Disclaimer: It's not mine. Flame away. Those with particular canon
expertise: Feel as free as you want to correct me to death. I could do with
an education. I'm trying, though; really I am!
Frodo and I sat at his table back at Bag End. He'd made himself some tea- I didn't want any, though he'd been quite the gentlehobbit in offering. I was trying to figure out how to explain to him that he was a character in some books, and a recent semi-passable movie, which was how the club had gotten its information. "Well," I began, fishing around in my brain for words. "How long has Bilbo been gone?" I blurted it out, not knowing at all why I'd just said that. Frodo looked confused, but replied, "About 10 years. Why? And how do you know Bilbo, and how do you know that he's gone?" 10 years, I thought to myself. Let's see, that would make Frodo 43, and he's what at the start of the quest of the ring? 50? That would mean . . . it hadn't happened yet.
Oh shoot, I thought. "Something's gone wrong . . ." I didn't realized I'd said that out loud until Frodo said, "What do you mean, something's gone wrong?" "Um," I said awkwardly, feeling very stupid, and feeling like sooner or later the twilight zone music would be cued in. "Where I - Where I come from, there are books written about you, about," I swallowed, "Middle-Earth. But it's all supposed to happen later in your life. And - and I'm not supposed to be here at all. That means that something went wrong- the books of your life are written before your life takes the turns that it takes in the books, and- only so far your life is following the patterns of the books . . . and I get this feeling that I probably shouldn't tell you any of it, because you're probably not supposed to know what happens before it happens . . ." I realized I was babbling and I shut up before I could give anything else away. I looked over at Frodo to see what he was thinking. I expected disbelief; I expected . . . . well, I wasn't sure what I expected, but it wasn't acceptance.
He looked, actually, like someone had just run him over with a mega- jet on the runway. He was shaking his head, as if trying to clear out confusion, and had suddenly gone very pale. "Wait . . . whoa. Hold your horses. . . I am in a book? And you're trying to tell me that you know what's going to happen to me later in my life?" He looked as though this were the nightmare of his life, and, I supposed, it was, since the malevolent designs of Sauron were not yet moving.. I nodded, not entirely sure what to say to help him out. "I'm sorry, for some reason, I . . ." I was rambling, making even less sense that he was, and he was the one with the huge amount of information to take in, I mentally chided myself. Frodo cut me off gently. "No," he said, "You're not at fault, I just . . .well, I don't know. I'm just confused, I wish Gandalf were here, maybe he'd know what to do- this strangeness might be the domain of a wizard." "Yeah," I said wistfully, "Gandalf would be helpful; he would at least be wise, and have some counsel to offer." Frodo looked at me oddly, and then said, "Oh. You have read these books, then? Gandalf was included in their story?" I nodded again. "Yeah, and that's how those crazy fangirls knew you, and how I knew you. We've all read the books, and they're all, er, in love with you." I didn't say that I was in love with him too. Hey, I thought, desperately trying to reason it out, I'm in love with him, but I'm sanely in love with him. They're madly in love with him. Oh well. Let it go, Laurelyn, I said to myself. I figured I wouldn't even try to explain the movies.
Frodo raised an eyebrow at me, and I wondered if he'd heard my thoughts. "Those creatures were fangirls?" he said, not seeming to like the taste of my odd term for them. "Well, that explains their actions, I suppose." He looked very uncomfortable suddenly. I, meanwhile, breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't figured out what I was thinking. "But how on earth am I going to get away from them next time they find me?" he asked, with a heavy sigh. "I don't know," I replied. "Run like heck in the opposite direction from them? They're not really very bright." I amazed myself with how my opinion of the other Frodo fans had changed. I'd never gotten along very well with them, but now. . . now I absolutely loathed them. Probably because of the whole start-screaming-like-an-idiot-and-run-after-Frodo thing. But Frodo had a point- they were still after him, undoubtedly. And I had no good idea of how to get him away from them next time they showed up. "Got a better idea?" Frodo shook his head, looking like he was having trouble understanding me, and I realized that my modern colloquialisms probably were confusing. I wondered in a flash how on earth I was managing to understand him - what about Westron? But I pushed that aside to think about later. Then, slowly, he said, "Well, I could always disappear . . ." "How?" I wondered. "This ring I've got, it . . ." I promptly cut him off. "NO!" I half-yelled it out. "That's, well, not going to work that great," I said, softer this time, trying to amend my outburst. The Ring! I hadn't thought of it. We didn't want to use the Ring any more than we had to . . . . "Why won't it work?" Frodo said, seemingly beginning to be annoyed. "You don't seem as though you are able to suggest anything much more effective!" I put my head in my hands. In a strange, twisted way, I knew more about Frodo than Frodo knew about himself, and it was easily understandable why he didn't like it. But I couldn't tell him anything about his future. "I wish Gandalf would come back from his little research trip," I sighed.
