Chapter 10
Title: The Price
Author: Anemone Frost
Email: Weepingwillow987@aol.com
Pairing: M/P
Rating: PG-13
Summary: 10/? The hobbits set out to retrieve the contract from Paladin and receive some unsettling news along the way.
Feedback: Yes, please, but keep it constructive. No flames.
Warnings: Mild violence
Archive: Ask first.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien.
Later that evening, the four hobbits ventured out of Buckland, heading back to Pippin's home. They had heard nothing of Marroc's death from passing hobbits, and were very uneasy. Such a matter should have spread like wildfire over the Shire. Something was wrong.
An hour passed, and Pippin was squirming restlessly in the saddle. Merry grimaced at the thought of poor Pippin's rear. He had begged the younger hobbit to stay behind, but he would have none of it. Smiling, Merry reached under Pippin's cloak, and began to massage his bottom, causing the young hobbit to giggle. Their amusement was suddenly interrupted as a hobbit appeared from the path. All four remained still, recognizing the hobbit as the local shirriff.
"Hullo there!" said the hobbit. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, Frodo Baggins, Sam Gamgee, and Peregrin Took I presume?"
The four nodded.
"Hullo yourself, Robin," Merry muttered. "Going about your shirriff tasks I suppose?"
"`Fraid so," Robin sighed. "I just came from Marroc Smallburrows' home. Three of his servants were found dead, but Marroc wasn't around."
"That's impossible," Sam growled. "He was dead!"
"So, you admit to murdering him?" Robin inquired.
"I was the one," Pippin answered, his voice soft. His eyes burned with tears, and his cheeks became flushed. "Marroc was trying to kill Merry, so I killed him. It was self defense."
Robin raised his arms, trying to calm Pippin. "I don't doubt you for a second, lad. I was unfortunate enough to know Marroc myself, and I could care less of what happens to him. However, from the blood trail that heads out of the home, it appears as if he got up and walked off. There's a party out searching for him, and who knows, maybe they'll find him dead out there from bleeding."
Pippin lowered his head. "But-- I stabbed him-- in the belly. The blade-- it went through him. He should be dead. There's-- it-- he can't be alive."
Frodo let out a frustrated sigh. "It depends on the type of gut wound. You may have missed the vital organs, which is nearly unbelievable, and he could have just passed out from the pain. It seems almost impossible that he could survive, but there's a slim chance. Goodness, why didn't we check him?!"
Merry clenched his eyes shut, and snarled. The idea that Marroc could be alive sent rage coursing through his mind. If it were true, the hobbit could still cause them problems. He had to reach Paladin, and convince him to sign Pippin over.
"Does Paladin know of this?" Merry asked.
"He believes Marroc is dead," Robin replied.
Pippin choked back a sob. "And I suppose he sent you out to find me?"
Robin's gaze became downcast, and he looked shamed. "That he did, lad. He wants me to escort you back home, and he wants Merry and anyone else involved arrested." A smile formed, though. "I've known you four for some time, and you're respectable hobbits. I don't want to see any harm come to you. I'm not about to arrest any of you, and neither is anyone else, unless you run into a few of Marroc's dwindling cronies. Just pass on by. I never saw you."
"Thank you, Robin," Merry murmured. "I won't forget your kindness."
"Aye, but just remember," Robin warned, "if Marroc is found alive, he can have you arrested. I won't be able to look the other way then. I suggest you get what you're looking for from Paladin, and leave the Shire until matters blow over. I'm sure there's someone you know of that can keep you informed of matters, and when would be a safe time to return. I sincerely doubt that Marroc will be found alive, but better safe than sorry, eh?"
"Thanks again, Robin," Frodo answered. "I know of safe quarters we can stay in if necessary."
"Glad to hear it!" Robin chirped. "Best of luck, especially to you two." He rode beside Merry and Pippin, patting the younger hobbit's shoulder. "I hope you two find happiness in each other. Oh, and enjoy your wedding night."
The hobbit winked at the flushing hobbits, and rode off into the night. The four resumed their journey. "Merry, what if my Da doesn't sign the contract?" Pippin squeaked.
"Don't worry, love, he will," Merry replied, kissing the back of Pippin's head. "And don't have fear of Marroc's contract. Before we left his home, I found it in his desk drawer and tore it up."
Pippin smiled, and leaned back into his cousin's arms.
