A/N: Sorry it took me so long to come out with another chapter. There's this thing called a life and classes which pounced upon me with a vengeance. Once I can fend them off, I'm sure chapters will come with more frequency. Any ways, like I updated in the first chapter, I'm not exactly sure what the future of this story is. I do love the dream sequence in this chapter, though. I had a lot of fun with it. Well, enjoy! :)
Also, I would like to make it a point that this is actually NOT an author fic. That's right…Marion Young is not actually me! She has a few of my characteristics, and a few of my friends, but she's not actually me. I thought that I should mention this for later reference. That's it this time, I swear! Happy reading!
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"Tell me about Gandalf," Marion whispered to Frodo. They were both lying on their stomachs, faces perched on the backs of their hands and so close to each other that their noses were almost touching. The rest of the Fellowship was snoring around them, and for that Marion couldn't blame them – most of them had drunken so much wine and ale that they would surely have hangovers the next morning. And despite the long day she herself had had, she found herself talking with Frodo in what had to be the early hours of the morning. Even though it had been tiring, she looked back upon her first day among the Fellowship – her Fellowship – with a smile.
Around dawn, Boromir, true to his word, had tried to rouse Marion from her sleep for sword training. At first he only received incoherent mumbling since Marion had a curious sleeping habit of curling in a ball and pulling the blankets up to her nose. After a few more shakes, she rolled over and shot a, "Sod off." at him. A more violent shake rewarded him with a, "Bloody hell." and she threw back her covers glaring at him. "This is not a good way to start off my first day in the Fellowship," she had commented, moodily.
"It will be a very short membership if you get yourself killed by an orc," Boromir answered and stalked off to let Marion ready herself.
Unused to hygiene habits – or lack thereof, she grumbled – of Middle Earth, she complained about not having a toothbrush, or any other brush for that matter and pulled her curly hair back with an leather elvish contraption that wove itself around her hair and kept it in place. That took her awhile since she was not used to moving her fingers in such ways. Whenever the weaving failed, a small string of cusses flew from her mouth that made Sam give her startled and unapproving glances. Finally she deemed herself as ready as she would ever be at such an Ungodly Hour (which she called every hour until about lunchtime) and practicing began.
Boromir had decided that she was to start out on the basics that day: where to put her feet, how to properly hold a sword (which was on loan to her from Pippin), and how to keep herself balanced. Rather indignant about the entire process ever since Boromir had said flat out that everything she had ever learned about swordplay was wrong, Marion had a small frown on her face for most of the morning. Pippin and Merry brightened her day after lunch by joining her and making Boromir lighten up. Throughout the day, Aragorn would drop by once in awhile and throw out pointers wherever helpful. Sam had dragged Frodo out of eyesight for most of the morning and Legolas and Gimli were wandering about Lothlorien.
By the time Lothlorien had started to glow from the moonlight, all of the Fellowship had gathered around Boromir and Marion. Once in awhile, Merry would call out encouragement to her (who was by this time dead tired and determined to smack Boromir in the face with the flat of her sword the next time he said, "Good, now do it again"). Finally, Boromir called the day over with an encouraging, "Finally you are at the point where you can actually learn something."
After that, all Marion wanted to do was fling herself onto her blankets and sleep for days, but everyone else had better plans. Apparently, while Gimli and Legolas had been exploring, they had gathered baskets of food for a large sized dinner to welcome Marion into the Fellowship. Perking up at the idea of a feast, Marion gladly sat down in between Frodo and Pippin and ate with flourish.
The food was delicious, especially so to Marion, who had been famished from practicing so long. By the end of the meal, she had horrified the hobbits by informing them that she hated mushrooms. She was immediately forgiven, though, when she offered her share to anyone else who might have wanted them. Pippin and Merry, having had a bit too much to drink, immediately got into a drunken wrestling match over the last mushroom and were pulled apart by the still sober Sam. Trying to conceal their giggles, Frodo and Marion simply turned to Aragorn and Boromir, who were talking about a White City. The wrestling match marked the end of the feast, for Pippin and Merry immediately dropped to sleep on their blankets after Merry had quickly devoured the mushroom while Pippin was distracted by Sam. The rest slowly made their way to bed; Aragorn and Boromir a bit tipsy, Gimli seemingly untouched by the enormous amounts of ale he had, and sober Sam in between the other loudly snoring hobbits. Legolas simply wandered off on his own – apparently elves didn't sleep or get drunk. That left Frodo and Marion alone to talk.
