Hobbitfeet13 - Why go deeper into the psyche of my villain? Morbid curiosity, perhaps. My thought is that maybe there is more to Bramblethorn than just greed, lust, etc. There might be things he keeps beneath the surface that explain some of his behavior as well. He is basically bad news, though, without a doubt!
Lily V - Thanks for your e-mail! Bramblethorn seems to have his own little fanclub going. Frodo is definitely in for quite a time ahead, and Merry and Sam will face a certain amount of adversity too.
Aratlithiel1 - Bramblethorn awaits, indeed! Right now he has no idea of just who is coming to Bree to try to ease Buckland's burden, but he's soon to find out!
Tavion - Bramblethorn and Frodo are soon to meet, face to face. It was sad when they had to burn the fields. All that work and care for nothing!
GamgeeFest - The time is soon to come when our heroes and villains will meet again. Sam is always ready to look after Frodo, but he does wish they weren't going to leave the Shire. I wanted to have the characters reflecting on how good the Shire is, because what's to come is far from it!
CuriousCat - It can take a few chapters to get a story going when you start at the actual beginning, but I tend to think in a linear fashion. Much easier to have the reader follow the characters every step of the way than to try to explain later how they got into the particular situation. Time to start getting our 'old friends' together!
Esterification - Sam will be as protective of Frodo as circumstances allow. (Sounds ominous, doesn't it?)
Endymion2 - Happy belated birthday! I would have liked to have Pippin be more of the story, but he just kind of seemed to be there and not doing anything when I tried. He will show up briefly at the end of the tale, but right now he's trying to hide from fussy wedding - stressed family.
Sam - Frodo is heading off into who knows what, and Sam doesn't like it at all! Thanks again for your kind words regarding this and my other stories. Hope you enjoy the rest!
Trust No One - The calm before the storm is nearly at an end. The clouds are gathering! There will indeed be far worse things ahead for Frodo than a pleasant sunrise. Angst ahoy!
KT SHY - Merry didn't mean to dredge up old memories by mentioning Bywater, but he is fond of his little Took cousin. Pippin will show up toward the end of the story for a short time.
Aelfgifu - Guess who's back in this chapter? Yup. Your favorite bad boy!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 5 - Convergence
It was early evening when the hobbits reached the inn. Three and a half days of travel had left them weary and glad to be facing the prospect of a comfortable bed and a good meal. The inn was small and on the edge of the town, but Saradoc had suggested it because it had the only yard large enough to hold the two wagons. The ponies were unhitched and stabled, and the hobbits shown to a comfortable room.
Merry dumped his pack on one of the beds and pulled out a change of clothing. "The first order of business, in my opinion, is a bath and a meal. Are there any objections?"
"You'll hear none from me, Mr. Merry," Sam replied as he emptied Frodo's pack. "I could use a scrubbin' myself."
"If we take our meal in the common room, we might be able to speak with a few locals about the possibility of purchasing the grain," Frodo suggested. "There might be some farmers here or someone who knows a few of them."
"I agree," Merry said. "We may as well start here."
Following quick baths, the hobbits made their way to the common room and seated themselves at a table in a quieter corner. The innkeeper ambled up to take their order. When he told Frodo the price of the bread, Frodo blinked and said, "I'm not complaining, really, but that seems quite high."
The innkeeper nodded. "I know, sir. I hate havin' to charge my customers such prices, but grain is in short supply in Bree, and bread is hard to come by right now."
Frodo gave Merry a worried glance. "Then our journey here may have been for naught."
The innkeeper looked puzzled. "Why would you say that, Master Hobbit?"
"There has been trouble in the Eastfarthing, and a good portion of our grain crop was lost this season," Merry responded. "We've come to Bree in hopes of purchasing any surplus we might find."
The innkeeper shook his head. "I wish you luck, I do. But if there's any to be found in Bree, like as not it won't be much an' it will be a costly venture."
"We thank you for the information, sir," Merry said, ordering a round of ales to go with their meal.
When the innkeeper had gone, the hobbits sat in silence for a few moments, none of them wanting to speak of the disappointment they were meeting with so early in their endeavor. Finally, Frodo spoke up. "Perhaps things are not so dire as he says," he ventured hopefully. "We may have to pay a high price if there's a shortage in Bree, or perhaps we'll have to travel farther still."
"I should like to ask a few more of the folk here before abandoning Bree as an option," Merry said thoughtfully. "What may seem the truth to one person may be otherwise to another. Let's hope the innkeeper is exaggerating."
"I just hope I never see them dratted weeds again in all my days," Sam said, his voice tight with consternation. "I know the look of them now, an they'll not get past Samwise Gamgee."
