Chapter 15 – Breath and Memory
Two pairs of weary and wary eyes followed Frodo's steps into the house from a balcony high above the porch. One pair drifted to the other and the owner sighed.
"What you were doing scared me, my friend," he said.
Elrond turned to his side, meeting Gandalf's sad expression.
"I thought it would have a bad effect on Frodo's torn soul. Him thrashing his own kin – he must never imagine to do such things in his life. Frodo is such a gentle hobbit. It would crush him if he found out he ever had such a wish to punish Merry in a hard way."
"I will make sure he shall never find out," Elrond tapped Gandalf warmly in his arm. "Besides," he turned around, sauntering back into his chamber. "It's not that I didn't think it might make his condition even worse when I decided to do that. Frodo himself in his nearly broken mind said he would punish every single person that has tortured him. I was torn in my predicament on what was best to do. But then I thought, since Frodo has been struck by the hardest of blows, the ordeal could only be warded off by a similarly hard undoing experience."
Elrond gazed over his shoulder at Gandalf he knew had trailed him inside, and continued, "I knew the punishment only happened in his mind, but he didn't. Frodo must think he had delivered it and now his soul is liberated. Frodo does feel that he has been liberated though he might never be able to explain why and how. You can be certain, my dear friend, that he will never remember what he thinks he has done to Merry."
"I trust you," pronounced Gandalf almost in a whisper. "What more important is just whether the lad can return to how he used to be."
Elrond stared hard at Gandalf for a long time. "Frodo has gone through too much, Gandalf. Too much for him to simply return."
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Merry halted in the midst of his pace, face contorted with misery, and then resumed his walk. He scrambled down on his knees, reaching out for the edge of the mattress on the bed where Pippin was lying down. His eyes were tightly shut.
Merry stroked the back of his hand tentatively over the soft skin of Pippin's cheek, stopped immediately as the younger hobbit's eyes fluttered open, and smiled down weakly. To his dismay Pippin flinched visibly. Merry swallowed his disappointment, withdrawing a little and speaking in a hushed tone.
"Pip?" he choked. "I've asked for apology, have I not?" He looked hurt. Every part of his body screamed his heartbreak. "I'm really sorry with whatever I've done." Merry's tears ran unchecked. "I… no. It doesn't matter." The hobbit hesitated for a moment and decided there was nothing more he could do to convince his cousin. He knew it was hard to forgive dreadful things he had done to Frodo and also Pippin. He knew though it was all because of the Ring. Merry arose and whirled around, starting to the vicinity of the door. He rubbed furiously at his face, and sobbed out the last of his tears.
Merry half expected to hear Pippin calling him to return and when he did not get that, a sigh of anguish marked his mixed feelings: wretchedness, abandonment – and a slight bit of anger. What more could Pippin ask of him? He knew he had stumbled once, yet, would he not get a second chance? Merry stepped out of the room with more hurt in his heart than before he went in.
Behind Merry, Pippin followed his leaving with half parted lips. He was no longer flinching. He did not even understand why he had done that in the first place. This was Merry, for the Shire's sake – his own cousin! The one he had known practically in his whole life. Merry had not a heart to hurt people. So whatever had come to pass must not have come from him. It was the Ring that had played the biggest role.
Nevertheless, Pippin often got bad dreams, remembrance of how Frodo had suffered in Merry's hands. It still stuck somewhere at the back of his head how Frodo had been broken; the sight of Frodo accepting spoonfuls of applesauce and small crumbs of bread from Merry in a defeated way still made Pippin's heart clench every once in a while.
Pippin had wanted to call out Merry's name, pleading him to come back. But his heart came in the way.
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It felt a bit awkward for Merry to walk back to his chamber unguarded after this whole time never having the chance to go on his own. There were always two elven guards that would simply stroll by him or take hold of him. But things had changed ever since he showed his profound penitence and his real face behind the influence of the Ring. Merry did not know what had happened with Frodo but the last time Merry had seen him he had been lying restlessly with Elrond draped his hand over Frodo's brow, the elf's eyes closed and from his lips one could heard he murmured something. Some other chants? Perhaps. But not according to Merry. It would sound more like a conversation between Elrond and Frodo though he could never hear Frodo's part of the dialogs.
Regardless of his sadness over Pippin's rejection, Merry could not be more contented with his situation right now – free and clean and … full. After talking with Frodo, Elrond had sent his elven servants to his room with dishes full with fruits and sweets and elven waybread he would never touch had he not been that starving. Merry had stuffed everything that was served in front of him into his mouth and hiccoughed several times because he had forgotten to drink. In times like that he did not want to think of any punishment Elrond might give him. Merry knew he could not just get away with what he had done. There should be price to pay, and even though he shivered every time he thought about that, he did not want it to spoil his present contentedness.
