Author's note: Hey, thanks for the reviews, anyone who submitted one! =o)
Reviews are good.
April 17th: Did you know a pippin is any of several yellowish apples according to my online dictionary? And peregrination is traveling about, especially on foot. O.O You know you need to get a life when you spend your time looking up names of characters in dictionaries. Now for the notices to reviewers.
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Disclaimer: Do I own anything? Certainly! *hides crossed fingers behind back*
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Sam felt slightly panicky as Elrhodor remained silent, and wondered if anything horrible had happened to he idea master. "He-he didn't-die, did he?" The robust hobbit dreaded to hear the answer, but continued to gaze imploringly at the tall Elf.
"He lives yet," Elrhodor said, surveying the slightly white-faced hobbit. He wondered how much to reveal, and then decided on the whole truth. "How long he has before it is too late, though, I do not know. He is in a very bad way, he has shown no signs of improvement, according to Master Elrond."
Sam's heart sank. He chewed his lip and gazed intently upon the floor, feeling slightly grateful that he had at least been enlightened with the reality. Suddenly, a dim beam of an idea came to his mind. He wanted to stay by Frodo's bedside, for better or for worse. Perhaps Frodo could still hear even in his fading, lifeless state. He needed all the assistance he could attain to survive, if there was any hope. "Do- do you think Elrond might let me stay with Frodo?"
Elrhodor peered down at the steadfast hobbit, impressed by his loyalty to his friend. He wasn't sure it would be kind to subject any of the hobbits to such a sight, but if Sam were stubborn, the Elf-lord would most likely give his assent. "Come with me, and we shall ask." The Elf felt an inward regret for hinting his own concurrence, but the hobbit appeared not to care what his friend look like.
And the sight of Frodo truly was piteous. The hobbit was now clad in elf- fashion pajamas, but besides the almost diaphanously made garments he looked in a very poorly way. He often muttered inarticulate drivel, but besides the nonsense he uttered in his sleep, he just lay there, motionless and clearly dying. His face was tomblike in its grayish-greenish-yellowish pallor, save for the dark smudges clearly outlined beneath his eyes. It was fraught and pinched from the fortnight of pain he had been obligated to tolerate before the poison had spread enough to leave him unable to awake. The queer irony was that naught could be seen of the wound except the cold white cicatrix where the Halfling had been knifed.
The Elf led the small creature into a room filled with pleasant -smelling herbs that lifted Sam's mood slightly. Inside, a tall Elf with an inexplicable essence of wisdom, knowledge, and benevolence stood hovering about them. Elrond had a morose expression on his ageless face as he sorted through the various species of herbs, apparently seeking a specific one. Sam tried to unearth an explanation or even proper wording in his head but found the search pointless. Elrond was highly above Sam and his opinions. This was without a doubt the highly renowned Elrond who was often mentioned when Strider spoke of Rivendell. Elrond was the founder, and reputed as the Highest of Elves.
"Could I possibly see my Master?" Sam abruptly inquired before Elrond had the opportunity to even greet the other Elf and himself. The Elf-lord put down a jar full of a crushed-up red plant and gave Sam a calculating stare, sizing up the hobbit's loyalty and ability to stomach a horrifying sight of his dear friend. He knew, or at least guessed, that the hobbit was a stubborn creature and would likely desire to stay with his friend no matter what. Elrond felt impressed by the fastness of this race both in willpower and loyalty. Frodo had survived thus far with a wound that could finish off a strong warrior-Man within hours, days if he were lucky and had a strong resistance.
"If you wish," Elrond assented, his dark blue eyes still analyzing Frodo's gardener. He felt confident in his judgment, as Elrond was not one who often erred in guessing the motives of others. "You may stay with him as long as you please." Perhaps Sam's presence could actually aid Frodo. Friendship could have amazing faculty. "Talk to him, and tell Frodo he will be okay, he may still be able to hear you. Elrhodor, show Sam to Frodo's room."