"Hear, hear!" Merry said, raising his tankard.
Across the room, a stocky hobbit had been watching the trio intently. He paid the innkeeper and left the inn, walking out into the darkening street. These might just be those Bucklanders the boss was waiting for, Monto thought excitedly. They had mentioned the Eastfarthing, and Buckland lay in that part of the Shire. They had lost their grain crops and were looking to buy. He would surely be rewarded for being the first to come back with good news!
Monto hurried through the streets until he reached another inn, and he entered the common room. Searching the faces of those gathered there, he found Bramblethorn in the corner, sipping an ale and watching the other patrons with a sharp eye.
"I think our friends have showed up," Monto said as he seated himself.
"Do tell," Bramblethorn invited.
"Three hobbits came into the Travelers' Rest a little while ago. They was talkin' to the innkeeper 'bout the price of bread an' they was pretty unhappy when he told them grain was short 'round here."
Bramblethorn sat up straighter and gave Monto his full attention. "Go on," he urged.
"They said they was from the Eastfarthing an' that they'd lost their crop an' wanted to buy."
A big grin formed on Bramblethorn's face at the news. "Good work, Monto. I want to see these travelers myself. Let's go."
With that, Bramblethorn paid the bill and followed Monto back out into the street. They made their way to the small inn where Frodo, Sam and Merry still remained in the common room, chatting with the other folk there. Concealing himself in the shadows, Bramblethorn peered in the direction where Monto was pointing.
Across the room in a corner, there sat none other than Meriadoc Brandybuck, Samwise Gamgee and - Frodo Baggins! Bramblethorn could hardly believe his eyes. He frowned as a thought came to him. He and those hobbits had a history of bitter enmity between them. When they found out they would have to go to Bramblethorn for the grain, they would likely refuse and leave Bree for more promising territory.
Bramblethorn's gaze fell inevitably on Frodo. In the two years that had passed, Frodo had not seemed to change at all, he mused. He was still the pale creature with the dark curls falling softly around his face, and the soulful blue eyes. Bramblethorn remembered the softness of those silky locks as he had touched them, and an involuntary shudder of pleasure ran through him. Whether Frodo had wanted him or not, he had wanted Frodo, with a desire so strong it had nearly rent him in two. But Frodo had refused him, refused him with a vehemence that had stung him harshly and deeply, and - although he was loath to admit it - stung him still. A moment later, Bramblethorn realized that he knew exactly how to ensure that Meriadoc Brandybuck would purchase the grain from him.
He pulled Monto deeper into the shadows near the door of the common room. "I have a task for you," he said in a conspiratorial whisper. "Find Anson and come back here. I want you to bring me Frodo Baggins."
Bramblethorn pointed toward the three hobbits at the table. "Your task may not be as simple as some I have given you. The stout one is Frodo's gardener, and they are very... close, you might say." He leered suggestively. "It is unlikely that you will have many opportunities to separate them, but you must do so. Frodo is the pale, dark - haired one. Handle him as you must, but don't damage him too severely." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a scrap of parchment, grabbed the quill that lay on the innkeeper's desk, and scribbled a note. "Once you have taken him, leave this note in the innkeeper's care," Bramblethorn instructed as he handed the note to Monto.
They slipped back outside the inn unseen, and went their separate ways. Monto made for the inn where Anson had been sent to watch and listen, and Bramblethorn went back to his smial to prepare to receive his guest.
~*~ The Travelers' Rest ~*~
Monto pointed at Frodo and told Anson, "That's the one he wants. He didn't say to bring the others, so we'd better find a way to split them up." They continued to watch for a while, but the three hobbits never seemed to be more than a few paces away from one another. Bramblethorn was right. That stupid gardener was sticking to Frodo like a treewee to a high branch.
"Might just have to wait until he goes to the privy," Anson suggested. Surely that gardener wouldn't follow him there.
Monto nodded thoughtfully. "Why don't you go out there an' wait."
Anson wrinkled his nose and gave Monto a dirty look. "Why me?" he grumbled. "Stinks out there."
"It was your idea," Monto reminded him. "You wait out there, and find someplace where nobody will see you. I'll follow him out when he goes." Anson grumbled, but went outside and around to the back of the inn where a small shack housing a privy stood in the shadows.
~*~
Merry took another swallow of his ale as he scanned the room. They had spoken to almost everyone there, but had heard no better news about the availability of grain. Comments ranged from the straight - forward "it's hard to come by" to the sarcastic "dragon scales would be cheaper and more plentiful right now". They had asked the other hobbits and the big folk alike, but no one seemed to know of a farmer with a surplus available.
