Whole chapter guest-authored by my lovely beta- Aratlithiel!!!!!
AN: It is a real treat to present this very first guest chapter by my incredible beta, Aratlithiel! She began, as many betas do, by reviewing a fic (in this case, mine) and giving it ebullient praise. With the promise of comments and some minor proofing, I began sending her sneak peak chapters, all the while marveling at her ability to find just the perfect word or phrase when I could not. Eventually she said she had written a "little something"-and would I like to see it. I did, of course, and that fic "At Sammauth Naur" was perhaps the most lyrical, tragic, gorgeous piece of LOTR prose and Frodo angst I have ever read. I was floored. Just a beta-indeed! At my urging she began publishing, and has garnered high praise from all corners. Aratlithiel can take even the most simple moment, and spin it into poetry like you've never seen. She would never say it, but I will, Aratlithiel is a better writer than me! HA! Or at least a prettier more florid more precise writer than myself! I won't go so far as to say that she spins my flax into gold, but I will say she makes me look good on a very regular basis-alas and alack! The unsung beta! (I wonder if she'll proof my dissertation? LOL!) Aratlithiel can take even the most simple moment, and spin it into poetry like you've never seen.
Which is exactly what she does here. This chapter explores Merry's Q and A session with Frodo in which Frodo has been purposefully deprived of sleep. It is a simple scenario-a dark unfurnished room, a chair, a prisoner, and his interrogator. What Aratlithiel has done with my outline just takes m bereath away! She told me that Frodo angst was somewhat of a specialty/obsession with her. Well, I think you will agree that she has slathered it on with a shovel here, but with prose so rich and florid, you will think you are reading a poem. Please enjoy, and please let her know what you think! I will forward all reviews to her. So sit back and roll out the angst!
Chapter 34 - The Cave and the Divided Line
Frodo felt as if he hadn't slept in days. In fact, he thought ruefully, he may not have slept in weeks for all he could tell. He had completely lost track of time and with the window boarded up tight and heavily curtained, had not even been able to mark the passing of day into night in he didn't know how long. When he had been brought to this stark and dreary room he had been blindfolded for an unaccountable amount of time and so could not even begin to guess how long this latest nightmare had been going on.
When Pippin had been dismissed the room had fallen into an eerie silence, the air so still Frodo could hear the rush of blood through his veins. His futile attempts at goading Merry into speaking or even shouting had gone unanswered and quickly degenerated into curses and pleas that did more to shame him than comfort him. The silence clung to him in a suffocating cocoon that choked him and left him reluctantly wishing his cousin would say something, anything. If only the thick, unbearable silence were scattered and broken, then Frodo could have the small reassurance that he did indeed exist after all; that he wasn't merely a player in someone else's nightmare.
Countless times he had drifted into a misty daze only to be brought painfully back to awareness by Merry's hand violently crossing his face or burying itself in his stomach. His hair and chest were continually damp, but Frodo was unsure whether that was from his own cold perspiration or the frequent icy blasts of water that hit his face when he lost his battle with sleep. The blindfold hid the telltale droop of his eyelids but a slump of his head or a change in his breathing unfailingly betrayed him and the small snatches of light slumber he was able to steal were ineffective in clearing the mist from his stumbling mind. The pain inflicted by the blows was secondary to the frustration of the unnatural silence and when Merry finally did begin to speak, Frodo had found himself strangely relieved and disgusted with himself for feeling so.
When the blindfold had been removed Frodo had rejoiced at the small favor granted by his tormentor. But now it seemed as if the only reason it had been removed was so that Merry could more easily tell when he succumbed to his exhaustion and slipped into a doze, then rouse him with another sharp slap to his face. He wondered drowsily how long he would be denied the 'privilege' of sleep, along with all the other necessities of life that had been stripped from him along with his freedom.
His head ached more than he'd ever thought possible but he supposed he should be grateful since it was the only part of his body besides his stomach he could still feel. His bonds were so tight that he expected any time he would look down at his hands to find they had turned purple from lack of circulation and fallen off. Not that he would have felt it anyway, looking at them was really the only way he had of knowing they were still there. He could see where the rope had been stained a dark russet in the area around his wrists. He had been watching the progression of the color change from a bright, almost horribly cheerful scarlet color to the deep reddish-brown it was now since his arms had lost their feeling and he, therefore, ceased trying to move them and loosen his bonds. 'How long ago had that been?' he wondered blearily.
His legs had suffered a similar treatment and were bound just as tightly from knee to ankle to the legs of the chair that had become his home over the past.he didn't know how long and he no longer cared to guess. His posterior and back had ached abominably for an endless amount of time before they subsided into a heavy, uncomfortable tingling and then finally had gone just as numb as his limbs. His shoulders and chest had been pinned and bound to the chair back and he had been bound at the waist for good measure. He was certain this was no mere attempt to ensure that he couldn't get loose as it had been the last time - this was purposely done to achieve the very effect he was suffering now: complete and total immobilization.
He felt his stomach only the few times when it had decided to remind him that he hadn't eaten for as long as he hadn't slept - it had ceased that complaint when Merry had gotten so perturbed by the sound of it grumbling with hunger that he had decided to beat it into submission. The blows combined with the inability to double himself over to regain his breath had apparently made his stomach wisely decide that it might be better to curl itself into a painful knot and go to sleep temporarily.
He heard, rather than felt the slap that crossed his cheek and rocked his head. The pain had only begun to tingle a warning on the already tender skin when he felt a strong hand in his hair and his head was jerked roughly back. His neck was stretched back so far that he would have been looking at the ceiling had Merry's face not been blocking his view of it. He felt a trickle of blood running to the back of his throat and absently concluded that his nose was bleeding again. His left nostril was already so crusted with the stuff that he could scarcely breath out of it. He idly wondered if it would be possible to bleed to death from one's nose. He supposed it would, why not? It shouldn't matter where the blood came from as long as enough of it left one's body. Certainly enough blood--
"Frodo!" Merry yelled less than an inch from his nose.
Frodo realized that Merry must have been trying to get his attention for some time - his face was entirely too red and he looked as if he were going to begin foaming at the mouth at any moment if Frodo didn't answer him.
Frodo stared up into his cousin's face until he was finally able to bring it into focus. His eyebrows drew together in consternation. He looked at his cousin through a groggy haze and said, "What?"
Merry watched, fascinated as Frodo's pupils expanded, then dilated and finally focused on him. Well, focused as much as he was capable of it right now, anyway. He could almost see his cousin slogging to awareness from whatever foggy path his mind had been wandering.
"I asked you a question, Frodo," Merry said. "Were you not paying attention?"
Frodo drew his brows together in confusion and tried again to concentrate on what Merry was saying. A question? What question?
Frodo watched as if from a distance as Merry's head drew back and the hand tangled in his hair suddenly released its grip. Then a hand filled his vision as it came rocketing through the air to once again collide with his cheek. His vision toppled and blurred as his head swiveled on his neck and dangled, coming to rest on his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to block the reality of what was happening to him from his mind - a reality which he would ordinarily have believed to be a nightmare up until the time he had been forced into living it. How had it come to this?
"Frodo!" Merry's voice again, louder this time and becoming angrier.
His hair was grabbed again and his head forced back to its former neck- straining position. He kept his eyes closed and his mind begged for the oblivion of sleep, even just a few precious moments. He wondered if it were possible for him to become so exhausted that he could sleep through whatever punishment was carried out upon him. Already he felt disconnected, as if this were happening to someone else entirely - an illusion that was quickly shattered every time a new blossom of pain sent stinging rivers through his head and drove into his brain.
Merry tightened his grip on the handful of hair he clenched and violently shook his cousin's head. "Open your eyes, Frodo! Open them RIGHT NOW!"
But he couldn't. Didn't Merry realize that? His lids were too heavy, feeling as if stones were settled atop them. He felt his head brutally shaken again and his teeth clacked in his mouth. He drew air into his constricted lungs and heard his voice whistle something that might have been 'can't,' but he couldn't really tell for sure.
"You can and you will, Frodo," Merry said and Frodo could tell by the sound of it that his teeth were clenched in fury.
