Hey chicklets!
Frankly, I was expecting maybe a review. Two would be pushing it. But you proved me wrong! As such, I have to thank you!
I wrote this two years ago, and it's just been sitting and marinating on my computer because I wasn't sure it was good enough to post. Well I am very glad I decided to post it! (Mind you I was quite a bit younger, so my writing style has changed, and there may be a few mistakes here and there.)
There isn't really much to say, so here is chapter two!
Chapter Two: It is never too early for a drink.
"Kenshin," He spoke. His voice was s lilting tenor, soft as a summer breeze. So unlike the harsh sharp tone he had used when they had first entered the room.
"I wasn't even gone for that long. . . I didn't know he was going to get so upset," Frodo fretted. He noticed his uncle looking at him with an expectant gaze and he realized he hadn't been paying attention. "Sorry, what were you saying, uncle?"
"I was just saying how it would probably be better for all of us if we moved this discussion into the kitchen so we could have some tea, Gandalf's gone to prepare it. And to get this boy something to eat. Gollum knows how long it's been since he ate anything!" He picked up the newly dubbed Kenshin's wrist and waved it about like it was a flapping fish.
"Look at this! It' naught but skin and bone! I could snap it like a twig if I shook his hand hard enough!" Kenshin looked worried and frightened at his uncle's erratic behavior and was trying to delicately pull his wrist from his captors grasp.
"Uncle! Don't jostle him about so! He's injured!" Bilbo immediately dropped the appendage as though he'd been burned and looked down to see Kenshin's eyes watering and that he was biting his lip, no doubt to subside the whimpers of pain.
"Oh, my dear boy! I'm sorry! I suppose I do tend to get carried away at the best of times." Said boy seemed to recognize an apology when he heard one and bowed his head.
"Daijoubu demo Arigatou, Go-shinsetsu wa, kesshite wasuremasen" There was a tone of absolute thankfulness and forgiveness in his tone, making Bilbo's face melt into a warm smile.
Of course, he could've just insulted his honor and the honor of his mother and Bilbo would never know it. But as it is said, the road goes ever on and on . . .
"Frodo, get our guest a change of clothes. Yours should do the trick." His nephew scurried away and returned moments later with said items. Kenshin nodded in understanding before staring at the duo pointedly until they blushed and hurriedly left the room.
After about five minutes and a series of muffled thumps they were beginning to get worried
After about ten minutes, Bilbo was imagining several morbid scenarios as to what was going on in there, the least of which involved Kenshin strangling himself trying to get the shirt on.
At fifteen minutes Gandalf had reappeared, breezing past the two hobbits whom were torn between courtesy, and worry. The wizard tapped twice on the mahogany surface.
The door creaked open in response, as it failed to fully shut, and on the bed sat Kenshin, who had somehow maneuvered his arm through the new shirt and the various holes, but the pants he seemed to be having difficulty with.
He huffed with frustration, then noticing his company, flushed and uttered a decidedly unmanly squeak and leapt atop the bed, and under the covers with surprising agility for one so injured.
"He seems to be having the most curious time with the button." Gandalf stated the obvious whilst stroking his beard.
"Gee, you think? Maybe they don't use buttons much in . . . wherever he's from." Bilbo muttered before stalking across the room towards Kenshin who had dove back into the blankets. Bilbo pulled one of the spare shirts that Frodo had bought, a nice button up. He proffered it up before the boy and demonstrated several times the doing and undoing of the button, while the boy watched his hands with attentiveness. Bilbo undid the buttons before he urged it at the boy, who took it carefully from the elders' hands, like it was silk instead of cotton.
Their hands brushed only briefly, but Bilbo felt it. Sword calluses. He shot a cursory glance towards Gandalf who slightly dipped his head in acknowledgement. He knew. He gave a little motion with his hands towards Kenshin, telling Bilbo that it would be discussed later. Turning back, Bilbo was delighted to see he had done the shirt up, and that the boy had a slight smile upon his face.
"Wonderful my boy! We'll be leaving you now; I imagine it will be no difficult task!"
Moments later Kenshin exited the guest room, looking mildly uncomfortable in his new clothes. While the shirt fit well enough, the pants were too short and rode up to his calves like capris. It was a good thing he was so skinny, or else the pants might not have fit all together.
