My dear reviewers –

Oddwen: You'll see more of Pippin here!  :)

Frodo Baggins87: More Frodo?  I will, I will!

endymion: whimpering state?  Frodo will be better, hopefully.  ^_^

Trust No One: For the time being, the Ring will have to hide from your sight first as Frodo…  Well, keep reading!

Chapter 4 – Scents

His breaths were heavy, his paces even heavier.  He desperately wanted to stop but he could not.  He must not!  And in the middle of his escape, his eyes fell on the things gathered in his arms.  Crops.  Carrots.  Potatoes.  Cabbages.  But then the shouts from behind jerked him back from his reverie.  Run!  He still had to run!

Merry eyed another running figure not far in front of him.  It was his cousin, Pippin, who also had piles of vegetables in his hands.  Merry remembered more carrots and ears of corns his cousin succeeded in snatching away before echoes of Farmer Maggots' cries bounced into the naughty hobbits' ears and sent them scurrying off the farmer's land.

Merry dared himself to stop for a while to catch a breath, and looking back, he was startled as he noticed the sickle the farmer was carrying.  Merry turned back again and resumed his flight.  The youngster had not got much chance to breathe, his nostrils only filled with scents of the wet field soil and fresh corn plants.  Not that he regretted it.  If Merry were not in the midst of running away, he would gladly stay at this place, enjoying the incredible sight of the vast field and the plants that were mostly taller than himself, and drawing as much as refreshing air of the vegetables into his lungs.  Merry grinned to himself while he was still rustling further, trying hard to will his growingly tired foot muscles to keep advancing.  He must stop this – well – bad habit, if he wanted to just enjoy the view.

Must stop stealing.

Must stop taking those delicious and juicy mushrooms.

He must stop!

But how could he?

How could he live without …

Without those …

Those … what?

BOOM!

What on earth –

"Frodo?  Merry!  It's Frodo Baggins."

Vaguely Merry caught the crisp voice of Pippin while he was struggling to get on his feet.  Merry took a breath sharply and broke into a grin.

"Hello Frodo!"

It was Frodo, indeed, who was fully clothed: vested and cloaked, and backpacked.  Merry went silent, drownin gin contemplation as he watched Sam pull his master up.

"Frodo?  Are you all right?"  Sam asked.

Merry saw the daze on Frodo's face and suddenly he smelled something beyond his cousin's sweet scented hair or the delectable fragrance of the vegetables.  It was an aroma of temptation, seducing Merry until he felt dizzy.  But Merry could not tell how it actually smelt like or where it came from.  Merry whipped his head to and fro, trying to search for any strange thing around them.  But nothing, nothing could he see other than the plants and his own cousins and Sam.  He shook his head a little to clear his mind and soon he came back to where he actually was.

Sounds of dogs barking and an angry, yelling voice, and Pippin shouting to Sam.

"What's the meaning of this?"

Merry looked down at his hands and shoved the vegetables in them to Sam.

"Hold this!"

Sam's eyes widened.

"You've been into Farmer Maggot's crop!"

Merry did not reply to that, he just followed Frodo who was grabbed by Pippin, and they ran like freaks.  Strange, though.  Merry could almost tell the seductive smell was in front of him and he could feel that it was clamoring in joy and triumph.

But that stopped abruptly as they halted just before the edge of the hill.  Merry sighed loudly in relief as he grasped Frodo's shoulders to stop him from toppling over.  But everything was in vain when all of a sudden Sam bumped into his back and the impact sent all four of them flying down the hill.

And all thoughts about the strange scent were forgotten as everything followed in quick succession: the rolling down, the talk about shortcuts, Frodo's sharp warnings to get off the main path, and their escape from Merry knew not what.  It was true that Merry once felt the smell getting stronger a moment before Sam suddenly shaking Frodo hard and himself throwing a bag away to distract whatever was chasing them.  Merry hardly caught what really happened to Frodo and why Sam treated his master that way.

But fleeing.  That was all they did afterwards.  Away from the threat.

Until at some point when they felt a little bit safer and they were hiding behind trees.