"Bad news seems to be the order of the day," Merry grumbled to Sam and Frodo. "If we don't turn up something by this time tomorrow, I say we continue on toward Archet, or maybe Staddle."
Frodo nodded. "There doesn't seem to be much point in us staying around here if no one can help us," he remarked.
Sam decided he would be just as happy to leave Bree on general principles. He wasn't accustomed to being around all those big folk, and the hobbits he'd met seemed different from the folk back in the Shire. They seemed more worldly somehow, and less inclined to smile and laugh as readily as the folk back in Hobbiton.
"If you'll pardon me, the ale is making its presence felt," Frodo said as he rose from the table. Sam started to get up too, and Frodo laughed. "Really, Sam, I know this place makes you nervous, but I can go to the privy on my own."
Merry had an amused expression on his face. Sam had become ever more protective of Frodo in the past few years, and Merry wondered if the gardener ever truly slept. He pictured Sam with one eye open and trained upon his master at all times. "I'm not getting in the middle of this one," he remarked and sipped his ale again.
"And well you shouldn't, cousin," Frodo said, gently mocking. "Just give me a few moments to do what I must, and I'll return to you."
Sam sat down again. If Frodo didn't want to be escorted, he wouldn't press the issue. This inn seemed to be a fairly quiet place, and folk had been in and out between the privy and the common room all night without any sign of a mishap.
Frodo made for the door, his stride confident and brisk. The privy wasn't far, and Frodo saw no sign of anyone around as he approached it. He stepped inside and relieved himself, thinking that he might have just one more ale. Merry had bought the last round, and it was now Frodo's turn.
Something moved outside in the shadows as Frodo fastened his breeches and emerged from the privy. He never saw his assailant, but only felt someone grab him from behind, spin him around and slam him face first against the privy's outer wall.
"Don't make a sound," a voice threatened in his ear. Frodo was stunned by the impact of his body against the wall, but began to recover as a wave of panic washed over him. If his assailant meant to rob him, he would be disappointed. Frodo had left his money inside with Merry and Sam.
He gasped and tried to twist out of Anson's grip. "I carry nothing of value! Please - "
"I said, keep quiet!" Anson slammed Frodo up against the wall again, knocking his forehead against the wooden surface. Frodo heard footsteps coming up behind them and felt a flash of relief, believing help was on the way. Help was on the way, but not for him.
"Quick, Anse, before the others come lookin'," Monto said as he pulled something out of his pack.
Panic seized Frodo again and he began to struggle in earnest despite the painful throbbing of his forehead. He began to shout for help, but a hand clamped over his mouth and muffled the sound. A piece of cloth was stuffed into his mouth and the fabric of a dark hood blotted out his vision as it was pulled down over his head.
Monto and Anson pulled Frodo deeper into the shadows as he continued to struggle. Monto backhanded him and Frodo felt himself starting to weaken. He felt rough cords being wound around his wrists and ankles, and the impact of wood against his body as he was lifted and thrown into what must have been a cart or wagon.
Monto hid Frodo's prone form under a blanket and climbed into the back beside him. Frodo tried to move, to twist out from under the blanket and dislodge the hood that blocked his vision. Monto responded by slapping him again, hard enough to stun him. "You keep still and I won't have to mess you up," he threatened. Frodo's head spun and he allowed himself to go limp rather than endure any more abuse from his captors.
Satisfied that Frodo was secure, Monto handed the note Bramblethorn had written to Anson. "Put this on the innkeeper's desk," he said. A few moments later, Anson returned and climbed up into the seat to take the reins.
The cart turned into the street and rattled away, making for the hills above the village where Rushford Bramblethorn awaited the delivery of his prize.
~*~
Sam began to fidget when Frodo did not return immediately. He glanced at Merry, who turned his gaze to the door. "I'm goin' to check on Mr. Frodo," Sam said and rose from the table.
Merry decided to follow. If something were amiss, it wouldn't hurt for the two of them to be together. They emerged into the area behind the inn, and scanned the darkened space with wary eyes. They saw no movement and heard nothing as they approached the privy. Sam knocked on the door. "Mr. Frodo?" he called. The door swung open when he pushed on it, and the privy was deserted.
"Somethin's wrong, Mr. Merry," Sam said tightly, feeling fear crawling slowly up his spine.
"Maybe he went back inside by the back way and we missed each other," Merry suggested. He and Sam went around to the back entrance of the inn, but Frodo wasn't there when they walked in.
Merry caught sight of the innkeeper and hurried toward him. "Pardon me," he said to the man. "We're looking for the other hobbit who came in with us. About my height, but slighter build, dark hair and a fair complexion," Merry reminded the innkeeper. "Have you seen him in the last few minutes?"
