Every Man for Himself
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings does not belong to me. (sobs) I am not making a profit out of this story.
Chapter 13: The Exchange
6 May 3019 – 3 Hours before the Exchange
Frodo was not aware of the hours passing by. Indeed, he was barely aware of anything at all throughout the course of that day outside of his body's plunges into ice and fire and ice again. But when night covered the skies, he was suddenly awoken from a fitful slumber by a pair of painfully strong arms taking him on a jolting ride down the stairs. His eyes cracked open. A small part of him spared the time to be mildly surprised at how aware he felt while the rest of him just wanted to know what was going on.
Within moments he had been dumped unceremoniously onto one of the severely moth-eaten chairs that stood by the parlour fire. He winced as the sudden movement pulled on his healing bruises and cuts on his back, and clamped his eyes shut until he felt the sudden bout of vertigo dissipate.
"Well, my little rat," said Desmond with a purely malicious grin. "It's comin' ter the time when we'll have ter say our goo'-byes."
Even through weakness and illness, Frodo could barely contain the sudden swelling of joy and relief that flooded into his heart. The smallest smile of relief cracked through his formerly expressionless mask. From her vantage point beside Frodo, Arlyn's heart warmed a little at the sight. She herself felt relief wash over her – both for the uplift of her patient's spirits, and for the news that he would soon be free of these men and this unlucky place. She only hoped that she would be fortunate enough to escape them soon also. These thoughts were somewhat cut short, however, when Desmond grabbed a fistful of dark curls and yanked the hobbit's small head closer towards him. A whimper of pain spilled from Frodo's lips before he could quite force it back.
"I wouldn' be lookin' so pleased if I was you," hissed Desmond. "Remember – yer still in our keepin'. And while yeh are we can still do what we like with yeh. Understand? So we'll be givin' yeh a little goodbye present if yer lucky." From his position standing by the fireplace, Reynard laughed. Any positive feelings that the hobbit had attained drained from him like ink spilling out of a faulty pen. When Desmond released his painful grip on his curls, Frodo instinctively huddled deeper into the chair. When would this nightmare end?
"But before any… gifts… are exchanged," said Seregon. "There are a few things we need to get straight before we leave to meet the King. The first thing is that we are going to drug you before we leave. I'm not going to risk you making a single sound."
"No… please!" Frodo could not stand the thought of being forced to inhale more of that horrible drug that robbed him of consciousness. It felt like he was being smothered by a sickly sweet smelling weed. "You don't have to drug me. I'll be good – I promise!"
"Yer promises count fer nothin', rat," said Reynard. "Yer bein' drugged an' that's that. Yer lucky we're not resortin' to other means ter do it."
Frodo swallowed down any further words he had had and said no more.
"When we get to where we are to meet the King," continued Seregon. "Everything should run smoothly. However – it is possible that he will bring others with him who will remain hidden. If that is the case and his companions are revealed, then your time will be over."
Frodo felt a shiver trickle down his spine. This did not sound like good news for him. "What do you mean?" he croaked, hoping that his imagination, already in work concocting possible answers, would be proven wrong. Seregon's lips curled into a rather superior smile, causing the hobbit's heart to sink. The man exchanged a look with Desmond. Desmond nodded, his expression also lifting, and he withdrew a carefully sealed jar from his pocket.
"Yeh see this, halflin'?" said Desmond. "This is wha' Men down south use ter punish their wors' pris'ners. An' it's a punishment no one recovers from either. Even a tiny mouthful o' this stuff an' yeh suffer the wors' agony imaginable. I've heard that those who've bin given larger and stronger doses spew out their own stomachs. Yeh see – this here stuff is a mixture o' the mos' deadliest animal and plant poisons in the world. On'y way ter cure it is if yeh get the rem'dies of evr'y individual poison in the thing, and if the victim spews out enough o' the stuff. They say it's nigh imposs'ble ter do."
Frodo felt another shiver wrack his frame, and he did not think it had anything to do with his illness. As his wide eyes beheld the poison, he could only pray that Aragorn did as the letter had said, and no one else came with him.
