AN: I'm very sorry for the late update! Blame it on my muses that forced me to have new ideas! But don't worry. I'm not abandoning this story! I won't dare!
Erica: Oh, thanks for reviewing it! I'm always thrilled to hear from new readers (not new, eh?) Please, read along!
aelfgifu: Don't worry. I keep taking (stealing, too? :)) ideas from great stories out there. And I agree, I keep falling to his charming though dazed blue eyes. Frodo!!
Ilmare: I used to be a lurker, too. No worries. And I think I still am. But I'm trying my best! Sorry for the lateness. Hope you still continue reading!
endymion: I hope you've come back. I miss you! How's the holiday?
Chloe Amethyst: I wonder if there was such a thing. LOL. And I wonder what you will think of the coming idea.
Krista: Do you like the men to do anything while Frodo was conscious or unconscious? Ha ha. I'll do both!
MBradford: Oh, my other beta! Merry would show up and so would the others. I'm wondering myself when I'm able to finally come to the end.
Chapter 59
Warning: AU, violence
~ Present time ~
Strider swiped aside some leaves hanging on lower twigs of a tree and looked down at the sloping ground ahead of him. Ted stopped short behind him, puffing out exhausted breaths after the many hours of walking without rest. Pippin, now back on the pony lead slowly by Sam, exhaled loudly. He was the one who felt most relieved knowing that they were not too far from Merry now.
Pippin knew how Sam worried to death thinking about his beloved master. Or how Ted felt jittery imagining what else 'that' hobbit might do that would worsen Frodo's condition. The others could only dread what might have happened to Frodo, while he, Pippin, knew exactly what the past treatments were that Merry – and himself – had imposed on their poor cousin. And none of them were proper, even the bathing. All the cares had been directed at one goal – to break Frodo and make him feel low and worthless beyond belief.
Pippin dismounted the pony soundlessly and walked forward until he stood next to the ranger. The hobbit looked down, too.
"A river," muttered Pippin gloomily. "How are we supposed to cross it? Should we swim?"
As if wrenched back from his reverie, Strider snapped his head up and stared down sideways at Pippin.
"Do not despair, little master," smiled the ranger. "Bruinen River has several spots where the water does not run deep. We can easily walk across it to its ford on the other side."
"Thank gods," Pippin took a deep breath. "And then where are we going?"
Strider's smile grew wider. Pippin's innocence intrigued him so. The ranger fell to his knees beside Pippin and his right arm sneaked around the young hobbit's shoulders. He gestured Pippin to cast his eyes upward. Strider's left hand pointed at some place uphill across the river.
"There lies Rivendell, the last homely house - the house of elves, guided by Lord Elrond. That's where we are going. You said it was the place your cousin, Merry, was heading, did you not? Well, we are not too far away from him."
Pippin's eyes widened in joy and wariness, too. So, finally they would be able to save Frodo, he thought. But another part of his mind worried that they might have been too late. Frodo might have gone. And, Pippin shrugged to himself as he did not really want to admit it, but he wondered what would become of Merry? He hoped Strider and the rest would have some mercy upon his cousin and not treat him too harshly. It was the Ring's influence that had made Merry behave strangely.
Strider stood up.
"Come. We must get going. But," Strider warned, "we have to be extra careful. Remember the men and orcs Pippin said were accompanying his cousins? I have not seen them but they must still be around." The ranger turned around to meet Ted's worried gaze. "We have to do our best, right, Ted?" Strider dabbed Ted on the shoulder. "Frodo is in need of us."
Ted nodded silently.
So, down crept the small group of men and hobbits with the ranger in the front, followed by Pippin and Sam who was still holding the pony by the leash. Ted followed closely at their back.
Strider and the company moved forward with neither the same speed nor the same manner a before. They practically crept forward this time, though not really crawling, progressing silently from tree to tree, from flock of bushes to other flocks of bushes, cautiously aware of what might be awaiting them down there.
--- But definitely not aware of what probably lurked BEHIND them. A swooshing sound of an arrow swiftly slicing the air just a little to the left of Strider's ear stiffened the man. He stilled abruptly, much to Pippin's surprise. The ranger quickly drew out his sword and turned back, ready to strike their attacker – when suddenly he heard a loud, hoarse squeak from the direction of the ford.
