Disclaimer : I own absolutely none of the characters and plot and stuff. Dang.
SOOOO sorry I'm taking forever to update! I am apparently the queen of procrastination. Yeah. I have no excuse.
OKAY so I'm going to try to be better about updating, but don't expect another chapter until December. It's November which means NaNoWriMo which means I am trying to not myself do anything besides write my novel (this includes homework. And sleeping. And bathroom breaks.) I actually wrote this entire chapter as a way to cure myself of terrible case writers block.
Once again, I know how lame it is that the wings haven't been revealed yet x.x It's just hard because if they're discovered too early then it's just like, hey, you, take the ring and zip into Mordor, drop it into the giant flaming volcano, and we're done! Then it would be really short. Which at the pace I'm going at this point might not be so bad.
Oh, yeah, one more thing: REVIEWWWWW!
Alright, now onto the story ^^
Max POV
Black spots danced before my vision, which wasn't exactly crystal clear in the first place. I was vaguely aware of a hand shaking my shoulder.
"Max. Max," someone said. I made a little mumble noise. "Say something!"
"Ow," I said.
"That doesn't count," I recognized the first voice belonged to Fang and the second to Iggy. I sat up and opened my eyes. Pain lanced down my arm.
"Dude, you just got shot, chill out," Iggy said.
"I'm fine," I lied, trying to make my voice sound as strong as possible. I glanced down. The arrow was gone, the wound cleaned, with… well, a clean bandage would be an overstatement, but a strip of cloth that wasn't entirely filthy binding my shoulder. I hoped my super girl immune system would protect me from gangrene. I looked up again, counting everyone and noticed something that could be considered pretty dang important.
"Where's Angel and Gazzy?" Boromir, Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo were not part of this picture either but that hardly concerned me at the moment. Flock first. No one replied.
"Fang!" I hissed. He blinked.
"Angel… we're not sure. Merry, Pippin and Gazzy were kidnapped," he replied slowly. I stood up, pushing off my uninjured arm.
"Let's go," I said.
"Max! You're hurt, though!" Nudge objected. I ignored her. Aragorn grabbed my wrist, pressuring in a way that told me he was trying to grip hard.
"We have been rattled by a series of unfortunate events," he snarled in his attempt at angry/rude voice. "We need to take a moment to think!"
"Oh, unfortunate? You're right, it's unfortunate that he's dead," I waved my hand in the direction of Boromir, who I could tell was very much dead. "It's unfortunate that Angel and Midgets One and Two are missing. It's unfortunate that the Gasman and Midgets Three and Four were lugged off by those weirdoes with major skin problems. It's unfortunate that the Fl – my family is stuck here. It's unfortunate that we've spent our lives living like this. No. Wrong. That's not unfortunate. That totally sucks and we can't just sit around on our butts. I want action. I want you to move your sorry ass right now and start solving problems. We don't have time for this," I snapped, and immediately felt better. Amazing how a little rant can make you feel so much better.
"Uh, yeah, only there's still the issue of your gaping wound," Total pointed out.
"Oh, shut up. You don't walk with your arms," I glared at him.
"Just trying to be the logical one," the dog leaned back, sticking his butt up in the air which was the equivalent of waving your hands innocently. "It's kinda boring, actually."
"We're going back to the camp, grabbing our stuff, and moving. Angel can take care of herself, and if she left of her own free will she has a higher chance of staying safe. We'll head after Gazzy and Merry and Pippen," I decided.
"Excuse me, little miss, but when did you become leader?" Gimli asked the way grown-ups always do when they're horrified they didn't get their way.
"A while ago," I replied simply, flouncing off and ignoring the throbbing pain in my shoulder that was magnified whenever I stepped too hard.