Sam scrambled to his feet, mentally preparing himself for what was likely to be a heartbreaking spectacle, and followed the fair-haired Elf down the corridor, briefly eying each statue with awed, though brief, reverence. They came to a door whose frame ended just below the Elf's head, indicating a miniature room within, fit to accommodate a dwarf or hobbit. The Elf lifted the latch and swung the door open with an almost musical creak. Elrhodor ducked slightly to pass under the threshold, with Sam following behind. The hobbit gave a gasp of pity when his eyes fell upon the inert, forlorn outline of his beloved master under the thick layers of blankets. If it weren't for shivers at intervals, Sam might have believed his Master dead. The chunky hobbit rushed to the side of Frodo's bed and took one of the icy hands in his own, almost flinching from the searing chill in the blue-tinged appendages of the martyred hobbit.
Elrhodor left the room briefly without a word to Sam about his errand, but he soon returned with a chair about the size of one that might be used for a kindergartener. Appreciative of being allowed to linger at his master's side, Sam managed to give Elrhodor a weak smile. "Thank you, sir."
"It is no problem. You are very loyal indeed, Master Samwise," Elrhodor said, laying a hand on Sam's shoulder in a gesture of comfort before departing from the room, leaving the steady hobbit to keep vigil by his quickly regressing master's side.
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Meanwhile, Merry and April had risen after a long, satisfying slumber, and were eager for breakfast. They were aware of their unkempt presentation but preferred delaying washing up until after they had satisfied the hunger seeming to gnaw at their backbones.
"Hullo, April!" Merry addressed, coming out of his hobbit-sized room in time to spy the back of a short (for one of the race of Men) girl with long black hair and an outfit of "fake leather", as she called it, retreating down the hallway in search of the dining area. The teenager halted and turned around, rocking her weight from foot to foot as she patiently paused so Merry could catch up to her.
"Hi, Merry," April responded when the hobbit had drawn level to where she stood waiting. She scuffed her muddy sneaker into the stone floor in an idle manner displaying uncertainty concerning what to do upon awakening.
"I must say, we haven't been asleep all that long, yet I feel strangely refreshed," Merry remarked. April nodded her agreement, she felt a comparable feeling to what Merry was describing. Right now, the two main priorities to April were food and cleaning herself. She grabbed a clump of black hair and pulled a wry face at the knotted ends.
"Yeah, only what do we do now. Food, bathe, wait for the others to awake?" April asked bemusedly.
Merry's answer should have been palpable to April, as Merry as a hobbit and she had acquired enough knowledge of them to recognize their fondness for cuisine. While they also preferred cleanliness, food was higher up on their list of priorities. "Why, breakfast of course," responded Merry, who was wondering exactly what sort of foodstuff was served in Rivendell, with a small trace of a smile.
"Now you mention it, I /am/ kinda hungry," April pondered. "Only problem is, do we wait for Pippin and Sam and Libby and Strider to awaken?" As she spoke, she wondered if the one she was currently most concerned about, Frodo, was even alive, let alone aware, at the moment.
"And the solution to what you are wondering, April, is that I shall lead you guys to the dining area and allow the others to rest," a deep tenor responded. The hobbit and the teenager started and spun about; they hadn't noticed Strider's coming up behind them. "Good morning, Merry, April," Aragorn added. His face was wan and careworn; the night had not refreshed him nearly as much.
"How is Frodo doing?" Merry inquired as the two followed Strider, soliciting information about his elder cousin's condition. The Ranger's response was to inhale a deep breath of anxiety, and then somberly reply, "He shows no signs of waking, according to Elrond." He withheld the information that Frodo seemed delirious in his sleep, talking a blue streak, and still seemed to be in pain; he did not want to spoil any new vigor his friends had found in the night. "Sam is staying with Frodo, but it is unadvisable to have a whole crowd in his bedroom at once. And April, Elrond wishes to speak with you and Libby later."
