AN: I wanted to thank Celandine B, Ariel, and the RATM roleplayers for help with this chapter! I am now updating my official site, so if you have links or buttons, send them my way! I have a new button which I will be glad to send if you wish to link me.
Also- your reviews mean so much to me! Please keep writing!
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Chapter 56: Talking in Circles
Sam lay upon the bed in his small room wide-awake. After Pippin's chastisement and without more than a couple of clipped sentences, Merry had led first Frodo, then himself back to their respective rooms. The punishment seemed to have cut as deeply into Merry's serenity as it had into Pippin's back. Sam had stolen a few glances behind him toward his gaoler as they shambled forward, Sam holding the chain, Merry, the weight. Merry's face was pale as his white, linen shirt, and as blotched and splattered with Pippin's blood. Perspiration ran in rivulets down the sides of his flushed cheeks, spilling freely onto the floorboards, and Sam had seen clearly, even in the dim corridor, that Merry's attempts at being strong and grim were failing. Something elemental in Merry's countenance was sagging and Sam wondered fearfully what this would mean for all of them.
Merry had apparently mistaken Pippin's silence as a form of overwhelming remorse, or, at least convinced himself to read it thus. The other possibility, that Pippin no longer belonged to him, was just too painful to bear. Sam knew the latter to be true, but equally understood the implications for Merry. Without Pippin, the last person at least marginally at his side was gone. Without Pippin Merry was utterly isolated, wholly and completely alone, cast adrift with his visions of grandeur, like a rickety boat on a sea of unbearable majesty. Disgusting as Sam found it, Merry's pathologic sorrow for what he'd "had" to do to Pippin seemed raw and even starkly sincere.
Thank the stars, thought Sam, that Merry had not seen the defiance in Pippin's eyes. Now Sam had to wait for the opportunity to speak to Pippin--who doubtless would help him escape if he wished it. And oh, by the Valar, he wished it.
Perhaps even with Frodo.
This insane idea kept percolating to the surface of Sam's now quick-flowing mind, like bubbles crowning to the surface of a river. Perhaps you need not leave him behind.
But Sam's plain hobbit sense, the part of him that understood the risk, pushed this delusion away. No. Unless Sam had the nerve to slay Merry outright, which he did not, any escape with Frodo would be out of the question. Travel with his master as he was now would mean an impossibly slow journey. Merry or his denizens would catch them before they'd made it more than a league. No, Frodo would have to remain. Merry could not hurt him any more, not even to draw Sam back. Sam has seen it enough times now. To hurt Frodo would be to hurt himself, and Merry would not do that. Sam would have to make his escape alone and perhaps that way he could get far away before Merry even realized he was gone. Hopefully it would take him still longer to figure out that he, and not Frodo, now bore the Ring.
All plans hinged on Pippin. Sam needed to instruct Pippin how to watch after Frodo in his absence. Sam was sure that Pippin would agree to this.. He had seen that much in the lad's eyes as he kissed Frodo that afternoon. It was a silent promise, but a promise just the same, as binding as anything Sam could ever imagine. He could trust this new Pippin to take proper care of Frodo in his absence. He could even trust him to deal with Merry until Sam could return with help. Perhaps he could even find Gandalf himself. Yes, Gandalf would set all to rights. He might even be able to heal Frodo, or could bring him to Rivendell where the elves could do it and where they would finally be able to get rid of that beastly Ring for good. Let the high folk handle it. It was a problem more suited to their stature and wisdom. Not for hobbits. Frodo deserved healing and rest, and just to go home. His master deserved no less, and a good deal more, and Sam would not rest until all was put rights and Frodo was whole again.
Sam shook himself out of his pretty plans, reminding himself that he was still shackled, and no closer to removing the cursed rock from his leg. Pippin could help to the best of his ability, but Merry had hidden anything sharper than an elbow behind lock and key. Sam's theoretical escape would still take a fair bit of "doing."
"Pippin, Pippin," mumbled Sam as he tapped his foot restlessly against the bed frame. "Come see your Samwise so we can have a chat."
* * *
Merry had found Pippin lying face down on a stripped bed in the spare room farthest from the one they had shared since the start of this ordeal. The room was bare and cold and only marginally suited for habitation. Pippin made no reaction when Merry entered.
"I've prepared a rosemary bath for you, sweetheart," said Merry softly.
Pippin did not answer, and, if anything, seemed to bury his face deeper into the mattress.
"I see you are still too ashamed to speak to me," said Merry. "There is no need to feel that way. There is no need to exile yourself from the rest of the family. From our bed. From me."
The silence of the room hung heavy as the reek of dusk that laced the air.
Merry took a few tentative steps toward the bed.
