Trust No One - Bramby's mind is a scary place, isn't it? Whether Frodo fights him or not, Frodo will never be willing. Bramblethorn simply refuses to accept that fact.
Stephanie - At this point, Bramblethorn isn't entirely sure what his plan is regarding Frodo either. The more he thinks about giving him up, the more averse he is to the idea. I think the reason you're anticipating the reaction to the blood letter is the angst it will provoke. We all love the angst!
Wilwarin - Thanks for your kind comments! In a way, I think Sam does feel better about going to Buckland even though it means leaving Frodo in the most literal sense so far. Neither Merry nor Sam would mourn if Bramblethorn were no more.
Spootasia Tomoe - Frodo's honest expression of his pain was all that saved him. Bramblethorn has just enough affection for him that he decided he had taken things far enough for the moment. Help is coming!
Breon Briarwood - That hidden reserve of Baggins stubbornness and strength is still there, even if Frodo himself seems not to know it.
Hobbitfeet13 - You're right about Bramblethorn. He does understand what he's doing to Frodo, but he expects it to be a temporary thing. He expects that if he manages to break through Frodo's refusal of him that Frodo will eventually accept him. I had to add some comic relief in the last chapter. I think I needed it too, after all the angst. Merry is plotting something, but it remains to be seen whether his plans will come to fruition.
Sam - Pippin will show up in the last chapters, I promise. After putting up with all that business with his cousin's wedding in Tuckborough, he'll be ready to get out of there for a few days. What better way than a visit to Buckland?
Aelfgifu - Bramblethorn has his moments, doesn't he? Still no bath scene, I know. He can dream about it, can't he?
Anarie - It will be good to see Frodo safe in Sam's embrace again when all this is over. The race against time has begun, and who knows? Perhaps Bramblethorn will have one last go at Frodo before saying farewell.
Endymion2 - The last chapter was somewhat unagressive on Frodo's part, but just wait!
GamgeeFest - That's Bramblethorn's tragedy. He can't have it both ways. He can either have a Frodo who is so broken that he doesn't fight anymore, or he can see the 'spark' he was drawn to in the first place, but only from afar. It is a good thing Bramby is unique as hobbits go!
Aratlithiel1 - It sure will take more than Bramblethorn to dim the light that is Frodo's spirit. Bramblethorn may think he knows his quarry, but there's a lot more to Frodo than meets the eye!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 20 - The Predator and the Prey
The ponies munched happily on the hay that Sam had given them while the aroma of a late breakfast drew the hungry hobbits to the small fire Sam had built. Bacon sizzled in the pan and the kettle began to whistle.
"If Frodo could ever spare you for a spell, I could use a hobbit like you on my boat," Merimac said appreciatively. "It's hungry work, plying the waters."
Sam's face lost some of its color at the mention of the idea. "Meanin' no offense, sir," Sam said with a shake of his head, "but I don't get very near water deeper than the bath if I have my say."
Merimac laughed and thumped Sam on the back. "Forgive me, Master Samwise. I forget sometimes that not all hobbits like to listen to the song of a swift current or a wave breaking on the shore."
"Merimac, you unredeemable rogue," Saradoc said as he strode up to the fire with Ned and Merry following close behind. "It's bad enough, the trouble Frodo's in without you trying to divest him of his gardener in his absence!"
Merimac looked abashed for the briefest of moments and Merry managed a smile. "Take it as a compliment, Sam," he said. "You're certainly the best cook a hobbit could be blessed to travel with."
"Thank you, Mr. Merry," Sam said glumly. He poked at the potatoes rather absently.
"This Bramblethorn fellow," Merimac began. "Wasn't he the chap who was banished from the Shire a few years back for assaulting Frodo?"
Merry nodded. "The very same."
"Hmmm," Merimac responded, searching his memory for more details. "I don't remember hearing much more about the incident."
"If you spent a fraction of the time in the Shire that you spend out of it," Saradoc said disapprovingly, "your memory might serve you better."
