AN: I must thank a number of people for help with this and the next few chapters! First- I thank my beta Aratlithiel-who is still trapped in Merry's cellar under Merry's "gentle care." She is writing (ie- merry is transcribing) some amazing stuff for Marigold's fic challenge that you will adore! Second- CelandineG-who has been a great help in countless ways and who has some great fics and alternative chapters that must be read! On this chapter, celandine contributed the inner Frodo (among other great moments) and got it just right! Finally, Ariel, for helping me fine tune Estella in a way that only a het writer if her skill could do! Her excellent advice and "voice" made Estella more real than I could have hoped, and I'm glad so many of you noticed! Finally-thanks to the folks at the RATM role-play group for giving me all sorts of support and ideas!
BTW- on the RATM role-play group- we are trying to start a new game thread, and are still in need of a Pippin and an Evil!Merry. Interested? Join the group (linked on my author page), write me here, or on my personal email.
Finally- a note on Estella. People shy away from female characters, even cannon ones, for righteous fear of Mary-sues. For this reason, I have asked for (and gotten) a great deal of help with her from the above people.
"They shall not have them!" snarled Merry in a voice the sent chills up Sam's spine. He seemed to be speaking to no one in particular.
Chapter 51: The Vanished
______________________________________________________________________________
The hobbits cast agonized glances at each other and then at the empty chair that had moved miraculously back from the table. They jumped from their seats toward Frodo while Sam reached in the air, felt the solidity of Frodo's hip, and realized with horror that he had stood up. He turned to Merry, now at his side, and mouthed "standing." Sam then snapped his attention to Pippin and his now naked chest, and mouthed, "Pip! Brand!"
Pippin, looking mortified, grasped a napkin off the table and pressed it over his collarbone, thanking the gods that Estella, in her haste at salvaging his shirt, had taken no notice of it.
Sam and Merry flailed and poked at the air with desperate, searching hands until they had found the solid mass of invisible Frodo. The mass struggled fiercely to push them away. At that moment, Estella turned around holding a sopping wet but cleansed white shirt.
"There!" she said. "Clean as a–what on earth are you lads doing?"
The three hobbits stared at each other, all in a blind panic. Even Merry, as quick as he was with words, stood bereft of a handy explanation. It was a tableau to be laughed at in other circumstances: Pippin with a dry crinkled napkin over his chest, Merry with hands gripped over invisible shoulders, Sam with one arm wrapped around an invisible leg and the other holding down a chair with all his might to keep it from rocking as Frodo struggled. Taken together, they looked patently ridiculous.
"But where did Frodo get to?" Estella asked, looking around the room, confused.
Pippin and Sam's eyes moved automatically to Merry, who, they supposed, must serve as spokeshobbit. Merry showed no signs of fulfilling this function, choosing instead to stare gape-jawed with the rest of them. Realizing that he looked ludicrous with his hands clawed up and stretched forward, imitating a rearing bear, Merry reluctantly dropped them to the back of Frodo's chair, as if this were their original destination. Sam placed his hand awkwardly on his hip, Frodo's leg still imprisoned in the crook of his elbow and smiled stupidly. To his chagrin, he felt the leg step out from his encircling arm. Sam grasped wildly at what he hoped would be a pant leg or foot, and feeling the weight of Estella's stare, mumbled, "Damn flies," as he continued to flail at the air.
Pippin continued to gawk, pale as a sheet, holding his dirty napkin to his shoulder as if his life depended upon it. All turned their eyes to Estella who, judging from her stare, must be answered.
"Frodo," said Merry hesitantly after a superannuated pause, "Frodo is—"
Just then Frodo emitted a short moan as Sam's searching grasp hit home. Estella's eyes roved the room, searching for the source of the groan, and Sam took the opportunity to pull Frodo's leg down with all his strength. Sam felt, in horror, the leg lean to, fro, then fall-toppling Frodo and his chair over on top of Merry with a loud crash. Merry gasped in pain, as the weight atop him included his invisible cousin.
"Merry!" cried Estella, "are you quite alright?"
"Tripping over thin air," sighed Sam. "That's Mr. Meriadoc all over. Good thing Mr. Frodo wasn't sitting in the chair, or he'd be right on top of you.
Merry did not need Sam's cue to know that Frodo was indeed right on top of him, pinning him under the chair. Estella set the shirt down on the edge of the sink and made to go to Merry's assistance.
"Let me help you," said Estella.
"No!" cried Merry with more vehemence than he wished as he grasped on to what might have been Frodo's collar. "No, Stella. We wouldn't want drips on the floor. No, Sam will help me up just fine."
Merry spoke breathlessly. The fall had propelled all the air from his lungs and he was still being crushed by Frodo's invisible weight.
Estella paused, and then rolled her eyes at his apparent embarrassment before returning to work on the shirt. Sam bent down quickly and mouthed "where now?"
Merry nodded to his own clutching hand, and as Sam knelt down, Merry reached around an unseen mass to grasp Sam's shirtfront, pulling him lower.
"I do not care how, Sam," Merry whispered threateningly. 'Get. Her. Out. Of. This room. NOW.
Sam felt the space over the chair until he had hold of Frodo's arm. As inconspicuously as possible, he helped Frodo to his feet, then lifted the chair off Merry.
"Up you go, Mr. Merry!" said Sam with feigned cheerfulness. "If you stay on the floor much longer, the rats will think you are one of their own!"
