Inside the Beast
By tHe InSaNe OnE
AN- Hope this isn't too confusing. I've caught 'the plague' as it has been dubbed. Everyone in my school and my school district is getting sick with some sort of flu like thing. ^_^ Gives me more time to write though.
Okies, first chapter of this story. A bit longer than I usually write chapters. I'd say there will be three or maybe four chapters in this tale. Enjoy it!
This fic is dedicated to the reviewers of "Two Men and a Thorn Bush" more specifically: angelface04, A.N.C., shauna, Anita, Alilacia, Kaeera, Freakizimi, shirebound, Carrie, Ainaechoiriel, Karri, Elladan, Nayru, Halogatomon, Emmithar, Chelsey, Mouse, evil spapple pie, and RuByMoOn
This fic is specially dedicated to Nili and Sue. They were the ones who actually demanded this! I never planned on writing it! ^_^ But, you know, what the reviewers demand is what I provide!
Also dedicated to Aralondwen for, as always, making me face my fears and post my stories. ^_^
Well, enough rambling. ^_^ Read and enjoy and perhaps, *puppy eyes* review?
~*~
The land was starting to look more appealing. The grass was becoming green once more, and the air was most definitely fresher. A soft breeze drifted by, lessening the terrible heat. It was deadly hot outside, and every creature within sixty leagues knew it. Most of the animals were hiding in the trees or in caves to escape the terrible wrath of the sun. Even the men in the area had taken to staying in.
All the men, except Aragorn, son of Arathorn.
He trudged through the knee high grass, his dark hair plastered to his face. The gentle wind did nothing to soothe the burning in the ranger's body. His mouth was drier than it had ever been, and his tongue was simply a dry lump of flesh. If someone tried to talk to him, they would've only been answered by a grunt if anything. The heat had also given him the most unbearable pounding in his head. All of this was bad enough, and he probably would've been in a better mood if IT was not making so much noise.
"The bright orb in the sky! It burnsss uss!" Sméagol wailed, yanking on his lead. "It buuurrnnnsss us! Let us hide from the evil orb!" He gave another hideous cry and flung himself onto the ground.
Aragorn tried to control his temper. Nothing seemed to make the beast happy. First, it was the small cut he had given it with his sword. It had been a complete accident and Aragorn had made sure that it healed up, but Sméagol continued to moan about it. Then it was the rope. The rope was terrible too. He had complained about that as well. He had shrieked and wailed and begged and made such a general fuss about it, that Aragorn just about killed him there. Finally, he promised that as soon as they found a village, he would get a different rope, one that wouldn't 'burn' Gollum.
Now, it was the sun. It burned this thing as well. Aragorn wasn't stopping anytime soon though. Orcs were about and he wasn't risking getting caught. Though it was possible to be caught at any time, Aragorn felt safer with the sun up and at night, he felt safer moving. So, for now, Gollum would have to deal with everything. Hopefully, he would do it silently.
Aragorn scowled at the creature once more, before trudging forward. He would drag Gollum, or Sméagol, or whatever he was, the entire way if necessary. At this point, the sooner he got to Mirkwood, the better. He was beginning to worry that he would not make it the whole way. There was still at least two days travel, and he was feeling spent as it was. Just a bit more strength, he prayed silently, just enough to get me to Mirkwood. Then, I can rest.
"Nassty man," Sméagol cried, as he followed behind. "Terrible, evil man. Keep poor Sméagol tied up in the burning rope......"
And the creature continued to lament, and somehow, Aragorn kept himself from killing it.
The stream was rather big to be a stream and yet, it was too small to be a river. It flowed at a steady pace, making its way to some larger source. At its deepest point, it reached about six feet, enough to cover a full-grown man, or an elf. The water in it was cool, and refreshing.
Estel had never been happier for anything in his life.
He dropped to his knees beside the stream, and dunked his head into it. Savoring the comforting feeling, he stayed as he was until he ran out of air. Then, he slowly raised his head again. The water had put a damper on the pain that was lacing his head, but it had not completely stopped. Sighing, he cupped his hands and drank slowly. He had to control himself. It was just as bad to be over-hydrated as dehydrated.
He paused for a second, looking down at his one bandaged hand. It was bleeding through again, which was not at all surprising. Gollum really must've bitten him badly, or worse than he had thought. His other hand had Sméagol's lead wrapped around it, and beneath the cords, he could see bruising. It wasn't startling either. The creature could tug on a lead like nothing else.
