DISCLAIMER: I do not own Middle-earth, not its characters; Tolkien does.
*note: There is about a page and a half addition to the end of this one. Sorry for the inconvenience but it ends this chapter a lot better.
CH. 2
How much he looked like one! She couldn't get it out of her mind, and her pulsed raced so fast that she thought her heart might burst. It was so fun, imagining that he was. He had the feet for it, most definitely. Though he came only a little past her shoulders, his feet were a good size bigger than hers. It made her laugh to think of it. And his hair--oh, it was perfect! Perfect curls that framed his smooth boyish features and which were so out of place among the common style all her male classmates took. But what caught and held her attention the most was his height, for he was so small! Apryl had always been fond of short people (she, herself, was average at about 5' 4") though she had not a clue why. Perhaps it was because her whole family was on the tallish side (her mother was 5' 9" and her younger sister by three years, was the same height as Apryl).
She led Frodo to the end of a long cafeteria table, where four other girls sat. Amy was already there, talking with a short blonde and sitting across from a tall, lean brown-haired girl who talked with a darker-skinned girl. Apryl seated herself and offered Frodo a stool right beside her.
The girl's conversation ceased and they stared--wide-eyed--at Frodo.
Apryl seemed not to notice.
"These are my friends," Apryl offered, as a way of an introduction. She waved at the short blonde, "Christy," then pointed at Amy, "Amy," she gestured at the dark-skinned girl, "Danielle," and she pointed at the tall brunette, "Rebecca."
Frodo dipped his head. Rebecca's brow furrowed at this and she looked sideways at Danielle, but neither commented.
"Hey," Amy said, all bubbles. "What's your name?"
Frodo glanced sideways at Apryl and spied her watching him expectantly. She acts as if she recognizes me. But that's impossible.
"I haven't seen you around before, are you new? How do you know Apryl?"
Apryl! That's her name.
Frodo was both glad for that information and the fact that Amy seemed to be disinterested in his name. He saw that Apryl was scowling at her friend, but Amy seemed not to notice, or if she did, she didn't mind in the least.
"Is it hard to move into a school so late in the year?" Amy asked curiously, but gave him no time to answer. "A lot of kids seem to think so. I've only moved once in my entire life and that was only two houses down from where I lived before, so I didn't really have to change schools or anything but it was still hard--emotionally, I mean."
Apryl rolled her eyes and Rebecca and Danielle giggled. Frodo glanced over at Apryl, saw her unstick a clear piece of material from the sandwich's wrapping. He followed her example.
"Apryl's moving in a month, though," Amy seemed to recall.
Rebecca frowned at her and Amy quieted.
"What did you say your name was?" Rebecca asked.
Frodo hurriedly bit into his sandwich. Apryl stiffened at Rebecca's question but purposely kept her eyes away from Frodo's. He suspects something.
Frodo watched her from the corner of his eye and he instantly noted her tenseness. She knows something.
He slowly chewed his food while Rebecca waited for his reply. A name! But I know none that are of this world! Mentally, he cursed.
"He never called me last night," Amy whined and Rebecca looked over at her.
"Who?"
"Jeremiah," she pouted.
"He was with Caitlyn," she said.
Amy frowned. "Why?"
Rebecca shrugged, disinterested and she turned back to the boy. "So, you have a name or not?"
Next to him, Apryl squeezed her eyes shut. Frodo, Bilbo, Pippin, Merry, Sam, she wished. Any will do, any will do.
Frodo swallowed. He looked around at all the girls. Then slowly, hesitantly, he drew a breath and--
"No, Elijah, not today. If I can get away tomorrow . . ."
A young man and woman walked behind them, brushed by, and continued on.
"Elijah!" Frodo gasped breathlessly, before he could change his mind. "My name is Elijah."
Apryl's eyes widened and then narrowed suspiciously, but she made no words of protest.
A bell rang and Frodo jumped.
