Well here it is again!
I'm making up for the fact that I neglected you all for so long...
Please let me know what you think.
Brachan90, thanks for your review! Butterbur is very resilient!
He's got too much ale inside him for anything else! He will however be fairly shortly retiring officially and handing over his position to his son. He technically retired five years ago, but found it a bit too difficult! So he carried on for a bit...
Chapter 10:
They decided to wait until the morning to act on what they'd heard, so crawled into bed as soon as they got back to the inn. As distressed as Merry and Pippin were, they still fell asleep as soon as their heads touched the pillow.
Frodo however tossed and turned. His mind boiled with suppressed anger and his hands shook with the adrenalin coursing through his veins. The conversation that he had just overheard replayed in his mind, over and over he couldn't bear it. He tried to block it out, particularly Eowyn's cries, for he was now positive that the prisoner in the cellar was indeed Eowyn. They echoed in his mind, denying him rest and adding to his anger. Finally he could stand it no longer, slipping quietly out of bed he dressed and buckled his new belt securing his new weapons at his waist. Picking up his darkest cloak, he padded softly over to the window and opened it just wide enough to slip through, and climbed out into the dark night.
A fresh breeze greeted his pale face, and the soft moonlight shining down comforted him in the way Eowyn used to. Turning he set off at a quiet trot, listening hard for any sounds around him, all was quiet not a sound for miles around and a feeling of unease settled on him. He was soon nearing the ramshackle cottage, and vaulted soundlessly over the low fence, moving like a rustling wind through the overgrown grasses and weeds. He paused briefly at the door to listen for movements inside, before moving soundlessly over the threshold and into the damp hallway.
The hallway was dark and musty, smelly of stagnating rubbish, and the smell almost overpowered Frodo, but gritting his teeth he moved forward, testing each piece of floor before he stepped on it checking for holes or rotten floorboards. He moved slowly down the hall towards the back of the cottage, looking for entries off the main hall. He looked first into a front room, and checked it quickly. Moving on he found the kitchen next, again checking for signs of Eowyn before moving on to the very end of the hall. There was a small door set in the wall, crudely fashioned to fit loosely into the doorframe. The handle was rusting and only loosely attached, and Frodo gripped it firmly and turned. It squeaked ominously, and Frodo paused, his hearty hammering, waiting to see if he had disturbed anyone.
Long minutes passed, and no other sound was heard, Frodo finally breathed again, trying to take deep breaths as quietly as possible. Taking courage from the silence, Frodo moved slowly down to the first step. Pausing he listened hard before moving on down to the next, followed by the step below that and so it continued till before he knew it, he had reached the end of the flight of steps without mishap and without hearing a single noise from the house around him. Gradually Frodo's eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he paused briefly to examine the room. He was standing in a dank musty room, dust lay like a blanket over the room and the very air felt thick and heavy to breathe, and the room was filled with boxes from floor to ceiling. Fighting back the urge to sneeze, Frodo picked his way carefully across the room, checking in every corner for anything that might hint as to what had happened here only a few hours ago.
He found no sign, but he refused to relinquish his new found hope. Moving carefully around the last pile of boxes, Frodo came to a small-enclosed area cornered off by boxes, it was darker here than in the rest of the cellar and Frodo stopped, momentarily blind by the darkness. He blinked, his eyes cleared slightly and he gasped. On the floor, bound and blindfolded lay Eowyn.
Rushing to her side, he kissed her gently before whispering in her ear,
"Eowyn? Eowyn! Wake up, come on! We've come to rescue you! Come on Eowyn!"
He shook her gently as he said this, trying to wake her, desperate to get her awake from this foul place. He shook her again, harder this time, and still she didn't move. Fear gripped Frodo like a clamp, making it hard for him to breathe.
"Eowyn?...."
Frodo's voice cracked, and panicking he bent down to her mouth to listen for any signs of life. It was shallow and quick but still there, checking her pulse he found the same result. Common sense took over, and momentarily fear released him. He started untying her bonds, loosening them as fast as he could, just as he was about to untie the final knot and release her, he could hear voices from above.
