One of Nine
Caradhras was unpleasant. Every Man, Elf, Dwarf, and Hobbit could agree on that. Between the crazy amounts of snow and ice falling on their heads and squishing into their boots to freeze their toesalthough Legolas didn't have that problem, damn him, since he didn't wear bootsbetween that, and the evil wizard a thousand leagues away yelling and spitting in their faces...well, it was not a happy Fellowship that trekked up the eyebrow of the mightily crabby mountain.
"Not to complain, Mister Frodo, but don't you think this here climbing an angry, blizzard-covered mountain is just a bit dangerous?"
"Oomph," answered Frodo before he tripped and started rolling down the incline they had been scaling.
The Fellowship all began yelling "Frodo!" in alarm, but they were all quite slug-brained and slug-limbed from the cold, and none of them moved fast enough to catch the hobbit before he rolled off the edge of the path. They stared in shock, still sluggishly.
"Oh bugger," said Boromir finally, "we shall have to go find his body and take the ring off it. I suppose I should carry it from now on."
Gandalf put his hand under his chin and thought about it. The ringbearer really should have had more tact than to just up and die before Gandalf had gotten a chance to show off his magic. But then, this might turn out for the best...
"I think we should just leave the ring down there, what do you think? I doubt anyone will find it there for another millenium or so, and by then my shift will be over," said the old wizard cannily.
A faint voice said "...actually, i'm not dead."
"What's this about shift work? You wizards get paid by the century or something of the like?"
"Nonsense, Merry! As if wizards should care about such material things as money! We work for the perks."
Legolas cocked his head to one side and said, "Hello, I think I heard something."
"...that would be me..."
The Fellowship peered over the edge over the cliff. Frodo was lying on a ledge not too far below.
"Frodo! You're not dead!" cried Pippin.
"...i know..."
"Guess my plan didn't work," huffed Gandalf.
Aragorn regarded the ten metre drop warily. "One of us shall have to fetch him," he said, looking pointedly away.
"I shall rescue him!" announced Legolas with relish. "I can walk atop the snow as an otter glides through water"
"Yes, shut up, we know," replied Gimli sourly.
In answer, Legolas dropped lightly down the edge of the cliff, then promptly slipped, tumbled a few feet, rolled past Frodo and fell into the abyss.
After a few moments, Boromir said what everyone wanted to say: "Oh bugger again."
"Serves that smarmy elf right!"
"Now really, Gimli, one shouldn't insult the dead, as they can't defend themselves."
"Isn't that the best time to insult someone?"
"Um, shouldn't we check if he's dead? After all, Frodo didn't die from the fall…"
"…speaking of Frodo, i could still use some help down here…"
Just as the Fellowship was about to clamber down to help Frodo, a reverberating 'thunk' and a soft cry of "Ai!" were heard.
"I think," said Gandalf while coughing lightly, "that we don't have to worry about Legolas anymore."
"Problem solved, then!" spoke Gimli cheerfully. "Shall we continue on?"
"…consciousness…fading…"
"Oh right, sorry, Frodo."
And so (after finally pulling Frodo up to safety) the bold and fearless Fellowship journeyed on, undaunted by the death of one of their number. They hadn't really known the guy anyway, you know.
Author's Note:
One down, eight to go. Mwa ha ha!
