Monstrous
by Leafy
Author's Note: This is my first LOTR fanfic ever. It is loosely based on an episode of the television show "Red Dwarf".
Also, this fic is more based on the movie of Fellowship of the Ring, rather than the books.
I hope you all enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I, the author of this fic, do not own anything Lord of the Rings or Red Dwarf.
Thank you for the reviews, everybody.
Aranndil: Thanks very much! I'm glad you like it! :o)
Europa: Yeah, two in one chapter. We're coming to the end soon, so I have to move things along a bit. And yes, I'll be thinking of something. ;o) Thank you!
Raider314: Heh, thanks ::blushing:: And yeah, Aragorn won't be able to think of something, I'm afraid. Now, you see what I meant when I couldn't tell you more because of spoilers. :o) Thanks for the review!
Marissa: Intuition, I guess. :o) Yeah, Gandalf's their only hope, now. What Aragorn lost will be made clear in this chapter. (or, Europa named it in her review of Chap. 7 :o)) And, don't worry! They'll think of something for the monster! :o) Thanks!
On with the story!
* * *
"Any more soup?" Legolas asked, looking from his sitting position on the ground, over at Merry, who was rinsing out the bowls of the finished diners in a bucket of water he'd retrieved.
"Yes, Legolas," said Merry, setting down the empty bowls and scuttling over to the fire.
"Here you are," he said, handing the replenished bowl to Legolas. As the elf took it, Merry turned his attention to his cousin, on the other side of the campfire.
"Pippin," he said, looking at him worriedly, "you haven't touched your soup, I couldn't help but notice. Can't I fix you something else?"
"Not hungry," Pippin responded automatically, not even glancing at the brimming bowl in his lap.
"I'll finish it," offered Sam, who had finished his bowlful with stunning rapidity. Pippin thrust his bowl at Sam, who took it before Merry could say a word.
"Now, what's that for?" barked Sam, noticing the look of disdain Merry now wore. "This is thin soup."
"It wouldn't be so thin if you hadn't thrown all of our food in the river," Frodo snapped, tossing his empty bowl aside.
"I wouldn't have thrown out the food if you hadn't put me in such a foul disposition," Sam retorted, throwing his own bowl aside and pouring soup onto Legolas, who did not look up.
"Oh, it's all my fault now, is it?" demanded Frodo, again reaching for the sword that was no longer in its sheath.
"That's right!" said Sam.
Frodo seemed unable to find a suitable verbal response to this, and, before anyone could stop him, charged for Sam again. Sam stepped out of his way, sending Frodo crashing into the side of the soup pot, sending the precious contents spilling into the fire, extinguishing the flames and destroying what was left of the meager meal.
Sam burst out laughing as Frodo stood up, dabbing soup out of his eyes.
"Think it's funny, do you?" growled Frodo.
"Now look what you you've done," Sam taunted back.
"It's your fault," Frodo cried, looking ready to lunge again.
"Stop!" Gandalf bellowed. The two hobbits looked over at him. "Frodo," the wizard continued wearily. "Sit down…you too, Samwise."
They sulkily complied, sitting down at opposing ends of the campfire.
There was a brief pause, then Gimli spoke.
"You know, Gandalf," he said softly, "I hope you don't think I'm being forward, but surely you agree that we'd all be much better off, getting all of this hostility and tension out of the air, with a nice, open, comradely meeting?"
"That sounds lovely," Aragorn interjected, still wearing the same eerie smile he'd woken up with back at the clearing. "We could do that right after supper, couldn't we? Couldn't we, Gandalf?"
"Supper seems pretty well over to me," said Sam looking pointedly over the extinguished campfire at Frodo, who glared venomously back.
"There's still the washing up to do," said Merry hurriedly, gathering the remaining empty bowls and pot, and stumbling quickly over to the bucket of washing water. "But we could start now. I mean to say, we can all multitask, can't we?" he looked around briefly, then plunged the dirty pile in his arms into the bucket.
"Maybe you can," Legolas mumbled drowsily, folding his arms over his chest and wincing slightly, as he hadn't allowed Merry near his arm wound again, and it still ached.
"Never mind," said Aragorn, getting to his feet. "Merry, I'll help you with the--Gandalf, where are you going?" he looked over at the wizard, puzzled.
"For a walk," Gandalf croaked, not turning around. "Don't worry, I'll be back in time for the meeting."
**********
"Four days," Gandalf thought bitterly, as he strode through the trees.
Four horrible, harrowing, nearly intolerable days, he'd had to put up with all eight of his comrades' insanity. It felt like four ages.
Frodo and Sam were now constantly at each other's throats, Gimli and his new best friend, sadness-free Aragorn seemed to have appointed themselves morale officers of the fellowship, suggesting open meetings and group hugs to solve all problems, Boromir did nothing anymore but sit and mope, Pippin hadn't eaten a bite of food in the four days he'd been claimed by the monster, just watching Merry in action made Gandalf tired, and Legolas had reached a stage of filth that Gandalf would have found it hard to believe an elf could achieve, had he not seen it for himself.