* * *
~ Flashback ~
It was hot, burning and bitter – both from the taste of the smoked weed and also from the liquid involuntarily passed through his lips. Frodo tried to open his eyes and refocused his sight when it dawned on him that he had been crawling miserably on the floor, just out of his head-splitting faint. He had also retched heavily, from the look of the scattered liquid on the floor, when he was still unconscious.
Then there were hands all over his body. No – they had been there even before Frodo regained his consciousness. Hands taking off his shirt – an easy thing to do as Hull already unbuttoned it. Hands removing the braces of Frodo's breeches which caused them to slide down. And Frodo jerked frantically. In blind panic he reached down to keep hold of his trousers. Surprised at the hobbit's sudden wakefulness, the men lost their grips for a brief moment but it was enough for Frodo to scramble backward, pushing with the heels of his feet trying desperately to sit and then stand up.
Frodo's eyes gleamed wildly at the three men squatting in front of him as they crept forward with predatory grins in their ugly faces. Frodo shrieked when two of the men successfully grabbed his feet, locking their hands tightly around Frodo's ankles and thus ruining the hobbit's chance to get up.
Still grasping securely at the waist of his breeches in his fists, Frodo could not avoid being slammed hard on his back when the men pulled at his legs harshly. Frodo's head hit the wooden board with a sickening thud, making the hobbit let out a choked cry as nausea threatened him once more. Frodo shut his eyes as he was seeing stars. His hands went limp at his sides, not bothering to take hold of the breeches anymore. His breaths went short.
***
~ Present time ~
Merry's shout was still ringing in his ears.
"Frodo! What have they done to you??"
And Gandalf struggled to wrench free. He still could not see what Merry had seen, being hindered by men standing in front of him, at Merry's back. Merry's voice had sounded like a mixture of rage and – deep anguish. Gandalf found Merry's display of sincere emotion amazing, knowing what kind of state Merry was in; knowing that – right now – Frodo was nothing more than a shield for Merry, a warranty, to his devilish plans.
Gandalf twisted his body from side to side, planted his feet and then kicked his captors, anything he could think of to set himself free. But the Isengarders were unbelievably strong. Gandalf cursed out loud. Too bad his staff had been taken from him.
But his wish – to see Frodo's state of being – was granted without Gandalf having to do a thing. Merry dashed forward, still crying low and high, to the bed. And the men followed him, too, which Gandalf assumed, was to give any assistance their little master might need. Gandalf cringed as he pondered how Merry acted exactly like a little king—a little king who enjoyed his position very much, who fully realized the consequences that came from it, and thus, would do anything to fulfill his wants and his needs, in any way if possible.
But the wizard cringed even more when he witnessed the sight before his old, grey eyes.
* * *
~ Flashback ~
Frodo sucked in his breath and unclenched his eyes at once as he sensed hands clawing and tightening around his arms and wrists, pulling him up to a standing position. Another pair of hands were close on his breeches and cruelly tugged them down, eliciting a frustrated yet angry yelp from Frodo. The men ignored him. Instead, they lifted him a bit and shook him so that the trousers slipped from Frodo's ankles and fell to the floor.
Feeling exposed as he was now only clad in his undergarments, Frodo struggled desperately. But it was useless. The stronger men half dragged, half hoisted him to the foot of the bed. Frodo felt strangely relieved despite himself. At least these loathsome ruffians did not throw him on the bed where they could ---
Frodo snatched himself out of the horrifying images that played in his mind. He was still in a grave danger and had no clue whatsoever what these men had been planning to do to him. And who said that he had been safe from 'that' action?
The men put Frodo down and leaned him against the bedpost. The hobbit scarcely had time to consider what might happen next when both his arms were brutally jerked backward. A coil of rope was fastened around his wrists, cruelly biting into his skin. Frodo's fair face blanched and he renewed his struggle.
"What are you doing?" His loud scream was intensified by his fear and despair. Frodo stretched and strained against his bonds, but the rope was tautly bound. Frodo only added to his own suffering by rubbing his soft skin against the rough cords.