The innkeeper seemed to consider for a moment. "I remember him as you describe him, but the last time I saw him he was in your company." Something caught the innkeeper's eye and he picked up the piece of paper from the desktop. "Someone's left a message for one of the guests, it seems." He read the name that was scrawled on the back of the note, and looked at Merry. He recalled Merry's name from when he had signed them in for their room. "It's for you."
Merry looked at him uncertainly and accepted the paper. Sam hovered over his shoulder as Merry unfolded it and began to read the contents.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
My dear Masters Brandybuck and Gamgee,
By now you must surely be missing one of your party. I have him. Frodo is with me, and if you care to see him, you will follow the instructions I list below.
Wait for my fellows to meet you at the inn at midnight. They will bring you to meet with me and we will discuss both your current difficulties and, of course, Frodo.
As to the subject of Frodo, I have asked that my people bring him to me undamaged. If you wish him to remain so, you will be on your best behavior. Make no mention of this to anyone. If I receive any uninvited visitors looking for Frodo, he will be in grave peril. Need I say more?
Best regards,
Rushford Bramblethorn.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Sam looked at Merry with an expression that betrayed all his emotions - fear, horror, and a hundred other things that had no names. Merry might as well have been a mirror, for the same things shone in his eyes and he recovered his composure with difficulty. The innkeeper was looking at them curiously. He hadn't got a glimpse of the note himself, but the reactions of its recipients made him wonder what it had said. "Thank you, sir," Merry said to the innkeeper, noticing the man's intent gaze. He drew Sam aside quickly.
"Bramblethorn has Mr. Frodo again!" Sam gasped. "I've failed him, Mr. Merry! He can't ever forgive me! I don't deserve to be forgiven," Sam said miserably.
"Sam, you didn't know. You are not to blame, do you hear me?" Merry grasped Sam's forearms and held them fast, staring into his stricken face. "We must get Frodo back, no matter the cost. I'm frightened for him too, if that makes any difference."
Merry tried to calm himself and think of the reasons why Bramblethorn would kidnap Frodo and then demand to meet with the two of them. "There must be something Bramblethorn wants of us, otherwise he would never have sent this note. If all he wanted was Frodo, we would be standing here none the wiser to his fate."
Sam nodded, forcing himself to calm down. If Merry could do it, he could too. "But what could he be up to, Mr. Merry? You know what happened the last time that rotten stinker got his hands on Mr. Frodo. I can't bear it, I tell you!"
"I don't know," Merry said, reading the note again. "I know it might endanger all of us, but I think we should keep this appointment."
Sam didn't need to be convinced. "If he has Mr. Frodo, I'm going," he said resolutely. "If I had been more careful, he never would have - "
"Should you be expected to follow Frodo to the privy and stand guard?" Merry asked, more harshly than he had intended. He took a deep breath and continued in a calmer tone. "Bramblethorn planned this. He must have seen us here or received word that we've come, and he kidnapped Frodo just to draw us to him for his purpose, be it what it may."
"If you think it's best that we meet with him, I'm willin', Mr. Merry, for Mr. Frodo's sake if nothin' else," Sam replied mournfully. He felt as if a red - hot dagger had been thrust into his heart of hearts. "I'd rather it be my fist meetin' his face, if you follow me."
"I don't doubt it for a moment, Sam," Merry said, trying to soothe Sam and set his own jangled thoughts in order. "We must find out what Bramblethorn is up to. Unless we start with that information, we have no hope of helping Frodo."
"So we meet that stinker's hired thugs an' let them take us to Mr. Frodo?" Sam was having a hard time dealing with the idea of standing idly by and letting Bramblethorn maintain the upper hand.
"We have no choice," Merry informed him. "We don't know where he's taken Frodo, and if we're to help him we must find out. When I asked you and Frodo to come with me to Bree, I never imagined anything like this would happen."
Sam suddenly realized that Merry was feeling as much to blame for Frodo's abduction as he was. "I suppose none of us could have known," he admitted reluctantly.
"No, Sam. There was no way we could have," Merry answered, trying to forgive himself. When Bramblethorn had been cast out from the Shire, word had never come back as to his whereabouts. The first time he had been ousted, he had gone to Bree, but no one had reported his returning to the village. "We must meet them at midnight tonight then," he concluded.
"Just a couple of hours from now, if I reckon correctly," Sam said, eyeing the moon as it rose in the sky. "You understand, I would have thrashed them if I'd seen them, an' I may yet, if I get the chance," Sam said gravely.
"I would race you for the first punch," Merry responded. The gardener and the future Master of Buckland exchanged glances and confirmed that they stood upon the same ground.
