Sam - You will find out what the note says in this chapter. Bramblethorn believes that if he can adequately separate Frodo from his loved ones he can replace them.
Trust No One - Poor deluded Bramblethorn! He thinks he can draw Frodo to him gradually, and that keeping him from his loved ones will make him lonely enough to be vulnerable to such a ploy.
CuriousCat - Bramblethorn does enjoy taunting Frodo. Bramblethorn is trying to be patient, but how long can he last, eh?
Aelfgifu - I need to stop by and review the latest chapter of RATM, and I hope to do it in the next couple of days. Frodo did get his say in during the last chapter, didn't he? If he keeps it up, he may well end up forcibly subdued. Stay tuned!
GamgeeFest - The Ring is hidden safely away at Bag End, thank goodness. Hate to think what would happen if Bramblethorn got hold of it! Bramblethorn has tried the harsher approach before and it didn't work. He's thinking perhaps there are other ways to draw Frodo to him. Poor deluded thing! I don't know if I'd call Monto smart, but he's certainly starting to get ideas of his own.
Stephanie - Bramblethorn has not abandoned his notions toward Frodo. He's just trying another approach for the time being. Merry and Sam will definitely be writhing by the time this chapter ends. If Bramblethorn is indeed some kind of twisted alter ego of mine, I thank heavens he stays put in the background! Makes you wonder if we all don't have two sides to our natures and just choose which one to follow?
Hobbitfeet13 - Bramblethorn still has plans for Frodo, certainly. Nasty hobbit! And the gleam in Monto's eyes is definitely not a good thing.
KT SHY - It is scary to think of Bramblethorn watching Frodo all that time. Poor Frodo! So far Frodo has managed to escape much harsh treatment, but the road ahead has the potential to be a hard one.
FrodoBaggins87 - The plot is thickening, and yes, I do have the entire story written and ready to go. That way I can be sure I'll actually finish it! You'll see the contents of Bramblethorn's note in this chapter.
Anarie - It was indeed an unpleasant shock to Frodo to know Bramblethorn has been eyeing him for so long. Monto will definitely get involved in this chapter.
Endymion2 - Bramblethorn has behaved himself fairly well so far, but how long can he last? He's still our beloved Bramby, after all. Monto will be added to the mix in a big way in this chapter.
Aratlithiel1 - Frodo is up to his eyes in trouble now. He will need his courage to get through the coming days, certainly.
Iorhael - Bramblethorn? Sweet? Sweet on Frodo, that's for sure! We'll see how long Bramby gets to keep him now that help from Buckland will be delayed.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 9 - The Arms of the Enemy
~*~ The next morning ~*~
"I'm sending Anson to deliver a message to Brandybuck and Gamgee," Bramblethorn informed Monto. "I must procure a few small items, so I will be away for a short time myself. In the meantime, make sure Frodo stays put."
Monto nodded. He reflected that he would almost rather have been given Anson's task. Frodo had been quiet for the most part, and the duty of watching his door was beginning to become rather dull.
Bramblethorn and Anson departed, and Monto paced alone in the hallway outside the bolted door of Frodo's prison as a good hour or so passed by. Monto's thoughts began to wander back to the previous night and Bramblethorn's invitation for Frodo to join him at table. It was plain that Bramblethorn still felt something for the handsome young hobbit. And why not, he mused? When it came right down to it, Frodo was rather nice to look at. Monto had certainly never seen a hobbit quite like him before. Bramblethorn's taste in romantic partners was none of Monto's concern, of course, and Monto hadn't troubled himself about it. He supposed that in the absence of a willing lass, a lad would do.
Had Bramblethorn ever succeeded in sharing any intimacy with Frodo, Monto wondered? He had never spoken of it specifically, only of his desire and that Frodo had once refused him. Darker thoughts began to grow in Monto's mind. What would it be like, taking that lithe form in one's arms? He grinned nastily. Frodo was nowhere near as strong as Monto nor was he in any sort of position to resist. Monto knew how to make a threat work to his advantage, and he could make sure Frodo didn't tell anyone.
Monto eyed the lock on the door and twirled the key between his fingers. Before he could change his mind, he inserted the key and turned it carefully. The door opened quietly, and Monto peered into the room. The sound of low, even breathing came to him, telling him that Frodo was asleep. Monto let himself in and closed the door behind him silently, then stepped over to the bedside to gaze down at the sleeping captive.
Frodo was unbound at the moment, having won that small favor by obeying Bramblethorn's command to dine with him the night before. He lay curled on his side, eyes closed and lips barely parted, sable curls spread across the pillow. Those curls looked so soft, and Monto began to reach down to touch them.
