Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me. It all belongs to the masters who created them.
Convergence
Chapter One
What They were Doing before It Happened
Frodo stumbled as he sliced his foot yet again on one of the numerous sharp rocks in the treacherous paths of Emyn Muil.
"Mr. Frodo!" cried Samwise Gamgee, rushing to his wounded master, unraveling a bandage as he scrambled down the ledge.
Frodo waved him away. "It's too late, Sam," he panted. "I've already left enough blood on these stupid rocks for Gollum to smell a league away."
"But Mr. Frodo, we've got to patch you up, lest you bleed to death."
"Oh," said Frodo, sounding rather surprised, "well, carry on then."
Sam knelt next to his master, but then realized his dilemma. Frodo was bleeding quite profusely, blood gushed from his foot with alarming intensity. However, well, the two beleaguered hobbits had been trekking through the rocky hills for days, and neither of them had had a bath in twice that long.
Even the flies avoided the stench that emanated from Frodo's foot.
"Well?" snapped Frodo irritably. "We haven't got all day."
"Yes, Mr. Frodo," mumbled Sam, quite distraught by his predicament. He propped Frodo's foot on his knee, nearly choking as the disgusting odor wafted into his nostrils.
Frodo's eyes narrowed.
Sam gulped and gingerly began wrapping the scrap of linen around the appendage, taking great care to not touch the foul source of the smell.
Finally, when all hope had faded, just when Sam began to believe that he could tolerate the reek no longer, he was done wrapping. With a small sigh of relief, he quickly constructed one of the many knots his gaffer had taught him and pulled it quite tightly across Frodo's wound.
Frodo's anguished cry echoed through the lonely canyons.
Drizzt Do'Urden was not a Peeping Tom.
At least, that's what he told himself as he watched with bated breath as Innovindil slowly began disrobing next to a glassy pool in the middle of the forest.
Drizzt loved Catti-brie; he loved her more than air. However, he had not taken into account precisely how constricting being committed to only one woman was.
Anyway, was it his fault that he had just happened to come across Innovindil at night in the middle of nowhere, disrobing?
Nope, such a happy coincidence was not possible; it had to have been ordained by the gods somehow. Drizzt kissed his emblem of Mielikki, and gave a silent prayer of thanks for this holy vision.
Roran, not being able to take Eragon's ranting any longer, started a lively game of sudoku by drawing with sticks in the sand.
"I mean, why can't Arya and I be together?" sobbed Eragon, kicking a stone into the distance, and then launching into a fit of cursing as he clutched his foot.
"Oh, I don't know," muttered Roran, "maybe because you're eighty-five years younger than she is? Oh dear, that nine can't go there." He scratched out one of his runes.
"You don't know what you're talking about," snapped Eragon. "Besides, you can't play sudoku because Garrow never taught you how to write." Roran cursed and erased his game. He glared at Eragon for pointing out that bit of logic.
You might not have Arya, but you'll always have me by your side said Saphira.
"Yes, but I can't, you know, do anything to you. You're a dragon," pouted Eragon.
And yet you straddle me day after day sniffed Saphira, accidentally setting their supplies on fire.
Eragon's renewed cursed were drowned out by Roran's peals of laughter.