Disclaimer: If I was awesome enough, I would own Lord of the Rings. Unfortunately, I'm not and I don't. (Bursts into tears and runs away).
Chapter 11
I'm up.
And it's early.
The sun isn't even up yet.
I don't like not being up before the sun.
It ends up well for me.
Of course, that didn't stop Pippin from cheerfully jumping on my bed at 5 a.m., loudly screaming "GET UP GET UP GET UP!"
When I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, he simply shrugged and said that turn-about was fair play.
Sometimes, my mother has the suckiest ideas.
So here I am, wearing my jeans (so stick that in your juice box and suck it, Elrond), wishing desperately for coffee or a trip to the hospital for an emergency IV of caffeine.
Worst of all, it was cold.
Freezing, in fact.
Everyone I'd complained to about it (which means everyone within hearing distance) gave me the look that said I was crazy and told me that it wasn't that cold for this late in winter.
Yeah, whatever.
All I'm saying is that I have only been standing outside for fifteen minutes, and I already can't feel my body.
I grimaced and wrapped my cloak around me tighter.
Luckily, however, I had my beauteous converses and I didn't have to carry anything because of Bill.
Ironically, I was the person who'd packed the least.
And yes, I will be mocking them for it.
So now we're all standing around outside for Elrond to finish his speech. Only, it wasn't short and sweet like the movie. Oh, no, Elrond was a true politician.
He'd been talking for the last ten minutes.
And, like any good politician, he'd chosen a time when we all had to stand around and listen.
Wait, wait, I think he might be taking a breath.
"The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him no oath nor bond is laid, to go further than you will." Pause for dramatic effect, then "Farewell. Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you."
YAY! I think we just completed the hardest part of the journey.
"The Fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer."
Suddenly, a loud horn-blast echoed through the small Rivendell, the sound bouncing off the mountains.
I turned and looked at Boromir with one eyebrow cocked. "Feel better now?"
He grinned. "'Tis tradition. Every journey starts with the Horn of Gondor sounding the way."
I resisted the urge to make a racy comment, but I couldn't help snickering slightly.
Having stolen Elrond's dramatic moment where he verbally bitch-slaps Boromir for alerting every big nasty in the area to our whereabouts, I turned, grinning cheerfully, followed the rest of the fellowship out of the gates of Rivendell.
Five hours later, guess what we're doing.
Walking.
A lot.
Trotting up to Gandalf, I cheerfully started walking beside him, keeping the silence.
And that's when inspiration struck.
Pasting the most innocent smile on my face, I turned to Gandalf.
"Snickers: it keeps the hunger from poke'n atcha poken' atcha," I said, poking him in the side.
He looked at me incredulously. "Excuse me?"
I grinned evilly.
"Snickers: it keeps the hunger from poke'n atcha poken' atcha," I said, poking him in the side again.
And suddenly, I knew how I was going to solve all the boredom of this trip.
Gandalf looked at me and put his hand on my forehead, feeling for a fever.
"Nope," I said cheerfully, "not sick and not high. Just A.D.D."
Deciding that silence was the best idea, he merely gave me a wary smile and turned back to walking.
"Fine, don't entertain me," I said, pouting.
I fell back to the middle of the line.
Silence.
Five minutes later…
"Does this remind anyone else of Napoleon's retreat from Moscow," I asked grumpily.
Someone sighed.
Frodo, in a stroke of genius, started singing.
"Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!
Home is behind the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun."
"Aw, now I'm depressed," I muttered, picturing the Faramir's charge into Osgiliath. (In case you didn't notice, those are some of the lyrics from Pippin's song).
"Why are you depressed, Lady," Sam asked.
Well, shit. I couldn't tell them, but I couldn't just refuse to answer.
"Because I'm going to TAKE OVER THE WORLD," I yelled, throwing my hands out dramatically.
Instead of laughing, they all gripped their weapons.
"Damn, tough crowd," I said, put out as I lowered my arms. "Not even a pity laugh, man. You all suck."
Slowly, they all released their weapons, though I noticed that they kept a wary eye on me for the next hour.
Of course, I didn't really care.
I'd just found out that, if I stood in the right position behind Boromir, I could use his shield as a mirror.
I made faces at myself in his shield for several hours.
Ah, it's the simple things that make life great.
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Life sucks.
