oos: Such.... little... INSPIRATION! (tries to rip out hair) Ow! (mutters) That hurt....... anyway, it's SNOWING! ^_^ YAYYYYYYYYYY!
Insults Galore, a Nasty Dead Body, and a Creepy-Deepy Forest
The Riders skillfully spun the horses on their haunches to face the four figures and the ones that had already passed circled back and around until the remainder of the Fellowship was surrounded.
The leader's horse stepped forward, staring at them suspiciously.
"Who are you and what are you doing in this land?"
Aithril wrinkled her nose in distaste at the man's attitude. She caught Legolas's eye and mouthed, "He needs to take it down a notch."
A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it and Aragorn sent a swift glare in the elf's direction. The Man took it upon himself to answer for the group.
"I am called Strider, from the North. I am hunting Orcs."
The man dismounted gracefully from his horse, holding his spear lightly between two fingers.
The leader drew his sword and looked long and hard upon the face of Aragorn.
"At first I thought that you yourselves were Orcs," He replied. But now I see that it is not so. Indeed, you know little of Orcs if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well armed, and there were many. You would have changed from hunter to prey if ever you had overtaken them. But there is something strange about you, Strider."
His eyes passed over the Man's face again.
"The name does not fit you. But then again, your gear and clothes are queer too. How is it that we passed you by? Did you spring out of the grass? Or are you all elves?"
"Only one of us is an elf," Aragorn answered. "But we come with the favor and the gifts of the Lady of the Wood."
Murmurs from the men on horseback surrounding the leader rose into a muffled roar. It was stopped with the raise of a firm palm. He lowered it.
"Then there is a Lady of the Golden Wood, as old tales tell. Indeed, I am amazed that you escaped her nets," The man admitted. "But still this does not bode in your favor. Emerging alive from her forest indicates you may be net-weavers and socerers, maybe."
He suddenly turned his piercing gaze to fall on Legolas, Gimli, and Aithril. "Why do you not speak, silent ones? Have you lost your tongues?"
Gimli's dark eyes flashed and a growl so low that it was only heard by the elves filtered through his beard. He planted his axe in the ground and leaned upon it, casually.
"Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides."
"As it would be," the Man gritted his teeth. "It is common courtesy for the stranger to give his first. But I will humor you; I am Eomer son of Eomund and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark."
"Then Eomer son of Eomund, the Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Gloin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak of evil that is fair beyond the reach of your thought and only little wit can excuse you."
The lines that were set into Eomer's forehead deepened in rage. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
Legolas fit an arrow to his bow quicker than the eye could see and was about to reply rather harshly when he was cut off as soon as he opened his mouth.
Aithril was feeling rather annoyed by this point, and spoke without thinking.
"And if your head was a little emptier, Middle Earth could be stuffed inside with a little room left over for your sorry ass!" She retorted, eyes blazing a ferocious green.
"Silence, wench!" Eomer swept her aside violently with a flick of his spear and Legolas was forced to release his arrow into the sky so it would not pierce her as she fell.
The elf-maiden's skull sounded with an audible crack as it connected with a rock, and she lay still.
The men in Eomer's company winced, and even the Marshal looked a little guilty. He took a step towards her limp form, perhaps to see if she was all right, but froze as a sharp point pressed forcefully into the right side of his neck.
He started to protest. "I was just-"
"You will die if you take another pace closer to her," warned the cool and deadly voice of Legolas.
Eomer's lower lip curled in fury. He brought his spear to the ready and struck a fighting stance.
Things might have turned out even worse if Aragorn had not sprang between them at that moment, knocking the Elf's arrow aside.
"Enough!" he cried. "Your pardon, Eomer! We have been through much and are in dire need to continuing. But will you not hear our tale before you strike?"
"I will," Eomer replied curtly. He lowered his spear to be held in a relaxed grip and leaned upon it, ready for a long story.
(oos: See? I'm hardly concentrating on them at all! Now for the star of our show.... AITHRIL!)
***
"Aithril..... Aithril...."
The red-haired Elf stirred at the sound of her name. "Mom?" she murmured. "Is that you?"
