(no subject)
And last but not least...paulaberr's...
Frodo took a determined breath before tugging on Riff’s cloak. Less had gotten him slapped before, and he cringed.
“What is it, rat?” Riff spat. He was a built Man with quick fists, nobody a hobbit harlot would want to entice into anger.
“I’ve made you more money than any of the other hobbits this week,” Frodo said, trying to keep his voice even.
“Yeah, suppose you have. It’s those unnatural eyes of yours. The men can’t resist.” Riff pinched Frodo’s chin, jerking it up. “What do you want?”
“I…I want you to let me go.”
The hand clamped Frodo’s chin harder. “Let…you…go?” Riff let out a biting laugh. “Do you jest, little Shire rat? Because I don’t like Shire jokes. I don’t like you little ratfolk, come to think of it, don’t find much use for you outside of what I’m using you for right here. So why do you think I’d let you go?”
“I don’t know.” Frodo tried not to let tears fill his eyes. “I’ve made you…I’ve made you four times what the others--”
Riff’s eyes grew hard and Frodo recognized his danger too late. Riff backhanded him hard enough that he fell backwards against the wall.
“Stupid little rat,” he growled.
“Please…” Frodo gasped, wiping the blood from his nose. “Please let me go.”
Riff grabbed his upper arm and flung him to the ground, letting his boot slam into Frodo’s side. Frodo heard something crack, but he felt no pain, just a numb desperation. “I’ll put you in bed for a month is what I’ll do,” Riff grunted, slamming his foot into Frodo’s side again. “Then you’ll be in my debt another year.”
The door slammed open, causing Riff to whirl toward it.
“Vik!” Riff backed away from the furious warrior in terror.
Frodo took a determined breath before tugging on Riff’s cloak. Less had gotten him slapped before, and he cringed.
“What is it, rat?” Riff spat. He was a built Man with quick fists, nobody a hobbit harlot would want to entice into anger.
“I’ve made you more money than any of the other hobbits this week,” Frodo said, trying to keep his voice even.
“Yeah, suppose you have. It’s those unnatural eyes of yours. The men can’t resist.” Riff pinched Frodo’s chin, jerking it up. “What do you want?”
“I…I want you to let me go.”
The hand clamped Frodo’s chin harder. “Let…you…go?” Riff let out a biting laugh. “Do you jest, little Shire rat? Because I don’t like Shire jokes. I don’t like you little ratfolk, come to think of it, don’t find much use for you outside of what I’m using you for right here. So why do you think I’d let you go?”
“I don’t know.” Frodo tried not to let tears fill his eyes. “I’ve made you…I’ve made you four times what the others--”
Riff’s eyes grew hard and Frodo recognized his danger too late. Riff backhanded him hard enough that he fell backwards against the wall.
“Stupid little rat,” he growled.
“Please…” Frodo gasped, wiping the blood from his nose. “Please let me go.”
Riff grabbed his upper arm and flung him to the ground, letting his boot slam into Frodo’s side. Frodo heard something crack, but he felt no pain, just a numb desperation. “I’ll put you in bed for a month is what I’ll do,” Riff grunted, slamming his foot into Frodo’s side again. “Then you’ll be in my debt another year.”
The door slammed open, causing Riff to whirl toward it.
“Vik!” Riff backed away from the furious warrior in terror.