Once again I have the great pleasure of posting a guest chapter from my absolutely incredible beta, Aratlithiel. In what seemed years ago, she asked me where I might go with this tale, and I gave her a description of this chapter. The very next day I found this in my inbox! Apparently, she couldn't get the scene out of her mind and was compelled by creative forces beyond her control to write out the chapter. She said "Don't feel obligated to use this!" Well, fat chance, because this is brilliant! So if you like what you read, please let her know by reviewing here!
CHAPTER 38 - THE CHOICES OF MASTER SAMWISE
Guest written by Aratlithiel – Original idea and outline (and illustration!) by Emma
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Sam stood watching silently behind the cover of the copse of trees some yards away, his face a white, bloodless mask of cold fury. Sweat dripped from his brow into his dark eyes, made darker still by the murderous intent reflected there. He raised a freezing hand to his eyes to wipe the sweat away. The hand shook in rhythm to his heart, beating wildly behind the cage of his ribs that were rising and falling with the quiet gasps his lungs forced out in counterpoint. Hot tears welled in his eyes and dripped down his white cheeks in scalding rivulets. 'No matter what you see or hear, Sam. You must promise me…' Frodo had said. And Sam had promised.
But he hadn't known. Couldn't have guessed. Ah, Frodo, I can't! Please don't ask me.
'If one of us is taken, Sam, the other must go on. Get away to get help. If it's me Sam…'
But surely, when Frodo had said that he hadn't imagined…couldn't have thought…this. This was…this was unimaginable. This was… I can't, Frodo. I'm sorry. I just can't.
The corpse of the giant oak lay slashed across the green grass, its dark brown almost black in the shadow of the dell. The ropes coiled round either end seemed to writhe and mock him like malignant snakes in a silent dance only he could see. And he saw. And he knew.
He watched as they dragged him out, shirtless and struggling, the pale, marred skin bared and already reddening as if in anticipation of what was to come. The last few feet on his knees when he saw what waited. Sam could see his eyes – wild now and furious, but also frightened and desperate – and Sam saw that Frodo knew now too.
'…you must leave me behind.'
But this…you can't have meant…His fists clenched. His body – already tensed to the point of pain – went even more rigid until he could almost hear it hum in rhythm to the muffled gasps and cries coming from behind the cloth tied cruelly tight around his master's mouth. Sam saw his chest rising and falling in frantic hitching breaths that were quickly becoming sobs. Frodo saw. Frodo knew. And he was afraid.
'No matter what you see or hear, Sam.'
They each took an arm - Pippin the left, Merry the right – and began their work with the ropes that had been made ready before. Pippin had a wild look to him and Sam was certain there was fear in his eyes. Maybe he won't be able to do it, Sam thought. Maybe he won't be able to let HIM do it. Maybe… But then Pip looked at Merry and all the fear was gone, or at least hidden behind the adoration that shone there and Pip asked Merry to come over and inspect his work. "Just to be sure, Merry, you understand. I don't want to make any more mistakes."
"It's fine, Pip," Merry said and squeezed his shoulder lightly. "That's the same knot I taught you," he said as he reached down to ruffle Frodo's hair affectionately, "and I learned from the master, eh, Frodo?"
Sam saw Frodo jerk his head away and Merry's eyes darkened as his face twisted into a grimace – an obscene mixture of rage and regret – as he drew his hand away from his cousin's head. Sam saw the hand shake until it was fisted and lowered deliberately to his side, then extended again to caress the malevolent coil of leather hanging from his belt. No pony crop, this.
Sam's stomach rolled and he brought a shaking hand to his mouth to keep the sobs and sickness from escaping and betraying him. His tears ran unchecked down his face and burned the hand pressing his mouth with bitterness and sorrow.
