"You will plead for my counsel and beg for my touch before we are through."
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Chapter 32: On the Edge
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"Why don't you just kill me, Merry? Why not?" Frodo yelled frantically as he faced his captors. A fire lit Frodo's eyes, now wide and wild, as he spoke, his hair tangled with leaves and dirt, his chest heaving in sharp, shallow breaths. "Just get it over with, why don't you?! Get it over with instead of tormenting me like a cat with a dying mouse. I can't take this anymore, Merry!" Frodo's voice began to crack, his eyes now releasing a violent flood of pent-up tears. "You are my cousin, and I loved you, I trusted you, and it's come to this-Merry! You've made my life a torment, Cousin. I cannot bear it! Why not just end it here?"
Frodo beat his head against Merry's cradling chest in desperation, sobbing in earnest now. "Just kill me, damn you! End this! End everything! Why did you not just leave me at the bottom of the river, Merry? For at least there I could find a measure of peace!"
Merry leaned over his cousin, his captive. His mind was now locked in a pitched battle with himself. Cold fury burned in his heart over Frodo's latest attempt to flee. Yet, and Merry could not deny it, he felt irrefutable pity for the pathetic figure below him. Trussed like a game animal, completely undone. An image surfaced in Merry's mind of the Frodo he had once known-the Frodo before this madness had begun. Calm, self- assured, confident, bookish, wise; a rational hobbit, yet with a patent spark of Brandybuck wildness and Baggins whimsy. The old Frodo was so different from the sobbing creature thrashing about a pile of leaves with his tear-stained face and muddied shirt.
For a fleeting moment, the malicious pull of the Ring left him, and Merry drew Frodo gently into his arms and rocked him like a baby; and Frodo, wailing like a child, let him. Merry could not help but recall the countless times their roles were reversed-the erstwhile bearer of skinned knee or newly-spanked bottom who'd run to his elder cousin for solace had become the comforter, the placater and the plague.
"I shan't kill you, Frodo dear," soothed Merry into Frodo's mud-kissed ear. "You are far too precious to me, far too important to the Shire."
"Then," moaned Frodo, "let me go! Oh, Eru! Please let me go! I'm so weary, Merry, so tired, and I have so much yet to do!"
"I shan't," Merry answered, nearly harsh. "You need me, Frodo, love. You just can't see it yet. But by and by you shall."
Merry's words elicited a plaintive wail from Frodo's throat followed by a volley of heaving sobs.
"You know not what you do, Merry! You'll kill me-you will not mean to, perhaps, but that will be little consolation to either of us when it is done. You kill me a little more each day you hold me against my will. I fear you, Cousin! I fear that even you do not know what you are capable of in your state!"
"And what state might that be-dare I ask?" Merry's voice had turned snide.
Frodo turned his head to face Merry.
"The Ring has taken hold of you, Merry. It holds you in its thrall just as you hold poor Pip in yours. It is evil! Merry, the Ring will not save the Shire! It will not even save me!"
Merry's eyes darkened again with the mention of the accursed band. He dropped Frodo's head down in the dirt as he stood solidly on his feet, his frame distended in sharp relief against the outline of pale moonlight.
"The Ring shall save you both!" Merry spoke with grim assurance that seemed to come from a power outside of himself. "With my guidance, the Ring shall save the Shire! And it shall not betray its own bearer! Mark my words, Frodo; I will save the both of you!"
"You will utterly destroy both-and all of Middle-earth with us-Merry!" cried Frodo with a new vehemence. "You've become a tool of Sauron and you don't even see it!"
Frodo's body arched suddenly in agony as a blunt kick landed deep into his gut. The humanity had fled from Merry's face again and his eyes glowed like slow-burning coals.
"You shall be broken and remade through my hands, Frodo Baggins!" proclaimed Merry. His arms were akimbo and he seemed now to leer above Frodo like a hungry predator. "And when I am done, you shall not even recognize yourself and you shall love me for it!"
"No!" Frodo yelled, now beginning his struggle anew. Frodo rolled his body spasmodically away from Merry's feet as if he had a ghost of a chance of escape, and began to twist, bend and kick with all of his might.
Merry sensed that the productive portion of the conversation had come to an end. He motioned sternly to Pippin, who'd been kneeling silently, eyes agape and mouth agog at the puissance of his Merry. Both hobbits stared down at the wailing thrashing hobbit at their feet, Merry with disgust, Pippin with alarm. Merry leaned down, and without a word, backhanded Frodo with all of his might to stun him. The blow gave Merry the window he needed to heave Frodo up over his shoulder like a heavy sack of flour, a well of strength beyond his own reckoning allowing him to bear the struggling burden toward the wagon. Frodo continued to wail and squirm, but to little avail. Merry stilled Frodo's feet by drawing them in an iron grip to his chest. Merry muttered his disapproval into Frodo's hip and resolutely ignored Frodo's attempts to pound his head into Merry's back as he trudged laboriously.
Frodo screamed and cried all the way back to the wagon, nearly incoherent with frustration, but no one heeded and no one heard save his two cousins and an army of crickets as Frodo was carried steadily back into wretched captivity.
* * *
Frodo was dropped in the bed of the wagon face up, a writhing heap of hobbit and hemp. Merry clambered in beside his prisoner as Pippin took his place on the boards and with a snap of the reins, the wagon continued its way home. Frodo did not cease his struggles, rolling and twisting as much as his binds would allow, kicking and yelling into the empty, mirthless dawn.
"Help! No! Help! Help!" Frodo yelled to no one in particular. Merry quickly muffled Frodo's cries with a hastily fashioned gag torn from Frodo's sullied shirt. But the thrashing and muffled cries continued until Merry wrapped Frodo in a blanket and lay on top of him to force him to hold still. Merry knew that to threaten Frodo's life at this point would do little good-Frodo was past the point of caring. Instead, Merry cooed softly into the bit of blanket that seemed to cover Frodo's head. After several minutes of steadily subsiding exertion, Frodo stopped struggling and went very still. Merry could still feel Frodo's shallow uneven breaths from under the blanket. Frodo was not asleep.
As Frodo lay prostrate under the blanket, his mind clouded with self- recrimination. Failed again. Let Sam down. Let Gandalf down. Let Middle- earth down. Frodo pulled his mind back into itself, away from fear, away from regret, away from pain. Merry, it seemed had been right all along-he did control every aspect of Frodo's ever-shrinking existence. Frodo wondered if he would ever be free from Merry's oppressive care. Or would he fade away, become a hollow cipher like poor abused Pippin, the once ebullient hobbit whose inner light had gradually been snuffed out. No! Frodo must endure. Perhaps there was no hope, none at all, but Frodo must remain Frodo. He'd been subdued, but not broken, not yet.
