Hellooooo peoples! Here is chapter 9, for your reading enjoyment/intense curiosity.
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As promised, THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO: lmamc, FreeSpiritSeeker, my EPIC BETA StormwalkerofLorien, Michelle1294, drwatsonn, LadyVanya, WandSparksRCoolerThanFireworks, LITTLE RED FOXX, My Name is Alice, BlossomsAtSunrise, and two Guests, VisitorAJ and Violetheart. Thank you all for your awesome comments and support! (Its like 3 in the morning here in Hawaii, otherwise I'd answer the questions/statements. I'll...have to get back to you all. O.o)
Okay!
!WARNING!
THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: PROTECTIVE MEASURES, UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTERS, HORSES, STEEP STAIRCASES, SASSBACK SEQUENCES, MISUNDERSTANDINGS, SWORD FIGHTING LESSONS, ASS WHOOPING (ON BOTH SIDES,) A VALARDAMMED RANGER, AND ONE, TWO AND POSSIBLY THREE IF YOU SQUINT ROMANCE SCENES.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
ONWARD!
Chapter 9
In Which I Accept My Mission, and Prove My Badass Skills
Last Chapter:
. . .
"I hate this place already," I said aloud, thinking. The hobbits looked up, a bit surprised. I had said only a handful of one word sentences since the Marshes the day before. But after a moment my words registered in their minds, and they stared grimly at the ruined tower with me.
"We shall rest here for the night," Aragorn said, and began making his way down the hill.
I clenched my fists at his insensitivity, but knew he was right. There was no forest that could afford us adequate coverage nearby. The ruins were our only chance to stay safe.
And, as it were, get into some serious shit.
Oh, boy.
. . .
We made it to the base of the ruins by nightfall. By then, I was legitimately cold, and crabby.
"C-come on," I chattered, herding the hobbits up the staircase. "Up you go. Watch your step, there's rub-bb-bly b-b-bits all over the place." I shook my head, then rubbed at my arms and stamped to get warm before readjusting my pack and hauling ass up the stairs myself.
Good god, it's cold. Was it this cold last night? I don't think it was this cold last… I trailed off mentally, as we reached the overlook. I recognized it from the film, actually. Damn, was it creepy how certain places were such exact matches to the movies; it was seriously uncanny.
Aragorn set down the packs that had been on Horatio's back, and glanced over at me with a vaguely concerned look. I looked away, quickly. We hadn't really spoken since I'd snapped at him the day before, but I knew that he was worried about me. Which normally, I would consider stupid, only right now, I was kinda worried about me too.
I set about helping the hobbits unroll their beds for the night, giving very specific instructions to NOT, FOR ANY REASON WHATSOEVER, light a fire. Instead I lit their pipes quickly with matches while using Aragorn as a body shield for light, and asked them to kindly stick to our somewhat lacking eating arrangements for the night. They hid the light from their pipes with their sleeves and, in Merry's case, my cloak, as I went to put my own pack in a corner. Unfortunately, no trees meant I had to sleep on the ground.
"Marilyn." It was Aragorn, standing at the entrance to the lookout almost tone of voice made my stomach jump, as if it were my father telling me I was in big trouble, young lady. "I could use your help with the horse."
After a moment of hesitation, I sighed. "Right." I turned to the hobbits. "Think you guys can do without me for a bit?"
They snickered. "We'll do our best, Miss MJ," said Sam good naturedly. "Though the class of the conversation may take a downhill tumble till your return."
I'll admit I grinned at this. "You keep it classy, Sean," I said, pointing two fingers at him before stepping out with Aragorn.
He led me back down the staircase. As soon as I'd left the lookout, the wind hit me full force, and I felt so thoroughly chilled, chilled in a way I hadn't felt since I'd arrived. I shivered again and slouched in on myself to maintain as much body heat as possible.
Midway down the stairs, just as I was thinking, I am going to freeze my ass off tonight; quite literally, I may wake up tomorrow with no ass at all, Aragorn stopped and turned back to face me. I almost tumbled into him with the suddenness of his halt; that, and I was a bit off kilter due to the gale blowing around us. But we were in a sort of alcove, I realized, where the hobbits couldn't see us from above and we were sheltered from the wind more than on the rest of the path.
So pretty much, I ran straight into him.
