Every Man for Himself
Disclaimer: sighs I really don't know what is wrong with the world. The people who own Lord of the Rings simply refuse to hand it over to me. shakes head I just don't understand it! So I guess it all still belongs to the almighty Tolkien… Hmph!
Chapter 5: Lost
3 May 3019 – Late at Night
"What do you mean he's not come back?" demanded Merry. "How could he not be back? He left over an hour before us!"
"Merry calm down!" said Pippin loudly, resting both hands on his cousin's shoulders.
"But why isn't he back? What-"
"I told you something would go wrong! You should-"
"The hills are aliiiiiiive with the sound of-"
"Now I know why the friendship between Dwarves and those pointy-ears disintegrated-"
"But what are we going to do? We have to go look-"
"He could be-"
"SILENCE!"
There was an audible 'pop' as the mouths of Gimli and Legolas snapped shut, and an almighty squawk from the Hobbits as they jumped in fright. They all stared up at Gandalf who had his eyes shut and was furiously massaging his temples.
"Samwise, what is this about Frodo not returning?" said the wizard tightly. Sam gulped and opened his mouth again.
"H-he left the inn a good hour ago, sir," he stammered. "I tried to go with him. But he s-said he would be fine on his own. And when I went to look in on him in our room… he's not there, sir!"
Gandalf's eyes flew open and he fairly stormed past the Fellowship, entering Frodo and Sam's room. Sam was right – there was no sign that life had entered before now since this morning. His eyes darted up to the windows. They were firmly shut and locked. They could only be opened and locked from the inside, ruling out the possibility of someone coming in and abducting the Hobbit. And the windows were too high up for any of the Hobbits to get in and out of easily – and Frodo was in no condition to perform any such acrobatics.
Which meant that something must have happened to him between the inn and the palace. As guards heavily patrolled the whole of the seventh circle, that also ruled out anything happening there. Which narrowed it down further to the sixth, fifth and fourth circles.
"Gandalf?"
The wizard was brought back to then and there as Pippin tugged on his robes. "What are we going to do?"
"We are going to look for him," answered Gandalf.
"Should I fetch Strider?" Pippin wanted to know. Gandalf thought about this for a moment before he decided against the notion. It would only arouse unwanted attention if the King personally got involved in the search for the Ringbearer. More likely than not, Frodo had just lost his way through the maze of streets and alleys. Yes, that would be it. He was just lost…
Frodo looked up into the man's face, terror's icy grip clenching his stomach into a tight knot. This couldn't be happening. It simply couldn't. He was dreaming! That was it! He was dreaming… Any moment he was going to wake up and find himself back in his room. Then he would have a drink of water, turn over on his side and go straight back to sleep again.
Of course, the man's booming laugh made it a little hard to hold much hope of this happening. Desmond had heard rumours of the halfling's deeds in the war – deeds of tremendous bravery and strength of will. He had heard that this little one had even faced the Dark Lord. Yet here he was, lying on the filthy ground, wounded, bound and trembling like a mere child in a ferocious thunderstorm.
So much for brave.
But Frodo was not about to completely surrender himself to this new doom. Some of the infamous Took, Brandybuck and Baggins stubbornness awoke inside of him. If he was going to be held captive, then he wanted some answers.
"You still haven't answered my questions," he said defiantly. "Who are you?"
Desmond raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. He was not often challenged by anyone – much less some little rat who was less than half his size. Perhaps he was braver than the man had initially credited him as being. That or he was just incredibly stupid – something Desmond doubted as the imp had a rather intelligent look about him… and he apparently enjoyed reading.
"Name's Desmond," he answered gruffly. "Not that yeh'll need ta remember it. If yer gonna address me, yeh'll call me 'sir'." Desmond grinned maliciously. Although the halfling wasn't going to be in his custody long, he might as well have a bit of fun while he was.
"Or what?"
Frodo was shocked at his own daring and defiance. His brain was practically screaming at him that this was a Man not to mess around with. But he just couldn't help it. He had been held captive too many times and it was getting rather tedious. He was almost sick of being beaten and told what to do.
SMACK!
