AN: I Now have an official RATM webpage! And a url for the artwork done for this site! Please go to my author page for the links! If you have not seen the wonderful art done for this story from readers (and myself) please check it out! And If you want to submit "lost chapters" in the RATM universe, or take a stab at drawing, I would be happy to post it. I am still busy uploading more pictures, but now it has about 10! Only one person has visited, so I am sad.

 
This chapter makes use of the book timeline. I do not know how much I wanted to give away, but in the book timeline, about a week after the hobbits leave Crickhollow, Gandalf goes first to the Shire to speak with the gaffer, then to crickhollow. What he finds is Frodo's cloak torn up- or, rather, Frodo's cloak that Fatty was wearing to fool people into thinking that Frodo was still at Crickhollow. So this is absolutely book cannon that Ganfdalf goes to Crickhollow, finds the cloak, and despairs of Frodo's life (it is in Council of Elrond). Are you still wondering where Fatty might be?



Now for the tale! Sorry this is so late! I just started my doctorate, so I am super busy, but will not leave this story undone any more than I would leave my doctorate undone! But if you want to encourage a tired student, review!



Beta'ed by Aratlithiel



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"Mr. Frodo and I—well we DO want to go, and we can't seem to get away no how—not with poor Mr. Frodo in the state he's in.  This is your chance to help us, Peregrin.  Untie me."

Chapter 39 – Temptation

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Merry had been very wary as he approached Crickhollow, casting his glance ahead, behind, and to both sides constantly as he rode.  His informant had told him very little, too little perhaps.  But once he heard the news, Merry knew he must leave quickly and spirit his captives away with all due speed unless he wanted all of his beautiful plans to be thrown into disarray.

Frodo's childhood home had always been his first choice for a safe house, though he had hoped he'd not need to use it.  But Merry was ever-prepared, and had made sure the place was at least marginally habitable, and that the important doors had functioning locks, including interior doors that had never had locks before.  This he had done weeks before, though the doors and windows still were boarded back up to maintain appearances.

Well!  It was just like that wanderer to materialize now - too late to help Frodo, but just in time to put his cousin and his homeland in peril.  So now this safe house was a necessity, now that Merry's plan had taken its final contour, and the visitor that Merry had not really expected had appeared from out of the mists.  Surely his care was for neither Frodo nor the Shire—both of which Merry assumed he found quaint, but certainly not as precious as Merry did.  Surely he only desired to lay hold of It –or to trick Frodo into bring It into the hands of elves, heartlessly sacrificing his dearest cousin in the process. 

Merry felt his own hands crushing the reins tightly in clenched fists as the rage traveled from his head forward to his tensing extremities.

Yes.  Frodo was fortunate to have a protector such as himself to halt this madness before it went too far.  He would undo the damage.  Soon, very soon, Frodo would thank him and never wish to leave his side.  Frodo was close to being remade, freed, improved, pulled back into the proper sphere of influence.  Merry smiled then, imagining the day that ropes and deprivations could be disposed of, when he would have his Frodo back, the Frodo that had abandoned him thirty years before to live in Hobbiton.  Well, he would /never/ leave Frodo.  And he was strong enough, determined enough to travel through the darkness, giving Frodo his full attention, holding his hand and leading him back through to the light.  Yes!  Frodo was indeed fortunate to have such a friend as himself.

Merry was so caught up in his thoughts he almost missed the entrance to Crickhollow.  Now he had to be extremely wary.  He pulled the pony to a halt, dismounted, and put an ear to the gate.  Nothing.  But it seemed to him that the dirt around the gate had been disturbed.  The moister earth beneath might yield more clues.  Merry opened the gate with a creak and immediately cast his eyes to the path below.  Yes, there did seem to be evidence of footsteps.  Big ones.  Merry just hoped that the owner of the footsteps was nowhere nearby, for he was no match, and despite his Brandybuck charm, would be penetrated if contact were made.  Merry knew that.

Yes, definitely footprints, and perhaps—yes, hoof prints.  A mighty horse made these.  But a steed of what color?  Now Merry hoped he would have a clearer sign still as he approached the door.

Merry breathed in relief.  As soon as he reached the door, Merry saw that it had been picked up.  The cloak, Frodo's cloak, torn and ravaged just as Merry had found it a week before, and just as Merry had set it back down before they fled from Crickhollow.