Merimac ignored him and Merry rose to his uncle's defense, if indirectly. "Frodo doesn't talk much about it," he muttered. "It's not surprising that few details have reached you."
"So he was banished, then. The good folk of the Shire kicked him out and he landed in Bree?" Merimac pressed on.
"Yes, Uncle Mac," Merry replied. "Two years afterward, Bramblethorn kidnapped Frodo and tried to force him to recant his testimony so that he could return to the Shire. He held Frodo captive for a week before we found him." Merry's eyes seemed to cloud over with something dark and Sam stabbed a fork rather sharply into one of the potatoes. "Bramblethorn tortured Frodo, Uncle Mac. He starved and beat him, and kept him bound in a dark room. It was terrible."
"And now Frodo has fallen into the scoundrel's clutches again, eh?" Merimac put a hand on Merry's shoulder gently. "And how long has it been since you've seen Frodo?"
Merry tried to reckon the length of Frodo's imprisonment. He and Sam had waited four days for help to arrive from Buckland. When no help came, they had spent several days traveling at a punishing pace. They had barely paused in Buckland, and now had a minimum of two to three days to go before they reached Bree again. "By the time we get back, it will be nigh on a fortnight," Merry admitted.
"It's awful, sir," Sam said sadly. "Bramblethorn has himself a couple of friends to help him do his dirty work an' they had a knife to Mr. Frodo's throat. If we're to keep 'em from harmin' Mr. Frodo, we can't go to anyone in Bree for help. We can't try an' rescue him, neither. They'll hurt him if we do. They said as much."
"So here you are, forced to play this beastly game. Have you any assurances that Frodo is all right?" Merimac hated to ask the question, but he felt they should be prepared for whatever lay ahead.
"No, Uncle. That's the worst part," Merry said as he glared into the fire. "In the past, when Bramblethorn has wanted something, he has had no reservations about hurting Frodo in order to accomplish his ends."
Merimac frowned. "And just what is it that creature wants? He's to have the payment he's demanded, is he not?"
Merry looked apologetically at Sam. This was not a subject he wanted to speak of, but he trusted his uncle to understand. "All this trouble began so long ago because Bramblethorn - " Merry struggled with a tactful way to present the problem. "Because he had a great desire for Frodo."
"Ah. I see," Merimac said with a nod. "And when Frodo did not desire him in return, the scoundrel attempted to force him, didn't he?" It was a fact that a certain amount of mischief went on among curious tween lads, and that some hobbits carried on such behavior even after they had come of age. But this had gone well beyond mere mischief, Merimac knew.
"Bramblethorn is a pompous, controlling, bloody - minded monster," Merry spat angrily. "He cares only for what he wants, never mind how it affects others around him."
"If he still wants to - " Sam stammered. "If he still wants Mr. Frodo, there ain't aught we can do to save him." Sam had never felt so utterly helpless in his life.
Ned had remained silent thus far, but he addressed his companions and gestured toward the wagon. "We had better have ourselves somethin' to eat an' get back on the road, I reckon."
Merry looked at the farmer and nodded sharply. Trust the straight - forward, pragmatic hobbit to bring them all back to the task at hand, he thought. Sam served up breakfast and washed up the pans with water from a small stream nearby, and a rather subdued group of travelers took to the road again, each one lost in his own thoughts.
~*~ Bree ~*~
Bramblethorn sat before the fireplace in his room while Frodo lay asleep on the bed. It was late morning and Frodo slept on, his body still craving sleep after being deprived of it. Bramblethorn brooded as he poked the embers and added another chunk of wood.
He alternated between cursing himself for his hesitation and wondering at the cause of it. The opportunity had been perfect the night before. Frodo had been just weak and confused enough, just hungry enough that Bramblethorn should have been able to control him with the promise of sustenance. Still, at the crucial moment, he had gazed into Frodo's eyes and seen something that stilled his hands and silenced his demands for Frodo's compliance.
