Chapter 18

"Hey! We don't want to kill that one!" cried one of the men. Merry

and Pippin, who were held in the corner, looked at Frodo with terror.

"Quick! Just leave these two here. We don't need them. We just need

the fair one!"

**********

Roses. Red petals of roses were following them; Frodo thought as he

was jostling about on Ted's right shoulder. Sometimes he even mumbled

audibly, annoying Ted who would directly hush him silent. Strange

indeed, but Frodo was awake despite his injury. At first he had been

unconscious due to the unbearable pain from the stab wound. Then the

pain somewhat diminished and replaced by nausea, and Frodo had come

to. But now as Frodo lost more blood, he became weaker and weaker.

He also began to lose touch with reality.

The rose petals he saw with his half-closed eyes were really

droplets of his own blood.

Frodo felt like he had been carried around forever when the men

suddenly stopped. Frodo recognized three figures of big horses

waiting. He gasped. His mind went to the black-hooded ringwraiths

that had chased him and the other hobbits back in the Shire. He was

still staring at the beasts in terror when Ted lowered him down to

the ground, none too gently. The impact knocked the breath out of

Frodo and the stab wound pounded him with agony. Frodo clenched his

eyes trying to will the pain away. For the time being he forgot about

his fear of the innocent horses.

Frodo pressed his hand hard on his left side. His blood was still

flowing and his breaths were short. He let out a small cry. But when

pinpricks on his cut flesh became more agonizing, the cry changed

into a louder shriek. In the end he wailed loudly like a wounded

animal, head thrown back. A man's fingers clamped over his mouth

stifled his moans. His cry and breath suddenly caught, Frodo almost

choked. He opened his eyes widely.

"Let me go!" he let out a stifled scream. Frodo struggled hard to sit

down while still clasping his bloody stomach, but he failed as the

man clutched his face tightly.

"Quiet!" growled the ruffian in Frodo's ear.

Frodo stilled and yelped when another man roughly tugged his hands

and bound them at the front. The hand on his mouth was lifted, only

to be replaced with a piece of cloth which was tightly knotted at the

back of Frodo's head. Frodo whimpered when his legs received a

similar treatment. With cuts from Merry's beating still sending

stinging pain to his shins, Frodo suffered even more.

Ted squatted beside Frodo and checked the wound on his stomach.

Completely terrified of the man, Frodo made a gurgling noise in his

throat.

"Don't be afraid, little one," mumbled Ted. "I just want to make sure

the injury isn't serious."

He unbuttoned Frodo's shirt, Merry's shirt actually, and glanced at

the large red spot staining Frodo's milky white skin. Ted grimaced at

the sight. The wound looked sickeningly bad.

"This was a mistake. It was not meant to happen. We were supposed to

take you safe and whole."

Frodo didn't believe him a bit. He closed his eyes. Take him whole?

To where? And 'whole' so that they would be sure he would feel all

the pains they inflicted when he was being tortured later? Taking

someone against his will, these men had to have an ill reason, if not

many, behind their actions.

Ted called one of his companions and asked him to bring him a bottle

of liquor. Knowing what they would do to him, Frodo rebelled. He

flailed his bound hands and planted his heels firmly, trying to move

backward. He failed as there was still someone behind him. Frodo was

kept still.

"Relax," ordered Ted. "We don't want to do you more harm. This liquid

is going to clean and dry your wound."

With that Ted dampened a piece of dirty rag with the liquor. Frodo

stared with terror. His body tensed as he waited for the cloth to

make contact with his skin. And when that finally happened, Frodo

jerked his legs very hard. The skin felt like it was being burned!

A gagged sound of 'Noooooooooo!' didn't stop Ted. He still pressed

the cloth over Frodo's wound and rubbed over it slowly. Frodo arched

his back in agony, tears flowing down freely. Finally he could no

longer stand the pain and sank into darkness.

***

For a moment, nobody moved, neither Merry nor Pippin. Then Pippin

spoke, as if in a daze,

"W-what was that about? Merry, who are they?"

Merry shrugged. He, too, was still confused.

A group of men suddenly attacked them and took Frodo away? Merry

shook his head slowly. They couldn't just be typical robbers. Then

without realizing what he was doing, his fingers crept into his

pocket and took the ring out.

"Pip," Merry called softly, lifting up the ring. "Is this what they

wanted?"

Pippin looked at Merry in shock. His jaw dropped open.

"Cousin!" he screamed. "If they do, we can't let them have Frodo! We

can't let them torture and force him to surrender what he doesn't

have!"

Poor Pip. He didn't realize the irony of his own words. Merry shot

Pippin an unbelieving stare. He agreed that the ruffians couldn't

have Frodo, though, for a completely different reason.

"Pippin," started Merry. He paused for a second to put the ring back

into his pocket after realizing his cousin couldn't wrench his eyes

from it. He continued.

Pippin, "We've got to hurry! Those men must be going on horses. We

have to get ourselves a pony if we want to at least catch their

trail."

**************

Frodo blinked his eyes. Everything seemed blurry at first but soon

came into focus. Frodo moved a bit but froze altogether when

realizing that he didn't lie on his back anymore. In fact, his legs,

no longer tied down, were dangling from some height. Frodo panicked.

With cloth still covering his mouth and cords still encircling his

wrists, Frodo tried to jump down from wherever he was. His movement

was stopped by a hand around his throat.

"Uurgh," he groaned.

"We're going to halt in a moment," whispered a voice in Frodo's

ear. "Don't even try to escape as we're now deep in the wild. You

will surely get lost and die."

Frodo realized that, too, in despair. He could see now that he

sat on one of the horses, in front of the ruffian. The ruffian, Ted,

finally released Frodo's throat when he was convinced that the hobbit

wouldn't make any foolish moves. But he pressed Frodo closer to his

body. Frodo wriggled, forcing the man to stop the stroll and shake

him with his two hands. Frodo's teeth rattled hard.

"You're a hard-headed, eh?!" the ruffian yelled angrily. "Do you

want to ride with Phil instead?" Ted grinned nastily. "You know, he's

been eyeing you with lust ever since we laid our eyes on you days

ago. But I don't think that's a good arrangement. You're much too

pretty for him!"

Now Ted couldn't hold back his laugh. It hurt Frodo's ears to

listen to the horrible threat buried in the ruffian's last words.

Frodo was also shocked to find out that he had been watched

for 'days'. So, while being in Merry's clutches, some others wanted

him, too? Frodo shuddered. What other evil things could the ring do

to him?

***********

Something on the ground caught Strider's attention.

"Sam, come here!" his voice was filled with urgency, making Sam, who

was several steps behind, jerk and run toward the ranger.

"Strider?"

"Look at this," Strider pointed at several hard-to-recognize spots.

They were brownish red. The man went to his knees and dipped his

finger to one of the spots. It felt sticky! And when he brought his

finger to his nose, it twitched to recognize, sickly, that it was

blood.



"Sam," Strider said slowly, not wanting to worry the hobbit. "Can

this be Frodo's blood?"

Hearing that, Sam grabbed Strider's shoulder so hard that the man

winced.

"Please no," Sam wailed. "It can't be!"

"Relax, Sam," persuaded Strider. "It's only possible, all right?"

He got up and looked around. He saw then that Sam and he were

standing in front of an inn with the name The Black Stallion painted

on its wall.

TBC