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"You need me, Merry," said Sam, his eyes darkening as he spoke. "It kills you to see it, but you do."
Chapter 47: Leverage
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Sam was still reeling from his discovery as he sat quietly in his chair waiting for Merry to finish feeding Frodo.
Merry can no longer bring himself to hurt Frodo.
Of that, Samwise was now sure. Just minutes ago, Merry had raised his hand to strike Frodo, as he had done dozens of times but it hadn't happened. And now he was sitting beside his cousin, arm wrapped protectively around him, cosseting him with soft words, caresses, and small spoonfuls of apple tart. Something elemental had changed in Frodo since Merry had brought him out of the cellar but something had changed in Merry too. Sam now bent his mind to untwisting the mystery.
Merry spoke to Frodo as if Frodo could hear him, and answered Frodo as if Frodo had spoken. Yet Merry seemed convinced of his special bond with Frodo despite all evidence to the contrary. Merry was many things but he was not stupid. He might not even be mad. Sam's mind worked harder.
The Ring
The answer came from out of nowhere. Surely the Ring had turned Merry into a being capable of tremendous cruelty. Could it now be "speaking" to him directly?
'Well now,' thought Sam, 'something is talking to him but it ain't Mr. Frodo.' And it could just as well be all in his head …but…
Sam could not push the idea from his mind. He remembered an old concern when he was a lad. He had often heard Mr. Bilbo speaking to something in his pocket the year before he left to stay with the elves. He'd not told his gaffer, then too deaf to hear such whispers for himself. But Sam had heard them as he'd worked about the house and garden, unnoticed by the elder Baggins in the thrall of…
Of the Ring.
Sam shivered as the realization dawned on him. And now there was Merry--talking to it too? True, he had not taken possession of the Ring—yet. But he had possession of Frodo and that seemed close enough.
'To Merry,' thought Samwise, 'Frodo is the Ring. They are one.'
A river of dread flowed into Sam's gut as the truth became clearer and clearer. It was only a matter of time before the Ring would call to Merry, just as it had called to Bilbo. And Merry had only to reach out and take it—then woe to the world!
'Sam Gamgee,' thought Sam Gamgee, 'you know what you gotta do, so you might as well screw yourself up to do it! Merry won't hurt Frodo but Frodo can't bear It no more, not as he is, poor master!'
It wasn't long before another voice, sounding uncannily like his gaffer, spoke: 'But you made a promise not to leave him!'
This was answered by a smaller voice, filled with sorrow and remorse: 'Or what is left of him.' But how could Gildor Inglorian have predicted this? 'No, it is up to you yourself, Master Gamgee,' thought Sam, 'there ain't nobody else this time to tell you what to do or how to decide. You are now a counsel of one. The worstest job in all of Middle Earth,' thought Sam. Well, besides that of Ringbearer. And Sam gulped, understanding now how this first terrible decision might lead to other equally awful ones.
"Sam?"
Merry's voice.
Sam looked up into Merry's benevolent face, shocked to discover that during his reverie, the meal had ended and Frodo and Pippin were no longer at the table.
"Sam, have you had your fill?"
Sam looked down at his empty plate.
"Yea," he answered, and turning his head from side to side, searched for the whereabouts of his companions.
"Frodo and Pippin are in the parlor," said Merry, smiling. "We are going to have a nice family time by the fire, enjoy some tea, and talk--just like old times."
Sam bit his tongue. A comatose Frodo and a terrified Pippin bore little resemblance to any "old times" that Sam recalled.
"I know these past few weeks have been difficult for you, Sam. But I want to start bringing you into the family fold, such as it is. I know it is important to Frodo, and what makes Frodo happy will make me happy. Understand?"
Sam wanted time with Frodo more than anything. Yes, he could be cooperative to this end. He needed Merry to trust him, even if it hurt.
"Are you asking me to sit with the lot of you then?" asked Sam quietly. "I've a mind to if you'd allow it."
"I'd not only allow it," answered Merry. "I'd welcome it."
Sam nodded.
"Of course," said Merry with a warning look, "we still have the issue of trust hanging between us. I will have you join us but with the small discourtesy of having your hands bound, though in front if it would be more comfortable.
Sam swallowed a curse and nodded again.
Merry smiled with delight and called for Pippin, who entered on cue as if waiting for the summons.
"Cut Sam loose, Pip. He has agreed to join us."
Pippin knelt down and cut the cords attaching Sam to the chair, patting Sam's ankles in surreptitious support as the rope fell. Merry took care of the cords binding Sam's waist to the chair with his knife.
"Do not move yet, Sam," Merry ordered, in a voice all the more menacing for its quiet tenor. As if in confirmation, he moved his blade very close to Sam's neck, continuing softly. "Stand now, Sam, very slowly. I would hate to cut you."
Sam stood, all the while feeling the touch of cold steel upon his neck, and knowing the blade would indeed plunge down if his action meted it.
Put your hands behind your back as we walk, Sam," said Merry, but not unkindly this time. "I shall not bind you yet but I will cut you if you move your hands. And no riling Frodo up or you shall regret it. He is in a delicate state. Do we understand each other?"
Perfectly," muttered Sam as he clasped his warm hands together behind him, set his jaw, and kept his mind focused on Frodo.
