LOTR Sparkling Pippin: Oh, I'm so flattered! I don't know if I can do the same if I were you. But Emma's story is indeed excellent, and although she said that I have inspired her, it's from her that I really learn to write. I hope you will find the sequel worth reading, too, later.
Oddwen: I'm so glad to find you still follow this one!
aelfgifu: Ah, you have seen what happened next to Frodo that our readers here have not! LOL. Hope I can start the sequel soon enough.
Blue Jedi Hobbit: You can write a poem, I see! :) Thanks for the vote, hon.
MeiMeiru: I'm amazed to see you can manage to avoid using the letter 'a'! How come?!
Caige: And thanks for your vote!
Krista: Sorry for the lateness. I just feel that I have to finish this story so I took my time in writing it. LOL.
endymion: Thanks for your suggestion about the psychological things. I do plan to touch both physical and psy sides. And I think I will need your help!
MBradford: Yes, yes. That subject of regret and redemption will be intriguing.
heartofahobbit: Thanks. I need every support I get.
Chloe Amethyst: Hey, I'm sure I received an email alerting me for your review but how come that it didn't show up? BTW, your review made me rethink and definitely the one that made me write what I wrote for the last chapter. Thanks for the wonderful and insightful suggestions. I think I will need more of something like that.
Chapter 60 – You Shall Love Me and Despair- Part One
Warning: AU, violence, angst
Merry hurried toward Frodo, both being little figures among those big people. Merry was heedless of them, as another horrible sight was in his eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks unstoppably as he caught the sight of the bound, half-naked, and barely conscious Frodo.
"Frodo, beloved," Merry wailed, swallowing hard and covering Frodo's body with his own, making the other one stir and weakly flutter his wearied eyes open. Recognizing who was hugging him, Frodo's mouth cracked into a sad smile.
"Merry," he whispered faintly. "Help me."
Merry let go of Frodo, clutched at his shoulders, and stepped back to inspect his older cousin's condition. He was painfully made aware of the dark bruises on the face and swollen eyes from too much crying. Merry's eyes wandered down and gradually his breath was caught. There were strange marks here and there in the form of small, white palms--one on the right upper chest, another on the hip on the right, and the other on the outer side of the left thigh. Streaks of dried scarlet blood left bitter evidence of the places where blood had flowed freely down the wounds.
Merry's probing fingers to one on the chest wiped Frodo's smile completely off of his face, making him flinch and batten down his eyes in agony.
"What is this?" demanded Merry in a subdued voice.
"What is that?" Frodo asked in panic as Slater tore his own shirt open. The hobbit's eyes went wide at the sight of a hand mark at the size of a man's hand painted on Slater's chest. The man smirked, his eyes drifting down toward his midsection. He fingered the mark slowly, looking as if he were enthralled by it."This?" Slater words sounded as strange as his acts. "This is what I wanted to show you, Frodo. This is what I'm proud of. This is what shows who really I am. Can you imagine?" Slater's eyes flickered back at Frodo, making him gasp in surprise. Those eyes – they showed pure fidelity upon something – or someone, and determination to convert others to the way they had taken. "He chose ME," Salter continued. "Among others, he had chosen me to be his follower and leader for the rest."
Frodo's gaze stuck at Slater's, seemingly not able to falter. Frodo shuddered. If the person the man meant was Saruman, he had to escape him! But how? Frodo tugged at the ropes wounded tightly around his wrists and ankles. He could not escape the bonds. He could not escape even the man's gaze! Then Frodo's suspicion was convinced. "And Saruman has chosen YOU too." Frodo recoiled as Slater pointed a forefinger at his face. Frodo paled."But why?" Frodo's voice shook. "I thought he only wanted…" The fact that he did not have the Ring anymore pained Frodo. He could not finish his sentence.
"Oh, that's none of our business. He ordered us to bring you to him and bring you will we do. I only remember his words about you bearing something in the end. That it has been your doom."
Frodo stared at Slater blankly. That sounded like a riddle. He sighed. Whatever this man was saying was totally beyond his comprehension. Slater had to be speaking of Merry. Not him.
"So," Slater turned his attention from his mark to Frodo. "So I thought it would be better to name you as one of us beforehand. That way you can't disprove being our ally."
"NO!" This could not be happening! Frodo could not think of anything worse than becoming a part of an enemy.
