NEW PICS! I have just added four new illustrations on my illustration page-3 from this chapter. The link is on my profile page. Please check them out!
Also, there are two bonus alternate chapters to this one on my website-very angsty stuff with some parts that will not fly on ffnet. They are by Celandine and are very good! Check them out!
Also, Merryhunter is beginning a RATM RPG and needs a Pippin. Check out my LJ or write me for more info. Reach your inner PIP!
AN: I wanted to thank all of the folks who gave me valuable feedback for this chapter, and especially to Celandine Goodbody who added some angst selections to the story, which I think make this a better chapter with more impact than it would have otherwise had. Also, I must give credit to Iorhael, as the bath scene here was inspired by her own bath scene in Nasty Hobbitsess, which, most of you know, was the inspiration for this fic! And thanks to Chloe, who used the word "lustration" in a review and thus gave me the idea for the title to this chapter!
Please keep reviewing and giving your honest feedback--as I do listen and do answer. Since starting my PhD I have less time to think out what types of scenes would be most important to show, and your comments are crucial to making RATM a better quality read for all of you! I have proclaimed November "National De-lurking Month"—so delurk so I can "meet" you! ;)
Hugs!
--Aelfgifu (emma)
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"We are going to cleanse away all the traces of the old Frodo--so you can come into your new, happy life pristine and unsullied. We will make you not only clean but pure."
Chapter 49 – Lustration
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Defintion: \Lus*tra"tion
\, n. [L. lustratio: cf. F. lustration.]
1. The act of lustrating or purifying.
2. (Antiq.) A sacrifice, or ceremony, by which cities, fields, armies, or people, defiled by crimes, pestilence, or other cause of uncleanness, were purified.
---From Hyperlink dictionary
* * *
It was early dawn at Crickhollow, misty, rainy, cool, dark, and eerie. Pippin stumbled reluctantly behind Merry, feeling the wet grass creep up between his toes. But in his soul, he felt that something terrible, catastrophic even, had happened in the cavern ahead of them and worse, that he was somehow responsible.
The cellar was dark as night inside, its earth soft beneath their feet. Immediately upon entering, they heard the sounds of unseen creatures scattering into corners and disappearing into their private, black realm. The hobbits descended the stairs quickly while the scent of old air pervaded their nostrils, stale with resignation and defeat.
Frodo lay in the sub-cellar covered with the blanket, hands bound with rope.
"Careful now, Pippin," said Merry. "We don't want to scare him and we don't want to hurt him."
Merry removed the blanket and Pippin cringed at the stiff, unyielding form, like a living corpse waiting to be reanimated by some magic spell or bolt of electricity. Merry, in his trance-like state, saw none of this but only his dear cousin Frodo as he wanted him to be.
They watched him for a moment, Merry in worship and Pippin in despair, as Frodo's body quivered violently for a few minutes against the cold. These movements were clearly involuntary --a reflex of the body and not of the mind.
Frodo's body, white as stone and nearly as still, was curled up in exactly the same position as it had been when they had left him the day before. To Pippin it seemed as if Frodo had been some sort of statue carved from alabaster, beautiful and tragic in an artistic way, but not real.
But Frodo was real.
As much as it rent his heart to admit it, all of this was real. This nightmare had truly happened, and Pippin had helped it happen. Merry had said it himself. Pippin you are important. I could have done none of this without you. The full awareness of what that actually meant hit Pippin like a battering ram the moment he set eyes upon Frodo. His cousin remained silent, motionless and sepulchral, the barely perceptible rising and falling of his chest, like the gentle motion of a becalmed sea, was the only indication that he yet lived. Pippin suppressed the unbearable thought that this ordeal had not only stripped him of his rebelliousness, but of those things that made Frodo himself.
None of these fears seemed to sully the optimism of Meriadoc Brandybuck, whose smile almost shone bright enough to light the dreadful room.
"I shall speak to him a little first, I think," said Merry abruptly. "To reassure him."
Pippin nodded stupidly, digging his fingernails into his palms and stifling the urge to vomit.
Merry knelt before him like a sculptor before his own work of art, his eyes fixated on the still but living being bent submissively in the position where he had been left. A surge of power overcame Merry as he saw what he had done for the first time in its enormity. He had wiped Frodo's slate clean and was now about to write his own words on this blank and yielding parchment--for all to see. Even though it had been his goal, now realized, Merry was overwhelmed by the magnitude of what he had done.
He ghosted his fingers along the shell of Frodo's ear, causing an unexpected shudder to cascade down his cousin's spine. This was the first touch in 24 hours, only the second in almost three days. Merry waited for the tremor to run its course before reaching down under Frodo's blindfold and pulling out one of the waxy plugs.
Merry smiled, staring down at Frodo as if he were a sacred object.
"Fro-do," called Merry in a lilting voice, gentle as the sound of wind through the tips of the trees outside. "Fro-do, your Merry is here. I've come to give you your hearing. I've come to give you many things. And I've come to bring you home." In awe, Merry bent over to kiss his cousin on the forehead.
At the same time, Pippin's curiosity got the better of him. Almost of their own volition, his fingers reached out to touch this fascinating creature, perhaps to see if he was real, perhaps to reassure himself that it was still his cousin. His fingertips connected with Frodo's arm, soft but chilled as death to his touch. Gooseflesh erupted down Pippin's limbs, almost as if he had encountered a demon, or some unnatural, magical thing.
"Don't touch him!" Merry seethed possessively and swung at Pippin, connecting with his face in a fearsome manner that drove him half way across the room. "Don't you ever touch him without my permission. He is mine!"
Merry's voice cracked as he said these last words and Pippin watched as he wiped away a tear with the back of his hand. Frodo's breathing continued steady and shallow, sometimes rasping, perhaps with a touch of pneumonia from his long damp confinement and lack of activity.
