Author's note - I want to thank all of you who have chosen to continue reading the story after the last chapter. It's the darkest thing I've ever written and I wrestled with it a good deal. I know some readers have chosen not to continue with the story, and I respect their opinions and value them also.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
GamgeeFest - I didn't want to go into too much detail in the last chapter, just enough to make it clear what happened. I have to keep the story at an R rating for it to be on ff.net anyway, and it was hard enough to write without immense detail! Merry and Sam were so enraged and upset by what Monto hinted at that they bolted straight out the door to bring help. They decided that if help is on the way, they'll meet it on the road. If it isn't, they'll bring it themselves.
Trust No One - Chilling is what I was going for, definitely. Frodo will rise above no matter what, he's that strong. Bramblethorn will come to know that he can never truly possess Frodo.
Shelbyshire - I weighed the question of whether or not Bramblethorn should succeed, and heeded the advice of certain others who said it wouldn't be realistic of him to waste an opportunity again after failing before. Frodo will never be quite the same, but he is fortunate to have someone like Sam to help him heal inside.
Spootasia Tomoe - I hoped Frodo's reaction would be realistic. I didn't want him to be completely shattered, but I wanted it to be plain to Bramblethorn that forcing Frodo might have been a big mistake on his part.
Girlofring1 - I don't think I could have written graphic detail if I'd tried. It was hard enough writing what I did! Sam and Merry will bring help from home and will find some unexpected allies along the way.
Iorhael - Scary indeed! Bramblethorn has no chance of winning Frodo to him now, at least not in the way he envisioned.
Hobbitfeet13 - Bramblethorn's victory is hollow. Frodo's coldness and scorn illustrated that to him. Frodo didn't bother with putting his clothes on. He just wrapped up in the quilt as the fastest and easiest thing to do.
FrodoBaggins1982 - I agree with you that it's unlikely this was Frodo's first intimate experience. It was certainly the first time he's been forced, though. Frodo still has his spirit, but he will definitely find the going a bit harder now.
Aratlithiel1 - Sam and Merry are making haste. Frodo's scorn for Bramblethorn was meant to show that he did indeed have dignity and inner strength remaining.
Anarie - That last chapter was about as dark as it could be and still meet the rating requirements for ff.net. I've read some I think are darker, but it was certainly the darkest thing I've written. Remember in the film when Gandalf tells Frodo to go to Bree and Frodo get's a look of apprehension? Maybe I've explained that to some degree, who knows. Frodo will carry on, and I promise, Bramblethorn will pay!
Daonering - Bramby feels more for Frodo than he lets on, and he knows he's made a mistake.
Endymion2 - I finally let Bramby succeed, and it was the hardest thing to do! But I've attempted to rob him of some of his victory, at least. The innkeeper's nosiness will come to play an important part later on. You can bet Bramblethorn will make use of the time that remains, one way or another.
Stephanie - You have just survived the worst of this story. There is plenty of angst remaining, but the worst is over now, in my opinion. It wasn't Frodo's first intimate experience, thank heavens. Whether his relationship with Sam has progressed to one of a physical nature or whether it was a tweenage fling or two, Frodo knows what pleasure is and isn't.
Aelfgifu - No Bramblebath, I'm afraid. Frodo simply couldn't have borne it. He needed a moment alone, and I made Bramby give him one. He owes him, he does!
CuriousCat - I agree, the aftermath is the entire point, so graphic detail isn't necessary. Bramblethorn does feel more for Frodo than just lust, and he will wrestle with that very point.
Heartofahobbit - Frodo would like to see Bramblethorn become a better hobbit. There will be a few moments of truth ahead in which Bramblethorn actually lowers his guard and speaks of his true feelings, and Frodo will speak honestly in return. Saradoc would hardly be able to keep his stubborn son from returning to Bree to help Frodo. Merry's injury is not extremely serious, just a hindrance for the moment.
Peony - Thanks for your comments. I hoped that I could bring off a disturbing scene like that in a believable but not overwhelming way.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - I think it was obvious what happened without me describing it in graphic detail. Poor Frodo needed some time alone to gather himself.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 14 - Choices
The bathwater was cloudy and tepid by the time Frodo felt steady enough to get out of the tub. His breeches and the shirt Bramblethorn had provided for him were laid out on a bench nearby. Frodo realized he hadn't noticed that Bramblethorn had placed them there. Bramblethorn must have brought them with him when he prepared the bath.
Frodo was immensely glad to see that there was no blood staining the towels as he dried himself. He was still in a good deal of pain, but perhaps he wasn't so seriously injured as he had originally thought. Of course, the seriousness of the damage Bramblethorn had done to him had to be judged not merely from a physical standpoint, but from an emotional standpoint as well.