"Midnight then?" Sam said.
"Right," Merry replied, his jaw set in a hard line.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
Lily V - Thanks for your e-mail! Bramblethorn seems to have his own little fanclub going. Frodo is definitely in for quite a time ahead, and Merry and Sam will face a certain amount of adversity too.
Aratlithiel1 - Bramblethorn awaits, indeed! Right now he has no idea of just who is coming to Bree to try to ease Buckland's burden, but he's soon to find out!
Tavion - Bramblethorn and Frodo are soon to meet, face to face. It was sad when they had to burn the fields. All that work and care for nothing!
GamgeeFest - The time is soon to come when our heroes and villains will meet again. Sam is always ready to look after Frodo, but he does wish they weren't going to leave the Shire. I wanted to have the characters reflecting on how good the Shire is, because what's to come is far from it!
CuriousCat - It can take a few chapters to get a story going when you start at the actual beginning, but I tend to think in a linear fashion. Much easier to have the reader follow the characters every step of the way than to try to explain later how they got into the particular situation. Time to start getting our 'old friends' together!
Esterification - Sam will be as protective of Frodo as circumstances allow. (Sounds ominous, doesn't it?)
Endymion2 - Happy belated birthday! I would have liked to have Pippin be more of the story, but he just kind of seemed to be there and not doing anything when I tried. He will show up briefly at the end of the tale, but right now he's trying to hide from fussy wedding - stressed family.
Sam - Frodo is heading off into who knows what, and Sam doesn't like it at all! Thanks again for your kind words regarding this and my other stories. Hope you enjoy the rest!
Trust No One - The calm before the storm is nearly at an end. The clouds are gathering! There will indeed be far worse things ahead for Frodo than a pleasant sunrise. Angst ahoy!
KT SHY - Merry didn't mean to dredge up old memories by mentioning Bywater, but he is fond of his little Took cousin. Pippin will show up toward the end of the story for a short time.
Aelfgifu - Guess who's back in this chapter? Yup. Your favorite bad boy!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 5 - Convergence
It was early evening when the hobbits reached the inn. Three and a half days of travel had left them weary and glad to be facing the prospect of a comfortable bed and a good meal. The inn was small and on the edge of the town, but Saradoc had suggested it because it had the only yard large enough to hold the two wagons. The ponies were unhitched and stabled, and the hobbits shown to a comfortable room.
Merry dumped his pack on one of the beds and pulled out a change of clothing. "The first order of business, in my opinion, is a bath and a meal. Are there any objections?"
"You'll hear none from me, Mr. Merry," Sam replied as he emptied Frodo's pack. "I could use a scrubbin' myself."
"If we take our meal in the common room, we might be able to speak with a few locals about the possibility of purchasing the grain," Frodo suggested. "There might be some farmers here or someone who knows a few of them."
"I agree," Merry said. "We may as well start here."
Following quick baths, the hobbits made their way to the common room and seated themselves at a table in a quieter corner. The innkeeper ambled up to take their order. When he told Frodo the price of the bread, Frodo blinked and said, "I'm not complaining, really, but that seems quite high."
The innkeeper nodded. "I know, sir. I hate havin' to charge my customers such prices, but grain is in short supply in Bree, and bread is hard to come by right now."
Frodo gave Merry a worried glance. "Then our journey here may have been for naught."
The innkeeper looked puzzled. "Why would you say that, Master Hobbit?"
"There has been trouble in the Eastfarthing, and a good portion of our grain crop was lost this season," Merry responded. "We've come to Bree in hopes of purchasing any surplus we might find."
The innkeeper shook his head. "I wish you luck, I do. But if there's any to be found in Bree, like as not it won't be much an' it will be a costly venture."
"We thank you for the information, sir," Merry said, ordering a round of ales to go with their meal.
When the innkeeper had gone, the hobbits sat in silence for a few moments, none of them wanting to speak of the disappointment they were meeting with so early in their endeavor. Finally, Frodo spoke up. "Perhaps things are not so dire as he says," he ventured hopefully. "We may have to pay a high price if there's a shortage in Bree, or perhaps we'll have to travel farther still."
"I should like to ask a few more of the folk here before abandoning Bree as an option," Merry said thoughtfully. "What may seem the truth to one person may be otherwise to another. Let's hope the innkeeper is exaggerating."
"I just hope I never see them dratted weeds again in all my days," Sam said, his voice tight with consternation. "I know the look of them now, an they'll not get past Samwise Gamgee."
"Hear, hear!" Merry said, raising his tankard.