Rebecca and Danielle jumped up at once. "Bye," they said hurriedly and--tossing their uneaten food in the nearest trash--they left. Amy shoved the rest of her food in her mouth, mumbled, "See ya" and left. Christy picked her things up, smiled and waved at Apryl, then made her way through the sudden flood of kids.
"What was that bell?"
Apyrl peered at Frodo. "The bell that tells us lunch is over," she told him, without any sarcasm. Frodo felt that he should have known that and was glad for her not pointing out that he had once again been a fool.
"Are you going to go to class?" he asked her, seeing that she wasn't moving.
"Yeah," she took another bite of her sandwich. "My class is not twenty paces away."
He nodded but looked mournfully at his, for the most part, uneaten sandwich. It seemed all the humans were throwing their food away and he was still awfully hungry. He wondered how the humans survived on such limited eating time--not to mention limited food and choices of.
"If eat it on your way to class, you could probably finish it," Apryl suggested, noting the forlorn gaze.
He nodded and took up the sandwich. "Thanks," he said with a smile.
"It was no big deal," she smiled back. She went for another bite but suddenly grimaced and clutched her stomach. Her face twisted into pain.
"Are you alright?" Frodo reached out to her but she stood and backed away from him.
"Fine," she gasped, her face pale.
Frodo looked at her doubtfully but he didn't want her to do that again--he didn't want her to back away like he was some horrible orc. He'd only wanted to comfort her--to see if she was well. That's all.
She forced a smile and tossed the sandwich into the garbage. "The foods not so agreeable sometimes," she said. But the distress on his face didn't vanish. She fidgeted with the strap on her bag.
"I-uh, better get to class," she waved down the hall. "I guess I'll see you around, . . . Elijah, was it?
He nodded.
"Elijah," she said, as if testing the name on her tongue and then--finding it satisfactory--she smiled. "I'll see you around."
"Yeah," he said and she turned. But not if I find her.
If not enough things are happening to me today, my gut has to act up too. The pain had been sharp and quick, but painful enough. She could of sworn that an invisible knife had plunged itself into her gut and then been pulled out again. But it was her imagination she had to admit, though the pain was real enough.
What she regretted most though, was the hurt-filled look Elijah (she sighed mournfully, not Frodo) had given her when she had backed away from his touch. That was ten times worse than the stabbing pain in her gut.
I didn't mean to hurt you, she said to herself; wished she could say it to him. It's just . . . just that I can't . . . I can't let you touch me. She fought the tears.
If you knew me, you wouldn't want to.
There are just too many! I will never find her--not in time! Frodo sat upon a bench beneath a tired old willow, its leaves rustling in the soft breeze. His head was in his hands and his mood was as bleak as the gray sky. Light drops of rain were beginning to fall down from rumbling clouds.
I wish Gandalf were here. He should be here, not I. He is the wizard, and I am but the hobbit.
"You cannot send him. The knife wound has not been healed a week. Surely, Gandalf, there is another. I will go if no one else will. Let him rest!"
"He has the power upon his finger and though I am loath to use it, it is the only way. None may wield that Ring save Sauron, but mayhap he may use its power. But none other than the Ring-Bearer, Meriadoc! Perhaps, I might make the journey there without the Rings aid, and then perhaps I might not. If Frodo goes, he will both have the Ring and I guiding him. He is the one."
Frodo shook his head. I am not the one. You are, Gandalf. I shouldn't have accepted this, for I will fail. I have failed. But I was a fool and had agreed to take the task.
"Tell me what to do, Gandalf."
The rain came down in sheets.
I am a fool.
"Shouldn't you be in class?"
Frodo looked up.
Apryl stood beneath a dry overhang.
"It's raining," she pointed out. Frodo wanted to laugh bitterly but he didn't have the strength.
"Aye," he said simply.
"Why aren't you in class?"
Frodo shrugged. "Why aren't you?"
She held up a pink slip and grinned. "I have a note."
"You have a store of those in your bag?" he wanted to know.
Her eye twinkled and Frodo was suddenly reminded of Gandalf. "Maybe," she said.