Frodo shuddered in memory of Merry's statements - to break and remake him? Was this the whole point of Merry's mistreatment? To break him? What if Merry had not cared about gleaning information at all? What if Merry desired for Frodo to submit jut for the sake of seeing him do so? Submitting? Debasement for its own sake? Frodo squeezed his eyes closed in weariness. He felt beaten down, pressed down by Merry's treatment just as his body was now literally pressed down by Merry's forceful weight. Frodo's body sung with pain, his soul emptied. So sorry Sam! So sorry! Perhaps Gandalf was wrong. Perhaps Frodo Baggins was not meant to bear anything more sinister than a tome of elvish poetry.
Long minutes passed, perhaps the better part of an hour, before he felt Merry roll off of him. Frodo cast his eyes up and perceived a lattice of sunlight peeking through a worn patch of the blanket. The wagon slowed to a halt. They were "home," and Frodo's stomach clenched.
Frodo could hear Merry whispering directives at Pippin, who answered with an obeisant chorus of "Yes, Merry's." Frodo's heart was thrumming hard again, accelerating in anticipation of the restraint and torment that surely awaited him here. He had almost died this night, and, here, laid out before him, was a fate worse than death. Every muscle in Frodo's body turned tensile and rigid, waiting to spring outward in all directions. Frodo's mind raged against his circumstance. He had to run, to flee, to escape, to fight, no matter what the cost. NO! NO! Flee-fight-flail. No! No! NO!
Merry yanked the blanket back, revealing a wild-eyed hobbit straining against his bonds. Frodo's eyes stared up at the sky, unfocused and dilated in anguish. No! NO! NO! Not again!
"Pip," ordered Merry bluntly, "Come help me lift Frodo inside so we can bind him to the chair!"
"No!" wailed Frodo through his gag. "NO!"
Merry needed all of his strength to pull the struggling Frodo off of the bed of the cart and roughly onto the dew-moistened grass below. Frodo struggled so wildly that the hastily wrapped coils had begun to unravel, freeing one of his arms and leaving him free to kick at will. Frodo immediately ripped down his gag with a screeching "NO!"
"No!" Frodo screamed between non-distinct guttural wails. Merry and Pippin fought to grip onto any part of him that seemed unlikely to strike back, and, failing that, to grasp any part of him they could lay hands upon under any condition. They were amazed at his new-found strength. Frodo twisted, rolled, squirmed, flailed out his hand, groping and clawing at the grass, all the while making an impressive amount of noise. Frodo kicked Merry manfully as he dropped down to lift him; He bit Pippin's hand as he tried to pull up the gag at Merry's order. Pippin yelped with pain and Merry pummeled Frodo with a series of merciless kicks until he was stilled enough to be dragged, fingernails raking through the mud, kicking and screaming through the threshold. The door shut with an ominous boom behind them, cutting off Frodo's contact with the outside world, his last avenue of escape.
Frodo continued to thrash like a trapped animal. He scrambled to his feet, the loosened rope coiling useless to the floor. He dashed toward the sound of his own name being screamed down the hall. "Frodo! Frodo!"
Sam! Dear Sam! But his cousins were upon him! NO! He would go to Sam. Damn the repercussions. Beyond thought, beyond reason, Frodo ran toward the voice, calling out Sam's name. Merry and Pippin scrambled after.
"Sam! Sam! Help! Help!"
Frodo did not consider how Sam might have helped; he was in a blind panic. "Sam! Sam!"
Frodo hit the door to Sam's room like a bird flying into clear glass.
"Sam!" Frodo cried. "Sam! You must help! Sam! Make them stop! Sam! My Sam! Help me, Sam!"
Frodo pounded on the door with both fists as Sam's echoing cries sounded from behind the thick door. Frodo peered down through the peephole to see his friend bound hand and foot, lying on the floor surrounded by broken crockery and spilled water. Yet still he screamed for succor. He was desperate not to be restrained, desperate not to fall back into Merry's clutches, and, in his state could think of no one else in Middle-earth but Sam who could stop it.
"Sam!" cried Frodo, now plainly sobbing. "Can you not help me? SAM!"
Sam stared, dumbfounded, into the wild eyes peering through the hole in the door and died inside. His bellows could not save his master. He could only kick at the door and call Frodo's name. What had they done to him? The Frodo he knew did not cry. Frodo he knew did not beg. What had they done to reduce his proud master to this?
Frodo snapped his head around. Merry! Pippin! And Frodo was like a cornered animal again, feral and ready to strike out at anything that came near.
"Keep away!" he screamed, backing down the hall with lurching, erratic steps, hands thrown up protectively in front to his face. "Keep back!"
"Come now, Frodo," said Merry calmly as if he were approaching a rabid dog. "There's nowhere to run. Let's go back to your room and talk things over."
"My room? My room!" echoed Frodo incredulously, thinking it incomprehensible that his cousin could call anything in this prison his and by a name so innocuous as a 'room'. Torture chamber maybe, cell perhaps - but //room//? The word ceased to make sense to his frenzied, stricken mind.
Merry and Pippin stepped tentatively closer; Frodo stumbled back, eyes still wide in terror.
"Don't come any closer!" Frodo cried with a demonstrative swing of his fist into the empty air. "Don't you touch me! No! Sam! Help! Sam! Please don't let them bind me again! SAM!"
Tears streamed down Sam's face as his master's voice fell into frazzled sobs. Sam bellowed and cursed the Brandybuck name, yelling empty threats into the uncaring planks of the oak door that separated him from his master. But he was tied, and, in the end, Sam could only listen in horror as Frodo disintegrated emotionally just beyond Sam's protective reach. Sam heard Frodo scream, beg, call out his own name as if Sam could once again be his savior. But he could not, not now. If only! If only! What had those rascals done to Frodo to make him come so undone? Would Frodo still be Frodo by the time Sam could reach him?! Sam kicked the door in anguish.
"Frodo! Frodo!"
As his cousins inched calmly, steadily closer, Frodo flailed in earnest, striking out blindly at his cousins who stood just beyond his reach, a coil of rope in Pippin's hands.
Frodo's breaths were now sharp and made ragged by fear and fury. "No! NO! NO!"
He backed up still, now almost at a run, faster, more desperate, less coordinated, until, finally, a cruel wall halted Frodo's progress. He felt himself gasp. Backed against the wall! Trapped! Caught! NO! And still they advanced - the predators upon their prey. Frodo pressed himself into the hard plaster wall, as if he might hope to topple it if he bore down with enough force.
"Frodo," soothed Merry with outstretched hand. "Come now! Take my hand. Let us sit down and speak awhile, get this all straightened out, shall we? There is no need for all of this drama and malcontent. You need not fear me."
Frodo shrank back from Merry's hand if it were made of acid "Fear you!" echoed Frodo, nearly incoherent. "Fear you - you'll hurt me again! No! No!"
