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Ring Around the Merry	By : emma Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 1731 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Sam watched as Frodo�s pupils expanded until they devoured all the blue of his irises, reflections of the Ring suspended in their inky pools, windows into nothing.

Author: emma
rating R
summary: merry keeps frodo captive at crickhollow where he tries to break him to keep the Ring in the shire

AN: I�ll tell you right now- this chapter is a doozie- so I really do hope you will take a few moments to review. I must thank some people! Ariel- for the wonderful Estella here, and for helping me get the end of this chapter just right! She has been waiting forever for the last scene (don�t want to spoil it) and she stayed up until 2am helping me with it. Celandine- the first-pass beta has saved me from myself! and added some great angst!!

Now let the angst begin!!!
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Chapter 53 � The Fury of the Scorned

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Sam quailed as his quivering hand reached toward It--the terrible trinket that had snuffed the goodness out of Meriadoc, pitting him against the will of his dear, sweet master. It was here in all Its glory before him, a hateful, hideous thing forged with malice and etched with death. The Ring.

Frodo's face was contorted with stress, his complexion flushed, his lips pulled thin and bloodless as he twisted within his bonds. Tears welled in Sam's eyes, finally spilling over as he moved his hand to his master's feverish cheek.

It was hot to the touch and Frodo seemed to pull away, back into the bedclothes, twisting and moaning. Sam sighed, shaking his head with concern.

"Mr. Frodo, please," he leaned over and whispered to his master with all the intensity of a scream. "I know you can sense me�somewhere�somewhere in there, I know it. You hafta understand, Mr. Frodo, Merry is dangerous and I ain't got no more choices�You gotta under�"

Leaning low over Frodo's face, Sam couldn't have missed it if he'd wanted to--a hiss, small and high pitched--but vicious and angry and vehement seeping from Frodo's white lips.

Rage, thought Samwise, almost involrilyrily, almost before he had heard it or thought about it. His eyes widened in shock and horror. And then he felt it, physically, his master�s anger and loathing. But it wasn't directed nst nst Merry or the Ring or fate this time�it was set, in all its fury, again him.

Sam inhaled raggedly, pulling his hand back like it had touched a hot coal. The shock of Frodo's animosity made him hesitate. Was this really the right course of action?

�Samwise Gamgee, use your head now!" Sam whispered to himself. "You haven�t escaped yet�not with that damned rock around your leg! And if Merry should find It gone missing, it would be up before it even begins!�

Sam took a shaky step back from the bed, feeling a strange surge of relief as he did so, as if a heavy item had suddenly been removed from his shoulders before the start of a journey. Avoiding Frodo's face, he gazed down upon the bump under his master�s collar, the faint glow of gold peeking between the weave of light cloth. No, it was no good. Merry would notice. Sam had to find something to replace It with if he were to have any hope of carrying this thing through.

�Something gold,� thought Sam. �Or, leastwise, gold-ish, shiny.�

Sam rushed around, rifling through drawers, but Merry was a meticulous housekeeper, at least as far as this room was concerned. No replacement trinkets or buttons or baubles seemed likely to be found in any hidden corner. Just as Sam was about to despair, his eyes landed upon the bureau from which Merry had withdrawn Frodo's embroidered weskit a few days before.

�That�s it!� thought Sam. �It�s worth a go.�

Sam dug about between the assorted clothes until he found a weskit lined with bright gold buttons about the same size as the Ring. He closed his fingers around the bottom button and pulled it clean off the garment with a snap. The weskit was then stuffed in the far back of the bureau. With a deep sigh, Sam again approached his master�s bedside.

Frodo had gone quiet again after perceiving his treasure safe. His face seemed almost serene; his eyes wide open, reflecting the firelight in flattened pupils. Sam�s heart sunk and he resisted the impulse to caress his master's face as he had so many times. He stared at the gold button in his hand, feeling lower than he had since they had set off from Hobbiton.

Betrayal, that's what it was, he thought. Or at least�that's how Frodo will see it. There was no doubt in his mind about that now. The worst kind of betrayal.

Sam filled his lungs slowly and deliberately with air. If Frodo was aware of anything, he felt that Ring around his neck, and oh, help us, he loves It. And with that ripped away, now what would his poor Frodo have left?

Sam looked back at his master's face and again at the gold button. He bit his lip and could taste the blood. This was gonna be awful. Awful.

Fool, thought Sam, shaking his head in frustration. Speed up, Samwise my lad, or you�ll get caught!

He stooped. �Easy now, me love. Easy." Sam ran his fingers through Frodo�s hair, partially to distract him, partially because it somehow seemed to lessen the violation of what he was about to do. Very gently he undid the clasp at the neck. He would string the button through first. Maybe, somehow, please the Gods, Frodo wouldn't notice. He tried to fit the chain through the eyelet. It would be a close fit if it would fit at all, and a job not ideally suited to one hand.

