Sam - I am evil. Otherwise, how would I have created something like Bramblethorn? No matter who gets their hands on him first, Bramblethorn will get his. In this chapter, in fact.
Hobbitfeet13 - Poor Frodo can't take much more. Will he have to? Read on! Yes, I skipped the Elvish in this one. It played well into the story line for "The Way of Vengeance", so I used it. My Elvish isn't so great either. Thank heavens for websites that have translations!
Shelbyshire - If you think you like reading the reviews, you should be me! LOL!
Heartofahobbit - How is Bramblethorn planning to get away with Frodo? I'm not sure he really is in a mental state to have much of a plan. He's cracking, no doubt about it. Sam will find healing in helping Frodo, but it caused him no end of suffering to know that his worst fears were confirmed.
Endymion2 -Sam is aware that Bramblethorn has done his worst as far as Frodo is concerned. He feared it would happen, but there was as much hope as fear. Now, the hope is gone and there's just the knowledge. Very true that the Ring wanted to be claimed and Frodo didn't. I'm tempted to write an alternate version in which the outcome of this chapter is different, but how much can our heroes take?
Trust No One - I couldn't resist having Bramblethorn claim Frodo in much the same way as Frodo claims the Ring years later. Bramblethorn his full on insane. Nuts. Gonzo. He only knows his obsession now, not the logic of how he will manage what he is taking on.
Stephanie - Bramblethorn is just crazy enough to believe he can hold Frodo's rescuers at bay. He's been slowly coming apart just as Frodo has been.
The Lady of Mirkwood - There is only so much pity one can have for such a creature as Bramblethorn. Even so, there is someone who, due to his nature, will still be able to feel pity for him.
Breon Briarwood - Bramblethorn just can't bear to let Frodo go. It's one of those 'Fatal Attraction' things. There are plans, and then there are plans. The plans of a sane person are a whole different thing compared to those of someone who is, essentially, cracked.
Anarie -You had to know that Bramblethorn wasn't able to just let Frodo walk away and leave him again. That one moment when Frodo and Sam's eyes met was a moment when much was said but without words.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Bramblethorn is fickle, and more than just a bit insane!
Lucia I. Legaia Tanaka - I'm glad you've come by to read this fic as well as all the others. I, too am guilty of reading but not always reviewing. I'm updating this as of Monday night for you, and I apologize that I couldn't do it earlier. My job is interfering with my fic posting, you know! LOL...
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 25 - Confessions Amidst the Chaos
"NO!" Merry shouted in horror as Bramblethorn dragged Frodo away.
Chaos followed immediately. An arrow swished through the air toward where Bramblethorn stood. Bramblethorn moved and it missed his leg by only an inch, embedding itself in the wooden side of the wagon.
Sam and Merry grappled with Monto and Anson, trying desperately to get to Bramblethorn and to avoid the knives that flashed in the moonlight. Saradoc, Ned and Merimac bolted from their cover to aid in the fight.
Monto lost his grip on his weapon as Sam came at him from the front and Merimac from behind. "Have this, you filthy lout!" Merimac cried as he spun Monto around and knocked him into the dust with a solid punch. No, Merimac reflected briefly, Saradoc had been right. This was much more than a bunch of drunken riverhobbits brawling at the docks. This was far more satisfying.
Seeing his only remaining ally flattened, Anson began a panicked retreat toward the wagon, his knife slashing at anyone who came near. The sheer number of his opponents put him at a clear disadvantage, with or without a weapon. They were closing in on him little by little.
"Your cousin and your gardener failed to follow my instructions," Bramblethorn said triumphantly as he wrapped an arm around Frodo and stepped behind him. Frodo was now a very effective shield between Bramblethorn and Fensel, who had shot the arrow. "Just as I suspected, they have broken our agreement by not coming here alone." Bramblethorn began to drag Frodo toward the trees, the knife held close to his captive's neck. The brawl in the clearing continued.
"They've paid you! Let me go!" Frodo gasped in horror.
"No, my love, I think not," Bramblethorn hissed. "I have given careful consideration to this matter, Frodo. I know it means giving up all that I have here, but I cannot let you leave me. I would miss you so."
Bramblethorn's tone was strangely calm, and the look in his eyes made Frodo absolutely certain that his captor had become completely delusional. Bramblethorn was speaking as if he thought he and Frodo could share a life together, spending evenings by the fire, smoking and enjoying amiable conversation!
"Frodo!" Merry called out. "He's taking Frodo into the woods!" The alarm was raised, and all who were not busy subduing Monto and Anson began to make their way toward the kidnapper and his prisoner.
Frodo and Bramblethorn had reached the edge of the wood. More indignant shouts rang out as Bramblethorn shoved Frodo into the forest ahead of him. An arrow thumped into the ground where they had stood only a second before.
Darien cursed aloud as his arrow failed to hit its mark. These hobbits were much quicker and more agile than he had expected. He began to move from his hiding place deeper into the trees in the direction Bramblethorn and Frodo were heading, intent upon cutting off any escape route.
The shouts of the rescue party grew louder as they followed Frodo and Bramblethorn into the trees. Bramblethorn listened to the raised voices as he prodded Frodo deeper into the woods, trying to discern whether or not he was surrounded. Finding a direction no voices were coming from, Bramblethorn brandished the knife and growled at Frodo. "Now, my love, get moving!"
