Frodo had to perpetuate the fiction this was a normative conversation -
despite the undeniable fact that he was bound hand and foot, and utterly at
their mercy.
Chapter 8: The Council of Meriadoc
__________________________________________________________________
Merry returned to his chair in front of Frodo, still sucking contentedly on his pipe. Pip emerged from Sam's room and plopped himself down gleefully on the chair beside Merry.
Frodo set his face in an expression that gave nothing away. He had no idea where Merry was going with this talk. All Frodo knew was that Merry had not wanted him to leave with the Ring, and that he must say whatever was required to convince Merry to untie him and let him see Sam.
More than anything, Frodo feared that Merry would try to seize the One Ring and claim it for himself. Dread punctured Frodo's delicate bubble of counterfeit composure. Frodo's hands clinched into fists behind his back as the possibility clawed at his mind. The binds around his wrists and ankles would allow him no defense against such a travesty. All Merry had to do was reach into Frodo's pocket, draw out the Ring, and let Its malicious influence ensnare his soul. It was a small mercy that Merry had shown absolutely no inclination to do so. Still, Frodo could feel beads of sweat forming along his temples, and the pressure of his own fingernails digging unconsciously into his palms.
"Now that we are all here," began Merry, "let us discuss this Ring of yours, Frodo."
Frodo opened and shut his eyes a few times, as if that motion could drive the panic from his mind. He had to perpetuate the fiction this was a normative conversation between he and his cousins - despite the undeniable fact that he was bound hand and foot, and utterly at their mercy.
Merry continued.
"Just what are you planning to do with the Ring, Frodo?"
Frodo chose his words very carefully.
"What would you do with it Merry?" asked Frodo. "I mean, if you were me?" Frodo did not want to put any very dangerous ideas into Merry's head.
Merry was taken aback. Would it really be this easy?
"Frodo, the Ring should stay right her, I think. With us."
Frodo bit his lip as he tried to transform his expression into one that might reflect that he thought Merry's dreadful plan was a good idea.
"Hmmm," replied Frodo. "For how long, Merry?" Frodo cringed. Wrong question! "I mean, for what purpose?"
Frodo inwardly wondered how much Merry already knew of the Ring and its awesome power, and how he had learned these of these things. There had been some spying, of this Frodo was sure, but how much, and by whom? Sam, perhaps? If Sam thought that he might help him by divulging his secrets, Frodo did not think he would hesitate to do so. If this were the case, Frodo's situation might be very dire, depending on the amount and the kind of information given. How Frodo wished he'd been allowed to speak to Sam before this whole accursed nightmare began!
"For what purpose?" said Merry, repeating the question. Merry drew his chair up closer to Frodo; his jaw set firm and his eyes glowing. Frodo unconsciously held his breath.
"Well, Frodo," said Merry. "Is it not obvious?"
Frodo stared blankly back at Merry. He'd been right. Merry proved almost impossible to read.
"I want to hear what you think, Merry" answered Frodo. "After all, you've always been so clever."
Pippin nodded enthusiastically at this last point, his eyes attracted to Merry like bugs to sunlight.
Merry did not react for several long seconds. Merry merely rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger, brow furrowing. Inscrutable.
"Do you, Frodo?" replied Merry. "Do you really Frodo?"
Frodo shuddered as a sinister gleam entered his cousin's eyes. Frodo felt his chest tighten as he nodded.
"Before I tell you what I think, I will tell you what I think you were planning."
Frodo did not want to hear this.
"I think, Frodo, that you and Sam planned to take the Ring to Rivendell." Merry paused. "Where you intended to hand the Ring over willingly to a group of complete strangers. And you, the true bearer, newly and wrongly divested of the Ring, would sit and listen like a mute statue while other selfish parties haggled over its ultimate fate."
Frodo kept his face absolutely immobile, much like the statue Merry had just described. Close, too close!
Merry continued, his voice growing in volume and emotion with each passing word.