"You'll get past this, with my help, dearest Pip. And I will help, as long as it takes, because I cannot do this without you. Perhaps that is why I'm so hard on you sometimes. You are essential."
There was still no answer, and Merry came up to the side of the bed. Pippin's bleeding wheals appeared like dark black shadows stretching across his back in the windowless room. Merry suppressed an urge to touch them, to see if they were real.
"I was moved at the manner in which you apologized to Frodo, Pip. I thought you should know. He has been quiet of late, but Pippin, I know that he understood what your kiss meant. As did I."
Pippin did not so much as twitch, and Merry was hard pressed to convince himself that his cousin was not asleep. He reached down to pat Pippin's damaged shoulder, and watched in dismay as the skin seemed to crawl into itself, away from the touch. Pippin sucked in a deep breath. Merry withdrew his hand as if he had been bitten.
"You are tender, I see," said Merry, though he was not sure that explained what had just happened. "Now, the bath. Are you able to walk, or shall I carry you? We can't let the wounds go bad. I'm afraid I can allow you no choice in this matter. You will have to put aside your guilt for awhile and let me tend to you."
Pippin made no reaction. Merry shook his head and gently lifted his smaller cousin and slung him over his shoulder. Just as Merry had carried Pippin to his torment, so he bore him to his healing.
The bathwater streamed up, warm and inviting. Merry removed his trousers and set Pippin in as carefully as if he were an object made of glass. A low hiss of pain, almost involuntary, escaped from Pippin's lips, even though his eyes remained tightly shut, his top and bottom lashes laced together as if sewn.
"Please, Pippin," said Merry as he knelt down, gripping the metal edge of the tub. "This is simply getting ridiculous. I can see clear enough that you are not asleep. Open your eyes, will you? I have some important things I must discuss with you, that I'm trusting to you."
Pippin did not answer, but sunk himself deeper into the pinking water. His eyes remained shut.
"Please, Peregrin!" said Merry, and it sounded as if he were begging, which, of course, he was. "Please Pip. You have taken your punishment admirably, like a grown hobbit, now you must accept your grown-up responsibilities and do what must be done for our family. Frodo is ill and Sam is but a servant. You are my trusted cousin and ally. You alone. If I cannot confide in you, who might I confide in?"
Pippin rested his head on the rim of the tub, his lips pulled tight in pain, but emanating from somewhere Merry could feel a frightening sensation even in the very marrow of his bones. For in Pippin's closed eyes was a serenity, a singular peace that Merry could not play off of, that he could not reach and corrupt ever again.
He shook his head, banishing the thought to a deep, secret place in his heart where it would not trouble him. "If I cannot confide in you, who might I confide in?" Merry repeated the question louder and more intensely. "Answer me!"
Merry's words fell like a blunt object in his own ears as the question answered itself.
No one. You have no one to confide in. You are all alone.
No, he screamed back to himself. I can fix this, I can. Merry gathered the remnants of his considerable mental powers. And I will.
He ran his hand through Pippin's damp locks, watching with dismay the way his cousin's chest tensed up as he did so.
"Pippin, I know your back is a mess, and I am grieved that you felt you deserved a far deeper punishment than I had thought to mete out. But I cannot stop the wheel of destiny, Pip. Tomorrow remains a day of fate for me, you, Frodo, Sam, the whole Shire and every hobbit in it. I would have had you comfortable and strong rather than a temporary invalid, but there is no going back now. You will have to come with me, Pippin, along with my other two cares. The hour for hiding is over, the time to fight ahead. We must get away to the Hall, the future stronghold of hobbits, where I must take up the Mantle of Leadership. When we have emerged victorious – and we will emerge victorious -- we can return here to Crickhollow."
"We can make it our summer retreat or a place just for Frodo if he wills it. This smial will be a place of special reverence, the subject of songs and tales – the place where it all began, The Rising of the Hobbits--as it will be called by every generation to come. But tomorrow at first light, we must be away. Buckland requires a Master to lead it, and by all rights, that leader is me!"
Merry stared into the steam rising up from the crimson bathwater, speaking to, and yet taking little notice of his injured cousin. When he at last focused on him, he noted with delight that Pippin's eyes had opened. But Pippin's expression was one of stunned terror.
"There you are, my Pip!" cried Merry, with the innocent delight of a child at Yule. "You have decided to help your Merry!" He leaned in closer, his stare sharpening. "But I see that something I have said has frightened you. Forget your fears, Cousin. Can you not see, we shall not fail? You and I will be the most famous hobbits in history. We have the weapon of weapons! We have the Ring!" Merry uttered the last two words with reverence and awe.
Pippin did not answer, but blinked glassy-eyed into the steam, looking off into some unknown distance--ignoring Merry but not his portentous words.
