Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to "The Lord Of The Rings" or any of
the Discworld novels.
A/N: You'll have to have read "Witches Abroad" by Terry Pratchett to fully understand what this is all about. If not, I don't think it would make too much difference, except the pumpkin reference at the end.
Don't ask what sparked this. The plotbunnies bite in unusual places and they must be written.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The dark cavern was indistinguishable from any other and appeared to be endless. The chill was not relieved by the murky waters that flowed eternally, and the cold, damp air would give a clammy feel to anybody's skin - had anyone dared to venture into such a place.
It was a striking contrast to the warm, glittering caves where the dwarves mined their precious stones and metals. They would not dare try to dig into these slippery walls for fear of unstable shafts from the ever-present dampness.
And there are other reasons why they dare not go such strange ways.
It is said that when the world was created, the land was pushed together in places, trapping magic and making mountains. And when magic is included in the equation, who knows what is possible?
Strange things lurked in the darkness, delving deep into the earth for private purposes.
But none so strange as this.
In the darkness glowed two eyes. The creature they belonged to had survived in such places for decades, afraid of the sun and what it may reveal. What it may find. What it may steal.
It was a small, hunched figure in the darkness and would have been half the size of a man if standing tall. Its long, skinny fingers toyed with something in the very dim light. This trinket he cherished above all. Long ago, it had ensnared him, as it had many others. It glinted gold in the darkness, exciting the creature, calling forth his possessiveness. It was his life's purpose, his prize...his precious.
"Yesss, my preciousss," he whispered in a beloved manner. He continued in this style until something, somehow caught his attention. Quickly, he stored his prize in a well-concealed hole, covering it with a flat rock. He made a strange 'gollum' sound in the back of his throat as he slid into the water, eyes peering into the dark abyss.
In the darkness another set of eyes glowed. These were as piercing and blue as sapphires. Many had tried to outstare this gaze and all had failed. This sort of gaze could turn tornadoes in the opposite direction, vowing to become good little breezes. This sort of gaze meant business.
She was an elderly lady, although few would dare to even think such an adjective in her presence. She sat proudly in the boat with another, more cheery looking woman and an even younger one whose job it was to row. They were witches. And they were having a conversation about pickles, which would soon develop into something else.
"I," said Granny Weatherwax, "have never made a pickle in my life."
As soon as these words had escaped her mouth, she immediately felt a change in the atmosphere. She had been a witch from a young age and from years of practise she had honed herself to feel the slightest change in any magical tendencies. And as immediately as she had sensed it, she also knew that this was some strange little quirk, natural to the multi-verse and not an attack on her. Still, she kept one eye on the surroundings as the boat went onwards.
The multi-verse is a strange thing. Made up of so many universes, and so many worlds within these universes, it is not uncommon for the veils between them to thin.
It is very rare, however, for them to collide.
The underground river caverns were very similar and had it not been for a slight tweak of the magical atmosphere, this joining would have gone completely unnoticed. Outside the conjoined caverns the members of the White Council felt the slight change and wondered if this sparked anything to come. Meanwhile, in Unseen University, the younger students gave out a whoop of excitement at such a rare event while the Bursar started to do the can-can in a large vat of porridge. The last event may however, have been completely unrelated.
Gollum paddled up on his log to the oncoming boat, wondering if there were any nice fishies or crunchable things to eat. Magrat stated the obvious, that someone was following them. Gollum hefted himself up to face the people by clinging onto the boat, while Nanny Ogg stared in a bemused, unblinking way. "'ullo," said Gollum. "It'sss my birthday."
He realised this was not the best course of action when he met the gaze of Granny Weatherwax, who stared in her usual icy manner. She then firmly picked up one of the oars and whacked him over the head, while he spluttered and cursed in the dark waters.
The boat rowed on.
"Horrible little bugger," said Granny, as they left him behind. "Looked like a troublemaker to me."
"Yeah," said Nanny Ogg. "It's the slimy ones you've got to watch out for."
"I wonder what he wanted?" mused Magrat. They rowed down stream as the multi-verse sorted itself back out, once more separating the worlds.
And in the darkness, something called out to Granny Weatherwax. It was gold, it gave power and it had betrayed its forebearers. It beckoned to her in the darkness. Few in Middle-Earth were able to deny its will.
And yet, the dark forces of Middle-Earth had never encountered someone like Granny Weatherwax. Nobody knew her mind like she did. Yet the ring persisted.
Bugger off, thought Granny stubbornly. Now.
It was not a request. The ring let it go this one time. Someone else would be along soon.
Meanwhile, Gollum swam back to shore, muttering about the "nasssty ladiesss" as he went. There was nothing crunchable or munchable and now he had a sore head. He clambered ashore and took his precious out of its hiding place, muttering to it in the darkness. Suddenly, he noticed something large, round and orange bobbing against the bank and went to investigate. It smelled strange and, after picking it out of the water, he bit into it. It was hard and the inside was strange and pulpy. In disgust, he spat it back out and tossed it into the water.