The sight of it had sickened him, though he had not seen it happen.  Yet he could guess. It had flooded him with guilt at the deeds these times had forced upon him.  But now this ruse had succeeded in fooling a second pair of eyes.  Merry approached the door to confirm the identity of the one who had taken the cloak and who, now, certainly despaired of its owner.  Merry stared at the door with searching eyes, looking for his sign.  He found it!  Here on the door carved lightly—just chicken scratches in the wood to untrained eyes, was the rune of Gandalf.

*    *    *

"Pippin!  Pippin!  Pippin!"

Pippin awoke, feeling as if he was surfacing from a pool of honey.  Pippin's whole body felt as if it were held down with bricks, and when his eyes forced themselves open, they opened upon a dim, gauzy greyness that refused to pull into focus.  The voice that rang in his ears, the voice calling his name, seemed to come from a great distance. 

"Pippin!  Wake up!  C'mon, lad!"

"Merry," Pippin mumbled.

The voice chuckled a bit, but it was a sardonic laugh, not a mirthful one.  And it was not Meriadoc.

"No, I am not Meriadoc, you Tom-fool of a Took.  He's gone and left you here with me and your wretched cousin moaning down the hall. 

"Sam," sighed Pippin.

"Yea," answered Sam.  "You are stuck with me, I guess."

"What happened?"  asked Pippin groggily.  He stretched out his arms and ran his fingers over the door that loomed over him, solid as ever.  Pippin felt the hard wood floorboard against his stomach and under his cheek and realized, rather awkwardly, that he was sprawled upon the ground. 

"Don't you remember, Pippin?" asked Sam.  "Merry locked us in; and you were trying to claw your way out using naught but your fingernails.  Didn't work too neat, it seems.  I durst not drink any teas offered by Merry. 

"Tea," whimpered Pippin, the events finally beginning to coalesce in his muddled mind. 

"Yes," sighed Sam.  "Looks like old Sam is not the only one Merry forced to take a nap, though I reckon you should be glad he used tea and not the back of a pan."

Pippin looked up miserably at Sam, now tied to a chair; though it seemed that Sam gazed down at him with pity.

"Didn't make out as poorly as you might have," said Sam wryly.  "But the betrayal stings a bit, I bet.  It don't seem he trusts you too much, do it?"

"Why would he lock us in?" groaned Pippin as he prompted himself up into sitting position.  "Why would he drug /me/?"  Pippin suddenly considered his audience and blushed a livid pink.

"I know it hurts, Pippin," said Sam.  "But you're as much a prisoner as we are."

"I'm /not/ a prisoner, Sam," said Pippin with very little gumption.

"No?" asked Sam.  "Do you reckon he'd let you go if you had a mind to?  Walk away?  Return to the Smials, all forgiven?"

"I don't want to go," murmured Pippin.

"But if you did, Pippin, if you wanted it.  If you asked Merry, he wouldn't have it, I bet.  You'd wake up with a lump on your head and trussed up like a ham, you would!  As sure as rain in spring!"

Pippin did not speak, but hugged his knees and stared at his feet.  Sam saw that his words had hit their mark and stabbed deeper.

"The rub is, Pippin," said Sam, "Mr. Frodo and I—well we DO want to go, and we can't seem to get away no how—not with poor Mr. Frodo in the state he's in.  I mean, the state Merry put him in.  Help us, Pip.  Untie me."

"I can't get that door open, Sam," sighed Pippin, continuing to find the hair on his feet uncommonly fascinating. 

"I bet I could, Pip.  Leastwise, I could if you cut me loose.  Come!  Pippin!  You throw up your guts after whipping Frodo, so I know your heart's not in it.  Set me free.  We could all be up and gone afore Merry returns.  You'll be safe.  There are smials nearby, I think.  We could all be safe and get your Merry back to himself."

"I can't," whispered Pippin.  "And it wouldn't be safe.  No where is safe for me anymore."

"Course you can!" answered Sam with growing force.  "Just get your knife and slice these cords.  Can't you see what he's doing to your cousin?  What he's making you do to your cousin?  Pippin, he'll kill him!"

Pippin's mind raced uncomfortably back to the night on the Brandywine, and he blanched.  With all of his effort, he forced out his denial.  "Merry wants to save Frodo.  He loves him."

"Save him?" cried Sam.  "Have ye looked in his eyes Pippin?  Have you?  It's like something's gone out!  And his back, Pippin.  I know you saw it, cause you helped do it!  Did you ever think your Merry could do that?"

