Chapter 7: Lies and Crumpets
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Frodo bristled at Merry's words. "Reasonable." Frodo would be untied if he were reasonable. But Merry was acting anything but reasonable. Frodo could scarcely believe that Merry had been capable of striking Sam. Now Merry had drugged Sam, and had used his unaccountable influence over Pippin to impel him to hit Frodo over the head with a large pan. The binds around Frodo's wrists and ankles were certainly most disturbing. Merry was practically holding Frodo captive in his own home.
Practically? No, //actually//. Frodo was a prisoner, and so was Samwise.
Frodo watched as Merry strode off into another room to fetch a few chairs. Scurrying about the house, Merry seemed to be to be the same cousin Frodo had known. His movements were self-assured, confident with a touch of manic energy. But Frodo had noticed a dark glint enter into Merry's eyes since they'd arrived at Crickhollow and it scared him.
Something had gotten into Merry, changing him. Corrupting him. Frodo's mind turned to the deadly trinket he carried in his pocket. The Ring. Gandalf would not touch it. Frodo was slowly beginning to comprehend the totality of the Ring's sinister power. Frodo had been told how bearing the Ring had utterly destroyed Gollum-turning him into a shriveled, ruined creature that existed rather than lived. Could the Ring's evil be so potent as to poison even those who did not bear it? Had the Ring already ensnared one of Frodo's beloved kin? This terrifying conclusion was the only viable explanation for Merry's hostile actions.
After all, Merry's recent behavior was so unlike the Merry he knew-the Merry who had been his favorite relation apart from Bilbo.
Despite his rather mischievous youth, Merry had seemed to be growing in maturity with each passing year. By the time he had come of age five years before, Meriadoc had largely transformed into the responsible adult who would one day become the Master of Buckland. Merry was a problem solver and always seemed to have a plan for each and every contingency. Even as a young lad, Merry seemed to be able to extricate himself, and his younger cousin out of practically any fix. He was clever to the point of brilliance.
These qualities, normally so admirable, were extremely dangerous in this new situation.
Frodo's situation, in fact, was spiraling quickly out of control. This "Merry" problem was an unexpected, possibly deadly setback that was putting all of their lives, and perhaps the entire Shire, perhaps even all of Middle Earth in jeopardy. Quick-witted Merry was an excellent ally, but would be a canny foe. Frodo would need all of his wits about him to concoct a solution. He already regretted drinking the tea, though it had made him feel less panicked and had dulled the sharp ache in his head. What Frodo required was just a small piece of time to get his plan straight.
Soon, all too soon, Merry had pulled two sturdy wooden chairs in front of Frodo's assigned seat, and sat himself down in one of them. Merry sat silently at first, considering the hobbit before him. Merry liked Frodo a great deal - loved him, in fact as he loved none other. Why else would he have gone to such great lengths to protect him? He wanted so much for this all to go smoothly. Merry smiled warmly at Frodo, who only greeted the smile with a blank expression.
Still grinning, Merry took a puff from his long ceramic pipe and held it up to Frodo's lips to put him at ease. Frodo shook his head. Merry knitted his brows. He hoped that Frodo simply did not wish to smoke, and that this was not a sign of obstinacy. A stubborn attitude would only get in the way.
Merry buried a sudden unbidden urge to strike his cousin. His own violent thoughts somewhat distressed Merry. He held no hatred for Frodo and - in fact -was only doing all of this out of love. Violence was a last resort. But lately, violence had become almost second nature. This strange amplification of his darkest impulses was a mystery even to Merry. The cloud passed, and Merry reached out and placed a comforting hand on Frodo's knee.
"Are you comfortable, Cousin?" Merry asked.
Frodo fought his own venomous impulses. He wanted to scream at his cousin, demand he unbind him, answer that of course he wasn't comfortable- he had a bump on his throbbing head, his hands were asleep, his legs were stiff, and the position of his tied hands made it impossible to sit in a normal position. Frodo bit his lip to keep his tongue from forming unwanted words. Right now he had to buy himself a few minutes, perhaps longer, alone so he could formulate a plan.
