Endymion2 - Bramblethorn is so supremely confident in his position that he doesn't fear any consequences for taunting Sam and Merry. He trusts that his threats will be enough. Frodo has his moments when he seems to be succumbing to Bramblethorn's wishes, but half the time it's a drug - induced reaction. He still has plenty of inner resistance left.
Sam - Bramblethorn may think he's getting Frodo to like him, but there are some things that just aren't entirely possible. Frodo is getting to the point where he's willing to take the risk of attempting to escape.
Peony - There are many ways Bramblethorn can break down Frodo's defiance, and he's not above using any of them. We'll see how much defiance Frodo can maintain in the face of such adversity.
Iorhael - Frodo is not completely broken yet. After every nasty thing Bramblethorn does to him, he seems to recover for the most part. But how long can he keep it up?
Stephanie - Merry and Sam will receive the package from Bramblethorn in this chapter, and it will provoke some reaction. Bramblethorn doesn't like Sam very much. After all, he has what Bramblethorn wants, and has come between Bramblethorn and his plans for Frodo twice in the past.
Heartofahobbit - That's cool that Bramblethorn has inspired a villain of your own. He's quite flattered! Frodo isn't completely undone yet. When Bramblethorn isn't drugging him, he's a bit more his defiant self.
Shelbyshire - Thanks for joining in! I'm glad you like the stories. I'll continue to update every couple of days or so. Frodo is definitely doing a bit of squirming, and so is Sam!
FrodoBaggins1982 - I appreciate what you're saying, but I have to differ on a couple of points. It may seem too early in the story for Frodo to try to escape, but I wonder. He's been there about 4 days, and during that time he's been beaten, isolated, intimidated, drugged and assaulted. I think under such circumstances, if I found the odds suddenly looking more even, I would risk it. As to the acceptance of the book, Frodo has been isolated in a small room with nothing better to do but think about the fact that he's in a great deal of danger and how much he misses the people he loves. Regardless of the source of the distraction, I think if I were him I would be more than tempted by it. It's hard to compare Frodo in this scenario to Frodo on the quest partly because he had Sam with him to comfort him and urge him on during the journey. There's no comfort here except that which is offered with a darker ulterior motive.
Spootasia Tomoe - Don't worry! I won't let Frodo give up.
GamgeeFest - Bramblethorn has his plans, but he's always looking out for additional opportunities. Merry and Sam will realize very soon that something is up. Frodo's nerves are getting a bit frayed at this point, but he still has plenty of fight left in him.
FrodoBaggins87 - It is doubtful that Frodo will fall for Bramblethorn. He may eventually come to understand him a little better, but fall for him? Never!
Anarie - Frodo doesn't have a lot of options at this point. It's coming down to his submitting just enough to keep from getting hurt.
Trust No One - There are some things that are just too extreme for Frodo to consider right now, if you know what I mean. The absence of his loved ones and so much nastiness around him is tough for him, though.
Aratlithiel1 - Frodo definitely has not lost his inner strength. The drugs are no help to him, nor the constant threat of harm, but he's still got his wits.
Aelfgifu - Bramblethorn was testing Frodo to some degree. He now knows he has more work ahead of him if he wants to get Frodo to submit. He has no idea how much!
Hobbitfeet13 - Bramblethorn and his cronies are pretty awful. Frodo's isolation from the people he cares about combined with being surrounded by so many harsh enemies is wearing on him a bit.
Girlofring - I think Frodo will have to convince Sam that Sam didn't leave him. Merry and Sam are soon to realize something isn't right.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 11 - Warm
Merry paced the floor of the room at the inn, chafing at the thought of the amount of time it was taking to obtain the funds necessary to free Frodo. His request for assistance should be reaching Buckland that day or the next, by his estimation.
What would his father have to say when he read what Merry had written? There was no question that help would be sent. The Master of Buckland and his family wouldn't dream of denying any assistance that was meant to help Frodo.
Who would Saradoc send on the errand? Surely he would not be able to come himself, Buckland having just completed its harvest. It would be a busy time for the Master of the Hall. There would be at least two hobbits dispatched to bring the money to Bree, Merry reasoned. It was a large sum, and it would be unwise for a traveler on the road to carry as much without company.
Lastly, Merry berated himself for having let his father down, and his cousin as well. He had come on a mission to Bree to prevent hunger in Buckland, and had ended up effectively emptying the coffers of Brandy Hall and getting his cousin into a situation so dangerous, it left Merry nearly panicked to think of it.
