Sam - Bramblethorn might have a heart in there somewhere, but it's buried under his possessiveness and massive ego. There will be a reunion in chapters to come, but not quite yet, I'm afraid.
Gothic Hobbit - Damn Bramblethorn indeed! We'll be getting Frodo out of there soon, but there is still angst and danger ahead for a little while.
Spootasia Tomoe - It's a very good thing there are people like Darien in Bree. Bramblethorn is something else, isn't he? It took me a while to sort out his motivations, believe me. The scariest part of writing him is that I have to 'get into his head', and that's quite a place to be.
Shelbyshire - I don't plan to let Frodo be beset by nasty bugs while in the cellar, but he isn't out of danger by a long shot. This story is about 30 chapters long, including the aftermath angst and comfort parts.
GamgeeFest - Frodo has something of a respite while in the cellar, but Bramblethorn will be back, rest assured. Sam and Merry are more in dread than denial regarding what has happened to Frodo. They are certainly hoping that Frodo has managed to fend off his all too ardent admirer, but they are trying to prepare themselves for the worst. The innkeeper, whether he planned on it or not, has managed to get involved for certain.
Breon Briarwood - More? Ok!
Hobbitfeet13 - That's the trouble with the spot Frodo is in. If he doesn't fight, Bramblethorn will have him again, no question. If he does resist, punishment is also a certainty. Hurry, Sam and Merry! Darien will be a part of the action later, absolutely.
Anarie - Bramblethorn, in his wrath, has cast Frodo into solitary confinement in the cellar, but we all know he can't bear to not be near him. He's become far too attached. He will pay Frodo a visit in this chapter. True, if Bramby decides to take Frodo in the cellar, he won't be any kind of challenge. But I can't say more on that here, or I'll spoil the next few chapters. Frodo is near to breaking, but he hasn't done so yet.
Endymion2 - Bramby has allowed himself to get into a bit of a quandary regarding Frodo, hasn't he? As to keeping Frodo alone in the cellar, we all know Bramby won't be able to resist visiting him. Darien and the innkeeper haven't read the message. After all, that's mail fraud, LOL! They'll be on hand when Merry and Sam read it, though.
Stephanie - I agree. I love the hobbit angst too, precisely because I can indulge in feeling sorry for them and wanting to comfort them. In a way, I think Frodo is glad of his solitude, be it what it may. Darien will be helpful when push comes to shove. I like writing a little bit about each group of characters and what they're up to in each chapter when I can. That way, I can show what's going on in two different places simultaneously instead of having to catch up after the fact. It helps me keep the flow of the story.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - I'll be bringin' on the angst, certainly. There's Frodo angst, Merry and Sam angst, and even Bramby angst a-comin'!
FrodoBaggins1982 - Great thoughts about what might be coming up for Frodo and Sam when all this is over. We can expect that there will be some barriers between them, whether they want them or not.
Aelfgifu - We'll just see what Bramblethorn tries while Frodo is blindfolded! They'll have a short discussion in this chapter.
Trust No One - Bramblethorn will be thinking about the situation in this chapter. He knows he's got himself in a difficult position regarding Frodo. Frodo and Sam will have a few things to work out between them after this, definitely.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 21 - Pondering the Future
Bramblethorn sat by the fire in his study, chewing absently on the stem of his pipe. It had been a full day since he had left Frodo in the cellar, and he'd heard not a sound, not a single plea for release from his prisoner since.
A full day. Bramblethorn shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He remembered that Frodo had been allowed some water to drink prior to his relocation to the cellar. He must be in desperate need of relief by now, and as much as Bramblethorn wanted to punish him for his defiance, it repelled him to think of leaving Frodo to soil himself.
With a sigh he snuffed his pipe and drew the key to the cellar door from the pocket of his weskit. He made his way down the hall to the door and paused to listen before turning the key in the lock. Nothing.
The door creaked open and a thin beam of light followed, illuminating the stairs enough to allow Bramblethorn to descend them safely. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to make out the shape of Frodo lying motionless on the dirt floor in a corner of the room.
"Are you there, Frodo?" Bramblethorn asked as he shook the bound hobbit by the shoulder.