"No," answered Pippin, "Well, I suppose, it's just, well Merry had to do something, Sam.  You and Frodo tried to leave us again, and he just can't leave, and you can't leave because you'll help him leave.  He can't leave if the Shire is to survive!"

"You don't really believe that, and if you do, you're a fool," said Sam.  "Those words don't suit you, not a whit!  You are gentle at heart, I know it, and you still know right from wrong, I reckon.  Admit you've done a tidy lot of stupid things, then make good.  Untie me and let's get Frodo out of here before it's too late.  

"Merry says that sometimes the easy actions are not the right actions," said Pippin as if reciting.

Sam heaved a sigh thick with disgust.

"Merry says!  Merry says!  Well, for once he's right.  The harder thing is the right thing, and even that ain't that hard!  Untie me, and the two of us together can break down the door and bring this misery to an end."

"You don't understand," stammered Pippin.

"Don't I?" chased Sam.  "Tell me—why did Merry drug you, Pippin?  Why are you locked in?"

"To keep you two safe."

"Don't you mean "us three"?  said Sam. 

"Alright, Sam-to keep you two from running away," said Pippin, clearly flummoxed.

"Nay!" cried Sam.  "Nay!  It was to keep you from muddling things up.  He don't trust you as far as he can throw you.  You do his bidding like a well-trained cur, yet he don't care for you at all.  You are nothing to Merry.  But my Master Frodo loves you.  Repay him and help us!"

"Don't you see, Sam!" said Pippin.  "It is not just Merry!  He's got help!  Others!  They will find out.  They will tell him.  And all of us will be hunted down."

"Who?" asked Sam, now very interested.  "Who?  Name the rascals and they'll catch it hot! 

"I don't know, Sam!" cried Pippin.  "And that is part of the point.  I don't know.  Every neighbor could be a trap!  Merry even has Big People, but he doesn't share these things with me!  Not yet, at any rate."

"Because he don't trust you," offered Sam.

"He says I'm not ready," answered Pippin, again, with very little conviction.

"Will you be ready after a few more beatings?"

Pippin blanched and started to tremble.

"Will you be ready,' continued Sam, "after a few more nights tied to a tree in the rain?  And, pray tell, when will Mr. Frodo be 'ready?'  After he's dead?"

"Merry does not want to kill Frodo!" screamed Pippin louder than he intended. 

"Well he hurts him right well!  And while we're on the subject of hurting, what did Merry do to Frodo at the River?  Yes-I gathered you went there, and I can see by your face that I'm flat right."

Pippin paled and looked like he might be sick. 

"Answer me!" demanded Sam.

"I don't have to!" cried Pippin.  "You're the prisoner!"

"And so are you!" exclaimed Sam, "and you're bound by something stronger than these ropes!  So tell your cell-mate!  Fess up!"

"Frodo is fine!  He's not hurt!"

"So say you!" said Sam.  "But I never saw fear in his eyes until that morning Pip.  Something happened, something right awful.  Don't you want to help him, Pippin?"

"Yes," said Pippin. 

"Then you are a poor physician," said Sam.  "In your heart you know that Frodo can't take much more.  In your heart, Merry's given you a good scare."

"No!"

"Yes he has!" asserted Sam.  "Tell me, then, why haven't you been rightly introduced to his new friends?"

"I didn't say I hadn't," said Pippin.  "I just said I didn't know them."

"So Merry tells his new friends things he won't trust his baby cousin with, the one he's known since his he was berthed.  Goes and has a big time with his Big Folk buddies, he does.  Perhaps he's there now—while Peregrin Took, his beloved cousin, is locked in a house with a belly full of sleepy tea.  Now that's a queer kind of friendship.  Seems like you've been shaken loose like chaff from the wheat."

Pippin dipped his head into the cavern between his knees, hoping in this way to disguise the fact that he wept.

"Pippin, there is still time.  You've slept a long while, yes, but there is still time."

Sam's ears again caught the sounds that ebbed and rose throughout the hours—Frodo's pitiful moans and cries.

"Listen!"  demanded Sam.  "Listen to Mr. Frodo!  Listen to him!"

Pippin pretended not to acknowledge Sam's request, but his ears caught the sound now as if commanded.  The sounds broke his heart.

'Frodo!" cried Sam suddenly.  "Frodo!  We're here!  Frodo!"

But the rhythm of Frodo's cries did not cease and Sam supposed that his master either did not hear him, or could not.  Then, from the chorus of moans, a clear word separated itself from the stream of moans.

"Merry!"