The sound of the door opening and closing broke through his thoughts. Sam had returned from a trip to the innkeeper's desk, and he bore a parcel in his hands. "Mr. Merry," he began quietly, not wanting to cause Merry further distress. "The innkeeper gave me this. He said it arrived this morning."
Sam put the parcel on the table and Merry came to stand by his side. They looked at it apprehensively. It bore no other markings save their names and the name of the inn, but there was only one place it could have come from.
Merry untied the string and pulled away the outer layer of paper reluctantly. Inside was something carefully wrapped in tissue paper. He lifted it and unfolded it slowly as his heart began to pound in his chest.
"Sweet stars, Sam," Merry breathed, as he beheld Frodo's shirt, wrinkled and torn, hanging limp and forlorn in his hands. Sam's face was absolutely white and he began to shake with fear and rage.
"I'll kill him!" Sam's features contorted with the agony he felt gripping his heart. "He's hurt Mr. Frodo, I know he has!" Sam turned and bolted for the door. Merry lunged after him.
"Where are you going, Sam?" Merry asked fearfully, although he believed he already knew the answer.
"I'm gonna find that nasty smial of his," Sam shouted, "an' I'm gonna bust the door down an' throttle him with my bare hands!" Sam rushed out the door with Merry on his heels. Merry's fingertips brushed Sam's sleeve as he tried to get a grip on the maddened gardener.
"Please, Sam! Wait!" Merry shouted, but Sam paid him no mind. He ran out into the street and looked up at the hills above the village where a number of large smials were located. Sam gritted his teeth and hurried on as Merry gave chase.
Sam, though grown strong from his labors in the garden, hadn't Merry's quick, lithe physique, and Merry caught up with him easily.
"Sam! Sam!" Merry shouted at him, "We can't do this, not now!" Merry tried to catch his breath. "It's not that I'm not furious too, but remember the knife!" Merry spun Sam around to face him, and looked into his eyes. "We don't know for certain that Bramblethorn has hurt Frodo," he reasoned, "but we know he will if we attempt to rescue him."
A fresh flood of tears extinguished the fire that had been blazing in Sam's eyes. "But Mr. Frodo's shirt - "
"Bramblethorn sent it to us to cause us pain, and he has succeeded," Merry admitted openly. "It's torn, yes, but there's no - " Merry choked on the word and had to pause before going on. "There's no blood on it, at least."
As if all the horrible possibilities were coming to life in Sam's mind at the same time, lurid and sharp visions that followed end on end in rapid succession, Sam collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands. Merry knelt beside him and took Sam's grief into himself, letting it mingle with his own.
~*~
Bramblethorn sat pondering the game so far. Frodo had been in his care for about four days, enough time for Merry's message to his father to have reached Buckland, had it not been intercepted en route. Bramblethorn figured he had another four days or so before Frodo's cousin and gardener would begin to feel real desperation when help failed to arrive in due time.
Would they attempt to contact Frodo again? Bramblethorn thought it likely, especially when they received the latest item he had sent them. He could just imagine the looks on their faces - Sam's especially - when they opened that package and saw Frodo's shirt. He grinned nastily to himself. Perhaps he should send them Frodo's breeches next.
But no, that would defeat his purpose. He had tried to force Frodo before, and he had not succeeded. Of course, he would have, if not for the intervention of that gardener. But wouldn't it be that much sweeter if Frodo simply came to him?
At first, Bamblethorn had been furious with Monto for his attempted assault on Frodo, but when Frodo had lain sobbing in his arms, Bramblethorn had seen a benefit in the act. Now, every time Monto threatened or struck Frodo, Bramblethorn could present himself as Frodo's protector, the only one who could save him from such things.
He sighed as he thought of the events of the previous morning. He had given Frodo too much freedom too quickly, and had nearly lost his prize as a result. He would not be so foolish again, he determined. He must break down Frodo's defenses slowly, draw him closer little by little.
He rose and made his way down the hall to Frodo's room. Frodo had been sedated since late the previous morning, and the afternoon was growing old now. A storm threatened, and the usual sunlight that filtered through the smial's windows was notably absent as the clouds gathered and the wind began to gust outside.
Monto stood at his post by the door, looking bored. "Anything new to report?" Bramblethorn asked him.
"No, sir. Not a peep, I'm afraid." Monto smiled. "Is it time to wake him up, then?"
"Yes, Monto, I suspect it is," Bramblethorn answered. "Take some fresh linens and change the bed. You have leave to restrain him as need be, but remember what I told you about anything else."
Monto nodded. His eye was still sore from Bramblethorn's punch. "No funny stuff, I swear," he said, going down the hall to retrieve the linens for the bed.