"Too tired, Merry," he whispered, "please. So weary.can't."
He felt Merry's hand loosen and withdraw from his hair and a hand was suddenly stroking his cheek with a gentleness that Frodo had almost forgotten existed. His mind wandered again and he immediately began his descent into a blissful doze. He swirled and drifted in the black stupor until renewed pain brought him sharply back. The hand that had tenderly caressed his cheek seconds ago now braced it firmly as another pressed cruelly into the opposite side of his face. Pitiless fingers dug into the bruised and swollen flesh, sending throbbing daggers to twist in his brain.
He let out a strangled moan and opened his eyes.
"There you are, cousin," said Merry and he again watched the slow, dazed dance of Frodo's pupils as they sharpened into focus.
"Sleep, Merry," whispered Frodo. "You must let me sleep."
"I cannot, Frodo," Merry replied softly and lifted his hand to stroke Frodo's hair. Frodo flinched and blinked as the hand passed his face and Merry smiled inwardly. "We have very many things to discuss," he continued, "and very little time in which to discuss them."
Frodo groaned and blinked heavily. A discussion? Did Merry honestly expect him to carry on an intelligent conversation in his present state? He dragged his eyes to meet Merry's. "Tired," he repeated.
"I know, Frodo," said Merry, continuing his gentle stroking. "I know you're very tired, as am I and we will both sleep like the dead as soon as we discuss some matters that simply cannot wait. Come, now. Pull yourself together so we can get this business done and both take some rest."
Frodo sucked in a breath and willed his head to lift and sit properly on his neck. "What business?" he asked.
"Why, the business of your Ring of course, Frodo," replied Merry. "We haven't had the opportunity to discuss Its importance for some time and the subject simply cannot wait another moment."
Frodo exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. He would have put his head in his hands if he'd been able. 'The Ring,' he thought. 'Of course. It always comes back that blasted trinket, doesn't it?' He wondered why Merry hadn't simply just taken it from him. He couldn't have stopped him of course and while he had been dangling helplessly from his tether in the river so many .how long ago had that been, anyway?. he had felt certain that Its removal from his possession was Merry's intention. He was therefore surprised when Merry had returned It to Its place around his neck shortly thereafter. Of all the horrific things that had been going on as of late, that was the most puzzling. Why didn't Merry just take It from him? What did he need Frodo for? Frodo would certainly never suggest that Merry just take the bloody thing from him - he didn't want to give Merry any ideas that might for whatever reason not have already occurred to him. But he couldn't help wondering why Merry still thought it necessary to convince him to keep It when he could have just killed him and Sam both days ago and taken It himself.
"Merry," Frodo said, "we both know Its importance. We just happen to disagree on Its future and I can't honestly say that any discussion or restraint or torment will change my mind. It is evil - you simply cannot see it because." Frodo trailed off, his eyes drifting to the rope twined about his wrist.
Merry looked at him patiently. "Yes?"
Frodo dragged his eyes up to cast a weary gaze to his cousin. "Hmm?"
"You were saying.?" said Merry. "I cannot see it because."
"Saying?" asked Frodo. "Because.oh, yes. Because It has already wrapped Itself around you and blinded you to the difference between right and wrong." He sighed heavily. "We both now dangle from Its web and it's only a matter of time before the damage done is beyond repair."
"And you know this how, cousin?" Merry returned. "Because the wizard told you?"
"Yes, of course," said Frodo. "You know as well as I do what Gandalf said." Frodo ran his tongue along his dry and swollen lips. It was difficult enough to concentrate on the conversation, but he was also finding it increasingly difficult to speak through the swelling on the left side of his face. He imagined what he must look like and shuddered.
Merry paced away a few feet, absently chewing his thumbnail, a black silhouette against the eternal grey of the room. "Yes, Frodo, but how did Gandalf know?"
Frodo sighed heavily and shook his head. "You know how he knew," he replied, "you know the whole story. Blast it, Merry, we've been over this! Why must we play games? What do you really want to know?"
Frodo watched in growing trepidation as Merry's head snapped toward him and he stalked over, anger growing on his face with each step. He raised his hand and slapped Frodo's aching cheek. Frodo let out a sharp cry as his head pitched on his neck once more. Merry placed both hands atop Frodo's numb arms and leaned in, eyes blazing. Frodo tried to push his head back but was helpless to avoid the wrath coming down upon him.
"You will keep a civil tongue in your head, cousin," seethed Merry, "or we will be forced to delay this discussion until I have taught you proper manners." Merry kept his eyes locked on Frodo's as he slowly withdrew. He took a deep, cleansing breath, straightened his back and stepped away from his cousin to regain his composure.
"What do I really want to know, you ask," said Merry. "A fair question, I suppose if asked properly." He clasped his hands tightly behind his back and resumed his pacing. "You think Gandalf very wise, do you not, Frodo?" Merry stopped his pacing and looked to his cousin.
"Yes," replied Frodo evenly, "as did you, once."
Merry chuckled. "Yes, Frodo, I did.once."
Frodo couldn't help the spark of anger that lit in his belly. Was Merry really implying that his own wisdom now exceeded that of Gandalf? Surely even Merry in his present state could not be so bold as to imagine that. Frodo licked his bleeding lip and spoke in as conversational a tone as he could muster. "What is your question, Merry?"
"My question?" asked Merry. He looked at Frodo distractedly as his hand moved to his mouth to chew on the thumbnail once more. "Ah, my question, yes," he said, moving his hand to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "My question, Frodo, is if this Ring is so very dangerous and holds the future of Middle Earth in balance, why then did Gandalf - in all of his infinite wisdom - ask you, of all people, to carry It?" He withdrew the hand from his chin, re-clasped his hands behind his back and looked at Frodo.
Frodo was taken aback. He looked at his cousin, trying to decide if he was expected to supply an answer. "Because It is mine," he said. "It belongs to me and It is my responsibility."
"Yes," said Merry, "I suppose one could see it that way. But don't you think, Frodo, that if this Ring is so important, that Gandalf would have found someone more worthy to carry it such a great distance? Someone a little less. peculiar, perhaps? Someone a little more suited to the task?"
Frodo's breath stopped for a moment and the confusion that he had been warring against threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn't expected this turn in the conversation. "Peculiar?" he said.
Merry laughed. "Oh come now, Frodo!" he said. "Certainly you've heard the stories and rumors same as I have. You can't possibly be surprised that your odd ways and strange doings - not to mention your colorful family history - are frequent topics of conversation around the entire Shire!"
Frodo's eyes narrowed and he felt his face color in spite of himself. "No, Merry," he replied, "I'm not at all surprised about what folk have to say about myself and my activities. It's simply that I've not had the displeasure of hearing the gossip come from the lips of one I hold so dear before.or once held dear at any rate."
"Oh, please, Frodo!" scoffed Merry, ignoring the last comment. "Everyone's always found you odd - why should it surprise you that your family does as well? But we love you in spite of it, old boy, so don't take on so."
"What is your point, Merry?" asked Frodo, impatience beginning to edge into his voice. He was so very tired and he had not expected to have to deal with the subject of public opinion of himself in such a bizarre setting. The strange conversation was confusing him more than he could afford to allow.
Merry once again leaned toward his cousin and captured his eyes. "My point is, Frodo," he said, "why would Gandalf choose someone so odd with so many 'cracked' individuals in his family tree to carry something of such great worth and danger?" Merry stood and stepped away.
Frodo tried to wrap his mind around the question and found he could not. His thoughts stumbled about, trying to drag the answer from his sluggish brain. "He.he."
"Do you think Gandalf cares for you, Frodo?" interrupted Merry.
Frodo tried to follow this newest turn. "Of course," he said after a small pause. "Gandalf's been a friend for years."
"Yes, years," said Merry with a wave of his hand. "But what are years, really to a wizard? Surely he's been around for thousands of them. You've only known him for moments in the grand scheme of things. How much do you really think he could care about someone he's only known so short a time?"
