Hello, friends! I'm baack.

Disclaimer: Does it LOOK like I own it? Tolkien imitator, not Tolkien himself. Or his sons, company CEOs, whatever. IT'S NOT MINE.

~*~ Aramir drew a sword Frodo didn't realize he had. "Release the hobbit and I might let you keep your head."

Frodo wasn't released. His captor slowly backed away from the destroyed camp, dragging Frodo with him. "Drop your sword and I might let him," he shook Frodo, "keep his head."

Aramir laid his sword on the ground. Frodo tried to tell him with his eyes to keep it; that he didn't care, but Aramir either didn't understand or disagreed.

"Good. Now put both your hands in the air, so I can tell you're not going to pull anything funny."

Aramir did so. Frodo noticed a ring on his left index finger he hadn't before.

"Good. Now stay like that while I take your little friend," the cold steel pressed slightly harder into Frodo's throat, drawing a little blood, "with me. You may stay here and reflect on how you failed to protect him."

"I bid you good luck trying to get out. You'll need it."

"Ah, I don't think so. I've heard enough about this forest to have marked my way in. Farewell... And as for you, I think I'll take you somewhere... special." Frodo was dragged away from Aramir, who still stood in the middle of the bare camp with his hands up in the air.

Frodo and his captor were out of the forest in less than 10 minutes. A horse was waiting by the boundaries. The man tied a cloth around Frodo's eyes and stuffed another into his mouth and lifted him up. He swung himself up next. "Well, little hobbit, looks like you're stuck with me. I hope you enjoy the experience." He clicked his tongue and the horse began to trot. "I'm sure you'll find my company many times superior to that other man's." He kicked the hors and it began to gallop. "But it shan't last long. Soon I'm guna sell you in Bree!"

Bree? I've heard of Bree. Both men and hobbits live there. For all the hobbits, though, I've yet to hear anything good about the place!

~*~
They rode through the night until about noon the next day. Although the man himself ate, he offered Frodo nothing, and Frodo didn't ask. The gag and blindfold were removed, though it didn't help, as Frodo recognized nothing of his surroundings.

"So, little hobbit, confused, is we? Don't know where we are?"

"We're on our way to Bree. You said so last night."

"So. I've picked up a smart one, have I?"

"Not exactly. Am I permitted to ask just why exactly you kidnapped me?"

"Of course you may ask, shorty, but don't expect any answer that you'd like."

"Any answer would be good about now, sir."

"That man you were with. Have you any idea who he is?"

"His name is Aramir."

"I don't know what lies he's told you, hobbit, but his name, his true name, is not Aramir."

"And you're not going to tell me what it really is, I presume?"

"Dern right, hobbit. Don't go mixing yourself up with what doesn't concern you. You'll not be seeing him again."

"Frodo."

"Eh?"

"My name is Frodo if you want to stop calling me hobbit."

"And my name is Gormir. I'll call you whatever I dern well please to." He lifted Frodo up to the saddle. "I'm getting rid of you as soon as I can, hobbit. We ride!"

~*~

It was a 2½-day trip to Bree. To Frodo, it seemed more like a week. The Big Person had taken to tying his hands behind his back, making his arms ache a lot.

"So here we are, hobbit. We part soon. But to get the highest bidder, I'm afraid you can't be awake. Nighty-night, Frodo." A cloth soaked in sleeping drugs was placed over Frodo's face. He tried to not breathe it in, but he did so anyway.

~*~

When he woke up again, Gormir was nowhere in sight. He was in a poorly furnished wooden room with only one window. He was tied to the only chair.

Gormir had brought him to a renowned inn called the Prancing Pony. Gormir was currently in the common area, collecting prices. The five highest bidders he brought to the room to see Frodo. As Frodo was still groggy, he did not quite understand what was going on as strange men scrutinized him, walking around his chair many times.

"Nice, isn't he? Pretty, even for a hobbit. Especially for a male. Strong, too. In the body and the will. Although I suppose you can beat that out of him!" Gormir laughed. "Come. Let's go back out to the bar and discuss just how much you are willing to pay for him over drinks."

It was only now sinking into Frodo what was happening to him. He was never going to see the Shire again. He would never see his family again. Brandy Hall and Bag End would be only a memory. He'd even miss Merimac and Melilot. He fell asleep trying to think of people who would miss him.

He woke up to the face of one of the men who had been in earlier, looking at him. "Greetings, hobbit. You're mine now, and we're leaving town. Apparently somebody, a sore bidder no doubt, ratted on us and you have search parties looking for you."

They left, Frodo wrapped up in a cloak he could barely breathe in. A horse was prepared, and Frodo felt himself being placed in the saddle. "We ride east, hobbit, far east. They wouldn't think to look for you that far out. Even if they did, they wouldn't care enough to go."

This man, whose name was Thaurdil, seemed nicer than Gormir. There was a certain coldness to his eyes, however, that prevented him from seeing even remotely pleasant.

En route to Gondor, where Thaurdil said they would stop, they stopped at Edoras to get supplies. Frodo was left tied up on the horse outside the city while Thaurdil went inside to buy what they needed.

Apologies if I left off in a bad spot. It's a little over 3 pages, which is good for me, and my hands are starting to cramp.

Review please. Kudos to those who did last chapter!

Cell_air: No, I'm not done yet. By the time I actually quit, I'm not sure how many chapters I will have. I don't have it all planned out yet.

H. Warrenbeck: Thank you! I don't receive compliments on my writing often, so it always makes me happy when I do.

High Elf: It's all right. I don't review probably as often as I should either. And I have plenty of time to think up new twists and stuff. (Cable TV and internet doesn't reach to our house)

Amy: Really, don't expect quick updates. I only write when I have the house to myself, which isn't as often as I like it to be.

Jules: Here you go. I'll type the next one up as soon as I can. Patience!