"Aithril. Find the Ring-Bearer and his companion."
"Mom?" Aithril questioned again, struggling to remain concious. She weakly peaked out form beneath long lashes and saw only a bright, hospital-white that near blinded her.
"Am I dead?"
The voice, which had been deadly solemn up until this point, chuckled merrily. "No, child. You must find the Ring-Bearer and his companion. Will you do this for me?"
"Yes," Aithril yawned, suddenly exhausted.
"Good." A cool hand lightly passed over her forehead. "Rest now."
The Elf-maiden was already fast asleep.
***
"Come, Mr. Frodo!" Sam called over his shoulder. "I think I may have found a passage out."
"Excellent," Frodo replied dutifully. He had long grown used to uttering such useless replies. The Ring-Bearer cringed, waiting for his faithful friend to say the next line in their familiar script, and he was not disappointed.
"Never mind..." Sam huffed as Frodo rounded the corner. They were looking down into a valley sealed off on three sides that was filled with an impossible number of sharp obsidian spikes. "Looks like another dead-end." He sighed, scanning the sea of black rocks quickly.
Frodo sighed in return and turned away when a flash of light grey caught his eye. He whipped back around, certain it was something after them, a Dark Servant of Sauron. The grey splotch among the black remained still and looked like flesh.
"What is it?" Sam cried, alarmed.
"What is that?" The older Hobbit muttered, pointing it out for Sam.
"I don't know, sir." The companion answered, his voice quiet even for a whisper. It trembled with fear.
"Let's leave." The cloak of Lothlorien swirled around his ankles as he turned to go and Sam felt himself unexplainably drawn to the grey figure.
"Mr. Frodo! Please, I think we should go see what it is."
A note of desperation in his voice halted Frodo in his tracks. He regarded the younger Hobbit thoughtfully.
"Why?"
"I- I don't know, sir." Sam said. "Please! Trust me on this!" He sounded more certain.
"Alright." Frodo gave in easily; he didn't have the strength for such arguements. "Let's take a look."
Thankfully, the grey figure was relatively close, so there was no chance of the Hobbits getting lost. Inch by inch, they climbed down into the valley, hardly daring to breathe lest they awaken It.
When they were only about a quarter of a league from the body - now their nightmares had made them positive of this fact - Sam noticed bright red blood oozing from beneath it. The cause was obvious; the body was impaled on an extrordinarily sharpened rock.
"I think it's most definitely dead, sir." He said unnecessarily.
"Indeed." Frodo replied grimly. "A bit closer now."
He edged warily towards the corpse until he was only a few steps away. Giant, lifeless eyes, like those of a cave-dweller's, stared at him blankly from a grey shruken head that had obviously been exposed for the brief rain that had fallen the night before.
Sam shuddered as the Ring-Bearer examined the thing more closely. At last, he pulled away and announced, "I do believe it's Gollum."
There was a short period of silence in which they absorbed this news.
"I d-did hear a scream the day before yesterday." Sam shared, gulping like a fish. "Though I do wonder what caused him to fall like that."
"I also wonder that." Frodo said gravely. "But it is easier on my mind now that Gollum isn't stalking us so." He glanced around, noticing the absense of even the crows and vultures. "Perhaps we should leave before the reason takes care of us also."
"Let's." answered Sam heartily and the pair retracted their steps to find themselves back on the valley's edge.
***
The Forest the Merry and Pippin had entered did not exactly feel friendly. It was dark, and tangled, and as their immediate fear of being followed by Orcs diminished, they became aware of the lack of air- or perhaps just the thickness of it.
"We can't go on like this," Merry finally huffed. He squatted down to drink from a leave covered in dew.
Pippin flopped down onto the ground, exhausted.
"Merry, I'm tired." He complained.
The other Hobbit cuffed him good-naturedly. "It's the air," He explained. "I'm having difficulty breathing myself."
Pippin rubbed the back of his head (oos: AWWWWW! SO KAWAII!) absentmindedly and stared all around. He abruptly squinted.
"What it is, Pip?" Merry caught the look of puzzlement in his friend's eyes.
"Is that a patch of sunlight?"