Frodo took a deep breath in an attempt to relax his facial muscles and steady his voice. The outward show of anger would not help him right now. If he could not force out a smile, he could at least try for neutral.
"Yes Merry," Frodo answered evenly. "Quite comfortable."
"Good," Merry smiled.
Frodo breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Merry's smile reach his eyes. The darkness was momentarily driven back, it seemed. He attempted a request.
"Merry," asked Frodo, his calm tone concealing his inner turmoil. "I too am very eager to have this talk with you and Pippin. But first I need to know that Samwise is alright. Would you mind terribly checking in on him before we speak?"
Merry smiled and gently squeezed Frodo's knee.
"I will do more than that, Frodo. I will have Pippin tend to whatever your Sam may need. I trust he should be awake by now."
"Pippin!" called Merry.
The sound of quickly padding feet was heard from the direction of the kitchen, followed by the appearance of a grinning hobbit with flour dusting his hands and hair. In altered circumstances, Frodo would have found it endearing.
"Please bring some of your refreshments to Samwise, along with a clean shirt from his pack.and, perhaps, a chamber pot if he needs it."
Pippin nodded, still smiling, and turned back in the direction of the kitchen. Both hobbits noted the abundant white splotches of flour on Pippins rear where he had sat on the table.
"I will be back in a bit, Frodo," said Merry as he stood. "Your Samwise is in good hands."
Frodo attempted a grin and nodded. Alone at last.
* * *
As Frodo sat, bound in his chair, his mind was racing. He saw now the desperate necessity of fleeing with the Ring to save his cousins from Its pernicious influence already seeping in. Least of all, Frodo had to save Merry from himself. But to do that, Frodo would have to find a way to either get Merry to send him and Sam on their way -or to escape. Regardless, Frodo concluded that he must find a way to speak to Sam. He needed Sam. Out of the four of them, Samwise was the strongest, as he was the only hobbit routinely engaged in physical labor. . If need be, Sam could overpower Merry.
Frodo was not sure about Pippin. Pippin had not seemed to be tainted by the Ring-but by the influence of Merry. Pippin might be convinced to help them. But until he could be sure either way, it was two against two. Frodo needed to convince Merry to let him be in the same room with Sam. And from there, Frodo needed to find a way to either get Merry to untie them both, or to free them himself. Then he and Sam would fly from the area as quickly as their legs would take them. Frodo regrettably admitted that they might be forced to steal one of Merry's fine ponies.
"That part of my plan is set, I think," Frodo thought..
Now this "chat" concerned Frodo. He resolved to say whatever was required to buy his freedom, even if it was a complete falsehood. Merry would eventually thank him.
But Frodo was an honest hobbit and a horrible liar. Whenever he had gotten into mischief as a lad, his parents and later his Brandybuck caretakers would see right through him. It was Merry whose innocent eyes and quick wits avoided just punishments. It occurred to Frodo that this same quality might make Merry difficult to read for this conversation. Frodo was not even sure what Merry would wish to hear. Whatever it was, Frodo resolved to echo it back to him. Frodo's plan would be vastly complicated if he remained bound for much longer.
* * *
Sam opened his eyes with a start as he heard footsteps enter the room. Merry. Sam growled inwardly. Last time Merry had entered the room, the end result was Frodo being knocked out and dragged out the door by his cousins. Sam had observed Pippin sobbing uncontrollably after seeing Frodo lying senseless on the floor - the result of his own handiwork. Merry had embraced the smaller hobbit, reminded him "this all" would be difficult, and while rocking him gently, reminded Pip that he'd been very brave.
Sam remembered yelling at both of them for the outrage before another dose of the warm liquid was forced down his throat. Sam was stronger than Merry, but still too groggy from past doses to resist effectively. How many helpings of this tainted tea had he been given? Sam tried to remember as he resurfaced to full consciousness.
