Anarie - Bramblethorn has actually confessed something like true feelings for Frodo, but any truce between them is going to be short - lived!
Endymion2 - I've actually allowed Bramblethorn to be something more than just a big nasty in this fic, but old habits die hard, you know. He's still our beloved Bramby, through and through. The innkeeper is reluctant to get involved, but sometimes a person ends up involved whether he plans to be or not!
Breon Briarwood - There will be help on the way for Frodo, but it takes a little time to get from Buckland to Bree. Once Sam and Merry get there and the story comes out, you can bet an expedition will be mounted immediately. But in the meantime (cringe) Frodo is still in a precarious situation. I know it's hard to take, but I have to tell the events as they happen. Just wouldn't keep things smooth if I jump right to a rescue now!
Trust No One - Frodo's not feeling much of anything like confidence right now, but he's trying to bear up and just get on until help comes. The innkeeper - and others - will indeed have a part to play.
GamgeeFest - There is a bit of breaking down going on with both sides right now. The innkeeper will become instrumental, and Sam and Merry will reach Buckland soon. Merry's under the expert care of Sam, so he's going to be just fine.
Stephanie - Just when it seems to be getting a little better for Frodo, psychotic Bramblethorn always snaps and does something nasty. Reactions at Brandy Hall will be seen soon. Monto is just a pig. Naturally he hates Frodo, since Frodo is everything he's not!
Elbereth - There's a lot of us who feel like hugging Frodo right now. Sam and Merry will be reaching Buckland soon and spilling the beans about Bramblethorn and his nefarious plans.
Shelbyshire - Rats in the cellar, rats in the tower of Cirith Ungol. Anyplace nasty is a perfect place for rats, eh? I haven't tried my hand at writing a Cirith Ungol fic yet, but you never know. Merry and Sam are getting closer to Buckland all the while, and they'll soon be on their way back to help Frodo.
Iorhael - Bramblethorn will attempt to let Frodo know who is in charge any way he can, up to and including leaving him in that nasty cellar. He's not there anymore, though. He's nice and comfy in Bramblethorn's room. Yikes! Don't worry, Frodo isn't broken yet. He's just suffering the depression that's following Bramblethorn's attack. That one incident has made everything else seem just a little more hopeless than before. In this chapter, though he will get angry enough to forget about consequences for a moment.
Hobbitfeet13 - The innkeeper's concerns will be growing, in part due to a conversation with a friend. More on that later, I promise! Thank you for your kind praise regarding my writing! It's funny how I'll read something someone else has written and think, wow! What a marvelous writing style this person has. I wish I could write like that. I tend to forget that maybe I have my own sort of style too.
FrodoBaggins1982 - I don't mind a good long windy review, especially if it's full of good questions that make me think about my own story from the 'outside'. There will be another of those conversations between Bramblethorn and Frodo in this chapter as Frodo learns something that gets his dander up. Bramblethorn's manipulations will be in full effect here too, as he uses more of those 'choices' he likes to give Frodo.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 16 - Misdeeds
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Anson pulled some small tools out of a pouch and began to fasten the external lock onto the door as Bramblethorn had requested. He had simply removed it from the door of Frodo's previous quarters, as it wouldn't really be needed there anymore. Monto came wandering up the hallway, cursing under his breath.
"What's got you so sour?" Anson asked him while he worked.
"It's all this fuss and nonsense," Monto said, gesturing to the door and the one who lay sleeping beyond it. "I don't know about you, but I've got more than I bargained for this time around."
"Aww, you're just sore because you had to go get them rats outta the cellar," Anson said with a smirk.
"You bet I am!" Monto replied rather vehemently. "And I'm getting tired of makin' sure the boss' pet stays on his leash." Monto threw a vicious glance at the door as he continued. "It was supposed to be an easy job, Anse. Throw a few seeds in some Shire fields and collect our pay. But no, we gotta nab that pretty boy there and make sure he stays put. It's more than my job's worth, I'm tellin' ya!"
"Aww, put a cork in it, Monto," Anson advised. "You're makin' a living, aren't ya? What's a few more days of this in comparison to a share of that ransom money?"
Mention of financial compensation quelled any further complaining for the time being. Within a few moments Anson had completed the work on the lock and the two left to tend to other tasks.
~*~
As Monto groused in the hallway, the occupant of the room was waking. Frodo's eyes fluttered open and he yawned. He was rather groggy from sleep, but he could make out voices beyond the door. His eyes fell closed again and he listened.
'...makin' sure the boss' pet stays on his leash...'
Frodo's face flushed as he heard those words. Bramblethorn's pet, indeed!
'...throw a few seeds in some Shire fields and collect our pay...'
Seeds. Fields. Frodo yawned again. Fields. Red seed pods, filled to bursting with a destructive, persistent life form. Fields burning, smoke rising. Throw a few seeds into some Shire fields...
Frodo's eyes suddenly popped open as his brain assimilated the information. An awful picture began to come into all too clear focus. He, Sam and Merry had been puzzled as to how those weeds could have made their way into Buckland's grain fields. If they had been borne by the wind, they would have been found across a much larger area. If they had been brought into the Shire clinging to the feet of beasts or travelers, again, they would have been found in more than merely eight fields in Buckland. Frodo remembered that there had been no sign of the weeds in flowerbeds or the green of Brandy Hall's courtyard.
The damage to the fields had been done deliberately, and the one who had ordered it soon came through the door in person. Rushford Bramblethorn. Seething inwardly, Frodo feigned sleep.
"Are you rested now, Frodo love?" Bramblethorn asked.
"Hmmmm. What?" Frodo asked, attempting to appear groggy.
Bramblethorn reached to untie the strip of cloth that tethered Frodo's bound hands to the bedpost. "We can't have you sleeping right through supper, can we?"
