'll see what happens to Aiden in this chapter, and it won't be long before you'll find out who is playing what role in saving Frodo.
TTTurtle - I've wondered if the site has been a little off. Did it eat your first review of the last chapter? As I write this it still shows 14 chapters instead of 15, but as you discovered, 15 is there! There are certainly several possibilities regarding what could happen to Frodo now. Read on!
Tavion - Oh, I know that was a nasty cliffhanger! My deepest apologies to Frodo for what I'm putting him through. He is definitely in a lot of danger. As for Aiden, your question regarding his continued existence is answered in this chapter.
Ilmare - Yep. We got plot twists! This chapter is a busy one. Your questions about Aiden will be answered, we'll spend some time with Frodo, and you'll find out a little more about what Dolan is up to.
Endymion - How true! These ruffians are not, as you said, 'in danger of brain damage from strokes of genius'! They've taken some fool chances, haven't they? Imagine taking for granted that a single - though vicious - blow to the head was enough to finish their opponent! Was it? I'll tell you soon. And hanging around in Bree playing 'tame the halfling' doesn't seem that brilliant of them. They are definitely overconfident regarding a lot of things, including how determined certain people are to keep Frodo from them. Who would search the whole town and risk deadly confrontation to save one little halfling anyway? Lots of people, it seems! Dolan was the brains of the outfit, and without him, they're just idiots!
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Chapter 16 - Allies
~*~The Inn of the Prancing Pony, late night~*~
Three tired hobbits stood wearily at the desk waiting for the innkeeper. They had continued walking even after darkness fell, so close were they to their destination. The pony had been settled in the stables, and much needed rest beckoned to the trio as they stood in the foyer.
"Late arrivals, and hobbits, no less!" Butterbur said with his eyebrows raised. His memory prodded him. Something about hobbits. What was it? Oh well. It would come to him later. "Welcome, Masters. How may I serve this evening?"
"Accommodations for three, if you please," Bilbo said, casting his gaze about the room. A scattering of people remained in the common room at the late hour, but he saw no other hobbits.
"Right this way," Butterbur said as he grabbed a key from behind the desk. "You've the look of a few days' journey about you," he noted conversationally. "Where have you traveled from?"
"From Buckland," Saradoc replied wearily. He was past being interested in conversation right now, tired as he was. The innkeeper was certainly a sprightly fellow, however, and continued nattering to himself as they made their way to the room.
"From the Shire then," Butterbur muttered. Again something nagged at him. Something about hobbits from the Shire -
They reached the door of the room and, bidding the dithering innkeeper good night, the hobbits trudged in and allowed their packs to drop to the floor with heavy thumps. The room was comfortable enough, with a little hearth and three beds that looked very inviting after three nights of sleeping on bare ground.
Merry was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, and the two older hobbits were in a similar condition. As the remaining hours of the night passed, they rested in an exhausted slumber, intent upon restoring their strength for the search that was to begin with the arrival of the daylight.
~*~Somewhere in Bree, early morning~*~
Frodo awakened to feel bare earth beneath his aching body, bits of dirt clinging to his cheek and hair. He tried to shake them away and realized his mistake a moment too late, as the motion set off an agonizing throbbing in his head and a wave of profound dizziness.
Awareness returned slowly, and memory with it in bits and pieces. There had been voices, harsh and threatening, and someone attacking him from behind. His eyes began to sting with tears as he remembered the sight of Aiden falling limply to the floor after being struck by the sword hilt.
~Eru, they killed him!~ Frodo thought miserably. Aiden had been so kind to him. What a cruel reward for such goodness! ~I have brought him only trouble and expense, and now death.~ The thoughts raced, unchecked through Frodo's mind as he lay in the darkness of the cellar. Would they kill him too? A part of him hoped they would, as it would end his own pain and keep him from bringing any more pain to others.
They had blindfolded him before taking him from Aiden's home, he remembered. The blindfold was gone now, unnecessary in the all - consuming darkness of the cellar. It had been unnecessary altogether, he realized. He remembered being held down and kicking desperately at his assailants. He had not succeeded in doing any damage to them, but had only angered them instead. He remembered a harsh blow landing, then nothing. Had he been unconscious since then?
He tried to sit up, but he was weak and dizzy, and all but completely immobilized. He had been bound with a cruel thoroughness, rough ropes wound around his ankles, knees, wrists and upper arms. The gag was dry in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to spit it out and scream until his lungs burst with the effort.
He heard a heavy thunk as the cross - beam that held the cellar doors closed was removed and dropped to the ground outside. The doors creaked open and light flooded the tiny underground space, blinding him momentarily. He could make out two dark shapes against the bright morning sunlight, advancing inexorably toward him.