"This way, follow me and we'll get you something to eat, and try and figure a solution to your tricky little problem," Bilbo announced tugging lightly on the boys arm, leading him to the kitchen. Kenshin sat down and observed them as they rushed about doing this and that to prepare the food. He had to admit he was curious as to what westerners ate in their day-to-day lives.
The only western food he had really tried were the cakes that he was sometimes offered in Yamagata-san's office, and he was quite partial to those. What was placed before him was very . . . . brown. There was beef, but it was a large slice of it and it glistened, coated with some kind of liquid. The vegetables were even brown looking!(He assumed they were vegetables at least . . . he didn't recognize all of them) Coated with the same stuff. After watching Bilbo demonstrate the correct use of the utensils, he tentatively stabbed a piece of the long greenish-brown stuff, and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed carefully, and swallowed. It slimed down his throat, and he couldn't stop his face from twisting sour.
Bilbo muttered something, and Gandalf just laughed.
"It appears our food is not to his liking." He quickly placed a hand on Kenshin's head when he noticed him trying, and failing, to look like he really was enjoying it, and his eyes narrow in determination to finish it.
"We'll eat it my boy," Gandalf assured him, taking the plate away with a reassuring smile.
He looked grateful, but his stomach uttered a short roar and he blushed.
"Hmm, Frodo, be a good lad and go get that sponge cake from the cupboard. Perhaps something a little sweeter will do the trick." He nodded and left the table. Gandalf moved the plate away from Kenshin, and offered him a smile.
"I don't know a soul who doesn't like Bulba's sponge-cake."
Frodo set a slice in front of Kenshin, who cautiously took a bite. His eyes widened in recognition.
"Ca-ki!" Gandalf's smile widened at his response.
"Yes! It's sponge-cake!"
"Su-pu-n-jii-Ka-ki?"
"Yes." Gandalf nodded.
"I-Ya-su" He emulated, and began to eat the cake in haste.
"This boy has some definite mental prowess! He wakes in a strange land, and already he has put his foot forward to try and learn the language. Remarkable, really." Gandalf thought for a moment.
"As long as he is healing, I think it's best if he stays here, if that's alright with you Bilbo."
"The boys welcome to stay here as long as he needs." Bilbo smiled, and Frodo grinned as well at the thought of possibly having another friend.
"Wonderful! Then I think it would be best if whenever he is around, to point and name the miscellaneous items about the house, so he can work on his enunciation and vocabulary. Then we could move onto the writing portion, and the structuring of the sentences. . . even if it's only the two of you, just talk to him, say what you're doing the exact moment or tell him a story, I know how you love to gossip, Bilbo. Engulfing him in the language is the best way to help him learn, and with his quick learning curve, I don't think this is nearly as ominous a task as it seems." He finished by shooting the other three occupants a wink and a smile.
"Remember to explain things, as best as you can." He added and Frodo frowned.
"The way you talk, is as though you won't be here!" He cried. Gandalf smiled gently at Frodo.
"I'm sorry my lad, but there is something pressing my mind that needs my most urgent attention. . ." he stopped briefly, if he had looked at Bilbo he would have noticed his eyes narrow in suspicion, before fading to their normal countenance. " . . . Though perhaps I could spare a few months of my time to help Kenshin adjust." Frodo was overjoyed at the thought.
"I'll go and tell Sam and the rest, the good news! The children will be so excited!" He exalted as he sped out of the hobbit hole.
"We'll help you Kenshin my dear lad; that I promise."
Kenshin just looked confused.
"Oro?"
"Bag."
"Ba-gu"
A pause.
"Kaban."
"Keh-ban."
A shake of the head
"KA-ban.
"Ka-ban."
A smile
"Key"
"Kii"
A grin.
"Kagi"
"Kagi."
A jerk towards the fireplace.
"Fire."
"Fu-i-a"
"FI-ER
"F-i-a"
A genial smile.
"Kaki"
"Kaki."
An impatient tap of the foot.
"Pencil."
"Pe-n-se-ru."
A frown.
"PEN-CIL."
"PEN-Sool."
"Meh, close enough."
Met with a grin.
"En-pi-tsu.
"Enpisuu."
The crinkle of the brow.
"En-pi-TSU."
A wry smile
"That's not a sound."
"Tsu, Tsu. . . ano, rrrrrrr. . ."
"'L's' are a different story!"
The tilting of the head.
"Tsu."
Grumbles.