Across the room, a stocky hobbit had been watching the trio intently. He paid the innkeeper and left the inn, walking out into the darkening street. These might just be those Bucklanders the boss was waiting for, Monto thought excitedly. They had mentioned the Eastfarthing, and Buckland lay in that part of the Shire. They had lost their grain crops and were looking to buy. He would surely be rewarded for being the first to come back with good news!
Monto hurried through the streets until he reached another inn, and he entered the common room. Searching the faces of those gathered there, he found Bramblethorn in the corner, sipping an ale and watching the other patrons with a sharp eye.
"I think our friends have showed up," Monto said as he seated himself.
"Do tell," Bramblethorn invited.
"Three hobbits came into the Travelers' Rest a little while ago. They was talkin' to the innkeeper 'bout the price of bread an' they was pretty unhappy when he told them grain was short 'round here."
Bramblethorn sat up straighter and gave Monto his full attention. "Go on," he urged.
"They said they was from the Eastfarthing an' that they'd lost their crop an' wanted to buy."
A big grin formed on Bramblethorn's face at the news. "Good work, Monto. I want to see these travelers myself. Let's go."
With that, Bramblethorn paid the bill and followed Monto back out into the street. They made their way to the small inn where Frodo, Sam and Merry still remained in the common room, chatting with the other folk there. Concealing himself in the shadows, Bramblethorn peered in the direction where Monto was pointing.
Across the room in a corner, there sat none other than Meriadoc Brandybuck, Samwise Gamgee and - Frodo Baggins! Bramblethorn could hardly believe his eyes. He frowned as a thought came to him. He and those hobbits had a history of bitter enmity between them. When they found out they would have to go to Bramblethorn for the grain, they would likely refuse and leave Bree for more promising territory.
Bramblethorn's gaze fell inevitably on Frodo. In the two years that had passed, Frodo had not seemed to change at all, he mused. He was still the pale creature with the dark curls falling softly around his face, and the soulful blue eyes. Bramblethorn remembered the softness of those silky locks as he had touched them, and an involuntary shudder of pleasure ran through him. Whether Frodo had wanted him or not, he had wanted Frodo, with a desire so strong it had nearly rent him in two. But Frodo had refused him, refused him with a vehemence that had stung him harshly and deeply, and - although he was loath to admit it - stung him still. A moment later, Bramblethorn realized that he knew exactly how to ensure that Meriadoc Brandybuck would purchase the grain from him.
He pulled Monto deeper into the shadows near the door of the common room. "I have a task for you," he said in a conspiratorial whisper. "Find Anson and come back here. I want you to bring me Frodo Baggins."
Bramblethorn pointed toward the three hobbits at the table. "Your task may not be as simple as some I have given you. The stout one is Frodo's gardener, and they are very... close, you might say." He leered suggestively. "It is unlikely that you will have many opportunities to separate them, but you must do so. Frodo is the pale, dark - haired one. Handle him as you must, but don't damage him too severely." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a scrap of parchment, grabbed the quill that lay on the innkeeper's desk, and scribbled a note. "Once you have taken him, leave this note in the innkeeper's care," Bramblethorn instructed as he handed the note to Monto.
They slipped back outside the inn unseen, and went their separate ways. Monto made for the inn where Anson had been sent to watch and listen, and Bramblethorn went back to his smial to prepare to receive his guest.
~*~ The Travelers' Rest ~*~
Monto pointed at Frodo and told Anson, "That's the one he wants. He didn't say to bring the others, so we'd better find a way to split them up." They continued to watch for a while, but the three hobbits never seemed to be more than a few paces away from one another. Bramblethorn was right. That stupid gardener was sticking to Frodo like a treewee to a high branch.
"Might just have to wait until he goes to the privy," Anson suggested. Surely that gardener wouldn't follow him there.
Monto nodded thoughtfully. "Why don't you go out there an' wait."
Anson wrinkled his nose and gave Monto a dirty look. "Why me?" he grumbled. "Stinks out there."
"It was your idea," Monto reminded him. "You wait out there, and find someplace where nobody will see you. I'll follow him out when he goes." Anson grumbled, but went outside and around to the back of the inn where a small shack housing a privy stood in the shadows.
~*~
Merry took another swallow of his ale as he scanned the room. They had spoken to almost everyone there, but had heard no better news about the availability of grain. Comments ranged from the straight - forward "it's hard to come by" to the sarcastic "dragon scales would be cheaper and more plentiful right now". They had asked the other hobbits and the big folk alike, but no one seemed to know of a farmer with a surplus available.
"Bad news seems to be the order of the day," Merry grumbled to Sam and Frodo. "If we don't turn up something by this time tomorrow, I say we continue on toward Archet, or maybe Staddle."