Frodo did not stir, but made several small sounds. Merry reacted as if they were sacred songs of the elves, grinning widely, face alight with pleasure. But to Pippin, these sounds were akin to the final breaths of a dying animal, like something more dead than alive. Pippin's stomach churned. He leaned down, palms on his knees, to settle his guts, hoping that Merry would take no notice.
Merry did not. He was wrapped up in the thrall of this process of "rebirth" as if he witnessing Iluvatar himself sing a miracle into creation.
"Frodo, you have done well," said Merry. "You have gone through the darkness, and now is the time for you to come out the other side. The old Frodo has perished and the new Frodo will be reborn out of this terrible womb. I know it will be frightening but your Merry will lead you. Your Merry will lead you back to the light."
Pippin thought his cousin sounded insane and it filled him with unspeakable sadness - sadness and fear.
Frodo still made no attempt to move. He seemed asleep. More than asleep.
"Frodo," whispered Merry. "Do not be startled. I'm going to sit you up now, love. You may feel dizzy but that will pass."
Merry snaked his arm around Frodo's chest and gathered him up, still curled in a fetal position as a thing unborn. Frodo's head, bereft of support, lolled down upon Merry's shoulder. Merry was pleased by this and began to stroke Frodo's sweat-drenched curls and coo into his ear. Frodo made no more sounds when Merry very gently removed the second plug. His heartbeat, however, quickened its pace as he perceived change, perhaps for the better, perhaps not.
"Frodo!" whispered Merry intently. "Please speak to me so I know that you heard me. Speak to your Merry!"
The voice. The voice he must obey because bad things happened when he did not. Deep in his mind, he was aware of being spoken to. Perhaps ordered. He assumed he was to answer. He did not wish to cause himself pain, no matter how far away he felt from his own body.
Frodo had opened his mouth before his mind had given it anything specific to do. He closed it again.
Think to the recent past. He decided upon words that had once seemed best to him.
"Dark," muttered Frodo, but without a trace of emotion.
"Yes, dear!" exclaimed Merry. "But not for long, love. Not for long. I've come to set you free so we can make a clean start. You can't see yet, but you do recognize my voice, of course. Who am I? Who is it who takes care of you? I want to hear you say my name with your beautiful voice."
This was too difficult to manage. A question, from the tone. But what sort? What words were expected? And what would happen if he failed to deliver those words? Again, he delved into the recent storage of his mind.
"Alone."
Merry stared at Frodo, and Pippin stared at them both – Frodo the only hobbit not wearing an expression of thinly muted horror.
"No, Frodo," insisted Merry, glossing over the fact that Frodo seemed unable to answer his simple request. "You have me. Who am I? Speak, love."
"No," said Frodo, but not as an echo, but a memory. "No, no, no," he added tonelessly for good measure.
"I don't think he's able to answer you, Mer," said Pippin.
Merry threw Pippin a savage look before turning back to Frodo and exclaiming, "It is your Merry, of course. And of course you knew that."
This time Frodo managed an echo.
"Merry."
Merry nearly burst with elation.
"Yes," said Merry as he pressed his lips to Frodo's forehead. "And here is Pippin."
"Merry," repeated Frodo absently, not wanting to spoil what had seemed to be a good thing.
Pippin's face fell, but Merry's enthusiasm was undimmed.
"Frodo," Merry whispered. "We're going to wrap you up and carry you home. Don't be frightened."
Pippin, reading these words as a cue, dutifully spread the blanket upon the ground and helped Merry ease Frodo onto it. Laid out like this, Pippin was forcefully reminded of a corpse upon a shroud. The brand, hidden from view, was now fully visible. Pippin wondered how Sam would take it when he saw the mark of ownership upon his master. It was a small mercy that it had not been visible to Sam when they had brought him down here days ago.
Merry wrapped Frodo in woolen warmth, tucking the blanket around his torso, under his tied hands. Pippin saw the disconnect in care, and stuttered out, "Can we not untie Frodo's hands, Merry? Can we not undo the blindfold?"
"No!" snapped Merry. Then softening, added, "No, Pip. Not yet. Little by little I will give these things back. The proper place for that to happen is at home. And the proper time is my choice." Merry's eyes took on a glow of burning embers as he shot a glance at Pippin and repeated, "My choice."
In the short space of their disagreement, Frodo had gone still. And indeed, the conversation had tired him. He burrowed back into his mind where he did not have to speak to anyone but himself.
Merry signaled for Pippin to take Frodo's feet as he grasped the still body under the arms. "Now lift carefully," said Merry. "I won't have my Frodo harmed by your clumsiness."
Better my clumsiness," thought Pippin, than your cruelty. But Pippin said nothing aloud.
* * *
The morning sun shone with a golden brilliance that bathed the green land below in an otherworldly luster. In this light, Frodo's face seemed even more luminous and eerie than in the cellar. It glowed on the outside but inside, something vital had gone out. Though Pippin felt the morning sun's fragile warmth upon his face, he felt cold and ill to his core, as if the chill from his cousin's skin had crept into his own, seeping into his bones and twining frigid bonds around his heart.
Pippin moved his glance upwards, staring with manifest devotion into the lifeless face of Frodo, still partially obscured by a blindfold. Merry hummed out a lullabye that in Pippins distraught mind transformed into something like a dirge. A dirge for Frodo. The old Frodo had indeed died. But the rebirth Merry spoke of never seemed so far away as when they carried Frodo's body over the dewy grass. But if Frodo had indeed been reborn, Pippin was at a loss to find any sign of life.
Merry kicked the front door open and they stepped up into the hallway. Pippin was so engrossed in his thoughts that he tripped on the step, almost dropping Frodo's feet.
"Pippin!" shouted Merry. "Be careful, damn you! This is our cousin you hold, the Ringbearer himself!"