More to the point, MY life sucks.
We've been walking only at night for the last few weeks.
There are wolves in the woods surrounding us.
I STILL can't keep my swords in my hands for longer than three minutes when Aragorn and I duel.
The men lit what they CLAIM is a fire, but, in my opinion, it's only a fire in the roughest sense of the term.
Did I mention the wolves?
'Cause there are wolves.
But they're not actually wolves.
Yeah, they're werewolves. Know how I know? Cause I know the future, but the Fellowship of Chauvinists refuse to listen to my suggestions that we NOT stay in this PARTICULAR area tonight.
But what do I know? I'm only the F'ING SEER!
Not that I'm bitter.
'Cause, really, I'm not…
I hope the wolves bite all of them in the ass.
Completely non-bitterly, I jabbed extremely NON-viciously at the fire with a long stick.
The men all gripped their weapons tightly, scanning the forest with their eyes while the wolves howled in the dark.
The hours passed slowly and the men decided to try and rest.
Try being the operative word.
I'm pretty sure a 6 year old on Christmas Eve got more sleep than they did.
I, of course, wasn't bothered at all, since I knew that all would end well.
Being vicious and COMPLETELY not bitter, I didn't tell THEM that.
While they dozed restlessly, I simply sat there all through the night, completely alert, and jabbed at the fire, picturing each of their subsequent (and hopefully painful) wounds from not listening to me.
Stupid men.
And then the attack began.
The largest wolf I've ever seen (not that I'd seen many, but still) lunged at me from behind.
Luckily, Legolas hadn't been asleep, and the wolf died before it hit the ground.
I grinned cheerfully at Legolas, giving him two thumbs up while nodding enthusiastically.
I had no idea why. I just felt like it.
Within moments, more wolves poured out of the woods, drawn by the power of the Ring.
For a moment, I was paralyzed in fear.
What time is it?
IT'S TIME FOR DUAL SWORDS, BITCHES!
Whipping out my swords, I promptly forgot all the helpful tips that Aragorn had so painstakingly had me memorize and proceeded to hack and slash gleefully (though not particularly gracefully) at any wolf that came near.
"Having fun," asked a voice EXTREMELY close to my ear.
Needless to say, I shrieked (rather girlishly, I must admit) and whirled around.
And stood face to face with the dead elf from the Netherrealm.
Stupid Netherrealm.
Grimacing, I hastily ducked as a wolf came leaping over my head, then ran it through before turning back to the Elf o' Death.
"Couldn't have picked a better time," I asked sarcastically as I scanned the area for more wolves. It was empty, and the rest of the Fellowship had started cleaning their weapons.
"Who are you talking to," Sam asked, wiping off his small sword.
I gestured vaguely at the elf. "Mr. Doom and Death." I cocked my head to the side as I looked at the spirit. "What IS your name?"
"I am Valandil," he said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing.
"He's Valandil," I repeated to Sam, who looked worriedly between me and the elf.
Gandalf snorted and drew my attention.
"He cannot see Valandil, Rose. None of them can. They haven't been to the Netherrealm."
I eyed Gandalf. "Can you?"
He nodded.
I looked at him with wary hope. "Any idea how I can stop seeing them?"
Valandil looked offended in that way that only elves can: simultaneously dignified, prissy, and constipated.
"I'm afraid you must simply get accustomed to their presence," Gandalf said, his eyes grinning devilishly though his face was the picture of sympathy.
My eye twitched.
Moria was gonna suck.
My eyes flicked back to Valandil. "Shouldn't you be somewhere else? Like spewing out more prophecies of doom?"
He glared at me. "Why should I do that when I can bask in such a bright ray of sunshine like you," he asked sarcastically.
"Oh, the Ghost of Christmas Past has jokes," I shot back, putting my hand on my hip. "Bring it on, Sparky."
He glared and opened his mouth to retort, but Gandalf interjected.
"Children, stop bickering. You aren't helping."
I cackled while Valandil looked at Gandalf, horrified. "Child? CHILD! I have seven hundred years on you, youngling!"
Gandalf raised one bushy eyebrow challengingly. "And I'm still in corporeal form, so who wins this argument now?"
Until that moment, I've never seen an elf actually squawk in indignation.
Gandalf is now officially my favorite.
