At risk of sounding like a broken record at this point. I'm sorry, not only was this chapter fighting me with each word, but add writer's block, lots of ideas for other stories, and life in general. Well, you get the idea… I didn't want to give you anything sub-par, so I held out and I hope this chapter is worth the wait. Once again, sorry and THANK YOU for reading, it means a lot!
Urban was getting really annoyed, not to mention getting no sleep. Bessimar was a great Witch Hunter, a good traveling companion, and a fantastic (and fanatical) Sigmarite. But, oh by the Gods, did he snore!
Urban spent another fifty minutes trying, and failing, to fall asleep. He even tried counting saints! Finally, he tossed off his blanket and stood up, stretched out his back and took a look around for his Deus Sigmar. He found it rather quickly, but sitting down realized that despite the light of the moon, and the ethereal light of the glen itself, it was impossible to read.
Quietly cursing (though not in Sigmar's name), he stands up and looks around, squinting in the half-light. For he feels that something is amiss.
He quickly realizes what it is.
Frodo was gone.
Pure panic fills Urban's mind, he quickly retrieves his warhammer, straps on his Deus Sigmar, and goes to wake Bessimar. He uses a stick to prod him awake.
Bessimar practically bounces awake, and within seconds is attempting to strangle the stick.
"Bessimar!" Urban hisses, "Frodo's not here!"
Bessimar's face now shows the same panic that Urban's did not a moment prior. Forgoing his asphyxiation of the branch. He grabs his coat, pistols, sword, and most importantly, his hat. Leaping to his feet.
It doesn't take more than a few minutes to find the Hobbit's trail.
"If he turns out to have just gone to the privy, why by Sigmar!..." grumbles Bessimar.
Finally, the duo hear muffled voices up ahead. Bessimar unholsters a pistol and Urban readies his hammer.
Peaking through the brush, the pair see Frodo on his back, and Galadriel standing in front of a smoking fountain. Believing that this was some sort of Elf magic, and not trusting magic in any way, shape, or form; the duo leap into the clearing!
"Alright!" shouts Bessimar, "What's going on here!?"
Galadriel looks at them, with a rather annoyed expression, and then breathes a sigh of frustration, before pointing behind them.
The pair spin around, only to see the rest of the company standing, somewhat bleary-eyed, behind them.
"We heard your shout, and found the three of you missing." says Aragorn, "What is happening here?"
Now Frodo pipes up, "It is my doing" he began, "I wandered from the clearing after hearing the Lady's voice in my head. She had me look into the mirror." gesturing at the still-slightly smoking fountain, "and I have seen now what shall pass if our quest should fail."
Now less alarmed, Urban lowers his hammer, while Bessimar holsters his pistol with a grumble, and the rest of the fellowship stow their weapons as they walk further into the clearing.
"While Frodo may have seen in the Mirror what he must, there is still one more thing that the Mirror must do this night." utters Galadriel.
"What's that?" inquires Bessimar tersely. Not noticing Aragorn and Legolas's scowls at the lack of respect for the Lady of the Wood.
Galadriel smiles enigmatically, before waving her hand over the basin as a bright light erupts from the still waters.
All shield their eyes, and then open them as the light fades.
But where there were before eleven in the clearing, now there was thirteen.
Two somewhat dizzied looking forms are now standing across at the basin from Galadriel.
Bessimar reaches for his pistol, but Aragorn stays his hand. Quite clearly noticing Bessimar's scowl.
"Who are you?" asks Urban, speaking with an authoritative voice.
Before either of the befuddled newcomers can respond, Galadriel speaks, "They have been sent by your lord Sigmar, to aid you upon the quest."
Now that the light has fully faded, and the fellowship's eyes have readjusted to the twilight of the glen; the pair can be clearly seen. Before them are two beings. One short, and one tall.
The first is obviously (well, at least to Bessimar and Urban) a Dwarven Slayer, and judging from the amount of blood on his rune-inscribed axe, probably a very successful (or very unsuccessful, as their goal is their own glorious death) one at that.
