Chapter 20: Delusions of Gradeur
"Pip," Merry moaned weakly when he regained his consciousness. "What have
you done?"
Merry rubbed the swollen part of his head slowly. It was painful and the
touch made it worse. For a moment he felt a dizzying sensation and he
slumped back to the tree that supported his body. He gave Pippin a
questioning look as he caught the younger hobbit sobbing while going
through the pockets of Merry's shirt, waistcoat, and breeches.
"What is the matter with you?"
"I'm sorry, Cousin," gasped Pippin. "But I have to take the ring from you.
I must do right by Frodo. Please don't be mad at me," he begged."
Merry's face changed from wonder to anger.
"NO! It's mine!" he grasped Pippin's hands that were still roving at his
pockets and tried to push them away. He was successful, or, no! It was
Pippin himself who let go. Pippin straightened up, looking strangely
taller, and glared down at Merry mockspat ingly. His voice did not seem to
be his own.
"Look at you!" spat Pippin. "Weak and hopeless. You can never fight me and
win!"
With that, Pippin moved back a little and kicked Merry hard in the chest.
Merry held his breath, feeling both shock and pain surge through his torso.
He couldn't breathe for a couple of seconds. With hitching breaths, Merry
folded his arms and hugged them to his chest protectively.
Pip wasn't satisfied yet. Merry could recover any minute. This time Pip
directed his sturdy, hairy foot to Merry's face and struck him in the jaw.
Merry was slammed back to the tree and was lost completely. Pippin grinned
smugly and reached down to continue searching for the ring undisturbed.
Finally, Pippin's small fingers found their sought after prize. His hand
clawed around the ring. The touch of the cool metal sent shivers through
his spine. He felt a surge of ..power? Pippin lifted the ring high in the
air. A sinister gleam entered the once-laughing eyes.
"Now!" Pippin thundered. "It finally becomes mine! No one will take it away
from me!"
And away flew all Pippin's concern and pity for Frodo. Away flew Pippin's
desire to help his respectable cousin. These had been Pippin's only motives
to disown Merry of the One Ring. But no longer. The purity of Pippin's
motives disintegrated into the night air. The ring! It consumed Pippin's
thoughts entirely. Nothing else was in Pippin's mind now but himself and
his plan to conquer the world of the farmers. In the not-too-distant
future, Pippin, that fool of a Took, would have all farmers bow down to him
and bring him piles and piles of mushrooms everyday! Hmm, delicious!
***
"Ugh!" Frodo's eyes snapped open when he felt a pair of hands jerk his legs
from their former position, curled up and pressed to his upper body.
"No!" A terrified Frodo cried out to find Phil looming over him. "I - wha-"
His word was cut of harshly by a hand over his mouth. Frodo couldn't do
anything, although he tried hard to pull the hand away with his tied ones.
But even with his nails planted in the man's skin, he wasn't able to make
Phil give up.
The clamp became tighter and tighter, cutting the air supply to Frodo's
lungs. Frodo thrashed as hard as he could, resulting only in the firmer
clutch of his face and - now - body. He began to lose his consciousness as
Phil dragged him away. Frodo could no longer struggle. Phil sadistically
tugged the hobbit on his back, making him writhe in pain because of the
small, sharp-edged stones and tiny twigs scraping his skin.
Phil dragged Frodo behind the bush, not that the ruffian cared so much
about privacy. He just wanted to make sure Frodo would not be able to
escape easily while Phil was 'enjoying' him.
Frodo then felt that the hand holding his body was no longer there and the
one on his mouth somewhat loosened. He could breathe again now. Nothing to
be thankful for, though, as he became aware of Phil's hands all over his
body. Cruelly. Hungrily. The man took a knife to cut his leg bonds, not out
of kindness.but so he could.
Oh Eru, NO! Frodo shivered terribly. His eyes went wide with panic. Phil
went feral. He took Frodo with all his might. Tears rolled down from
Frodo's face onto the Isengarder's hand.
"Shit!" cursed Phil. The wetness on his hand, proof the hobbit found him
repulsive, angered him beyond words. Phil's actions became more desperate
and violent. Frodo sobbed miserably. He felt so humiliated. In his panic,
he gasped and panted hopelessly. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe --
-
"Phil!" Ted's voice. "I won't let you lay your filthy hands on that little
creature! It's my responsibility to bring him unharmed!"
Frodo opened his eyes. Wasn't that too late already? Strangely, Frodo was
able to breathe freely now. He also noticed that he was back to his
previous place, cuddling up on the ground. His limbs were still bound, and
he still wore his clothes. Yet he couldn't wonder too long as Phil was
coming to his direction.
"Ohhhh," Frodo sighed heavily and tried to get up, still dizzy from the
sudden waking. But apart from that, he was all right save for the stab
wound and other injury from days earlier. There were no signs of the
violation he thought he had gotten from Phil just now.
What was that? Was it just a dream? A horrible, terrifying dream he had
because of the fear of what Phil might do to him? Was it a reflection of
dark thoughts deep down in his subconscious mind? Had these formed
themselves into a hellish nightmare. It seemed so real. Almost as real as
his visions of his mother had been. What was happening to his mind? Frodo
didn't know if he should be grateful because it was only a nightmare, or
even more frightened because it could be realized any time now.
Frodo's mind snapped back to reality when he suddenly heard a scream coming
from someone in much pain. Frodo stared in alarm at the sight of Phil.
Phil's eyes bulged out and his mouth, the source of the scream, was wide
open. Frodo nearly jumped out of his skin. Caught! It was coming. The
nightmare was coming!
On the contrary. Phil seemed to freeze. The next second, Phil tumbled
heavily to the ground - dead. A hilt of a dagger protruded from his back.
TBC