�C�mon, you bugger!� grumbled Sam, his hand becoming unsteadier with each passing moment. �Get on there!�

The chain did not forgive and did not allow itself to be strung through the too-small eyelet. Sam made one desperate push, only to lose his tentative grip. The button fell with a clink to the floor, and the chain, Ring, locket and all, dropped unceremoniously down Frodo�s shirt.

Frodo instantly bucked and screeched through the gag, emitting a thin but terrible howl like the cry of a dying animal.
�Idiot!� cried Sam, but it was no use, he had no choice now but to act quickly. He dropped to his belly until the wayward button was found, and grasping it with uncooperative fingers, he stood, ready to do this. Still avoiding Frodo's face, Sam reached into his pocket and extracted the needle he had hidden from Merry. He quickly threaded it through the eyelet with frantic motions.

Frodo cried and thrashed endlessly on as if someone was holding his feet to a fire.

�Now for it!� muttered Sam, though he cried as he did so.

Sam held Frodo�s head down gently but firmly with one hand, while plunging his other down his master�s shirt. His searching fingers sought the fallen chain, for a moment feeling only the violent heaving of Frodo�s chest and the galloping of his heartbeat. Still, his decision had been made and there was no going back. Sam groped for the chain.

Frodo seemed to know his danger. He struggled wildly against his bonds, against his Sam. In a world full of enemies, this was only one more.

Suddenly, Sam thought he detected words through Frodo�s tearing cries, and it rent his heart.

�Mine!� cried Frodo. �Mine! Mine!�

Words. Real words from Frodo's lips, the very thing Sam had longed and longed to hear for days upon weeks. Now, laced with hatred, they cut him to the quick.

But even as Frodo implored with his own voice, Sam did not heed him. His will was set and nothing would stop him now. Sam's hands clasped around the cold chain and he yanked it through the confining collar, away from Frodo.

Frodo�s body arched unnaturally forward as though he had been shot through with an arrow, letting fly with a moan more piteous then anything Sam had heard in all his days. The threat of this extreme loss, this theft of the only thing in the world that was still his, was enough to pull Frodo�s mind back to his body with a slam, the need to fight this unspeakable violation was a thousand times greater than the need to fight for his own body had ever been.
Sam watched in renewed horror as his master, his best friend, clawed and clutched at the air desperately from behind the binds. He saw how Frodo�s legs kicked out at the thick blankets in fast, violent movements, desperate now for the freedom to fight for what he could not obtain. Frodo�s face twisted and contorted into a gnarled, disfigured, misshapen thing. Sam wondered at the strength Frodo was able to muster, strength that seemed to be impossible for any Hobbit, let alone one in Frodo�s condition. Sam felt as if he were watching pure evil unfold itself like a wraith from the pits of Morgoth's depravity.
Frodo fought his confinement with a strength beyond Sam�s reckoning as the Ring hung above his face now, dangling proudly from the stolen chain like a maleficent pendulum suspended in Sam�s grasp. The gardener from Hobbiton stared down at It and then at his master, his poor, undone master, a writhing caricature of someone he loved. Sam found himself hesitating once again. The Ring seemed to speak to him, in tones almost musical, sweet and lovely, begging him to claim it for his own.

I am yours, Samwise Gamgee.

The words congealed in his head, compelling and powerful--like a mist taking form deep within him. It made perfect sense--he could heal his master, Frodo would smile and laugh again. He could care for Frodo as a friend, an equal, not a servant. He could right all that had been done wrong in Its name.

He could guard the Shire from all enemies. He could turn all Middle Earth into a garden, using his gentle wisdom to create peace and harmony.

Sam smiled. And he could make Merry pay, inflict any damage or retribution that seemed right to him. And the Ring made him understand that it would feel very good indeed.

The words swirled around in his brain, as his eyes were mesmerized with the glittering object at his command.

Sam could do all of this and more, the voice said, if only he would put the Ring on his finger and claim it for his own.

Frodo�s eyes went wide, and to Sam�s wonder, focused upon the Ring with his own unclouded sight. Sam watched as Frodo�s pupils expanded until they devoured all the blue of his irises, reflections of the Ring suspended in their inky pools, windows into nothing. Sam gasped. He forgot himself for a moment, neither drawing the Ring away, nor giving it back, but entranced with Its image in Frodo�s huge eyes.

Take me! Take me! Take me, you fool!

The voice hollered in his mind, seductive and soft one moment, howling like a fell best the next.

Take me!

Then another voice, one he longed to hear. The voice of the one he loved above all others.

�Thief!� cried Frodo through his gag. Sam startled, and saw that his master�s face was contorted with hatred and fury. In that moment he was ugly and cruel. Reflections of the Ring shone in his eyes still, and in those eyes, Sam saw pure, black malice--directed at him--with all the power of his master's being.

�Thief!� cried Frodo once more with a voice louder and clearer than cold stone.

Sam trembled as time seemed to telescope into immeasurable units. He understood then that he had ungagged Frodo, though he could not remember when he had done so. Or why.