She has much happiness and joy in her, Frodo suddenly mused and his eyes fell to her somber clothes. Frodo frowned. Her black jacket hung large on her frame, almost completely covering her gray shirt and making it almost impossible to tell how thin she was. Her pants were dark blue--a thick material--and very affective at hiding any curves. Its as if she's hiding, Frodo thought. The colors are dark, but not so dark as to be noticeably so. He had seen many humans today who had dressed in nought but black--some girls even had black painted on their lips--but they seemed to dress so to be noticed, not to go unnoticed.
He shivered. The rain was pouring down his back and his curls were plastered to his forehead.
"Well, I'm going to class," Apryl said when Frodo made no attempt to talk, "Even if your not." She made as if to go but then turned. "If you'd like better company than the rain, you could walk with me." Her suggestion was so soft and hesitant that Frodo almost missed it.
The rain is ill company.
He stood and her eyes brightened.
"What's your class?" he asked as she pulled the door open and the two scrambled in.
She made a face, "Sign language."
Frodo had no idea what that was. He followed her until she came to another set of doors. Beyond them, the rain fell in torrents.
"I thought . . ."
She grinned down at him. "I didn't say I'd be your only company." She opened the door and stepped out into the rain. She was soaked within a moment. "The rain is a lonely sort." She laughed and spun. "It loves companionship and I shan't be the one to disappoint it!"
Frodo laughed and ran out to join her.
She pulled the door open even as she stifled her laughter. Frodo came in behind her and shook his head of curls; water went everywhere.
"I've never seen so much water!" he exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at the pouring rain.
"It'll let up soon," she said, following his gaze. "This is rare, even for Washington." She looked at him and laughed. "Your soaked!"
He turned to her. "And you have room to talk? I think not."
Her dark brown hair hung limp, the ends slightly curling. Her clothes were drenched and she frowned at the sight she must look.
"It's not fair," she said then, her gray eyes suddenly twinkling. "The water takes too long to hit you because you're so close to the ground. I'm sure I got twice as soaked twice as fast."
Frodo looked at her incredulously. Then he burst out laughing, "Serves you right for being so cruel!"
She smiled and after a moment said, "I better get to class. Mr. Cost always has a fit when I'm late." She frowned suddenly.
"What is it?" Frodo asked worriedly.
"I forgot," she said softly and Frodo thought he detected fear in her eyes.
He took a step toward her then halted, fearing that fear might be directed at him . . . like before. "What's wrong, Apryl."
She sighed. "I have to sign in front of the class today," she said. "All of us do. I-I studied, but . . ." she shook her head. "I hate getting in front of everyone."
Frodo understood her qualms. He remembered when he had been a lad and been forced to speak in front of his cousins at Brandy Hall. He had always found that when he fiddled with something in his pocket it helped him concentrate. He might have suggested this to her, but he had slipped his hands inside his own pocket and his finger brushed up against a hard and cold metal. The Ring.
" . . . Use the Ring if you must--but only if you must!"
The words of Gandalf came back to Frodo.
"Well, anyway, I had fun singing in the rain with you, Elijah," Apryl said with a grin.
Frodo looked at her and frowned. "But we didn't sing," he said in confusion.
She smiled. "Never mind. Dancing, then?"
He grinned. "Aye, that we did."
"Bye," she waved, "Wish me luck." She turned and went down the very hall she had gone that morning, after spying Frodo watching her and musing what a fine hobbit he would make.
"Good luck," he called and she dimpled at him before disappearing into a doorway.
He felt the Ring's cool metal between his fingers and he whispered to no one at all, "Perhaps . . ." And Apryl was still on his mind.
"Apryl," said her teacher and she felt her cheeks burn red. She hadn't even stepped up in front of the class--indeed, hadn't even rose from her seat--and still her face was as red as ever.
She stood and made her way in front of the class, so nervous that she didn't even note her friend Tammie nor Elizabeth or Jamie wave their hands in the air to urge her on. She stood in front of the class, as stiff as a board and she looked over at her teacher, Mr. Cost.
