Anarie - Frodo is down, but he isn't out. Sam and merry are on their way to Buckland to bring help just as fast as they can. Bramblethorn isn't through with Frodo yet. He knows he's made a mistake, but he still thinks he can win somehow. No matter what, Sam will still care for Frodo.
GamgeeFest - You're right that Sam is suffering in his own right regarding the events so far. There is definitely plenty of angst to go around. Bramblethorn is completely deluded. He may not realize it, but in a way he's unraveling just as much if not more than Frodo is.
Hobbitfeet13 - You are right that Bramblethorn was removing his own shirt as he was taunting Frodo. As to whose breeches were removed, you'd be right to assume Bramblethorn saw to Frodo's first. As to this story being gloomy and what keeps you coming back, I think it might be Frodo's spirit. Am I even close? Merry is a bit addled by his head injury, but will regain his sensibilities soon enough. Sam will be there to help him.
QTPie - 2488 - I didn't think I would actually let Bramblethorn do that either, but as the story progressed I realized there just wasn't any way he would let the opportunity pass him by again. I even asked my beta and another reader what they thought and they said as much. Bramblethorn definitely has learned how to push Frodo's buttons.
R. B. - Thanks for coming by. I'm glad the last chapter didn't scare you off. I wanted it to be dramatic, but I was more focused on the aftermath than the details of the events themselves.
FrodoBaggins1982 - You're exactly right that Bramblethorn's threats no longer have quite the impact on Frodo that they did before. Especially at the moment, since Frodo is still rather numb from the experience. His mind is still in a defensive mode where the repeated threat of something that's already happened just sort of passes through him. That being said, thanks for the longest review I've ever had! You have some really good ideas. I confess, I haven't any plans for any conversations between Bramblethorn's bodyguards and Frodo, but there will be plenty of interaction between Frodo and Bramblethorn!
Stephanie - Sorry I was so long with my update. I've been a little under the weather these past 2 days, but I'm on the mend. Monto will get his in the end. Whether he dies or not - well, you'll have to wait and see! I am working on a couple of other stories, mostly short fics. There might be something a little sweeter ahead after this one, just to provide a sigh of relief after all the angst!
Shelbyshire - Funny you should ask about critters in the cellar. This chapter will answer your question. As to unexpected help, I have no elves, dwarves or wizards. No rangers either, but perhaps one or two who might have made good ones. You'll see!
Endymion2 - Bramblethorn has some sort of feelings for Frodo, twisted as they may be. Definition for 'epithet' would be something to the effect of a curse. An 'epitaph' is what is written on a tombstone. Similar root to both words, I suppose, but different meanings.
Spootasia Tomoe - Frodo is not giving in, but he will have a little while before help can reach him.
Trust No One - Frodo is still keeping his defiance, but events in this chapter will chip away at it further.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 15 - Accommodations
Frodo had been sleeping again. He couldn't tell how long he had been asleep, but the rest had done him some good at least. He frowned, dimly trying to remember what had awakened him. Some small sound, a scratching or skittering across the room.
Focusing his vision in the dim light, Frodo thought he saw something move. He saw a dark shadow against the wall and gasped when he saw the creature itself. A rat! It was large and mangy and was looking right at him. Its beady red eyes were fixed upon Frodo's, which were wide with fear and revulsion.
'Put him in the cellar and let the rats have a nibble', Monto had said before. Frodo had thought Monto was just speaking figuratively, but the sight of the scruffy rodent scratching at the wall of the cellar made him realize he had not been.
The rat was growing bolder and moved away from the wall, toward Frodo. "Ugh!" Frodo squirmed away from it as it advanced. When it got too close to Frodo's feet, he kicked at it, causing it to skitter away but only briefly. It chattered at him and began to close in on him again, perceiving him to be alive and warm - blooded.
Frodo looked around wildly. Another set of beady little eyes looked back at him from the shadows, and another. One rat was bad enough, but there were more. Several rodents were making their way toward him now.
"Get away!" Frodo cried as he rolled himself away from the nearest rat. He caught another one squarely with a sharp two - footed kick that jarred his entire body. The third was not so easily dispatched and it leapt forward to sink its teeth into his leg.
"HELP!" Frodo screamed as he managed to dislodge the rat. No sooner had he rid himself of one, another bit sharply into his hand. Panic seized him. They would eat him alive! "Help me! Please!" He shouted as he writhed. A rat bit him again, and Frodo lost his composure completely. Before he could stop himself, he shouted, "Get me out of here, now! Bramblethorn! Bramblethorn!"
Upstairs, Bramblethorn put his book and pipe down as his ears caught the sound. It was faint, but he could have sworn he heard Frodo calling out. Calling for him. Yes, there it was again, a thin, desperate shout. Bramblethorn rose from his chair and made his way to the cellar door.
"Get them off me, please!" Frodo's voice rose in a terrified sob from beyond the door. "Bramblethorn!"
"Blast! Where is that dratted key?" Bramblethorn muttered, searching his pockets. "Anson! Monto!" Footfalls sounded in the corridor as Bramblethorn's henchmen heeded his call. "Give me the key, now!" he demanded hurriedly.