Frodo flinched at the touch and the sound of the voice in the otherwise silent room. Bramblethorn began to unbind his ankles and hands while issuing terse instructions. "Do not mistake this for a social call, Frodo," he said shortly. "I've come to grant you a small favor, but you must acknowledge it first." He leaned down close to Frodo and asked, "Do you feel the need to relieve yourself?"
Frodo found his voice with difficulty. His whispered "Yes" was almost inaudible.
"Very well. Make no attempt to remove the blindfold, love. You wouldn't want me to get angry, would you?" Frodo did not reply as Bramblethorn pulled him to his feet and guided him a few paces away from where he had been lying. He nearly fell as full circulation was briefly and painfully restored to his legs. Frodo reached out, groping in the darkness until his hands came into contact with the earthen wall of the cellar.
"Make use of the freedom I've granted you," Bramblethorn ordered. "I'll not wait all day."
Humiliation flooded through him and Frodo asked haltingly, "You mean - here? Now?"
"This is no time to be prim, Frodo," Bramblethorn said sarcastically. "This is an earthen cellar. If a rat can relieve itself in a corner, so can you."
Frodo caught his breath and tried to steady himself. It was true, he was extremely uncomfortable at the moment and desperately needed to do something about it, but it was horribly repellant to him to have to do it such a manner. Faced with no other possible choice, Frodo complied.
When Frodo finished, Bramblethorn grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. He guided Frodo back to the place where he had lain and began to bind him again. "Before I leave you again, do you have anything to say?" Bramblethorn pressed. "An apology, perhaps?"
"I'll not apologize for defending myself against you," Frodo said flatly.
"You may as well apologize," Bramblethorn replied as he knotted the rope around Frodo's wrists. "You can't win. You know that I will wear you down until you no longer attempt to resist or defy me. How long will it take, I wonder?"
"More time than you have," Frodo replied. His tone was not as firm as he had hoped it would be.
"I have as much time as I choose," Bramblethorn informed him. "I'm still weighing the question of whether I am ready to give you up."
Frodo's heart froze at the sound of those words. In the darkness of the cellar, despite his hunger, thirst and pain, he had been clinging to the hope that his ordeal would soon end. It had to! Merry and Sam would obtain the ransom and Bramblethorn would have to free him!
"You must," Frodo protested anxiously. "When you have the ransom you must let me go!"
"Must I, dear?" Bramblethorn adopted the gently teasing tone Frodo had come to associate with dire things ahead. "But suppose they cannot pay? What if they violate the terms of our agreement, thus rendering it meaningless? If that happens, your attitude must be improved, love. I shouldn't like to spend all of our future time together so disagreeably."
"We shall have no future together," Frodo vowed softly. "Merry and Sam will not break their word. Only you would do such a thing."
"Such comments could earn you the back of my hand against your lovely face, were my mood less forgiving," Bramblethorn answered as he stood and made ready to leave Frodo to the darkness once more. He paused as he began to ascend the stairs. "I shall give you one more chance, Frodo. If you ask me to forgive you for your latest outburst, I shall. I shall untie you and you may come back upstairs."
"And what awaits me there?" Frodo asked morosely. "When I'm here, at least I'm free of unwanted attention from you or anyone else."
"That can be changed, you know," Bramblethorn crowed haughtily. "I just may decide to keep you company here for a while, my love. What a wonderfully private place this cellar makes." Bramblethorn's tone became suggestive. "Should I keep you bound while I enjoy you, or should I free you so that you might offer me some sport?"
"There are no words to describe how much I hate you," Frodo hissed into the darkness. "You simply cannot see it, can you? You told me that I cannot win, but in truth, neither can you."
Bramblethorn laughed scornfully. "An astute observation, I must say, especially since I am not the one lying bound in a dark cellar." He turned and continued his ascent to the top of the staircase and Frodo heard the door slam.
He exhaled in relief. Bramblethorn had clearly meant Frodo's confinement in the cellar to be a punishment, but Frodo had been entirely truthful when he had said he was somewhat glad of the solitude. His bonds chafed him and his muscles cried out in protest at being stilled in the same position for hours at a time. Even so, his mind welcomed the absence of the abject terror Bramblethorn's constant presence forced upon him.