As if alerted somehow to the very near presence of great danger, Frodo woke suddenly. His eyes snapped open and he gasped as he recoiled from Monto's touch. "W - what are you doing here?" he stammered.
"Whatever I want," Monto responded with a sneer, and lunged at Frodo.
Frodo rolled away from him with astonishing speed and bolted for the door, but Monto was no less swift. He latched onto Frodo's collar with one beefy hand and bore his struggling prey down to the floor.
Terror gripped Frodo and he clawed at the floorboards. "Get out! Don't touch me!" he shouted, kicking at Monto in desperation. Monto slapped him squarely across the face, causing a trickle of blood to drip from his nose.
Hands, tearing, rending, claiming. Threats, harsh in his ears and stinging slaps to his face. "You better not tell anyone," Monto sneered. "If you do, I'll take care of that cousin of yours, and that gardener too. I'll make it look like an accident."
Frodo's mind whirled into an abyss of fear and shame. Don't, oh please DON'T, someone please, help, help, HELP! Was it his mind screaming or was he himself? Frodo couldn't tell if it was either or both as Monto's rough hands tore his shirt open.
Frodo knew he was sobbing now, unable to control his tattered emotions as the violation continued. He was appalled not only by what was happening to him but also by a thought that had risen unchecked through his terror. Where was Bramblethorn? He certainly would not permit this! Frodo's head swam from another sharp blow. "The boss thinks you're something pretty special," Monto said with a leer, "and I aim to find out why."
"Please stop! You're hurting me!" Frodo begged as Monto dug his fingers into Frodo's arms hard enough to leave bruises. One hand moved lower to pull at the fastenings of Frodo's breeches.
"Keep still!" Monto ordered as he fumbled with the buttons. One button. Frodo tried to tear his attacker's hand away, to no avail. Two. Monto stopped long enough to slam Frodo back against the floor, stunning him momentarily. Three. Frodo roused slightly and kicked Monto in the midsection with all his remaining strength.
"You dirty little - " Monto never got the rest of the sentence out. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, growing nearer. All at once the door was flung open and a thoroughly enraged Bramblethorn stormed into the room. Snarling, he hauled Monto to his feet and slammed his fist into the other hobbit's face, sending him reeling.
Frodo acted without thought, obeying his instinct to flee. Just as he reached the door, Anson appeared and cut off his escape. With nowhere else to go, Frodo backed away and ended up with his back against the bedpost. He sank down to the floor, terrified and defeated, trembling violently.
Across the room Bramblethorn hovered over his fallen henchman. "You worthless dung heap!" He shouted down at Monto. "Do you think you can lay your hands on my prize with impunity?"
"He was, uh, tryin' to get away - " Monto stammered, but Bramblethorn cut him off.
"What? With his shirt torn and his breeches unbuttoned? Am I to believe he achieved that state of his own accord?" He advanced on Monto menacingly and grabbed him by the collar. "YOU do not touch him. He is MINE," Bramblethorn growled in Monto's face. "I gave you leave to discipline him if need be, but nothing more!"
Bramblethorn turned to Anson. "Get him out of here. I will deal with him later." He turned his attention to where Frodo sat, still trembling, sobs wracking his small frame. As Bramblethorn reached out, Frodo turned away. He was nearly insensible with fear as Bramblethorn's arms encircled him, pulling him into an embrace that was more possessive than protective.
"Frodo, love," Bramblethorn said, rubbing Frodo's back and pulling him closer, "He's gone. If he touches you again, I shall kill him myself."
Confusion warred with terror and shame as Frodo dimly realized that he was clutching Bramblethorn's arm tightly, as if seeking refuge in the embrace that he dreaded and sought desperately to avoid. He silently commanded himself to let go, to disengage himself from those arms, but his body ignored him and he continued to shake and sob, his hands fisted tightly in the fabric of Bramblethorn's shirt.
Bramblethorn suppressed a smile. There was Frodo, in his arms and cleaving to him desperately, turning to him at last. He savored what he perceived to be the long - awaited surrender of his quarry. "Is this so terrible, Frodo dear?" he intoned as he smoothed Frodo's unruly curls. "Is it now so dreadful to be in my arms?"
Frodo didn't answer. He was too lost in his chaotic thoughts and emotions. He tried to pretend other arms held him and that another voice whispered to him of a safe and comfortable place. He felt empty inside, as if something that had always been a part of him had been ripped away to be held within his sight but just beyond his reach.
Bramblethorn turned his gaze to Anson, who had returned from removing Monto from the room. "Get me some of that tea from the kitchen," he demanded. "Just calm down, love. Let me hold you now. I can be gentle, you know," Bramblethorn told Frodo as he waited for Anson's return. No answer came from the shivering form in his arms.