"Here it is, boss," Monto said, producing the key. Frodo screamed again, and Bramblethorn turned the key in the lock with haste. He wrenched the door open and bolted down the stairs.
In the flickering light of the candle, Bramblethorn could see the dark shapes of several large rats as they attacked Frodo. It had been months since Bramblethorn had been in the cellar himself. If he wanted anything from it, he usually sent Monto or Anson to fetch it for him. Consequently, he had never seen any rats in the cellar with his own eyes. Obviously Monto had known they were there, Bramblethorn realized as he recalled an off - hand remark his bodyguard had made about the creatures.
Growling, Bramblethorn kicked one of the noisome rodents hard enough to send it flying into the corner to bounce off the wall with an injured squeak. "Off, you vile creatures," he snarled as he gave the other two similar treatment.
He knelt at Frodo's side and unbound his ankles. "I'm here now, love," Bramblethorn crooned as he hurriedly lifted Frodo to his feet. Frodo was nearly catatonic with terror as Bramblethorn hustled him up the stairs and into the study.
"Oh, Frodo, love, I'm so sorry," Bramblethorn said as he dropped onto the sofa and pulled Frodo's trembling form in his arms. "I didn't know they were there. I never would have considered the cellar as an option if I had."
Finally finding his voice, Frodo gasped, "I don't believe you. You knew," he accused. "You knew they were there and you let them attack me!"
"No, Frodo, I swear to you, I knew nothing of their presence. I've not been in the cellar for some time, so I've never seen any rats about." Bramblethorn turned Frodo so that his bound hands were more visible, and examined the place where one of the rats had bitten him. Frodo tried to pull away, but Bramblethorn's grip on his arm was firm. The bite was deep and very painful. Frodo was bitten on his legs and feet as well. Blood dripped from several of the deeper wounds.
"He knew, too," Frodo said, referring to Monto. "He's trying to kill me, isn't he?" Frodo was still shaking, his mind filled with the image of the rodents crawling over him, biting him and feasting on his blood.
"He had damn well better not be," Bramblethorn snarled fiercely.
Frodo was taken aback by Bramblethorn's response. Now that the immediate danger of being bitten to death was past, he realized that Bramblethorn had actually apologized to him. He seemed genuinely chagrined by the event, and truly angry with Monto. Frodo's mind whirled with confusion and sudden weariness as Bramblethorn stood and walked briskly from the room. He returned with a kettle of hot water, a bowl, a small round cake of soap, and a towel that was draped over his arm.
"We must cleanse those bites immediately," Bramblethorn said as he poured water from the kettle into the bowl, pausing briefly in his preparations to unbind Frodo's hands. "I'm sorry, Frodo. This will sting, but it will keep the wounds from becoming infected." He took Frodo's hand in his and squeezed soapy water from the towel over the wound. Frodo winced, but allowed Bramblethorn to continue his ministrations. He was entirely too shell shocked to do otherwise.
"Why did you help me?" Frodo asked at length. "There was a time when you wouldn't have. If I remember, you would have watched as they tore me to pieces."
"You're far too dramatic, dear," Bramblethorn said as he bandaged Frodo's hand and began to work on a leg. "If you're referring to the incident at Bywater, I was rather harsh, I do admit." He paused from cleaning the wound and gave Frodo self - satisfied smirk. "Besides, you called for me, you know. Or have you already forgotten?"
Frodo's heart sank at the reminder. He had called for Bramblethorn, hadn't he? He had called out the hated name in thoughtless fear and desperation as the rats came at him. How under the stars could he have done such a thing? Was it possible that Bramblethorn was finally to succeed in breaking him?
"It's not - " Frodo stammered helplessly. "I didn't mean to - "
Bramblethorn sighed, stung by the attempted denial. "When I bade you farewell two years ago, I thought I would never see you again," he said truthfully. "I told myself that I must consign your remarkable eyes and melodic voice to mere memory, for I would never again encounter them. For a while, I succeeded. I suppose I truly believed that I was over you." More soapy water, another bandage.
"I was still attempting to convince myself of that when you magically appeared here in Bree, no less a vision of loveliness than you had ever been." Bramblethorn seemed to hesitate, unaccustomed to this sort of honesty from himself. "I have been trying my best to show you that I can be kind to you. It has hurt me more deeply than I can say to have you look at me with hatred and fear."
"How can I do otherwise?" Frodo asked quietly. "After Bywater and - " Frodo hesitated. "After last night - "
"Last night." Bramblethorn frowned as he gently dabbed the blood away from one of the rat bites. "I was so very frustrated, Frodo. So long I've been waiting for you. I had given you up as lost to me, only to have you walk back into my life and take my heart again. I have held you here, yes, but I have tried to offer you what comfort I can. The only thanks I received for my effort was to hear you calling for that gardener. It was too much, Frodo. Too much for me to bear."
Frodo thought he understood what Bramblethorn was trying to say, but it was small comfort to him. "It doesn't make what you did acceptable," he said. "You say you have feelings for me, but what you did to me was an act of violence, not an act of love."
"Perhaps," Bramblethorn conceded. "But Frodo, do you know what it feels like to want your affections to be returned in kind but to find that they are not? Do you know what it would have meant to me if you had ever just simply so much as taken my hand in yours?"