"No! You cannot make me!" He strained at his bonds again, not caring anymore if that would cause the ropes to cut deep into his skin, or if that would break his arms. Frodo jerked and thrashed wildly. Even his numb ankles seemed to be alive again.
"No, no!" Frodo almost jumped in place. "Merry!"
"Silence!" Enraged at Frodo's sudden feral behavior, Slater sent a mighty backhand across the hobbit's much smaller face. Frodo yelped as his head was thrown sideways. An agonizing pain soon followed and Frodo wept without realizing it.
"Quiet," hissed Slater. "You should be happy we want you to be our company. You are going to be under our protection as long as you live. Nobody will dare to lay a finger on you."
"Don't," sobbed Frodo. Under Saruman's protection and becoming a traitor for his own kin? The memory of when he was Saruman's captive came to him again. "Please. I will never be a threat to you. Let me go."
Slater took a handful of Frodo's hair and yanked it backward. Frodo gaped at him in terror.
"Hull, Fred. Do it now!"
With his head jerked to the back, Frodo could hardly see what the two men were doing. He just knew they were approaching him. Frodo struggled to release himself from Slater's grip but to no avail.
"Ssh. You will be better off if you don't see."
"Stop it," pleaded Frodo. "I will prove to be useless for you."
But Slater did not listen, too occupied with watching his two men. Frodo was about to say something else when sharp pains suddenly stung him from his chest and his hip. Frodo was too startled to scream as he felt spikes pricking into him. But those spikes did not stop there. Again and again they cut into his skin and gradually the pains became unbearable. Frodo finally broke into cry, sounding like a wounded animal.
A slap quieted him – but just for a while. The pain was too much. Frodo squirmed and kept shrieking in agony until Slater eventually decided to clamp a hand over Frodo's mouth to muffle the screams. Yet he was forced to let go of Frodo's hair as his position now became awkward. Frodo took the chance to glimpse down and he almost choked at what he saw. Those men had carved his skin! With the thorn at the end of their handle, Hull and Fred were creating puncture marks on Frodo's body. Frodo's face blanched and nausea came over him as he watched blood plodding down the scars. He turned his eyes back to Slater, shaking his head in despair and letting out a stifled moan. Frodo was a pathetic sight but Slater ignored him. And for the time being, the miserable hobbit's stiffened movements every now and then and the streams of his tears were the only sign of how painful the whole process was.
Finally Hull and Fred backed off from Frodo, wiping out the blood from the marks, revealing two small signs of hands. They – and Slater – smirked in contentment. Slater unclasped his hand from Frodo's face, leaving the hobbit to gasp and draw in as much air that had been refused him. What now?
Hull and Fred withdrew but returned again with a pouch. Hull poured the contents of it first before handing it in to Fred. Frodo frowned. It looked powdery. What was that?
The throbbing sensation from the carved wounds had yet to diminish when all of a sudden both men rubbed the ashes into them. Frodo sucked in the air in one sharp puff as the contact between the ashes and the open gash sent a terrible twinge that then spread all over his body. Frodo could no longer hold himself back and in the end and a heart-wrenching scream echoed throughout the room, or perhaps throughout Rivendell.
Frodo cared for nothing else but his misery. Not for Slater's angered slaps that rained down his face later on in a failed attempt to shut him up, not for the man's order to bestow another mark – this time somewhere on Frodo's leg. He was snapped back to reality only when the entire painful process resumed. Again, Frodo howled and cried and wept in unimaginable anguish, leaving him senseless with pain.
Gandalf felt the world around him spinning. He clenched his damp hands and wet eyes shut tightly. The wizard froze in the clutches of two big brutes, knees weakening as Frodo haltingly and chokingly recounted the ordeal he had to experience in the hands of the savage men. The memory of Frodo's small voice greeting him merrily, telling him stories the loving hobbit had just finished reading, or sing jolly songs during their short trip across Hobbiton on his simple horse cart was still clear in the grey pilgrim's mind.
But none of those things could be recognized this time. Frodo's voice was still small but it was now full of suffering, and often times hindered by unleashed sobs and tears. Gandalf was close to tears himself.
"Merry…" The wizard started at his own almost pleading tone.
"Merry…" But he started more when Frodo raised his voice at exactly the same time, hardly raising the voice, though, with all the quivers coming out of the hobbit's trembling lips.
"Yes, Frodo, my love," rustled Merry, snatched back from his reverie.
