FrodoBaggins1982 - The diary is definitely about Bramblethorn's musings. I'll have a passage from it in a future chapter. While it contains an account of what he did to Frodo, it contains much more than that. Merry didn't completely blow his top regarding Bramblethorn's treachery because his mind was mostly on Frodo's well - being at the time, and also because it wouldn't have made any difference.
CuriousCat - Frodo will find comfort, but it will take a little while to work through some issues. We won't go into all that the diary contains, but there is a part of it coming soon..
Spootasia Tomoe - Merry will read the whole diary, but only in private and will tell no one else that he even found it. He will shed some tears over it, certainly.
GamgeeFest - You'll get a bit of the contents of Bramblethorn's diary in a future chapter. Frodo is so worried about those around him that he fails to see what they are trying to do for him.
Endymion2 - Bramblethorn was completely honest in his writings. I'm not going to go into much regarding Frodo's captivity because we all know what happened. But there will be some insights into the twisted mind of the villain!
Breon Briarwood - You'll encounter some of Bramblethorn's mad ramblings soon.
Stephanie - Merry was plenty angry at the news of Bramblethorn's treachery, but it would have done no good to shout about it. And poor Frodo needed some peace and quiet, after all. A lot of things came round to rights in the last chapter, but there is still the matter of Frodo.
Hobbitfeet13 - Mac has a sense of humor despite the goings on, doesn't he? Merry is strong enough to read the diary, and he will. I'll share some of it with you soon.
The Lady of Mirkwood - Bramblethorn's diary tells much. The next chapter after this will be rather long due in part to containing some of his writings.
Shelbyshire - There will be some details regarding Frodo in the diary, and not merely about his time as Bramblethorn's captive. In another upcoming chapter you will get to see Saradoc and Frodo talk a bit.
Trust No One - Sam has been close to Frodo for a long time, but never has he encountered something quite like this. He knows what he would usually do to soothe Frodo, but he's not sure Frodo wants such attentions right now.
Sam - More Sam and Frodo in this chapter!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Major angst alert - This chapter contains a scary flashback in the form of a dream. Some may find it disturbing...
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 27 - Haunted
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam came to stand by Frodo's side as he looked out the window at the crisp, sunny autumn day that was just beginning. "Everything is loaded up and ready to go."
"I'm ready too, Sam," Frodo told him as he turned away from the window. The other hobbits had based their travel schedule entirely upon Frodo's condition, waiting for him to determine when he felt strong enough to depart. An extra day of rest at the inn had been enough, Frodo had told them. He was more than ready to see his home again.
As Sam and Frodo neared the stables, Merry emerged leading two ponies from their stalls. "Aren't they splendid, Frodo?" he asked with enthusiasm. "When we made our unexpected trip to Buckland, we came back in one wagon together. We had no way to get our wagons back home."
Saradoc sidled up and patted one of the ponies on its flank. "I was planning to purchase a couple more ponies in the spring regardless," he explained. "We'll be able to get the wagons back to Brandy Hall now, and Sam's pony is waiting there to take you back to Hobbiton."
Frodo scratched a pony behind one ear. "They're fine ponies," he remarked, laughing a little as one of them nuzzled him.
Although Sam was relieved to hear Frodo laugh, the sound was thin and half - hearted. He would have preferred a great burst of merriment or even a tipsy giggle to the almost forced sound that came from Frodo's lips, but even that, he supposed, was something. Small blessings were blessings still, he reminded himself as he loaded Frodo's pack into their wagon.
Frodo climbed into the wagon to join Sam, while Ned and Merimac settled into the wagon Merry had first taken to Bree. In the third and last wagon, Saradoc took the reins while Merry climbed into seat beside him. As Saradoc readied the reins in his hands, a shout from the door of the inn startled him. All the hobbits looked up to see the innkeeper hustling toward them with several fresh loaves of bread in his arms.
"These are for your journey home," he said with a smile and a nod. "'Tis the least I can do, as I've got bread for my guests again thanks in part to you fellows."
"Thank you very much," Saradoc answered gravely. "It's a fine parting gift, sir. Thank you for all that you've done."
The innkeeper looked slightly abashed. "If you mean stickin' my nose into my guests' private business, you're welcome. Not that I make a habit of it, you understand."