Bramblethorn had made a terrible threat moments before, but he had not acted upon it, Frodo realized. It was terribly unnerving the way his captor seemed to waver between gleeful cruelty and hesitation. In the moments when Frodo's thoughts turned to darker things, he almost wished that Bramblethorn would simply kill him outright and stop toying with him endlessly. The thought of being trapped with Bramblethorn for much longer would cause him to go mad, Frodo thought as he shifted the weight off his numbed shoulder.
Frodo tried to relax and to think of anyone but Bramblethorn, any place but where he was. Eventually sleep overcame him and the hours passed him by unheeded.
~*~ On the road to Bree ~*~
It was late afternoon and they had been traveling for nearly a day and a half, stopping only for meals and to give the poor ponies food and what rest could be afforded them. In his peripheral vision Sam caught sight of Merry nodding in the seat of the wagon, the reins threatening to drop from his hands. The ponies had noticed the lack of attention that was being given to their pace, and they slowed accordingly.
"Mr. Merry," Sam said, nudging the other hobbit lightly. "Mr. Merry, I'll drive for a while if you want."
Merry snapped to attention again, attempting to cover his lapse. "There's no need, Sam," he protested with forced briskness. "I'm quite all right."
"Like father, like son," Merimac quipped from behind them. "Stubborn as - "
"Oh, not you too, Uncle Mac!" Merry groaned as opposition mounted.
"Oh, yes, you young imp. You're no more invincible than any of us here, and unless I miss my guess, you'll need your energy ere we reach Bree." For once Merimac did not hear Saradoc's voice rising to contradict his statement.
"He's right, Mr. Merry," Sam pressed. "Take some rest an' let me take the reins for a while."
Merry sighed, defeated. "All right, Sam. You win." He stopped the wagon and traded places with Sam. "It feels like we've been traveling forever," he remarked wearily.
"We've not more than another day at most, if we keep up the pace as we have," Sam said, trying to encourage his companion.
"The ponies have borne it well," Merry remarked as Sam urged them forward again. "I doubt they shall ever forgive us for driving them in such fashion."
Sam watched the ponies as they plodded along and a faint smile came to his face. "Don't be so sure, Mr. Merry," he answered nodding at the team he drove. "They've still got spirit to their step, they have. Why, it's almost as if they're in as big a hurry as we are, somehow."
Perhaps the urgency of the two - legged members of the party had indeed been communicated somehow to the ponies. They didn't seem to mind the steady pace, moving on hour by hour and asking little more than a few moments to munch on some hay and enjoy a scratch behind the ears.
When Merry didn't reply to Sam's musings, Sam turned his head to see that Merry had already fallen asleep, sitting upright in the seat of the wagon. Sam sighed and settled in for the rest of the journey. He had recognized landmarks along the way, and he knew the Bree Gate was still a distance away. Come nightfall, the entire party would stop to rest for a few hours, more for the sake of the ponies than anything else. Then, on to Bree, Sam thought grimly. On to Bree, and Bramblethorn.
Sam wasn't at all certain of what the future would bring, but he knew one thing. He was not leaving Bree without Frodo. Let Bramblethorn posture and threaten, let him try what he would, but Sam vowed not to be deterred. Little rest would he find until once again he held Frodo in a comforting embrace and knew him to be safe, alive and whole.
~*~
Bramblethorn tapped the quill against the blotter on his writing desk as he considered the blank page before him. Frodo's companions would soon be bringing the ransom and payment for the grain, he felt certain. It was time to instruct them as to the place and time of the proposed exchange and what was demanded of them. He would send the completed message to the inn as soon as he received word that Sam and Merry had indeed returned.
The meeting must take place somewhere rather secluded but still somewhat close by. The location where Bramblethorn had stored the supply of grain was out of the question. The walls of the large wooden barn would provide cover, but they would also prevent easy escape if something should go wrong. Bramblethorn reached a decision and scratched out a few sentences on the page.