Pippin grimaced at the rebuke and his own clumsiness. "I'm sorry, Merry." He spoke loudly and with some irritation as he struggled to regain his balance. He moved in closer to Frodo, gratefully letting go of his cousin's bloody ankles and grasping him by the calves for more support.
The door to the front parlor was open and, still tied in place, Sam lifted his head at the voices. "Frodo!" called Sam. "Frodo!" Sam wanted nothing more than to rise up from his chair and embrace his master.
"You shall see him soon enough, Master Gamgee," said Merry in a friendly voice. "But first we must wash and dress him properly. Sit tight."
"Like I 'ave a choice," grumbled Sam, straining at his bonds and craning his neck to watch helplessly as his Frodo was carried quietly down the hall.
* * *
Merry pushed the door open to "Frodo's room" and motioned to the clean bed with a nod of his head.
"Careful now," said Merry to Pippin. And to Frodo, softly, "There now."
Frodo was laid out and wrapped in a blanket but he was far too quiet for Merry or Pip's comfort.
"Frodo," said Merry. "Can you guess where we are?"
Another question. Or demand. Answer, answer. Words. What words?
"Merry," chanted Frodo.
He was surprised in an abstract way when this did not get the same manner of reaction as it had the first time.
"Not who," said Merry. "Where?"
"Dark," said Frodo, and sensing that this was not right either, added, "No."
"Home," corrected Merry. "Home. You – are – home."
He had done something wrong again. He must please the voice, or at least keep it from anger. Stronger, louder, perhaps.
"No! No!" cried Frodo, and hearing the gasps of displeasure, opted to cut his losses and retreat back into his mind before punishment came. His fear intensified with the feel of a hand upon his brow and more words he could not make out.
"Never you mind, Frodo," said Merry, softly stroking Frodo's forehead. "You will see soon enough. You are home, for good this time. And it is now time to wash you, wash every trace of this ordeal from your body and mind. Then you will want to talk to me, I think. Yes! A bath! Time to get you nice and clean."
Pippin involuntarily began playing the scene of a few days previous in his mind, how the bathing of Frodo had resulted in his cruel confinement. He was replaying the fight in his mind too and did not hear Merry's next order."
"Pip, you ninny!" repeated Merry. "I said go set some water to boil. We need to draw Frodo a hot bath."
Pippin scurried off, anxious to be away from the room and the memories it called up. Merry, meanwhile, climbed up on the bed beside Frodo and lovingly began to run his fingers through Frodo's limp and matted hair.
Merry stared at his cousin lovingly, like a child at a new doll, ready to clean and dress and play with it as he saw fit. The doll was acting his part too, docile, unmoving, lying just where he was placed and waiting patiently for whatever his owner had in mind. But now Merry wanted to hear Frodo speak just to know that he still could. More than that, Merry wanted him to respond to him. Thus,
the moment Pippin left the room, Merry went about trying to coax Frodo to answer any question he actually asked.
* * *
Pippin set the kettle to boil and, as he waited, a sudden compulsion came over him, a desire to speak with Sam. He plodded quietly out of the kitchen and into the parlor where Sam still sat, tied to a chair facing the fire.
"Hullo, Pip," sighed Sam before Pippin had a chance to speak.
"How did you know it wasn't Merry?" asked Pippin as he sat himself down in a chair beside Sam.
Pippin and Merry had once walked with so similar a rhythm that they seemed to be two parts of the same hobbit. It was no longer so. Pippin's steps this past week had taken on a hesitant, fearful quality, as a scullery mouse preparing to bolt to safety at the first sound of footfalls. The sound of Pippin's padding could not have been more different than Merry's solid, imperious steps, as a king swaggering to his throng, a judge to his bench, an executioner to his gallows.
Pippin stared at his hands by way of avoiding Sam's steely glance.
"How is Frodo?" said Sam in the form of a question but the tone of an order. Still, he was careful not to sound too belligerent, not to cut his only sane lifeline to information about his master.
"He is," Pippin paused, the bile in his stomach rising. "He is resting. Merry says that we are to bathe him now."
"That ain't what I asked, Pip," said Sam sullenly, "As you are quite aware."
Pippin said nothing but felt his whole body start to quiver.
"I reckon you have something to tell," Sam continued quietly. "You wouldn't dur'st have come if you had naught to say. Merry wouldn't want you to tarry here if it's water he sent you to boil. But you've come this far, so out with it."
Pippin took a steadying breath and spoke. "He's so still, Sam. Like he's asleep. And when he does speak it's not, well, right. Merry hasn't taken loose the blindfold yet, so I can't tell you much else. But I don't suppose Merry plans to hurt him anymore, not if he does as he's bid. I…I," Pippin's voice began to trail off into a whisper. "I just don't know."
"Nay," said Sam. "I don't suppose you do."
"But," Pippin continued, "after you seeing him in the cellar, and you took that most grievously, I thought that knowing Merry is treating your master well, that…that it might calm your mind."
Sam bit his tongue and stared into the flames, a tear escaping from the traps of his lashes.
"Does it for you?" said Sam, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Does it what?" asked Pippin.
"Calm your mind?"
Pippin did not reply but stood in a flurry, nearly tipping over the chair as he did so.
"The kettle must be boiling by now," huffed Pippin. "I must go!"
And with that Pippin scuttled back toward the kitchen, leaving Sam weeping silently in front of the fire.
* * *
"I've drawn Frodo a bath and--" Pippin skidded to a stop in Frodo's room, unprepared for the sight that greeted his eyes.
Frodo set out on the bed, wrapped in a blanket as he was before. Merry, kneeling on the bed beside Frodo, Frodo's bound hands gathered in his own, Merry's head bowed as Merry sobbed in great heaving cries.
"Merry?" asked Pippin, his blood turning to ice. "Is Frodo--?"