"Wait," Legolas called. "We should at least honor our friend with a proper burial." I felt a tug at my gut. He meant a funeral. I hate funerals. I mean, everyone hates funerals, but this is different. I grew up in an environment where funeral wasn't even an option. When the other experiments, some of which I talked to and thought were cool and nice, died they were just cremated and tossed out of the window. I'd thought that funerals were good, like they made everything better. Then we escaped and then Ari died and I learned they did the exact opposite. I don't think I've ever cried as hard as I had back then.
Grow a backbone, will you? I told myself. First of all, you hated the guy second of all he's a freaking fictional character!
Is that the truth? The Voice asked. Did you really hate him?
Shut up, I snapped.
"Fine. Whatever," I sighed, then turned to help.
Third Person POV (centered around The Gasman)
Gazzy woke up about two minutes after he'd fallen asleep. He was exhausted, but unfortunately it's difficult to doze off when you're being lugged around by a stinky blood stained orc. His fingers tapped together in a steady beat as the thing that was lugging him around trotted forward at a quick jog. He glanced to his left and made eye contact with Pippen for a moment, though he seemed distracted. He kept craning his neck to peer over Gazzy at Merry. Gazzy looked to his right and saw that Merry was still out cold, wheezing slightly and bleeding from a cut next to his eye. Gazzy wrinkled his nose. How long could someone be unconscious in a situation like this?
Suddenly, an orc stopped, causing a small traffic jam. He reared his head a sniffed the air.
"They're on our trail," he grunted. "Move it, maggots!"
"Aragorn!" Pippen whispered hopefully as Gazzy simultaneously said "Max!"
They grinned at each other. Pippen bent his head and started gnawing at the brooch on his cloaky cape thing, ripping it off and spitting it onto the ground. He winked.
Normally in a situation like this it would be fairly probable that Gazzy could kick butt and ditch without getting very hurt, and he could even take the hobbits with him, but these orc guys were smarter than they looked. They'd tied their captives up in just the right way so the muscles necessary for escape were the weakest ones throughout the body. Not only that, but there was something sharp constantly digging into Gazzy's stomach, threatening to cut him up if he moved around too much. He'd have to wait until they got tired and stopped. Preferably this would be soon, and Gazzy knew how to make that happen. All he had to do was use his greatest weapon: annoyance.
"If you come to visit you'll be bored to tears, we haven't even paid the phone bill in 300 years," he began.
"Shut up!"
"But we aint really quaint so please don't point and stare, we're just technologically impaired!"
"Can it, shire worm!" the orc elbowed him hard in the ribs, but Gazzy was already feeling victorious. A few lines of the song later and the orc was ready to kill him.
"No! We need them alive!" barked the leader. "They've got something: an elvish weapon. The master wants it for the war."
Gazzy hoped it was partly his work that made them stop that night. His orc dropped him onto the ground unceremoniously and kept shooting him looks that said 'I will strangle you in your sleep'. The Gasman blocked out the argument about whether or not he and the hobbits should be eaten and turned to Merry and Pippen.
"They think we have the ring!" Pippen whispered, looking scared. "And they think Gazzy's a hobbit!"
"Shh! If they find out they're wrong we're dead!" Merry snapped. He'd woken up a few hours previously. Then he sighed. "I think we made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pippen."
Pippen nodded earnestly and Gazzy looked down sadly. He wished he'd had a choice, leaving… well, Earth. The Flock didn't really have a specific place to live. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden chorus of creaking sounds.
"Wha – what's that?" Pippen said.
"It's the trees," Merry explained.
"The trees?" Gazzy said.
"Remember the Old Forest? On the boarders of Buckland?" Merry turned to Pippen who nodded. "Folk used to say there was something in the water to make the trees grow tall and… come alive."
"Alive?"
"Trees that could talk to each other, even move."
"You're freakin' crazy, man."
The arguing was becoming too animated to ignore. An orc had limped over and was standing over the three captives, his giant claw-like sword poised to hack and stab.