Frodo's pained cry was stifled by the gag as one of the men grabbed him and forced him to a sitting position. In the next instant, the gag was gone and water was being poured down his throat. Unprepared, he coughed and sputtered, but managed to swallow some of the liquid.
A hand gripped his chin, forcing his head upward, and cold eyes gazed down into his, measuring. "He's dazed, but I don't think he's bad hurt," Gavin said as Fergus moved to stand behind him. "It was a shame to bruise that pretty little face of yours, halfling, but you should have kept still." Gavin leaned in closer and threatened, "You'll do as you're told from now on, mark me."
Frodo turned his head sharply, breaking his captor's grip. He fought down the impulse to sob like a child. He wasn't a child anymore, he knew, and he must bear this bravely, if only to honor the memory of his friend.
The hand was back, in his hair this time, pulling painfully. "You lookit me when I'm talkin' to you, boy!" This time a small cry escaped him as he was made to look into those hard dark eyes again. "I'm the boss here, and if you forget I'll remind you."
Frodo didn't want to imagine what such a reminder would consist of, but at this point he thought he had a pretty good idea. "P - please! Let go. You're hurting me!" Frodo's plea seemed to please Gavin on some level, and he released the hobbit roughly. Frodo fell back limply against the dirt floor, breathing hard. He gathered his courage and looked up at Gavin and said one word - "Why?"
"You belong to me. You should have been mine to begin with, but that smart - mouthed friend of yours had to get involved." Gavin stood over Frodo and glowered down at him. "Got what he deserved for not mindin' his own affairs!"
"You killed him," Frodo accused, his voice a small, anguished whisper.
"Maybe so, halfling. Would serve him right for interfering," Gavin said coldly. "Don't matter if he's alive or dead, 'cause you won't see him again."
Those words cut Frodo more deeply than any blade could have. He closed his eyes against the sight of the man who claimed ownership of him, recalling the words Aiden had spoken to him. 'You are neither possession nor prisoner, Frodo.' But he was, wasn't he? He was both now, alone save the monster leering at him, and empty inside but for his fear and deep sense of loss.
The man tied the gag back in place and turned to go, his companion following in silence for once. "Got a few things to do before we leave town, halfling. You'll stay here until you're ready to cooperate."
Leave town? They were going to take him away and he would certainly never see Bilbo or Merry again if that happened! He tried to scream, but the muffled sound that emerged was lost in the noise of the cellar doors groaning shut. The light was gone.
The man was right about one thing, Frodo thought dimly. Aiden should have stayed away from him. He should not have tried to help, for his efforts had come to naught in the end. Frodo lay in the dark with that thought gnawing at him, until he surrendered to a fitful sleep.
~*~Aiden's home, Bree, the same morning~*~
Blood. When Aiden gingerly touched his scalp at the back of his head, his hand came away crimson with a grim reminder of his failure. Frodo was gone. They had taken him, and Aiden had failed to protect him. Guilt washed over him despite the knowledge that the assailants had been armed.
He rose to his feet slowly, dimly aware that the sun had risen. It was likely too late already, but Aiden felt he had to try to find the little hobbit who had come into his care. He leaned against the wall for support, his hand brushing the fabric of the cloak he had given to Frodo.
Suddenly fury blazed within him and he slammed a fist against the wall in utter frustration. They would hurt that youngster, he was certain. They would torment him until he submitted to their will and gave up his spirit to the horrors of his enslavement. They would wring from him the last of his will, and break his gentle young soul.
He forced himself away from the wall and into his room. Dipping a cloth into the water in the basin, he pressed it against his head to stop the bleeding. He noted gladly that he was not badly wounded. The cut on his neck was minor, and his head stopped bleeding quickly. He winced as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.
Grabbing his cloak, he stepped out the door and walked as briskly as he was able toward the Inn of the Prancing Pony. He must see Butterbur and ask him if he had seen Frodo or the men.
As he neared the inn, movement down a side street caught his eye. A dark - haired man stood leaning casually against the side of the building, smoking a pipe. Aiden's heart leapt as he recognized the man. He was none other than one of the men who had sold Frodo to him! And the man was looking at him now, regarding him with interest.
Aiden crossed the street and walked straight toward Dolan, letting his eyes bore into Dolan's coldly. He ignored his massive headache and dizziness and closed the distance between them quickly, anger bringing new strength and purpose to his steps.
"YOU!" he shouted at Dolan, grabbing him and slamming him back against the wall. "Where is he? What have you done with him?" Aiden barely recognized his own voice as he growled in Dolan's face.