Untie me. Let me get my hands free and I'll pay you back for all that you've done, Frodo thought as he watched through one slitted eye as Bramblethorn loosened the knots.
Bramblethorn loosed Frodo from the bedpost and untied his hands, unaware of what awaited him. "Time to wash up, dear."
Frodo sat up slowly, his eyes blazing and his shoulders tensing. Bramblethorn looked at him oddly, and Frodo snarled and leapt at him.
"You bastard!" Frodo swung his right fist outward and caught Bramblethorn off guard. His still - bandaged left hand he kept close to his side. "It was you! You did it on purpose!"
Bramblethorn staggered backward at once surprised and infuriated. He grabbed Frodo and backhanded him. "Be still, Frodo, or I shall - "
"You had them put those seeds into the fields in Buckland to ruin the crops," Frodo hissed, trying to wriggle free of Bramblethorn's grasp to do more damage to him. Bramblethorn dragged Frodo across the room and shoved him into a chair by the fireplace.
Bramblethorn's sneer faded into a bemused half smile as he glared down at Frodo. "Ahhh. So you know, do you?" he asked, leaning down to pin Frodo's forearms to the arms of the chair. "I was hoping to keep that one bit of information from you for the time being, my dear. Even lovers must have their secrets."
"We're not lovers!" Frodo growled. "How could you do it? How could you condemn hundreds of your own kind to hunger?"
"My own kind?" Bramblethorn snarled back. "The Shire folk have not been my kind for more than four years, not since they cast me out of their midst and forced me to live here!" He punctuated the statement by giving Frodo a hard shake. Bramblethorn looked into the fiery gaze that was boring into him. "And they will not hunger, will they, Frodo? No, they will not hunger, for they have Frodo Baggins and Meriadoc Brandybuck to save them!"
"You knew that if the harvest failed badly enough the folk of Buckland would be forced to seek outside the Shire for enough grain to last the winter," Frodo said coldly. "And you knew they would come to Bree."
"Where else would they have gone?" Bramblethorn said with a laugh. "As I told your cousin and gardener upon the night of your arrival here, I was indeed aware of your errand. Even if Brandybuck had come alone, he would have been directed to me if he wanted to purchase any grain." Bramblethorn brought his face close to Frodo's, leering. "But he didn't come alone, did he, beloved? He brought you. He brought you to me."
"No! He didn't bring me to you!" Frodo protested angrily. "He would have forbidden me to accompany him if he had know you were here, waiting to cause me more misery."
"Is that what I have done, dear Frodo? Have I indeed caused you naught but misery?" Bramblethorn slapped Frodo again. "I could give you pleasure, but you refuse me."
Frodo struggled to rise from the chair. "I shall refuse you with my last breath, if it comes to that."
"Will you now?" Bramblethorn affected a thoughtful tone. "ANSON!" Bramblethorn's shout was loud enough to make Frodo wince, and it was answered with startling immediacy by Anson's presence in the doorway.
"What is it, boss?" Anson regarded Bramblethorn curiously.
"Frodo and I have had a little spat, I'm afraid. I'm sorry to say that he will be missing his supper and going to bed early." Bramblethorn looked Anson in the eye. "Please assist him."
Frodo had been aware that he would likely be punished for his outburst. He glared at Bramblethorn in stubborn silence as Anson hauled him back to the bed and bound him again. Bramblethorn had left the room during the process and now returned with another cup of his special brew. He waved Anson out of the room and stood before Frodo with a frown on his face. "Frodo, you have a choice to make. You may take your tea and go to bed without your supper as punishment for your outburst, or you may apologize and be forgiven."
"Apologize? I meant every word!" Frodo stared at him with open hatred.
Bramblethorn sighed. "How unfortunate. You seem to forget, Frodo, while you sleep you will be by my side. If you choose to take your tea and retire, you will be too insensible to resist should I decide I want you again." He smiled as he continued. "But if we put our differences aside and forgive each other, we can still enjoy a nice supper together, and I promise you will sleep safely this night."
"Your promises are seldom kept, if I remember," Frodo said tightly, eyeing the teacup. He was very hungry, having slept through much of the day without eating. His stomach implored him to play Bramblethorn's game just this once. He thought of being drugged and semiconscious in the same bed as Bramblethorn and fear gripped him anew.
"Well, Frodo, what shall it be? Shall we allow the sun to set upon our ire, or shall we kiss and make up?" A gleam of undisguised mischief glittered in Bramblethorn's eyes.
"You expect me to kiss you?" Frodo's voice rose in shock and dismay.
"Unless you prefer the alternative," Bramblethorn said suggestively.
Frodo could not suppress a shiver at the thought of Bramblethorn's arms encircling him, as he lay unconscious and sedated. The thought of giving Bramblethorn a kiss was thoroughly abhorrent, but at least Frodo would be awake and aware of what was going on. "A kiss. That's all?" Frodo asked, his voice sounding strained and laced with suspicion.
"Nothing more do I require of you to restore my good humor." Bramblethorn eyed Frodo hopefully.
Frodo frowned and looked away. "All right, but you must untie me first."
"Of course I must, if you are to have supper with me afterward," Bramblethorn conceded. "But let's have no more aberrant behavior, hmmm? If you attack me again, I shall send you to the cellar, rats or no."
Frodo tried to relax as Bramblethorn released him again. When he was free of his bonds, Bramblethorn pulled him close. "All right, Frodo, my kiss, if you please."
Frodo took a deep breath, leaned forward and gave Bramblethorn a peck on the cheek.
"You call that a kiss?" he said in mild consternation. "Really, Frodo, one would think you were naught but an inexperienced tween. We both know better, do we not?" Bramblethorn whispered the last in a suggestive tone as he traced the line of Frodo's jaw lightly with one finger.
