Frodo Baggins (theseabell) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-04-10 09:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, frodo baggins, gandalf, isabela, marian hawke, merrill, obi-wan kenobi, roland deschain, smeagol, varric tethras |
Merrill's Rescue Part 1
Who: Smeagol, Frodo, Merrill, Gandalf, Varric, Roland, Hawke, Isabela, Obi-Wan
Where: Caves, Undisclosed Location
What: Merrill's Rescue Log -- Frodo tries to trade the Ring for Merrill
When: A Month Ago
Warnings/Rating: PG-13; Warnings for violence, magical violence, character endangerment, character death
Status: Complete; Part 1 of 2
In Frodo’s dreams, the journey through Mordor was like walking through the stinking, sulfurous pits of hell. With little fires bubbling up between the black rocks, the air itself seemed to scorch flesh as whistled out of tune through the valley. Here, there was no fire and the air was sweet with the arrival of spring. But the feeling was the same, and Frodo’s eyes were haunted.
The sun was just rising. Just inside Lake Forest, they had gathered in a parking lot to plot their mission. Obi-Wan had taken on a role he’d formerly believed was allotted to his past. His days as a military general were not the ones he remembered most fondly, but he’d had a gift for it. Even now, in jeans instead of his Jedi robes, he began to lay out their plan of attack with an aura of confidence and authority about him.
He pointed to the hills and trails in the distance. “What’s most important to remember, as Frodo has stressed, is that the man we are facing is one who relies of tricks and dirty tactics. He will not fight back according to reason. We have to assume that anything is possible.”
The area's caves were a draw for tourists and nature enthusiasts. It wasn't a booming business, but for those that found more enjoyment in natural wonders than shopping plazas, they were a welcome relief. Not lately, though. There seemed to be a shift in the aura that no one could quite explain. Things seemed darker, danker.. Less inviting, even to those that prized the dim, wet places.
The cave tours had been halted, without any clear explanation. The sign on the park ranger post simply read 'Tours closed temporarily,' and the phones went straight to voicemail. The parks department didn't have an excuse, neither did the rangers themselves. But then, no one had really asked for one. There hadn't been any visitors lately interested in the tours. The whole area just seemed to send out vibes that pushed people away.
“No, I quite think he will not fight back according to reason,” Gandalf said, leaning on his staff and scanning the hills with sharp eyes. “There will be traps, and riddles.”
“Leave the traps to me,” Varric said. He grinned, Bianca’s weight familiar and heavy at his back. “They’re a specialty.”
The trouble with missions where there were too many people was ego. Everyone wanted to be in charge, Roland had learned that from being in the military. While the others talked amongst themselves, Roland stayed silent. If there was too much noise, they would send this fellow deeper into the stinking cave and Roland would rather not. The only sound Roland made was his breathing. He headed part of the group, but allowed everyone, especially Varric to move ahead while Roland flanked. He checked the barrel of one of his guns to ensure they were loaded. They were. Then he nodded toward both Obi-Wan and Frodo that he’d heard what they’d said and noted it.
Hawke’s eyes were sharp, but not for the traps she knew Varric would be keeping an eye out for. Merrill was smart, and most likely there would be clues of her own if she could manage it, to help her friends find their way. Fingers clutched around a staff that felt as natural as the armor she was wearing (not that either remotely should in this world), the mage waited for an opening. She was ready.
Isabela had dressed not like she would normally, but as close to her dreams as she could - black soft boots that helped her be noiseless, very (very) short shorts and well-fitting shirt, to keep the snagging on rocks to a minimum. She couldn’t help her nerves; she’d been in similar positions before, but acting and reality weren’t, obviously, the same. And this was still new to her. Everyone else seemed to be comfortable, but her logical mind kept reminding her that there was a difference between dreaming oneself as a skilled fighter and putting it into practice. For now, though, she just waited for the men to stop talking. She could slip into shadows better than most; maybe they’d even forgotten she was here.
For Frodo, history was repeating itself; and in his pocket, the Ring was burning a hole. If Smeagol accepted it in exchange for Merrill, this mission would be short. But once the creature had what he wanted, would that really bring any peace?
In Obi-Wan's pocket, he handled his lightsaber. He was prepared to use it ; he hoped he wouldn't have to. So many times, he had claimed not be a vigilante...
Deep inside the cave, a twisted creature slinked through the inky water. Occasionally, Gollum hissed to himself, sang a garbled rhyme, or snatched up a fish. For the most part, he ignored his captive.
Merrill had been unconscious when she was carried in, so she had little sense of the way out. She didn't have much to work with, and she had to hope the water would move the right way. A dirty piece of Smeagol's old clothing floated slowly through the quiet cave.
Gandalf stepped quietly, like the rest of them, and tilted his head as he listened to the drip drip drip of water around them.
