Frodo felt his muscles go lax, his head swim, and his eyes roll back. Then
Frodo felt absolutely nothing.
Chapter 14 - Out of the Darkness ____________________________________________________________________________ __ Frodo awoke with a start to the sound of a barely perceptible clicking of a lock.
'Idiot!,' he chastised himself. He'd fallen asleep! How could he?! The candles had all gone out. How long had he been out?
"Sam! Sam! Sam!" called Frodo in hushed tones, growing louder. "SAM!"
Sam snored contentedly, unaware of the approaching danger.
"SAM!" Frodo now used his full loud voice. "SAM!" Frodo bellowed, no longer caring about the element of surprise they had hoped for and was now surely lost. Oh, how could he have been so dull-witted?!
The door flew open with a sharp cracking sound as the knob hit the wall and Sam found himself sitting up on the bed before slumber would loose its bleary hold on his mind. His body, not waiting for his mind to catch up, was tensely strung and rigid as his brain tried to re-acquaint itself with his present situation.
"Frodo!" he yelled.
Frodo's eyes still groggy with the sleep his traitorous body had demanded and greedily took had not yet adjusted to the dark and he found himself disoriented by the suddenness of this latest turn in fortune. He stood up on shaky legs and charged the door, only to crash into the shadowy yet solid figure in the doorway. Merry. Frodo bounced off the unyielding mass with a low grunt and stumbled backward.
Sam, only half awake, dove out of bed to come to the aid of his master. But Sam had a whole room to cross and the distance seemed so much further to him now as he made his way across it and he had time to think of those dreams he sometimes had where he was trying to run toward something or away from danger yet his legs would stubbornly refuse to move. 'Oh, please,' he thought as he continued what seemed to him his slow progress across the unending distance between him and his master, 'please let this be one of those dreams! Please, let me wake up!'.
Before Frodo could fully register what happened, he was bodily yanked from the room by his collar. The very instant he was pulled through the threshold, Frodo heard the door slam shut and the lock click, followed by violent crashing on the door from inside.
"Frodo!" called Sam desperately from the other side of the door as he pounded. "FRODO!"
Frodo could make out nothing in the pitch-black hallway. He'd have to make a dash for it. He realized with regret that he would have to leave Sam behind and escape alone if he were to be of any help to either of them. He could not allow himself to be bound again or there would be no hope for either of them. Frodo leaned over and sunk his teeth into the unwanted hand holding his collar. Frodo heard Merry screech and felt warm blood seep around his teeth before he felt a fist clout him on the cheek.
Frodo reeled, but did not fall. He flailed wildly, trying to hit back make his fist connect with something, anything just to get some distance between him and his tormentors and make a run for it. The sounds of Sam's cries and pounding echoed through the dark corridor. (It might have seemed comical under different circumstances - what with Sam pounding on the door and yelling incoherently something about wicked Brandybucks and their vile Took accomplices - and Frodo felt the bubble of an insane giggle at the back of his throat even as hot tears of rage welled behind his eyes and he turned blindly to attempt his flight past his attackers.
"Frodo! Frodo!"
Frodo turned toward the door for just a second, but it was a second he could ill afford. Frodo felt two strong hands closed vice-like around his forearms from behind as something unseen was tossed over his head and pulled tight-pinning his arms to his side.
Frodo was roughly pushed down to his knees, and then all the way down on his belly as he struggled wildly to free himself from the restraints already tight about him. NO! He could not be bound again! But he was!
A cloth was pulled over his eyes, while, simultaneously, his ankles were bound by a second pair of hands and his hope fled as he realized that he was again caught and helpless. 'Sam,' he thought with despair, 'I'm so sorry.'
The whole process had taken seconds. Less than a minute after waking up, Frodo was bound, blindfolded, and lying prone at Merry's feet.
Frodo cried out in anguish and frustration, as Sam's cries answered his own from behind the door.
Frodo felt himself being hastily flipped over into sitting position as a steaming cup of something was raised to his lips.
Neither Merry nor Pippin had uttered a word throughout this process, probably so as to take advantage of his own disorientation and to not give their positions away. He reflected ruefully how brilliantly they had succeeded. There was had been no need for speech. This attack had been expertly coordinated.
Merry, or what Frodo assumed to be Merry, pinched Frodo's nose hard with one hand, not allowing any air to pass through. The other hand wound painfully tight through his hair and leaned Frodo's head back and forced the bitter drink to his lips. Frodo shut his lips as tightly as possible, but air was running low. After about 30 seconds, Frodo's lungs began to burn and he vainly tried to turn his head violently and shake the strong hand that was pulling at his hair loose. As Frodo at last gasped for breath, the liquid was poured in where the air should have gone and another hand moved to his mouth and sealed his lips tightly to prevent him from spitting out the offending liquid. A firm hand patted Frodo's back as he choked down the offending drink.
Frodo's nose and mouth were instantly released. As Frodo gasped and inhaled, he heard a familiar voice emanating from out of the darkness and the silence. The voice was gentle and soft as a lullaby and sent shudders down his spin.
"Back to sleep, Frodo. Sweet Dreams."
Merry gathered Frodo in his arms and placed a gentle kiss upon his check, a travesty under the circumstances. Frodo felt his muscles go lax, his head swim, and his eyes roll back. Then Frodo felt absolutely nothing.