�Give it back to me!� spat Frodo once again, voice dripping with spite. �You cannot have it! Thief! Despicable thief! Wretched, disloyal fool of a servant! Unbind me and give it back! Do as I say! It is MINE!�

Take me!

Sam stood, still as a statue, tears pouring from his eyes, his heart shredded and torn, hearing such foul words spouting from his lovely master�s mouth. So long he had thirsted to hear his master�s sweet voice. And now that he spoke, it was with a venom that burned Sam�s ears like fire.

A strange impulse came over him to obey his master. His hand, almost involuntarily, lowered the Ring until it nearly touched Frodo�s neck. Frodo quieted, his eyes widened to their fullest extent, and a look like hunger washed over his face.

�Yessss,� hissed Frodo. �MINE!�

Take me!

Then�yet another voice. A memory crawling up through the desperate recesses of his mind.

Sam, I need you to take any opportunity that presents itself to escape. ANY opportunity. . You�ve no choice! I need you to promise me this one thing, SAM!�

Frodo�s voice--the memory of it. The memory of a promise made and then broken. The voice of Frodo's whole and undamaged mind. This is what he had begged Sam to do. This was HIS Frodo. This was the Frodo he must obey. He could still love both Frodos, the whole one and the desecrated one. But Sam�s plain hobbit sense shone through. He must honor the old Frodo, the real Frodo even if it meant that the current Frodo would never forgive him.

Take me!

The Thing, sparkling and seducing in front of him, had caused this to happen to Frodo. It was evil, as Gandalf had said. Its promises were poison; Its truths were lies, and Its purpose, destruction. Frodo knew this. Somewhere deep inside him, he still knew it.

Take me!

�NO!� cried Sam.

A new determination came into Sam�s face. He set his jaw, lifted the chain, and slipped the Ring off of it. It burned and yet was cold to the touch--heavier than he�d thought. Sam held the Ring for a moment more, watching Frodo as he did so. Frodo�s breathing filed the room, shredded with fear and longing, wretched with a fury his damaged constitution could no longer support. A terrifying light came into Frodo�s eyes, his face again contorted in agony. Sam lowered his hand and dropped the Ring in his pocket.

Frodo screamed. Sam instantly clapped his hand over Frodo�s mouth, blocking the sound but not the searing guilt pulsing through him. The words of Gandalf, heard while spying so many months ago, flew back to Sam�s mind. When Gandalf had asked Frodo to fling the Ring into the fireplace, and Frodo could not.

You see? Already you too, Frodo, cannot easily let it go, nor will to damage it. And I could not �make� you � except by force, which would break your mind.

Break his mind? Sam shuddered and found he was weeping again. "Now to finish this dreadful thing!� cried Sam. �I�m so sorry Mr. Frodo! So sorry it had to come to this! Forgive your Sam!�

Sam wept openly as he replaced Frodo�s gag and tightened the clothes around his wrists. Frodo continued to twist his body and scream into the shelter of Sam�s palm. Sam climbed on the bed, setting himself on top of Frodo�s body to keep him still as he worked. Quickly, Sam took the thread, and attached the button to the chain where the Ring had been. With great difficulty he refastened the chain around Frodo�s neck. Sewing up the collar was the most difficult part, as Frodo did not hold still. Sam's hands shook with exertion as he struggled with a needle that seemed to grow more slippery with each passing second.

�Please, please, m�love!� cried Sam. �Stay still! For your Sam!�

But this was not Frodo�s Sam anymore � Frodo did not have a Sam anymore, just a yawning void where his treasure had been. Once-kind hands had ripped It away from him. Stolen It. Frodo continued to buck, unyielding hatred in his eyes, screeching like a cat in water, inchoate and wild.

At last it was done. Sam stood up, winded. He leaned down and caressed Frodo�s sweat-drenched face with the back of one hand, and finger-combed his hair with the other, murmuring and cooing. Frodo stopped writhing after a few minutes. But his stillness gave little comfort to Sam.

Frodo eyes stayed riveted upon Sam�s pocket, the last place he had seen the glitter of his precious. But with the sound of Sam�s voice, he turned his face to his betrayer. Sam�s breath caught.

�Mr. Frodo?�

A pale light came into Frodo�s eyes, filling with rage as they bored into Sam, a hateful, condemning look that did not seem likely to forget or forgive. He was gagged now, but seemed inclined to speak. Sam, perhaps unwisely, undid the gag.

�Frodo?� he said. �Please say you forgive your Sam!�

Frodo�s face, first twisted with anger, suddenly relaxed. The fury faded from his countenance, and looking at Sam with his own eyes, focused and clear, Frodo spoke.

�Traitor.�

Sam felt as if he had just been broadsided. He had no time to explain himself, no time to react. Instead, he watched in horror as Frodo�s countenance went slack and his body relaxed. The recognition faded from Frodo�s eyes as they clouded and went blank as if a candle had been snuffed out behind them.