Merry also tried to enjoy his freedom as much as he could before it was taken away from him. He wandered down the hall, devouring the unearthly sculptured along the wall and on all the arches looking out the stunning sceneries of the garden and down the valley in Rivendell. His bare feet brushed the smooth marbles of the floor, and his eyes almost could not catch the astounding glass paintings on the ceiling, him being too tiny to see things so high above him.
The hobbit sighed as he realized he had finally reached his room. His room was beautiful, too – for there was nothing here that was not. But these lovelies could not prevent him from grieving. Pippin had refused his peace offer while he was the only one Merry could count on. He closed the distance to his warg-sized bed and threw himself in the middle of it. He buried his face into the velvety pillow, not being able to hold back any longer. He sobbed his heart out, soaking the pillow with his relentless tears. If not Pippin, whom else could he call a friend? Who else could he trust to pour his grief and sorrow?
Merry did not even dare to think of Frodo.
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With timid gestures and hesitant steps, Frodo was following Merry from Pippin's room to his own. It broke Frodo to see Merry drowned in sorrow. He must come to his cousin as fast as he could and whisper it in his ear how he had forgiven him. Everything was over. Moreover, not only did he forgive him, Frodo also still regarded him as his most beloved cousin – and friend. Even more, Merry was a brother to him; Frodo had known the Brandybuck since he was born.
A creak at the door could not bring Merry to wakefulness. Frodo peeped through the small slit to find his cousin still sprawling on his abdomen in the middle of the huge cot. From his even breaths Frodo could see that Merry had fallen asleep, probably after weeping too much.
Frodo almost tiptoed to the bed so as not to disturb the sleep. He kneeled down and stretched himself onto the bed, reaching out a tentative hand to Merry's hair, and stroked it gently. At first there was no response from the other hobbit but as Frodo tried to turn Merry over, the eyes stirred open – and the mouth too.
"Frodo?" Merry's whisper almost caught in the throat. He gaped even more as he saw the smile across Frodo's face. Then just as what Pippin had done to him, he also flinched against Frodo's tender touch. "No, Frodo, I'm not worth it…"
"Ssh…" Frodo rubbed the tears off Merry's cheeks. "…'tis I, your most precious friend, Merry, am I not?" A smile almost formed in Merry when all of a sudden the Ring dangled out of Frodo's shirt, darkinging everybody's sight. And Merry recoiled even more, hurt shadowing his face and his voice tainted with fury.
"You're mocking me!" he thundered, making Frodo blanch. His face was contorted as if he was in pain.
"Merry, no," he stuttered weakly. "Please--" He was begging again just like in the past, and he was willing to do anything, or for Merry to do anything to him, as long as Merry could think of him as a friend again. Slowly Frodo slid down the bed to sit slumped on the floor, head bowed down, fists clenched and unclenched fighting over sobs that threatened to break out.
Merry was aghast at the turn of the situation. He had been certain that Frodo was deriding him with what he was saying and the fact that he was wearing the Ring. But looking at Frodo right now, he could not be sure anymore. Frodo was utterly trembling at the accusation and from the look at it, Merry could see that Frodo had not been completely healed. There was still some confusion in his head, which made Merry feel even worse.
"Oh, Frodo!" Merry gathered Frodo back to the bed, rocking the delicate frame in his arms. "I didn't mean to say that! I thought you were jesting when you said you're my most precious friend."
"But you are that, Merry, aren't you?" Frodo looked up to his younger cousin as a lad to his father.
Merry closed his eyes as he felt a stab into his heart. What should I do to make you return to yourself? Merry murmured to himself. He tightened his embrace and sensed a slight struggle from Frodo, who was supposed to be his older cousin, his leader, his ideal, and not this frail, clinging-on-to-others hobbit. What have I done?
"Merry…"
"Frodo," cut Merry. "Have you really forgiven me?" Frodo stared at him, puzzled.
"Why yes, Merry."
"Then why did you still mention things about you being a friend of me or vice versa?"
Frodo's eyes started to glimmer. "You don't want to--?"
Merry was abrupt in his reply. "No, of course I still want to be your friend. But Frodo, you have to realize that you're also my older cousin. You're supposed to take care of me now that we're far from home."
Apart from his prayer that Frodo would not turn to say who was to be blamed for the awkwardness, Merry felt sure that his cousin would not think as far as that. His mind was still befuddled for such thoughts.
Merry was right.