"This you would do instead of using the Ring, YOUR Ring to bring power, prosperity, and PROTECTION to your own people, not the least of all, your own kin."
So this was it! These were ill words, indeed! Frodo wanted, needed to be untied. But he also needed to throw Merry off his intended trail or any escape attempt would be for naught. Frodo decided to risk his first lie.
"What makes you think that we were headed for Rivendell, Merry?" asked Frodo in the most neutral voice he could muster. "Because you've gotten that part wrong."
"Have I, Frodo?" The darkness that had entered Merry's eyes now penetrated his cousin's voice.
Frodo's heart pounded like an anvil striking his ribcage. Frodo pretended not to notice Merry's menacing tone or his burning eyes that seemed to peer right through him.
"Yes," answered Frodo evenly. "It was indeed our intention to leave the Shire and go east as far as Buckland. Buying this house was, of course, a decoy, but you already had guessed that. Our final destination was (think quickly, Frodo!) the Grey Havens. We had planned to backtrack around the Shire to the north and on to the Havens. In that way, we hoped to throw unfriendly pursuers off of our tracks. At the Havens we thought to discuss the Ring's fate in a place well shielded from the servants of the Enemy. From there, if it was deemed prudent, the Ring could easily be sent over to the uttermost West with the elves, nevermore to trouble the inhabitants of Middle earth."
"Indeed," answered Merry cuttingly. Sarcasm? This chat was not going well.
Merry continued. His demeanor remained cold, almost distant.
"Would it make you feel any better, Frodo, if I told you that I have bought you some-immunity-from these dark horsemen?"
Frodo was taken aback. Frodo suddenly recalled that Merry had known about the Black Riders before Frodo, Sam and Pippin had arrived. Was it possible he had been aware of them even before they had begun their journey to Crickhollow?
"Immunity?" spluttered Frodo, genuinely astonished. "How?!"
"That is not the subject of this talk, Frodo."
"Then what IS?" replied Frodo, much more forcefully than he had intended.
"This discussion," answered Merry calmly, "is about what we shall do with the Ring now, Frodo. That is our decision at hand."
Frodo knew better that to assert that his decision was solid and made long ago. He unconsciously tugged at his wrist bonds, almost wishing that through his actions he could make them dissolve into thin air.
Frodo sucked in his breath and prepared a new line of questioning.
"You obviously do not wish for us to take the Ring anywhere, Merry. Tell me, Merry, why do you think the Ring should stay here in Buckland. Tell me. You are shrewd, Merry. You are the future Master of Buckland" Frodo paused and nodded at Pippin. "And Peregrin here is the future Thain." Pippin flushed at the mention of his title. "As you implied earlier, Meriadoc, this matter touches us all. Convince me of your position. We are sensible hobbits. Convince me."
Frodo truly hoped this last piece of rhetoric had buttressed his credibility. Merry knew Frodo well enough to know that he would never change his mind without hearing Merry's full explanation.
Merry leaned back in his chair, took a long drag on his pipe and grinned. Apparently Frodo's last statements had pleased him in some way.
"Frodo my boy," answered Merry after expelling a thin line of white smoke. "You are just as much Brandybuck as you are Baggins. You should stay here amongst your relations. Frodo, we are so much better suited to assist you in this matter, we Brandybucks. The folk up in Hobbiton have no understanding of the importance of such matters - what this could mean for the Shire. They keep to themselves and their fields, and let the rhythms of the outside world pass them by. This they will do until the outside world closes in and devours them."
Merry stood up abruptly, nearly toppling his wooden chair in the process. A raging fire was in his once-sparkling eyes.
"We Brandybucks, your mother's kin, we are cast from a different mould. A stronger one. We are accustomed to living on the edge of the wilds - defending ourselves when necessary. We can protect you here, Frodo, and we can use the ring to guarantee that the Shire's boarders remain absolutely secure."