Frodo realized that he felt deeply ashamed of what had happened, as if he should have been able to prevent it. Logic whispered to him that he absolutely could not have kept the assault from happening and that blaming himself was absurd. He had never really responded favorably to any of Bramblethorn's advances, had he? The memory came to Frodo of Monto's attempt on him, and how he had clung to Bramblethorn. He grimaced. That had been purely a reflexive action, with no thought or desire behind it at all, but Frodo could easily imagine Bramblethorn twisting it into something else.
Bramblethorn had been drunk and out of sorts, and not in a mood to listen to reason or to heed a plea for mercy. He obviously felt that Frodo owed him something. Was it because of Frodo's part in Bramblethorn's exile from the Shire, or simply the fact that Bramblethorn saw himself as having been generous in providing Frodo with basic necessities that he had denied him before?
Frodo's thoughts kept returning to things he might have done differently, things that he had done days earlier. If only he had allowed Sam to accompany him to the privy at the inn! But no, that still might not have done any good. Sam could have been hurt as a result.
Sam. How could he face Sam now? How could he look into those kind eyes and say, 'You were right'? What would Sam think of him? Bramblethorn's cruel taunting came back to Frodo as he considered. Would Sam find him repulsive and tainted as Bramblethorn had said? Would Sam ever be able to value him as he had in the past, whether as a friend or as something more?
Suddenly Frodo felt ashamed for a completely different reason. What would Sam be feeling as a result of all this? Sam would be blaming himself for the entire series of events, starting with Frodo's abduction. He would find himself responsible for every wound, mental and physical, that Frodo bore. Frodo wasn't sure whose pain could truly be considered the greater, his for having borne such terrible things, or Sam's for believing he had allowed them.
Frodo felt completely wrung out. He had been in the bath for the better part of an hour, until he had gathered himself enough to face the walk back to his room. The hot water had eased some of the aches from his body, and had lulled him into a state of weariness. Now fully dressed, Frodo took a deep breath and opened the door. Bramblethorn was still there waiting, leaning against the wall in the hallway.
"Don't worry," Frodo said bitterly. "I'm still here."
"So you are," Bramblethorn responded simply. "If you wish to return to your room you may, but I will be sending Monto in to tidy up in a while."
"Thank you for the warning," Frodo muttered. When faced with the prospect of Monto's company or Bramblethorn's, Frodo found the choice impossible. Both options were less than ideal.
The door to the room stood open, and the bed had already been stripped. The sheets lay in a pile in the small space between the bed and the table, waiting to be removed. Frodo didn't care that new sheets had not yet been brought in. He climbed up rather gingerly onto the bed and lay down on his stomach, his head pillowed on his arms.
Bramblethorn stepped out and closed the door, locking it behind him. What could he expect? Of course Frodo didn't want his company now, not even for a moment. The memory of the previous night was still too fresh, the experience still too recent. Would Frodo ever consent to remain in his presence again, even to share a meal or sit by the fire? It was unlike Bramblethorn to admit to having erred, but he wondered what would have happened if he had not lost his patience. What if he had waited and continued to try to draw Frodo to him little by little?
No, he decided. He had waited before and lost his chance because of it. To allow Frodo to deny him again would have been foolish on his part. Perhaps he had lost ground when it came to establishing a truce with Frodo, but at least he had managed to get him out of his breeches. The experience had been rather satisfying, despite having been the result of brute force.
"Monto, dear fellow, are you nearly finished with Frodo's room? I'm afraid he's rather tired." Bramblethorn addressed the other hobbit as they passed in the hall. Monto's arms were full of clean sheets and blankets.
Monto sighed. He was getting tired of looking after that spoiled pretty boy. Was the boss planning to keep him as a pet, for Eru's sake? "Almost," he answered, hiding his irritation with difficulty as Bramblethorn pressed the key into his hand. "Just gotta make the bed and get them soiled sheets outta there."
"Very good. Frodo was lying down when I left him, so you may have to wake him." Bramblethorn gave Monto a stern look. "He's a bit the worse for wear, if you understand me, and I expect you to know better than to aggravate his condition."
"I ain't gonna mess with him, I promise," Monto grumbled. He stumped off down the hall toward Frodo's room, muttering epithets as he went. He unlocked the door and went in, and sure enough, that damn hobbit was stretched across the unmade bed, asleep.
Monto piled the fresh sheets on top of the trunk nearby. He reached out to give Frodo a shake, and said loudly, "Outta the way, pretty boy."
Frodo woke with a violent start. Instinct and adrenaline ruled him as he lashed out, shouting. "NO! Get out!"
Monto caught Frodo's flailing arm and dragged him to his feet. He slapped Frodo across the face, trying to subdue him. "Dammit, stop it! I'm not gonna - "
Frodo didn't wait to hear any more. He'd had enough of Monto, enough of the cramped little room, enough of everything. He swung at Monto, his fist landing against the other hobbit's temple. Monto staggered backward in surprise. The boss had said the pretty boy wasn't feeling well, hadn't he? Well, he seemed to be doing fine in Monto's estimation.