Of course, Frodo's cousin and his gardener must be warned to come alone. If there were any sign of the presence of others nearby, the transaction would be refused. Bramblethorn kept writing.
The time of the proposed exchange must be after nightfall, preferably very late. Bramblethorn smiled as he thought of how weary Frodo's compatriots would be after their hasty journey. Another thing that would work to his advantage, he surmised. But when would they reach Bree? The inn must be watched starting at dawn the next day, he decided.
A sudden sorrow stole over him as his hand and the quill hovered over the page. If he did indeed keep his word, he must concede defeat and release Frodo very soon, he realized. Had Frodo been right to say that the game could not be won? It was true that he would be made quite wealthy when all was said and done, but what consolation would gold be to him when he no longer had his heart's desire?
Bramblethorn rubbed his brow and laid the quill down on the blotter. His gaze roved around the room and fell upon the window where the last rays of light filtered in to mark the end of the day. He rose and lit a fire at the hearth, poured himself a brandy and seated himself in the comfortable chair nearby. Another chair stood empty next to it, and Bramblethorn stared at it, seeing Frodo there in his mind's eye. He had been there, hadn't he, only a few nights ago?
Choices. No matter the circumstances, there were always choices to be made, Bramblethorn thought. He stared into the fire contemplating the choices that he would have to make in no more than a day, perhaps two. It had been a good game, all things considered, but it wasn't over yet. There was still one final move to be made, one that would undoubtedly change the course of his life for all time to come.
The fire crackled cheerfully, in contrast to the mood of the one who sat alone before it. Alone, thought Brambthorn. He had banished Frodo to solitary confinement in the cellar, but was he not similarly confined himself? No bonds secured Bramblethorn's hands, but what of those that bound his heart? Was he not as much a prisoner as Frodo, when it came down to it?
Bramblethorn sat before the fire, brooding long into the night. In the dark of the cellar, Frodo escaped into sleep and what dreams he could find to comfort him. Miles away, but drawing nearer, five hobbits grudgingly gave themselves over to their weariness and rested near the road that would lead them to their destination, and ultimately to a confrontation they both dreaded and awaited with eager anticipation.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
Gothic Hobbit - Damn Bramblethorn indeed! We'll be getting Frodo out of there soon, but there is still angst and danger ahead for a little while.
Spootasia Tomoe - It's a very good thing there are people like Darien in Bree. Bramblethorn is something else, isn't he? It took me a while to sort out his motivations, believe me. The scariest part of writing him is that I have to 'get into his head', and that's quite a place to be.
Shelbyshire - I don't plan to let Frodo be beset by nasty bugs while in the cellar, but he isn't out of danger by a long shot. This story is about 30 chapters long, including the aftermath angst and comfort parts.
GamgeeFest - Frodo has something of a respite while in the cellar, but Bramblethorn will be back, rest assured. Sam and Merry are more in dread than denial regarding what has happened to Frodo. They are certainly hoping that Frodo has managed to fend off his all too ardent admirer, but they are trying to prepare themselves for the worst. The innkeeper, whether he planned on it or not, has managed to get involved for certain.
Breon Briarwood - More? Ok!
Hobbitfeet13 - That's the trouble with the spot Frodo is in. If he doesn't fight, Bramblethorn will have him again, no question. If he does resist, punishment is also a certainty. Hurry, Sam and Merry! Darien will be a part of the action later, absolutely.
Anarie - Bramblethorn, in his wrath, has cast Frodo into solitary confinement in the cellar, but we all know he can't bear to not be near him. He's become far too attached. He will pay Frodo a visit in this chapter. True, if Bramby decides to take Frodo in the cellar, he won't be any kind of challenge. But I can't say more on that here, or I'll spoil the next few chapters. Frodo is near to breaking, but he hasn't done so yet.
Endymion2 - Bramby has allowed himself to get into a bit of a quandary regarding Frodo, hasn't he? As to keeping Frodo alone in the cellar, we all know Bramby won't be able to resist visiting him. Darien and the innkeeper haven't read the message. After all, that's mail fraud, LOL! They'll be on hand when Merry and Sam read it, though.