'You must promise me…' I can't! I can't, Mr. Frodo! You don't know what you've asked of me! 'No matter what you see or hear, Sam. You must promise me…'Sam dragged his eyes away from the hideous scene below him and forced his legs to turn him around. He fisted the hand at his mouth and shoved it in to bite on a knuckle and felt the heat of his blood wash into his mouth from his icy hand. His senses closed in on themselves as he made his first slow and quiet steps away from his master. All he heard was the pounding of his own blood crashing through his veins and washing into his heart, already broken and bleeding.
'You must promise me…'Yes, Frodo. I'll do this for you. I'll leave you to be beaten and broken…ah! For you, for you.
He lifted his foot for another measured step and the whicker of leather through air broke through the pounding in his ears. He froze when he heard the sickening sound of it connecting with skin. He closed his eyes and completed the step as the sound of his master's voice – muffled and full of pain, but still his master's – reached his ears with a low shriek of agony cutting the still air like a knife. Sam covered his ears with his hands.
One step. Two steps. For you, Master. I'll do this for you. Three steps.
Four steps and Merry's voice came lilting up from the dell and pierced the barrier of his hands to reach his ears. The blood that had been boiling and crashing through his body seconds ago now froze and turned to ice in his veins as a cold terror seized his belly at the malevolent tone of that voice.
"Oh, Sam?" Merry called. "How long will you make him suffer for your mistake, Sam? How long will you allow your master to accept punishment for your deeds?"
'No matter what you see or hear, Sam.'
Five steps. Another whistle and crack as supple leather met tender flesh. Another muffled cry and Sam put his bleeding knuckles back into his mouth and sank his teeth deeper, rending the flesh of his hand in self-punishment for what he was turning his back on.
"I know you're out there, Sam," Merry said. "I know you can hear me. Come back so we can put this awful matter behind us. Come back and help your Mr. Frodo."
The words carried on the breeze, echoes bouncing through the trees and swirling around Sam, already dizzy with the warring of his own mind. He wondered if he opened his eyes if he would see those words hanging in the air before him, slashing accusatory strokes through the atmosphere and floating and dancing on the cool autumn breeze to tell the world of his sin. I've left my master. The mocking indictment twisted in his stomach and his blood tasted vile and bitter in his mouth and burned his tongue.
'…promise me…'
Another whistle and crack.
'Yes, Mr. Frodo, I promise.'
Whistle and crack.
Six steps.
Whistle and crack. Whistle and crack. Whistle and crack.
Sam heard his master's muted cries growing weaker even as they grew more wild and edged into hysteria. He could almost feel the hot, panting breaths gasping from behind the cloth floating through the distance he had put between himself and his master to eddy in creeping tendrils across the dell and onto the back of his neck to play and caress with mocking fingers.
'No matter what you see or hear, Sam.'
'Yes, Mr. Frodo, I promise.' Seven steps. Whistle and crack and muffled cry and '…promise me…' and Sam sank to his knees, his hands digging into the fragrant needles on the floor of the copse that the pines had wept for countless seasons, the trees themselves standing silent sentinel to the horror below. Whistle and crack and Sam lowered his head to the ground and wept tears of rage and sorrow as his hands dug into the soft earth that he had once believed could comfort him through any difficulty. The scent of the rich soil and loam reached his nostrils and Sam breathed in deeply but it did not soothe him now. Now it only seemed profane and out of place and the rich scent roiled his stomach until he gagged and almost heaved where he crouched.
Merry's voice called to him again in a hideous sing-song, "Sa-am. Come out, come out wherever you are." Sam could hear laughter in that voice and its musical tones did to his stomach what the smell of the earth could not and he lost the battle and retched its content onto the ground. He covered his burning eyes with his hands and leaned back, withdrawing them to glare into the sky and send up a silent, outraged scream to the heavens.
"You're obviously not getting the full effect of this Sam," he heard Merry call. "Perhaps this will help."
An eternity of silence spun out of the dell to reach its icy fingers to Sam's skin and clutch him in a frigid embrace. He couldn't move, couldn't breath and every ounce of will that still remained to him narrowed to a pinpoint as he concentrated on listening for the slightest of whispers floating through the still air.