"I suppose if you can learn the letter 'L', I can try to here what's the difference between suu and soo."
A feverent shaking of head.
"Tsu ano to su"
The eye roll.
"Precisely my point."
A grin.
There's no winning with this kid.
Frodo watches these exchanges with amusement. It had been about three days since Kenshin had arrived, and this has become a somewhat regular occurrence; one person would go through the words with Kenshin, and the other would chronicle what was being said so they could review later and also so when it came to the writing portion he could already have the words he had learned. Today, Frodo was the one chronicling and he had to work extra fast, because his uncle had decided that he wanted to learn Kenshin's language as well, despite Gandalf's insisting that he focus on teaching Kenshin the Common Tongue first. His uncle just told Frodo that they could accomplish both at the same time.
"Enpitsu," Frodo muttered to himself as he carefully wrote it down.
"Yesu!" Kenshin said smiling at Frodo. Bilbo crossed his arms and muttered to himself, making Frodo give him a smile.
"Speak it like there is a 't' in the there. T-Su," He demonstrated slowly, and his uncle complied, receiving another nod from Kenshin.
"Good," Kenshin spoke, repeating what he had heard them say when he did it correctly. Frodo shot him a smile.
"It won't be long before he's talking circles around us!" Frodo exclaimed, Bilbo sniffed.
"And yet, he still can't pronounce my name!" Frodo rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He knew his uncle always meant well but he could get carried away sometimes. The fact that Kenshin couldn't seem to wrap his mouth around his uncle's name had become a sore-point, for whatever reason.
"You shouldn't take it personally; it seems he doesn't have 'L' in his language." Bilbo just huffed again.
"Well, I think that's about enough for today, Linda's coming by to check up on his wounds, Gandalf's just gone to fetch her. . . . such a gentleman he is," He muttered the last part.
"Oh, uncle . . ." There was a pause.
"Uncle, where do you think Kenshin came from?" Frodo asked, and Bilbo wearily rubbed his forehead.
"I haven't the foggiest my dear nephew."
"Do you think he'll be able to get back?" He looked up at his uncle. Under the gaze of those familiar blue eyes, Bilbo wanted more than ever to reassure his beloved nephew.
"Oh, of course he'll get back. When you have Gandalf and his Magiks, and two stubborn Bagginse's , I don't think there's a thing in this world you can't do."
Frodo smiled.
"Thanks Uncle."
"Any time, my boy." There was a brief silence before they heard the telltale sounds of footsteps, and the clinking of a staff upon their doorstep, and Bilbo hustled to the door to greet his guests.
"Why, good afternoon, my dear!" Bilbo greeted with a smile taking his hand in hers.
"Good Afternoon, to you as well Bilbo."
"How is the boy doing?" Gandalf asked, stepping carefully through the too small door, ducking his head to avoid the low beams.
"Quite well actually. He's with Frodo in the sitting room."
He led Linda through the room to Kenshin who was amusing himself by watching Frodo doodle in the margins of the paper he was writing on earlier.
"Ahem." He uttered, getting Frodo's attention, who quickly rose to his feet to greet the guest.
"Oh, Linda!" He spoke kindly, before he was scooped up into a hug.
"Oh, dear Frodo, how have you been? Bilbo's been treating you right, has he?"
"I've been wonderful, of course uncle's been treating me right, and you worry about the strangest things Linda." Kenshin got to his feet as well, albeit slower.
"Konnichiwa, Sessha wa Kenshin desu." He bowed low.
Linda stared at him for a minute, before sweeping him into a protective hug. Despite the gentle way she handled the foreign boy, the accusatory look on her face was anything but.
"He doesn't speak the Common Tongue?! And what the blast is he doing out of bed?!" She asked incredulous. Bilbo shook his head.
"We've been teaching him best we can for the past couple days . . . He's getting better at it. Like a sponge, this lad is. Umm he doesn't seem to be pained or anything. . ."
"He's probably just putting on a brave face." She unconsciously tightened her grip, as though to protect him from something. Kenshin bit his lip to muffle the gasp.
"Kenshin, This is Linda. Can you try that? Lin-da."
"Rin-da." He spoke, his words muffled by Linda's shirt. Bilbo sighed.
"Close enough." At Linda's look he elaborated.
"Apparently, in Kenshin's language, they don't have 'L' in their alphabet."
"Really?" She asked intrigued as Kenshin carefully extracted himself from her grasp.