Sam's face fell, and tears began to stream down, and he slammed his head against the back of his chair in frustration.

"Can't you go to his door and give him a touch of comfort?  Tell him he's not alone?"

"It won't help," said Pippin softly.

"Why not?" said Sam accusatorily.

"Merry tied a cloth around his whole head.  His ears are covered.  And…and I think Frodo is insensible."

"For Eru's sake!"  cried Sam, and he wept fully now.  "Have you no heart, Pippin?  We need to get him out of here.  Please!  Yes, now I'm begging you!  There is still time!  But it's running out, if you get me.  Pippin!  Please!"

"Don't tempt me, Sam!" cried Pippin, and he lifted his tear-stained face from his knees, his face etched with raw anguish.  "The risk is too great for all of us!"

"You are afraid of him, then!" said Sam. 

"He's not himself," answered Pippin in a cracked voice.  "He'll find out and all shall pay!"

"Not if he don't know the debt!" rejoined Sam.  "We can fly!"

Pippin shut his eyes both against the light and the temptation.

"Pippin?  Pippin?" said Sam.

Pippin!" said another voice from just outside the door.

"Merry!" exclaimed Pippin, and he could not say if his heart soared, sank, or floated listlessly to the surface like a dead thing.

*    *    *

It had taken Merry longer to dislodge the boards than it had to hammer them up.  The door flew open, letting a bright golden light pour into the gap.  Pippin and Sam squinted at the unaccustomed brightness, glad that it obscured their expressions as he entered.

"How long have you been spying?"  asked Sam.

"Long enough," smiled Merry.  "Long enough to know my dear Pippin can be trusted.  I'm proud of you, Pip, for that was a sore trial."

Pippin gave Merry a weak smile and noted with detached disgust that his anger at being drugged dissolved under the solvent of Merry's honeyed words. 

Merry bent down and ruffled Pippin's curls before planting himself in front of Sam.

"How'd I do?" asked Sam rather sarcastically.

"Just as I expected," said Merry and without warning, he slapped Sam hard across the face before ruffling his hair just as he had done Pippin's. 

The slap was meant to demean, and knowing that, Sam did not avert his gaze.

Merry abruptly turned to Pippin.

"Time to get Frodo up. We're going home."

"He's been up," snarled Sam.  "Hasn't stopped moaning, and that should please you."

Merry spun around on his heel.

"Why should that please me?" answered Merry sternly.  "I don't like making him suffer!  He brought this on himself, though he had no little help from the likes of you!  Pippin, please gag Mr. Gamgee.  I would prefer a quiet trip home."

And with that, Merry stomped down the hall to Frodo.

Pippin looked around the room, and not finding anything like a gag, began to grow fretful, and ultimately, desperate.

"Can't find it!  Can't find it!" gasped Pippin desperately  "He'll find out and I'll be done for!  Where?  Where?"

Sam sighed, angry at Pippin, yet, in his own way, very sorry for him. One thing had become clear, Pippin was terrified of Merry.  Fear had finally conquered love.  Perhaps this had happened the moment the tongue of the whip Merry had thrust in Pippins hand had cut over Frodo's back, or perhaps after Merry had bound him to the tree and left him to soak.  Whatever the reason, Sam saw that Pippin had indeed been tempted by Sam's words, and Pippin knew that Merry had heard him being tempted, whether he had said so or not.  Whether it was fear that had jolted Pippin's sleeping conscience out of blissful hibernation was another question altogether, and perhaps a moot one.  The important thing was, as Sam saw it, that he had placed his foot in the door of Pippin's mind and pried it open, at least a bit.  Perhaps he could turn Pippin into an ally after all. 

'Worth a go,' thought Sam who, even now refused to utterly despair, though the possibility that Frodo had been too damaged now to work in his own interest troubled Sam deeply.  Yes, Pip he would need.

"Pippin," said Sam gently.  "Pippin."

"What!" cried Pippin in a surly shredded voice, eyes watery with frustration.  But when he looked into Sam's eyes and, though expecting reproach, found only forgiveness, Pippin softened. "What, Sam?"

"You can tear a strip off one of the furniture coverings and use that.  You haven't lost the gag-as they're weren't one to begin with."

Pippin nodded in gratitude.

"Why are you helping me?" asked Pippin as he tore off a line of linen from over the couch.  "Why, I think I should be furious with me."

"Oh, Pip," sighed Sam.  "It's not your fault, not really.  I don't place much blame on you."

Pippin smiled faintly, and awkwardly eyed his makeshift gag.