"No, my good man, certainly not," Saradoc replied, trying to hide his amusement. The innkeeper's words reminded him of old Rorimac stating that his wife would never repeat a rumor, so one had better listen the first time.
"Fare ye well, then," the innkeeper called. He waved as the wagons began to roll away toward the gate that led out of the village, and to the road beyond.
Sam tore a chunk off one of the loaves and munched on it. "It's very good, Mr. Frodo. You should have some." He held out the loaf before him.
"Thank you, Sam, but I'm not hungry just now," Frodo replied. His gaze traveled to the hills above the village and lingered there. I don't think I shall come to Bree again, Frodo thought dimly as the wagon rattled out the gate. Perhaps they're right, all those folk back in Hobbiton. Perhaps it's best to stay within one's own borders after all.
Sam followed Frodo's gaze, thanking the stars when a bend in the road and the nearby woodlands obscured Breehill from view. One less thing to remind Frodo of his ordeal, and ahead, the familiarity and comfort of home.
"Would you like somethin' to read, Mr. Frodo?" Sam reached into Frodo's pack and drew out one of the books he'd brought along for the trip. "If you ain't tired enough to sleep, that is."
"Thank you, Sam, that's thoughtful of you," Frodo responded, accepting the book. He said nothing more, but opened it and let his eyes wander down the paragraphs. Sam pretended not to notice when several minutes passed without Frodo's even turning a page.
Frodo was back where he belonged now, safe in the care of those who loved him. Even so, it seemed Frodo was a shadow of himself, lacking the ready smile and cheerful laughter that was part of his usual demeanor. Instead, he stared vacantly at the pages of the book as if trying to lose himself in them, to escape from the memories that haunted him.
Silence bred like, it seemed, and the entire party seemed subdued as they made their way toward Buckland and Brandy Hall. Even Merimac forbore his usual whistling and yarn - spinning in favor of listening to the rattle of the wheels on the road and the sound of the ponies' hooves.
This is what I've brought among them, Frodo thought dismally as he noted the silence of his companions in the other wagons. They're afraid to speak, lest they say the wrong thing, afraid to move lest I'm startled by their gestures. My fault...
Giving up on the book, Frodo laid the ribbon between the pages and tucked it back into his pack. He leaned back and closed his eyes, allowing them to flutter open again as he felt Sam drape a blanket over him.
"Is there anything you need?" Sam asked cautiously. He wanted very much to provide comfort to Frodo, but only as much as was wanted.
"No, Sam. Thank you," Frodo replied softly. The motion of the wagon soon lulled him to sleep, and Sam settled in for the long trip back to Buckland, simultaneously urging the pony onward and keeping watch over Frodo.
~*~
Night had fallen and the hobbits made a cozy little camp. Haste was not needed as it had been on the journey to Bree, and the luxury of rest for everyone was too pleasant an idea to be ignored. They had pulled the wagons well off the road and made a rough triangle with them. In the space at the triangle's center, they built a small fire pit to cook their supper. Sam was busy preparing the meal and Frodo was sitting in the wagon drinking tea. Merry seated himself at Frodo's side. He kept his silence, waiting instead for Frodo to speak first.
"It's strange," Frodo muttered. "I know he's gone, but I can still almost feel his presence," Frodo said, speaking of Bramblethorn.
Merry nodded. "I know. But he is gone, Frodo. I know how compassionate you are, even toward your enemies, but you mustn't blame yourself for anything that's happened. Bramblethorn killed himself, Frodo. You didn't. He had the opportunity to free you, but he chose treachery instead."
"I know, Merry," Frodo responded sullenly. "But it was all because of me, really. Do you know what he told me?" Frodo raised his eyes to his cousin's. "He'd watched me from the time I came to Hobbiton as a tween. He'd bided his time, waiting for me to come of age and to be alone."
"You came of age, certainly," Merry noted, "but you've never been alone."
"No," Frodo answered, "and I think that frustrated him all the more."
"Very likely," Merry admitted. "There you were, without Bilbo to warn Bramblethorn away, but with Sam to watch over you in his stead."
"What would I have done without him, Merry?" Frodo asked, knowing there was no reasonable answer to the question. "He's always been willing to give up his very life and soul for me."
"He still is." Merry looked over at where Sam was turning the bacon in the pan. "No matter what."
No matter what...even if I'm not worthy of such a one to care for me? Frodo thought sadly. If I cannot bear even his gentle touch without pulling away?