"Just a talk, love," cooed Merry. "A talk while you rest in your nice chair."
Frodo did not answer with words but with a high-pitched screech followed by a sturdy kick to Merry's groin. Merry screamed out a threat-curse and doubled over; Frodo shoved his way through his cousins and scrambled mindlessly back up the hall calling out Sam's name and turned into the first open room. Frodo, suddenly realizing his folly, swirled around to exit this trap, only to see Merry, face twisted in rage, blocking his egress. Frodo's heart pounded violently and his blood boiled as his mind hit an all-too-familiar crossroad - fight or flight? No flight possible! Fight!
Frodo charged at Merry; the prey had turned to predator. Frodo felled Merry with an unexpected, driving fist. He would have done well to flee at that point but a bilious haze flowed over his thoughts, now focused on vengeance. Frodo struck out at his erstwhile tormenter with a fusillade of hard but ill-aimed punches which Merry dodged agilely while picking himself up off the floor. Merry was in a state now, his fury filling his body with unnatural strength. He brought his knee up sharply between himself and the wild thing that was once his dignified cousin. Merry watched Frodo's face drain of color as the air left his lungs in a rush and he wrestled him violently to the ground, calling for Pippin as they tussled, "Pippin! My rope! Pippin!"
The mere mention of the hated rope prodded Frodo to action, but unfocused action, more flail than fight. Frodo knocked his cousin to the floor with a desperate jerk of his whole body and stood up, petrified and dazed before weakly kicking Merry's shin and backing to the door-right into Pippin. Frodo jolted in surprise, but Merry had seen the germ of the collision, and used the opportunity to deliver a head-rattling blow to Frodo's face, sending him sailing back to the floor with a sickening thud. Merry strode up to the prone form and kicked once, then again. A blind flood of rage seeped into Merry's mind, as he kicked and railed until Frodo grunted, gasped, and moaned before curling himself into a protective ball and falling silent. A dozen blows and Frodo went quiet; Sam's screaming and Pippin's weeping filling up the empty space where Frodo's wails had gone before. It finally occurred to Merry to look down and assess the damage. Frodo had, at last, ceased his struggling and now proceeded to writhe on the floor holding his chest.
"No more," Frodo gasped with one last effort. "I submit."
Merry made eye contact with Frodo and nodded, as if a deal had been silently struck. "You'll do more than submit, insolent fool," growled Merry, aiming a last, powerful kick at his cousin's wheezing chest and nodding in satisfaction when the tortured eyes closed and the breaths turned to harsh, choking rasps. "You will plead for my counsel and beg for my touch before we are through."
Merry found himself yearning to continue his advance on his prone cousin, to kick and batter until the rage that roiled in his blood cooled and the red haze at the edges of his vision cleared. He forcefully quelled his fury and dragged his eyes away from Frodo and the temptation to sate his nearly overwhelming thirst to punish and crush.
He motioned Pippin to lift the barely conscious, panting hobbit to a different room near the back, large and stark, it's single window boarded and curtained. The hearth stood cold and empty making the chill in the unlit room seem that much more sinister and foreboding. The only piece of furniture was a sturdy chair with armrests. It stood in the dead center of the dreary room- hungry to embrace its new burden. Frodo's unresisting body was flopped unceremoniously down on its hard surface and Merry immediately began to truss Frodo to it, just after his eyes were shrouded with a blindfold. Darkness cloaked Frodo's world once again.
Merry first fastened Frodo's legs to those of the chair, coiling the rope from ankle to knee with merciless efficiency. As Merry worked, Pippin wrapped his arms around Frodo's shoulders in comfort, support and, Frodo suspected, restraint. Pippin could feel Frodo's breaths grow steadily more shallow and panicky.
"No, no, no," Frodo moaned quietly, but struggled no more. The darkness he was immersed in choked him and the clawing fear immobilized him more surely than any ropes could have. He was weary beyond measure and the terror that had seeped into his bones seized his body in its relentless grip and denied him any coherent thought or purposeful movement.
With Frodo's legs now one with the chair, Merry stood and tilted his prisoner's blindfolded face up toward his own, surveying his captive critically. Though blindfolded, Frodo could feel the weight of Merry's glare upon him, heavy with judgment and well-considered revenge.
"Frodo," Merry began coldly, "Since you have chosen to sully the clothes I have procured for you, I shall remove your shirt until I believe you have earned it back."
Merry unfastened the buttons that remained on the torn, muddied shirt, and pulled it from Frodo's limp and unresisting arms. Frodo immediately began to shiver when the air in the drafty room hit his unprotected skin. Merry dropped the filthy thing at Frodo's feet before continuing what was becoming a complicated binding process. Merry drew the cords tightly around Frodo's chest, observing with muted pleasure that Frodo flinched at the abrasive touch of hemp twining against his bare flesh. Yet, Frodo kept remarkably still and obeisant, his head bowed in subjugation like a dying flower on a bent stem, his chin propped heavily on Pippin's knuckles.
Merry then braced Frodo's lax arms to the wooden arms of the chair with a crush of his knee, fastening living flesh to dead wood from wrist to elbow. Frodo felt the coarse rope winding again around his shoulders and waist, almost enough rope to keep him warm, he thought bemusedly before wincing in pain.
Pippin had released his arms as Merry continued trussing Frodo, the warm comfort of Pippin's embrace replaced by pitiless tendrils of rope that squeezed him tight, but gave no solace. Merry stepped back, once again observing his work. Frodo was utterly immobilized, blinded, half-naked, and quivering noticeably. The Ring hung around his neck like a weight dragging his soul to the depths of the earth. Pippin took his place beside Merry, his brows knitted with concern. Frodo did not look well. He looked, well, very sad, and soft-hearted Pippin did not like to see anyone sad.
"Merry," whispered Pippin. "Frodo looks cold. Can't we at least get him a blank-"
Merry's rough clasp upon Pippin's chin stopped the words dead in his throat. Those eyes, those dark, unfamiliar, unfriendly eyes.
"Pippin," said Merry, "If you recall the result of the last blanket you doled out---"
Pippin began to shake as the memory surfaced. That instant, he wanted nothing more than Merry's forgiveness and his redeeming caresses.
"Sorry Merry!" stuttered Pippin. "I wasn't thinking."
Merry's expression suddenly softened. He took Pippin by the hand and led him to the far corner of the room away from Frodo's hearing range.
"Pippin," whispered Merry. "You must understand something. This--" Merry motioned toward the forlorn figure at the center of the room, "is something Frodo brought upon himself. He earned this by being stubborn and by his continued insistence on fleeing his family and his responsibilities. He purchased his place in that chair through his violence toward those who would have him and his kin prosper." Merry's face suddenly grew very serious. "But Pippin, this next stage in Frodo's correction is much more than a punishment and it is infinitely more important. We, Pip, are going to bring Frodo into the light; help him to see things through our eyes. We will help him see the folly of his ways and open a door to the truth. Trust me, Pippin, when I tell you that we are doing him a favor beyond compare."