"You shall stand by my side, Pippin, as if you had never left it! And Frodo will have a place of highest honor. And Samwise will tend to him as a nursemaid until he comes back to himself, and be his valet after he is well. We shall make Frodo so very happy in reward for his sacrifices. He shall want for nothing. But I have decided that Frodo shall not marry. He is too special, too singular for that. It is not part of his destiny for he shall belong to all hobbits. His only true love shall be the Shire, as he is already bound and betrothed to it by bearing a Ring more binding than any vow ever bespoken in these wide lands. He shall not be alone, but he is to remain pure and unsullied – a jewel in the keeping of the House of Buckland for the rest of his blessed days."
Merry had begun to brush his fingers along the surface of the water, the blood-red liquid flowing between them. The ruby gloss was beautiful to his eyes, clinging to his fingertips as he lifted his hand from the bathwater and began to trace the outline of Pippin ear.
"Nor will I forget the Tooks, Pip!" Merry continued rather abruptly. "If that's what you're worried about. You shall be Thain, after all, and second only to the Master of Buckland. And I shall arrange for you the grandest coming of age party the Shire has ever seen – much grander than anything your father would be able to afford, or dare to try. After you come of age, Pippin, I myself will chose for you the fairest lass of the best family for you to-wife."
"The future of the Shire demands that we produce heirs, Pippin, and I have a mind that one of my sons might wed a daughter of yours so that we might join our houses under one glorious banner. " "But there is no rush, Pippin, not for either of us. We are young, and after we secure the Shire, we may then think of sowing seeds for the future. But married or no, Pippin, you are part of me, and I shall not lose you. I am happy that Estella took my rejection with grace and went away, but wives will matter little between us, my dearest Pippin. They are only for getting children that we will need to carry on our houses. The sacred bond between us will never be touched because now it is back to the way it was always meant to be – you and I for the Shire and against the world!"
Pippin did not acknowledge Merry's words, nor tell him that he sounded insane, nor make eye contact with the hobbit who seemed to have Pippin's own life, and those of his unborn children, all planned out for him. He therefore did not notice when Merry leaned his face down to kiss him. Merry's lips upon his own, once welcomed and hungered for, were now the poison touch of an adder. Pippin felt his whole being stiffen in protest as he jerked his face away and shut his eyes against the unwanted intrusion.
Merry withdrew, his eyes shot with dismay, his mind grappling for any explanation other than the most painfully obvious one. His open face stiffened and his soft eyes became hard and cold. Merry suppressed an urge to strike his cousin, to diffuse somehow the pain that seemed to rise from the base of his heart.
"Let's get you out then," said Merry curtly, "And I will dress your self-inflicted wounds."
Pippin allowed Merry to cleanse his wheals, douse them with brandy, and wrap his body with linen bandages. He made no reaction aside from twitching when Merry hit a sensitive spot (which for Pippin was his entire back). Yet Merry worked with gentle hands, watching in vain for a tender response from his beloved cousin. What he saw instead were goosebumps of fear where once upon a time soft skin had warned to his touch in sensuous anticipation. He cooed nonetheless as he tended Pippin, though Pippin remained closed to him as a statue. Merry had never been in a room with another and yet felt so utterly alone.
Merry pulled a nightshirt over Pippin's head, and combed out his damp hair. He then carried Pippin, not back to his room-in-exile, but to the room they had shared. Merry drew the covers back and set his burden down carefully upon his stomach.
"I know you are in pain," said Merry, standing beside the bed. "I will brew some tea that will take the edge off, unless perhaps, you would prefer some spirits?"
Silence.
"Tea then," replied Merry, his voice once again dejected and hollow.
Merry returned in a short while, a steaming cup of tea in hand. But he returned to an empty room, the covers thrown back with no great style, the indentation in the mattress still warm. Merry set down the cup on the nightstand and called Pippin's name. He went silent as he heard the faint sound of hinges creaking down the hall. Merry popped his head out the door into the darkness of the corridor.
"Pippin?"
Merry moved stealthily down the hall.
"Pippin?"
Frodo's door was slightly ajar, as if pushed by hands not quite strong enough to finish the job. Through the gap filtered the sounds of humming – not to any tune that Merry could tell, but a melody patched together from the disconnected straps of memory. Frodo.
Merry pulled the door open quietly. Frodo sat on the edge of his bed, rocking slightly, humming. And there, in a wooden chair facing his cousin, sat Pippin. He was holding Frodo's hands, drawing them close to his face. From his eyes flowed an endless stream of tears.