He had seen an emptiness where before there had been a spark of spirit. True, Frodo would lie still in Bramblethorn's arms if he were to be broken, providing no resistance to all that was demanded of him, but at what cost? Bramblethorn closed his eyes and pictured himself sitting before the fire with Frodo next to him, not in companionship but in empty silence. He imagined Frodo not seeing him, not hearing him, but simply staring into the fire and yearning for freedom, for escape.
Anger flowed as an undercurrent beneath the confusion. Is it so much to ask, just one night together? Is it truly so terrible a thing to him to feel my touch? I could show him pleasure if only he would let me! Bramblethorn jabbed at the fire again and a voice behind him startled him from his reverie. Frodo.
Frodo had sat up and was looking at the bandage on his right hand where Bramblethorn had drawn the knife across his palm. "You cut me. Why?"
Bramblethorn sighed. "I had reason to believe your cousin and your gardener might be contemplating disregarding certain of my instructions. I needed to remind them that I meant it when I told them to take care."
"And so you hurt me, just to warn them somehow?" Frodo frowned at Bramblethorn's back. "What did you do?"
Bramblethorn spoke sharply as he turned and looked at Frodo over his shoulder. "I wrote to them. I wrote a letter, Frodo. A letter written in your own blood."
Frodo's face drained of all color and he felt faint. "You - you WHAT?" he hissed in disbelief.
Bramblethorn turned to face his prisoner, schooling his features into the unrepentant smirk he always used when he wanted to put Frodo in his place. "You heard me, Frodo. What better warning than such a reminder of your position? If they doubted that your life is in my hands, they know it now."
"You're the most evil creature I've ever encountered," Frodo said angrily. "Isn't it enough that you torment me? Must you torture them as well?"
Bramblethorn's eyes narrowed as he considered the Frodo he saw before him now. Frodo was no longer confused or sleep - deprived, and he was rising defiantly again to face his captor. "What are you prepared to do to keep me from troubling them with such things? Just say the word, Frodo, and I shall spare them additional pain."
"What word, Bramblethorn?" Frodo growled, meeting the other hobbit's gaze.
"Yes." Bramblethorn approached slowly, staring Frodo down as he crossed the room. "You have but to say that simple word to me, and I will not trouble them with things that will make them fear for you."
"They will fear for me regardless," Frodo shot back, rising to stand and face Bramblethorn. "You saw to that the moment you brought me here. You can only change that by releasing me."
"Then I shall not, for I want them to fear!" Bramblethorn lunged forward and grabbed Frodo by the front of his shirt and stood growling into his face. "I want them to wonder in every waking moment whether I am claiming you, whether I am taking what you've withheld from me!"
"Have you forgotten?" Frodo breathed as the stirrings of fear gnawed at his defiant anger. "Do you forget that you already have?" He twisted out of Bramblethorn's grip and backed away.
"Perhaps I wish to be reminded," Bramblethorn answered dangerously. He watched Frodo the way a wildcat would watch a rabbit it was hunting. "If you insist on fighting me, Frodo, then do so. Show me your best effort, if it will be any consolation to you when I've finished."
"Stop this!" Frodo gasped as he barely evaded Bramblethorn's attempt to grasp him again. He was thoroughly frightened now, fighting panic as he recalled seeing the same look in Bramblethorn's eyes only a few short days and nights earlier. Frodo tried to clench his hands into fists and pain shot through them. The rat bite and the wound Bramblethorn had dealt him would render him unable to damage anyone who sought to harm him.
"Come, Frodo, let us lie entangled in the sheets and one another again," Bramblethorn taunted, making another grab for Frodo. "I want to hold you down again and hear you scream."
"No... stay away from me!" Frodo felt his composure beginning to erode rapidly as Bramblethorn advanced. He ducked away again and found his back against the wall beside the hearth. His hand flailed backward and grazed the handle of the poker Bramblethorn had stirred the fire with earlier. Keeping his eyes locked with Bramblethorn's, Frodo wrapped his fingers around the handle of the implement and waited.
