A/N: When coming to revise this chapter, I read through the original ideas and, do you know what? I thought them extremely poor indeed. It disgusted me. iNothing had a purpose/i. All the events were carelessly woven through a careless plot. So, I have attempted to make a special effort with this chapter. I have found that I need to tie up some loose ends throughout the revision of this story. If any of you had read the previous version, I sincerely hope you read this and think it much better than the chapter before scratch that, please endeavour to blank the chapter from your memory, even!
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Frodo came to his senses, and shuddered under his cloak. Judging by the uneasy ground that he was settled on, he could tell that they were travelling again; He could hear Orli whistling to himself, as he rowed. His hand was numb, but comfortable and nestled under his chin albeit the swelling, grazed, scarlet, blistered and peeling skin that had the appearance of fire. And it was paralysed. But at least it was numb. He closed his eyes.
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Drifting into unconscious thought again, he surveyed his recent nightmares. Suddenly, the visions of Orli, peering out of that darkness seething again nearly retrained his mind into a frenzied phantasm once more, but this time, he managed to fight the notions off, and hurled his energy into the concentration of striving to drowse off without apprehension. Instead, he thought of Bilbo, and of The Shire and the Party Tree. And then, his thoughts scanned back to his stay in the Old Forest, with Tom Bombadil, and the fun they had at Frodo's new house before setting off on their quest, in Buckland. Then he thought back to the Elves in Rivendell, and his previous convalescence with his Morgul wound.
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Then, he cast his memory back to the original Fellowship; his heart sank as he thought of his kinsman, of Sam, Merry and Pippin. He thought of Gandalf's fall in Moria. He thought of Aragorn, and Boromir, of Legolas and Gimli. Where were they right now? iCertainly not continuing with the quest, /iFrodo believed.i They may be searching for me now; they may be dead; they might believe me dead, and could be making their way back to Rivendell with the news that they 'lost me', and be contemplating their appending doom of the return of Sauron./i Frodo preferred to believe the latter. He was deserted and perplexed, split with his companions, cursed to the watch of this flagitious Man forever, until he begged for demise. And even then, Orli would presumably prefer to hold back his final wish until he was ibored/i. Frodo let out a broken sigh and felt the tears rising in his lids. He fought them back, and shifted slightly for comfort. It was no use; he felt a sob rise in his throat, but just then, Orli noticed him.
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"Hallo, Frodo..." Orli began, in an intensely suspicious tone; it was almostisweet/i. Frodo suspected a twist in this isoft touch/i, so he refrained from a reply, and stayed silent, huddled under his cloak, daring not to breathe. Orli waited a few moments, and became questionable about the hobbit's state of activity himself, "Are you awake?"
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Frodo knew he had to speak before Orli realised he was in no quiescent state, but instead vigilant. At last, he stirred and mumbled in response. Orli simpered, and nudged Frodo, propelling him back into actuality, "Good," Orli stated brightly, then turned cold in words, "Then row" and he launched a heavy wooden oar a-top of him. The end slapped him on the head.
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Frodo winced and decided it best (and least painful) if he followed Orli's orders as much as his strength would allow him to. He struggled from the warmth of his Elven cloak and gingerly reaching for the oar, he let it slide in the water and began to row. Gripping the handle, he managed to row strongly for a short time, but the discomfort in his hand began to worsen and soon it became painstaking. He slowed down, to ease the distress, but alas; Orli soon noticed that Frodo had stopped completely, cautiously stroking his hand, flinching as he did so.
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Orli twisted around in the boat to get an improved view of Frodo's 'indolence' and became irked at his dawdling, "Hey, ihalfling/i. Did I not ask you to row? So do it. Now!" Orli grunted in antipathy.
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Frodo abruptly became candidly irate at this comment, and could hold in his hostility no longer "I iam/i rowing, but it just happens that it is more istrenuous because of your malcontent at my happiness/i. It seems that the injury iyou/i caused me, is holding me back!" Frodo turned his head the other way and winced at the aggression that those words would bring him.