Frodo's stomach tied itself into a nervous knot as Bramblethorn pressed him back against the pillows and their lips met. He closed his eyes and tried to divorce his mind from his body for as long as it took to endure the moment. This time, the kiss lacked the aggressive, demanding quality Frodo had expected. Instead, it was almost gentle, searching, and somehow even reverent. Even so, Frodo was extremely glad when it ended and he disengaged himself from Bramblethorn's embrace.
"Hmmmm, very nice," Bramblethorn purred. "Perhaps I should demonstrate again." Bramblethorn began to reach for Frodo once more.
"Ah, no. That's quite unnecessary," Frodo stammered, pulling away uncomfortably. He fought his revulsion with the thought that he had only consented to such a travesty in order to avoid the possibility of something worse. Bramblethorn winked at him, but made no further move to touch him for the moment.
"Anson will bring our supper to us here this evening," Bramblethorn informed Frodo. "He will not be hovering at your back during the meal, either."
Frodo raised an eyebrow, trying to decide if this was good news or bad. It meant more time alone with Bramblethorn, at any rate. Frodo rose and washed his face at the basin, trying not to dampen the bandage on his hand in the process.
Bramblethorn indicated one of the armchairs near the fireplace, and Frodo sank into it morosely. In a few minutes, Bramblethorn had the fire blazing, casting warmth and light into the room. He turned and seated himself in the chair opposite Frodo and rubbed his jaw appreciatively. "A fair swing you have, Frodo, I must admit," Bramblethorn said calmly. "All the more reason to bind you, I believe."
"If you still seek an apology, seek elsewhere," Frodo advised. "What you've done is unforgivable, and I speak not only of your actions against me personally."
"Have I given you so many reasons to hate me?" Bramblethorn asked, trying to capture Frodo's gaze. "Perhaps I have, in your estimation, but I have also given you warmth and sustenance, and care when you were injured."
"When I was injured by you directly or by your order," Frodo protested, his brows coming together in a frown. "You may keep me warm and give me food and drink, but the fact is that you keep me. The time will come when you must release me back into the company of Sam and Merry."
"Ahh, so we're back to them again, are we?" Bramblethorn said ruefully. "But where are they, Frodo? Should they not be here by now, beating down my door and demanding your release with coin in hand?"
Frodo tried again to reckon the length of his imprisonment. Perhaps enough time had elapsed to allow Merry to receive assistance from Brandy Hall. Then again, perhaps it hadn't. Every hour in captivity seemed like a day in itself, Frodo reasoned. "I know what you're doing," he informed Bramblethorn. "You're trying to set me against them, to make me think they won't come for me." He shook his head. "How little you know of them, if you think they would abandon me to you."
"Time will tell, my dear," Bramblethorn said thoughtfully. "And I have all the time in the world for you."
At that moment there was a light knock on the door, and at Bramblethorn's acknowledgement, Anson entered the room bearing a tray of food, which he placed on the table nearby. Monto followed with another upon which stood a bottle of wine and two glasses. Bramblethorn thanked them and sent them from the room. "Let us dine together, Frodo," Bramblethorn suggested. "And you can tell me of goings on in the Shire."
"I thought you weren't interested in the Shire anymore, unless you wish to know the extent of the damage you caused." Frodo eyed Bramblethorn accusingly. "How did you come by such a thing?"
"I assume you mean the vine with the red pods," Bramblethorn answered as he poured two glasses of wine. Frodo accepted his glass gingerly, affected by the absurdity of drinking wine by the fire when only minutes before he had been bound and facing punishment for his outburst.
"Yes," Frodo answered steadily. "What is it, and how did you know of its existence?"
"It was discovered ravaging the fields of one of my grain suppliers. I confess I succumbed to the unquenchable urge to see the Bucklanders suffer the consequences of its presence in their lands," he said with a slight smile. "Perhaps it was their exuberance in hurling produce at me as I was marched through Buckland to the borders."
"And that alone would cause you to consider starving them as an option?" Frodo shot back. "All this could have been prevented by - "
"By your mere acceptance of me so long ago," Bramblethorn finished for him. "Had you but given me a chance, things would be very different today."
"So we come back to that point, then." Frodo drank his wine as he tried to formulate an appropriate reply. "If I had laid aside the fact that I held no love for you, I alone might have prevented these events?"
"Perhaps," Bramblethorn said with a nod.
"If I had meekly allowed you to take me by force off the path by the Green Dragon, it would not have been the end of things," Frodo informed him. "You would never have let me be. You would have stalked me night and day, and no better would have come of it than what has come of events as they were."
"But why should I have needed to force you, Frodo?" Bramblethorn said in a frustrated tone. "Think on it if you will. When I was resident in Hobbiton, was I not a hobbit of some means and distinction? Was I not well - spoken or handsome enough for you? Pray, tell me, what was it that caused you to overlook me in favor of another?"
Frodo sipped his wine again as he considered the question. His stomach was empty and the wine settled warmly, relaxing him. "It wasn't a matter of overlooking you, really," he replied slowly. "It was more a matter of seeing only another to the exclusion of all else. I cannot explain it further."
"Blinded by sunlight in a garden, you saw naught but he who tended it," Bramblethorn answered. "I could not awaken you with glances or poetic words spoken upon our few meetings. There was never any chance."
"There was never any choice," Frodo informed him. "The heart chooses whom it may, Bramblethorn, and the mind and soul can but follow."
Bramblethorn speared Frodo with a look. "And my heart had the misfortune to choose one who heeded it not."
Frodo gazed back and whispered, "Without love - "
"There is more than love, my dear. If not love, there is at least pleasure." Bramblethorn sipped his wine. "Do not presume to tell me that you have never lain with one you did not love when the need has taken you."