Frodo looked up, and realization dawned in his eyes. "This ring," he said, "it has something to do with what will happen later, doesn't it?" I nodded, miserable because at this rate I might as well tell the whole story to Frodo, rather than make him figure it out himself. But people aren't supposed to know their destiny too early, are they? Not event for event, anyway, because then they might try to change an embarrassing moment or something, and then the outcome of the future could be totally rewritten. And in Frodo's case, that could mean that the Ring could get back to Sauron. "Yes, Frodo, it does," I said miserably. "I shouldn't be here, my presence might mess everything up, everything . . ."
Now it was Frodo's turn to sigh. "Well," he said, "something happened. You are here. And so are all those fans. And . . . I think at least the fans have to go back where they came from," he said. I wondered why he didn't say that I would have to leave, but dismissed the thought. Right now, I wanted to protect Frodo from the crazy fans, and see what I could do to keep myself from dooming Middle-earth with my clumsy words that could give away the future. "I think that Gandalf would be a help," I said. "He's supposed to be the wisest of - he might know something about how the fangirls and myself came to be here. Or at least, maybe he could help us figure it out. I don't know! Anyone's advice would be a help." Frodo nodded. "Yes," he said, "Gandalf would be a most welcome presence.. If only we knew where he was . . ."
Yay! A plot, or sorta one. Anyway, please review! Tell me what you think of my work! Flames will be used to cook Frodo's food for him! Thanx. ~the Author
Frodo and I sat at his table back at Bag End. He'd made himself some tea- I didn't want any, though he'd been quite the gentlehobbit in offering. I was trying to figure out how to explain to him that he was a character in some books, and a recent semi-passable movie, which was how the club had gotten its information. "Well," I began, fishing around in my brain for words. "How long has Bilbo been gone?" I blurted it out, not knowing at all why I'd just said that. Frodo looked confused, but replied, "About 10 years. Why? And how do you know Bilbo, and how do you know that he's gone?" 10 years, I thought to myself. Let's see, that would make Frodo 43, and he's what at the start of the quest of the ring? 50? That would mean . . . it hadn't happened yet.
Oh shoot, I thought. "Something's gone wrong . . ." I didn't realized I'd said that out loud until Frodo said, "What do you mean, something's gone wrong?" "Um," I said awkwardly, feeling very stupid, and feeling like sooner or later the twilight zone music would be cued in. "Where I - Where I come from, there are books written about you, about," I swallowed, "Middle-Earth. But it's all supposed to happen later in your life. And - and I'm not supposed to be here at all. That means that something went wrong- the books of your life are written before your life takes the turns that it takes in the books, and- only so far your life is following the patterns of the books . . . and I get this feeling that I probably shouldn't tell you any of it, because you're probably not supposed to know what happens before it happens . . ." I realized I was babbling and I shut up before I could give anything else away. I looked over at Frodo to see what he was thinking. I expected disbelief; I expected . . . . well, I wasn't sure what I expected, but it wasn't acceptance.