"Yes, it's the most frustratingly curious thing," He said, his brow furrowing.
"Strange . . . well I had best get to it." She said snapping her fingers at Bilbo.
"Help me with him. I want him in the bed, on his right side." She said as she grabbed the bandages from her bag. Kenshin saw this and seemed to get what was going on and complied to Bilbo's gentle prodding, and with their assistance, he carefully removed his shirt. The bandages showed signs of pink seeping through the gauze.
She was struck again by the numerous scars that littered his lithe body, she heard Bilbo whistle lowly beside her.
"Deary me, isn't he popular. . ." He muttered. He noticed his young nephew trying to peer over Linda's shoulder. Frodo didn't need to see this.
"Um, Frodo be a good lad and boil some water for Linda."
Frodo looked curious at what was going on, but complied.
"I'll help him," Gandalf spoke, leaving Bilbo and Linda alone.
Bilbo didn't want Frodo to see the blood and scars. He shouldn't bear witness to these things, not with those shinning blue eyes. He'd known enough violence in his short life. *
"Let's get started." Linda mumbled as she began to carefully unroll the linens. The cut was fairly clean, but it was definitely deep. He was lucky it hadn't pierced anything vital. A half an inch more and he wouldn't have survived the night.
"The major cut already looks like it's begun to heal, the other are more scattered, but they are already scabbing over, just make sure he's careful not to reopen them; they're bleeders."
Bilbo nodded, making mental notes while she continued to survey.
"Some of these scars look years old . . . I do hope he's older than he looks or he got these when he was barely a child!" Bilbo looked alarmed with the thought.
"Really?"
"Yes, really. The one on his face is at least seven-teen years old from what I can tell." Kenshin gently pushed her hand away, shaking his head, when she touched his x shaped scar. She removed the offending appendage, frowning slightly.
"These are not remotely life-threatening. . . How old is he?" She asked, and Bilbo shook his head.
"We haven't gotten that far with teaching him. He doesn't look much older than sixteen or seventeen in human years; well, from the human I've seen."
She shook her head wearily at this information.
"Too young." They both nodded and they had a brief moment of silence while she finished wrapping the new linens.
"With regular changes of his bandages, plenty of rest and good food, and he'll be back on his feet in no time," She stated, checking the tenderness of the skin. Kenshin just sat their quietly, submitting to her poking and prodding.
"Well that's wonderful news!" Bilbo smiled, taking the boiling water from Gandalf who just entered the room and Linda dumped the bloody bandages into the steaming water. She smiled wryly.
"Make sure to bring him down in a few days, and I'll change them again. . . Or if he isn't up to the exertion, I'll walk up here." She started gathering up her bag as Kenshin pulled his shirt back on.
"You take care of yourself, you hear?" She asked, turning towards Kenshin.
"On ni kimasu" He bowed again and smiled at her. She sighed.
"I'll take that as a yes." They met Frodo at the door. He was standing on the stoop talking to a short blonde hobbit who was watering the plants.
"Oh Good afternoon Mr. Bilbo, Mr. Gandalf, Miss Linda. How are you all today?" he asked, and then he blinked when he noticed the red-haired addition.
"This must be the one Mr. Frodo was tellin' me all about. Nice to meet you Kenshin, I'm Samwise Gamgee, but you can call me 'Sam.'"
" Nai-su to mi-chyu Sa-mu" He spoke uncertainly. Frodo gave him an encouraging smile.
"Good." Frodo turned to Samwise who was giving him a curious glance.
"He's only been learning the language for a couple days; he's already coming along quite nicely." Samwise's eyes widened at this, but Linda cut off his next question.
"Yes this is all very well, but I have a family to go prepare dinner for. You'll excuse me." She quirked her lips and continued.
"Not to mention the people just waiting to ambush me, wanting to hear about the mysterious visitor from the sky," She winked, and Bilbo looked beyond his garden gate and noticed several hobbits trying/failing to look nonchalant while passing by the house several times, trying to catch a glimpse of Kenshin.
"Bloody leeches." He muttered, mulling over the benefits of going over there and giving them a piece of his mind.
"I'll see you all in a couple days, goodbye everyone." She was out of the gate before Bilbo could blink.
"Comes and goes as she pleases," Bilbo huffed. Frodo just smiled.
Turning his attention on the blonde hobbit, Bilbo's smile once more took residence on his face.