2 Hours
In the citadel, Aragorn was likewise giving his last instructions to the remaining hobbits and Legolas before it was time for them to depart.
"I know I said for you to leave an hour before the Exchange," he said. "But I think it would be best if you left now. I do not doubt that the men will be at the gardens early so they can scout around and blend into the area. You all must do the same. Spread yourselves out and make sure that you are not seen. You all know what is at stake should you be discovered by the wrong person." The three Hobbits and one Elf nodded their consent before disappearing to their rooms to prepare themselves. Ten minutes later, they met at the gates of the seventh circle, then silently made their way to their assigned destination.
It did not take them long to find the gardens. They still had over an hour to conduct a thorough examination of the area. They found that the gardens were moderately sized, being the home to one willow tree, a handful of oak trees, two flowerbeds and an abundance of bushes. There were two gates into the gardens – one on the south side and one on the north side. Both of these gates were guarded by two lampposts which were lit with a well kindled flame every night as the sun lowered Her face below the walls of the circle. The golden flames mingled with the silver starlight and moonlight, casting odd shadows on the ground.
Below the willow and the oldest of the oak trees there was a bench for people to sit on – the willow's bench being almost hidden from sight by long draping branches. Legolas explored this bench and the willow carefully before announcing his prediction that this was where the Men would hide upon arriving at the gardens while they waited for Aragorn.
"Should one of us hide here too then?" asked Pippin as he inspected underneath the willow's canopy.
"No," said the Elf at once. "This willow is not a particularly big one. If all three Men and Frodo are under it, I fear it would betray the presence of any other that sought to use it as cover. No… we must seek our own cover elsewhere. I suggest that one of us is stationed by the north gate, though."
"Why the north one?" asked Sam.
"It is closest to the gates of this circle that lead down to the fourth level," explained Legolas. "Did not Frodo say in his letter that he was somewhere in the lower circles? The Men will most likely be coming up, therefore they will most likely use the north gate to enter and exit these gardens." Three soft breaths exhaled in a light "oh!" of sudden understanding with a hint of awe at their friend's skills.
"How do you do that?" asked Pippin.
"Do what, Master Took?"
"Know everything, of course!"
"Nothing is all-knowing," answered a slightly amused Legolas. Oh if only Gimli was here to have heard this!
"But you always seem to know what to do," argued Pippin.
"That comes from years and years and years of practise," said Legolas. "But quickly! We must each still find a hiding place. Merry, might I suggest that you be the one to take cover by the north gate?" With a nod, Merry moved and had soon disappeared out of sight of the hobbits' eyes. But Legolas' clear gaze tracked him as he crawled under a conveniently thick (but not impeding) bush that had been planted right beside the gate.
"Should I go in those ferns, sir?" said Sam. Legolas turned his gaze until he spotted the forest of fronds and nodded. The ferns were close to the willow, being in the south-west quadrant of the gardens and due west of the willow. With nothing so much as a rustle, Sam also disappeared out of mortal sight.
"Master Peregrin," said Legolas. "I think you and I should hide together."
Pippin opened his mouth and was about to question this decision when suddenly the sound of a clumsy footfall reached his ears, followed shortly by the soft 'whump' of stone hitting wood. Beside him, he sensed Legolas stiffen for a moment before he crouched down closer to the ground. Without making a sound, the Elf regained Pippin's attention and gestured to a large clump of bushes surrounding the oak nearest to the willow. It lay in the north-east quadrant of the gardens, being positioned between Merry and the willow. Quick as lightning did Pippin vanish amongst the leaves with Legolas close behind. They looked to the north gate just in time to see three tall figures walk through it. One of these figures had something slung over his shoulder. Something hobbit sized… Legolas lay a soothing but restraining hand on Pippin's shoulder as the young hobbit gave a soft strangled choke.