Anson reappeared with a steaming cup of something, and Bramblethorn held it to Frodo's lips. "Drink this, Frodo. It will calm your nerves, my poor dear."
Still feeling more lost and helpless than he had ever before in his life, Frodo complied. The tea was obviously laced with a strong sedative, and Frodo could feel his breathing beginning to calm and his eyes starting to close. Escape, he thought, for his battered mind, if nothing else. He welcomed the darkness that took him.
~*~
As they entered the common room, Merry and Sam saw the innkeeper hailing them. "I've a message for you," he said as he led them past the tall front desk area. "Urgent, it says."
"Thank you, sir," Merry said and accepted the envelope. The paper was heavy and of fine quality, bearing an ornate seal with a letter 'B'. Not for 'Baggins', as Bilbo had left them some years earlier and had not been seen since. Not for 'Brandybuck,' as it was not his father's seal pressed into the wax. 'Bramblethorn'. Merry gestured to Sam to follow him back to their room, and once there, he ripped the letter open.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
My dear Masters Brandybuck and Gamgee,
I thought you might appreciate word of your dear Frodo from time to time, unless I am mistaken. He is secure in his own room, with supervision, of course. For the most part he has behaved himself quite nicely thus far. You are also to be congratulated for not having done anything foolish as yet.
Frodo and I have spent some quality time together, you know. Just last night we shared a lovely meal. He is very becoming by candlelight, I must say.
He says he misses you. Undoubtedly you miss him as well, do you not? How long will you miss him, I wonder? How long will it be before you will see his charming face again? Still trying to come up with full payment? Please, by all means, take your time.
Very sincerely yours,
Rushford Bramblethorn.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Sam was shaking with rage. "The beast! He's taunting us, he is!"
"Yes, Sam," Merry replied. "That's just his style, isn't it?" He sighed. "At least Frodo is all right, or so he says."
"I wouldn't take his word for naught," Sam said with a disdainful sniff.
"I have an idea, Sam. It may be to no avail, as Bramblethorn might not allow it, but we must try. Will you go and ask the innkeeper for the proper writing materials? We must respond to this letter, but not to Bramblethorn."
"A letter to Mr. Frodo?" Sam said hopefully.
"Yes, Sam. Bramblethorn may refuse to let him see it, but I want to try."
Sam nodded and left the room. In a few minutes he returned, quill and clean page in one hand and a small bottle of ink in another.
Merry placed the page on the table and began to scribble something on it.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Dear Frodo,
We are doing all we can to get payment and quickly. Every hour that you are away from us we grow more worried and miss you more greatly. We know you're trying to be strong and we are more sorry than words can say that we have left you with a creature like Bramblethorn. We would not risk harm to you, and that is the only reason that we have complied with his wishes. He had better keep his end of the bargain, or he will pay, believe us.
Love,
Merry and Sam.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Sam signed his name alongside Merry's and a single teardrop fell to dampen the paper. Merry folded the note into an envelope and nodded gravely to Sam. "We shall send this with the next post."
"But how do we know where to send it?" Sam asked plaintively. It wasn't as if either of them knew their way about Bree or the precise location of Bramblethorn's smial.
"We'll have to rely upon the knowledge of the courier," Merry responded. "Unless I miss my guess, the locals will know Bramblethorn well enough that someone should be able to find him."
Merry was through the door and on his way to the innkeeper's desk immediately, with Sam directly behind him. "Excuse me, sir," Merry called upward and the innkeeper's head appeared above the desk. "Will you please add this to your post and have the courier take it to a hobbit named Rushford Bramblethorn? I don't know the exact address, but I believe he lives in Breehill."
The innkeeper nodded. "If your friend lives there, our runner will find him," he promised.
Sam and Merry exchanged a glance, both fighting the temptation to state unequivocally that Bramblethorn was most certainly not their friend.
"Thank you, sir," Sam said quietly as he and Merry turned and walked back toward their lodgings. When Sam and Merry had gone, the innkeeper held the message up to the light of the lantern on the desk, but nothing showed through the envelope. He put it down in disappointment, adding it to a stack of other communications awaiting the post.
~*~
Frodo stirred as a drop of cool water ran from his temple down to his ear, startling him to consciousness. Someone was dabbing at his face with a cool, damp cloth, and for a moment he almost let himself sink gratefully into the comfort of it. Half in dreams, he groaned and spoke a name. "Sam?"
"Oh, please, Frodo," Bramblethorn said in an exasperated tone. "Not that blasted gardener again. No, I am not he." He touched the cloth to the scrape on Frodo's temple once again, and Frodo winced.
"Oh. It's you," he said quietly, wanting nothing more fiercely than the solace of dreams again.