Terrified anew at the events of the last few minutes, Frodo complied, but not without protest. "You're mad," he said, his voice betraying his fear. "You cannot escape them!"
"When I want your opinion, I shall give it to you," Bramblethorn shot back. "Keep moving and don't stop until I tell you."
Frodo hurried on, trying to find a path through the dense undergrowth. His progress was hindered by his weariness, and he slowed his pace noticeably. "Can't make it," he gasped, his chest heaving. "I'm too weak. If you let me go, you may escape, but I will only slow you down."
It was true that Bramblethorn would have a better chance at a clean getaway without his captive to look after, but he refused Frodo his freedom yet again. "As I said, I have not risked all just to let you leave my side, beloved."
Somewhere nearby Bramblethorn thought he heard the sound of leaves rustling. There was very little wind to stir them, and it seemed possible that the pursuit was closer than he had realized. Bramblethorn pulled Frodo behind a large tree. He held the knife near Frodo's throat and scanned the surrounding forest warily. The moonlight provided just enough illumination to let him see a few yards in all directions, but no farther. "I shall take his life you try to wrest him from me!" Bramblethorn threatened to his unseen pursuers. "Come no closer, or he shall feel the bite of my blade!"
Frodo desperately searched the face that leered into his for any sign of doubt, any trace of inner conflict. Bramblethorn was bluffing! He had to be! Hazel eyes peered intently into his and Frodo gazed back, willing himself to perceive more than his own fears. In the breathless space of an instant that seemed somehow stretched into an eternity, there appeared in Bramblethorn's eyes something like sorrow.
"What is it?" Frodo breathed. "What is it you see in your mind?"
Perhaps it was Frodo's tone or the steady way his eyes searched Bramblethorn's face for the truth, but the other hobbit found himself answering with complete honesty. "I see you, with me," Bramblethorn said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. "I'm weary of the company of those who do my bidding but love me not! When I close my eyes and see in my thoughts the future I most desire, I see your eyes and hear your voice. I cannot again bear to resign myself to the loss of that dream!"
"But it is a dream, Bramblethorn," Frodo reasoned. "I am sorry for your pain, but you wish for something that cannot be. I cannot pretend to love one that I do not, merely for reason of fear or pity."
Bramblethorn's eyes darkened again and the window to the truth behind them slammed shut. "Pity? And who are you, Frodo Baggins, to feel pity for me?"
Frodo willed himself to remain calm. "I know what it is you feel. I've been lonely - "
"You see so much by the moonlight, do you?" Bramblethorn ground out, frustrated anew by the knowledge that he had allowed the façade to crumble and had allowed Frodo such a clear glimpse of his true feelings. "You know my pain, and yet you will do nothing to ease it."
"What am I to do? If I stay with you, it will not be my heart that you possess. The emptiness you feel will not be eased by my unwilling presence. It will grow and consume you further."
Bramblethorn's eyes were on the surrounding woods as he gripped the front of Frodo's shirt and held the knife close to his throat. "And so it seems there is to be no escape then, for either of us."
Any confusion Frodo felt as he pondered the statement was dispelled as the tip of Bramblethorn's blade grazed his skin. "Please, you cannot mean to - "
"If I must live without you, it will not be with the knowledge that you've given yourself to any other. If I cannot escape, I shall not be taken. We shall be together, Frodo, whether in this life or the next." Frodo felt the sharp point of the blade press against his throat and the sensation of a single drop of blood coursing down his neck.
Somewhere in the nearby woods a twig snapped, and Bramblethorn reflexively turned his head in the direction of the sound.
"No!" Frodo gasped. Driven beyond logical thought by his terror, he lunged aside in a final, desperate attempt to escape the fate Bramblethorn had promised him. The knife glinted in the moonlight as Frodo shoved Bramblethorn's arm aside and ducked beneath it.
His maneuver brought Frodo out of the shelter of the tree and he became visible to the tall figure hidden in the undergrowth. Darien stopped himself just in time to avoid releasing an arrow. His fingers tightened on the bow and he waited. The second hobbit, the kidnapper, emerged from cover and Darien aimed.
Bramblethorn snarled and leapt at Frodo. Frodo stumbled backward, falling over a tree root to lie staring up as his enemy bore down on him. There came a whooshing sound as an arrow streaked toward its target, and a muffled 'thump' as it struck home. Frodo uttered a gasp as the missile that was meant to merely disable Bramblethorn and allow his capture instead struck the hobbit in the chest.
Bramblethorn reeled, his eyes wide as they beheld the shaft of the arrow protruding from his body. "Frodo!" he gasped, reaching out unsteadily. After staggering a few steps in Frodo's direction, Bramblethorn sank to the ground, his breath coming in harsh rasps. "Frodo..." Bramblethorn wheezed again, his shaking hand beckoning his prisoner near.
Numb with shock, Frodo merely stared at the fallen hobbit. He looked up as he heard footsteps approaching and beheld a man with a bow in his hand, head bowed in regret. "Fear me not, Frodo. I mean you no harm, and I meant only to wound your enemy that he might be captured judged for his deeds," Darien said quietly. "He moved just as I released my arrow." He knelt, drawing a knife from a sheath on his belt and severed Frodo's bonds.