The men paused as they entered through the gates, looking around them for a good place to take cover. Just as Legolas had predicted, one of them pointed to the willow. The tallest of the three and the one bearing the hobbit moved towards it while the smallest of them moved to the same cluster of trees where Legolas and Pippin were hidden. Both of them tensed but the man did not seem to notice anything amiss. He stood leaning against a nearby oak, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Meanwhile, the man bearing the hobbit had slung him from his shoulder and dropped him none too kindly on the ground. From their low vantage point, Legolas could see that Frodo did not respond physically as he surely should have. Nor did he make any sound.
2 Hours
"We should leave soon," said Reynard. "It's gettin' late."
"Yer right," agreed Desmond as he glanced out the window. He looked back at Frodo. "Looks like we won' have time ter give yeh a partin' gift after all."
"Not you at least," murmured Seregon as his eyes flicked over to Arlyn. She shifted uncomfortably under the cold gaze. "Reynard," he said more loudly. "Go and get what supplies we will need. Desmond, check that the streets outside are clear."
He waited for the two men to leave the room before turning to fully face Arlyn. "Now, my dear," he said softly. "I have a little parting gift for you, to er… thank you for your help. Just close your eyes and I will get it for you."
Every single tiny cell that made up Arlyn's body screamed at her to not close her eyes. But Seregon stood staring at her, not moving until she obeyed. Finding that she was trembling slightly, she lowered her eyelids, both of her hands wringing at her skirts until they were a twisted mess.
The sound of ringing metal resonated about the room. She heard a cracked scream. Very suddenly she realised that it belonged to the hobbit. But just as she had resolved to open her eyes to see what was wrong, her body fell to the floor in a crumpled, lifeless heap.
Seregon spun to face Frodo, taking in his deathly pale skin, drenched with sweat, his impossibly wide eyes and his trembling limbs that would not be still. In a flash, the Man held the already bloodied knife against his unprotected flesh, threatening to slit another throat. Frodo fell silent at once.
"This is why you are going to be drugged," hissed Seregon through clenched teeth. "I don't want another sound from you unless I specifically say so. Do you understand?" Frodo nodded mutely, his eyes glued to Seregon's face by an inexorable terror. Not even when he heard the heavy, rushed footsteps of Desmond and Reynard did he look away from the face of the murderer who stood so calmly before him. Briefly Frodo wondered if perhaps this was all one long, horrible dream. But how could he feel such pain and helplessness if he was dreaming? Perhaps he should try and go to sleep now? Maybe then he would be able to wake up and find that everything was well again. He would open his eyes and find that it was morning, and perhaps a worried Sam would be kneeling on the bed beside him, saying how he had just been about to go and get Strider or Gandalf for help. Then Sam would climb down from the bed to fetch a glass of water, all the while telling Frodo how he had been trying for ever so long to waken his master from whatever nightmare he had been trapped in, and whether he wanted him to go and fetch help anyway.
"Who screamed?" blurted out Desmond, forcing Frodo back to reality with just the sound of his gruff voice.
"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?" roared Reynard. His eyes had been the first to fall onto Arlyn's body. Now so directed, Desmond turned to look. He took in the sight of the blood still pooling around the woman's head and neck, and the lethal gash on her throat.
"Yeh killed 'er," he said.
"An excellent observation, Desmond," replied Seregon dryly. "Of course I killed her! She knew too much. The moment we released her she would have gone straight to the guards and told them everything she knew. Now let's go. We must be at the gardens before the King. Do you have the drug-"
"Hang on a minute," interrupted Reynard. Seregon turned his attention back to the younger man, and was dimly surprised to see the fierce fire burning in his pale eyes. "That's not good enough. Yeh didn' need ter kill 'er an' you know it! We coulda kept 'er 'ere an' gotten 'er ter look after us. But there was never any need ter go around killin'. I reckon yeh've got a private agenda that yer not sharin' with us an' if you don' wanna end up like 'er then yeh'd better start speakin' now."
There was a pause as Reynard's words hung on the air, the accusation and suspicion seeming to make the very room close in. Both Frodo and Desmond's eyes flitted back and forth between the two men now facing each other, wondering what would happen next. They were both more than a little surprised when Seregon started laughing.