Frodo had started off with some of his tales about Bilbo and the Shire (some very interesting ones about the pranks Pippin and Merry played on someone called Lobelia). Once in awhile, Marion would talk about Cranbrook and her friends (a few of the interesting stories about friends who could probably tell all of Frodo the names of all his cousins and five generations of his ancestors).
Somewhere in between one of Bilbo's birthday party and Marion's adventures in London, Frodo had somehow convinced her to help him finish off the rest of the wine, even though she had staunchly refused any at supper.
"I only just started going to the pubs," she had replied then, pushing the wine flask away from her. "I'd get sloshed before you could refill my glass."
"The pubs? Sloshed?" Pippin had asked.
"The pubs are kinda like taverns that you can't go to until you turn eighteen. Sloshed is very drunk."
"You just turned eighteen?" Frodo asked incredulously.
"Yeah…what's so startling?"
"You're not even in your tweens!" Merry exclaimed.
"You see, young one," Aragorn explained, who was sitting opposite from her. "To the hobbits, you're not even out of childhood, even though in as a human you were an adult."
So, there she was, early in the morning, on her fourth glass of the fragrant wine, her head feeling a bit light on her shoulders. Frodo refilled his glass before answering Marion's question.
"Shouldn't you already know about Gandalf?" Frodo asked.
"I read about him," Marion replied. "But that's not the same as knowing him."
A silence followed and Frodo's eyes remained fixated on the wine, mirror smooth in his glass. It didn't take the sharp stab of pain in the back of her mind to tell Marion that her question had probably awoken memories Frodo would rather leave forgotten. "It's okay, Frodo." Marion quelled an urge to wrap him in a hug. "We don't have to talk about it."
"What do you miss most about your home?" Frodo finally broke his eye contact with his wine and took a deep drink of it.
"Right now? Showers," Marion giggled. Despite how much she missed Cranbrook, it was easier to laugh about it than focus on the pain right below the surface of calm she had built around herself. Also, she wanted to take Frodo's mind off of his own loss (a double-sided purpose, for it was easier to forget about her pain when his wasn't throbbing at the back of her skull, too). Seeing the corners of his mouth curve up, she continued. "Beds, computers, rock music – I would blast The Pogues until it rattled through the entire house. I miss that. It drove my family crazy."
"Tell me about them," Frodo asked. Marion took a gulp of her wine; this had been what she had been avoiding throughout the conversation. She missed her family much more than anything else in Cranbrook. Fleetingly, she wondered if they were worried about her yet. Clutching the glass, she imagined her mother's face white with worry, her father pacing the floors, and her brother locked in his room, reading a book. This was a subject that would be hard to fake happiness about.
"Let's see…" Marion began around the lump in her throat. She took another swig of wine, and that managed to wash a bit of the pain away. It also made her thoughts harder to form. Words were simply swimming around in her brain in no logical order. "There's my mum, dad, and little brother. Mum works at home, and dad's a lawyer. My brother's five years younger than me and simply loves high tech gadgets. We can't afford a lot of them, but dad loves to spoil him at Christmas. Dad's the one I go to if I want something, but mum's the one I go to if I'm in trouble," she paused, turning her eyes to the branches above her. The ache overwhelmed her and she simply couldn't ignore it.
Frodo's hand ran over her head, which startled her. Staring intently into the branches, willing the sadness in her chest to fade away, she hadn't even seen him. For a moment, the wine and touch made the world tilt a bit. She felt herself blush against her will. This was not natural. The wine was rushing to her head – she had no tolerance for alcohol.