"Thank you," Frodo said quietly. He felt oddly detached from his surroundings, as if what he had just witnessed were no more than a dream. Frodo wondered who the strange man was and how he had come to know of what had happened. Bramblethorn's voice sounded again, bringing Frodo out of his daze.
"Please...take my hand." The hand Bramblethorn extended was shaking, no longer holding a weapon of any kind.
Unable to deny even an enemy comfort in his final moments, Frodo knelt and clasped the trembling hand in his own. He remembered the other hobbit's words several days earlier. Do you know what it would have meant to me if you had ever just simply so much as taken my hand in yours?
Bramblethorn's lips moved and Frodo had to lean close to hear what the other hobbit was saying. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry for...everything."
Speechless, Frodo merely nodded.
Bramblethorn coughed and whispered, "Will you...please...hold me?"
Frodo hesitated briefly, but reached out to draw Bramblethorn into an embrace. Bramblethorn ignored Darien's presence completely. His attention was focused solely on Frodo. "If I must die...then let me die in your arms...where I have so longed to be. Give me this one final thing I ask of you."
"Bramblethorn - " Frodo began, but the mortally wounded hobbit interrupted him.
"I know...you must hate me," he said, looking into Frodo's eyes. "I cannot...blame you if you do. I tried - " Bramblethorn drew several shallow breaths. "I tried to win your affection. I thought you might...learn to care for me in time."
"I'm sorry," Frodo responded truthfully. He was sorry, sorry for the tragic end things had come to. It was indeed tragic, Frodo thought, that Bramblethorn had so misspent his life and was to be denied any opportunity to seek redemption. Then again, perhaps he was finding redemption in his attempt to apologize to Frodo.
Darien watched in silence. This was hardly the final exchange he had expected between the kidnapper and his victim. He backed away a few paces, sensing that the danger to Frodo was now past.
"The game...has ended," Bramblethorn murmured, "and you...stand victorious." His eyes drooped shut and his grasp on Frodo's hand began to slacken. Frodo barely heard the next, and last words Bramblethorn spoke. "Goodbye, my love."
When Bramblethorn's body was limp in his arms and the unsteady rise and fall of his chest had ceased, Frodo eased Bramblethorn down against the ground as a single tear coursed down his cheek. None of this should ever have happened, Frodo thought sadly.
A rustling of branches and shouts of "Frodo!" and "Mr. Frodo, answer me!" heralded the arrival of Merry and Sam. They stood dumbstruck at the tableau before them as Ned, Saradoc and Merimac emerged through the trees to join them. Fensel failed to appear, as he was busy seeing that Monto and Anson did not escape.
Sam rushed immediately to Frodo's side and gathered him into his arms, his tears flowing freely. "Mr. Frodo! I was so scared that he'd - " The rest of the sentence disappeared into a sob.
Frodo seemed dazed, as if he thought Sam were naught but a dream rather than flesh and blood. Slowly it dawned on him that he was free, and finally safe. "Sam..." Frodo said softly, reaching out a shaking hand to brush across Sam's cheek.
Sam clasped the hand and held it there. "I'm here, Mr. Frodo," he responded.
Merry dashed to Frodo's side and knelt in the fallen leaves. "Frodo! Thank the Valar! Are you all right?" His voice wavered and his brow was creased with deep concern.
"Yes," Frodo responded numbly, also gazing at the still form of his vanquished enemy. "I think so." Frodo noticed what he thought was blood on the sleeve of Merry's shirt. "Merry, what - "
"It's nothing," Merry insisted, placing a hand over the area. Anson's knife had scored him during the brawl, but not deeply. "It's naught but a scratch, Frodo. It can wait."
Sam glanced at Bramblethorn. "Is he - ?"
"He's dead, Sam," Frodo confirmed.
Frodo's voice sounded thin and weary, laced with regret. Sam looked at him wonderingly. Had Frodo such a kind heart, he would regret the death of even a vile creature like Bramblethorn? "He can't hurt you, ever again," Sam said quietly.
"I know Sam, but it shouldn't have come to this." Frodo shook his head as his gaze swept the form of his fallen enemy. "It shouldn't have ended this way."
"And how should it have ended?" Merry asked, frowning. "Should he have been left to roam free, to find you again, perhaps?" Merry looked at his cousin's bruised and disheveled state and felt little remorse regarding Bramblethorn's demise.
Frodo closed his eyes and leaned against Sam. How could he explain the strange sorrow he felt? It was a sorrow for a life misspent, for the wages of greed, cruelty and obsession to have been paid out so harshly and with such finality. Frodo mourned not his enemy himself, but what he might have been had he chosen a different path.
"I don't know, Merry," Frodo answered tiredly. "I'm cold."
Frodo was indeed shivering and Merry removed his cloak to wrap it around his cousin's shoulders. No protests rose to Frodo's lips as Sam lifted him and began to carry him back toward the clearing where the wagon waited. "We'll take care of you, Mr. Frodo," he said.
Darien met Saradoc's gaze. "I shall see to things here," he said, meaning the body of the hobbit his arrow had pierced. He handed Bramblethorn's pack to Merimac, who took it wordlessly. It was heavy with the gold Bramblethorn had demanded and would no longer need.