Gandalf had reached the edge of the river, the very river that had swallowed up their food some miles back, just a few days ago. He sat down on a boulder at the water's edge.
Gandalf relaxed his posture, and his hands went up to his face, rubbing his tired eyes. It wasn't just the state of the fellowship that was getting to Gandalf. There was something else. It was small, round, shiny, and tucked away inside his robes, just over his heart.
Almost a week ago, Frodo had been sapped by the monster, and almost a week ago, Gandalf had had to confiscate the ring.
The wizard heaved a sigh. He did not like having the ring in his possession, and had done much before now to keep it out of his possession. It made him nervous, and he was afraid of what he might be tempted to do or think, in his own emotionally weakened state.
Still, perhaps the only fortunate about the situation with the monster was that it mostly kept Gandalf's mind off of the ring. However, just to be safe, Gandalf generally avoided solitary moments such as this. It was only when he felt like he was going crazy, like he did now, that he gave in to the temptation to take a walk by himself.
Gandalf inhaled slowly, taking his fingertips from his eyelids. He looked around at the dark landscape.
It had been days since they'd seen the monster at all. The last appearance it had made was on the night that it had claimed Aragorn, when Gandalf saw it as himself, and it ran off into the woods. Gandalf had hoped that the monster might come back after him, giving them all a chance to annihilate it, but it seemed to be finished with them, at least for now. Gandalf now thought that, perhaps, his own mind operated on a plane that was uninteresting to the beast.
And, even if it came back now, how could they really expect to vanquish it? Even if, by some miracle, Gandalf managed to get everyone to cooperate in the effort, the objective seemed insurmountable. Almost every time anyone of the fellowship encountered the beast, they dealt it some wound that would send any previously-discovered monster reeling, not running, as this beast did.
The thought had crossed Gandalf's mind that the beast had some sort of regenerative abilities, and if that was true, all was lost.
Another problem was that Gandalf had never seen this monster before, and knew nothing of it that its legend and firsthand experience did not tell. He did not know of any spells that might be useful against the beast, either. Any time it attacked, the wizard's mind just went blank.
Just then, some tremendous shouting took up back at the camp. Gandalf stood up wearily, knowing that it almost certainly wasn't the monster, but that he must go back.
**********
Coming into the clearing, Gandalf's eyes met with an horrific sight.
Sam and Frodo were standing face to face, with only the campfire between them. They were engaged in a heated argument, or a fight, more accurately. Merry was dancing round them like some kind of maternal referee, his coaxing words lost in the babble of the two.
Gimli and Aragorn stood just beyond the fray, Aragorn looking excited, Gimli downright frightened.
"It's your fault we're even in this mess!" Sam bellowed. "If you hadn't let yourself be caught by that wretched monster, we wouldn't have had to go looking for it to begin with!"
"I suppose I should've just run off like a coward, then?" Frodo demanded fiercely. "I suppose we all should have done that?"
"That would be preferable to this," Sam countered. "And even if we captured it, you wouldn't be able to so much as nic that beast, anyway!"
"I could grind it to a powder, if given the opportunity!" Frodo shouted indignantly.
"Nonsense!" Sam responded coldly. "Boromir thinks he's useless as a warrior, but really, the only useless one around here is you."
"Please don't include me in this," said Boromir quietly from the edge of the campsite.
Before Frodo could respond to either of these statements, though, Merry was in control. With surprising strength and effectiveness, he kicked the fire out with a single blow from his foot. He then stood on the smoldering ashes between Frodo and Sam stretching his arms out, in an effort to keep the hobbits separated.
"Listen," Merry announced. "I want both of you to stop all of this nonsense, this instant! You're upsetting Gandalf, and destroying all semblance of morale around here."
After a bit more badgering from Merry, the troublesome duo agreed to leave each other alone, at least until one of them provoked the next fight.
Sam was so caught up in his own thoughts as he walked away from the spot where Merry was now relighting the campfire, that he almost walked into Gandalf, still standing at the edge of the campsite.
"Erm, hello, M-mister Gandalf," he said nervously.
"Hello, Samwise," Gandalf murmured, looking over Sam's head at the rest of the camp, where the others were, kindling, comforting, brooding, snoring, sitting, singing, and scheming.
"Gimli," Gandalf called softly.
"Yes?" the dwarf looked up, pausing in mid-verse.
"I think it's time for that open meeting."
"Terrific," said Gimli, clamping his hands together in enthusiasm. "Come here, everyone. Frodo, why don't you leave those rocks over there? Oh come, Boromir, it will do you good. Somebody, wake up Legolas."
~~End of Part 8