Frodo was struck by the look of sadness in Bramblethorn's eyes. The swaggering and the threat were absent from Bramblethorn's demeanor now, and Frodo felt something entirely new regarding his captor. Despite his own fear and pain, he felt pity. How sad it was that Bramblethorn had allowed his disappointment to take him over so completely, how tragic that he had not let go of the past. How sad, that it should come to this.
"I didn't understand," Frodo said. "I think I see now." Frodo shook his head slightly. "But Bramblethorn, you must understand that I cannot share your feelings. I never meant to slight you, years ago when all this trouble began. It has never been anything against you personally, but I simply have never felt the same things you describe."
"Oh, you have felt them, Frodo, but not for me," Bramblethorn said, shaking his head.
"I never knew you felt anything for me until that night outside the Green Dragon," Frodo countered defensively. "Even then, I feared what I saw in your eyes."
"And what did you see?" Bramblethorn asked, genuinely intrigued.
Frodo hesitated briefly. "I saw - I saw lust. And possessiveness. Things I've never seen in the eyes of another before."
Bramblethorn seemed to consider. "Perhaps. I am willing to concede that you did not see me at my best."
"You were drunk, just like you were when you - " Frodo broke off and closed his eyes, trying to distance himself from the memory. "Just like last night."
"So we're back to that, are we?" he asked, finishing with the last bandage. "I will admit to being inebriated on both occasions, and to not being entirely in control of myself. But have you ever wondered, Frodo? What if I had not been so impatient those years ago? If I had approached you with greater care, might we have taken a different path together?"
Frodo paused, daring to look Bramblethorn in the eyes. "I cannot say, as the past cannot be altered."
"I would like to think," Bramblethorn said quietly, "that we might at least have been friends."
"Perhaps," Frodo answered, shifting uncomfortably. The subject was difficult to discuss, despite Bramblethorn's apparent candor. "But now - "
"But now, Frodo?" Bramblethorn paused, clearly expecting an answer.
"Friends do not leave each other bound in a rat - infested cellar," Frodo said, his gaze falling upon the bandage on his hand. And they don't leave each other violated and bleeding, bereft of all dignity and hope, he thought, not daring to speak the words aloud.
"I shall see to that little rat problem," Bramblethorn remarked, "and I intend to have a word with Monto about it too. If he were doing his job around here, it would have been taken care of. I shall see to it that he gets the honor of the rat hunt himself."
Frodo felt the absurd urge to smile at the thought of Monto rooting rats out of the cellar. He hoped they bit him, too.
"This does put us back to deciding what to do with you," Bramblethorn said calmly. "As I mentioned before, my feelings for you prevent me from allowing you to remain in the cellar."
"And my, um, feelings," Frodo replied carefully, "prevent me from sharing your room willingly."
"Considering that you are here against your will in the first place, that should not surprise me." Bramblethorn stood and gestured for Frodo to do the same. "And conversely, it should not surprise you that I have decided you shall indeed be kept in my room where I can keep an eye on you."
Frodo bit his lip and looked at his toes. "No, it doesn't." The hard, cold knot of fear was back, settling itself into his midsection.
"Well, I suppose we had better get you settled then," Bramblethorn remarked, taking Frodo's arm and leading him from the study. Frodo held back reluctantly and Bramblethorn raised an eyebrow. "We have established the fact that I do not like to hurt you, and you do not like to be hurt, correct?"
"Correct on both counts," Frodo responded tiredly, sincerely doubting that Bramblethorn had any scruples when it came to hurting him.
"Then come along quietly, dear," Bramblethorn said, guiding Frodo down the hallway. "Maintain your composure and I shall be gentle with you."
Those words did nothing to ease his fears, but Frodo allowed Bramblethorn to pull him across the threshold of the room. If he tried to fight, he would just end up with Monto and Anson beating him into submission again. Frodo paled visibly as Bramblethorn guided him unmistakably toward the bed.
"Sit quietly, my dear," Bramblethorn advised. He moved away from Frodo and paused at the armoire. He opened it and pulled out an old pillowcase.
"What are you doing?" Frodo asked suspiciously.
Bramblethorn gave him a pointed look, as he pulled hard at the seams causing the old threads to give way. He then proceeded to tear the fabric into long strips as Frodo watched apprehensively. He remembered Bramblethorn informing him that should he be imprisoned in the room he would be bound, and he rose and backed away reflexively.
"Please, I promise I won't try to leave by the window," Frodo said, hoping Bramblethorn would spare him this indignity.
Bramblethorn shook his head. "As much as it pains me that I must bind you, I am willing to use something more forgiving than rope. That is, unless you prefer otherwise."
"I prefer not to be bound at all," Frodo said, striving to steady himself.
"If you continue to argue with me, I shall have Monto and Anson do the job for me," Bramblethorn threatened calmly. "Now, Frodo, please choose. My gentle hands and soft cloth about your wrists, or Monto and Anson with abrasive rope."
The door stood ajar, and Frodo turned to catch a glimpse of Monto peering in at him, eyes narrowed and a nasty smirk on his face. He stumbled backward inadvertently into Bramblethorn as he sought to avoid that cruel gaze. He was caught in a firm grasp and Bramblethorn gloated, "Hmmm, yes. I thought as much."