Merry picked up a used piece of rope and stepped by Sam's side, moving the point of his knife to the small of Sam's back. He dug it in sharply as if to make his point--literally this time--before motioning Pippin to flank Sam's other side.
"Let us go," Merry said. "Frodo does not like to be left alone."
* * *
Frodo had been posed in the armchair, stock still, as if sitting for a portrait. The deep red upholstery accentuated the pallor of his face as his glassy eyes pointed in the general direction of the fire. A steaming cup of tea sat by his side on a small table, although clearly Frodo had not touched it. His hands were folded neatly in his lap.
Merry and Pippin stood Sam like a prize in front of Frodo, blocking his view of the dancing flames.
"We've brought Sam to join us, Frodo," said Merry brightly, exhibiting Sam with a flourish of his hand.
Frodo did not raise his eyes.
Sam felt pressure on his shoulders and took this as a cue to sit down in the chair behind him. Merry knelt before Sam, rope in hand, turning his head up to face him. "As we agreed."
Sam gave an impassive nod--his true focus upon the shell of his master. Merry handed Pippin his knife, drew up the rope and began to wrap it around Sam's wrists. Suddenly, a light came into Frodo's eyes as they widened with fear. His breathing grew hard, fast, and erratic, his utterly pale face drained of even more color, and his once-placid hands beginning to flail wildly, as if striking out against some unseen foe.
Pippin ran up beside Sam, his eyes huge.
"Frodo!" Sam cried. Merry snapped his head around to see Frodo in a bad state. He turned back to Sam.
"What did you do?" asked Merry. "What did you do to upset him?"
Sam shook his head.
"Nothing, Mer!" cried Pippin. "Sam did nothing! But something is scaring Frodo!"
"Frodo!" said Merry. "Frodo! Calm down! Your Merry will be right with you!"
Merry worked on the knot with rushed fingers but this seemed to upset Frodo all the more.
Frodo's dilated pupils had narrowed and actually focused, bolted now upon the rope around Sam's wrists. His eyes teared up, wild with terror, and roved across the length of cord, his hands striking out so violently that Merry feared he would fall out of the chair. He finished the knot, stood, and gathered Frodo in his arms, sitting squashed in the large chair with his cousin, rocking and cooing, but to no avail.
Frodo's eyes bulged out, his breathing became ragged and he began to tremble, then outright shake, as the last bit of color drained from his face.
Merry grasped Frodo's flailing hands as he patted his hair but this only stoked the fires of Frodo's panic – a visceral terror that shook him to the core. He cried out but with no discernable words–and clawed madly at the arms that held him.
"Love! Love!" cried Merry. "What is it? Tell your Merry! He'll make it better!"
"It's the ropes, I think," said Sam softly, staring at Frodo with concern. "He can't abide the sight of 'em."
"Nonsense," said Merry breathlessly. "He's not been tied of late, nor will he be. He knows this!"
Frodo cried out again, nearly pulling the two of them out of the chair with his flailing. Merry was not in control, and his face contorted with a growing panic over his precious charge.
"Calm, Frodo!" cried Merry. "Calm. You are not to be tied."
"It don't matter if he thinks he is to be tied or no," said Sam. "He can't abide the sight of ropes no how. Cut me loose and see."
"No!" screamed Merry, more in exasperation than in anger as he tried to hold on to Frodo.
Sam scowled, then held his bound hands out to Frodo's eyeline. Frodo responded with an unearthly howl that reached a horrible crescendo before descending into desperate hyperventilating.
"Need more proof?" asked Sam.
Pippin for one did not, and found his thin fingers tightening around the knife handle waiting for the slightest excuse to cut Sam's bonds.
"Put your hands down, Sam!" cried Merry. "You're upsetting him!"
"Not me!" answered Sam patiently. "The ropes! Remove the ropes and he'll calm."
"So you can rile him more!" yelled Merry above Frodo's cries. "I think not!" And turning to Frodo, he cried, "Frodo, love--please be still!"
"It's the ropes, I tell you!" Sam didn't bother to hide his exasperation this time. And to prove his point, he held up his bound hands once more, earning him another howl and convulsive shake from Frodo.
"Stop it, Sam!" cried Merry.
"Cut me loose and he'll quiet!"
"I will not—" cried Merry, but then seeing Frodo bucking as if stabbed and screeching out more terror, Merry's furious expression melted and he sighed. "I will not—for more than a few minutes. For Frodo." He held on to his cousin tightly and whispered in his ear. "Quiet now, love, your Merry will do what you want. Whatever you want Frodo-dear, I only want you to be happy."
Merry motioned for Pippin to cut the ropes. Pippin sprang up as fast as he was able and sawed at them with barely concealed enthusiasm. Frodo's eyes followed the ropes as they dropped. Still he cried.
"I'll not move," said Sam calmly, "but Pippin, you need to get the cords out of his view."
Merry was still struggling with Frodo but he wouldn't let that one pass. "Pippin," he cried out, "don't you move. I give the orders around here."
Sam bit his tongue, fighting back all the acrimony in his heart, but he kept silent.