"How are you dear Samwise?" Bilbo asked thumping his on the back.
"I'm doin' well sir, well as well as I can with all my hyacinths wilting in the heat," Sam shot the flowers a gaze.
"Gaffer not giving you too much trouble, I hope."
"No sir, not at all sir. Everything's nice an' quiet. . . . well, most of the time anyhow," He punctuated the statement with a smile.
"Yes, yes, that's all very well." Bilbo said, eager to get back inside the house and away from the prying eyes beyond the fence.
"Won't you come in? Have something to cool yourself off? I think we might have some iced tea," Frodo invited.
"Oh, Mr. Frodo I couldn't! The shrubs still need trimin' an' don't get me started about them Marygold's!"
"Let's have none of that, my boy. Come in and have a whisky," Bilbo decided.
"Uncle! It's barely one-o'clock! At least wait for supper to start pouring the alcohol!"
"Nonsense! It's never too early to take a load off, come and I'll pour you a glass as well." Bilbo urged; there was no changing the old hobbits mind once he'd made it up. Sam relented and followed the elder inside.
"Alright, but only one! I still have a mess of chores that need doin'!"
"Yes, yes of course." Bilbo smiled impishly, rubbing his hands together.
Approximately an hour and a half later, the house was filled with drunken rancorous laughter.
" . . . and the milkman asks, 'did you want your milk pasteurized?' to which the maiden assures him,
'I'm going to be bathing in it, so I don't need it past my eyes, just past my tits!" Bilbo barely muscled through the joke he was laughing so hard. Gandalf sat in the corner, a ring of smoke floating above his head. Every once and a while he would chortling in mirth, his ever watchful eyes twinkling. Kenshin was watching the trio of red-faced Hobbits with something between amusement and fear, when Sam came tumbling over whilst in the background Bilbo was trying to conduct a canon of "The Old Walking Song" with Frodo, who was singing a very off pitch falsetto part.
"Look Kenshyen," Sam slurred as he approached and Kenshin warily stepped away.
"You sheem like an oki guy, but I jush dunn trusht people who fall from the shky! Shrange shtar peoplesh an' all." He swung his arm companionably around Kenshin's shoulder, who would really prefer to be somewhere else at this point.
"But Mishter Frodo trushts you so Imma givin' you the benefits of the doubtfulsh, so we can be pal'sh."
"Oro?"
He got a sudden glazed look in his eye.
"I alwaysh wanted to have ginger kidsh . . ." He tapered off and Kenshin could have sworn he fell asleep for a brief moment.
"It looks like they started without us, Pip!"
"Here we are slaving away! Delivering packages and we find you three drinking away the day!"
"Without us!" Merry put in, doing a good impression of being cross.
Sam jolted awake, and with renewed energy, greeted the new arrivals.
"Merry, Pippin! How are's you guysh? I was just telling Mishter Kenshin that I love gingeroot . . . Did you bring back a shouveniur from you adventures with the elvesh?" The pair laughed.
"I want to shee the Elvesh!" He raved
"You my friend, are off your knocker, drunk!" Pippin announced merrily, and Sam pulled on a sullen look, like a child being told they were silly.
"I amsh'not!" He riled
"Jus' ask Kenshin, or Mishter Frodo! . . . Oh wait . . . Kenshin don't shpeak real good, so maybe jusht the Bagginshes' ."
"You must be Kenshin. I'm Merry. Nice ta finally meet cha!" He announced smiling proffering up a hand to shake.
"Goood Af-ter-noon. My. Name. is. Pip-pin." Pippin spoke slowly, like one might to a particularly stupid child.
"Pippin." Merry hissed. "That's rude!" Kenshin just smiled.
"Konnichiwa, ai, amu, Kenshin. Nisu to meetchu." He spoke haltingly and punctuated it with a polite bow. Merry, was caught off guard and immediately tried to do the same, forcing Pippin down with him. Pippin who was amusing himself with his three drunken friends, lashed out in surprise, causing Merry to lose his balance and reflexively reach out for something to stop his fall, only to meet the front of Pippins shirt. The effect causing both of them to land in a heap with an "Oomph!".
The result would not be considered "graceful" by any stretch of the imagination.
The three Hobbits immediately stopped their singing and began laughing at the sight of their two friends' tumble.