"That's it," Monto said, seething. "C'mere, you!" He grabbed Frodo and spun him around, slamming him against the edge of the table by the bed. The impact caused the lighted candle to fall over the edge and to roll just under the edge of the pile of soiled bed linens. Neither Frodo nor Monto noticed as they grappled with each other. Monto had Frodo by the front of his shirt and was preparing to punch him when he heard a 'poof' followed by a 'whoosh'. He gaped in alarm as the pile of sheets burst into flames.
"Now see what you've done?" Monto shouted and shoved Frodo away, turning to try to stamp out the flames that were now growing larger. An instant later, a tongue of flame touched the mattress and the fire began to spread. Stomping it out was no longer an option.
Frodo looked from where Monto was frantically trying to snuff the fire to the door that lay unlocked across the room. He edged toward it and was through it in an instant, making his way down the hall as quickly as his sore body would move. He had no thought beyond the moment, beyond escaping the room, the fire, and Monto. As he rounded a bend in the hallway, Bramblethorn appeared and grabbed him.
"What the blazes is going on here?" Bramblethorn shouted back down the hallway.
Frodo had never felt such despair in his life. Through his panic came the absurd and useless thought that it had been an interestingly apt choice of words Bramblethorn had used in his query.
Bramblethorn dragged Frodo back down the hallway. Smoke was issuing from the door of his room along with Monto's curses.
"Anson! Get a bucket and get busy! That idiot's burning down my home!" Bramblethorn turned his attention back to Frodo, who was struggling as hard as his injuries would allow. "Blast it, Frodo! I don't want to hurt you! Will you leave me no choice in the matter?"
Frodo fought as though he had gone mad as Anson ran by with a full bucket of water. In a moment, he emerged again, hurrying back the way he had come. Bramblethorn had paid a hefty cost to install an indoor water pump, the only one in Breehill. It only took a few more minutes for Anson and Monto to extinguish the blaze, and they came out of the room coughing and waving their hands in front of their faces to drive the smoke away.
Frodo was beginning to tire and within a few moments, Bramblethorn held him pinned against a wall. "I should have taken you again this morning," Bramblethorn lamented. "It seems you've still got some energy left."
Monto and Anson strode toward their employer. "What is the meaning of this?" Bramblethorn growled. "I send you to complete a simple task and you nearly destroy my smial!"
"It's not my fault," Monto grumbled, pointing at Frodo. "I went to wake him up so I could fix the bed and he attacked me!"
Frodo tried to pull free of Bramblethorn's grip and failed. "I was asleep and he grabbed me!" Frodo cried fearfully. "I thought he was - " He stopped mid - sentence, thinking better of telling Bramblethorn what had gone through his mind in that panicked instant.
Bramblethorn was perceptive enough to catch the tone of Frodo's voice and the look in his eyes. "You thought he was what, Frodo? Did you think I was back for more?" He reached out to touch Frodo's face and Frodo turned away, trembling at the thought of enduring those hands upon him again. "If only it had been me," Bramblethorn said in a mockingly light tone. "I enjoy a good go in the morning, don't you?"
Bramblethorn stopped tormenting Frodo for the moment and turned to his bodyguards.
"All right, so how did the fire start?" Bramblethorn asked Monto, demanding a full explanation. Never mind finger pointing and accusations, he wanted to know the origin of the trouble so he could prevent a similar situation in the future.
"It was the candle, boss," Monto admitted. "I was tryin' to keep him under control and the candle fell off the table, right into that pile of sheets I was goin' to remove."
"I see," Bramblethorn said, beginning to get the picture. He firmly guided a drained and despairing Frodo back down the hall toward his room as Monto and Anson followed. "How bad is it?"
The question needed no answer as they reached the door and Bramblethorn looked in. Smoke had blackened parts of one wall and part of the ceiling. The mattress was damaged beyond repair and there was a large puddle of water standing on the floor in the vicinity of the table and bed. A pall of smoke still hung in the air and Bramblethorn waved his hand impatiently as he grimaced.
"Well, we can't very well make use of this room in its present state," He remarked in disappointment. "That poses a bit of a problem, I believe." He addressed Frodo directly. "We now have to find new accommodations for you."
Frodo said nothing. He was trying to get a grip on himself and restore at least some of his composure to face what else the day was to bring. It would do him no good at all to crumble further now.
"How about the cellar, boss?" Monto suggested, giving Frodo a nasty look. "I've said all along that you should just put him down there."
Bramblethorn gave Monto a warning look. "Clean this up, will you? I need to think about this." He grasped Frodo's arm in a tight grip and began pulling him down the hall toward the study. "We need to have a talk, Frodo," he said as they entered the room.
"I - I don't want to talk," Frodo choked out. "Not to you."
"Very well, I'll talk and you'll listen." Bramblethorn waved toward a chair. "Make yourself comfortable."
Frodo looked at the chair, then back at Bramblethorn. "I'll stand, thank you," he said softly, not making eye contact with his tormentor.
"Ahh, of course," Bramblethorn said, comprehending. "Let me come to the point, Frodo. Your room is damaged severely enough that I cannot in good conscience allow you to remain there."