Hopeless, Frodo thought. It's hopeless now. They have me as surely as if I was a coney in a snare, and I must bear it until I can bear no more. Or until Merry and Sam come for me, whichever comes first.
And where were Merry and Sam? What was taking them so long to return? Frodo did not for a moment believe that they would abandon him to this fate, but he felt a growing fear that they had come to harm somehow, that Bramblethorn's treachery extended beyond Frodo's torment in his smial.
Frodo was faintly aware of Bramblethorn binding his wrists in front of him. "Lie down and rest, Frodo," Bramblethorn ordered. He snaked one more length of the cloth through Frodo's bonds and around one of the bedposts. "I shall come to check on you after a while, my dear," Bramblethorn said as he finished the process. "We'll have a nice supper together later on."
Frodo turned his face into the pillow. He wouldn't look at Bramblethorn. He couldn't. The next time he did, he might see that feral expression again, that look that bored into him and told him wordlessly of his helplessness.
"Rest easy, my dear," Bramblethorn crooned. "There are no rats here, I promise."
"Please," Frodo whispered. "Just leave me alone. Just go."
Bramblethorn bestowed a light kiss on Frodo's forehead and pulled the curtains, dimming the light in the room.
Closing the door softly behind him, Bramblethorn went to find Anson. The other hobbit was busy cleaning up the mess from the fire earlier. "Anson, when you're finished here, I would like you to install a lock on the outside of the door to my room. Frodo is somewhat secure there for now, but I don't want to take chances." Frodo was beginning to show signs of breaking down, and perhaps he truly wouldn't attempt to flee, but Bramblethorn still had his doubts.
"All right, I'll see to it," Anson replied, continuing to mop up the water that stood in puddles on the floor.
Now to find Monto and discuss the matter of the rats, Bramblethorn thought as he strode up the hallway. Monto appeared at the door to the cellar with the candle and wool blanket in hand. "What was with your pretty boy, boss?" Monto asked trying to look innocent.
Bramblethorn didn't buy it for a minute. "Rats, dear fellow," he said pointedly. "You were well aware of the presence of those nasty creatures, I suspect."
"Me?" Monto knew he had at best a dressing down coming to him, and at worst, maybe another black eye. "Naw, boss, I was just kiddin' when I said to put him down there and let the rats have him."
"Hmmm, were you?" Bramblethorn used his mildest tone, the one that Monto had come to understand meant trouble. "I believe you knew very well that the rats were present and that they would scarcely be able to resist attacking Frodo." A hint of menace came into Bramblethorn's voice. "You never told me there were rats in my cellar, and you should have eliminated them on general principals. You will do so now, and without delay. I want every rat, dead or alive, removed from that cellar, do you hear me?"
"Yes, boss," Monto grumbled. There were plenty of stray cats about Bree that would likely enjoy such sport, but Monto didn't fancy himself a rodent hunter. It was Frodo's fault he got saddled with such a duty anyway. If he hadn't caused a ruckus earlier, there wouldn't have been a fire and he wouldn't have ended up in the cellar with rats chewing on him. Monto went to find something to use as bait and to devise a method of trapping the rats.
~*~
The innkeeper stood outside the door with his master key in hand. He didn't normally go nosing into his guests' quarters, but those two hobbits had up and disappeared. He hoped they were planning to return and pay their bill, as he could scarcely afford to give free lodging.
The door opened obediently and the innkeeper stepped into the room with a frown on his face. Most of the hobbits' belongings were still there. There were a few items scattered on the table, and he looked at them to see if they held any clues to the whereabouts of the missing guests. If they failed to return perhaps he could sell some of the items to recover his loss.
As he scanned the various items, some words on a piece of parchment caught his eye. The innkeeper, now thoroughly intrigued, read the letter Bramblethorn had sent to Merry and Sam stating that he had captured Frodo. He put it down and picked up the second letter. This Bramblethorn character seemed to be getting up to some serious mischief by the look of things.
The innkeeper considered recent events as he gazed at the messages in his hand. Three hobbits had checked into the room that first night, and since then he had seen only two of them. He tried to recall the appearance of the one who was missing. He remembered a dark - haired, fair - skinned hobbit who seemed a little thin for one of his kind. So this Bramblethorn had kidnapped him, then.
The man stood in the room, contemplating this new knowledge. It wasn't any of his business, was it? And the note implied that harm would come to that hobbit if anyone went round looking for him. The innkeeper couldn't be certain, but he felt that Sam and Merry's absence had to do with the contents of those two letters.
And then there was that fracas in the common room. Those two hefty hobbits had been getting after his guests. Were they part of the whole mess then? The innkeeper thought it likely.
The second letter alluded to the fact that the hobbits were trying to get a sum of money together to ransom the other one. The innkeeper shook his head. He hoped those hobbits were from a wealthy family. Not only did they have to pay to get the other one back, but they would owe a fair sum for the length of time they had been lodged at the inn.
The man sighed and put the letters back where he had found them. He'd give those two hobbits time to return and maybe he could get more of the tale out of them. He wasn't going to stick his nose into the matter any further right then. It wasn't his job to uphold law and order in Bree. He was just an innkeeper and ought to mind his own business.