"Easy, friend," Dolan said, maintaining remarkable composure given his position. "If you speak of the halfling, I have had nothing to do with him since I accepted your offer."
"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Aiden spat angrily. "That friend of yours was there, and that man you were about to sell the little one to. They've taken him. Tell me where if you want to walk away from this conversation unmarked."
"Supposing that I even have the slightest bit of knowledge of where the halfling is. Why should I tell you?" Dolan favored him with a sly smile. "What's in it for me?"
"Damn you!" Aiden snarled at him. "The lad's life is in danger and you can think of nothing but lining your purse with gold at his expense!"
"No, more likely at your expense, I believe." Dolan kept smiling. "Would it not be worth, say, twenty gold pieces to know where they've taken him?"
"I'll give you nothing. I should haul you before the constabulary this instant for your part in this," Aiden told him coldly.
"And what of your part, my righteous friend?" Dolan reminded him icily. "You are as guilty, on the surface at least, of criminal activity as I. You laid down coin to purchase that halfling, or do you forget so easily? Such activities are frowned upon by the authorities here, unless I miss my guess."
The scoundrel had a point. By purchasing Frodo, regardless of his motive for doing so, Aiden had been party to a punishable activity. The two men stood eye to eye, having reached a tense impasse.
"If you turn me in, my good man, I shall certainly take you down with me," Dolan said flatly. "If you would like my assistance in finding the little one, my assistance is offered at a fair price."
"And why are you so eager to thwart the efforts of your friends? Will you not turn against me as well, the moment there is gold in your greedy hands?" If Aiden's accusing tone had any effect upon Dolan, the effect was hidden masterfully.
"Fergus is an idiot, plainly said," Dolan answered. "As for the other, I know him not, nor do I especially care to."
"You were eager enough to work with Fergus when you took that poor lad from his home," Aiden observed. "Yet you want no part of this latest venture of his?"
"Indeed, I do not," Dolan said evenly. "I am a practical man. The original sale of the halfling to you was merely a one - time opportunity that fell upon us without our seeking it. I am a traveling trader by profession, not a procurer of slaves or the like. To continue with such activities is more trouble than it's worth."
"So you admit that what you did was despicable, selling Frodo as little more than a slave?" What little satisfaction Aiden derived from asking the question was denied him in the answer.
"Such an unpleasant term, but very well. Call it what you will. I sold a slave and you bought one, my good man." Dolan's eyes narrowed unpleasantly. "You own him."
The words slammed into him almost physically and Aiden choked out his reply through clenched teeth. "I do not own him. I would not! His freedom has been his own since the moment I took him from you."
Dolan faked a yawn mockingly. "This conversation is getting boring, friend. Do you want my help or not?"
"Fifteen gold pieces," Aiden said, his eyes locked with Dolan's.
Dolan didn't flinch. "Twenty. Ten now, and the rest when you get your halfling back."
"He's not my - " Aiden broke off the sentence, and released his hold on Dolan's coat. Loathsome as it was to accept the help of such an individual, he reluctantly conceded that it was his best chance of saving Frodo.
Aiden stepped back, breathing deeply and unclenching his fists with an effort as Dolan brushed himself off. "Very well. I shall meet you here tonight to discuss the arrangements. You will receive the first part of the payment at that time."
"I'm looking forward to it," Dolan replied as he turned and walked slowly away with unwavering confidence and infuriating bravado.
Aiden stood alone, lost in thought for a moment. His original errand came back to mind and he continued on to the inn. Butterbur met him at the front, enthusiastic as always.
"Master Aiden! Been some days since I've seen you here, it has." He grinned lopsidedly.
"Indeed it has, Butterbur," Aiden replied quietly. "Do you remember what I said the last time we spoke? Have you encountered any more hobbits from the Shire?"
A strange look crossed the innkeeper's face. Confusion morphed into recognition as he recalled the bit of information that had eluded him the previous night. Master Aiden had indeed asked him to send word if any hobbits from the Shire came through.
"Why, just last night I received a trio who said they'd come from Buckland," Butterbur said, scratching his head. He was so lost in thought he failed to see the look of utter exasperation that crossed Aiden's face at his words. "Young lad, curly blonde hair, and two older gents. One was nigh on old age, if I may be so forward."
"Butterbur, I told you to send them to me!" He shook his head slightly. "No matter, friend. Where are they? It is important that I speak with them immediately."
"They've a room on the ground floor." Butterbur motioned for Aiden to follow him. "Like the lower floors, hobbits do," he droned on, but Aiden wasn't listening. Could these hobbits be Frodo's family? Part of him wanted it to be so, but another part cringed at having to tell them that Frodo was no longer safe in his care.