Since when had 'conscience' had anything to do with any of Bramblethorn's decisions?
Frodo frowned at the floor, trying to find refuge in anger, indignation, anything that wouldn't amount to obvious vulnerability.
"Except for the cellar, that was the only room in my home without a window. We both know that if you have access to a window, you will attempt to exit through it the moment my eyes are off you." Bramblethorn stopped pacing to and fro and gave Frodo a disapproving glance. "Just as you tried to use the fire as a convenient distraction. It might have worked if I were less attentive, but you wouldn't have made it very far."
"Perhaps not," Frodo admitted, his gaze sad and his shoulders slumped, "but it would have been worth the effort."
"Worth it or not, you did try to escape, and I will not allow such a thing to happen again." Bramblethorn considered the options. "Come with me, Frodo."
"Where?" Frodo asked, backing away.
"No questions, love. Obey or I will have Anson and Monto drag you." Bramblethorn took Frodo's arm again. He guided Frodo down an adjacent hallway and stopped before another door. The door swung open as Bramblethorn pushed on it, revealing a well - appointed bedroom with fine furnishings and a large four - poster bed with a thick mattress and a pile of soft pillows. "This is my own room, Frodo, and I will allow you to stay here, but you will be bound. The window, you know," Bramblethorn said by way of explanation.
Frodo looked at Bramblethorn aghast as another thought occurred to him. "And just where will you sleep?" he asked slowly.
"Right here, my dear," Bramblethorn confirmed. "Letting you out of my sight has proved to be ill - advised."
Frodo felt panic returning as he attempted to free his arm from Bramblethorn's grasp. "No! Absolutely not! You cannot expect this of me after what you've done!" The idea of sharing a room with Bramblethorn was repulsive in and of itself, and the idea of doing so bound hand and foot was out of the question.
"You prefer the alternative, then?" Bramblethorn's eyes narrowed. He had thought it would take longer for Frodo to reassert his stubbornness after all that had transpired in the last twenty - four hours.
"And that would be what?" Frodo asked apprehensively.
"The cellar. There are no windows." Bramblethorn looked at Frodo expectantly.
Frodo forced himself to return Bramblethorn's gaze as steadily as he could. He took a deep breath and replied, "I would rather the cellar than to be bound and helpless within the reach of your hand." He stepped backward away from Bramblethorn, regardless of the hand that gripped his arm.
Bramblethorn sighed. This was all part of starting over with Frodo as he surmised would be necessary. "You would choose to sleep on a cold, bare earthen floor in order to avoid my presence?"
Frodo steeled himself, waiting for a violent reaction to his words. "I would."
Bramblethorn didn't raise a hand to him, much to Frodo's surprise. He simply regarded Frodo coldly and said, "Very well, Frodo. I will grant your wish."
Bramblethorn called down the hall to Monto and Anson. "Prepare the cellar, please."
Monto smiled, making sure that Frodo saw him. "My pleasure, boss." He and Anson disappeared down the hallway and into a side corridor.
"You still have time to change your mind, Frodo," Bramblethorn offered. "This is a very comfortable room, you know."
Frodo gazed around the room once more. He remembered how cold his room had been on the night of the storm and his eyes came to rest upon the fireplace near the bed. As he felt fingers tickling at the curls that lay against the back of his neck, he gasped and blurted out in a rush, "I don't care if it's fit for the Valar! If you plan to take me unwilling again - for I shall be - you shall not do it with ease!"
"You're so stubborn, love," Bramblethorn said with a shake of his head. "Perhaps a few days under ground will soften that heart which has hardened so against me."
"No," Frodo responded. "Never." He flinched as Anson came up behind him and pulled his arms behind his back, binding his hands again. The next moment he was being half - dragged down the adjacent hallway and to a door at the very end. Monto opened the door to reveal a shadowy stairway leading down into the cellar. He lit a candle and led the way as Anson maneuvered Frodo down the stairs.
"I think the boss should have put you here in the first place," Monto sneered.
Frodo declined to answer as his gaze traveled the interior of the cellar. A small table had been placed in the corner and Monto set the candle on it. There was nothing nearby that would come close to being flammable, just rough earthen walls. A single blanket of scratchy homespun wool had been tossed into the opposite corner and it was there that Anson directed Frodo.
"Sit down," Anson said shortly. Frodo opened his mouth to protest and Anson all but kicked his legs out from under him. Frodo gasped as he fell. Pain shot through him and he heard Monto laughing.
"The boss really worked you over, didn't he?" Monto sneered as he bound Frodo's ankles together. "You were howlin' when we left, and I bet you kept it up all night." He leaned over Frodo and smirked. "I coulda made you holler, but the boss don't like to share."
