Chapter 6 Dawn came, but Merry and Pippin hardly noticed it. They had been having a great time, finishing several pints of beer, singing, and dancing at the inn's pub. Lucky for them they had met a number of local hobbits from which they found out about the Breeans' habits and some information of who was who in the town. Thanks to the their new friends, Merry and Pippin got to know some of the big folks who were willing to do anything for them at a suitable price.

In the meantime, Strider had barely been able to close his eyes. He lay restlessly in his bed, turning to the left and to the right, trying in vain to get some rest, if possible, sleep.

But he knew it was impossible. The memory of those big sapphire eyes glancing around frantically was hard to erase. The image of Frodo trying to break free and running in panic only to be jerked back by one of his captors kept coming back to Stider's mind. Frodo's heart-wrenching wail filled his ears and head again.

Aragorn's eyes jerked open violently. No, there was no way he could sleep at all if he kept recollecting those scenes over and over. How he wished he could turn back the time and save Frodo.

He wouldn't have known about the little hobbit had it not been for Gandalf. It was supposed to be the wizard himself to meet Frodo here at the Prancing Pony. But Stider sensed that something had happened to Gandalf -Or was about to happen. After all, Gandalf had decided to ask Strider for a favor, just in case.

The Grey Wizard informed him all about Frodo. He told Strider first about his hobbit friend Bilbo, and expained that Frodo was Bilbo's cousin. Gandalf described him so accurately Strider could almost picture Frodo in his mind. That was why he recognized the little one instantly that night. Gandalf also told Strider that he had known Frodo ever since the hobbit was just a little boy. That explained why Frodo was so very dear to him.

Strider was notified about the possible dangers Frodo might have to face. Although Gandalf didn't tell him exactly what business Frodo had and the reason why he had to leave the Shire, the wizard did warn him about some unwanted folks that might hinder the journey. That left Strider with only one thing to focus upon --to bring Frodo alive, safe and sound, to Rivendell.

Despite the warning, however, the ranger was surprised to find Frodo in danger so soon, and in the hands of his fellow hobbits! Were the other two also from the Shire, or were they just from around here?

Feeling more and more uneasy Strider finally decided to get out of his room and the inn to start searching the hobbit. He was unsure about which way to take but he knew he had to begin from the areas occupied mostly by hobbits. Through his years as a ranger, he had become acquinted with some locals, respected or less respected, from whom he would get information. It was impossible to leave no trace in front of nosy inhabitants of Bree.

***

Tired of struggling, the bundled Frodo was finally overcome by sleep. He couldn't lie down; The the length of rope tying him up to the bed was too short.

When morning came and the bright sunlight shone through the dilapidated curtains, Frodo awoke from his disturbed slumber. He felt the warmth of the sun through the bed sheet covering him. Again he renewed his effort to loosen the bind. But nothing happened. He gasped out loud. Even breathing was rather difficult now.

Despairing, he started to lose himself to oblivion. He knew he wasn't going to die of suffocation but his will to live seemed to evaporate now that the ring wasn't with him anymore. Realizing it or not, he started to feel that the ring had overtaken his life. Nothing else mattered.

But the thought of the ring reminded him of Merry's remark. Was it true that he made Bilbo give it to him by force? He couldn't tell. His declining condition hampered him to tell the reality from the illusion.

Frodo bowed his head. Tears were threatening to fall down. Silence. Everything was silent, too silent. Frodo wondered how he could be here in the first place. Last night's event in which Merry and Pippin half-dragged him inside this room was just a blur for him. And then recalling how Merry had rifled through his clothes felt like a nightmare now.

But then realization dawned on him. His mind was suddenly clear again. He remembered how he had almost rejected the ring and offered it to Gandalf. So Merry must have lied to him telling that he was a thief. He was no thief!

He looked down and noticed how he couldn't see his own hands because he was tied around his upper arms. With his hands then he tried to reach the ends of the sheet. Maybe if he could reach them, he would be able to pull the sheet.

It felt like hours trying to do what he planned. His hands were starting to go stiff when he was finally able to grasp the hems. He almost cheered loudly. Now what he had to do was to pull them as hard as he could to free him of the bed sheet. Frodo knew it wouldn't be easy because he was tied so tightly.