Frodo fought the blush that warmed his face. "Tweens will act upon the will of nature without heed to aught else." A brief memory of too much ale, too much music, and a darkened hayloft flashed into Frodo's mind. The folly of youth could hardly be compared with the more careful consideration that set in by the time one came of age.
"And there they have the advantage over us," Bramblethorn conceded. "We worry ourselves so with talk of love and commitment, rather than daring to lose ourselves in moments of joyous abandon. Have you not pondered this, dear Frodo?"
Frodo's blush deepened and he wished for a moment that he had opted to accept the sedative and blissful oblivion. "I - I don't think I wish to discuss the subject any further."
Bramblethorn raised his glass in salute and drained it. He had hit a mark, he knew. Frodo had not refused his kiss altogether, he recalled. He could show Frodo that love wasn't necessary between two people who sought each other's touch. Perhaps, if that touch was all that stood between Frodo and complete isolation, love could follow in its searing wake.
They finished their meal in silence, and Frodo sat looking at Bramblethorn uneasily.
Bramblethorn pulled two nightshirts from the armoire and held one out to Frodo. Frodo looked at it as if it were a poisonous snake that was ready to strike at him.
"You might as well make yourself comfortable," Bramblethorn suggested.
Frodo glared at him. "I will sleep fully dressed, thank you very much."
"Suit yourself, Frodo, but as you know, that would be little deterrent should I be in the mood." Bramblethorn began to unbutton his own shirt, and Frodo turned away and stared at the wall. In a few moments, hands on his shoulders guided him toward the bed. "As per our agreement, Frodo, I am going to bind you again. I won't have you leaping up and sneaking away as I sleep."
"Then lock me up again," Frodo said sharply. He waved a hand in the direction of his former room. "I don't care about the damage to the room. I'll sleep on the floor."
"It's too late for that, Frodo. Anson has already taken the lock from the door of your old room and installed it on my door," Bramblethorn reminded him. "There's no need for him to lock us both in, nor should he presume to lock me in my own room for any reason. The consequences would be dire, I assure you. If we are both here and I am awake, there is little need for further precautions. However," Bramblethorn said as he readied the strips of cloth again, "I do not intend to forego my rest."
Frodo tensed noticeably as Bramblethorn reached for his wrist. The grip on it tightened in warning, and Frodo looked away. Every time he fought he was beaten, and he was injured enough as it was. Bramblethorn bound Frodo again and covered him with a blanket afterward. Thinking again of Frodo's fully clothed state, he said ruefully, "You would be more comfortable if - "
"No." Frodo repeated his refusal to accept the nightshirt.
"Suit yourself, my love," Bramblethorn conceded, giving Frodo a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good night, my love. I shall see you in my dreams."
And I shall see you in mine, Frodo thought. Nightmares all, but I shall undoubtedly dream of you.
Frodo inhaled sharply as Bramblethorn settled himself on the bed and pressed his body up against Frodo's back. "Just a cuddle, my love," Bramblethorn assured him. "It wouldn't do for you to be cold, would it? I shall keep you warm, my dear."
Frodo didn't answer. He was too busy trying to calm himself and to think of someone else besides Bramblethorn hugging him close. He remembered how distraught he had been after being rescued from Bywater, and how Sam had held him in similar fashion when nightmares had awakened him. Frodo was glad his back was to Bramblethorn at the moment. The tears that slid silently down his face went unnoticed by any other.
~*~
"You had better use the saddle, Mr. Merry," Sam said as he and Merry exchanged mounts. "If you won't take proper rest, you'll fall off your pony otherwise."
Merry gratefully grasped the reins as he allowed Sam to help him climb up onto the pony's back. "Thank you, Sam. I promise we'll rest soon. Even if we pause for a little while, we shall reach Buckland late on the morrow and tell our tale." Merry both dreaded the moment and longed for it. It would be terrible having to relate the events to his father, but at least it would be a step on the way to recovering Frodo.
"I hate to admit it, Mr. Merry, but I think you might be right about your message not making it to Buckland," Sam said as he checked the straps that held the saddle in place. They had met no one from Buckland on the road as they had traveled. If Merry's message had reached its destination, they would have run into someone by now. "He knew we would have to send for help," Sam said, referring to Bramblethorn. "He did it just to keep Mr. Frodo as long as he can." Tears rose in Sam's eyes anew as he remembered Frodo as he had last seen him, bound and frightened in the grip of Bramblethorn's goons.
"Well he had better get it into his head that he can't keep Frodo forever. Perhaps a few more days, Sam," Merry said, considering. "Just long enough for us to make it back with the payment he demands. Then he will have to give Frodo back to us." There was as much hope as determination in Merry's voice, as if he were trying to convince himself that Bramblethorn would indeed release Frodo when the time came.
Sam found himself wondering if they should not have sought help in Bree despite Bramblethorn's threats. Surely there were good folk there who would not allow such goings on in their village. But even if they had found someone who was willing to help, what could they do? Storm Breehill and hope they could dispatch Bramblethorn before he could make good his threat to harm Frodo?
"I don't know," he muttered to himself.
"What, Sam?" Merry prodded, having heard Sam's comment.
"I just don't know what to do, Mr. Merry," Sam said, his voice close to breaking. "I was thinkin' maybe we should have asked for help in Bree, but I can't forget Mr. Frodo standin' there with that knife at his throat."
"I've wondered the same thing," Merry confessed sadly. "But this is our trouble, Sam, no one else's. If we asked any of the Big Folk to help us, Bramblethorn would find out and Eru only knows what he would do as a result. As I see it, the safest thing for Frodo is for us to go through with paying the ransom."
"What if he refuses to let Mr. Frodo go?" Sam asked, looking at Merry expectantly.
"Then I shall kill him myself," Merry vowed.