Aragorn gripped me steadily by the arms, and helped me regain my footing. "Easy," he said lowly, brushing some rubble away from my feet with one of his boots. When we both looked up, our faces were mere inches apart.
My god, did that man have some beautiful eyes.
And something about the way the wind was whipping his hair about his eyes was completely…
At that moment, he blinked, twice, and pulled back. I blinked rapidly and cleared my throat in a weak way, staring back down at my feet.
I heard something swishing, then, the next moment, something heavy was being set onto my shoulders. It was his cloak, I realized, and looked up to see him very, very close to my face again.
He was just fastening the clasp of the cloak, but still….
"You must stay warm, my lady," he said gently, focusing hard on the clasp and not on my face. I looked up to avoid staring at his face. A moment later, his hands fell away from my throat, and I felt my heartbeat stabilizing.
That is, until he gently took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and gently forced me to make eye contact with him. His eyes were keen, and worried. "I know you worry much for the hobbits, but you must keep yourself warm."
"They are important," I said simply, trying not to meet his gaze, as it sent my stomach into frenzy.
"And you are not?" He pressed, turning my head to meet his eyes again. "Marilyn, are you not important also?"
"I'm…nobody," I said finally. "I am nobody. That is what I should be. That is who I choose to be."
"Not to me," he said softly, and I felt him take a step closer. I could see the look in his eyes; I knew what he was about to do.
And somehow, I was powerless to stop it.
His lips captured mine; but this was nothing like our first kiss. This was gentle, tender. Not possessive, but reassuring, and adoring. I felt one of his hands slip around my waist under the cloak, and the other caressed my head, like I were made of porcelain.
In that moment, I was almost sure that I was. And if he let me go, I would surely break.
My hands found themselves grasping at his shirt collar. He moved even closer, so that our bodies were practically flush, and they slipped up into his hair. I felt him sigh a little in delight, almost relief. What a relief this must be to him, I thought. To give in to what he wants most of all.
But that made it seem so selfish. I was reveling in this feeling he was giving me, even though I knew I should fight back like last time, it was so different, so sweet. I wanted him to keep kissing me, I realized. I liked the feeling of him so close, so warm, so real. It seemed to satisfy a part of me that I hadn't known existed. Part of me that wanted to be touched, held, loved. The part that had been squelched by my parent's fighting and disappointment in me; by the way they'd pulled back from me all those years ago.
In that small moment, he stopped being Aragorn, son of Arathorn, descendent of Isildur. He was just someone like me, someone who had hidden away from the world and needed to be loved so badly. Who loved so much, without any return, a girl from another strange world, who was unkind to him so often.
And in that moment, I wanted to be the one to love him back.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.
He pulled back, letting my lips fall away from his, and regretfully ran his thumb over my cheek. I opened my eyes to see him looking at me with eyes full of emotion. "You mean everything to me," he said softly, his breath hitting my lips like another kiss. As if he'd read this thought, he gently kissed me again, slowly, and let my bottom lip slip from his in a way that was completely maddening. "Never forget that," he said seriously, and then….
Then he just walked off.
Like nothing had happened.
It took me a minute of standing there, gaping and sorting through my completely jumbled thoughts, to make any sense at all of what had just happened.
How on earth could that valardammed Ranger kiss like that?!
I couldn't find the words to describe what that had just done to me.
Finally, some came.
"Damn you!" I cried, marching after him into the alcove where Horatio was tethered to the wall. Aragorn was unsaddling the horse with a faint smile on his lips.
I was breathless, I was completely worked up, and I was, oddly, emotional.
He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, with a look that was both adoring and mirthful at the same time. He knew exactly what he'd done, and he didn't regret a moment of it.
It stole the rest of my rampage right out of my mouth.
"UGGGhhh," I said, clutching at my head and walking over to the edge of the cliff, cloak dragging behind me. He was taller than me, and I wasn't hiking up the hem like I ought to.
Finally, I turned around and faced him, a tightness growing in my chest. I wasn't cold anymore; ohhhh no, I was plenty warm.
"If that was a ploy to stimulate my circulation, well played," I said finally, turning back to face him. I pointed a finger at him almost absently.
"And if not?" Aragorn asked quietly, taking off Horatio's bridle. He didn't look at me, instead keeping his eyes focused on what his hands were doing. Something he did a lot when trying not to lose his composure, I realized.
"If not, then you have a lot of explaining to do." I scowled, and crossed my arms at him.