Thus no such thing came out of Frodo's lips. Either he was really irredeemable or utterly pure.
"I am your older cousin, Merry," Frodo said sweetly. "You can always be sure that I will always take care of you. You shall worry not that I will leave you for I'm also your friend, the closest. Bother not about Pippin or Sam being here. They cannot take the place of you. Fear nothing."
Merry was pained to hear it. Did they not come still from the wrecked part of Frodo's mind -- coming from acts of torments and words imposed on him from him, Merry?
He looked closely into Frodo's affectionate eyes, clutching both his upper arms. "Frodo, that's not what I mean. But whether you--"
Frodo chuckled a little, eyes moving down.
"You must think I'm being senseless, Merry. Believe me I'm not. I clearly remember what has happened, what you've done. And I've let it off, Merry, how many times should I say that? Do you not believe me anymore?" Frodo sounded small, and hurt albeit a little. He curled up his body now and pressed against Merry. The latter reacted rather belatedly and that made Frodo crouched even deeper. "M-e-r-r-y…"
Merry could tell Frodo was nearly frantic, causing him to panic as well. He fastened his hug without thinking and muttered, "I do… I do! Oh, Frodo, I do believe you."
He could not comprehend any of this. Frodo did remember that Merry's deeds were wrong yet he still behaved the way he was when he was captive, submitting to whatever his captor wanted him to do or to say. Merry was shaking himself. Those people had tried so much: Lord Elrond, Gandalf, Aragorn, Bilbo, but that seemed to mean so little for Frodo's coherence. Merry rested his chin on top of Frodo's head and spoke as if in a dream while tears were running slowly down his face, dribbling through his lips and jaws to seep into Frodo's hair.
"I love you, Frodo," he hummed. "I'm sorry for everything. What should I do to get you back? What do you want to do to me, Frodo? What punishment do you want to impart on me? I'm willing to take it all, Frodo, please!"
Merry sensed a movement and he looked down, encountering Frodo's inquiring eyes.
"Punishment, Merry? I don't want to punish you. I've forgiven you!"
Oh, that vicious circle again, Merry groaned. He of course did not know that Frodo had actually punished him even though it was only in his mind. Merry had left the room when that happened. But Frodo could not enlighten him for Elrond had made him forget. What was left were two less sensible hobbits cleaved to each other.
"But I do want to do something for you, Merry!" The hobbit tensed as he saw almost mischievous glint in Frodo's eyes.
"What's that?" he croaked. Frodo smiled widely.
"I want to make you fresh and relaxed. You said you wanted me to take care of you. Now how about a bath with your dearest friend Frodo?"
"A – a bath?" Merry gasped.
"Right!" Frodo jumped out of the bed. "I have never given you anything, Merry, while you've done so much as to care for me all this time. You don't give me up while the others do--"
Not again, Frodo!
"And I did love the bath you gave me in the wild, Merry! That felt so – so wonderful, and comforting."
Oh, Merry sniffled. That cannot be. That was me when I was still under Ring-lust. He cannot enjoy it. He should not!
But in fact Frodo did. That was one of the moments in which he felt secured, no pain, no threat. And he was with his Merry.
Frodo took Merry's hand and pulled it to him. "Come, Merry. We will go to a bath."
"Where?" Merry asked in a hollow voice. He knew he had been taken to a shower when he first got to Rivendell and he was sure Frodo had, too. But he could not tell where it was exactly and he was certain Frodo could not either.
"I know not," chirped Frodo. "But we can find it. We can ask."
To whom?
Frodo dragged Merry out of the room such in a hurry and they almost collided with Sam, who apparently had been following Frodo.
"Sam!" called Frodo gleefully and he was welcomed by a frown on his gardener's brow. "Can you show us a bathroom here, my good man?"
Sam stuttered in his reply. "Bathroom, Mr. Frodo? Are you going to take a bath? I – I think there's one beside Mr. Merry's chamber."
Frodo waved his hand dismissively. "Not for me, Sam. It's for Merry. But I want to help him take one." Sam's mouth went open without him realizing it. "It's right here, is it not, Sam? Why, thank you very much!" And without so much as a nod to acknowledge the Gamgee's presence any more, Frodo escorted Merry to the bathroom's door.
Merry stared helplessly at Sam, who gazed back with similarly questioning look lined with a trifling vengeance. But neither could do anything as Merry was then taken inside. shortly afterwards Frodo's head popped out.
"Oh, Sam? Would you send someone to fill up the tub inside here? I'd really appreciate it."
He had vanished behind the closed door before Sam had the chance to respond.
To Be Concluded