When the hobbits emerged into the clearing again, they saw Fensel standing guard over Monto and Anson, who were bound and unconscious. Although they had been armed with knives, they hadn't fared well against the combined forces of Frodo's rescuers.
Frodo glanced at them as Sam gently eased him down in the back of the wagon. "What will happen to them?" Frodo asked as Sam reached into his pack for a clean cloth and his flask of water.
"They'll get their due, I hope," Sam said rather forcefully.
"They certainly will," Fensel said as he approached the wagon. "They shall be punished for their role in these events."
"I know nothing of the laws of Bree," Frodo said quietly as Sam dabbed at his bruised face with the cloth. "What shall be done to them?"
Fensel frowned slightly. "That depends upon the severity of their misdeeds. As the one they have wronged, you may make your recommendation and it shall be considered."
"I ask that no more blood be shed," Frodo answered, looking off toward the trees and the shadowy form of Darien emerging, carrying Bramblethorn. Frodo watched and a shudder ran through him. In death, Bramblethorn had seemed much less the dangerous enemy than he had been in life. He looked diminished, drained of the powerful and threatening presence he had exuded.
"Fear not, Master Baggins. There are many other methods of punishing the guilty. A term of incarceration and labor in the service of the people, for example." Fensel's words seemed to satisfy Frodo, who sighed and nodded.
Sam continued his gentle ministrations as Merry draped a blanket over Frodo. "Let's get back to the inn. We can't care for Frodo properly here," he said, climbing up into the wagon and seating himself on a pile of grain sacks. Saradoc took the reins and Merimac sat beside him while Ned climbed into the back with Merry, Sam and Frodo.
"Darien and I shall be along shortly," Fensel promised. He waved the hobbits on their way and turned to assist the other men in taking Monto and Anson into custody.
~*~
A fire at the hearth warmed the room, and Sam removed the kettle from where it hung over the flames. He poured the heated water into a basin, saving some to make the medicinal tea he had brought back from Buckland. He and Frodo were alone now, the other hobbits having reluctantly retired to the next room. Even Merry had allowed himself to be shepherded out the door, for who could better care for Frodo than Sam?
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, barely holding back tears. "I knew he would hurt you. I shouldn't have left you there with him." He seated himself on the edge of the bed and began to survey Frodo's injuries, blaming himself for each one.
"You had no other choice, Sam," Frodo responded. "Had you refused to leave me, you would have been forced to regardless. You would have been hurt as well, and I couldn't bear it if - "
"Shhh..." Sam gently began to remove the bandage from Frodo's right hand. "Don't you worry on my account, Mr. Frodo. I'd have borne anything to keep you safe." He frowned as he looked at the cut on Frodo's palm. "He gave you this."
Frodo didn't reply. The wound was superficial, and in truth it hardly pained him anymore. Bramblethorn had dealt him far worse, and Frodo lowered his gaze as he felt a sense of shame swelling within him again.
Sam peered at him with great concern. "Mr. Frodo? What is it?" Sam reached out to brush a stray curl from Frodo's forehead, and Frodo turned away.
"I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered, his eyes still downcast. "You're so much more than I deserve."
"No, Mr. Frodo," Sam soothed. "If anything, I'm far less. Why would you say such a thing?"
"How can you bear to look at me, Sam?" Frodo asked brokenly. "How can you bear my presence?"
Sam froze in mid - motion and stared at Frodo as comprehension came to him, harsh and unforgiving. No! Please no, Sam thought desperately. He saw the tears in Frodo's eyes and heard the hurt in his voice, and he knew. He had fought the knowledge until that moment, denying it. But now...
Struggling for words, Sam reached out again, gently turning Frodo to face him. "Oh, Mr. Frodo," he whispered. "Please say you're all right. Please tell me - "
Frodo's only reply was to close his eyes and turn away from his gardener's gaze. How could he give voice to the anguish he felt when he looked in Sam's eyes and saw the horror in them? Was it grief and horror at the thought of what Bramblethorn had done, or was it the revulsion Frodo had been promised by his attacker? Did Sam now find him repulsive as Bramblethorn had said he would?
"Sam..." Frodo began, but found himself unable to speak further.
"You don't have to speak of it, not ever," Sam said soothingly. "You'll be all right now, and I promise I'll never leave you again."
A single tear slid down Frodo's cheek. "I don't want you to."
Sam gathered Frodo into his arms and just held him as the fear and grief poured out of him. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything but what Bramblethorn had done to the one person he cherished above all others.
When Frodo had calmed again, Sam rose and poured some tea into a cup. As he turned to hand the cup to Frodo, he thought he saw a brief flash of fear in his eyes. He paused, uncertain as to what had caused the reaction.
Frodo silently berated himself. This was Sam, the last person in the world who would ever hurt him. He no longer needed to equate a steaming cup of tea with being abused and imprisoned. "I'm sorry, Sam," he said, smiling wanly. He reached out and accepted the cup, being careful not to spill it.
"No more talkin' now," Sam said gently as he watched Frodo sip carefully from the teacup. "It will help with the pain," Sam said softly as he sat down on the bed again. "I know you're hurtin', Mr. Frodo, in ways I can't help with now. But maybe in time - "
"Yes, Sam, perhaps. If anyone can help me, it's you, but I just need...some time." Frodo settled himself in Sam's arms again and closed his eyes, gratefully sinking into sleep.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
Hobbitfeet13 - Poor Frodo can't take much more. Will he have to? Read on! Yes, I skipped the Elvish in this one. It played well into the story line for "The Way of Vengeance", so I used it. My Elvish isn't so great either. Thank heavens for websites that have translations!