"You did scream, Frodo," Bramblethorn informed him. "Don't you remember? You screamed as if it were your first time, although you said it wasn't. Was it, dearest? Have I been wrong about your gardener all this while?"
Beads of sweat formed on Frodo's brow. "You've been wrong about a great many things," he said, his voice quavering and betraying his terror. He wasn't about to discuss the details of his intimate experiences with Bramblethorn, be they what they might. "I cried out because you hurt me!"
"Are you sure it wasn't pleasure that made you raise that lovely voice of yours?" Bramblethorn was moving steadily closer, enjoying the effect his menacing approach was having on Frodo. "It could have been. It can be. Let me show you, Frodo."
"No! Get back!" Frodo brandished the poker. "I shall kill you, I swear it!"
"Could you accomplish it before I could summon Monto and Anson to subdue you?" Bramblethorn took keen pleasure in reminding Frodo that he was hopelessly outnumbered, three to one. "Wound me you might, but kill me? No, Frodo. Your hands are trembling. You've barely the strength to lift your weapon, much less to strike me with it."
Frodo was indeed shaking, he realized. He was gripping the poker with both hands and holding it before him, unable to wield it effectively due to his injuries. There was a ringing in his ears and his vision seemed to be narrowing to block out anything on the periphery. His heart thudded hard in his chest and he wavered on his feet, trying to keep from swooning.
He barely heard the door burst open and he was all but unaware of Monto and Anson's approach. The raised voices of predator and prey had brought them, alerting them to the possibility that something was wrong. Hands closed around his wrists and twisted, and the poker fell uselessly to the floor with a loud metallic clang.
"Ahh, Frodo, you disappoint me." Bramblethorn strode up to Frodo and stood triumphant before him as Monto and Anson held him firmly. "I thought for a moment that you really were going to present a challenge." Without waiting for Frodo to reply, Bramblethorn backhanded him as hard as he could and Frodo sagged between the two burly hobbits who gripped his arms.
Bramblethorn motioned for Anson and Monto to bring Frodo and follow him. They dragged their unconscious burden down the steps and into the cellar. "I want him bound and blindfolded," Bramblethorn instructed. "He's not to see anything but what I allow until he's held writhing before the eyes of his cousin and gardener again." He caressed Frodo's cheek and said, "Farewell for now, love. You shall miss me when you've no one to keep you company."
Bramblethorn left the task to his hired help, and within a few minutes, Frodo again lay bound on the floor of the cellar. Monto sadistically regretted having not left just one single rat lurking in the shadows. The bolt clicked in the lock, causing light and sound to disappear, leaving only the stillness and a battered prisoner who had dared to oppose his captor.
~*~
The innkeeper flipped through the messages that had arrived in the post. He was nearly to the bottom of the stack when he caught sight of the lettering on one of the envelopes. He pulled it from the pile and examined it closely. Another message to his now departed guests had arrived. He tucked it into a pocket and stepped away from the desk to a table in the common room.
"Something of interest?" Darien inquired, looking up at his friend.
"Might be," the innkeeper countered as he produced the message. "Someone seems to think them hobbits are comin' back."
"Then perhaps they are," Darien replied. "Let us keep the message for them and give them a few more days. If they return from where they've gone, we shall confront them."
The innkeeper nodded. All this intrigue was more than his usual share, he thought, but Darien knew what he was doing. The lawman could be as subtle as he was daring, and his instincts were sharp. If there truly was anything to this kidnapping business, the innkeeper felt certain his friend would get to the bottom of it. The affairs of hobbits were usually their own, but the law was the law, and punishment would be meted out accordingly, regardless of the race of the perpetrator.
Darien sat alone and contemplated the room at large as the innkeeper went back to his desk. The hobbits of Bree were among the more law - abiding citizens of the village on general principles. Darien realized that he could not recall a single instance when one of them had been punished for anything more serious than a bit of brawling after too much ale. It remained to be seen if the crimes of the suspected hobbit would warrant any punishment more severe than imprisonment and labor in the service of the people of Bree. The entire story had yet to be told, and he hoped the missing parts would be brought to light in short order.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
Stephanie - At this point, Bramblethorn isn't entirely sure what his plan is regarding Frodo either. The more he thinks about giving him up, the more averse he is to the idea. I think the reason you're anticipating the reaction to the blood letter is the angst it will provoke. We all love the angst!
