(no subject)
Had to do more. Too many ideas were batted around last night.
Title: Melon and Seduction
Pairing(s): F/S, F/Z, C/Z
Rating: R
Synopsis: The search continues, with a few snags along the way... and Frodo accepts his fate!
Previous Chapters:
The FREKE!Callout! post!
FREKE!... PG-13 for swearing
Next Chapters!
Burglars, Four Wheelin', Competition!, Too Much Food, Philiacs-Plushophilia, Shotgun, Mud and Mops, A Shortcut to Mushed Pride, Frodo, #3, HIKE!, Stamp Collections, Hey... Baby., Lovesick in the Shrubbery. Getting a Time-Out, I'da Baked a Cake, Purple Passioned Toes, Trust Betrayed!, Runaway Hobbit, Into Peril
Casey was on his fourth piece of 'Juicy Fruit', though he was tempted to snag a cigarette from Zeke. He didn't smoke, but Zeke sure did; he wasn't being too shy with his own gluttony. Thankful that Zeke had an unopened pack and that Casey himself kept a good five packs of his favorite gum on him, he looked to the backseat at Sam.
"So, you're sure this road leads to Bree?" Casey said.
"Aye... but... there IS a shortcut I saw on Mr. Bilbo's maps," he replied. "I jotted it down on m'piece of paper."
"Well c'mon, then--I don't feel like driving this thing any farther than I have to," Zeke grumbled. Sam shot him a look, but unfolded the makeshift-map he'd made, apparently from one of the books Bilbo kept on hand from his travels.
"Hmm... well, it says that it takes twenty miles off our route--"
"Perfect, where to?" Zeke interrupted.
"Hmm... take a right at the ol' oak tree, where a small path'll--"
"Small path? Old oak tree? There aren't any... signs for this crap?" Casey interrupted as well.
"This is the Shire we're in, not your blasted Herrington!" Sam snapped. "I'll know it when I see it!"
"Fine," Zeke mumbled while lighting another cigarette.
After a small while, Sam stood up on tiptoe and looked over the front seats. "Aye, there! That's the biggest ol' oak tree I've ever seen," he said while pointing between them. Casey looked over and raised his eyebrows.
"Yea... I'll say," he said. It certainly WAS pretty large.
Zeke turned into the path then groaned. "Okay, this is gonna get pretty fuckin' bumpy," he said through clenched teeth. Everyone held on, Sam sitting back down just before the car bumped and bounced into dips and tiny hills. Brush and bushes scraped the side of his car, making Zeke wince and hiss every few seconds. "The paint job I just got is out the shitting window, now," he growled out.
"Now... we... oh dear, I can barely read it..." Sam said, trying to keep the map in his hands still. "I think it's Knuckleburrow Berry we need to get to."
"The fuck is that?" Casey spluttered.
"Hmm?"
"Ugh, WHAT is THAT?"
"Not sure; ne'er traveled this far before. About a mile though, we'll be passin' by Farmer Maggot's farm," he said. A small, sad smile crossed his lips. "Oh, t'hear me lovely master's stories 'bout jumpin' fences for mushrooms..."
"Farmer Maggot. Nice," Zeke mumbled.
"At least we don't have far to go, now," Casey said. Just then, a large branch slapped alongside the car and entered Casey's opened window. It smacked across his face, making him jump and howl. "The HELL!"
"Close your damned window!" Zeke yelled.
Casey did so, while rubbing his face and giving Zeke a hurt expression. "Don't yell at me," he whimpered.
Zeke softened a bit. "Sorry... just stressed out."
"I know," Casey replied.
"Ah, there's the farm... we should be there soon," Sam told them, nodding towards a large expanse of farmland. Zeke's eyebrows rose with interest.
"Wow... look at those watermelons," he said. Casey looked over as well and licked his lips.
"My lunch was shit today... so fuckin' hungry."
Sam looked between them and then shook his head fast. "Pardon me, lads--there'll be no stealin' anythin' from Maggot. 'E's got the biggest dogs ye'd ever seen."
"Jesus... we'd only take one watermelon," Zeke hissed. He stopped the car and turned to Sam. "You... stay here. I'm gonna run out and grab one."
"No! Mr. Ezekiel, it's too dangerous!" Sam exclaimed.
"Shut up... Zeke, go get one," Casey snapped.
Zeke grinned mischievously, got out, closed his door and left, taking hurried steps up the small hill leading to the melon crop. Casey rose up to watch him, keeping a careful eye on the young man.
"You'll be seein' what Mr. Frodo went through, many years ago," Sam nonchalantly replied while checking his nails.
Casey rolled his eyes. "Hey, to a hobbit, a spaniel looks huge. Zeke'll just bat at their noses if those dogs show up. Stop worrying, or you won't get a piece."
"Don't need it. 'Brought 'nuff food for three days," Sam said, patting his satchel.
"What?!" Casey blurted, turning quick to look at him. "We're sitting here, saying how fucking STARVING we are, and you don't say a shitting thing??"
"No one was askin'!" Sam spat back.
"CASEY! OPEN THE DOOR!"
Casey whipped his head back towards the fields and dropped his jaw. Zeke was running top speed with a large, green watermelon in his hands... while giant, dark-brown dogs snapped at his heels, making him scream like a girl. "HOLY SHIT!" Casey cried, leaping over the seat towards Zeke's door's handle.