Bramblethorn addressed him once more. "I will come to check on him in a while. I'll be in my study until then." He turned and walked down the hall, and disappeared through the door of his study to smoke and read for a while.
Monto opened the door and stepped inside, placing the pile of fresh bed linens atop the trunk that sat against the wall. Frodo lay unmoving, still sleeping off the effects of the sedative. "Wake up, pretty boy," Monto said with a sneer, shaking Frodo harder than was necessary. "C'mon, open them pretty eyes for me."
Frodo opened his eyes and looked groggily at Monto. "You're not supposed to be here," he said thickly.
"Oh, I still have to watch over you, whether you like it or not," Monto informed him. "I've been told I gotta play chambermaid, and I'm in no mood for any of your sass." Monto grabbed Frodo's upper arms and sat him upright. "I'm movin' you to that chair over there so I can change the linens."
Monto unbound Frodo's hands and feet and forced him to stand. Frodo wove unsteadily on his feet as he was guided rather roughly to the chair. "Too bad the boss interrupted us the other day," Monto remarked as he shoved Frodo into the chair and began to bind him again.
"Too bad he didn't kill you outright," Frodo shot back as alertness began to return. His hatred for Monto overrode his fear of him momentarily, and the remark slipped out before he could think better of it. He grunted as Monto yanked hard on the rope he was winding around Frodo's upper arms, securing him to the back of the chair.
With the task of securing Frodo completed, Monto quickly stripped the linens from the bed and replaced them with the new ones. He dumped the old ones in a pile at Frodo's feet and leaned close to the bound hobbit's face. "If the boss gets bored with you, I'll be waiting," he taunted. "Gimme a kiss." He made as if to press his lips to Frodo's, and Frodo writhed against his bonds and turned his head.
"Get away from me!" he cried, and Monto laughed.
"It don't take much to rile you up, does it?" He reached for the ewer on the washstand. The water in it had grown cold, and Monto dumped it over Frodo's head, soaking him. "That oughtta cool you off some," he gloated. He picked up the pile of linens again and left Frodo sputtering and shivering alone.
~*~
An hour had passed since Bramblethorn had gone to his study, and he stood up and stretched. It was time to check on Frodo, and he padded down the hall to where Monto stood outside the door.
"Did he behave himself?" Bramblethorn asked his henchman as he stood in the hallway.
"He got a little sassy with me so I dumped some water over his head to cool him off," Monto confessed.
Bramblethorn raised an eyebrow. "That should be interesting. I'd better go and take care of him, hmmm?"
Monto unlocked the door and Bramblethorn sauntered in to find Frodo bound to the chair, still dripping, with his teeth chattering. The storm had brought lower temperatures with it, and the room was rather chilly.
"Frodo dear, what am I to do with you?" Bramblethorn said with a sigh. He took Frodo's face in his hands and smiled. "This just won't do, will it?"
Bramblethorn left the room briefly and returned carrying a heavy robe and some thick towels. "We've got to get you dry and warm you up, love." He began to loosen Frodo's bonds. "Now remember, Frodo. No trouble. If you want me to help you, I shall, but you must behave yourself."
When Bramblethorn had loosed Frodo from the chair, he picked up one of the towels and began rubbing Frodo's hair with it. Frodo pulled away, but Bramblethorn grabbed him and held him against the back of the chair. "I said not to give me any trouble, dear, or I shall return you to the state in which I found you."
The threat worked. Frodo was miserably cold and wet, and now was not the time to anger his captor. He sat still, except for the chills that shuddered through him, as Bramblethorn continued to dry him.
"We'll have to get you out of those wet clothes," Bramblethorn said, and Frodo's heart nearly stopped. Not here, not in front of -
"Up you go, love," Bramblethorn said, pulling Frodo to his feet. He began to unbutton the shirt he had dressed Frodo in the previous morning, and Frodo slapped his hands away.
"I c - can do it," he said through his chattering teeth. He backed away a few steps and turned his back to Bramblethorn, removing the wet shirt. Bramblethorn stood waiting, and Frodo turned and looked over his shoulder at him.
"You're completely soaked, Frodo. The breeches will have to go as well," Bramblethorn said with a wink.
"No. N - not unless you l - leave the room," Frodo stuttered obstinately.
Bramblethorn laughed, and tossed the robe to Frodo. "You're really something, Frodo. Do you want to get warm, or not?" he challenged.
Frodo sighed, put on the robe, and carefully peeled his breeches off afterward, managing to remain concealed from Bramblethorn's view. "T - there. Are you s - satisfied?"