Pippin comprehended little, but nodded at everything, his eyes wide in adoration. Merry continued.
"We have attempted to get Frodo to see reason through persuasion, but, as you can see, it just didn't take. So we will try something new. This method will require us to break down the current obstinate Frodo and build a better, wiser, and ultimately happier Frodo on the ashes of the old one. I'm determined to reach his mind, Pippin, like I've reached yours, pet. But this will only work if Frodo is deprived of some basic needs for a few days, beginning with food, drink, and sleep. It may seem harsh, dear, gentle Pippin, but we are running short on time and we need to do this quickly. When we are done, we will treat Frodo like the prince he is. And, Pip, in the end, he will be much more content."
Merry drew Pippin into a warm hug, kissing his forehead. "He will be happy, happy like you are now. And you are happy now, aren't you love?"
Pippin nodded emphatically, his worried eyes belying the improbable smile that lit the rest of his face.
"Yes, Merry."
"It is a lovely thing to give your direction and care to another, is it not, Pip?" asked Merry.
More nods, more smiles. Merry ruffed Pippin's hair and buttoned the top button of his shirt where it had come undone. "I take good care of you, Pippin, don't I?"
Pippin nodded into Merry's elbow.
"You will see, Pip. When we are done with our work, Frodo will no longer be the tortured soul you see before you, run down by cares and regrets. We will be setting him free."
Merry turned to Frodo, noting that the bound hobbit had been craning his neck, trying to catch Merry's words regarding his fate. Merry smiled darkly, strolled over to Frodo, and spoke at full volume.
"Frodo," he announced, "Since you have chosen to fight me rather than to sleep, you have lost that privilege. Sleep is another thing you may earn back with your cooperation.
Frodo's head lolled, and Merry suspected his order was already well on the way to being flouted. Merry slapped Frodo, not very hard, but enough to get his attention. "Frodo, what did I say about sleeping?"
Frodo did not answer, but blinked his heavy eyelids open beneath the cloth, his head spinning, every muscle now wanting to surrender to the call of sleep as if the mere mention of the denial of it had made it all the more an immediate imperative.
"Pip," called Merry curtly, 'This important job I give to you! You shall take first watch. You must not let Frodo sleep, not a wink, until I return. I have some very important plans to make, and must take what rest I can." Merry's grip on Pippin's shoulder sharpened. "If either of you sleep, both of you shall be punished. If he dozes, douse him with water, shake him, slap him, kick. Don't let me down, Pip. If you value our cousin's life and your own, Peregrin, you will do exactly as I say. For I will not be responsible for my actions should you fail me yet again."
Pippin gulped inwardly, but nodded.
"I will bring back some tea and biscuits for you Pippin. Frodo is not to eat a morsel. Let nothing pass through his lips."
Merry left the room for a few minutes as Pippin settled himself on the hard floor by Frodo's feet, waiting for his meal. Merry returned bearing a tray laden with biscuits, steaming fragrant tea, and a pitcher of water.
"Here, love,' said Merry as he set the tray down next to Pippin where the sweet aroma of the tea was sure to waft up to stoke Frodo's hunger to a sharper need. Merry called Pippin's attention to the pitcher with a pointed toe.
"Here is the water. Frodo shall have none unless it is over his head should he doze. Do we understand each other Pip? No food, no drink, no sleep."
"Yes Merry," mumbled Pippin through a biscuit.
"Good lad!" chirped Merry. "I'll see you after I wake. I love you both. When I return, Pippin, you may sleep and Frodo and I will continue our little conversation."
Pippin stared with foreboding at his cousin's back as Merry strolled to the door, closing it behind him with the ominous sound of a casket being sealed.
"Frodo," Pippin began, but it was no use. Frodo was already asleep.
TBC __________________________________________________________________________
AN: Thank you so much to those who reviewed! It Really keeps me churning out the chapters! Here is something I wanted to ask! I am in the process of rewriting the first few chapters to show Merry turning evil, rather than just being evil. They will be so different -they will be like new chapters. Should I post them here, or will that get Confusing? Oh- And I'm adding a prologue showing Frodo and Merry as youngsters.
I'd love opinions, as this is my chance to make changes and create more complex characters. I want to make Pippin a bit less daffy, explain the ring's draw on merry more, etc. Is there anything in the first few chapters I missed out on of insufficiently explained? I want to make this the best story I can and your comments will absolutely not offend me!
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To my preciooousssss Reviewers!
Aratlithiel-my lovely beta making a really cool webpage! Well here it is! Your fav chapter! Now when does this get linked to your web page? Must I beg? Or-must I send evil!Merry to your home again to-erm, "persuade" you to do right by his story! ;)
Trust No One-I hope you have had a good holiday! And this can get worse, but in new and different ways. The ring is beginning to torment all 4 hobbits, and it won't be pretty, but hope will come forma most unlikely incident! I will drop by your fic the moment I have a -well a moment! I can't wait! Yeah fic!
tesekian- well, I hope Pippin continues to thin, despite the obvious dangers! LOL! When will we see a new story from you???
Chloe-glad you noticed the line! And there will be many more trips into pippin's head, as he begins to worry that his dear Merry actually may be capable of killing Frodo. Merry too will have moments of self doubt.
Endymion-very good question, and I tried to find an answer on the Quill and Inkings website (a resource group for hobbit fic writers) -and no one has answered it yet. So for now I assume the trailing rope is far enough away to not be invisible in the same way when other peoples clothes touch Frodo, they do not disappear. And-well-I couldn't let Frodo get away now-could I?? ;)
MBradford- boy-you really see things coming, but there are surprises in store-and yes Frodo should worry!
Kyotored - thank you! Frodo will not break easily. This chapter BW is my beta's very favorite.
Sue-the old Merry will reemerge and have to deal with what he has done. That will give us mucho Merry angst-but we still have a long dark road ahead!
Iorhael-frodo just needs a little comfort. If I send him to Indonesia, will you give him a big hug and stitch him together? There there, little one! Hmm-but you have some surprise for him in your fics-don't you!?
Ariel-oops! I meant to say Aratlithiel's co-writer! Pippin still has some hidden reserves in him! And why break Frodo-well so we can heal him! As I wrote, I am re-rewriting my early chapters because the quality of the later chapters is so superior. So any ideas on how to make those first chapters better-lay them on me! I'm going to try and carve out more compelx characters from the get-go!
Krista-don't explode! Who would review my story then! This will be a very long story. I am taking my time because I want Frodo's breaking and Merry's corruption to go bit by bit, as well as Merry's redemption and Frodo's healing. This is really a character study, and I'm so flattered you like it!
