Chapter 17
Title: The Price
Author: Anemone Frost
Email: Weepingwillow987@aol.com
Pairing: M/P; P/OC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: 17/? Merry and Marroc have a second battle.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Warnings: Mild violence
Archive: Ask first.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien.
A/N: Next chapter-the wedding day and the wedding night. ;)
"Pip, we must return to Marroc's home," Merry stated, gently urging Pippin to stand.
Pippin's eyes widened in fright. "What?! Why must we go back?!"
Merry sighed and cupped his cousin's cheeks, drawing the lad's face close to his. "I have unfinished business with Marroc."
"Do you intend to kill him?" Pippin asked, his eyes shining with hope. He wanted Marroc dead. "Please tell me that's what you're going to do."
"Only if he attacks me," Merry replied. "If he surrenders, then he will be placed in prison." The frown that curled over Pippin's lips made Merry gaze at the ground in shame. "Pip, it would be murder, and I could suffer the consequences. Understand, I want nothing more than to ram my sword into that wretched hobbit's gut, but if I do that while he's surrendering Shirriff Robin will have no choice but to arrest me."
"But I don't want him to be alive!" Pippin sobbed miserably. "As long as he lives he's a threat to us! Don't you understand Merry?! He will never give me up! He will always try to possess me!"
Merry clutched the weeping lad in a tight embrace, running his hands up down Pippin's back in a soothing manner. "I know darling, but there's nothing I can do....in the meantime. There may be a way to kill him, but he has to be in prison first. Shirriff Robin and I have concocted a plan to dispose of Marroc when there are no witnesses around. When it's finished, it'll look like a suicide."
"What do you mean?" Pippin sniffled.
"Robin and some of his friends will strangle Marroc while he's held in the cell and once he's dead they'll tie a bed sheet around his neck, attaching the other end to the cell bar," Merry answered. "It will appear as if he strangled himself."
"He would do that?" Pippin inquired, wiping at his eyes.
Merry chuckled. "We're not the only ones that despise that wicked hobbit. Now, come, we must return."
The older hobbit gently helped Pippin mount the pony and mounted behind the young hobbit, drawing back his dark hood to hide his face. They rode hard until Marroc's hobbit hole came back into view. Servants were fleeing out of the doors and racing into the woods while others bolted for the line of hobbits that approached the front of the dwelling. Pippin could make out Frodo, Sam, and Robin at the head of the line, motioning the servants to run in the other direction to keep them out of the way of harm. Another line had formed in the front of the house, which consisted of Marroc and his guards. Both were equally numbered. Merry rode close enough to hear the conversations but remained out of view, leaning down to whisper in Pippin's ear, telling him to keep quiet.
"There's no need to start a battle here and shed blood," Robin growled. "Most of you here have committed no crimes. The only ones we want to arrest are Marroc, Roddy, Fred, and Ned. The rest of you are free to leave and to return to your homes. I know a good deal of you. You're decent hobbits. I don't want any harm to come to you. Please, leave now and go to your families."
The guards stayed silent, though their faces were filled with fear.
"You need not worry about Marroc," Frodo stated. "He won't be threatening or harming anyone again. I beg of you, retreat while you still have the chance. I....."
"If any of you leave it'll be your heads!" Marroc interrupted, glaring at the guards with a murderous look.
"I don't care!" one of the guards snapped. "I'm sick of workin' for you, you ruthless tyrant! I hope they hang you from a tree!"
The guard threw down his sword and strode away from the line, walking down the dirt trail, heading back to town. Other guards followed his lead, ignoring the threats and curses that Marroc spat at them. Soon, only Marroc, Roddy, Fred, and Ned were left standing in front of the hobbit hole. However, this did little to frighten them. They were ready to fight to the death.
"Just give up, Marroc," Robin sighed. "You're outnumbered. You'll never win."
Marroc shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. Pippin is no longer here, so you can forget about rescuing him. He's been taken someplace secure, and if you kill me his death will follow."
Sam snorted. "I doubt that."
"What are you talking about?!" Marroc snarled.
Hearing this, Merry kicked his heels, forcing the pony to trot forward to the second line. Marroc's eyes went wide when he spotted Pippin on the pony. The shock was replaced with rage.
"You traitorous bastard!" Marroc yelled at Merry. The hobbit eased Pippin off the steed and dismounted himself. "How dare you bring him back here! Who do you think you are you worthless hobbit?! I'll make you pay for this!"
Merry slowly drew back his hood, revealing his bruised face to Marroc. At that moment, Marroc's face turned deathly pale as sweat broke out over his brow, and his entire frame trembled violently with obvious terror. His mouth was gapping open, mouthing silently, too petrified to even speak. He inched backwards.
"Surprised to see me?" Merry asked. "I suppose you thought I was dead. Well, you thought wrong."
"Impossible," Marroc stuttered.
"Afraid not," Merry grumbled. "You only succeeded in knocking me out from lack of air and Frodo and Sam found me afterwards. They were able to find a doctor to tend to my wounds, and I healed quite fast."
Marroc bared his teeth. "It doesn't matter! I'll kill you this time!"
The hobbit lunged forward, swinging his sword wildy at Merry, who drew out his own, blocking Marroc's blow. There was an echo of clanging steal as the two viciously fought. It was short lived, though. The other hobbits stormed forward, knocking Merry out of the way and overpowering the four criminals. The four hobbits were easily brought down by the sneak attack. Frodo, Sam, and Robin held down the three guards who bucking wildly to get away while the other hobbits tied their arms and ankles. Merry scrambled up from the ground and helped a few of the hobbits pin Marroc to the ground, fighting the urge to mercilessly stab Marroc when he spat into his eyes. Pippin ran up and violently slammed his foot into Marroc's face, causing blood to spurt out the hobbit's nose as it was broke, instantly knocking Marroc out. Merry stood, letting the other hobbits tie and haul Marroc off.
"I'll make certain these four are sent to the prison," Robin panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'll also do my best to carry out the ‘plan', Merry, but I can't promise anything."
"Thank you Robin," Merry replied, shaking the hobbits hand. He turned to face Frodo and Sam. "Thank you as well. The outcome of Pippin's fate, along with mine, may have turned out horribly if you hadn't aided us."
"No problem at all," Sam blushed.
"What will you do now?" Frodo inquired.
Merry grinned widely and wrapped his arms around Pippin's shoulder, nuzzling his head against Pippin's. "Well, I was planning on doing something special." He winked at Pippin and knelt to one knee, delicately taking Pippin's hand into his while he used the other hand to grope in his pocket. "Pippin, I love you with all my heart, and though this may not be the best time, and I regret not doing this sooner, but I want to ask you something very important." His hand emerged, holding a gold ring between his finger. Pippin gasped and clasped the palm of his hand over his mouth to stifle a sob of joy. "You are my world....my love....my life. I want to spend the rest of my days with you by my side, as my mate. Peregrin Took, will you marry me?"
Tears streamed down Pippin's flushed cheeks and sobs rose in his heaving chest. "Of course Merry!" The older hobbit slipped the gold ring over his finger. "I love you so much!"
"You've made me the happiest the hobbit in the Shire!" Merry cried, grasping Pippin in a tight embrace.
Merry pressed his lips on Pippin's with a bruising force, which the young hobbit eagerly returned. The sound of clapping and whistles echoed in the woods from the group of hobbits, drowning out the vile curses that Roddy, Fred, and Ned spat out from the cart they were being held in, which also contained an unconscious Marroc.
To be continued.
Chapter 16
Chapter 18
Story Page