Frodo nodded. "There doesn't seem to be much point in us staying around here if no one can help us," he remarked.
Sam decided he would be just as happy to leave Bree on general principles. He wasn't accustomed to being around all those big folk, and the hobbits he'd met seemed different from the folk back in the Shire. They seemed more worldly somehow, and less inclined to smile and laugh as readily as the folk back in Hobbiton.
"If you'll pardon me, the ale is making its presence felt," Frodo said as he rose from the table. Sam started to get up too, and Frodo laughed. "Really, Sam, I know this place makes you nervous, but I can go to the privy on my own."
Merry had an amused expression on his face. Sam had become ever more protective of Frodo in the past few years, and Merry wondered if the gardener ever truly slept. He pictured Sam with one eye open and trained upon his master at all times. "I'm not getting in the middle of this one," he remarked and sipped his ale again.
"And well you shouldn't, cousin," Frodo said, gently mocking. "Just give me a few moments to do what I must, and I'll return to you."
Sam sat down again. If Frodo didn't want to be escorted, he wouldn't press the issue. This inn seemed to be a fairly quiet place, and folk had been in and out between the privy and the common room all night without any sign of a mishap.
Frodo made for the door, his stride confident and brisk. The privy wasn't far, and Frodo saw no sign of anyone around as he approached it. He stepped inside and relieved himself, thinking that he might have just one more ale. Merry had bought the last round, and it was now Frodo's turn.
Something moved outside in the shadows as Frodo fastened his breeches and emerged from the privy. He never saw his assailant, but only felt someone grab him from behind, spin him around and slam him face first against the privy's outer wall.
"Don't make a sound," a voice threatened in his ear. Frodo was stunned by the impact of his body against the wall, but began to recover as a wave of panic washed over him. If his assailant meant to rob him, he would be disappointed. Frodo had left his money inside with Merry and Sam.
He gasped and tried to twist out of Anson's grip. "I carry nothing of value! Please - "
"I said, keep quiet!" Anson slammed Frodo up against the wall again, knocking his forehead against the wooden surface. Frodo heard footsteps coming up behind them and felt a flash of relief, believing help was on the way. Help was on the way, but not for him.
"Quick, Anse, before the others come lookin'," Monto said as he pulled something out of his pack.
Panic seized Frodo again and he began to struggle in earnest despite the painful throbbing of his forehead. He began to shout for help, but a hand clamped over his mouth and muffled the sound. A piece of cloth was stuffed into his mouth and the fabric of a dark hood blotted out his vision as it was pulled down over his head.
Monto and Anson pulled Frodo deeper into the shadows as he continued to struggle. Monto backhanded him and Frodo felt himself starting to weaken. He felt rough cords being wound around his wrists and ankles, and the impact of wood against his body as he was lifted and thrown into what must have been a cart or wagon.
Monto hid Frodo's prone form under a blanket and climbed into the back beside him. Frodo tried to move, to twist out from under the blanket and dislodge the hood that blocked his vision. Monto responded by slapping him again, hard enough to stun him. "You keep still and I won't have to mess you up," he threatened. Frodo's head spun and he allowed himself to go limp rather than endure any more abuse from his captors.
Satisfied that Frodo was secure, Monto handed the note Bramblethorn had written to Anson. "Put this on the innkeeper's desk," he said. A few moments later, Anson returned and climbed up into the seat to take the reins.
The cart turned into the street and rattled away, making for the hills above the village where Rushford Bramblethorn awaited the delivery of his prize.
~*~
Sam began to fidget when Frodo did not return immediately. He glanced at Merry, who turned his gaze to the door. "I'm goin' to check on Mr. Frodo," Sam said and rose from the table.
Merry decided to follow. If something were amiss, it wouldn't hurt for the two of them to be together. They emerged into the area behind the inn, and scanned the darkened space with wary eyes. They saw no movement and heard nothing as they approached the privy. Sam knocked on the door. "Mr. Frodo?" he called. The door swung open when he pushed on it, and the privy was deserted.
"Somethin's wrong, Mr. Merry," Sam said tightly, feeling fear crawling slowly up his spine.
"Maybe he went back inside by the back way and we missed each other," Merry suggested. He and Sam went around to the back entrance of the inn, but Frodo wasn't there when they walked in.
Merry caught sight of the innkeeper and hurried toward him. "Pardon me," he said to the man. "We're looking for the other hobbit who came in with us. About my height, but slighter build, dark hair and a fair complexion," Merry reminded the innkeeper. "Have you seen him in the last few minutes?"