Merry noticed the change in Frodo's expression. "Frodo? What is it?" Please, Frodo. Talk to me.
Frodo turned a haunted gaze toward his cousin and shook his head obstinately. "Nothing, Merry."
Right. Nothing. Some things never changed, it seemed. Even when they had been much younger, Frodo had tended to keep his inner demons to himself as much as possible. Merry could recall being unable to find Frodo for an entire day, and always when something had distressed him. His elder cousin would remove himself from everyone, even from those who truly sought to help him. Frodo would always return in his own time, having dealt in his own manner with whatever was troubling him. Sometimes he would speak of it, sometimes not. Would Frodo ever speak of what darkened his thoughts now?
"Supper's ready, Mr. Frodo," Sam called.
"Come on, cousin. Let's get ours before it's all gone," Merry cajoled, leaping out of the back of the wagon and extending a hand to assist Frodo. Frodo rose and accepted Merry's hand, easing himself carefully down from the wagon. Sam already had a steaming plate in hand, and passed it to Frodo.
Sam watched as Frodo picked at his food distractedly. He longed to see Frodo attack his meal like a hungry traveler ought, but it seemed it wasn't to be. Short rations had probably been the order of the day for Frodo during the past two weeks, Sam thought bitterly. Perhaps his stomach wasn't ready for much more as yet.
After supper, bedrolls were arranged about the fire, and Sam made certain that Frodo's was closest to the warmth of the embers. He placed his own next to it, fully intending to be no farther from Frodo than arm's reach, should anything happen. With Merry's bedroll positioned at the foot of Frodo and Sam's and the other hobbits occupying the ground on the other side of the small fire pit, Frodo was well shielded from the approach of anything from the road or surrounding woods. Harm, should it come, would have to get past three wagons and at least one other hobbit before it could reach him.
Frodo curled up on his side, facing the fire. Sam lay quietly watching him, looking for any sign of distress. Whether Frodo was attempting to sleep or simply staring into the glowing coals, Sam couldn't tell. It was all he could do not to reach out in an attempt to provide some sort of comfort.
After a while, he could tell that Frodo had fallen asleep by the rhythm of his breathing and the stillness of his body. Sam was glad of the fact that journeying always seemed to weary him somewhat. Otherwise, it would have been much longer before he himself fell asleep, if he slept at all. As it was, sleep soon stole over the entire camp, as the moon rose high in the sky above.
~*~
The hand covering his mouth is suddenly gone, and the sound that should have been a scream instead is a series of choked sobs interspersed with harsh breaths. He feels weight upon him, and pain. He is lying on the floor, face down, and a voice whispers to him, not words of comfort, but promises of further violation.
"You are all I had hoped for and more, my love," the voice is purring. "But I haven't finished with you yet, my dear. I'm just beginning to know the pleasure of you in my arms, and we've plenty of time, haven't we?"
There are hands upon him again, turning him over onto his back, still on the hard surface of the floor. The beams of the ceiling look down on him in cold indifference and the face before his eyes looks back into his in mockery. The hands wander over him again, and lips claim his roughly. The hands are seeking, probing, and he moves to stop them, protesting weakly.
"You mustn't fight me, Frodo, or I will bind you. Do you wish me to do so?"
He hates himself for the pleading that follows, and even more for the fact that his body betrays him and responds to the undesired touch.
~*~
Sam was sound asleep but gradually a sense that something wasn't right began to creep over him. He stirred slightly and a frown creased his brow.
~*~
"You cannot help yourself, can you beloved? You see, your body will accept my touch whether or not you choose to."
Fingers brush the hair from his eyes, then grip his face. He cannot look away now, but is forced to meet the gaze that bores into him. He feels the unmistakable evidence of the ardor of the one who holds him as hips grind against his.
"Let us see what you have learned, my dear. Let us see if you have finally realized that you must yield to me. I've had enough of this floor, haven't you? Up, then, my love, now."
There is a tight grip on his arms and he feels himself being dragged upright. His foot slips on something wet and he looks down. Something dark stains the floor. Blood. His. Not much, but it is there nonetheless, evidence of his suffering.
The hands release him and he collapses. It is not hard floorboards that meet him now, but the softer surface of the bed. He grips the coverlet with both hands and buries his face in its folds, weeping.