"I'm cold, Merry. Can… would you untie me? Please?" Frodo's begging eyes sought Merry's and they drowned in bewilderment seeing Merry shook his head, slowly.
"Merry?"
Instead of answering, Merry took Frodo's face in both his hands and fixed his gaze at the hapless hobbit.
"I know what they were doing. I told them to do it." Merry's voice was as crisp as the morning's air. But Frodo was shattered.
"No," he whispered. "No, you didn't."
Merry cast Frodo loose and walked back and forth in front of the trussed up, battered form of Frodo, neither answering nor glancing at the hobbit. Frodo shifted restlessly against the ropes and the pole. Stinging pain from the wounds that had started to swell effectively stopped him from moving.
"Merry," Frodo gagged from the bile suddenly closing in his throat. "You did not know anything about this. This was alltheir plan. They told me… They told me… No! You could not know anything about any of this!" A sudden dread filled Frodo's mind. What if… What if…
But the cruel hobbit did not say a word. Merry kept on moving, his fingers running absentmindedly to his breast pocket, caressing the Ring.
Frodo was trying to control his suddenly ragged breath.
"Merry," Frodo wheezed. "You are going to punish those men, are you not?"
Silence. Only the sounds of Merry's bare feet sweeping across the tiled floor that were heard. Even Gandalf felt his breath catch. What was Merry up to?
After a few moments not getting answers for his questions, Frodo threw his head backward, eyes staring unseeingly to the ceiling, as if in delirium. But he was not despairing. Not at all. Never before did he feel as sanguine as he did now. One could even see him smile.
Then those smiling lips parted open, revealing line after line of sentences spoken in such a soft voice, almost like a song.
"I know you did not know any of the men's ideas," said Frodo dreamily. "I know you just pretend to know so as not to put our lives in danger. I know you will guard me always, to be by my side…"
But the mellifluous voice of Frodo was outrageously lacerated by a powerful blow across his face, splitting the lips that half a second earlier were still sending serene, hopeful words-words that seemed to mesmerize every single being in the room.
Aghast, appalled, flabbergasted, Frodo stared ghastly at Merry. Salty, coppery tang of blood clogged suddenly in his mouth, one of the many other reasons that rendered him suddenly speechless..
Frodo could only whimper.
Merry's slap – the sudden change of Merry's demeanor toward him almost drove Frodo to the edge of his sanity. He gazed up – a vain act as the next thing Merry did was grab Frodo's hair and jerk it back. Whether he wanted it or not, Frodo had to gaze up, had to sink into the demonic stare of his possessed young cousin.
"Oh, Merry," pulled Frodo, tears clinging at his lashes. "Forgive me…"
"How dare you! How dare you talking about being by someone's side…" snapped Merry in great wrath, leaving Frodo wondering what this was about. "…when you so readily fled to their side!"
For the second time in just several minutes Frodo was thunderstruck. Fled to their side? Merry got impatient at the questioning look Frodo wore.
"Oh, don't pretend to be so naïve, dear cousin!" shot Merry. "Look at this and this and this!" Frodo sucked in his breath sharply as Merry not only pointed at the marks but also scraped at them roughly. "Are they not the most obvious signs that show that you are one of them?!"
Frodo quivered against Merry's fast grip at his curls. That was exactly what Slater had told him! Frodo trembled hard as he found out how true the man was, about the marks being the easiest thing to spot. And Frodo cringed to think that he would bear them all through his life.
"And you like that, don't you, Frodo, being one of them?"
Frodo's eyes widened in disbelief. How could Merry say something like that? Did he not hear Frodo's story? Frodo tried his best to shake his head.
"But how can you say you don't like it while you let them do this for you?" accused Merry mercilessly.
"I did not let them! Aah!" Frodo protested but the tightened grasp of Merry's fist subdued him. "Merry, please! They inflicted this on me without my consent!"
Merry backed off.
"But I don't understand, Frodo. One mark is understandable for a forced situation. This is three. Either you didn't fight hard enough or deep in your heart you like being one of them."
Frodo was speechless. How else could he convince Merry how he hated the men and their action toward him, and how helpless his situation had been? There were three of them. And Frodo was tied up at the wrists and ankles. No matter how hard he thrashed about, there was no way he could have gotten himself out of his bonds. And those ruffians were too determined to do what they planned to do to listen to Frodo's pleas to stop.