"Come my lads! We could use another pair of voices!" Bilbo announced grandly with a glazed look in him eyes, while Frodo and Sam tried to help the pair up without taking a tumble themselves.
"Hey, you wouldn' happen to have any of the old Toby on hand would ya?" Pippin queried, once he regained his bearings. The only time one could part the old Hobbit from his beloved (and heavily protected) tobacco supply was when he was drunk.
"O' course m' lad! Who do you think yer talkin' to?" Bilbo declared, bustling out of the room, to return moments later with said plant.
"Oh my, that's a beauty." Merry whistled lowly.
"It's the real deal Merry! Oooh, I want to hold it. . . " Pippin spoke with awe in his tone.
The room was swiftly filled with a thick smoke, that Kenshin couldn't help wrinkling his nose at. He left the house swiftly, just as another round of singing began. He shook his head wryly. They certainly were an . . . interesting folk.
He left the road and headed for the woods, where he thought he would have a better chance of avoiding contact with people. He hated not being able to communicate with people.
He ended up in front of a vast oak tree, so large he couldn't wrap his arms around it. He slumped against the bark, his eyes drifting lazily about; His thoughts just drifting around.
"Maybe everyone here is just short like that . . . except Gandalf-san." He thought to himself. He was amused by the thought that over here, tall people stuck out, unlike home where his height was the constant source of jabs; good-natured and otherwise.
"It's oddly refreshing being around people the same height; I never have to look up at anyone."
" . . . It's like a society of midgets. You fit right in." The voice supplied.
"WE fit right in." Kenshin corrected before smiling and continuing.
"Actually, now that I think about it, you're shorter than I am."
"No I'm not. I'm just your conscience; I don't have a physical form. . . . manifestation thingy."
"Perish the thought of you as my conscience. If anything it's the other way around, except I'm the conscience for the voice in my head."
"I'm sure that's a big hit with the ladies." Kenshin rolled his eyes. There were a few moments of silence.
"It's very peaceful here." Kenshin commented quietly. The voice snorted.
"Che, that's just another way of saying its freakin' boring around here!"
"If excitement is people always trying to kill me, you seriously need to find a better place to get your kicks. . ." Kenshin trailed off. The voice just glared at him.
"What do you think about this?" Kenshin asked after a few minutes of silence
"What do I think of what?" The voice asked, picking at its figurative fingernails.
"The whole situation. . . Being here, how I should get back, the people, the food. Everything." There was a moment of silence and Kenshin was mildly surprised to see that the voice was taking this seriously.
" . . . Well, for starters, I think it's safe to say that we did not land in the West." Kenshin winced. He figured that was the case, but he still hoped in the back of his mind that home was just a boat ride away.
"Maybe this is some kind of "parallel world" that those nerds are always talkin' about." The voice used the little air quotations, showing how little he invested in that theory.
"Any other theories?" Kenshin asked
"Not really . . . "
"Then the parallel worlds one is our best bet so far."
" . . . Of course you could have died and this is actually Hell or Purgatory or some shit like that."
"Gee . . . That sounds nice." Kenshin shook the figurative dust off his ill-used sarcasm. With the voice the only one he capable with communicating with, sarcasm was his best weapon for keeping his sanity.
"No problem. I also agree with your idea to keep our past-"
"Obviously!"
"- and our status as samurai, a secret." Suddenly, the voice rubbed his hands together.
"Think about it, absolutely no one knows our past . . . the possibilities are endless!"
"Yeah! We can use our now pristine reputation to do good-deeds throughout the land, and spread the values of friendship!" Kenshin said with exaggerated pep.
". . ." The voice began to bang itself against the walls and Kenshin laughed, but he stopped short, freezing on the spot.
"What is it?" The voice asked, sensing the nervous energy in its host.
"Well . . . keeping our Samurai status a secret shouldn't be a problem . . . I haven't seen the Sakbatou for a while."
"How long is a while" The voice asked, digging though the memories he'd slept through.
There were a few moments of precious silence.
"Haven't seen it for a while!? Oh really! Cause from the looks of it, it seems like you flat out lost that holy freakin' sword and the only weapon we had!" The voice hissed, and Kenshin had the good grace to look sheepish.
"Ooops?"
"You're goddamn right "Oops!" What the hell is wrong with you! It could be sitting in some bush somewhere. Or maybe some idiot farmer found it and is using it to hack at trees!" They both shivered at the thought of their beloved instrument being so mishandled.