April nodded meekly, unsure of what Elrond could want with her and her best friend. Aragorn pushed open a door, and bid his two companions to follow him in. the two shorter ones drew in a breath of awestruck reverence. This hall was more magnificent than either had ever dined in. Certainly beats the school cafeteria, that's for sure! April thought, wishing that Libby were there so she could voice the remark aloud. Several other folk were scattered about, including several elves and a couple of folk somewhat resembling the dwarves in Snow White. For the second instance in that moment, April regretted not entering her elder friend and rousing her. One time they had watched the children's movie at Libby's house when her mom wasn't home, hunting for the pornography April's cousin Mandi had once mentioned. They had only found one example, but managed to devise several wanton jokes about the son the dwarves sang, how they behaved, and so on. "This movie is X-rated!" April remembered declaring that winter afternoon in Libby's Victorian-style house.
"What is it, April?" Merry asked, his rounded brown eyes suddenly fixated on the Asian-American girl. She had let loose a snort of laughter for no apparent reason.
April blushed, slightly embarrassed about the random laugh she had just loosed. "O, it's nothing, just."
"Yes? Merry inquired, his curiosity unleashed. "Please do enlighten us, April. Or are you merely prone to laughing for no reason?" He was kidding around, trying to concentrate wholly on the present, in this room, by ribbing the youngest of the three of his most newfound friends. He felt somewhat depressed about Frodo's current waning fettle, and wished to digress himself from the situation just for the moment. Joshing the black- haired girl would be an ideal tactic. A brief torrent of sadness flashed through the dark eyes only to be replaced again by the inquisitiveness.
"Oh, nothing, just a private little joke of Libby's and mine," April verbalized with a dismissive wave of the hand.
"What is it?" Aragorn asked, his own curiosity piqued. He desired to know quite a bit more about the two friends, who seemed to jest relentlessly yet gave off an essence of having a tighter bond between them then an onlooker would guess.
"Trust me, you really don't want to know," April answered, flushing slightly, a mischievous grin on her face. "It's just. jargon of ours, oddities about us, we're weird people." Aragorn gave April a sharp glance but asked no more for the moment. The question of trust still existed, and only Elrond's interrogating them would produce the solution, for better or for worse.
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Pippin was the next to find his way to breakfast. He, too, had not yet bathed, choosing to satisfy his need for food instead. Led by Haradil and merely instructed to seek out his friends, he jumped up into the chair besides Merry and piled an enormous amount of food onto his plate. "'Morning," the young hobbit addressed as he began spooning down pancakes after having found a seat next to Merry, across from Aragorn and April.
"Pippin!" April welcomed, startled by the massive proportions he had just helped himself to. "I don't believe this, I found somebody to rival Libby in stomach capacity!"
"How can someone so big eat so little?" the hobbit retorted, noting the (what he considered) scant amount of food on April's plate.
"How can somebody so little eat so much?" April rejoined, the slight upward curvature of her lips betraying the amusement she felt at the differences in opinion concerning nourishment. Pippin's counter was merely to begin shoveling down the scrumptious delicacies served for breakfast. They seemed typical food, but compared to their rations of the past weeks, this was paradise.
"What do you suppose is holding up the Libster?" April mused after several minutes had elapsed, wondering exactly how draining the trip had been on her friend. Merry and Pippin merely looked at April and said naught in answer.
The reason for the silence of the two young hobbits was that Libby had approached them just in time to hear April's voiced query and to place a finger to her lip with a wink. She figured she might as well have a little joke on her friend. Amused, Merry and Pippin put on a meek air of "knowing nothing" and waited to see what would transpire.
April speared a piece of softened bacon with her fork and lifted it to her lips. She pulled off the small piece of meat with her teeth and chewed it thoughtfully, recalling the events of the past couple of weeks and surmising that Libby was still slumbering, overcome with exhaustion. If she remembered accurately, her friend was in the process of recovering from an infection of the throat and chest that had made her absent from school for three days and left her voice croaky and Libby herself weak after strenuous physical exhaustion. It was possible that she could have felt ill herself ands said nothing given the circumstances. Without warning, April felt somebody's grip close on both her shoulders from behind. Caught unawares, April accidentally inhaled the pieces of bacon still in her mouth. Coughing violently to clear the wrong pipe of the food, April turned and glowered at the newcomer, who turned out to have been Libby messing around.
"Sorry, April, you okay?" Libby asked, looking suddenly remorseful. She had not meant to make April accidentally choke on the food in her mouth.