"Silent or sung?" he asked, a clipboard held in one hand, a pen in the other.
"Sung," she said and several of her classmates snickered. Apryl tried not to smile but the effort was in vain. Cost glared at the girls and they shushed. He turned back to Apryl.
"Alright," he said and she nodded. "One, Two, Three," and he began to sing. His voice was deep and not so bad as his appearance would suggest; indeed, it was quite good.
Apryl's hands began to flow in the beautiful language of the deaf.
The words came to her mind a split second before they escaped her teacher's mouth, allowing her just enough time to keep the signs and music flowing together.
Cannot be too soon. Cannot be too late.
She kept her eyes leveled past Mr. Cost's head--safely away from any direct eye contact. She had to constantly think of the signs and nothing else, otherwise she would loose her nerve and mess up. Think of the next sign while doing the immediate one. Never stop. Keep it flowing.
Mr. Cost had reached the mid-point of the song and Apryl's breath came easier.
It's down hill from here, she assured herself.
The pain came suddenly and without warning. It flashed across her features, twisting it so fast that none caught it. Her concentration was shattered and her rhythm destroyed. Her hands faltered.
His eyes were wide as he saw her, for she was transparent--ghostlike.
Frodo watched from the back of the room, the Ring glinting golden upon his index finger. Apryl's hands weaved in a language Frodo had never known, in a pattern and way that he thought fit for an Elven queen. All before him, the humans watched her--and through Frodo's eyes they were shadowy figures. They were as dull and as ghastly as the Ringwraiths had been, when Frodo had slipped the Ring on at Weathertop. He could make out little of them except for their shapes and their movements--in that way, the Ring's "sight" was the same. But Apryl was different. She was a ghost . . . white, transparent . . . fading.
Is this what Gandalf meant by different? Frodo asked himself, his blue eyes locked upon the lone girl. Is this what he meant when he told me to use the Ring?
And then her hands faltered and she flickered into nothingness.
"Apryl!"
Her insides were being torn apart--being ripped and raved by unseen claws. She opened her mouth to scream but no breath came to her lungs. Her gray eyes widened into a pool of horror and disbelief. Her fingers clawed at her throat even as her legs collapsed beneath her and she fell to the cool tiled floor to writhe and thrash. Her mind screamed for air and her body screamed in pain.
She was dying--her time on earth had come to an end.
He shoved his way through the screaming children and it seemed, to the naked eye, that some unseen force was making its way through the panicked humans--and indeed that was the case, for Frodo still bore the Ring. He had forgotten it as soon as her hands had stilled in mid-air and her round face had twisted in pain. He had forgotten everything when her legs had ceased their support and she had collapsed to the floor.
The girls had shrieked in horror and the teacher had sat there as if stricken. By the time Frodo had made it half way across the room, the other children had already crowded around her and the man had shaken from his stupor and ordered a child for help.
She never screamed, nor gasped nor cried out and it wasn't until he reached her, saw her on the floor, that he realized why.
"She's not breathing!" one of the children cried.
"Get back!" the man barked and most of them obeyed. But not Frodo.
You are a fool! he told himself. She is the one! Frightened, he knelt beside her. Apryl had ceased her struggles but lay shuddering instead, her face as pale as death. He reached out to her, clasped her hand in his and squeezed it. "Apryl!" he gasped.
Her frightened eyes searched for the quite hiss and sudden, unexpected touch. She saw naught though, for the Ring hid Frodo. With realization and a silent curse, he slipped it from his finger and he once again became visible.
Behind him, the humans gasped.
But Apryl smiled. Despite the pain and the lack of breath, she beamed at the frightened hobbit that knelt before her and slowly--at her side so that Frodo almost didn't see--her hand moved to from words or phrases he did not understand.
She smiled again and her eyes fluttered shut.
Behind Frodo, in a shaky voice, the man murmured, "Hobbit" and the room was deathly still.
Review for me, please! ^^thanks for reading!