A slight gasp, a low moan and then whistle and crack and then…the scream! Ah, no the scream! And Sam knew that Merry had removed the cloth from his master's mouth so that Sam could hear him scream. Everything stopped – time, his heart, his breath. His vision clouded to a dull mist as his mind was swept up and carried along with that scream on the whirling breeze and Sam thought if he kept following, it would surely carry him into madness. He put his fist back to his mouth to prevent his own scream from joining his master's and willed his body to climb to its feet.
'No matter what you see or hear, Sam.'
Ah, but I can't, I just CAN'T!'You must promise me…'
'Yes, Mr. Frodo, I promise.'
I CAN'T! I CAN'T! Too much, it's too much. I can't!
He stood and turned around, eyes still closed tight, not wanting to see. Whistle and crack and scream and, "SAM!"
Frodo's voice. Frodo calling.
"Sam, d….don….don't…"
Don't. Don't what? Don't leave me? Don't come back? What?! Don't WHAT?!Whistle and crack and scream and Sam's eyes shot open and darkened with rage and horror as he beheld the sight below him. Scarlet slashes across pale skin, bleeding accusation and pointing damning fingers at him through the trees. Sweat running in rivulets through the dark hair and down the trembling frame to mix the salt of sweat with the copper of blood. Sam could smell it, the sickening sweetness driving into his brain and darkening his vision. Bracelets of brown rope turned crimson with blood holding the wrists at the ends of arms stretched out in forced supplication against the ebony of the fallen oak. Eyes closed, face pulled down in a grimace of pain and despair, breath coming through gritted teeth in shallow hitches that rocked the body against its prison of wood and hemp.
The colors blurred and swirled together until Sam felt the blood drain from his limbs and his knees try to buckle beneath him. His mouth dropped open and he choked in a wheezing swallow of air and he took one shambling step toward his master.
Six steps. 'You must promise me…'I did, I know I did. But I can't. You can't ask me to.
'…promise me…'
No. NO! Not this.
'No matter what you see or hear, Sam.'
NO! I'll not have it! You can't ask it of me!
Five steps. Four, three, two and he was back where he started what seemed like an eternity ago, hidden from the view of the others by the thick body of the pine he clung to.
"Sam," Merry called to him, eyes roving and skipping around the dell, searching for Sam, "these are your lessons Frodo's learning. I don't think he'll be able to learn much more. You'd better hurry."
Sam looked down to see Pippin at the opposite end of the dell scanning the trees around him, head moving in slow arcs as his eyes tried to pierce through the green and brown of the pines beyond, head cocked, listening for stealthy hobbit feet, occasionally looking back to Merry for acknowledgment or approval, flicking to Frodo with sorrow, regret and pity then back to Merry with apprehension. Sam had been right – Pippin didn't want this, but he also wouldn't stop it. Was afraid to stop it.
Merry stood above Frodo in his shirt-sleeves, waistcoat stripped and abandoned at his feet. He lifted his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and Sam could see the scarlet spatters on his sleeve in sharp contrast to the white linen of the shirt he wore. The obscenity of his gentle master's blood decorating the clothes of this vile being struck Sam to the core. Merry was panting with exertion and Sam could see the sweat that had moistened his shirt even in the cool autumn air. The breeze lifted his damp hair from his forehead and he looked toward the tree Sam was clutching to for support. Sam caught the look in his eyes and realized that before this moment, he had never truly known fear. There was blood-lust in those eyes, murder in their dark, cold, fathomless depths. Cousin or no, those eyes meant to kill. And those eyes would laugh when it was done. The eyes skipped over him, unseeing and continued their journey along the edges of the copse, looking for Sam, listening for any sign of approach.
"Well, cousin," he said amiably to Frodo, "looks like your Sam is late and we'll have time for more lessons."
