A/N: After reading this chapter again, I changed the rape thing. I just thought it was unrealistic. Hope you guys like it better!
Footsteps came to an abrupt halt and started again. Frodo turned in the direction of where they seemed to echo from—the lane. The lane he traveled on with Sam when they left Bag End on that day in September...
When the madness began.
Cautiously, Frodo took small steps down the lane so menacing, so dark, that it seemed the lantern's light had been afraid, flickering timidly and not much of a guide. And then everything happened quickly, so fast that Frodo had no time to even utter a scream as he was plunged in pitch darkness.
Chapter Five: Labyrinth
Frodo searched frantically for the lantern he had lost. On his knees, his hands groped through grass in the darkness. No light of the moon to help him.
Where is it?
He hesitated for a moment, wincing from the pain that hammered inside his head. When he touched his forehead, Frodo thought he felt a sticky liquid, unable to comprehend what it could be. His body told him not to go on. Exhausted and nauseated from the throbbing pain. He wanted to just lie there but he had to move on and if possible, escape the woods. The last thing Frodo remembered was venturing out on the lane after footsteps he heard.
"How did I get here?" he thought. "I have to get back."
Frodo rose unsteadily onto his feet and shoved himself onward.
Where are you going?
Frodo wished he knew where. Was he going in the direction that led to Bag End? How could he know in the dark? All he could do was hope—hope that where he walked took him back to his comfy hole.
"Why did I go out?" he said angrily to himself. "Why?"
The weary Frodo Baggins trudged onward through the woods. Every now and then, a slight breeze cooled his hot, clammy skin. Then came a voice, whispering, badgering...
Poor Frodo, you've lost your way?
Frodo ignored it, continuing on but the gruff voice refused to go away, torturing him relentlessly.
No need to hurry back home. You won't find Tansy or Calla there. They died in a fire. Don't you remember, Frodo? You were upset with Tansy because she wasn't there for you, after everything you had gone through to destroy the ring. You return to the Shire and she doesn't love you anymore. How can she love someone with only four fingers? She felt shame to be with you. And so you both argue, blind to what Calla was doing with the lantern. She knocked it over. The fire started.
"Who are you?" Frodo shouted aloud as he stumbled through the woods, feeling like he was going around in circles—a never-ending labyrinth.
You blamed yourself for what happened, because in the past you tried to hurt Tansy. The knife, Frodo. I'm sure you remember that, too. You would hide it under your pillow and wait for the right time. But you didn't need to use the knife. The fire had taken care of what you desired. The only thing you regret was Calla dying. You never wanted anything to happen to her.
"Stop it!" Frodo screamed.
And now you're lost. How can you find your way back?
"Tansy and Calla are alive!" Frodo's eyes searched for a light he desperately needed to see, and the face of whoever was tormenting him. All he could make out was the outline of trees. They were friendly during the day. At night they seemed to morph into something menacing, like they did now as they towered over him.
The voice taunted him further...
You want to believe they're alive. No, Frodo, they're dead...and you killed them. It's not you're fault. It's the ring and it's too late, Frodo. It has already destroyed you. It's too late...
"Noooo!" Frodo had to escape this unseen person. His feet hastened through the grass and now he found himself running—running in every direction that led to no where. His heart pummeled madly. His head throbbed again. Suddenly he lost balance, tripping over what felt like a branch. His hands sprang out in front of him, breaking his fall as he collided onto the bed of grass.
He lay there, gasping for breath. Frodo looked up at the menacing trees again. They seemed to loom closer as if in a moment, ready to snatch him in their angry grasp.
It's too late, Frodo. Too late...
Tansy sat nervously at the kitchen table. The morning sun had returned to the Shire with its brilliance—something that often brightened Tansy's face with a cheerful smile. At the moment, not even the sun could lift her spirits. She bit her bottom lip and twirled jittery fingers around one another while both hands lay upon her lap. On that morning, the breakfast had been delayed. Food was the furthest from her mind and everyone else, especially when Tansy awoke to find Frodo sprawled across the bed in his nightshirt. Blood had left its sticky, dry trail on the left side of his face. Tansy remembered the fright and shock of finding her husband unconscious. Now, she waited and wondered if he would be all right.