I do not think words best describe this," he said at last. "In fact, I deem it wise if we do not speak of this further."
"Oh really?" I scoffed. "And just what do you expect me to do, just pretend it never even happened?"
"If that keeps you from speaking of it, then yes."
I laughed sardonically. "That's great. Just great." Something inside of me was getting wound up. "You know what?" I said, stomping over to him. "No." I began taking the bridle out of his hands angrily. "Just no. This damn bit of headgear is not more important than what I am saying." I yanked it out of his hands and glared at him. "Look at me! For once, just look at me."
Aragorn sighed, and stubbornly looked away.
"You know something? You're as bad as me." I shoved the bridle back into his hands. "I dunno what the hell you meant back there, but I apparently everything is open to interpretation. Meaning, I am everything you love to avoid. Blame it all on the curse! So you can pretend to be madly in love with me. HA!" I was really scattered, I knew it. But this was getting to me. "I'm tired of playing pretend. Tell me the GOD DAMN TRUTH!"
Suddenly Aragorn looked up at me, a fire in his eyes. He tossed aside the bridle, and grabbed me by my wrists. You know that commanding power they always spoke of in the books? How he seemed to grow larger, and a little bit kingly? That was what happened; only at the same time he was both angry and desperate. I seemed to shrink in comparison. "You can't handle the truth," he said, his voice just slightly shaky as he towered over me. "You can't handle knowing how I really feel. I can't take the risk of you not being able to accept the truth for what it is. Because I can't handle…losing you. Before I even have you." His eyes were actually tearing up, I saw. Somehow, despite his height, I was still only a few inches below his eye level, so I could almost meet his gaze.
My god, I thought. I just made Aragorn tear up.
"You know nothing, NOTHING of what the curse does. How it plays with my mind. How it makes your every move seem like the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. How every time I see you, I want to say all of the things rushing around in my head, because this fear; this irrational, terrifying fear, that every time I see you could be the last time, is the loudest thing in my mind." His face was tense, and his words were terse as if it took a great effort to not yell them. His face softened for a moment, and he stepped closer, taking my head gently in both of his hands. "How I want to kiss you, whenever you are near. Make you feel how I do, about you. And you don't even see it! You don't even see how wonderful you are." He stared at me in disbelief.
I stared back, blankly. I hadn't expected him to unleash the emotion fury on me. Damn, that Ranger had a lot of feelings. Really beautiful feelings. I felt my resolve weakening. "Aragorn," I said, almost softly.
He pressed his lips to my forehead. "One day, perhaps you will stop fighting," he said. "One day, your own curses will fail, and you will not despise my feelings as you do now. Then, I will tell you the truth."
I could feel, deep inside of me, a sort of…stirring in my heart. And of course, as soon as I'd thought that, all I could think of was Captain Jack Sparrow.
Greeeaaat.
Aragorn pulled away from me with a lingering look, and then went about laying aside the tackle. I stood there and set a hand on Horatio's flank, speechless, and thought about what had just been said.
He spoke of his curse. He knew nothing of my own. And that's when I really started getting mad, because he had stopped to consider that I had not one, but two magical forces at work on me; conflicting forces that made me think things that generally opposed each other, all the time. At any one moment, I could want to kiss him to death; in that same moment, be as far away from him as possible, lest I chop off his head.
That was how I was feeling just then, actually. It angered me that he had remembered. Why couldn't he be insensitive like other men, who weren't half as masculine as him?
I finally looked up, and squared my shoulders. I was royally pissed with him, and didn't care a word for his little speech anymore; the effect had worn off. "Well then," I said stiffly, shrugging under the cloak, "until that day, perhaps we are both better off on our own." I turned sharply on my heel, managing not to trip over the cloak, and went to storm out of the alcove, back up the stairs to the hobbits.
"Marilyn," Aragorn called after me. "Marilyn, wait." I could hear him 'striding' after me. He grabbed me by my left arm, and spun me around. "You cannot just go wandering off."
"I'm not wandering off!" I snapped. "I'm going back to the hobbits. They are the reason I came on this mad little venture; NOT you." I tossed my bangs out of my eyes, and glared at him.
Aragorn stared at me, a bit bewildered. "You are so quick to jump to conclusions; more than anyone I have ever met," he said.
I laughed a sharp little laugh. "No kidding. Well, you are so mother friggin cryptic, it's a wonder I can draw conclusions at all!"