Stephanie - I agree. I love the hobbit angst too, precisely because I can indulge in feeling sorry for them and wanting to comfort them. In a way, I think Frodo is glad of his solitude, be it what it may. Darien will be helpful when push comes to shove. I like writing a little bit about each group of characters and what they're up to in each chapter when I can. That way, I can show what's going on in two different places simultaneously instead of having to catch up after the fact. It helps me keep the flow of the story.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - I'll be bringin' on the angst, certainly. There's Frodo angst, Merry and Sam angst, and even Bramby angst a-comin'!
FrodoBaggins1982 - Great thoughts about what might be coming up for Frodo and Sam when all this is over. We can expect that there will be some barriers between them, whether they want them or not.
Aelfgifu - We'll just see what Bramblethorn tries while Frodo is blindfolded! They'll have a short discussion in this chapter.
Trust No One - Bramblethorn will be thinking about the situation in this chapter. He knows he's got himself in a difficult position regarding Frodo. Frodo and Sam will have a few things to work out between them after this, definitely.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 21 - Pondering the Future
Bramblethorn sat by the fire in his study, chewing absently on the stem of his pipe. It had been a full day since he had left Frodo in the cellar, and he'd heard not a sound, not a single plea for release from his prisoner since.
A full day. Bramblethorn shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He remembered that Frodo had been allowed some water to drink prior to his relocation to the cellar. He must be in desperate need of relief by now, and as much as Bramblethorn wanted to punish him for his defiance, it repelled him to think of leaving Frodo to soil himself.
With a sigh he snuffed his pipe and drew the key to the cellar door from the pocket of his weskit. He made his way down the hall to the door and paused to listen before turning the key in the lock. Nothing.
The door creaked open and a thin beam of light followed, illuminating the stairs enough to allow Bramblethorn to descend them safely. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to make out the shape of Frodo lying motionless on the dirt floor in a corner of the room.
"Are you there, Frodo?" Bramblethorn asked as he shook the bound hobbit by the shoulder.
Frodo flinched at the touch and the sound of the voice in the otherwise silent room. Bramblethorn began to unbind his ankles and hands while issuing terse instructions. "Do not mistake this for a social call, Frodo," he said shortly. "I've come to grant you a small favor, but you must acknowledge it first." He leaned down close to Frodo and asked, "Do you feel the need to relieve yourself?"
Frodo found his voice with difficulty. His whispered "Yes" was almost inaudible.
"Very well. Make no attempt to remove the blindfold, love. You wouldn't want me to get angry, would you?" Frodo did not reply as Bramblethorn pulled him to his feet and guided him a few paces away from where he had been lying. He nearly fell as full circulation was briefly and painfully restored to his legs. Frodo reached out, groping in the darkness until his hands came into contact with the earthen wall of the cellar.
"Make use of the freedom I've granted you," Bramblethorn ordered. "I'll not wait all day."
Humiliation flooded through him and Frodo asked haltingly, "You mean - here? Now?"
"This is no time to be prim, Frodo," Bramblethorn said sarcastically. "This is an earthen cellar. If a rat can relieve itself in a corner, so can you."
Frodo caught his breath and tried to steady himself. It was true, he was extremely uncomfortable at the moment and desperately needed to do something about it, but it was horribly repellant to him to have to do it such a manner. Faced with no other possible choice, Frodo complied.
When Frodo finished, Bramblethorn grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. He guided Frodo back to the place where he had lain and began to bind him again. "Before I leave you again, do you have anything to say?" Bramblethorn pressed. "An apology, perhaps?"
"I'll not apologize for defending myself against you," Frodo said flatly.
"You may as well apologize," Bramblethorn replied as he knotted the rope around Frodo's wrists. "You can't win. You know that I will wear you down until you no longer attempt to resist or defy me. How long will it take, I wonder?"
"More time than you have," Frodo replied. His tone was not as firm as he had hoped it would be.
"I have as much time as I choose," Bramblethorn informed him. "I'm still weighing the question of whether I am ready to give you up."