*
Paladin was pacing the room nervously, rubbing at his hands, and pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat forming on his brow. Eglantine was sitting off in the corner, knitting, and appearing in good spirits. Paladin glared at his wife, plotting her punishment for interference, but other things on his mind were too important. He could deal with her later. Marroc was presumed dead. How he hated that meddlesome Brandybuck, but the shirriff would handle him and bring back Pippin. He could find a new suitor to buy the brat.
A loud knock made Paladin jump, and grasp his chest. A sneer formed when he figured it was the shirriff. He strode to the door, opened, and yelped. Merry shot in, grabbing the older hobbit by the scruff of his neck, hauling him back in the library followed by Pippin, Frodo, and Sam. Eglantine gazed up, but made no effort to come to her husband's aid.
"How good it is to see you again," Merry snarled, shoving Paladin in one of the chairs. "I assume you know why I am here."
"Yes," Paladin stuttered, frightened out of his wits. "How did you get here? The shirriff--"
"Never saw us," Sam grumbled.
"We slipped right on by," Frodo muttered. "We're quite stealthy when we want to be."
Merry sat in front of Paladin, baring his teeth in a threatening manner. "Give Pippin to me.
"Paladin blinked, and shook his head. "I'm not about to hand him over to the likes of you, you wretched Brandybuck!"
Merry chuckled darkly, and dug his fingers into Paladin's arms, forcing them to stretch outward. "Tell me, do you like your arms?"
"Yes," Paladin replied, looking confused.
"Well, if you want to keep them attached to your body, then I suggest you sign the contract," Merry hissed, tapping at his sword. "And the real one this time."
"You wouldn't dare!" Paladin spat. "There are witnesses here!"
"Who? Your wife?" Merry laughed. "Why, I believe she would enjoy watching me dismember you. Frodo? Sam? Nope. You see, they haven't had a very good day, just like Pippin and me. Marroc tried to violate Frodo, and he did quite a good job of injuring Sam's shoulder, arm, nose, and forehead. You're the cause of this mess, and they're not too happy with you at the moment. They'll vouch for me, saying it was self defense. You came at me with a dagger. I had no choice but to act quickly."
Paladin trembled violently. "Eglantine?"
"Don't look at me," Eglantine snapped. "You're a despicable husband and father. I've hated every moment of being trapped at your side. I would be thrilled to watch you get hacked to bits."
"Pippin, my son-- " Paladin begged.
"I wouldn't help you if my life depended on it," Pippin leered.
"Speaking of which, I could just kill you," Merry sneered. "Then, all the power of the estate would go to Eglantine. I'm sure she would sign Pippin over without a fuss."
"There are others in the Shire who-- " Paladin began.
"Who'll what?!" Merry barked, causing Paladin to wince. "Everyone knows that you're a scoundrel! No one would care if you died!"
Paladin was sweating immensely, and he shivered fiercely. He realized that Merry wasn't kidding, and that no one was going to come to his aid. There was nothing left he could do.
"All right!" Paladin screamed, jerking out of Merry's grip. "I'll sign Pippin over to you! Just don't kill me!"
Merry nodded, and Paladin fumbled with the drawer, taking out a tan parchment with an official seal at the bottom. Paladin signed, and Merry snatched the document from the hobbit, gazing it over before handing it to Frodo to inspect.
"It's real," Frodo stated, smiling. "Pippin belongs to you now."
Merry grinned widely, pulled his cousin into a tight embrace. Pippin laughed, and rained kisses along his jaw. Finally, they would be together.
"I don't mean to interrupt the intimate moment," Sam coughed, "but we really need to be movin' on."
Pippin glanced at his mother, and broke down to tears. Eglantine moved to his side, and gave him a warm hug.
"There, there, son," Eglantine soothed. "Don't you worry about your Ma, she can handle herself just fine." She gave him a wink, and patted him off. "Go, and be happy with your new life. I'm sorry I didn't provide you a good one."
"It's ok, Ma," Pippin choked. "It wasn't entirely your fault."
He walked past Paladin, and spat at his feet. The older hobbit snarled, put kept still when he spotted the harsh gaze from Merry. The four hobbits left the hobbit hole, mounted the ponies, and rode off. Merry followed after Frodo, uncertain as to where they were going. His thoughts traced back to Marroc, and he prayed that the hobbit was dead. They had gone through enough torment, but somehow, he could sense the turmoil wasn't over
To be continued...
Chapter 9
Chapter 11
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