April nodded and patted the vacant seat to her right. Libby took this and gratefully piled a large heap of food on her plate and filling her goblet with what looked like juice. Smiling, April mouthed, "What did I tell you?" at Pippin. He and Libby seemed to be the two bottomless pits of the group of exhausted companions.
"Are you okay?" April muttered to Libby when her blonde friend began munching on her own bacon in a pensive manner. "How are you feeling?"
Libby gave her black-haired sidekick a befuddled expression, wondering exactly what her friend was talking about. It was Frodo who they were all most frightened for, not her. "What are you talking about? I'm tired, of course, but so are you." "But. you were sick not long before we were dumped into this world," April contradicted stubbornly; trying to profess that it was not good for Libby to hide things from her. "I've seen you after track practice.and have you ever considered that maybe you fell in the meet in the first place perhaps because you were too tired to jump any higher?"
Libby felt a tidal wave of annoyance stir within her ever-preset temper. Taking a few whiffs of the fresh air to help in her inward struggle against her ardent constitution, she said, "April, you sound like my mom, and she was driving me insane in what she probably thought was trying to make me better. God, I was wondering if she'd frikkin strap me to the bed because she kept saying I was exerting myself too much! Too many demanding activities such as, oh my God, talking on the phone. I know she wanted me better but I do believe cages do nothing for me." She remembered how she had thrown objects about her room in wildness not unlike that of a cornered beast after her mom had told her to come straight home after school to rest. The fit had caused her to be absent for the third day because it had drained a lot of her energy endeavoring not to go ballistic. "I feel no worse than you, I promise.
"Then why were you in bed so long?"
"Have you forgotten that I sleep late a lot? You may remember that my mom has waken me up to talk to you on the phone." In spite of herself, Libby's anger dissipated, honored by her friend's concern. "I'm okay. Strider, how is Frodo doing? Is there any improvement?"
Aragorn proceeded to divulge pretty much the same news as he had to Merry and April later; that the wounded hobbit had so far shown no sign of being called back to the waking world, that a possibility of his demise was mounting manifestly, that he was rambling incoherently in his coma.
"I am sorry," Libby mumbled so dejectedly that April gave her a small squeeze of succor about the shoulders. She seemed awfully angst-ridden about the wounded hobbit's welfare.
"You've lost weight, I think, unless I just have never noticed that you've had bony shoulders before," April said, sounding startled. She was pointing this out partially to kid around, and moderatelyto detract Libby's attention from her ill ease. She studied her friend intently and noted her protruding collarbone and the juncture where it connected to the breastbone. "You'd better eat, your collarbone is sticking out!"
"It's always been like that." Liberty challenged. "Though, come to that, we most likely all lost weight.. Last I checked, very small meals, no offense Strider, and walking for hours on end makes people thinner. Seriously, though, my collarbone's always done that.. You should have heard Jill in chem once when she noticed that, she was like, cool, I bet you can fit things in that crevasse!"
April smiled, that was the sort of comment likely to issue from their equally eccentric friend Jill Kossin's mouth. Back in middle school, they and other friends of theirs had been so raucous around each other that others had often made remarks about them being weird, odd, crackheads, or insane. "We should try that out sometime."
"Oh, God no, that's probably impossible," Libby said with a laugh, though worry still lingered in her blue-gray eyes. She thought a grape might actually fit, but she felt too uncomfortable in this setting to try, at least with others besides herself and April. Those around her, in their manner of speech and decorum, made her feel as if she and April were rough and somewhat crude. They were already displaced enough by their fondness for perverted wisecracks to one another with jargon neither Strider nor the hobbits knew. She took a couple of differently sized grapes and slipped them into her pocket, planning on trying later with her best friend.
When the meal was ended, Aragorn asked the two girls to come with him to speak with him. The two teenagers exchanged uneasy glances, attempting to theorize the third-degree apt to be in store for them. Aragorn noted their trepidation but opted not to mention it. They would find out soon enough that Elrond was a benevolent figure, assuming that Libby and April themselves were benign souls.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ Author's note: Remember to alert me of any inconsistencies! This is the last of the chapters which had an "original" version.