One - in the room with Frodo.
And two - very early that morning, after Sam woke and found Merry had tethered his foot to the bed. Sam remembered a kind of wooden pipe being forced into his mouth as Merry held down his hands, and warm liquid hitting the back of his throat. As his body fell slack, he remembered Merry apologizing, and insisting that he needed to sleep for the good of his master.
And three - after watching agast as Pip hit Frodo with the pan.
And here was Merry again. Sam resolved that he would make himself vomit before allowing another drop of the stuff to enter his body. Thankfully, Merry carried neither tea nor the implement in his hands. Still groggy, Sam shot Merry a withering look.
"How are you feeling, Master Samwise?"
Sam ignored the question.
"WHERE'S FRODO?!" Sam bellowed.
"Frodo's fine," Merry answered in a reassuring voice.
"Fine," repeated Sam. "Except for being smashed aside the head with a cook pan, Mister Merry! Why don't you come closer and untie me so that I may reward you for your fine treatment of my master?!"
Merry could barely stifle a smile at Sam's predictable, insolent reply.
"I understand this past day has been rather unpleasant for you, Samwise. I hope you'll eventually understand why these things had to be done. Believe it or not, I'm only doing all of this to help Frodo.
Sam grunted in disgust. "I don't think we need much more of your brand of help, Merry, if you catch my drift. If you REALLY want to help, untie my foot."
"I will untie you, Sam," answered Merry. "As soon as Frodo, Pip and I have an important discussion in the other room. Right now I need you to brook this...indignity a wee bit longer. Pip will fetch you some food, clean clothes, and anything else you may require. Meanwhile, try to relax and sit tight. Your master is in good hands.
Sam snorted, not wanting to reward Merry with a real response. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. All he wanted to do was come to the aid of his Master. Lying here, leashed to the bed, Sam felt like an unwanted dog forced out of the house. Instead of helping his Master, Sam had just become another of his burdens. Sam came to the obvious conclusion that he must get himself free. He would die before letting Merry harm his Frodo. But how to get free? He'd already tried to loosen his bonds. Merry had been astonishingly thorough. The rope wrapped around his foot tightly, braided thoroughly beginning at his ankle and extending down its length, entwining about itself, but the actual knots were tied far underneath the bed. There was nothing within his reach that he might untie. It occurred to Sam that to get the knots where they were, Merry would have had to turn the bed over, and tie the rope in advance. In advance! The bed had been made ready for its prisoner before Sam and Frodo had even arrived. It occurred to Samwise that this travesty had been premeditated.
Sam very much doubted Merry had even the slightest intention of freeing him, no matter what Frodo might say in their "talk." Sam pushed down his fury that radiated from his brain down to his clinched and shaking fists. Samwise had to get his mind clear and think of a plan to save his master. But he had to save himself first. He must get loose!
* * *
As Merry stepped out Sam's door, he crashed into the exuberant Pippin entering the room with a tray laden with food. Pip bounced off of Merry and steadied his tray.
"Mer--?"
Merry gripped Pips upper arm and pulled the young hobbit toward him.
"Pip," instructed Merry in a firm tone. "Give Sam anything he wishes. But Pip, do NOT untie him."
Pippin recoiled a little under the weight of Merry's penetrating gaze. He nodded slowly.
"Good Lad, Pip," said Merry, kissing Pip's forehead. "Off you go now."
Pip brightened immediately, wondering to himself why it took so little to make him smile.
* * *
"Master Sam!" exclaimed Pip as he entered the room. "I baked you some blackberry crumpets! I know they are your favorite, if I remember right!"
Pippin was amazed to be met with a sour expression. Then Pip remembered.
"Oh Sam, please don't be sore!" said Pippin, his bright eyes beginning to coat with moisture. ". "Frodo is alright, Sam. He's not hurt. I didn't hurt him, not really." Pippin sighed, suddenly realizing how this must have sounded. "I can't explain everything just now, but--" Pippin paused, not sure how he'd planned to reply. For Sam, as Pippin saw it, there were only two relevant truths: Frodo had been hit with a pan, and he had wielded that pan.