"This is dusty," he said.  "I shall need to wash it before you can wear it."

Sam nodded and added, "Be right quick, Master Took, or your like to join me.  Your cousin is in a fey mood, if I may say so, but like any mortal, he'll need sleep, if you catch my meaning."

If Pippin did, he did not show it.  He scrambled off to the kitchen and returned from the kitchen with a damp but clean piece of cloth.  He stood in front of Sam, his eyes filled with regret.

"I'm sorry Sam."

"I know, sighed Sam.  "Well, do what you must - though, not too tight, if you please."

Pippin gingerly wrapped the gag around Sam's head, taking special care not to get any strands of Sam's hair caught in the knot, and traced his finger along the inside of the gag to make sure it was tolerably loose.

"I've not hurt you, have I, Sam?"

Sam shook his head.

"Thank you, Sam," said Pippin.  "I—I…," and unable to conjure the proper words, filled the emptiness with a sigh and flopped down dejectedly upon the couch.

*   *   *

Merry turned the key to Frodo's room and pushed the door quietly open.  Frodo had not heard him, not yet.  He lay naked upon the bed, thrashing about, alternating between whimpers, weeping, and calling out.  Frodo's whole body now glistened with a glimmering layer of perspiration, and even with the rough ropes wound about his extremities, Merry thought Frodo strangely beautiful and eminently vulnerable.  He moved closer.

"Frodo," called Merry.  "Frodo, I've returned."

Frodo jerked his head about, seeking the source of the voice.

"Where are you?  Merry? Merry?" called Frodo.  "Please, where are you?"

Merry raced to Frodo's bedside and knelt down beside Frodo's face.  He wished the first thing Frodo to see when the blindfold was removed to be his own benevolent visage.

"Merry, please, get me out of the dark.  I've been alone for hours.  Please Merry.  No more," croaked Frodo.

Merry did not speak at first, but ran his fingers through Frodo's sweat-drenched curls.

"Merry?" called Frodo.

"Merry is here," he whispered in Frodo's ear.  "Merry is back.  Do you welcome him now?"

Frodo made a moment with his head that passed for a nod.  Satisfied, Merry untied the blindfold and moved his face very close to Frodo's. 

"Here I am, Frodo," said Merry, his lips curving up into a gentle smile.  "I'm here to take you home."

Frodo blinked his eyes blearily, detecting only a blurry white roundness punctuated by two black circles. 

Merry immediately took out his knife and sliced through Frodo's bonds, drawing the quivering figure into his arms.  Frodo did not fight the embrace, though his eyes blinked strangely, like an animal caught unawares in the lantern light.

"So quiet.  So dark.  You left me alone in the dark," muttered Frodo.

Merry rocked Frodo gently, though his touch seemed to have the opposite effect.  Frodo's muscles tightened and his breathing quickened, as if bracing for a slap.

"Time to return home now, Frodo.  Home to Crickhollow.  Danger has gone.  And you shall ride with me."

Frodo did not react, but the ragged sound of his own breathing betrayed him.  Merry clutched a handful of Frodo's hair and tilted his head.  Frodo gazed up with reluctant and terrified eyes, as if he were staring too directly at the blinding sun.

"Watch your tongue, Mister Baggins, if you like the skin on your back to stay where it is.  Now, have you something to say to your Merry?"

"No," whispered Frodo.  "I have nothing."

*      *     *

Frodo had been hastily dressed in a plain white shirt and trousers before Merry once again bound his feet and laid him back down upon the bed.  Frodo ranged his eyes carelessly over Merry and found that his cousin was considering him closely, looking him up and down as if probing his inner thought with his eyes, seeking out signs of disobedience. Frodo clenched his eyes shut against the examination and did his best to clear his mind from the perceived intrusion.  Though he had been dressed, he felt just as naked and laid open as before.

"Frodo," said Merry crisply, and Frodo jumped.  "Frodo I am proud of your cooperation today, so I will grant you a choice—albeit a small one, mind you; but one that I think you can manage.  Here it is.  Would you prefer to have me bind your hands in front or at your back?"

Frodo gave no answer, and, indeed, seemed quite put off by the question. 

"I do expect an answer, Frodo, your true answer," pushed Merry.

Was this another trick?  If Frodo chose the obvious answer, would he be made to pay for it in discomfort later on?  Frodo stared at his own hands and blinked stupidly for a few moments all the while avoiding eye contact with his questioner.

