Chapter
17
Frodo could almost see himself back home again as he enjoyed the
heavenly meal that Merry and Pippin hand fed him – meat,
potatoes, carrots, beans, and – mushrooms! Though Frodo could hardly
use his own hands to eat them, he didn't care. He could eat – that
was the most important thing. What more, Merry was helping him do
it. Merry had even instructed Pip to release his hands from his
back and tie them at the front instead, so he would be more
comfortable. Dear Merry!
When they finished eating, Merry let Frodo curl up in the armchair.
Though they did not unbind his hands and ankles, Frodo was too weary
to protest and the food had made him sleepy. He was barely aware
when Merry came and pulled a blanket over his body. Mumbling his
thanks, Frodo drifted into – for the first time – a peaceful
sleep.
# -- # -- #
Frodo roughly, shattering his slumber.
"What? Why? What happened?" Frodo jumped awake.
"You wake up!"
Merry yanked Frodo and pulled him off the chair. Frodo fell onto his
knees hard as his legs were still bound. The knees cracked with a
sickening sound and the pain rammed all over his body, almost
sending Frodo back to the darkness.
Frodo's eyes widened with wonder and fear. What had he done wrong
this time? Hadn't Merry himself let him sleep? Hadn't Merry
even covered him with a thick, warm blanket.
"Merry?" Frodo asked anxiously and winced due to a sudden harsh blow
to the back of his head. He struggled to get to his feet,
forgetting for a moment the rope still binding his ankles.
"That ranger!" shouted Merry. "Who is he?!"
Frodo stared hazily at Merry at him with a big question mark in his
eyes. What ranger?
"Don't you dare stare at me with those pathetic, large eyes of
yours!" warned Merry--his voice newly cruel. "Don't pretend you
know nothing about him!" Merry seized a fistful of Frodo's hair
and jerked it backward.
"Ah! No, Merry! I really don't know him. I swear! Ai, Eru!" Frodo
screamed when the grip tightened even more.
"Really, Frodo? You SWEAR?!"
Frodo nodded jerkingly, as best as he could with his hair snatched
back.
"Frodo," said Merry again. "You have to be honest with me. I'm
your friend, remember?"
"I AM being honest, Merry. You have to believe me," pleaded Frodo.
"But I can't, cousin," Merry insisted. "If you really don't
know him, how did he find out about this place?" Merry
subconsciously recalled his recent encounter with both the ranger
and Sam.
Frodo could offer nothing and remained silent.
Merry gave Frodo's fearful face a cursory glance before nodding to
Pippin.
"Give me a hand, Pip."
Frodo stared in dismay as Pip approached him. This never led to
anything good. Each of his cousins seized one of his arms and half-
carried, half dragged Frodo back to a small second room. It had
never occurred to Frodo that there was another small room hidden
back there. Tears flowed involuntarily, and he began to whimper and
beg.
Fear was creeping up into Frodo's heart. He didn't want to be
beaten again. The last thrashing had almost completely drained his
sanity. His legs still bled badly.
Frodo gasped when Merry and Pip slumped him down just like an
unwanted sack in the corner of that room. But, oh dear Elbereth, he
WAS an unwanted person. Nobody could stand to be near him, be with
him. But then he remembered something. He still had Merry! Merry was
his friend. Frodo hung his head submissively. He had to do whatever
Merry wanted him to do. Yes, he had to just that. He didn't want
to
lose the only friend he had, did he?
Still, Frodo couldn't understand Merry's last question. Ranger? WHAT
ranger?
"On your knees, Frodo."
Frodo froze.
"On your knees!" screamed Merry, tugging Frodo up from his lying
position, forcing him to kneel on his bruised knees. Frodo caught
his breath.
"I saw the ranger walking down the alley tonight. Frodo?"
Frodo shook his head vehemently.
"I know no ranger," gasped Frodo. He wanted to offer the glowering
faces in front of him something, so he kept talking. "...A-
although I have seen some of them along the Shire's border. I
guess...I g-guess maybe they are protecting the Shire."
"So it's possible that you know this particular one?" Merry pushed
on.
"No, I don't, Merry. Please."