"What happened to our plan, Master Pippin?" asked Sam darkly. "I reckon the three of us were supposed to be well on our way to Rivendell by now. Wasn't that what you wanted? You seemed taken with the idea a few days ago, if you take my meaning."
Pippin lowered his gaze; he didn't know quite what to say. He had no argument to offer, no solid reasons to give. In his heart, he still desperately wanted to follow Frodo, and Sam's questions were quickly burrowing through Pippin's defenses. Merry's kiss had not fixed this, if it had fixed anything.
Sam stared up at the diffident hobbit appraisingly. Finally the truth of the matter occurred to him, and he spoke. "You didn't know, did you?" Sam asked in an astonished tone. "He didn't tell you a thing! You were struck dumb as much as I was. And I'll wager he still hasn't let you in on his intentions."
Pippin dropped his head a bit and averted his eyes so that he was looking anywhere except at Samwise. Sam had hit too near to the root of his own doubts.
"Merry has his reasons, Sam," answered Pippin lamely.
"But you don't know what they are, do you, lad?"
Pippin was clearly flustered and Sam knew he had hit near the mark.
"I'll tell you more after our meeting, Sam, I will. And speaking of which, I must get off, or I shan't be able to tell you a thing."
"You shan't anywise," said Sam coldly.
"Now why would you say that, Sam. Of course I will," said Pippin, a little hurt. Pippin held out his tray. "Please take one of these crumpets, Sam. Here," and Pippin took a demonstrative nibble at the corner of one of the crumpets, then, deciding his own cooking was more than adequate, took a second and third bite before setting the remaining half back home on the tray. "It's the very least I could do," continued Pippin, still chewing. "I've always liked you, Sam."
Sam's icy glare melted a bit, like a river in early spring. Pip was a well-meaning hobbit under Merry's undue influence. Perhaps Sam could use this to his advantage. And Sam was hungry. Pippin had not erred; blackberry crumpets were his favorite.
Sam expelled a weary breath and reached for the topmost crumpet. It tasted like heaven upon his long-neglected palate, and that alone made staying cross with Pippin all the more difficult. Perhaps kindness was the best way to get through to Pippin, turn him to his side. In the spirit of the idea, Sam gave Pippin a weak smile.
"Thank you, lad. Delicious!" And Sam meant it.
Pippin grinned back, and took up another piece of Sam's bounty, devouring it in seconds. This coming meeting might be hungry work. As he chewed, Pippin leaned down to Sam's pack, now resting at the foot of the bed, and brought out one of Sam's neatly folded but course-woven shirts.
"Here is a nice clean shirt from your pack, Master Samwise," said Pippin, eager to he helpful. "After your meal, you can change. Would you like a basin of warm water?"
"Yes, Pippin," answered Sam. "But. Pip - what I really want is to stretch out while I enjoy your fine crumpets. Could you untie me for just a little while?"
A shadow moved across Pippin's face. "Oh, Sam," said Pippin regretfully, "I want to do just that, mind you; but I cannot. I am sorry, Sam. But is there anything else I can get you?"
Sam had not expected that scheme to work. But a less obvious ruse just might. Sam suddenly grinned. A second idea, elegant in its simplicity, had entered his mind.
"Pippin, these crumpets are probably the best I have ever had!" exclaimed Sam.
Pip's little face lit up like a torchlight.
"If only I could have just a little butter to spread over them and a bit of bread!"
"Of course, Master Gamgee!" answered Pip as he padded quickly back to the kitchen.
Pip was back in minutes carrying a plate, which he set triumphantly upon Sam's lap.
"That will be all, Pip. Thank you!"
Pip smiled, feeling very helpful, and ambled off to attend the so-called "very important" meeting with Merry and Frodo.
Sam smiled too, but for an entirely different reason. On the plate along with a lump of butter and a roll of bread was a small, but perfectly functional knife.