"He's FINE!" cried Merry, his voice sharpened by the unwanted intrusion. "Fine."
"Are you?" asked Pippin.
"Come to your point!" snapped Merry, now furiously rubbing his red-rimmed eyes.
Pippin threw Merry a look of concern mixed with confusion. Pippin did not know that Merry had spent the last minutes gently, then frantically trying to get Frodo to speak to him, to tell Merry his own name, to say anything marginally related to the world around him. But Frodo had not. Frodo had uttered dislocated snatches of words before going very silent and still once again. Merry knew in his heart that something in his plan had gone quite askew, and seeing his Frodo as he was put him in agony –but an agony he could share with no one, not even Pippin. Especially not Pippin.
What Pippin did know was that Merry seemed to be falling apart before his very eyes and that it frightened him. Pippin's emotions were in a jumble. As much as Pippin now feared Merry, he also feared for him. His love for Merry had not diminished with his fear for Frodo and seeing Merry this undone disturbed Pippin as much as seeing Frodo in his current state.
Pippin shuddered as his thoughts progressed. What if Merry completely collapsed? Would he, Pippin, become the leader? What if Merry went completely insane, leaving Pippin to care for Frodo, to decide about Sam? About the RING? Pippin's whole body turned cold with a fear greater than he had ever felt from Merry's wrath. What would he do? How could he decide such monumental things? Should he even try?
"You--" began Pip, and seeing the fire blaze up in Merry's eyes, changed courses. "I mean, I've drawn a bath for Frodo," and receiving an unexpected look of fury, added, "as you asked. Shall we take him in?"
Before Pippin's mind had a chance to register, Merry was upon him, fist raised, and in a terrible moment, swung across to clout Pippin close-fisted in the jaw. Pippin tumbled to the floor, ears ringing, stars twinkling in front of his eyes. An unseen hand pulled Pippin roughly back to his feet by the shirtfront. Pippin forced his eyes to sharpen, and having done so, immediately wished he had not.
There was Merry, glowering at him, a target of his enraged focus. Pippin feared for his life and kept silent.
"Fool!" yelled Merry. "I told you to boil the water, and that is ALL I told you! Did I tell you to draw the bath?"
Pippin did not speak. Merry shook him until his brain rattled.
"Speak!"
"No," said Pippin as flatly as possible.
"No," affirmed Merry in a savage voice. "No, I did not. This process is far too important! Can't you see? This is for Frodo! It has to be PERFECT! And unless, Pippin--my sweet--you have a very good idea of what perfect is, which I know you do not, then I suggest that you leave all matters touching our Frodo to me!"
A meek nod of Pippin's head bought him his freedom. Pippin was dropped unceremoniously to the floor as Merry rushed back to Frodo's side and grasped his bound hands once again.
"I am so sorry for that outburst, Frodo! I want to make this perfect for you! We've both gone through so much to come to this moment. Pippin doesn't understand—but I'm sure you do, dearest Frodo! You know how your Merry cares!"
Pippin propped himself up on an elbow, dismayed at Merry's antics. Here was his cousin speaking with desperate emotion to a hobbit who, by all indications, was perfectly unconscious.
"I'm going to tend to your bath, Frodo," said Merry. "Do not fear, love, your Merry will be back very soon, he will."
Frodo did not move a muscle.
Merry leapt off the bed and stomped over to his other cousin. Pippin kept his eyes trained on the floor, worried that any eye contact might be seen as a provocation.
"Pippin, you keep watch over Frodo."
Pippin nodded and stumbled to his feet. Before he could glance up at the bed, Merry's hands snapped upon the sides of his face forcing Pippin's gaze into Merry's terrible eyes. He could feel Merry's hot breath hard upon his own face.
"Do NOT," said Merry, "touch him."
With that, Merry turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
Pippin crept up to the side of the bed, feeling like Merry's eyes were still there, watching him from every corner. He stared at his damaged cousin, blindfolded, wrists tied together, yet somehow at peace with his situation. This latter aspect frightened Pippin even more than a struggling Frodo would have. Nonetheless, he was fascinated by the creature before him. He stepped closer.
Clasping his hands behind his back, not trusting them to stay away from Frodo, Pippin leaned over his cousin's prone form. After all the times he had wished Frodo to be compliant, now he was sorry to see it in full force. He sighed softly. Truly sorry.
"Mer?" Frodo whispered weakly without moving an inch.
Pippin froze, grasping his hands more tightly together behind his back. His eyes were wide as saucers as he stared at Frodo but his cousin still did not move or react any further. Pippin supposed it was all right to talk to Frodo since Merry had not forbidden this. Still, he hesitated. Merry didn't always respond to logic or remember exactly what he had ordered.
Pippin watched as Frodo's mouth moved slightly without saying anything out loud. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. "It's Pippin, Frodo," he said loudly and strongly. "Your cousin, your Pippin."
"Mer?" The tiny voice seemed to say it again but Pippin wasn't sure.
"Frodo, it's PIPPIN here!" He spoke loudly without thinking.
Pippin quickly turned to the door, half expecting to see a furious and dangerous Merry standing there ready to hurt him again. But it was blessedly closed and the room was quiet. He turned back to the bed, leaving his hands safely clasped behind his back. "I'm so sorry, Frodo." He said, more quietly. "Please get well. I love you, and Sam is here too. Sam, Frodo! We all want you to be well, Frodo, please try."
Frodo's lips moved again in an infinitesimal gesture. "Mrrr" was all Pippin could hear as he stood with his hands clasped behind him, tears rolling steadily down his cheeks.
* * *
Merry's face, upon his return, also bore the marks of one at peace with himself and his situation. Pippin had spent the past half hour rooted to the floor in front of Frodo's bed, his mind reeling, his emotions in disarray. A quick glance up at Merry, however, alerted him that the storm had passed.