He closed the door and locked it again, and made his way back to the common room. There was food to prepare and drinks to serve. He had better see to first things first, and not meddle in the affairs of those who didn't ask him to.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
GamgeeFest - You're right that Sam is suffering in his own right regarding the events so far. There is definitely plenty of angst to go around. Bramblethorn is completely deluded. He may not realize it, but in a way he's unraveling just as much if not more than Frodo is.
Hobbitfeet13 - You are right that Bramblethorn was removing his own shirt as he was taunting Frodo. As to whose breeches were removed, you'd be right to assume Bramblethorn saw to Frodo's first. As to this story being gloomy and what keeps you coming back, I think it might be Frodo's spirit. Am I even close? Merry is a bit addled by his head injury, but will regain his sensibilities soon enough. Sam will be there to help him.
QTPie - 2488 - I didn't think I would actually let Bramblethorn do that either, but as the story progressed I realized there just wasn't any way he would let the opportunity pass him by again. I even asked my beta and another reader what they thought and they said as much. Bramblethorn definitely has learned how to push Frodo's buttons.
R. B. - Thanks for coming by. I'm glad the last chapter didn't scare you off. I wanted it to be dramatic, but I was more focused on the aftermath than the details of the events themselves.
FrodoBaggins1982 - You're exactly right that Bramblethorn's threats no longer have quite the impact on Frodo that they did before. Especially at the moment, since Frodo is still rather numb from the experience. His mind is still in a defensive mode where the repeated threat of something that's already happened just sort of passes through him. That being said, thanks for the longest review I've ever had! You have some really good ideas. I confess, I haven't any plans for any conversations between Bramblethorn's bodyguards and Frodo, but there will be plenty of interaction between Frodo and Bramblethorn!
Stephanie - Sorry I was so long with my update. I've been a little under the weather these past 2 days, but I'm on the mend. Monto will get his in the end. Whether he dies or not - well, you'll have to wait and see! I am working on a couple of other stories, mostly short fics. There might be something a little sweeter ahead after this one, just to provide a sigh of relief after all the angst!
Shelbyshire - Funny you should ask about critters in the cellar. This chapter will answer your question. As to unexpected help, I have no elves, dwarves or wizards. No rangers either, but perhaps one or two who might have made good ones. You'll see!
Endymion2 - Bramblethorn has some sort of feelings for Frodo, twisted as they may be. Definition for 'epithet' would be something to the effect of a curse. An 'epitaph' is what is written on a tombstone. Similar root to both words, I suppose, but different meanings.
Spootasia Tomoe - Frodo is not giving in, but he will have a little while before help can reach him.
Trust No One - Frodo is still keeping his defiance, but events in this chapter will chip away at it further.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 15 - Accommodations
Frodo had been sleeping again. He couldn't tell how long he had been asleep, but the rest had done him some good at least. He frowned, dimly trying to remember what had awakened him. Some small sound, a scratching or skittering across the room.
Focusing his vision in the dim light, Frodo thought he saw something move. He saw a dark shadow against the wall and gasped when he saw the creature itself. A rat! It was large and mangy and was looking right at him. Its beady red eyes were fixed upon Frodo's, which were wide with fear and revulsion.
'Put him in the cellar and let the rats have a nibble', Monto had said before. Frodo had thought Monto was just speaking figuratively, but the sight of the scruffy rodent scratching at the wall of the cellar made him realize he had not been.
The rat was growing bolder and moved away from the wall, toward Frodo. "Ugh!" Frodo squirmed away from it as it advanced. When it got too close to Frodo's feet, he kicked at it, causing it to skitter away but only briefly. It chattered at him and began to close in on him again, perceiving him to be alive and warm - blooded.
Frodo looked around wildly. Another set of beady little eyes looked back at him from the shadows, and another. One rat was bad enough, but there were more. Several rodents were making their way toward him now.
"Get away!" Frodo cried as he rolled himself away from the nearest rat. He caught another one squarely with a sharp two - footed kick that jarred his entire body. The third was not so easily dispatched and it leapt forward to sink its teeth into his leg.
"HELP!" Frodo screamed as he managed to dislodge the rat. No sooner had he rid himself of one, another bit sharply into his hand. Panic seized him. They would eat him alive! "Help me! Please!" He shouted as he writhed. A rat bit him again, and Frodo lost his composure completely. Before he could stop himself, he shouted, "Get me out of here, now! Bramblethorn! Bramblethorn!"
Upstairs, Bramblethorn put his book and pipe down as his ears caught the sound. It was faint, but he could have sworn he heard Frodo calling out. Calling for him. Yes, there it was again, a thin, desperate shout. Bramblethorn rose from his chair and made his way to the cellar door.
"Get them off me, please!" Frodo's voice rose in a terrified sob from beyond the door. "Bramblethorn!"
"Blast! Where is that dratted key?" Bramblethorn muttered, searching his pockets. "Anson! Monto!" Footfalls sounded in the corridor as Bramblethorn's henchmen heeded his call. "Give me the key, now!" he demanded hurriedly.
"Here it is, boss," Monto said, producing the key. Frodo screamed again, and Bramblethorn turned the key in the lock with haste. He wrenched the door open and bolted down the stairs.