TBC
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Frodo bristled at Merry's words. "Reasonable." Frodo would be untied if he were reasonable. But Merry was acting anything but reasonable. Frodo could scarcely believe that Merry had been capable of striking Sam. Now Merry had drugged Sam, and had used his unaccountable influence over Pippin to impel him to hit Frodo over the head with a large pan. The binds around Frodo's wrists and ankles were certainly most disturbing. Merry was practically holding Frodo captive in his own home.
Practically? No, //actually//. Frodo was a prisoner, and so was Samwise.
Frodo watched as Merry strode off into another room to fetch a few chairs. Scurrying about the house, Merry seemed to be to be the same cousin Frodo had known. His movements were self-assured, confident with a touch of manic energy. But Frodo had noticed a dark glint enter into Merry's eyes since they'd arrived at Crickhollow and it scared him.
Something had gotten into Merry, changing him. Corrupting him. Frodo's mind turned to the deadly trinket he carried in his pocket. The Ring. Gandalf would not touch it. Frodo was slowly beginning to comprehend the totality of the Ring's sinister power. Frodo had been told how bearing the Ring had utterly destroyed Gollum-turning him into a shriveled, ruined creature that existed rather than lived. Could the Ring's evil be so potent as to poison even those who did not bear it? Had the Ring already ensnared one of Frodo's beloved kin? This terrifying conclusion was the only viable explanation for Merry's hostile actions.
After all, Merry's recent behavior was so unlike the Merry he knew-the Merry who had been his favorite relation apart from Bilbo.
Despite his rather mischievous youth, Merry had seemed to be growing in maturity with each passing year. By the time he had come of age five years before, Meriadoc had largely transformed into the responsible adult who would one day become the Master of Buckland. Merry was a problem solver and always seemed to have a plan for each and every contingency. Even as a young lad, Merry seemed to be able to extricate himself, and his younger cousin out of practically any fix. He was clever to the point of brilliance.
These qualities, normally so admirable, were extremely dangerous in this new situation.
Frodo's situation, in fact, was spiraling quickly out of control. This "Merry" problem was an unexpected, possibly deadly setback that was putting all of their lives, and perhaps the entire Shire, perhaps even all of Middle Earth in jeopardy. Quick-witted Merry was an excellent ally, but would be a canny foe. Frodo would need all of his wits about him to concoct a solution. He already regretted drinking the tea, though it had made him feel less panicked and had dulled the sharp ache in his head. What Frodo required was just a small piece of time to get his plan straight.
Soon, all too soon, Merry had pulled two sturdy wooden chairs in front of Frodo's assigned seat, and sat himself down in one of them. Merry sat silently at first, considering the hobbit before him. Merry liked Frodo a great deal - loved him, in fact as he loved none other. Why else would he have gone to such great lengths to protect him? He wanted so much for this all to go smoothly. Merry smiled warmly at Frodo, who only greeted the smile with a blank expression.
Still grinning, Merry took a puff from his long ceramic pipe and held it up to Frodo's lips to put him at ease. Frodo shook his head. Merry knitted his brows. He hoped that Frodo simply did not wish to smoke, and that this was not a sign of obstinacy. A stubborn attitude would only get in the way.
Merry buried a sudden unbidden urge to strike his cousin. His own violent thoughts somewhat distressed Merry. He held no hatred for Frodo and - in fact -was only doing all of this out of love. Violence was a last resort. But lately, violence had become almost second nature. This strange amplification of his darkest impulses was a mystery even to Merry. The cloud passed, and Merry reached out and placed a comforting hand on Frodo's knee.
"Are you comfortable, Cousin?" Merry asked.
Frodo fought his own venomous impulses. He wanted to scream at his cousin, demand he unbind him, answer that of course he wasn't comfortable- he had a bump on his throbbing head, his hands were asleep, his legs were stiff, and the position of his tied hands made it impossible to sit in a normal position. Frodo bit his lip to keep his tongue from forming unwanted words. Right now he had to buy himself a few minutes, perhaps longer, alone so he could formulate a plan.