Merry began to pace up and down. He almost seemed to have forgotten Frodo.
"Hobbits, for all of this age, have been a people of little consequence to the other races of Middle-earth. Some men, I'm told, do not even believe we exist. They pass us off as the fabric of children's tales. We live our sheltered little lives, we eschew change, and we interact with the Big Folk only when it suits us -much to our peril. Men neither respect us, nor fear us. Can you not see that they will ultimately overrun us, Frodo? They will take our lands, drive us from the fertile plains into the badlands of Middle-earth. We "halflings" as they call us, will be forced to go into hiding - a diminished and exiled race. We shall become no more visible than the squirrels that scramble up trees when the sound of footsteps draws near. That, Frodo, is the future of hobbits."
Merry stood still for a moment in front of the hearth, hands clasped behind his back. The flames highlighted Merry's muscular frame in gold light. In this reflective pose, a pose Frodo had seen his cousin strike countless times before, Merry seemed familiar again. It would have given Frodo a measure of comfort, had it not been for the unfathomable words coming from his cousin's mouth. For a few fleeting seconds, the crackle of the fire was the only sound in the room. Suddenly Merry whirled around and strode up to Frodo. Frodo felt his back pushing into the chair.
"But, Frodo, it does not have to be that way!" Merry exclaimed. "With your Ring, we can carve out a place in Middle earth, a permanent place for hobbits. With your Ring, we can have not just the Shire and Buckland, but so much more. I know what you will say - that the Ring is evil and can do naught but ill. But true-hearted hobbits will not be corrupted! Can you not see, Frodo? Our quiet existence must end if hobbits are to endure!"
Merry had seemed to grow taller and more terrifying before Frodo's very eyes. It was as if the hobbit before him was not Meriadoc Brandybuck at all, but some misbegotten creature loosed from the gates of Barad-Dur. A tremor shot down Frodo's spine, fear sinking deep down into his marrow.
Merry's speech, however, had the exact opposite effect upon Pippin. Pippin gazed up at Merry as if he were a god, eyes glazed over, lower lip quivering, and mouth curled up in an adoring smile. His Merry had never seemed so grand.
Frodo was too stunned to even nod.
Merry sat down upon his haunches, cradling Frodo's face in his quivering hands and capturing the bound hobbit's eyes in the most intense gaze that Frodo had ever experienced.
"Frodo," asked Merry vigorously. "Frodo, do you understand?"
Frodo did understand. Frodo understood that the Ring must be taken as far away from Merry as possible to stop its baneful influence from poisoning his cousin any further. And he understood that his tone must not belie the words he was about to speak.
"I think you are right, Merry," Frodo replied in a clear voice. "I see your logic. Now please untie me so that we may work this plan out."
Merry sunk down heavily into his chair again and sighed mightily.
"One more question, Frodo," asked Merry in a soft, yet somehow menacing tone. "Did Gandalf instruct you to head out for Rivendell or the Havens?"
Frodo knew to the marrow of his bones that this was a test. He hoped beyond hope that he could lie convincingly.
"The Havens, of course."
Merry strolled calmly over to the adjoining table and set down his pipe. The pipe made a dull thud as it rolled to its side, spilling the embers upon the table's surface. Time seemed to slow down as Merry, with his blank expression and steady gait, stepped back over to Frodo. Was Frodo about to be freed? Frodo chanced a fragile smile.
Merry planted himself in front of Frodo. He surveyed his immobilized cousin. Frodo watched in suspense as Merry dipped his face down for a moment, and rubbed his own eyelids slowly, as if he were in pain. When Merry raised his face again, Frodo saw a wave of conflicting emotions dance over his cousin's face - sorrow, anger, and guilt. For a split second, the cousin Frodo knew and loved stood before him, repentant and sad. Then the strange pale glow reappeared behind Merry's eyes. Frodo's smile died on his lips.
Frodo watched in horror as Merry drew back his hand as far as it would go and slapped Frodo's face with all of his might.