Finally, as Merry continued to struggle with his charge, he shouted across to his cousin with exasperation. "Pippin, well, just get those damn things out of here. Burn them…DO IT!"
Pippin did as he was bid, casting the ropes into the fire and watching Frodo's screams subside as the flames consumed them. Merry held Frodo but Frodo's breathing refused to settle and it seemed likely he would pass out.
"Merry's here. All is well. Merry's here," cooed Merry.
Very slowly, Sam lifted his unbound hands to his master.
"Mr. Frodo," he said softly, "Frodo, calm down, me dear. Your Sam is here. See, no ropes. Now quiet, me love."
Frodo's breathing slowed as if some magic had been poured down upon him. Merry loosened his grip on Frodo ever so slightly.
"We're together, Frodo," said Sam. "And I'll take care of you."
Frodo's breathing slowed even more at the sound of Sam's voice and his hands fell down to his sides. Still, his whole body continued to tremble uncontrollably.
"Keep talking," ordered Merry. "Tell him how much we love him."
"Frodo--there's naught to fear," Sam said, as if talking to a child; then, perceiving an opportunity, continued. "Your Sam won't let no harm come to you."
Sam could not help but relish his newfound power. He could calm Frodo where Merry had so obviously failed. Emboldened, he reached out his hands toward his master. "Your Sam will keep you safe, my dear."
Merry stood quickly, leaving his cousin alone in the chair. He purposefully blocked Frodo's view of Sam and grasped the gardener's wrists, pushing them down.
"That's enough!" said Merry, grabbing the knife from Pippin. "No touching!" Merry straightened up and moved aside as he turned to watch Frodo's reaction.
Frodo's breathing went ragged again, and to Sam's infinite delight, he raised his own hands out to him, tears falling down his face from eyes that again refused to focus.
* * *
Frodo had seen nothing but the rope.
He had sat in relative comfort by the fire, his mind in link with the voice. It was the sweet, high, tingling voice inside which bid him to do this one small thing in exchange for happiness…and something else.
Power
But what use was power when the world was such a lonely and desolate place--full of hurt, darkness, and the other voice. The voice of pain.
Because with power, he won't hurt you again.
Though the soft words seemed loving, he wasn't sure. He still feared the voices. He had been hurt so many times.
Don't let his kind words fool you. He won't let you touch It. Because… Because he wants It for himself.
What would you have me do?
Put it on.
Can't. Hands stop me.
Put It on. Put it on. It's yours.
It hurts me.
No. He hurts you.
He hurts me because of It.
Bilbo gave It to you. To have. To keep. To claim. It is precious to you.
Bilbo is gone. He left me alone with It.
He abandoned you.
Perhaps.
Are you lonely?
Yes.
What do you desire?
Frodo thought hard.
I've a job to do.
That is no wish. That is a responsibility. What do you want? Something special just for Frodo.
I should like to see Sam.
I can get him for you.
But that is for Merry to decide.
Trust ME. He will bind you. He will bury you alive again. He won't give you Sam.
I shall obey Merry.
He shall bind you. I shall clear your sight. What do you see?
Rope!
He shall bind you.
ROPE!
He shall bury you.
No! I cannot bear it! Not again!
Trust in me then. I shall give you Sam.
I am afraid.
Open your ears. What do you hear?
A familiar voice. Sam. Oh, Sam.
My gift.
* * *
Merry did not allow Sam to touch Frodo. Instead, he stood at the back of Frodo's chair, motioning for Sam to keep speaking until Frodo calmed down. It took a number of minutes before Frodo went still again and turned his eyes back to the fire, seeming neither soothed nor upset. And once again he had no outward vision but the fire. Yet none in the room could miss the fact that Frodo had come undone, and that Samwise had been the only one to quiet his inner demons. To Sam, this knowledge tasted like pure sunshine; to Merry, it was a bitter draught.
The cadence of Frodo's breathing went back to its very slow pace as Merry inched forward, leaned over the top of Frodo's chair, and placed gentle hands protectively upon his cousin's rigid shoulders, squeezing them with affection.
"There, there, Frodo," said Merry, his own breathing not yet back to normal. "See how Merry brings you your friends, dearest?" And throwing a significant look up to Sam, added, "But Sam is very tired and must return to his room now."
Sam stared daggers at Merry, who returned them in kind. Merry brandished his knife behind Frodo's back, where Frodo could not see, and stepped over behind Sam.
"Stand up, Sam," whispered Merry, between clenched teeth. "And do not make this unpleasant. Put your hands behind your back."
Sam did so while staring Frodo straight in the eyes.
"I've got to GO now, Frodo," said Sam, his voice provocatively harsh. "I'm going to leave you ALONE with Merry now."
Frodo's reaction was immediate. Thin composure torn to shreds, he stood on his own, flailing his arms out toward Sam and screeching pitifully.
Sam stared in horror as his weakened master immediately collapsed upon the floor in front of him.
Merry gasped and rushed to Frodo's side. He gave Sam a dark look and mouthed the words "bind him" to Pippin. Then he tenderly bent down and picked his cousin up off the floor, resetting a trembling Frodo back upon his chair. Merry kissed his cheek softly and whispered something in his ear but Frodo continued to whimper and cry without ceasing.