Filling his water skin, he drew away from the bank and crawled over to a nearby tree. He couldn't stop. As much as he wanted to, he simply couldn't. There was no way that he could trust Gollum and there were orcs and other dark things about. No, he could rest for a few minutes and then he would have to continue. Just a few more minutes.........
Sméagol watched with a vague sort of curiosity as the man fell asleep. He yanked on his lead finding that, even though he was unconscious, the man had a good grip. Grumbling unhappily, he sat down, fiddling with his fingers. He had tried to chew through his bindings already, and found that it only burned him, and somehow, made the rope stronger. Evil elven ropes.
"Smeeeaggoolll?" A familiar voice called soothingly. "What is wrroonng Smeagggoolll?"
"Evil man tied Sméagol up," the creature whimpered pathetically. "He makes Sméagol travel when the bright orb is in the sky, and gives Sméagol no rest."
"Pooor Sméagol," the voice cooed, and a hand petted Sméagol's shoulder. He was unaware that it was his own. "Poor Sméagol, do not worry. It is time for us to leave, Sméagol, gollum, gollum."
"Can't," Sméagol whined, tugging on the rope around his neck. "Rope."
"What cuts ropes, precious?" the voice asked patiently. Sméagol twitched, looking around fearfully.
"Daggers, and swords, and knifes," he answered, frightened.
"The man has those, does he not, my precious?" Sméagol found himself reaching towards a dagger that the man carried. He drew back quickly, making small noises of fear.
"No, we mustn't," he whispered. "He will wake up, and then Sméagol will have it worse. He will not feed Sméagol and he will not rest at all. More ropes...."
"He will not wake up, precious," the voice said gently. "Take the knife, and cut the ropes, and then.....cut him."
Sméagol's eyes widened at the thought and he looked back to the dagger. Kill the man? No, the man hadn't been that nasty. After all, he had given him meat instead of the evil elf bread. He had given him water, and cleaned his cuts. He had put up with Sméagol, and though, it was obvious that the man was annoyed a good deal of the time, he had not hit Sméagol or hurt him.
~Flashback~
The smells of the Dead Marshes had long since become a part of him, and they no longer disturbed him. The noise made by the dead spirits did not bother him any more. No, he truly was used to everything.
Now, he was crouched by a fresh flowing stream. It was so strange, in the middle of a place so dead, that such a pure thing could exist. But it did, and for that, he was glad. He lapped the water up in a very animal like way, searching the water for anything to eat, even the smallest minnow. Sticking slime covered hands into the water; he sifted through the sand and tried to find something edible.
"Come now, precious, good fishies, nice fishies. Dead things do not eat fishies, so where did theys go? Sméagol cannot find the fishies, no he cannot." He sat back on his haunches. The voice had been silent for days now, the voice that took care of him. Why did it not speak? He needed it!
He was not being vigilant like he should've been. No, he wasn't paying attention at all. He did not hear the rustle behind him, or the heavy footsteps of something that was not a spirit. Nor did he here the soft exclamation of both joy and surprise. Sméagol did not realize anything until something rushed him from behind.
Sméagol howled and dodged out of the way. It was a man and not a ghost man either. No it was a real man, with a real sword. He cradled his arm to him, seeing a slight cut on it from the sharp piece of metal. The man looked exhausted. Dark circles were under his eyes, and he was paler than most men were. His hair was matted with all sorts of things, and his clothing was covered in slime. He looked menacing.
The man charged again, pointing the sword at Sméagol. Sméagol yelled, and dodged him, but the man was prepared this time. He dropped his weapon, grabbing Sméagol by his uninjured arm. Sméagol was shocked at first, but the shock lasted for less than a second, and instinct kicked in. He fought like a mad thing, clawing, biting, kicking, and hitting. Yet, the man did not relent. He held the gangly creature around the waist, slowly dragging him back towards the discarded sword.
"No, precious! Do not let hims get the meaaaan sword!" The voice cried. Sméagol struggled twice as hard, to no avail. The man grabbed the sword with one blood and dirt covered hand, and pressed it threateningly against Sméagol's throat. Sméagol went still very quickly.
"Still yourself, creature. I do not wish to kill you, for Gandalf wishes you to be alive," the man hissed into his ear. Sméagol listened, suddenly very docile. The man, seemingly satisfied, put down his sword and removed something from around his waist. A burning substance as thrown around the creatures neck, and he howled unhappily. Ripping away from the man, he scrabbled at his throat.
