Ring Around the Merry

But these wounds were the work of a monster within himself—a monster that it was becoming harder and harder to control.

Chapter 15 - Affection and Protection
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The first thing Pip was conscious of as he drifted back toward consciousness was the feeling of being surrounded by warm water and caressed by a soft cloth. He closed his eyes again, imagining himself for a moment to be back at the Smials as a lad, being bathed by his mother’s gentle hands. But no – this could not be. He was a grown hobbit-nearly come into his majority. He was an adult – wasn’t he?

Pip vaguely understood that he was indeed in a tub being washed by someone. Who? ‘A bath! O blessed Meriadoc!’ echin Pin Pippin’s head as if from a time long past while the tenor of his own voice ‘O! Water Hot is a noble thing!’ swirled and chased nonsensically through his bleary mind. Could that really have been just…what? Last night? The night before? He couldn’t rightly remember…it all seemed a lifetime ago. Pip tremored. This was all wrong somehow. He hurt. His backside hurt as it had never hurt before. Why had he passed out?

“Awake, my love?”

Pippin once again opened his bleary eyes at the sound of the voice. Merry.

“You passed out, Pip,” said Merry. I set you in the tub to rouse you.”

Yes, yes…he remembered now. Merry had fixed the weary travelers lovely hot baths while he prepared them all something to eat to go along with the ales they were consuming in the steam of the bathing room. He remembered smelling bacon and…mushrooms? Yes! Mushrooms! Oh, Frodo would be so pleased. Yes, they were going to help Frodo – going to help him carry his burden to…wait – no. No, Merry had decided to keep Frodo here and then…what? Pippin’s mind raced to ropes and struggles and blows and…and…a belt. Merry’s belt. He could still hear the whicker of the leather slicing the air above him and the sound of his own pathetic screams now drowned out Frodo’s voice singing that silly song in his head. It all came crashing back with a force that would have knocked him off his feet had he been standing on them. His eyes flew open.

Pip’s mind spun as the awful memory flooded back.

“You thrashed me!" cried Pip in an injured tone, tears welling anew.

Pippin closed his eyes as scenes from the past day?... two days? flashed through his mind. Frodo bound and dragged through his own house, Sam lashed to a bed. How did all of this happen so fast? Frodo…Frodo! Of all people, his kind, gentle cousin was at this very moment bound hand and foot and lashed to a dresser just down the hall from where Pip now sat in his bath. And Pip had helped to do it! Pip himself had hit that gentle soul over the head with his very own frying pan! He was keeping the wisest person he knew from his chosen path because Merry… Ah! Yes, that was it…Merry. Merry had said it was the right course. Merry had shown Pip why it as necessary…had explained why persuasion was the only course of action at the moment. Frodo was wise, yes, but Merry…Merry was smart. Merry was clever. And surely Merry knew best. Pippin understood that while wisdom was certainly useful while one was expounding upon the benefits of education and the evils of politics, smart was what one needed in a situation as dire as that concerning the Ring…and clever was what would see them through and allow them to offer the help that Frodo, in all his wisdom, could not see that he needed. Fortunately for Frodo, Merry did see – and had been kind enough to show Pippin. And Pippin had learned. Yes, it had been a lesson learned at the end of a strap of leather, but that was a small price to pay for this new-found understanding.

These thoughts whirled through his brain in the space of mere seconds and came to an abrupt halt when he heard his beloved begin to speak again.

“Disciplined,” corrected Merry. “Just like I used to do when you were very small. But I had no choice, Pip. You do see that, don’t you? You must promise never to mislead me again –at least not if you ever hope to regain my respect for you again.”

These last words hit Pippin like a brick, pure emotional agony. Regain Merry’s respect? Regain? Did that mean that he’d lost it? Oh, no, please! He understood now – had learned his lesson. Surely Merry could see the new perception in his eyes? Would forgive him, love him…respect him again? Merry sensed his cousin’s distress and wiped away his tears with a warm rag. Pippin was a pitiful sight to behold.

“There, there little one,” cooed Merry. “Punishment is over. You will have opportunities to make things right. But Pip, it is crucial that I am able to depend on your maturity from this point on.”

Pippin visibly brightened—his hopes rekindled. Merry did see that Pippin understood – of course he did…after all, Merry was smart. All was not lost!

Merry cupped Pip’s face in his hands, and watched with pleasure as Pip’s pupils went big.

“So, Pip,” asked Merry. “Can I depend upon your maturity? Can I?”

Pip nodded sadly, but with total sincerity. He knew he had made a dreadful mistake and if Merry was kind enough to forgive his errant cousin, then Pippin was determined not to disappoint him again. Merry leaned over and kissed Pip’s forehead lovingly.

“Good lad! You’ll grow up yet!”

Pip managed a fragile smile.

Merry smiled back, the darkness seemed to have fled from his features.

“Now lets get you out, sweetheart.”

Merry rolled up his sleeves as far as they would go and gently scooped up the dripping wet Pip. Pippin felt so light and lax in his arms, it was difficult not to think of him as a little lad. His features were finely chiseled, no longer softened by the presence of the long-lingering Took baby fat. But Pippin’s eyes belied something in him that was still achingly pitifully young. Pip had given himself over to Merry completely. He still required a mentor, and Meprompromised himself that he would be that mentor.