Sam cringed as he felt the ropes, now out of Frodo's sight, coiling tightly about his wrists.
"Pippin, stay with your cousin," ordered Merry as he grabbed Sam's arm. He turned to Frodo, his voice changing to a quieter but nonetheless harried one. "I'll be back in just a moment, love," said Merry above Frodo's agonized cries. "Now I want you to be quiet, Frodo." He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips like a benevolent parent patiently admonishing a beloved child.
Frodo continued to cry and paw at the air, though his eyes did not seem to see the object of their desire. Without another word Merry jabbed the knife into Sam's neck harder than was necessary as he yanked him, stumbling and slipping back to his room. Once at the door, he pushed him in without undoing his hands, and locked it fast before running down the hall back toward the sound of Frodo's screams now intermingled with Pippin's.
Sam plopped down on his bed flush with victory and sighed.
"He'll be back."
* * *
Pippin had watched the newest disintegration of Frodo with horror, completely at a loss for an appropriate action. The moment Sam had been escorted from the room, Frodo had flung himself upon the ground in a fit, writhing, crawling, crying, screaming, inconsolable. Pippin tried to soothe Frodo but it was no use and he quickly called for Merry.
Pippin heard Merry's hurried footsteps rushing down the hall as he held Frodo, writhing and bucking with unnatural force. He turned up his eyes the moment Merry skidded into the room.
"We can't leave him like this!" cried Merry in a panic.
Merry knelt and yanked Frodo from Pippin's arms, now holding the thrashing figure close to his own chest. He hummed, whispered little snatches of nonsense, stroked and gentled, but to no avail. The sound of Merry's voice seemed to agitate him all the more.
"It's not working!" screamed Pippin. "Go back and get--"
"NO!" cried Merry breathlessly. "Get me the Valarian tea. Now!"
Pippin scampered to the kitchen but came back empty handed a few minutes later.
"You've nothing but scraps and dust," said Pippin. "You used the last." Pippin wanted to add "on me" but refrained.
Merry continued to hold the flailing figure with a desperate grip but it was not going well and it was clear that Frodo, in this state, would outlast both his cousins. Pippin watched in horror as Merry's eyes drifted over to a stray piece of rope on the floor and lingered there too long.
"No!" cried Pippin. "You promised!"
"What would you have me do?" said Merry in desperation. "Tell me!" he cried louder, holding Frodo's wrists together with all the strength he could muster, his hands shaking with the exertion. "But be aware, my little Cousin, that Frodo will hurt himself if this keeps up, and I won't have it!"
"Sam could calm him!"
"This is happening because of Sam!" exclaimed Merry between heaving breaths.
"But he can calm him and we can't!" cried Pippin. "We tried and failed." Pippin slid over beside his cousins, placed his warm hands softly over Merry's straining ones, lowered his eyes in supplication, and choked out, "Please, Mer!"
A familiar dark look flowed across Merry's face and Pippin sat still, afraid even to breathe for fear of unlocking the rage imprisoned behind those eyes. But Merry ignored Pippin, making a noise deep in his throat that sounded almost like a growl. Without a word, Merry set his flailing burden upon the ground and stood--solid, rock-like, and terrifying. Amid Frodo's screams, he stomped out of the room, his angry footsteps shaking the very floorboards of the smial.
Pippin reached for Frodo's trembling hands with his own fingers, shaking just as hard. And terror once again rose up in his throat, the numbing fear of death and insanity that he had felt so recently in the cellar.
For Pippin knew that Merry had gone to get Sam, and Pippin knew that it killed him to do so.
* * *
Sam's door slammed open, and at once he knew.
"Get up."
Merry leaned over Sam, grasped him by the shirtfront and pulled him up.
"Get up, I said!" ordered Merry. "Now!"
His hands still bound behind his back, Sam stood and looked straight at Merry, trying his best to hide the feeling of triumph bubbling to his surface.
"Move," Merry ordered.
Sam bit his lip in hopeful anticipation as he saw he was being led to the parlor. He heard screams.
Frodo.
In spite of Pippin's soothing hands, Frodo was writhing on the floor, kicking and screaming, shaking violently--eyes wide and terrified, clearly distraught beyond reason. Merry approached Frodo and watched with dismay as Frodo crabbed back still crying out, still flailing his arms as if to ward off a blow.
"I've brought you Sam, Frodo," said Merry as his eyes filled with tears.
"Go to him," ground out Merry into Sam's ear as if the order pained him to distraction.
Sam felt his wrist bonds being cut.
"Calm him. Do what you must but calm my Frodo down!"
Sam did not hesitate. He stumbled over to his stricken master, fell upon his knees, and gathered Frodo up in his arms.
"Frodo," cried Sam, his eyes tearing up, his heart breaking with joy. How many times had he longed to do this, watching his poor master endure so much suffering while he remained bound and helpless. "It's me, it's me. I've come back at last! Oh, me love, please be still."
The sound of the familiar voice was like rain on fire to Frodo's unhinged state. He immediately stopped flailing, curled himself up in a fetal ball, and went totally silent and still. Sam wept and drew the limp hobbit into a long awaited embrace.
"I'm here, Mr. Frodo. Your Sam is finally here."