Sam avoided Merry's scowl and Pippin's eyes.
* * *
Joy. The room had grown bright and dazzling, ethereal, painless, and otherworldly somehow. But joy was all he felt. The gold band was where it belonged. Finally. He had done what the voice had commanded. What his mother had commanded?
It didn't matter.
He was floating above the floor, dizzy with power. He could do whatever it wanted now. He felt strong. Frodo stared at the Ring on his finger smiling in an evil way previously unknown to him. He looked for his family but they were far away, moving through the variegated light, swirling into a vortex of sorts. Somehow it didn't matter.
The voice was all that mattered.
Come.
Yes, he would come. Frodo stood up, fearless and powerful. Something tried to hinder him but he moved it away. He could hear hobbit voices somewhere, but they were weak, powerless. He tried to stand but something interfered again and he fell. It grabbed for his clothes, impeding him from the voice.
Rage.
* * *
"Mr. Pip," said Sam conversationally, "why don't you have Estella help you pick out a new shirt?" and added under his breath, "and do not let her see your damn B."
Pippin and his crumbled napkin plodded up to Estella like a prisoner to his execution as the other hobbits grappled as inconspicuously as possible with their invisible burden.
"Pip," said Estella conversationally as she continued to wring out the shirt. "Where's Frodo disappeared to?"
Pippin's heart skipped a beat until he realized she was only making a figure of speech, not an actual assessment.
"He's, I mean he went off to the, the…"
"Privy. Out the back door," offered Merry flatly, hoping the private nature of the act might stunt her questioning.
"By himself then?" she said surprised. Estella looked toward the back door, furrowing her brow.
"How else would one go to the privy?" asked Merry, now hanging on to some anonymous part of Frodo's clothing for dear life, feeling the threads stretch in his grasp as Frodo struggled.
Estella gave Pip's shirt another muscular wring and turned to Pippin standing owl-like beside her.
"What's wrong with your poor shoulder?" she asked, frowning.
All the color in Pippin's face drained out through his toes.
"Just spilled some wine," he said.
"Oh, then, here," she replied, picking up a wet cloth from the sink. "Let me get it."
Pippin juddered back as if Estella's cloth was swarming with bees.
"It's fine. Really," he mumbled and turned tail out the door muttering something about new shirt.
"Now what on earth was that about?" she murmured cocking her head. "You'd have thought a little water would have killed him!"
"Oh, he's just modest…around…lasses, Stel," said Merry breathlessly as he tried to keep his hand from moving back and forth. "You forget how young the lad is."
"Even with all those sisters?" asked Estella quietly, not expecting an answer.
Merry turned emphatically to Sam, his eyes bugging out in fury, as Estella watched Pippin race away.
'Estella," said Sam. "Ah…could I ask you to come give your mind on one of the flower beds I'm setting down for spring? I'd dearly welcome the opinion of a fine lady like yourself, ma'am."
Estella blinked at a third turn of events in as many minutes, but nodded, graciously. "I'd be delighted to offer what assistance I can, Sam, but I don't know how much advice on gardening I could give a Gamgee." She glanced over to the back door, undeterred from her primary concern. "Are you certain it is all right for Frodo to be out by himself? Considering his state, I am quite anxious for him even if you lot are not. "
Suppressed grunts and the sound of another chair falling over came from the table and Estella jumped, frowning again. 'This is most irregular,' she thought. It was apparent the lads were hiding something but even her furtive peeks had revealed nothing but Merry struggling with a chair. She glanced back at the door. She was becoming terribly anxious about Frodo. Regardless of the cavalier attitude of the others, she wanted to know for her self that he was all right, not wandering about the forest. She stepped towards the door.
"NO! Estella!" Merry grabbed Sam's hand and wrapped his fingers in Frodo's straining collar. Then he stood and quickly raced across the room. "You don't need to worry about Frodo," he purred, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her in close. He resolutely steered her away from the door and back towards the kitchen. "You see, he's… Well, there are few things he's still self possessed enough to manage on his own." Merry looked down and shook his head sadly. "I…like to let him do whatever he still can. You understand. Give the old boy some scrap of his dignity, if I can." He drew a brave breath and managed a carefully contrived stoic tear at the corner of his eye. "By the gods, Stel, this wonderful meal you've made and the presence of such a sweet and gentle lady as yourself has done wonders for all of us. You don't know how much your company is appreciated." He pulled her closer with an almost frantic strength, all the while, gaping at Sam in desperate fury.
Sam was still struggling with Frodo, who seemed to have developed an entirely new strength "Please! Sit still!" Sam whispered furiously and much louder than he'd planned.
"What was that, Sam?" said Stella, blushing, and realizing Merry's grasp was becoming tighter than was comfortable.
"Just muttering to meself like a fool," said Sam with a blush. "Wondring if the new bed needs a bit of fill, but you can tell me soon enough."
Sam turned his gaze to his feet, struggling with his charge and hoping he did not look near as awkward as he felt he might.
"Filling?"
Sam fought to remain calm and to keep his fist still. "Yes, Miss Bolger. Ah… I've set out some plants but it's looking sparse. . He smiled in his best Merry-esque imitation. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I would dearly love some advice on it."
"Of course, Samwise." Estella glanced up at Merry, and saw his strong jaw clench. "I'll need my cloak…" she explained softly, hoping that would be enough for Merry to release her. Instead, he moved his hand up to her shoulders and continued to hold her at his side.