Wilwarin - Thanks for your kind comments! In a way, I think Sam does feel better about going to Buckland even though it means leaving Frodo in the most literal sense so far. Neither Merry nor Sam would mourn if Bramblethorn were no more.
Spootasia Tomoe - Frodo's honest expression of his pain was all that saved him. Bramblethorn has just enough affection for him that he decided he had taken things far enough for the moment. Help is coming!
Breon Briarwood - That hidden reserve of Baggins stubbornness and strength is still there, even if Frodo himself seems not to know it.
Hobbitfeet13 - You're right about Bramblethorn. He does understand what he's doing to Frodo, but he expects it to be a temporary thing. He expects that if he manages to break through Frodo's refusal of him that Frodo will eventually accept him. I had to add some comic relief in the last chapter. I think I needed it too, after all the angst. Merry is plotting something, but it remains to be seen whether his plans will come to fruition.
Sam - Pippin will show up in the last chapters, I promise. After putting up with all that business with his cousin's wedding in Tuckborough, he'll be ready to get out of there for a few days. What better way than a visit to Buckland?
Aelfgifu - Bramblethorn has his moments, doesn't he? Still no bath scene, I know. He can dream about it, can't he?
Anarie - It will be good to see Frodo safe in Sam's embrace again when all this is over. The race against time has begun, and who knows? Perhaps Bramblethorn will have one last go at Frodo before saying farewell.
Endymion2 - The last chapter was somewhat unagressive on Frodo's part, but just wait!
GamgeeFest - That's Bramblethorn's tragedy. He can't have it both ways. He can either have a Frodo who is so broken that he doesn't fight anymore, or he can see the 'spark' he was drawn to in the first place, but only from afar. It is a good thing Bramby is unique as hobbits go!
Aratlithiel1 - It sure will take more than Bramblethorn to dim the light that is Frodo's spirit. Bramblethorn may think he knows his quarry, but there's a lot more to Frodo than meets the eye!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 20 - The Predator and the Prey
The ponies munched happily on the hay that Sam had given them while the aroma of a late breakfast drew the hungry hobbits to the small fire Sam had built. Bacon sizzled in the pan and the kettle began to whistle.
"If Frodo could ever spare you for a spell, I could use a hobbit like you on my boat," Merimac said appreciatively. "It's hungry work, plying the waters."
Sam's face lost some of its color at the mention of the idea. "Meanin' no offense, sir," Sam said with a shake of his head, "but I don't get very near water deeper than the bath if I have my say."
Merimac laughed and thumped Sam on the back. "Forgive me, Master Samwise. I forget sometimes that not all hobbits like to listen to the song of a swift current or a wave breaking on the shore."
"Merimac, you unredeemable rogue," Saradoc said as he strode up to the fire with Ned and Merry following close behind. "It's bad enough, the trouble Frodo's in without you trying to divest him of his gardener in his absence!"
Merimac looked abashed for the briefest of moments and Merry managed a smile. "Take it as a compliment, Sam," he said. "You're certainly the best cook a hobbit could be blessed to travel with."
"Thank you, Mr. Merry," Sam said glumly. He poked at the potatoes rather absently.
"This Bramblethorn fellow," Merimac began. "Wasn't he the chap who was banished from the Shire a few years back for assaulting Frodo?"
Merry nodded. "The very same."
"Hmmm," Merimac responded, searching his memory for more details. "I don't remember hearing much more about the incident."
"If you spent a fraction of the time in the Shire that you spend out of it," Saradoc said disapprovingly, "your memory might serve you better."
Merimac ignored him and Merry rose to his uncle's defense, if indirectly. "Frodo doesn't talk much about it," he muttered. "It's not surprising that few details have reached you."