"Satisfied? Not even close, my dear," Bramblethorn said without missing a beat. "You're still very cold, aren't you, Frodo?" Frodo didn't answer, but Bramblethorn could see him trembling from the chill. "Come along, love. You may sit by the fire in my study until you are warm again."
Bramblethorn took Frodo's arm and led him toward the door. Frodo clasped the robe shut tightly and stepped past Monto red - faced as they left the room.
"Monto," Bramblethorn called back over his shoulder, "Hang up Frodo's clothes to dry, won't you?" They went into the study, where Anson was hovering about.
"Anson, will you light a fire for us, please? The storm has brought a chill with it, it seems." Anson nodded and set about getting a fire crackling upon the hearth. Bramblethorn shooed him away and settled Frodo in a comfortable chair before the fire.
"Really, Frodo, I'm beginning to think that you and Monto don't like each other very much," Bramblethorn said in an amused tone.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Frodo shot back sarcastically, leaning closer to the comforting flames and reaching his hands out to warm them.
"Oh, he's not so bad once you get to know him," Bramblethorn responded, eyeing Frodo and wishing the robe weren't quite so large. Perhaps, if Frodo moved closer to the fire it would ride up just a little -
"He's horrid," Frodo said sullenly, tugging at the robe as if he'd read Bramblethorn's thoughts.
Another laugh, as Bramblethorn leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the hearth to warm them. "Worse even than myself?"
"At the moment, yes," Frodo replied truthfully. "At other times, no."
"Now, be fair, Frodo," Bramblethorn countered easily. "I've just passed up a very good opportunity to take advantage of you, in case you haven't noticed." Bramblethorn reached out and fingered the fabric of the robe. "All that stands between you and my hands is this one bit of fabric."
Frodo shifted uncomfortably and pulled the robe tighter around his body. He didn't answer immediately.
"Still cold?" Bramblethorn called Anson over. "Pour us a couple of brandies, won't you, old boy?" Bramblethorn addressed Frodo again. "Brandy is fine for warming oneself, but I know of ways finer yet."
"You never stop, do you?" Frodo said, staring into the flames.
"How can I, with you sitting there before me in the firelight," Bramblethorn answered, enjoying the view as well as he was able with the robe getting in the way. He took the two glasses of brandy from Anson and handed one to Frodo. "Cheers."
Frodo swirled the liquid in the glass and gazed at it thoughtfully. "Trying to get me tipsy, then?"
"If all it takes is one brandy to accomplish that, I shall consider myself very fortunate," Bramblethorn answered. "Your wit is as sharp as ever, dearest."
Frodo sipped the brandy in silence and felt the warmth of it spreading through him. He listened to the sound of the fire crackling on the hearth and the raindrops hitting the windows, and thought he might be quite comfortable if not for Bramblethorn sitting there looking at him.
"Hmmm, this is pleasant, isn't it?" Bramblethorn asked him. "Much better than lying bound in your room, and all you had to do was co - operate."
Frodo masked a derisive snort by sipping his brandy again.
"You don't want to go back to your room, do you, Frodo?" Bramblethorn watched him and waited for an answer.
"No," Frodo said quietly. "It's cold."
Bramblethorn handed Anson his empty brandy glass and reached for Frodo's. "I will allow you to sleep by the fire tonight, on the condition that you allow me to bind your hands and ankles."
Frodo gave Bramblethorn a dismayed look. "Must you always - "
"The last time I let you out of your room unbound for a length of time, you repaid my kindness by attempting to escape," Bramblethorn reminded him. "Now, I am giving you a choice. Your cold room, a locked door and no bonds, or a comfortable place by a warm fire, and restraints. Which will it be, Frodo?"
A shiver ran through Frodo at the mention of the little, cheerless room. He'd sat drenched in the cool air for an hour at least, and the chill was just now leaving his bones. He looked at the fire, then back at Bramblethorn. "Will I be safe here, in this room?"
"I promise no harm shall come to you here. I merely wish to be certain that I shall find you where I last left you." Bramblethorn stood and pulled a quilt out of a chest in the corner. Anson handed him a couple pieces of rope, and Bramblethorn gently took Frodo's hands and bound them, then tied his feet and draped the quilt over him.
"You may yet earn back the privileges you lost with your behavior the other day," Bramblethorn informed Frodo as he tucked the quilt around him. "If only you would stop being so stubborn, I would deny you nothing."
Nothing but my freedom, Frodo thought sadly. He was already drifting off to sleep, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the brandy.