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Orli began to retaliate, but halted. He stopped rowing, and spun round in the boat to confront the hobbit, so that the boat oscillated and sent water spraying into it. He frowned and his hazel eyes grew dark in frustration, "It's not your injury, it's that you're ibone idle/i! You think a couple of strokes of the oar makes you 'diligent'? And please, refrain from accusing my injuries to you, because you know perfectly well that you brought it onto yourself! And take that attitude, halfling," he moved forward toward the hobbit, "and you can get out of this boat and paddle yourself."
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Frodo frowned and glanced toward the water. It crashed against the boat in wrath, frothing threatening, "No... I'll row..." he began, but Orli had already developed a colossal temper, and he still would not take kindly to Frodo's remarks earlier on. He grew red in the face, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.
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Orli shot a stalwart arm out to yank the scruff of Frodo's shirt, "You'll do as you're told, and I'm now going to tell you to iget out/i and paddle yourself, if it's hurting you ithati much!" Orli snatched the scruff and threateningly jabbed it forward, so that Frodo jolted forwards and knocked his elbows on the boat. His eyes pierced through Frodo's lids (he had shut them tight, out of alarm) for a response.
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Then, slowly, Orli saw two large, glassy, sapphire eyes under the eyelids. Frodo lifted his head, shivering slightly, and looked straight back at Orli, unsure of his next actions. Then, Frodo formed his words slow and clear, "Or what?" he stated. Orli cocked his head to the right, and smirked.
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"Poor, poor halfling..." he feigned a sigh, ridiculing the hobbit, "What sort of an answer are you looking for? You know what happens to creatures who - idisobey/i..." and let go of the scruff of Frodo's shirt, settling back in the boat as it began to drift toward the shore. Frodo narrowed his eyes in bewilderment, and then murmured as he realised what the man meant.
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"Are you going to kill me?" Frodo responded with no hint of apprehension, an inquiry that sent a tremor down Orli's spine, "Would you kill me right here, when you know ifull well/i of what I carry? Would you take it for yourself?" Frodo extended an arm toward his neck, and grasped an object on a golden chain. Tracing the object with his index and middle finger, he reached behind his shirt and lifted the chain up to surface The One Ring. Orli stared in wonderment as the glistening band of gold; he could almost hear it whispering his name...
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Succeeding to grasping his sense once more, Orli shook his head and spoke to the hobbit sharply, "You speak too much; far too much, for your own good. It's imouthy/i of you, indeed. Yes... I could kill you outright if I wished..." Orli glanced at the ring that Frodo had cupped in his hand. It was almost offering itself to him...
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"Is it that you want the ring? …is that why I'm here?" And Frodo held out the One Ring for him; he was igiving/i him the ring… iWAIT/i, Orli thought. iThis is all a trick. He wants me to take it./i
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He tore his eyes away from the band of gold and yelled, enraged. Frodo was startled at the sudden noise, but still held the One Ring toward Orli. Orli snarled, "How could you think that I'm so ivulnerable/i? I'll have nothing to do with that bloody ring! The cheek of you, halfling!" Orli was so angry he snatched his oar and aimed a blow at Frodo's hand containing the Ring. Frodo saw what was coming, and his eyes grew wide in dread and he quickly slid the ring back under his shirt as the paddle caught him on the elbow. He yelped and shrunk back.
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But Orli was not finished. He hated the halfling. iHe hated him, for all it was worth/i. Frodo was right. iHe wanted to kill him/i... he swivelled the oar backwards and fired another blow at the hobbit's head. It hit him on his right temple, and Frodo cried out at the oar's smash.
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"Now..." Orli breathed heavily, "I told you... to get out and paddle... so PADDLE!" he hurled another shot at the hobbit's shoulder, painfully striving to prompt him into going overboard. Frodo curled up to avoid the blows, but they were extremely heavy and his head was aching, glancing over the side of the boat once more, he took one look at the foaming, cloudy liquid and refused.