His right hand tightened around the hilt of the whip and his arm flexed. Time slowed and Sam was able to mark the rise and descent of the braided strips of leather as they seemed to move in slow motion over the prone body, could see the flesh on his master's back ripple and tense in anticipation when the whistle cut the air, watched the skin open up inch by inch into a new crimson finger of blame as the leather bit into it. He didn't hear the crack as the air gathered around him in a stifling cloud and muffled all sound…except, of course, the scream. That he heard with perfect clarity as it drove through his mind like a spike and splintered and vibrated through his heart, rending it and tearing it until he couldn't breath.
'…promise me…'
No! Forgive me, Master. I can't.
Sam stepped out from behind the tree.
"Sam!," Merry was calling as his arm arced through the air preparing another blow.
"I'm here," Sam said evenly and began to walk down the incline toward Merry.
Merry stopped short, turned his head toward Sam's voice and smiled. Pippin whirled around in relief at the sight of Sam emerging from the trees.
Sam heard the voice of his master as if he were trying to speak from under water, "sam, no, no, no…you can't, sam…run, sam…RUN, SAM!" He was trying mightily to lift his head from the cradle of the log but could only seem to manage to rock it back and forth, his forehead pressed against the dead wood, lips moving in a plea he didn't have the strength to voice.
"Shut up, Frodo!" Merry growled through clenched teeth and resumed the upward arc of his arm.
"NO!" Sam bellowed and took a step forward, arm outstretched to catch Merry's before it could begin its descent.
Merry snapped his head toward Sam, arm straining and whip poised above Frodo and their eyes locked in silent battle, lust and malevolence against rage and sorrow.
"Stay where you are, Sam," Merry said calmly, eyes not moving or blinking. "Don't move – you might save him yet." His arm relaxed a bit but he did not lower it yet and Sam's rage grew as he saw mirth added to the swirling emotions behind Merry's eyes. "Pip!" Merry called, "I need you over here."
Pippin moved slowly from where he had frozen moments ago and came across the dell, glancing down at Frodo as he passed and looking up to Merry expectantly.
"Lay down on your stomach, Sam," said Merry. Sam hesitated and Merry wavered his arm in the air. "Do as I tell you and I won't hit him again. Down on your belly. Do it now, Sam."
"sam," Frodo croaked in a low, broken voice, "no…all be for nothing…please…run!"
Oh, Frodo, you don't know what I seen in those eyes.
Merry's face pulled into a grimace and his arm drew back, the intent clear to Sam.
"NO!" Sam yelled. "I'll do it. You stay this ugliness now and I'll do it." And with that he dropped to his knees and lay down on the grass, eyes never leaving Merry's. "But I'll have your word that you won't hit him no more. Say it, Mister Merry or I'll be up faster than you can swing, mark me!"
Merry gazed back at him steadily, the corners of his mouth lifting and mirth almost bubbling over from his eyes. Oh, what Sam wouldn't give to take that whip and wrap it around his evil neck!
"My word, Sam," said Merry. "I'll not hit Frodo again."
The sounds of Frodo sobbing and whispering "no, no, no," over and over again shattered Sam's heart but he couldn't look at him, couldn't let him see his shame. My fault. My fault. Should've stayed with him. Should've gone. Should've…
"Pip," Merry said quietly, "take that rope and bind Sam's hands." Merry finally lowered his arm and Sam breathed an inward sigh of relief. He looked at Sam thoughtfully. "Better bind his legs, too, Pip. I'm afraid our Master Gamgee is still capable of doing quite a bit of damage, bound or not." Sam glared at him and was surprised and a little frightened at the amount of hatred that flowed through him but lay still while Pippin did as Merry bid.
"Finished, Merry," said Pip. "Would you like to check it?"
"I would," said Merry. "Thank you, Pip."
Merry crouched beside Sam and inspected Pippin's knots, running a hand over each of them and pulling to test their integrity. Sam cringed in disgust whenever Merry's hand brushed over his skin. He could almost feel his flesh crawling into itself, trying to cleanse itself of the vile touch. Satisfied, Merry stood.
"Pip," he said, studying the whip and then gazing up to Pip, "we have one more lesson before we can retire and put all this behind us."