Before the corrupted part of Merry could manufacture an action befitting a deluded mind, the scene hit the real Merry like a pile of bricks. In that moment, Merry allowed himself to see the truth--reality right there in front of his eyes, infinitely sad, and awful beyond words. He stared at the intimate moment between two damaged souls, both connected by a common loss of self, stripped away by the same punishing hand, Merry's own.
The raw pathos of that scene stripped away his excuses, his artifices, his ability, at least for that moment, to lie to himself. He sucked in the pain on the wings of his inhalation, letting it flow into all of the empty spaces, storming his wispy defenses as if they were made of paper. For that one moment, Merry had never felt so vile. The irony was that after all he had done, neither of these broken beings ever really belonged to him.
Merry could not bring himself to speak. He had nothing to say. A small voice in his head that sounded like his own bid him,
Let them be.
And, miraculously enough, Meriadoc did.
Merry closed Frodo's door behind him, as if to block out the pangs of his own treachery, and receded back down the hall like a ghost. He stopped in the middle of the corridor for no particular reason. For a full minute Merry stood, rooted in place, without anywhere immediate to go, and without a soul to speak to. He stood dumbly looking down the corridor, and yet not really seeing anything. The emptiness he had felt inside was sucked out and replaced by an even greater emptiness, a vacuum that sucked at his soul. Merry fell against the wall as he plumbed the depths of his own misery, and it was fathomless.
Here he was, the future Master of Buckland, the future savior of the Shire, wondering what good his grand plans would be if he were completely alone.
But perhaps that is the way of it, thought Merry, turning from unbearable reality back toward the comforting delusions that were the Ring. The great ones, the strong ones, the ones who really mattered--they didn't get to be happy or indulge in idle comfort. They forfeit their peace for the greater good so that important works could have been done in their name. In that way they gained immortality, and were perhaps allowed to dwell in the houses of the Valar as a reward for a life well spent. He could gain immortality in another life by sacrificing every last thing worth saving in this one.
Without understanding why, Merry released the levys in his mind and allowed waves of darkness to flood in.
"Come share a drink with me," he said to himself, as he slogged listlessly toward the kitchen.
* * *
Sam jolted awake with the sound of a sharp rap at his door.
Please, please be Pippin!
"Sam?"
Dammit.
"Sam, are you busy? May I come in?"
As busy as one can be, chained to the bed, maggot.
"Yea."
Sam heard the sound of a key, maladroitly wielded, turning in the door. The heavy door creaked open, pushed with Merry's shoulder. Merry entered, a large tankard of ale in either hand. Merry sat himself heavily at the small table across from Sam's bed. From the gloss in Merry's eyes, Sam guessed the future Master of Buckland had already downed a few.
"Sam," said Merry in a friendly too-loud voice. "I've brought you some ale. Come, drink with me."
Sam raised his eyebrow, but decided it would be in his best interest to play along. He raised himself out of bed, and lifting his chain, moved himself to the chair opposite that of his captor.
Merry fumbled in his pocket and drew out two pipes.
"Would you like a smoke with your ale?" asked Merry.
"Yes, Merry, I s'pose I would."
Merry stuffed the pipe with Longbottom leaf, and despite a brow furrowed with concentration, more ended up in brown crumbs around the bowl than pressed into it.
He's drunk!
Sam, smiling foxlike, grasped the pipe from Merry and proceeded to pack it himself. "I got it," he said. "Thank 'ee."
Merry lit both their pipes with the same astounding lack of coordination that he had displayed in packing them. Sam waited patiently, wondering already how this meeting might be turned to his advantage.
Merry leaned back in his chair, taking little notice as it tipped back and bumped forcefully against the wall. He rubbed his puffy eyes with clay-like fingers and, taking a forceful swig of ale, began to speak.
"Sam, why do you s'pose Pippin can't forgive himself? Why won't he let me tend to him?"
Because he's not sorry, he's angry, you maniac! Because you've torn away half his back. Because he's seen you break his cousin into a thousand pieces. Because you treat him no better than the dirt 'neath your feet and he's finally figured out that he's a lot better than that. And also, by the way, I bet you don't know I have the One Ring here in my pocket, you bastard.
"I don't rightly know," said Sam as he took a feigned sip of his ale. He watched as Merry lifted his own mug and took a very large, real one.
"He is so, so special to me, Sam. Can't he see it?"
No.
"I'm right sure the lad knows how dear he is to you," said Sam in what he hoped was a sympathetic tone. "You done so much for him."
Merry lifted his pipe and pointed the stem toward Sam with unsteady hands that seemed to shake of their own volition.
"I am so glad you see that, Sam. So glad. Yes, everything I have done, I've done for him. And for Frodo. And for the Shire. I want him to be happy and safe, I want all of them to be happy and safe, Sam. That's all I've ever wanted."