"I'm rapidly approaching very drunk," Marion whispered, trying to regain some sort of composure. Frodo pulled back his hand and shifted positions, slowly bringing himself to sitting. As he leaned forward to rock up onto his feet, the Ring on its chain around his neck tumbled out from underneath his shirt and clinked against his wine glass. The sound echoed impossibly around them and made both Marion and Frodo freeze. Instinctively, Frodo's hand flew to the Ring and he clasped it in his hand, bringing it protectively close to his chest.
Curiously, Marion watched Frodo's reaction, noting the change in his expression from open to guardedly closed. He paused, his eyes gradually rising from his now clenched fist to Marion. Practically yanking the chain from his neck, he slid over to her and presented it to her in his open palm. Her gaze flickered from his face to the ring and back again.
"Is that it?" She asked, lamely, knowing exactly what it was. Frodo nodded.
"The Ring," he answered ominously. "Do you hear it?" His voice was hushed, face set and serious.
The question puzzled Marion. "Hear what?" All that she could hear were snores and the creaking of wind lazily rustling the leaves far above them. She was sure he meant something to do with the ring, but what could you hear from a ring? Perhaps he was even more drunk than she was.
"The whispering…" Frodo was a bit baffled. "Don't you hear it calling your name?"
Gazing at the ring, she tried to heighten her sense of hearing to any whispering that might be calling her name. The oddness of the situation threw her brain back into semi-sober mode and she was able to shake her head without the rest of the world mimicking the movement. "I don't hear a thing."
* * *
Marion watched as the leaves danced with each other despite their confinement to their branches. A bit farther off, she could hear Frodo shifting under his blankets as he tried to drift off to sleep. Even though she wanted to do the same, her mind simply would not rest. Lying on her back, she brought her right hand up until it hovered right in front of her face. The silver ring on her finger gathered the luminescence of Lothlorien around it making it glow. This was the cause of her problems. The incident with Frodo and the Ring had sobered her up enough so that it was easier to think about her predicament.
The blush returned faintly to her cheeks when she remembered Frodo's fingers through her hair. That was not natural. Why was she feeling that way? The logical answer was the wine. But she remembered the smile he had given her the day before and how she couldn't help but smile back. There had been no alcohol in her system then. So, what was this? This uncontrollable feeling that scared her? She didn't believe in love at first sight, but she knew the feeling in the pit of her stomach. And the lump that jumped into her throat when she thought of that touch.
Throwing her hand down with a sigh, Marion now glared at the branches. What right did anyone have to drag her into this? To mess with her life? To change her forever? She knew for a fact she'd never be able to read a novel the same way again. Probably would never buy rings – and maybe even other types of jewelry – again. Sure, it was probably the most exciting thing that would ever happen to her in her entire life. But, exciting wasn't always good. What was that curse she'd heard? "May your life always be interesting"? Yeah, that was it. Well, this was certainly interesting. She wondered if someone had cursed her earlier in her childhood.
Then she calmed herself. Exciting actually could be good. Everything was what she made it out to be, right? If she tried to make the best out of a situation, it would turn out alright. If she only thought of the bad things, it would most likely end disastrous. Of course, she was best at the latter type of thinking. Which inevitably led her to many disastrous endings. Shivering, she shifted.
"Pssssst." She heard close to her ear. Starting, she sat upright so fast that the world did a dance before her eyes. Closing her eyes, she waited a few seconds before opening them, and found the world right again. Lying on his stomach, head right where her ear used to be, was Merry. He must have crawled on his stomach to have crept so close without her detecting him.
"Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Merry, you scared the bejesus out of me," Marion clutched her hand over her heart. "You're supposed to be snoring."
"I heard you and Frodo talking." Merry sat up and leaned back on his legs, so that he his feet were underneath him. Unwinding, Marion, moved a bit closer and sat down cross-legged beside him.
"What did you hear?"
"Now you have to understand that I wasn't eavesdropping or anything, but I was woken up by some chiming sound. I was about to drop back off to sleep, but then I heard Frodo say something about the Ring. And…do you really hear nothing?"
