|
Merry
Merry Brandybuck could not tell for certain what lay ahead,
as the trees bent their old, gnarled branches above like clasping hands to block
off much of what remained of the light, and the path was dark before and around
him. He signed to Pippin to stay behind, and not rush forward blindly and into
the same trap that Frodo and Sam may have fallen prey to. Ancient were the songs
and spells of the forest, but their trickery remained perilously strong
throughout the ages to the inexperienced. Still now, when he had not been caught
unwary, Merry could hear and feel the heavy whispers of sleep falling onto his
head like sweet enchantments that dulled the senses and seeped weariness into
his limbs. But these powers were felt only at their least for Merry, as he
closed his ears to their treacherous music. He heeded only the desperate shouts
for help coming from Frodo, and noted that he had not heard a sound from Sam.
Samwise was never the type to willfully remain silent during a crisis, hence his
need to be muted with a makeshift gag whenever he happened to be placed near his
trusting master. Frodo, who did not know who to trust anymore, foolishly
betrayed Merry's counsels for Sam's. It had become imperative to keep the
gardener's simple suggestions out of Frodo's ears, for they reflected the
crooked directives given by Gandalf before his convenient disappearance.
Thinking he might know what the problem at hand might be, Merry calmly
dismounted his pony and walked along the trail, bearing no visible weapon, for
if his suspicions were correct, there would be no need of such implements of
persuasion. Ropes would be a requirement later, of course, once deals were
settled and matters decided. Despite the shadows and the sense of dread that
hung conspicuously in the air, Merry was feeling fairly cheerful and pleased
that he would soon be reunited with his cousin, and they could return home and
be a family once more. A family of stern but loving guidance, once their
rightful path was revealed and darkness of mind cast away. The Shire was their
refuge, and Buckland their place to exist in peace and prosperity, to their end
of their days. Merry could scarcely discern anything in the gloom of the trees,
and evidently nor could the hobbit that suddenly ran up the path in his
direction. Before he could react, their chests collided heavily together,
knocking both startled to the earth. Merry landed on his back on a pile of
leaves, and he looked up at Frodo with a subtly amused _expression.
“Hullo, Frodo!” said Merry cheerfully, as he picked himself up off the ground.
“Fancy bumping into you out here!”
Frodo
Frodo hurled himself blindly down the path, making much quicker progress than
when they had come the other way, despite the fact that he seemed to be
stumbling, tripping and falling a good bit of the time. Frodo's hands were raw
and bleeding from where they had been abraded repeatedly against the gnarled old
roods along the path.
Frodo had his eyes on the path and thus did not see the figure in front of him
until it was too late. A split-second after he saw the hobbit-shaped form in
front of him, he crashed into it, unable to stop his forward momentum. His head
and chest smacked against something solid that not only stopped him abruptly but
sent him reeling backward to the ground.
"Oh!" Frodo cried in surprise, then stared in horror as the blurry obstacle
resolved itself into the figure of Meriadoc Brandybuck, now looming over him
ominously.
"Merry!" Frodo gasped, and scrambled hastily to his feet. He could hardly
believe his eyes, but the sinking feeling he experienced at his cousin's
cheerful greeting left no doubt who stood before him. "What are you DOING here?"
Frodo choked out. Merry should have been miles behind, safely locked in his room
at Crickhollow!
Faced with this new threat, Frodo found that his mind was suddenly clear again,
and even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. The hunched form of
Peregrin Took stood partially behind Merry, as if for protection. But it was not
Frodo that Pippin needed protection from!
"Oh, Pippin--how could you?" Frodo moaned, then turned his attention back to the
grinning Brandybuck. The look on Merry's face made Frodo swear an oath more
suitable to a street urchin from Bree than a gentlehobbit of the Shire. Out of
the frying pan and into the fire!
"Stay away from me, Merry!" Frodo warned, backing away.
He'd have to deal with Merry, of course, but he was loath to do so without Sam.
Merry stood a couple inches taller and his madness gave him a brutal cunning
that went beyond anything that Frodo had ever seen. He needed Sam! But how could
he free him, unless...
"Fire! That's it!" Frodo realized. They had a tinderbox in their luggage,
and with it, Frodo had a weapon against that horrid tree! Oh, why hadn't he
thought of that before?
"I mean it, Merry! Stay away!" Frodo shouted again. Then he turned and ran back
down the path toward the tree that had imprisoned Sam.
Sam
"Coming!" Sam found himself muttering as even in his perilous situation he
was fighting the strong call to sleep. Still the knocking persisted, now seeming
to echo all around him, making his ears ring.
He opened his eyes, finding himself still enclosed in darkness and gave a
panicked yelp. He'd never liked confining spaces, dark ones even less.
But then, like a blinding light he remembered Frodo. Where was his master? They
had barely been gone a day and already lost him. He could hear his voice,
barely. Frodo sounded as if he were in a tunnel. "Frodo!"
Sam heard his own cry bounce back off of the walls of his prison, and once more
his ears rang. His master cried out and he tried to escape his confines to help
him.
He felt paralyzed as his entire body was held in place by something he couldn't
see. He could move his hands a little and he held out his palm, feeling along
the walls for something- anything that could help him out.
He felt gnarled, and knotted wood; there were cracks in places, but none so big
enough that would aid his escape, and as if sensing his thoughts, the bark split
open further and sliced his palm.
"Argh!" Sam cried out as he drew his bleeding hand back. He couldn't hear
anything else now, and he worried for Frodo's safety. He almost laughed then and
there, when he realized he was thinking about Frodo when he himself was in
danger.
He tested out his freedom to move once more, and discovered he could turn his
head to the side. Not wanting to get bit by the foul bark once more, he held his
face barely an inch away, and cried Frodo's name over and over. This time he got
no echo.
Pippin
Pippin blinked once then twice as he saw his cousin
frantically scramble to his feet, shout at Merry harshly, and then turn on his
heals and fly away! In all of Pippin's short years he had never seen Frodo so
frightened and witless. Frodo Baggins was a respectable hobbit and though Pippin
always lost interest whenever someone began to say that about his cousin he knew
it to be horribly true. He had wished that he could catch Frodo drunk once but
if his cousin ever did
so it was Pip who was the first to become inebriated and he could not recall.
And now this, it was a shock to the young Took's senses and couldn't even tell
if Merry was as shocked as he... or worse yet... enraged. Pippin felt a shudder.
Frodo had nearly disappeared amongst the labyrinth of trees and veiled shadows
of the forest. But Pippin did not guess he had been standing there for long,
stock still, gaping like a caught fish. He shook his head trying to regain some
sense and then looked towards Merry.
"Alright," Pippin thought to himself. "I am ready." He made a fist and awaited
Merry to react wondering precisely how long he had been stunned. It could not
have been too long for Merry was sharper than he and would not have been held in
shock long either. No, he had recovered instantly with a sly response to the
indisposed Frodo. Pip took one last deep breath and poised himself, awaiting
orders to move or even breathe another breath. In his own head he kept
repeating, "Listen to Merry. Listen to Merry. Listen to Merry."
|