�No!� cried Sam. �No! Please, Mr. Frodo! Don�t go where I can�t follow! I never wanted to hurt you this way! You asked me to help you, don�t you remember that you did, Master? Please don�t fade to nothing! Frodo! Don�t go!�

But Frodo had gone. It was not the self-imposed isolation of the last painful days but rather a nothingness akin to death, betrayed as he was in the end by all. Sam could not escape what lay before his eyes. What he had done. No hint of life remained save the shallowest of reluctant breaths, irregular and minimal, resentfully holding an abandoned soul to its unwilling body. Frodo was submerged in darkness now, far below the waves of hurt, desire, or even his longing for a voice that had left him.
Sam dropped his head to his master�s chest and sobbed deeply, trying to rid himself of the agony he was sure would eat away at him until the day he died. He was a traitor to his master now. Frodo had at least been completely, and utterly, broken.

And Sam had helped to break him!

Minutes passed. Sam understood that he must clean Frodo up if he were not to be discovered. Taking a wet cloth that Merry had left in a basin, Sam wiped the beads of sweat from his master�s cold brow. He untied his hands and set them carefully upon his breast.

But this position disturbed Sam greatly, for it looked too akin to death. For some reason he did not understand, Sam gently laid Frodo upon his side, facing the dying embers of the hearth. He bent his legs in a more natural sleeping position, and drawing Frodo�s palms together, tucked them gingerly under his chin. Sam closed Frodo�s vacant eyes with tender thumbs. This was a position Sam had seen him in when waking him on countless mornings, and to him it seemed natural. That, in itself, was a kind of small comfort.

�I love you, Mr. Frodo,� mumbled Sam quietly through the tears. �And I will save you. Or I will die trying�and join you�wherever it is you are.� Sam sniffled, wiping his tears away as a coldness crept into his very being. It was a coldness of necessity but also a coldness of spirit that he was not sure he would ever be able to disburse. He eyes narrowed and his voice was harsher and thinner than anything he had ever heard come out of his mouth.

"One way or the other, Frodo, me love, we will be together."

* * *

The fire bathed the room in an aural glow, the oak floorboards livid with an orange light, creaking with Merry�s approaching steps and seeming very nearly alive. Estella sank her nails into the yielding red fabric of the stuffed chair, noting with detached curiosity that it was frosted with a veneer of dust.

�Estella!�

Merry�s voice.

�I do hope you have come to tell me that you will all stay here and be sensible,� she said, turning to see him enter the room and taking up the conversation just where they had left it.

His voice was petulant, yet with an edge on it that she could not define. �You ask this because you feel that I will not be able to defend myself.�

�Oh, Merry!� she gasped emphatically. Her heart sank as she realized what the outcome of Merry�s discussions had been but she hardened her resolve, refusing to yield this time. �These are men! Cruel, incomprehensible and violent! You cannot possibly comprehend how horrible they were. No hobbit who hadn�t seen their handiwork firsthand could. You must stay here because to do otherwise would be folly!�

She stood and paced the room in growing irritation. �You simply cannot go to Brandy Hall! For goodness sake, think, Merry! You would be playing onto their hands! You may think it is your responsibility to do so but, it is not! It is your responsibility to stay alive�for your cousin�s sake if for no other�s, not throw your life away on some useless gesture!�

Merry turned toward the fire and replied softly. �So you do have feelings for me, I deem.�

Estella exhaled in exasperation and threw her arms up. �Course I do, silly mule! Why should I wish you to be harmed?�

�And you have affinity with my family as well. My mother trusts you.�

�Yes, I suppose she does,� Estella cocked her head at him. �But what has that to do with anything? I ask you to stay as much for my own peace of mind as for that of your family. I know of what I speak. You were not there, Merry. You didn�t see what they were capable of. You would not be able to take on these ruffians alone.�

�Not alone,� said Merry. �I would not come alone. Trust your Merry to manage things better than that! This thing that they desire, they desire It because they cannot subdue the Hall, the hobbits, nor even me without It. There is much more to me than meets the eye, my dear.�

�What is this thing, then? Some kind of weapon?�

�It is that and so much more, Stella. It is our salvation.�

Estella shifted uncomfortably and shook her head. �I don�t understand what you mean, and I am not sure I want to. Whatever this thing is, it sounds dangerous, Merry, especially if men would come into the Shire and go to such lengths to acquire it. I have to wonder whose salvation such a weapon would ensure?�

�Ours!� said Merry imperiously. �The hobbits, the Shire, me, you, all of us!�

�No, I still don�t understand,� insisted Estella. �This is most irregular.� She looked at him quizzically. �How many of these weapons are there?�

�One,� said Merry. �There is only one.�

�One?� she cried. �Against those men?� She shook her head again. �And where is this mighty weapon?� Her tone made her skepticism plain.

