Author's note:

As this story is a "link in a chain"--referenced in "All that Glisters" and other stories--I am copying it here to Stories of Arda.

Chapter 1. Ambush

S.R. 1435, somewhere between the North Gate of Buckland, and Bree

'I simply cannot picture it,' laughed Estella as they rode along in the sunshine. 'Tell me again.'

'There's a wide main street, with buildings--'

'Tall buildings!' she interrupted.

'...tall buildings, O two or three stories high, some of them, hanging over as if to make you think they're about to fall on you,' Merry said. Estella gave a delicious shiver. 'And the Prancing Pony, there, with a big huge door that a hobbit standing on another's shoulders could not brush the top of with his fingertips.'

'And that is the place we are staying?' Estella said, wide-eyed. 'I shall not sleep a wink!'

Merry smiled down at her. 'Ah, but there are hobbits in Bree as well as Men, and Barliman is a wise innkeeper. He has rooms on the ground floor with round windows, just like home, and hobbit-sized furnishings.'

'A wise Man, indeed,' smiled Estella. 'I am looking forward to meeting him after all your stories.'

The little group rode into a wood, and Estella noticed her husband sat up straighter, as well as Farmer Partridge and his grown son Tom, all loosening their swords as if expecting trouble. Merry looked down at her. 'I wish I hadn't listened to you, and left you home,' he said.

'You're always telling me how safe the trip is to Bree, nowadays,' she smiled. 'King's Highway, patrolled by Rangers, you've never had any trouble...'

'Still,' he said, 'This stretch always seems so dark. If I hadn't forgotten it, you'd be safe back at the Hall as we speak.'

'Then how would we be speaking?' Estella demanded, and he laughed at her logic, answered by a louder laugh behind them. She'd turned back to comment on farm lads who didn't show proper respect to the Mistress when there was a whistling sound; feathers sprouted from Tom's chest and he toppled sideways from his saddle. The whistling sound came again, and Estella turned in panic back to her husband, to see an arrow driven with such force it penetrated his chain-mailed shoulder. Shock and pain wiped his face of all expression and she reached for him, thinking of nothing else. His weight pulled them both from their saddles, as their ponies, maddened by her scream and the smell of blood, raced away down the road.

***

Estella was bending over Merry, numb with shock, when she was roughly seized by the arm and lifted. A huge, coarse face leered at her and a hoarse voice gloated, 'Well, look at what we have here! A pretty prize!'

'Those two ponies got away...' another voice complained.

'Don't worry about them, we've got two others, enough for a very good meal indeed.' The face, surely as ugly as any troll, smiled evilly into hers, and Estella lost all control of herself and fainted.

***

She came to herself smelling roasting meat. When she tried to open her eyes, she found herself blindfolded; she was unable to scream for the gag in her mouth, and her feet and wrists were tightly bound. She lay very still, fearful of what might notice her if she moved. At the same time her heart cried out for her Merry.

She heard two rough voices talking to each other, jovial about their success in waylaying the travellers. They ate without manners, she could tell, from the sounds stuffing dripping pieces of flesh into their mouths and talking around the food. She listened as closely as she could, hoping to hear any reference to her husband.

Suddenly one of the voices was approaching, she could hear a mouth being wiped as he spoke, probably on a dirty sleeve, and then a rough hand seized her again. The blindfold was taken away and the same ugly face was sneering into hers. 'Well, well, well,' the creature rumbled softly. 'A pretty prize indeed. Nice bit of dessert, I'd say.' He caressed her intimately in a way she'd only known from her husband, and revulsion shook her. She began to vomit, and rough hands tore away the gag.

'What are you trying to do, kill the pretty thing?' the other voice demanded.

'Naw, just looking for a bit of fun,' the first creature protested.

'Look at how rich she's dressed. I smell profit here, if only you don't spoil her,' the second creature asserted.

'O now, Jock, you always were a spoil sport. I'm not going to hurt her,' the eyes turned back to stare into Estella's terrified ones, 'No, precious,' he crooned horribly, 'I'm not going to hurt you at all, am I?'

The creature called Jock stepped forward and grabbed the other by the hair. 'Let her go until I figure out what we're going to do with them,' he said. 'If we can't turn a profit somehow, she can be your spoil.'

'Hmmmm,' the other subsided, then grinned at Estella again. 'Makes me almost wish we couldn't turn a profit, then.'

Them, Jock had said. Who else? Estella cautiously looked about her. To one side she saw Farmer Partridge and Tom, white and still, gaping wounds in their chests where arrows had been wrenched out. Merry did not lie with them.