Frozen in panic he paused, waiting... Footsteps on the cellar stairs, and voices...He had no escape... Hoping they were just coming to move some boxes Frodo quickly hid behind the boxes nearest to Eowyn. He waited breathlessly... Long moments passed.... Now they were close enough for Frodo to hear the conversation, and he quickly identified the speakers as Ferny and his friend, still drunk but a little less than earlier.
"Look, you saw the footprints! They know we got her! We gotta move her before they come to get her back!"
"Alrigh' Alrigh'! Keep your shirt on! Help me move her then, god she's heavy! Where are we taking her?"
Ferny's friend puffed as he heaved Eowyn up over his shoulder.
"I dunno...We could try... "
Ferny bent close to the other man and whispered instructions into his ear. On hearing what Ferny had to say, his friend grinned broadly before hefting Eowyn into a more comfortable position on his back and following Ferny up the stairs and out of the cottage.
Frodo stood in shock till he was sure they weren't going to come back down, and carefully extricated himself from his hiding place. He was furious! How could he have done that?! For the second time!!! He'd just let them take her away from him again! Filled with rage, he weaved quickly through the teetering piles of boxes and dashed up the stairs, pausing to check if they were in he hall, he was greeted by silence, and quickly pushed the door open. Treading lightly he ran down the hall, and to the open front door. He could just see the two figures trotting briskly away on two horses, headed away from the village. He started to walk out the door, preparing to follow them, when strong arms grabbed him from behind, one hand covering his mouth to prevent him from yelling. Frodo struggled in vain, desperately trying to free himself.
"Well, well! What have we 'ere?!"
***
Eowyn was immersed in the darkness. It sucked her down, tearing at her very essence. Cool hands soothed her, caressing her gently, it felt comforting unlike anything she'd been treated to the last few days. Warm lips kissed her gently and lovingly, and the bonds that held her were loosened. Either she'd died and gone to heaven, or it was Frodo. She'd know him anywhere! She wanted to call out, to tell him she was all right, for him to take her in his arms and make her safe, and make this nightmare go away... Suddenly he wasn't there anymore. She wanted to call out, find out where he'd gone, but then rough arms lifted her up, and the putrid stink of alcohol washed over her. She washed down into darkness, hopeless and alone...
***
Frodo tried to twist round to get a look at his captor, but the man was strong. He writhed and twisted, trying to get free of the iron grip that held him in place. As a last resort he bit one of the fingers on the hand that covered his mouth. The hand jerked away briefly, accompanied by some cursing and language Frodo had never heard before, but quick as lightening, the hand was back in place and twice as tight as before. Although his situation had in some respects become slightly worse, the brief relax of grip from his captor, had given Frodo a fighting chance. Still unskilled with his new blades, Frodo was prepared to bet he could still do some damage with his dagger, so had discreetly drawn it and tucked it quickly out of sight, ready for the opportune moment... When the captor was slightly diverted from Frodo, he seized his chance! Bringing the blade up and across in a slashing movement that he had sometimes seen his Uncle's practice when they did their morning sword fighting practice, he heard his captor gasp in pain, and his grip relaxed on Frodo. As fast as he could, he dodged his captor's arms, and spun away from him. Looking back at the man, he realized from the mean look in his eyes, his bent nose (presumably from being broken many times) and firm jaw that this was no other that Bill Ferny, the same one that his Da' had hit wit han apple so many years ago. Apart from now being aged and bent, he matched the description Sam had given of Bill Ferny, exactly. Armed with this new piece of information, Frodo then had a glance at the damage he had done.
There was a large shallow cut across his chest, and his shirt was wet with fresh blood. Horrified, Frodo glanced up at Bill's face, and saw their loathing and hatred. He backed away a few steps, stumbling on the uneven floorboards, his eyes never leaving Bill's. A look of madness replaced the loathing, and advanced on Frodo he pulled a dagger from his belt, brandishing it menacingly.
"Tell me, which one of the little brats do you belong to?"
He spat. Advancing ever closer to Frodo, who had now backed himself into a corner.