The innkeeper seemed to consider for a moment. "I remember him as you describe him, but the last time I saw him he was in your company." Something caught the innkeeper's eye and he picked up the piece of paper from the desktop. "Someone's left a message for one of the guests, it seems." He read the name that was scrawled on the back of the note, and looked at Merry. He recalled Merry's name from when he had signed them in for their room. "It's for you."
Merry looked at him uncertainly and accepted the paper. Sam hovered over his shoulder as Merry unfolded it and began to read the contents.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
My dear Masters Brandybuck and Gamgee,
By now you must surely be missing one of your party. I have him. Frodo is with me, and if you care to see him, you will follow the instructions I list below.
Wait for my fellows to meet you at the inn at midnight. They will bring you to meet with me and we will discuss both your current difficulties and, of course, Frodo.
As to the subject of Frodo, I have asked that my people bring him to me undamaged. If you wish him to remain so, you will be on your best behavior. Make no mention of this to anyone. If I receive any uninvited visitors looking for Frodo, he will be in grave peril. Need I say more?
Best regards,
Rushford Bramblethorn.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Sam looked at Merry with an expression that betrayed all his emotions - fear, horror, and a hundred other things that had no names. Merry might as well have been a mirror, for the same things shone in his eyes and he recovered his composure with difficulty. The innkeeper was looking at them curiously. He hadn't got a glimpse of the note himself, but the reactions of its recipients made him wonder what it had said. "Thank you, sir," Merry said to the innkeeper, noticing the man's intent gaze. He drew Sam aside quickly.
"Bramblethorn has Mr. Frodo again!" Sam gasped. "I've failed him, Mr. Merry! He can't ever forgive me! I don't deserve to be forgiven," Sam said miserably.
"Sam, you didn't know. You are not to blame, do you hear me?" Merry grasped Sam's forearms and held them fast, staring into his stricken face. "We must get Frodo back, no matter the cost. I'm frightened for him too, if that makes any difference."
Merry tried to calm himself and think of the reasons why Bramblethorn would kidnap Frodo and then demand to meet with the two of them. "There must be something Bramblethorn wants of us, otherwise he would never have sent this note. If all he wanted was Frodo, we would be standing here none the wiser to his fate."
Sam nodded, forcing himself to calm down. If Merry could do it, he could too. "But what could he be up to, Mr. Merry? You know what happened the last time that rotten stinker got his hands on Mr. Frodo. I can't bear it, I tell you!"
"I don't know," Merry said, reading the note again. "I know it might endanger all of us, but I think we should keep this appointment."
Sam didn't need to be convinced. "If he has Mr. Frodo, I'm going," he said resolutely. "If I had been more careful, he never would have - "
"Should you be expected to follow Frodo to the privy and stand guard?" Merry asked, more harshly than he had intended. He took a deep breath and continued in a calmer tone. "Bramblethorn planned this. He must have seen us here or received word that we've come, and he kidnapped Frodo just to draw us to him for his purpose, be it what it may."
"If you think it's best that we meet with him, I'm willin', Mr. Merry, for Mr. Frodo's sake if nothin' else," Sam replied mournfully. He felt as if a red - hot dagger had been thrust into his heart of hearts. "I'd rather it be my fist meetin' his face, if you follow me."
"I don't doubt it for a moment, Sam," Merry said, trying to soothe Sam and set his own jangled thoughts in order. "We must find out what Bramblethorn is up to. Unless we start with that information, we have no hope of helping Frodo."
"So we meet that stinker's hired thugs an' let them take us to Mr. Frodo?" Sam was having a hard time dealing with the idea of standing idly by and letting Bramblethorn maintain the upper hand.
"We have no choice," Merry informed him. "We don't know where he's taken Frodo, and if we're to help him we must find out. When I asked you and Frodo to come with me to Bree, I never imagined anything like this would happen."
Sam suddenly realized that Merry was feeling as much to blame for Frodo's abduction as he was. "I suppose none of us could have known," he admitted reluctantly.
"No, Sam. There was no way we could have," Merry answered, trying to forgive himself. When Bramblethorn had been cast out from the Shire, word had never come back as to his whereabouts. The first time he had been ousted, he had gone to Bree, but no one had reported his returning to the village. "We must meet them at midnight tonight then," he concluded.
"Just a couple of hours from now, if I reckon correctly," Sam said, eyeing the moon as it rose in the sky. "You understand, I would have thrashed them if I'd seen them, an' I may yet, if I get the chance," Sam said gravely.
"I would race you for the first punch," Merry responded. The gardener and the future Master of Buckland exchanged glances and confirmed that they stood upon the same ground.
"Midnight then?" Sam said.
"Right," Merry replied, his jaw set in a hard line.
~*~ To be continued ~*~