Even more cautiously, she turned to scan her other side, managing to control her gasp when she saw her husband, lying by the fire, arrow still protruding from his shoulder. Jock got up now, leaving Estella, to wander over to Merry. He nudged him with his toe. 'Lookit that,' he mused. 'All dressed up like a little knight or something.'

'His sword's sharp enough,' the other said. 'They could have given us quite a fight if we hadn't shot from cover.'

'Ah, well,' Jock said, 'Can't be too careful these days. These parts aren't safe anymore, with Rangers about.'

'Well, I haven't seen them come out this far from Bree,' the other said.

'You bet you haven't,' Jock answered. 'We wouldn't have a fire and nice roast pony if I'd seen a Ranger this far out.'

'Wonder what's down that road, anyhow,' the other said thoughtfully. 'Maybe more of these little folk. Easy pickings.' He grinned at Estella, who lifted her chin and forced herself to meet his gaze calmly. 'Mighty sweet, too.'

2. Waiting Game

Estella watched and listened closely, drinking in every nuance, every gesture of the two creatures by the fire. The one called Jock was in charge, she decided, and he would be the one to appeal to, when she figured out how she could manage him. Greed would be a tool, she thought. He had appropriated Merry's fine sword, stuck it in his belt, and his hand occasionally traced the gold inlay on the hilt.

He and the other, whom Jock called only "You", had some sort of low-voiced argument, and then Jock arose and walked over to where she lay, crouching down to offer her some roasted meat on the end of a stick. She turned her face away, then remembered to say, 'No, thank you, I don't care for anything right now.'

He smiled at her politeness. 'Some water then?' he suggested.

'Please,' she answered.

She managed to control her disgust as he held his drinking bottle to her lips, taking several dainty sips and thanking him again.

'Is there anything else I may do for you, my lady?' he asked with an ironic twist to his lips.

'Yes... if you please...' she said hesitatingly, trying to look pliable, weak, and frightened. It didn't take much effort. She nodded towards Merry's still form. 'That's my husband,' she said. 'Would you unbind me and let me care for him?' At his pause, she pressed, 'I wouldn't run away and leave him, knowing the revenge you could take.'

He nodded, taking out a knife and cutting her bonds.

'Hey!' the other creature shouted in outrage. 'What do you think you're doing? Do you want that pretty play-toy to skip away?'

'She won't skip,' the creature called Jock chuckled. 'That's her husband over there. She'll be on her best behaviour, if she knows what's good for him.'

She arose, rubbing her wrists, and walked warily to Merry's side. Looking up at the creature Jock, she said, 'Might I have some water, please?'

He gave her his own water bottle with a graceful bow. She had to steady it with both her hands, it was so much larger than a proper hobbit's bottle. 'Thank you,' she said evenly, and turned back to her husband. Tearing a strip from her petticoats, she wet the cloth and wiped her husband's face. She noticed that they had taken his sword and belt knife and two of the three knives he hid under his clothes. When her seeking hands touched the third knife, her heart gave a jump, but she made no outward sign. The creatures had gone back to their cookery, and she managed to quickly slip the knife from its hiding place and into her bodice without them noticing.

'Merry,' she said softly. 'Merry, do you hear me?'

He shook his head slightly, opening his eyes halfway. 'Estella?' he said, confused, then took in their surroundings. When his eyes came back to her face, he said, 'I'm sorry, love.' He glanced over at the creatures by the fire, who paid no mind to them at the moment. He dropped his voice. 'Can you get away?' he asked.

She shook her head. 'I don't know which way the Road is,' she said. 'They blindfolded us to carry us here.'

'Farmer Partidge?' She shook her head. 'Tom?' he said.

'No,' she said softly.

He sighed and closed his eyes. 'We're in a bind and no mistake,' he said.

'You said the Rangers patrol between Bree and Buckland,' she said.

'Yes, but I don't know where and when,' he answered.

'We'll just see if we can make our own luck, then, while waiting for one to show up,' she said bravely.

'Here now, no talking,' the other's voice said suddenly behind them.

'I'm sorry,' she said softly, keeping her eyes downcast. They would believe her cowed, fearful, totally incapable of defying them. It wouldn't be hard to keep up the act.

They let her sit by Merry, bathing his forehead, while they talked. Some slightly louder words came to her straining ears.

'I don't see why we need the both of them,' the other was saying. 'The little knight will just be a drag on us. Let's just kill him and bury him with the others.'