" I don't know what you mean!"
Frodo tried to sound brave, but inside he felt like screaming in fear.
"Your father, who is he?"
Bill was getting ever closer,
"Samwise Gamgee"
Frodo said these last two words triumphantly, thinking that this would strike fear into his enemy's heart. Bill grinned. It distorted his face so much that he looked even uglier if that were possible, his triumphant smile only added to Frodo's terror, and he looked desperately for a way out of this.
"Better and better! He'll be real angry when I send you to him...piece by piece!"
With that, Bill leaped at Frodo, preparing to carry out his threat then and there. Frodo didn't pause to think; instinctively he raised his hand holding his dagger and drove it as deep and as hard as he could into Bill's chest. The man gasped, and clawed in vain at Frodo, then he looked down and saw the cause of his pain. He started to chuckle and then to laugh outright. The sound of his demonic laughter filled Frodo's ears till he thought he would scream..And then it stopped. Bill was slumped on the floor, his eyes glassy, a grin still on his face, dead.
Frodo wrenched his dagger from his chest, turned and ran as hard and as fast as he could. He only stopped when the killing caught up with him a few minutes later and he threw up. When the sickness finally stopped, he lay on the grass; sobs racked his entire body as he realized what he'd just done. He tried to justify the killing, but couldn't. He was a murderer, and everyone would know it.
He lay in the grass exhausted. Wanting to just go to sleep there, but the thought of Eowyn drove him on. He finally got shakily to his feet and set off towards the inn at a quick trot. Sneaking back to the room, he packed a small bag of clothing and went out to the stables. A silver coin got him a saddlebag of food and the cooperation of the stable boy. Within minutes he was riding as fast as he dared in the direction that he'd seen the two men take Eowyn. The stable boy watched him, something wasn't right here. He watched the lad on the horse till he was no more than a dark patch on the horizon, before he rounded a bend in the road, and was gone. Shaking his head, he turned and climbed back to his bed in the hayloft, wanting to sleep off the night's excitement.
Well? What do you think? It's got to be my longest chapter so far! Please read and review!
Brachan90, thanks for your review! Butterbur is very resilient!
He's got too much ale inside him for anything else! He will however be fairly shortly retiring officially and handing over his position to his son. He technically retired five years ago, but found it a bit too difficult! So he carried on for a bit...
Chapter 10:
They decided to wait until the morning to act on what they'd heard, so crawled into bed as soon as they got back to the inn. As distressed as Merry and Pippin were, they still fell asleep as soon as their heads touched the pillow.
Frodo however tossed and turned. His mind boiled with suppressed anger and his hands shook with the adrenalin coursing through his veins. The conversation that he had just overheard replayed in his mind, over and over he couldn't bear it. He tried to block it out, particularly Eowyn's cries, for he was now positive that the prisoner in the cellar was indeed Eowyn. They echoed in his mind, denying him rest and adding to his anger. Finally he could stand it no longer, slipping quietly out of bed he dressed and buckled his new belt securing his new weapons at his waist. Picking up his darkest cloak, he padded softly over to the window and opened it just wide enough to slip through, and climbed out into the dark night.
A fresh breeze greeted his pale face, and the soft moonlight shining down comforted him in the way Eowyn used to. Turning he set off at a quiet trot, listening hard for any sounds around him, all was quiet not a sound for miles around and a feeling of unease settled on him. He was soon nearing the ramshackle cottage, and vaulted soundlessly over the low fence, moving like a rustling wind through the overgrown grasses and weeds. He paused briefly at the door to listen for movements inside, before moving soundlessly over the threshold and into the damp hallway.
The hallway was dark and musty, smelly of stagnating rubbish, and the smell almost overpowered Frodo, but gritting his teeth he moved forward, testing each piece of floor before he stepped on it checking for holes or rotten floorboards. He moved slowly down the hall towards the back of the cottage, looking for entries off the main hall. He looked first into a front room, and checked it quickly. Moving on he found the kitchen next, again checking for signs of Eowyn before moving on to the very end of the hall. There was a small door set in the wall, crudely fashioned to fit loosely into the doorframe. The handle was rusting and only loosely attached, and Frodo gripped it firmly and turned. It squeaked ominously, and Frodo paused, his hearty hammering, waiting to see if he had disturbed anyone.