�I have It,� said Merry. �Or rather, I have It in my control. It does not belong to me. It belongs to all of us, but�" Merry halted his rapid speech, worried for a moment that he would reveal too much. �But,� he continued more carefully, �It is at my disposal for a time of dire need." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "Perhaps this is such a time.�

Estella cocked her head at him again and this time she looked thoughtful and alarmed. �You make it sound like some kind of magical thing, such as the elves and wizards use, not a weapon for the likes of plain, sensible hobbit folk. Is there something you are not telling me? Is this threat even more dire than a batch of ruffians from the lands of men?�

A shadow passed over Merry�s face and the warmth seemed to withdraw from the room all at once. Merry�s eyes lost their hobbity sparkle, now taking on the eerie appearance of oil-slickened pools.

�Estella, this threat is so mucggergger than a �batch of ruffians� as you put it in your small, quaint hobbit speech. Hobbits don�t even have words to describe this threat. It is a darkness that will spread and devour all in its path. I have foreseen it--Estella! The least of which is the plague of big folk, destroyers and usurpers upon our land, driving us underground like rodents until we disappear from sight, from memory, and then even from tales. And men are not the only forces seeking to pull us up by the roots! Elves, dwarves, wizards, and other creatures, both twisted and lovely. They will take our land and leave nothing for us! The half-lings, half-deserving, half-threats or so they think of us!" He spat out the last words, then smiled at her, his voice changing subtly.

"But with This we can endure. It has started here in Crickhollow, and will flower in the rest of Buckland--a regeneration of our kind, and soon the Shire itself will flourish and expand and hobbits will be counted among the high and mighty. And all because of the risks I have taken.�

Merry pounded on his chest to emphasize his last point. �Me. It is not my destiny to be victim, but victor. All hobbits will flock to my banner and pledge me their fealty--you shall see!�

�Merry?�

Estella�s voice brought Merry back to the present long enouo sto stop his swaggering. He jerked his head around and, for the first time, noticed Estella�s shocked and fearful face. During his tirade, she had walked over to him, and now stood, her back to the flames.

�Why do you fear?� he asked in a baffled tone. �I would not see you harmed.�

�You� you are�..� she said hesitantly, �not yourself.�
�I�ve never been more myself!� cried Merry. �I am myself and more. Myself as I should have been all along!�

�I liked you just fine as you were,� she pleaded. �You were a good lad! Plain spoken. Smart. Funny. Responsible.� She paused. �Normal....�

Merry quirked his brows and sneered.

�Normal,� Merry repeated, as if he found the word distasteful.

She went back to the chair she had been seated in and huddled onto it again as if seeking the stability of the furniture in a place that had suddenly become more than strange.

�Can you not hear yourself?!� asked Estella. She looked down. �I don�t know what�s come over you, Merry. I don�t know if it was the stress of hearing my news or if caring for ycouscousin has strained your reason, but you are not making any sense.� She raised her eyes to his and he saw tears beginning in them.

Merry grasped Estella�s quaking hands and kissed them.

�I still am all those things, my dearest Estella. I did not mean to upset you with my ramblings. They draw me away from my purpose.�

�What purpose?� cried Estella desperately.

�I have told you that I can do much with my own hands, and I can. But I cannot do it alone, not all of it.�

�You aren�t alone, Merry. You have your family, and Pippin, and---�

�You mistake my meaning.�

Estella blinked, her head whirling with confusion again. She was beginning to get dizzy from his fantastic talk. �What on earth do you mean? How so? Merry, I don�t know how much more of this I can take! Speak plainly.�

�I meant that if I would be Master, I will need a Mistress, one of wit and wisdom, and the strength to govern not only the Hall, but the w Shi Shire. One who will stand by me and who will not dissolve in the face of either criticism or resistance. One who can be a mother to strong children, who can raise them to be leaders. I need someone by my side who Frodo will bear as a caretaker and who can command both the love and respect of the Master�s subjects. I do adore and love you, Estella. I have a great deal I may offer you; position, title, land, and more power than you could imagine. I offer you all of this along with my own boundless love. I need you by my side, Estella. Please say you will be my wife.�

Now the room truly did begin to spin for Estella. Merry�s hands gripping her own were the only things keeping her upright. Wife? That this mad conversation would lead in such a direction had never even occurred to her. She looked at Merry, kneeling excitedly before her and felt the first stirrings of wonder beneath her astonishment.

She had always been a plain thing, sturdy and reliable but hardly as fetching as a hobbitlass was wont to be. Offers of marriage were not something she had to consider on a daily basis. The fact that Merry Brandybuck, heir of Buckland, and as pleasing a lad as she had ever known, was making her one at that very moment was almost more than she could comprehend. She opened her mouth but words would not come. Her astonishment forbade them. Instead, she stared at the hobbit before her.