Too late Frodo realized that he could have still used his legs to kick. He did not get the chance. Then men grabbed Frodo's hairy ankles and secured them with another length of rope, a thicker one. And although he was still standing flat on his feet, Frodo soon felt his legs and feet fall asleep as the lash cut his circulation.
Frodo craned his neck to look down at his feet and tried desperately to move them. A hand roughly took his chin and yanked it up.
"Stand still! Or I'll crash your dear bones down there!" It was Slater. His threat was answered wordlessly by Frodo's fiery eyes. "Oh, still full of spirit, are we?" laughed the man.
"You will regret having done this!" said Frodo through clenched teeth. "Merry won't ---"
"Ah!" Slater flung Frodo's chin sideways and waved his hand mockingly. "Merry? Your little guardian? Hah! Just because he holds the Ring he thinks he has us under his control?" A strange feeling crept in Frodo at the mention of the Ring but he quickly drove it away. Merry would be enraged if he found out that Frodo still desired Merry's precious possession.
"Such a miserable fool," Slater went on. "What can he do to stop all of us? I can easily take it away from him and his world will turn upside down!"
Easier said than done. Slater could carry on bluffing about what he could and would do to Merry, but he knew himself it would need a great effort to do what he wanted. Deep down Slater realized there was no small discomfort when Merry was around. Fear? Most likely.
"But you are different." Slater moved closer to Frodo, stooping until his face was just an inch apart from the hobbit. Frodo frowned and flinched. Slater reminded him of Hull with his knife, and how the man had licked Frodo's cheek. Frodo remembered vividly the stinking smell of the man's mouth. And Slater was no better than Hull. "I like you. No, WE like you. It's true that we want the Ring. But we want you, too. I can see that you are such a valuable thing for the wizard and maybe even for the elves. I can't say why – for now. Bit I believe my master, Saruman, can."
Slater stared deeply at Frodo, making the dazed hobbit unable to breathe. Slater was rambling, Frodo was sure of that. Why, even Frodo had not realized at that time that the fate of the entire Middle-earth would be cast upon his frail shoulders.
But apart of his obvious reservations about the man, Frodo started to tremble at the sound of Saruman's name. No! It could not be! Frodo could not, did not want to, meet the wrathful man again! Frodo shook his head in despair. The fire in his eyes was utterly extinguished, replaced now by horror, and he could not utter a single word.
Frodo never thought that these men – and orcs out there – were allied to Saruman. Or rather, were under Saruman's power. And they had the intention to take Frodo with them. Slater laughed at the sight of Frodo's frustrated face.
"Why, little one? Do not fear. That's why we're here to do something to you that will make you become one of us."
Frodo's head shook even harder and so did his almost naked body. "No, no!" he sputtered. "Not, smoking that pipe again, please." Frodo was terrified as he recalled the hammering headache that followed afterwards. Slater was mesmerized, half by the hobbit's plea and half by Frodo's breathtakingly beautiful, eyes, now filled with tears.
"Why, no, Frodo," assured Slater. "It's going to be something that will mark you as one of us! When we are done, anyone in Middle-earth will be able to see that you belong to us! You have to admit that special connection, Frodo, for we've already smoked together in the name of our newly-established fellowship."
Frodo could not believe what he was hearing. Never in his life would he want to be part of this disgusting bunch!
But the man had delivered something that sounded like a riddle to Frodo's ears. Not smoking? Then what?
Frodo's swilling thoughts were distracted by the sight of someone kneeling down on his left side. The man was busily removing a series of objects, some of which were strange and unfamiliar to Frodo. There was a kind of handle with a sharp object tied on one of its ends, a small hammer, a pouch, and a bowl. Oh, there was more than one handle! Frodo's eyes widened and he shrank back – at least that was he thought he was doing.
"What are those things?" Frodo whispered, shaking hard. "What are you going to do to me?"
Slater sneered at him cruelly.
"First, I'd like to show you something, Frodo, my dear."
TBC
Please place your vote!
Readers, as I'm getting close to the end of this story, (seriously! :)) I'd really like to see how many of you think positively of a sequel. Please answer this:
What do you think of a sequel?
a. Such a waste of time!
b. That would be great!
Okay! You just click on the review button and give me your a or b!
Iorhael