Frodo's brow furrowed and he looked down to concentrate on the smears of blood around his left wrist. What exactly was Merry implying? Of course Gandalf cared for him and had been truly frightened for him before he left Bag End so many months ago. Of course, he had still left, hadn't he? Frodo looked at Merry. "He cares," he said, the assertion in his voice less than convincing even to his own ears. "Of course he cares," he said with a little more conviction.
Merry came and knelt next to Frodo's chair, his hand extending to place it softly against his cousin's swollen cheek. "Then Frodo," said Merry, voice gentle and eyes glistening with tears, "why in the world would he send you out into danger as he has done? If Gandalf cares for you so much and this Ring is so dangerous, why would he risk you so?"
Frodo gasped in a sharp breath and stared mutely at his cousin. His lips moved but produced no sound and his eyes blinked rapidly. He tried to push sound through his throat but nothing would move past the lump that had formed there. He swallowed hard and licked his lips. "He.," he finally managed to whisper, "It.there was no other choice."
"Oh, Frodo," Merry said sadly. He stroked Frodo's hair and shook his head. "Wise you are, dear cousin, but still so naïve in the ways of things. How can you possibly think that a wizard had no other choice than to send you into certain danger and possible death to achieve his own ends?" Merry placed his hand beneath Frodo's chin and gently lifted his head. "You're smarter than this, cousin. Are you really trying to tell me that you hadn't considered this before?"
No, he certainly had not considered it before. His mind whirled. Why did Gandalf send him out into danger as he had? He had asked Gandalf to take It himself or to find a stronger bearer, but the wizard had refused. There had been reasons - very good reasons, he remembered - at the time, but Frodo could not recall them now, try as he might. "No," he whispered, his mouth dry. "No. Gandalf cares. It was just.it was."
"What, Frodo?" said Merry, eyes sparking. "It was just what?"
"I can't.I don't--"
"Answer the question, Frodo!" said Merry, hand now hard against Frodo's scalp. "Tell me! Why would a wizard, in all his wisdom, send someone he cares for so much out into such danger? Why?"
"I don't--"
Merry's hand closed on his hair again and shook. Frodo let out a frightened moan and closed his eyes. Merry struck him and his face blazed once more.
"WHY, Frodo?" shouted Merry.
"I don't know, I--" He was shaken again and Merry growled in his ear.
"You do!" snarled Merry. "You know! Tell me, Frodo!"
"I can't remember!" he cried, tears streaming down his raw and stinging cheeks. His mind raced, grasping feebly at any explanation he could find whirling in the chaos and confusion of his brain. Any explanation at all, just to make the shaking stop! He could hear the bones creaking in his neck and fancied he could feel the thud of his brain slamming into his skull when Merry slapped him again. His scalp burned where Merry's hand was yanking at his hair and Frodo found he couldn't string a single thought together in his battered, weary mind.
"Think, Frodo," said Merry harshly. "You know."
"I don't.I--"
"You know, Frodo!" Merry persisted, shaking more violently. "Tell me! Why would anyone send someone they cared for into such danger?! Say it!"
"Say what?" cried Frodo. "I don't know what you want me--"
"You know, Frodo!" Merry cried.
"I don't! Stop! Please--"
"I want you to tell me why a person would send a loved one into danger," said Merry. He shook again.
"Why?.he--"
"Why would someone who loves you send you out to die?!" He raised his hand for another slap.
"Merry, no, PLEASE--"
"Say it!!"
"They wouldn't!" Frodo cried. His eyes opened wide as he realized what his muddled brain had forced from his mouth. He looked at Merry in disbelief at what he had just said. "They wouldn't," he whispered, barely believing as the words tumbled out of his mouth a second time.
Merry's grip relaxed and he removed his hand from Frodo's hair. He gave his cousin a sad, gentle smile and tenderly wiped the tears from his face. "Now you begin to understand, dear cousin."
*** There was a small table against the far wall with a pitcher and mug set upon it. Merry walked over and lifted both pitcher and mug and turned to Frodo. Frodo could see the condensation on the outside of the metal pitcher as it slid down in cool drops to the floor below. Merry slowly poured water into the mug and set the pitcher back onto the table looking thoughtful. Frodo licked his lips. How long had it been since he'd had a drink of water?
Merry tipped the mug to his mouth and took a great swallow. Frodo watched as Merry's eyes closed and his throat bobbed with the wash of the cool water. Frodo's mouth felt suddenly more dry than it ever had in his life. He could almost feel the chill of the mug against his lips, the sudden, quenching moisture against his tongue and the rush of the cool liquid in his throat. Merry absently set the mug back onto the table and began his slow pacing once again.
"Frodo," Merry said, "what did Gandalf tell you about the Black Riders?"
Frodo stared longingly at the pitcher across the room, not hearing his cousin.
"Frodo!"
Frodo's head snapped up and he looked at Merry with cloudy eyes. "What? Did you say something?"
"Yes, Frodo," Merry replied. "I asked you what Gandalf told you about the Black Riders."
Frodo stared at him blankly for a moment, eyes even more hazed than a moment before. Merry saw him give his head a small shake and his eyes were clear and focused once again.
"What?" asked Frodo. "Black Riders?" Frodo thought about it for a moment, brows drawn down in concentration. It was getting increasingly difficult to think properly and his head was still spinning with the thought of a mug full of clear, cold water. "Black Riders?" he repeated. "Nothing. Gandalf told me nothing of them."
"I wonder why that is?" Merry said, his voice soft and his eyes far away. Frodo looked at him in bewilderment, wondering if Merry was expecting him to answer. Merry's gaze drifted to his cousin and met his eyes. "Why do you suppose that is, Frodo?"
"Why what is, Merry?" asked Frodo.
Merry crooked a smile at him. "Frodo, my dear, you really must try to pay attention. I want to know why you think Gandalf did not tell you of the Black Riders."
Frodo pondered the question with deep concentration, trying to make sense of it and answer appropriately. "I don't know, Merry," he said. "I assume it was because he didn't know about them."
Merry's eyebrows lifted and he looked at Frodo with surprise. "Didn't know? We're talking about a wizard here, dear cousin. A magician with wisdom beyond our mortal comprehension. Do you really think he could have been unaware of them and their pursuit of you?"
Frodo frowned as he thought about it. Was it possible that Gandalf had not known about the Black Riders? Or worse, had he known and sent Frodo and Sam out alone anyway? His weariness assaulted him with new force, his eyes drifting closed and his head dipping to his chest.
"Frodo!" Cold water hit his face and suddenly Merry was beside him again, his voice splitting Frodo's ear. His eyes flew open and his tongue instinctively licked at his face, trying without thought to pull some of the precious drops dripping down his cheeks and nose into his mouth. He grimaced as he tasted the now familiar bitter taste of his own blood on his tongue. He looked to Merry, his frown deepening.
"What?"
"I asked you if you thought it was possible that Gandalf was unaware of the Black Riders," said Merry. "I've been waiting some time for an answer. Do we need to have that discussion on manners we spoke of earlier?"
"No," Frodo said quickly. He looked at Merry and shook his head slightly. "No," he repeated. "I really don't know if it's possible, Merry. I can't seem to think clearly right now."
"Oh, bother, Frodo," Merry said. "You don't need to have a clear head to answer that question. The answer's quite obvious, I think." Merry crouched again by Frodo's side and held his gaze. "Tell me, cousin. Did Gandalf know about the Black Riders?"
"I." Frodo began, and immediately forgot what he was going to say as Merry's gaze darkened and he shifted on his haunches. "No." he said. "I mean yes.I mean." Frodo paused and closed his eyes. What was the question again? He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to concentrate once again on the blood stains at his wrist. "Yes," he said finally, "Gandalf must have known. I can't imagine him not knowing."
"Yes," Merry said sadly, gazing at Frodo with what appeared to be genuine sorrow. "I'm afraid I'd have to agree with you there." He reached out and placed his hand on the back of Frodo's neck and massaged gently.
Frodo let himself slump into his cousin's hand and closed his eyes. He felt himself swept again into the murky depths of hazy slumber and willed himself to tumble into it. A sudden clenching at the base of his neck and a low voice in his ear brought him back. His eyes opened slowly and he moved them to his right where Merry still crouched beside him. "Hmm?"
"I said, what of the elves?" said Merry.