"LIAR!"
TBC
Chapter 8: The Council of Meriadoc
__________________________________________________________________
Merry returned to his chair in front of Frodo, still sucking contentedly on his pipe. Pip emerged from Sam's room and plopped himself down gleefully on the chair beside Merry.
Frodo set his face in an expression that gave nothing away. He had no idea where Merry was going with this talk. All Frodo knew was that Merry had not wanted him to leave with the Ring, and that he must say whatever was required to convince Merry to untie him and let him see Sam.
More than anything, Frodo feared that Merry would try to seize the One Ring and claim it for himself. Dread punctured Frodo's delicate bubble of counterfeit composure. Frodo's hands clinched into fists behind his back as the possibility clawed at his mind. The binds around his wrists and ankles would allow him no defense against such a travesty. All Merry had to do was reach into Frodo's pocket, draw out the Ring, and let Its malicious influence ensnare his soul. It was a small mercy that Merry had shown absolutely no inclination to do so. Still, Frodo could feel beads of sweat forming along his temples, and the pressure of his own fingernails digging unconsciously into his palms.
"Now that we are all here," began Merry, "let us discuss this Ring of yours, Frodo."
Frodo opened and shut his eyes a few times, as if that motion could drive the panic from his mind. He had to perpetuate the fiction this was a normative conversation between he and his cousins - despite the undeniable fact that he was bound hand and foot, and utterly at their mercy.
Merry continued.
"Just what are you planning to do with the Ring, Frodo?"
Frodo chose his words very carefully.
"What would you do with it Merry?" asked Frodo. "I mean, if you were me?" Frodo did not want to put any very dangerous ideas into Merry's head.
Merry was taken aback. Would it really be this easy?
"Frodo, the Ring should stay right her, I think. With us."
Frodo bit his lip as he tried to transform his expression into one that might reflect that he thought Merry's dreadful plan was a good idea.
"Hmmm," replied Frodo. "For how long, Merry?" Frodo cringed. Wrong question! "I mean, for what purpose?"
Frodo inwardly wondered how much Merry already knew of the Ring and its awesome power, and how he had learned these of these things. There had been some spying, of this Frodo was sure, but how much, and by whom? Sam, perhaps? If Sam thought that he might help him by divulging his secrets, Frodo did not think he would hesitate to do so. If this were the case, Frodo's situation might be very dire, depending on the amount and the kind of information given. How Frodo wished he'd been allowed to speak to Sam before this whole accursed nightmare began!
"For what purpose?" said Merry, repeating the question. Merry drew his chair up closer to Frodo; his jaw set firm and his eyes glowing. Frodo unconsciously held his breath.
"Well, Frodo," said Merry. "Is it not obvious?"
Frodo stared blankly back at Merry. He'd been right. Merry proved almost impossible to read.
"I want to hear what you think, Merry" answered Frodo. "After all, you've always been so clever."
Pippin nodded enthusiastically at this last point, his eyes attracted to Merry like bugs to sunlight.
Merry did not react for several long seconds. Merry merely rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger, brow furrowing. Inscrutable.
"Do you, Frodo?" replied Merry. "Do you really Frodo?"
Frodo shuddered as a sinister gleam entered his cousin's eyes. Frodo felt his chest tighten as he nodded.
"Before I tell you what I think, I will tell you what I think you were planning."
Frodo did not want to hear this.
"I think, Frodo, that you and Sam planned to take the Ring to Rivendell." Merry paused. "Where you intended to hand the Ring over willingly to a group of complete strangers. And you, the true bearer, newly and wrongly divested of the Ring, would sit and listen like a mute statue while other selfish parties haggled over its ultimate fate."
Frodo kept his face absolutely immobile, much like the statue Merry had just described. Close, too close!
Merry continued, his voice growing in volume and emotion with each passing word.