Another several minutes passed.
Someone came over and stood by her side.
Tansy looked up into the face of her best friend, Rosie.
And Rosie said to her, "He's awake."
Tansy rushed into the room to find Frodo sitting up. His back propped against two pillows. The blood on his face had been cleaned away. As Tansy sat beside him on the edge of the bed, she wished she could say he looked better. Blood wasn't the only thing that had marred his face only a few hours ago. Fear, exhaustion and worry began to show itself as a tiny smudge of dark circles beneath his eyes. Tansy slid her fingers over his left hand and gently caressed it.
"Frodo," she said quietly. "I was so worried about you. How is your head?"
Frodo's four-fingered hand reached up and rubbed the top of his head. "It still hurts. Sam said it's swollen a little but I will be all right. He also said I walked in my sleep again but I didn't. I was fully awake when I left this room last night. I remember hearing a noise outside, footsteps. I wondered who could be lurking about and so I quickly dressed. I went out and--," Frodo grimaced, straining his mind to remember what had happened next. And when he recalled something else, he continued on. "I was walking down the lane and after that, I awoke in the woods, injured, but I don't remember how it happened. I felt so alone in the dark, and yet I wasn't alone."
"Who else could have been there?" asked Tansy.
Slowly, Frodo shook his head while staring straight ahead. "I don't know. I didn't see who it was but I heard his voice."
"His voice?"
Suddenly Frodo's eyes were wide again. Terrified, his gaze darted sharply to his wife. "It told me you and Calla had died in a fire and--," When Frodo recalled the rest of what the voice uttered to him, all color had been drained from his face and replaced with a ghastly pale hue. Frodo grasped Tansy's hand. "Tansy, what if I'm walking in my sleep and my mind is playing tricks on me? What if I do something terrible and don't remember? It's happened before!"
"I don't understand? How could you have walked in your sleep last night? You were here with me. I awoke and then we kissed and held each other."
"What?" said a puzzled Frodo. "I don't remember any of it!" Frustrated, his face fell onto his palms. "It's happening again," he mumbled against sweaty palms and then his face leapt from his shaky hands. He stared sorrowfully into her soft, cinnamon eyes. "Tansy, you must take Calla and leave."
Dismayed, Tansy answered, "Leave? Why?"
"If you stay here, you and Calla may be in danger. Tansy, I'm not well. What if I walk in my sleep again? But then, maybe I should leave. It's not only you and Calla I fear hurting."
Tansy shook her head in disagreement. "No. We're not leaving. And I don't want you to leave either."
"When I was in the woods," Frodo began softly. "At least, it seemed that's where I've been, I felt like I was walking in circles. I could not find my way out of the woods and back to Bag End. Tansy, in my mind, I still feel I'm in that 'maze' and I can't escape."
Tansy's eyes burned from her hot tears. Her gaze fell solemnly onto her hand that cradled his. "If you were to leave, where would you go?" She questioned, fearing he would mention Valinor.
Frodo shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know."
Tears streamed down Tansy's soft cheeks. "I don't want you to leave again. You promised me and Calla. We've been through this before and we can get through it again."
Frodo looked up and when he saw trails of tears snaking down her cheeks, he tenderly smudged them away. "I know I promised I wouldn't leave." Frodo, so confused about everything, had breathed. And out from his lungs came a long, exasperated sigh. "I don't know what to do, Tansy."
"Just stay," Tansy insisted. She huddled beside him and lay her head onto his chest. "Please, Frodo. We can get through this."
Frodo circled his arm around Tansy's shoulder. His thoughts journeyed back to the Quest and if it weren't for Sam, he knew the task would have been impossible without him. Even now, Sam was by his side along with Tansy. Despite his doubts, he could not forget their love and encouragement for him to press on in the midst of another assault from the past.
Frodo could only muster a feeble grin while embracing Tansy close to him. "Alright. I'll stay."