Merry glared down at Sam in open challenge. His fingers eagerly kneaded Estella's shoulder and he looked decidedly homicidal. Sam had no doubt her life was in his hands. One false step, one more daring word, and Merry would slay her where she stood. Sam swallowed and gave Merry a faint nod, indicating he understood and would choose his words with care. Merry grinned triumphantly and placed a quick peck on Estella's cheek before letting her go.
Sam waited for Estella to return with her cloak before exiting out the front door. Merry silently exhaled as they disappeared behind the door. He violently grasped at what felt like Frodo's arm and slid fingers down toward the wrist. Frodo made a sound that would have been characterized as a snarl in any woodland creature.
"Come, now Frodo-love," said Merry. "Off with it!"
The arm pulled away with more force than Merry thought possible. Merry yanked at the shirt hard to regain his grip, but to no avail. To his dismay, the fabric ripped, and Merry found himself looking down at a visible scrap of linen, but without Frodo attached to it. Merry clenched his fists in frustration, flung out his arms in despair, and yelled out at the top of his lungs.
"PIPPIN!!!"
* * *
Rage had served him well. He was free. He moved away from the weak, insignificant hands, he was floating somehow, not seeing his surroundings very clearly. He didn't feel his feet on the floor, yet he was running for the outside, in slow motion almost, like in a dream.
Come.
He inhaled deeply and the air smelt sweeter than he had ever known. He was whole again, and strong. One with the voice. It was The One. Yes. Everything made sense. He felt the heavy Ring on his finger, warm and powerful. It was his, his alone. Closing his hand in a firm fist, he felt strength surge through his body.
Come, Frodo.
He ran for the opening in the vortex, knowing not where it led, and caring not.
* * *
Sam and Estella walked into the grey world outside, the sickly afternoon sun hidden well behind a stubborn haze of cloud. It was not a lovely day, and the clammy air cloyed at Sam's face, and the occasional gust of wind cut through his linen shirt. Yet fresh air it was, and he had not been out in it for any other reason but failed escapes and to witness the torments of his master. Part of him urged himself to take Estella's hand and run. But that was not a good plan- not…
without the Ring, said a voice in his head. Merry cannot claim the Ring! You cannot let him!
Sam mind tried to convince him that it was Frodo he could not leave, but that was only a half-truth. The fate of Middle earth depended not upon the well being of one hobbit, his hobbit, but on keeping the Ring off Merry's ever more covetous finger.
The sound of the door slamming behind them broke Sam from his reverie. Estella, her cloak flapping in the breeze, reached out and gently touched Sam's arm, causing him to jump. He turned to face her, wondering what it was he ought to say to her.. She planted herself in front of him, her plain features set, evidencing a lass who did not wish to be lied to.
"There is no flowerbed, is there Sam?" she asked quietly.
"No, ma'am," sighed Sam.
The chill in the crisp autumn air continued to hit Sam with force. He had not brought a cloak or even a coat. This was not his doing, as he had spent so much of his visit tied up or locked up or chained up that there had been little need for overclothes. He shivered with the cold and wondered bleakly if his lack of a coat would be yet another thing he would have to "explain" to Estella.
"What is going on with you lads?" she whispered. "Can't you tell me?"
Sam forced his mind to work quickly.
"Estella," he said, "It ain't your doing, but I wouldn't call this a ripe time for guests."
"I realize that," she answered regretfully.
"You see," continued Sam, "Merry's in a bad, bad way." Sam emphasized his point with an obligatory shake of his head.
"He told me. Over Frodo's illness, yes, I do understand," she said.
"You could say that, I reckon," answered Sam, wrapping his arms around his chest. "Merry's been a right poor host."
Estella looked back to the door and then nodded Sam down the little walkway. "I dare say, he would be hard pressed to be a good one in his situation." She sighed and pulled her cloak tighter about her as she walked, a worried frown on her plain face.
"Well, true, and no mistake," agreed Sam, preceding her. "So, and I hope you won't take no offense, he's bound to be such a poor host that I'd think it best if you went on home. He'd not think the worse of you, Stella. I could think up a proper excuse for you. He's just not himself, you see!"
Estella looked at him closely for a moment, and then a wan smile touched her cheek.
"You are always looking after folk, aren't you, Sam?"
Sam blushed.
"Please, Stella," he continued urgently. "Go. Go now. It's not safe, and that's all I can say. I like you. I like your brother. I like your family – all fine gentlefolk. Listen to Sam this once and go."
Estella reached the end of the walkway as it wound around the little house and gazed upon the empty yard. Sam turned back to see her drop her head and wrap her arms tightly about herself. Then she began to weep. Sam rubbed his arms again awkwardly, not knowing quite how to proceed.
"It's not that we want you gone – but—"
"Oh, Sam!" she said. "I know it is not safe anymore! I know better than you think--and I am a bit surprised that you know what is happening. But I cannot go without leaving my news! Merry must know what I've got to tell him—as distasteful as it is to be the bearer of bad tidings." She took a few more steps into the back courtyard.
Sam hurried to catch up. "Then tell me and I'll tell him, and you can get home to your family. I'll be no friend to Fatty if I let you put yourself in harms way when there ain't no need!"
With those words, Estella looked up and Sam was struck with the full impact of her wet, despairing eyes. Something was terribly wrong and not only with Merry Brandybuck. It seemed Estella had her own tale of heartbreak to tell. Then she seemed to collapse on herself and sob with fresh vigor, wrapping her cloak around her, almost like a defense against a world gone mad.