Frodo's heart froze at the sound of those words. In the darkness of the cellar, despite his hunger, thirst and pain, he had been clinging to the hope that his ordeal would soon end. It had to! Merry and Sam would obtain the ransom and Bramblethorn would have to free him!
"You must," Frodo protested anxiously. "When you have the ransom you must let me go!"
"Must I, dear?" Bramblethorn adopted the gently teasing tone Frodo had come to associate with dire things ahead. "But suppose they cannot pay? What if they violate the terms of our agreement, thus rendering it meaningless? If that happens, your attitude must be improved, love. I shouldn't like to spend all of our future time together so disagreeably."
"We shall have no future together," Frodo vowed softly. "Merry and Sam will not break their word. Only you would do such a thing."
"Such comments could earn you the back of my hand against your lovely face, were my mood less forgiving," Bramblethorn answered as he stood and made ready to leave Frodo to the darkness once more. He paused as he began to ascend the stairs. "I shall give you one more chance, Frodo. If you ask me to forgive you for your latest outburst, I shall. I shall untie you and you may come back upstairs."
"And what awaits me there?" Frodo asked morosely. "When I'm here, at least I'm free of unwanted attention from you or anyone else."
"That can be changed, you know," Bramblethorn crowed haughtily. "I just may decide to keep you company here for a while, my love. What a wonderfully private place this cellar makes." Bramblethorn's tone became suggestive. "Should I keep you bound while I enjoy you, or should I free you so that you might offer me some sport?"
"There are no words to describe how much I hate you," Frodo hissed into the darkness. "You simply cannot see it, can you? You told me that I cannot win, but in truth, neither can you."
Bramblethorn laughed scornfully. "An astute observation, I must say, especially since I am not the one lying bound in a dark cellar." He turned and continued his ascent to the top of the staircase and Frodo heard the door slam.
He exhaled in relief. Bramblethorn had clearly meant Frodo's confinement in the cellar to be a punishment, but Frodo had been entirely truthful when he had said he was somewhat glad of the solitude. His bonds chafed him and his muscles cried out in protest at being stilled in the same position for hours at a time. Even so, his mind welcomed the absence of the abject terror Bramblethorn's constant presence forced upon him.
Bramblethorn had made a terrible threat moments before, but he had not acted upon it, Frodo realized. It was terribly unnerving the way his captor seemed to waver between gleeful cruelty and hesitation. In the moments when Frodo's thoughts turned to darker things, he almost wished that Bramblethorn would simply kill him outright and stop toying with him endlessly. The thought of being trapped with Bramblethorn for much longer would cause him to go mad, Frodo thought as he shifted the weight off his numbed shoulder.
Frodo tried to relax and to think of anyone but Bramblethorn, any place but where he was. Eventually sleep overcame him and the hours passed him by unheeded.
~*~ On the road to Bree ~*~
It was late afternoon and they had been traveling for nearly a day and a half, stopping only for meals and to give the poor ponies food and what rest could be afforded them. In his peripheral vision Sam caught sight of Merry nodding in the seat of the wagon, the reins threatening to drop from his hands. The ponies had noticed the lack of attention that was being given to their pace, and they slowed accordingly.
"Mr. Merry," Sam said, nudging the other hobbit lightly. "Mr. Merry, I'll drive for a while if you want."
Merry snapped to attention again, attempting to cover his lapse. "There's no need, Sam," he protested with forced briskness. "I'm quite all right."
"Like father, like son," Merimac quipped from behind them. "Stubborn as - "
"Oh, not you too, Uncle Mac!" Merry groaned as opposition mounted.
"Oh, yes, you young imp. You're no more invincible than any of us here, and unless I miss my guess, you'll need your energy ere we reach Bree." For once Merimac did not hear Saradoc's voice rising to contradict his statement.
"He's right, Mr. Merry," Sam pressed. "Take some rest an' let me take the reins for a while."
Merry sighed, defeated. "All right, Sam. You win." He stopped the wagon and traded places with Sam. "It feels like we've been traveling forever," he remarked wearily.
"We've not more than another day at most, if we keep up the pace as we have," Sam said, trying to encourage his companion.
