Chapter 4
Strider looked as if he were freed from a spell when he saw the
hobbits disappear through the door. He cursed silently. He had been
too dumbstruck to help the abused hobbit, only watching the situation
unfold with amazement. Frodo, yes, he knew the name, - had to be in
a big trouble. And he hadn't done a thing to help him.
As if trying to make amends, he stormed to the door and pulled it
open. To his amazement, he saw nothing. He sighed desperately. How
could that be? Those little hobbits had just been away for a couple
of minutes. They didn't seem to be creatures of high speed either,
yet they disappeared so quickly. Strider searched about the darkened
street just to assure himself. But he still didn't see anything.
Strider did not know that-although hobbits were not the fastest
beings, they were witty and what's more, they were small! It was very
easy for them to hide themselves beneath some nearby bushes.
That was exactly what Merry and Pippin were doing. When they went out
of the inn, they noted the overgrown shrubs along its side. They
looked as if they had not been trimmed for years. Merry and Pippin,
dragging poor Frodo, dove behind the shrubs and out of sight. Merry
just smirked when he saw Strider pace back and forth right in front
of them with a puzzled look. Both Merry and Pippin tried not to let
out a single sound.
Frodo, of course, had no wish to hide. But with his hurt arm and
bound and burning wrists, he just couldn't fight anymore. The
previous accident had left his wrists swollen and his shoulder
dislocated.
Frodo felt nauseous. He would surely double over if not for the tight
grips of his cousins. He barely noticed his surroundings when they
pushed him behind the bush. He saw Strider, too. But a hand blocked
his mouth and stifled the sound even before he had a chance to yell
out.
"Nurgh - " Frodo mumbled incoherently, and he felt two strong hands
push his shoulders so he couldn't move at all.
They lingered there for what seemed like an eternity until Strider
finally gave up and went back to the inn. Frodo felt his body scream
due to his injuries. The rope bit more deeply into his swollen
wrists. He had no idea how long he could stand the pain.
When the hand was finally lifted up off his mouth, he took a deep
breath and heaved miserably. His stomach clenched painfully as he
hadn't eaten anything for two days.
Merry glared at Frodo, disgusted. He yanked Frodo up when the fit was
over. Frodo heard his dislocated arm pop and his breath was becoming
heavy again. Frodo panted. He was sweating all over.
"We're going to find an inn but not the one nearby. It should be a
little bit hidden so that the big man won't find us," said Merry.
"I can't," replied Frodo hesitantly. He didn't want to annoy Merry so
he would torture him again but he was feeling very weak. He wasn't
sure if he could take another step.
"It wouldn't have been this difficult, Frodo, if you hadn't been too
stubborn and tried to run away just now. You deserve what you get,"
snapped Merry. He didn't want to linger any longer. Merry and Pippin
started to walk with Frodo squeezed in between them.
They eventually found a lodging that was located on a cramped alley.
Its name, the Black Stallion, didn't represent the place at all. The
Prancing Pony would feel like a palace compared to this terrifyingly
shabby inn. Frodo looked at it in dismay. Neither Gandalf or the big
man would ever find him here.
After getting them a small room, Merry, along with Pippin, half
carried, half dragged Frodo through the door. Frodo practically hung
in the hands of his two cousins-turned-captors. Frodo was hurled onto
a filthy and dank rug. The air was knocked out of him as he landed
hard on his stomach. Frodo tried to stuggle to his knees, but it was
futile with his hands drawn behind his back.
Pippin looked at him briefly and shrugged. He then walked toward the
basin on a small table in the corner of the room. Frodo was lying,
crumpled, on his side now, although it hurt him greatly to be leaning
on top of the twisted shoulder. He felt tears rolling down his
cheeks. Pleadingly, he gaped at Merry.
"Can you untie me, please? I won't try to run away again."
It was late at night and Merry was sure he and Pippin would be able
to handle Frodo if he tried anything. Merry signalled Pippin to
release Frodo.
Having been tied for a long time made Frodo feel stiff. He had
expected the pain to lessen when he was allowed to move his arms
forward - but it did not. His one arm was dislocated. And Frodo
cringed when he saw how bad his wrists looked.
Merry noticed that Frodo was hardly able to move the sprained arm. He
motioned to Pippin.
"Pull that arm forward," ordered Merry to his younger cousin. "That
will return the arm to its place."
Pippin grabbed Frodo's arm and wrenched it back into its socket with
a sickening pop. It indeed helped to cure the immediate pain -but
the process sent a sliver of pure agony through Frodo's entire side.
Frodo couldn't hold back his tears. Exhausted by the pain, by the
tears, in fact - by the entire horrid ordeal he'd endured the whole
day, Frodo finally gave himself up to unconsciousness.