Weight descends upon him again, and the invasion, when it comes, is slower this time, less anger-driven but no less traumatic. "I didn't enjoy you properly the first time, you understand," the voice breathes. "I was too hurried. I shall not hurry now, my love."
~*~
Sam woke to the sound of incoherent muttering, and the motion of Frodo tossing restlessly beside him. He grew ever more alarmed as the muttering grew louder and became tearful pleading.
"N-no!" Frodo's hand flailed outward as if to ward off an approaching enemy. "P-please, don't! I beg you!"
Unable to stand another moment, Sam reached out and grasped Frodo's arm, shaking him gently to rouse him. "Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo, please wake up!"
Frodo's eyes flew open at the touch. They were wide, unseeing. He gasped and pulled away. "No! NO!"
Sam reached out again, more slowly this time. "It's just me, Mr. Frodo. Your Sam. I won't hurt you."
Something akin to comprehension began to come into Frodo's terrified expression as he finally recognized the face staring back into his. "S-Sam?"
"Yes, sir. You were havin' a dream, that's all." Sam's face held an endless supply of concern.
"A dream," Frodo echoed, his brow creasing in a slight frown. "It seemed so very real." His eyes were haunted as he gazed at Sam. "Thank you, Sam."
"You're welcome, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied, feeling utterly helpless. Bramblethorn was dead and gone! What right had he now to trouble Frodo's dreams? Sam wished that he could somehow magically enter Frodo's nightmare himself and stop whatever Bramblethorn had been doing to him. I can't even save him from things that aren't real, Sam thought miserably. But they are real, aren't they? At least, I think they were once.
Frodo burrowed under the blanket again and closed his eyes. When sleep at last overtook him again, Sam gently took Frodo's hand in his own. Frodo slept on, weary and unaware of Sam's attempt to comfort him.
~*~
Merry squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to remain motionless beneath his blanket. It wouldn't do to let either Frodo or Sam know he had heard the exchange. They had enough to deal with between the two of them. Merry's thoughts went back to the small leather bound book he still kept hidden neatly away. Whatever had possessed him to pick up Bramblethorn's diary, he wondered? Perhaps it held some clues to what Frodo had endured, Merry surmised. While he berated himself for wanting to delve into such things, something whispered to him that there was a possible benefit to such actions. If it might help him to know what he faced in helping to heal his cousin, there was value in it. There had to be.
~*~ To be continued ~*~
CuriousCat - Frodo will find comfort, but it will take a little while to work through some issues. We won't go into all that the diary contains, but there is a part of it coming soon..
Spootasia Tomoe - Merry will read the whole diary, but only in private and will tell no one else that he even found it. He will shed some tears over it, certainly.
GamgeeFest - You'll get a bit of the contents of Bramblethorn's diary in a future chapter. Frodo is so worried about those around him that he fails to see what they are trying to do for him.
Endymion2 - Bramblethorn was completely honest in his writings. I'm not going to go into much regarding Frodo's captivity because we all know what happened. But there will be some insights into the twisted mind of the villain!
Breon Briarwood - You'll encounter some of Bramblethorn's mad ramblings soon.
Stephanie - Merry was plenty angry at the news of Bramblethorn's treachery, but it would have done no good to shout about it. And poor Frodo needed some peace and quiet, after all. A lot of things came round to rights in the last chapter, but there is still the matter of Frodo.
Hobbitfeet13 - Mac has a sense of humor despite the goings on, doesn't he? Merry is strong enough to read the diary, and he will. I'll share some of it with you soon.
The Lady of Mirkwood - Bramblethorn's diary tells much. The next chapter after this will be rather long due in part to containing some of his writings.
Shelbyshire - There will be some details regarding Frodo in the diary, and not merely about his time as Bramblethorn's captive. In another upcoming chapter you will get to see Saradoc and Frodo talk a bit.
Trust No One - Sam has been close to Frodo for a long time, but never has he encountered something quite like this. He knows what he would usually do to soothe Frodo, but he's not sure Frodo wants such attentions right now.
Sam - More Sam and Frodo in this chapter!
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Major angst alert - This chapter contains a scary flashback in the form of a dream. Some may find it disturbing...
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Chapter 27 - Haunted
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam came to stand by Frodo's side as he looked out the window at the crisp, sunny autumn day that was just beginning. "Everything is loaded up and ready to go."