Cursing in elvish, he glared at Gandalf before disappearing with a pop.
I turned to Gandalf.
"Thank you for that. I can die happy now," I said, cheerfully clapping him on the shoulder.
His lip twitched slightly as he glanced at the rest of the Fellowship, who looked both bemused and confused.
"Need I even ask," Aragorn asked warily, apparently voicing the thoughts of the rest of them.
I could have kissed Gandalf for what he said next.
It was simply sheer genius.
He looked Aragorn dead in the eye and removed all trace of humor from his face. "That was Sauron. He owes me money from the First Age, and I summoned him to collect."
Gimli guffawed.
"You are now my favorite," I informed Gandalf cheerfully.
"A dubious honor, I'm sure," he retorted idly as he sat down by the fire again.
"And now you're on my hit list," I said cheerfully without missing a beat.
"Indeed," he said vaguely, making it clear he wasn't paying attention. And indeed he wasn't. His attention had been caught by Aragorn, who was wiping off his sword as he studied the wolves.
Apparently, I'm great at holding people's attention with my witty repartee.
Calmly, I walked over to where he knelt, lifting my skirt slightly as I picked my way over the wolf corpses to keep it from the blood.
Squatting beside him, I squinted, trying to see what he was staring at, but it was too dark. All I could see were the shapes of arrows sticking out of the corpse and dark black puddles of blood.
"What is it," I asked as the others slowly went back to what they were doing, though Legolas, Gandalf, and Boromir joined the two of us.
"These wolves are too large." He lifted a paw and showed me. "Do you see? His paw is nearly as large as my hand. That's not natural in a wolf."
I nodded. "These aren't normal wolves. Actually, they aren't wolves at all. These are werewolves. And they aren't dead," I said, standing up calmly. "These wolves won't be here tomorrow morning. Now, since we aren't going to be attacked again tonight, I'm going to bed."
"How can you say with any certainty that we won't be attacked again," Boromir asked, standing up with me.
I glanced back over my shoulder at him and gave him a dry look. "'There's your sign,'" I quoted with a roll of my eyes. The other's obviously didn't get the reference, but got the point. I can't believe he even asked that. Yawning slightly, I trotted over to my bedroll and, taking off my belt holding the sword-sheaths, slipped under the blanket.
"How can you sleep at a time like this," Sam asked incredulously.
I blinked. "At a time like what? I just said we aren't going to be attacked again tonight. Plus, I'm a teenager. Sleep is pretty much the only thing I do." I paused, then amended, "well, that and sarcasm. Besides," I said, pointing at an adorable (after all, hobbits are the cutest creatures ever to walk the face of the planet) figure curled beside the fire, "Pippin beat me to it."
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"Two, one, five. Good. Very good."
Boromir was training the hobbits in sword-play.
Aragorn didn't let ME wait to train. Oh, nooo, I just HAD to learn in Rivendell where I got my ass kicked.
Stupid Aragorn.
Bored, I closed my eyes and listened to everyone's actions, waiting for my cue to dramatically yell for everyone to hide quick cause the Hitchcock's birds are coming to kill us all!
Was that too sarcastic?
Yeah, too sarcastic.
"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they're not, I'd say we were taking the long way round. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome," I heard Gimli say.
"No Gimli, I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."
Now, I'd always wondered why Gimli didn't take offense to that.
I mean, if it were me, I'd be asking Gandalf what the hell he was trying to say about my cousin.
Unfortunately, I couldn't point that out to Gimli as that was my cue to yell and scream.
Calmly, I sat up, my legs sprawled out in front of me.
Gimme a break, I'm too lazy to get up to yell.
"Aaaaragoooorn," I yelled, shutting my eyes and tilting my head back as I bellowed, "Saruman's icky crebain from Dunland are about to be creepy and spy on us. I suggest we take cover so they don't see us." With that, I nodded.
THAT got Aragorn's attention.
He scanned the sky, but they crebain were too far away for his mortal eyes, and he saw only cloud.
"I see nothing," Aragorn said in confusion as he scanned the area.
"HE believes me," I said indignantly, pointing to Legolas. "Besides, didn't we learn anything with the wolves?"
"She is right, Estel. That is no cloud," said Legolas, pointing.
"Of course I'm right," I said indignantly. "And you would all realize this if you would PAY ATTENTION TO ME!"