A small smile twisted his lips, in what even I would admit was a very fetching way. "You are beautiful when you're angry," he said softly. My stomach flopped.
I gave him a stubborn look. "I'm always angry."
His smile broadened. "Exactly."
I almost flipped him off for that one. Instead I rolled my eyes and said, "Kiss ass," before grabbing a few bags, leaving the confines of the alcove and taking the stairs.
When I reached the top, I turned back briefly to make sure I hadn't dropped anything. I saw Aragorn just turning away from the bottom of the staircase.
He had watched to make sure I made it safely.
I felt a little flutter in my chest at that thought.
"Miss MJ!" Sam called. "We've saved you some supper!"
"Thanks Sean," I sighed, perhaps the slightest bit dreamily. I made a face, and cleared my throat. "But I'm not hungry. You can have my bit."
I sat down by my pack, and unstrapped my sword belt, dagger, and quiver, I set aside the quiver, and and drew my blade, eyeing the reflection of the evening light thoughtfully. "When you four are done eating," I said eventually," And please, let that be before it gets dark— I'd like to have a little practice with you."
"Practice with what?" Merry asked through a mouthful of apple.
"These." Aragorn had come up the stairs with an armful of swords. The hobbits quickly shoved whatever food item they were holding into their mouths and gathered around him. "These are for you," he said, tossing a sword to each of the hobbits. Frodo took his reluctantly, and gave me a worried look. I nodded to him reassuringly, and he hesitantly drew it partially from its sheath. "Keep them close, and do as Marilyn says." Aragorn rose to his feet, and looked over at me. "I'm going to have a look around."
My stomach plummeted. I knew what those words meant. He wouldn't be there when the Wraiths attacked.
"Couldn't you…" I asked, my throat catching. I started again. "Couldn't you…not?" I knew my eyes were wide and worried, so I tried to cast my bangs across them to hide it.
But Aragorn, being the insightful dude he was, saw right through this. He frowned. "Wasn't it you who said we'd be better off on our own?" he said, raising an eyebrow. He looked out over the cliff. "Here's your chance."
After our last encounter, I had thought he'd let that one slide. Apparently not.
As he went off down the stairs by himself, I glared after him. "THAT was apathetic," I groused, and rose to my feet. "Well, come on then. Let's go up top where there's more foot space."
The hobbits looked a little unsettled. "Up top?"
I nodded. "The ruins themselves will afford us better footing. Oddly. But I don't make the rules."
"Mightn't we have a bit of sleep first?" Sam asked, yawning. The other hobbits were stretching sleepily.
I tensed. "Sean," I said eventually, "I'm the Dannen Gíl, right?"
Sam looked surprised. "Well, yes, I suppose so."
I sheathed my sword, and went to stand looking out over the cliff. "So if I told you," I said slowly, "that I knew for a fact that the Wraiths would catch up with us, tonight, would you believe me?" I looked back at them.
All four hobbits had expressions of fear plastered on their faces.
"That's why we need to practice, NOW,"I said, leading them up the rest of the staircase. "Come on." "But what about Mister Frodo?!" Sam asked in a panic. I hadn't wanted to tell them, but I had figured that if they knew what was coming, they would buckle down and focus on learning rather than goofing off.
"If you want Frodo to be safe, Sean, then I suggest you pay close attention to what I'm going to show you." We had reached the top. The top of Weathertop. Oh, goody.
I scanned the darkening horizon. A little ways down and away from the hill, I could see a brown blur moving around stealthily. Aragorn. God, he needed to work on his subtlety. I could have seen him a mile off, and this was half dusk.
But besides his rather poor show, there was no sound or indication of any other person moving around the hill. The hobbits noticed this too.
"I don't hear nothing," said Sam skeptically.
"You'd think they'd be closer behind us, what with all the wailing last night," Frodo said thoughtfully.
"They're hiding," I realized suddenly. "God, I wish Aragorn would have listened to me. Dammit, you stubborn ass." I sighed, and bit my lip worriedly. "Don't get yourself killed."
"Well," Merry said, squaring his shoulders. "We'd better get to it, then." He drew his sword.
I stared out at the brown blur for a moment longer before turning back to the hobbits. "Alright," I said drawing my sword. "Pay attention."