"No!" snarled the leader, but it was too late. The orc had stabbed downwards. Unluckily for him, he'd picked Gazzy as his first target. The Gasman smiled evilly as he rolled to avoid being skewered, and then kicked out with his bound ankles, slamming the orc in the shins and sending him toppling over. The leader grabbed the orc and hefted him upwards before decapitating him. The severed head rolled right next to Gazzy's stomach and he suddenly felt the urge to barf all over the place.
"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" cackled the leader. The other orcs fell upon their dead ex-buddy and started ripping out his innards with their teeth.
"Let's go!" Gazzy hissed. Merry and Pippen nodded furiously and followed him at a crawl. Suddenly, a foot connected with Gazzy's side and sent him sprawling into Pippen.
"Ow!"
"Go on, call for help. Squeal! Ain't no one going to save you now," spat a new orc who apparently didn't much enjoy cannibalism. Suddenly something sharp and pointy protruded from his chest and the orc was thrown to the side.
"What was that?" Gazzy gasped. Pippen shrugged. Horse hooves thundered all around them, their riders creaming anything that moved.
"Come on!" Merry said. They began crawling at high speed. Gazzy swallowed hard, maneuvering through the dead things carefully. He froze at the sound of a familiar scream and whipped around.
Pippen was about to be crushed by a giant horse.
Third Person POV (centered around Angel)
Angel fidgeted with Celeste's dress and her mind wandered to the rest of the Flock. Despite the fact that she'd ditched them on purpose, she wondered if they were worried about her. She felt a small twinge of regret, but pushed it away. She was almost positive they were all alive, even though the ability to read their minds had faded over such a long distance. She worried a little about her brother, but told herself that he would be fine. Gazzy was tough, not to mention older than her.
"Gandalf!" Angel jumped at the sound of Frodo's voice ringing out. She shot him a look.
"What is it, Mr. Frodo?" Sam had been jolted out of sleep, apparently.
"Nothing, just a dream. Go back to sleep," Frodo assured him. Sam seemed kinda overprotective or something to Angel. She shrugged and continued on with her watch.
The next day was pretty much exactly the same as the one before it. And before that. And before that. And… well, you get it. As Sam gazed out over the mountain tops and opened his mouth, probably to begin a giant speech, Angel raised her hand.
"I think we're lost," she said matter-of-factly.
"Definitely," Sam sighed. "I don't think Gandalf meant for us to go this way."
"He didn't mean for a lot of things to happen, Sam, but they did," Frodo said. He glanced upwards at the giant flaming eyeball that had been following them around, situated on top of a giant tower, and gasped, stumbling backwards a few steps.
"Mr. Frodo? It's the ring, isn't it," it wasn't a question.
"It's getting heavier," Frodo sat down and fumbled at his water bottle.
"How can it get heavier? That doesn't make sense," Angel frowned. "Can I hold it?"
Frodo ignored her. "How much food do we have left?"
"Well, let me see," Sam said, dropping his pack and opening it. Angel could tell he already knew what was in there. "Oh, lovely Lembas bread. And look! Some more Lembas bread."
"How is that stuff not totally stale by now?" said Angel.
"No clue," Sam said, taking a bite. "But I don't care. It's pretty good, this stuff."
"Nothing ever dampens your spirits, does it, Sam?" Frodo smiled. It was a creepy smile and Angel hated it.
"Those rain clouds might," Sam grumbled, gesturing towards the sky. Angel sighed. She hated rain. It's cold and wet and makes you colder even after it's stopped.
Sure enough, a few minutes later rain started coming down from the sky in buckets. You could barely take in a breath without sucking in some water as well.
"Look on the bright side," said Angel with false optimism. "There's lotsa water to drink!"
Frodo and Sam gave her doubtful looks before continuing to scurry along, hiding under their cloaks. When the rain thinned enough for them to be able to see clearly, Sam decided to state the obvious.
"This looks familiar."
"That's because it is," Frodo sounded exasperated. "We're going in circles!"
"We should have asked that guy for directions, back there," Angel said, referring to an old hermit they'd met back when there were still trees around them.