The second is an Elven Wizard. Back straight and a glimmering golden circlet on her head, complementing her spotless white-and-blue robes perfectly. She carries a staff practically humming with power.
The most noticeable feature about the pair, however, is that each looks like they dearly wish to kill the other.
"Aye, ye knife-eared bleeder! Ye want me beard?! Come an kiss me axe fer it!'" shouts the Dwarf.
"You are truly lost to the past you deep-dwelling fool," utters the female Elf rather snidely, "you have no idea how important it is that I pass by…"
Both stop talking, seemingly finally noticing that they were no longer in Grey Lady Pass. They both spin around in confusion, finally noticing the Fellowship and Lady Galadriel.
"Uh… what's the…by Bugman's beard, what did I have to drink last night!" exclaims the Dwarf.
"This was not my doing…" whispers the Elf, "in Isha's name, what is happening!"
"Greetings to those from afar" intones Galadriel, the pair turn to look at her. The female Elf gasps and immediately bows deeply and drops to a knee, for she can sense her immense power and seems truly humbled to be in the presence of such a mighty being. The Dwarf merely furrows his brow and grunts.
"You have been summoned here by the deity Sigmar, for he asks you to join a quest whose completion may rest on the shoulders of you and your new comrades." Galadriel points to the befuddled Fellowship.
The Dwarf looks skeptical, but the female Elf rises, bowing once again and looking over to the group. Upon noticing Bessimar and Urban, she says, "You two," pointing at the duo, "You are from our world as well?"
Urban nods, and Bessimar moves in what could be called a barely-moving-your-head nod.
"Aye?" says the Dwarf, he wouldn't believe an Elf about such matters, but two Sigmarites and the Dwarf standing behind them, that lends a little more credence to the story.
The pre-existing members of the fellowship slowly enter the glen, for they trust… well, minus Bessimar and Urban, Galadriel implicitly. However, the appearance of what appears to be two new traveling companions leaves them not really knowing what to think.
"If we are to travel together" Aragorn says after a long pause, "then it would be rather beneficial if we were acquainted.
The female Elf looks over the group, then stands straight and adopts a regal air, saying, "I am Ulliadia Emberfell, Mage in the service of Saphery, of the Realm of Ulthuan."
While the place-names of this 'Saphery', and 'Ulthuan', were unknown to those of Middle-Earth, the female Elf seemed to be personable enough. Legolas, for one, was rather pleased to have another Elf in the company. He walked forward and stuck out his hand for the mage to shake.
Ulliadia looked at Legolas with a queer expression, one that, truthfully, Legolas could only see as sizing him up to see if he was worth her time. While Legolas was taken aback, he still kept his hand out. After a tense and rather awkward moment, Ulliadia muttered "Asrai" and slowly reached her and out to shake Legolas's rather woodenly.
Whilst this 'exchange' between the company's Elves was taking place, Gimli boisterously walked over to his own kin. "Aye!" he laughed, "Nice to see we're gonna have another Dwarf with us!"
Gimli then grasped the immediately offered forearm of this new arrival. "Gimli, son of Gloin!".
The other Dwarf shook Gimli's forearm enthusiastically, whilst replying "Gottrisson Gloombringer!"
Aragorn, who was watching both exchanges, turned his attention back to Ulliadia and her tense reaction to Legolas, content with the two Dwarves camaraderie. Well, at least till' he heard a near-predatory growl from Gottrisson. Swiveling his head back to the Dwarves, he could see only a rather shocked Gimli and a red-faced Gotttrisson. He would later learn that Gimli had simply asked a question about Gottrisson's "unique" hairstyle.
Aragorn blew a long breath upward, tousling his hair. For now, as leader of the Fellowship, he was responsible for the well-being not only of the group, independently; but also as a whole. He believed that he was up to the task of Bessimar and Urban, having now traveled with them for quite some time. But this…
This was another animal completely, and Aragorn sincerely did not wish to add mediating disputes with the newcomers to his already heavy burden of leadership.
It was then that Galadriel attracted the attention of all present once again, dismissing them back to their lodgings in the nearby glen. Adding that she believed that any rest the company could now garner would be beneficial in the morning.