Sam took another feigned sip. Merry took another real one.
"Well, Mr. Merry, I might be of more help if you tell me how he's carrying on. What makes you think he can't forgive himself?"
Sam was genuinely curious but he also wanted this conversation to continue, along with Merry's drinking.
"Lad won't look at me. Pretends he's asleep when he's not. Won't let me touch him. Sam! It cuts me so deeply!"
Sharp lad! He don't want you to see betrayal in those eyes, I bet! He don't want you to know that he's not your puppy no more. All the better for Sam!
"Sorry to hear that, Mr. Merry," said Sam.
Another feigned sip. Two real ones.
"Despite everything, Sam, I forgive him," said Merry, nodding his head in an exaggerated manner.
Another gulp.
"I never asked," chanced Sam. "What bought him that last whipping, if you don't mind telling me, that is."
Merry took another draw from his mug, and Sam pretended to do the same. Merry slammed the mug down clumsily on the table. He lifted a quaking finger and pointed to his nose, which Sam translated as the drunk version of pointing to his bruised jaw.
"No!" said Sam in feigned disbelief.
Yes!
"Can you believe it, Sam? After everything! After all that I've done for him! All my sacrifices!"
"But you didn't really want to thrash him, course," said Sam, again taking a very small sip, and watching with pleasure as Merry followed suit. "He forced your hand, just as Frodo and meself did…before we came to understand all your plans, leastwise."
That one hurt.
"I don't want to hurt anyone, Sam!" cried Merry. "And it warms my heart to see you understand."
Sam took a drag on his pipe, trying to gage how far he might push this, and how much alcohol Merry might need to get Sam his information.
"Mr. Merry. I'll tell you this. Pippin's sorry, that's clear as day. You must know that why he's acting out as he is."
"I know that!" snarled Merry with an edge of helpless anger. "I'm no fool!"
A right great fool if you believe that, maggot.
"No, Mr. Merry. You're one of the brightest of hobbits, asides Mr. Frodo and all," continued Sam. "Just saying the obvious! Well, he's sorry, but—"
Sam paused to take a fake sip. Merry paused to take a real one.
"But?" asked Merry.
"Well, there's such a thing as being too sorry, if you catch my meaning."
Merry shook his head in sorrow, redness creeping into his eyes.
"I do, Sam, I do! Pippin is so sorry, he won't accept my forgiveness. I want him to, Sam! I want him to talk to me again. It is so quiet in the house without the sound of his voice. And Frodo, he's been quiet too. No one is speaking to me."
"I am," said Sam, coaxing an easy smile from reluctant lips. "And I am glad you have come to speak with me. P'raps I can help ye out."
"How?" asked Merry, sincerely curious.
"I might speak to the lad. Remind him of all you've done for him. Just take this thing off me, and I'll go to him right now and set him to rights."
Merry threw Sam a venomous look, and Sam realized he'd overshot his mark.
"I won't, Sam" spat Merry, taking another sip of ale. "You'd take advantage! You would throttle me yet! I can see it in your eyes!"
"Then why are you in here now, with ale and leaf, no less?" asked Sam benignly. "You must want something from me if you're here."
Merry did not answer, but hunched back down and took several more cleansing gulps of ale, looking quite forlorn. "I don't know," he whispered into his cup, almost inaudibly.
Then it struck Sam.
The maggot is lonely!
"I thought I might ask advice, is all!" said Merry at last, looking up at Sam with eyes that were even redder. "Without conditions. Because you seem to have a soft spot for my Pip. I thought you would want to help." He slammed his fist on the table. "Doesn't anyone want to help me?!"
"I do!" exclaimed Sam. "I do, and no mistake. It would do my heart good to do something nice for you--for all the care you've given to my Mr. Frodo." Sam bit his lip.
That one hurt more than the last one.
"He's not your Mr. Frodo!" Merry snarled in liquor-fogged anger. "He belongs to the Shire! He's special to all hobbits! And you don't own him!"
Nor do you, maggot!
"Now, now, Mr. Merry," said Sam, almost fighting laughter at Merry's helpless banter. You know that's just servant talk. Didn't mean no harm by it."
Merry seemed to crumple again, and a tear fell from one of his reddened eyes.
"I know, Sam. You're alright. If you have advice, I'll hear you out."
"Let me think on it a moment," said Sam, and added, "looks like you could use another drink."
Merry stared overlong at his empty tankard, and with bleary eyes, asked Sam, "Can I get you something while I'm up?"
Sam, remembering all his Gaffer's admonitions against mixing hop and grape in one sitting, proceeded to ask Merry for the worstest combination he could think up.