In the flickering light of the candle, Bramblethorn could see the dark shapes of several large rats as they attacked Frodo. It had been months since Bramblethorn had been in the cellar himself. If he wanted anything from it, he usually sent Monto or Anson to fetch it for him. Consequently, he had never seen any rats in the cellar with his own eyes. Obviously Monto had known they were there, Bramblethorn realized as he recalled an off - hand remark his bodyguard had made about the creatures.
Growling, Bramblethorn kicked one of the noisome rodents hard enough to send it flying into the corner to bounce off the wall with an injured squeak. "Off, you vile creatures," he snarled as he gave the other two similar treatment.
He knelt at Frodo's side and unbound his ankles. "I'm here now, love," Bramblethorn crooned as he hurriedly lifted Frodo to his feet. Frodo was nearly catatonic with terror as Bramblethorn hustled him up the stairs and into the study.
"Oh, Frodo, love, I'm so sorry," Bramblethorn said as he dropped onto the sofa and pulled Frodo's trembling form in his arms. "I didn't know they were there. I never would have considered the cellar as an option if I had."
Finally finding his voice, Frodo gasped, "I don't believe you. You knew," he accused. "You knew they were there and you let them attack me!"
"No, Frodo, I swear to you, I knew nothing of their presence. I've not been in the cellar for some time, so I've never seen any rats about." Bramblethorn turned Frodo so that his bound hands were more visible, and examined the place where one of the rats had bitten him. Frodo tried to pull away, but Bramblethorn's grip on his arm was firm. The bite was deep and very painful. Frodo was bitten on his legs and feet as well. Blood dripped from several of the deeper wounds.
"He knew, too," Frodo said, referring to Monto. "He's trying to kill me, isn't he?" Frodo was still shaking, his mind filled with the image of the rodents crawling over him, biting him and feasting on his blood.
"He had damn well better not be," Bramblethorn snarled fiercely.
Frodo was taken aback by Bramblethorn's response. Now that the immediate danger of being bitten to death was past, he realized that Bramblethorn had actually apologized to him. He seemed genuinely chagrined by the event, and truly angry with Monto. Frodo's mind whirled with confusion and sudden weariness as Bramblethorn stood and walked briskly from the room. He returned with a kettle of hot water, a bowl, a small round cake of soap, and a towel that was draped over his arm.
"We must cleanse those bites immediately," Bramblethorn said as he poured water from the kettle into the bowl, pausing briefly in his preparations to unbind Frodo's hands. "I'm sorry, Frodo. This will sting, but it will keep the wounds from becoming infected." He took Frodo's hand in his and squeezed soapy water from the towel over the wound. Frodo winced, but allowed Bramblethorn to continue his ministrations. He was entirely too shell shocked to do otherwise.
"Why did you help me?" Frodo asked at length. "There was a time when you wouldn't have. If I remember, you would have watched as they tore me to pieces."
"You're far too dramatic, dear," Bramblethorn said as he bandaged Frodo's hand and began to work on a leg. "If you're referring to the incident at Bywater, I was rather harsh, I do admit." He paused from cleaning the wound and gave Frodo self - satisfied smirk. "Besides, you called for me, you know. Or have you already forgotten?"
Frodo's heart sank at the reminder. He had called for Bramblethorn, hadn't he? He had called out the hated name in thoughtless fear and desperation as the rats came at him. How under the stars could he have done such a thing? Was it possible that Bramblethorn was finally to succeed in breaking him?
"It's not - " Frodo stammered helplessly. "I didn't mean to - "
Bramblethorn sighed, stung by the attempted denial. "When I bade you farewell two years ago, I thought I would never see you again," he said truthfully. "I told myself that I must consign your remarkable eyes and melodic voice to mere memory, for I would never again encounter them. For a while, I succeeded. I suppose I truly believed that I was over you." More soapy water, another bandage.
"I was still attempting to convince myself of that when you magically appeared here in Bree, no less a vision of loveliness than you had ever been." Bramblethorn seemed to hesitate, unaccustomed to this sort of honesty from himself. "I have been trying my best to show you that I can be kind to you. It has hurt me more deeply than I can say to have you look at me with hatred and fear."
"How can I do otherwise?" Frodo asked quietly. "After Bywater and - " Frodo hesitated. "After last night - "
"Last night." Bramblethorn frowned as he gently dabbed the blood away from one of the rat bites. "I was so very frustrated, Frodo. So long I've been waiting for you. I had given you up as lost to me, only to have you walk back into my life and take my heart again. I have held you here, yes, but I have tried to offer you what comfort I can. The only thanks I received for my effort was to hear you calling for that gardener. It was too much, Frodo. Too much for me to bear."
Frodo thought he understood what Bramblethorn was trying to say, but it was small comfort to him. "It doesn't make what you did acceptable," he said. "You say you have feelings for me, but what you did to me was an act of violence, not an act of love."
"Perhaps," Bramblethorn conceded. "But Frodo, do you know what it feels like to want your affections to be returned in kind but to find that they are not? Do you know what it would have meant to me if you had ever just simply so much as taken my hand in yours?"
Frodo was struck by the look of sadness in Bramblethorn's eyes. The swaggering and the threat were absent from Bramblethorn's demeanor now, and Frodo felt something entirely new regarding his captor. Despite his own fear and pain, he felt pity. How sad it was that Bramblethorn had allowed his disappointment to take him over so completely, how tragic that he had not let go of the past. How sad, that it should come to this.
