Mei: Thank you! I'm thrilled to have you review my story. finally. LOL.
But maybe, do you mind putting your email so I can write you personally?
I'm sorry, but I have to warn you for this chapter.
MBradford: Frodo did need someone to help him. OMG!
Chloe Amethyst: And I hope you are strong enough for this chapter. Yes, Merry's mind is twisted enough he doesn't know what's real and unreal.
Krista: Thank you for your support, Krista. Please tell me what you think about this chapter. Am I going to far?
Chapter 56
Warning: AU, extreme angst (with a slight ray of slash, I guess)
"Because he is WEAK, Pip!" Sam delivered his undeniable point. "And that makes him guilty, too. I'm talking about Merry we used to know, not the one under the Ring's domination."
For a moment no one uttered a word. There were only the sounds of the woods: wind blowing in the trees, birds chirping, and many others from forest creatures. But soon those were joined by another - Pippin's sobbing which got louder and louder with each passing moment.
"What is it?"
A hoarse, low voice startled both hobbits. They literally jumped. They turned around and found the owner of the voice. Strider.
"Ted and I have just realized how far both of you are behind so I decided to check on you," said the ranger flatly. His brow creased slightly and he gazed down at Sam. "Why did Pippin dismount from the pony? I thought he was still unwell. Sam?"
"So? What's it with that hobbit this time? Has he been pestering you again?"
"He -- He has to do something," Sam murmured.
"Do what?" asked Strider impatiently, furrowing his brows. He threw a glance down at Pippin, then faced Sam again, still impatient.
"He---"
"What, Sam?!"
"He has to take a pee!" Sam almost cried, hiding the real reason why they suddenly halted. He cast his eyes to a different direction, not even to Pippin, who involuntarily let his jaw drop open. With widened eyes, he stared at the back of Sam's head. Frodo's loyal gardener had just saved him from the man's wrath. Although it was Sam who started asking him about Frodo and Merry, Pippin knew that the ranger would address his anger toward him - Merry's loyal henchman.
Strider looked stunned. "Oh," he mumbled. "I thought---"
The ranger left his sentence hanging, gazing tiredly at Sam who was still turning away from him, and trudged away. In the distance, Ted got his breath back. He had been holding it for a while as he watched the whole scene. They could not afford to lose any more time now, not to waste time any longer especially to deal with that little urchin. Yet, on the other hand, Pippin had showed enough of his returning sanity, and that made Ted hope Strider did not lose his temper toward that lad. Despite the things that had been said about Pippin's ill treatment to Frodo, Ted felt pity for the little hobbit.
The piteous lad, on the verge of tears, was trying to reach at Sam's heart. Doubtfully, he trailed his fingers on Sam's elbow. Pippin was relieved when Sam did not flinch.
"Thank you, Sam," Pippin said softly.
Sam shrugged, walking away with the pony dragged behind him. Not once did he look back at Pippin. "No need to. It's my fault anyway."
Pippin was struggling to follow Sam's determined steps. They were so fast and strong, not seemingly to be hindered at all by the slow paces of the pony. And they were too fast for Pippin's battered body. The small hobbit started wheezing.
"But you're right, Sam," half-cried Pip in the middle of his panting breaths. "Merry's guilty, weak, and outrageous. I don't know how I'm going to be able to make up for it."
Sam halted at once, turning around.
"You make up for what you're doing, Pip, not for the deeds of others."
* * *
"What do you want?"
The man only snickered at Frodo's question.
His grasp dug deeper in the hobbit's curls and pulled Frodo's head as far back as the scarf would allow. Frodo gave a soft whimper not only because of the fear but also for the discomfort of it. That and also his squeezed left arm. It had been in the same position for quite some time, to be in between Frodo's own body and the bed. The blood flow was almost cut down entirely and that left his arm feeling completely numb.
Frodo stayed still helplessly, the sensation caused by the hand in his hair - biting into his scalp more painfully every single minute. His lips slowly parted forming soundless cry. Miserably, Frodo remembered Merry having told this man not to do anything harmful to him. But Frodo did not want to enrage this ruffian should he pester again. The man could decide to call upon his friends to 'give him a hand'.
And - oh, what had been exchanged between this man and his leader? Frodo recalled their whispering to each other when Merry had left. What had possibly been discussed? Were they planning on doing something nasty to him? Frodo started to struggle anew. Now he regretted not paying more attention to those big folk. His mind had been occupied only by the thoughts of Merry, Merry, and Merry. Ah, Merry. Frodo prayed silently for his cousin to come to save him.
So, the mistake was repeated.