"You shall be mine yet, beloved," Bramblethorn whispered very quietly, and lit his pipe. He sat in his own chair and just watched Frodo as he slept, eventually dropping off to sleep himself.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
Sam - Bramblethorn may think he's getting Frodo to like him, but there are some things that just aren't entirely possible. Frodo is getting to the point where he's willing to take the risk of attempting to escape.
Peony - There are many ways Bramblethorn can break down Frodo's defiance, and he's not above using any of them. We'll see how much defiance Frodo can maintain in the face of such adversity.
Iorhael - Frodo is not completely broken yet. After every nasty thing Bramblethorn does to him, he seems to recover for the most part. But how long can he keep it up?
Stephanie - Merry and Sam will receive the package from Bramblethorn in this chapter, and it will provoke some reaction. Bramblethorn doesn't like Sam very much. After all, he has what Bramblethorn wants, and has come between Bramblethorn and his plans for Frodo twice in the past.
Heartofahobbit - That's cool that Bramblethorn has inspired a villain of your own. He's quite flattered! Frodo isn't completely undone yet. When Bramblethorn isn't drugging him, he's a bit more his defiant self.
Shelbyshire - Thanks for joining in! I'm glad you like the stories. I'll continue to update every couple of days or so. Frodo is definitely doing a bit of squirming, and so is Sam!
FrodoBaggins1982 - I appreciate what you're saying, but I have to differ on a couple of points. It may seem too early in the story for Frodo to try to escape, but I wonder. He's been there about 4 days, and during that time he's been beaten, isolated, intimidated, drugged and assaulted. I think under such circumstances, if I found the odds suddenly looking more even, I would risk it. As to the acceptance of the book, Frodo has been isolated in a small room with nothing better to do but think about the fact that he's in a great deal of danger and how much he misses the people he loves. Regardless of the source of the distraction, I think if I were him I would be more than tempted by it. It's hard to compare Frodo in this scenario to Frodo on the quest partly because he had Sam with him to comfort him and urge him on during the journey. There's no comfort here except that which is offered with a darker ulterior motive.
Spootasia Tomoe - Don't worry! I won't let Frodo give up.
GamgeeFest - Bramblethorn has his plans, but he's always looking out for additional opportunities. Merry and Sam will realize very soon that something is up. Frodo's nerves are getting a bit frayed at this point, but he still has plenty of fight left in him.
FrodoBaggins87 - It is doubtful that Frodo will fall for Bramblethorn. He may eventually come to understand him a little better, but fall for him? Never!
Anarie - Frodo doesn't have a lot of options at this point. It's coming down to his submitting just enough to keep from getting hurt.
Trust No One - There are some things that are just too extreme for Frodo to consider right now, if you know what I mean. The absence of his loved ones and so much nastiness around him is tough for him, though.
Aratlithiel1 - Frodo definitely has not lost his inner strength. The drugs are no help to him, nor the constant threat of harm, but he's still got his wits.
Aelfgifu - Bramblethorn was testing Frodo to some degree. He now knows he has more work ahead of him if he wants to get Frodo to submit. He has no idea how much!
Hobbitfeet13 - Bramblethorn and his cronies are pretty awful. Frodo's isolation from the people he cares about combined with being surrounded by so many harsh enemies is wearing on him a bit.
Girlofring - I think Frodo will have to convince Sam that Sam didn't leave him. Merry and Sam are soon to realize something isn't right.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 11 - Warm
Merry paced the floor of the room at the inn, chafing at the thought of the amount of time it was taking to obtain the funds necessary to free Frodo. His request for assistance should be reaching Buckland that day or the next, by his estimation.
What would his father have to say when he read what Merry had written? There was no question that help would be sent. The Master of Buckland and his family wouldn't dream of denying any assistance that was meant to help Frodo.
Who would Saradoc send on the errand? Surely he would not be able to come himself, Buckland having just completed its harvest. It would be a busy time for the Master of the Hall. There would be at least two hobbits dispatched to bring the money to Bree, Merry reasoned. It was a large sum, and it would be unwise for a traveler on the road to carry as much without company.
Lastly, Merry berated himself for having let his father down, and his cousin as well. He had come on a mission to Bree to prevent hunger in Buckland, and had ended up effectively emptying the coffers of Brandy Hall and getting his cousin into a situation so dangerous, it left Merry nearly panicked to think of it.
The sound of the door opening and closing broke through his thoughts. Sam had returned from a trip to the innkeeper's desk, and he bore a parcel in his hands. "Mr. Merry," he began quietly, not wanting to cause Merry further distress. "The innkeeper gave me this. He said it arrived this morning."