Frodo took a deep breath in an attempt to relax his facial muscles and steady his voice. The outward show of anger would not help him right now. If he could not force out a smile, he could at least try for neutral.
"Yes Merry," Frodo answered evenly. "Quite comfortable."
"Good," Merry smiled.
Frodo breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Merry's smile reach his eyes. The darkness was momentarily driven back, it seemed. He attempted a request.
"Merry," asked Frodo, his calm tone concealing his inner turmoil. "I too am very eager to have this talk with you and Pippin. But first I need to know that Samwise is alright. Would you mind terribly checking in on him before we speak?"
Merry smiled and gently squeezed Frodo's knee.
"I will do more than that, Frodo. I will have Pippin tend to whatever your Sam may need. I trust he should be awake by now."
"Pippin!" called Merry.
The sound of quickly padding feet was heard from the direction of the kitchen, followed by the appearance of a grinning hobbit with flour dusting his hands and hair. In altered circumstances, Frodo would have found it endearing.
"Please bring some of your refreshments to Samwise, along with a clean shirt from his pack.and, perhaps, a chamber pot if he needs it."
Pippin nodded, still smiling, and turned back in the direction of the kitchen. Both hobbits noted the abundant white splotches of flour on Pippins rear where he had sat on the table.
"I will be back in a bit, Frodo," said Merry as he stood. "Your Samwise is in good hands."
Frodo attempted a grin and nodded. Alone at last.
* * *
As Frodo sat, bound in his chair, his mind was racing. He saw now the desperate necessity of fleeing with the Ring to save his cousins from Its pernicious influence already seeping in. Least of all, Frodo had to save Merry from himself. But to do that, Frodo would have to find a way to either get Merry to send him and Sam on their way -or to escape. Regardless, Frodo concluded that he must find a way to speak to Sam. He needed Sam. Out of the four of them, Samwise was the strongest, as he was the only hobbit routinely engaged in physical labor. . If need be, Sam could overpower Merry.
Frodo was not sure about Pippin. Pippin had not seemed to be tainted by the Ring-but by the influence of Merry. Pippin might be convinced to help them. But until he could be sure either way, it was two against two. Frodo needed to convince Merry to let him be in the same room with Sam. And from there, Frodo needed to find a way to either get Merry to untie them both, or to free them himself. Then he and Sam would fly from the area as quickly as their legs would take them. Frodo regrettably admitted that they might be forced to steal one of Merry's fine ponies.
"That part of my plan is set, I think," Frodo thought..
Now this "chat" concerned Frodo. He resolved to say whatever was required to buy his freedom, even if it was a complete falsehood. Merry would eventually thank him.
But Frodo was an honest hobbit and a horrible liar. Whenever he had gotten into mischief as a lad, his parents and later his Brandybuck caretakers would see right through him. It was Merry whose innocent eyes and quick wits avoided just punishments. It occurred to Frodo that this same quality might make Merry difficult to read for this conversation. Frodo was not even sure what Merry would wish to hear. Whatever it was, Frodo resolved to echo it back to him. Frodo's plan would be vastly complicated if he remained bound for much longer.
* * *
Sam opened his eyes with a start as he heard footsteps enter the room. Merry. Sam growled inwardly. Last time Merry had entered the room, the end result was Frodo being knocked out and dragged out the door by his cousins. Sam had observed Pippin sobbing uncontrollably after seeing Frodo lying senseless on the floor - the result of his own handiwork. Merry had embraced the smaller hobbit, reminded him "this all" would be difficult, and while rocking him gently, reminded Pip that he'd been very brave.
Sam remembered yelling at both of them for the outrage before another dose of the warm liquid was forced down his throat. Sam was stronger than Merry, but still too groggy from past doses to resist effectively. How many helpings of this tainted tea had he been given? Sam tried to remember as he resurfaced to full consciousness.
One - in the room with Frodo.