They continued to ignore me.
Fingering a pebble and glaring at Aragorn, I debated hurling it at him.
Deciding against it, I simply slid under a bush and glared at all of them.
I HATE men sometimes.
"Crebain from Dunland! HIDE," Legolas yelled.
That's my boy, Legolas. Never afraid to point out the obvious.
Yeah, now they all hide.
Seconds later, the birds o' death hurtled over us, screaming and otherwise being annoying.
Slowly, everyone crawled out of hiding.
"Spies of Saruman! The passage South is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras," Gandalf said, gazing warily at the intimidating mountain in the distance.
"Apparently," I snapped, standing, "we DIDN'T learn our lesson from the wolves. Everyone repeat after me: the Seer is ALWAYS RIGHT!"
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I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow I hate snow.
I thought you should be aware.
That I hate snow.
Cause I do.
And there's a lot of it.
All around me.
And it's wet. And cold.
And icky.
And Legolas won't stop singing.
And walking on the snow.
In an annoyingly prancing manner.
It is seriously taking all my willpower not to 'accidentally' let it slip that Caradhras isn't the scenic route that Gandalf seems to think it is, and that we would be much better going through the Mines of Moria.
Well, 'better' comparatively speaking.
Did I mention the snow?
Cause there's a lot of it.
I wonder if I'm the only one who wants to stick my arm out and trip Legolas just to piss him off.
I can't be the only one.
It's SO tempting.
Stupid elf.
HAHA! I see Gimli eyeing his feet too! He's thinking the exact same thing I am!
I knew I liked dwarves.
As slowly and non chalantly as I could, I stuck my arm out in Legolas' path.
DAMN IT!
He stepped over it.
Curses.
A large brown something rolling passed me caught my eye and I did a double take.
Did a large terd just roll passed me?
Nope, just Frodo.
Wait, that means –
Aw, crap.
Going as fast as I could (which was actually pretty fast considering I was knee deep in snow) I went after Frodo, scanning the ground for the Ring.
Unfortunately, Boromir, being a man, had longer legs and got there first.
"It is a strange fate we should suffer so much fear and doubt…over so small a thing. Such a little thing," he murmured, his eyes riveted on the Ring as he reached a gloved hand out to touch it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aragorn's hand tighten on his sword.
I held a hand out to forestall him, silently telling him to let me handle this.
Gingerly, I put a hand on Boromir's hand before he could touch the Ring.
"Boromir." He glanced down at me and for a moment, I saw such unguarded pain in his eyes that it nearly stole my breath. It was gone as quickly as it came. "Give the Ring to Frodo. Spare yourself this torment," I said soft enough that only he could hear. "We will talk later. I know what's on your mind."
Confident that he would do it (after all, he IS a man of Gondor and would therefore never break his word) I worked my way slowly back to my place in our train.
"Yay, let's go play in MORE snow," I said sarcastically as we started moving again after a moment. "Cause this has been SO much fun."
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Seriously, if I ever see Saruman, I'm castrating him.
Publicly.
I grimaced and wrapped my less-than-effective cloak around me. It had long ago been soaked through with water from the snow, so it's warming abilities were sadly lacking.
It's cold.
I thought you should be aware.
The blizzard Saruman had summoned pummeled us as we made our way over Caradhras.
I miss Georgia. It never snows in Georgia, and when it DOES snow, even a little bit, the entire city shuts down.
But right now, I was specifically missing Georgia summers, when it was so hot and humid that the sweat stayed on your skin as the sun beat down on you. Most of the time, it was so hot that, when you got in the perfect position, you could actually SEE the steam rising from the asphalt.
Right now, I would gladly don a parka and lay on that asphalt and let the sun warm me.
Just thinking about it gave me a sharp pang of loss and made me even colder.
After several more hours, we halted under a rock shelf of sorts because everyone was so exhausted.
We even convinced Gandalf to let us have a fire.
If the meager flame could even be CALLED that.
As everyone sat around the small fire not talking, I lay down on my side, curled into a fetal position, and watched the flame dance.
I was so tired.
Even breathing seemed a huge chore.
And apparently my body thought so too, because I wasn't breathing as deeply or as fast.
Not that I really care.
My eyelids drifted down.
I wasn't even cold anymore.
Actually, I was so warm that I wasn't even shivering.