April 17th: Did you know a pippin is any of several yellowish apples according to my online dictionary? And peregrination is traveling about, especially on foot. O.O You know you need to get a life when you spend your time looking up names of characters in dictionaries. Now for the notices to reviewers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer: Do I own anything? Certainly! *hides crossed fingers behind back*
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Sam felt slightly panicky as Elrhodor remained silent, and wondered if anything horrible had happened to he idea master. "He-he didn't-die, did he?" The robust hobbit dreaded to hear the answer, but continued to gaze imploringly at the tall Elf.
"He lives yet," Elrhodor said, surveying the slightly white-faced hobbit. He wondered how much to reveal, and then decided on the whole truth. "How long he has before it is too late, though, I do not know. He is in a very bad way, he has shown no signs of improvement, according to Master Elrond."
Sam's heart sank. He chewed his lip and gazed intently upon the floor, feeling slightly grateful that he had at least been enlightened with the reality. Suddenly, a dim beam of an idea came to his mind. He wanted to stay by Frodo's bedside, for better or for worse. Perhaps Frodo could still hear even in his fading, lifeless state. He needed all the assistance he could attain to survive, if there was any hope. "Do- do you think Elrond might let me stay with Frodo?"
Elrhodor peered down at the steadfast hobbit, impressed by his loyalty to his friend. He wasn't sure it would be kind to subject any of the hobbits to such a sight, but if Sam were stubborn, the Elf-lord would most likely give his assent. "Come with me, and we shall ask." The Elf felt an inward regret for hinting his own concurrence, but the hobbit appeared not to care what his friend look like.
And the sight of Frodo truly was piteous. The hobbit was now clad in elf- fashion pajamas, but besides the almost diaphanously made garments he looked in a very poorly way. He often muttered inarticulate drivel, but besides the nonsense he uttered in his sleep, he just lay there, motionless and clearly dying. His face was tomblike in its grayish-greenish-yellowish pallor, save for the dark smudges clearly outlined beneath his eyes. It was fraught and pinched from the fortnight of pain he had been obligated to tolerate before the poison had spread enough to leave him unable to awake. The queer irony was that naught could be seen of the wound except the cold white cicatrix where the Halfling had been knifed.
The Elf led the small creature into a room filled with pleasant -smelling herbs that lifted Sam's mood slightly. Inside, a tall Elf with an inexplicable essence of wisdom, knowledge, and benevolence stood hovering about them. Elrond had a morose expression on his ageless face as he sorted through the various species of herbs, apparently seeking a specific one. Sam tried to unearth an explanation or even proper wording in his head but found the search pointless. Elrond was highly above Sam and his opinions. This was without a doubt the highly renowned Elrond who was often mentioned when Strider spoke of Rivendell. Elrond was the founder, and reputed as the Highest of Elves.
"Could I possibly see my Master?" Sam abruptly inquired before Elrond had the opportunity to even greet the other Elf and himself. The Elf-lord put down a jar full of a crushed-up red plant and gave Sam a calculating stare, sizing up the hobbit's loyalty and ability to stomach a horrifying sight of his dear friend. He knew, or at least guessed, that the hobbit was a stubborn creature and would likely desire to stay with his friend no matter what. Elrond felt impressed by the fastness of this race both in willpower and loyalty. Frodo had survived thus far with a wound that could finish off a strong warrior-Man within hours, days if he were lucky and had a strong resistance.
"If you wish," Elrond assented, his dark blue eyes still analyzing Frodo's gardener. He felt confident in his judgment, as Elrond was not one who often erred in guessing the motives of others. "You may stay with him as long as you please." Perhaps Sam's presence could actually aid Frodo. Friendship could have amazing faculty. "Talk to him, and tell Frodo he will be okay, he may still be able to hear you. Elrhodor, show Sam to Frodo's room."