An hour and a half later, it was dark. But I felt a tad more confident knowing that the boys had a bit of work under their belts. They weren't too bad for beginners, I realized. I wished I had had the time to practice with them over the past week, but our pace had tired them out so that I hadn't asked. That, and I had hoped to convince Aragorn to stick around. Fail, on my part. I was inwardly cursing my curses for making me so inflexible.
I had just paired Frodo and Sam and Merry and Pippin off with each other to practice, so I went off a little ways by myself. Once again, Ranger man wasn't around when I needed a pep talk, so I had to get my own head in the game. I knew how, of course, but I'd gotten rather lazy since he'd been around. He really did look out for me, I realized.
But here I was, now. I knew that five Wraiths would attack us; if the hobbits had been a bit more prepared, that almost would have been good odds. As it was I would be lucky if they could fend off their attackers for a few moments, just long enough for me to come to their rescue.
Most of all, I needed to keep Nazgûl Numero Uno away from Frodo. That 'pale king' was my main adversary tonight; he stood between what I wanted for Frodo and what canon deemed he should have. For once I was willingly opposing canon. Frodo would have a life after his trials, I was going to ensure it myself.
"This is my mission," I said grimly. "And I choose to accept it." I gritted my teeth and pulled the cloak further around myself. The wind was wicked up there.
The cloak had fooled me about three times, to count. It smelled like Aragorn, so whenever I spun around or shook it out a bit, I thought he was coming up behind me. He didn't stink, like many stories I'd read joked around about. And he wasn't especially dirty. He had a smell like open air, and fresh tobacco; a scent that reminded me vaguely of some sort of cologne, and something that was just him. Every time the damn thing moved I smelled him, and it made me think he had come back. I had been disappointed to learn otherwise, each time. Dammit, why was he never there with me? I needed his friggin help!
I fingered my pendant thoughtlessly, like I did when worried. It started to glow, faintly. I jumped, and stared at the stone expectantly. But the glow remained faint, not strong like it had been before, and I realized that I didn't have the ability to wish him back. Fuck. That would have been really convenient.
I stood there, leaning against a crumbling pillar and thinking over strategy for a good ten minutes. Then it happened.
A series of wails, not too far off.
"Shit," I whispered, and I felt my eyes go wide in panic. Yeah, I was panicking a bit.
In my hand, my pendant grew hot for a second. It was flickering, as if trying to gather all the power it could. I didn't have any more time. I grabbed it and made the only wish I could think of, a wish that wouldn't be too much too handle.
I wished that he would hurry the fuck up.
I spun around, cloak flying. "The time has come, boys," I said, and despite my fear I could feel myself growing a bit excited too. I had been missing the ass whooping aspect of my journey, and I was ready for some action from the bitchin' black beauties.
I felt pangs of fear exploding in my stomach. I saw the hobbits staring at me, panic-stricken. "It's alright, I've got you guys," I said reassuringly. "Just do your best to hold your own. And everybody, PROTECT FRODO." I gave Frodo a steadying look, and he wavered a little. Then he nodded and gripped his sword a little more firmly.
"Good," I said, then instructed them to form a ring around Frodo. I began pacing around waiting for the first Nazgûl to show.
There are moments in life when everything seems to slow down. Peter Jackson captured that sense very well when filming the Weathertop scene. As the first Wraith crested the hill and appeared between an arch, I felt a cold creep into my very being. And then, I inwardly flipped out.
Why? Because when I looked at the Wraith, I didn't see a hooded, black figure. I saw a grayish white, ghosty man wearing a crown and a ragged set of clothes. I could see everything flickering, between their physical form and their true state, like a film strip that had been slowed to a distracting rate.
Two more Wraiths appeared in other arches, and I swallowed, hard. Then, from the arch directly in front of me, the pale king rose up out of the blackness.
I stood and stared as it walked slowly towards me. "Marilyn," it whispered. My heart rate sped up a thousand paces. "Dannen Gíl." A pale hand stretched out towards my neck, where my pendant was glowing more and more brightly.
I saw out of the corner of my eye the hobbits tightening the circle around Frodo. Frodo himself was staring at me, horrified. "MJ!" he cried, and several of the Wraiths looked away from me and towards him.
That was it. Frodo saw his mistake, but it was too late. I had to do something. The Wraiths took the first step towards the hobbits.
I turned back to Nazgûl Numero Uno. "So, you think you're gonna steal Frodo's future away from him?" I bit out, and grinned madly at it, shaking my head. "Not today, bitchacho!"