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Orli's temper grew to its peak. "I SAID PADDLE!" and Orli took Frodo's oar as well, and cracked it against Frodo's head again. The wooden oar split through the middle. Frodo yelled in agony, clutching the back of his head, and promptly slumped against the back of the boat once more. Orli breathed heavily, trying to calm his nerves, and glared at the hobbit's body, panting.
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Frodo came to his senses, and shuddered under his cloak. Judging by the uneasy ground that he was settled on, he could tell that they were travelling again; He could hear Orli whistling to himself, as he rowed. His hand was numb, but comfortable and nestled under his chin albeit the swelling, grazed, scarlet, blistered and peeling skin that had the appearance of fire. And it was paralysed. But at least it was numb. He closed his eyes.
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Drifting into unconscious thought again, he surveyed his recent nightmares. Suddenly, the visions of Orli, peering out of that darkness seething again nearly retrained his mind into a frenzied phantasm once more, but this time, he managed to fight the notions off, and hurled his energy into the concentration of striving to drowse off without apprehension. Instead, he thought of Bilbo, and of The Shire and the Party Tree. And then, his thoughts scanned back to his stay in the Old Forest, with Tom Bombadil, and the fun they had at Frodo's new house before setting off on their quest, in Buckland. Then he thought back to the Elves in Rivendell, and his previous convalescence with his Morgul wound.
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Then, he cast his memory back to the original Fellowship; his heart sank as he thought of his kinsman, of Sam, Merry and Pippin. He thought of Gandalf's fall in Moria. He thought of Aragorn, and Boromir, of Legolas and Gimli. Where were they right now? iCertainly not continuing with the quest, /iFrodo believed.i They may be searching for me now; they may be dead; they might believe me dead, and could be making their way back to Rivendell with the news that they 'lost me', and be contemplating their appending doom of the return of Sauron./i Frodo preferred to believe the latter. He was deserted and perplexed, split with his companions, cursed to the watch of this flagitious Man forever, until he begged for demise. And even then, Orli would presumably prefer to hold back his final wish until he was ibored/i. Frodo let out a broken sigh and felt the tears rising in his lids. He fought them back, and shifted slightly for comfort. It was no use; he felt a sob rise in his throat, but just then, Orli noticed him.
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"Hallo, Frodo..." Orli began, in an intensely suspicious tone; it was almostisweet/i. Frodo suspected a twist in this isoft touch/i, so he refrained from a reply, and stayed silent, huddled under his cloak, daring not to breathe. Orli waited a few moments, and became questionable about the hobbit's state of activity himself, "Are you awake?"
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Frodo knew he had to speak before Orli realised he was in no quiescent state, but instead vigilant. At last, he stirred and mumbled in response. Orli simpered, and nudged Frodo, propelling him back into actuality, "Good," Orli stated brightly, then turned cold in words, "Then row" and he launched a heavy wooden oar a-top of him. The end slapped him on the head.
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Frodo winced and decided it best (and least painful) if he followed Orli's orders as much as his strength would allow him to. He struggled from the warmth of his Elven cloak and gingerly reaching for the oar, he let it slide in the water and began to row. Gripping the handle, he managed to row strongly for a short time, but the discomfort in his hand began to worsen and soon it became painstaking. He slowed down, to ease the distress, but alas; Orli soon noticed that Frodo had stopped completely, cautiously stroking his hand, flinching as he did so.
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Orli twisted around in the boat to get an improved view of Frodo's 'indolence' and became irked at his dawdling, "Hey, ihalfling/i. Did I not ask you to row? So do it. Now!" Orli grunted in antipathy.
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Frodo abruptly became candidly irate at this comment, and could hold in his hostility no longer "I iam/i rowing, but it just happens that it is more istrenuous because of your malcontent at my happiness/i. It seems that the injury iyou/i caused me, is holding me back!" Frodo turned his head the other way and winced at the aggression that those words would bring him.