Shelbyshire - If you think you like reading the reviews, you should be me! LOL!
Heartofahobbit - How is Bramblethorn planning to get away with Frodo? I'm not sure he really is in a mental state to have much of a plan. He's cracking, no doubt about it. Sam will find healing in helping Frodo, but it caused him no end of suffering to know that his worst fears were confirmed.
Endymion2 -Sam is aware that Bramblethorn has done his worst as far as Frodo is concerned. He feared it would happen, but there was as much hope as fear. Now, the hope is gone and there's just the knowledge. Very true that the Ring wanted to be claimed and Frodo didn't. I'm tempted to write an alternate version in which the outcome of this chapter is different, but how much can our heroes take?
Trust No One - I couldn't resist having Bramblethorn claim Frodo in much the same way as Frodo claims the Ring years later. Bramblethorn his full on insane. Nuts. Gonzo. He only knows his obsession now, not the logic of how he will manage what he is taking on.
Stephanie - Bramblethorn is just crazy enough to believe he can hold Frodo's rescuers at bay. He's been slowly coming apart just as Frodo has been.
The Lady of Mirkwood - There is only so much pity one can have for such a creature as Bramblethorn. Even so, there is someone who, due to his nature, will still be able to feel pity for him.
Breon Briarwood - Bramblethorn just can't bear to let Frodo go. It's one of those 'Fatal Attraction' things. There are plans, and then there are plans. The plans of a sane person are a whole different thing compared to those of someone who is, essentially, cracked.
Anarie -You had to know that Bramblethorn wasn't able to just let Frodo walk away and leave him again. That one moment when Frodo and Sam's eyes met was a moment when much was said but without words.
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Bramblethorn is fickle, and more than just a bit insane!
Lucia I. Legaia Tanaka - I'm glad you've come by to read this fic as well as all the others. I, too am guilty of reading but not always reviewing. I'm updating this as of Monday night for you, and I apologize that I couldn't do it earlier. My job is interfering with my fic posting, you know! LOL...
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 25 - Confessions Amidst the Chaos
"NO!" Merry shouted in horror as Bramblethorn dragged Frodo away.
Chaos followed immediately. An arrow swished through the air toward where Bramblethorn stood. Bramblethorn moved and it missed his leg by only an inch, embedding itself in the wooden side of the wagon.
Sam and Merry grappled with Monto and Anson, trying desperately to get to Bramblethorn and to avoid the knives that flashed in the moonlight. Saradoc, Ned and Merimac bolted from their cover to aid in the fight.
Monto lost his grip on his weapon as Sam came at him from the front and Merimac from behind. "Have this, you filthy lout!" Merimac cried as he spun Monto around and knocked him into the dust with a solid punch. No, Merimac reflected briefly, Saradoc had been right. This was much more than a bunch of drunken riverhobbits brawling at the docks. This was far more satisfying.
Seeing his only remaining ally flattened, Anson began a panicked retreat toward the wagon, his knife slashing at anyone who came near. The sheer number of his opponents put him at a clear disadvantage, with or without a weapon. They were closing in on him little by little.
"Your cousin and your gardener failed to follow my instructions," Bramblethorn said triumphantly as he wrapped an arm around Frodo and stepped behind him. Frodo was now a very effective shield between Bramblethorn and Fensel, who had shot the arrow. "Just as I suspected, they have broken our agreement by not coming here alone." Bramblethorn began to drag Frodo toward the trees, the knife held close to his captive's neck. The brawl in the clearing continued.
"They've paid you! Let me go!" Frodo gasped in horror.
"No, my love, I think not," Bramblethorn hissed. "I have given careful consideration to this matter, Frodo. I know it means giving up all that I have here, but I cannot let you leave me. I would miss you so."
Bramblethorn's tone was strangely calm, and the look in his eyes made Frodo absolutely certain that his captor had become completely delusional. Bramblethorn was speaking as if he thought he and Frodo could share a life together, spending evenings by the fire, smoking and enjoying amiable conversation!
"Frodo!" Merry called out. "He's taking Frodo into the woods!" The alarm was raised, and all who were not busy subduing Monto and Anson began to make their way toward the kidnapper and his prisoner.
Frodo and Bramblethorn had reached the edge of the wood. More indignant shouts rang out as Bramblethorn shoved Frodo into the forest ahead of him. An arrow thumped into the ground where they had stood only a second before.
Darien cursed aloud as his arrow failed to hit its mark. These hobbits were much quicker and more agile than he had expected. He began to move from his hiding place deeper into the trees in the direction Bramblethorn and Frodo were heading, intent upon cutting off any escape route.
The shouts of the rescue party grew louder as they followed Frodo and Bramblethorn into the trees. Bramblethorn listened to the raised voices as he prodded Frodo deeper into the woods, trying to discern whether or not he was surrounded. Finding a direction no voices were coming from, Bramblethorn brandished the knife and growled at Frodo. "Now, my love, get moving!"