He looked, actually, like someone had just run him over with a mega- jet on the runway. He was shaking his head, as if trying to clear out confusion, and had suddenly gone very pale. "Wait . . . whoa. Hold your horses. . . I am in a book? And you're trying to tell me that you know what's going to happen to me later in my life?" He looked as though this were the nightmare of his life, and, I supposed, it was, since the malevolent designs of Sauron were not yet moving.. I nodded, not entirely sure what to say to help him out. "I'm sorry, for some reason, I . . ." I was rambling, making even less sense that he was, and he was the one with the huge amount of information to take in, I mentally chided myself. Frodo cut me off gently. "No," he said, "You're not at fault, I just . . .well, I don't know. I'm just confused, I wish Gandalf were here, maybe he'd know what to do- this strangeness might be the domain of a wizard." "Yeah," I said wistfully, "Gandalf would be helpful; he would at least be wise, and have some counsel to offer." Frodo looked at me oddly, and then said, "Oh. You have read these books, then? Gandalf was included in their story?" I nodded again. "Yeah, and that's how those crazy fangirls knew you, and how I knew you. We've all read the books, and they're all, er, in love with you." I didn't say that I was in love with him too. Hey, I thought, desperately trying to reason it out, I'm in love with him, but I'm sanely in love with him. They're madly in love with him. Oh well. Let it go, Laurelyn, I said to myself. I figured I wouldn't even try to explain the movies.
Frodo raised an eyebrow at me, and I wondered if he'd heard my thoughts. "Those creatures were fangirls?" he said, not seeming to like the taste of my odd term for them. "Well, that explains their actions, I suppose." He looked very uncomfortable suddenly. I, meanwhile, breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't figured out what I was thinking. "But how on earth am I going to get away from them next time they find me?" he asked, with a heavy sigh. "I don't know," I replied. "Run like heck in the opposite direction from them? They're not really very bright." I amazed myself with how my opinion of the other Frodo fans had changed. I'd never gotten along very well with them, but now. . . now I absolutely loathed them. Probably because of the whole start-screaming-like-an-idiot-and-run-after-Frodo thing. But Frodo had a point- they were still after him, undoubtedly. And I had no good idea of how to get him away from them next time they showed up. "Got a better idea?" Frodo shook his head, looking like he was having trouble understanding me, and I realized that my modern colloquialisms probably were confusing. I wondered in a flash how on earth I was managing to understand him - what about Westron? But I pushed that aside to think about later. Then, slowly, he said, "Well, I could always disappear . . ." "How?" I wondered. "This ring I've got, it . . ." I promptly cut him off. "NO!" I half-yelled it out. "That's, well, not going to work that great," I said, softer this time, trying to amend my outburst. The Ring! I hadn't thought of it. We didn't want to use the Ring any more than we had to . . . . "Why won't it work?" Frodo said, seemingly beginning to be annoyed. "You don't seem as though you are able to suggest anything much more effective!" I put my head in my hands. In a strange, twisted way, I knew more about Frodo than Frodo knew about himself, and it was easily understandable why he didn't like it. But I couldn't tell him anything about his future. "I wish Gandalf would come back from his little research trip," I sighed.
Frodo looked up, and realization dawned in his eyes. "This ring," he said, "it has something to do with what will happen later, doesn't it?" I nodded, miserable because at this rate I might as well tell the whole story to Frodo, rather than make him figure it out himself. But people aren't supposed to know their destiny too early, are they? Not event for event, anyway, because then they might try to change an embarrassing moment or something, and then the outcome of the future could be totally rewritten. And in Frodo's case, that could mean that the Ring could get back to Sauron. "Yes, Frodo, it does," I said miserably. "I shouldn't be here, my presence might mess everything up, everything . . ."
Now it was Frodo's turn to sigh. "Well," he said, "something happened. You are here. And so are all those fans. And . . . I think at least the fans have to go back where they came from," he said. I wondered why he didn't say that I would have to leave, but dismissed the thought. Right now, I wanted to protect Frodo from the crazy fans, and see what I could do to keep myself from dooming Middle-earth with my clumsy words that could give away the future. "I think that Gandalf would be a help," I said. "He's supposed to be the wisest of - he might know something about how the fangirls and myself came to be here. Or at least, maybe he could help us figure it out. I don't know! Anyone's advice would be a help." Frodo nodded. "Yes," he said, "Gandalf would be a most welcome presence.. If only we knew where he was . . ."
Yay! A plot, or sorta one. Anyway, please review! Tell me what you think of my work! Flames will be used to cook Frodo's food for him! Thanx. ~the Author