Sam's head snapped up and he looked up to find Merry staring straight into his eyes. He heard the hitch in Frodo's breath and knew he was still aware enough to hear as well.
"No!" said Sam. "You said no more!"
"Ah, Sam," Merry said, in a soothing voice, "this lesson is not for Frodo. This one is for Pip."
He turned to Pip and Pip trembled under his gaze. "Merry?"
Merry gathered Pip against him and patted his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, Pip," he said holding out the whip, "you'll not be on the receiving end of this."
Pippin looked down at the whip and his stomach turned when he saw that it was covered in blood. His eyes roved up the hilt to Merry's hand and he saw the smears and spatters traveling up his hand to his elbow and continuing up the sleeve of his shirt. His stomach clenched and he used every bit of will he still had to control its heaving and look Merry in the eye.
"Surely, Merry," he said in a small voice, "surely he's had enough. Surely you can't hit Cousin Frodo anymore."
Merry favored him with a cold smile and said evenly, "No, Pip, I can't. But you can."
Pippin backed away, horrified. No! He couldn't! Merry wouldn't ask him to. Merry was taunting Pip, playing a joke, of course. Merry wouldn't ask him to do this. He looked again from the whip to Merry's eyes.
"Surely our cousin, Frodo, has learned his lesson?" said Pip, looking at Merry, a plea in his eyes.
"Yes, Pip," Merry replied, pressing the hilt firmly into Pippin's boneless hand, "but have you?" Merry saw the question in Pip's eyes and went on. "You are just as responsible for this as Sam. It was your carelessness in securing their bonds that resulted in this unfortunate incident. You need to understand how your actions may carry consequences for others. You need to feel the agony of doing this to someone you love." He closed Pippin's hand around the hilt more firmly and drew his face closer so Pip's entire field of vision was filled with the murky depths of Merry's eyes. "Take it," he said. "This lesson is for you."
"No!" Sam shrieked. "No! You said no more! You gave your word!"
"Sam," said Merry patiently, barely containing his smile, "if you'll recall correctly, I said I wouldn't hit Frodo. I said nothing about Pippin."
"No! NO!" Sam struggled madly against his bonds and rolled in the grass in a futile attempt to free himself. Tears once again seared his cheeks and blinded him as he continued to thrash about on the ground. "Don't you do it, Master Pip! Don't you do this! Damned you'll be! Damned I tell you! Don't you do it!"
Pippin looked at Sam with wide eyes and back again to Merry. Sam was right. If Pippin did this thing then he would be damned. But, if he didn't Merry would not forgive him this time. He would lose Merry forever and he knew it. And what right did Pip have to expect Merry to make all the hard choices, do all of the difficult things that needed to be done? Certainly Merry hadn't liked beating Frodo, but he had done it because it was necessary – just as necessary as his own punishment had been. Why should he expect that Merry should have to take all the responsibility? Do all the work? Shouldn't Pippin do his fair share? He gazed into Merry's eyes and fell into their bottomless depths. He closed his hand around the hilt and set his jaw.
Pippin moved back a few paces and tried not to look at the bloodied figure stretched out before him. If I just close my eyes, it will be done. Just one swing and it's over. Pippin flexed his hand around the stiff leather and raised his arm.
"Don't you do it!" Sam bellowed, face almost as red as Frodo's back and tears falling freely. "Don't you do this! He's your cousin, Master Pip! Your cousin! Your friend! Look at 'im! He can't take no more! LOOK AT 'IM!!"
But Pippin wouldn't. Eyes shut tightly, he braced his arm and swung the whip down.
He had a brief moment to think to himself, Well, that wasn't so bad, before Frodo's screams hit his ears and shattered their way into his head. Pip didn't think he'd ever heard such agony in voice before and he dropped the whip he still clutched and raised his hands to his ears. But now the tortured shriek was trapped in his head and it bounced around in his mind until he thought he would go mad with the sound of it. He fell to his knees, pleading silently for Frodo to stop, stop, please just STOP! But Frodo had stopped and it wasn't until he felt Merry's hand, warm and gentle on his shoulder that he realized the scream was coming from inside his own head. He looked at Merry and began to tremble and cry. Merry gathered him into his arms and stroked his hair until his sobs had depleted to small whimpers and then finally to irregular, stifled sniffles.