"I didn't understand," Frodo said. "I think I see now." Frodo shook his head slightly. "But Bramblethorn, you must understand that I cannot share your feelings. I never meant to slight you, years ago when all this trouble began. It has never been anything against you personally, but I simply have never felt the same things you describe."
"Oh, you have felt them, Frodo, but not for me," Bramblethorn said, shaking his head.
"I never knew you felt anything for me until that night outside the Green Dragon," Frodo countered defensively. "Even then, I feared what I saw in your eyes."
"And what did you see?" Bramblethorn asked, genuinely intrigued.
Frodo hesitated briefly. "I saw - I saw lust. And possessiveness. Things I've never seen in the eyes of another before."
Bramblethorn seemed to consider. "Perhaps. I am willing to concede that you did not see me at my best."
"You were drunk, just like you were when you - " Frodo broke off and closed his eyes, trying to distance himself from the memory. "Just like last night."
"So we're back to that, are we?" he asked, finishing with the last bandage. "I will admit to being inebriated on both occasions, and to not being entirely in control of myself. But have you ever wondered, Frodo? What if I had not been so impatient those years ago? If I had approached you with greater care, might we have taken a different path together?"
Frodo paused, daring to look Bramblethorn in the eyes. "I cannot say, as the past cannot be altered."
"I would like to think," Bramblethorn said quietly, "that we might at least have been friends."
"Perhaps," Frodo answered, shifting uncomfortably. The subject was difficult to discuss, despite Bramblethorn's apparent candor. "But now - "
"But now, Frodo?" Bramblethorn paused, clearly expecting an answer.
"Friends do not leave each other bound in a rat - infested cellar," Frodo said, his gaze falling upon the bandage on his hand. And they don't leave each other violated and bleeding, bereft of all dignity and hope, he thought, not daring to speak the words aloud.
"I shall see to that little rat problem," Bramblethorn remarked, "and I intend to have a word with Monto about it too. If he were doing his job around here, it would have been taken care of. I shall see to it that he gets the honor of the rat hunt himself."
Frodo felt the absurd urge to smile at the thought of Monto rooting rats out of the cellar. He hoped they bit him, too.
"This does put us back to deciding what to do with you," Bramblethorn said calmly. "As I mentioned before, my feelings for you prevent me from allowing you to remain in the cellar."
"And my, um, feelings," Frodo replied carefully, "prevent me from sharing your room willingly."
"Considering that you are here against your will in the first place, that should not surprise me." Bramblethorn stood and gestured for Frodo to do the same. "And conversely, it should not surprise you that I have decided you shall indeed be kept in my room where I can keep an eye on you."
Frodo bit his lip and looked at his toes. "No, it doesn't." The hard, cold knot of fear was back, settling itself into his midsection.
"Well, I suppose we had better get you settled then," Bramblethorn remarked, taking Frodo's arm and leading him from the study. Frodo held back reluctantly and Bramblethorn raised an eyebrow. "We have established the fact that I do not like to hurt you, and you do not like to be hurt, correct?"
"Correct on both counts," Frodo responded tiredly, sincerely doubting that Bramblethorn had any scruples when it came to hurting him.
"Then come along quietly, dear," Bramblethorn said, guiding Frodo down the hallway. "Maintain your composure and I shall be gentle with you."
Those words did nothing to ease his fears, but Frodo allowed Bramblethorn to pull him across the threshold of the room. If he tried to fight, he would just end up with Monto and Anson beating him into submission again. Frodo paled visibly as Bramblethorn guided him unmistakably toward the bed.
"Sit quietly, my dear," Bramblethorn advised. He moved away from Frodo and paused at the armoire. He opened it and pulled out an old pillowcase.
"What are you doing?" Frodo asked suspiciously.
Bramblethorn gave him a pointed look, as he pulled hard at the seams causing the old threads to give way. He then proceeded to tear the fabric into long strips as Frodo watched apprehensively. He remembered Bramblethorn informing him that should he be imprisoned in the room he would be bound, and he rose and backed away reflexively.
"Please, I promise I won't try to leave by the window," Frodo said, hoping Bramblethorn would spare him this indignity.
Bramblethorn shook his head. "As much as it pains me that I must bind you, I am willing to use something more forgiving than rope. That is, unless you prefer otherwise."
"I prefer not to be bound at all," Frodo said, striving to steady himself.
"If you continue to argue with me, I shall have Monto and Anson do the job for me," Bramblethorn threatened calmly. "Now, Frodo, please choose. My gentle hands and soft cloth about your wrists, or Monto and Anson with abrasive rope."
The door stood ajar, and Frodo turned to catch a glimpse of Monto peering in at him, eyes narrowed and a nasty smirk on his face. He stumbled backward inadvertently into Bramblethorn as he sought to avoid that cruel gaze. He was caught in a firm grasp and Bramblethorn gloated, "Hmmm, yes. I thought as much."
Hopeless, Frodo thought. It's hopeless now. They have me as surely as if I was a coney in a snare, and I must bear it until I can bear no more. Or until Merry and Sam come for me, whichever comes first.
