Disclaimer: Tolkien is a genius. I own nothing of great worth, only two silly girls...and one other person...
Author's Note: Sorry if this story doesn't seem to be going anywhere. It really is. And the more Lord of the Rings-related part should be coming soon...if my fingers don't continue to come up with random stories about fluffy pink dresses and Twinkies. Anyways, enjoy, and do please review! It gives me happy fuzzies inside:-)
I dive into the pink floof and pull Sasha out. "Sasha? Are you okay?" I ask worriedly. Her head lolls to one side, and I quickly check for a pulse, then sigh. She's alive. Slightly less worried, I begin to grumble. "Twinkies! Never should have trusted Twinkies that appear in the middle of Rivendell, buried in the folds of a suspicious pink abomination of a dress. Why did we have to be so stupid!" I pluck the remains of the Twinkie from Sasha's grasp and examine them closely. Nothing seems to be wrong with it from the outside, so I begin to pull it apart. "Gross!" I say in disgust as funny green liquid drips out. Carefully placing the dripping Twinkie out of the way, I heave Sasha onto the bed.
"Now what?" I wonder aloud. "I have no idea what Sasha discovered. I'm stuck in a room somewhere in Rivendell with an unconscious friend, a fluffy pink dress, and a poisoned Twinkie.
"At least you know somewhat where you are," comes a voice from behind me. I spin around, but I don't see anyone.
"Hello? Who's there?" I hear a loud sigh of disgust.
"It's not as if I'm invisible. I'm right here!" I squint in confusion. The voice seems to be coming from beside the window, but there's no one there. I walk over to see if the person is standing outside the window, but as soon as I do the voice sighs again. "Stop!" it commands. I roll my eyes.
"Sorry if I'm blind," I say with sarcasm. "But your voice does seem to be coming from over here."
"Reverberations in the room. I don't know. All I know is that I'm not over there; I'm over here. Now if you'd just come back to where you were standing and then look up, you might find me." Frustrated, I stomp back over and look up in irritation.
"You're a nuisance," I say to the face I see, not bothering to wonder why it's extremely dirty or even why it's there in the ceiling. "You're a pain in the butt, and I don't like you." And with that I walk back over to the bed to check on Sasha. Of course, words don't take out frustration very well, so I decide that it's about time Sasha woke up. Picking up a very soft pillow, I begin whacking her face with it. She'll survive. But then I get a better idea.
I look up at the ceiling, noting that the bed is not visible from the hole where I saw the face. Looking around the room, I locate the items that my scheme will require. I grab the chair from the desk and place it directly beneath the hole, giving the face a rotten look as I do. Then I walk over and discreetly pick up the remains of the Twinkie. I wipe the dripping green slime on the dress, then hold the Twinkie behind my back. Then, resolutely, I climb up on the chair, and in one swift movement shove the mooshed and dripping Twinkie remnants into the mouth of the astonished face. Grinning with childish glee, I jump down and wait for the results of my scheme to play out. I don't have to wait for long.
Amidst much coughing and spluttering, a filthy boy slithers halfway out of the ceiling, then falls the rest of the way out. He clutches his throat dramatically and gurgles something like "foul fiend," then grabs his head. "Anecdote!" he screams. I look confused. "No! Not anecdote. Ani…ano…anomaly…animalia…ani…ani…No! NO! NO! An…an…ans…and…ant, yes! Anta…ante…anti…anticipation…antecedent…ugh! What is it?" While I look on in utter bewilderment, the boy falls over, then struggles to get back up, mumbling the whole time. "Antigen…antic…really bad vocabulary..." He looks at me helplessly, weakly pawing at the air. "Help. Anti…anti-something. Against poison. Anti…"
I squint, then, realizing what he means, say, "Oh! Antidote!" A bit of light returns to his eyes.
"Yes," he whispers weakly, eyelids fluttering. He lifts his hand slowly, palm up, and says, "Antidote." I blink in confusion, but as soon as I do, I see a small glass vial in his hand that was most definitely not there a moment ago. With great effort, the boy manages to sit up halfway and upend the contents of the vial into his mouth. Sighing, he slumps back and closes his eyes.
Definite confusion. What on earth just happened? I wonder, not comprehending a thing that just occurred. Uncertainly, I walk over to the boy and nudge his leg with my foot.
"I beg your pardon." I jump a mile backwards in fright.
"Gosh!" I take a deep breath and try to calm my pounding heart. "Gosh, kid! I thought you were dead or something."
"Um, hello? Antidote?" He opens one eye and raises one eyebrow at me. Closing his eye again and shifting to a more comfortable position, he continues. "I was taking a little nap, if you don't mind, seeing as I was just nearly murdered by an evil fiend of DOOM!"
"I beg your pardon," I proclaim sarcastically. "I was just frightened out of my wits by a shrimpy little boy who fell out of the ceiling and into my room. So sorry. And not to mention the fact that I did not nearly murder you. Sasha ate the same stuff, and she is doing just fine, thank you very much."
"Minus being unconscious," he said scornfully. "Which will continue to be true for the next 48 hours."
"WHAT?!?" I shriek, then pause, letting that comment register in my head. "How do you know that?"
"'Cause I conjured it, so to speak."
"And I expect you were the one to inject it in the Twinkies, eh?"
"Yes."
"Yes? That's all you have to say for yourself? That unconscious girl has some very important information for me. If she doesn't wake up sometime in the next two minutes, there will be hell to pay!"
"Yes, yes. Nice to meet you too. I'm Dakota."