Sam put the parcel on the table and Merry came to stand by his side. They looked at it apprehensively. It bore no other markings save their names and the name of the inn, but there was only one place it could have come from.
Merry untied the string and pulled away the outer layer of paper reluctantly. Inside was something carefully wrapped in tissue paper. He lifted it and unfolded it slowly as his heart began to pound in his chest.
"Sweet stars, Sam," Merry breathed, as he beheld Frodo's shirt, wrinkled and torn, hanging limp and forlorn in his hands. Sam's face was absolutely white and he began to shake with fear and rage.
"I'll kill him!" Sam's features contorted with the agony he felt gripping his heart. "He's hurt Mr. Frodo, I know he has!" Sam turned and bolted for the door. Merry lunged after him.
"Where are you going, Sam?" Merry asked fearfully, although he believed he already knew the answer.
"I'm gonna find that nasty smial of his," Sam shouted, "an' I'm gonna bust the door down an' throttle him with my bare hands!" Sam rushed out the door with Merry on his heels. Merry's fingertips brushed Sam's sleeve as he tried to get a grip on the maddened gardener.
"Please, Sam! Wait!" Merry shouted, but Sam paid him no mind. He ran out into the street and looked up at the hills above the village where a number of large smials were located. Sam gritted his teeth and hurried on as Merry gave chase.
Sam, though grown strong from his labors in the garden, hadn't Merry's quick, lithe physique, and Merry caught up with him easily.
"Sam! Sam!" Merry shouted at him, "We can't do this, not now!" Merry tried to catch his breath. "It's not that I'm not furious too, but remember the knife!" Merry spun Sam around to face him, and looked into his eyes. "We don't know for certain that Bramblethorn has hurt Frodo," he reasoned, "but we know he will if we attempt to rescue him."
A fresh flood of tears extinguished the fire that had been blazing in Sam's eyes. "But Mr. Frodo's shirt - "
"Bramblethorn sent it to us to cause us pain, and he has succeeded," Merry admitted openly. "It's torn, yes, but there's no - " Merry choked on the word and had to pause before going on. "There's no blood on it, at least."
As if all the horrible possibilities were coming to life in Sam's mind at the same time, lurid and sharp visions that followed end on end in rapid succession, Sam collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands. Merry knelt beside him and took Sam's grief into himself, letting it mingle with his own.
~*~
Bramblethorn sat pondering the game so far. Frodo had been in his care for about four days, enough time for Merry's message to his father to have reached Buckland, had it not been intercepted en route. Bramblethorn figured he had another four days or so before Frodo's cousin and gardener would begin to feel real desperation when help failed to arrive in due time.
Would they attempt to contact Frodo again? Bramblethorn thought it likely, especially when they received the latest item he had sent them. He could just imagine the looks on their faces - Sam's especially - when they opened that package and saw Frodo's shirt. He grinned nastily to himself. Perhaps he should send them Frodo's breeches next.
But no, that would defeat his purpose. He had tried to force Frodo before, and he had not succeeded. Of course, he would have, if not for the intervention of that gardener. But wouldn't it be that much sweeter if Frodo simply came to him?
At first, Bamblethorn had been furious with Monto for his attempted assault on Frodo, but when Frodo had lain sobbing in his arms, Bramblethorn had seen a benefit in the act. Now, every time Monto threatened or struck Frodo, Bramblethorn could present himself as Frodo's protector, the only one who could save him from such things.
He sighed as he thought of the events of the previous morning. He had given Frodo too much freedom too quickly, and had nearly lost his prize as a result. He would not be so foolish again, he determined. He must break down Frodo's defenses slowly, draw him closer little by little.
He rose and made his way down the hall to Frodo's room. Frodo had been sedated since late the previous morning, and the afternoon was growing old now. A storm threatened, and the usual sunlight that filtered through the smial's windows was notably absent as the clouds gathered and the wind began to gust outside.
Monto stood at his post by the door, looking bored. "Anything new to report?" Bramblethorn asked him.
"No, sir. Not a peep, I'm afraid." Monto smiled. "Is it time to wake him up, then?"
"Yes, Monto, I suspect it is," Bramblethorn answered. "Take some fresh linens and change the bed. You have leave to restrain him as need be, but remember what I told you about anything else."
Monto nodded. His eye was still sore from Bramblethorn's punch. "No funny stuff, I swear," he said, going down the hall to retrieve the linens for the bed.
Bramblethorn addressed him once more. "I will come to check on him in a while. I'll be in my study until then." He turned and walked down the hall, and disappeared through the door of his study to smoke and read for a while.