The month that was August drew near. And each day that passed, fear, in which Tansy thought had finally eluded her since Frodo chose to stay in the Shire, had tormented her once again. Alone, she sat in the chair opposite the fireplace. It slept for now and would soon awaken at the first sign of autumn's return. Her stout form was barely recognizable in dim candlelight emanating from two lanterns seated upon the mantle. She sat in silence, staring gravely at the fireplace.
Frodo...his nightmares were getting worse. They've been through it all before. Those dark times during his illnesses when it seemed death had been near to claim him. What was so different now? Tansy knew the answer, what terrified her even more...the knife he repeatedly found beneath his pillow. And though she hated to admit it to herself, she was very afraid of what Frodo would do, perhaps in the middle of the night when she and everyone were sleeping.
Someone stepped in front, blocking her view of the fireplace. Tansy blinked and looked up at Sam staring back with much concern in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered politely. "I don't mean to disturb you, Tansy. I just wanted to see how you were keeping is all."
Mrs. Baggins greeted him with a smile, an unconvincing one she had been aware of and wondered if it sneaked past Sam's keen eyes. Tansy had a feeling it didn't while she continued to look up at him. "You're not disturbing me, Sam. I can't sleep so that's why I'm sitting here."
Sam sat in a chair a few feet from Tansy. There had been an awkward silence between them for a moment and then Tansy decided to be honest with him about what burdened her mind.
"Sam, do you think Frodo should have gone to Valinor?"
"Frodo will get better. He's just going through another one of his illnesses."
"Do you think he should have gone to Valinor?" Tansy repeated firmly.
Sam breathed and frustrated, his forehead fell onto the palm of his left hand. "That day when Mr. Frodo went back with us, Merry and Pippin I mean, I was so happy he didn't leave. But..."
"You wonder," Tansy interrupted, "if he would have been better off in Valinor?"
Sam straightened himself and leaned forward, closer to her than he was before. "He needed to be with you and Calla."
"I know that, Sam, but he's suffering. Yes, there were many days the illnesses left him alone. Now he's suffering again, worse than before. His delusions about the knife—I'm very frightened, Sam."
"We're all very concerned, Tansy, and frightened. I've never seen Mr. Frodo like this."
Tansy clenched tense hands together upon her lap hidden beneath a sky blue dress and white apron. "I thought when he came back to the Shire, everything would be all right, not that I didn't expect him to be sick anymore. I thought, well, I would never lose him again. Now--,"
Sam leaned closer. "Tansy, you won't lose him."
Tansy doubtfully shook her head. "I want to believe it, Sam. I really do. I still hate what's happened to him...that ring!" Furious, Tansy jumped onto her furry feet. And after composing herself, she looked down at Sam and added, "Now I must apologize. It's been such a strain on me you see. I'm off to bed. We'll talk again tomorrow." At those words, again she forced a little smile across her tense lips. "Good night, Sam."
"Good night," he whispered soberly.
Tansy left the parlor and as she strode down the hall, she remembered what Frodo told her once.
"I felt like I was walking in circles..."
And that's how she also felt—trapped in an emotional labyrinth. And no matter how hard she tried, when there seemed to be an exit in this maze, it was all just a mirage.
No exit.
No escape.
Tansy stopped at the bedroom door. She hoped nothing disturbed Frodo's sleep. And as her hand reached for the brass knob, Tansy froze. Suddenly she found herself in bed next to Frodo. Drifting out of sleep when she felt something cool, something sharp slither along her neck and stop short at her throat. Tansy's eyes were now open wide and alert. She could see him, staring in utter horror at Frodo leaning over her. His eyes, frigid blue and glaring evilly while the tip of the knife seemed to tease the soft spot of Tansy's skin above her throat.
She dared not scream, fearing the knife would pierce her skin. Instead, her lips parted. The words had been frozen like her body. And when Tansy looked down at her hand, it trembled at the knob and she shivered at the realization of what had occurred—her uncontrollable imagination.