Once more, Frodo's mind was busy thinking of none other than his beloved guardian Merry that he did not realize what the man had been doing.
Crouching down, the human reached for something hidden in one of his boots. A dagger. Quite small, though, that Frodo was still not aware of its existence until the cold metal connected with the soft complexion of his cheek. Just then that he could not hold back his shriek. A fist came down fast and hard on the small of Frodo's back as the result. Frodo bucked helplessly, his scream forced to die down. The man, no longer holding the knife as he threw it away and used his free hand to hit Frodo, hissed a cruel, low threat.
"I'd prefer if you don't make any sound, halfling!"
Half recovered from the surprising, painful blow, Frodo nodded submissively. His eyes shone wild with apprehension.
"Or I just have to gag you, too," added the man. "That will be too bad, though, 'cause I love your delicious whimpers." Feeling tingly, Frodo could feel the man leer on his neck.
"But we can let your Merry come too quickly and keep me from having fun!"
Somehow the man had his knife back and started caressing Frodo's face using its smooth surface. Still gripping at Frodo's hair so that the hobbit could not move, the man smoothed Frodo's eyebrows one after another.
"Hmm --- I like it when you frown, little one," purred the man softly. "You with your frightened expression is just irresistible. And added with this ingredient," the man slid his knife down both Frodo's lids, forcing the hobbit to flutter them shut. The cold sensation from the knife chilled Frodo's heart, and he stopped breathing without realizing it. "You'll make a perfect dessert. Or appetizer?"
"Then, of course, your skin," the man went on. Frodo's eyes snapped open and he desperately sucked in the air to his lungs. He felt relieved beyond words that the man did not intend to hurt his eyes. But---
"Your skin is unbelievably delicate, Frodo. Has anybody ever told you how delightful it tastes? Has anybody ever TASTED it? What do you say if I do that, Frodo?" Frodo never thought the man would really do what he said until Frodo felt him move forward and run his tongue over Frodo's right cheek - the only cheek he could reach, fortunately. Frodo could not help wincing and yelping as stinky saliva smeared over his skin.
"I said no sound!" The man was enraged and pressed the knife a little too deep into Frodo's cheek that its edge left a small, thin cut, leaving a small trail of blood. Frodo's knees weakened at the sharp pain and the fact that the man had finally left a physical mark on his body as he tormented Frodo.
He started to sob.
Strangely, the man released his grasp on Frodo's hair and brushed it backward instead, gently. His tenderness almost overwhelmed Frodo who was quivering heavily now.
"Ssshh---" whispered the man at Frodo's ear. "See what you have done? Now you're wounded. And who did that to you but yourself?"
Frodo was sobbing freely now. He shut his eyes as the man continued tracing down the contour of his face with his cursed knife, lingering a little too long on Frodo's lips. With the tip of the knife, the man circled the hobbit's full, rosy lips, pressing their lower part so it was slightly open. Frodo felt as if his heart was ready to burst. Tears that were rolling down his face had also worsened things. They cleverly took a direct route to the cut on the cheek making the hobbit whimper in pain. And still the man rubbed his weapon slowly along the lips, circling around them once more, and finally left them to go to Frodo's pointed, cleft chin and began playing with it. Frodo's body was still trembling but silently he sent his gratitude to the Valar for the scarf had unintentionally protected his neck from the man's possible assault. What now?
Apparently Frodo did not have to wait too long as the man proceeded - running his blade to the front side of Frodo's shirt. The hobbit tensed as the knife ghosted over his body through the fabric. Then the man came to the first button of the shirt and - snatched it off! Frodo caught his breath loudly and started to thrash about.
"NO!" Frodo's piercing cry followed the harsh thrashing, and he violently caught himself in the scarf and started to choke. But Frodo gave no care. He could see where this man was going and he was determined to stop him even if it cost him his life.
But a blow as hard as Sam's gaffer's hammer suddenly struck Frodo on the face. Frodo reeled as bright stars emerged before his eyes, accompanying him almost to a miserable slumber. But the man would not let Frodo faint. He grabbed the knot of the silk scarf above Frodo's head and jerked it tight. Frodo was wrenched up and he let out a strangled howl.
That infuriated the man more.
"How many times do I have to tell you NOT TO SCREAM OR EVEN OPEN YOUR MOUTH!"
The man practically blared himself out as Frodo writhed helplessly in front of him, face contorted and unable to breathe, with his cheek still throbbing unceasingly.
Soon Frodo felt like drifting away, unaware of what the man was doing - angrily ripping off each and every button of the wrecked hobbit. When the last button had been completely yanked away, the ruffian released his grip on Frodo's leash, got off the bed, and grinned cruelly over his work.