Sam was certain that the somewhat wild look in Merry's eyes was not solely the result of a clout on the head.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
Endymion2 - I've actually allowed Bramblethorn to be something more than just a big nasty in this fic, but old habits die hard, you know. He's still our beloved Bramby, through and through. The innkeeper is reluctant to get involved, but sometimes a person ends up involved whether he plans to be or not!
Breon Briarwood - There will be help on the way for Frodo, but it takes a little time to get from Buckland to Bree. Once Sam and Merry get there and the story comes out, you can bet an expedition will be mounted immediately. But in the meantime (cringe) Frodo is still in a precarious situation. I know it's hard to take, but I have to tell the events as they happen. Just wouldn't keep things smooth if I jump right to a rescue now!
Trust No One - Frodo's not feeling much of anything like confidence right now, but he's trying to bear up and just get on until help comes. The innkeeper - and others - will indeed have a part to play.
GamgeeFest - There is a bit of breaking down going on with both sides right now. The innkeeper will become instrumental, and Sam and Merry will reach Buckland soon. Merry's under the expert care of Sam, so he's going to be just fine.
Stephanie - Just when it seems to be getting a little better for Frodo, psychotic Bramblethorn always snaps and does something nasty. Reactions at Brandy Hall will be seen soon. Monto is just a pig. Naturally he hates Frodo, since Frodo is everything he's not!
Elbereth - There's a lot of us who feel like hugging Frodo right now. Sam and Merry will be reaching Buckland soon and spilling the beans about Bramblethorn and his nefarious plans.
Shelbyshire - Rats in the cellar, rats in the tower of Cirith Ungol. Anyplace nasty is a perfect place for rats, eh? I haven't tried my hand at writing a Cirith Ungol fic yet, but you never know. Merry and Sam are getting closer to Buckland all the while, and they'll soon be on their way back to help Frodo.
Iorhael - Bramblethorn will attempt to let Frodo know who is in charge any way he can, up to and including leaving him in that nasty cellar. He's not there anymore, though. He's nice and comfy in Bramblethorn's room. Yikes! Don't worry, Frodo isn't broken yet. He's just suffering the depression that's following Bramblethorn's attack. That one incident has made everything else seem just a little more hopeless than before. In this chapter, though he will get angry enough to forget about consequences for a moment.
Hobbitfeet13 - The innkeeper's concerns will be growing, in part due to a conversation with a friend. More on that later, I promise! Thank you for your kind praise regarding my writing! It's funny how I'll read something someone else has written and think, wow! What a marvelous writing style this person has. I wish I could write like that. I tend to forget that maybe I have my own sort of style too.
FrodoBaggins1982 - I don't mind a good long windy review, especially if it's full of good questions that make me think about my own story from the 'outside'. There will be another of those conversations between Bramblethorn and Frodo in this chapter as Frodo learns something that gets his dander up. Bramblethorn's manipulations will be in full effect here too, as he uses more of those 'choices' he likes to give Frodo.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 16 - Misdeeds
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Anson pulled some small tools out of a pouch and began to fasten the external lock onto the door as Bramblethorn had requested. He had simply removed it from the door of Frodo's previous quarters, as it wouldn't really be needed there anymore. Monto came wandering up the hallway, cursing under his breath.
"What's got you so sour?" Anson asked him while he worked.
"It's all this fuss and nonsense," Monto said, gesturing to the door and the one who lay sleeping beyond it. "I don't know about you, but I've got more than I bargained for this time around."
"Aww, you're just sore because you had to go get them rats outta the cellar," Anson said with a smirk.
"You bet I am!" Monto replied rather vehemently. "And I'm getting tired of makin' sure the boss' pet stays on his leash." Monto threw a vicious glance at the door as he continued. "It was supposed to be an easy job, Anse. Throw a few seeds in some Shire fields and collect our pay. But no, we gotta nab that pretty boy there and make sure he stays put. It's more than my job's worth, I'm tellin' ya!"
"Aww, put a cork in it, Monto," Anson advised. "You're makin' a living, aren't ya? What's a few more days of this in comparison to a share of that ransom money?"
Mention of financial compensation quelled any further complaining for the time being. Within a few moments Anson had completed the work on the lock and the two left to tend to other tasks.
~*~
As Monto groused in the hallway, the occupant of the room was waking. Frodo's eyes fluttered open and he yawned. He was rather groggy from sleep, but he could make out voices beyond the door. His eyes fell closed again and he listened.
'...makin' sure the boss' pet stays on his leash...'
Frodo's face flushed as he heard those words. Bramblethorn's pet, indeed!
'...throw a few seeds in some Shire fields and collect our pay...'
Seeds. Fields. Frodo yawned again. Fields. Red seed pods, filled to bursting with a destructive, persistent life form. Fields burning, smoke rising. Throw a few seeds into some Shire fields...
Frodo's eyes suddenly popped open as his brain assimilated the information. An awful picture began to come into all too clear focus. He, Sam and Merry had been puzzled as to how those weeds could have made their way into Buckland's grain fields. If they had been borne by the wind, they would have been found across a much larger area. If they had been brought into the Shire clinging to the feet of beasts or travelers, again, they would have been found in more than merely eight fields in Buckland. Frodo remembered that there had been no sign of the weeds in flowerbeds or the green of Brandy Hall's courtyard.
The damage to the fields had been done deliberately, and the one who had ordered it soon came through the door in person. Rushford Bramblethorn. Seething inwardly, Frodo feigned sleep.
"Are you rested now, Frodo love?" Bramblethorn asked.
"Hmmmm. What?" Frodo asked, attempting to appear groggy.
Bramblethorn reached to untie the strip of cloth that tethered Frodo's bound hands to the bedpost. "We can't have you sleeping right through supper, can we?"