"Truly, Frodo," said Merry with growing impatience.  "I do think you know your answer.  Do not be afraid to tell me your needs, Frodo.  Speak up!"  Frodo jumped again, his muscles tensing as Merry finished with "It is unwise to reward my kindness with obstinate silence."

"Front?" chanced Frodo timorously, intoning as if it were a question.

"I need you to ask properly so that I may understand you," said Merry.  "Now ask!"

"May I," began Frodo.  "May I have my hands bound in front?"

Surely!" exclaimed Merry and clasped his hands together in delight.  He kissed each of Frodo's wrists before encircling them with cord as if it were a kindness.  "See how your Merry listens!"

Frodo glanced up at his captor again, waiting to see what else might be expected of him.  Instead, Merry called in Pippin to bear him outside and prepare the cart for departure.  The cart had been largely made ready by Pippin, who had a small job, considering that most of the things that they brought, minus the food, were left at the house "just in case." 

Frodo was laid on the doorstep along with the other baggage as Sam was secured in the cart with all due caution.  Sam did not struggle as he was lifted into the cart, and tried very hard to make eye contact with Pippin whenever possible.  He might have another chance to wear the lad down and had resolved to be as cooperative as possible as far as Pippin was concerned, and so far as it had naught to do with his master being hurt.  Sam's hands were still bound behind his back, and his ankles trussed together, just as they had been for the trip up.  Sam did note, however, that Pippin was required to take an additional step.  The excess rope about his wrists was then tethered to a hook at the slat of the wagon, certainly newly installed for the sole purpose of keeping him in place.  Sam had, by necessity, been laid on his side, and though his left arm, pinioned beneath his own body, quickly feel asleep, he was thankful for small mercies.  He would, it seemed, be facing Frodo.

Merry carried, or rather, dragged Frodo to the cart as Pippin was sent to board up the door. 

'Our boy,' came the mournful whispers from the roses, as they stretched their tangled vines to touch the hair, once soft and lustrous; a soft brush of silk against crimson and emerald laced with thorns.  They wept petals of brown-tinged scarlet as their withered leaves instead caressed lank, matted curls, stiff with sweat, scented with the salt of tears.  'What's happened to our boy?'

'Our boy,' the lobelia lamented as the dull, vacant eyes that once shone vibrant indigo skated over them unseeing.  Eyes once the color of dew-kissed morn now muted, full of sorrow and horrific betrayal. 

Primroses, grown wild through bracken and bramble cried out as their boy passed by them, his hands bound and unable to offer the soft caress they yearned for.  'Our boy,' they cried to the sunflowers, who dipped their heavy heads in lament for the loss of musical laughter, suborned now by moans of agony and fathomless loss.

The lavender watched the feet that once danced up the cobbled walk, now dragged along, bound and scraping on the rough stone beneath.  'Our boy,' they wept and the lobelia joined them.  'Our boy,' they moaned to the sunflowers, but the sunflowers just bowed their heads and said no more.

Pippin climbed into the bed and sat next to Sam, as he expected this was what Merry would want.  Without looking down, Pippin patted Sam gently upon the shoulder, but not before casting a fearful glance behind him to make sure that Merry did not see it.  Sam smiled inwardly.  He had made some inroads with the lad.

"Pip!" called Merry, and Pippin jumped.  "Help me lift Frodo into the cart, then get up on the board.  I wish to sit with Frodo.

Pippin did as Merry bid, pulling his limp cousin up onto the wagon bed and noting, with dismay, how light Frodo had become.  As Frodo was set gently upon a folded blanket, Sam strained his eyes to assess his master's condition.  He did not like what he saw.

Frodo stared up vacantly at the sky and did not move.  He made no attempt to turn his head to face his loyal friend.

'He's just exhausted,' thought Sam, although gurgling beneath this knee-jerk assessment were less sanguine explanations such as 'He's not right, or 'He don't recognize you' or, most ghastly of all, 'He don't trust you no more and can't stand the sight of you.'  Pressing the voices down, Sam curled up his legs as much as the tether would allow and gently nudged Frodo's hip with his knees.  This action drew no response in the least, no more than if Sam had prodded a sack of grain. 'Exhausted, poor Master!' thought Sam, covering his initial gut reaction of muted horror.

"Off we go!" said Merry jauntily and, much to Sam's annoyance, sat himself down on the far side of the bed, beside his Frodo.  Pippin shook the reins, and with a snort, the pony pulled the cart bumpily forward on the road under the darkling sky. 