They paused before the door, and Aiden thanked Butterbur, sending him on his way with a pointed look. Butterbur was a gossip of the first order, but he meant well. Aiden knocked lightly upon the door and steeled himself to deliver bad news.
The door opened a crack, and an elderly hobbit with graying hair greeted him crisply. "Yes? Can I help you?"
"I hope so," Aiden said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable under the sharp eyes of the hobbit. "Are you by chance friends or family of a young hobbit lad named Fro - "
He didn't have time to finish the sentence. The door was flung open wide and the hobbit gripped his cloak and pulled him inside. Once in the room, he stood under the measuring gazes of all three, aware that he had their full attention.
"What about Frodo?" Bilbo prompted him impatiently. "Where is the lad? Since you have sought us out, I take it he is not your prisoner." Bilbo raised his eyebrows as if to say his last statement had better be factual. "Is he in your care?"
Aiden sighed. "He was, good sir, and was free to do as he pleased. We were attacked yesterday evening and he was taken."
Looks of disbelief and horror passed from one hobbit to another, and fell to rest squarely on Aiden as he struggled with the guilt that assailed him. "May I sit, and tell you the tale?" he asked, and pulled a chair away from the table at Bilbo's nod of assent. He looked at the chair absently for a moment. Of course. Everything in the room was sized to the proportions of hobbits. He made his way to one of the beds and sat down on the edge.
"My name is Aiden. You must be - " he hesitated. Which one was Frodo's uncle?
"Bilbo Baggins," the hobbit with the graying hair answered. "With me are Saradoc Brandybuck, the Master of Buckland, and his son and Frodo's cousin, Meriadoc."
"I have heard much about you," Aiden said, shaking the hands of each hobbit in turn. "Frodo has spoken very fondly of you." He proceeded to tell them how he had come upon Frodo, drugged and bound in the room at the inn, and had stepped in to claim him. "I could not do otherwise, seeing him so," he said grimly.
Merry's eyes were glassy with shock as he listened to the man's tale of his cousin's plight. How could they have treated Frodo so cruelly? He was more determined than ever to tear strips off Reginard and Bargo for setting such a thing in motion. He kept his mouth closed and listened.
Saradoc had seated himself as well, finding his legs a little unsteady at the news. As outrageous as the story had sounded at the Hall, he found himself hanging on the man's every word and believing all that he said. This man had an air of integrity to him, and Saradoc found him easy to trust. As Aiden's tale unfolded, Saradoc listened with growing trepidation.
Bilbo paced restlessly, his eyes alternately lit with fire and doused with unshed tears. What had the poor lad been subjected to? If they had hurt Frodo, they would not soon forget the name of Baggins, nor the wrath that went with it.
"So Frodo is back in their hands as we speak?" He said apprehensively, pausing in his pacing to look sidelong at Aiden with a sharp glance. "We must go and get him. Do you know where they are holding him?"
"I do not, but I have managed to find someone who does. His help comes at a price, for he's a mercenary if one ever lived," Aiden said darkly. "I shall meet with him tonight. He will show me where they have taken Frodo."
"You must return to us here when you have news," Bilbo said firmly. "We will accompany you when you go to Frodo's aid."
"Master Baggins, you have had a long journey," Aiden said by way of protest. "These men are very dangerous. They are armed - "
"My dear man, let me make you aware of something," Bilbo said, a hint of amusement coming into his voice. "I may be smaller than you, but I am a Baggins." Bilbo punctuated the sentence by jabbing Aiden in the chest with a forefinger. "I have stolen treasure right out from under a dragon's smoking snout, so I think I can manage a rescue mission." His hand moved to pat at the pocket of his weskit idly as he spoke.
Aiden was impressed in spite of himself. Frodo had said this hobbit was something rather special, and there could be no doubt of it now. "Very well, Master Baggins. We shall face the enemy together."
Aiden took his leave and went to his home to rest and prepare for his meeting with Dolan. That rogue had better be true to his word, he thought grimly.
~*~To be continued~*~
Distortion - That was a tough chapter. Certainly a bumpy ride for both Frodo and Aiden!
Krista - You'll learn more of Aiden's fate in this chapter. I don't mind if you show up late with a review. You always show up, and that's the awesome part.
Eiluj - Thank you for the answer to Camellia's question! I believe you're absolutely right about PJ's Bree and why it's so dark and so hobbitless. It really drives home the fact that the rest of Middle Earth is not the comfortable, safe place the Shire is. Comparing it to the Cantina scene in Star Wars was a great parallel.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Eiluj found your other Gavin. He's in Tathar's story "Always a Silver Lining", and it sounds like he's a lot nicer fella than mine!