Merry strained his eyes and was able to catch sight of the feebly glowing light.
"Let's have a look!" Merry replied eagerly. The Hobbits began their long trek and discovered the distance between them and the light was larger and more tedious than they had previously assumed.
Finally, Merry staggered into the sunlight. "Ah..." he sighed.
Pippin nearly fell on top of him as he collapsed into the sunlight.
"It's rather beautiful here..." He murmured, half-blinded by the cheerful sunlight. "Let's go take a look from above." he suggested, pointing to a tree.
Merry nodded and, pulling himself vertical, jumped onto a lower branch. Pippin followed, trying not to look down (for Hobbits are not all-together too fond of heights). He had nearly lost this battle and was about to tell Merry he was climbing back down when the other Hobbit called, "Look, Pippin! It's a fine sight for sore eyes!"
With new determination, he scrambled up the top-most branches and emerged with a gasp into fresh air. The good news was that, from above, the forest looked breath-taking, the opposite of what lay beneath the canopy.
The bad news summarized the fact that clouds were blowing in.
"I'm afraid this is only a passing gleam, and it will all go grey again," said Pippin. "What a pity! This shaggy old forest looked so different in the sunlight. I almost felt I liked the place."
"Almost felt you liked the forest! How good! How uncommonly kind of you!" said a strange voice. "Turn round and let me have a look at your faces. I almost feel that I dislike you both, but do not let us be hasty. Turn around!"
A large, knarled hand turned them gently, but irresistably around.
***
"Aithril? Aithril! Please wake!" Legolas pleaded. His fair face was drawn with worry.
To his relief, her eyes flickered open and recognized the Elf almost immediately.
"Legolas!" she smiled up at him, emerald eyes twinkling. "I had thought I would never see-"
Her lips were captured in his own as he kissed her. Her eyes widened in suprise before they relaxed, filled with happiness. Legolas withdrew quickly, embarassed, as he realized the amused audiance he had gained and cleared his throat.
"Well," Aithril said, once she had caught her breath. "If that's going to happen every time I hit my head, maybe I'll do it more often."
Legolas's mouth opened to protest even as she winked mischeviously at him. He snapped it shut without a word.
Aragorn patiently explained all she had missed as she wobbled unsteadily to her feet with Legolas's help.
"And that's very grand and all," Aithril sighed, shaking her head to clear away the cloud that still hovered there. "But I must be going."
"What?!" Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli cried all at once. Everyone turned to stare at Gimli and his face reddened behind his beard. "What?" he mumbled.
Aithril grinned at the aghast faces and held up her hands to pacify them.
"I must go to find Frodo and Sam. While I was asleep...." She sought words to explain it, then shrugged. "Trust me on this. I have to leave to guide them."
"But- but- it's dangerous!" Legolas cried, crushing her into an anxious hug.
"That's half the reason it must be done," She answered simply, tightening her grip around him.
The Elf-Maiden turned to Eomer, a frown hovering about her features in remembrance of his earlier actions. "Have you a horse I can borrow?"
"Of course, M'lady," He replied stiffly and whistled to a Rider. He nearly fell over in his struggle to breathe quietly.
"Someone needs to get laid..." Aithril murmured to Aragorn and he choked, entering a 'coughing spasm' that continued even as she mounted the blue roan mare that was brought out to her.
"Her name is Berry," a soldier piped up and a smile graced Aithril's lips.
"Goodbye," She said softly to the portion of the Fellowship she was leaving behind.
"Have a safe journey," Aragorn commented, and her smile widened.
"I'll try to be back soon."
Legolas watched, his heart breaking as she rode away, not breaking his gaze until she was a speck in the distance.
***
Aragorn could not get the prophecy out of his head as they were presented with horses from Eomer.
*In a time far beyond our own,
From a different land and different home,
An elf will come that is the one,
None will be right till her deed is done.
Blood is the color of her hair,
Her face is perilous and fair,
Dark green is the color of her eyes,
Do not fear; they speak no lies.
She will help achieve the quest,
Set upon the very best
Of dwarves, elves, and bravest men,
Together, a Fellowship of Ten.*
oos: Holy CRAP! LONG CHAPPIE! lol, I hope you enjoyed it. I'll try to update soon, but no guarentees!