"IT BURNSS US! IT BURNSSSSSSS!" he sobbed, pulling on the rope.
~End Flashback~
After that, the man had given him meat, and then cleaned his cut. Then the man had tended to his own injuries, and they had started off. That had been a while ago and the man did not look much different than he had back then. The shadows beneath his eyes had darkened in color, and his face was a shade paler. Strange red blotches were on his cheeks, and he seemed to be growing weaker as they traveled.
"No, we don't daresss kill him," Sméagol cried, backing away until his leash was taut. "No, wes can't kill him. We mustn't kills him. Hesss knowssss the elfssiesss and the elfssiess are dangerousssss."
Then again, if the man did not wake up, Sméagol would be in more trouble. Orcs were not easy companions, and wargs would eat him. Perhaps he could give the man more strength. If he attempted to kill him, he would get in trouble, but if he gained the man's trust......perhaps, then he could escape......
"Nos," Sméagol told the voice. "Nos, we shall get him a fish."
~*~
Aragorn was dreaming.
"You say you love her," Elrond said sharply. "And yet, you do not love her enough to let her go!"
"You promised me, Elrond," Aragorn answered in return. He had to keep the hurt out of his eyes. "You promised that you would not separate us. She loves me, and I love her in return. Why do you wish to ruin that?"
"I ruin nothing, son of Arathorn," Elrond replied, his anger growing. "Her place is with her people! Do you wish to keep her here where all she will ever have is pain? Death, and pain, and horrors. Is that no selfish? That is a selfish love, human, and it is not true love. She belongs with her people! Do you not want her to be with her mother?"
Aragorn stared silently at Elrond for a few seconds. Could this really be his foster father? Could this really be the elf who had raised him, believed in him, and taken care of him? Could he possibly be saying such harsh things to him now? No, it couldn't be! This could not be HIS Ada! And yet, it was.
"Elrond, she will have me! Is that not enough? You once told me that it would be enough! I told you that I would always be there for her, and I would never leave her! What more can I offer, Elrond? I would give my life for her in a heartbeat!" Just like I almost gave mine for you.
"And when you die, Aragorn? Then what? Will she be left to agonize over your death, and then live out her years in pain, all alone? I will not let that be her end!" Elrond shouted.
"It will not be her end! She will have our children, and they will love her and care for her! She will have another family! She will not be alone!" Aragorn growled, trying to control himself.
"Go, you are being unreasonable." Elrond turned his back to his foster son, and moved to a nearby window.
"I am not being unreasonable. You are being unreasonable," Aragorn snapped, following behind him. "She loves me, father. Do you wish her to die of grief? Do you wish to kill her, Ada?"
A hand came in sharp contact with his face, as Elrond whirled around, fury burning in his eyes. No, wait; it was not Elrond's hand. Elrond was fading away, and Estel's face was wet.
Aragorn awoke with a bit of a struggle, his hand going to his cheek, almost involuntarily. He looked at it groggily, seeing both blood and water coming back. Was it his blood? No, no it wasn't. Something wet and bloody was resting in his lap. A fish, but where did a fish come from? He cursed himself, realizing that he had fallen asleep.
"Eats it! Eats it! It is fresh and just stopped wrriiiglllling," Sméagol commanded, coming very close to Estel. "It is good, you will like it. Eats it!"
Aragorn picked up the fish, and held it in his hand. It was small and rather thin looking as though it had not eaten in a while. Any other day, he probably would've eaten it. A nice fire and a few herbs with it. But right now, his stomach felt queasy and he didn't want to chance it. He also wasn't going to be able to cook it, and the thought of eating raw fish made his stomach churn.
"No thank you, Sméagol," he answered softly, handing the fish back to the creature. He was quietly surprised. Sméagol could've killed him while he slept and yet, instead, the creature had caught a fish for him. Perhaps there was kindness in the beast after all. Standing up slowly, he stretched his arms and his legs. He was slightly confused. He was sitting too far from the brook for Sméagol to catch a fish. Shrugging to himself, he didn't ponder it.
"But man musst eat the fishy. Only had nasty elf bread for daaayyss now. Get himself sick he has," Sméagol said, following behind the ranger as he started off once more.