And two - very early that morning, after Sam woke and found Merry had tethered his foot to the bed. Sam remembered a kind of wooden pipe being forced into his mouth as Merry held down his hands, and warm liquid hitting the back of his throat. As his body fell slack, he remembered Merry apologizing, and insisting that he needed to sleep for the good of his master.
And three - after watching agast as Pip hit Frodo with the pan.
And here was Merry again. Sam resolved that he would make himself vomit before allowing another drop of the stuff to enter his body. Thankfully, Merry carried neither tea nor the implement in his hands. Still groggy, Sam shot Merry a withering look.
"How are you feeling, Master Samwise?"
Sam ignored the question.
"WHERE'S FRODO?!" Sam bellowed.
"Frodo's fine," Merry answered in a reassuring voice.
"Fine," repeated Sam. "Except for being smashed aside the head with a cook pan, Mister Merry! Why don't you come closer and untie me so that I may reward you for your fine treatment of my master?!"
Merry could barely stifle a smile at Sam's predictable, insolent reply.
"I understand this past day has been rather unpleasant for you, Samwise. I hope you'll eventually understand why these things had to be done. Believe it or not, I'm only doing all of this to help Frodo.
Sam grunted in disgust. "I don't think we need much more of your brand of help, Merry, if you catch my drift. If you REALLY want to help, untie my foot."
"I will untie you, Sam," answered Merry. "As soon as Frodo, Pip and I have an important discussion in the other room. Right now I need you to brook this...indignity a wee bit longer. Pip will fetch you some food, clean clothes, and anything else you may require. Meanwhile, try to relax and sit tight. Your master is in good hands.
Sam snorted, not wanting to reward Merry with a real response. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. All he wanted to do was come to the aid of his Master. Lying here, leashed to the bed, Sam felt like an unwanted dog forced out of the house. Instead of helping his Master, Sam had just become another of his burdens. Sam came to the obvious conclusion that he must get himself free. He would die before letting Merry harm his Frodo. But how to get free? He'd already tried to loosen his bonds. Merry had been astonishingly thorough. The rope wrapped around his foot tightly, braided thoroughly beginning at his ankle and extending down its length, entwining about itself, but the actual knots were tied far underneath the bed. There was nothing within his reach that he might untie. It occurred to Sam that to get the knots where they were, Merry would have had to turn the bed over, and tie the rope in advance. In advance! The bed had been made ready for its prisoner before Sam and Frodo had even arrived. It occurred to Samwise that this travesty had been premeditated.
Sam very much doubted Merry had even the slightest intention of freeing him, no matter what Frodo might say in their "talk." Sam pushed down his fury that radiated from his brain down to his clinched and shaking fists. Samwise had to get his mind clear and think of a plan to save his master. But he had to save himself first. He must get loose!
* * *
As Merry stepped out Sam's door, he crashed into the exuberant Pippin entering the room with a tray laden with food. Pip bounced off of Merry and steadied his tray.
"Mer--?"
Merry gripped Pips upper arm and pulled the young hobbit toward him.
"Pip," instructed Merry in a firm tone. "Give Sam anything he wishes. But Pip, do NOT untie him."
Pippin recoiled a little under the weight of Merry's penetrating gaze. He nodded slowly.
"Good Lad, Pip," said Merry, kissing Pip's forehead. "Off you go now."
Pip brightened immediately, wondering to himself why it took so little to make him smile.
* * *
"Master Sam!" exclaimed Pip as he entered the room. "I baked you some blackberry crumpets! I know they are your favorite, if I remember right!"
Pippin was amazed to be met with a sour expression. Then Pip remembered.
"Oh Sam, please don't be sore!" said Pippin, his bright eyes beginning to coat with moisture. ". "Frodo is alright, Sam. He's not hurt. I didn't hurt him, not really." Pippin sighed, suddenly realizing how this must have sounded. "I can't explain everything just now, but--" Pippin paused, not sure how he'd planned to reply. For Sam, as Pippin saw it, there were only two relevant truths: Frodo had been hit with a pan, and he had wielded that pan.