"So he was banished, then. The good folk of the Shire kicked him out and he landed in Bree?" Merimac pressed on.
"Yes, Uncle Mac," Merry replied. "Two years afterward, Bramblethorn kidnapped Frodo and tried to force him to recant his testimony so that he could return to the Shire. He held Frodo captive for a week before we found him." Merry's eyes seemed to cloud over with something dark and Sam stabbed a fork rather sharply into one of the potatoes. "Bramblethorn tortured Frodo, Uncle Mac. He starved and beat him, and kept him bound in a dark room. It was terrible."
"And now Frodo has fallen into the scoundrel's clutches again, eh?" Merimac put a hand on Merry's shoulder gently. "And how long has it been since you've seen Frodo?"
Merry tried to reckon the length of Frodo's imprisonment. He and Sam had waited four days for help to arrive from Buckland. When no help came, they had spent several days traveling at a punishing pace. They had barely paused in Buckland, and now had a minimum of two to three days to go before they reached Bree again. "By the time we get back, it will be nigh on a fortnight," Merry admitted.
"It's awful, sir," Sam said sadly. "Bramblethorn has himself a couple of friends to help him do his dirty work an' they had a knife to Mr. Frodo's throat. If we're to keep 'em from harmin' Mr. Frodo, we can't go to anyone in Bree for help. We can't try an' rescue him, neither. They'll hurt him if we do. They said as much."
"So here you are, forced to play this beastly game. Have you any assurances that Frodo is all right?" Merimac hated to ask the question, but he felt they should be prepared for whatever lay ahead.
"No, Uncle. That's the worst part," Merry said as he glared into the fire. "In the past, when Bramblethorn has wanted something, he has had no reservations about hurting Frodo in order to accomplish his ends."
Merimac frowned. "And just what is it that creature wants? He's to have the payment he's demanded, is he not?"
Merry looked apologetically at Sam. This was not a subject he wanted to speak of, but he trusted his uncle to understand. "All this trouble began so long ago because Bramblethorn - " Merry struggled with a tactful way to present the problem. "Because he had a great desire for Frodo."
"Ah. I see," Merimac said with a nod. "And when Frodo did not desire him in return, the scoundrel attempted to force him, didn't he?" It was a fact that a certain amount of mischief went on among curious tween lads, and that some hobbits carried on such behavior even after they had come of age. But this had gone well beyond mere mischief, Merimac knew.
"Bramblethorn is a pompous, controlling, bloody - minded monster," Merry spat angrily. "He cares only for what he wants, never mind how it affects others around him."
"If he still wants to - " Sam stammered. "If he still wants Mr. Frodo, there ain't aught we can do to save him." Sam had never felt so utterly helpless in his life.
Ned had remained silent thus far, but he addressed his companions and gestured toward the wagon. "We had better have ourselves somethin' to eat an' get back on the road, I reckon."
Merry looked at the farmer and nodded sharply. Trust the straight - forward, pragmatic hobbit to bring them all back to the task at hand, he thought. Sam served up breakfast and washed up the pans with water from a small stream nearby, and a rather subdued group of travelers took to the road again, each one lost in his own thoughts.
~*~ Bree ~*~
Bramblethorn sat before the fireplace in his room while Frodo lay asleep on the bed. It was late morning and Frodo slept on, his body still craving sleep after being deprived of it. Bramblethorn brooded as he poked the embers and added another chunk of wood.
He alternated between cursing himself for his hesitation and wondering at the cause of it. The opportunity had been perfect the night before. Frodo had been just weak and confused enough, just hungry enough that Bramblethorn should have been able to control him with the promise of sustenance. Still, at the crucial moment, he had gazed into Frodo's eyes and seen something that stilled his hands and silenced his demands for Frodo's compliance.