TBC
MBradford: Frodo did need someone to help him. OMG!
Chloe Amethyst: And I hope you are strong enough for this chapter. Yes, Merry's mind is twisted enough he doesn't know what's real and unreal.
Krista: Thank you for your support, Krista. Please tell me what you think about this chapter. Am I going to far?
Chapter 56
Warning: AU, extreme angst (with a slight ray of slash, I guess)
"Because he is WEAK, Pip!" Sam delivered his undeniable point. "And that makes him guilty, too. I'm talking about Merry we used to know, not the one under the Ring's domination."
For a moment no one uttered a word. There were only the sounds of the woods: wind blowing in the trees, birds chirping, and many others from forest creatures. But soon those were joined by another - Pippin's sobbing which got louder and louder with each passing moment.
"What is it?"
A hoarse, low voice startled both hobbits. They literally jumped. They turned around and found the owner of the voice. Strider.
"Ted and I have just realized how far both of you are behind so I decided to check on you," said the ranger flatly. His brow creased slightly and he gazed down at Sam. "Why did Pippin dismount from the pony? I thought he was still unwell. Sam?"
"So? What's it with that hobbit this time? Has he been pestering you again?"
"He -- He has to do something," Sam murmured.
"Do what?" asked Strider impatiently, furrowing his brows. He threw a glance down at Pippin, then faced Sam again, still impatient.
"He---"
"What, Sam?!"
"He has to take a pee!" Sam almost cried, hiding the real reason why they suddenly halted. He cast his eyes to a different direction, not even to Pippin, who involuntarily let his jaw drop open. With widened eyes, he stared at the back of Sam's head. Frodo's loyal gardener had just saved him from the man's wrath. Although it was Sam who started asking him about Frodo and Merry, Pippin knew that the ranger would address his anger toward him - Merry's loyal henchman.
Strider looked stunned. "Oh," he mumbled. "I thought---"
The ranger left his sentence hanging, gazing tiredly at Sam who was still turning away from him, and trudged away. In the distance, Ted got his breath back. He had been holding it for a while as he watched the whole scene. They could not afford to lose any more time now, not to waste time any longer especially to deal with that little urchin. Yet, on the other hand, Pippin had showed enough of his returning sanity, and that made Ted hope Strider did not lose his temper toward that lad. Despite the things that had been said about Pippin's ill treatment to Frodo, Ted felt pity for the little hobbit.
The piteous lad, on the verge of tears, was trying to reach at Sam's heart. Doubtfully, he trailed his fingers on Sam's elbow. Pippin was relieved when Sam did not flinch.
"Thank you, Sam," Pippin said softly.
Sam shrugged, walking away with the pony dragged behind him. Not once did he look back at Pippin. "No need to. It's my fault anyway."
Pippin was struggling to follow Sam's determined steps. They were so fast and strong, not seemingly to be hindered at all by the slow paces of the pony. And they were too fast for Pippin's battered body. The small hobbit started wheezing.
"But you're right, Sam," half-cried Pip in the middle of his panting breaths. "Merry's guilty, weak, and outrageous. I don't know how I'm going to be able to make up for it."
Sam halted at once, turning around.
"You make up for what you're doing, Pip, not for the deeds of others."
* * *
"What do you want?"
The man only snickered at Frodo's question.
His grasp dug deeper in the hobbit's curls and pulled Frodo's head as far back as the scarf would allow. Frodo gave a soft whimper not only because of the fear but also for the discomfort of it. That and also his squeezed left arm. It had been in the same position for quite some time, to be in between Frodo's own body and the bed. The blood flow was almost cut down entirely and that left his arm feeling completely numb.
Frodo stayed still helplessly, the sensation caused by the hand in his hair - biting into his scalp more painfully every single minute. His lips slowly parted forming soundless cry. Miserably, Frodo remembered Merry having told this man not to do anything harmful to him. But Frodo did not want to enrage this ruffian should he pester again. The man could decide to call upon his friends to 'give him a hand'.
And - oh, what had been exchanged between this man and his leader? Frodo recalled their whispering to each other when Merry had left. What had possibly been discussed? Were they planning on doing something nasty to him? Frodo started to struggle anew. Now he regretted not paying more attention to those big folk. His mind had been occupied only by the thoughts of Merry, Merry, and Merry. Ah, Merry. Frodo prayed silently for his cousin to come to save him.
So, the mistake was repeated.
Once more, Frodo's mind was busy thinking of none other than his beloved guardian Merry that he did not realize what the man had been doing.