His eyes drifted closed again and his face drew down in a frown. "Elves?" he whispered.
"Yes, Frodo," said Merry. "The elves you met in the wood on the way here. What did they tell you about the Black Riders?"
Frodo shook his head almost imperceptibly and mumbled something.
"What?" said Merry, jostling Frodo's neck and eliciting a low groan in response. "Frodo!"
Frodo's eyes leapt open but Merry did not see them come into focus as they had before. His cousin stared at him blankly, his eyes hazy and clouded and Merry was briefly reminded of the death mask Frodo had worn when he and Pippin had dragged him from the river.
"Come, Frodo, wake up!" said Merry in a loud voice. "We've much yet to discuss."
"Sleep," murmured Frodo from miles away and closed his eyes again. "Please," his voice a small whisper as fresh tears rolled sluggishly down his bruised and swollen face.
"Not yet, Frodo, my love," Merry said. "Soon. I promise." He jostled Frodo's head again until his eyes opened once more in their vacant stare.
"Merry, please." Frodo begged in a barely audible murmur.
"Soon," said Merry. "I need you to focus on me now, cousin. Look at me. Look at me!"
Frodo's eyes flew to Merry's and finally showed some sign of awareness. Merry noted fear mixed in the over-bright gaze and nodded with satisfaction.
Frodo's throat worked and he moved his lips as though trying to speak. He closed his eyes, took a breath and then opened them again to fasten on Merry's. "I'm very cold, Merry. I'm very cold and so very, very weary."
Merry reached down to grip his cousin's fingers and noted with dismay that they were indeed ice-cold. He bent to rest his ear against Frodo's chest and his concern deepened when he found his cousin's heartbeat to be slow and sluggish. He'd better pick up his pace and wrap this up soon or risk Frodo becoming ill or worse. He rose and walked over to the pitcher, filling the mug halfway. He returned to his cousin and lifted the mug to his cracked and swollen lips.
Frodo's reaction was immediate and he slurped greedily at the cup that Merry offered.
"Easy, easy there Frodo," Merry soothed. "Slow sips, cousin. We don't want it coming right back on you."
Frodo slowed appropriately and sipped the cool water as Merry stroked his hair back from his clammy forehead. Frodo didn't think water had ever tasted so good to him and he felt the arid wasteland of his tongue and throat moisten and relax under its gentle spell. He finished the cup and leaned his head back with a sigh of relief to look at the ceiling.
"A little better now, love?"
Frodo nodded faintly. He swallowed and whispered, "Than.thank you," his gaze never leaving the ceiling and his cheeks reddening slightly. Merry smiled and returned the mug to the table.
He returned and once again resumed his crouching position next to Frodo's chair. "Now, the elves, Frodo," he said. "What did they tell you about the Black Riders?"
Frodo remained staring at the ceiling but his head rolled a little from side to side and his face pulled down in a frown. "Elves," he said softly. "Elves.Riders.I don't know. Sam will know. Ask Sam. I can't remember." He lifted his head and turned to Merry, confusion and dismay on his face. "I don't." Frodo stopped and his eyes widened as Merry shifted and rose to lean over him.
"Come now, cousin," Merry said, his voice tight. "Of course you remember. Tell me what they said."
Frodo tried to sink further into the hard oak of the chair and back away from Merry's hot breath on his face. He clamped his eyes shut and thought hard. "Nothing," he said. He opened his eyes and looked at Merry anxiously. "They told me nothing of the Riders, only that they were dangerous and I should flee from them. They wouldn't tell me anything further."
"Did they offer you protection?" Merry asked.
"No," Frodo answered.
"Did they offer to help you in any way?"
"No," Frodo said again.
"And why do you think that is?" Merry asked.
Frodo looked at him questioningly, his brow creased in consternation. "I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it. Elves don't generally mix outside their own. I suppose they didn't want to be involved?"
"Not involved?" said Merry. "But you were on your way to Rivendell, an Elf haven, were you not? Isn't that being involved?"
Frodo looked down and concentrated on the blotches, now looking black in the never-ending twilight of the room. "I suppose."
"You suppose," Merry interrupted with a sneer. "Of course that's being involved. The elves are involved in this right up to their long, graceful necks along with your bloody Gandalf!" he shouted. "Frodo, can you really not see what's going on here?"
"No, I--"
"Can you not see the conspiracy that's being carried out against you?" asked Merry.
"Conspiracy?" Frodo asked. "No, that's not--"
"Tell me, Frodo," Merry continued, "how do you suppose Gandalf expected you to get all the way to Rivendell and hand over the Ring to the elves with those Riders on your tail and who-knows-what waiting for you along the road?"
"He didn't know. He wouldn't--"
"No, Frodo. We've already established that he did know and he would, haven't we? Think, Frodo! Why would Gandalf send you out - alone - with no help and at the mercy of those Riders? Why would the elves avoid you like you carried some disease they didn't want to catch?"
Frodo closed his eyes and shook his head. No! He didn't want to hear this.didn't want to know. "I don't know! I don't know! Please!"
Merry reached up and grabbed Frodo's head and held it still, his right palm pressing cruelly into Frodo's battered cheek and awakening the pain anew. "Think, Frodo! Why would Gandalf send you out alone with no protection?"
"Please, Merry, you're hurting--"
Merry squeezed harder and Frodo cried out, tears blazing fiery trails down his face. "Think, Frodo!"
"I don't.because.I don't know!" he cried. "Please, it hurts--"
"Why would Gandalf send you to Rivendell with no protection?" Merry shouted.
"There was no choice--"
"Why would he insist you carry that Ring to the elves and tell no one?"
"It wasn't--"
"Why would the elves not help you when they knew you were pursued?"
Frodo was sobbing openly now and he tried vainly to twist his head from his cousin's merciless grip. Merry dug his hands in harder and Frodo screamed in pain.
"Why would he send you alone, Frodo?"
"I don't know! I don't know, I swear it!"
"You do! Just say it and we can stop this and sleep! Say it Frodo!"
"I can't!" screamed Frodo, the hands clamping harder and the pain almost unbearable now.
"It's not that hard, Frodo! You know the answer you just won't admit it!"
"I don't!" he shouted back. "If I knew I'd tell you, I swear it. Please, Merry!"
"You know, Frodo!," screamed Merry, digging his fingers into Frodo's flesh viciously and slamming his head to the back of chair. "Why did Gandalf send you alone?"
"I don't--"
Another slam. "Why would the elves not help you?"
"Please!"
Slam! "You know why Gandalf sent you."
"No! No, I--"
Slam! ".you know why the elves shunned you!"
"Merry, please!"
"TELL ME!" Merry bawled.
Frodo stilled abruptly and Merry lifted his cousin's head, concerned for a moment that he had collapsed or worse. He was surprised to find Frodo's bright eyes fasten on his and drew in a breath at the sharpness and glitter he saw in them - nearly glowing with an eerie light in the dimness of the room.
"Because," Frodo said in a whisper so low that Merry had to actually move his ear to Frodo's lips to hear it clearly. "Because he didn't care if I got there safely or not. Because the elves were there to take Ring if I died. Because it didn't matter if.didn't matter if."
Merry drew his head back just in time to see his cousin's eyes roll to the back of his head and close.
TBC
___________________________________________________________________________
Aratlithiel's geocites page with all here amazing tales can be found at
Her newest tale "Bronwe athan Harthad" can be found on her webpage and is an incredible window into Frodo's torment as he deals with his overwhelming guilt for claiming the Ring. And I say this for all here tales, but it will leave you spellbound!!! I will send you the link if it does not show up on this page!
And you may read her stories on ff.net-user id- 371160
I have drawn 2 illustrations for this chapter. If you'd like to see them, email me for the link, or visit the Merry_PipLovers yahoo group, or the MerryPippin group. I moderate the later, so I promise to let you on!
Reviewer responses for my own chapters coming up next chapter!
I have completely reworked chapter 1 - 4 (and I mean completely!!!!!) and gone from 2 to 14 pages on "A conspiracy unmasked". If you are not drained from reading this, check out the new chapter 1 and get a new glimpse into Merry's mind as the RING takes over!
