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Merry
Grey smoke curled up from the beginnings of a blaze at the
roots of the tree, and the reaction was immediate. Though Old Man Willow’s skin
was tough and hard, and the little fire posed no threat at once, something in
his wicked inside twisted, and Sam gave a loud scream. Merry held back, sneering
at the pitiable sight, his eyes alit by the pale flame of cruel triumph. Victory
was near, but it was not quite his yet to claim. Frodo would have little choice
but to deal with him, or to deal with death.
Pippin stood nearby, quaking and looking pale, and Merry whispered to him,
“Retrieve the ropes. It won’t be long, now.”
Merry then moved up behind Frodo. “Enjoying your first picnic away from home,
dearest?” he jeered. “It would appear that you have been away from Buckland for
so many long years, that you’ve forgotten the ancient Brandybuck customs. It is
your history, Cousin. Bless me! But can you not recall the Spells of Old? It is
a deep shame that Samwise would be the one to pay for your negligence.”
Frodo said nothing, and Merry looked past him toward the fire, which rapidly
burned away its fuel of dry leaves. “What will you do next, Frodo? Let him roast
alive? It is now out of your control, if you cannot remember the Spells of Old.
Come now, let us leave this ugly scene before it becomes more than you can bear.
You belong at home, Frodo. You ran away, and that was a very naughty thing to
do, but now it is time to go.” As Frodo continued to disregard him, anger
flashed across Merry’s face, and he took Frodo by the shoulder in a gentle but
firm grip, then suddenly jerked Frodo around to meet his fiery gaze.
“You will answer to me now, FRODO.”
Frodo
Sam's agonized cries made Frodo's blood run cold, and he realized that he had
made a grave error. And of course, Merry was there to make sure that he didn't
miss the point.
Frodo felt Merry's fingers dig into his shoulder and he allowed himself to be
spun about until he was face-to-face with his cousin. He met his the younger
hobbit's fiery gaze with a determined one of his own, his eyes gone dark blue
with anger.
"Spells of Old!" Frodo cried. "Of course I don't remember the Spells of Old! I
never bothered to memorize them, for I didn't think they did anything real! And
they made for some very poor verse!"
As he spoke the last words, Frodo wrenched himself free of his cousin's grip,
moved swiftly to little fire, and stamped it out with both feet. His leathery
soles absorbed the heat without pain, but some of the hair on the tops of his
feet was singed. He didn't notice. He put his face near the crack that had
widened just a bit in the bark.
"Sam! It's out! I've put it out! Are you all right?"
Frodo sighed. Of course Sam wasn't all right. He was trapped inside the blasted
tree! Any assault that Frodo could launch against the tree would only cause the
tree to retaliate against Sam, Frodo realized that now.
What was he going to do? Spells of Old... Merry.
Frodo forced himself to take a deep breath, then turned back to Merry.
"Merry--if those spells you spoke of have any power over this thing, now would
be the time to prove it."
Meeting Merry's eyes was more difficult now, as the anger that had blazed in
Frodo had been extinguished along with the little fire, and was being quickly
replaced by desperation. And when he did, Frodo saw that the look in Merry's
eyes was anything but rational. It sent a chill down Frodo's spine. Surely no
hobbit had ever looked that cold, that empty? He had to get through to him
somehow!
So Frodo added, as calmly and reasonably as he could, "Merry, you spoke of
wanting to use The Ring for the good of all hobbits. To help hobbits. Well, here
is a hobbit that needs your help NOW. Use your spells, your knowledge, to help
Sam. Please."
Frodo's voice cracked on the last word.
Sam
(Editor's note: Sam was too far gone under Old Man Willow's spell to post
this round.)
Pippin
Pippin turned his back on the growing flames of the tree that
seemed to also grow in it's black malice. Pippin shuddered and ran back towards
their packs. He rifled through them frantically. Rope, yes rope! Of course
they'd need rope. How clever of Merry! Pip felt his hands brush against the
scratchy roughness of the hastily tied rope. Hastily tied, yes, but strong as
iron. It was still cruelly rough, like those gritty strips of paper woodsmiths
use to smooth out furniture. Pippin took a moment for pity of their new wearer
and then quickly swallowed it like a bitter tonic. If Sam was to wear them, then
he'd deserve it for hitting his Merry so cruelly.
Pippin tightened his fists about the rope and muttered something about the
wicked guiles of seemingly simple gardeners. He rose and ran back to where he
left his dear cousins... his dear Merry. He could hear the voices of his cousins
rising in the distance. "Don't you remember the
Spells of Old, Frodo?" Pippin slowed to a brisk trot. Spells of Old... yes he
recalled something by that name. Whimsical little catches of rhyme and bits of
tune Merry had taught him when they were lads.
Hoy now Mr. Willowman, you know you should sleep
Now eat the earth and of the river springs drink deep
And nary should you wake sir Willow if you should come to harm
Fear! Fire! Foes! So help me I shall raise the alarm
Pippin grinned to himself... he could recall some other parts and snatches about
the reaping tools of angry Brandybucks and the wroth of scornful hobbits. The
Took giggled to himself. Never had he seen hobbits as enraged as the little
child songs did tell and he wondered what for they were so threatening. Perhaps
they really were purposed to strike fear in the blackened hearts of hungry
trees. Or perhaps hobbits really had such fire within them... buried deep.
When he suddenly came upon his cousins and heard their heated exchange he felt
cold inside. Yes it did appear so. These little songs were meant for warning and
there was something in Brandybucks that could truly spark a fire... now could
Merry wield that fire and how now
would he wield it.
But it seemed that the only hobbits that knew the truth were Frodo and Sam, and
Pippin could not tell that, yes, this fire had not only been sparked but had
lost all control long long ago.
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