"Yes love, it is I," Bramblethorn said calmly. "It was I who saved you from that lecherous clod Monto, and it was my arms that held you while you cried." He smiled broadly. "And you didn't seem to mind."
"I was not myself," Frodo responded, trying to push back the fog that had settled over his mind from the sedative.
"Is that any way to thank me for my timely intervention?" Bramblethorn chided. "I could have let him take you. I could have watched." Bramblethorn allowed a threatening note to enter his tone. "I could have helped."
"You did. You left me alone with him." Frodo shuddered at the memory of the assault Bramblethorn had interrupted.
"He shall not attempt such a thing again," Bramblethorn said gravely. "I shall not let him damage you."
"No, you want that opportunity for yourself, don't you?" Frodo accused, sitting up with difficulty. The effects of the sedative had left him feeling as if he had been two - thirds of the way through a full bottle of Old Winyards. "I heard what you told him. You told him I'm yours. I'm sorry, but is isn't so."
"Isn't it? Are you not entirely at my mercy, Frodo?" Bramblethorn placed his hands on Frodo's shoulders and pressed him back against the pillows. "Your gardener cannot help you this time. It's a good thing for you those Brandybucks have ample wealth. I should have demanded more." Bramblethorn kept one hand on Frodo's shoulder, and lifted Frodo's chin with the fingers of the other.
A white - hot flicker of anger burned through Frodo at that statement, and before he had time to warn himself of the possible consequences, Frodo curled his fingers into a fist and belted Bramblethorn as hard as he could.
Eyes blazing, Bramblethorn seized Frodo's wrist and gripped it hard. "You'll not be humbled easily, will you my lovely one?" Bramblethorn grinned nastily. "ANSON!" he shouted, and trained his gaze on Frodo's eyes, enjoying the sudden reappearance of fear in them. He still held Frodo's wrist in his grasp, and Frodo tried to pull it free, without success.
Anson appeared in the doorway. "What ya need, boss?" he asked.
"Rope. Now." Bramblethorn grabbed the other wrist and Frodo gasped.
Anson did his employer's bidding, bringing in a couple of small coils of rope.
"Bind him." Bramblethorn held Frodo's wrists out to either side and Anson helped him tether them to the bedposts. "That was ill - advised, Frodo," Bramblethorn said with a smug smile. "As we discussed before, if you misbehave, you will be punished. At the rate you're going, you had better hope Brandybuck gets the money for the payment soon."
"Please untie me," Frodo said, his eyes pleading with Bramblethorn as well as his voice. "I'm sorry I struck you," Frodo lied.
"Are you, love?" Bramblethorn asked, brushing his fingers lightly across Frodo's cheek. "If not, you shall be." Bramblethorn turned to Anson. "Let him remain as he is until I tell you to loose him."
Anson nodded and followed Bramblethorn out the door. He locked it and took up his post in the hallway.
"Where is Monto?" Bramblethorn asked Anson, his voice cold.
"He's in the parlor with a cold compress on his face," Anson answered, very glad that he was not in disgrace with his employer.
"Good. I'm going to have a word with him. Please don't disturb us unless it's absolutely necessary." Bramblethorn stalked down the hall toward the parlor. He entered to find Monto just where Anson had said he would be, lying on a sofa with a cold, damp rag pressed to his eye.
"Sorry about the eye old boy," Bramblethorn said, seating himself in a chair nearby. "What possessed you?"
"I don't know," Monto answered. "He's just, well, rather - "
"Enticing? Yes, Frodo is that, certainly." Bramblethorn regarded his toady evenly. "He is also not your plaything."
"I just wanted to, y'know," Monto stammered, "find out why you're so keen on him."
"If I could tell you that in mere words, I would have great talent," Bramblethorn told him, reflecting on what a single glance at Frodo did to him. "You are fortunate that I'm in a good mood," he said, raising an eyebrow. "But believe me, if you try any such thing again, I will skin you with a blunt implement and use your smelly hide for book bindings. Do we understand each other?"
"We do," Monto replied shortly. He had seen Bramblethorn's temper before this, and he felt fortunate indeed that his boss didn't give him the lash for what he'd done, or rather tried to do.
"The fact is, I still need your services," Bramblethorn explained. "In a way, your actions may have been of some value."
Monto wondered at Bramblethorn's statement. "How do you reckon that, boss?" he muttered, still holding the cloth against the eye Bramblethorn had blackened.
"Your attack left him shuddering in my arms. He clung to me like a child to his mother," Bramblethorn said thoughtfully. "If we work together, I might bend him to my wishes yet." Bramblethorn considered the prospects. "But remember," he warned, "Frodo is mine. Scare him if it suits you, bruise him if you must. But leave him to my tender care and expend your own lust elsewhere."