Monto opened the door and stepped inside, placing the pile of fresh bed linens atop the trunk that sat against the wall. Frodo lay unmoving, still sleeping off the effects of the sedative. "Wake up, pretty boy," Monto said with a sneer, shaking Frodo harder than was necessary. "C'mon, open them pretty eyes for me."
Frodo opened his eyes and looked groggily at Monto. "You're not supposed to be here," he said thickly.
"Oh, I still have to watch over you, whether you like it or not," Monto informed him. "I've been told I gotta play chambermaid, and I'm in no mood for any of your sass." Monto grabbed Frodo's upper arms and sat him upright. "I'm movin' you to that chair over there so I can change the linens."
Monto unbound Frodo's hands and feet and forced him to stand. Frodo wove unsteadily on his feet as he was guided rather roughly to the chair. "Too bad the boss interrupted us the other day," Monto remarked as he shoved Frodo into the chair and began to bind him again.
"Too bad he didn't kill you outright," Frodo shot back as alertness began to return. His hatred for Monto overrode his fear of him momentarily, and the remark slipped out before he could think better of it. He grunted as Monto yanked hard on the rope he was winding around Frodo's upper arms, securing him to the back of the chair.
With the task of securing Frodo completed, Monto quickly stripped the linens from the bed and replaced them with the new ones. He dumped the old ones in a pile at Frodo's feet and leaned close to the bound hobbit's face. "If the boss gets bored with you, I'll be waiting," he taunted. "Gimme a kiss." He made as if to press his lips to Frodo's, and Frodo writhed against his bonds and turned his head.
"Get away from me!" he cried, and Monto laughed.
"It don't take much to rile you up, does it?" He reached for the ewer on the washstand. The water in it had grown cold, and Monto dumped it over Frodo's head, soaking him. "That oughtta cool you off some," he gloated. He picked up the pile of linens again and left Frodo sputtering and shivering alone.
~*~
An hour had passed since Bramblethorn had gone to his study, and he stood up and stretched. It was time to check on Frodo, and he padded down the hall to where Monto stood outside the door.
"Did he behave himself?" Bramblethorn asked his henchman as he stood in the hallway.
"He got a little sassy with me so I dumped some water over his head to cool him off," Monto confessed.
Bramblethorn raised an eyebrow. "That should be interesting. I'd better go and take care of him, hmmm?"
Monto unlocked the door and Bramblethorn sauntered in to find Frodo bound to the chair, still dripping, with his teeth chattering. The storm had brought lower temperatures with it, and the room was rather chilly.
"Frodo dear, what am I to do with you?" Bramblethorn said with a sigh. He took Frodo's face in his hands and smiled. "This just won't do, will it?"
Bramblethorn left the room briefly and returned carrying a heavy robe and some thick towels. "We've got to get you dry and warm you up, love." He began to loosen Frodo's bonds. "Now remember, Frodo. No trouble. If you want me to help you, I shall, but you must behave yourself."
When Bramblethorn had loosed Frodo from the chair, he picked up one of the towels and began rubbing Frodo's hair with it. Frodo pulled away, but Bramblethorn grabbed him and held him against the back of the chair. "I said not to give me any trouble, dear, or I shall return you to the state in which I found you."
The threat worked. Frodo was miserably cold and wet, and now was not the time to anger his captor. He sat still, except for the chills that shuddered through him, as Bramblethorn continued to dry him.
"We'll have to get you out of those wet clothes," Bramblethorn said, and Frodo's heart nearly stopped. Not here, not in front of -
"Up you go, love," Bramblethorn said, pulling Frodo to his feet. He began to unbutton the shirt he had dressed Frodo in the previous morning, and Frodo slapped his hands away.
"I c - can do it," he said through his chattering teeth. He backed away a few steps and turned his back to Bramblethorn, removing the wet shirt. Bramblethorn stood waiting, and Frodo turned and looked over his shoulder at him.
"You're completely soaked, Frodo. The breeches will have to go as well," Bramblethorn said with a wink.
"No. N - not unless you l - leave the room," Frodo stuttered obstinately.
Bramblethorn laughed, and tossed the robe to Frodo. "You're really something, Frodo. Do you want to get warm, or not?" he challenged.
Frodo sighed, put on the robe, and carefully peeled his breeches off afterward, managing to remain concealed from Bramblethorn's view. "T - there. Are you s - satisfied?"
"Satisfied? Not even close, my dear," Bramblethorn said without missing a beat. "You're still very cold, aren't you, Frodo?" Frodo didn't answer, but Bramblethorn could see him trembling from the chill. "Come along, love. You may sit by the fire in my study until you are warm again."