At that moment he looked very like her old friend, though with an excitement in his eyes and flush across his cheeks that she had rarely seen in this self-possessed, cocky hobbit. But, she reminded herself, this was not the Merry she had known. He was different somehow, edgier and in a strange way, more exciting. Estella remembered the thrill that had run up her back when he�d held her hands earlier and now she felt the sensation return tenfold, only this time, she knew what it was, and in the light of Merry�s pronouncement, allowed herself to explore it. Perhaps� Excitement pulsed through her, though with it came something between terror and desire, a tempting and titillating fire. This was NOT the Merry she had once known, but perhaps in his new strangeness was the spark that stirred her. She raised her hand to his cheek, and found her voice at last.

�I � don�t know what to say,� she whispered. �I am flattered and honored�but��

Before she could finish her thought, Merry�s lips closed upon her own and he kissed her with the passion he thought the moment required. He enjoyed it more than he thought he would, his ardor growing as he felt her body melt in response to him. How long had it been since his touch had been welcomed? How long since seduction was painless, since he�d enjoyed this simple, normal pleasure, the taste of a lass, even a plain one?

As they kissed, two visions warred for dominance in his mind.

The first, he and Estella standing in the Hall, now grown large, rebuilt in stone, the arch of the ceiling rising to a dizzying height, the hobbits surrounding them not jolly, but grim and obedient. The furniture some of it cast in gold, was obviously Elf-make and glowed with an eternal beauty. And there as well stood a retinue of tall, stout children, -- many of them, dressed in fine clothing and standing proud, they seemed more princes than hobbits. The lads, strong, able to stand against any foe. The girls, beautiful past hobbit reckoning, prim, composed, and eminently marriageable.

The family was seated with some ceremony in large, upholstered chairs behind a massive oaken table. It was lavishly appointed with silver and gold, laden with the fabled wine of Buckland and expensive food of every description. Candles blazed from every direction, attesting to the opulence and wealth of the Hall. Servantsed ied in, lining the walls and ready to serve their every whim or desire.

The Ringbearer sat between the Master and the Mistress of Brandy Hall in a chair just as large and fine. His clothing was velvet of midnight blue, with a heavy collar, finely stitched at the neck. The silken thread was barely visible, holding the collar closed and inviolate. His graceful, jeweled hands rested serenely in his lap and his eyes were downcast and quiet. Behind him another hobbit stood, with flaxen, curly hair, clean, trimmed, and well groomed. Dressed in the livery of the Hall, the former gardener of Hobbiton rested his hands on the Ringbearer's chair, his own eyes also downcast, quiet and respectful, like a soldier on guard duty awaiting orders. And then he saw Pippin - standing beside him on the dais, his head held high and proud, his eyes flashing with love and devotion as he waited to do his lord�s bidding.

Merry saw armies ready to fight at his command, willing to die for him. And Merry saw his Hall, his family, at the center of an expanding kingdom, a kingdom presided over by a lord and a lady who were as respected as they were feared.

The second vision was simpler, closer to the size of a hobbit dream. It was a vision of a Merry, a Merry before and beyond the Ring. He saw himself sitting contentedly by a cozy fire, in a cluttered room that was small but comfortable. He was watching a group of rambunctious bright-eyed, children scuttle about the room, sometimes crawling upon his lamp clamoring for his attention. He saw Estella saunter in, balancing a tea service in her hands as a toddler of uncertain gender tugged at her skirt � a child with Estella�s hair and his own slate-grey eyes. Estella gave him a peck on the cheek, lowered her tray, and handed him a steaming cup of tea and a small cake. A knock, and Pippin entered, older, wiser, and surrounded by a group of his own perky-faced bairns, all curls and eyes, setting the room alight withoyfuoyful chorus of �Uncle!� and �Cousin!� from both sets of children. Laughter and bustle filled the small room, and to Merry, for the moment he perceived it, life seemed the loveliest thing imaginable.

Merry was so caught up in his competing visions that he did not note that Estella was beginning to struggle against his embrace. She pulled back.

�Meriadoc,� she said softly, her lips ruddy and wet. She licked them and tried unsuccessfully to suppress the indecently delighted smile that threatened. �I am quite fond of you, but it seems an ill time to think on such things.�

As Estella pulled back, Merry�s grip upon her shoulder tightened.

�No, Estella!� said Merry. �There is no more vital time! I need to marry, Estella! The sooner the better!�

�Please, Merry�� she looked him in the eye and felt the thrill charging through her sharpen painfully. �Your passion has unbalanced you! Please � let me go so that we may discuss this like reasonable adults!�

Merry instead drew her closer.

�I cannot be Master without you, my love,� he said with conviction. He wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her to her feet, then kissed her again, as if to stifle any further objections she might have voiced. Her lips were still sweet but where Merry had earlier felt Estella�s welcoming softness, he now perceived the beginnings of resistance. No! He was so tired of resistance. He would not lose this!

�Do not fight this, Estella! It is your destiny as well as mine, and you cannot fight destiny, it is bigger than the both of us.�

Estella pushed her hands against Merry�s chest, trying to gain purchase, and finding none, she squirmed desperately against him.