"All right, boss," Monto said, and Bramblethorn lit his pipe. He leaned back in the chair and smoked in silence.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
Trust No One - Poor deluded Bramblethorn! He thinks he can draw Frodo to him gradually, and that keeping him from his loved ones will make him lonely enough to be vulnerable to such a ploy.
CuriousCat - Bramblethorn does enjoy taunting Frodo. Bramblethorn is trying to be patient, but how long can he last, eh?
Aelfgifu - I need to stop by and review the latest chapter of RATM, and I hope to do it in the next couple of days. Frodo did get his say in during the last chapter, didn't he? If he keeps it up, he may well end up forcibly subdued. Stay tuned!
GamgeeFest - The Ring is hidden safely away at Bag End, thank goodness. Hate to think what would happen if Bramblethorn got hold of it! Bramblethorn has tried the harsher approach before and it didn't work. He's thinking perhaps there are other ways to draw Frodo to him. Poor deluded thing! I don't know if I'd call Monto smart, but he's certainly starting to get ideas of his own.
Stephanie - Bramblethorn has not abandoned his notions toward Frodo. He's just trying another approach for the time being. Merry and Sam will definitely be writhing by the time this chapter ends. If Bramblethorn is indeed some kind of twisted alter ego of mine, I thank heavens he stays put in the background! Makes you wonder if we all don't have two sides to our natures and just choose which one to follow?
Hobbitfeet13 - Bramblethorn still has plans for Frodo, certainly. Nasty hobbit! And the gleam in Monto's eyes is definitely not a good thing.
KT SHY - It is scary to think of Bramblethorn watching Frodo all that time. Poor Frodo! So far Frodo has managed to escape much harsh treatment, but the road ahead has the potential to be a hard one.
FrodoBaggins87 - The plot is thickening, and yes, I do have the entire story written and ready to go. That way I can be sure I'll actually finish it! You'll see the contents of Bramblethorn's note in this chapter.
Anarie - It was indeed an unpleasant shock to Frodo to know Bramblethorn has been eyeing him for so long. Monto will definitely get involved in this chapter.
Endymion2 - Bramblethorn has behaved himself fairly well so far, but how long can he last? He's still our beloved Bramby, after all. Monto will be added to the mix in a big way in this chapter.
Aratlithiel1 - Frodo is up to his eyes in trouble now. He will need his courage to get through the coming days, certainly.
Iorhael - Bramblethorn? Sweet? Sweet on Frodo, that's for sure! We'll see how long Bramby gets to keep him now that help from Buckland will be delayed.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 9 - The Arms of the Enemy
~*~ The next morning ~*~
"I'm sending Anson to deliver a message to Brandybuck and Gamgee," Bramblethorn informed Monto. "I must procure a few small items, so I will be away for a short time myself. In the meantime, make sure Frodo stays put."
Monto nodded. He reflected that he would almost rather have been given Anson's task. Frodo had been quiet for the most part, and the duty of watching his door was beginning to become rather dull.
Bramblethorn and Anson departed, and Monto paced alone in the hallway outside the bolted door of Frodo's prison as a good hour or so passed by. Monto's thoughts began to wander back to the previous night and Bramblethorn's invitation for Frodo to join him at table. It was plain that Bramblethorn still felt something for the handsome young hobbit. And why not, he mused? When it came right down to it, Frodo was rather nice to look at. Monto had certainly never seen a hobbit quite like him before. Bramblethorn's taste in romantic partners was none of Monto's concern, of course, and Monto hadn't troubled himself about it. He supposed that in the absence of a willing lass, a lad would do.
Had Bramblethorn ever succeeded in sharing any intimacy with Frodo, Monto wondered? He had never spoken of it specifically, only of his desire and that Frodo had once refused him. Darker thoughts began to grow in Monto's mind. What would it be like, taking that lithe form in one's arms? He grinned nastily. Frodo was nowhere near as strong as Monto nor was he in any sort of position to resist. Monto knew how to make a threat work to his advantage, and he could make sure Frodo didn't tell anyone.
Monto eyed the lock on the door and twirled the key between his fingers. Before he could change his mind, he inserted the key and turned it carefully. The door opened quietly, and Monto peered into the room. The sound of low, even breathing came to him, telling him that Frodo was asleep. Monto let himself in and closed the door behind him silently, then stepped over to the bedside to gaze down at the sleeping captive.
Frodo was unbound at the moment, having won that small favor by obeying Bramblethorn's command to dine with him the night before. He lay curled on his side, eyes closed and lips barely parted, sable curls spread across the pillow. Those curls looked so soft, and Monto began to reach down to touch them.
As if alerted somehow to the very near presence of great danger, Frodo woke suddenly. His eyes snapped open and he gasped as he recoiled from Monto's touch. "W - what are you doing here?" he stammered.
