Every Man for Himself
Disclaimer: Nope – don't own Lord of the Rings or anything else related to it. Basically if you don't recognise it from the books or movies, it's mine :D
Chapter 3: Wizards are Quick to Anger
3 May 3019 – Late at Night
Merry gave an almighty yawn as he stretched his limbs, throwing his arms back so that he narrowly missed knocking out Pippin's eye and breaking Gimli's nose.
"Well I'm done," he said. "Are we all ready to go now?"
"I'm more than ready Mr Merry," sighed Sam. Pippin groaned.
"Honestly Sam!" he exclaimed. "I don't know what you're getting so worried about. It's not that far to the palace. Really, what's the worst that could happen?"
"More than I'd like ta think," grumbled Sam. Pippin opened his mouth to retaliate but was cut short by Merry.
"Well," he said. "We could either sit here arguing about what could and could not happen to Frodo between here and the palace – or we could go back ourselves and see if he's returned already. I vote for the latter."
"That sounds like a marvellous plan, Meriadoc!" said Legolas brightly. The hobbits and Gimli eyed the Elf suspiciously.
"If not for Master Samwise's mental well-being," said Gimli. "I say we go back to our rooms to put him to bed. We've proved that Elves can get drunk, but I don't want to find out whether or not they suffer hangovers."
"Master Dwarf!" exclaimed Legolas with such a look of shock that Merry and Pippin had to duck their heads to hide their laughter. "I assure you that I am not drunk! Such a thing is below immortal folk like myself."
"Is that so?" said Gimli conversationally. He got to his feet and helped Legolas up, guiding the Elf to the door. The hobbits followed, stifling their laughs as Legolas called goodnight to everyone in the inn, the inn itself, the door of the inn, and the stairs leading up to the door of the inn.
"He really must have had a lot to drink," mumbled Sam to no one in particular. Merry and Pippin grinned. Their work was done.
It didn't take the group long to reach their quarters. Upon their arrival at the city, they had been given a small apartment to share in the palace. Consisting of four modest-sized bedrooms and two bathrooms, they had made themselves quite comfortable there. They had, of course, been offered to have a room each, and larger ones at that. But the hobbits had felt rather uncomfortable at the thought of being alone in such large spaces. And as the rest of the Fellowship preferred to be closer to one another than further apart, the apartment had been chosen for their quarters.
That was where they were now. Gimli pushed Legolas to the room they shared, all the while grumbling under his breath for the rather loud Elf to be quiet. No doubt Frodo was already in bed and asleep by now. Not to mention that Gandalf was probably seeking some peace and quiet in his own room.
For a few moments the three hobbits watched in interest as Gimli tried unsuccessfully to convince Legolas to be quiet, go to bed and sleep. But the Elf seemed to think it absolutely necessary to stand in the middle of the hallway and start singing about an Elf-maiden named Elwen. With an amused shake of his head, Sam turned to the room he shared with Frodo. He was just in time to hear Merry and Pippin join Legolas in the singing before he carefully closed the door, mindful of his sleeping master.
Only his master was not sleeping. Nor was he waking. In fact, Frodo wasn't there at all.
It had been a long day. Aragorn had required Gandalf's presence and counsel at several long and arduous meetings. The wizard had forgotten how disagreeable the various tribes of Men could be. He had returned to his room after the last council with the makings of a spectacular headache. He had not suffered such a thing for a very long time. Not when he had fought at the Black Gates of Mordor, nor on the Fields of Pelennor. He had not suffered a headache when he had fought with the Balrog – just a lot of burns. His head had been quite fine while battling the Orcs of Moria, just as it had while he had tried to lead the Fellowship over Caradhras.
Of course, there had been that unfortunate incident in Hollin where a certain young Took had accidentally kicked dirt into the dinner of half of the Fellowship. Sam had been absolutely furious, as it was the first hot meal Gandalf had allowed them in a long time. Not to mention that Frodo hadn't been eating as much as he should, and that stew happened to be one of his favourites. As Frodo had been in a bad mood that day, he had then been angry at Pippin and Sam – Pippin because he had just cut the meal in half, and Sam for using such tactics to try and get him to eat more. Merry had then tried to act as peacemaker, but had ended up getting into an argument with both Frodo and Pippin. Sam had watched this family feud in fearful silence, all the while inching closer to Aragorn and Legolas. As a result, the hobbits had slept in separate corners of the camp that night, refusing to look at, talk about, or have anything to do with any of the other three.
Gandalf almost laughed at the memory now. The rest of the Fellowship had watched the entire episode with a sense of grim fascination. It had never occurred to them before that the four could have such arguments. But as Boromir had later said, at least that night there had been no trouble determining which curly head was to be woken for his watch, as usually the hobbits slept in a close nest of blankets. If one was woken up – they all woke up.
Surprisingly, that episode was the closest Gandalf had come to a headache in a while. But of course that was nothing compared to the pounding his head currently suffered. And it was only increasing. His brows drew into a dark frown as raucous singing that was very out of tune drifted to his ears. With a swiftness that belied his great age, he strode to the door and almost tore it off its hinges in his haste to open it. If he had not been in such a foul mood, no doubt he would have found the sight before him quite amusing.
But as it happened, he was in a foul mood. As soon as he entered the hallway, the others froze, staring up at him with identical looks of deer caught in the line of fire of a crossbow.
"What is the meaning of this?" thundered Gandalf. The very air seemed to quake with his wrath. Pippin instinctively inched closer to Merry, hoping to avoid Gandalf's full attention. He was unlucky. Gandalf spun towards him, every fibre of his being set on putting the irrepressible Took back in his place, when a second door burst open. All eyes turned to Samwise as he looked about himself wildly. He was pale as the moon and trembling like a leaf.
"Sam, what's wrong?" asked Merry with a worried frown.
Sam opened and closed his mouth several times, seeming to have trouble getting his tongue around the words he wished to form. Five pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly. Finally he swallowed and put sound to his panicked thoughts.
"Mr Frodo's not come back!"
TBCA/N: THANK YOU LEXI!!!!! Hehehe. You're still my angel! :) And thank you Bronwyn for going through it all with me :D
Breon Briarwood – I love Frodo in trouble stories too. Hehehe. And you're very right, Sam is probably never going to forgive himself.
Mythwen – Sorry! Please do not sue for health problems! Should I put a health warning on the fic? Lol. I hope this is updating soon enough. :)
rabidsamfan – Poor Frodo indeed! Hehehe. But don't assume! These two men are forces not to be taken lightly. They are more cunning than they have let on so far. Aragorn's going to have some trouble actually getting his hands on them before he can hang them… ;)
Shirebound – OMG IT'S YOU!!!!!! Sorry, but I am a HUGE fan of your work!!! Thank you for reviewing!!! And you'll soon find out exactly what happens to our poor little Hobbit. But it's not gonna be nice…