Always thanks for aelfgifu for her help in checking everything.
Chapter 5 – Those Crispy ChucklesAragorn and Sam were not too startled to hear Frodo's trembling voice, querying about Merry's drugging him. They had heard the story from Merry himself about the cruel things the Ring-corrupted hobbit had inflicted upon Frodo. But neither the ranger nor Sam had ever heard about what had happened exactly to pathetic soul now looking fearfully at the elven lord with his big eyes that seemed to sink even deeper into their sockets. His bony hands still clutched the blanket, his shrinking frame clearly quivering.
Aragorn and Sam did not have any idea that it was Merry standing in front of Frodo, in the sight of the hobbit, and not Elrond.
And there was a sharp tip of a blade plummeting into the soft tissue of his throat, held there by his other cousin, Pippin, with a sole purpose, to make sure Frodo gulped down the brew. Frodo dared not move, nor did he want to take the tea voluntarily. He had had that once. Why did he have to get another dose now?
Frodo's eyelids fluttered a little as he gazed up at Merry.
"Why, Merry?" Frodo asked weakly. "Have I not behaved the way you wanted me to?" He gave an ineffectual struggle, against the two elves' hands, matter of factly. "You have to trust me, Merry. Please!"
From the place where he was standing, Bilbo froze, transfixed by the mind-shattering scene happening before his eyes. He had seen how Frodo had gone berserk and acted as if he had lost his mind. But Frodo hardly spoke a while ago. This time he did, but – what came out of his mouth was simply abominable!
And if Bilbo ever doubted Strider's words, he could not anymore as Frodo's pitiful plea had revealed all. It was true Merry was the one to blame for his nephew's condition. Or at least that was what Bilbo believed.
Though a moment later his certainty started to fail him.
He still could not believe how a lad – that was Merry to him – could break Frodo and turn him into someone he hardly knew, and who did not recognize him either, in return. This was Merry who had almost ruined his birthday party by lighting Gandalf's biggest firework, was it not?
But remembering the birthday party only pierced his heart even more, leaving it raw and bleeding, because that was the last time Bilbo heard Frodo's gay laughter, the one full of mirth and joviality. Bilbo had left the once young and ardent hobbit even before the party was over. And even though he never expected to meet Frodo again, it never crossed his mind to witness him in such a state. Not getting another chance to see Frodo might have been a much better thing.
A voice interrupted Bilbo's musing, but it was more like a background sound.
"Merry…""You must drink it, Frodo."
"Oh, please, Merry. I'm begging you!"
But a stern look in the eyes of the commanding person in front of him stopped Frodo's blabbering. Frodo was painfully reminded of things having been done to him had he acted stubbornly. He abruptly switched to submissive mode. Frodo lowered his gaze and nodded subserviently.
"All – all right, Merry. I'll have it. Just don't hurt me anymore."
Moments passed but the cup stayed in its place. Frodo tilted his head up, questions playing in his eyes.
"M – e – r – r – y?" Frodo let out small, hitching breaths. Panic started rushing into him again. Why the delay? Had his cousin felt offended already by his previous act, that there was nothing Frodo could do to mend it? The only way to make up for it was to have him punished – again?
Frodo struggled anew, not caring to the edge of the dagger still gleaming on his throat.
Lord Elrond, who had stopped dead at his place, could not help staring wide-eyed at the poor hobbit who was barely able to tell the hold of a knife from that of mere grasping hands. Elrond had been amazed by the replies given by Frodo for his bidding him to drink. Frodo had been calling him Merry. Frodo had seen him as Merry.
An immense hand felt like wrenching his heart into a mess. Frodo's condition was beyond his imagination. He had to stop his effort to feed the hobbit the brew. He just had to stop. Elrond could not seem to make his hands do what he wanted to do. And Frodo's sudden change into a solemn state frightened him even more.
… just don't hurt me anymore? What had been playing in Frodo's broken mind that he had to let out such an utterance?
But there seemed to be something else Frodo was thinking, from what Elrond could see. Now the hobbit was not somber anymore. He gave the two elves holding him another challenge.