"I have everything ready for Frodo," announced Merry as he filled the doorway. "Please help me bear him to his cleansing."
These words sounded formal and ritualistic to Pippin, and made him feel intrinsically uneasy. Was this not just a bath?
Merry lay down next to Frodo, his mouth near his cousin's ear. "Fro-do," said Merry gently, "we're going to carry you to your bath now. And once we are done, you shall be remade. We shall carry you-- one last time. Then I shall grant you leave to walk. But now just relax and let your Merry tend to you."
Down the corridor they carried him, to the bath room where, ages ago, Merry had set up baths for the three travelers, Frodo, Sam and Pippin. They had sung merrily, despite the coming adventure and---and then it had all gone so terribly wrong.
* * *
Merry pushed open the door with his foot and waited for it to swing open to its fullest extent before carrying their precious burden inside. Pippin gasped.
The round room was lit with candles, dozens of them, in an elegant circle of flickering light along the bottom edge of the room. The tub itself, new polished brass reflecting like gold, was surrounded by a second ring of nine tall candles. The room seemed to be filled with shimmering stars. But if it was beautiful, it was also eerie and disconcerting.
A hundred tantalizing smells filled the steam-thickened air, scents as lovely as the cellar scents had been repellant. A few Pippin recognized as they rose above the bouquet of other fragrances –lavender, myrrh, kingsfoil, rosehip, and rosemary. There were others too--strange but wonderful scents that capered around his senses and lulled his doubts to sleep. But the tub was what sent forth the most pleasing of the mingled scents; rose petals dappled the surface of the steaming water and the fragrance rode the vapors as they lifted to swirl and cast their scent about the room. It might have been cloying at another time, but Pippin cast himself into it, willing himself to accept the comfort its soothing embrace offered.
"Here," said Merry, pulling Pippin from his reverie. "Set him down right here."
Merry indicated a spot of clear floor next to a stack of pillows covered with a fine tapestry. It was a makeshift mattress, though the word "altar" came more readily to mind. The mattress was set just outside the ring of candles encompassing the tub.
Frodo, blanket and all, was set down beside this bed. Merry smiled radiantly. He unwrapped the blanket covering Frodo and from there Merry and Pippin set him, naked and luminous, upon the bed. The Ring and the locket glowed with the light of each candle, taking on a living light of their own. Merry thought Frodo had never looked so breathtaking, the deprivations even heightening his beauty.
Merry gathered up the blanket, Frodo's former cocoon, a second skin that could now be discarded. "Cast this blanket into the fire," said Merry. "Burn it. It is a part of Frodo's journey that is now over."
Pippin knew better than to ask why. He ran to the kitchen as if haste was somehow important and set it upon the dying embers of the kitchen hearth. There he watched as the flames sprang to life again, first around the blanket's edge, and then consuming the whole thing until it twisted into ashes.
Pippin returned to the bathroom to find Merry gently running a moist cloth over Frodo's body, cleansing away the dirt, dust and grime that had accumulated on his skin during his awful days in the cellar. Merry interrupted his task to offer Pippin an angelic smile. He removed his knife from his belt, and held it aloft, its blade catching in the candlelight. Pippin's breath caught but his fears were dispelled as Merry lowered his knife to the cords binding Frodo's wrists.
"We come to it at last," said Merry ebulliently. "Time to have rid of these bonds once and for all. You do not require them any more. You have learned self control, self restraint, and the beauty of obedience. Therein is true freedom! Therein is true peace! So you see that being bound is the same as not being bound. For you are now bound to me in spirit, no less than the bonds of rope and rag, Frodo. If I tell you to stay still, you will do it, whether bound or not. For you, there is no difference anymore. Now you can do with your own will what once had to be enforced with real cords. Oh, Frodo! I will not mourn the loss of these ropes!"
Merry slowly cut the cords, biting his lower lip in concentration as he did so. As the cords fell away, Merry snatched them up, handed them to Pippin, and bid him to have these consumed in the fire as well.
Merry kissed each of Frodo's damaged wrists, cleansed the blood from them, and placed them at Frodo's sides, from where they did not move. Pippin was forcefully reminded of the preparing of a corpse, but pushed that vision from his mind and instead concentrated on the gratifying sight of an unbound Frodo.
Merry stood up, considering his work, now lying pale, statuesque and motionless upon the bed, his chest rising and falling to a slow but steady rhythm, lips closed, arms down, feet straight. Frodo's skin was of an alabaster purity marred only by deep pink lines about the wrists and ankles, a black "B' healed crisp and lovely upon his hip, and bruises, purple edged like a sky just after sunset.
"Lovely," rhapsodized Merry. "Frodo," he continued. "Time to cleanse you. The water is warm and soothing and filled with healing herbs. It will comfort your body and sooth your mind. We are going to cleanse away all the traces of the old Frodo--so you can come into your new, happy life pristine and unsullied. We will make you not only clean but pure of heart."
Merry looked up at Pippin. "Frodo is ready, I think," he smiled, brushing an errant curl from Frodo's cold forehead. "Carefully now."
Frodo was eased into the fragrant water, still blindfolded. His heart beat faster as a memory grew-of another time he had been forced into water. His interrogation at the Brandywine surfaced in Frodo's mind, and he wondered now what he had done to upset Merry. An inarticulate guttural whine sounded from the back of Frodo's throat, though this time he did not fight, hoping to appease his tormenter. Merry, sensing Frodo's discomfort, continued to fuss and coo and caress his cousin as he placed Frodo's limp arms along the edges of the tub to hold his body upright, something Frodo seemed disinclined to do on his own.
Frodo's mind was in agony. He wondered what words Merry wanted, and finding none, used the same words he had used the week before at the river when questioned about the whereabouts of Gandalf. "I don't know!" Frodo cried.