Tansy hesitated and stayed outside the door. She was indeed frightened, but it wasn't only her imagination that kept her hand from turning the knob. Tansy thought she heard a faint mumbling down the hall. Quietly, Mrs. Baggins strolled down the tunnel and as she neared the room where Calla and Elanor slept, the mumbling grew louder.
Tansy's eyes caught something on the floor—a sliver of candlelight that made its way through the tiny crack of the open door. Making sure she wasn't heard, Tansy eased herself near the crack and peeked inside. There sitting at Calla's bedside was Rory. His crutches lay neatly against the wall.
"Do you have to leave, too?" Tansy heard Calla say to Rory.
"I'm afraid so, Calla. My leg is getting better, but I'll be here for a little while longer."
Calla sulked. "Daddy left once and then he came back. Will you come back, too?"
"Oh, most certainly!" said Rory and when he stretched his arms wide open for a hug, Calla entwined her small arms around him.
"I want a hug!" Elanor insisted boldly, leaping from her bed and scuttled over to Rory.
"Alright," he answered, smiling. "A hug for Elanor, too."
Tansy kept wary eyes on him while he hugged Elanor. There were times she thought nothing of his hospitality toward the children, but now, for some strange reason she could not understand, Tansy felt he was too close. When Rory reached for his crutches and hauled himself from the bed, she dashed away from the door and hurried back to her bedroom. Tansy stood near the circle, peering over her shoulder at Frodo who seemed to be sleeping soundlessly. She waited there. The sound of crutches thumped lightly across numerous tiles. Tansy pressed her ear against the door and listened as Rory hopped past and down another hall.
Tansy spun around at the sound of Frodo stirring in his sleep, shifting from one side of the bed to the other. Dreading what may happen next, she eased herself onto the side where she slept. Frodo shifted away from her again. Tansy gazed down at his pillow.
Will I find the knife again?
She inched her hand toward the pillow. Carefully, Tansy wormed her fingers beneath it and when she felt something cool, something sharp, she grasped it. There in her hand was the silver knife. Frightened and confused, she wondered if it actually existed. Was her imagination out of control again like what has been happening to Frodo? Tansy shivered, dropping the knife, she sped out of the room and through the tunnels until she stopped at one in particular—the tunnel where Rory stayed in his guestroom. Tansy wiped her tears as she moped along the wall toward his room. Overwhelmed by a wave of emotions flooding her mind, and at the moment, drowning her ability to think clearly. She found herself doing the unexpected...
Tansy knocked softly on his door.
Then came a whisper on the other side. "Who's there?"
"Tansy," she whispered back and when Rory slowly opened the door, she could see that he was surprised.
"Tansy?"
"Can I come in?"
"Yes, yes," he said, almost too eager for her to visit him.
Tansy stepped shyly inside. Rory hopped over to his bed, lowered himself onto the edge and placed the crutches against the wall. He noticed she didn't sit in the chair and chose to stand a few feet away.
"Tansy, what is it?"
She stared at the tiled floor. Her fingers clutched nervously onto her apron.
"The children are very fond of you," she barely uttered.
"I was a father once. I'll never forget what it was like to have a daughter."
"Perhaps that is why they are so fond of you. I also see the love you have for children," she faltered and added, "You never told me what happened to your wife and daughter."
"Tansy, you didn't come here to discuss the children or my past."
Her gaze sprang from the floor and now she stared at him through a blur of tears.
"I—I don't—I don't know why I'm here. Frodo, he--,"
"Come," said Rory soothingly and extended his hand toward her. "Please, sit."
Tansy reached for his hand, as if in some kind of strange trance, she allowed him to guide her onto the bed beside him.
"I know it's very upsetting," he told her quietly, "to see Frodo ill every day. When you were married, you never thought this would happen. And now, you long to have that joy again."
Tansy closed her eyes. Her lips quivered and she shook her head, agreeing with what he said while tears streamed down her cheeks.
Rory continued on. "You fear he'll leave again, and this time he won't come back. If that happened, you won't be alone, Tansy." He slid closer and wiped her tears with his fingertips. "I'll be here for you and for Calla."