* * *
Sam had stitched Frodo together with his soothing words, though Frodo responded only by calming down, not by any purposeful reaction. He stilled, went quiet, and his eyes turned back toward the comforting fire. Merry made some ceremony of positioning Frodo back into his chair, having Sam sit across from him and inviting Pippin over to enjoy the family time, just as Merry had originally planned. Merry made clear that Sam was only to speak when Merry prompted him, and only on such topics as flowers and foods, topics that might sooth our Frodo's frazzled nerves and bring back safe memories.
As the evening progressed, Sam played his part to perfection, chatting calmly with Frodo about each of the allowed topics and trying to find any glimmer of understanding within his master's lusterless eyes. But Pippin wanted to scream, to crawl out of his skin, to disappear out of sight or memory of this travesty of a celebration. Merry, sensing Pippin's unease, leaned up beside him and drew him into a gentle one-armed embrace.
"This is hard, I know, love," he whispered in Pippin's ear. "But it is all for the best."
In spite of Merry's words, Pippin felt nothing but overwhelming relief when at last Merry bade him tend to the dishes while he helped Frodo back to his room. "Frodo," Merry said, "wanted to lie down on his bed and look into the fire for a spell." And for once Pippin had no problem believing him.
* * *
Would you like an ale, Samwise?"
Merry stood quietly in the doorway of Sam's room. The room was dark save the light of several sputtering candles. Sam had sat himself at his small table as the sounds of yells and struggles continued, waiting for this very moment. Sam tore his eyes up from the grain of the small table to face his jailer. He smirked a little despite his heartbreak, knowing that Merry's eyes would not have had time to adjust to the dim light.
He needs me, thought Sam with no small amount of satisfaction. And he knows that I know it.
"I would like an ale," said Sam pleasantly. "And a pipe, with Longbottom leaf. And more candles as it is too dark and dreary in here for my tastes. And I want to see Frodo again. And I don't wish to be bound and stored away like a spare mattress for guests that never come."
"I can help you with the first three," said Merry. "And perhaps the last two, if you'll cooperate."
Sam nodded and raised his eyebrows.
"Ah, well, yes…let me get your drink and smoke," said Merry as he stepped toward the hallway. "And then we shall speak."
Merry left the room, clicking the lock behind him.
Sam took several long breaths, steadying his mind and preparing to wield his newfound bargaining power to the greatest extent possible. Sam could not ask too much of Merry. Nor could he ask too little and risk Merry's suspicion. With a brain quite unused to manipulation or scheming, the simple Hobbiton gardener steeled his nerve, narrowed his eyes, and widened his mind to the possibilities. What he needed first was time alone with Frodo, and from there, the strength and cleverness to craft a plan.
Merry returned in minutes, a frothy mug of ale in one hand, a smoking pipe packed tight with weed in the other. He set the ale on the table with a flourish, handed Sam the pipe, drew out three candles from his pocket, and after setting them about the room and setting them alight, Merry sat himself down facing his family's biggest problem child.
Sam stared into the eyes of the other hobbit, trying to siphon off some of the cleverness and deception that Merry had used so adroitly. Frodo's only hope was for him to beat the master at his own game of cunning. Samwise Gamgee took a deep breath as a primitive plan began to form, slowly and twistingly in his mind. He waited patiently for the other hobbit to speak, reveling in how much this conversation seemed to pain him.
"Sam," said Merry after an awkward pause. "Frodo needs your help."
Sam looked Merry dead in the eyes, took a cleansing drag on his pipe, and exhaled straight into Merry's face.
"I know."
A venomous cloud passed over Merry's countenance then faded.
"Frodo is my primary concern," said Merry, now putting his own pipe between his teeth. Merry gripped his pipe with studied ease, though Sam noticed that his hand shook as he did so.
"That's one of the few things we have in common," answered Sam levelly.
"So you will help him then?" asked Merry.
"I suppose I could, yes," said Sam. "If you asks nice."
"I am," spat Merry as his mask of civility momentarily fell away, "asking nicely."
Sam smiled sadly and knowingly, realizing at once that this victory would bring him no joy.
"It hurts, don't it?" asked Sam, his eyes now glistening and wet.
"What hurts?"
"It hurts to see the one you love broken to pieces right before your eyes and yet just out of your reach."
Merry was silent. His internal voice had not yet decided whether to be angry, empathetic, or sad. When Merry at last replied, his voice was surprisingly gentle.
"What is it you want from me, Sam?"
Sam slammed his fist against the table with alarming force, causing the mug of ale to totter from side to side, and the ale to slosh up against its edges as if roiled by a miniature tempest.
"I want my Frodo BACK!" The force of Sam's words reverberated about the small room. Fear sparked in Merry's eyes as he leaned into the back of his chair and fingered the knife on his belt. He did not speak until the last of the echoes had died down.
"Frodo never left you, Sam," answered Merry, disarmingly calm. "It is you who abandoned him and his mission. Frodo and his destiny are one, Sam. You betray him when you try to cleave him in two, when you confuse and confound him. He cannot always be torn in twain, Sam, if he is to be happy and whole for the remainder of his days. He is the Ringbearer and you cannot change that, however your simple heart and simple mind may desire it.