--emma
AN: It is a real treat to present this very first guest chapter by my incredible beta, Aratlithiel! She began, as many betas do, by reviewing a fic (in this case, mine) and giving it ebullient praise. With the promise of comments and some minor proofing, I began sending her sneak peak chapters, all the while marveling at her ability to find just the perfect word or phrase when I could not. Eventually she said she had written a "little something"-and would I like to see it. I did, of course, and that fic "At Sammauth Naur" was perhaps the most lyrical, tragic, gorgeous piece of LOTR prose and Frodo angst I have ever read. I was floored. Just a beta-indeed! At my urging she began publishing, and has garnered high praise from all corners. Aratlithiel can take even the most simple moment, and spin it into poetry like you've never seen. She would never say it, but I will, Aratlithiel is a better writer than me! HA! Or at least a prettier more florid more precise writer than myself! I won't go so far as to say that she spins my flax into gold, but I will say she makes me look good on a very regular basis-alas and alack! The unsung beta! (I wonder if she'll proof my dissertation? LOL!) Aratlithiel can take even the most simple moment, and spin it into poetry like you've never seen.
Which is exactly what she does here. This chapter explores Merry's Q and A session with Frodo in which Frodo has been purposefully deprived of sleep. It is a simple scenario-a dark unfurnished room, a chair, a prisoner, and his interrogator. What Aratlithiel has done with my outline just takes m bereath away! She told me that Frodo angst was somewhat of a specialty/obsession with her. Well, I think you will agree that she has slathered it on with a shovel here, but with prose so rich and florid, you will think you are reading a poem. Please enjoy, and please let her know what you think! I will forward all reviews to her. So sit back and roll out the angst!
Chapter 34 - The Cave and the Divided Line
Frodo felt as if he hadn't slept in days. In fact, he thought ruefully, he may not have slept in weeks for all he could tell. He had completely lost track of time and with the window boarded up tight and heavily curtained, had not even been able to mark the passing of day into night in he didn't know how long. When he had been brought to this stark and dreary room he had been blindfolded for an unaccountable amount of time and so could not even begin to guess how long this latest nightmare had been going on.
When Pippin had been dismissed the room had fallen into an eerie silence, the air so still Frodo could hear the rush of blood through his veins. His futile attempts at goading Merry into speaking or even shouting had gone unanswered and quickly degenerated into curses and pleas that did more to shame him than comfort him. The silence clung to him in a suffocating cocoon that choked him and left him reluctantly wishing his cousin would say something, anything. If only the thick, unbearable silence were scattered and broken, then Frodo could have the small reassurance that he did indeed exist after all; that he wasn't merely a player in someone else's nightmare.
Countless times he had drifted into a misty daze only to be brought painfully back to awareness by Merry's hand violently crossing his face or burying itself in his stomach. His hair and chest were continually damp, but Frodo was unsure whether that was from his own cold perspiration or the frequent icy blasts of water that hit his face when he lost his battle with sleep. The blindfold hid the telltale droop of his eyelids but a slump of his head or a change in his breathing unfailingly betrayed him and the small snatches of light slumber he was able to steal were ineffective in clearing the mist from his stumbling mind. The pain inflicted by the blows was secondary to the frustration of the unnatural silence and when Merry finally did begin to speak, Frodo had found himself strangely relieved and disgusted with himself for feeling so.
When the blindfold had been removed Frodo had rejoiced at the small favor granted by his tormentor. But now it seemed as if the only reason it had been removed was so that Merry could more easily tell when he succumbed to his exhaustion and slipped into a doze, then rouse him with another sharp slap to his face. He wondered drowsily how long he would be denied the 'privilege' of sleep, along with all the other necessities of life that had been stripped from him along with his freedom.
His head ached more than he'd ever thought possible but he supposed he should be grateful since it was the only part of his body besides his stomach he could still feel. His bonds were so tight that he expected any time he would look down at his hands to find they had turned purple from lack of circulation and fallen off. Not that he would have felt it anyway, looking at them was really the only way he had of knowing they were still there. He could see where the rope had been stained a dark russet in the area around his wrists. He had been watching the progression of the color change from a bright, almost horribly cheerful scarlet color to the deep reddish-brown it was now since his arms had lost their feeling and he, therefore, ceased trying to move them and loosen his bonds. 'How long ago had that been?' he wondered blearily.
His legs had suffered a similar treatment and were bound just as tightly from knee to ankle to the legs of the chair that had become his home over the past.he didn't know how long and he no longer cared to guess. His posterior and back had ached abominably for an endless amount of time before they subsided into a heavy, uncomfortable tingling and then finally had gone just as numb as his limbs. His shoulders and chest had been pinned and bound to the chair back and he had been bound at the waist for good measure. He was certain this was no mere attempt to ensure that he couldn't get loose as it had been the last time - this was purposely done to achieve the very effect he was suffering now: complete and total immobilization.
He felt his stomach only the few times when it had decided to remind him that he hadn't eaten for as long as he hadn't slept - it had ceased that complaint when Merry had gotten so perturbed by the sound of it grumbling with hunger that he had decided to beat it into submission. The blows combined with the inability to double himself over to regain his breath had apparently made his stomach wisely decide that it might be better to curl itself into a painful knot and go to sleep temporarily.
He heard, rather than felt the slap that crossed his cheek and rocked his head. The pain had only begun to tingle a warning on the already tender skin when he felt a strong hand in his hair and his head was jerked roughly back. His neck was stretched back so far that he would have been looking at the ceiling had Merry's face not been blocking his view of it. He felt a trickle of blood running to the back of his throat and absently concluded that his nose was bleeding again. His left nostril was already so crusted with the stuff that he could scarcely breath out of it. He idly wondered if it would be possible to bleed to death from one's nose. He supposed it would, why not? It shouldn't matter where the blood came from as long as enough of it left one's body. Certainly enough blood--
"Frodo!" Merry yelled less than an inch from his nose.
Frodo realized that Merry must have been trying to get his attention for some time - his face was entirely too red and he looked as if he were going to begin foaming at the mouth at any moment if Frodo didn't answer him.
Frodo stared up into his cousin's face until he was finally able to bring it into focus. His eyebrows drew together in consternation. He looked at his cousin through a groggy haze and said, "What?"
Merry watched, fascinated as Frodo's pupils expanded, then dilated and finally focused on him. Well, focused as much as he was capable of it right now, anyway. He could almost see his cousin slogging to awareness from whatever foggy path his mind had been wandering.
"I asked you a question, Frodo," Merry said. "Were you not paying attention?"
Frodo drew his brows together in confusion and tried again to concentrate on what Merry was saying. A question? What question?
Frodo watched as if from a distance as Merry's head drew back and the hand tangled in his hair suddenly released its grip. Then a hand filled his vision as it came rocketing through the air to once again collide with his cheek. His vision toppled and blurred as his head swiveled on his neck and dangled, coming to rest on his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to block the reality of what was happening to him from his mind - a reality which he would ordinarily have believed to be a nightmare up until the time he had been forced into living it. How had it come to this?
"Frodo!" Merry's voice again, louder this time and becoming angrier.
His hair was grabbed again and his head forced back to its former neck- straining position. He kept his eyes closed and his mind begged for the oblivion of sleep, even just a few precious moments. He wondered if it were possible for him to become so exhausted that he could sleep through whatever punishment was carried out upon him. Already he felt disconnected, as if this were happening to someone else entirely - an illusion that was quickly shattered every time a new blossom of pain sent stinging rivers through his head and drove into his brain.
Merry tightened his grip on the handful of hair he clenched and violently shook his cousin's head. "Open your eyes, Frodo! Open them RIGHT NOW!"
But he couldn't. Didn't Merry realize that? His lids were too heavy, feeling as if stones were settled atop them. He felt his head brutally shaken again and his teeth clacked in his mouth. He drew air into his constricted lungs and heard his voice whistle something that might have been 'can't,' but he couldn't really tell for sure.
"You can and you will, Frodo," Merry said and Frodo could tell by the sound of it that his teeth were clenched in fury.
"Too tired, Merry," he whispered, "please. So weary.can't."