Insults Galore, a Nasty Dead Body, and a Creepy-Deepy Forest
The Riders skillfully spun the horses on their haunches to face the four figures and the ones that had already passed circled back and around until the remainder of the Fellowship was surrounded.
The leader's horse stepped forward, staring at them suspiciously.
"Who are you and what are you doing in this land?"
Aithril wrinkled her nose in distaste at the man's attitude. She caught Legolas's eye and mouthed, "He needs to take it down a notch."
A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it and Aragorn sent a swift glare in the elf's direction. The Man took it upon himself to answer for the group.
"I am called Strider, from the North. I am hunting Orcs."
The man dismounted gracefully from his horse, holding his spear lightly between two fingers.
The leader drew his sword and looked long and hard upon the face of Aragorn.
"At first I thought that you yourselves were Orcs," He replied. But now I see that it is not so. Indeed, you know little of Orcs if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well armed, and there were many. You would have changed from hunter to prey if ever you had overtaken them. But there is something strange about you, Strider."
His eyes passed over the Man's face again.
"The name does not fit you. But then again, your gear and clothes are queer too. How is it that we passed you by? Did you spring out of the grass? Or are you all elves?"
"Only one of us is an elf," Aragorn answered. "But we come with the favor and the gifts of the Lady of the Wood."
Murmurs from the men on horseback surrounding the leader rose into a muffled roar. It was stopped with the raise of a firm palm. He lowered it.
"Then there is a Lady of the Golden Wood, as old tales tell. Indeed, I am amazed that you escaped her nets," The man admitted. "But still this does not bode in your favor. Emerging alive from her forest indicates you may be net-weavers and socerers, maybe."
He suddenly turned his piercing gaze to fall on Legolas, Gimli, and Aithril. "Why do you not speak, silent ones? Have you lost your tongues?"
Gimli's dark eyes flashed and a growl so low that it was only heard by the elves filtered through his beard. He planted his axe in the ground and leaned upon it, casually.
"Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides."
"As it would be," the Man gritted his teeth. "It is common courtesy for the stranger to give his first. But I will humor you; I am Eomer son of Eomund and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark."
"Then Eomer son of Eomund, the Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Gloin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak of evil that is fair beyond the reach of your thought and only little wit can excuse you."
The lines that were set into Eomer's forehead deepened in rage. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
Legolas fit an arrow to his bow quicker than the eye could see and was about to reply rather harshly when he was cut off as soon as he opened his mouth.
Aithril was feeling rather annoyed by this point, and spoke without thinking.
"And if your head was a little emptier, Middle Earth could be stuffed inside with a little room left over for your sorry ass!" She retorted, eyes blazing a ferocious green.
"Silence, wench!" Eomer swept her aside violently with a flick of his spear and Legolas was forced to release his arrow into the sky so it would not pierce her as she fell.
The elf-maiden's skull sounded with an audible crack as it connected with a rock, and she lay still.
The men in Eomer's company winced, and even the Marshal looked a little guilty. He took a step towards her limp form, perhaps to see if she was all right, but froze as a sharp point pressed forcefully into the right side of his neck.
He started to protest. "I was just-"
"You will die if you take another pace closer to her," warned the cool and deadly voice of Legolas.
Eomer's lower lip curled in fury. He brought his spear to the ready and struck a fighting stance.
Things might have turned out even worse if Aragorn had not sprang between them at that moment, knocking the Elf's arrow aside.
"Enough!" he cried. "Your pardon, Eomer! We have been through much and are in dire need to continuing. But will you not hear our tale before you strike?"
"I will," Eomer replied curtly. He lowered his spear to be held in a relaxed grip and leaned upon it, ready for a long story.
(oos: See? I'm hardly concentrating on them at all! Now for the star of our show.... AITHRIL!)
***
"Aithril..... Aithril...."
The red-haired Elf stirred at the sound of her name. "Mom?" she murmured. "Is that you?"
"Aithril. Find the Ring-Bearer and his companion."