Curious Cat - Frodo has indeed gone from the skillet into the fire. Hope for Dolan? There may be some yet. At least he's not hanging out with that wastrel Fergus anymore! Merry is facing a lot of changes in his life here. Not only is he growing up, he is having to face being separated from his longtime friend. These are things most of us have gone through too. I agree that the time lapse between chapters can be critical in keeping the tension going, and that's the number one reason for my daily posts.
Iorhael - We'll see what happens to Aiden in this chapter, and it won't be long before you'll find out who is playing what role in saving Frodo.
TTTurtle - I've wondered if the site has been a little off. Did it eat your first review of the last chapter? As I write this it still shows 14 chapters instead of 15, but as you discovered, 15 is there! There are certainly several possibilities regarding what could happen to Frodo now. Read on!
Tavion - Oh, I know that was a nasty cliffhanger! My deepest apologies to Frodo for what I'm putting him through. He is definitely in a lot of danger. As for Aiden, your question regarding his continued existence is answered in this chapter.
Ilmare - Yep. We got plot twists! This chapter is a busy one. Your questions about Aiden will be answered, we'll spend some time with Frodo, and you'll find out a little more about what Dolan is up to.
Endymion - How true! These ruffians are not, as you said, 'in danger of brain damage from strokes of genius'! They've taken some fool chances, haven't they? Imagine taking for granted that a single - though vicious - blow to the head was enough to finish their opponent! Was it? I'll tell you soon. And hanging around in Bree playing 'tame the halfling' doesn't seem that brilliant of them. They are definitely overconfident regarding a lot of things, including how determined certain people are to keep Frodo from them. Who would search the whole town and risk deadly confrontation to save one little halfling anyway? Lots of people, it seems! Dolan was the brains of the outfit, and without him, they're just idiots!
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
Chapter 16 - Allies
~*~The Inn of the Prancing Pony, late night~*~
Three tired hobbits stood wearily at the desk waiting for the innkeeper. They had continued walking even after darkness fell, so close were they to their destination. The pony had been settled in the stables, and much needed rest beckoned to the trio as they stood in the foyer.
"Late arrivals, and hobbits, no less!" Butterbur said with his eyebrows raised. His memory prodded him. Something about hobbits. What was it? Oh well. It would come to him later. "Welcome, Masters. How may I serve this evening?"
"Accommodations for three, if you please," Bilbo said, casting his gaze about the room. A scattering of people remained in the common room at the late hour, but he saw no other hobbits.
"Right this way," Butterbur said as he grabbed a key from behind the desk. "You've the look of a few days' journey about you," he noted conversationally. "Where have you traveled from?"
"From Buckland," Saradoc replied wearily. He was past being interested in conversation right now, tired as he was. The innkeeper was certainly a sprightly fellow, however, and continued nattering to himself as they made their way to the room.
"From the Shire then," Butterbur muttered. Again something nagged at him. Something about hobbits from the Shire -
They reached the door of the room and, bidding the dithering innkeeper good night, the hobbits trudged in and allowed their packs to drop to the floor with heavy thumps. The room was comfortable enough, with a little hearth and three beds that looked very inviting after three nights of sleeping on bare ground.
Merry was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, and the two older hobbits were in a similar condition. As the remaining hours of the night passed, they rested in an exhausted slumber, intent upon restoring their strength for the search that was to begin with the arrival of the daylight.
~*~Somewhere in Bree, early morning~*~
Frodo awakened to feel bare earth beneath his aching body, bits of dirt clinging to his cheek and hair. He tried to shake them away and realized his mistake a moment too late, as the motion set off an agonizing throbbing in his head and a wave of profound dizziness.
Awareness returned slowly, and memory with it in bits and pieces. There had been voices, harsh and threatening, and someone attacking him from behind. His eyes began to sting with tears as he remembered the sight of Aiden falling limply to the floor after being struck by the sword hilt.
~Eru, they killed him!~ Frodo thought miserably. Aiden had been so kind to him. What a cruel reward for such goodness! ~I have brought him only trouble and expense, and now death.~ The thoughts raced, unchecked through Frodo's mind as he lay in the darkness of the cellar. Would they kill him too? A part of him hoped they would, as it would end his own pain and keep him from bringing any more pain to others.
They had blindfolded him before taking him from Aiden's home, he remembered. The blindfold was gone now, unnecessary in the all - consuming darkness of the cellar. It had been unnecessary altogether, he realized. He remembered being held down and kicking desperately at his assailants. He had not succeeded in doing any damage to them, but had only angered them instead. He remembered a harsh blow landing, then nothing. Had he been unconscious since then?