"I'm ready too, Sam," Frodo told him as he turned away from the window. The other hobbits had based their travel schedule entirely upon Frodo's condition, waiting for him to determine when he felt strong enough to depart. An extra day of rest at the inn had been enough, Frodo had told them. He was more than ready to see his home again.
As Sam and Frodo neared the stables, Merry emerged leading two ponies from their stalls. "Aren't they splendid, Frodo?" he asked with enthusiasm. "When we made our unexpected trip to Buckland, we came back in one wagon together. We had no way to get our wagons back home."
Saradoc sidled up and patted one of the ponies on its flank. "I was planning to purchase a couple more ponies in the spring regardless," he explained. "We'll be able to get the wagons back to Brandy Hall now, and Sam's pony is waiting there to take you back to Hobbiton."
Frodo scratched a pony behind one ear. "They're fine ponies," he remarked, laughing a little as one of them nuzzled him.
Although Sam was relieved to hear Frodo laugh, the sound was thin and half - hearted. He would have preferred a great burst of merriment or even a tipsy giggle to the almost forced sound that came from Frodo's lips, but even that, he supposed, was something. Small blessings were blessings still, he reminded himself as he loaded Frodo's pack into their wagon.
Frodo climbed into the wagon to join Sam, while Ned and Merimac settled into the wagon Merry had first taken to Bree. In the third and last wagon, Saradoc took the reins while Merry climbed into seat beside him. As Saradoc readied the reins in his hands, a shout from the door of the inn startled him. All the hobbits looked up to see the innkeeper hustling toward them with several fresh loaves of bread in his arms.
"These are for your journey home," he said with a smile and a nod. "'Tis the least I can do, as I've got bread for my guests again thanks in part to you fellows."
"Thank you very much," Saradoc answered gravely. "It's a fine parting gift, sir. Thank you for all that you've done."
The innkeeper looked slightly abashed. "If you mean stickin' my nose into my guests' private business, you're welcome. Not that I make a habit of it, you understand."
"No, my good man, certainly not," Saradoc replied, trying to hide his amusement. The innkeeper's words reminded him of old Rorimac stating that his wife would never repeat a rumor, so one had better listen the first time.
"Fare ye well, then," the innkeeper called. He waved as the wagons began to roll away toward the gate that led out of the village, and to the road beyond.
Sam tore a chunk off one of the loaves and munched on it. "It's very good, Mr. Frodo. You should have some." He held out the loaf before him.
"Thank you, Sam, but I'm not hungry just now," Frodo replied. His gaze traveled to the hills above the village and lingered there. I don't think I shall come to Bree again, Frodo thought dimly as the wagon rattled out the gate. Perhaps they're right, all those folk back in Hobbiton. Perhaps it's best to stay within one's own borders after all.
Sam followed Frodo's gaze, thanking the stars when a bend in the road and the nearby woodlands obscured Breehill from view. One less thing to remind Frodo of his ordeal, and ahead, the familiarity and comfort of home.
"Would you like somethin' to read, Mr. Frodo?" Sam reached into Frodo's pack and drew out one of the books he'd brought along for the trip. "If you ain't tired enough to sleep, that is."
"Thank you, Sam, that's thoughtful of you," Frodo responded, accepting the book. He said nothing more, but opened it and let his eyes wander down the paragraphs. Sam pretended not to notice when several minutes passed without Frodo's even turning a page.
Frodo was back where he belonged now, safe in the care of those who loved him. Even so, it seemed Frodo was a shadow of himself, lacking the ready smile and cheerful laughter that was part of his usual demeanor. Instead, he stared vacantly at the pages of the book as if trying to lose himself in them, to escape from the memories that haunted him.
Silence bred like, it seemed, and the entire party seemed subdued as they made their way toward Buckland and Brandy Hall. Even Merimac forbore his usual whistling and yarn - spinning in favor of listening to the rattle of the wheels on the road and the sound of the ponies' hooves.
This is what I've brought among them, Frodo thought dismally as he noted the silence of his companions in the other wagons. They're afraid to speak, lest they say the wrong thing, afraid to move lest I'm startled by their gestures. My fault...
Giving up on the book, Frodo laid the ribbon between the pages and tucked it back into his pack. He leaned back and closed his eyes, allowing them to flutter open again as he felt Sam drape a blanket over him.
"Is there anything you need?" Sam asked cautiously. He wanted very much to provide comfort to Frodo, but only as much as was wanted.