"This you would do instead of using the Ring, YOUR Ring to bring power, prosperity, and PROTECTION to your own people, not the least of all, your own kin."
So this was it! These were ill words, indeed! Frodo wanted, needed to be untied. But he also needed to throw Merry off his intended trail or any escape attempt would be for naught. Frodo decided to risk his first lie.
"What makes you think that we were headed for Rivendell, Merry?" asked Frodo in the most neutral voice he could muster. "Because you've gotten that part wrong."
"Have I, Frodo?" The darkness that had entered Merry's eyes now penetrated his cousin's voice.
Frodo's heart pounded like an anvil striking his ribcage. Frodo pretended not to notice Merry's menacing tone or his burning eyes that seemed to peer right through him.
"Yes," answered Frodo evenly. "It was indeed our intention to leave the Shire and go east as far as Buckland. Buying this house was, of course, a decoy, but you already had guessed that. Our final destination was (think quickly, Frodo!) the Grey Havens. We had planned to backtrack around the Shire to the north and on to the Havens. In that way, we hoped to throw unfriendly pursuers off of our tracks. At the Havens we thought to discuss the Ring's fate in a place well shielded from the servants of the Enemy. From there, if it was deemed prudent, the Ring could easily be sent over to the uttermost West with the elves, nevermore to trouble the inhabitants of Middle earth."
"Indeed," answered Merry cuttingly. Sarcasm? This chat was not going well.
Merry continued. His demeanor remained cold, almost distant.
"Would it make you feel any better, Frodo, if I told you that I have bought you some-immunity-from these dark horsemen?"
Frodo was taken aback. Frodo suddenly recalled that Merry had known about the Black Riders before Frodo, Sam and Pippin had arrived. Was it possible he had been aware of them even before they had begun their journey to Crickhollow?
"Immunity?" spluttered Frodo, genuinely astonished. "How?!"
"That is not the subject of this talk, Frodo."
"Then what IS?" replied Frodo, much more forcefully than he had intended.
"This discussion," answered Merry calmly, "is about what we shall do with the Ring now, Frodo. That is our decision at hand."
Frodo knew better that to assert that his decision was solid and made long ago. He unconsciously tugged at his wrist bonds, almost wishing that through his actions he could make them dissolve into thin air.
Frodo sucked in his breath and prepared a new line of questioning.
"You obviously do not wish for us to take the Ring anywhere, Merry. Tell me, Merry, why do you think the Ring should stay here in Buckland. Tell me. You are shrewd, Merry. You are the future Master of Buckland" Frodo paused and nodded at Pippin. "And Peregrin here is the future Thain." Pippin flushed at the mention of his title. "As you implied earlier, Meriadoc, this matter touches us all. Convince me of your position. We are sensible hobbits. Convince me."
Frodo truly hoped this last piece of rhetoric had buttressed his credibility. Merry knew Frodo well enough to know that he would never change his mind without hearing Merry's full explanation.
Merry leaned back in his chair, took a long drag on his pipe and grinned. Apparently Frodo's last statements had pleased him in some way.
"Frodo my boy," answered Merry after expelling a thin line of white smoke. "You are just as much Brandybuck as you are Baggins. You should stay here amongst your relations. Frodo, we are so much better suited to assist you in this matter, we Brandybucks. The folk up in Hobbiton have no understanding of the importance of such matters - what this could mean for the Shire. They keep to themselves and their fields, and let the rhythms of the outside world pass them by. This they will do until the outside world closes in and devours them."
Merry stood up abruptly, nearly toppling his wooden chair in the process. A raging fire was in his once-sparkling eyes.
"We Brandybucks, your mother's kin, we are cast from a different mould. A stronger one. We are accustomed to living on the edge of the wilds - defending ourselves when necessary. We can protect you here, Frodo, and we can use the ring to guarantee that the Shire's boarders remain absolutely secure."
Merry began to pace up and down. He almost seemed to have forgotten Frodo.