"Oh! Ninnyhammer!" cried Sam, biting his lip. "Nothing I say comes out proper!"
"No," said Estella. "It's just I'm worried about him."
"Who?" asked Sam. He rubbed his arms briskly to stay off the cold but Estella didn't notice.
"Fredegar! Fatty," She answered. "I haven't seen him for weeks."
"What happened?"
Estella stopped sobbing and looked up with untrammeled horror in her eyes. "Don't you know?" she asked incredulously.
"Know what?" asked Sam as his stomach tied itself in a knot.
"I assumed he was here. In Buckland, I mean. With you." But saying those words, her head dropped again. "No, that is not true. I let myself think that because it was the only thing I could think of--the only hope I let myself have. But none of you mentioned him."
Sam opened his mouth to answer but Estella cut him off. "And I was afraid to ask, " she said quickly. She looked up at Sam and gave a tiny, halfhearted laugh. "I was hoping you'd tell me that he was back sleeping in some room, drowsy with food and ale, quiet as a mouse."
Sam felt the bile rise in his throat. Merry's explanation of Fatty returning home to Hobbiton without saying goodbye never sat right with Sam, but his mind had not returned to this matter--not until this moment. He shivered again but this time, not from the cold.
"Sam?" She watched him for a second, as if half hoping he would confirm her suggestion.
"I can't," answered Sam nervously. "Because it ain't so."
Estella dropped her eyes again, totally hopeless, and new and silent tears rolled down her cheeks. "Please, Sam!" she sobbed. "When did you last see him?"
Sam's heart sank. Merry! You bastard! You did something! Killed him, I bet! Murdering maggot! Sam said these things inwardly, simultaneously not believing they could be true. Outwardly, Sam gathered Estella in his arms in a gentle embrace.
"There, there, Stel," he cooed. "I haven't seen him since he helped Frodo move, and that's a fact, but that don't necessarily mean nothing. Merry might –"
Sam's voice trailed off. This was a dangerous road to encourage. Much as it pained Sam, he had to give Estella false hope, at least for now.
"Yes?" asked Estella with desperation in her eyes.
"Well, why don't you let me talk to him, Stel. And I'll send word back."
"You'll do no such thing!" she said, and taking his hand continued, "and not because I don't appreciate your gallantry. You are such a lovely, lovely hobbit, Sam." For an instant, her eyes warmed. "Such a caring, gentle sort. You will make some lass very happy someday."
Sam felt the heat rush to his cheeks and stared down at his feet. "Stella…please."
She stepped back and pulled herself together, wiping the tears from her eyes and dabbing her nose with a handkerchief as unadorned and utilitarian as she herself.
"But I must deliver my news myself, as I promised Merry's ma. And I must inquire about Fatty myself, as I promised my ma. Now let's go back and let me do what I've come to do." She looked back to Sam and another faint smile crossed her face. "Besides, your hand is cold as ice."
Sam squeezed Estella's hand emphatically.
"If I can't stop you," said Sam with a sigh, "Please heed me this far. Have your words. Then go. Merry is not himself. Sam's only a fool of a gardener, Stell, but he knows what he speaks of on this."
Estella's smile was warmer this time. "You are no fool, my lad, but a dear, dear friend." She looked back towards the front door, and then, remembering, glanced towards the privy. "Do you want to check on Frodo?" she asked.
Sam shuffled, looking away from her so as not to lie to her face. "I expect he's back inside by now, Stella. "
Estella didn't miss the change in his tone, and the sudden awkwardness in his manner, but she could still not make heads or tails of any of their behavior. She wiped her face with her handkerchief again and straightened, resolving to at least make certain all of the present folk were safe and accounted for before she departed.. "If you're certain, Sam, I'll take your word – you have always done well by your master. And I must speak to Merry right away, in any case." With a quick backward glance she strode back towards the house.
* * *
The door opened to an outlandish sight – Merry and Pippin ambling about the room, reaching and swinging at the air with their arms, and calling out Frodo's name.
The cousins came to a halt immediately and stared at Estella as if they had just stolen every pie she had ever baked.
Estella, in her turn, gaped at them, and thought that their peculiar behavior of the past few hours had taken a turn for the bizarre. What was more, Frodo was no where in sight.
"Where is Frodo?" she asked with more insistence. "What has happened to him, Merry? Please, you must tell me! "
"He is in his room," answered Merry sharply, his breaths coming in deep spurts. "He…ah…likes to hear us call his name when we can't be in the same room." And to Estella's strange expression, added, "It soothes him, and as for us, ah, we were just looking for—for—"
"His pipe!" said Pippin, seizing up a pipe from the mantle. 'Ah! Here it is! Mystery solved!"
Estella narrowed her eyes in disbelief but something deep inside warned her not to pursue it. "I should like to say goodnight to him," she said, determinedly. She started across the kitchen, laying her cloak on the back of a chair. "I'll just pop in and—"
"No!" said Merry, edging toward the hallway. "No need. He is in his room, and, well, ah…I'll fetch him.
Merry had scarcely finished his sentence when he disappeared down the corridor.
Sam felt himself shaking. Pippin was a mess--his shirt buttoned askew as if he'd been dressed by drunk badgers, his hair wet with perspiration. Merry was not much better. And if they did not find Frodo soon—
The sound of an "Ooomph!" down the hall alerted Sam that his master had been found.