"No, Sam. Thank you," Frodo replied softly. The motion of the wagon soon lulled him to sleep, and Sam settled in for the long trip back to Buckland, simultaneously urging the pony onward and keeping watch over Frodo.
~*~
Night had fallen and the hobbits made a cozy little camp. Haste was not needed as it had been on the journey to Bree, and the luxury of rest for everyone was too pleasant an idea to be ignored. They had pulled the wagons well off the road and made a rough triangle with them. In the space at the triangle's center, they built a small fire pit to cook their supper. Sam was busy preparing the meal and Frodo was sitting in the wagon drinking tea. Merry seated himself at Frodo's side. He kept his silence, waiting instead for Frodo to speak first.
"It's strange," Frodo muttered. "I know he's gone, but I can still almost feel his presence," Frodo said, speaking of Bramblethorn.
Merry nodded. "I know. But he is gone, Frodo. I know how compassionate you are, even toward your enemies, but you mustn't blame yourself for anything that's happened. Bramblethorn killed himself, Frodo. You didn't. He had the opportunity to free you, but he chose treachery instead."
"I know, Merry," Frodo responded sullenly. "But it was all because of me, really. Do you know what he told me?" Frodo raised his eyes to his cousin's. "He'd watched me from the time I came to Hobbiton as a tween. He'd bided his time, waiting for me to come of age and to be alone."
"You came of age, certainly," Merry noted, "but you've never been alone."
"No," Frodo answered, "and I think that frustrated him all the more."
"Very likely," Merry admitted. "There you were, without Bilbo to warn Bramblethorn away, but with Sam to watch over you in his stead."
"What would I have done without him, Merry?" Frodo asked, knowing there was no reasonable answer to the question. "He's always been willing to give up his very life and soul for me."
"He still is." Merry looked over at where Sam was turning the bacon in the pan. "No matter what."
No matter what...even if I'm not worthy of such a one to care for me? Frodo thought sadly. If I cannot bear even his gentle touch without pulling away?
Merry noticed the change in Frodo's expression. "Frodo? What is it?" Please, Frodo. Talk to me.
Frodo turned a haunted gaze toward his cousin and shook his head obstinately. "Nothing, Merry."
Right. Nothing. Some things never changed, it seemed. Even when they had been much younger, Frodo had tended to keep his inner demons to himself as much as possible. Merry could recall being unable to find Frodo for an entire day, and always when something had distressed him. His elder cousin would remove himself from everyone, even from those who truly sought to help him. Frodo would always return in his own time, having dealt in his own manner with whatever was troubling him. Sometimes he would speak of it, sometimes not. Would Frodo ever speak of what darkened his thoughts now?
"Supper's ready, Mr. Frodo," Sam called.
"Come on, cousin. Let's get ours before it's all gone," Merry cajoled, leaping out of the back of the wagon and extending a hand to assist Frodo. Frodo rose and accepted Merry's hand, easing himself carefully down from the wagon. Sam already had a steaming plate in hand, and passed it to Frodo.
Sam watched as Frodo picked at his food distractedly. He longed to see Frodo attack his meal like a hungry traveler ought, but it seemed it wasn't to be. Short rations had probably been the order of the day for Frodo during the past two weeks, Sam thought bitterly. Perhaps his stomach wasn't ready for much more as yet.
After supper, bedrolls were arranged about the fire, and Sam made certain that Frodo's was closest to the warmth of the embers. He placed his own next to it, fully intending to be no farther from Frodo than arm's reach, should anything happen. With Merry's bedroll positioned at the foot of Frodo and Sam's and the other hobbits occupying the ground on the other side of the small fire pit, Frodo was well shielded from the approach of anything from the road or surrounding woods. Harm, should it come, would have to get past three wagons and at least one other hobbit before it could reach him.
Frodo curled up on his side, facing the fire. Sam lay quietly watching him, looking for any sign of distress. Whether Frodo was attempting to sleep or simply staring into the glowing coals, Sam couldn't tell. It was all he could do not to reach out in an attempt to provide some sort of comfort.
After a while, he could tell that Frodo had fallen asleep by the rhythm of his breathing and the stillness of his body. Sam was glad of the fact that journeying always seemed to weary him somewhat. Otherwise, it would have been much longer before he himself fell asleep, if he slept at all. As it was, sleep soon stole over the entire camp, as the moon rose high in the sky above.