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Chapter 32: On the Edge
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"Why don't you just kill me, Merry? Why not?" Frodo yelled frantically as he faced his captors. A fire lit Frodo's eyes, now wide and wild, as he spoke, his hair tangled with leaves and dirt, his chest heaving in sharp, shallow breaths. "Just get it over with, why don't you?! Get it over with instead of tormenting me like a cat with a dying mouse. I can't take this anymore, Merry!" Frodo's voice began to crack, his eyes now releasing a violent flood of pent-up tears. "You are my cousin, and I loved you, I trusted you, and it's come to this-Merry! You've made my life a torment, Cousin. I cannot bear it! Why not just end it here?"
Frodo beat his head against Merry's cradling chest in desperation, sobbing in earnest now. "Just kill me, damn you! End this! End everything! Why did you not just leave me at the bottom of the river, Merry? For at least there I could find a measure of peace!"
Merry leaned over his cousin, his captive. His mind was now locked in a pitched battle with himself. Cold fury burned in his heart over Frodo's latest attempt to flee. Yet, and Merry could not deny it, he felt irrefutable pity for the pathetic figure below him. Trussed like a game animal, completely undone. An image surfaced in Merry's mind of the Frodo he had once known-the Frodo before this madness had begun. Calm, self- assured, confident, bookish, wise; a rational hobbit, yet with a patent spark of Brandybuck wildness and Baggins whimsy. The old Frodo was so different from the sobbing creature thrashing about a pile of leaves with his tear-stained face and muddied shirt.
For a fleeting moment, the malicious pull of the Ring left him, and Merry drew Frodo gently into his arms and rocked him like a baby; and Frodo, wailing like a child, let him. Merry could not help but recall the countless times their roles were reversed-the erstwhile bearer of skinned knee or newly-spanked bottom who'd run to his elder cousin for solace had become the comforter, the placater and the plague.
"I shan't kill you, Frodo dear," soothed Merry into Frodo's mud-kissed ear. "You are far too precious to me, far too important to the Shire."
"Then," moaned Frodo, "let me go! Oh, Eru! Please let me go! I'm so weary, Merry, so tired, and I have so much yet to do!"
"I shan't," Merry answered, nearly harsh. "You need me, Frodo, love. You just can't see it yet. But by and by you shall."
Merry's words elicited a plaintive wail from Frodo's throat followed by a volley of heaving sobs.
"You know not what you do, Merry! You'll kill me-you will not mean to, perhaps, but that will be little consolation to either of us when it is done. You kill me a little more each day you hold me against my will. I fear you, Cousin! I fear that even you do not know what you are capable of in your state!"
"And what state might that be-dare I ask?" Merry's voice had turned snide.
Frodo turned his head to face Merry.
"The Ring has taken hold of you, Merry. It holds you in its thrall just as you hold poor Pip in yours. It is evil! Merry, the Ring will not save the Shire! It will not even save me!"
Merry's eyes darkened again with the mention of the accursed band. He dropped Frodo's head down in the dirt as he stood solidly on his feet, his frame distended in sharp relief against the outline of pale moonlight.
"The Ring shall save you both!" Merry spoke with grim assurance that seemed to come from a power outside of himself. "With my guidance, the Ring shall save the Shire! And it shall not betray its own bearer! Mark my words, Frodo; I will save the both of you!"
"You will utterly destroy both-and all of Middle-earth with us-Merry!" cried Frodo with a new vehemence. "You've become a tool of Sauron and you don't even see it!"
Frodo's body arched suddenly in agony as a blunt kick landed deep into his gut. The humanity had fled from Merry's face again and his eyes glowed like slow-burning coals.
"You shall be broken and remade through my hands, Frodo Baggins!" proclaimed Merry. His arms were akimbo and he seemed now to leer above Frodo like a hungry predator. "And when I am done, you shall not even recognize yourself and you shall love me for it!"
"No!" Frodo yelled, now beginning his struggle anew. Frodo rolled his body spasmodically away from Merry's feet as if he had a ghost of a chance of escape, and began to twist, bend and kick with all of his might.
Merry sensed that the productive portion of the conversation had come to an end. He motioned sternly to Pippin, who'd been kneeling silently, eyes agape and mouth agog at the puissance of his Merry. Both hobbits stared down at the wailing thrashing hobbit at their feet, Merry with disgust, Pippin with alarm. Merry leaned down, and without a word, backhanded Frodo with all of his might to stun him. The blow gave Merry the window he needed to heave Frodo up over his shoulder like a heavy sack of flour, a well of strength beyond his own reckoning allowing him to bear the struggling burden toward the wagon. Frodo continued to wail and squirm, but to little avail. Merry stilled Frodo's feet by drawing them in an iron grip to his chest. Merry muttered his disapproval into Frodo's hip and resolutely ignored Frodo's attempts to pound his head into Merry's back as he trudged laboriously.
Frodo screamed and cried all the way back to the wagon, nearly incoherent with frustration, but no one heeded and no one heard save his two cousins and an army of crickets as Frodo was carried steadily back into wretched captivity.
* * *
Frodo was dropped in the bed of the wagon face up, a writhing heap of hobbit and hemp. Merry clambered in beside his prisoner as Pippin took his place on the boards and with a snap of the reins, the wagon continued its way home. Frodo did not cease his struggles, rolling and twisting as much as his binds would allow, kicking and yelling into the empty, mirthless dawn.
"Help! No! Help! Help!" Frodo yelled to no one in particular. Merry quickly muffled Frodo's cries with a hastily fashioned gag torn from Frodo's sullied shirt. But the thrashing and muffled cries continued until Merry wrapped Frodo in a blanket and lay on top of him to force him to hold still. Merry knew that to threaten Frodo's life at this point would do little good-Frodo was past the point of caring. Instead, Merry cooed softly into the bit of blanket that seemed to cover Frodo's head. After several minutes of steadily subsiding exertion, Frodo stopped struggling and went very still. Merry could still feel Frodo's shallow uneven breaths from under the blanket. Frodo was not asleep.
As Frodo lay prostrate under the blanket, his mind clouded with self- recrimination. Failed again. Let Sam down. Let Gandalf down. Let Middle- earth down. Frodo pulled his mind back into itself, away from fear, away from regret, away from pain. Merry, it seemed had been right all along-he did control every aspect of Frodo's ever-shrinking existence. Frodo wondered if he would ever be free from Merry's oppressive care. Or would he fade away, become a hollow cipher like poor abused Pippin, the once ebullient hobbit whose inner light had gradually been snuffed out. No! Frodo must endure. Perhaps there was no hope, none at all, but Frodo must remain Frodo. He'd been subdued, but not broken, not yet.