"Not a whisper," Marion replied.
At this, Merry frowned. "Not a whisper," he repeated.
"Why? You're not saying you hear something, are you?" Marion asked incredulously. When she read the book, the only ones who had seemed unaffected by the Ring of Power were the hobbits. The stead and true friends of Frodo who never wavered in their devotion.
"Right at the beginning of the Quest, right after we set off from Rivendell," Merry began quietly. "I heard something whispering my name. It offered me so many things, but none of it really rang true. Though it all sounded wonderful…" he paused momentarily before continuing, seemingly horrified that he'd said such a thing. "What I really wanted was to be back safe in the Shire. What good would that do me if the Ring was still out there? Every once in awhile, it still calls my name, but I try to pay it no mind." He frowned, his downcast eyes fixed on Marion's knees.
"You're not weak, Merry, or unfaithful to Frodo" Marion comforted, trying to make her voice reassuring. "The only reason I don't hear it calling is because all I want in this world is its destruction so I can go home. It can't very well offer me that, now can it?" She smiled.
"I suppose not." He weakly tried to return her smile, but yawned instead. "You know," he said in an older brother tone as he slid back to his blankets, "you should get some sleep. Tomorrow'll come soon and you have a lot to learn." Marion nodded as Merry climbed back into his blankets. "Hey, Marion…" she turned back to face Merry again. "I'm glad you don't hear anything." He closed his eyes and immediately fell back asleep.
Sighing again, Marion stood up to get some water so she wouldn't have a severe hang over in the morning.
* * *
Eyes squeezed shut, Sam waited until he heard Marion settle down for the third time that night. Slowly he turned and slit his eye open just enough to blurrily see Marion lie down on her blankets and curl up. Fully opening one eye and then another, he waited a few more moments before he sat up. Unlike Merry, he had been awake all night. He had heard all of the conversations between both Marion and Frodo and Marion and Merry.
He was glad he'd over heard her talk with Merry. He thought he was the only hobbit who had heard the ring's tormenting call. Now, he knew that the only one free of it was Marion. And that didn't endear her to him any more. Galadriel's word gave her a certain amount of respect – no open hostility, but the way she ensnared Mr. Frodo was all too like some sort of spell. But, then again, not hearing the Ring was also a sign of trustworthiness.
Standing up, he crept over to Marion's curled up body underneath the blankets. While she was sleeping she didn't seem to be any sort of evil witch. But that didn't mean anything about her waking self. Silently, he moved farther off to get a drink.
"What are you playing at, Galadriel?" a voice insisted. "You will get that girl killed." Another voice responded in elvish. The first voice merely answered in Common Speech, "If we are to speak about your plots, it will be in a tongue that the Fellowship you seem so keen to meddle in will understand. Far be it from me to keep information from them that they should have a right to hear."
Drawn to what seemed to be a dispute, Sam crawled underneath some growth around a tree and found Celeborn and Galadriel discussing. "You shouldn't be doin' this, Samwise Gamgee," Sam mumbled to himself. "This is a sure way to get yourself in trouble." But he was interested in the conversation and by what Celeborn said, he was doing the Fellowship a good turn. If they were to speak in Common Speech so that anyone happening by could hear it, then he almost had a right to listen in. Galadriel sat calmly on a white wooden chair, while Celeborn looked like he would feel more comfortable pacing, but simply stood, staring down at Galadriel.
"I am not playing at anything. She will be fine," Galadriel finally replied in the Common Tongue.
"Fine? We agreed on a boy, so that he could defend himself. The Fellowship wouldn't be as opposed to a boy joining the group. We even found the right one, he knew all about Middle Earth as well as the quest."
"It is in her best interest to not know what is to happen later on. Everything has changed now. One who is familiar with the old tale would only be led astray. Besides, the situation was complicated."
"You never said anything of this. You simply informed me that we had a bearer, not that it was someone different. I continued to think it was that boy until only a few days ago. What was his name? Erunion?"