He felt Merry's hand loosen and withdraw from his hair and a hand was suddenly stroking his cheek with a gentleness that Frodo had almost forgotten existed. His mind wandered again and he immediately began his descent into a blissful doze. He swirled and drifted in the black stupor until renewed pain brought him sharply back. The hand that had tenderly caressed his cheek seconds ago now braced it firmly as another pressed cruelly into the opposite side of his face. Pitiless fingers dug into the bruised and swollen flesh, sending throbbing daggers to twist in his brain.
He let out a strangled moan and opened his eyes.
"There you are, cousin," said Merry and he again watched the slow, dazed dance of Frodo's pupils as they sharpened into focus.
"Sleep, Merry," whispered Frodo. "You must let me sleep."
"I cannot, Frodo," Merry replied softly and lifted his hand to stroke Frodo's hair. Frodo flinched and blinked as the hand passed his face and Merry smiled inwardly. "We have very many things to discuss," he continued, "and very little time in which to discuss them."
Frodo groaned and blinked heavily. A discussion? Did Merry honestly expect him to carry on an intelligent conversation in his present state? He dragged his eyes to meet Merry's. "Tired," he repeated.
"I know, Frodo," said Merry, continuing his gentle stroking. "I know you're very tired, as am I and we will both sleep like the dead as soon as we discuss some matters that simply cannot wait. Come, now. Pull yourself together so we can get this business done and both take some rest."
Frodo sucked in a breath and willed his head to lift and sit properly on his neck. "What business?" he asked.
"Why, the business of your Ring of course, Frodo," replied Merry. "We haven't had the opportunity to discuss Its importance for some time and the subject simply cannot wait another moment."
Frodo exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. He would have put his head in his hands if he'd been able. 'The Ring,' he thought. 'Of course. It always comes back that blasted trinket, doesn't it?' He wondered why Merry hadn't simply just taken it from him. He couldn't have stopped him of course and while he had been dangling helplessly from his tether in the river so many .how long ago had that been, anyway?. he had felt certain that Its removal from his possession was Merry's intention. He was therefore surprised when Merry had returned It to Its place around his neck shortly thereafter. Of all the horrific things that had been going on as of late, that was the most puzzling. Why didn't Merry just take It from him? What did he need Frodo for? Frodo would certainly never suggest that Merry just take the bloody thing from him - he didn't want to give Merry any ideas that might for whatever reason not have already occurred to him. But he couldn't help wondering why Merry still thought it necessary to convince him to keep It when he could have just killed him and Sam both days ago and taken It himself.
"Merry," Frodo said, "we both know Its importance. We just happen to disagree on Its future and I can't honestly say that any discussion or restraint or torment will change my mind. It is evil - you simply cannot see it because." Frodo trailed off, his eyes drifting to the rope twined about his wrist.
Merry looked at him patiently. "Yes?"
Frodo dragged his eyes up to cast a weary gaze to his cousin. "Hmm?"
"You were saying.?" said Merry. "I cannot see it because."
"Saying?" asked Frodo. "Because.oh, yes. Because It has already wrapped Itself around you and blinded you to the difference between right and wrong." He sighed heavily. "We both now dangle from Its web and it's only a matter of time before the damage done is beyond repair."
"And you know this how, cousin?" Merry returned. "Because the wizard told you?"
"Yes, of course," said Frodo. "You know as well as I do what Gandalf said." Frodo ran his tongue along his dry and swollen lips. It was difficult enough to concentrate on the conversation, but he was also finding it increasingly difficult to speak through the swelling on the left side of his face. He imagined what he must look like and shuddered.
Merry paced away a few feet, absently chewing his thumbnail, a black silhouette against the eternal grey of the room. "Yes, Frodo, but how did Gandalf know?"
Frodo sighed heavily and shook his head. "You know how he knew," he replied, "you know the whole story. Blast it, Merry, we've been over this! Why must we play games? What do you really want to know?"
Frodo watched in growing trepidation as Merry's head snapped toward him and he stalked over, anger growing on his face with each step. He raised his hand and slapped Frodo's aching cheek. Frodo let out a sharp cry as his head pitched on his neck once more. Merry placed both hands atop Frodo's numb arms and leaned in, eyes blazing. Frodo tried to push his head back but was helpless to avoid the wrath coming down upon him.
"You will keep a civil tongue in your head, cousin," seethed Merry, "or we will be forced to delay this discussion until I have taught you proper manners." Merry kept his eyes locked on Frodo's as he slowly withdrew. He took a deep, cleansing breath, straightened his back and stepped away from his cousin to regain his composure.
"What do I really want to know, you ask," said Merry. "A fair question, I suppose if asked properly." He clasped his hands tightly behind his back and resumed his pacing. "You think Gandalf very wise, do you not, Frodo?" Merry stopped his pacing and looked to his cousin.
"Yes," replied Frodo evenly, "as did you, once."
Merry chuckled. "Yes, Frodo, I did.once."
Frodo couldn't help the spark of anger that lit in his belly. Was Merry really implying that his own wisdom now exceeded that of Gandalf? Surely even Merry in his present state could not be so bold as to imagine that. Frodo licked his bleeding lip and spoke in as conversational a tone as he could muster. "What is your question, Merry?"
"My question?" asked Merry. He looked at Frodo distractedly as his hand moved to his mouth to chew on the thumbnail once more. "Ah, my question, yes," he said, moving his hand to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "My question, Frodo, is if this Ring is so very dangerous and holds the future of Middle Earth in balance, why then did Gandalf - in all of his infinite wisdom - ask you, of all people, to carry It?" He withdrew the hand from his chin, re-clasped his hands behind his back and looked at Frodo.
Frodo was taken aback. He looked at his cousin, trying to decide if he was expected to supply an answer. "Because It is mine," he said. "It belongs to me and It is my responsibility."
"Yes," said Merry, "I suppose one could see it that way. But don't you think, Frodo, that if this Ring is so important, that Gandalf would have found someone more worthy to carry it such a great distance? Someone a little less. peculiar, perhaps? Someone a little more suited to the task?"
Frodo's breath stopped for a moment and the confusion that he had been warring against threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn't expected this turn in the conversation. "Peculiar?" he said.
Merry laughed. "Oh come now, Frodo!" he said. "Certainly you've heard the stories and rumors same as I have. You can't possibly be surprised that your odd ways and strange doings - not to mention your colorful family history - are frequent topics of conversation around the entire Shire!"
Frodo's eyes narrowed and he felt his face color in spite of himself. "No, Merry," he replied, "I'm not at all surprised about what folk have to say about myself and my activities. It's simply that I've not had the displeasure of hearing the gossip come from the lips of one I hold so dear before.or once held dear at any rate."
"Oh, please, Frodo!" scoffed Merry, ignoring the last comment. "Everyone's always found you odd - why should it surprise you that your family does as well? But we love you in spite of it, old boy, so don't take on so."
"What is your point, Merry?" asked Frodo, impatience beginning to edge into his voice. He was so very tired and he had not expected to have to deal with the subject of public opinion of himself in such a bizarre setting. The strange conversation was confusing him more than he could afford to allow.
Merry once again leaned toward his cousin and captured his eyes. "My point is, Frodo," he said, "why would Gandalf choose someone so odd with so many 'cracked' individuals in his family tree to carry something of such great worth and danger?" Merry stood and stepped away.
Frodo tried to wrap his mind around the question and found he could not. His thoughts stumbled about, trying to drag the answer from his sluggish brain. "He.he."
"Do you think Gandalf cares for you, Frodo?" interrupted Merry.
Frodo tried to follow this newest turn. "Of course," he said after a small pause. "Gandalf's been a friend for years."
"Yes, years," said Merry with a wave of his hand. "But what are years, really to a wizard? Surely he's been around for thousands of them. You've only known him for moments in the grand scheme of things. How much do you really think he could care about someone he's only known so short a time?"
Frodo's brow furrowed and he looked down to concentrate on the smears of blood around his left wrist. What exactly was Merry implying? Of course Gandalf cared for him and had been truly frightened for him before he left Bag End so many months ago. Of course, he had still left, hadn't he? Frodo looked at Merry. "He cares," he said, the assertion in his voice less than convincing even to his own ears. "Of course he cares," he said with a little more conviction.