It had been a bad day indeed.
A/N: You'll have to have read "Witches Abroad" by Terry Pratchett to fully understand what this is all about. If not, I don't think it would make too much difference, except the pumpkin reference at the end.
Don't ask what sparked this. The plotbunnies bite in unusual places and they must be written.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The dark cavern was indistinguishable from any other and appeared to be endless. The chill was not relieved by the murky waters that flowed eternally, and the cold, damp air would give a clammy feel to anybody's skin - had anyone dared to venture into such a place.
It was a striking contrast to the warm, glittering caves where the dwarves mined their precious stones and metals. They would not dare try to dig into these slippery walls for fear of unstable shafts from the ever-present dampness.
And there are other reasons why they dare not go such strange ways.
It is said that when the world was created, the land was pushed together in places, trapping magic and making mountains. And when magic is included in the equation, who knows what is possible?
Strange things lurked in the darkness, delving deep into the earth for private purposes.
But none so strange as this.
In the darkness glowed two eyes. The creature they belonged to had survived in such places for decades, afraid of the sun and what it may reveal. What it may find. What it may steal.
It was a small, hunched figure in the darkness and would have been half the size of a man if standing tall. Its long, skinny fingers toyed with something in the very dim light. This trinket he cherished above all. Long ago, it had ensnared him, as it had many others. It glinted gold in the darkness, exciting the creature, calling forth his possessiveness. It was his life's purpose, his prize...his precious.
"Yesss, my preciousss," he whispered in a beloved manner. He continued in this style until something, somehow caught his attention. Quickly, he stored his prize in a well-concealed hole, covering it with a flat rock. He made a strange 'gollum' sound in the back of his throat as he slid into the water, eyes peering into the dark abyss.
In the darkness another set of eyes glowed. These were as piercing and blue as sapphires. Many had tried to outstare this gaze and all had failed. This sort of gaze could turn tornadoes in the opposite direction, vowing to become good little breezes. This sort of gaze meant business.
She was an elderly lady, although few would dare to even think such an adjective in her presence. She sat proudly in the boat with another, more cheery looking woman and an even younger one whose job it was to row. They were witches. And they were having a conversation about pickles, which would soon develop into something else.
"I," said Granny Weatherwax, "have never made a pickle in my life."
As soon as these words had escaped her mouth, she immediately felt a change in the atmosphere. She had been a witch from a young age and from years of practise she had honed herself to feel the slightest change in any magical tendencies. And as immediately as she had sensed it, she also knew that this was some strange little quirk, natural to the multi-verse and not an attack on her. Still, she kept one eye on the surroundings as the boat went onwards.
The multi-verse is a strange thing. Made up of so many universes, and so many worlds within these universes, it is not uncommon for the veils between them to thin.
It is very rare, however, for them to collide.
The underground river caverns were very similar and had it not been for a slight tweak of the magical atmosphere, this joining would have gone completely unnoticed. Outside the conjoined caverns the members of the White Council felt the slight change and wondered if this sparked anything to come. Meanwhile, in Unseen University, the younger students gave out a whoop of excitement at such a rare event while the Bursar started to do the can-can in a large vat of porridge. The last event may however, have been completely unrelated.
Gollum paddled up on his log to the oncoming boat, wondering if there were any nice fishies or crunchable things to eat. Magrat stated the obvious, that someone was following them. Gollum hefted himself up to face the people by clinging onto the boat, while Nanny Ogg stared in a bemused, unblinking way. "'ullo," said Gollum. "It'sss my birthday."
He realised this was not the best course of action when he met the gaze of Granny Weatherwax, who stared in her usual icy manner. She then firmly picked up one of the oars and whacked him over the head, while he spluttered and cursed in the dark waters.
The boat rowed on.
"Horrible little bugger," said Granny, as they left him behind. "Looked like a troublemaker to me."
"Yeah," said Nanny Ogg. "It's the slimy ones you've got to watch out for."
"I wonder what he wanted?" mused Magrat. They rowed down stream as the multi-verse sorted itself back out, once more separating the worlds.
And in the darkness, something called out to Granny Weatherwax. It was gold, it gave power and it had betrayed its forebearers. It beckoned to her in the darkness. Few in Middle-Earth were able to deny its will.
And yet, the dark forces of Middle-Earth had never encountered someone like Granny Weatherwax. Nobody knew her mind like she did. Yet the ring persisted.
Bugger off, thought Granny stubbornly. Now.
It was not a request. The ring let it go this one time. Someone else would be along soon.
Meanwhile, Gollum swam back to shore, muttering about the "nasssty ladiesss" as he went. There was nothing crunchable or munchable and now he had a sore head. He clambered ashore and took his precious out of its hiding place, muttering to it in the darkness. Suddenly, he noticed something large, round and orange bobbing against the bank and went to investigate. It smelled strange and, after picking it out of the water, he bit into it. It was hard and the inside was strange and pulpy. In disgust, he spat it back out and tossed it into the water.
It had been a bad day indeed.