�Merry! Stop!� she gasped when his lips released her. He was proceeding down her neck with bruising, fierce kisses that were making her head spin even faster.

�You do not mean that!�

Merry lifted her bodily and began half carrying, half pushing Estella steadily toward the door. �Come, lass,� he hoarsely growled. �As betrothed, we may do as we will.�

Estella�s struggles began in earnest and she suddenly realized the stabbing of sensation in her gut had become real fear and not just the titillation caused by an eager suitor. She kicked her legs so that Merry stumbled, driving her against the wall and trapping her there beneath his tense body.

�We are NOT betrothed!� she cried out. �I have given you no answer, Meriadoc Brandybuck!� And then, seeing a strange light rise up in Merry�s eyes, she stopped struggling. �You must give me time to think on your offer,� she whispered, her voice tight and fearful.

Merry stopped his claiming caresses, but did not move to release her. �You cannot mean to refuse me! Do you not know what I am offering you? It is something any other hobbit lass would die for! Do you take my generosity so lightly?�

�I do not!� she whispered with earnestness and still trying faintly to wrestle free. �But�but you need time to deal with your family�and to tend to Frodo! Yes!� She searched his face trying to judge if her words were reaching him. �You have so many demands on you right now. I could not possibly be so selfish as to distract you from such important work!�

�You can help me with both!� cried Merry. �And I will need help with both. You need to help me!�

�I shall!� she agreed, sliding carefully from beneath his rigid form and breathing a sigh of relief when he did not move to trap her again. �But in my own way! Now is not the time to wed. Do not take it ill!�

Merry grasped the sides of Estella�s face. �How am I to take it then?�

The quick thinking hobbit lass froze and stared, mesmerized, into Merry�s face. The darkness she saw in his eyes no longer seduced her and the excitement she could feel shivering through his body was no longer answered by a thrill of yearning but instead by an acute awareness of her own peril. Quick as a hare, she yanked herself free, spun around, and dashed to the hallway, grasping her cloak from a hook and pulling it sloppily over her head. She was running now toward the door and Merry was bearing down close behind.

�Stella!� cried Merry, grasping at the back of her cloak. �Are you mad? You cannot reject this! You will not!"

Estella was pulled up short by the cloak and spun around to face Merry, breathless and frightened; yet absolutely resolved. She reached up with trembling hands and captured Merry�s face between her palms. For a moment, Merry�s hope returned. She made as if to kiss him, her liquid brown eyes spilling over with tears and her skin flushed with excitement. Merry�s dream vision � the home, the hearth, the bairns, returned full force. The dream of a normal life danced upon his thoughts, but she pressed her lips, not upon his beckoning mouth, but on his forehead instead. A chaste, sisterly peck that shattered him with cruel finality. He felt his dream vision pull away and fade into the air, and his heart and hopes with it.

�Don�t go,� he heard his voice whisper.

He clutched at her cloak again, not violently now, but desperately, as a child clinging to his mother. Estella, trembling with fear, placed her hands over his and with a shuddering breath, pulled one then the other off of her garments. As soon as she was free, she backed out the door as if he were a snarling hound primed to lunge at the slightest hint of sudden movement. Her eyes left his gaze and seemed to look past him for a moment.

�Take care of him,� she said softly, spun around, and ran.

�Stella!� cried Merry in fury and pain. �You will be my wife! You cannot refuse! You put me off at your peril, lass! And that of the Shire! Stella!�

The gate slammed shut, and she was gone. Merry stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame to keep himself from falling. He had never felt quite so empty and reduced. Whether he sobbed for the sting of rejection, or the loss of a dream he did not wholly understand, Merry could not say. He stared stupidly at the gate through which Estella had fled, saying nothing and letting the wretchedness of his condition permeate his whole being.
�She is smarter than you thought!� snarled an angry, almost vicious voice the Merry could not remember hearing before. It was coming beh behind him, and it was shredded with emotion. �Smarter than me, at the very least. Turned you down flat, I see! And what sane lass wouldn�t, you bastard!�

Merry swerved around and found himself staring into the eyes of a fully enraged Pippin. The hole in Merry�s confidence, where there had been a vacuum only a moment before, was now filling with an undiluted rage. It seemed to surge into him, ready to explode out at the first target that presented itself. And now a target had done just that. Pippin. Pippin would pay, not only for his disrespectful remarks towards his betters, but for Merry�s failure, for his humiliation, his emasculation. Yes, Pippin would have to take the brunt of it. He would help Merry to rebuild his shattered ego through the violent debasement of his own.
Merry eyes, when he turned, burned with a murderous rage, but he knew now just what to do for it. He would lower the Took until he was groveling on the floor like a beast, bloody and beaten and whimpering like a kicked cur. Tortured to the ground where he would beg for mercy. He would beg, but Merry would do nothing for it. He would tell Pippin he had earned it. That it was an� adult punishment. He would bind him and rape him completely in both mind and body, and reduce him until he could no longer see himself except as the flitting reflection in the hollows of Merry�s eyes. Pippin would be nothing. He would see himself as nothing. Merry would strip him down, brand every limb until there could be no question of whom owned whom. He would chop his hair, shave his feet, drag him on a halter if need be, but Merry�s humiliation demanded swift payment and Pippin was his to reap.