Strider looked as if he were freed from a spell when he saw the
hobbits disappear through the door. He cursed silently. He had been
too dumbstruck to help the abused hobbit, only watching the situation
unfold with amazement. Frodo, yes, he knew the name, - had to be in
a big trouble. And he hadn't done a thing to help him.
As if trying to make amends, he stormed to the door and pulled it
open. To his amazement, he saw nothing. He sighed desperately. How
could that be? Those little hobbits had just been away for a couple
of minutes. They didn't seem to be creatures of high speed either,
yet they disappeared so quickly. Strider searched about the darkened
street just to assure himself. But he still didn't see anything.
Strider did not know that-although hobbits were not the fastest
beings, they were witty and what's more, they were small! It was very
easy for them to hide themselves beneath some nearby bushes.
That was exactly what Merry and Pippin were doing. When they went out
of the inn, they noted the overgrown shrubs along its side. They
looked as if they had not been trimmed for years. Merry and Pippin,
dragging poor Frodo, dove behind the shrubs and out of sight. Merry
just smirked when he saw Strider pace back and forth right in front
of them with a puzzled look. Both Merry and Pippin tried not to let
out a single sound.
Frodo, of course, had no wish to hide. But with his hurt arm and
bound and burning wrists, he just couldn't fight anymore. The
previous accident had left his wrists swollen and his shoulder
dislocated.
Frodo felt nauseous. He would surely double over if not for the tight
grips of his cousins. He barely noticed his surroundings when they
pushed him behind the bush. He saw Strider, too. But a hand blocked
his mouth and stifled the sound even before he had a chance to yell
out.
"Nurgh - " Frodo mumbled incoherently, and he felt two strong hands
push his shoulders so he couldn't move at all.
They lingered there for what seemed like an eternity until Strider
finally gave up and went back to the inn. Frodo felt his body scream
due to his injuries. The rope bit more deeply into his swollen
wrists. He had no idea how long he could stand the pain.
When the hand was finally lifted up off his mouth, he took a deep
breath and heaved miserably. His stomach clenched painfully as he
hadn't eaten anything for two days.
Merry glared at Frodo, disgusted. He yanked Frodo up when the fit was
over. Frodo heard his dislocated arm pop and his breath was becoming
heavy again. Frodo panted. He was sweating all over.
"We're going to find an inn but not the one nearby. It should be a
little bit hidden so that the big man won't find us," said Merry.
"I can't," replied Frodo hesitantly. He didn't want to annoy Merry so
he would torture him again but he was feeling very weak. He wasn't
sure if he could take another step.
"It wouldn't have been this difficult, Frodo, if you hadn't been too
stubborn and tried to run away just now. You deserve what you get,"
snapped Merry. He didn't want to linger any longer. Merry and Pippin
started to walk with Frodo squeezed in between them.
They eventually found a lodging that was located on a cramped alley.
Its name, the Black Stallion, didn't represent the place at all. The
Prancing Pony would feel like a palace compared to this terrifyingly
shabby inn. Frodo looked at it in dismay. Neither Gandalf or the big
man would ever find him here.
After getting them a small room, Merry, along with Pippin, half
carried, half dragged Frodo through the door. Frodo practically hung
in the hands of his two cousins-turned-captors. Frodo was hurled onto
a filthy and dank rug. The air was knocked out of him as he landed
hard on his stomach. Frodo tried to stuggle to his knees, but it was
futile with his hands drawn behind his back.
Pippin looked at him briefly and shrugged. He then walked toward the
basin on a small table in the corner of the room. Frodo was lying,
crumpled, on his side now, although it hurt him greatly to be leaning
on top of the twisted shoulder. He felt tears rolling down his
cheeks. Pleadingly, he gaped at Merry.
"Can you untie me, please? I won't try to run away again."
It was late at night and Merry was sure he and Pippin would be able
to handle Frodo if he tried anything. Merry signalled Pippin to
release Frodo.
Having been tied for a long time made Frodo feel stiff. He had
expected the pain to lessen when he was allowed to move his arms
forward - but it did not. His one arm was dislocated. And Frodo
cringed when he saw how bad his wrists looked.
Merry noticed that Frodo was hardly able to move the sprained arm. He
motioned to Pippin.
"Pull that arm forward," ordered Merry to his younger cousin. "That
will return the arm to its place."
Pippin grabbed Frodo's arm and wrenched it back into its socket with
a sickening pop. It indeed helped to cure the immediate pain -but
the process sent a sliver of pure agony through Frodo's entire side.
Frodo couldn't hold back his tears. Exhausted by the pain, by the
tears, in fact - by the entire horrid ordeal he'd endured the whole
day, Frodo finally gave himself up to unconsciousness.