Frodo shuddered in memory of Merry's statements - to break and remake him? Was this the whole point of Merry's mistreatment? To break him? What if Merry had not cared about gleaning information at all? What if Merry desired for Frodo to submit jut for the sake of seeing him do so? Submitting? Debasement for its own sake? Frodo squeezed his eyes closed in weariness. He felt beaten down, pressed down by Merry's treatment just as his body was now literally pressed down by Merry's forceful weight. Frodo's body sung with pain, his soul emptied. So sorry Sam! So sorry! Perhaps Gandalf was wrong. Perhaps Frodo Baggins was not meant to bear anything more sinister than a tome of elvish poetry.
Long minutes passed, perhaps the better part of an hour, before he felt Merry roll off of him. Frodo cast his eyes up and perceived a lattice of sunlight peeking through a worn patch of the blanket. The wagon slowed to a halt. They were "home," and Frodo's stomach clenched.
Frodo could hear Merry whispering directives at Pippin, who answered with an obeisant chorus of "Yes, Merry's." Frodo's heart was thrumming hard again, accelerating in anticipation of the restraint and torment that surely awaited him here. He had almost died this night, and, here, laid out before him, was a fate worse than death. Every muscle in Frodo's body turned tensile and rigid, waiting to spring outward in all directions. Frodo's mind raged against his circumstance. He had to run, to flee, to escape, to fight, no matter what the cost. NO! NO! Flee-fight-flail. No! No! NO!
Merry yanked the blanket back, revealing a wild-eyed hobbit straining against his bonds. Frodo's eyes stared up at the sky, unfocused and dilated in anguish. No! NO! NO! Not again!
"Pip," ordered Merry bluntly, "Come help me lift Frodo inside so we can bind him to the chair!"
"No!" wailed Frodo through his gag. "NO!"
Merry needed all of his strength to pull the struggling Frodo off of the bed of the cart and roughly onto the dew-moistened grass below. Frodo struggled so wildly that the hastily wrapped coils had begun to unravel, freeing one of his arms and leaving him free to kick at will. Frodo immediately ripped down his gag with a screeching "NO!"
"No!" Frodo screamed between non-distinct guttural wails. Merry and Pippin fought to grip onto any part of him that seemed unlikely to strike back, and, failing that, to grasp any part of him they could lay hands upon under any condition. They were amazed at his new-found strength. Frodo twisted, rolled, squirmed, flailed out his hand, groping and clawing at the grass, all the while making an impressive amount of noise. Frodo kicked Merry manfully as he dropped down to lift him; He bit Pippin's hand as he tried to pull up the gag at Merry's order. Pippin yelped with pain and Merry pummeled Frodo with a series of merciless kicks until he was stilled enough to be dragged, fingernails raking through the mud, kicking and screaming through the threshold. The door shut with an ominous boom behind them, cutting off Frodo's contact with the outside world, his last avenue of escape.
Frodo continued to thrash like a trapped animal. He scrambled to his feet, the loosened rope coiling useless to the floor. He dashed toward the sound of his own name being screamed down the hall. "Frodo! Frodo!"
Sam! Dear Sam! But his cousins were upon him! NO! He would go to Sam. Damn the repercussions. Beyond thought, beyond reason, Frodo ran toward the voice, calling out Sam's name. Merry and Pippin scrambled after.
"Sam! Sam! Help! Help!"
Frodo did not consider how Sam might have helped; he was in a blind panic. "Sam! Sam!"
Frodo hit the door to Sam's room like a bird flying into clear glass.
"Sam!" Frodo cried. "Sam! You must help! Sam! Make them stop! Sam! My Sam! Help me, Sam!"
Frodo pounded on the door with both fists as Sam's echoing cries sounded from behind the thick door. Frodo peered down through the peephole to see his friend bound hand and foot, lying on the floor surrounded by broken crockery and spilled water. Yet still he screamed for succor. He was desperate not to be restrained, desperate not to fall back into Merry's clutches, and, in his state could think of no one else in Middle-earth but Sam who could stop it.
"Sam!" cried Frodo, now plainly sobbing. "Can you not help me? SAM!"
Sam stared, dumbfounded, into the wild eyes peering through the hole in the door and died inside. His bellows could not save his master. He could only kick at the door and call Frodo's name. What had they done to him? The Frodo he knew did not cry. Frodo he knew did not beg. What had they done to reduce his proud master to this?
Frodo snapped his head around. Merry! Pippin! And Frodo was like a cornered animal again, feral and ready to strike out at anything that came near.
"Keep away!" he screamed, backing down the hall with lurching, erratic steps, hands thrown up protectively in front to his face. "Keep back!"
"Come now, Frodo," said Merry calmly as if he were approaching a rabid dog. "There's nowhere to run. Let's go back to your room and talk things over."
"My room? My room!" echoed Frodo incredulously, thinking it incomprehensible that his cousin could call anything in this prison his and by a name so innocuous as a 'room'. Torture chamber maybe, cell perhaps - but //room//? The word ceased to make sense to his frenzied, stricken mind.
Merry and Pippin stepped tentatively closer; Frodo stumbled back, eyes still wide in terror.
"Don't come any closer!" Frodo cried with a demonstrative swing of his fist into the empty air. "Don't you touch me! No! Sam! Help! Sam! Please don't let them bind me again! SAM!"
Tears streamed down Sam's face as his master's voice fell into frazzled sobs. Sam bellowed and cursed the Brandybuck name, yelling empty threats into the uncaring planks of the oak door that separated him from his master. But he was tied, and, in the end, Sam could only listen in horror as Frodo disintegrated emotionally just beyond Sam's protective reach. Sam heard Frodo scream, beg, call out his own name as if Sam could once again be his savior. But he could not, not now. If only! If only! What had those rascals done to Frodo to make him come so undone? Would Frodo still be Frodo by the time Sam could reach him?! Sam kicked the door in anguish.
"Frodo! Frodo!"
As his cousins inched calmly, steadily closer, Frodo flailed in earnest, striking out blindly at his cousins who stood just beyond his reach, a coil of rope in Pippin's hands.
Frodo's breaths were now sharp and made ragged by fear and fury. "No! NO! NO!"
He backed up still, now almost at a run, faster, more desperate, less coordinated, until, finally, a cruel wall halted Frodo's progress. He felt himself gasp. Backed against the wall! Trapped! Caught! NO! And still they advanced - the predators upon their prey. Frodo pressed himself into the hard plaster wall, as if he might hope to topple it if he bore down with enough force.
"Frodo," soothed Merry with outstretched hand. "Come now! Take my hand. Let us sit down and speak awhile, get this all straightened out, shall we? There is no need for all of this drama and malcontent. You need not fear me."
Frodo shrank back from Merry's hand if it were made of acid "Fear you!" echoed Frodo, nearly incoherent. "Fear you - you'll hurt me again! No! No!"