"You're right, I'm sorry. I'll go look for it as soon as I can without arousing suspicion." The voice huffed at him, but agreed that it was probably for the best.
"Now that I think about it, I haven't seen a single weapon since we arrived." Kenshin mentioned thoughtfully. The voice just snorted.
"Does it look like these people get into many fights?" The voice said rhetorically. Kenshin opened his mouth to reply.
"Besides bar-fights."
Kenshin promptly closed it.
"They're just stupid farmers, happy to drink and smoke the night, or rather, midday away. . ." Kenshin sweat dropped.
"So far everyone you've met seems harmless enough." The voice admitted. Kenshin idly wrote out the names on the ground with a twig he found, labeling the list "My captors" at the voices insistence. He etched the characters slowly is his rough penmanship.
"There's Bilbo, Gandalf, Frodo, Sam and now Merry and Pippin. . . Oh and Linda, who was nice enough to patch us up." The voice nodded its figurative head, but frowned.
"That's all well and good, but there's something that doesn't sit right with me. I can't help feeling that we're missing something important with this Gandalf character."
Kenshin frowned. He rather liked the grandfatherly old man. He always seemed to know exactly what Kenshin needed, or meant, when he was having a hard time articulating.
"Important how?"
"Like how all everyone seems to listen to whatever he says . . . It's more than just being polite to you elders, it's like they trust him with something beyond respect," The voice tried to convey. Although they were technically sharing the same mind, they didn't always have the easiest time explaining things to each other. This was because each one could access a different part of the mind simultaneously. While it was perfect when they got into a serious fight, it also meant it took a bit of time to explain things.
"Kenshin! My dear boy, how are you!" Someone called, startling Kenshin out of his musings.
"Speak of the devil and he shall appear . . ." The voice tapered off. Correctly so. Gandalf came up the hill smile on his face.
"I was wondering where you'd gone off to. None of the Hobbits were any help if you can imagine that." Kenshin stared back blankly.
"He does remember that I can't understand him right?" The voice chuckled. Gandalf arrived at the top and his eyes flickered to the list of possible suspects Kenshin wrote up. His eyes widened exponentially.
"Kenshin . . ." Said shot him a cursory glance. The old man hesitated before using his stick to write something in the ground, just next to Kenshin's writings.
"Can you read this?" It read.
Kenshin blinked.
There in the dirt, the old man had carved the words in neat hiragana. He stared at the old man for a moment, before carving a response.
"Yes. How can you read this?" He asked raising an eyebrow suspiciously. The old man smiled.
"It's an ancient form of elvish writing systems . . .Few know it, and even less can speak it. Only certain elves have dedicated themselves to the task to preserve its history." Kenshin mulled this over and gave pause, before carefully carving;
"Are we in America? Or maybe England? Any of the Western countries?" Gandalf shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face, as Kenshin heaved a sigh.
"It thought not." The voice acknowledged wearily.
"Is this your original language?" Gandalf asked.
"Yes, at home it's called Nihongo." He answered.
"Here it's called "Lam-i-mitsui. Which roughly translates to 'The Language of the Wandering."
Kenshin smiled grimly.
"Befitting . . ."
"I do not think that you are from this world, . . . are you?" Gandalf asked and Kenshin shook his head, and the old man laughed silently.
"I didn't think so. Do you have any idea to how you got here?"
Kenshin cast his thoughts out for answers, but everything seemed blurry and unclear.
"There was this man . . . I . . ."
"Slept with his sister." The voice supplied, in lieu of the real answer, that he had killed a mans brother in cool blood and possibly killed the other man as well. Kenshin felt sick.
" . . . wronged his family, betraying their trust . . .he attacked me." Gandalf's eyes flashed at this.
"It was the knife." The voice filled in the blank
"There was this knife . . . it glowed like the moon. Something wasn't right about it." He shook his head, trying to come up with the right words to explain the air of peculiarity that surrounded the object.
"Perhaps it's possesses some magical properties."
"Magic?" Kenshin raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"They do not have magic in your world?" Gandalf asked amusedly.
"Some people think so . . . but a lot of those people are believed to be crazy" Gandalf laughed straight out.
"In Middle earth, believing there is no magic is crazier still."
Kenshin shrugged his shoulder. He was never one to dismiss the "impossible" when he'd been proved wrong. If a man can come back after being burned alive, then he had no room for skepticism.