"So, Frodo, which one is the real reason?" asked Merry, standing too close to Frodo to his liking, grabbing the tied hobbit's shoulders once more. Frodo averted his gaze in discomfort. He could not answer the question. He did not want to answer the question, for neither of the answers was true.
A moment passed in silence with Merry locking his stare at his cousin and Frodo getting more and more uneasy under the scrutiny of the many pairs of eyes. The three Isengarders that had caused Frodo's misery were standing and watching the entire scenes from a corner. Smugness was all over their faces.
"I thought you were my friend, Frodo," Merry broke in, his voice lucid.
Frodo snapped to face Merry again.
"I am, Merry, I am! You are the only friend I've got!" whined Frodo desperately. This time it was Merry who turned his face away. His voice was soft with pure sorrow when he spoke again.
"But you've betrayed me, Frodo, by accepting those men's offer to have you with them."
Frodo's mind swam in confusion. Offer? He remembered again how he was grabbed, stripped, secured tightly, and finally marked. That could hardly be called an offer!
"Come on. Admit it, Frodo. You were flattered finding out they made you one of them. Am I not right?" chased Merry, still with his pretentious sorrow. "Imagine this. Nobody cares for you. The people you thought would concern at you have left you behind. Intentionally. Your parents, your uncle, your manservant, Sam. Even this evil-minded wizard." Merry waved at Gandalf's direction, making the old man jerk in surprise and starting to open to his mouth to cry out his protest. But before he could say anything, a cracking blow slammed onto his skull, sending him to oblivion. Frodo was about to turn to see what was happening around him when Merry's fingers seized his chin, pulling it and forcing him to look at Merry in the eye.
"Then all of a sudden, a group of people, unknown to you, offered you a sanctuary. A protection and camaraderie that you long to have. Is that not great? A group of people suddenly showed their affection to you. You don't have to do anything; they deemed you their fellow. You just have to carry a mark, which hardly a cost at all."
Frodo was hardly able to swallow Merry's words. What was it about the things he said about Frodo's parents and all? They did not love him, did they? They did leave Frodo behind, abandoning him. Save for Sam, lamented Frodo silently. That loyal gardener of his was killed. In the hands of a ranger.
Yes. He was alone. Frodo was alone. He had only Merry in his lonely life. Yet Frodo knew he would treasure this, never wanting to waste it. And he was content enough. Is that true? A small voice was asking Frodo from inside, tempting him. Did he not want to be loved by others? To be cared for by any others besides Merry?
No! denied another voice in Frodo. Merry was much more than enough. Frodo could not ask for more.
But it is true, is it not, that you are flattered to know that there are still others who want you, to be with you, to be your friends? Even if for that you have be branded like a cattle. Like a possession.
Frodo shut his eyes, heedless of Merry's clutch at his chin. He could not deny the voice anymore. He did love Merry. Very much. But the chance of having others as his protectors tempted him so. Frodo felt almost embarrassed at the thought.
Now, whatever happened to Frodo's previous disgust at being one with his enemy?
Hiding a smile behind his wearied look, Merry knew he had hit his mark. He could almost see and hear Frodo's inner battle in his troubled mind. Frodo was going to feel guilty and more confused than ever.
"See?" purred Merry. "You were not angry at them. You just thought you hated them but you didn't."
Frodo slowly fluttered his eyes open, now bathed in guilt.
"I – I don't know, Merry," he admitted weakly. "I was angry at them when they did this to me."
Merry let Frodo go with such an abruptness and moved back, his hands on his waist.
"Now don't you try to confuse me, Frodo Baggins! You were not angry. That is certain. You know that."
The stinging wounds contracted again as Frodo leaned back, overwhelmed by his exhaustion.
"Yes," he whispered. "I guess I know it now, Merry, after what you've told me."
"Oh, no. No thanks to me," replied Merry fast. "All I did was show you what you already knew. You knew it from the very beginning."
Maybe, maybe, thought Frodo miserably. And he realized how bad this could be for him. Merry – Meriadoc Brandybuck – was supposed to be his only sentinel and friend. How would he feel knowing that Frodo had deceived him?
Panic started to wash over him. Frodo observed the small yet powerful figure that was now turning his back on him. Frodo tried to reach back at Merry in despair.
"Merry, Merry!" called Frodo, his voice sounding so small and far he was not certain Merry could hear him. "Are you mad at me? Are you disappointed?"