"Just a talk, love," cooed Merry. "A talk while you rest in your nice chair."
Frodo did not answer with words but with a high-pitched screech followed by a sturdy kick to Merry's groin. Merry screamed out a threat-curse and doubled over; Frodo shoved his way through his cousins and scrambled mindlessly back up the hall calling out Sam's name and turned into the first open room. Frodo, suddenly realizing his folly, swirled around to exit this trap, only to see Merry, face twisted in rage, blocking his egress. Frodo's heart pounded violently and his blood boiled as his mind hit an all-too-familiar crossroad - fight or flight? No flight possible! Fight!
Frodo charged at Merry; the prey had turned to predator. Frodo felled Merry with an unexpected, driving fist. He would have done well to flee at that point but a bilious haze flowed over his thoughts, now focused on vengeance. Frodo struck out at his erstwhile tormenter with a fusillade of hard but ill-aimed punches which Merry dodged agilely while picking himself up off the floor. Merry was in a state now, his fury filling his body with unnatural strength. He brought his knee up sharply between himself and the wild thing that was once his dignified cousin. Merry watched Frodo's face drain of color as the air left his lungs in a rush and he wrestled him violently to the ground, calling for Pippin as they tussled, "Pippin! My rope! Pippin!"
The mere mention of the hated rope prodded Frodo to action, but unfocused action, more flail than fight. Frodo knocked his cousin to the floor with a desperate jerk of his whole body and stood up, petrified and dazed before weakly kicking Merry's shin and backing to the door-right into Pippin. Frodo jolted in surprise, but Merry had seen the germ of the collision, and used the opportunity to deliver a head-rattling blow to Frodo's face, sending him sailing back to the floor with a sickening thud. Merry strode up to the prone form and kicked once, then again. A blind flood of rage seeped into Merry's mind, as he kicked and railed until Frodo grunted, gasped, and moaned before curling himself into a protective ball and falling silent. A dozen blows and Frodo went quiet; Sam's screaming and Pippin's weeping filling up the empty space where Frodo's wails had gone before. It finally occurred to Merry to look down and assess the damage. Frodo had, at last, ceased his struggling and now proceeded to writhe on the floor holding his chest.
"No more," Frodo gasped with one last effort. "I submit."
Merry made eye contact with Frodo and nodded, as if a deal had been silently struck. "You'll do more than submit, insolent fool," growled Merry, aiming a last, powerful kick at his cousin's wheezing chest and nodding in satisfaction when the tortured eyes closed and the breaths turned to harsh, choking rasps. "You will plead for my counsel and beg for my touch before we are through."
Merry found himself yearning to continue his advance on his prone cousin, to kick and batter until the rage that roiled in his blood cooled and the red haze at the edges of his vision cleared. He forcefully quelled his fury and dragged his eyes away from Frodo and the temptation to sate his nearly overwhelming thirst to punish and crush.
He motioned Pippin to lift the barely conscious, panting hobbit to a different room near the back, large and stark, it's single window boarded and curtained. The hearth stood cold and empty making the chill in the unlit room seem that much more sinister and foreboding. The only piece of furniture was a sturdy chair with armrests. It stood in the dead center of the dreary room- hungry to embrace its new burden. Frodo's unresisting body was flopped unceremoniously down on its hard surface and Merry immediately began to truss Frodo to it, just after his eyes were shrouded with a blindfold. Darkness cloaked Frodo's world once again.
Merry first fastened Frodo's legs to those of the chair, coiling the rope from ankle to knee with merciless efficiency. As Merry worked, Pippin wrapped his arms around Frodo's shoulders in comfort, support and, Frodo suspected, restraint. Pippin could feel Frodo's breaths grow steadily more shallow and panicky.
"No, no, no," Frodo moaned quietly, but struggled no more. The darkness he was immersed in choked him and the clawing fear immobilized him more surely than any ropes could have. He was weary beyond measure and the terror that had seeped into his bones seized his body in its relentless grip and denied him any coherent thought or purposeful movement.
With Frodo's legs now one with the chair, Merry stood and tilted his prisoner's blindfolded face up toward his own, surveying his captive critically. Though blindfolded, Frodo could feel the weight of Merry's glare upon him, heavy with judgment and well-considered revenge.
"Frodo," Merry began coldly, "Since you have chosen to sully the clothes I have procured for you, I shall remove your shirt until I believe you have earned it back."
Merry unfastened the buttons that remained on the torn, muddied shirt, and pulled it from Frodo's limp and unresisting arms. Frodo immediately began to shiver when the air in the drafty room hit his unprotected skin. Merry dropped the filthy thing at Frodo's feet before continuing what was becoming a complicated binding process. Merry drew the cords tightly around Frodo's chest, observing with muted pleasure that Frodo flinched at the abrasive touch of hemp twining against his bare flesh. Yet, Frodo kept remarkably still and obeisant, his head bowed in subjugation like a dying flower on a bent stem, his chin propped heavily on Pippin's knuckles.
Merry then braced Frodo's lax arms to the wooden arms of the chair with a crush of his knee, fastening living flesh to dead wood from wrist to elbow. Frodo felt the coarse rope winding again around his shoulders and waist, almost enough rope to keep him warm, he thought bemusedly before wincing in pain.
Pippin had released his arms as Merry continued trussing Frodo, the warm comfort of Pippin's embrace replaced by pitiless tendrils of rope that squeezed him tight, but gave no solace. Merry stepped back, once again observing his work. Frodo was utterly immobilized, blinded, half-naked, and quivering noticeably. The Ring hung around his neck like a weight dragging his soul to the depths of the earth. Pippin took his place beside Merry, his brows knitted with concern. Frodo did not look well. He looked, well, very sad, and soft-hearted Pippin did not like to see anyone sad.
"Merry," whispered Pippin. "Frodo looks cold. Can't we at least get him a blank-"
Merry's rough clasp upon Pippin's chin stopped the words dead in his throat. Those eyes, those dark, unfamiliar, unfriendly eyes.
"Pippin," said Merry, "If you recall the result of the last blanket you doled out---"
Pippin began to shake as the memory surfaced. That instant, he wanted nothing more than Merry's forgiveness and his redeeming caresses.
"Sorry Merry!" stuttered Pippin. "I wasn't thinking."
Merry's expression suddenly softened. He took Pippin by the hand and led him to the far corner of the room away from Frodo's hearing range.
"Pippin," whispered Merry. "You must understand something. This--" Merry motioned toward the forlorn figure at the center of the room, "is something Frodo brought upon himself. He earned this by being stubborn and by his continued insistence on fleeing his family and his responsibilities. He purchased his place in that chair through his violence toward those who would have him and his kin prosper." Merry's face suddenly grew very serious. "But Pippin, this next stage in Frodo's correction is much more than a punishment and it is infinitely more important. We, Pip, are going to bring Frodo into the light; help him to see things through our eyes. We will help him see the folly of his ways and open a door to the truth. Trust me, Pippin, when I tell you that we are doing him a favor beyond compare."