With a cry, I drew my sword and slashed at the pale king. He drew his hand back, and hissed, then drew his own massive Morgûl blade and parried my strokes. "Frodo!" I yelled, "keep your focus! Don't look at me!"
A few seconds later, the Wraiths had engaged the hobbits. They were doing much better than in the films, thankfully; but one by one they began to fall aside. I was still battling the pale king somewhat fruitlessly, but at least he wasn't getting to Frodo.
The Wraiths left me alone; for the most part. It seemed that I was to be the conquest of the pale king alone. I wished and wished again for Aragorn. Finally, as we were fighting near the edge of the slope, and I was dangerously near the edge, I hollered out, "Dammit Ranger, where the living fuck are you?!"
At that moment, a flaming brand was tossed into the stomach of the Wraith nearest Frodo. A surge of joy hit me as Uno drew back in alarm and squealed like a murdered pig, pulling back beyond the ruins and into the darkness. Relieved, I turned to face the direction the projectile had come from.
There was my Ranger, coming up the hill with flaming torches bristling in his hands and an angry fire in his eyes. A small corner of my mind took the opportunity to admire how goddamn sexy he looked just then, before I rolled my eyes and charged at another Wraith. "It's about time!" I hollered, over the sound of our clanging swords. He grinned wildly at me, and took on another Wraith himself. I glanced back at Frodo, who was helping Merry and Sam back to their feet. So he was still alright.
Eventually the maimed Wraiths all pulled back, leaving the hobbits huddled in one corner while Aragorn and I stood back to back in the center, panting.
"Glad you could make it," I said, tossing my bangs out of my eyes. Aragorn looked back at me with a grin on his face.
"I take it this is why you didn't want me to leave you?" he said wryly.
I shrugged. "Didn't want you to miss out on the fun." I said, panting but grinning madly at the same time.
With another wail, the Wraiths charged us again, Aragorn ducking to pick up one of the flaming torches he had dropped and swinging it out at the nearest Nazgûl while I attacked another with a series of slashes and literal low blows.
Then, I saw one Wraith making a slash for both of our heads. "Duck!" I yelled, and with a quick glance at what was going on Aragorn leaned forward, pulling me down so that I was arched backwards over his back in an X figure. After the blade had passed over us I made an upside down slash at the Wraiths form then rebounded into an upright position. A third Wraith chopped at my feet, then head, so I had to perform this odd jump then drop to the ground in a matter of seconds. "Thanks," I said, as Aragorn grabbed my hand and jerked me to my feet. He nodded at me with a glint in his eye, and then we were back at it again.
Stroke after stroke, they kept barraging us. And I never tired. I figured it had something to do with the Deep Magic again, but this was awesome. I would even have ventured to say fun, if there hadn't been so much at stake.
It was amazing, like nothing else I'd ever experienced. I'd fought alongside Aragorn before, in the woods; but that had just been a slaughter of orcs. This was full on swordplay, and somehow, he and I made this sort of unspoken alliance, a team. We fought in perfect synchrony, as if we'd planned the whole damn thing, and I found it thrilling to have someone right there, ready to fight with me. And who actually could match my pace.
It was almost over, it seemed. The Wraiths were cowering and falling back, Frodo was still perfectly safe with the other hobbits…well, as safe as could be expected. I was almost happy, until I saw Numero Uno reemerging from the blackness, the fifth Wraith in tow.
"Crap," I breathed, and I could feel Aragorn tense beside me.
"Marilyn," it whispered again. I shivered. The cold seemed to be creeping in, even under the cloak. It was like cold fingers trailing along my skin.
"Aragorn?" I said weakly, taking a step back towards him. I saw him readjust his grip on his sword. Then, I felt him reach down, and take my spare hand, my left hand, in his own. He gave me a grim look. I swallowed and gripped his hand tighter.
The fifth wraith split off from the pale king, moving away towards Frodo. "Go," I whispered, and stepped away from him, towards the Wraith.
This was my stand, for Frodo, and for myself.
"Marilyn!" Aragorn's voice was almost panicked.
"GO, Estel!" I yelled, as the king raised his sword above me. I brought my own up to block his blow, and saw Aragorn leap away to his right to stop the other Wraith as the blow came down on my blade, hard.