Merry drew him back so he could look in his eyes. "You alright now, Pip?" Pippin kept his gaze on Merry and nodded. "You understand now why it had to be done?" Pippin nodded again and Merry flashed him his most genuine smile. "Good lad," he said and helped Pippin off the ground. "You go see what you can do about calming Sam down and I'll see to Frodo."
Pippin looked down to the blood smeared on his hand, bent to the ground and vomited.
* * *
Frodo drifted out of the haze of pain just enough to be aware that his wrists were being released from the ropes that had been fastened upon them what seemed like years ago. He could hear Sam's voice and knew it was coming from just a few feet away but somehow it seemed as if Sam must be miles from where he lay – everything seemed so distant…unreal. Sam was yelling and Pippin was shushing. That must mean that it was…Merry.
Frodo winced and tried to pull away from the hands that were rubbing at his arm but he found he couldn't move. Everything hurt and nothing would follow his will. He tried to tell his legs to stand up and start running, tried to tell his hands to make a fist, tried to tell his arms to start swinging…none of them would cooperate. He felt the hands moving up and down his numb arms, trying to get the circulation back and his skin crawled, knowing who was at the other end of those hands. 'Don't touch me!' he tried to say but his mouth and tongue would not cooperate either.
All the world was pain and he could not so much as take a breath without setting off new agonies that started from his back and jolted through his every limb. His head throbbed in time with the pulsating pain of his back and his vision swam with black and green motes dancing behind his heavy lids. He could feel every drop of sweat that trickled into his wounds as the stings of angry wasps, stinging away at his flesh until there was nothing left of it but the inflamed throbbing of exposed, raw tissue. His arms began to tingle with the sensation of thousands of needles poking and jabbing the skin back to life as Merry worked them.
He heard the trickle of water and a cool cloth was brought to his cracked and bleeding lips. He heard Merry speaking to him in a soothing voice as he squeezed drops of water into his mouth but he couldn't make out what was said, the words jumbling collectively in his mind and refusing to come together to form anything coherent. He felt his hair stroked and the cloth was again brought up and cool water squeezed into his hair and then moved to his face to gently wipe the blood and sweat away.
Cold agony as a cool, damp swath was draped over his back and he tried to scream but all he heard was a desperate whistling sound and a small moan being pushed from his burning lungs, past his swollen throat and through his seared and puffy lips. Helpless tears flowed from his closed eyes when he realized the sound was more like to a wounded animal than anything he would have believed had come from his own mouth.
Strong arms were wrapped around his chest and there were a thousand jolts of blinding pain as he was lifted and turned. His head lolled and drooped until it was laid upon Merry's shoulder. Careful not to touch his back, Merry sat him up on the ground facing him and he held Frodo's head to his shoulder with one hand and with the other he held the cloth in place, all the while soothing and singing in Frodo's ear. Frodo didn't even try to scream this time – he didn't have the heart to hear his voice again.
"Shh, Frodo," he heard Merry's voice through a thick haze of misery. "Shh, my love. Your Merry is so sorry. I'm so sorry I had to do this, Frodo, but you and Sam have made this so very difficult."
His voice spiraled down to the depths of Frodo's mind and capered along the edges of the whirling anguish of his heart and body. It floated with him on a sea of exquisite pain and excruciating comfort, blind hatred and blinder love.
"You'll see, Frodo, my love," he said. "You'll understand soon how very much I love you and you'll see why I had to do this." He stroked Frodo's head and played the thick hair with gentle fingers. "I love you with all my heart, my dear cousin." He moved Frodo's forehead to his lips and placed a soft kiss against it. He pulled Frodo's head back so he could look him in the eye but Frodo's eyes were still closed. "I promise it will be alright very soon, my love."