"Frodo," called Elrond with newly formed dignity. "You must calm down! No one is going to drug you or hurt you. This tea is just to make you more focused."
The voice fell dead in Frodo's ears, garbled and empty. Meaningless. What he heard was only the mention of his name, which sounded a bit too harsh for him. Merry was really angry at him this time! Frodo's jaw dropped open, eyes glancing hollowly at Elrond.
"Cousin?"
"I'm not your cousin!" snapped Elrond. "I'm Elrond. I am an elf."
Frodo was taken aback. This must be another thing Merry wanted him to believe. He wanted Frodo to see him as an elf named Elrond. Now why did the name sound familiar?
"Merry… Elrond… Yes, yes," murmured Frodo, shrugging a little and ceasing at once feeling the blade's tip tickle his throat a little. "That's your name now. I understand, Merry."
Elrond looked around in despair at Aragorn, Sam, and… Bilbo, who turned out to be the only one not returning his gaze.
No, for Bilbo was not in the room anymore. He was back in the Shire. In Hobbiton. At Bag End.
In the library.
In a place where he often found Frodo indulging himself in books later on the days when Frodo was older. When he was able to read by himself.
Countless times had Bilbo tried to send Frodo out to meet people, to socialize. But the zealous hobbit would just chuckle and, grabbing the nearest volume, stride out of the library, and the house. Not to socialize, of course, but to take refuge to a deserted spot near the woods where he could finish the book in peace.
It was times like that when Frodo was not too coherent when being spoken to. Bilbo would have to repeat what he was saying if he wanted the messages across. The answers Frodo gave often did not make sense at all.
Just like what Bilbo had been watching and listening to the one-way conversation between Frodo and Elrond.
Frodo had denied Elrond sensible answers the elf now was desperate to have. Bilbo smiled inwardly, bitterly. Now Elrond felt the same way as Bilbo, but he would not get the carefree laughter Bilbo usually would after those insensible answers.
Bilbo blinked eventually, sensing the sharp gaze still boring into him. He found that Elrond was still looking at him, sending silent pleas asking for permission from Bilbo to do whatever was necessary to Frodo, and conveying shared pity over Frodo's condition. Elrond knew what Frodo meant to the older hobbit and he could not imagine how regretful Bilbo must feel now that he saw what happened to Frodo after he left.
Bilbo was indeed sorry. The last time he remembered was, again, the sweet smile the lad offered after a small joke during his birthday speech. Bilbo could still see how the pair of pliant lips curve and part, the soft skin around the eyes wrinkle handsomely, and the striking blue plates shine like thousands of twinkling stars in the sky. But those were the last things he discerned before slipping the Ring around his finger and disappearing into thin air. Bilbo had not even waited for his nephew to say his goodbye. He thought it was the best thing to do at that time. Bilbo had always hated farewells and he was also sure Frodo would not have to let him go.
Moreover, he had entrusted Frodo in the hands of the grey wizard. That was true. Gandalf had promised he would keep Frodo safe. He had said nothing would harm Frodo. Nothing at all.
So then, why could all these terrible things happen? Why could Frodo be reduced into this kind of state – battered body and mind? It was hard to expect chuckles to come out of those lips again, except maybe if they came out of hysteria. And those eyes – the sparkles had seemed to have long died. Now they were a mixture of so many contradictions. Once they shone resistance as their owner squirmed and struggles to free himself. But then the resistance dimmed, quickly replaced by trepidation. And finally – this was what Bilbo loathed the most – a sign of defeat surfaced just as fast.
"I will drink it, Mer… er – Elrond," Frodo gave up, his shoulders sagging.
And this time Bilbo noticed Elrond was determined.
"Yes, Frodo. Drink it. You will feel nothing but relaxed, and you will tell everything to me."
TBC
CleopatraVII: I'm so glad you come back to read my stories! My beloved old friend…
Peony: Here I am! Hope you're still with me, dear.
FrodoBaggins87: And I like your stories, too!
aelfgifu: I'll send you the next chapter soon! Thanks, my dearest!
AN: Still hungry for more… reviews!!!!