Sam scrambled to his feet, mentally preparing himself for what was likely to be a heartbreaking spectacle, and followed the fair-haired Elf down the corridor, briefly eying each statue with awed, though brief, reverence. They came to a door whose frame ended just below the Elf's head, indicating a miniature room within, fit to accommodate a dwarf or hobbit. The Elf lifted the latch and swung the door open with an almost musical creak. Elrhodor ducked slightly to pass under the threshold, with Sam following behind. The hobbit gave a gasp of pity when his eyes fell upon the inert, forlorn outline of his beloved master under the thick layers of blankets. If it weren't for shivers at intervals, Sam might have believed his Master dead. The chunky hobbit rushed to the side of Frodo's bed and took one of the icy hands in his own, almost flinching from the searing chill in the blue-tinged appendages of the martyred hobbit.
Elrhodor left the room briefly without a word to Sam about his errand, but he soon returned with a chair about the size of one that might be used for a kindergartener. Appreciative of being allowed to linger at his master's side, Sam managed to give Elrhodor a weak smile. "Thank you, sir."
"It is no problem. You are very loyal indeed, Master Samwise," Elrhodor said, laying a hand on Sam's shoulder in a gesture of comfort before departing from the room, leaving the steady hobbit to keep vigil by his quickly regressing master's side.
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Meanwhile, Merry and April had risen after a long, satisfying slumber, and were eager for breakfast. They were aware of their unkempt presentation but preferred delaying washing up until after they had satisfied the hunger seeming to gnaw at their backbones.
"Hullo, April!" Merry addressed, coming out of his hobbit-sized room in time to spy the back of a short (for one of the race of Men) girl with long black hair and an outfit of "fake leather", as she called it, retreating down the hallway in search of the dining area. The teenager halted and turned around, rocking her weight from foot to foot as she patiently paused so Merry could catch up to her.
"Hi, Merry," April responded when the hobbit had drawn level to where she stood waiting. She scuffed her muddy sneaker into the stone floor in an idle manner displaying uncertainty concerning what to do upon awakening.
"I must say, we haven't been asleep all that long, yet I feel strangely refreshed," Merry remarked. April nodded her agreement, she felt a comparable feeling to what Merry was describing. Right now, the two main priorities to April were food and cleaning herself. She grabbed a clump of black hair and pulled a wry face at the knotted ends.
"Yeah, only what do we do now. Food, bathe, wait for the others to awake?" April asked bemusedly.
Merry's answer should have been palpable to April, as Merry as a hobbit and she had acquired enough knowledge of them to recognize their fondness for cuisine. While they also preferred cleanliness, food was higher up on their list of priorities. "Why, breakfast of course," responded Merry, who was wondering exactly what sort of foodstuff was served in Rivendell, with a small trace of a smile.
"Now you mention it, I /am/ kinda hungry," April pondered. "Only problem is, do we wait for Pippin and Sam and Libby and Strider to awaken?" As she spoke, she wondered if the one she was currently most concerned about, Frodo, was even alive, let alone aware, at the moment.
"And the solution to what you are wondering, April, is that I shall lead you guys to the dining area and allow the others to rest," a deep tenor responded. The hobbit and the teenager started and spun about; they hadn't noticed Strider's coming up behind them. "Good morning, Merry, April," Aragorn added. His face was wan and careworn; the night had not refreshed him nearly as much.
"How is Frodo doing?" Merry inquired as the two followed Strider, soliciting information about his elder cousin's condition. The Ranger's response was to inhale a deep breath of anxiety, and then somberly reply, "He shows no signs of waking, according to Elrond." He withheld the information that Frodo seemed delirious in his sleep, talking a blue streak, and still seemed to be in pain; he did not want to spoil any new vigor his friends had found in the night. "Sam is staying with Frodo, but it is unadvisable to have a whole crowd in his bedroom at once. And April, Elrond wishes to speak with you and Libby later."
April nodded meekly, unsure of what Elrond could want with her and her best friend. Aragorn pushed open a door, and bid his two companions to follow him in. the two shorter ones drew in a breath of awestruck reverence. This hall was more magnificent than either had ever dined in. Certainly beats the school cafeteria, that's for sure! April thought, wishing that Libby were there so she could voice the remark aloud. Several other folk were scattered about, including several elves and a couple of folk somewhat resembling the dwarves in Snow White. For the second instance in that moment, April regretted not entering her elder friend and rousing her. One time they had watched the children's movie at Libby's house when her mom wasn't home, hunting for the pornography April's cousin Mandi had once mentioned. They had only found one example, but managed to devise several wanton jokes about the son the dwarves sang, how they behaved, and so on. "This movie is X-rated!" April remembered declaring that winter afternoon in Libby's Victorian-style house.