"I think the old man's lost it," The voice announced, but Kenshin quickly shushed him.
"I know this must be a difficult thing for you, landing in a strange land where no one speaks your language, but we have a means of communication, if I can help you in any way, just ask." Kenshin smiled.
"So, in "Middle-Earth" are all the people short like Frodo and Bilbo? Are you just an exception? Is this the only country, and do the people all look the same?" Gandalf chuckled at his curiosity. Quite reminiscent of Frodo and his queries of the outside world.
"One at a time, my lad." Kenshin flushed at that. The elder took his time to fill his pipe and light it with all the care and precision of a surgeon. Kenshin waited patiently, but his nose crinkled at the sight of the pipe.
"In Middle-Earth, there are different Races of people."
" The elves, the dwarves, the humans and the hobbits. . . Now the elves are a race of immortal people of the wood, their hobbies include singing, archery, battles of wits, wine casting, study's of all sorts, and I have found that a great many enjoy a good bubble bath from time to time. . . ."
The hazy sun gradually traversed down the great blue until tints of pink permeated the evening. The old man, who Kenshin now understood to be a sorcerer of some kind, had scratched years of history and ways of this world upon the soft earth in tiny kanji and hiragana. Lines and lines of it be-told the sheer mass of what they were discussing. Kenshin himself wondered if he was really grasping the weight of what was being said.
At first he was overwhelmed by the idea of how people here could be so different. But he was reminded of a time when he felt similarly about the tales he heard about the west. Races here were the equivalence of ethnicities in his mind. The comparison brought a level of comfort from the slight familiarity. Even the fact that they had a history of conflicts was comforting.
"It's the same every place,"The voice sniffed, slightly disdainfully.
Through a brief series of comparisons, they had settled on the idea he was either from another world, or farther across the sea than Gandalf cared to imagine. Kenshin was somewhat resigned to the fact he was more sure it was the former
"I am so far away. . ."Kenshin thought, and the voice was at a loss. Optimism wasn't the voice's strong point; usually the sarcastic pessimist was his job, to keep the natural optimism and naïveté of his companion in check.
"Everything will be alright, my lad. You came here, and I am certain there is some way to send you back," Gandalf wrote, reading the despondent look on Kenshin's face. He gave Kenshin a reassuring smile, willing him to believe.
The voice was, for the first time, grateful for the presence of the old man. For being able to say what he was incapable of . . . The voice retreated deeper into the mind. Kenshin frowned at the sudden disappearance. Gandalf continued, unaware of the inner happenings of the young man across of him.
"For now, it would be safe to assume you were sent here for some purpose. Whether to help carry the groceries or to aid someone in need, everything has a purpose even if it seems menial." His blue eyes twinkled, and his face took a somewhat mysterious quality.
"You are correct, I will try to keep my thoughts on the present." He shot a nervous half-smile at the elder.
"Now! Think of what this mean! We now have a stable way of communication! This will make learning our language so much easier. That is something worth celebrating." Kenshin's mouth slowly spread into a true smile.
". . . You're right, This is remarkable!"
"Indeed. Now I think we should inform our companions of our most exciting discovery!"
A glance back at the hobbit-hole below told of a party that was still going strong. They could faintly hear traces of drunken singing. Kenshin sweat-dropped and Gandalf raised an eyebrow.
"Perhaps we should wait until they are a little less inebriated." Kenshin nodded in agreement, memories flashing through his mind, or his friends when they got drunk. He was glad none of them were as violent as Kaoru was when she got drunk. The night, he met Tomoe she was drunk, wasn't she . . . He shook himself back to the present, and realized that Gandalf had scrawled something on the dirt and was watching him for some kind of response.
"You should be prepared; as soon as Frodo realizes you aren't from this world, the floodgates will open and questions will flow like a great river!" Kenshin had already observed some curious tendencies the youngest had, and found them amusing.
"Well, come along, my lad, we have places to go, and drunken hobbits to tend to!" He began to trudge down the hill, and Kenshin, grasping the essence of what he said, trotted after him.
Yep. I love the voice! I con promise you he will continue to be a central character in the story . . .
So Basically, the idea is that Gandalf knows the writing system, but he doesn;t know how to speak it. Okay? Good.
Also, the "Violence" that Frodo has seen is his parents' drowning in a river. And that is enough violence for a hobbit. If it were any other hobbit.
REview?