"Whatever I want," Monto responded with a sneer, and lunged at Frodo.
Frodo rolled away from him with astonishing speed and bolted for the door, but Monto was no less swift. He latched onto Frodo's collar with one beefy hand and bore his struggling prey down to the floor.
Terror gripped Frodo and he clawed at the floorboards. "Get out! Don't touch me!" he shouted, kicking at Monto in desperation. Monto slapped him squarely across the face, causing a trickle of blood to drip from his nose.
Hands, tearing, rending, claiming. Threats, harsh in his ears and stinging slaps to his face. "You better not tell anyone," Monto sneered. "If you do, I'll take care of that cousin of yours, and that gardener too. I'll make it look like an accident."
Frodo's mind whirled into an abyss of fear and shame. Don't, oh please DON'T, someone please, help, help, HELP! Was it his mind screaming or was he himself? Frodo couldn't tell if it was either or both as Monto's rough hands tore his shirt open.
Frodo knew he was sobbing now, unable to control his tattered emotions as the violation continued. He was appalled not only by what was happening to him but also by a thought that had risen unchecked through his terror. Where was Bramblethorn? He certainly would not permit this! Frodo's head swam from another sharp blow. "The boss thinks you're something pretty special," Monto said with a leer, "and I aim to find out why."
"Please stop! You're hurting me!" Frodo begged as Monto dug his fingers into Frodo's arms hard enough to leave bruises. One hand moved lower to pull at the fastenings of Frodo's breeches.
"Keep still!" Monto ordered as he fumbled with the buttons. One button. Frodo tried to tear his attacker's hand away, to no avail. Two. Monto stopped long enough to slam Frodo back against the floor, stunning him momentarily. Three. Frodo roused slightly and kicked Monto in the midsection with all his remaining strength.
"You dirty little - " Monto never got the rest of the sentence out. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, growing nearer. All at once the door was flung open and a thoroughly enraged Bramblethorn stormed into the room. Snarling, he hauled Monto to his feet and slammed his fist into the other hobbit's face, sending him reeling.
Frodo acted without thought, obeying his instinct to flee. Just as he reached the door, Anson appeared and cut off his escape. With nowhere else to go, Frodo backed away and ended up with his back against the bedpost. He sank down to the floor, terrified and defeated, trembling violently.
Across the room Bramblethorn hovered over his fallen henchman. "You worthless dung heap!" He shouted down at Monto. "Do you think you can lay your hands on my prize with impunity?"
"He was, uh, tryin' to get away - " Monto stammered, but Bramblethorn cut him off.
"What? With his shirt torn and his breeches unbuttoned? Am I to believe he achieved that state of his own accord?" He advanced on Monto menacingly and grabbed him by the collar. "YOU do not touch him. He is MINE," Bramblethorn growled in Monto's face. "I gave you leave to discipline him if need be, but nothing more!"
Bramblethorn turned to Anson. "Get him out of here. I will deal with him later." He turned his attention to where Frodo sat, still trembling, sobs wracking his small frame. As Bramblethorn reached out, Frodo turned away. He was nearly insensible with fear as Bramblethorn's arms encircled him, pulling him into an embrace that was more possessive than protective.
"Frodo, love," Bramblethorn said, rubbing Frodo's back and pulling him closer, "He's gone. If he touches you again, I shall kill him myself."
Confusion warred with terror and shame as Frodo dimly realized that he was clutching Bramblethorn's arm tightly, as if seeking refuge in the embrace that he dreaded and sought desperately to avoid. He silently commanded himself to let go, to disengage himself from those arms, but his body ignored him and he continued to shake and sob, his hands fisted tightly in the fabric of Bramblethorn's shirt.
Bramblethorn suppressed a smile. There was Frodo, in his arms and cleaving to him desperately, turning to him at last. He savored what he perceived to be the long - awaited surrender of his quarry. "Is this so terrible, Frodo dear?" he intoned as he smoothed Frodo's unruly curls. "Is it now so dreadful to be in my arms?"
Frodo didn't answer. He was too lost in his chaotic thoughts and emotions. He tried to pretend other arms held him and that another voice whispered to him of a safe and comfortable place. He felt empty inside, as if something that had always been a part of him had been ripped away to be held within his sight but just beyond his reach.
Bramblethorn turned his gaze to Anson, who had returned from removing Monto from the room. "Get me some of that tea from the kitchen," he demanded. "Just calm down, love. Let me hold you now. I can be gentle, you know," Bramblethorn told Frodo as he waited for Anson's return. No answer came from the shivering form in his arms.
Anson reappeared with a steaming cup of something, and Bramblethorn held it to Frodo's lips. "Drink this, Frodo. It will calm your nerves, my poor dear."