He had seen an emptiness where before there had been a spark of spirit. True, Frodo would lie still in Bramblethorn's arms if he were to be broken, providing no resistance to all that was demanded of him, but at what cost? Bramblethorn closed his eyes and pictured himself sitting before the fire with Frodo next to him, not in companionship but in empty silence. He imagined Frodo not seeing him, not hearing him, but simply staring into the fire and yearning for freedom, for escape.
Anger flowed as an undercurrent beneath the confusion. Is it so much to ask, just one night together? Is it truly so terrible a thing to him to feel my touch? I could show him pleasure if only he would let me! Bramblethorn jabbed at the fire again and a voice behind him startled him from his reverie. Frodo.
Frodo had sat up and was looking at the bandage on his right hand where Bramblethorn had drawn the knife across his palm. "You cut me. Why?"
Bramblethorn sighed. "I had reason to believe your cousin and your gardener might be contemplating disregarding certain of my instructions. I needed to remind them that I meant it when I told them to take care."
"And so you hurt me, just to warn them somehow?" Frodo frowned at Bramblethorn's back. "What did you do?"
Bramblethorn spoke sharply as he turned and looked at Frodo over his shoulder. "I wrote to them. I wrote a letter, Frodo. A letter written in your own blood."
Frodo's face drained of all color and he felt faint. "You - you WHAT?" he hissed in disbelief.
Bramblethorn turned to face his prisoner, schooling his features into the unrepentant smirk he always used when he wanted to put Frodo in his place. "You heard me, Frodo. What better warning than such a reminder of your position? If they doubted that your life is in my hands, they know it now."
"You're the most evil creature I've ever encountered," Frodo said angrily. "Isn't it enough that you torment me? Must you torture them as well?"
Bramblethorn's eyes narrowed as he considered the Frodo he saw before him now. Frodo was no longer confused or sleep - deprived, and he was rising defiantly again to face his captor. "What are you prepared to do to keep me from troubling them with such things? Just say the word, Frodo, and I shall spare them additional pain."
"What word, Bramblethorn?" Frodo growled, meeting the other hobbit's gaze.
"Yes." Bramblethorn approached slowly, staring Frodo down as he crossed the room. "You have but to say that simple word to me, and I will not trouble them with things that will make them fear for you."
"They will fear for me regardless," Frodo shot back, rising to stand and face Bramblethorn. "You saw to that the moment you brought me here. You can only change that by releasing me."
"Then I shall not, for I want them to fear!" Bramblethorn lunged forward and grabbed Frodo by the front of his shirt and stood growling into his face. "I want them to wonder in every waking moment whether I am claiming you, whether I am taking what you've withheld from me!"
"Have you forgotten?" Frodo breathed as the stirrings of fear gnawed at his defiant anger. "Do you forget that you already have?" He twisted out of Bramblethorn's grip and backed away.
"Perhaps I wish to be reminded," Bramblethorn answered dangerously. He watched Frodo the way a wildcat would watch a rabbit it was hunting. "If you insist on fighting me, Frodo, then do so. Show me your best effort, if it will be any consolation to you when I've finished."
"Stop this!" Frodo gasped as he barely evaded Bramblethorn's attempt to grasp him again. He was thoroughly frightened now, fighting panic as he recalled seeing the same look in Bramblethorn's eyes only a few short days and nights earlier. Frodo tried to clench his hands into fists and pain shot through them. The rat bite and the wound Bramblethorn had dealt him would render him unable to damage anyone who sought to harm him.
"Come, Frodo, let us lie entangled in the sheets and one another again," Bramblethorn taunted, making another grab for Frodo. "I want to hold you down again and hear you scream."
"No... stay away from me!" Frodo felt his composure beginning to erode rapidly as Bramblethorn advanced. He ducked away again and found his back against the wall beside the hearth. His hand flailed backward and grazed the handle of the poker Bramblethorn had stirred the fire with earlier. Keeping his eyes locked with Bramblethorn's, Frodo wrapped his fingers around the handle of the implement and waited.
"You did scream, Frodo," Bramblethorn informed him. "Don't you remember? You screamed as if it were your first time, although you said it wasn't. Was it, dearest? Have I been wrong about your gardener all this while?"