Terrified anew at the events of the last few minutes, Frodo complied, but not without protest. "You're mad," he said, his voice betraying his fear. "You cannot escape them!"
"When I want your opinion, I shall give it to you," Bramblethorn shot back. "Keep moving and don't stop until I tell you."
Frodo hurried on, trying to find a path through the dense undergrowth. His progress was hindered by his weariness, and he slowed his pace noticeably. "Can't make it," he gasped, his chest heaving. "I'm too weak. If you let me go, you may escape, but I will only slow you down."
It was true that Bramblethorn would have a better chance at a clean getaway without his captive to look after, but he refused Frodo his freedom yet again. "As I said, I have not risked all just to let you leave my side, beloved."
Somewhere nearby Bramblethorn thought he heard the sound of leaves rustling. There was very little wind to stir them, and it seemed possible that the pursuit was closer than he had realized. Bramblethorn pulled Frodo behind a large tree. He held the knife near Frodo's throat and scanned the surrounding forest warily. The moonlight provided just enough illumination to let him see a few yards in all directions, but no farther. "I shall take his life you try to wrest him from me!" Bramblethorn threatened to his unseen pursuers. "Come no closer, or he shall feel the bite of my blade!"
Frodo desperately searched the face that leered into his for any sign of doubt, any trace of inner conflict. Bramblethorn was bluffing! He had to be! Hazel eyes peered intently into his and Frodo gazed back, willing himself to perceive more than his own fears. In the breathless space of an instant that seemed somehow stretched into an eternity, there appeared in Bramblethorn's eyes something like sorrow.
"What is it?" Frodo breathed. "What is it you see in your mind?"
Perhaps it was Frodo's tone or the steady way his eyes searched Bramblethorn's face for the truth, but the other hobbit found himself answering with complete honesty. "I see you, with me," Bramblethorn said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. "I'm weary of the company of those who do my bidding but love me not! When I close my eyes and see in my thoughts the future I most desire, I see your eyes and hear your voice. I cannot again bear to resign myself to the loss of that dream!"
"But it is a dream, Bramblethorn," Frodo reasoned. "I am sorry for your pain, but you wish for something that cannot be. I cannot pretend to love one that I do not, merely for reason of fear or pity."
Bramblethorn's eyes darkened again and the window to the truth behind them slammed shut. "Pity? And who are you, Frodo Baggins, to feel pity for me?"
Frodo willed himself to remain calm. "I know what it is you feel. I've been lonely - "
"You see so much by the moonlight, do you?" Bramblethorn ground out, frustrated anew by the knowledge that he had allowed the façade to crumble and had allowed Frodo such a clear glimpse of his true feelings. "You know my pain, and yet you will do nothing to ease it."
"What am I to do? If I stay with you, it will not be my heart that you possess. The emptiness you feel will not be eased by my unwilling presence. It will grow and consume you further."
Bramblethorn's eyes were on the surrounding woods as he gripped the front of Frodo's shirt and held the knife close to his throat. "And so it seems there is to be no escape then, for either of us."
Any confusion Frodo felt as he pondered the statement was dispelled as the tip of Bramblethorn's blade grazed his skin. "Please, you cannot mean to - "
"If I must live without you, it will not be with the knowledge that you've given yourself to any other. If I cannot escape, I shall not be taken. We shall be together, Frodo, whether in this life or the next." Frodo felt the sharp point of the blade press against his throat and the sensation of a single drop of blood coursing down his neck.
Somewhere in the nearby woods a twig snapped, and Bramblethorn reflexively turned his head in the direction of the sound.
"No!" Frodo gasped. Driven beyond logical thought by his terror, he lunged aside in a final, desperate attempt to escape the fate Bramblethorn had promised him. The knife glinted in the moonlight as Frodo shoved Bramblethorn's arm aside and ducked beneath it.
His maneuver brought Frodo out of the shelter of the tree and he became visible to the tall figure hidden in the undergrowth. Darien stopped himself just in time to avoid releasing an arrow. His fingers tightened on the bow and he waited. The second hobbit, the kidnapper, emerged from cover and Darien aimed.
Bramblethorn snarled and leapt at Frodo. Frodo stumbled backward, falling over a tree root to lie staring up as his enemy bore down on him. There came a whooshing sound as an arrow streaked toward its target, and a muffled 'thump' as it struck home. Frodo uttered a gasp as the missile that was meant to merely disable Bramblethorn and allow his capture instead struck the hobbit in the chest.
Bramblethorn reeled, his eyes wide as they beheld the shaft of the arrow protruding from his body. "Frodo!" he gasped, reaching out unsteadily. After staggering a few steps in Frodo's direction, Bramblethorn sank to the ground, his breath coming in harsh rasps. "Frodo..." Bramblethorn wheezed again, his shaking hand beckoning his prisoner near.
Numb with shock, Frodo merely stared at the fallen hobbit. He looked up as he heard footsteps approaching and beheld a man with a bow in his hand, head bowed in regret. "Fear me not, Frodo. I mean you no harm, and I meant only to wound your enemy that he might be captured judged for his deeds," Darien said quietly. "He moved just as I released my arrow." He knelt, drawing a knife from a sheath on his belt and severed Frodo's bonds.