"Son of Reynor," he chuckled. "How the guards of the citadel would have welcomed you into their company! I have spent the last six years in their jailhouse and never for one moment did they not suspect me of having another purpose. They even thought my term in prison was part of another plan I had so carefully and cunningly formulated." The taller man stepped closer to Reynard and lowered his voice. The younger man could now discern a strange light in the steel eyes. He would have liked very much to have stepped back. But he did not dare. He did not dare to show his fear to this force whom he did not yet know the full strength of. He did not dare to test himself against Seregon so soon. "But you and the guards seem to be forgetting one very important detail," Seregon's voice continued speaking, and every syllable that rolled from his tongue seemed to further leaden the air. "I am a man with nothing to lose. I do what I wish and more often than not I am untroubled by the consequences. I killed that girl mostly because I didn't like her and partly because she is a threat to this job. And I'll kill you too if you continue to carry on like this. So I suggest you calm yourself down and we will leave. There'll be plenty of other pretty things for you when this is over – some of which will be women. She's no great loss. Now come! It is getting late. Someone drug the halfling and rebind his hands and feet."
1 Hour
Desmond mentally cursed his clumsy feet as the small pebble he had kicked rolled down the street before hitting the fence ahead of them with a 'whump' that seemed to slice through the still night air. There was a pause as the three men stood stock-still, but they heard no other sound and saw no other movement. Reynard carefully let out the breath that had hitched in his throat and shot a glare at Desmond.
"Don't do that again," he warned. Desmond glowered in return as he shifted Frodo's limp weight on his shoulder.
"My apologies, Rey," he hissed. "But it's a bit hard ter move with the required stealth when I've got a bloody halflin' slung over me shoulder."
"Well then perhaps you should-"
"Both of you shut up!" ordered Seregon. He got immediate compliance. "Let's just get this over with. We need to find some cover."
The three entered the gardens by the north gate, but paused to take in their new surroundings. At last Reynard pointed towards the south gate in the region where the willow stood. "How 'bout there?" he suggested.
"Yes," agreed Seregon. "Desmond, you and I will go there with the halfling. But Reynard – I think you should take cover elsewhere. Just as a precaution." For a brief moment Reynard studied Seregon's features in the light of the lampposts they stood between, wondering what this man's intentions really were. But the moment passed, and he was moving towards a group of rather shadowed oak trees surrounded by thick bushes. Seregon and Desmond disappeared under the willow's curtain. Now they had only to wait.
Time was passing and still there was no sign of Aragorn. The (conscious) hobbits were getting restless, each of them wanting to get this business over with so they could return to the safety and comfort of the citadel with Frodo. With each minute that ticked by, Pippin threw Legolas furtive glances at least four times. He found himself envying the Elf's ability to remain so calm and relaxed and contented to wait. His fair features looked as serene as always, but had the young tween known his companion for longer, he would have known that underneath the mask Legolas was growing just as frustrated and impatient as the hobbits. He had, after all, known Aragorn the longest of them. And Aragorn had always had impeccable timing for as long as the two had known each other. So why was he keeping them waiting?
A mere five paces away from the two crouched figures, Reynard also was restless for some action. This place made him feel uneasy and he wanted to be clear of it as soon as possible. He had the distinct feeling that he was being watched, but by whom, or what, he could not tell.
Under the willow tree, Seregon also sensed that some unknown factor was working against his plans. But looking around, the only thing that seemed out of place was Desmond. Everything in the gardens seemed tense and on edge – even the plants. But Desmond leaned against the trunk of the willow at his ease, looking more than a little bored. Seregon smirked to himself. The man beside him had never relished in waiting for anything. If he wanted something done, he wanted it done quickly and efficiently and without any complications.
But even as Seregon dwelt on this, there came to his ears the sound of a soft creaking. His eyes shot to the south gate where a cloaked figure had walked through and was making his way towards the centre of the gardens. But his progress was not smooth or terribly fast. Seregon could see that he was slightly hunched over a large barrow that was filled with several plump lumps. Desmond stood up straighter, making a soft growl of anticipation in his throat. The figure came to a stop in the approximate centre of the gardens, his head turning this way and that as he visually looked for the kidnappers.