In the back of my mind, an annoying little runt of a thought started jumping up and down and waving red flags and screaming that these were major signs of hypothermia and that to sleep would be BAD BAD BAD!
I was so tired.
The thought, after several minutes of being ignored, went away.
Vaguely, I could hear someone calling my name, but it was distant and faint and I was just too tired to acknowledge it.
Voices were talking quickly in some language that I could only barely understand.
Common?
I speak Common.
Don't I?
I can only remember English.
I felt someone roughly lifting me up and sitting me on their lap, wrapping their cloak around both of us to share body heat.
I was so tired.
Someone is talking to me.
I can't understand.
"Can't…understand," I croaked, vaguely recognizing my words as English.
Ow, why is someone slapping me?
Ew. Someone is shoving nasty stuff in my mouth.
Choking, I swallowed the disgusting liquid.
And, immediately, warmth flooded my body.
Blinking in surprise, I sat up, now wide awake, and shook my head.
"She's fine. She's waking up," said a deep voice near my ear.
Why am I on Boromir's lap?
Oh, right.
"What IS that stuff," I asked incredulously, looking at the flask in Boromir's hand.
"It's an elvish brew," Legolas said. I was instantly wary. I was still suffering the effects of the LAST brew an elf-lord had given me.
"Sorry about that," I apologized sheepishly.
"You are used to warmer climates, from what you say, and this is likely your first time in serious travel," Aragorn replied, "You have nothing to apologize for."
Reluctantly (his cloak was REALLY warm, and outside his cloak was REALLY cold), I crawled off of Boromir's lap.
Even he seemed to be reluctant to let me go, but it was probably because that meant he had to open the warm cocoon his cloak formed.
"Gandalf," I said, drawing the wizard's attention to me, "we can't stay here. Caradhras is closed to us. We must turn back, and we BOTH know what way we must take."
He gave an unpleasant grimace. "I would take that road only if there were no other choice."
I waved my hands around incredulously. "Cause THIS is the better choice?"
"You know well what lies waiting there," he snapped.
"Yes, I do. But we must still take that road," I snapped back. "But if you absolutely refuse to make a decision, then I say we let Frodo decide where to go."
Simultaneously, Gandalf and Frodo's eyes widened.
"What are our options," Frodo said warily.
"To enter the Mines of Moria or to stay here, when we will have to turn back anyway," I said before Gandalf could get a word in edgewise.
His face tense, Frodo thought for a long moment while Gandalf and I had a glaring contest over the fire.
"We will go through the mines," Frodo said at last.
Gandalf closed his eyes for a moment. "So be it," he said tiredly.
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If Gimli doesn't stop singing about Moria, I swear I'm going to remove his family jewels.
If he absolutely HAS to sing, could he at least TRY to keep it ON key?
Apparently, Legolas thought so to, because he was holding his hands over his ears and glaring daggers at the dwarf.
I snickered.
I had to hand it to the Dwarves, though. Moria's façade was a beautiful and impressive sight.
It even had an aqueduct.
Unfortunately, I knew that aqueducts led from lakes and rivers.
And where there were lakes and rivers, there were big ickies with long tentacles, teeth, and a taste for adorable little hobbits.
Stupid big ickes.
Unconsciously, I edged closer to Frodo protectively.
Shut up, if you met a hobbit, especially one as cute as any of these four, your mothering instincts would kick in too.
"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. Not even their own masters can find them when their secrets are lost," Gandalf was saying.
"Why doesn't that surprise me," Legolas said dryly.
I snickered.
Frodo's foot slipped on a rock and splashed into the icy water. He yanked it back with a gasp and a grimace.
"Now…let's see. Ithildin," Gandalf said, running his hand over the cliff face where I knew the door was, "it mirrors only starlight…and moonlight."
Suddenly, the door lit up as the moon came from behind a cloud and graced it with its light. Gandalf pointed with his staff at the illuminated script above the door.
"It reads 'The Doors of Durin - Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter,'" he read aloud.
"What do you suppose that means," Merry asked.
"Oh, it's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open," Gandalf said with great authority. Getting in his 'I am wizard, hear me roar' mode, he threw his arms wide and intoned "Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen! (Gate of the Elves, open now for me!)"
Nothing.