These words brought terror to Pippin, as he well remembered Frodo uttering them at the Brandywine River before Merry submerged Frodo in the dark waters. Before Merry almost drowned him.
Merry turned for a moment to reach for a towel. He started rummaging through them, trying to select just the right size. Humming to himself, Merry spread several out on a small table while Pippin stood nearby, watching and waiting to see what else would have to be instantly burned in the kitchen hearth.
Meanwhile, unnoticed by either hobbit, Frodo slid down into the water with scarcely a splash, the water flowing over his head like the closing of a glass box.
It was so quiet and warm. He was warm all over now and his mind was so quiet and calm. Silence. The voice was blessedly silent and the only thing he could hear was the beating of his heart. His body had stopped breathing for some reason but that was all right. He was at peace. The same peace of another time, another place. Frodo stared deeply into the darkness of his mind, wondering if his parents might come back to him. He thought perhaps he could see them. Maybe. He hoped they would stay this time and that they would…
Finally, Merry turned to see nothing but the empty rim of the bathtub. He jumped and darted for it, reaching down inside for Frodo. To his great surprise, Frodo's hand moved up and pushed him weakly away. Merry's eyes grew huge in shock as he froze on the edge of the tub watching his cousin's peaceful face, still and serene beneath the rippling surface of the scented water. Could Frodo possibly prefer death to the wonderful life that awaited him? Merry couldn't fathom it, couldn't begin to understand. How…how…how could that be? How could he…how could he…how could…
"MERRY!" Pippin finally found the courage to defy his cousin. "He's going to drown!"
Merry looked up and stared at Pippin, shaking his head, his eyes unfocused, his voice a whisper. "I don't understand, I don't understand, Pip."
Pippin stared back at the senseless Merry and then at Frodo, now underwater for some time.
"Oh, by Eru, no!" Pippin shoved Merry aside and reached into the water, grabbing Frodo and pulling him firmly up into the scented air.
Merry caressed Frodo's wet face as his cousin started breathing again, quite without any fuss. He pushed Pippin's hands away and held Frodo to himself, cooing out his concern, the quiver in his voice belying his mask of calm. He was shocked to the depths of his soul that Frodo preferred death but he quickly shoved this event down into the deepening abyss of his conscience and let it be forgotten. Smiling now, Merry propped up Frodo's arms again, lifted a folded towel under his lolling head, and frantically sprinkled a second handful of rose petals upon the water for good measure.
Pippin's hands were wet and shaking but he thought it wise to stay back and not interrupt Merry's bizarre ministrations. He grasped up the bottle of wine Merry had set on a corner table, poured a glass, drank it down, then had a second, then a third, his feelings of sorrow and fear blunting with each sip. He slunk down against the wall between two candles and let the sound of Merry's voice lull him to sleep. The last sounds that Pippin heard before drifting off was of Merry singing a lullaby to Frodo. It was the special lullaby once sung by Frodo's mother.
Merry was very thorough, cleaning every inch of Frodo's skin, behind his ears, and beneath his nails where his clawing at the cellar dirt had caked them with soil. Merry paid special attention to Frodo's feet, which he rubbed in slow gentle motions, part washing and part massage. A cloth coated with mint and parsley was rubbed over Frodo's teeth. All the while, Frodo made not the slightest reaction, not even a reflex, to any of Merry's efforts.
"Frodo," said Merry kindly, taking Frodo's limp fingers in his own sturdy hands, "I'm going to wash your hair and face now. I will have to remove your blindfold for just a few minutes. Do not be afraid. I shall put it back on again when I am through. But I shall insist that you do not open your eyes when I do. It is not yet time. But soon, love, very soon."
Merry need not have worried, as Frodo was as unaware of the absence of the blindfold as he had been of its presence. As the cloth was removed, his long lashes stayed clothed in their sunken sockets. His Merry cleansed every crevice of Frodo's face with a warm and fragrant cloth before wetting Frodo's hair with water from a ladle. Even in his stupor, Pippin noticed how Frodo flinched when the water was poured over him. .
Merry poured a minty liquid upon his palms from a glass vial and rubbed it carefully into Frodo's dank curls.
"Careful now," said Merry as he lifted the ladle again and again until he was satisfied that his hair was rinsed. Merry then dabbed Frodo's eyes with a dry cloth.
"Stay now," said Merry. "Almost done. No looking, not until Merry tells you."
Frodo showed no indication of wanting or trying to look.
Merry fluffed out Frodo's dripping hair with a towel, and happy with his work, replaced the rough linen blindfold with a blue silken scarf that shimmered in the candlelight.
"Not alone," said Frodo randomly and fled back into his own mind.
* * *
"Pippin! Pippin, wake up!"
Pippin startled awake to find Merry standing above him with a towel.
"Help me get Frodo out. It is time to dry him and dress him, and then it is time to give him back his sight," said Merry with a smile. "But I will need your help. I have Frodo's new clothes set out in the adjoining room. Bring them here, and have a care not to wrinkle them, if you please."
The clothes had been laid carefully out upon the bed, perhaps set out for days in anticipation for the hobbit who would wear them. All new. All clean.
Frodo made no sounds as he was lifted from the water, wrapped in a towel, and set face down upon the tapestry-covered pillows. Merry cast a loving look at Frodo as he checked carefully over the weals, sprinkled them with rosemary water, and dabbed them off with a clean cloth.
"You are healing nicely," said Merry. "But I shall keep a cloth over these for now."
Merry rolled Frodo on his back very carefully, holding the cloth in place with one hand until Frodo lay face up. Merry examined the row of glass vials beside the tub and squinted at the amethyst, acid-etched surfaces, their contents spelled out in white gothic letters. Making his decision, he picked up the tallest one in the middle. He unstopperd the bottle, brought it up to his nose, and closing his eyes with pleasure, said, "Mmm. Peppermint." Leaning down to Frodo's ear, he added. "A little cold now but it will pass."