"I'm fine Sméagol. You eat it. A raw fish could make a man sick," Aragorn replied, hoping that the creature wouldn't start whining. He had too much on his mind.
"Fines fines fines." Sméagol sniffed, and slowly devoured the fish as they moved along.
Elbereth help me, Aragorn thought, as he watched the setting sun. Help me make it through this.
~*~
TBC
~*~
Um, yes, I am thinking about writing a sequel to "Two Men and a Thorn Bush" because everyone seems to want it. I'm not sure how to write it yet, so, it could appear at just about any time! ^_^ Keep an eye out for it!
By tHe InSaNe OnE
AN- Hope this isn't too confusing. I've caught 'the plague' as it has been dubbed. Everyone in my school and my school district is getting sick with some sort of flu like thing. ^_^ Gives me more time to write though.
Okies, first chapter of this story. A bit longer than I usually write chapters. I'd say there will be three or maybe four chapters in this tale. Enjoy it!
This fic is dedicated to the reviewers of "Two Men and a Thorn Bush" more specifically: angelface04, A.N.C., shauna, Anita, Alilacia, Kaeera, Freakizimi, shirebound, Carrie, Ainaechoiriel, Karri, Elladan, Nayru, Halogatomon, Emmithar, Chelsey, Mouse, evil spapple pie, and RuByMoOn
This fic is specially dedicated to Nili and Sue. They were the ones who actually demanded this! I never planned on writing it! ^_^ But, you know, what the reviewers demand is what I provide!
Also dedicated to Aralondwen for, as always, making me face my fears and post my stories. ^_^
Well, enough rambling. ^_^ Read and enjoy and perhaps, *puppy eyes* review?
~*~
The land was starting to look more appealing. The grass was becoming green once more, and the air was most definitely fresher. A soft breeze drifted by, lessening the terrible heat. It was deadly hot outside, and every creature within sixty leagues knew it. Most of the animals were hiding in the trees or in caves to escape the terrible wrath of the sun. Even the men in the area had taken to staying in.
All the men, except Aragorn, son of Arathorn.
He trudged through the knee high grass, his dark hair plastered to his face. The gentle wind did nothing to soothe the burning in the ranger's body. His mouth was drier than it had ever been, and his tongue was simply a dry lump of flesh. If someone tried to talk to him, they would've only been answered by a grunt if anything. The heat had also given him the most unbearable pounding in his head. All of this was bad enough, and he probably would've been in a better mood if IT was not making so much noise.
"The bright orb in the sky! It burnsss uss!" Sméagol wailed, yanking on his lead. "It buuurrnnnsss us! Let us hide from the evil orb!" He gave another hideous cry and flung himself onto the ground.
Aragorn tried to control his temper. Nothing seemed to make the beast happy. First, it was the small cut he had given it with his sword. It had been a complete accident and Aragorn had made sure that it healed up, but Sméagol continued to moan about it. Then it was the rope. The rope was terrible too. He had complained about that as well. He had shrieked and wailed and begged and made such a general fuss about it, that Aragorn just about killed him there. Finally, he promised that as soon as they found a village, he would get a different rope, one that wouldn't 'burn' Gollum.
Now, it was the sun. It burned this thing as well. Aragorn wasn't stopping anytime soon though. Orcs were about and he wasn't risking getting caught. Though it was possible to be caught at any time, Aragorn felt safer with the sun up and at night, he felt safer moving. So, for now, Gollum would have to deal with everything. Hopefully, he would do it silently.
Aragorn scowled at the creature once more, before trudging forward. He would drag Gollum, or Sméagol, or whatever he was, the entire way if necessary. At this point, the sooner he got to Mirkwood, the better. He was beginning to worry that he would not make it the whole way. There was still at least two days travel, and he was feeling spent as it was. Just a bit more strength, he prayed silently, just enough to get me to Mirkwood. Then, I can rest.
"Nassty man," Sméagol cried, as he followed behind. "Terrible, evil man. Keep poor Sméagol tied up in the burning rope......"
And the creature continued to lament, and somehow, Aragorn kept himself from killing it.
The stream was rather big to be a stream and yet, it was too small to be a river. It flowed at a steady pace, making its way to some larger source. At its deepest point, it reached about six feet, enough to cover a full-grown man, or an elf. The water in it was cool, and refreshing.
Estel had never been happier for anything in his life.