'O you don't want to do that,' she called without thinking. Both of the creatures turned their eyes on her, and she rued that she had brought the other creature's attention back to herself.

'What do you mean, my lady?' the creature Jock asked.

'He's worth a lot of gold to you,' she said. 'He's important among our people.'

'A ransom, you mean?' the creature Jock answered.

She wasn't sure what the word meant, but he looked interested and there was a greedy glint in his eye, so she nodded. 'Yes, that's what I mean.' I think, she added to herself. I hope.

'Well, he won't be worth any gold dead, then,' the creature Jock said to the other. 'So as long as she can keep him alive, we'll let her. And he's better than a rope to tie her to us; at least he won't leave marks on that fair skin.'

'O yes,' the other creature said, looking over at her and licking his lips. She looked hastily away.

'I'll kill him if he tries to do anything to you,' Merry whispered.

'O yes, I know, beloved,' Estella said soothingly. 'He ought to go about in fear of his life, if he knows what's good for him. You see, I'll kill him myself if I have to.' She thought of the bright sharp blade waiting in her bodice.

Chapter 3. Battle of Wits

The creature Jock had gone off scouting, leaving the other to guard the prisoners. 'I expect to find them undamaged when I return,' he warned.

Estella stayed bent over her husband, dread seizing her. The other threw a few more branches on the fire, then stood and stretched, watching the creature Jock until he was out of sight. He ignored the hobbits, for which Estella was grateful.

The creature Jock had been gone for some time when she felt herself seized by one arm. She looked up into the other's pitiless eyes and knowing smile. 'Well, now, lass,' he said, 'it seems as if we have some time to pass until good Jock comes back.'

'Leave me alone,' she said as clearly as she could.

'O come now,' he said, 'don't be such a wet blanket. How about a little honey from those sweet lips? That pony flesh was a little dry; I could use some lovely mead to wash it down.' Inexorably he dragged her from Merry's side, though she kicked and struggled and cried out. 'No one to hear you, love,' he said softly. 'Cry all you want.'

In sheer contrariness she fell silent, but as he bent his head to hers with searching, insistent lips, she bit him hard and as he jerked his head back, she raked him with her nails. With a roar he slapped her hard, rocking her head on her neck. She saw stars, and then looked amazed as a flaming brand came down upon his head from behind. Her Merry had dragged himself to his feet, snatched a branch from the fire, and was doing his best to beat the creature's head in. Throwing Estella down, the creature whirled and seized the arrow that protruded from Merry's shoulder, twisting it cruelly. He picked up Merry and pushed him back against a tree.

'I'll kill you by inches,' he gasped. 'I'm going to cut you apart a piece at a time.' He looked grimly down at the hobbit. 'But before I put your eyes out, I'm going to let you watch what I do to your lovely wife...' He grinned horribly and started to turn back to Estella, when a feathered shaft sprouted from his chest. Stupidly gaping, he pawed at the shaft; another appeared beside it, directly in the heart some detached part of Estella saw, and he fell without a further sound.

She saw giant shadows behind the trees to either side: more of the terrible Men! There was no hope of escape, and no hope for any sort of mercy from the creatures...

She stumbled to Merry, fumbling at the blade in her bodice, only half aware of another creature's rapid approach. She must slay him and then herself before it could reach her. She had the blade out, touching her beloved's throat, gasping garbled apology and farewell, when fatal hesitation caused her to be too slow. There was a shout behind her and a great hand seized her wrist, wresting the blade from her grasp. She crumpled in a heap, weeping her despair, not wanting to watch the creature's awful revenge on her husband.

She stiffened as two huge hands took her by the arms, turned her, pulled her to a massive chest, but then all that happened was a soft voice crooning in a language she didn't know, a gentle hand patting her back, almost in a... fatherly manner, she thought, startled. She had a flash of memory from long ago, cuddled in her father's lap after young Fatty had pushed her into the mud and forbade her from following him and Frodo and Merry about anymore. She opened her eyes and looked up, to see two concerned grey eyes looking back from a face that was overlarge, but not unpleasant.

With a gasp she looked back to Merry. Another enormous cloaked form bent over him, talking softly, easing the arrow from the shoulder and staunching the wound.

'Rangers?' she asked unsteadily.

Her comforter nodded. 'They call me Shadow in Bree,' he said wryly. 'When we saw your ponies running loose, we came looking for trouble.'

She gasped. 'There's another...'