"You wish him happy, as do I. But you have to think of Frodo, Sam! No one asks to be a people's savior. It is something appointed, not sought. It is usually thankless and always hard. Frodo was appointed by fate to save the Shire with his gift. I was appointed to prepare him and to aid him. You, Sam, have a role in this as well, though I deem you are reluctant to fulfill it. Frodo needs you to soothe him now, to bring him what comfort can be had in this long, perilous road."
"If I'm to help Frodo on this road," snarled Sam, "then why will you not let us get on it?"
"The perilous road," answered Merry sternly, "will come soon enough! I do not know when but time is short. Frodo must be brought back to himself as soon as may be and to this end, he needs us both. He needs all we can give and before his path closes in on us, he must be made ready."
"Ready for what?" asked Sam. "What are you hiding?"
"I am hiding nothing that you need know!" snapped Merry. "What you need to know is that Frodo requires our help, you as his aide and I as his guide until he can handle this all on his own!"
"His guide?" snorted Sam derisively. "Frodo fears you."
"When we speak together," explained Merry, "he is obedient, respectful, and thankful-- not afraid. Frodo loves me."
"Then why can't you quiet him? Why does he jump outta his skin at your touch? Why does he cry?"
"Frodo is fragile now," answered Merry. "He has no control over his emotions, he told me as much. And that scares him. He asked for you, Sam. He wants you to stop rebelling against fate and help him now. Frodo wants you, and under my care, Frodo shall get what he wants!"
"And how am I to be of use trussed up like a ham each time I'm with him?" barked Sam spitefully and without thinking. "He don't like the ropes! Even you could see that!"
"I have a solution for that, Sam. It isn't perfect, but if you'll endure it, I'll let you be with Frodo as often as he wishes and without the distressing ropes. What say you?"
Sam raised an eyebrow as his mind screamed out its suspicions but he brought his emotions into check using all the energy he had.
"What must I do, then?" he asked.
"Permit me to blindfold you a moment and I shall explain," answered Merry.
Sam's eyes narrowed.
"For my own safety only, Sam," continued Merry. "Frodo loves you but he warned me that you are still dangerous. If you'll endure this small discourtesy, you may see him again today. I will let you see him alone – no ropes, no gags, no guard."
This offer was too good to refuse and the look in Merry's eyes told Sam that Merry was being truthful. He bit his lip to the point of drawing blood then nodded.
"I shan't fight it. But promises is promises."
Merry smiled, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and drawing it over Sam's eyes. Sam sat silently, waiting for…something.
Merry's footsteps retreated toward the door, then returned in seconds, his steps heavy as if he bore something of considerable weight. Before Sam had time to contemplate the possibilities of this observation, he felt cold metal close around his ankle and the snick of a lock.
Sam ripped off his blindfold and stared aghast at his foot. A loop of iron had been fastened around his ankle and shut tight with a padlock. A long chain, thin but strong, extended from the shackle to what was obviously a rather heavy round ball of solid iron, resting against the door. Sam sucked in his breath and glared at Merry.
"What in Middle Earth?" cried Sam, nearly shrill. "What is this? This ain't Shire make! Where did you even get such things?"
Merry backed up against the opposite wall, waiting for Sam to calm, and knowing he was well beyond the point at which the chain would pull taut.
"You are right," said Merry softly, "it is not of the Shire. But where I got it is not your concern. All you need know is that this small discomfort is your ticket to Frodo. No more ropes to upset him, no more binds to hold you in place, yet I will have no more fears of you running off either."
Merry smiled, not disguising a bit of mirth in his expression. "At least, not very quickly." He fought to keep from grinning openly at the gardener. "Now Sam. It won't be so bad. You have half a dozen feet of slack, an improvement over staying tied to a chair or locked in your room, I think. What's more, you may now be trusted to spend time with Frodo as he wishes or to calm him when it is needed, as it is now."
Sam seethed and roiled inside. He was furious, but mainly at himself for letting this happen, for letting himself be so restrained--so close to what might have been an opportunity.
Sam Gamgee--you fool! How could you let this happen? This is Sam Gamgee all over!
Then Sam remembered that he was not without power. He still had one card to play – one very important card. He crossed his arms in front of him, set his jaw, and spoke in the most imperious voice he could muster.
"I have mulled over your offer," said Sam. "And I shan't help you. Not now."
Merry blanched and he dashed over to the table again.
"Surely you wish to visit Frodo?" said Merry, an edge of uncertainty creeping into his voice.
"Do I now?" raged Sam. "P'rhaps I do, P'raphs I don't. And what would you have to say if I didn't?"
"You must!" Merry voice screeched.
"Must I then?" chased Sam. "Why? Because you said so? You can't force me to sooth him if I don't have a mind to."
"You will," said Merry, "because you love him."
Sam grinned wide. It wasn't a happy grin but the grin of one who knows when his next words will sting a hated adversary.
"You need me," said Sam.
"Frodo needs you," said Merry with wavering firmness. "Frodo."
"No," said Sam, his eyes darkening as he spoke. "You do. You need me, Merry, and it kills you to see it, but you do."
Merry's eyes glinted, and Sam could feel the urge to strike rising in Merry. No. Not this time.