"You're late," said Seregon softly, not stepping out of his cover. The figure gave a small bow as his head turned to the willow.
"I apologise," he said in an equally soft voice. "I had some trouble distracting my guards and guests for long enough. And it is no easy task carting nine full sacks of gold through this city." Desmond chuckled softly.
"Very well," said Seregon, his only display of humour being a slight curling of the lips. "Move the gold to the north gate of this garden then move back to where you stand now. One of my… associates… will go and check that everything is in order."
For a moment Aragorn paused, looking as though he wanted to say something. But he decided otherwise and did as he was told. He moved the barrow to the designated gate and as he lowered it to the ground, his eyes flicked to where they could just make out a few curls peeking out between the leaves of a bush. One eye looked up to him and winked, before a small hand carefully drew up a hood to cover the curls and the rest of the face. Merry disappeared out of sight and Aragorn returned to his previous position in the centre of the gardens. Beneath the willow's branches, Seregon gave Desmond a nudge and nodded at him to move. The man checked that his own hood hid his features before moving to the barrow. Several tense moments passed before his voice called gleefully to his companions.
"It's genuine! It's all genuine!" Seregon's mouth curled further into a definite smile.
"You have your gold," said Aragorn. "Now where's the halfling?"
"All in good time, my Lord," said Seregon. Aragorn did not miss the mocking tone in his voice. "You will get your precious halfling. And good riddance! He has been more trouble than you have paid for him."
Merry, Pippin and Sam clenched their hands into white fists of fury, wishing more than anything else that they could show this man just how troublesome a hobbit could be! Aragorn found his own anger boiling dangerously as his mind flew back to Ithilien. Praise them with great praise. "That halfling," he said. "Is worth a thousand times more than what I paid for him. He deserves to be a prince for his deeds of late and you would do well to remember that." Seregon found himself unable to suppress a snort of disdain.
"Or what?" he challenged. When Aragorn did not answer, he gave an icy chuckle. "Be careful, Your Highness. The rat's life is still in our hands. One wrong move and he will die."
"How do I know he is not dead already?" fired back Aragorn, not liking where this talk was leading. As if reading his mind, Seregon's smile lifted again.
"You want assurances?" he said. "Very well." He bent down to the ground and the unconscious body at his feet. Seeing the flash of movement between the draping branches, Aragorn anticipated the man's next move.
"Wait!" he cried with such authority and desperation that Seregon paused. "Don't harm him! I have a throwing dagger with me and I will not hesitate to kill your friend with it if you hurt the halfling."
Seregon gave another laugh. This was surely the best fun he had had in a very long time. "Then kill the man!" he said. "I could not care less. In fact you would be doing the city a favour. I do not care if others die – only if I die. And I do not think you would risk a throw at me with overhanging branches and darkness impeding your accuracy. Especially when I could easily shield myself with the halfling. If you want assurances, then you'll be getting them how they're given."
He returned his attention to the being beside him and saw to his satisfaction that Frodo was waking up as if on cue. Grabbing a fistful of dark curls, he yanked the hobbit up to a sitting position and pulled the gag from the small mouth. Then before anyone could do anything else, Seregon let his free hand descend on Frodo's already abused skin. The sound of the slap seemed to resonate about the gardens as though it had been a clap of thunder as it was joined by a cry of pain.
Several things happened at once. Still feeling slightly groggy from the effects of the sleeping drug, and confused from his fever, Frodo started to do the only thing that seemed logical given his situation – he started struggling. Seregon had not been prepared for this sudden (and surprisingly strong) attack, so it was that he did not notice anything else that was happening around him.
At the sound of Frodo's cry, the other three hobbits had also cried out while Aragorn had had to call on a lot of self-control to not do something that could further endanger his friend's life. But he should not have worried, for while Seregon was distracted, so were Desmond and Reynard. The former had been more than a little surprised to hear the bush beside him give voice. He had been even more stunned when the bush started violently shifting about. However, he inexplicably managed to recover when the bush produced a halfling. But when Merry tried to run to the aid of his cousin, Desmond grabbed the scruff of his neck and pulled him towards his much larger and stronger body. As small arms started windmilling at him, he hastily snatched their wrists and pushed the body to the ground, hoping it might be easier to subdue the hobbit from there. But Merry lashed out with his overlarge feet, kicking the Man where is would hurt most. Desmond let out a howl of pain.