He nodded, smiling reassuringly. 'He's already been taken care of.' From the flicker in his eyes she guessed the creature... Man? ...to be dead. It seemed odd to class that... creature... with these graceful, if overlarge, Dunedain.

The other Ranger was lifting Merry now, and her own rescuer rose, still holding her. 'We'll have you to Bree, and to a healer soon,' he promised.

She nodded. Somehow it no longer seemed so important to see a town built by Men.

***
Author's Note: Apologies to those who read chapter 1 before I looked at it again this morning. The "author's note" disappeared when I edited the chapter and so I typed it in again. I ought to have looked all the way to the bottom! For some reason, that note was picked up and carried to the end of the chapter and dropped, without explanation or formatting codes. Sorry if it was jarring to read.

As you might have read elsewhere, this is not my favourite of stories. Writing it was a way of working out a dreadful nightmare, and I thought it came out fairly well; though reading it, I'm reminded of the dream. In addition, when I submitted it to a juried archive, I was told that the hobbits were out of character. I'm not sure just what was out of character: that Estella would find the courage deep within herself to defy her captors? That Merry would threaten to kill the ruffian if he offered harm to Estella? That Estella would face the awful decision to "save" Merry from the inevitability of the ruffians' terrible revenge, by choosing quick and merciful death instead? (For all she knew, Jock had returned, or another band of ruffians had come who were even worse.) I have never quite figured out exactly what was "out of character", and so have not been able to revise the story to fix the flaw. If any.

Anso asked for a glimpse of Merry and Estella reaching Bree after being rescued by the Rangers, from murderous ruffians. It is rather more Estella than Merry, I fear, but hopefully it will suit.

***

It was a difficult choice to make, no choice at all, really. It was a choice between a thorough scrub--more than thorough, but the water was steaming when she got into it, clear and clean and hot, and so she lathered the flannel with the soap again, and again, and yet another time, scrubbing at her skin wherever the ruffian's hands had touched, scrubbing even at her mouth. Though the soap tasted awful, still, the touch of it was clean on her tongue, and surely it tasted better than the ruffian's kiss... A choice between a thorough scrub, as was first mentioned, and returning to the side of her sleeping beloved.

The Rangers had removed the arrow from Merry's shoulder; they had drenched it in medicinal-smelling stuff and bound up the wound and then tied his arm to his side to keep it from moving. Crouching in the best of the rooms set aside for hobbits at the Prancing Pony, the chief of the Northern Rangers now kept watch over Merry while Estella bathed in the next room, and scrubbed away the ruffian's touch until her skin was reddened, both by the heat of the water and the scrubbing. Surely she was clean by now, surely clean enough to return to her husband.

Reluctant-eager she hauled herself out of the cooling bath at last, assuming the clothes that Nob's wife had provided, to take the place of her torn and muddied garments. Her towelled hair fell in a damp tangle of curls over her shoulders as she peeped into the bedroom where the Ranger sat.

She'd have seen that his smile was kind had she looked up, but her body clenched tight in fear at his proximity, and he rose, slowly and cautiously. His voice was soft, soothing as if he spoke to a wary creature of the Wildlands. 'I'll leave you now,' he said. 'Call if you need anything.' As if the chief of Rangers should be an errand lad at her beck and call.

She sat carefully on the edge of the bed, a stranger and an alien, certainly not the same Estella who'd been so eager to savour the novelty of Bree. Not the same...

It could have been worse, she whispered inside her mind. It could have been much worse. But she didn't believe herself.

Merry's eyes opened, he whispered her name.

Ashamed, she looked away.

His good hand rose to caress the bruises on her cheek and jaw. Her eyes filled with tears.

'You're safe,' he whispered. 'I didn't dream it, then...' He looked at the shadowy ceiling. 'Bree?'

Beyond speech, she nodded.

'Come,' he murmured, and she hesitated. 'Come, my dearest,' he said.

Her eyes met his, huge with misery and shame, and he winced as he sat up a little, to pull her close. 'Best beloved,' he said. 'Nothing will ever change that.'

'He... he...' she said. 'And I couldn't stop him. He...'

Merry pulled her close, his lips finding hers, a thorough kiss, a lingering kiss, that somehow washed away the taste of the ruffian. 'You are as I loved you,' he murmured, 'as I shall always love you. It is done, he is dead, and will trouble you no more.'

She rather doubted that, but snuggled into the crook of his arm. His arm tightened about her, and soon he slept once more, the warm puffs of his breath against her neck, his arm holding her close, and in his sleep he murmured her name in love, and she thought perhaps she might begin to feel clean, some day, again.