"What happened to our plan, Master Pippin?" asked Sam darkly. "I reckon the three of us were supposed to be well on our way to Rivendell by now. Wasn't that what you wanted? You seemed taken with the idea a few days ago, if you take my meaning."
Pippin lowered his gaze; he didn't know quite what to say. He had no argument to offer, no solid reasons to give. In his heart, he still desperately wanted to follow Frodo, and Sam's questions were quickly burrowing through Pippin's defenses. Merry's kiss had not fixed this, if it had fixed anything.
Sam stared up at the diffident hobbit appraisingly. Finally the truth of the matter occurred to him, and he spoke. "You didn't know, did you?" Sam asked in an astonished tone. "He didn't tell you a thing! You were struck dumb as much as I was. And I'll wager he still hasn't let you in on his intentions."
Pippin dropped his head a bit and averted his eyes so that he was looking anywhere except at Samwise. Sam had hit too near to the root of his own doubts.
"Merry has his reasons, Sam," answered Pippin lamely.
"But you don't know what they are, do you, lad?"
Pippin was clearly flustered and Sam knew he had hit near the mark.
"I'll tell you more after our meeting, Sam, I will. And speaking of which, I must get off, or I shan't be able to tell you a thing."
"You shan't anywise," said Sam coldly.
"Now why would you say that, Sam. Of course I will," said Pippin, a little hurt. Pippin held out his tray. "Please take one of these crumpets, Sam. Here," and Pippin took a demonstrative nibble at the corner of one of the crumpets, then, deciding his own cooking was more than adequate, took a second and third bite before setting the remaining half back home on the tray. "It's the very least I could do," continued Pippin, still chewing. "I've always liked you, Sam."
Sam's icy glare melted a bit, like a river in early spring. Pip was a well-meaning hobbit under Merry's undue influence. Perhaps Sam could use this to his advantage. And Sam was hungry. Pippin had not erred; blackberry crumpets were his favorite.
Sam expelled a weary breath and reached for the topmost crumpet. It tasted like heaven upon his long-neglected palate, and that alone made staying cross with Pippin all the more difficult. Perhaps kindness was the best way to get through to Pippin, turn him to his side. In the spirit of the idea, Sam gave Pippin a weak smile.
"Thank you, lad. Delicious!" And Sam meant it.
Pippin grinned back, and took up another piece of Sam's bounty, devouring it in seconds. This coming meeting might be hungry work. As he chewed, Pippin leaned down to Sam's pack, now resting at the foot of the bed, and brought out one of Sam's neatly folded but course-woven shirts.
"Here is a nice clean shirt from your pack, Master Samwise," said Pippin, eager to he helpful. "After your meal, you can change. Would you like a basin of warm water?"
"Yes, Pippin," answered Sam. "But. Pip - what I really want is to stretch out while I enjoy your fine crumpets. Could you untie me for just a little while?"
A shadow moved across Pippin's face. "Oh, Sam," said Pippin regretfully, "I want to do just that, mind you; but I cannot. I am sorry, Sam. But is there anything else I can get you?"
Sam had not expected that scheme to work. But a less obvious ruse just might. Sam suddenly grinned. A second idea, elegant in its simplicity, had entered his mind.
"Pippin, these crumpets are probably the best I have ever had!" exclaimed Sam.
Pip's little face lit up like a torchlight.
"If only I could have just a little butter to spread over them and a bit of bread!"
"Of course, Master Gamgee!" answered Pip as he padded quickly back to the kitchen.
Pip was back in minutes carrying a plate, which he set triumphantly upon Sam's lap.
"That will be all, Pip. Thank you!"
Pip smiled, feeling very helpful, and ambled off to attend the so-called "very important" meeting with Merry and Frodo.
Sam smiled too, but for an entirely different reason. On the plate along with a lump of butter and a roll of bread was a small, but perfectly functional knife.
TBC