"Jonathan," she replied piercingly in Common Speech, "yes."
Celeborn's mouth formed a tight line as if he were barely biting back a harsh comment. Instead of replying right away, he sat down beside Galadriel. The silence between the two elves was severe, as if neither would satisfy the other by breaking it. Sam, uncomfortable with the situation, started to back out of his hiding place and return to the others.
"She is weak, Galadriel." Sam heard Celeborn comment as he was retreating. "You saw her scars yourself while the girl was unconscious. This quest will be her unmaking. It will tear her apart."
"She is not weak, Celeborn," Galadriel replied fiercely. "You might have said the same for the Ringbearer before he started out." At this, Sam froze. He had an urge to tell the Lady Galadriel exactly where she was wrong about Mr. Frodo. Knowing the idea was not in his best interest, he simply stood where he was to see if she would realize her error. "That Ring would destroy him. I just realized it now, but no boy could pull him back from cliff he dangles over. Sárelle can, though. They are both reacting to it."
"The after-effects of the bond," Celeborn dismissed the information. "That is exactly what I am worried about, Galadriel. She is not stable. That bond could warp her. Is one hobbit worth another innocent's life?"
"It was not only for Frodo that I decided on her after I could not obtain Erunion." Galadriel shook her head. "If she struggles, he will help her. When he falters, she will catch him. Not only will the ring make sure of that…but I feel that it is in both of their natures. She needs him as much as he needs her. The two are very alike in some ways."
"But the differences…"
"Are no matter," Galadriel silenced him. "I would be more worried about the rest of the Fellowship." Sam decided that this is where he would make his exit. Galadriel's voice faded as he crept back to the Fellowship, forgetting all about his drink. He sat down on his blankets and stared at Marion and Frodo, his eyes moving from one to the other.
"She is weak, Galdriel…You saw her scars yourself…It will tear her apart."
'So,' Sam thought. 'She's just hurtin'. Poor girl. How'd I miss it before? Of course she'd become attached to Mr. Frodo…him being the ringbearer and so brave and all.' Sitting there, he watched Marion shift in her sleep, wondering what those scars were that Celeborn had talked about.
* * *
The table was impossibly long, with chairs lined all the way down its sides. Filling the table were teapots and teacups of every shape and size imaginable (and some unimaginable). There were large teapots, short teapots, ones cast to look like frogs with open mouths, some like little houses, others with three or four spouts, and some with no spout. Others were painted like the rainbow, some a plain hue; there was even a teapot that looked like the one her mum would bring her when she was sick in bed or studying late.
Walking slowly down the table, she began to hear nonsensical chatter until she saw two figures sitting at the head of the table. As she came closer, she recognized the two boys. Mathias, a tall, skinny boy, wore a ridiculously large hat that should have been around his nose, yet somehow stayed upright on his forehead. He was wearing outlandishly bright clothes decorated with stripes, plaids, spots, and paisleys. Sipping intermittently at his teacup, he talked quite animatedly to Jon, who wore a headband with two flopping, furry bunny ears. With his shorter stature and darker complexion, floppy brownish ears looked nothing but goofy on him. His clothes were all angora and he wore fluffy gloves.
As she approached, the two turned and watched her in a hushed silence. Finally, Mathias spoke.
"Why is a warrior like a daffodil?"
Blinking, she stared at him. Mathias talking in riddles? She looked to Jon, hoping he would be more logical, but he simply stared expectantly at her, his bunny ears waving a bit.
"A riddle?" She heard herself reply. "I love riddles. Hm. Why is a warrior like a daffodil?" Sitting down at a seat near Jon, she continued to think over Mathias' question.
"Cup of tea?" Jon offered her a somewhat large teacup.
"Yes, thank you." She reached out to take the cup to find a mouse face peering out at her, little paws gripping the edges. Crying out, she pushed herself away from the cup, until her back hit the back of the seat.
"Dormouse!" Mathias scolded, taking the damp rodent out of the tea cup. Jon offered the cup to her again, but she just shook her head weakly. He shrugged and downed the rejected tea.