He tried to sit up, but he was weak and dizzy, and all but completely immobilized. He had been bound with a cruel thoroughness, rough ropes wound around his ankles, knees, wrists and upper arms. The gag was dry in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to spit it out and scream until his lungs burst with the effort.
He heard a heavy thunk as the cross - beam that held the cellar doors closed was removed and dropped to the ground outside. The doors creaked open and light flooded the tiny underground space, blinding him momentarily. He could make out two dark shapes against the bright morning sunlight, advancing inexorably toward him.
Frodo's pained cry was stifled by the gag as one of the men grabbed him and forced him to a sitting position. In the next instant, the gag was gone and water was being poured down his throat. Unprepared, he coughed and sputtered, but managed to swallow some of the liquid.
A hand gripped his chin, forcing his head upward, and cold eyes gazed down into his, measuring. "He's dazed, but I don't think he's bad hurt," Gavin said as Fergus moved to stand behind him. "It was a shame to bruise that pretty little face of yours, halfling, but you should have kept still." Gavin leaned in closer and threatened, "You'll do as you're told from now on, mark me."
Frodo turned his head sharply, breaking his captor's grip. He fought down the impulse to sob like a child. He wasn't a child anymore, he knew, and he must bear this bravely, if only to honor the memory of his friend.
The hand was back, in his hair this time, pulling painfully. "You lookit me when I'm talkin' to you, boy!" This time a small cry escaped him as he was made to look into those hard dark eyes again. "I'm the boss here, and if you forget I'll remind you."
Frodo didn't want to imagine what such a reminder would consist of, but at this point he thought he had a pretty good idea. "P - please! Let go. You're hurting me!" Frodo's plea seemed to please Gavin on some level, and he released the hobbit roughly. Frodo fell back limply against the dirt floor, breathing hard. He gathered his courage and looked up at Gavin and said one word - "Why?"
"You belong to me. You should have been mine to begin with, but that smart - mouthed friend of yours had to get involved." Gavin stood over Frodo and glowered down at him. "Got what he deserved for not mindin' his own affairs!"
"You killed him," Frodo accused, his voice a small, anguished whisper.
"Maybe so, halfling. Would serve him right for interfering," Gavin said coldly. "Don't matter if he's alive or dead, 'cause you won't see him again."
Those words cut Frodo more deeply than any blade could have. He closed his eyes against the sight of the man who claimed ownership of him, recalling the words Aiden had spoken to him. 'You are neither possession nor prisoner, Frodo.' But he was, wasn't he? He was both now, alone save the monster leering at him, and empty inside but for his fear and deep sense of loss.
The man tied the gag back in place and turned to go, his companion following in silence for once. "Got a few things to do before we leave town, halfling. You'll stay here until you're ready to cooperate."
Leave town? They were going to take him away and he would certainly never see Bilbo or Merry again if that happened! He tried to scream, but the muffled sound that emerged was lost in the noise of the cellar doors groaning shut. The light was gone.
The man was right about one thing, Frodo thought dimly. Aiden should have stayed away from him. He should not have tried to help, for his efforts had come to naught in the end. Frodo lay in the dark with that thought gnawing at him, until he surrendered to a fitful sleep.
~*~Aiden's home, Bree, the same morning~*~
Blood. When Aiden gingerly touched his scalp at the back of his head, his hand came away crimson with a grim reminder of his failure. Frodo was gone. They had taken him, and Aiden had failed to protect him. Guilt washed over him despite the knowledge that the assailants had been armed.
He rose to his feet slowly, dimly aware that the sun had risen. It was likely too late already, but Aiden felt he had to try to find the little hobbit who had come into his care. He leaned against the wall for support, his hand brushing the fabric of the cloak he had given to Frodo.
Suddenly fury blazed within him and he slammed a fist against the wall in utter frustration. They would hurt that youngster, he was certain. They would torment him until he submitted to their will and gave up his spirit to the horrors of his enslavement. They would wring from him the last of his will, and break his gentle young soul.
He forced himself away from the wall and into his room. Dipping a cloth into the water in the basin, he pressed it against his head to stop the bleeding. He noted gladly that he was not badly wounded. The cut on his neck was minor, and his head stopped bleeding quickly. He winced as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.
Grabbing his cloak, he stepped out the door and walked as briskly as he was able toward the Inn of the Prancing Pony. He must see Butterbur and ask him if he had seen Frodo or the men.