Varric made a noise in his throat. "Everyone stay still and try not to make any loud noises." He knelt, and traced a nearly invisible string. His eyes followed it up, and he chuckled, "Clever. Just a little...." He crept along the wire, then located where it would have caused the roof to cave in on them. "That's one. Everyone step carefully. I don't feel like pancakes today."
Varric was smart to want to keep quiet. If only he’d take his own advice. Roland shot him a glance, then joined him and spoke near enough to his ear that his voice was only a breath. “Signals,” he said plainly, then lifted his hand for everyone to stop while Varric fixed the trap so no one would turn into said pancakes. This, as it would turn out, was going to be his job for now. It was one he was familiar with, when his men were moving through mine field. When it was clear, Roland motioned for everyone to continue moving. He spared a look at Frodo, noting the look on his face, but it was a look that had been in place for days it seemed. It was only intensified now with anticipation. More worryingly was what was in Frodo’s pocket and what anyone would do to possess it.
Hawke was looking over the tunnels, for any scrap, any clue. There was a trickle of water and Marian quietly pointed it out to the others.
“My guess is that if we follow this, we’ll find a grotto or something. It’s got a current, and he’s not likely to be far from a water supply this far in.”
Isabela nodded, stepping forward once the trap was clear. The bastard had to eat, after all. As quietly as she could manage, she said, “Sound also carries. Listen for the water flow.” As they progressed, after all, the trickle would grow. Hawke’s theory was sound, and though she hated to think about it, there were also other things a monster like that could do with a captive and a body of water. Hopefully they’d get there before that became an issue.
Frodo’s turned the Ring over and over. He felt a desperate desire to slip it over his finger. The need grew with every step. His breathing came almost in gasps as the air changed. He fought the noise by holding his breath, which only made the tension in his lungs worse.
Still, the hobbit walked on. He wasn’t made for this sort of thing, but his feet showed no sign of slowing.
Out of everyone who had gathered to help, Roland continually caught Obi-Wan’s eye. He had wisdom about their situation that expressed itself in every movement, every glance. His instincts were like a hunting dog. Frodo had been smart to make a friend of him, though Obi-Wan wasn’t sure Roland wasn’t more of a business associate.
They were too far into the caves now for the sunlight to aid their journey much at all. When the path suddenly diverged in front of them, both routes were equally dark, equally twisted, and equally forbidding. And Obi-Wan could not sense which path to take. To be honest, the Jedi were notoriously bad at tracking. He knew Merrill was close, but she could have been around the corner as much as she could have been a mile below them.
Deep in the cave, in the middle of a small pool, Merrill was doing her best to stay quiet. She was hoping that Smeagol would forget about her, leave her alone. She was tired, sore, and starving. She'd begged him for food earlier, and he'd brought her a raw fish. When she'd refused, he seemed as though he was offended. Now he was finishing off the rest of the fish himself, and grumbling a half-sung rhyme.
"There was an old lady who swallowed a fly," Gollum sang, tossing away the bones. "We doesn't know why she swallows the fly," he turned back to Merrill, a grin spreading slowly over his face as he shrugged, arms wide. "Perhaps she'll die."
“This was difficult in Moria,” Gandalf whispered. “And that was with the feel of air.” He lifted his staff, listening intently. It seemed to thrum, as though trying to catch any sounds that did not belong.
Varric’s keen eyes looked at each entrance. He could see the little traces of traps left behind in each. He pointed at the tunnel on the right. His voice was lower than even Gandalf’s. “That way is more heavily trapped.”
The manner in which Frodo turned the ring on his finger reminded Roland of hypnotizing someone. It would be easy to fall under the spell of the ring, to listen to the steady hum, like it had its own heartbeat. Roland’s hand fell upon Frodo’s shoulder, quiet and firm. He squeezed, trying to get his attention away from the ring and at the matter that was much more important. As Varric walked ahead, Roland paid close attention to him, watching for the traps Varric was warning about and motioning if they came near one to stop, then to move along if one was cleared. They were getting closer, Roland could almost feel Smeagol’s desperation, palpable as it was. The cave smelt dank, as it were sweating.
Hawke didn’t focus on Roland or Obi-Wan or even Frodo. She knew her companions, and she knew their skills. Of all the company, Isabela and Varric were the two she trusted completely to track. Her eyes darted to them both, her step light and her voice for once still.
It had been like this, in the dreams, when they looked for her mother, or the girl who had been taken by the magistrate’s son, or any of the times where jokes simply weren’t an option. Far too much was on the line, and Marian would be damned if Merrill was going to be lost to the shadows.
Isabela heard Varric’s voice, heard the unspoken advice to turn left. She shook her head, following behind. “Water,” she murmured, figuring Varric or Roland would hear. The trickle of water led down the left path, and true to her supposition, it was getting bigger and louder.. There had to be a pool. It was as good a place as any to start.