Beads of sweat formed on Frodo's brow. "You've been wrong about a great many things," he said, his voice quavering and betraying his terror. He wasn't about to discuss the details of his intimate experiences with Bramblethorn, be they what they might. "I cried out because you hurt me!"
"Are you sure it wasn't pleasure that made you raise that lovely voice of yours?" Bramblethorn was moving steadily closer, enjoying the effect his menacing approach was having on Frodo. "It could have been. It can be. Let me show you, Frodo."
"No! Get back!" Frodo brandished the poker. "I shall kill you, I swear it!"
"Could you accomplish it before I could summon Monto and Anson to subdue you?" Bramblethorn took keen pleasure in reminding Frodo that he was hopelessly outnumbered, three to one. "Wound me you might, but kill me? No, Frodo. Your hands are trembling. You've barely the strength to lift your weapon, much less to strike me with it."
Frodo was indeed shaking, he realized. He was gripping the poker with both hands and holding it before him, unable to wield it effectively due to his injuries. There was a ringing in his ears and his vision seemed to be narrowing to block out anything on the periphery. His heart thudded hard in his chest and he wavered on his feet, trying to keep from swooning.
He barely heard the door burst open and he was all but unaware of Monto and Anson's approach. The raised voices of predator and prey had brought them, alerting them to the possibility that something was wrong. Hands closed around his wrists and twisted, and the poker fell uselessly to the floor with a loud metallic clang.
"Ahh, Frodo, you disappoint me." Bramblethorn strode up to Frodo and stood triumphant before him as Monto and Anson held him firmly. "I thought for a moment that you really were going to present a challenge." Without waiting for Frodo to reply, Bramblethorn backhanded him as hard as he could and Frodo sagged between the two burly hobbits who gripped his arms.
Bramblethorn motioned for Anson and Monto to bring Frodo and follow him. They dragged their unconscious burden down the steps and into the cellar. "I want him bound and blindfolded," Bramblethorn instructed. "He's not to see anything but what I allow until he's held writhing before the eyes of his cousin and gardener again." He caressed Frodo's cheek and said, "Farewell for now, love. You shall miss me when you've no one to keep you company."
Bramblethorn left the task to his hired help, and within a few minutes, Frodo again lay bound on the floor of the cellar. Monto sadistically regretted having not left just one single rat lurking in the shadows. The bolt clicked in the lock, causing light and sound to disappear, leaving only the stillness and a battered prisoner who had dared to oppose his captor.
~*~
The innkeeper flipped through the messages that had arrived in the post. He was nearly to the bottom of the stack when he caught sight of the lettering on one of the envelopes. He pulled it from the pile and examined it closely. Another message to his now departed guests had arrived. He tucked it into a pocket and stepped away from the desk to a table in the common room.
"Something of interest?" Darien inquired, looking up at his friend.
"Might be," the innkeeper countered as he produced the message. "Someone seems to think them hobbits are comin' back."
"Then perhaps they are," Darien replied. "Let us keep the message for them and give them a few more days. If they return from where they've gone, we shall confront them."
The innkeeper nodded. All this intrigue was more than his usual share, he thought, but Darien knew what he was doing. The lawman could be as subtle as he was daring, and his instincts were sharp. If there truly was anything to this kidnapping business, the innkeeper felt certain his friend would get to the bottom of it. The affairs of hobbits were usually their own, but the law was the law, and punishment would be meted out accordingly, regardless of the race of the perpetrator.
Darien sat alone and contemplated the room at large as the innkeeper went back to his desk. The hobbits of Bree were among the more law - abiding citizens of the village on general principles. Darien realized that he could not recall a single instance when one of them had been punished for anything more serious than a bit of brawling after too much ale. It remained to be seen if the crimes of the suspected hobbit would warrant any punishment more severe than imprisonment and labor in the service of the people of Bree. The entire story had yet to be told, and he hoped the missing parts would be brought to light in short order.
~*~ To be continued ~*~