As he neared the inn, movement down a side street caught his eye. A dark - haired man stood leaning casually against the side of the building, smoking a pipe. Aiden's heart leapt as he recognized the man. He was none other than one of the men who had sold Frodo to him! And the man was looking at him now, regarding him with interest.
Aiden crossed the street and walked straight toward Dolan, letting his eyes bore into Dolan's coldly. He ignored his massive headache and dizziness and closed the distance between them quickly, anger bringing new strength and purpose to his steps.
"YOU!" he shouted at Dolan, grabbing him and slamming him back against the wall. "Where is he? What have you done with him?" Aiden barely recognized his own voice as he growled in Dolan's face.
"Easy, friend," Dolan said, maintaining remarkable composure given his position. "If you speak of the halfling, I have had nothing to do with him since I accepted your offer."
"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Aiden spat angrily. "That friend of yours was there, and that man you were about to sell the little one to. They've taken him. Tell me where if you want to walk away from this conversation unmarked."
"Supposing that I even have the slightest bit of knowledge of where the halfling is. Why should I tell you?" Dolan favored him with a sly smile. "What's in it for me?"
"Damn you!" Aiden snarled at him. "The lad's life is in danger and you can think of nothing but lining your purse with gold at his expense!"
"No, more likely at your expense, I believe." Dolan kept smiling. "Would it not be worth, say, twenty gold pieces to know where they've taken him?"
"I'll give you nothing. I should haul you before the constabulary this instant for your part in this," Aiden told him coldly.
"And what of your part, my righteous friend?" Dolan reminded him icily. "You are as guilty, on the surface at least, of criminal activity as I. You laid down coin to purchase that halfling, or do you forget so easily? Such activities are frowned upon by the authorities here, unless I miss my guess."
The scoundrel had a point. By purchasing Frodo, regardless of his motive for doing so, Aiden had been party to a punishable activity. The two men stood eye to eye, having reached a tense impasse.
"If you turn me in, my good man, I shall certainly take you down with me," Dolan said flatly. "If you would like my assistance in finding the little one, my assistance is offered at a fair price."
"And why are you so eager to thwart the efforts of your friends? Will you not turn against me as well, the moment there is gold in your greedy hands?" If Aiden's accusing tone had any effect upon Dolan, the effect was hidden masterfully.
"Fergus is an idiot, plainly said," Dolan answered. "As for the other, I know him not, nor do I especially care to."
"You were eager enough to work with Fergus when you took that poor lad from his home," Aiden observed. "Yet you want no part of this latest venture of his?"
"Indeed, I do not," Dolan said evenly. "I am a practical man. The original sale of the halfling to you was merely a one - time opportunity that fell upon us without our seeking it. I am a traveling trader by profession, not a procurer of slaves or the like. To continue with such activities is more trouble than it's worth."
"So you admit that what you did was despicable, selling Frodo as little more than a slave?" What little satisfaction Aiden derived from asking the question was denied him in the answer.
"Such an unpleasant term, but very well. Call it what you will. I sold a slave and you bought one, my good man." Dolan's eyes narrowed unpleasantly. "You own him."
The words slammed into him almost physically and Aiden choked out his reply through clenched teeth. "I do not own him. I would not! His freedom has been his own since the moment I took him from you."
Dolan faked a yawn mockingly. "This conversation is getting boring, friend. Do you want my help or not?"
"Fifteen gold pieces," Aiden said, his eyes locked with Dolan's.
Dolan didn't flinch. "Twenty. Ten now, and the rest when you get your halfling back."
"He's not my - " Aiden broke off the sentence, and released his hold on Dolan's coat. Loathsome as it was to accept the help of such an individual, he reluctantly conceded that it was his best chance of saving Frodo.
Aiden stepped back, breathing deeply and unclenching his fists with an effort as Dolan brushed himself off. "Very well. I shall meet you here tonight to discuss the arrangements. You will receive the first part of the payment at that time."
"I'm looking forward to it," Dolan replied as he turned and walked slowly away with unwavering confidence and infuriating bravado.
Aiden stood alone, lost in thought for a moment. His original errand came back to mind and he continued on to the inn. Butterbur met him at the front, enthusiastic as always.
"Master Aiden! Been some days since I've seen you here, it has." He grinned lopsidedly.
"Indeed it has, Butterbur," Aiden replied quietly. "Do you remember what I said the last time we spoke? Have you encountered any more hobbits from the Shire?"
A strange look crossed the innkeeper's face. Confusion morphed into recognition as he recalled the bit of information that had eluded him the previous night. Master Aiden had indeed asked him to send word if any hobbits from the Shire came through.