"What is it, April?" Merry asked, his rounded brown eyes suddenly fixated on the Asian-American girl. She had let loose a snort of laughter for no apparent reason.
April blushed, slightly embarrassed about the random laugh she had just loosed. "O, it's nothing, just."
"Yes? Merry inquired, his curiosity unleashed. "Please do enlighten us, April. Or are you merely prone to laughing for no reason?" He was kidding around, trying to concentrate wholly on the present, in this room, by ribbing the youngest of the three of his most newfound friends. He felt somewhat depressed about Frodo's current waning fettle, and wished to digress himself from the situation just for the moment. Joshing the black- haired girl would be an ideal tactic. A brief torrent of sadness flashed through the dark eyes only to be replaced again by the inquisitiveness.
"Oh, nothing, just a private little joke of Libby's and mine," April verbalized with a dismissive wave of the hand.
"What is it?" Aragorn asked, his own curiosity piqued. He desired to know quite a bit more about the two friends, who seemed to jest relentlessly yet gave off an essence of having a tighter bond between them then an onlooker would guess.
"Trust me, you really don't want to know," April answered, flushing slightly, a mischievous grin on her face. "It's just. jargon of ours, oddities about us, we're weird people." Aragorn gave April a sharp glance but asked no more for the moment. The question of trust still existed, and only Elrond's interrogating them would produce the solution, for better or for worse.
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Pippin was the next to find his way to breakfast. He, too, had not yet bathed, choosing to satisfy his need for food instead. Led by Haradil and merely instructed to seek out his friends, he jumped up into the chair besides Merry and piled an enormous amount of food onto his plate. "'Morning," the young hobbit addressed as he began spooning down pancakes after having found a seat next to Merry, across from Aragorn and April.
"Pippin!" April welcomed, startled by the massive proportions he had just helped himself to. "I don't believe this, I found somebody to rival Libby in stomach capacity!"
"How can someone so big eat so little?" the hobbit retorted, noting the (what he considered) scant amount of food on April's plate.
"How can somebody so little eat so much?" April rejoined, the slight upward curvature of her lips betraying the amusement she felt at the differences in opinion concerning nourishment. Pippin's counter was merely to begin shoveling down the scrumptious delicacies served for breakfast. They seemed typical food, but compared to their rations of the past weeks, this was paradise.
"What do you suppose is holding up the Libster?" April mused after several minutes had elapsed, wondering exactly how draining the trip had been on her friend. Merry and Pippin merely looked at April and said naught in answer.
The reason for the silence of the two young hobbits was that Libby had approached them just in time to hear April's voiced query and to place a finger to her lip with a wink. She figured she might as well have a little joke on her friend. Amused, Merry and Pippin put on a meek air of "knowing nothing" and waited to see what would transpire.
April speared a piece of softened bacon with her fork and lifted it to her lips. She pulled off the small piece of meat with her teeth and chewed it thoughtfully, recalling the events of the past couple of weeks and surmising that Libby was still slumbering, overcome with exhaustion. If she remembered accurately, her friend was in the process of recovering from an infection of the throat and chest that had made her absent from school for three days and left her voice croaky and Libby herself weak after strenuous physical exhaustion. It was possible that she could have felt ill herself ands said nothing given the circumstances. Without warning, April felt somebody's grip close on both her shoulders from behind. Caught unawares, April accidentally inhaled the pieces of bacon still in her mouth. Coughing violently to clear the wrong pipe of the food, April turned and glowered at the newcomer, who turned out to have been Libby messing around.
"Sorry, April, you okay?" Libby asked, looking suddenly remorseful. She had not meant to make April accidentally choke on the food in her mouth.