Pippin could see all of these horrors in Merry�s eyes as the bigger hobbit advanced slowly toward him, as the machinery of his own destruction, ready to quench the last spark of the hobbit who had once been Peregrin Took, heir to the Thain. Merry, Pippin knew, was ready to destroy him.

�You miserable gnat!� cried Merry angrily, as he rounded on the equally enraged Pippin. �You understand nothing! Who do you think you are to ridicule me? You are a witless fool! A na�ve child! You think you deserve my love, little worm? You deserve nothing but what I see fit to give you! Come to me Pippin, and see what you deserve, you fool of a Took! Then you can tell me who you think you are!�

Merry raised his fist to strike down his weaker cousin, needing to dominate something- anything, not for the good of the Shire, but for his own release. Too long had he toiled and cared only for his homeland along with its foolish inhabitants. Curse them all. He deserved this--and he would have it.
But Pippin was filled with a rage of his own, a rage that had too long sat dormant, and with no release. The anger percolated inside himself, rushing up, boiling in his eyes. Finally, in the face of Merry�s attack, it exploded with the full force of his anger at the magnitude of the Merry�s betrayal--of his love, of his kinship, of all the things Merry was supposed to be to him. And the power of Pippin�s unquenched rage gave him a strength that Merry could not and did not match. Pippin had found his spirit and it would no longer be sud.
d.

His fist drove into Merry�s chin with a sickening crack. Merry tottered, having not expected the young Took to fight back, then fell back as if hit by a log.

�I am Peregrin Took,� Pippin heard himself say through shuddering breaths. �I am Peregrin Took, that is who I am.�

Pippin felt the blood rush to his head as he bounced on his heels, suddenly elated. He had fought ba He He had bested Merry! The euphoric energy that filled him made him feel ready to do battle again. He felt precarious, as if he was inches from flying out of his skin, but alive, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, defiant. It was all so new to him. These emotions. This explosion of adrenaline that came not out of fear, but in anger and vengeance for all the wrongs that he now knew had been done to him. He felt powerful, invincible, proud, excited�and terrified. What should he do now? A welter of thoughts paraded hurly burly through his tangled mind. Hit? Run? Hide? Kill?

For a moment he looked down at his cousin, laid low at his feet and wondered at the feeling of power that surged through him. Someone had needed to stand up to Merry for a very long time but Pippin had never imagined he would be the one to do it. He had been mastered, wholly and completely, Merry�s to do with as he willed, and happy in that service, and yet� Pippin stared at his bruised fist, still clenched in hormone-induced rage. And yet� something deep inside him had risen at last. The Took in him had come forth and battered his oppressor. He wondered for a moment that he did not feel the slightest bit of guilt for attacking his beloved cousin. No, none at all. Not for this. Not after what he had done. This was not the Merry he had once loved. This was an evil thing, possessed by a token of cruelty and consumed entirely by it. The cousin he had loved was long gone and the time had come to rebel against the foul thing that had replaced him.

No, Pippin did not feel guilty.

His fist began to throb. He stood staring down at his cousin. His lover. His tormenter. His everything; who was now semi-conscious upon the ground, groaning, bleeding, and gasping for air and wondered what he should do. He did not know what to feel anymore. Pippin�s anger was evaporating and he suddenly realized without it the will that had risen up in him was retreating. Merry would wake up soon, and he would be even more dangerous than before � and more guarded. What to do now? There was no turning back now, even had Pippin wanted to. Where should he run to and what of the others?

Sam. Sam would know, perhaps. Yes. He would speak to Sam, and together they would work this out. Despite the danger that surrounded them, there still might be hope. This was not meant to be the end.

Slowly, still staring at his own reddened fist like a foreign object, Pippin turned and stumbled toward the hall. He still could not believe he had bested Merry. It did not seem possible that his omnipotent cousin could be brought down by something he had done. All this time he had done as he was bid out of love, and then out of fear, but it had never before occurred to him that he could fight back� and actually win.

�Pippin.�

The voice was soft, and slurred, not immediately recognizable. Pippin might have responded quicker had he heard it aright, but even so, much of his earlier energy was gone, drained away as the adrenalin ebbed. He began to turn, but before his eyes could even focus on the form behind him, he felt an explosion of pain upon his temple and saw no more.

TBC

You want to kill me now- don�t you! Website-www.geocities/aelfgifuemma/RATM

If you want to join the RATM yahoo group to roleplay or watch others do so, join the group (linked to my site). They help me with ideas on a regular basis and are all good writers whose posts are worth reading. We hope to have a third thread, and need a Pippin and Sam.
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Ring Around the Merry