"Mom?" Aithril questioned again, struggling to remain concious. She weakly peaked out form beneath long lashes and saw only a bright, hospital-white that near blinded her.
"Am I dead?"
The voice, which had been deadly solemn up until this point, chuckled merrily. "No, child. You must find the Ring-Bearer and his companion. Will you do this for me?"
"Yes," Aithril yawned, suddenly exhausted.
"Good." A cool hand lightly passed over her forehead. "Rest now."
The Elf-maiden was already fast asleep.
***
"Come, Mr. Frodo!" Sam called over his shoulder. "I think I may have found a passage out."
"Excellent," Frodo replied dutifully. He had long grown used to uttering such useless replies. The Ring-Bearer cringed, waiting for his faithful friend to say the next line in their familiar script, and he was not disappointed.
"Never mind..." Sam huffed as Frodo rounded the corner. They were looking down into a valley sealed off on three sides that was filled with an impossible number of sharp obsidian spikes. "Looks like another dead-end." He sighed, scanning the sea of black rocks quickly.
Frodo sighed in return and turned away when a flash of light grey caught his eye. He whipped back around, certain it was something after them, a Dark Servant of Sauron. The grey splotch among the black remained still and looked like flesh.
"What is it?" Sam cried, alarmed.
"What is that?" The older Hobbit muttered, pointing it out for Sam.
"I don't know, sir." The companion answered, his voice quiet even for a whisper. It trembled with fear.
"Let's leave." The cloak of Lothlorien swirled around his ankles as he turned to go and Sam felt himself unexplainably drawn to the grey figure.
"Mr. Frodo! Please, I think we should go see what it is."
A note of desperation in his voice halted Frodo in his tracks. He regarded the younger Hobbit thoughtfully.
"Why?"
"I- I don't know, sir." Sam said. "Please! Trust me on this!" He sounded more certain.
"Alright." Frodo gave in easily; he didn't have the strength for such arguements. "Let's take a look."
Thankfully, the grey figure was relatively close, so there was no chance of the Hobbits getting lost. Inch by inch, they climbed down into the valley, hardly daring to breathe lest they awaken It.
When they were only about a quarter of a league from the body - now their nightmares had made them positive of this fact - Sam noticed bright red blood oozing from beneath it. The cause was obvious; the body was impaled on an extrordinarily sharpened rock.
"I think it's most definitely dead, sir." He said unnecessarily.
"Indeed." Frodo replied grimly. "A bit closer now."
He edged warily towards the corpse until he was only a few steps away. Giant, lifeless eyes, like those of a cave-dweller's, stared at him blankly from a grey shruken head that had obviously been exposed for the brief rain that had fallen the night before.
Sam shuddered as the Ring-Bearer examined the thing more closely. At last, he pulled away and announced, "I do believe it's Gollum."
There was a short period of silence in which they absorbed this news.
"I d-did hear a scream the day before yesterday." Sam shared, gulping like a fish. "Though I do wonder what caused him to fall like that."
"I also wonder that." Frodo said gravely. "But it is easier on my mind now that Gollum isn't stalking us so." He glanced around, noticing the absense of even the crows and vultures. "Perhaps we should leave before the reason takes care of us also."
"Let's." answered Sam heartily and the pair retracted their steps to find themselves back on the valley's edge.
***
The Forest the Merry and Pippin had entered did not exactly feel friendly. It was dark, and tangled, and as their immediate fear of being followed by Orcs diminished, they became aware of the lack of air- or perhaps just the thickness of it.
"We can't go on like this," Merry finally huffed. He squatted down to drink from a leave covered in dew.
Pippin flopped down onto the ground, exhausted.
"Merry, I'm tired." He complained.
The other Hobbit cuffed him good-naturedly. "It's the air," He explained. "I'm having difficulty breathing myself."
Pippin rubbed the back of his head (oos: AWWWWW! SO KAWAII!) absentmindedly and stared all around. He abruptly squinted.
"What it is, Pip?" Merry caught the look of puzzlement in his friend's eyes.
"Is that a patch of sunlight?"
Merry strained his eyes and was able to catch sight of the feebly glowing light.