Untie me. Let me get my hands free and I'll pay you back for all that you've done, Frodo thought as he watched through one slitted eye as Bramblethorn loosened the knots.
Bramblethorn loosed Frodo from the bedpost and untied his hands, unaware of what awaited him. "Time to wash up, dear."
Frodo sat up slowly, his eyes blazing and his shoulders tensing. Bramblethorn looked at him oddly, and Frodo snarled and leapt at him.
"You bastard!" Frodo swung his right fist outward and caught Bramblethorn off guard. His still - bandaged left hand he kept close to his side. "It was you! You did it on purpose!"
Bramblethorn staggered backward at once surprised and infuriated. He grabbed Frodo and backhanded him. "Be still, Frodo, or I shall - "
"You had them put those seeds into the fields in Buckland to ruin the crops," Frodo hissed, trying to wriggle free of Bramblethorn's grasp to do more damage to him. Bramblethorn dragged Frodo across the room and shoved him into a chair by the fireplace.
Bramblethorn's sneer faded into a bemused half smile as he glared down at Frodo. "Ahhh. So you know, do you?" he asked, leaning down to pin Frodo's forearms to the arms of the chair. "I was hoping to keep that one bit of information from you for the time being, my dear. Even lovers must have their secrets."
"We're not lovers!" Frodo growled. "How could you do it? How could you condemn hundreds of your own kind to hunger?"
"My own kind?" Bramblethorn snarled back. "The Shire folk have not been my kind for more than four years, not since they cast me out of their midst and forced me to live here!" He punctuated the statement by giving Frodo a hard shake. Bramblethorn looked into the fiery gaze that was boring into him. "And they will not hunger, will they, Frodo? No, they will not hunger, for they have Frodo Baggins and Meriadoc Brandybuck to save them!"
"You knew that if the harvest failed badly enough the folk of Buckland would be forced to seek outside the Shire for enough grain to last the winter," Frodo said coldly. "And you knew they would come to Bree."
"Where else would they have gone?" Bramblethorn said with a laugh. "As I told your cousin and gardener upon the night of your arrival here, I was indeed aware of your errand. Even if Brandybuck had come alone, he would have been directed to me if he wanted to purchase any grain." Bramblethorn brought his face close to Frodo's, leering. "But he didn't come alone, did he, beloved? He brought you. He brought you to me."
"No! He didn't bring me to you!" Frodo protested angrily. "He would have forbidden me to accompany him if he had know you were here, waiting to cause me more misery."
"Is that what I have done, dear Frodo? Have I indeed caused you naught but misery?" Bramblethorn slapped Frodo again. "I could give you pleasure, but you refuse me."
Frodo struggled to rise from the chair. "I shall refuse you with my last breath, if it comes to that."
"Will you now?" Bramblethorn affected a thoughtful tone. "ANSON!" Bramblethorn's shout was loud enough to make Frodo wince, and it was answered with startling immediacy by Anson's presence in the doorway.
"What is it, boss?" Anson regarded Bramblethorn curiously.
"Frodo and I have had a little spat, I'm afraid. I'm sorry to say that he will be missing his supper and going to bed early." Bramblethorn looked Anson in the eye. "Please assist him."
Frodo had been aware that he would likely be punished for his outburst. He glared at Bramblethorn in stubborn silence as Anson hauled him back to the bed and bound him again. Bramblethorn had left the room during the process and now returned with another cup of his special brew. He waved Anson out of the room and stood before Frodo with a frown on his face. "Frodo, you have a choice to make. You may take your tea and go to bed without your supper as punishment for your outburst, or you may apologize and be forgiven."
"Apologize? I meant every word!" Frodo stared at him with open hatred.
Bramblethorn sighed. "How unfortunate. You seem to forget, Frodo, while you sleep you will be by my side. If you choose to take your tea and retire, you will be too insensible to resist should I decide I want you again." He smiled as he continued. "But if we put our differences aside and forgive each other, we can still enjoy a nice supper together, and I promise you will sleep safely this night."
"Your promises are seldom kept, if I remember," Frodo said tightly, eyeing the teacup. He was very hungry, having slept through much of the day without eating. His stomach implored him to play Bramblethorn's game just this once. He thought of being drugged and semiconscious in the same bed as Bramblethorn and fear gripped him anew.
"Well, Frodo, what shall it be? Shall we allow the sun to set upon our ire, or shall we kiss and make up?" A gleam of undisguised mischief glittered in Bramblethorn's eyes.
"You expect me to kiss you?" Frodo's voice rose in shock and dismay.
"Unless you prefer the alternative," Bramblethorn said suggestively.
Frodo could not suppress a shiver at the thought of Bramblethorn's arms encircling him, as he lay unconscious and sedated. The thought of giving Bramblethorn a kiss was thoroughly abhorrent, but at least Frodo would be awake and aware of what was going on. "A kiss. That's all?" Frodo asked, his voice sounding strained and laced with suspicion.
"Nothing more do I require of you to restore my good humor." Bramblethorn eyed Frodo hopefully.
Frodo frowned and looked away. "All right, but you must untie me first."
"Of course I must, if you are to have supper with me afterward," Bramblethorn conceded. "But let's have no more aberrant behavior, hmmm? If you attack me again, I shall send you to the cellar, rats or no."
Frodo tried to relax as Bramblethorn released him again. When he was free of his bonds, Bramblethorn pulled him close. "All right, Frodo, my kiss, if you please."
Frodo took a deep breath, leaned forward and gave Bramblethorn a peck on the cheek.
"You call that a kiss?" he said in mild consternation. "Really, Frodo, one would think you were naught but an inexperienced tween. We both know better, do we not?" Bramblethorn whispered the last in a suggestive tone as he traced the line of Frodo's jaw lightly with one finger.