"I'll help him!" said Sam, and dashed down the hall, leaving Estella with a shaky, disheveled, and sweaty little Took.
Estella looked at Pip with an appraising eye. The lad was desperately in need of ….something. She looked about the unkempt room, the remains of the dinner still on the table and the chairs scattered on the floor and sighed.
"Tea?" she asked.
Pippin nodded wearily and collapsed into the nearest chair.
* * *
Merry and Sam pulled the protesting and invisible Frodo into his room and shut the door. Immediately, both began frantically searching for the ring finger.
"I got it!" said Sam breathlessly. "Hold his hand down!"
Merry complied, feeling Frodo's fist closing inward as he fought them, wildly as a cornered wolf. With a violent tug and a mammoth sigh of relief, Sam clawed at his master's hand and amid scratches and screams was finally rewarded with a glint of gold, and his Master's reappearing form. Frodo let out an unearthly screech and threw his sightless eyes wildly about the room, his fingers bent, clutching desperately at his exposed chest, scratching now and drawing blood.
"Hold him!" cried Sam.
* * *
It was gone. He couldn't feel it anymore and he screamed in fury, feeling heavy and helpless again. He was no longer floating and the haze his mortal eyes had inflicted returned. He could see nothing clearly but he could hear voices through his ears again. The hurting voice. He cringed, flailing and scratching at it…and Sam…
Suddenly he realized what had happened. NO, they took it, the hurting voice and…not Sam…no.
Rage.
* * *
Merry grasped his wrists as Sam dropped the cursed thing behind Frodo's shirt.
Frodo strained against him, trying to tear through the shirt with his fingernails.
"Why didn't you sew it up, you idiot?" cried Merry straining. "Why?"
"I didn't have time!" yelled Sam back, panting and puffing. "You came to fetch us! And—I dropped the blasted needle!"
"Some help that is for us now!" growled Merry. "Where? I don't have another handy."
Frodo continued to thrash and cry out. Sam encircled Frodo, holding his arms to his side, as Merry strained with his wrists.
"Find it!" yelled Merry, and thinking better of it, said "No--calm him, just, just tell me where to look!"
Merry bent down in the area Sam had indicated with his head, but had no luck finding the precious needle.
"We'll have to wait for the afternoon sun to hit the floor," said Merry, "or until I can find another needle. And why won't he calm?"
"Merry? Sam? What's the matter? Are you all right? Is Frodo all right?"
Estella's voice echoed down the hall. Both hobbits cursed. Frodo just seemed to be getting stronger as he fought and Merry grabbed one of his arms again.
Frodo screeched at the top of his lungs
* * *
He had to get it back, he would kill them all. They had no right, no right to take it away. It was his. His alone.
No right…
To take the voice away. Sam wouldn't…
No right.
Sam…wouldn't…
* * *
"He's fit to be tied!" cried Sam in exasperation, and immediately regretted his words.
Merry gave Sam a meaningful look. "Yes he is," he said. "And if you have a better solution for the next hour, I'm all ears!"
Sam didn't.
Suddenly they heard footsteps. "Merry?"
"Fine, Stel, we'll be out in a minute."
Merry gasped as Frodo broke loose again and flailed out, hitting him in the stomach with his elbow. He cursed under his breath, grabbing Frodo's arm again.
"Good gracious, are you certain I cannot help with anything?"
"Just fine," Merry croaked out as loud as he could, grabbing Frodo with both hands now. "Just you stay with Pippin, dear." He turned to Sam, "get something!"
"At least don't use ropes," whispered Sam. "He'll go even wilder and we'll be found out." He nodded at the bedclothes, "It's all right, I've got him."
Merry nodded and proceeded to rip strips off of a pillowcase.
"Poor master," mumbled Sam. "To think I'm a party to this!"
Sam set Frodo's twisting, fighting form onto the bed, and pushed his legs forcibly together, watching in sorrow as Merry bound them. They repeated the process with the arms, this earning a particular wrenching cry.
"Merry, please, if there is anything I can do…" The voice in the hall seemed closer and more heartsore.
"NO," shouted Merry, pressing his palm over Frodo's open mouth.. "We'll be in in a minute, Stel.
Merry took a last strip of pillowcase, and glancing up at Sam, snapped, "Don't look at me like that, Samwise! Your incompetence brought this on! And we have no choice unless you want Estella—"
"No," sighed Sam. "I understand. I don't like it. But I understand."
Merry drew the gag over Frodo's protesting mouth, suppressing tears as Frodo screeched and moaned through the fabric as if he'd been stabbed. He clawed his bound hands alternately at his gag and at the Ring.
Merry gripped Frodo's wrists and pulled them up to the bedpost. "Samwise—please help! We've no choice!" Merry's eyes were also filled with tears, and Sam, for all his antipathy toward Merry, admitted that he seemed frankly wretched binding up his cousin again.
Sam held his Masters frantic hands as Merry bound them to the bed frame. Frodo bucked and thrashed, and Sam could sense his master's feeling of betrayal flowing out of him in waves. Together, Merry and Sam maneuvered the twisting body under a heavy layer of blankets to keep him from hurting himself. Merry leaned down and placed a kiss on Frodo's forehead. "We'll be right back, love. And then we shall get you more comfortably settled. I'm so sorry!"