"I don't know," She finally answered.
"Don't know what?" Mathias looked up from force feeding the Dormouse slices of butter. The Dormouse skittered away while his tormentor was distracted.
"Why is a warrior like a daffodil?"
"I don't know - why is a warrior like a daffodil?"
"You just asked me!" She huffed.
"No I didn't," Mathias denied, seemingly indignant that his pride was being questioned. He poured an entire jar of sugar in his teacup and proceeded to drink it.
"He didn't," Jon agreed, nodding his head, his bunny ears flopping ridiculously. "Silly girl." He turned to Mathias. "Now, where were we?"
"Elvish," Mathias supplied immediately. He immediately began to sputter off a language that she could only assume was Elvish. Jon replied in the same sounding language and the conversation went back and forth like that for awhile. The Dormouse scuttled over to her and sat down, staring at her with intelligent eyes. She picked up a cube of sugar from a jar, broke it into smaller pieces and fed them to him. Once the sugar was gone, Dormouse moved away, winding in between strange teapots and cups.
"Why are you two talking in elvish?" She asked curiously, peering over a cup of tea she poured for herself. She checked to make sure it was safe before taking a cautious sip. The two stared at her as if she was completely ignorant.
"We are practicing our Middle Earth languages," Jon replied haughtily, his ears appeared to twitch in agitation.
"Why would you do something like that?"
"So that we can read the books in their pure form," Mathias answered. "They change every time you read them. If you don't know all the languages, you miss everything."
"It changes every time?" She asked, dubiously. "How is that possible?"
"The littlest thing can change an entire world," Jon responded, serious for the first time.
"That sounds familiar," She mumbled to herself. Then, louder,"But how can that change a book?"
"You only read it once," Jon said, turning toward her. "And all you read was the Fellowship of the Ring. You wouldn't understand."
"Yes I would!" She cried.
"Then what animals did the Queen Berúthiel have?" Mathias questioned.
"I don't know that," she replied indignantly.
"All you know is what happens to Frodo and Sam. Do you even care about the others?" Jon accused.
"Do you care what happens to them?" Mathias narrowed in on her, too.
"Of course I do!" She defended herself, suddenly feeling very ashamed. "You were the one who told me that everyone makes it out okay." She stared at Mathias, startled. "When we talked about the book months ago. You were so mad because you told me something in the future. You said that everyone makes it out okay." She paused so that one of them would confirm or deny this comment. There was silence. Her voice grew more desperate. "Everyone makes it out alright…right?" Still silence. "Right?"
"The Dormouse is asleep in the tea again," Mathias poked the Dormouse, who was curled up in a teacup half filled with tea. Jon simply held her gaze, but said nothing, his silly ears stock still.
Her chair began to shake and she gripped the seat so she wouldn't fall off onto the floor. Frantically, she kept Jon's gaze, waiting for him to answer her. "Answer me, Jon, please," she pleaded softly.
* * *
"Ms. Marion! Ms. Marion!"
Marion reluctantly opened her eyes to find a blurred pair of worried brown ones leaning over her. Those deep brown eyes
"Answer me, Jon," She mumbled sleepily.
A/N: Okay, about Queen Beruthiel…yes, she's a real character from Lord of the Rings. No, I'm not obsessive, the only reason I know about her is because the person Mathias is based off of is. Whenever he would demonstrate this to me or another group of people, he would start talking about Queen Beruthiel and her cats (yes, that's the answer to Mathias' question – the queen had cats. 10 of them, apparently, who scared the living daylights out of the people of Gondor. Go figure), who no one but a Lord of the Rings buff would know. So, when I needed a question, I researched who this Queen was and put down. (For the real Mathias) Ha! So now by your standards I'm a LoTR buff, too!
Also, if you don't know The Pogues, they're a somewhat punkish Irish band.
What's the answer to the riddle? Well, that, my friends, I can't tell you. It comes in later in the story. Just wanted to explain about Queen Beruthiel and her demonic cats.