Merry tipped Pippin down so that his feet could touch the floor. With a small gesture, Merry indicated for Pippin to put his weight on his feet and steady himself by holding onto the side of the tub. Merry would dry Pippin himself as the smaller hobbit stood unsteadily, shakily, and naked before him.

Merry now, for the first time since the punishment, necessary punishment, he chided himself, saw the full extent of the damage that had been caused, that HE had caused to Pippin’s backside. Deep purple bruises were coming to the surface, like angry stormclouds against a pale sky. The bleeding had largely ceased, though the red welts that criss-crossed Pippin’s tender flesh just seemed to grow more radiant whet. et. These marks were all cruel witness to Merry’s violence against his young cousin.

Merry understood that Pip’s mistake had cost him dearly, but was shocked that he’d been capable of this level of damage. It was as if a spell had suddenly come over him. Merry had never punished Pip with a belt before, and certainly never drawn blood. From what dark place had this new violence surged up in him?

Conflicting feelings shoot through Merry as he toweled down Pip’s mottled skin—Regret. Pity. Guilt? A vague memory surfaced in Merry. He’d once been Pip’s protector. Had anyone else inflicted the cruel wounds upon Pip, Merry would have throttled them, maybe worse. But these wounds were the work of a monster within himself—a monster that it was becoming harder and harder to control. No, not a monster an inner voice corrected…a disciplinarian. Only discipline it whispered to him, nothing more. There was nothing worse here than discipline…necessary discipline.

Conflicting ideas battled for dominance in Merry’s head. Merry the protector, yes - that was the idea that rose to the surface. The reason he’d done this to Pip. It was the reason Frodo and Sam were locked in the room down the hall. Merry would protect them all from forces they were too small to handle on their own. He’d drag them all, kicking and screaming, into a new world, secure from all the dark things that would cause them harm whether they wished it or not. After all, it was for their own good.

For now, he and Pip would slumber, as Merry had important plans for that night. He motioned Pip to walk toward the bedroom. Merry watched in horror as Pip took a single step, then crumbled to the floor in a heap of limbs and bruises. Pippin did not cry out, he just lay there, waiting for Merry to aid him. And Merry, dear Merry, not not let him down.

Merry took Pippin in his arms again, and carried him to his bed. Merry knew he couldn’t dress him, yet -not without causing pain. Merry laid himself down next to his damaged cousin, now shivering from the cold, and wrapped Pippin in the warmth of his own body. Merry drew his arms around Pippin, not caring if his clothes were made damp in the process, and drew the thick blankets over both of them. Pippin’s backside throbbed and bit at him, yet Pippin smiled. Pippin was right where he wanted to be – next to his Merry. He’d not fail Merry again. He’d be the perfect little Took.

* * *

I’ll take over now, Sam,” Frodo said as he crawled out of the bed. “You let me sleep through the day!”

Frodo noted with dismay that the sun in the round window had been replaced by a dark sky peppered with stars. Time was escaping them far too quickly and the urgency of their situation crashed home upon him once more. In any other situation, Frodo would have considered it a lovely clear night. But Frodo looked toward this night with fear in his heart. He suspected Merry would make his move in the early morning hours when he or Sam would be most likely to sleep. Frodo was determined that they would be ready when the time came. Surely they could overcome this horrible turn of events? They must…he must. There was nothing else for it. They must be prepared for what he dreaded was to come and move toward correcting these appalling circumstances when the opportunity presented itself.

Sam struck a match, which glowed like the Great Star against the relative darkness of the room. Sam lit the four candles in the room until the match burned down to his fingers. Sam dropped the match with a small hiss and watched it fall like a dying thing to the floor then flicker out.

Sam handed Frodo a plate containing several stale crumpets.

“Clean forgot about these, Mr. Frodo,” said Sam. “They’re a tad dry, I’m afraid, but better than naught at all!” I don’t suppose we’ll be getting much in the way of supper.”

Frodo smiled and took the treats gladly.

“Thank you Sam!” said Frodo warmly. “Now it is your turn to sleep. You’ve taken more than your share of the watch, and I’m determined to make it up to you!”

Sam blushed and lumbered over to the bed, clearly exhausted. Frodo, meanwhile, placed himself in front of the door, crumpets in hand, and placed a pillow between his head and the door.

Sam eased himself into the bed. From where he lay, he could keep one protective eye on Frodo while the other got to the business of much needed rest. As he pretended to sleep, Sam peeked out from the curtains of his lashes and cast his eyes upon his Master. Frodo’s face was a thing of beauty in the warm light of the candles.

Though Frodo was 50, he looked no older than he had at his coming of age at Bilbo’s birthday party 17 years before. His features contained delicate beauty and though Sam had only ever laid eyes upon an elf once, he suspected that a comparison between one of the Fair Folk and his master was not entirely out of the question. Untold strength and wisdom were in his eyes. Yet something about Frodo was heartbreakingly fragile. Sam could not find the right words, not even in his mind. All that he knew was that he wanted to protect Frodo from all of the forces that would do him harm, his very own cousins not the least of them. If Sam had thought on it just a little harder, the right words, simple and true, would have come to him. He loved Frodo Of course. How simple. He let his thoughts drift along this soothing direction and his body soon followed into the blessedness of sleep.

TBC