Merry smiled down at his cousin lying so still upon the blanket.

"Come Frodo," said Merry softly.  "I will lift you so that you may rest your weary head upon my lap and we may look up at the stars together."

The words made Sam cringe, but Merry, apparently, saw no irony in them.  He leaned over Frodo and began to reach under his arms to draw him up on his lap.  Frodo instinctively flinched, or as Merry saw it, pulled away.  Sam suppressed a grin.  Perhaps all was not lost.  Perhaps his master still had some fight left!  Sam watched the scene unfold with rapt attention.

A flash of rage passed over Merry's face, but he did not strike, and right good thing, Sam thought, as he had planned to give Merry a kick to remember if he dared.  Instead, Merry's countenance turned stern and threatening.  With one hand, Merry wrapped his fingers around Frodo's forearm and gave it a firm squeeze—a warning, unspoken, yet clear as day.

Frodo's reaction was instantaneous.  To Sam's shock, Frodo's eyes widened in fear, pupils dilated to their fullest extent, his breathing quickened to short gasps, and his whole body became stiff and tensile as if bracing for a blow.  Then, with a loving pat from Merry, Frodo's body fell limp as a rag doll, his eyes closed, his face a mask of fathomless despair and mute resignation to an unwanted fate.  Sam could feel his own heart thudding against his ribcage.  No!  This could not be!  Frodo!  Come out!  Frodo!

But Frodo did not come out.  He lay there, utterly prostrate, his eyes not daring to flutter open.

"Better, love," cooed Merry.  "Now let's try that again."

Merry reached for Frodo's shoulders again.  This time Frodo neither flinched nor reacted in any way whatsoever.  Merry heaved up Frodo's pliant body and set him between his legs so that Frodo's lolling head was now pillowed upon Merry's belly.

"There now!" said Merry as he lovingly covered up Frodo's body with the blanket.  "Now you can relax with me and gaze up at the stars."  Merry began to smooth down Frodo's sweat dampened curls with his kind hands in a steady, almost unconscious motion.  "It is a lovely night."  Merry continued to stroke Frodo's brow, but turned his own gaze to the road behind, and the twinkling stars above.  "Yes, a lovely night for a homecoming!"

Sam's eyes remained fixed upon Frodo's face, pale and deathlike, yet beautiful in the blue glow of the night sky.  Frodo's eyes remained closed for several long minutes, and Sam convinced himself that his master slept, perhaps even in peace.  But then—lo!  His master moved.  Frodo turned his face toward Sam, eyes still closed, and Sam's breath caught.  Finally, Sam would get his glance—the one thing he needed to anchor down this happy fiction that his master was undamaged.

Frodo's lids, heavy with sleep, as Sam thought them, fluttered open suddenly, and for a moment, Sam prepared himself to exchange knowing glances with the hobbit he loved most.  But no!  Sam sucked in his breath at the terror of it.  His eyes, those once sparking eyes—were now glassy blue orbs floating in a milky sea, open but vacant and unfocused.  Those eyes did not look at Sam, but right through him, staring into nothingness, into eternity.  There was no spark of recognition in those eyes, no spark at all!  They were the eyes of a statue, the eyes of a doll, the eyes of a corpse.

Then Sam saw them, translucent, entrapping the pale light of the moon as they fell upon his master's face, appearing like a line of diamonds streaming down a fast-moving river.  His master wept silently, and Sam, his loyal friend, wept silently with him.  All the hope Sam held stubbornly in his heart leaked away with those tears that seeped quiet and mournful from those empty eyes.  Frodo was gone – Merry had taken him finally and had left an empty shell in his place.  A soulless body that wept jeweled tears in the silver of the moonlit twilight.

*    *     *

Clinging to the very ghost of his wish for survival, Frodo's thoughts had burrowed deep into the caverns of his own mind, into his last bastion of refuge and protection to a place where they would be safe from Merry.  With the last of his sanity, he understood that his dam of resistance had been utterly destroyed and so retreated to the only place where Merry could not reach him; a place where Frodo Baggins still existed, unscathed and whole.  He curled within his heart and left the rest to the will of Merry.

Who is this broken creature, he wondered, whose tears pour forth from a soul buried deep beneath a mountain of pain and betrayal?  Who is this pitiful being whose sorrow is the only thing of himself he still recognizes?  Who is this person whose endless tears are the only sign to the world that the heart within still beats, the mind within still thinks, the soul within still cries out against his fate?