"I have a proposition for you," said Sam, seating himself and tenting his fingers in front of him. "I will help you with Frodo if you admit that you need me."
"Rot!" screamed Merry, clearly livid. "Can you think of no one but yourself?"
"Say it," repeated Sam. "Or next time Frodo has a fit, I won't help and you'll watch Frodo go wild and cry out for hours and pull back from your touch even more than he already has!
"You would not want to do that to Frodo," said Merry, angry but pleading.
"No," cried Sam. "But I would want to do it TO YOU!"
Sam stood up abruptly, the chains rattling ominously as he did.
"Say it, damn you! Say, I need your help, Sam. Say it because you damn well need me to manage Frodo. For all your big plans, you need this simple, little gardener."
Sam lurched across the table. Merry shrunk back.
"Say it, and you shall have my help!"
Merry breathed hard, a cold flame rising in his eyes. Yet, on a rational level, he realized that
Sam's words were infuriatingly true. Merry took a steadying breath.
"I would like--"
Sam slammed his fist down so hard he toppled his ale.
"Need!"
Merry mastered his anger as the chink of the rolling ceramic mug and the dripping of ale filled the long silence.
"I need your help, Sam," Merry blurted out before falling into his chair as if exhausted.
Sam sunk back into his chair with a self-satisfied smile that lit the room.
"Now that weren't so hard, was it…Mer?"
Merry stood and gave Sam a warning look. Sam returned it as aptly as if he were a mirror.
"I shall see Frodo later tonight and every day after that, or I shan't help when I'm needed."
Merry said nothing as he stomped out of the room, diminished now.
"And before you go too far," added Sam provocatively, "I'll need a refill on my ale. Seems mine spilt somehow."
Merry slammed the door with a resounding crunch, yet within minutes a second mug of ale was slipped in the room by unseen hands. Sam ambled slowly over to the mug, the metal of his chains hissing across the floor as he moved. He downed every last drop in minutes, then lay down in his bed and waited.
* * *
Frodo had napped for hours, and Merry, his face ashen and blank, had settled in the chair beside the bed, again keeping vigil. Merry did not speak of his conversation with Sam but had assured Pippin in a tired voice that all had been handled and that Frodo would be taken care of next time he fell into a fit. Merry had redressed Frodo now, and set him in the parlor for eight-o-clock supper. But Frodo did not even let Merry feed him; still, Merry had put on a good act for Pippin of not showing his sorrow. Now he dozed on the sofa, exhausted by the emotional crescendos of a very trying day.
Pippin had waited for a half hour to pass, then secretly took up the untouched plate and knelt before his damaged cousin. It was as if Pippin were seeing Frodo for the first time.
Frodo sat upon the overstuffed chair staring into the fire, eyes that had once sparkled with life now glacial and distant—as if Frodo were staring at another fire in another part of the world far, far away from Pippin. He was dressed in a fine pressed linen shirt embroidered at the collar with leaves of green yarn curling out from vines sewn from golden yellow thread. In the center of this design was the decorous Brandybuck "B" carefully sewn in the same shape as the brand upon Frodo's hip and on his own shoulder. The trousers, which Merry had had fitted to perfection weeks ago, now hung loose on Frodo's diminished frame. All for the best, echoed throughout Pippin's mind and yet he believed not a syllable.
It was still strange to see Frodo like this, unbound, dressed as if for Yule, face, hands, and feet newly washed and clean as morning. Moving closer now, Pippin set the plate down upon Frodo's lap, drawing a napkin across his chest once it became clear that Frodo would take no initiative to do this himself. Pippin had no better luck getting Frodo to take hold of the plate, as he did not make so much as a twitch in response to Pippin's urgings. In fact, Frodo gave no indication that he knew or cared that Pippin was in the room at all. Pippin awkwardly set the plate upon the floor.
"Frodo?" said Pippin as he raised up a fresh roll dripping with butter. "Frodo, I've brought your supper."
Still, Frodo's head did not turn, his eyes pulled into the depths of the fire.
"I have some fine slices of roast left over from our dinner." Pippin spit out the words fast and nervously, afraid of the awkward silence. "And taters and bread. Surely you must be hungry, Frodo. Surely you must be hungry after…" Pippin silenced, the next words catching them in his throat like a chunk of ice. "…after everything," he mumbled, almost to himself.
Frodo was still as a statue, beautiful and ghastly by the firelight--eyes dilated, full lips now pulled thin and rigid, drawn tightly across a pale and stony countenance.
"Frodo," said Pippin, nearly begging. "Frodo, please talk to your Pippin!" Frodo remained silent and still, as Pippin knelt down and put his hands on Frodo's knees. "Frodo – it's over!" he exclaimed abruptly, feigning excitement as if reading a fairy story to a child. "All the hard things are over now and we've come through! There is nothing to fear! Please Frodo, speak to me!"
But Frodo did not, nor did his eyes drift down to Pippin, who by this time had taken Frodo's hands in his own and kissed them with desperate affection and cloying hope. Frodo's cold and clammy skin smelled of peppermint and rosehips.
"Frodo-love!" cried Pippin as if he were calling to a hobbit standing in a distant corner of a large room. "Frodo! Please answer! Look at me, at least! You frighten me, you know! It's over I said! Please Frodo! A bite! A bite for your Pippin!"