"My ale's almost empty too," said Sam, viewing his rippled reflection in his full cup. "I wouldn't mind some brandy, if you got some. Or wine, if you don't. And do get yourself some too, as I hate to drink alone."
Merry smiled and stood unevenly, lurching out the door. Sam immediately rushed to empty the remainder of his ale into his chamber pot, and pushed it back under his bed. Sam was still huffing with exertion when Merry returned with a glass decanter of brandy but he was too far gone to notice.
Merry sat two of the Hall's best crystal glasses down and poured. Sam watched with delight as drunken hands poured badly. Blood-red brandy splattered over the rims of the glasses, onto the wooden table and seeped into the grain.
Sam raised his glass to Merry.
"For the Shire," he said, mentally cringing.
Merry smiled and clanked Sam's glass so hard it almost cracked. He took a cavernous swallow.
"I've given some thought to Pip," said Sam. "And it occurs to me that you have plenty of time to make things right between you."
Please take the bait!
"But, Sam," said Merry hazily. "You see, we don't."
"Oh?" answered Sam in the blandest voice he could conjure.
Tell Sam your plans, drunken rat.
"I wassn't going to tell you," said Merry, now slurring his words. "But you were going to find out justa same. Were are leaving to-mor-row."
"To where?" asked Sam, as if it were unimportant.
"None of your concern!" snapped Merry, and took another swig of brandy.
"Well, then," said Sam, " if you can't tell me that, leastwise you can tell me what your plans are for me once we get to the Hall. What can I do to be of use to you?"
A calculated risk.
"You're job will be to care for Frodo, of course. And Pip, until his back heals."
Just as I reckoned. The Hall!
"Frodo," continued Merry, "has grown very attached to Crickhollow. It will be difficult for him to move. Your job is to make him as com-ford-ible as pos-ss-si-ball."
Merry emphasized each ill-pronounced syllable with the stem of his pipe.
"Surely, Merry, you will remove this rock when we get there." Sam jangled the chain. "It would be hard for me to do for Mr. Frodo in that big place all tied up, you know…so all you would have to do, I guess, is take the key from your pocket and…"
Merry snickered. Sam stopped.
"Very good try, Shamwise!" said Merry. "I am not ssstupid, you know. I don't carry the key in my pocket, 'cept when you need to be moved, whiss ish not to-night, my friend."
Sam immediately let his tightly wound muscles relax; his hastily formed plan to tackle Merry then and there summarily jettisoned.
"To-morrow then," said Sam pleasantly, echoing Merry's inebriation. "Else, what will your relations think, me chained up like a cudgel?"
"Oh, Sam!" laughed Merry, hysterically, his personality taking on another change. "You must know that's not possible! You are ssspecial too!" Merry patted Sam drunkenly on the shoulder. "Far too ssspecial to lose on the way, though I doubt you'd leave Frodo." He patted Sam again, his hand slipping off Sam's shoulder. "I like you, Sam. I do. But your record during excursions is not so good. No, no, no. The shackle stays. And as for what my family thinks, I don't care! I am Master of the Hall!"
"Hmmm, I thought your father was the Master."
Merry frowned irritably. "Well, acting Master, then, it doesn't matter--but I will give the ordersss, make no mis-take, my friend, and that's what matters. It's not their job to question me, no one will question me, not if they hope to survive."
Sam snorted, pretending that the thought of being lead around on a leash for all of the Brandybuck clan to see did not horrify him.
"When you're done with your joking," said Sam, now himself taking a real sip of brandy, "I have a touch of advice regarding Pip. I say give him a small job to do, something that shows you trust him. Something he could do despite his hurts."
"Such as?" asked Merry, smiling incongruously.
"I'm getting hungry," said Sam. "And you don't look so well. Why not have the lad bring Sam his vittles tonight. A small job to make him feel as he's helping in a way."
"I guess it is almost suppertime," said Merry. "And we did not have dinner on account of, well, we just didn't. My stomach is churning, but I'll…see about having something brought to you Sam." Merry grabbed his stomach and grimaced, his face tinged with green. "I…don't suppose I'll eat."
Sam nodded, waiting for Merry to take his leave. But Merry did not. He sat there, staring into space, cocking his head a little, as if he were listening for a sound just on the edge of his hearing. His eyes then turned to Sam.
"Did you say something, Sam? Just now?" asked Merry in an eerie yet unmistakably drunken voice. "Take what? What was taken? I don't understand."
Sam shuddered and began to feel the Ring more keenly in his pocket than ever before. It seemed to tingle, cold and perilous, at his hip, as if it were somehow waking up and wanting to break out of its linen bed.
He's hearing the Ring! It's calling him! Thought Sam, his eyes wide as saucers. Oh you gotta get him out of here, and right quick!