Frodo's stomach tied itself into a nervous knot as Bramblethorn pressed him back against the pillows and their lips met. He closed his eyes and tried to divorce his mind from his body for as long as it took to endure the moment. This time, the kiss lacked the aggressive, demanding quality Frodo had expected. Instead, it was almost gentle, searching, and somehow even reverent. Even so, Frodo was extremely glad when it ended and he disengaged himself from Bramblethorn's embrace.
"Hmmmm, very nice," Bramblethorn purred. "Perhaps I should demonstrate again." Bramblethorn began to reach for Frodo once more.
"Ah, no. That's quite unnecessary," Frodo stammered, pulling away uncomfortably. He fought his revulsion with the thought that he had only consented to such a travesty in order to avoid the possibility of something worse. Bramblethorn winked at him, but made no further move to touch him for the moment.
"Anson will bring our supper to us here this evening," Bramblethorn informed Frodo. "He will not be hovering at your back during the meal, either."
Frodo raised an eyebrow, trying to decide if this was good news or bad. It meant more time alone with Bramblethorn, at any rate. Frodo rose and washed his face at the basin, trying not to dampen the bandage on his hand in the process.
Bramblethorn indicated one of the armchairs near the fireplace, and Frodo sank into it morosely. In a few minutes, Bramblethorn had the fire blazing, casting warmth and light into the room. He turned and seated himself in the chair opposite Frodo and rubbed his jaw appreciatively. "A fair swing you have, Frodo, I must admit," Bramblethorn said calmly. "All the more reason to bind you, I believe."
"If you still seek an apology, seek elsewhere," Frodo advised. "What you've done is unforgivable, and I speak not only of your actions against me personally."
"Have I given you so many reasons to hate me?" Bramblethorn asked, trying to capture Frodo's gaze. "Perhaps I have, in your estimation, but I have also given you warmth and sustenance, and care when you were injured."
"When I was injured by you directly or by your order," Frodo protested, his brows coming together in a frown. "You may keep me warm and give me food and drink, but the fact is that you keep me. The time will come when you must release me back into the company of Sam and Merry."
"Ahh, so we're back to them again, are we?" Bramblethorn said ruefully. "But where are they, Frodo? Should they not be here by now, beating down my door and demanding your release with coin in hand?"
Frodo tried again to reckon the length of his imprisonment. Perhaps enough time had elapsed to allow Merry to receive assistance from Brandy Hall. Then again, perhaps it hadn't. Every hour in captivity seemed like a day in itself, Frodo reasoned. "I know what you're doing," he informed Bramblethorn. "You're trying to set me against them, to make me think they won't come for me." He shook his head. "How little you know of them, if you think they would abandon me to you."
"Time will tell, my dear," Bramblethorn said thoughtfully. "And I have all the time in the world for you."
At that moment there was a light knock on the door, and at Bramblethorn's acknowledgement, Anson entered the room bearing a tray of food, which he placed on the table nearby. Monto followed with another upon which stood a bottle of wine and two glasses. Bramblethorn thanked them and sent them from the room. "Let us dine together, Frodo," Bramblethorn suggested. "And you can tell me of goings on in the Shire."
"I thought you weren't interested in the Shire anymore, unless you wish to know the extent of the damage you caused." Frodo eyed Bramblethorn accusingly. "How did you come by such a thing?"
"I assume you mean the vine with the red pods," Bramblethorn answered as he poured two glasses of wine. Frodo accepted his glass gingerly, affected by the absurdity of drinking wine by the fire when only minutes before he had been bound and facing punishment for his outburst.
"Yes," Frodo answered steadily. "What is it, and how did you know of its existence?"
"It was discovered ravaging the fields of one of my grain suppliers. I confess I succumbed to the unquenchable urge to see the Bucklanders suffer the consequences of its presence in their lands," he said with a slight smile. "Perhaps it was their exuberance in hurling produce at me as I was marched through Buckland to the borders."
"And that alone would cause you to consider starving them as an option?" Frodo shot back. "All this could have been prevented by - "
"By your mere acceptance of me so long ago," Bramblethorn finished for him. "Had you but given me a chance, things would be very different today."
"So we come back to that point, then." Frodo drank his wine as he tried to formulate an appropriate reply. "If I had laid aside the fact that I held no love for you, I alone might have prevented these events?"
"Perhaps," Bramblethorn said with a nod.
"If I had meekly allowed you to take me by force off the path by the Green Dragon, it would not have been the end of things," Frodo informed him. "You would never have let me be. You would have stalked me night and day, and no better would have come of it than what has come of events as they were."
"But why should I have needed to force you, Frodo?" Bramblethorn said in a frustrated tone. "Think on it if you will. When I was resident in Hobbiton, was I not a hobbit of some means and distinction? Was I not well - spoken or handsome enough for you? Pray, tell me, what was it that caused you to overlook me in favor of another?"
Frodo sipped his wine again as he considered the question. His stomach was empty and the wine settled warmly, relaxing him. "It wasn't a matter of overlooking you, really," he replied slowly. "It was more a matter of seeing only another to the exclusion of all else. I cannot explain it further."
"Blinded by sunlight in a garden, you saw naught but he who tended it," Bramblethorn answered. "I could not awaken you with glances or poetic words spoken upon our few meetings. There was never any chance."
"There was never any choice," Frodo informed him. "The heart chooses whom it may, Bramblethorn, and the mind and soul can but follow."
Bramblethorn speared Frodo with a look. "And my heart had the misfortune to choose one who heeded it not."
Frodo gazed back and whispered, "Without love - "
"There is more than love, my dear. If not love, there is at least pleasure." Bramblethorn sipped his wine. "Do not presume to tell me that you have never lain with one you did not love when the need has taken you."