Pippin comprehended little, but nodded at everything, his eyes wide in adoration. Merry continued.
"We have attempted to get Frodo to see reason through persuasion, but, as you can see, it just didn't take. So we will try something new. This method will require us to break down the current obstinate Frodo and build a better, wiser, and ultimately happier Frodo on the ashes of the old one. I'm determined to reach his mind, Pippin, like I've reached yours, pet. But this will only work if Frodo is deprived of some basic needs for a few days, beginning with food, drink, and sleep. It may seem harsh, dear, gentle Pippin, but we are running short on time and we need to do this quickly. When we are done, we will treat Frodo like the prince he is. And, Pip, in the end, he will be much more content."
Merry drew Pippin into a warm hug, kissing his forehead. "He will be happy, happy like you are now. And you are happy now, aren't you love?"
Pippin nodded emphatically, his worried eyes belying the improbable smile that lit the rest of his face.
"Yes, Merry."
"It is a lovely thing to give your direction and care to another, is it not, Pip?" asked Merry.
More nods, more smiles. Merry ruffed Pippin's hair and buttoned the top button of his shirt where it had come undone. "I take good care of you, Pippin, don't I?"
Pippin nodded into Merry's elbow.
"You will see, Pip. When we are done with our work, Frodo will no longer be the tortured soul you see before you, run down by cares and regrets. We will be setting him free."
Merry turned to Frodo, noting that the bound hobbit had been craning his neck, trying to catch Merry's words regarding his fate. Merry smiled darkly, strolled over to Frodo, and spoke at full volume.
"Frodo," he announced, "Since you have chosen to fight me rather than to sleep, you have lost that privilege. Sleep is another thing you may earn back with your cooperation.
Frodo's head lolled, and Merry suspected his order was already well on the way to being flouted. Merry slapped Frodo, not very hard, but enough to get his attention. "Frodo, what did I say about sleeping?"
Frodo did not answer, but blinked his heavy eyelids open beneath the cloth, his head spinning, every muscle now wanting to surrender to the call of sleep as if the mere mention of the denial of it had made it all the more an immediate imperative.
"Pip," called Merry curtly, 'This important job I give to you! You shall take first watch. You must not let Frodo sleep, not a wink, until I return. I have some very important plans to make, and must take what rest I can." Merry's grip on Pippin's shoulder sharpened. "If either of you sleep, both of you shall be punished. If he dozes, douse him with water, shake him, slap him, kick. Don't let me down, Pip. If you value our cousin's life and your own, Peregrin, you will do exactly as I say. For I will not be responsible for my actions should you fail me yet again."
Pippin gulped inwardly, but nodded.
"I will bring back some tea and biscuits for you Pippin. Frodo is not to eat a morsel. Let nothing pass through his lips."
Merry left the room for a few minutes as Pippin settled himself on the hard floor by Frodo's feet, waiting for his meal. Merry returned bearing a tray laden with biscuits, steaming fragrant tea, and a pitcher of water.
"Here, love,' said Merry as he set the tray down next to Pippin where the sweet aroma of the tea was sure to waft up to stoke Frodo's hunger to a sharper need. Merry called Pippin's attention to the pitcher with a pointed toe.
"Here is the water. Frodo shall have none unless it is over his head should he doze. Do we understand each other Pip? No food, no drink, no sleep."
"Yes Merry," mumbled Pippin through a biscuit.
"Good lad!" chirped Merry. "I'll see you after I wake. I love you both. When I return, Pippin, you may sleep and Frodo and I will continue our little conversation."
Pippin stared with foreboding at his cousin's back as Merry strolled to the door, closing it behind him with the ominous sound of a casket being sealed.
"Frodo," Pippin began, but it was no use. Frodo was already asleep.
TBC __________________________________________________________________________
AN: Thank you so much to those who reviewed! It Really keeps me churning out the chapters! Here is something I wanted to ask! I am in the process of rewriting the first few chapters to show Merry turning evil, rather than just being evil. They will be so different -they will be like new chapters. Should I post them here, or will that get Confusing? Oh- And I'm adding a prologue showing Frodo and Merry as youngsters.
I'd love opinions, as this is my chance to make changes and create more complex characters. I want to make Pippin a bit less daffy, explain the ring's draw on merry more, etc. Is there anything in the first few chapters I missed out on of insufficiently explained? I want to make this the best story I can and your comments will absolutely not offend me!
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To my preciooousssss Reviewers!
Aratlithiel-my lovely beta making a really cool webpage! Well here it is! Your fav chapter! Now when does this get linked to your web page? Must I beg? Or-must I send evil!Merry to your home again to-erm, "persuade" you to do right by his story! ;)
Trust No One-I hope you have had a good holiday! And this can get worse, but in new and different ways. The ring is beginning to torment all 4 hobbits, and it won't be pretty, but hope will come forma most unlikely incident! I will drop by your fic the moment I have a -well a moment! I can't wait! Yeah fic!
tesekian- well, I hope Pippin continues to thin, despite the obvious dangers! LOL! When will we see a new story from you???
Chloe-glad you noticed the line! And there will be many more trips into pippin's head, as he begins to worry that his dear Merry actually may be capable of killing Frodo. Merry too will have moments of self doubt.
Endymion-very good question, and I tried to find an answer on the Quill and Inkings website (a resource group for hobbit fic writers) -and no one has answered it yet. So for now I assume the trailing rope is far enough away to not be invisible in the same way when other peoples clothes touch Frodo, they do not disappear. And-well-I couldn't let Frodo get away now-could I?? ;)
MBradford- boy-you really see things coming, but there are surprises in store-and yes Frodo should worry!
Kyotored - thank you! Frodo will not break easily. This chapter BW is my beta's very favorite.
Sue-the old Merry will reemerge and have to deal with what he has done. That will give us mucho Merry angst-but we still have a long dark road ahead!
Iorhael-frodo just needs a little comfort. If I send him to Indonesia, will you give him a big hug and stitch him together? There there, little one! Hmm-but you have some surprise for him in your fics-don't you!?
Ariel-oops! I meant to say Aratlithiel's co-writer! Pippin still has some hidden reserves in him! And why break Frodo-well so we can heal him! As I wrote, I am re-rewriting my early chapters because the quality of the later chapters is so superior. So any ideas on how to make those first chapters better-lay them on me! I'm going to try and carve out more compelx characters from the get-go!
Krista-don't explode! Who would review my story then! This will be a very long story. I am taking my time because I want Frodo's breaking and Merry's corruption to go bit by bit, as well as Merry's redemption and Frodo's healing. This is really a character study, and I'm so flattered you like it!