And the scent rose again, even stronger, and it struck Merry, and Merry alone, like a bolt of lightning.  It smelt of power now …and it talked.  It whispered.

"Come.  Come with me."

Merry turned to Frodo.  And without realizing it, his voice was sharp and threatening when he addressed his cousin.

"That Black Rider was looking for something … or someone.  Frodo?"

* * *

Merry jerked awake.  Sweats dampened his entire body as he was pulled back from the nightmare.  Nightmare?  He threw glances and caught things he did not guess before with his eyes.  He was not in the wilds anymore but in a room, a spacious room.  Around him were not gigantic and menacing trees that could block his sight to the sky.  There were windows that even though they were not big and were placed so high that he could not see the outside through them, they were still capable of shining rays of light into the room.  And although it was not the sky above him, Merry was quite stunned by the curved ceiling over him.  Silently he huffed.  He was safe.  No one was after him.  After them.  His nose could even spot fresh and sweet aroma he later found out coming from a table in the left corner of the room.

Merry got up and tiptoed toward the table.  A wide grin broke across his face as he caught the sight of a bowl full of fruit, a plateful of muffins and small tarts, and a jug of lemonade.  His stomach growled suddenly, realizing how long it had been left empty.

But suddenly a strange sensation came over him like a whirlwind.  Dizzying him.  Confusing him.  Merry was no longer could smell either the fruit or the cakes.  But that scent.  That scent.  The smell of power.  Although it was fading now.  Where to?

Merry glared around once more but wildly this time, and his eyes stopped dead at the door as it clicked open.

And revealed locks of curls from behind it.

"Merry?"  A hesitant voice emerged slowly.  Pippin's.

Merry jumped and in no time he had got to the door, pulling it wider and grabbing the smaller hobbit inside by the collar.  Pippin shrieked.

"Pippin, my once friend and loyal company who then turned to a traitor!  Visiting your beloved old Merry?" 

Merry smirked, gripping Pippin's collar and shook his cousin vehemently.  There was no more Merry who thought the escape from the Nazguls was a nightmare.  Who saw the food with his old hobbit's eyes.  Merry had gone back into the shadow, under the inevitable power of the Ring.  A reality that had to be faced, however bitter, by Pippin.

Pippin, of course, never realized that Merry had, in a brief moment, returned to his own self.  That was not why the young Took decided to come to the room.  He just thought, wistfully, that Merry had changed after being separated for some time from the Ring, and ignoring warnings from Gandalf, Pippin determined to see for himself.

Apparently he was wrong.  And he had to pay the price.

Pippin's face turned blue from the violent shakings and he got so dizzy he felt like throwing up.  With his trembling hands he caught Merry at his upper arms and tugged at the shirt sleeves weakly.

"Mer – merry," Pippin stammered in between the jerks.  "P – please stop…  I…  I feel… sick!"

Instead of cutting off what he was doing, Merry shook Pippin harder until the other hobbit's teeth rattled.  Merry roared terrifyingly, making Pippin recoil inwardly.

"H – HELP!!"  Finally he managed to scream.

And if that successfully got him away from further shaking, it did not help him at all to escape Merry's brutality, for as soon as Merry let go of his collar, he sent Pippin sprawling back on the floor by his vicious backhand.

"Quiet!"  yelled Merry.

Pippin looked up at him in terror and turned around swiftly, ready to back away from the door.  But Merry would not let him.

"A – ah!"

The twisted cousin snatched a handful of Pippin's hair and yanked it harshly.  Pippin screeched and reached back for Merry's arm with both hands.

"Let – me – go!"  he breathed helplessly.  "Let me go, you devil!"

"Ah."  Merry dragged him up and along to the direction of the bed.  "But it is you who came here voluntarily.  That shows how you miss me, do you not?"  He pushed Pippin mercilessly to the bed, Pippin landing hard on his stomach, wind knocked out of him.

"DO YOU NOT!"  pushed Merry further as he started to place his vise-like grips on the poor hobbit's neck.  Pippin got so startled at the vengeful action that he did not get the chance to move.