"Frodo!" called Pippin again. "Frodo---I---I…love you so much." And then the trickle of fear and emotion became a flood and Pippin lowered his head to Frodo's knee as he openly and unashamedly wept.
Pippin finally lifted his teary eyes to Frodo's blank ones, his panic unresolved. "I'm so sorry Frodo! It was for the best! Time to be happy! Oh, please tell me you understand! Please tell me anything!"
Oblivious to his cousin's agony, Frodo was indeed happy, deep in his own mind. But it was not in the parlor of Crickhollow. It never had been. The mind of Frodo Baggins was somewhere altogether different.
"What is the matter, Pip?" Asked Merry, suddenly raising his head from the arm of the sofa. "Is our Frodo still not eating?" Merry yawned and stood unsteadily, taking a few steps toward his cousins.
The knot of emotions exploded in Pippin's head. He leapt to his feet, fueled by all the rage, fear, doubt, and anguish that had plagued him throughout this ordeal. He spun around on one foot and barreled onto his older cousin's solid mass.
"He's not eating! He's not speaking!" cried Pippin as he pounded into Merry's chest with ill-aimed fists. "You promised he'd be happy! You swore to me! But he's NOT happy! He's not anything! He's NOT THERE! Fix him, Merry! Bring him back, damn you! Fix him!"
TBC
Questions about RATM sought and welcomed. I promise to answer!
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AN: First, I wish to give some of you some credit for some fabulous ideas! Aratlithiel- the rope idea was golden! It works, and thank you! Celandine- the dream sequence idea threw many people off, but in a good way! And the "Frodo wants potatoes" line-sublime! Thanks! Corinne-the "I see you" bit with the Ring and Frodo's accusing look really drew Merry conscious into focus! Thank you! CPSings-The idea of the breaking of Frodo being the beginning of the end for Evil Merry-good call, and I have used it to frame their relationship from this point on. Chloe-the push to get the plot moving was needed-as so it will! And for all of you that constantly review-you rock my world and keep me writing! Big hugs to all and the idea door is always open! Happy New Year and enjoy!
Second- thanks to the RATM role playing game gals for giving ME something fun to read as I am writing! You are all amazing writers! (See rpg progress either linked through my website or on frodoslegacy page.
Third: I have a new question up on my LJ regarding what you might like to see as far as Merry's reaction to Pip, or rather, what you think would work best in the confines of the story. I have written much of the chapter, and yet am on the fence on this one! Or just comment in your review.
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Talkback to the reviewers! (and if you did not get your review in for this last chapter-do still review it-I will get back to you next time! I really want to know how I am doing!!)
Aratlithiel- So glad you liked kick-ass Sam. And the rope bit-well, again, you handed me that one on a palte, so I am glad you enjoyed it. So glad you read my fic and it has been such a pleasure writing with you, and seeing all the praise you've gleaned as a writer, Convincing you to post was perhaps by greatest single contribution to hobbit fanfiction!
Celandine- Glad you liked the way the dream sequence went, as it was your idea, and I really hoped you'd approve! Thank you for your constant feedback and attacking my typos with your Nazgul!
Tavion- Your comment just made my day! I am so sorry about your car, and it made me so happy to know that my fic put a little light in your trainwreck of a day!
Endymion- You found a blooper in my fic-and so glad you did-observant one! I love that you pic out quotes, and I hope that you have a more restful new year! A few more mysteries coming up-and yes you will find out who that was at the market!
Trust No One-yes-it is the Ring speaking to Merry in Frodo's voice. You guessed right! I think the Ring will wreck havoc on both Merry and frodo's minds from this point on. Both hobbits are weakening, whether they know it or not! Thank you for reviewing!
Chloe! It was so great to actually speak to you on the phone! It was too bad we could not meet in DC and I hope you are feeling much better. I hope you like strong Sam in this chapter-and the chapters to come.
Uchiha Itachi _ I was thrilled to get your list of questions, As I love to answer reader questions. I hope I answered them to your satisfaction, and that you will not hesitate to ask away at tany time. Part 2 of this fic should make you feel much better about Merry, though Merry has some hard roads ahead!
Iorhael-my original inspiration! Frodo will have some very intense inner dialogue and more attempts to interact with the outside world despite his damage. He may be silent, but there is a lot going on in that pretty head of his!
Holli- so glad to hear that you like the fic! I would want to know if something in the fic did disappoint, as I like constructive crit as much as praise. So glad you are along for the ride!
FrodoBaggins 1982-yes-shirtless Frodo-very yummy! Though, dag nabbit-he's SUPPOSED to be nekkid! Tolkien made a PROMISE, Mr. Frodo- A PROMISE! I hope you like the way Frodo and Merry seem to be falling apart in unison. Yes-this is part of the plot, esp for Merry and Pippin.
Rebecca Starflower- I'm glad this last chapter was your favorite. I hope you like this one as well! And only a few weeks have passed. The riders have not been forgotten, but perhaps temporarily fooled. We will find out more about what actually happened with them in part 2! And, just so you know- part 2 will not take place at Crickhollow, so something big is going to happen very very soon! Keep reading!