"Bastard!" Frodo was inordinately pleased that his voice didn't break and betray him. He welcomed the dark solitude the cellar would offer in contrast to the presence of naught but vicious enemies in the rooms above. The only response to his utterance was a sharp kick and more derisive laughter as Monto and Anson made their way back up the stairs and locked the door.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
GamgeeFest - I didn't want to go into too much detail in the last chapter, just enough to make it clear what happened. I have to keep the story at an R rating for it to be on ff.net anyway, and it was hard enough to write without immense detail! Merry and Sam were so enraged and upset by what Monto hinted at that they bolted straight out the door to bring help. They decided that if help is on the way, they'll meet it on the road. If it isn't, they'll bring it themselves.
Trust No One - Chilling is what I was going for, definitely. Frodo will rise above no matter what, he's that strong. Bramblethorn will come to know that he can never truly possess Frodo.
Shelbyshire - I weighed the question of whether or not Bramblethorn should succeed, and heeded the advice of certain others who said it wouldn't be realistic of him to waste an opportunity again after failing before. Frodo will never be quite the same, but he is fortunate to have someone like Sam to help him heal inside.
Spootasia Tomoe - I hoped Frodo's reaction would be realistic. I didn't want him to be completely shattered, but I wanted it to be plain to Bramblethorn that forcing Frodo might have been a big mistake on his part.
Girlofring1 - I don't think I could have written graphic detail if I'd tried. It was hard enough writing what I did! Sam and Merry will bring help from home and will find some unexpected allies along the way.
Iorhael - Scary indeed! Bramblethorn has no chance of winning Frodo to him now, at least not in the way he envisioned.
Hobbitfeet13 - Bramblethorn's victory is hollow. Frodo's coldness and scorn illustrated that to him. Frodo didn't bother with putting his clothes on. He just wrapped up in the quilt as the fastest and easiest thing to do.
FrodoBaggins1982 - I agree with you that it's unlikely this was Frodo's first intimate experience. It was certainly the first time he's been forced, though. Frodo still has his spirit, but he will definitely find the going a bit harder now.
Aratlithiel1 - Sam and Merry are making haste. Frodo's scorn for Bramblethorn was meant to show that he did indeed have dignity and inner strength remaining.
Anarie - That last chapter was about as dark as it could be and still meet the rating requirements for ff.net. I've read some I think are darker, but it was certainly the darkest thing I've written. Remember in the film when Gandalf tells Frodo to go to Bree and Frodo get's a look of apprehension? Maybe I've explained that to some degree, who knows. Frodo will carry on, and I promise, Bramblethorn will pay!
Daonering - Bramby feels more for Frodo than he lets on, and he knows he's made a mistake.
Endymion2 - I finally let Bramby succeed, and it was the hardest thing to do! But I've attempted to rob him of some of his victory, at least. The innkeeper's nosiness will come to play an important part later on. You can bet Bramblethorn will make use of the time that remains, one way or another.
Stephanie - You have just survived the worst of this story. There is plenty of angst remaining, but the worst is over now, in my opinion. It wasn't Frodo's first intimate experience, thank heavens. Whether his relationship with Sam has progressed to one of a physical nature or whether it was a tweenage fling or two, Frodo knows what pleasure is and isn't.
Aelfgifu - No Bramblebath, I'm afraid. Frodo simply couldn't have borne it. He needed a moment alone, and I made Bramby give him one. He owes him, he does!
CuriousCat - I agree, the aftermath is the entire point, so graphic detail isn't necessary. Bramblethorn does feel more for Frodo than just lust, and he will wrestle with that very point.
Heartofahobbit - Frodo would like to see Bramblethorn become a better hobbit. There will be a few moments of truth ahead in which Bramblethorn actually lowers his guard and speaks of his true feelings, and Frodo will speak honestly in return. Saradoc would hardly be able to keep his stubborn son from returning to Bree to help Frodo. Merry's injury is not extremely serious, just a hindrance for the moment.
Peony - Thanks for your comments. I hoped that I could bring off a disturbing scene like that in a believable but not overwhelming way.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - I think it was obvious what happened without me describing it in graphic detail. Poor Frodo needed some time alone to gather himself.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 14 - Choices
The bathwater was cloudy and tepid by the time Frodo felt steady enough to get out of the tub. His breeches and the shirt Bramblethorn had provided for him were laid out on a bench nearby. Frodo realized he hadn't noticed that Bramblethorn had placed them there. Bramblethorn must have brought them with him when he prepared the bath.
Frodo was immensely glad to see that there was no blood staining the towels as he dried himself. He was still in a good deal of pain, but perhaps he wasn't so seriously injured as he had originally thought. Of course, the seriousness of the damage Bramblethorn had done to him had to be judged not merely from a physical standpoint, but from an emotional standpoint as well.
Frodo realized that he felt deeply ashamed of what had happened, as if he should have been able to prevent it. Logic whispered to him that he absolutely could not have kept the assault from happening and that blaming himself was absurd. He had never really responded favorably to any of Bramblethorn's advances, had he? The memory came to Frodo of Monto's attempt on him, and how he had clung to Bramblethorn. He grimaced. That had been purely a reflexive action, with no thought or desire behind it at all, but Frodo could easily imagine Bramblethorn twisting it into something else.