Merry turned around, stepped closer to Frodo, and hugged him! Frodo gasped, by the surprise, his eyes widening as Merry's breath felt warm on his neck.
"Mad? Disappointed?" murmured Merry, closing his eyes. "There are no such things. The truth is, Frodo, that I am very sad."
Frodo frowned.
"Sad, Merry?"
"Yes," hissed his cousin. "I care for you. You know that. I've done everything for you. I've stayed with you when nobody would. I accepted you as you are no matter how bad you behaved. I saved you from the ruffians back there in the woods. I snatched you out of the grip of death when your cousin Pippin tried to drown you in the river. I kept you from starvation." Merry tightened his hold on Frodo. "Have you forgotten all of that, Frodo?"
Deep in the labyrinth of his hazy mind, Frodo could see the truth of all those statements. In fact, he could tell exactly where in the tangled creases of his squelchy brain the memories of them were kept neatly. Frodo remembered well what Merry had kindly done for him. Merry had even lovingly bathed him!
Frodo remembered. He would not forget. So he shook his head, a little difficult as Merry's form was still clinging onto him. Merry smiled a little for the shaking head, knowing well that Frodo could not see that.
"You don't forget, Frodo?" asked Merry sadly.
"Oh, Merry!" cried Frodo. "How could I?"
"Then you still care for me, too?" Merry went on.
"Yes, Merry. Yes!"
Merry pulled back. His hands strayed to Frodo's cheeks.
"But why did you decide to join the men?" The query slowly registered in Frodo's mind as the hobbit heeded Merry's eyes. Frodo vaguely saw Merry's mouth move and form words, though he did not seem to hear them.
Merry shook Frodo a little, bringing him back from his wandering thoughts.
"Frodo?"
Frodo jerked. His eyes refocused.
"Oh, yes, sorry Merry. No, no. I did not decide to join them."
"What? Frodo, look at those things painted on your body. And you have told me you were glad they did that to you, claiming you as one of them."
Frodo paled. He seemed completely lost. This game of words was madly frustrating. He took a deep breath but when exhaling, Frodo's throat and nostril trembled as the air went out in sobs.
"I was… I am not glad with these things, Merry. I don't want to be with them. I only want to be with you."
Merry's brow furrowed.
"Gods, you are making me insane, Frodo. You keep changing what you are saying." If Frodo could only know, it was Merry who was trying to make him crazy. But Frodo could only stare at Merry helplessly, unable to say anything anymore.
"Now, I'm asking you one more time. Do you want to stay with me or go with those men? They won't stay here forever, Frodo."
Frodo tried hard to process this last question in his muffled brain. Staying with Merry or the men? Oh, certainly not with the men! They would hurt him more!
"No," pleaded Frodo. "Please don't send me with them, Merry. I'll stay with you. I can't part from you."
Merry's palms slid to Frodo's cheek. His thin lips formed into an loving smile.
"Are you sure of that?" asked Merry. Frodo nodded weakly. "But I'm not so sure myself." Frodo stilled. "Your Merry needs solid proof, Frodo. Something that he can plainly see your heart is back to him."
Frodo understood now. This had to be his punishment for all his last shameful acts.
Merry seemed to know what he was thinking, though.
"But, don't see it as a punishment, Frodo. This is simply to show me you are in earnest with your words."
Frodo slumped back. He felt as if he lost all his bones. His knees weakened.
"What… what should I do, Merry?"
Merry took his time to answer. It thrilled Frodo so that the hobbit forgot his weariness and waited for the answer with widened yes. And when Merry did give his reply, Frodo almost sighed in relief, despite what he heard.
"I want you to stay outside, Frodo, up at the balcony. Just like this." Merry eyed his half-naked form. "The night will come soon and I hope its cool air will help you clear your mind. You will stay there by yourself to think over what you have said and done. But I'm afraid I will have to leave you in the same position like now. That will make your thinking go more easily."
Frodo gaped at his younger cousin. First in dismay, realizing that the night would not only go cool, but cold. It would freeze! And he was going to be left tied up like this!
But looking at the sharp glare from Merry, Frodo recoiled and was slowly realizing his place again. Merry was kind enough not to force him to follow the cruel brutes. Frodo deserved all this.
So, gazing back at the cousin that owned his life, Frodo heaved and nodded faintly. Frodo's tears streamed down freely.
"I'm willing to do whatever you say, Merry, if that can prove my love for you."
TBC