Bramblethorn took Frodo's arm and led him toward the door. Frodo clasped the robe shut tightly and stepped past Monto red - faced as they left the room.
"Monto," Bramblethorn called back over his shoulder, "Hang up Frodo's clothes to dry, won't you?" They went into the study, where Anson was hovering about.
"Anson, will you light a fire for us, please? The storm has brought a chill with it, it seems." Anson nodded and set about getting a fire crackling upon the hearth. Bramblethorn shooed him away and settled Frodo in a comfortable chair before the fire.
"Really, Frodo, I'm beginning to think that you and Monto don't like each other very much," Bramblethorn said in an amused tone.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Frodo shot back sarcastically, leaning closer to the comforting flames and reaching his hands out to warm them.
"Oh, he's not so bad once you get to know him," Bramblethorn responded, eyeing Frodo and wishing the robe weren't quite so large. Perhaps, if Frodo moved closer to the fire it would ride up just a little -
"He's horrid," Frodo said sullenly, tugging at the robe as if he'd read Bramblethorn's thoughts.
Another laugh, as Bramblethorn leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the hearth to warm them. "Worse even than myself?"
"At the moment, yes," Frodo replied truthfully. "At other times, no."
"Now, be fair, Frodo," Bramblethorn countered easily. "I've just passed up a very good opportunity to take advantage of you, in case you haven't noticed." Bramblethorn reached out and fingered the fabric of the robe. "All that stands between you and my hands is this one bit of fabric."
Frodo shifted uncomfortably and pulled the robe tighter around his body. He didn't answer immediately.
"Still cold?" Bramblethorn called Anson over. "Pour us a couple of brandies, won't you, old boy?" Bramblethorn addressed Frodo again. "Brandy is fine for warming oneself, but I know of ways finer yet."
"You never stop, do you?" Frodo said, staring into the flames.
"How can I, with you sitting there before me in the firelight," Bramblethorn answered, enjoying the view as well as he was able with the robe getting in the way. He took the two glasses of brandy from Anson and handed one to Frodo. "Cheers."
Frodo swirled the liquid in the glass and gazed at it thoughtfully. "Trying to get me tipsy, then?"
"If all it takes is one brandy to accomplish that, I shall consider myself very fortunate," Bramblethorn answered. "Your wit is as sharp as ever, dearest."
Frodo sipped the brandy in silence and felt the warmth of it spreading through him. He listened to the sound of the fire crackling on the hearth and the raindrops hitting the windows, and thought he might be quite comfortable if not for Bramblethorn sitting there looking at him.
"Hmmm, this is pleasant, isn't it?" Bramblethorn asked him. "Much better than lying bound in your room, and all you had to do was co - operate."
Frodo masked a derisive snort by sipping his brandy again.
"You don't want to go back to your room, do you, Frodo?" Bramblethorn watched him and waited for an answer.
"No," Frodo said quietly. "It's cold."
Bramblethorn handed Anson his empty brandy glass and reached for Frodo's. "I will allow you to sleep by the fire tonight, on the condition that you allow me to bind your hands and ankles."
Frodo gave Bramblethorn a dismayed look. "Must you always - "
"The last time I let you out of your room unbound for a length of time, you repaid my kindness by attempting to escape," Bramblethorn reminded him. "Now, I am giving you a choice. Your cold room, a locked door and no bonds, or a comfortable place by a warm fire, and restraints. Which will it be, Frodo?"
A shiver ran through Frodo at the mention of the little, cheerless room. He'd sat drenched in the cool air for an hour at least, and the chill was just now leaving his bones. He looked at the fire, then back at Bramblethorn. "Will I be safe here, in this room?"
"I promise no harm shall come to you here. I merely wish to be certain that I shall find you where I last left you." Bramblethorn stood and pulled a quilt out of a chest in the corner. Anson handed him a couple pieces of rope, and Bramblethorn gently took Frodo's hands and bound them, then tied his feet and draped the quilt over him.
"You may yet earn back the privileges you lost with your behavior the other day," Bramblethorn informed Frodo as he tucked the quilt around him. "If only you would stop being so stubborn, I would deny you nothing."
Nothing but my freedom, Frodo thought sadly. He was already drifting off to sleep, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the brandy.
"You shall be mine yet, beloved," Bramblethorn whispered very quietly, and lit his pipe. He sat in his own chair and just watched Frodo as he slept, eventually dropping off to sleep himself.
~*~ To be continued ~*~