But it seemed that being beaten was unavoidable when one was a prisoner – no matter how passive and obedient you were. Or how completely uncontrollable for that matter. Frodo's head snapped back as Desmond's large beefy hand struck the side of his face. For the second time that night, his head impacted hard with the ground.
Desmond was gone. The door slammed shut. From far away he heard the click of it being locked. Darkness surrounded him once more. But his eyes saw tiny stars flashing about like fading fireworks. He thought of Gandalf. He wondered if the wizard was sleeping yet. The thought of sleep suddenly sounded very enticing. He closed his eyes. He let the darkness take him.
His hands were shaking. For a moment he stared at them in surprise. He was not known to tremble for no apparent reason. Oh but there was a reason. After all, his cousin was missing. And that was not a thing Frodo was known to do. On the contrary, Frodo had a very good geographic mind. He could even give Bilbo a run for his money on occasion. Frodo had been studying maps of Middle Earth since he was just a teenager in Brandy Hall. Finding his way through three circles of a city should not have been a problem for him.
No… something was definitely wrong. Merry knew it. He had known Frodo since he, Merry, had been born. Frodo had been the older brother he never had. They had a special connection.
Once in the middle of winter, when Merry had been about six years old, he had woken up in the middle of the night with a terrible feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. For some reason that he could not explain, he desperately needed to see his elder cousin. But Frodo had not been in his room. Come to think of it, Merry hadn't seen him since luncheon. He had at once gone to tell his parents and a small search party had been sent out. The missing hobbit had been found unconscious in the snow with a nasty cut on his head. It had been surmised that he had somehow fallen, his head impacting with a hidden rock on the ground. Frodo had been taken straight back to Brandy Hall where the healer had announced that he had come down with pneumonia.
"But any longer out there and the circumstances would be much more dire," he had said.
Merry had that same feeling of dread buried deep in his stomach now, making him feel as though he was going to be sick. Gimli shot him a worried look as the pair made their way through their allocated circle. They were going to search the sixth circle while Sam and Legolas would search the fifth. Gandalf would hunt in the fourth circle while Pippin stayed in the Fellowship's apartment, should Frodo turn up on his own.
But for some horrible reason, Merry knew that he wouldn't. Something was definitely wrong. As he followed Gimli through the streets and alleys, his eyes peeled for any sign of his cousin, he distantly wondered why there was a dull throb in his left shoulder.
Gandalf exited the tavern, his heart heavy. Frodo was not there, and had not returned since he had left. No one had seen him for the last hour or so. He sighed and closed his eyes, gnarled hands clutching his staff. In his mind he saw individual flames for each living spirit that resided in the city. Out of the thousands about him, he tried to sort out Frodo's flame. But it was a difficult task. Weeks earlier he would not have had such trouble. But the power of Narya was failing. And with the noise of the inn behind him invading his concentration… the task was futile.
With another sigh, he opened his eyes and started back towards the palace. He had been searching for little over an hour now, and was expected back. Yet every step he took away from the tavern, his feeling of unease increased. His friend had been lost. Despite the fact that Frodo had never been out of hearing range of either a soldier or friend since he had been rescued from Mount Doom, he was now lost. As Gandalf entered the palace, he could not help but feel he had betrayed his friend again.
Desmond glared moodily into the blazing flames that lit up the small and grubby parlour with a weak glow. He hadn't counted on the halfling having spirit. If he caused any more trouble, the neighbours would get suspicious and rumours would begin to dribble out. He couldn't afford such things to occur. He would risk his identity being revealed. Then that cocky king would have him arrested with a snap of his royal fingers.
He diverted his glare to Reynard as he entered, plopping himself onto a rundown footstool. The fool was grinning to himself like a maniac.
"What are you so happy about?" grumbled Desmond, infuriated that anyone, predominantly his so-called partner, should be able to find any sort of glee while he was feeling so particularly foul.
"Jus' bin thinkin' 'bout what I'm gonna do when we get our money," answered Reynard. Desmond proceeded to create a strange animalistic noise in his throat. Reynard glanced up at him, wondering if the man had suddenly contracted some sort of violent, contagious disease. "What's up with you?"