His tears flowed forth unabated from a source deep within him, from internal mountains crafted of shame and despair, from a place inside that understood that he had been cowed by a squeeze of a hand.  Frodo had the strange sensation of being emptied.  His essence was leaving him, drop by drop, until pieces of his soul flowed down his face to christen the lap of the one who had brought him to this state.  Frodo's tears did not cease the entire ride home.  They fell unabated from eyes that once had been, but were no longer the windows of Frodo's soul.

TBC


LJ question- We all know that Frodo's breaking is very close and that there will be a final "torment" scene in which Frodo will truly disappear into his own head. I also saw that the majority of you wanted a conflict between Pippin and Merry in which Pippin begins to question Merry about Frodo being "happier" as Merry had promised. There are many great things I might do with this situation, but, of course, I want to get an idea on things YOU might want to see. So please go to my livejournal and sound off! ____________________________________________________________________________  Hidden quote Winners-

If you try and run away, you must be tied; but we don't wish to hurt you (In RATM given to Merry, in the original, it is a line Faramir says to Gollum. No one got this one!

"Expect me when you see me!" Said by Merry, originally said by Gandalf. MBradford was sharp enough to find this one!

And the dialogue between Merry and Frodo regarding the Ring was originally found in the conversation between Bilbo and Gandalf in FOTR (book) Chloe, M Bradford, Calla, FrodoBaggins 1982, Tulip Proudfoot, and Endymion got this one!

Quick note-Iorhael is writing a sequel to Nasty Hobbitsess that I believe she has just posted. Please check it out!

And look forward to the return of MBradford's perfectly delectable villain, Rushford Bramblethorn, in "A Harvest of Ashes. Go Evil! ____________________________________________________________________________

To the Reviewers!!!

High Elf-thank you! And if you have not been reading for awhile, I added 5 preludes that really set up the story, and totally rewrote chapters 1-5-so much that they are brand new. I really would love to know what you think of them, especially the new chapter 1. Plus it will be something to do in between updates! Check them out! (they are labeled in the chapter index)

Laurlion-oh dear-I have kept you all waiting-haven't I? well-no more- here is your chapter!

Tulip Proudfoot -thank you tulip, and I do think you are right! I think I may re-edit the chapter (as I often do when I get good suggestions!) keep reading, and I will never disregard honest constructive criticism!

QTPie - Yes-Sam does have an ulterior motive. You will see, and I always love hearing form you about my LJ questions!

Iorhael- I'm so glad you liked the pictures! You will see about Merry going to Crickhollow. It is very much in keeping with book cannon.

Lilly Blackstar- Thank you1 It is reviews that keep me going!

Endymion - Yes-you picked up on the hidden quotes, and of course, the lure of the ring! I hope you liked this chapter too!

Trishette -thank you! And I hope you like the way I will redeem Merry-but not for a while!

Frodo Baggins 1982- I always like your comments because you are always very honest! So when you say you like something, I know you are no BSing. I think you may be right again-too much quoting-huh-though you certainly found the spot I used. And you saw very well that I am leading up to a confrontation between Pippin and his conscience. And you are right, it would only make sense that Frodo would become more attached to the Ring when he feels he has nothing left. I hope your job is going well!

Aratlithiel -well-you know what is coming-and you know how I am agonizing over the next few chapters! I know that with your help, we can put something together that is really good! And I see you have not yet stopped by my website, ahem.!!!

Krista - I'm sorry this chapter took so long! And I hope your school is going better. I start teaching here at my school tomorrow-but I still get a bit nervous at the beginning of every semester!

Maikafuiniel -So glad you are still here! I hope this chapter gave some insights into where Sam might be going. As you see, he made some headway. And in the coming chapters, you will see that Pip will begin to question Merry when it comes to his promises that breaking him will make him "happier" -which we all know it won't. Don't give up on Pip! He may surprise you!

Chloe- I hope the conversation between Sam and Pip lived up to your expectations! And thank you for the praise of the pastoral scene-those are very difficult for me, as I am relatively new at them! And of course, you found some of the lines! I just love the fic you sent me, and I do hope you will do a little something for my website!

MBradford- You are right about the broken bit-we are getting close-a few chapters away, in fact. Then it will be a struggle as Merry has to convince himself and others that the breaking was something that REALLY made Frodo happier-mucho angst and self-doubt.

Calla - calla-you are right-that bit with the Ring should have seemed familiar! And thank you for the words about the prelude. Yep-that was a foreshadow! Very good!