Bramblethorn had been drunk and out of sorts, and not in a mood to listen to reason or to heed a plea for mercy. He obviously felt that Frodo owed him something. Was it because of Frodo's part in Bramblethorn's exile from the Shire, or simply the fact that Bramblethorn saw himself as having been generous in providing Frodo with basic necessities that he had denied him before?
Frodo's thoughts kept returning to things he might have done differently, things that he had done days earlier. If only he had allowed Sam to accompany him to the privy at the inn! But no, that still might not have done any good. Sam could have been hurt as a result.
Sam. How could he face Sam now? How could he look into those kind eyes and say, 'You were right'? What would Sam think of him? Bramblethorn's cruel taunting came back to Frodo as he considered. Would Sam find him repulsive and tainted as Bramblethorn had said? Would Sam ever be able to value him as he had in the past, whether as a friend or as something more?
Suddenly Frodo felt ashamed for a completely different reason. What would Sam be feeling as a result of all this? Sam would be blaming himself for the entire series of events, starting with Frodo's abduction. He would find himself responsible for every wound, mental and physical, that Frodo bore. Frodo wasn't sure whose pain could truly be considered the greater, his for having borne such terrible things, or Sam's for believing he had allowed them.
Frodo felt completely wrung out. He had been in the bath for the better part of an hour, until he had gathered himself enough to face the walk back to his room. The hot water had eased some of the aches from his body, and had lulled him into a state of weariness. Now fully dressed, Frodo took a deep breath and opened the door. Bramblethorn was still there waiting, leaning against the wall in the hallway.
"Don't worry," Frodo said bitterly. "I'm still here."
"So you are," Bramblethorn responded simply. "If you wish to return to your room you may, but I will be sending Monto in to tidy up in a while."
"Thank you for the warning," Frodo muttered. When faced with the prospect of Monto's company or Bramblethorn's, Frodo found the choice impossible. Both options were less than ideal.
The door to the room stood open, and the bed had already been stripped. The sheets lay in a pile in the small space between the bed and the table, waiting to be removed. Frodo didn't care that new sheets had not yet been brought in. He climbed up rather gingerly onto the bed and lay down on his stomach, his head pillowed on his arms.
Bramblethorn stepped out and closed the door, locking it behind him. What could he expect? Of course Frodo didn't want his company now, not even for a moment. The memory of the previous night was still too fresh, the experience still too recent. Would Frodo ever consent to remain in his presence again, even to share a meal or sit by the fire? It was unlike Bramblethorn to admit to having erred, but he wondered what would have happened if he had not lost his patience. What if he had waited and continued to try to draw Frodo to him little by little?
No, he decided. He had waited before and lost his chance because of it. To allow Frodo to deny him again would have been foolish on his part. Perhaps he had lost ground when it came to establishing a truce with Frodo, but at least he had managed to get him out of his breeches. The experience had been rather satisfying, despite having been the result of brute force.
"Monto, dear fellow, are you nearly finished with Frodo's room? I'm afraid he's rather tired." Bramblethorn addressed the other hobbit as they passed in the hall. Monto's arms were full of clean sheets and blankets.
Monto sighed. He was getting tired of looking after that spoiled pretty boy. Was the boss planning to keep him as a pet, for Eru's sake? "Almost," he answered, hiding his irritation with difficulty as Bramblethorn pressed the key into his hand. "Just gotta make the bed and get them soiled sheets outta there."
"Very good. Frodo was lying down when I left him, so you may have to wake him." Bramblethorn gave Monto a stern look. "He's a bit the worse for wear, if you understand me, and I expect you to know better than to aggravate his condition."
"I ain't gonna mess with him, I promise," Monto grumbled. He stumped off down the hall toward Frodo's room, muttering epithets as he went. He unlocked the door and went in, and sure enough, that damn hobbit was stretched across the unmade bed, asleep.
Monto piled the fresh sheets on top of the trunk nearby. He reached out to give Frodo a shake, and said loudly, "Outta the way, pretty boy."
Frodo woke with a violent start. Instinct and adrenaline ruled him as he lashed out, shouting. "NO! Get out!"
Monto caught Frodo's flailing arm and dragged him to his feet. He slapped Frodo across the face, trying to subdue him. "Dammit, stop it! I'm not gonna - "
Frodo didn't wait to hear any more. He'd had enough of Monto, enough of the cramped little room, enough of everything. He swung at Monto, his fist landing against the other hobbit's temple. Monto staggered backward in surprise. The boss had said the pretty boy wasn't feeling well, hadn't he? Well, he seemed to be doing fine in Monto's estimation.
"That's it," Monto said, seething. "C'mere, you!" He grabbed Frodo and spun him around, slamming him against the edge of the table by the bed. The impact caused the lighted candle to fall over the edge and to roll just under the edge of the pile of soiled bed linens. Neither Frodo nor Monto noticed as they grappled with each other. Monto had Frodo by the front of his shirt and was preparing to punch him when he heard a 'poof' followed by a 'whoosh'. He gaped in alarm as the pile of sheets burst into flames.