And where were Merry and Sam? What was taking them so long to return? Frodo did not for a moment believe that they would abandon him to this fate, but he felt a growing fear that they had come to harm somehow, that Bramblethorn's treachery extended beyond Frodo's torment in his smial.
Frodo was faintly aware of Bramblethorn binding his wrists in front of him. "Lie down and rest, Frodo," Bramblethorn ordered. He snaked one more length of the cloth through Frodo's bonds and around one of the bedposts. "I shall come to check on you after a while, my dear," Bramblethorn said as he finished the process. "We'll have a nice supper together later on."
Frodo turned his face into the pillow. He wouldn't look at Bramblethorn. He couldn't. The next time he did, he might see that feral expression again, that look that bored into him and told him wordlessly of his helplessness.
"Rest easy, my dear," Bramblethorn crooned. "There are no rats here, I promise."
"Please," Frodo whispered. "Just leave me alone. Just go."
Bramblethorn bestowed a light kiss on Frodo's forehead and pulled the curtains, dimming the light in the room.
Closing the door softly behind him, Bramblethorn went to find Anson. The other hobbit was busy cleaning up the mess from the fire earlier. "Anson, when you're finished here, I would like you to install a lock on the outside of the door to my room. Frodo is somewhat secure there for now, but I don't want to take chances." Frodo was beginning to show signs of breaking down, and perhaps he truly wouldn't attempt to flee, but Bramblethorn still had his doubts.
"All right, I'll see to it," Anson replied, continuing to mop up the water that stood in puddles on the floor.
Now to find Monto and discuss the matter of the rats, Bramblethorn thought as he strode up the hallway. Monto appeared at the door to the cellar with the candle and wool blanket in hand. "What was with your pretty boy, boss?" Monto asked trying to look innocent.
Bramblethorn didn't buy it for a minute. "Rats, dear fellow," he said pointedly. "You were well aware of the presence of those nasty creatures, I suspect."
"Me?" Monto knew he had at best a dressing down coming to him, and at worst, maybe another black eye. "Naw, boss, I was just kiddin' when I said to put him down there and let the rats have him."
"Hmmm, were you?" Bramblethorn used his mildest tone, the one that Monto had come to understand meant trouble. "I believe you knew very well that the rats were present and that they would scarcely be able to resist attacking Frodo." A hint of menace came into Bramblethorn's voice. "You never told me there were rats in my cellar, and you should have eliminated them on general principals. You will do so now, and without delay. I want every rat, dead or alive, removed from that cellar, do you hear me?"
"Yes, boss," Monto grumbled. There were plenty of stray cats about Bree that would likely enjoy such sport, but Monto didn't fancy himself a rodent hunter. It was Frodo's fault he got saddled with such a duty anyway. If he hadn't caused a ruckus earlier, there wouldn't have been a fire and he wouldn't have ended up in the cellar with rats chewing on him. Monto went to find something to use as bait and to devise a method of trapping the rats.
~*~
The innkeeper stood outside the door with his master key in hand. He didn't normally go nosing into his guests' quarters, but those two hobbits had up and disappeared. He hoped they were planning to return and pay their bill, as he could scarcely afford to give free lodging.
The door opened obediently and the innkeeper stepped into the room with a frown on his face. Most of the hobbits' belongings were still there. There were a few items scattered on the table, and he looked at them to see if they held any clues to the whereabouts of the missing guests. If they failed to return perhaps he could sell some of the items to recover his loss.
As he scanned the various items, some words on a piece of parchment caught his eye. The innkeeper, now thoroughly intrigued, read the letter Bramblethorn had sent to Merry and Sam stating that he had captured Frodo. He put it down and picked up the second letter. This Bramblethorn character seemed to be getting up to some serious mischief by the look of things.
The innkeeper considered recent events as he gazed at the messages in his hand. Three hobbits had checked into the room that first night, and since then he had seen only two of them. He tried to recall the appearance of the one who was missing. He remembered a dark - haired, fair - skinned hobbit who seemed a little thin for one of his kind. So this Bramblethorn had kidnapped him, then.
The man stood in the room, contemplating this new knowledge. It wasn't any of his business, was it? And the note implied that harm would come to that hobbit if anyone went round looking for him. The innkeeper couldn't be certain, but he felt that Sam and Merry's absence had to do with the contents of those two letters.
And then there was that fracas in the common room. Those two hefty hobbits had been getting after his guests. Were they part of the whole mess then? The innkeeper thought it likely.
The second letter alluded to the fact that the hobbits were trying to get a sum of money together to ransom the other one. The innkeeper shook his head. He hoped those hobbits were from a wealthy family. Not only did they have to pay to get the other one back, but they would owe a fair sum for the length of time they had been lodged at the inn.
The man sighed and put the letters back where he had found them. He'd give those two hobbits time to return and maybe he could get more of the tale out of them. He wasn't going to stick his nose into the matter any further right then. It wasn't his job to uphold law and order in Bree. He was just an innkeeper and ought to mind his own business.
He closed the door and locked it again, and made his way back to the common room. There was food to prepare and drinks to serve. He had better see to first things first, and not meddle in the affairs of those who didn't ask him to.
~*~ To be continued ~*~