Merry came and knelt next to Frodo's chair, his hand extending to place it softly against his cousin's swollen cheek. "Then Frodo," said Merry, voice gentle and eyes glistening with tears, "why in the world would he send you out into danger as he has done? If Gandalf cares for you so much and this Ring is so dangerous, why would he risk you so?"
Frodo gasped in a sharp breath and stared mutely at his cousin. His lips moved but produced no sound and his eyes blinked rapidly. He tried to push sound through his throat but nothing would move past the lump that had formed there. He swallowed hard and licked his lips. "He.," he finally managed to whisper, "It.there was no other choice."
"Oh, Frodo," Merry said sadly. He stroked Frodo's hair and shook his head. "Wise you are, dear cousin, but still so naïve in the ways of things. How can you possibly think that a wizard had no other choice than to send you into certain danger and possible death to achieve his own ends?" Merry placed his hand beneath Frodo's chin and gently lifted his head. "You're smarter than this, cousin. Are you really trying to tell me that you hadn't considered this before?"
No, he certainly had not considered it before. His mind whirled. Why did Gandalf send him out into danger as he had? He had asked Gandalf to take It himself or to find a stronger bearer, but the wizard had refused. There had been reasons - very good reasons, he remembered - at the time, but Frodo could not recall them now, try as he might. "No," he whispered, his mouth dry. "No. Gandalf cares. It was just.it was."
"What, Frodo?" said Merry, eyes sparking. "It was just what?"
"I can't.I don't--"
"Answer the question, Frodo!" said Merry, hand now hard against Frodo's scalp. "Tell me! Why would a wizard, in all his wisdom, send someone he cares for so much out into such danger? Why?"
"I don't--"
Merry's hand closed on his hair again and shook. Frodo let out a frightened moan and closed his eyes. Merry struck him and his face blazed once more.
"WHY, Frodo?" shouted Merry.
"I don't know, I--" He was shaken again and Merry growled in his ear.
"You do!" snarled Merry. "You know! Tell me, Frodo!"
"I can't remember!" he cried, tears streaming down his raw and stinging cheeks. His mind raced, grasping feebly at any explanation he could find whirling in the chaos and confusion of his brain. Any explanation at all, just to make the shaking stop! He could hear the bones creaking in his neck and fancied he could feel the thud of his brain slamming into his skull when Merry slapped him again. His scalp burned where Merry's hand was yanking at his hair and Frodo found he couldn't string a single thought together in his battered, weary mind.
"Think, Frodo," said Merry harshly. "You know."
"I don't.I--"
"You know, Frodo!" Merry persisted, shaking more violently. "Tell me! Why would anyone send someone they cared for into such danger?! Say it!"
"Say what?" cried Frodo. "I don't know what you want me--"
"You know, Frodo!" Merry cried.
"I don't! Stop! Please--"
"I want you to tell me why a person would send a loved one into danger," said Merry. He shook again.
"Why?.he--"
"Why would someone who loves you send you out to die?!" He raised his hand for another slap.
"Merry, no, PLEASE--"
"Say it!!"
"They wouldn't!" Frodo cried. His eyes opened wide as he realized what his muddled brain had forced from his mouth. He looked at Merry in disbelief at what he had just said. "They wouldn't," he whispered, barely believing as the words tumbled out of his mouth a second time.
Merry's grip relaxed and he removed his hand from Frodo's hair. He gave his cousin a sad, gentle smile and tenderly wiped the tears from his face. "Now you begin to understand, dear cousin."
*** There was a small table against the far wall with a pitcher and mug set upon it. Merry walked over and lifted both pitcher and mug and turned to Frodo. Frodo could see the condensation on the outside of the metal pitcher as it slid down in cool drops to the floor below. Merry slowly poured water into the mug and set the pitcher back onto the table looking thoughtful. Frodo licked his lips. How long had it been since he'd had a drink of water?
Merry tipped the mug to his mouth and took a great swallow. Frodo watched as Merry's eyes closed and his throat bobbed with the wash of the cool water. Frodo's mouth felt suddenly more dry than it ever had in his life. He could almost feel the chill of the mug against his lips, the sudden, quenching moisture against his tongue and the rush of the cool liquid in his throat. Merry absently set the mug back onto the table and began his slow pacing once again.
"Frodo," Merry said, "what did Gandalf tell you about the Black Riders?"
Frodo stared longingly at the pitcher across the room, not hearing his cousin.
"Frodo!"
Frodo's head snapped up and he looked at Merry with cloudy eyes. "What? Did you say something?"
"Yes, Frodo," Merry replied. "I asked you what Gandalf told you about the Black Riders."
Frodo stared at him blankly for a moment, eyes even more hazed than a moment before. Merry saw him give his head a small shake and his eyes were clear and focused once again.
"What?" asked Frodo. "Black Riders?" Frodo thought about it for a moment, brows drawn down in concentration. It was getting increasingly difficult to think properly and his head was still spinning with the thought of a mug full of clear, cold water. "Black Riders?" he repeated. "Nothing. Gandalf told me nothing of them."
"I wonder why that is?" Merry said, his voice soft and his eyes far away. Frodo looked at him in bewilderment, wondering if Merry was expecting him to answer. Merry's gaze drifted to his cousin and met his eyes. "Why do you suppose that is, Frodo?"
"Why what is, Merry?" asked Frodo.
Merry crooked a smile at him. "Frodo, my dear, you really must try to pay attention. I want to know why you think Gandalf did not tell you of the Black Riders."
Frodo pondered the question with deep concentration, trying to make sense of it and answer appropriately. "I don't know, Merry," he said. "I assume it was because he didn't know about them."
Merry's eyebrows lifted and he looked at Frodo with surprise. "Didn't know? We're talking about a wizard here, dear cousin. A magician with wisdom beyond our mortal comprehension. Do you really think he could have been unaware of them and their pursuit of you?"
Frodo frowned as he thought about it. Was it possible that Gandalf had not known about the Black Riders? Or worse, had he known and sent Frodo and Sam out alone anyway? His weariness assaulted him with new force, his eyes drifting closed and his head dipping to his chest.
"Frodo!" Cold water hit his face and suddenly Merry was beside him again, his voice splitting Frodo's ear. His eyes flew open and his tongue instinctively licked at his face, trying without thought to pull some of the precious drops dripping down his cheeks and nose into his mouth. He grimaced as he tasted the now familiar bitter taste of his own blood on his tongue. He looked to Merry, his frown deepening.
"What?"
"I asked you if you thought it was possible that Gandalf was unaware of the Black Riders," said Merry. "I've been waiting some time for an answer. Do we need to have that discussion on manners we spoke of earlier?"
"No," Frodo said quickly. He looked at Merry and shook his head slightly. "No," he repeated. "I really don't know if it's possible, Merry. I can't seem to think clearly right now."
"Oh, bother, Frodo," Merry said. "You don't need to have a clear head to answer that question. The answer's quite obvious, I think." Merry crouched again by Frodo's side and held his gaze. "Tell me, cousin. Did Gandalf know about the Black Riders?"
"I." Frodo began, and immediately forgot what he was going to say as Merry's gaze darkened and he shifted on his haunches. "No." he said. "I mean yes.I mean." Frodo paused and closed his eyes. What was the question again? He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to concentrate once again on the blood stains at his wrist. "Yes," he said finally, "Gandalf must have known. I can't imagine him not knowing."
"Yes," Merry said sadly, gazing at Frodo with what appeared to be genuine sorrow. "I'm afraid I'd have to agree with you there." He reached out and placed his hand on the back of Frodo's neck and massaged gently.
Frodo let himself slump into his cousin's hand and closed his eyes. He felt himself swept again into the murky depths of hazy slumber and willed himself to tumble into it. A sudden clenching at the base of his neck and a low voice in his ear brought him back. His eyes opened slowly and he moved them to his right where Merry still crouched beside him. "Hmm?"
"I said, what of the elves?" said Merry.