April nodded and patted the vacant seat to her right. Libby took this and gratefully piled a large heap of food on her plate and filling her goblet with what looked like juice. Smiling, April mouthed, "What did I tell you?" at Pippin. He and Libby seemed to be the two bottomless pits of the group of exhausted companions.
"Are you okay?" April muttered to Libby when her blonde friend began munching on her own bacon in a pensive manner. "How are you feeling?"
Libby gave her black-haired sidekick a befuddled expression, wondering exactly what her friend was talking about. It was Frodo who they were all most frightened for, not her. "What are you talking about? I'm tired, of course, but so are you." "But. you were sick not long before we were dumped into this world," April contradicted stubbornly; trying to profess that it was not good for Libby to hide things from her. "I've seen you after track practice.and have you ever considered that maybe you fell in the meet in the first place perhaps because you were too tired to jump any higher?"
Libby felt a tidal wave of annoyance stir within her ever-preset temper. Taking a few whiffs of the fresh air to help in her inward struggle against her ardent constitution, she said, "April, you sound like my mom, and she was driving me insane in what she probably thought was trying to make me better. God, I was wondering if she'd frikkin strap me to the bed because she kept saying I was exerting myself too much! Too many demanding activities such as, oh my God, talking on the phone. I know she wanted me better but I do believe cages do nothing for me." She remembered how she had thrown objects about her room in wildness not unlike that of a cornered beast after her mom had told her to come straight home after school to rest. The fit had caused her to be absent for the third day because it had drained a lot of her energy endeavoring not to go ballistic. "I feel no worse than you, I promise.
"Then why were you in bed so long?"
"Have you forgotten that I sleep late a lot? You may remember that my mom has waken me up to talk to you on the phone." In spite of herself, Libby's anger dissipated, honored by her friend's concern. "I'm okay. Strider, how is Frodo doing? Is there any improvement?"
Aragorn proceeded to divulge pretty much the same news as he had to Merry and April later; that the wounded hobbit had so far shown no sign of being called back to the waking world, that a possibility of his demise was mounting manifestly, that he was rambling incoherently in his coma.
"I am sorry," Libby mumbled so dejectedly that April gave her a small squeeze of succor about the shoulders. She seemed awfully angst-ridden about the wounded hobbit's welfare.
"You've lost weight, I think, unless I just have never noticed that you've had bony shoulders before," April said, sounding startled. She was pointing this out partially to kid around, and moderatelyto detract Libby's attention from her ill ease. She studied her friend intently and noted her protruding collarbone and the juncture where it connected to the breastbone. "You'd better eat, your collarbone is sticking out!"
"It's always been like that." Liberty challenged. "Though, come to that, we most likely all lost weight.. Last I checked, very small meals, no offense Strider, and walking for hours on end makes people thinner. Seriously, though, my collarbone's always done that.. You should have heard Jill in chem once when she noticed that, she was like, cool, I bet you can fit things in that crevasse!"
April smiled, that was the sort of comment likely to issue from their equally eccentric friend Jill Kossin's mouth. Back in middle school, they and other friends of theirs had been so raucous around each other that others had often made remarks about them being weird, odd, crackheads, or insane. "We should try that out sometime."
"Oh, God no, that's probably impossible," Libby said with a laugh, though worry still lingered in her blue-gray eyes. She thought a grape might actually fit, but she felt too uncomfortable in this setting to try, at least with others besides herself and April. Those around her, in their manner of speech and decorum, made her feel as if she and April were rough and somewhat crude. They were already displaced enough by their fondness for perverted wisecracks to one another with jargon neither Strider nor the hobbits knew. She took a couple of differently sized grapes and slipped them into her pocket, planning on trying later with her best friend.
When the meal was ended, Aragorn asked the two girls to come with him to speak with him. The two teenagers exchanged uneasy glances, attempting to theorize the third-degree apt to be in store for them. Aragorn noted their trepidation but opted not to mention it. They would find out soon enough that Elrond was a benevolent figure, assuming that Libby and April themselves were benign souls.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ Author's note: Remember to alert me of any inconsistencies! This is the last of the chapters which had an "original" version.