Sam died a little death seeing his Frodo trussed up again, but there was no other choice for the immediate future. A needle was not to be found, he could not be allowed to wear the Ring, and Sam did not want to give Merry any ideas of taking the Ring himself. Besides, Sam rationalized, any argument might get him chained back in his room rather than hearing Estella's news. He would make his plan based on this information, and he needed to have it. But Sam still feared for Estella. With the news, whatever it was, in the open, would Merry let Estella leave? Or, more to the point, live?
* * *
"There is nothing to fear, Estella," said Merry with a generous smile.
The four hobbits were arrayed in the parlor around the fire. Merry sat in the big upholstered chair, the others in wooden chairs around him, like a lord and his minions. From his bearing and ease, one would never have guessed the trauma all of them had just endured. Pippin, at least, had fixed his shirt to fasten right, but both he and Sam still found themselves breathing harder than normal and holding their teacups with hands that refused to stop shaking.
"Fatty mentioned that he planned to take the greenway down to Southfarthing," said Merry, smiling at Estella paternally. "To make some purchases, longbottom leaf, no doubt! He said he might stay a few weeks with some friends of mine. See there! Dry your tears, dear. Your fears have been for naught."
Sam and Pippin shared pained stares. Merry had given Estella a very different answer than the one he had given them. Both of them understood simultaneously that whatever the truth, one of these stories was a lie. And why would Merry lie about Fatty, unless-----
Sam knew Pippin's mind was traveling in the same direction as his own when he saw the color drain from his already pale face. Estella noticed neither of them. Her face was infused with such hope as Sam could not have believed possible given that just minutes ago it had been the very mask of despair. She stood and clasped Merry's hand gratefully.
"And you know, my love," Merry continued, "if he does not reappear for whatever reason, your Merry would go with you to the ends of the earth to find him."
Estella flushed and shed new tears of relief, letting Merry draw her to the settee and wipe her face tenderly. He ran his hands over her hair, and kissed her brow, then, smiling beneficently into her eyes, he took her hands in his. "Now, dearest Estella," he said. "It is time for you to open up about your news for me."
The relief vanished from Estella's face and she looked stricken, as if she knew what she had to say would hurt him terribly. "Oh, Merry. I wish I had better news to share! For the hope and joy you have just given me, what I have to say seems cruel irony."
Merry sat back, his eyes becoming stern and his manner brooking no argument. "Speak, lass."
Estella whinced under Merry's suddenly intense scrutiny. She found herself sinking back into her chair, almost fearfully, and her blood ran instantly cold. She reached for the tea she had poured and hoped Merry did not notice that her hands were shaking too. She took a sip and visibly settled herself, but she could not bring herself to look Merry in the eye.
"Three days ago," she began. "I went to the Hall to inquire of your whereabouts, as I assumed Fatty was with you. It's not my way to travel alone, but the rest of my siblings were caught up in the harvest, or--well, some thought I was over-reacting. But we, me and my ma, that is, we felt something was not right. Fredegar's a grown hobbit, but it isn't like him to disappear without sending word. He doesn't go in for travel, not unless there is a party or uncommon good food and drink at the end of it. So I started asking about. No one had seen a thing. Finally, I found myself all the way up to Farmer Maggot. He told me when he'd seen you last, and that you were headed to Buckland, perhaps around Crickhollow--but he had no address. He warned me against traveling at night, and told me a little of strange black riders on the roads."
Merry nodded, his eyes intent. Estella continued, her voice growing thinner the longer she spoke.
"I crossed with the ferry and came to the Hall. They hadn't seen hide nor hair of you, Merry, and were starting to fret, but they assumed that you, at least, were still with Frodo. They gave me directions to this house--said it would be hard to find, not having been here, but told me to not make the location of the house general knowledge. They said you had told them that Frodo wanted to keep his location secret to all but his very closest friends and immediate family. But they suggested I ask about at the market first, see if Fatty had come around. I did--and that was when I caught sight of Pippin. I called, but he didn't hear."
She turned to Pippin. "So I followed until you disappeared in the distance. I got a good look at the direction, and followed the hoof prints best I could on my own pony until the rain washed them away. The weather was turning foul, and judging from your first turns, Pip, it seemed that you were headed to the house Merry's folks described. I went back to the Hall to report that I'd seen Pip--a sure sign Merry was in the area, and to take your ma up on her offer to put me up in the Hall while I looked for my brother."
Estella stopped for a minute, pursing her lips. She looked at Merry sorrowfully.
Merry's eyes urged her on. "Go on," he said.
"Well," she took a deep breath, "when I approached the Hall, there was a feeling in my gut that something was very wrong--like a shadow leaning down and tearing at my mind. It was the same dreadful feeling I had when Fredegar did not come right home. I steeled myself, trying to convince myself that it was just my imagination. But it wasn't."
Merry leapt to his feet. "What has happened, lass!? Is my family alive? Estella--come to the point!"
Estella stared, horror-stricken backed even further into her chair, shocked by Merry's morbid assertion. "Oh, no, Merry! No one has died. Dear me! Nothing so terrible as that…"
Merry breathed a sigh of relief.
"It is still very bad," continued Estella. "But I do not want you to act rashly when I tell you what has happened. Please."
Merry nodded grimly, leaning back into the chair once again, but closely attending her words.
"When I rounded the corner, the Hall was swarming like an anthill. One side, where the grass runs clear to the top, was dry enough to alight, and was in flames, though a stout group of Brandybucks were attacking it with pails of water.