"Told you," Sam muttered, not bothering to hide the small smile he had. Casey ignored it, too preoccupied with shoving Zeke's door open in one quick swoop. Zeke almost stumbled down the hill but recovered, then all but dove through the opened door.
"Shut it! Oh my fucking god!" Casey screamed. Zeke sat up quick and tossed the melon in Casey's lap. The action made Casey bellow, feeling his more 'personal bits' get squashed by the huge fruit. Zeke shut the door, just in time, as the dogs had now reached them and jumped up towards the window, snarling and barking like demons.
"Fucking hell!" Zeke bellowed. His shaking hand reached the key and turned it, roaring the engine on just as a scythe begin rising up over the hill.
"What, yer not gonna go for two?" Sam said, chuckling a little as they drove off.
"Shut the hell up!" Zeke yelled. "Jesus Christ..."
"Er... melon... heavy," Casey managed to squeal out past the pain.
"Then take it off your lap!" Zeke yelled again. With some difficulty, Casey rolled it past his thighs and let it drop to the floor. A hard breath escaped him as he sat back, staring out the windshield.
"Sam... how much further?" he asked.
Sam turned and looked over his shoulder. "Prob'ly another mile, or however far Maggot's dogs run fer us."
"Fuck," Zeke muttered shakily.
~*~
There were no more choices. Frodo could barely walk anymore, let alone run whenever he saw ominous looking men cross his path. His stomach ached, his head felt as if it were ready to spin straight off into the mud surrounding him. Tired, listless and feeling beaten, Frodo found himself in front of the 'Inn at the Prancing Pony'. The name seemed light and cheery enough. He took the two small steps to the door, opened it, and felt like collapsing at the sights before him.
For whatever reason, he hadn't heard the loud noises of conversation, laughter and yells from outside. They blared out at him now, knocking him back into the door to shut it in a loud clatter.
Dear heavens above--it seemed that every single large, built and foreboding looking man had come here for their dinner, drinking many tankards along the way. Frodo darted his eyes from face to face, flustered and trembling. 'I have no choice... but to accept my fate...' he thought. He could barely muster up the strength to walk over to the large bar area, the top of his head barely reaching the counter. "Ex...ex-ex-excuse me..." he murmured to no one in particular. A large, heavyset man nearby turned to look at him with a smile.
"Lookin' fer someone?" he asked, small beads of ale resting in his beard.
Terror filled Frodo at a rapid pace. "I--I'm just in need--I need a job," he stammered out. "I've no food and no place to stay... and it looks... lo-looks like I have to do whatever it takes... t-t-t-o... t-t-o..."
"'Ey there now, simmer down, lad. Butterbur will surely 'elp ye!"
"Who-Who's that?"
"'Ello, what's this?"
Frodo whipped his head up to see a chubby, bald man standing from behind the bar now, looking down on Frodo with wide eyes. 'He's scrutinizing me... making sure I could do 'the work','...
"My-My-m-my-- my name is Frodo Ba-a-aggin-s-s, of the Sh...ire," Frodo tried saying.
"A'right. Me name's Barliman Butterbur, head of the 'stablishment. What kin I do fer ye?"
Frodo bit his lip and tried controlling his breathing. Well, what needed to be done, needed to be done. "I've come to see... if you've any 'employment' to offer," Frodo asked, finally evening out his voice. Before Butterbur could reply, he slipped a hand to the front of his shirt and undid the first three buttons. "My... it's... qu-quite hot in here, isn't it?"
Butterbur frowned and blinked his eyes. "Erm, no... not really. Bit drafty, if ye ask me."
"Oh well. I suppose I'll take off my coat!" Frodo said, trying to sound cheery. He slid the fine velvet from his arms and draped it onto a nearby chair. He stretched his arms out and sighed. "Ah, much better. I must say, I've grown... very weary of my day's travels. Very, very weary. One may say that I... I'm ready for bed."
Again, Butterbur could only stare at him with confusion, but nodded slowly this time. "A'right then. If yer lookin' fer a job, I kin start you tomorrow, servin' ales and the like. I only have two hobbits workin' fer me right now--"
"Oh? What... do THEY do?" Frodo asked with a growing lump in his throat.
"Well--Bob's in the stables, and Nob is a servant."
Servant. Frodo could only imagine what THAT entailed. "Well... could I trade work... for a warm bed and some food? That would be all I ask, if you... desire me."
"Hmm?" Butterbur murmured. "I suppose ye could... I suppose. Here," he said, now turning back to the long lines of bottles. He drew out a key and handed it to Frodo. "You kin use the room just down the hall here, second door to yer right."
"All right... is that... your room?"
With a small puff of laughter, Butterbur shook his head. "Why... NO, of course not. That's where the hobbit-sized rooms are!"
"Oh," Frodo said. "Well, thank you then. What time should I 'report for duty' tomorrow?"
"We'll say... eight in the morn. That's when we serve breakfast."
Frodo doubted the presence of bacon, toast and eggs... rather himself on one of those tables, where men usually enjoyed their ale. They would soon learn how to enjoy a hobbit, Frodo surmised. With a nod, Frodo walked up the stairs to his doom.