His eyes drifted closed again and his face drew down in a frown. "Elves?" he whispered.
"Yes, Frodo," said Merry. "The elves you met in the wood on the way here. What did they tell you about the Black Riders?"
Frodo shook his head almost imperceptibly and mumbled something.
"What?" said Merry, jostling Frodo's neck and eliciting a low groan in response. "Frodo!"
Frodo's eyes leapt open but Merry did not see them come into focus as they had before. His cousin stared at him blankly, his eyes hazy and clouded and Merry was briefly reminded of the death mask Frodo had worn when he and Pippin had dragged him from the river.
"Come, Frodo, wake up!" said Merry in a loud voice. "We've much yet to discuss."
"Sleep," murmured Frodo from miles away and closed his eyes again. "Please," his voice a small whisper as fresh tears rolled sluggishly down his bruised and swollen face.
"Not yet, Frodo, my love," Merry said. "Soon. I promise." He jostled Frodo's head again until his eyes opened once more in their vacant stare.
"Merry, please." Frodo begged in a barely audible murmur.
"Soon," said Merry. "I need you to focus on me now, cousin. Look at me. Look at me!"
Frodo's eyes flew to Merry's and finally showed some sign of awareness. Merry noted fear mixed in the over-bright gaze and nodded with satisfaction.
Frodo's throat worked and he moved his lips as though trying to speak. He closed his eyes, took a breath and then opened them again to fasten on Merry's. "I'm very cold, Merry. I'm very cold and so very, very weary."
Merry reached down to grip his cousin's fingers and noted with dismay that they were indeed ice-cold. He bent to rest his ear against Frodo's chest and his concern deepened when he found his cousin's heartbeat to be slow and sluggish. He'd better pick up his pace and wrap this up soon or risk Frodo becoming ill or worse. He rose and walked over to the pitcher, filling the mug halfway. He returned to his cousin and lifted the mug to his cracked and swollen lips.
Frodo's reaction was immediate and he slurped greedily at the cup that Merry offered.
"Easy, easy there Frodo," Merry soothed. "Slow sips, cousin. We don't want it coming right back on you."
Frodo slowed appropriately and sipped the cool water as Merry stroked his hair back from his clammy forehead. Frodo didn't think water had ever tasted so good to him and he felt the arid wasteland of his tongue and throat moisten and relax under its gentle spell. He finished the cup and leaned his head back with a sigh of relief to look at the ceiling.
"A little better now, love?"
Frodo nodded faintly. He swallowed and whispered, "Than.thank you," his gaze never leaving the ceiling and his cheeks reddening slightly. Merry smiled and returned the mug to the table.
He returned and once again resumed his crouching position next to Frodo's chair. "Now, the elves, Frodo," he said. "What did they tell you about the Black Riders?"
Frodo remained staring at the ceiling but his head rolled a little from side to side and his face pulled down in a frown. "Elves," he said softly. "Elves.Riders.I don't know. Sam will know. Ask Sam. I can't remember." He lifted his head and turned to Merry, confusion and dismay on his face. "I don't." Frodo stopped and his eyes widened as Merry shifted and rose to lean over him.
"Come now, cousin," Merry said, his voice tight. "Of course you remember. Tell me what they said."
Frodo tried to sink further into the hard oak of the chair and back away from Merry's hot breath on his face. He clamped his eyes shut and thought hard. "Nothing," he said. He opened his eyes and looked at Merry anxiously. "They told me nothing of the Riders, only that they were dangerous and I should flee from them. They wouldn't tell me anything further."
"Did they offer you protection?" Merry asked.
"No," Frodo answered.
"Did they offer to help you in any way?"
"No," Frodo said again.
"And why do you think that is?" Merry asked.
Frodo looked at him questioningly, his brow creased in consternation. "I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it. Elves don't generally mix outside their own. I suppose they didn't want to be involved?"
"Not involved?" said Merry. "But you were on your way to Rivendell, an Elf haven, were you not? Isn't that being involved?"
Frodo looked down and concentrated on the blotches, now looking black in the never-ending twilight of the room. "I suppose."
"You suppose," Merry interrupted with a sneer. "Of course that's being involved. The elves are involved in this right up to their long, graceful necks along with your bloody Gandalf!" he shouted. "Frodo, can you really not see what's going on here?"
"No, I--"
"Can you not see the conspiracy that's being carried out against you?" asked Merry.
"Conspiracy?" Frodo asked. "No, that's not--"
"Tell me, Frodo," Merry continued, "how do you suppose Gandalf expected you to get all the way to Rivendell and hand over the Ring to the elves with those Riders on your tail and who-knows-what waiting for you along the road?"
"He didn't know. He wouldn't--"
"No, Frodo. We've already established that he did know and he would, haven't we? Think, Frodo! Why would Gandalf send you out - alone - with no help and at the mercy of those Riders? Why would the elves avoid you like you carried some disease they didn't want to catch?"
Frodo closed his eyes and shook his head. No! He didn't want to hear this.didn't want to know. "I don't know! I don't know! Please!"
Merry reached up and grabbed Frodo's head and held it still, his right palm pressing cruelly into Frodo's battered cheek and awakening the pain anew. "Think, Frodo! Why would Gandalf send you out alone with no protection?"
"Please, Merry, you're hurting--"
Merry squeezed harder and Frodo cried out, tears blazing fiery trails down his face. "Think, Frodo!"
"I don't.because.I don't know!" he cried. "Please, it hurts--"
"Why would Gandalf send you to Rivendell with no protection?" Merry shouted.
"There was no choice--"
"Why would he insist you carry that Ring to the elves and tell no one?"
"It wasn't--"
"Why would the elves not help you when they knew you were pursued?"
Frodo was sobbing openly now and he tried vainly to twist his head from his cousin's merciless grip. Merry dug his hands in harder and Frodo screamed in pain.
"Why would he send you alone, Frodo?"
"I don't know! I don't know, I swear it!"
"You do! Just say it and we can stop this and sleep! Say it Frodo!"
"I can't!" screamed Frodo, the hands clamping harder and the pain almost unbearable now.
"It's not that hard, Frodo! You know the answer you just won't admit it!"
"I don't!" he shouted back. "If I knew I'd tell you, I swear it. Please, Merry!"
"You know, Frodo!," screamed Merry, digging his fingers into Frodo's flesh viciously and slamming his head to the back of chair. "Why did Gandalf send you alone?"
"I don't--"
Another slam. "Why would the elves not help you?"
"Please!"
Slam! "You know why Gandalf sent you."
"No! No, I--"
Slam! ".you know why the elves shunned you!"
"Merry, please!"
"TELL ME!" Merry bawled.
Frodo stilled abruptly and Merry lifted his cousin's head, concerned for a moment that he had collapsed or worse. He was surprised to find Frodo's bright eyes fasten on his and drew in a breath at the sharpness and glitter he saw in them - nearly glowing with an eerie light in the dimness of the room.
"Because," Frodo said in a whisper so low that Merry had to actually move his ear to Frodo's lips to hear it clearly. "Because he didn't care if I got there safely or not. Because the elves were there to take Ring if I died. Because it didn't matter if.didn't matter if."
Merry drew his head back just in time to see his cousin's eyes roll to the back of his head and close.
TBC
___________________________________________________________________________
Aratlithiel's geocites page with all here amazing tales can be found at
Her newest tale "Bronwe athan Harthad" can be found on her webpage and is an incredible window into Frodo's torment as he deals with his overwhelming guilt for claiming the Ring. And I say this for all here tales, but it will leave you spellbound!!! I will send you the link if it does not show up on this page!
And you may read her stories on ff.net-user id- 371160
I have drawn 2 illustrations for this chapter. If you'd like to see them, email me for the link, or visit the Merry_PipLovers yahoo group, or the MerryPippin group. I moderate the later, so I promise to let you on!
Reviewer responses for my own chapters coming up next chapter!
I have completely reworked chapter 1 - 4 (and I mean completely!!!!!) and gone from 2 to 14 pages on "A conspiracy unmasked". If you are not drained from reading this, check out the new chapter 1 and get a new glimpse into Merry's mind as the RING takes over!
--emma