Long minutes passed, and no other sound was heard, Frodo finally breathed again, trying to take deep breaths as quietly as possible. Taking courage from the silence, Frodo moved slowly down to the first step. Pausing he listened hard before moving on down to the next, followed by the step below that and so it continued till before he knew it, he had reached the end of the flight of steps without mishap and without hearing a single noise from the house around him. Gradually Frodo's eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he paused briefly to examine the room. He was standing in a dank musty room, dust lay like a blanket over the room and the very air felt thick and heavy to breathe, and the room was filled with boxes from floor to ceiling. Fighting back the urge to sneeze, Frodo picked his way carefully across the room, checking in every corner for anything that might hint as to what had happened here only a few hours ago.
He found no sign, but he refused to relinquish his new found hope. Moving carefully around the last pile of boxes, Frodo came to a small-enclosed area cornered off by boxes, it was darker here than in the rest of the cellar and Frodo stopped, momentarily blind by the darkness. He blinked, his eyes cleared slightly and he gasped. On the floor, bound and blindfolded lay Eowyn.
Rushing to her side, he kissed her gently before whispering in her ear,
"Eowyn? Eowyn! Wake up, come on! We've come to rescue you! Come on Eowyn!"
He shook her gently as he said this, trying to wake her, desperate to get her awake from this foul place. He shook her again, harder this time, and still she didn't move. Fear gripped Frodo like a clamp, making it hard for him to breathe.
"Eowyn?...."
Frodo's voice cracked, and panicking he bent down to her mouth to listen for any signs of life. It was shallow and quick but still there, checking her pulse he found the same result. Common sense took over, and momentarily fear released him. He started untying her bonds, loosening them as fast as he could, just as he was about to untie the final knot and release her, he could hear voices from above.
Frozen in panic he paused, waiting... Footsteps on the cellar stairs, and voices...He had no escape... Hoping they were just coming to move some boxes Frodo quickly hid behind the boxes nearest to Eowyn. He waited breathlessly... Long moments passed.... Now they were close enough for Frodo to hear the conversation, and he quickly identified the speakers as Ferny and his friend, still drunk but a little less than earlier.
"Look, you saw the footprints! They know we got her! We gotta move her before they come to get her back!"
"Alrigh' Alrigh'! Keep your shirt on! Help me move her then, god she's heavy! Where are we taking her?"
Ferny's friend puffed as he heaved Eowyn up over his shoulder.
"I dunno...We could try... "
Ferny bent close to the other man and whispered instructions into his ear. On hearing what Ferny had to say, his friend grinned broadly before hefting Eowyn into a more comfortable position on his back and following Ferny up the stairs and out of the cottage.
Frodo stood in shock till he was sure they weren't going to come back down, and carefully extricated himself from his hiding place. He was furious! How could he have done that?! For the second time!!! He'd just let them take her away from him again! Filled with rage, he weaved quickly through the teetering piles of boxes and dashed up the stairs, pausing to check if they were in he hall, he was greeted by silence, and quickly pushed the door open. Treading lightly he ran down the hall, and to the open front door. He could just see the two figures trotting briskly away on two horses, headed away from the village. He started to walk out the door, preparing to follow them, when strong arms grabbed him from behind, one hand covering his mouth to prevent him from yelling. Frodo struggled in vain, desperately trying to free himself.
"Well, well! What have we 'ere?!"
***
Eowyn was immersed in the darkness. It sucked her down, tearing at her very essence. Cool hands soothed her, caressing her gently, it felt comforting unlike anything she'd been treated to the last few days. Warm lips kissed her gently and lovingly, and the bonds that held her were loosened. Either she'd died and gone to heaven, or it was Frodo. She'd know him anywhere! She wanted to call out, to tell him she was all right, for him to take her in his arms and make her safe, and make this nightmare go away... Suddenly he wasn't there anymore. She wanted to call out, find out where he'd gone, but then rough arms lifted her up, and the putrid stink of alcohol washed over her. She washed down into darkness, hopeless and alone...