"Hobbits, for all of this age, have been a people of little consequence to the other races of Middle-earth. Some men, I'm told, do not even believe we exist. They pass us off as the fabric of children's tales. We live our sheltered little lives, we eschew change, and we interact with the Big Folk only when it suits us -much to our peril. Men neither respect us, nor fear us. Can you not see that they will ultimately overrun us, Frodo? They will take our lands, drive us from the fertile plains into the badlands of Middle-earth. We "halflings" as they call us, will be forced to go into hiding - a diminished and exiled race. We shall become no more visible than the squirrels that scramble up trees when the sound of footsteps draws near. That, Frodo, is the future of hobbits."
Merry stood still for a moment in front of the hearth, hands clasped behind his back. The flames highlighted Merry's muscular frame in gold light. In this reflective pose, a pose Frodo had seen his cousin strike countless times before, Merry seemed familiar again. It would have given Frodo a measure of comfort, had it not been for the unfathomable words coming from his cousin's mouth. For a few fleeting seconds, the crackle of the fire was the only sound in the room. Suddenly Merry whirled around and strode up to Frodo. Frodo felt his back pushing into the chair.
"But, Frodo, it does not have to be that way!" Merry exclaimed. "With your Ring, we can carve out a place in Middle earth, a permanent place for hobbits. With your Ring, we can have not just the Shire and Buckland, but so much more. I know what you will say - that the Ring is evil and can do naught but ill. But true-hearted hobbits will not be corrupted! Can you not see, Frodo? Our quiet existence must end if hobbits are to endure!"
Merry had seemed to grow taller and more terrifying before Frodo's very eyes. It was as if the hobbit before him was not Meriadoc Brandybuck at all, but some misbegotten creature loosed from the gates of Barad-Dur. A tremor shot down Frodo's spine, fear sinking deep down into his marrow.
Merry's speech, however, had the exact opposite effect upon Pippin. Pippin gazed up at Merry as if he were a god, eyes glazed over, lower lip quivering, and mouth curled up in an adoring smile. His Merry had never seemed so grand.
Frodo was too stunned to even nod.
Merry sat down upon his haunches, cradling Frodo's face in his quivering hands and capturing the bound hobbit's eyes in the most intense gaze that Frodo had ever experienced.
"Frodo," asked Merry vigorously. "Frodo, do you understand?"
Frodo did understand. Frodo understood that the Ring must be taken as far away from Merry as possible to stop its baneful influence from poisoning his cousin any further. And he understood that his tone must not belie the words he was about to speak.
"I think you are right, Merry," Frodo replied in a clear voice. "I see your logic. Now please untie me so that we may work this plan out."
Merry sunk down heavily into his chair again and sighed mightily.
"One more question, Frodo," asked Merry in a soft, yet somehow menacing tone. "Did Gandalf instruct you to head out for Rivendell or the Havens?"
Frodo knew to the marrow of his bones that this was a test. He hoped beyond hope that he could lie convincingly.
"The Havens, of course."
Merry strolled calmly over to the adjoining table and set down his pipe. The pipe made a dull thud as it rolled to its side, spilling the embers upon the table's surface. Time seemed to slow down as Merry, with his blank expression and steady gait, stepped back over to Frodo. Was Frodo about to be freed? Frodo chanced a fragile smile.
Merry planted himself in front of Frodo. He surveyed his immobilized cousin. Frodo watched in suspense as Merry dipped his face down for a moment, and rubbed his own eyelids slowly, as if he were in pain. When Merry raised his face again, Frodo saw a wave of conflicting emotions dance over his cousin's face - sorrow, anger, and guilt. For a split second, the cousin Frodo knew and loved stood before him, repentant and sad. Then the strange pale glow reappeared behind Merry's eyes. Frodo's smile died on his lips.
Frodo watched in horror as Merry drew back his hand as far as it would go and slapped Frodo's face with all of his might.
"LIAR!"
TBC