Still feeling more lost and helpless than he had ever before in his life, Frodo complied. The tea was obviously laced with a strong sedative, and Frodo could feel his breathing beginning to calm and his eyes starting to close. Escape, he thought, for his battered mind, if nothing else. He welcomed the darkness that took him.
~*~
As they entered the common room, Merry and Sam saw the innkeeper hailing them. "I've a message for you," he said as he led them past the tall front desk area. "Urgent, it says."
"Thank you, sir," Merry said and accepted the envelope. The paper was heavy and of fine quality, bearing an ornate seal with a letter 'B'. Not for 'Baggins', as Bilbo had left them some years earlier and had not been seen since. Not for 'Brandybuck,' as it was not his father's seal pressed into the wax. 'Bramblethorn'. Merry gestured to Sam to follow him back to their room, and once there, he ripped the letter open.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
My dear Masters Brandybuck and Gamgee,
I thought you might appreciate word of your dear Frodo from time to time, unless I am mistaken. He is secure in his own room, with supervision, of course. For the most part he has behaved himself quite nicely thus far. You are also to be congratulated for not having done anything foolish as yet.
Frodo and I have spent some quality time together, you know. Just last night we shared a lovely meal. He is very becoming by candlelight, I must say.
He says he misses you. Undoubtedly you miss him as well, do you not? How long will you miss him, I wonder? How long will it be before you will see his charming face again? Still trying to come up with full payment? Please, by all means, take your time.
Very sincerely yours,
Rushford Bramblethorn.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Sam was shaking with rage. "The beast! He's taunting us, he is!"
"Yes, Sam," Merry replied. "That's just his style, isn't it?" He sighed. "At least Frodo is all right, or so he says."
"I wouldn't take his word for naught," Sam said with a disdainful sniff.
"I have an idea, Sam. It may be to no avail, as Bramblethorn might not allow it, but we must try. Will you go and ask the innkeeper for the proper writing materials? We must respond to this letter, but not to Bramblethorn."
"A letter to Mr. Frodo?" Sam said hopefully.
"Yes, Sam. Bramblethorn may refuse to let him see it, but I want to try."
Sam nodded and left the room. In a few minutes he returned, quill and clean page in one hand and a small bottle of ink in another.
Merry placed the page on the table and began to scribble something on it.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Dear Frodo,
We are doing all we can to get payment and quickly. Every hour that you are away from us we grow more worried and miss you more greatly. We know you're trying to be strong and we are more sorry than words can say that we have left you with a creature like Bramblethorn. We would not risk harm to you, and that is the only reason that we have complied with his wishes. He had better keep his end of the bargain, or he will pay, believe us.
Love,
Merry and Sam.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Sam signed his name alongside Merry's and a single teardrop fell to dampen the paper. Merry folded the note into an envelope and nodded gravely to Sam. "We shall send this with the next post."
"But how do we know where to send it?" Sam asked plaintively. It wasn't as if either of them knew their way about Bree or the precise location of Bramblethorn's smial.
"We'll have to rely upon the knowledge of the courier," Merry responded. "Unless I miss my guess, the locals will know Bramblethorn well enough that someone should be able to find him."
Merry was through the door and on his way to the innkeeper's desk immediately, with Sam directly behind him. "Excuse me, sir," Merry called upward and the innkeeper's head appeared above the desk. "Will you please add this to your post and have the courier take it to a hobbit named Rushford Bramblethorn? I don't know the exact address, but I believe he lives in Breehill."
The innkeeper nodded. "If your friend lives there, our runner will find him," he promised.
Sam and Merry exchanged a glance, both fighting the temptation to state unequivocally that Bramblethorn was most certainly not their friend.
"Thank you, sir," Sam said quietly as he and Merry turned and walked back toward their lodgings. When Sam and Merry had gone, the innkeeper held the message up to the light of the lantern on the desk, but nothing showed through the envelope. He put it down in disappointment, adding it to a stack of other communications awaiting the post.
~*~
Frodo stirred as a drop of cool water ran from his temple down to his ear, startling him to consciousness. Someone was dabbing at his face with a cool, damp cloth, and for a moment he almost let himself sink gratefully into the comfort of it. Half in dreams, he groaned and spoke a name. "Sam?"
"Oh, please, Frodo," Bramblethorn said in an exasperated tone. "Not that blasted gardener again. No, I am not he." He touched the cloth to the scrape on Frodo's temple once again, and Frodo winced.
"Oh. It's you," he said quietly, wanting nothing more fiercely than the solace of dreams again.
"Yes love, it is I," Bramblethorn said calmly. "It was I who saved you from that lecherous clod Monto, and it was my arms that held you while you cried." He smiled broadly. "And you didn't seem to mind."