Frodo fought the blush that warmed his face. "Tweens will act upon the will of nature without heed to aught else." A brief memory of too much ale, too much music, and a darkened hayloft flashed into Frodo's mind. The folly of youth could hardly be compared with the more careful consideration that set in by the time one came of age.
"And there they have the advantage over us," Bramblethorn conceded. "We worry ourselves so with talk of love and commitment, rather than daring to lose ourselves in moments of joyous abandon. Have you not pondered this, dear Frodo?"
Frodo's blush deepened and he wished for a moment that he had opted to accept the sedative and blissful oblivion. "I - I don't think I wish to discuss the subject any further."
Bramblethorn raised his glass in salute and drained it. He had hit a mark, he knew. Frodo had not refused his kiss altogether, he recalled. He could show Frodo that love wasn't necessary between two people who sought each other's touch. Perhaps, if that touch was all that stood between Frodo and complete isolation, love could follow in its searing wake.
They finished their meal in silence, and Frodo sat looking at Bramblethorn uneasily.
Bramblethorn pulled two nightshirts from the armoire and held one out to Frodo. Frodo looked at it as if it were a poisonous snake that was ready to strike at him.
"You might as well make yourself comfortable," Bramblethorn suggested.
Frodo glared at him. "I will sleep fully dressed, thank you very much."
"Suit yourself, Frodo, but as you know, that would be little deterrent should I be in the mood." Bramblethorn began to unbutton his own shirt, and Frodo turned away and stared at the wall. In a few moments, hands on his shoulders guided him toward the bed. "As per our agreement, Frodo, I am going to bind you again. I won't have you leaping up and sneaking away as I sleep."
"Then lock me up again," Frodo said sharply. He waved a hand in the direction of his former room. "I don't care about the damage to the room. I'll sleep on the floor."
"It's too late for that, Frodo. Anson has already taken the lock from the door of your old room and installed it on my door," Bramblethorn reminded him. "There's no need for him to lock us both in, nor should he presume to lock me in my own room for any reason. The consequences would be dire, I assure you. If we are both here and I am awake, there is little need for further precautions. However," Bramblethorn said as he readied the strips of cloth again, "I do not intend to forego my rest."
Frodo tensed noticeably as Bramblethorn reached for his wrist. The grip on it tightened in warning, and Frodo looked away. Every time he fought he was beaten, and he was injured enough as it was. Bramblethorn bound Frodo again and covered him with a blanket afterward. Thinking again of Frodo's fully clothed state, he said ruefully, "You would be more comfortable if - "
"No." Frodo repeated his refusal to accept the nightshirt.
"Suit yourself, my love," Bramblethorn conceded, giving Frodo a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good night, my love. I shall see you in my dreams."
And I shall see you in mine, Frodo thought. Nightmares all, but I shall undoubtedly dream of you.
Frodo inhaled sharply as Bramblethorn settled himself on the bed and pressed his body up against Frodo's back. "Just a cuddle, my love," Bramblethorn assured him. "It wouldn't do for you to be cold, would it? I shall keep you warm, my dear."
Frodo didn't answer. He was too busy trying to calm himself and to think of someone else besides Bramblethorn hugging him close. He remembered how distraught he had been after being rescued from Bywater, and how Sam had held him in similar fashion when nightmares had awakened him. Frodo was glad his back was to Bramblethorn at the moment. The tears that slid silently down his face went unnoticed by any other.
~*~
"You had better use the saddle, Mr. Merry," Sam said as he and Merry exchanged mounts. "If you won't take proper rest, you'll fall off your pony otherwise."
Merry gratefully grasped the reins as he allowed Sam to help him climb up onto the pony's back. "Thank you, Sam. I promise we'll rest soon. Even if we pause for a little while, we shall reach Buckland late on the morrow and tell our tale." Merry both dreaded the moment and longed for it. It would be terrible having to relate the events to his father, but at least it would be a step on the way to recovering Frodo.
"I hate to admit it, Mr. Merry, but I think you might be right about your message not making it to Buckland," Sam said as he checked the straps that held the saddle in place. They had met no one from Buckland on the road as they had traveled. If Merry's message had reached its destination, they would have run into someone by now. "He knew we would have to send for help," Sam said, referring to Bramblethorn. "He did it just to keep Mr. Frodo as long as he can." Tears rose in Sam's eyes anew as he remembered Frodo as he had last seen him, bound and frightened in the grip of Bramblethorn's goons.
"Well he had better get it into his head that he can't keep Frodo forever. Perhaps a few more days, Sam," Merry said, considering. "Just long enough for us to make it back with the payment he demands. Then he will have to give Frodo back to us." There was as much hope as determination in Merry's voice, as if he were trying to convince himself that Bramblethorn would indeed release Frodo when the time came.
Sam found himself wondering if they should not have sought help in Bree despite Bramblethorn's threats. Surely there were good folk there who would not allow such goings on in their village. But even if they had found someone who was willing to help, what could they do? Storm Breehill and hope they could dispatch Bramblethorn before he could make good his threat to harm Frodo?
"I don't know," he muttered to himself.
"What, Sam?" Merry prodded, having heard Sam's comment.
"I just don't know what to do, Mr. Merry," Sam said, his voice close to breaking. "I was thinkin' maybe we should have asked for help in Bree, but I can't forget Mr. Frodo standin' there with that knife at his throat."
"I've wondered the same thing," Merry confessed sadly. "But this is our trouble, Sam, no one else's. If we asked any of the Big Folk to help us, Bramblethorn would find out and Eru only knows what he would do as a result. As I see it, the safest thing for Frodo is for us to go through with paying the ransom."
"What if he refuses to let Mr. Frodo go?" Sam asked, looking at Merry expectantly.
"Then I shall kill him myself," Merry vowed.
Sam was certain that the somewhat wild look in Merry's eyes was not solely the result of a clout on the head.
~*~ To be continued ~*~