~*~
The hand covering his mouth is suddenly gone, and the sound that should have been a scream instead is a series of choked sobs interspersed with harsh breaths. He feels weight upon him, and pain. He is lying on the floor, face down, and a voice whispers to him, not words of comfort, but promises of further violation.
"You are all I had hoped for and more, my love," the voice is purring. "But I haven't finished with you yet, my dear. I'm just beginning to know the pleasure of you in my arms, and we've plenty of time, haven't we?"
There are hands upon him again, turning him over onto his back, still on the hard surface of the floor. The beams of the ceiling look down on him in cold indifference and the face before his eyes looks back into his in mockery. The hands wander over him again, and lips claim his roughly. The hands are seeking, probing, and he moves to stop them, protesting weakly.
"You mustn't fight me, Frodo, or I will bind you. Do you wish me to do so?"
He hates himself for the pleading that follows, and even more for the fact that his body betrays him and responds to the undesired touch.
~*~
Sam was sound asleep but gradually a sense that something wasn't right began to creep over him. He stirred slightly and a frown creased his brow.
~*~
"You cannot help yourself, can you beloved? You see, your body will accept my touch whether or not you choose to."
Fingers brush the hair from his eyes, then grip his face. He cannot look away now, but is forced to meet the gaze that bores into him. He feels the unmistakable evidence of the ardor of the one who holds him as hips grind against his.
"Let us see what you have learned, my dear. Let us see if you have finally realized that you must yield to me. I've had enough of this floor, haven't you? Up, then, my love, now."
There is a tight grip on his arms and he feels himself being dragged upright. His foot slips on something wet and he looks down. Something dark stains the floor. Blood. His. Not much, but it is there nonetheless, evidence of his suffering.
The hands release him and he collapses. It is not hard floorboards that meet him now, but the softer surface of the bed. He grips the coverlet with both hands and buries his face in its folds, weeping.
Weight descends upon him again, and the invasion, when it comes, is slower this time, less anger-driven but no less traumatic. "I didn't enjoy you properly the first time, you understand," the voice breathes. "I was too hurried. I shall not hurry now, my love."
~*~
Sam woke to the sound of incoherent muttering, and the motion of Frodo tossing restlessly beside him. He grew ever more alarmed as the muttering grew louder and became tearful pleading.
"N-no!" Frodo's hand flailed outward as if to ward off an approaching enemy. "P-please, don't! I beg you!"
Unable to stand another moment, Sam reached out and grasped Frodo's arm, shaking him gently to rouse him. "Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo, please wake up!"
Frodo's eyes flew open at the touch. They were wide, unseeing. He gasped and pulled away. "No! NO!"
Sam reached out again, more slowly this time. "It's just me, Mr. Frodo. Your Sam. I won't hurt you."
Something akin to comprehension began to come into Frodo's terrified expression as he finally recognized the face staring back into his. "S-Sam?"
"Yes, sir. You were havin' a dream, that's all." Sam's face held an endless supply of concern.
"A dream," Frodo echoed, his brow creasing in a slight frown. "It seemed so very real." His eyes were haunted as he gazed at Sam. "Thank you, Sam."
"You're welcome, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied, feeling utterly helpless. Bramblethorn was dead and gone! What right had he now to trouble Frodo's dreams? Sam wished that he could somehow magically enter Frodo's nightmare himself and stop whatever Bramblethorn had been doing to him. I can't even save him from things that aren't real, Sam thought miserably. But they are real, aren't they? At least, I think they were once.
Frodo burrowed under the blanket again and closed his eyes. When sleep at last overtook him again, Sam gently took Frodo's hand in his own. Frodo slept on, weary and unaware of Sam's attempt to comfort him.
~*~
Merry squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to remain motionless beneath his blanket. It wouldn't do to let either Frodo or Sam know he had heard the exchange. They had enough to deal with between the two of them. Merry's thoughts went back to the small leather bound book he still kept hidden neatly away. Whatever had possessed him to pick up Bramblethorn's diary, he wondered? Perhaps it held some clues to what Frodo had endured, Merry surmised. While he berated himself for wanting to delve into such things, something whispered to him that there was a possible benefit to such actions. If it might help him to know what he faced in helping to heal his cousin, there was value in it. There had to be.
~*~ To be continued ~*~