Merry poured liberal amounts of the sweet smelling oil over Frodo's skin as if he was anointing a sacrificial object. The droplets caught the candlelight and, as Merry gently rubbed the oil in, Frodo's skin glowed with a wet luminescence that made its alabaster sheen seem translucent, ethereal almost. Merry hummed out a melodious but solemn tune as he worked, noticing with satisfaction that the scent of peppermint mingled with the steam from the bath, infusing the air with a thick, fragrant moisture. Merry finished, and when he called out to Frodo, his voice was one of delirious joy.
"Frodo! Wake up, love! I shall give you back your clothes now, or rather, new clothes, for the clothes you wore before your transformation are but rags in my eyes and shall be burnt. They are no longer worthy of you. Here, Pippin has brought your new clothes, white and clean, for the savior of The Shire, the Lord of the Ring."
Pippin stood awkwardly over the two hobbits upon the floor and handed Merry the creamy linen trousers, soft as brushed velvet in Pippin's trembling hand, and the color of new milk. Merry pulled them easily over Frodo's hips, noting with some irritation that the trousers, once tailored for a trim but not over-trim Frodo, now hung loosely around Frodo's reduced waist.
"Up now," whispered Merry into Frodo's ear as he very carefully brought him into a sitting position to don his new shirt, a garment of the finest spun silk with buttons of pearl. Merry threaded Frodo's limp arms through the exquisitely pressed sleeves. On the front, in emerald green thread, was embroidered a cursive "B" -a mark in thread that mirrored the mark seared into his skin underneath his lovely trousers.
"What a lovely sight you are to behold, Frodo!" exclaimed Merry. "And we are not even done yet."
"Frodo," said Merry. "I will let you walk now, just a little at first. We shall walk together to a mirror I have set out just across the room. There I will restore your sight so that you may see the change in you! You may not even recognize yourself."
Merry stood, and taking Frodo's hands, encouraged his cousin to do the same. Frodo made no move at first. When he finally understood that he was expected to walk, he let Merry take the lead. His legs felt weak and insubstantial after being stretched out for days, but he followed Merry's lead the best he could. Suddenly, Merry brought him to a halt with a palm upon his chest.
"I've waited so long for this moment, Frodo," said Merry triumphantly. "I've waited so long to come to this point. We've both worked so hard, and we both have need to celebrate. But for now, Frodo, let me give you back your sight so that you may see the lovely thing you have become."
Merry began to undo the blindfold.
"Now Frodo, no peeking, not yet. Let Merry fix you up a bit."
As the cloth wafted to the floor, Pippin noticed that Frodo's eyes remained tightly shut.
Merry combed through Frodo's clean damp hair, and when he had stopped, turned Frodo to face the mirror, holding him up for support and in affection.
"Open your eyes, Frodo."
Still, Frodo did not move. Merry stood in front of him and traced his thumbs over Frodo's eyelids, and with slight pressure informed Frodo of his desire through touch.
Frodo's lids flew open. He blinked, his pupils eating up every last trace of blue.
Pippin stifled a scream. From the mirror, Pippin had a perfect view of the pale lifeless disks of Frodo's eyes, black and flat, with no animating light. The eyes of a corpse. Pippin stared for a few seconds into those vacant pits that had been Frodo's eyes, blinked stupidly, and fell into a dead faint.
Merry took no notice of Pippin, he was so deep in the thrall of his own creation looking so magnificent.
"Now what do you see? " asked Merry, standing behind Frodo, his fingers wrapped around Frodo's shoulders. "What do you see?" he repeated more emphatically.
Still Frodo did not speak. Merry stared into Frodo's eyes while unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt, perceiving nothing like recognition.
"Your mother would be so proud if she could see you now, Frodo! So proud! Let's take a look at her likeness again, Frodo. I think that would please you, and I want to please you."
The dullness of Frodo's eyes did not alter, nor did his pupils show any sign of constricting against the light. Merry's voice betrayed his concern but perhaps the picture of his mother in the locket would stimulate his memory and stoke his gratitude.
"Shall we have a look at your mother, Frodo? Would you like that?"
"Dark," mumbled Frodo, another attempted answer gone wrong.
"Yes," said Merry, more to himself. "That will be just the thing."
Merry reached his hand down Frodo's shirt along the chain that held the locket, among other things of importance. Walking his fingers slowly down along the chain, Merry first lit upon, not the locket, but cold smooth metal –the Ring. The touch sent a cold shiver pulsing through Merry, and a hot burst of awareness coursing through Frodo. A flame distant but strong immediately flashed up in Frodo's eyes and seemed to fly forward with such force that Merry feared it would reach out and burn him alive.
Frodo's pupils constricted, and for a brief second, focused with brutal intensity. His hands, moments ago limp and slack and hanging loose at the end of boneless arms, flew up to his chest like lightening and clutched fiercely and protectively.
"Ring."
Merry grinned with delight at Frodo's first coherent response but Frodo continued to stare at Merry, a challenge rising in his eyes for a moment with such intensity that Merry instinctively stepped back in wonder and fear. Frodo opened his mouth, and this time when his voice came, it came clear and cold as death.
"Mine."
TBC
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Note: One of my guest authors, Celandine G, posted one of her alternate chapters on ffnet under her own id and edited it down to what I thought was clearly an R rating. She wrote to ffnet admin to try and get feedback for what precisely was the difference between R and NC-17. But it got taken down with no notice. I am very angry, as people have continually asked for clearer guidelines, and it seems as though one complaint is enough to get something taken down. Please support Celandine G by reading and reviewing her other wonderful story-her first fan fiction, called "Prelude to Mordor
Some new recs!