Obi-Wan nodded to Isabela. He hardly knew Varric, but he sensed the man spoke from experience. Far more experience than he.
They began to make their way alongside the water.
Merrill watched the foul, grinning creature approaching her and felt bile rise in her throat. She wanted to strike out. She knew she could use the land against him, rend him from the inside, paralyze him with horrifying visions.. But she couldn't take the risk. Not when it meant using her own blood to power the spell. But now, it was looking more and more as though he intended to kill her. She hadn't seen the meek, cowering Smeagol in some time. Now it seemed he was more and more Gollum, snarling and plotting.
The blood mage was starting to weigh the risks against the possibility that Gollum would try to kill her anyway, and was becoming frightened by her own thoughts.
“We should move quickly,” Gandalf whispered. He could sense a change in the air, as though it had grown thick with anticipation.
Varric moved more quickly, taking some risks with some traps, but he was starting to seriously worry about Daisy.
Hawke had rushed ahead, her own worries entirely overriding any sense of caution. Let’s face it, she didn’t have much of one anyway. Holding up an orb of magic to work as light, she let it grow a bit brighter, half hoping Merrill would see it and call out.
“I swear, I hear something nearby,” she said in a half-sotto voice, hoping she wasn’t just imagining things.
Isabela heard it, too. She held up a hand to signal stop, concentrating until she could just pick up the thread. It was someone talking to themselves, but it wasn’t Merrill. It was a reedier voice, going guttural at times. She couldn’t make out every word, but the tone was obviously angry. “Here.” Down in the cavern that seemed to be ahead of them.
"Mine. Mine!" Gollum was saying, ranting to Merrill. "Then Baggins stole it! Stole my present. Kept it from us." He almost sounded like he was going to cry.
Suddenly, Gollum stopped, cocking his head to the side. There was something there. "Precious?" he whispered, eyes wide. Quicky, he darted into the shadows, moving toward the sound.
The sound of Gollum’s ragged voice was like a cold winter wind in Frodo’s heart. He froze where he stood. It wasn’t the voice of the man formerly in his employ but the very creature from his dreams. He gripped the Ring tightly in his palm.
Obi-Wan’s glare was stern, but he placed a gentle hand on Frodo’s shoulder, urging him onward. “Remember what you came to do,” he whispered.
“I- I know,” Frodo stuttered in reply and took another step forward.
Varric’s shoulders were tight. At some point as they’d approached the voice, Bianca had found her way into his hands. All he’d need would be a clear shot, and he would take it. He’d made harder shots, before.
Gandalf put a hand on Varric’s shoulder, adding his own staff to Hawke’s light. His voice was a low murmur, but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Let it play out. This isn’t our story.”
Varric’s finger stroked the elegant auto-crossbow’s trigger, anyway.
Merrill watched Gollum dart off, and sat up a bit more. The creature must have heard something, or seen it. She could just make out a light that she didn't think was there before. "Is someone there?" she called.
Hawke never could resist a dashing heroic gesture, or a quip. Unfortunately, the quip won out today.
“Oh, not at all, just some harmless bears or whatever live in caves, nothing to worry about!” she called to the creature, charging a fireball in the palm of her hand. It wouldn’t go off until she was certain Merrill was safe and the thing that took her was beyond hope, but it was very menacing and... well, firey.
Well, no longer any point in subterfuge. “Where did it go?” Isabela asked. Celebrating would come when Merrill was safe. They could fan out according to Merrill’s answer.
Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber. If the explosive hiss was familiar to the others, then so be it. This was no time for modesty. It was time to be on guard. The sapphire glow lit up Frodo’s eyes beside him, eyes that were wide and quivering.
“Merrill?” Frodo called. “Merrill!” He ran forward.
"Hawke! Frodo! Ow!" Merrill had tried to push herself up using her injured arm, and nearly ended up falling off her little rocky island and into the water. "I don't know," she answered, looking around for any sign. The creature was good at hiding, and even with the added light, he found a way to sneak.
"Bagginnnnns..." Gollum's raspy, sing-song voice echoed along the large chamber of the cave, making it hard to pinpoint the origin of the sound. "Where is it?"
Yes, history was repeating itself before Frodo’s eyes. This was Shelobs’s lair all over again, this was the trap Gollum had laid, only this time Merrill was the bait. “Where’s my wife? I want to see her now!” He clung to the wall to guide him forward.
Gollum knew he couldn't let them get to Merrill before he got the ring. She was all of his leverage. Without her, he would never get what he wanted. Gollum snuck closer, moving toward the elf so that he could pounce before they did. "You can't have her!" he hissed. "Not till we have our precious. Our precious for yours."