"Thank you," Frodo said quietly. He felt oddly detached from his surroundings, as if what he had just witnessed were no more than a dream. Frodo wondered who the strange man was and how he had come to know of what had happened. Bramblethorn's voice sounded again, bringing Frodo out of his daze.
"Please...take my hand." The hand Bramblethorn extended was shaking, no longer holding a weapon of any kind.
Unable to deny even an enemy comfort in his final moments, Frodo knelt and clasped the trembling hand in his own. He remembered the other hobbit's words several days earlier. Do you know what it would have meant to me if you had ever just simply so much as taken my hand in yours?
Bramblethorn's lips moved and Frodo had to lean close to hear what the other hobbit was saying. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry for...everything."
Speechless, Frodo merely nodded.
Bramblethorn coughed and whispered, "Will you...please...hold me?"
Frodo hesitated briefly, but reached out to draw Bramblethorn into an embrace. Bramblethorn ignored Darien's presence completely. His attention was focused solely on Frodo. "If I must die...then let me die in your arms...where I have so longed to be. Give me this one final thing I ask of you."
"Bramblethorn - " Frodo began, but the mortally wounded hobbit interrupted him.
"I know...you must hate me," he said, looking into Frodo's eyes. "I cannot...blame you if you do. I tried - " Bramblethorn drew several shallow breaths. "I tried to win your affection. I thought you might...learn to care for me in time."
"I'm sorry," Frodo responded truthfully. He was sorry, sorry for the tragic end things had come to. It was indeed tragic, Frodo thought, that Bramblethorn had so misspent his life and was to be denied any opportunity to seek redemption. Then again, perhaps he was finding redemption in his attempt to apologize to Frodo.
Darien watched in silence. This was hardly the final exchange he had expected between the kidnapper and his victim. He backed away a few paces, sensing that the danger to Frodo was now past.
"The game...has ended," Bramblethorn murmured, "and you...stand victorious." His eyes drooped shut and his grasp on Frodo's hand began to slacken. Frodo barely heard the next, and last words Bramblethorn spoke. "Goodbye, my love."
When Bramblethorn's body was limp in his arms and the unsteady rise and fall of his chest had ceased, Frodo eased Bramblethorn down against the ground as a single tear coursed down his cheek. None of this should ever have happened, Frodo thought sadly.
A rustling of branches and shouts of "Frodo!" and "Mr. Frodo, answer me!" heralded the arrival of Merry and Sam. They stood dumbstruck at the tableau before them as Ned, Saradoc and Merimac emerged through the trees to join them. Fensel failed to appear, as he was busy seeing that Monto and Anson did not escape.
Sam rushed immediately to Frodo's side and gathered him into his arms, his tears flowing freely. "Mr. Frodo! I was so scared that he'd - " The rest of the sentence disappeared into a sob.
Frodo seemed dazed, as if he thought Sam were naught but a dream rather than flesh and blood. Slowly it dawned on him that he was free, and finally safe. "Sam..." Frodo said softly, reaching out a shaking hand to brush across Sam's cheek.
Sam clasped the hand and held it there. "I'm here, Mr. Frodo," he responded.
Merry dashed to Frodo's side and knelt in the fallen leaves. "Frodo! Thank the Valar! Are you all right?" His voice wavered and his brow was creased with deep concern.
"Yes," Frodo responded numbly, also gazing at the still form of his vanquished enemy. "I think so." Frodo noticed what he thought was blood on the sleeve of Merry's shirt. "Merry, what - "
"It's nothing," Merry insisted, placing a hand over the area. Anson's knife had scored him during the brawl, but not deeply. "It's naught but a scratch, Frodo. It can wait."
Sam glanced at Bramblethorn. "Is he - ?"
"He's dead, Sam," Frodo confirmed.
Frodo's voice sounded thin and weary, laced with regret. Sam looked at him wonderingly. Had Frodo such a kind heart, he would regret the death of even a vile creature like Bramblethorn? "He can't hurt you, ever again," Sam said quietly.
"I know Sam, but it shouldn't have come to this." Frodo shook his head as his gaze swept the form of his fallen enemy. "It shouldn't have ended this way."
"And how should it have ended?" Merry asked, frowning. "Should he have been left to roam free, to find you again, perhaps?" Merry looked at his cousin's bruised and disheveled state and felt little remorse regarding Bramblethorn's demise.
Frodo closed his eyes and leaned against Sam. How could he explain the strange sorrow he felt? It was a sorrow for a life misspent, for the wages of greed, cruelty and obsession to have been paid out so harshly and with such finality. Frodo mourned not his enemy himself, but what he might have been had he chosen a different path.
"I don't know, Merry," Frodo answered tiredly. "I'm cold."
Frodo was indeed shivering and Merry removed his cloak to wrap it around his cousin's shoulders. No protests rose to Frodo's lips as Sam lifted him and began to carry him back toward the clearing where the wagon waited. "We'll take care of you, Mr. Frodo," he said.
Darien met Saradoc's gaze. "I shall see to things here," he said, meaning the body of the hobbit his arrow had pierced. He handed Bramblethorn's pack to Merimac, who took it wordlessly. It was heavy with the gold Bramblethorn had demanded and would no longer need.
When the hobbits emerged into the clearing again, they saw Fensel standing guard over Monto and Anson, who were bound and unconscious. Although they had been armed with knives, they hadn't fared well against the combined forces of Frodo's rescuers.