"At this rate we're not gonna get any money!" spat Desmond furiously. He leapt up to his feet and began pacing before the fire like a caged beast. "I went down ter check on the halflin' earlier."
"And?" prompted Reynard when the other didn't immediately continue.
"The damn rat's an insolent little devil!" roared Desmond. "'E shows no respect an' 'e talks back!"
"So what?" dismissed Reynard as he moved into Desmond's vacated chair. "If the li'l thing's still got some spirit left in 'im, then yeh jus' beat 'im! Simple as that!"
"Wha' if the neighbours hear?" challenged Desmond. "What yeh gonna tell 'em when they come around askin' questions?"
"Tell 'em some o' those flamin' kids 'ave bin trespassin' and yeh gave 'em a lesson."
"That won't cut it," protested Desmond. Reynard groaned in aggravation.
"Then gag 'im! Knock 'im out! Give 'im one o' them potions the Healers use ter put people ter sleep! There's a thousand things yeh can do ter keep 'im quiet."
"But we still need 'im ta write the ransom note."
"Then threaten 'im with somethin'!" exclaimed Reynard. "Honestly, what's gotten into yeh? A few hours ago you was the one convincing me! Yeh can't be doubting the plan now?"
"Course I'm not," answered Desmond gruffly. "We're still gonna go through with it. 'S too late not to now. We jus' gotta be extra careful, see?"
"Yeah, yeah," said Reynard offhandedly.
"I mean it!" barked Desmond. "I'm not gonna have yeh stuffin' this up! Now you stay here and guard the halflin'. I'm gonna get some supplies."
"Alright."
"Make sure yeh check on the halflin'," said Desmond as he made his way to the door. "If yeh need ter give 'im a bit of a lesson, do it. But make sure 'e don't squeal too much. Right?"
"Whatever yeh say Des," said Reynard with a grin. He watched as Desmond disappeared into the night, then he closed the door. Spinning around, he made his way down to the cellar. The halfling was still out. He pulled up a stool and sat leaning against a wall. He lazily cracked his fingers and knuckles. It was only a matter of time now before he could have his own fun. Then the little rat would wish he had never been born.
TBC
A/N: Lexi, you are my official guardian angel. :P My apologies to everyone for the delay in updating! It took a while before I was satisfied and deemed it postable, lol. Well there it is anyway.
Alcarinqu – Hope to bring you more soon then! And you're not alone – we ALL feel bad for Frodo!
Breon Briarwood – Ha! The nightmare has hardly begun! It's gonna get MUCH more worse than this I can assure you! A few nasty surprises are in store for the Fellowship and co.
CuriousCat – Disturbing indeed. But then again, Desmond isn't known for being the kind and sentimental type. The exact opposite in fact. And you'll be seeing more examples of that in future chapters.
Indolosse – Hahahaha. Thanks Bronwyn. I can't believe I managed to get YOU obsessed! Hehehehe. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you and I will be expecting some fanart now! So you better get drawing! :D
Iorhael – I'm so sorry! I meant to update sooner, but it wasn't ready. Well, glad you like 'em anyway! :D And well done on your latest chapter of 'A Brandybuck Turns Baggins'! :D Twas most enthralling. :D
Kaewi – I know! It's just not fair is it seeing him in such trouble. But then we all get to cuddle him at the end and tell him it's okay, hehehehe. Thank you very much for the compliment too! There's no greater reward than for an author (or someone who's attempting to be one) to hear that their work 'comes alive'. Hope I can keep it up! :)
lilpip – Poor Frodo indeed! Prepare to be disappointed – nasty times ahead for him…
rabidsamfan – Thanks! I really don't know what's come over me, but I find a strange delight in leaving you all hanging, mwahahahaha. And after all Frodo's been through, I figured it would all still haunt him for a long time to come.
Shirebound – Uh-oh. Looks like you might have to submit yourself into a mental institution then. More torture and bad violence is coming up soon.
Stephanie – Welcome! Thank you very much! Glad that I've managed to get some originality in there. There's so many fics out, it's hard to do something now that hasn't been done already. Hope to keep you excited and on the edge of your seat…:D