Merry gasped but Estella continued.
"And the main door had been knocked in-kicked in-it seemed, and the front hall looked as if it had been home to a herd of wild boar--furniture in pieces, shards of glass everywhere, pictures no longer on the wall, and many things that were--broken and thrown and scattered. Oh--Merry--your lovely home was such a horrifying sight!"
If possible, Merry's face grew even grimmer. He looked as if a thunderstorm were gathering under his brows and Estella swallowed, still strangely fearful of him. She took a deep breath.
"It took me quite a while to find a hobbit together enough to tell me what had happened. I don't think I ever did get a straight answer--not until your poor ma came out, white as a ghost. Said strange big people, - big people, Merry - had come to the Hall asking not for the Master, but for its heir! They did not say your name--but they must have meant you, Merry--there is no other! They said something about you having a debt to pay, and they'd come to collect! Well, your da had words with them, slammed the door, not expecting any more of it! Big folk are rare in the Shire--but not unheard of, after all. But these big folk, they wouldn't go away--far from it. Said if the young heir weren't found "right quick" there would be big trouble."
"Save us!" gasped Sam under his breath. Sam's mind turned to a vision of Merry seizing up the Ring and racing to the Hall. His heart hammered against his chest, and he kept his eyes pinned on Merry.
Merry continued to scowl, but strangely did not look as shocked as Estella might have expected him to be at such dreadful news. She filed away the observation and pressed on with her tale.
"Well, Merry, you know your da, he would have none of it. Saradoc yelled for any lad in the Hall to arm themselves with anything sharp, hard, or hot that they could lay hands on. Several dozen came up behind your dad, armed and ready, they were, you can be sure. Saradoc, mad as a snake, I'm told, shook his fist and a dagger, no less, at these men--half dozen, there were, each one bigger and uglier than the last! But they kicked down the door! Didn't bother with the other lads, went straight for your dad, Merry. Hauled him up like a sack of potatoes, and carried him off on their great horses.
Merry roared in outrage and sprang to his feet, his fists clenched in fury. The other hobbits jumped and Estella fairly plastered herself against the back of the sofa. She could understand his anger, but what surprised her was her intuitive fear of it. She had never before been afraid of any hobbit, especially not Merry Brandybuck.
"Easy, Merry!" she cried. "Your father is home. Let me finish, though, by the gods, this is awful to tell!"
Merry sank down, each muscle tensed, fire in his eyes.
"Buckland was in an uproar. Every hobbit in the Hall ran out and searched for Saradoc. Finally, a young lad came to the door and told your ma where your da could be found. Said he'd been given a fistful of gold coins and a pipe that he was far too young to smoke. He was to deliver a message. The lad handed your ma a parchment with a note that Sara was lying by the dock. She rushed, poor lady--thinking the worst."
Merry's face paled beneath the angry flush, and though he had been told his father still lived, his look suggested he feared the worst.
Estella tentatively touched his arm, and almost jerked her hand back when she felt the tension in his frame, but tried to give him what comfort her touch could, despite her strange fear of him.
"Saradoc had been roughed up badly, Merry," she continued softly. "Though I'm sure he gave as good as he got! He was unconscious. His arm had been broken, and how many ribs, the healer could not guess." She sighed feeling Merry's taunt body trembling beneath her hand. She took a deep breath. "In his hand they'd stuck a note – this note."
Then she removed a folded piece of parchment from a hidden pocket in her apron, the seal unbroken. "Addressed to "The Heir of Buckland," she said and handed him the note.
Merry seized it violently and bent the seal with a loud snap like the breaking of a small bone. Sam watched Merry's eyes intently as they glazed over the letter. A red flame seemed to surge up in his dark pupils, and Sam had never in his life seen eyes lit with such predatory light. He shuddered as Merry stood slowly, staring into the flames, and savagely crushed the parchment in his fist. With a feral growl, he cast it into the fire.
"They shall not have them!" snarled Merry in a voice the sent chills up Sam's spine. He seemed to be speaking to no one in particular.
Estella's eyes were huge. Pippin looked as though he might vomit.
"They shall not have them!"
"Have what?" asked Pippin fearfully. "What did the letter say?"
Merry's eyes glowed like embers of a dying fire as he turned slowly toward Pippin. His lips curved up in a mirthless grin as he bent down and kissed Pippin on the forehead – a gesture in this context neither paternal nor soothing. Pippin found his gaze drifting over to Sam, but Merry's brutal grip on his chin forced his cousin's gaze back into his terrible eyes.
"Do not fear, Cousin," said Merry in a flat cold tone. "Your Merry will protect us. They shall not have them."
TBC
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A note on Estella. People shy away from female characters, even cannon ones, for righteous fear of Mary-sues. For this reason, I have asked for (and gotten) a great deal of help with her from Aratlithiel, Celandine, and Ariel. I must give special thanks to Ariel for forcing me to create a "real" girl who acts the way a normal person would act in the circumstances. She made sure the Estella you see is neither too perfect, too pushy, too dense, or in any way a mary sue! In short, she helped us make her into a believable character! This is not mean feat in the fic world. For that reason, I will give Ariel's own site, Frodo's Harem, a big plug. Ariel has complained that her fic do not get a lot of attention, because het fics are so often Mary Sues, and slash seems do be the genre de jure with most LOTR fanfic. Well- het is VERY seldom done well, but I absolutely guarantee that Ariel handles her characters with depth and deftness that will both impress and charm you! . I will dare any one of you to find anything like a one-dimentional Mary Sue character in these stunning fics! They are sexy fics, they are well-written, and they have a Frodo that is true to canon.