"We don't need directions!" said Frodo.
"But we're lost!"
"Well, what're the chances he had directions to Mordor?" Sam pointed out. "And 'sides, we don't need directions!"
"Ugh. Men," Angel rolled her eyes.
"I reckon there's a nasty bog nearby," Sam wrinkled his nose. "I can smell it!"
"I smell it, too," Frodo whispered. "We're not alone."
After another day wandering around being, no matter what Sam and Frodo said, completely lost, they curled up under a cliff to sleep.
Angel heard it first, not only because she was on watch but because of her super powered hearing. Fingernails scraping the rock, wheezing whispers echoing softly off the rocks. She nudged Frodo and Sam awake, pressing a finger to her lips and indicating upwards. They rolled over and pretended to be fast asleep, but the moment Angel heard the pit-pat of feet launching themselves off stone, she bolted upright and grabbed the things arms, sending it crashing downwards.
It was a slick green-gray color with giant eyes and a few strands of stringy hair. It reminded Angel a bit of a twisted, gnarled version of Dobby the House Elf from Harry Potter. It was sort of disgusting, so she kicked it.
The thing bounced back immediately and hurled itself at Frodo, clawing at his face. Angel and Sam lunged, grabbing its arms and yanking it off. Frodo retaliated by drawing his sword and sticking it right up against the thing's neck.
"This is Sting," Frodo hissed. "You've seen it before, haven't you, Gollum? One move and I'll slit your throat!"
Sam, Frodo, and Angel bound Gollum with an elvish rope which seemed to be very painful. He was throwing himself against the walls, screaming bloody murder and complaining that 'it burns'.
Actually, it was more like: "IT BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRNNNNSSSSS!"
"Quiet, you," Sam snapped, then turned to Frodo. "It's useless. Every orc in Mordor's gonna hear this racket! Let's just tie him up and leave 'im."
"BUT THAT WOULD KILL USSSSS!" Gollum shrieked, rolling around on the floor and gargling like a maniac.
"I think that's the point," Angel said.
"Maybe he does deserve to die," said Frodo quietly. "But now that I see him, I do pity him."
"I think since he attacked us we should stick with Sam's plan," Angel nodded. "Beat him up and leave him."
"If you is nice to us we is nice to you," Gollum crawled forward and let out a hacking cough. "Take it off us! We swears to do whats you wants, we swears."
"There's no promise you can make that I can trust," Frodo said.
"We swears on… we swears on… the precious! We swears on the precious!"
"The ring is treacherous. It will hold you to your will," said Frodo. It was something between a question and a statement.
"Yes, on the preciousss, on the precioussss," Gollum wheezed.
"I don't believe you!" Sam snapped. Startled, Gollum jumped back onto a rock. "Get down from there!"
Sam yanked on the rope, pulling Gollum to the ground in a heap.
"Sam!" Frodo cried.
"He's trying to trick us! We let him go, he'll throttle us in our sleep!" Sam insisted.
That was an interesting thought. Angel cocked her head and reached out for Gollum's mind. There wasn't much that made sense in there. It was like an argument between two people.
Kill, we kill them! They steal the precious, filthy little thieves!
Steals the precious, yes, but kill? The… the one is nice! He is nice to Smeagol!
No one is nice to Smeagol. Everyone hates Smeagol!
Angel raised her eyebrows. It seemed as if part of Gollum was a peace-loving Barbie unicorn and the other one was more like a Barbie unicorn from hell. She shrugged. She could beat the heck out of this guy any day. All it would take would be a few thoughts,
"You know the way to Mordor?" Frodo said breathlessly. Gollum nodded warily.
"Yesss," he hissed. Frodo leaned forward and took the rope off from around Gollum's neck. Gollum's eyes widened and a smile flickered across his lips. Frodo looked slightly doubtful, but handed the rope to Sam and looked down at the green grey creature coldly.
"You will lead us to the black gate."