"Prelude to Mordor" by Celandine G of course! This tale is about how Sam helps Frodo cope with the Ring. It is great Frodo angst. She helped me with this chapter-so you know she can write! Give yourself a treat and go read!
cpsings4him also has posted her first fic, "A Promise in the Dark" and it is a heart-rending version of what went through Sam's mind as he watched Frodo awaken in Rivendell. It has some great forshadowing of "The Choices of Master Samwise" –please gice Candy your support and read this great first fic!
Aratlithiel1 has updated her website, and it is absolutely breathtaking! If you want fics of the highest quality, I suggest you e-run, don't e-walk, to aratlithiel's webpage! (linked on her profile page!)
Iorhael has a continuation piece of Nasty Hobbitsess called "Aria e Memoria Breath and Memory." Here we get to see frodo's healing process. It is very touching! I am betaing the third chapter as you read. So see Frodo getting better now! She also have many other Frodo angst fics that you will like! Go lookie!
Finally, MBradford is just about (HINT!) ready to post the return of that sexy villain, Rushford Bramblethorn in "A Harvest of Ashes" appearing soon to ffnet near you! I already have a picture from it posted on my website of Frodo bound at Bramby's feet! What else would you expect from Bramblesexxxxy! LOL!
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To the reviewers!
Merry hunter – A RATM roleplaying game? How cool is that! Did you find a Pippin yet????
Aratlithiel- First, I must say once again how breathtaking your website is! I hope your holidays will not be too busy, and I will think about you when I am in your neck of the wood this Christmas! Many thanks!!
Celandine-thank you so much for your feedback, your ideas, and your proofing that made my beta's job very much easier! And now you are a fanfic writer too! GRRRRRR for your chapter getting removed. GRRRRRRRRR!!!! I could not have gotten this out so soon without your help!!
Heartofa hobbit: "reading ff.net is my reward after hours of school work. If reading this site is my reward, then finding a new chapter of your story is like finding the caramel in a box of chocolates!reading ff.net is my reward after hours of school work. If reading this site is my reward, then finding a new chapter of your story is like finding the caramel in a box of chocolates!"
AWWWW! That means so much to me, and comments like that keep me writing! A psychological thriller? Really? High praise indeed! Many thanks!
Frodo Baggins 1982-" I like Merry constantly looking at the Ring and trying to convince himself he is doing what he had to do. He is conflicted terribly and once he sees what he has truly done to Frodo, he will never forgive himself. I know you said you were going to heal Frodo and Merry both, but I would continue to suggest that you make it a LONG while before Merry is forgiven."
Don't worry, Frodo! It will be a long road, and Merry will have some major trauma to go through himself on the road to redemption. I hope you liked the conflicted Merry here, and you may notice that Merry is showing the first signs of "addiction" to the ring, but will express itself in his inability to stay away from Frodo or to leave him alone. I am sorry Pippin seemed weak here, but he will have some major scenes in the next few chapters, as Sam's words will sink in. In this chapter he is very upset at both the state of Frodo AND Merry. I appreciate your helpful comments and will implement them when I revise!
CPsings4him: "I was also very glad to see Merry's rage abate and to see him sort of struggling with it and the things it (his rage) had caused him to do. I think he scared even himself! He recognized that HE was NOT in CONROL! This is a tiny little seed of doubt that I think will grow and flourish in future chapters until it comes to it's full, hideous bloom. He's still under there as well...and the real Merry is still able to feel compassion and sympathy...that is good news for the future of this story" Many thanks! I think you really hit the nail on the head about the end of frodo's breaking being the beginning of the end of Evil Merry. He is breaking, and he is breaking because he has a conscience! Hope you like this chapter and thank you for your wonderful feedback!
Unhobbity Hobbit-your review makes me think you are reading my mind! I do hope you like the way that Merry is starting to fall apart. And, yes, sam will notice.
Rebecca Starflower-You did find one of the lines! But there is another one that I will reveal too1 -I do hope you like this chapter!
Endymion- Thank you! But you only found one quote! There is another one too! He heh! Enjoy the continued angst! Always a pleasure to see what quotes you will pick out!
Chloe: "Reading the books, I've often thought that the true evil of the Ring is that it strips those under its influence of their empathy. Thus the baser parts of ourselves--greed, lust for power, envy, murderous rage, etc.--can come out unchecked, which ultimately leaves us vulnerable to being enslaved by greater evil."
Wow-Chloe, I think you are right. You said it better than I could! There is some major Pippin angst coming up next chapter too, so I hope you will like it. I also am thinking of an alternate version of my next chapter with a scene you might like to write. Send me an email if you want to find out more! (it is an M/P scene). Well, your comment was so nice, I indeed cranked this out quickly. And I wanted you to know that your review a while back of "food for the soul" gave me the idea for the title to this one- Lustration- a word that had to look up, but one tht fit so perfectly with this. So a BIG thank you! I will have you knoe that my hit count everywhere that has the alternate chapters doubled from normal, so even if you are not getting reviews, people are reading, and, apparently, re-reading ;)
Iorhael-I am working on the next chapter of Aria-which is just wonderful! Thank you so much for your comments! I want you to know that your bath scene is what inspired this one-and the "Open your eyes" line is utterly yours!
Cailen- No, merry is not really evil, it is the Ring, and I hope it showed here that he is, on some levels, concerned that he has gone too far. But the Ring keeps convincing him that he is doing the right thing by the Shire and by Frodo.
Elizabeth- Great to see you back! I hope I did not make you cry! I won't hurt Frodo too bad, and he will heal next part. But for now he is hiding in his mind.
Trust No One- Oh-the test was just for Frodo to stay still the entire night despite being largely unbound (except for his wrists) and for having a knfe by his side. Merry wanted to make sure the Frodo is "his" before he unties him.
MBradford- I cannot wait for your fic! When will it appear so that I may plug it????? More POVs this chapter!
Anuviel – Thank you! I DID update soon, didn't I?
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