"Why, just last night I received a trio who said they'd come from Buckland," Butterbur said, scratching his head. He was so lost in thought he failed to see the look of utter exasperation that crossed Aiden's face at his words. "Young lad, curly blonde hair, and two older gents. One was nigh on old age, if I may be so forward."
"Butterbur, I told you to send them to me!" He shook his head slightly. "No matter, friend. Where are they? It is important that I speak with them immediately."
"They've a room on the ground floor." Butterbur motioned for Aiden to follow him. "Like the lower floors, hobbits do," he droned on, but Aiden wasn't listening. Could these hobbits be Frodo's family? Part of him wanted it to be so, but another part cringed at having to tell them that Frodo was no longer safe in his care.
They paused before the door, and Aiden thanked Butterbur, sending him on his way with a pointed look. Butterbur was a gossip of the first order, but he meant well. Aiden knocked lightly upon the door and steeled himself to deliver bad news.
The door opened a crack, and an elderly hobbit with graying hair greeted him crisply. "Yes? Can I help you?"
"I hope so," Aiden said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable under the sharp eyes of the hobbit. "Are you by chance friends or family of a young hobbit lad named Fro - "
He didn't have time to finish the sentence. The door was flung open wide and the hobbit gripped his cloak and pulled him inside. Once in the room, he stood under the measuring gazes of all three, aware that he had their full attention.
"What about Frodo?" Bilbo prompted him impatiently. "Where is the lad? Since you have sought us out, I take it he is not your prisoner." Bilbo raised his eyebrows as if to say his last statement had better be factual. "Is he in your care?"
Aiden sighed. "He was, good sir, and was free to do as he pleased. We were attacked yesterday evening and he was taken."
Looks of disbelief and horror passed from one hobbit to another, and fell to rest squarely on Aiden as he struggled with the guilt that assailed him. "May I sit, and tell you the tale?" he asked, and pulled a chair away from the table at Bilbo's nod of assent. He looked at the chair absently for a moment. Of course. Everything in the room was sized to the proportions of hobbits. He made his way to one of the beds and sat down on the edge.
"My name is Aiden. You must be - " he hesitated. Which one was Frodo's uncle?
"Bilbo Baggins," the hobbit with the graying hair answered. "With me are Saradoc Brandybuck, the Master of Buckland, and his son and Frodo's cousin, Meriadoc."
"I have heard much about you," Aiden said, shaking the hands of each hobbit in turn. "Frodo has spoken very fondly of you." He proceeded to tell them how he had come upon Frodo, drugged and bound in the room at the inn, and had stepped in to claim him. "I could not do otherwise, seeing him so," he said grimly.
Merry's eyes were glassy with shock as he listened to the man's tale of his cousin's plight. How could they have treated Frodo so cruelly? He was more determined than ever to tear strips off Reginard and Bargo for setting such a thing in motion. He kept his mouth closed and listened.
Saradoc had seated himself as well, finding his legs a little unsteady at the news. As outrageous as the story had sounded at the Hall, he found himself hanging on the man's every word and believing all that he said. This man had an air of integrity to him, and Saradoc found him easy to trust. As Aiden's tale unfolded, Saradoc listened with growing trepidation.
Bilbo paced restlessly, his eyes alternately lit with fire and doused with unshed tears. What had the poor lad been subjected to? If they had hurt Frodo, they would not soon forget the name of Baggins, nor the wrath that went with it.
"So Frodo is back in their hands as we speak?" He said apprehensively, pausing in his pacing to look sidelong at Aiden with a sharp glance. "We must go and get him. Do you know where they are holding him?"
"I do not, but I have managed to find someone who does. His help comes at a price, for he's a mercenary if one ever lived," Aiden said darkly. "I shall meet with him tonight. He will show me where they have taken Frodo."
"You must return to us here when you have news," Bilbo said firmly. "We will accompany you when you go to Frodo's aid."
"Master Baggins, you have had a long journey," Aiden said by way of protest. "These men are very dangerous. They are armed - "
"My dear man, let me make you aware of something," Bilbo said, a hint of amusement coming into his voice. "I may be smaller than you, but I am a Baggins." Bilbo punctuated the sentence by jabbing Aiden in the chest with a forefinger. "I have stolen treasure right out from under a dragon's smoking snout, so I think I can manage a rescue mission." His hand moved to pat at the pocket of his weskit idly as he spoke.
Aiden was impressed in spite of himself. Frodo had said this hobbit was something rather special, and there could be no doubt of it now. "Very well, Master Baggins. We shall face the enemy together."
Aiden took his leave and went to his home to rest and prepare for his meeting with Dolan. That rogue had better be true to his word, he thought grimly.
~*~To be continued~*~