Frodo glanced at them as Sam gently eased him down in the back of the wagon. "What will happen to them?" Frodo asked as Sam reached into his pack for a clean cloth and his flask of water.
"They'll get their due, I hope," Sam said rather forcefully.
"They certainly will," Fensel said as he approached the wagon. "They shall be punished for their role in these events."
"I know nothing of the laws of Bree," Frodo said quietly as Sam dabbed at his bruised face with the cloth. "What shall be done to them?"
Fensel frowned slightly. "That depends upon the severity of their misdeeds. As the one they have wronged, you may make your recommendation and it shall be considered."
"I ask that no more blood be shed," Frodo answered, looking off toward the trees and the shadowy form of Darien emerging, carrying Bramblethorn. Frodo watched and a shudder ran through him. In death, Bramblethorn had seemed much less the dangerous enemy than he had been in life. He looked diminished, drained of the powerful and threatening presence he had exuded.
"Fear not, Master Baggins. There are many other methods of punishing the guilty. A term of incarceration and labor in the service of the people, for example." Fensel's words seemed to satisfy Frodo, who sighed and nodded.
Sam continued his gentle ministrations as Merry draped a blanket over Frodo. "Let's get back to the inn. We can't care for Frodo properly here," he said, climbing up into the wagon and seating himself on a pile of grain sacks. Saradoc took the reins and Merimac sat beside him while Ned climbed into the back with Merry, Sam and Frodo.
"Darien and I shall be along shortly," Fensel promised. He waved the hobbits on their way and turned to assist the other men in taking Monto and Anson into custody.
~*~
A fire at the hearth warmed the room, and Sam removed the kettle from where it hung over the flames. He poured the heated water into a basin, saving some to make the medicinal tea he had brought back from Buckland. He and Frodo were alone now, the other hobbits having reluctantly retired to the next room. Even Merry had allowed himself to be shepherded out the door, for who could better care for Frodo than Sam?
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, barely holding back tears. "I knew he would hurt you. I shouldn't have left you there with him." He seated himself on the edge of the bed and began to survey Frodo's injuries, blaming himself for each one.
"You had no other choice, Sam," Frodo responded. "Had you refused to leave me, you would have been forced to regardless. You would have been hurt as well, and I couldn't bear it if - "
"Shhh..." Sam gently began to remove the bandage from Frodo's right hand. "Don't you worry on my account, Mr. Frodo. I'd have borne anything to keep you safe." He frowned as he looked at the cut on Frodo's palm. "He gave you this."
Frodo didn't reply. The wound was superficial, and in truth it hardly pained him anymore. Bramblethorn had dealt him far worse, and Frodo lowered his gaze as he felt a sense of shame swelling within him again.
Sam peered at him with great concern. "Mr. Frodo? What is it?" Sam reached out to brush a stray curl from Frodo's forehead, and Frodo turned away.
"I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered, his eyes still downcast. "You're so much more than I deserve."
"No, Mr. Frodo," Sam soothed. "If anything, I'm far less. Why would you say such a thing?"
"How can you bear to look at me, Sam?" Frodo asked brokenly. "How can you bear my presence?"
Sam froze in mid - motion and stared at Frodo as comprehension came to him, harsh and unforgiving. No! Please no, Sam thought desperately. He saw the tears in Frodo's eyes and heard the hurt in his voice, and he knew. He had fought the knowledge until that moment, denying it. But now...
Struggling for words, Sam reached out again, gently turning Frodo to face him. "Oh, Mr. Frodo," he whispered. "Please say you're all right. Please tell me - "
Frodo's only reply was to close his eyes and turn away from his gardener's gaze. How could he give voice to the anguish he felt when he looked in Sam's eyes and saw the horror in them? Was it grief and horror at the thought of what Bramblethorn had done, or was it the revulsion Frodo had been promised by his attacker? Did Sam now find him repulsive as Bramblethorn had said he would?
"Sam..." Frodo began, but found himself unable to speak further.
"You don't have to speak of it, not ever," Sam said soothingly. "You'll be all right now, and I promise I'll never leave you again."
A single tear slid down Frodo's cheek. "I don't want you to."
Sam gathered Frodo into his arms and just held him as the fear and grief poured out of him. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything but what Bramblethorn had done to the one person he cherished above all others.
When Frodo had calmed again, Sam rose and poured some tea into a cup. As he turned to hand the cup to Frodo, he thought he saw a brief flash of fear in his eyes. He paused, uncertain as to what had caused the reaction.
Frodo silently berated himself. This was Sam, the last person in the world who would ever hurt him. He no longer needed to equate a steaming cup of tea with being abused and imprisoned. "I'm sorry, Sam," he said, smiling wanly. He reached out and accepted the cup, being careful not to spill it.
"No more talkin' now," Sam said gently as he watched Frodo sip carefully from the teacup. "It will help with the pain," Sam said softly as he sat down on the bed again. "I know you're hurtin', Mr. Frodo, in ways I can't help with now. But maybe in time - "
"Yes, Sam, perhaps. If anyone can help me, it's you, but I just need...some time." Frodo settled himself in Sam's arms again and closed his eyes, gratefully sinking into sleep.
~*~ To be continued ~*~