He dropped to his knees beside the stream, and dunked his head into it. Savoring the comforting feeling, he stayed as he was until he ran out of air. Then, he slowly raised his head again. The water had put a damper on the pain that was lacing his head, but it had not completely stopped. Sighing, he cupped his hands and drank slowly. He had to control himself. It was just as bad to be over-hydrated as dehydrated.
He paused for a second, looking down at his one bandaged hand. It was bleeding through again, which was not at all surprising. Gollum really must've bitten him badly, or worse than he had thought. His other hand had Sméagol's lead wrapped around it, and beneath the cords, he could see bruising. It wasn't startling either. The creature could tug on a lead like nothing else.
Filling his water skin, he drew away from the bank and crawled over to a nearby tree. He couldn't stop. As much as he wanted to, he simply couldn't. There was no way that he could trust Gollum and there were orcs and other dark things about. No, he could rest for a few minutes and then he would have to continue. Just a few more minutes.........
Sméagol watched with a vague sort of curiosity as the man fell asleep. He yanked on his lead finding that, even though he was unconscious, the man had a good grip. Grumbling unhappily, he sat down, fiddling with his fingers. He had tried to chew through his bindings already, and found that it only burned him, and somehow, made the rope stronger. Evil elven ropes.
"Smeeeaggoolll?" A familiar voice called soothingly. "What is wrroonng Smeagggoolll?"
"Evil man tied Sméagol up," the creature whimpered pathetically. "He makes Sméagol travel when the bright orb is in the sky, and gives Sméagol no rest."
"Pooor Sméagol," the voice cooed, and a hand petted Sméagol's shoulder. He was unaware that it was his own. "Poor Sméagol, do not worry. It is time for us to leave, Sméagol, gollum, gollum."
"Can't," Sméagol whined, tugging on the rope around his neck. "Rope."
"What cuts ropes, precious?" the voice asked patiently. Sméagol twitched, looking around fearfully.
"Daggers, and swords, and knifes," he answered, frightened.
"The man has those, does he not, my precious?" Sméagol found himself reaching towards a dagger that the man carried. He drew back quickly, making small noises of fear.
"No, we mustn't," he whispered. "He will wake up, and then Sméagol will have it worse. He will not feed Sméagol and he will not rest at all. More ropes...."
"He will not wake up, precious," the voice said gently. "Take the knife, and cut the ropes, and then.....cut him."
Sméagol's eyes widened at the thought and he looked back to the dagger. Kill the man? No, the man hadn't been that nasty. After all, he had given him meat instead of the evil elf bread. He had given him water, and cleaned his cuts. He had put up with Sméagol, and though, it was obvious that the man was annoyed a good deal of the time, he had not hit Sméagol or hurt him.
~Flashback~
The smells of the Dead Marshes had long since become a part of him, and they no longer disturbed him. The noise made by the dead spirits did not bother him any more. No, he truly was used to everything.
Now, he was crouched by a fresh flowing stream. It was so strange, in the middle of a place so dead, that such a pure thing could exist. But it did, and for that, he was glad. He lapped the water up in a very animal like way, searching the water for anything to eat, even the smallest minnow. Sticking slime covered hands into the water; he sifted through the sand and tried to find something edible.
"Come now, precious, good fishies, nice fishies. Dead things do not eat fishies, so where did theys go? Sméagol cannot find the fishies, no he cannot." He sat back on his haunches. The voice had been silent for days now, the voice that took care of him. Why did it not speak? He needed it!
He was not being vigilant like he should've been. No, he wasn't paying attention at all. He did not hear the rustle behind him, or the heavy footsteps of something that was not a spirit. Nor did he here the soft exclamation of both joy and surprise. Sméagol did not realize anything until something rushed him from behind.
Sméagol howled and dodged out of the way. It was a man and not a ghost man either. No it was a real man, with a real sword. He cradled his arm to him, seeing a slight cut on it from the sharp piece of metal. The man looked exhausted. Dark circles were under his eyes, and he was paler than most men were. His hair was matted with all sorts of things, and his clothing was covered in slime. He looked menacing.
The man charged again, pointing the sword at Sméagol. Sméagol yelled, and dodged him, but the man was prepared this time. He dropped his weapon, grabbing Sméagol by his uninjured arm. Sméagol was shocked at first, but the shock lasted for less than a second, and instinct kicked in. He fought like a mad thing, clawing, biting, kicking, and hitting. Yet, the man did not relent. He held the gangly creature around the waist, slowly dragging him back towards the discarded sword.