"I think something's been taken, Sam…I…"
Sam stood abruptly and in the affectionate manner of friends, lifted Merry to his feet.
"C'mon, Mr. Merry," he said, with all the cheer he could muster. "Or you'll pass out where you stand. Have Pippin take care of my supper. He'll feel trusted, and you can collapse in bed. You've had a day yourself, and I would be no kind of friend if I didn't urge you to bed. Like I said, you don't look so hot."
Merry nodded blankly, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"You are right, Sam. Thank you. Yes, you are my friend and very kind, you are too. Nice to have someone take care of me, you know. Some days it seems as all have turned against me. But not you. And don't think your kindness will go unnoticed, Sam."
"There's a good Sir," smiled Sam as he eased Merry out as far as his chain would allow. "Don't think another thing about it. I don't expect much I'm gonna do will go unnoticed."
Merry nodded happily.
And with that, Sam shut his own door with his gaoler on the other side of it.
* * *
Merry stumbled into the kitchen, only to find Pippin placing a rounded silver lid upon a food tray.
"Pippin," said Merry.
Pippin did not turn, but seemed to jump out of his skin.
Merry laughed affectionately, grabbing onto the table to steady himself.
"Pippin, no need to fear. It is only me. I'm going to give you the key to Sam's room. I would like you to bring Sam his food, as it seems you've already a mind to anyway. Would you do that for your Merry?"
Grinning, Merry held out the key in a hand that swayed up and down, almost rhythmically. Pippin turned, holding his tray with its silver top.
"Very fancy, sweetheart," beamed Merry, noting the ridiculously large tray, but not wanting to quash the lad's spirit. Merry smiled, and stretching out his hand further, said, "here is the key, lad."
Pippin stared at it, not Merry, and with a wince of pain, reached up to take the key. Then, with painfully slow steps, Pippin limped out of the kitchen bearing his burden to Sam's room.
* * *
Sam leaped out of his chair at the sound of footsteps. The slow, uneven gait told him it was indeed Pippin. The lock turned, the door opened.
"You look like death, poor lad!" exclaimed Sam in a low voice, "But, Lor! I'm glad you're here. We must talk."
Pippin didn't look at him but instead sat the tray slowly on the table, again wincing with the movement. To Sam, he seemed distant, as if moving through a dream.
"Pippin," whispered Sam. "I know it's dangerous. And I know you're hurt. But stay for a moment so we can talk. We need to make a plan right quick. I know you've a mind to help me. I promise I won't harm Merry more than's needed, Pip, but I must get away…to get help, Pip, help so this nightmare can end!"
To Sam's shock, Pippin did not answer. He tilted his head down to the try of food, and with sad eyes, turned to the door.
"Pippin!" cried Sam, now picking up his chain and following. "Come back! You're Frodo's last hope! Where are you going?"
Pippin continued limping out. Sam grasped Pippin hard around his forearm, more violently than he meant. Pippin cried out in pain. Sam let go.
"Shhh!" hissed Sam. "You'll draw him here! Now get your fool self back here, will you!"
Pippin again turned his eyes upon the tray.
"Pippin?" called Merry from down the hall. "Are you all right?"
Sam heard Merry's steps approaching and cursed wildly under his breath. "You must come back tonight Pippin!" whispered Sam. "You must! For Frodo!"
Pippin made no answer, but slowly turned his back on Sam, stepped out the door, and locked it behind him.
Sam felt his world collapse around him as he heard Pippin limp down the hall, now met by Merry's more insistent gait. Neither came to his room, and Sam began to despair of ever speaking to Pippin alone or of making any sort of escape plan. Sam pulled at his hair in frustration, offering up silent apologies to Frodo and the rest of Middle Earth, all of whom he felt he had now failed. Finally, his stomach won out, and Sam opted to eat while he mourned the end of all things. He lifted the cover of the over-sized tray, and nearly cried out in joy. Laying on top of the poorly assembled slices of meat, cheese and bread was Merry's own very sharp and very functional sword.
* * *
Merry slept. Slightly nauseous and full of too much drink, he had carried Pippin back to their bed and laid down beside him. He did not let himself doze until he thought Pippin had fallen off and his last thoughts before letting slumber overtake him were how he would soon be celebrated as a hero and how he would make his Pippin love him again.
Pippin could not sleep. Merry had not allowed him his room in exile. Pippin had been laid in Merry's bed, and with an avalanche of loving words, Merry had drifted into a drunken sleep, his arm wrapped gently over his cousin's battered back. At the sound of Merry first snore, Pippin carefully raised himself and returned to Frodo's room, where he lay down by his brother in misery. And there he slept, his arm now wrapped around the hobbit with whom he shared a terrible bond.