"Rey!" he shouted. "Help me! He's brought more of these bloody rats!"
As much as he would have liked to answer his partner's plea for help, Reynard himself was already rather distracted. He had seen Legolas and Pippin's bush rustle as Pippin had tried to shoot out of it to reach Frodo. All that had stopped him were the lightning-quick reflexes of the Firstborn. But within moments, Reynard had the leaves of the bush parted and his eyes widened to see the two. In the split second that it took for him to draw breath enough to shout out to his own companions, Legolas had unsheathed his long knives and in a movement too quick for the naked eye to behold, he had pulled Reynard into the cover of the bush. He held the Man against the trunk of the oak with his knives at his throat.
"If you value your life," said Legolas softly, yet in a tone that bore no time for negotiation. "You will stay quiet and do exactly as I say."
At the same time, Aragorn had resolved to turn to force to get what he wanted while all three Men were distracted. He had just unsheathed Andúril, it's cold blade gleaming in the dim light of the night, when it seemed that Seregon had at last overcome Frodo. The hobbit let out a fresh cry of fear and pain as his left arm was twisted behind his back and a knife was held to his throat.
"Everyone shut up and stay right where you are!" roared Seregon, having seen Aragorn take a few steps closer to him. He glared at the King then turned his eyes to Sam who had rushed out at his master's second cry, not being able to bring himself to do nothing and stay hidden any longer.
Seregon received instant compliance. When everyone froze in place, he slowly stepped out from the cover of the willow with his hood still miraculously raised to shadow his features. He edged further into the open where all could see the position in which he held Frodo.
"A very foolish move, King, bringing you little friends along." Every word that Seregon spoke radiated with fury. "I specifically told you to come alone." Aragorn did not respond, his expression strained as his eyes beheld Frodo's bruised and swollen face, and widened eyes that projected only pure terror. "Tell your friends to come out of hiding now. They are to stand where I can see them and all of you are to drop any weapons you have with you."
Aragorn hesitated for one heartbeat before he capitulated. Contravening this man now would not help Frodo. "Merry, Pippin, Legolas," he said, knowing they had all heard Seregon's words. "Do what he says." Very hesitantly, Merry, Pippin and Legolas removed themselves from hiding, joining Aragorn and Sam. They all dropped their various swords, knives, and daggers, and Seregon's expression twisted as he witnessed the extent of the King's treachery to his orders.
"Very foolish," he said. "I hope you're happy with yourself, Your Majesty."
"Hand our friend over," said Aragorn. His voice was stern but his eyes were pleading. This did not pass Seregon's notice, and he laughed softly and cruelly.
"Not feeling so brave and cocky now, are we?" he said. "But now I regret to inform you that you have just played your last card and have lost the game."
"No," said Aragorn, refusing to let this nightmare continue. "Give us our friend! You can still keep the gold." Seregon laughed again.
"Why you would want this brat back I truly cannot fathom," he said. "But you may have him, and we will still get the gold." At this news, Pippin let out an explosive sigh of relief, his expression changing to match it. Seeing (and hearing) this, Seregon shook his head with an amused smile playing about his lips. He really should do this more often… "I wouldn't look so pleased if I were you," he said to Pippin. The young hobbit's face fell instantly. "The terms in the letter stated that the King comes alone with the gold or else the halfling gets it." All colour drained out of the hobbits' faces. Legolas shot a worried glance at Aragorn.
"Aye," continued the Man. "Obedience is a hard lesson to learn – especially for a king. But even kings must learn when it is time to do as they are told. Desmond!"
Desmond moved over to Seregon, casting a scathing look in Merry's direction on the way. The hobbit balled his hands into fists, wishing he could have done more damage in the small amount of time he had had.