"The ponies have borne it well," Merry remarked as Sam urged them forward again. "I doubt they shall ever forgive us for driving them in such fashion."
Sam watched the ponies as they plodded along and a faint smile came to his face. "Don't be so sure, Mr. Merry," he answered nodding at the team he drove. "They've still got spirit to their step, they have. Why, it's almost as if they're in as big a hurry as we are, somehow."
Perhaps the urgency of the two - legged members of the party had indeed been communicated somehow to the ponies. They didn't seem to mind the steady pace, moving on hour by hour and asking little more than a few moments to munch on some hay and enjoy a scratch behind the ears.
When Merry didn't reply to Sam's musings, Sam turned his head to see that Merry had already fallen asleep, sitting upright in the seat of the wagon. Sam sighed and settled in for the rest of the journey. He had recognized landmarks along the way, and he knew the Bree Gate was still a distance away. Come nightfall, the entire party would stop to rest for a few hours, more for the sake of the ponies than anything else. Then, on to Bree, Sam thought grimly. On to Bree, and Bramblethorn.
Sam wasn't at all certain of what the future would bring, but he knew one thing. He was not leaving Bree without Frodo. Let Bramblethorn posture and threaten, let him try what he would, but Sam vowed not to be deterred. Little rest would he find until once again he held Frodo in a comforting embrace and knew him to be safe, alive and whole.
~*~
Bramblethorn tapped the quill against the blotter on his writing desk as he considered the blank page before him. Frodo's companions would soon be bringing the ransom and payment for the grain, he felt certain. It was time to instruct them as to the place and time of the proposed exchange and what was demanded of them. He would send the completed message to the inn as soon as he received word that Sam and Merry had indeed returned.
The meeting must take place somewhere rather secluded but still somewhat close by. The location where Bramblethorn had stored the supply of grain was out of the question. The walls of the large wooden barn would provide cover, but they would also prevent easy escape if something should go wrong. Bramblethorn reached a decision and scratched out a few sentences on the page.
Of course, Frodo's cousin and his gardener must be warned to come alone. If there were any sign of the presence of others nearby, the transaction would be refused. Bramblethorn kept writing.
The time of the proposed exchange must be after nightfall, preferably very late. Bramblethorn smiled as he thought of how weary Frodo's compatriots would be after their hasty journey. Another thing that would work to his advantage, he surmised. But when would they reach Bree? The inn must be watched starting at dawn the next day, he decided.
A sudden sorrow stole over him as his hand and the quill hovered over the page. If he did indeed keep his word, he must concede defeat and release Frodo very soon, he realized. Had Frodo been right to say that the game could not be won? It was true that he would be made quite wealthy when all was said and done, but what consolation would gold be to him when he no longer had his heart's desire?
Bramblethorn rubbed his brow and laid the quill down on the blotter. His gaze roved around the room and fell upon the window where the last rays of light filtered in to mark the end of the day. He rose and lit a fire at the hearth, poured himself a brandy and seated himself in the comfortable chair nearby. Another chair stood empty next to it, and Bramblethorn stared at it, seeing Frodo there in his mind's eye. He had been there, hadn't he, only a few nights ago?
Choices. No matter the circumstances, there were always choices to be made, Bramblethorn thought. He stared into the fire contemplating the choices that he would have to make in no more than a day, perhaps two. It had been a good game, all things considered, but it wasn't over yet. There was still one final move to be made, one that would undoubtedly change the course of his life for all time to come.
The fire crackled cheerfully, in contrast to the mood of the one who sat alone before it. Alone, thought Brambthorn. He had banished Frodo to solitary confinement in the cellar, but was he not similarly confined himself? No bonds secured Bramblethorn's hands, but what of those that bound his heart? Was he not as much a prisoner as Frodo, when it came down to it?
Bramblethorn sat before the fire, brooding long into the night. In the dark of the cellar, Frodo escaped into sleep and what dreams he could find to comfort him. Miles away, but drawing nearer, five hobbits grudgingly gave themselves over to their weariness and rested near the road that would lead them to their destination, and ultimately to a confrontation they both dreaded and awaited with eager anticipation.
~*~ To be continued ~*~