"Let's have a look!" Merry replied eagerly. The Hobbits began their long trek and discovered the distance between them and the light was larger and more tedious than they had previously assumed.
Finally, Merry staggered into the sunlight. "Ah..." he sighed.
Pippin nearly fell on top of him as he collapsed into the sunlight.
"It's rather beautiful here..." He murmured, half-blinded by the cheerful sunlight. "Let's go take a look from above." he suggested, pointing to a tree.
Merry nodded and, pulling himself vertical, jumped onto a lower branch. Pippin followed, trying not to look down (for Hobbits are not all-together too fond of heights). He had nearly lost this battle and was about to tell Merry he was climbing back down when the other Hobbit called, "Look, Pippin! It's a fine sight for sore eyes!"
With new determination, he scrambled up the top-most branches and emerged with a gasp into fresh air. The good news was that, from above, the forest looked breath-taking, the opposite of what lay beneath the canopy.
The bad news summarized the fact that clouds were blowing in.
"I'm afraid this is only a passing gleam, and it will all go grey again," said Pippin. "What a pity! This shaggy old forest looked so different in the sunlight. I almost felt I liked the place."
"Almost felt you liked the forest! How good! How uncommonly kind of you!" said a strange voice. "Turn round and let me have a look at your faces. I almost feel that I dislike you both, but do not let us be hasty. Turn around!"
A large, knarled hand turned them gently, but irresistably around.
***
"Aithril? Aithril! Please wake!" Legolas pleaded. His fair face was drawn with worry.
To his relief, her eyes flickered open and recognized the Elf almost immediately.
"Legolas!" she smiled up at him, emerald eyes twinkling. "I had thought I would never see-"
Her lips were captured in his own as he kissed her. Her eyes widened in suprise before they relaxed, filled with happiness. Legolas withdrew quickly, embarassed, as he realized the amused audiance he had gained and cleared his throat.
"Well," Aithril said, once she had caught her breath. "If that's going to happen every time I hit my head, maybe I'll do it more often."
Legolas's mouth opened to protest even as she winked mischeviously at him. He snapped it shut without a word.
Aragorn patiently explained all she had missed as she wobbled unsteadily to her feet with Legolas's help.
"And that's very grand and all," Aithril sighed, shaking her head to clear away the cloud that still hovered there. "But I must be going."
"What?!" Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli cried all at once. Everyone turned to stare at Gimli and his face reddened behind his beard. "What?" he mumbled.
Aithril grinned at the aghast faces and held up her hands to pacify them.
"I must go to find Frodo and Sam. While I was asleep...." She sought words to explain it, then shrugged. "Trust me on this. I have to leave to guide them."
"But- but- it's dangerous!" Legolas cried, crushing her into an anxious hug.
"That's half the reason it must be done," She answered simply, tightening her grip around him.
The Elf-Maiden turned to Eomer, a frown hovering about her features in remembrance of his earlier actions. "Have you a horse I can borrow?"
"Of course, M'lady," He replied stiffly and whistled to a Rider. He nearly fell over in his struggle to breathe quietly.
"Someone needs to get laid..." Aithril murmured to Aragorn and he choked, entering a 'coughing spasm' that continued even as she mounted the blue roan mare that was brought out to her.
"Her name is Berry," a soldier piped up and a smile graced Aithril's lips.
"Goodbye," She said softly to the portion of the Fellowship she was leaving behind.
"Have a safe journey," Aragorn commented, and her smile widened.
"I'll try to be back soon."
Legolas watched, his heart breaking as she rode away, not breaking his gaze until she was a speck in the distance.
***
Aragorn could not get the prophecy out of his head as they were presented with horses from Eomer.
*In a time far beyond our own,
From a different land and different home,
An elf will come that is the one,
None will be right till her deed is done.
Blood is the color of her hair,
Her face is perilous and fair,
Dark green is the color of her eyes,
Do not fear; they speak no lies.
She will help achieve the quest,
Set upon the very best
Of dwarves, elves, and bravest men,
Together, a Fellowship of Ten.*
oos: Holy CRAP! LONG CHAPPIE! lol, I hope you enjoyed it. I'll try to update soon, but no guarentees!