"Desmond," said Seregon, his expression shifting to one of satisfaction. "You still have your… supplies, do you not?" A wicked grin manifested on Desmond's face and he drew out the jar, breaking the wax that sealed it and taking off the lid before handing it to Seregon. Seregon sheathed his knife and took the jar, sparing a moment to examine its contents appreciatively. Realising what it was, Frodo's eyes widened further and he began to struggle again.
"Yes," said Seregon, his smile being plain vindictive. "You know what this is, don't you my little rat." He turned his gaze back to Aragorn, Legolas and the hobbits. "This," he continued, holding up the jar for all to see. "Is a concoction of the most deadly poisons in the world. And you are going to be granted the pleasure of watching you friend here suffer the total agony of a long and horrible death because of it."
With that said, Seregon beckoned at Desmond who moved to hold still Frodo's thrashing head. When Seregon moved the jar to the cracked lips, he found them clamped tightly shut. Desmond pinched Frodo's nose, compelling him to open his mouth to breathe. Without waiting, Seregon poured the thick poison down the hobbit's throat and tossed the now empty jar to the ground. He clamped Frodo's mouth shut, and Frodo was forced to swallow.
TBC
A/N: Well there it is! I guess that kind of closes 'Part One' of this fic and I would like to take the chance to give an extra special thanks to a few people.
The first BIG thank you is to Lexi who has supported me for much longer than I've been writing this fic and who has put up with my continuous rants about fanfiction for just as long. Thanks for being a great friend and my guardian angel!
Second BIG thanks goes to Bronwyn (indolosse), who has likewise offered me wonderful and very valuable support and advice. I also thank you for putting up with my mono-topic conversations and I can't wait until your fic is ready! Good luck!
My third BIG thanks goes to Breon Briarwood who, according to my calculations has been my most faithful reviewer. Your words (and cheers) of encouragement mean a lot to me and to you I send a lifetime supply of strepsils in any flavour that you wish! ;) Also, my BIG thanks to Kaewi, who has thus far given me some of the most helpful reviews which have really helped shape this story.
Speaking of reviews, I am coming up to a goal that I have dreamed of achieving ever since I started writing fanfiction – to get over 100 reviews for a story. So to all of you out there who might read this, the person who sends the 100th review for this fic will have an original character dedicated to them in future chapters. They can help decide the name, gender, age, history etc of this character if they would like. I guess it's just to show how much the encouragement, praise and advice (etc) all means to me. Fanfiction is made by fans for fans after all. But now for some more thank-yous…
Astron-Meares – Wow! Thank you very much for your kind words. I'm glad you are enjoying this fic so much and your faith means a lot to me. I hope I continue to live up to the standards. ;)
Breon Briarwood – Your chapter is served… :D
Elijahs-gurl – My goodness that's a lot of exclamation marks! Lol. I think we all hope that he doesn't die, but things are certainly looking a bit more doubtful after this chapter. I guess you'll have to wait and see how events turn out for our poor hobbit… ;)
FrodoBaggins87 – I think it seems to be a trait with most hobbits that they can't not make us laugh for too long. :P And I'm glad of your response to the end of the chapter. I was originally going to end it with something else, but that part just hit me on the head and demanded to be written. I admit it received a raised eyebrow as I read over it before posting… ;P
Iorhael – Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face? Soon you will see All of your fears will pass away…
Kaewi – Many thanks! :D As I said above, fanfiction is written for the fans, so what you all write in reviews I guess influences a bit what I put in the next chapter. And don't worry – the story won't be ending too soon. There's still a lot more drama up ahead for our heroes. ;)
lindahoyland – I'm glad you're enjoying this. I assure you, I love writing it! So you don't have to worry about any lack of continuity… This is a quote a friend gave me, and I believe it fits in with your review. ;) "A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men." I have a sneaking suspicion that Merry and Pippin in particular try to abide by that 'rule'.
Wydinel Sheergale – You are VERY right. Hobbits (particularly Frodo) seem to be magnets for trouble and torture. But while it breaks our hearts reading about it, I guess we can't help but love it when the time for hugs and comfort comes. Heavens knows that Frodo's certainly earned some comfort time in this fic. You'll soon see what happens next!