***
Frodo tried to twist round to get a look at his captor, but the man was strong. He writhed and twisted, trying to get free of the iron grip that held him in place. As a last resort he bit one of the fingers on the hand that covered his mouth. The hand jerked away briefly, accompanied by some cursing and language Frodo had never heard before, but quick as lightening, the hand was back in place and twice as tight as before. Although his situation had in some respects become slightly worse, the brief relax of grip from his captor, had given Frodo a fighting chance. Still unskilled with his new blades, Frodo was prepared to bet he could still do some damage with his dagger, so had discreetly drawn it and tucked it quickly out of sight, ready for the opportune moment... When the captor was slightly diverted from Frodo, he seized his chance! Bringing the blade up and across in a slashing movement that he had sometimes seen his Uncle's practice when they did their morning sword fighting practice, he heard his captor gasp in pain, and his grip relaxed on Frodo. As fast as he could, he dodged his captor's arms, and spun away from him. Looking back at the man, he realized from the mean look in his eyes, his bent nose (presumably from being broken many times) and firm jaw that this was no other that Bill Ferny, the same one that his Da' had hit wit han apple so many years ago. Apart from now being aged and bent, he matched the description Sam had given of Bill Ferny, exactly. Armed with this new piece of information, Frodo then had a glance at the damage he had done.
There was a large shallow cut across his chest, and his shirt was wet with fresh blood. Horrified, Frodo glanced up at Bill's face, and saw their loathing and hatred. He backed away a few steps, stumbling on the uneven floorboards, his eyes never leaving Bill's. A look of madness replaced the loathing, and advanced on Frodo he pulled a dagger from his belt, brandishing it menacingly.
"Tell me, which one of the little brats do you belong to?"
He spat. Advancing ever closer to Frodo, who had now backed himself into a corner.
" I don't know what you mean!"
Frodo tried to sound brave, but inside he felt like screaming in fear.
"Your father, who is he?"
Bill was getting ever closer,
"Samwise Gamgee"
Frodo said these last two words triumphantly, thinking that this would strike fear into his enemy's heart. Bill grinned. It distorted his face so much that he looked even uglier if that were possible, his triumphant smile only added to Frodo's terror, and he looked desperately for a way out of this.
"Better and better! He'll be real angry when I send you to him...piece by piece!"
With that, Bill leaped at Frodo, preparing to carry out his threat then and there. Frodo didn't pause to think; instinctively he raised his hand holding his dagger and drove it as deep and as hard as he could into Bill's chest. The man gasped, and clawed in vain at Frodo, then he looked down and saw the cause of his pain. He started to chuckle and then to laugh outright. The sound of his demonic laughter filled Frodo's ears till he thought he would scream..And then it stopped. Bill was slumped on the floor, his eyes glassy, a grin still on his face, dead.
Frodo wrenched his dagger from his chest, turned and ran as hard and as fast as he could. He only stopped when the killing caught up with him a few minutes later and he threw up. When the sickness finally stopped, he lay on the grass; sobs racked his entire body as he realized what he'd just done. He tried to justify the killing, but couldn't. He was a murderer, and everyone would know it.
He lay in the grass exhausted. Wanting to just go to sleep there, but the thought of Eowyn drove him on. He finally got shakily to his feet and set off towards the inn at a quick trot. Sneaking back to the room, he packed a small bag of clothing and went out to the stables. A silver coin got him a saddlebag of food and the cooperation of the stable boy. Within minutes he was riding as fast as he dared in the direction that he'd seen the two men take Eowyn. The stable boy watched him, something wasn't right here. He watched the lad on the horse till he was no more than a dark patch on the horizon, before he rounded a bend in the road, and was gone. Shaking his head, he turned and climbed back to his bed in the hayloft, wanting to sleep off the night's excitement.
Well? What do you think? It's got to be my longest chapter so far! Please read and review!