He wanted me dead. I could see it in the flickering, cold grey depths of the ghost's eyes. I was one of his targets, it wasn't just about Frodo anymore.
I had forgotten what Elrond had said. The Dannen Gíl held a power that Sauron craved, and I had to die for it to be released from my control. There was a fury in the king's strokes that was almost overpowering. I could feel the magic in me straining to keep up with him.
In fact, I was trying so hard to deflect his rapid blows that I had no time to be on the offensive. This was fully defensive, and I was losing ground. He was driving me to the edge of the cliff, towards a precipice that dropped all the way to the rocky plains below.
Still deflecting, I ducked around a pillar to catch my breath. But no sooner had I leaned against the pillar that it began to topple, leaning me out dangerously near the edge of the cliff. I gave a not so badass cry as I was dragged back over the pillar by the Wraith, my left wrist in a pincer like grip. Cold flowed through my bones and into my mind. It was as if my very consciousness were going numb.
I was pinned to a leaning pillar over the edge of a small mountain, with the head Nazgûl giving me a look that showed me my own death.
"MJ!" I heard Frodo cry again, and I lifted my head weakly to see him watching me, a horrified expression on his face. I could tell that he and the hobbits were about to make a dash, an actual dash at this Wraith to save me.
I shook my head. "NO," I cried, then screamed as the king twisted my wrist backwards and pinned it against me. I felt something snap that definitely wasn't supposed to, and a searing pain shot through my arm. I blinked against the pain, breathing through my teeth in an effort not to scream again. A whimper came out instead.
I had thought that gash form Saruman was bad? This reinvented the word 'pain'.
I could hear the fifth Wraith make a strangled squealing that was unlike anything I'd ever heard. Numero Uno whipped his head around, and I took the opportunity to gather all of my strength and slash at his neck. A flaming gash appeared where my sword had struck, and he let out a blood curdling wail. When he turned back to me, his eyes were glowing red. He drew a long, grey dagger from his belt.
I knew that blade.
I could see Aragorn pause in his fight against the fifth Wraith. "Marilyn!" he called, and our eyes momentarily met. He knew too. And he knew that I knew.
"Don't worry about me!" I yelled, then gave a loud groan as I held my blade to keep Uno's sword from my neck. I was bending back across the falling pillar at an angle that hurt like the dickens. Tears were springing to my eyes with the pain of the pressure he was putting on my bent backward wrist. The Nazgûl held the blade over my heart, in a way that I was so, so glad I had kept from Frodo. Sweet, innocent Frodo.
But Aragorn came charging over, and using a large bit of branch from somewhere he hit Numero Uno from behind. The additional weight Aragorn put on my wrist was excruciating, but not as bad as the pain of the Morgûl blade as it sliced into my left arm. The blade tumbled to the ground as the pale king tumbled over the edge of the cliff, screeching into the night. A cold burning pain shot through my blood, bringing new injury to my wrist; I screamed again, and my own voice seemed to echo in my mind.
The last thing I yelled?
"Agent down!"
All sound ceased to exist. There was only this dull, throbbing in the back of my mind. And the cold. So much of the grey, cloudy cold.
The last thing I saw was Aragorn, looking at me with tears in his wide, horrified eyes. I could see his mouth moving as he dropped his sword, but I couldn't hear the words. The tears leaked out and spilled over his cheeks as he fell to his knees and took me into his arms, holding me close; and I felt nothing. It was as if he didn't exist.
Or maybe, I thought foggily, I don't exist.
Then the cold swam before my eyes, the grey overtook me; and as they say in Middle earth, I knew no more.
Bwahahaha! The cliffhanger, though; whooowee! xD I am having too much fun with this story, I tell you what.
On a side note, I am seriously considering having Marilyn become a 'canon jumper' after concluding ROTK. You know, one of those characters that moves between fandoms? ;) Cause, if not, she may end up STAYING IN MIDDLE EARTH (le gasp) AND ACTUALLY HAVING TO MARRY ARAGORN.
What say you?! (Hehe.) There's a poll on my page about this very topic. Please go check it out, and vote. After all, I can think of several fandoms she would be BOMB in (Avengers, Doctor Who, possibly Pacific Rim, and others) and could totally figure that shit out, ya know? But what do you guys think/prefer/demand I should do? Drop a line!
And remember to review. As always, reviews get you a dedication at the beginning of the next chapter. ;) bribery FTW
Keep being awesome!
-Ana