"Mer …  No!  Ack!"  he choked.  The pressure on his neck tightened and tears rolled down his cheeks to wet the bed sheets.  Pippin was still squirming for a moment before he felt himself starting to drift off.  His eyes rolled back.

"Can't," he thought miserably.  "I can't die now.  Not now.  Not in this place.  Not when they all have a chance to be healed.  Merry…  Frodo…"

But he could not stand it anymore.  He had to give up.  Must – give – up…

Pippin's mind was still whirling and floating between life and death when suddenly he felt the pressure on his throat was gone.

It was gone.  It…

And burst of air attacked his deprived lungs, sending him to oblivion.

* * *

"These are all lies!!"

And that was cried out loudly now.

Frodo's eyes fluttered open.  Anger and trepidation blended in the deep, blue pools, creating a pitiful sight for everyone who in turn gasped at the exclamation.  Gandalf threw a questioning glance at Aragorn, who gazed at him back in greater confusion.  Bilbo trembled slightly and almost staggered backward if not caught immediately by Sam.  But Frodo did not give any care for the commotion he made.  He fixed his eyes on the closest person to him, Gandalf, in this case, and with lips quivering, repeated the same statement.

"Lying, lying.  Everyone is a liar," Frodo whispered.  Why?  Why?  He would have felt better if they just told him directly how he had been a burden all this time.  How he had been such a freak that they had had to pretend to act nicely in front of him and to restrain their true feelings in front of other relatives.  To hold back their shame.

A slash felt like piercing Frodo's heart, and it hurt more now that all those people, who Frodo loved dearly, were acting pretentiously in front of him.  Frodo flapped open his blanket once more, about to leap out.

But he never succeeded this time.  Two pairs of strong hands were suddenly on both of his shoulders.  The two elves.  Frodo never knew when they got there replacing Gandalf, having been too busy with his self pity.  But it did not matter.  They were still there, pressing Frodo down hard against the bed yet they hardly hurt him.

Still, the act surprised the hobbit and despite his wish for the other to treat him as he expected, the restraining hands, that Frodo considered one of logical things to happen, made him jump.  And finding out he was unable to lift himself off the bed, Frodo let out a squeak and squirmed as hard as he could.  Panic started to grow in him, flashes of things happening in the past returning to Frodo and he could not stop them.  Nor could he stop his pathetic cries.

"No!  Let go of me!"  he panted desperately.  "I will be good!  I promise!"

Sam opened his mouth and almost dashed forward, but a strong hand clasped at his arm.  He turned to find Gandalf shaking his head, stopping both his attempt to yell out his disagreement and to give his master a hand.

"Ssh, don't worry.  Frodo is in good hands."  Gandalf nodded to the direction of the door.  A figure stepped in and elegantly paced forward.  In his hands was a cup of steaming liquid.

Elrond walked toward the bed and stopped short behind one of the elves.  He nodded to them, who then each put a hold on Frodo's shoulder and upper arm and then lifted the hobbit gently to a sitting position.  Frodo was too dazed at the sight of the graceful figure that he could do nothing but comply.  His screams had also ceased without his realizing it.

Frodo was still held tightly when the elf-lord came closer, bringing the cup under the hobbit's nose.  The sweet smell of chamomile probe into Frodo's nostrils, making him relax a bit but something was also awakened in his memories.

Frodo turned his gaze into the other's soothing eyes when he called his name.

"Frodo?  You remember me, do you?  We have met outside some time ago.  Yesterday, if I may add.  But you might not know my name.  I am Elrond and this is my house."  Elrond waved his right hand.  "Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins."

Digging up into his clouded mind, Frodo did feel that he had seen the face before.  The name sounded oddly familiar, too, though it was foreign enough for Frodo to decide if this one was lying as well, or not.  Yet, that was not what concerned him most.

It was the brew that looked like tea Elrond was bringing, that Frodo knew just too well it was not ordinary beverage.  And he also knew its effect to him.

And before Frodo could stop it, words that sounded like an echo from the past reverberated throughout the room.

"Are you going to drug me, Merry?"

TBC