"Now see what you've done?" Monto shouted and shoved Frodo away, turning to try to stamp out the flames that were now growing larger. An instant later, a tongue of flame touched the mattress and the fire began to spread. Stomping it out was no longer an option.
Frodo looked from where Monto was frantically trying to snuff the fire to the door that lay unlocked across the room. He edged toward it and was through it in an instant, making his way down the hall as quickly as his sore body would move. He had no thought beyond the moment, beyond escaping the room, the fire, and Monto. As he rounded a bend in the hallway, Bramblethorn appeared and grabbed him.
"What the blazes is going on here?" Bramblethorn shouted back down the hallway.
Frodo had never felt such despair in his life. Through his panic came the absurd and useless thought that it had been an interestingly apt choice of words Bramblethorn had used in his query.
Bramblethorn dragged Frodo back down the hallway. Smoke was issuing from the door of his room along with Monto's curses.
"Anson! Get a bucket and get busy! That idiot's burning down my home!" Bramblethorn turned his attention back to Frodo, who was struggling as hard as his injuries would allow. "Blast it, Frodo! I don't want to hurt you! Will you leave me no choice in the matter?"
Frodo fought as though he had gone mad as Anson ran by with a full bucket of water. In a moment, he emerged again, hurrying back the way he had come. Bramblethorn had paid a hefty cost to install an indoor water pump, the only one in Breehill. It only took a few more minutes for Anson and Monto to extinguish the blaze, and they came out of the room coughing and waving their hands in front of their faces to drive the smoke away.
Frodo was beginning to tire and within a few moments, Bramblethorn held him pinned against a wall. "I should have taken you again this morning," Bramblethorn lamented. "It seems you've still got some energy left."
Monto and Anson strode toward their employer. "What is the meaning of this?" Bramblethorn growled. "I send you to complete a simple task and you nearly destroy my smial!"
"It's not my fault," Monto grumbled, pointing at Frodo. "I went to wake him up so I could fix the bed and he attacked me!"
Frodo tried to pull free of Bramblethorn's grip and failed. "I was asleep and he grabbed me!" Frodo cried fearfully. "I thought he was - " He stopped mid - sentence, thinking better of telling Bramblethorn what had gone through his mind in that panicked instant.
Bramblethorn was perceptive enough to catch the tone of Frodo's voice and the look in his eyes. "You thought he was what, Frodo? Did you think I was back for more?" He reached out to touch Frodo's face and Frodo turned away, trembling at the thought of enduring those hands upon him again. "If only it had been me," Bramblethorn said in a mockingly light tone. "I enjoy a good go in the morning, don't you?"
Bramblethorn stopped tormenting Frodo for the moment and turned to his bodyguards.
"All right, so how did the fire start?" Bramblethorn asked Monto, demanding a full explanation. Never mind finger pointing and accusations, he wanted to know the origin of the trouble so he could prevent a similar situation in the future.
"It was the candle, boss," Monto admitted. "I was tryin' to keep him under control and the candle fell off the table, right into that pile of sheets I was goin' to remove."
"I see," Bramblethorn said, beginning to get the picture. He firmly guided a drained and despairing Frodo back down the hall toward his room as Monto and Anson followed. "How bad is it?"
The question needed no answer as they reached the door and Bramblethorn looked in. Smoke had blackened parts of one wall and part of the ceiling. The mattress was damaged beyond repair and there was a large puddle of water standing on the floor in the vicinity of the table and bed. A pall of smoke still hung in the air and Bramblethorn waved his hand impatiently as he grimaced.
"Well, we can't very well make use of this room in its present state," He remarked in disappointment. "That poses a bit of a problem, I believe." He addressed Frodo directly. "We now have to find new accommodations for you."
Frodo said nothing. He was trying to get a grip on himself and restore at least some of his composure to face what else the day was to bring. It would do him no good at all to crumble further now.
"How about the cellar, boss?" Monto suggested, giving Frodo a nasty look. "I've said all along that you should just put him down there."
Bramblethorn gave Monto a warning look. "Clean this up, will you? I need to think about this." He grasped Frodo's arm in a tight grip and began pulling him down the hall toward the study. "We need to have a talk, Frodo," he said as they entered the room.
"I - I don't want to talk," Frodo choked out. "Not to you."
"Very well, I'll talk and you'll listen." Bramblethorn waved toward a chair. "Make yourself comfortable."
Frodo looked at the chair, then back at Bramblethorn. "I'll stand, thank you," he said softly, not making eye contact with his tormentor.
"Ahh, of course," Bramblethorn said, comprehending. "Let me come to the point, Frodo. Your room is damaged severely enough that I cannot in good conscience allow you to remain there."
Since when had 'conscience' had anything to do with any of Bramblethorn's decisions?