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Orli began to retaliate, but halted. He stopped rowing, and spun round in the boat to confront the hobbit, so that the boat oscillated and sent water spraying into it. He frowned and his hazel eyes grew dark in frustration, "It's not your injury, it's that you're ibone idle/i! You think a couple of strokes of the oar makes you 'diligent'? And please, refrain from accusing my injuries to you, because you know perfectly well that you brought it onto yourself! And take that attitude, halfling," he moved forward toward the hobbit, "and you can get out of this boat and paddle yourself."
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Frodo frowned and glanced toward the water. It crashed against the boat in wrath, frothing threatening, "No... I'll row..." he began, but Orli had already developed a colossal temper, and he still would not take kindly to Frodo's remarks earlier on. He grew red in the face, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.
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Orli shot a stalwart arm out to yank the scruff of Frodo's shirt, "You'll do as you're told, and I'm now going to tell you to iget out/i and paddle yourself, if it's hurting you ithati much!" Orli snatched the scruff and threateningly jabbed it forward, so that Frodo jolted forwards and knocked his elbows on the boat. His eyes pierced through Frodo's lids (he had shut them tight, out of alarm) for a response.
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Then, slowly, Orli saw two large, glassy, sapphire eyes under the eyelids. Frodo lifted his head, shivering slightly, and looked straight back at Orli, unsure of his next actions. Then, Frodo formed his words slow and clear, "Or what?" he stated. Orli cocked his head to the right, and smirked.
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"Poor, poor halfling..." he feigned a sigh, ridiculing the hobbit, "What sort of an answer are you looking for? You know what happens to creatures who - idisobey/i..." and let go of the scruff of Frodo's shirt, settling back in the boat as it began to drift toward the shore. Frodo narrowed his eyes in bewilderment, and then murmured as he realised what the man meant.
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"Are you going to kill me?" Frodo responded with no hint of apprehension, an inquiry that sent a tremor down Orli's spine, "Would you kill me right here, when you know ifull well/i of what I carry? Would you take it for yourself?" Frodo extended an arm toward his neck, and grasped an object on a golden chain. Tracing the object with his index and middle finger, he reached behind his shirt and lifted the chain up to surface The One Ring. Orli stared in wonderment as the glistening band of gold; he could almost hear it whispering his name...
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Succeeding to grasping his sense once more, Orli shook his head and spoke to the hobbit sharply, "You speak too much; far too much, for your own good. It's imouthy/i of you, indeed. Yes... I could kill you outright if I wished..." Orli glanced at the ring that Frodo had cupped in his hand. It was almost offering itself to him...
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"Is it that you want the ring? …is that why I'm here?" And Frodo held out the One Ring for him; he was igiving/i him the ring… iWAIT/i, Orli thought. iThis is all a trick. He wants me to take it./i
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He tore his eyes away from the band of gold and yelled, enraged. Frodo was startled at the sudden noise, but still held the One Ring toward Orli. Orli snarled, "How could you think that I'm so ivulnerable/i? I'll have nothing to do with that bloody ring! The cheek of you, halfling!" Orli was so angry he snatched his oar and aimed a blow at Frodo's hand containing the Ring. Frodo saw what was coming, and his eyes grew wide in dread and he quickly slid the ring back under his shirt as the paddle caught him on the elbow. He yelped and shrunk back.
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But Orli was not finished. He hated the halfling. iHe hated him, for all it was worth/i. Frodo was right. iHe wanted to kill him/i... he swivelled the oar backwards and fired another blow at the hobbit's head. It hit him on his right temple, and Frodo cried out at the oar's smash.
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"Now..." Orli breathed heavily, "I told you... to get out and paddle... so PADDLE!" he hurled another shot at the hobbit's shoulder, painfully striving to prompt him into going overboard. Frodo curled up to avoid the blows, but they were extremely heavy and his head was aching, glancing over the side of the boat once more, he took one look at the foaming, cloudy liquid and refused.
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Orli's temper grew to its peak. "I SAID PADDLE!" and Orli took Frodo's oar as well, and cracked it against Frodo's head again. The wooden oar split through the middle. Frodo yelled in agony, clutching the back of his head, and promptly slumped against the back of the boat once more. Orli breathed heavily, trying to calm his nerves, and glared at the hobbit's body, panting.
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