Tansy felt his lips touch hers, almost finding herself lost in his kiss. And then slapped by reality...
It's not Frodo. Tansy, what are you doing?
Her eyes snapped open. Immediately, Tansy broke away from his kiss. Repulsed by what he had done and shocked at herself for letting it happen, she slapped him.
Rory ignored the stinging on the left side of his face and looked up at Tansy who no longer sat beside him. "I'm very sorry."
"Are you now?" she said angrily. "It's best I leave." She turned toward the door and then her feet came to a sudden halt. Tansy pressed shaky fingertips against her mouth.
The kiss...something about it...so familiar.
Tansy gasped. Her eyes, wide with astonishment and dread. She spun around, shaking. Her heart raced madly while she stumbled toward him. "You kissed me before!"
"What?" A bewildered Rory answered.
"I remember that kiss."
"Tansy, how could I? We were never alone like this."
Her gaze dropped to his broken leg. She recalled something else. When Rory was inside the children's room and as he was leaving, he seemed to be having a problem walking on his left leg, but it had been his right leg supposedly injured. Flooded with shock, confusion, disgust and anger, Tansy shook her head.
"You—you don't have a broken leg."
"What? Tansy, what are you saying?"
She stormed toward the crutches, grabbed them and tossed them far away from the bed.
"Walk!"
"Have you gone mad?"
"I saw you inside the children's room, not that long ago. I peeked inside and when you stood to leave, I saw you hopping on your right leg. Now, walk without them crutches!"
Rory remained where he sat. Not even an inch did he move. For a few moments, they only stared at one another until Tansy spoke again.
"You're leg was never broken. All of it, just a lie!"
Tansy gasped when Rory finally stood from the bed and walked normally toward the crutches.
"You're right, Tansy," he said, picking up the crutches and returned them back to the wall where they rested again.
"Why?" Tansy inquired and then she gasped once more. "The knife...it was you! You sneaked it under Frodo's pillow. You want him to think he's going mad and—that night—no. No."
Rory closed the space between them, staring boldly into her eyes. "What?" he whispered in a crafty voice that frightened her. "What about it, Tansy? Yes, it was I, not Frodo who kissed you, who held you. It was the only way we could be together."
Tansy squeezed her eyes shut. Hot tears burned down her cheeks.
"You—you took advantage of me!"
"No, Tansy. I love you. I loved you since we had met that day."
Astonished at his irrational reply, her eyes were jarred open. She rolled her fingers into a tight fist and about to swing toward his face when Rory swiftly caught her by the wrist.
"Please, don't hit me again."
Tansy's eyes glared with boiling anger. Her usually soft features were twisted with contempt. "I'll tell Frodo what you've done!"
"Tell him," Rory remarked coldly. "He won't believe you. No one will. You see, they will think it's all a figment of your imagination. Mrs. Baggins is cracked too, just like her husband."
Tansy struggled to free her wrist from his tight grip while Rory babbled on, taunting her. "Tansy, you don't want anyone to think such things of you."
"Let me go!" she demanded through clenched teeth.
"That night, I'll never forget what I heard you say, that you loved me."
"You tricked me. I thought it was Frodo!"
"How long, Tansy?" Rory yelled quietly. "When will you ever realize Frodo can 'not' be there for you. He's ill. My test proved true. He'll leave again and you'll be alone with no one to love you. Calla, without a father!"
"Let me go or I'll scream."
Rory loosened his grip from around her wrist.
Tansy, reeling from shock had stumbled away from him until she could go no further, falling back against the door.
"I love you," Rory confessed sincerely, but at the same time, seemingly demented.
Tansy cried. Unable to look upon him, she yanked the door open and ran out of his room.
"Tansy!" Rory called, "Please, come back."
Suddenly, Rory heard the screams. They were back again, Holly and Lea, screaming and pleading for him to help them. He slammed his hands against his ears and collapsed onto the bed.
"Nooooo!" His cries muffled by the pillow. The screams continued. All he could do was huddle himself into a fetal position. And there he stayed.
TBC