TBC
Chapter 14 - Out of the Darkness ____________________________________________________________________________ __ Frodo awoke with a start to the sound of a barely perceptible clicking of a lock.
'Idiot!,' he chastised himself. He'd fallen asleep! How could he?! The candles had all gone out. How long had he been out?
"Sam! Sam! Sam!" called Frodo in hushed tones, growing louder. "SAM!"
Sam snored contentedly, unaware of the approaching danger.
"SAM!" Frodo now used his full loud voice. "SAM!" Frodo bellowed, no longer caring about the element of surprise they had hoped for and was now surely lost. Oh, how could he have been so dull-witted?!
The door flew open with a sharp cracking sound as the knob hit the wall and Sam found himself sitting up on the bed before slumber would loose its bleary hold on his mind. His body, not waiting for his mind to catch up, was tensely strung and rigid as his brain tried to re-acquaint itself with his present situation.
"Frodo!" he yelled.
Frodo's eyes still groggy with the sleep his traitorous body had demanded and greedily took had not yet adjusted to the dark and he found himself disoriented by the suddenness of this latest turn in fortune. He stood up on shaky legs and charged the door, only to crash into the shadowy yet solid figure in the doorway. Merry. Frodo bounced off the unyielding mass with a low grunt and stumbled backward.
Sam, only half awake, dove out of bed to come to the aid of his master. But Sam had a whole room to cross and the distance seemed so much further to him now as he made his way across it and he had time to think of those dreams he sometimes had where he was trying to run toward something or away from danger yet his legs would stubbornly refuse to move. 'Oh, please,' he thought as he continued what seemed to him his slow progress across the unending distance between him and his master, 'please let this be one of those dreams! Please, let me wake up!'.
Before Frodo could fully register what happened, he was bodily yanked from the room by his collar. The very instant he was pulled through the threshold, Frodo heard the door slam shut and the lock click, followed by violent crashing on the door from inside.
"Frodo!" called Sam desperately from the other side of the door as he pounded. "FRODO!"
Frodo could make out nothing in the pitch-black hallway. He'd have to make a dash for it. He realized with regret that he would have to leave Sam behind and escape alone if he were to be of any help to either of them. He could not allow himself to be bound again or there would be no hope for either of them. Frodo leaned over and sunk his teeth into the unwanted hand holding his collar. Frodo heard Merry screech and felt warm blood seep around his teeth before he felt a fist clout him on the cheek.
Frodo reeled, but did not fall. He flailed wildly, trying to hit back make his fist connect with something, anything just to get some distance between him and his tormentors and make a run for it. The sounds of Sam's cries and pounding echoed through the dark corridor. (It might have seemed comical under different circumstances - what with Sam pounding on the door and yelling incoherently something about wicked Brandybucks and their vile Took accomplices - and Frodo felt the bubble of an insane giggle at the back of his throat even as hot tears of rage welled behind his eyes and he turned blindly to attempt his flight past his attackers.
"Frodo! Frodo!"
Frodo turned toward the door for just a second, but it was a second he could ill afford. Frodo felt two strong hands closed vice-like around his forearms from behind as something unseen was tossed over his head and pulled tight-pinning his arms to his side.
Frodo was roughly pushed down to his knees, and then all the way down on his belly as he struggled wildly to free himself from the restraints already tight about him. NO! He could not be bound again! But he was!
A cloth was pulled over his eyes, while, simultaneously, his ankles were bound by a second pair of hands and his hope fled as he realized that he was again caught and helpless. 'Sam,' he thought with despair, 'I'm so sorry.'
The whole process had taken seconds. Less than a minute after waking up, Frodo was bound, blindfolded, and lying prone at Merry's feet.
Frodo cried out in anguish and frustration, as Sam's cries answered his own from behind the door.
Frodo felt himself being hastily flipped over into sitting position as a steaming cup of something was raised to his lips.
Neither Merry nor Pippin had uttered a word throughout this process, probably so as to take advantage of his own disorientation and to not give their positions away. He reflected ruefully how brilliantly they had succeeded. There was had been no need for speech. This attack had been expertly coordinated.
Merry, or what Frodo assumed to be Merry, pinched Frodo's nose hard with one hand, not allowing any air to pass through. The other hand wound painfully tight through his hair and leaned Frodo's head back and forced the bitter drink to his lips. Frodo shut his lips as tightly as possible, but air was running low. After about 30 seconds, Frodo's lungs began to burn and he vainly tried to turn his head violently and shake the strong hand that was pulling at his hair loose. As Frodo at last gasped for breath, the liquid was poured in where the air should have gone and another hand moved to his mouth and sealed his lips tightly to prevent him from spitting out the offending liquid. A firm hand patted Frodo's back as he choked down the offending drink.
Frodo's nose and mouth were instantly released. As Frodo gasped and inhaled, he heard a familiar voice emanating from out of the darkness and the silence. The voice was gentle and soft as a lullaby and sent shudders down his spin.
"Back to sleep, Frodo. Sweet Dreams."
Merry gathered Frodo in his arms and placed a gentle kiss upon his check, a travesty under the circumstances. Frodo felt his muscles go lax, his head swim, and his eyes roll back. Then Frodo felt absolutely nothing.
TBC