Frodo let his head fall to his cousin's shoulder and wept.
TBC
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Author's note:
I drew a picture for this chapter that I have just posted on my author page of Frodo and Merry after the whipping. Go take a look and I hope you like it! I welcome anyone who wants to send me pictures! I am making a webpage on which I will post them all!
Frodo Baggins 1982 pointed out a massive plot hole that neither I nor my beta spotted last chapter! Namely, that Sam never even thought to steal Merry's wagon. Well it was not a guaranteed plan, but I do think that he would have been smarter than me and thought of it! So I did go back and add a few sentences to the effect that the pony was not hitched up at either escape attempt. And who said that I don't take your feedback seriously!
To the Flamer:
Jenn- I am so glad that you have the abundance of time and leisure to follow my story around and flame it. It is a real hallmark of maturity. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun! Go back to the shadow!
To the Reviewers!
Krista – Thank you! I'm glad you liked this chapter, and, as you can see—this chapter was painful for everyone involved!
Laurelin-Welcome! It is always wonderful for someone to come out of lurkdom and write to me! I hope you will continue to comment, and perhaps take part in some of the RATM polls I put up on my livejournal (under aelfgifu)
Shire Baggins-I am so glad you de-lurked! And I hope you will keep talking to me. I sent your comment to my beta because we both thought it was so funny. Why? Because we have known for months that this chapter was to be called exactly as you suggested! LOL! So maybe you are psychic!! Oh I am glad you think my writing has improved! I think the new versions of the early chapters really are much much better! As for the NAzgul, there is a little something in the upcoming chapters to hint at what happened-but by the end, you will know!
LOTR Sparkling Pippin- More pippin angst coming, but if you really love Pippin abuse and slash, I want to suggest "The Price" by anemone frost. It is on adult fan fiction net and has its own website. I will try and send you the link, as I do think you would like it!
Falking, look at the above comment, for I am sure you too would love the Price—well, if you like Pippin in chains held captive while Merry tries to rescue him. Oh-lots of slash there to. I am the illustrator for that jewel (email me for the links!) More pippin angst will be coming!
QTPie- my beta, Aratlithiel actual suggested that running back to Merry part, a la the end of FOTR movie. I rather like giving each of the hobbits to interact one on one with each other. Pippin and Sam will have another big scene coming up soon that I hope people will like.
Ariel- I am sick and twisted, aren't I? I liked you suggestion, but I thought that Frodo would remain a bit less incendiary because he is really just trying to buy Sam enough time to get away. But feel free to weigh in on the broken Frodo discussion on my lj! I'd love to hear what you think!
Aratlithiel-Do I have to tell you again what an incredible chapter this is? I am so glad you felt compelled by Evil!Merry to write it!
Sqky- Frodo has plenty of bravery, but his bravery here was to sacrifice himself so that his friend might seek help.
Cailen Braern – A great way to get out of a writing slump is ask people to weigh in on your livejournal! I have gotten such great feedback there!
Chloe- Well, as you see, you were quite right to worry!! LOL! This chapter should really remind you of fatal shore!!
MBradford- well, as yousee, Sam did hang around, but that is not to say he won't have to make some very brutal decisions later on when it becomes crystal clear that Frodo is too broken to come with him
Endymion, I do think Sam would go to the nearest Smial, but he is also aware that Merry has easy access to the Ring of Power and that is nothing to provoke unless you have some REALLY heavy back-up! Thank you for your comments!
Frodo Baggins-thank you for your honest comments and your long email-AND for your wonderful picture! I am going to get it uploaded by Monday, as I also want to put together a webpage with all the great art. So if you have any more, send them my way!! And feel free to ask any more questions! AND as you saw in my AN- My beta and I could not believe we overlooked this plothole big enough to drive a wagon through! (pun intended!) So, I went back and made sure the pony was unhitched during both attempts to bolt-why? Because you told me to!!!