Crouching down, the human reached for something hidden in one of his boots. A dagger. Quite small, though, that Frodo was still not aware of its existence until the cold metal connected with the soft complexion of his cheek. Just then that he could not hold back his shriek. A fist came down fast and hard on the small of Frodo's back as the result. Frodo bucked helplessly, his scream forced to die down. The man, no longer holding the knife as he threw it away and used his free hand to hit Frodo, hissed a cruel, low threat.
"I'd prefer if you don't make any sound, halfling!"
Half recovered from the surprising, painful blow, Frodo nodded submissively. His eyes shone wild with apprehension.
"Or I just have to gag you, too," added the man. "That will be too bad, though, 'cause I love your delicious whimpers." Feeling tingly, Frodo could feel the man leer on his neck.
"But we can let your Merry come too quickly and keep me from having fun!"
Somehow the man had his knife back and started caressing Frodo's face using its smooth surface. Still gripping at Frodo's hair so that the hobbit could not move, the man smoothed Frodo's eyebrows one after another.
"Hmm --- I like it when you frown, little one," purred the man softly. "You with your frightened expression is just irresistible. And added with this ingredient," the man slid his knife down both Frodo's lids, forcing the hobbit to flutter them shut. The cold sensation from the knife chilled Frodo's heart, and he stopped breathing without realizing it. "You'll make a perfect dessert. Or appetizer?"
"Then, of course, your skin," the man went on. Frodo's eyes snapped open and he desperately sucked in the air to his lungs. He felt relieved beyond words that the man did not intend to hurt his eyes. But---
"Your skin is unbelievably delicate, Frodo. Has anybody ever told you how delightful it tastes? Has anybody ever TASTED it? What do you say if I do that, Frodo?" Frodo never thought the man would really do what he said until Frodo felt him move forward and run his tongue over Frodo's right cheek - the only cheek he could reach, fortunately. Frodo could not help wincing and yelping as stinky saliva smeared over his skin.
"I said no sound!" The man was enraged and pressed the knife a little too deep into Frodo's cheek that its edge left a small, thin cut, leaving a small trail of blood. Frodo's knees weakened at the sharp pain and the fact that the man had finally left a physical mark on his body as he tormented Frodo.
He started to sob.
Strangely, the man released his grasp on Frodo's hair and brushed it backward instead, gently. His tenderness almost overwhelmed Frodo who was quivering heavily now.
"Ssshh---" whispered the man at Frodo's ear. "See what you have done? Now you're wounded. And who did that to you but yourself?"
Frodo was sobbing freely now. He shut his eyes as the man continued tracing down the contour of his face with his cursed knife, lingering a little too long on Frodo's lips. With the tip of the knife, the man circled the hobbit's full, rosy lips, pressing their lower part so it was slightly open. Frodo felt as if his heart was ready to burst. Tears that were rolling down his face had also worsened things. They cleverly took a direct route to the cut on the cheek making the hobbit whimper in pain. And still the man rubbed his weapon slowly along the lips, circling around them once more, and finally left them to go to Frodo's pointed, cleft chin and began playing with it. Frodo's body was still trembling but silently he sent his gratitude to the Valar for the scarf had unintentionally protected his neck from the man's possible assault. What now?
Apparently Frodo did not have to wait too long as the man proceeded - running his blade to the front side of Frodo's shirt. The hobbit tensed as the knife ghosted over his body through the fabric. Then the man came to the first button of the shirt and - snatched it off! Frodo caught his breath loudly and started to thrash about.
"NO!" Frodo's piercing cry followed the harsh thrashing, and he violently caught himself in the scarf and started to choke. But Frodo gave no care. He could see where this man was going and he was determined to stop him even if it cost him his life.
But a blow as hard as Sam's gaffer's hammer suddenly struck Frodo on the face. Frodo reeled as bright stars emerged before his eyes, accompanying him almost to a miserable slumber. But the man would not let Frodo faint. He grabbed the knot of the silk scarf above Frodo's head and jerked it tight. Frodo was wrenched up and he let out a strangled howl.
That infuriated the man more.
"How many times do I have to tell you NOT TO SCREAM OR EVEN OPEN YOUR MOUTH!"
The man practically blared himself out as Frodo writhed helplessly in front of him, face contorted and unable to breathe, with his cheek still throbbing unceasingly.
Soon Frodo felt like drifting away, unaware of what the man was doing - angrily ripping off each and every button of the wrecked hobbit. When the last button had been completely yanked away, the ruffian released his grip on Frodo's leash, got off the bed, and grinned cruelly over his work.
TBC