"Fennas Nogothrim, lasto beth lammen. (Doorway of the Dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue.)"
Nada.
"Nothing's happening," Pippin whispered to Legolas.
Gandalf shot him a glare for a moment before turning back to the doors and trying to push them open. "I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves...Men...and Orcs."
"What are you going to do, then," Pippin piped up.
"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words," Gandalf snapped.
Clearing my throat to get his attention, I glared at Gandalf pointedly.
"How about I just tell you the password," I offered.
"No, the password requires the invocation of a wizard," he said cockily.
I glanced at the closed door, then at the wizard who'd been trying to open it for the last five minutes. "Yeah…I can see that."
Looking like he desperately wanted to stick his tongue out at me, the wizard turned back to the door.
Mentally smirking, I turned and clambered gracelessly onto a large boulder to wait.
Half an hour later, I was literally banging my head against the boulder out of sheer boredom.
"So bored, so bored, so bored, so bored, so bored, so bored, so bored," I sang to myself as I rhythmically beat my head against the rock.
Aragorn had let Bill go, and had already yelled at the hobbits for throwing stones in the water.
So bored.
"Ando Eldarinwa…a lasta quettanya, Fenda Casarinwa… (Gate of Elves…listen to my word, Threshold of Dwarves…)," Gandalf said to the door.
Nothing.
"Oh, it's useless," he said exasperatedly as he sat down beside Frodo.
"Is it just me, or do I hear something coming from the door," I said, bolting upright and gaining Gandalf's attention, just as I'd planned. I held my hand to my ear and frowned, pretending to listen. "Yes, yes, I do! It's saying 'Gandalf, listen to the goddamn Seer or fuck off.'"
Snapping, he whirled and waved his staff at me for a moment like he was about curse me from here to next week, but after a moment he put his staff back on the rock beside him.
"Fine," he snapped. "YOU do it, if you're so certain you can," he challenged.
I couldn't help it: I smirked.
"Mellon," I said, turning my gaze to the door.
Nothing happened.
I glared at the door.
"Mellon," I snapped, my face heated in a blush.
Nothing.
"Perhaps if the two of you worked together," Legolas said tentatively.
Gandalf and I eyed each other warily.
"He's too obstinate," I snapped.
"She's a pigheaded youngling," he snapped at the same moment.
We stopped and stared at each other for a moment.
Then that moment passed.
"'Pigheaded youngling,'" I repeated indignantly. "Look who's talking!"
"'Obstinate,'" he shot back, furious. "I'm leading the Ring to Mordor!"
"WE are leading the Ring to Mordor, grandpa," I retorted childishly.
"THEN," Aragorn shouted to get our attention. He continued in a calmer voice, "then you are perfectly matched. Your knowledge," he said, nodding at me, "and your power," he said with a nod to Gandalf.
Gandalf and I glared at each other for a moment.
"Fine," we said together.
"But I don't have to like it," I added peevishly.
"Child," he sneered.
"Geezer," I shot back as we faced the door. "Now, say the elvish word for 'friend'," I instructed snappishly. "And do it before we all get as old as you," I added, just to get the last laugh.
Shut up, I don't care if I'm acting like a five year old.
Besides, HE started it.
"Mellon," he spat, not taking his glare off of me. The door opened and we started to walk inside.
"For the record, my knowledge trumps your power," I hissed in his ear as Gimli bragged about Moria to Legolas.
"In your wildest dreams, maybe," he sneered smoothly as he lit his staff.
"This is no mine, it's a tomb," Boromir said grimly.
Gimli started to wail as Legolas grabbed an arrow, examined it, and cast it away in disgust.
"Goblins," he spat.
Instantly, everyone had their weapons out.
"Shit," I hissed, whirling around as I remembered where I needed to be.
"We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here." I lunged at the hobbits. "Now get out of here, get out!"
I yanked Frodo behind me right before the tentacle would have grabbed him.
Instead, it grabbed me, thinking I was the Ringbearer.
As it tightened around my leg, all I could think of was "Bad. Not supposed to happen."
And I was off my feet, being dragged into the air.
Author's note: am I evil for leaving a cliffy? I promise the next chapter will have more action. I'm debating keeping the next chapter entirely in Moria. Hmm…
Well, that said, REVIEW! And tell me my story doesn't suck.
Cause that makes me happy.