Frodo frowned at the floor, trying to find refuge in anger, indignation, anything that wouldn't amount to obvious vulnerability.
"Except for the cellar, that was the only room in my home without a window. We both know that if you have access to a window, you will attempt to exit through it the moment my eyes are off you." Bramblethorn stopped pacing to and fro and gave Frodo a disapproving glance. "Just as you tried to use the fire as a convenient distraction. It might have worked if I were less attentive, but you wouldn't have made it very far."
"Perhaps not," Frodo admitted, his gaze sad and his shoulders slumped, "but it would have been worth the effort."
"Worth it or not, you did try to escape, and I will not allow such a thing to happen again." Bramblethorn considered the options. "Come with me, Frodo."
"Where?" Frodo asked, backing away.
"No questions, love. Obey or I will have Anson and Monto drag you." Bramblethorn took Frodo's arm again. He guided Frodo down an adjacent hallway and stopped before another door. The door swung open as Bramblethorn pushed on it, revealing a well - appointed bedroom with fine furnishings and a large four - poster bed with a thick mattress and a pile of soft pillows. "This is my own room, Frodo, and I will allow you to stay here, but you will be bound. The window, you know," Bramblethorn said by way of explanation.
Frodo looked at Bramblethorn aghast as another thought occurred to him. "And just where will you sleep?" he asked slowly.
"Right here, my dear," Bramblethorn confirmed. "Letting you out of my sight has proved to be ill - advised."
Frodo felt panic returning as he attempted to free his arm from Bramblethorn's grasp. "No! Absolutely not! You cannot expect this of me after what you've done!" The idea of sharing a room with Bramblethorn was repulsive in and of itself, and the idea of doing so bound hand and foot was out of the question.
"You prefer the alternative, then?" Bramblethorn's eyes narrowed. He had thought it would take longer for Frodo to reassert his stubbornness after all that had transpired in the last twenty - four hours.
"And that would be what?" Frodo asked apprehensively.
"The cellar. There are no windows." Bramblethorn looked at Frodo expectantly.
Frodo forced himself to return Bramblethorn's gaze as steadily as he could. He took a deep breath and replied, "I would rather the cellar than to be bound and helpless within the reach of your hand." He stepped backward away from Bramblethorn, regardless of the hand that gripped his arm.
Bramblethorn sighed. This was all part of starting over with Frodo as he surmised would be necessary. "You would choose to sleep on a cold, bare earthen floor in order to avoid my presence?"
Frodo steeled himself, waiting for a violent reaction to his words. "I would."
Bramblethorn didn't raise a hand to him, much to Frodo's surprise. He simply regarded Frodo coldly and said, "Very well, Frodo. I will grant your wish."
Bramblethorn called down the hall to Monto and Anson. "Prepare the cellar, please."
Monto smiled, making sure that Frodo saw him. "My pleasure, boss." He and Anson disappeared down the hallway and into a side corridor.
"You still have time to change your mind, Frodo," Bramblethorn offered. "This is a very comfortable room, you know."
Frodo gazed around the room once more. He remembered how cold his room had been on the night of the storm and his eyes came to rest upon the fireplace near the bed. As he felt fingers tickling at the curls that lay against the back of his neck, he gasped and blurted out in a rush, "I don't care if it's fit for the Valar! If you plan to take me unwilling again - for I shall be - you shall not do it with ease!"
"You're so stubborn, love," Bramblethorn said with a shake of his head. "Perhaps a few days under ground will soften that heart which has hardened so against me."
"No," Frodo responded. "Never." He flinched as Anson came up behind him and pulled his arms behind his back, binding his hands again. The next moment he was being half - dragged down the adjacent hallway and to a door at the very end. Monto opened the door to reveal a shadowy stairway leading down into the cellar. He lit a candle and led the way as Anson maneuvered Frodo down the stairs.
"I think the boss should have put you here in the first place," Monto sneered.
Frodo declined to answer as his gaze traveled the interior of the cellar. A small table had been placed in the corner and Monto set the candle on it. There was nothing nearby that would come close to being flammable, just rough earthen walls. A single blanket of scratchy homespun wool had been tossed into the opposite corner and it was there that Anson directed Frodo.
"Sit down," Anson said shortly. Frodo opened his mouth to protest and Anson all but kicked his legs out from under him. Frodo gasped as he fell. Pain shot through him and he heard Monto laughing.
"The boss really worked you over, didn't he?" Monto sneered as he bound Frodo's ankles together. "You were howlin' when we left, and I bet you kept it up all night." He leaned over Frodo and smirked. "I coulda made you holler, but the boss don't like to share."
"Bastard!" Frodo was inordinately pleased that his voice didn't break and betray him. He welcomed the dark solitude the cellar would offer in contrast to the presence of naught but vicious enemies in the rooms above. The only response to his utterance was a sharp kick and more derisive laughter as Monto and Anson made their way back up the stairs and locked the door.
~*~ To be continued ~*~