"I was not myself," Frodo responded, trying to push back the fog that had settled over his mind from the sedative.
"Is that any way to thank me for my timely intervention?" Bramblethorn chided. "I could have let him take you. I could have watched." Bramblethorn allowed a threatening note to enter his tone. "I could have helped."
"You did. You left me alone with him." Frodo shuddered at the memory of the assault Bramblethorn had interrupted.
"He shall not attempt such a thing again," Bramblethorn said gravely. "I shall not let him damage you."
"No, you want that opportunity for yourself, don't you?" Frodo accused, sitting up with difficulty. The effects of the sedative had left him feeling as if he had been two - thirds of the way through a full bottle of Old Winyards. "I heard what you told him. You told him I'm yours. I'm sorry, but is isn't so."
"Isn't it? Are you not entirely at my mercy, Frodo?" Bramblethorn placed his hands on Frodo's shoulders and pressed him back against the pillows. "Your gardener cannot help you this time. It's a good thing for you those Brandybucks have ample wealth. I should have demanded more." Bramblethorn kept one hand on Frodo's shoulder, and lifted Frodo's chin with the fingers of the other.
A white - hot flicker of anger burned through Frodo at that statement, and before he had time to warn himself of the possible consequences, Frodo curled his fingers into a fist and belted Bramblethorn as hard as he could.
Eyes blazing, Bramblethorn seized Frodo's wrist and gripped it hard. "You'll not be humbled easily, will you my lovely one?" Bramblethorn grinned nastily. "ANSON!" he shouted, and trained his gaze on Frodo's eyes, enjoying the sudden reappearance of fear in them. He still held Frodo's wrist in his grasp, and Frodo tried to pull it free, without success.
Anson appeared in the doorway. "What ya need, boss?" he asked.
"Rope. Now." Bramblethorn grabbed the other wrist and Frodo gasped.
Anson did his employer's bidding, bringing in a couple of small coils of rope.
"Bind him." Bramblethorn held Frodo's wrists out to either side and Anson helped him tether them to the bedposts. "That was ill - advised, Frodo," Bramblethorn said with a smug smile. "As we discussed before, if you misbehave, you will be punished. At the rate you're going, you had better hope Brandybuck gets the money for the payment soon."
"Please untie me," Frodo said, his eyes pleading with Bramblethorn as well as his voice. "I'm sorry I struck you," Frodo lied.
"Are you, love?" Bramblethorn asked, brushing his fingers lightly across Frodo's cheek. "If not, you shall be." Bramblethorn turned to Anson. "Let him remain as he is until I tell you to loose him."
Anson nodded and followed Bramblethorn out the door. He locked it and took up his post in the hallway.
"Where is Monto?" Bramblethorn asked Anson, his voice cold.
"He's in the parlor with a cold compress on his face," Anson answered, very glad that he was not in disgrace with his employer.
"Good. I'm going to have a word with him. Please don't disturb us unless it's absolutely necessary." Bramblethorn stalked down the hall toward the parlor. He entered to find Monto just where Anson had said he would be, lying on a sofa with a cold, damp rag pressed to his eye.
"Sorry about the eye old boy," Bramblethorn said, seating himself in a chair nearby. "What possessed you?"
"I don't know," Monto answered. "He's just, well, rather - "
"Enticing? Yes, Frodo is that, certainly." Bramblethorn regarded his toady evenly. "He is also not your plaything."
"I just wanted to, y'know," Monto stammered, "find out why you're so keen on him."
"If I could tell you that in mere words, I would have great talent," Bramblethorn told him, reflecting on what a single glance at Frodo did to him. "You are fortunate that I'm in a good mood," he said, raising an eyebrow. "But believe me, if you try any such thing again, I will skin you with a blunt implement and use your smelly hide for book bindings. Do we understand each other?"
"We do," Monto replied shortly. He had seen Bramblethorn's temper before this, and he felt fortunate indeed that his boss didn't give him the lash for what he'd done, or rather tried to do.
"The fact is, I still need your services," Bramblethorn explained. "In a way, your actions may have been of some value."
Monto wondered at Bramblethorn's statement. "How do you reckon that, boss?" he muttered, still holding the cloth against the eye Bramblethorn had blackened.
"Your attack left him shuddering in my arms. He clung to me like a child to his mother," Bramblethorn said thoughtfully. "If we work together, I might bend him to my wishes yet." Bramblethorn considered the prospects. "But remember," he warned, "Frodo is mine. Scare him if it suits you, bruise him if you must. But leave him to my tender care and expend your own lust elsewhere."
"All right, boss," Monto said, and Bramblethorn lit his pipe. He leaned back in the chair and smoked in silence.
~*~ To be continued ~*~