So please check out her stories (including some wonderful gen stories- like "fear" ) and leave a nice review for her. If you like Estella here-leave a review here and let her know! Writers (including myself) are inspired to write –but your kind feedback keeps us going. We get no money-just your words! Leave some and make our day!
P.S. And if you for a moment think Estella is a stand-in for the writer-if you knew me, you would laugh. Estella (as she is portrayed here) and ol' Emma are so different that if she were a real person, we probably would not even be friends!
--emma
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To the Reviewers!
Flick-chan-" whereas Frodo knows that Merry is trying to break him, and thusly reacts in a different way, Pippin sees Merry's bullying as love, and so is justly upset when Merry puts him through the torture of knowing that he has feelings for Frodo, too. Poor Pippin. I admire the dominance Merry exerts over Pippin, and though sometimes it can be a bit harsh, I completely understand why Pippin puts up with it, and why Merry feels the need to perform it in the first place. He doesn't want to lose the only person who still slightly cares for him, because if he loses Pippin, then he'll have nothing left. And then what would be the point in living? Hence the entire irony in the corruption of the ring."
Wow! That is precisely what I was going for-and you said it much better than I ever could! I adore long reviews, so thank you for making my day! I am so glad when someone really is able to dissect character motivations. I write them, but something I don't think on why they "speak" the wayt hey do. This was great! Thanks!
CPsings4him- Wow! Thank you! (blushes). I am so glad you liked the humor in all that pain, and had such nice things to say about Estella. As you know, there is a big danger with female hobbits that it will be a mary sue- but with the help iof celandine and Ariel- I think we got it right. You are right-females react to things differently and Estella's presense is turning the world at Crickhollow upside down in ways she cannot even imagine. I hope you like next chapter-as I hope to bring out conflicted Merry at his finest. If I do my job right-people should feel both pity and anger toward Merry, who, believe it or not, still is alive below the corruption and degradation of the Ring. Estella is not pretty, not spectacular in any way- but appeals to something Merry has all but lost- his humanity and sense of what it was like to be "normal." This aspect I must give credit to ariel for, as she insisted that I give estella a brain!
Endimyon 2 _ More Sam sass coming upman-yees- I love it when he "speaks" to me. He really does hand me some great lines! Glad you liked them!
Celandine-Thank you for all your help and your feast of ideas!!! Hope you dig this final version. As for how Merry explains everything-as you well know-NOT VERY WELL!!!! LOL!!! Great work here with inner Frodo!!!
Romy- thank you! I'm afraid the rest of Part one will be a series of cliffies- so be prepared. I AM eval!!!!!!
ShampooMarea "This is the best fanfiction I've read!" WOW! Thank you! That makes my day! But I must say- there is some VERY good stories out there. If you write me, I will direct you to them. I am so glad you are enjoying this fic!
Save the Hobbits! – Nutmeg-is that you? LOL! Very funny- but I'm afraid that you wont be rescuing them soon! Mwhaahaaahaaa! Actually- be prepared for some big plot twists-t he outside world had not gone away-as you can see by this chapter, and, if I might say, the other members of the future fellowship have not been idle BUT are looking in the right place.
Breon Briarwood-thank you for your kind words! I hope you will keep writing when you can!
Holli- One Pippin backbone coming up!!! I promise!
Unhobbity hobbit – well- now you know estella's news- but she is not done yet! And I'm glad you reminded me of the B- as you see- I felt compelled to begin here with that issue! So who says I do not listen to reviewers!
Rebecca Starflower – yes- in canon, merry marries Estella- so you are very smart! BUT if you see Dark Decisions, Sam drops the needle just as Merry bursts in to tell than that they may have visitors- so he did not get it properly sewn! LOL!
Chloe—"am I correct in believing it wasn't done so much as punishment, but more like it gave Merry back his feeling of dominance and control that a fearful, pained, but still in love Pippin gives Merry?" Yes- you are right- and it was also his way at trying to get a clear look into pippin's eyes. He wanted to see if the slap produced emotional pain as well as physical, as that would show Mery that Pippin still loved him. That is screwed up-isn't it?? And thank you for your nice comments about estella. Ariel and Celedine really added a lot! And if you don't mind het, Ariel has some fantastic Frodo fics with females- not a mary sue in the bunch, and very "real." Your comments on estella made her day!
Spike "OH! that was one monster of a cliffhanger!" No, spike- THIS is a cligghanger! MWHHAHAAAA!!
MBradford (emma turns away with sullen expression) –I'm not talking to you! You killed off my Bramble-sexxy!!!!! ;)
Aralinde – thank you! I am so glad you like this story! Keep reading!
Merry mushroom hunter – thank you so much for your input for this and the coming chapter. I ran the idea past other people, and they really thought it would work great! I'm glad you like the way the chapter went! Your guys entries just continue to be amazed by the quality of the rpg entries- excellent stuff!! Keep 'im coming! They entertain me while I write, and give me great ideas!
Lily Blackstar- Well-now you know part of what happens-more surprises ahead!
Iorhael- wow! You have so many great fics out there! Isn't writing addictive! At it look slike taken on Arda has gotten quite a following! Congratulations on that great response-it is a chilling tale!!!