But Frodo's plea blew like wind through his cousin's ears. Merry did
not heed Frodo's words. Instead, Merry reached out, taking a bowl,
and scooped some water from a big basin nearby. Watching with
wonder, Frodo never suspected what would happen next.
Before Frodo had time to think, frigidly cold water was poured down
over his head and body. Frodo jerked and tried to jump up only to be
held in place by Pippin. He held his breath, almost choking in the
process. Frodo immediately began to shiver with cold. It felt like
drowning in an icy lake.
Merry repeated the water torture again, again, and again. He kept
asking the same question, and Frodo kept giving the same unwanted
answer. No, he didn't know the man.
But Merry was hard to satisfy.
"You were running to him back there at the Pony, were you not,
Frodo?!"
"No, Merry, no!" Frodo's cheeks were wet with both water and
tears. "I DON'T know any rangers! I—" his voice faltered when
his mind suddenly registered something. Merry caught the change on
Frodo's face and got more infuriated.
"See! You're lying. You're such a bad, bad boy, Frodo! You
need more lessons!"
With that Merry gushed more water over Frodo, making the hobbit
choke with cold. Frodo's heart was completely filled with
abhorrence toward the ranger now. He swore he would never, ever,
want to have any dealings EVER with any rangers anywhere.
"All right, all right---" Resignation and despair were in Frodo's
voice. "I am a bad boy, a liar, a foul piece of garbage! I lied to
you about the ranger. He was here to help me with the quest. The
quest in which I have to safely deliver the ring to Rivendell.
Gandalf and this Ranger were to help me. They were here to make sure
that no one else took hold of the ring! Gandalf said it is a magic
ring—but –Merry—it is an evil ring. The one that claims
it will become more powerful than their wildest dreams, Merry, but
at a price. It will corrupt them!."
Frodo went on and on, only half-realizing what he was doing through
his delirium. He didn't even know what he said about Strider was
true – Strider being a friend to help him out. Gandalf never
mentioned anything about this man. But Frodo wanted to say
something --anything-to make the water torture stop.
Merry stared at Frodo in awe. So, that was the answer to all
Merry's questions. He should have worked it out himself. He had felt
his own power growing after he had taking possession of the ring—
even if he had not understood the source of this new strength.
All right. Now he knew. What next? He realized that he couldn't
just let Frodo go. Frodo was the real owner. People – besides the
ranger and Sam would begin to look for him once they knew he was
missing. Merry began to wonder, though, why Frodo never seemed to
show this strength Merry felt and neither had Bilbo. Might that be
because of
their own innate power --- and their wisdom? Merry was unnerved by
his own thoughts.
Merry noted with dismay that Frodo had crumpled to the floor, half-
unconscious and shivering violently. Merry pulled the limp body up,
noting immediately that Frodo's skin, despite the deluge of
frigid water poured upon it, was hot to the touch. Frodo had
definitely caught a fever.
"Frodo, Frodo, why did you have to be so stubborn?" Merry tutted in
a gentle voice. "You must understand I had never meant for it to
come to this. Wouldn't it have been easier to just admit that
you knew who he was and that he was here to help you?"
Frodo shook in silence. "Now, look at you, poor lad! You're hot and
feverish."
Merry sounded genuinely regretful.
Frodo didn't say anything. He had almost lost consciousness.
Merry kissed Frodo's knuckles as he cut the bonds around his
wrists. He knelt down and did the same with the ropes at his
ankles. Silently, Merry began to strip the cold wet clothes off of
his quaking cousin.
Frodo's shivers from the freezing cold were subsiding now that Merry
was removing the layers of wet clothes. But the fever still made his
mind blur and his head dizzy. Weakened and nauseous, Frodo could
only collapse on the couch.
Frodo roused from his swoon to find Merry pulling his arms out of
his soaking wet shirt. At first he thought it was his mother. But
then he remembered that his mother had died and left him behind,
just like anyone else.
...Everyone else except Merry.
"Merry?" called Frodo faintly.
"Hush, Frodo. Lie still," cooed Merry in a voice that was nearly
maternal. "Let me pull these wet clothes off you. They will only
make your condition worse. Luckily I still have my shirt ready in my
backpack."