Frodo slept. But in the silent darkness, his whole mind screamed in unceasing agony for what he had lost. Even in dreams he would have no peace for the voice was gone and would no longer create the illusions that he longed for. For him there was no real reason to wake up again or indeed to exist at all.
Sam did not sleep. Nor would he doze all that night. As the three cousins sank into their private dreams, Sam sat atop his table, using the sharp sword to saw, bit by agonizing bit, through the iron chain – the last link binding him to the smial at Crickhollow.
TBC
Now you really want to kill me, don't you! Mwhahahahahah!
No reviewie, no updateeee. Sorry, It's just I love reviews, and when I don't get them, it makes me think no one is reading, and that it is not worth the many hours I put into it. Plus I just love hearing from people! I'm a little down today and need external validation! ;) I will update when I get at least 10.
I wanted to plug the great new drawings Viceroy has done for last chapter- on page 3 of my illustrations (see me author site). I love her defiant pip pic! I also uploaded some non-slash RATM related writings by Viceroy. There are also slash chapters by Celandine and Chloe on my site.
Also- if you don't mind het, Ariel3 has a lovely Rosie/Sam fic called "A Little Night Music" that is really a joy. It is here on ffnet. CelandineG also has alternative slash chapters. If you feel creative in the RATM universe, send me stuff and I'll post it!
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Now, to the reviewers! (who keep me going!)
Thank you celandine! Well, I loved your additions too! And I hope you post some more of your great stuff soon too. Hey, everyone! Read Celadnine's alternate chapters!
Iorhael – and I miss reviewing! I'm going to try and get over there very soon-after I finish my paper. I love your LJ stuff too!
Heart of a hobbit – thank you! Yes- there will be some healing time- but not yet! Stay tuned!
Breon Briarwood – all of your questions and more will be answered in the last few chapters of part one- in fact, some answers you may already know!
Uchiha Itachi – glad you like kick-ass pip! We'll be seeing more of him soon! Thanks for reviewing.
Rebecca Starflower – fools hopes are never in vain, as I hope this story will show. Pippin does not know his own strength, but he will!
Misslw – thank you –and-yes- I loved the review! Sam has some resilience against the Ring, but he is not perfect, and may let his heart think before his head-not a good thing in the days to come, perhaps!
The Lady of Mirkwood – yes- I am bringing Frodo back, and soon, though under rather unusual circumstances. I do hope you like the journey.
Tialys – I liked this chapter too, and was thinking "go PIP!" as I wrote. I am glad you are enjoying the story!
Saiyan*Queen*Vega – thank you! Ihope I am getting to be a better writer, thanks to all the nice comments! I hope you enjoy the last few chapters of part one!
Chloe- the idea of the floggettes had me and Ariel both giggling! I am glad that RATM continues to entertain you! I wonder if you will have ideas of things you would like to see in part 2? Would you let me know?
Ariel- well raves for your idea to give Pippin some spunk!! I know it has been long in coming, but you helped me get the tone just right! Many thanks! And-hey, everyone- go read "A Little Night Music" by Ariel!!!!!
Jubilee 3- YES- you must go RIGHT NOW and read the previous chapter- as it is really important!!!! Plus, I swear that Estella wont bite! I promise! And yes- yeah PIP!
Holli- Sam will have his own troubles very soon. He's strong, but he has flaws too, as we shall see!
Endymion- I am going to bring your Frodo back very very soon- and your snarky comment made me laugh! I know you want to kick pip-and that is okay! Heheheheh
Aratlithiel- Frodo is coming back soon! I promise! More Frodo for you, yessss precisuossssss
Unhobbity Hobbit- thank you! I loved the parallels you drew and think they are very apt! I'm sure you will have tons of stuff you may want to see in part 2, if you have ideas, let me know! And I think pip and Frodo do share a bond, and that merry will get to a point where he sees what he has done. Sadly, right now Merry is the only one that can really tend to Pip's wounds. I know. Sad!
Flick chan- thank you so much for the wonderful insights! Again, they really helped me to get this chapter down, and chapters for the future. I think Pippin, Merry, and Frodo will all have to find their own personal ways of recovering, and that Sam too will have to deal with the consequences of some of his actions coming up. No one in this fic is prefect, and I would not have it any other way!
FrodoBaggins1982 – thank you for your reviews! I was wondering if you did not mind spoilers, because what I want to ask would give away a lot of the end! I really miss Frodo, you know, which is why I keep going back in his head. But not really here because it is from Sam's Point of view. Can you guess where this chapter is leading to? Well, I will tell you soon. And thank you for pointing out the redundancies! As soon as I read it- I changed it- so yes- I always do want to know.