"One, two, three!" He counted to himself and jerked the sheet hard. The first time nothing seemed to happen except that his head was snapped down painfully. He grimaced.

But he wouldn't give up. It had better be pained but free than kept here forever. Once, twice, and three times he pulled and he was finally successful in freeing his head from the material. The task done, what he would do next was put it entirely off his body.

Frodo looked around the room where he was being held. What attracted him most were the windows. There were two windows, both with miserable condition. He was sure he would be able to get out of one of them later.

"What is it?" He was scrutinizing now the rope around his body and another length connected to the bed. It looked like a thin but strong piece of cord. He stooped and started to chew it. After a moment it was slack enough and with all his strength Frodo pulled himself away from the bed. He fell on his back quite heavily that he felt air rushed out of his lungs. He just hoped the bruises would not be as bad later as the ones that already covered his chest and stomach.

Before he headed for the window he grabbed his cloak. It was still freezing outside and Frodo didn't want to catch a cold. He couldn't put on his shirt or coat because he was still bound. The cloak could be wrapped around him to hide his bare and bound top.

Frodo was right about the windows. The wood was half-eaten by termites so it wasn't difficult at all to break by ramming against it with his shoulder. Frodo rolled his body over the window frame and landed* on a muddy street. He felt sorry that his once-lovely green cloak was now caked with grime.

The road was empty. It seemed that Frodo had gone to the rear side of the town because where he was was just a small alley not a big main road. But, hey, his mind screamed. Wasn't it even better? Nobody would spot him in his pathetic state.

He jumped up, wavering a little, and finally able to steady himself. For the first time in several days a smile flickered on his face.

Frodo knew where he had to go, to the Prancing Pony. What he wasn't able to register was the way to get there. He turned to the left and right, trying to decide which way to take. Finally he took the left after assuming that this place was probably hidden farther from the gate than the Prancing Pony.

He was very careful in taking his steps, stopping every time he heard sounds of people talking. After several minutes walking he met a crossroad. Skeptically Frodo took the right turn when suddenly he saw several rough- looking" men walking towards him. Alarmed, he turned back. But it was too late. The men had seen him and for reasons Frodo could only guess, started chasing after him. Frodo quickened his steps laboriously. Because of the strap that dangled from his back, he risked tripping if he tried to run. He raggedly took his breath. He was almost hysterical now.

Suddenly from the corner of the street came two familiar faces, Merry and Pippin. Frodo frowned in horror. They were absolutely the last people Frodo wanted to see although he was sure he didn't want to be in those ruffians' hands either. Maybe he could dash past his cousins if he ran fast enough.

Merry and Pippin now recognized Frodo's form that dashed in their direction. The cousins were awestruck that Frodo had managed to run away. More surprising was the fact that Frodo was chased by a group of men. The hobbits stopped walking. It wasn't that they didn't want to capture Frodo - but they were doubtful about the men. News had been spreading in the Shire about how dangerous some big folks were, and they didn't want to put the rumours to the test.

So they just waited until Frodo drew near. They were getting ready to block his way.

Frodo felt * desperate. It was apparent that his cousins wouldn't try to chase him *. Instead, they were trying to catch him (as he approached. He had nowhere to run. Meanwhile, the ruffians were gaining. All of the sudden a hard breeze blew and swept away Frodo's cloak. He shivered and swayed - bare-chested and wrapped in ropes. He heard some of those men gasp. "Look! He's bound, shouted one of the men!"

"So what?!" thought Frodo angrily. "Are you going to help me then?"

Merry and Pippin also noticed. They grinned to each other, knowing that Frodo wouldn't manages to move fast in that condition. He would also not be able to defend himself.

Frodo got nearer and nearer to Merry and Pippin. When they approached he tried to duck away but to no avail. Merry seized the rope on his back. Frodo yelped when Merry's nails grazed his skin. Pippin came to help his pal by taking one of Frodo's arms.

"Help! Help!" cried Frodo weakly. But to whom he asked for help, Frodo wasn't sure. Finally he could only succumb to Merry and Pippin's clutches yet again. He couldn't blink back his tears.
TBC