Frodo gulped in appreciation. Despite Frodo's disobedience, Merry
was clothing him in his own shirt. Merry pulled Frodo's limp arms
through the sleves, and buttoned the shirt up with loving care.
Frodo noticed that his bonds had been unfastened. They were of
little use, anyway, when Frodo was too sick and frail to move.
Frodo unconsciously rubbed his wrists that had been chafed by the
ropes. Merry noticed. Smiling, Merry looked into Frodo's eyes,
took his hands in his own, and began to rub and kiss the abused
wrists. Frodo gasped, and smiled back. The smile of a child.
Frodo sighed in great relief to find himself dry again. He shifted
on the couch to find the most comfortable position for his battered
body. Merry had left him for a moment for what reason Frodo didn't
know.
Pippin was now at his side, bring a cup of steaming hot tea to
Frodo's shivering lips. Frodo closed his eyes. The tea tasted
wonderful and it helped warm his body. He just hoped that this was
not a dream.
When Merry reappeared, he had several thick blankets in his hands.
In the beginning Frodo refused to have him covered by the blankets
because he felt hot already from his high temperature. But Merry
insisted.
"Don't be silly, cousin. You doubtlessly need these blankets to
help you recover. Here you are. All right, done."
Merry emphasized his motherly deed with a gentle ruffle of
Frodo's wet curls and a loving pat.
"That's a good boy." Frodo felt like a gift wrapped in those warm
sheets. His head tilted a little. His voice swayed.
"Am I really a good boy, Merry?" asked Frodo pleadingly. "Because
I don't want to be a bad boy. Always a good boy, Merry."
"Sure," Merry calmed him down, brushing Frodo's curls from his
forehead. Frodo leaned onto Merry's hand needily, eyes shut. He
felt unbelievably peaceful.
"You shouldn't be stubborn again, Frodo, and make yourself suffer
like that," added Merry.
"Yes, Merry," Frodo sighed obediently, eyes still closed. Please, he
pleaded silently, let me sleep now.
# -- # -- #The room was eerily silent with the three inhabitants falling into a
deep sleep. Frodo was the first to open his eyes. He was still a bit
hazy and he felt uncomfortable because of his fever-induced sweat.
In fact, he was soaked in sweat. But Frodo was sure that was not the
reason why he had woken up. Voices. Right. Voices of people talking,
right in front of the door.
The voices grew louder now. Nervously, Frodo called Merry and Pippin
softly so as not to be heard by those people. They might not be
friendly.
"What is it, Frodo?" Merry replied, a little upset.
"I don't know," Frodo whispered. "I think there are some people
outside."
I'll check it out, Frodo, if it will make you fell better,"
answered Merry.
Merry didn't have to check the situation out, as there was a loud
bang at the door at that very moment. Pippin, who was still asleep
at the moment, jumped from his bed.
"For goodness' sake!" he exclaimed. "Who is that?"
Pip directly got his answer. Three ruffians from Isengard, who had
worked hard to find a halfling, broke into the room after
successfully tearing the door open by force.
"HERE THEY ARE!!"
What followed was a terrible chaos. Merry unsheathed his small
dagger and bravely faced one of the Isengarders. Pippin climbed up
the table and jumped on the other. Frodo grunted. He got up from the
couch with great difficulty and tried to confront the last of the
three. His movement was sluggish from his illness and because of the
many blankets he wore. When he finally managed to free himself from
the blankets, he was no match for the men.
The hobbits were by no means in a good situation as the ruffians
were twice their size, and brandished long and sharp swords.
Daggers were useless. Frodo soon caught a sight of his two cousins
being overpowered by the ruffians. He himself still tried to duck
and dodge. But he was still terribly ill. A movement too slow and
suddenly he was facing the tip of the sword. When he tried to run to
the right, the man followed, and so did the sword.
Frodo suddenly screamed. He choked when he realized what had just
happened. Frodo had been stabbed, in the left side of his stomach.
With a weak moan, Frodo staggered and fell limp to the floor.
TBC