"No, precious! Do not let hims get the meaaaan sword!" The voice cried. Sméagol struggled twice as hard, to no avail. The man grabbed the sword with one blood and dirt covered hand, and pressed it threateningly against Sméagol's throat. Sméagol went still very quickly.
"Still yourself, creature. I do not wish to kill you, for Gandalf wishes you to be alive," the man hissed into his ear. Sméagol listened, suddenly very docile. The man, seemingly satisfied, put down his sword and removed something from around his waist. A burning substance as thrown around the creatures neck, and he howled unhappily. Ripping away from the man, he scrabbled at his throat.
"IT BURNSS US! IT BURNSSSSSSS!" he sobbed, pulling on the rope.
~End Flashback~
After that, the man had given him meat, and then cleaned his cut. Then the man had tended to his own injuries, and they had started off. That had been a while ago and the man did not look much different than he had back then. The shadows beneath his eyes had darkened in color, and his face was a shade paler. Strange red blotches were on his cheeks, and he seemed to be growing weaker as they traveled.
"No, we don't daresss kill him," Sméagol cried, backing away until his leash was taut. "No, wes can't kill him. We mustn't kills him. Hesss knowssss the elfssiesss and the elfssiess are dangerousssss."
Then again, if the man did not wake up, Sméagol would be in more trouble. Orcs were not easy companions, and wargs would eat him. Perhaps he could give the man more strength. If he attempted to kill him, he would get in trouble, but if he gained the man's trust......perhaps, then he could escape......
"Nos," Sméagol told the voice. "Nos, we shall get him a fish."
~*~
Aragorn was dreaming.
"You say you love her," Elrond said sharply. "And yet, you do not love her enough to let her go!"
"You promised me, Elrond," Aragorn answered in return. He had to keep the hurt out of his eyes. "You promised that you would not separate us. She loves me, and I love her in return. Why do you wish to ruin that?"
"I ruin nothing, son of Arathorn," Elrond replied, his anger growing. "Her place is with her people! Do you wish to keep her here where all she will ever have is pain? Death, and pain, and horrors. Is that no selfish? That is a selfish love, human, and it is not true love. She belongs with her people! Do you not want her to be with her mother?"
Aragorn stared silently at Elrond for a few seconds. Could this really be his foster father? Could this really be the elf who had raised him, believed in him, and taken care of him? Could he possibly be saying such harsh things to him now? No, it couldn't be! This could not be HIS Ada! And yet, it was.
"Elrond, she will have me! Is that not enough? You once told me that it would be enough! I told you that I would always be there for her, and I would never leave her! What more can I offer, Elrond? I would give my life for her in a heartbeat!" Just like I almost gave mine for you.
"And when you die, Aragorn? Then what? Will she be left to agonize over your death, and then live out her years in pain, all alone? I will not let that be her end!" Elrond shouted.
"It will not be her end! She will have our children, and they will love her and care for her! She will have another family! She will not be alone!" Aragorn growled, trying to control himself.
"Go, you are being unreasonable." Elrond turned his back to his foster son, and moved to a nearby window.
"I am not being unreasonable. You are being unreasonable," Aragorn snapped, following behind him. "She loves me, father. Do you wish her to die of grief? Do you wish to kill her, Ada?"
A hand came in sharp contact with his face, as Elrond whirled around, fury burning in his eyes. No, wait; it was not Elrond's hand. Elrond was fading away, and Estel's face was wet.
Aragorn awoke with a bit of a struggle, his hand going to his cheek, almost involuntarily. He looked at it groggily, seeing both blood and water coming back. Was it his blood? No, no it wasn't. Something wet and bloody was resting in his lap. A fish, but where did a fish come from? He cursed himself, realizing that he had fallen asleep.
"Eats it! Eats it! It is fresh and just stopped wrriiiglllling," Sméagol commanded, coming very close to Estel. "It is good, you will like it. Eats it!"
Aragorn picked up the fish, and held it in his hand. It was small and rather thin looking as though it had not eaten in a while. Any other day, he probably would've eaten it. A nice fire and a few herbs with it. But right now, his stomach felt queasy and he didn't want to chance it. He also wasn't going to be able to cook it, and the thought of eating raw fish made his stomach churn.
"No thank you, Sméagol," he answered softly, handing the fish back to the creature. He was quietly surprised. Sméagol could've killed him while he slept and yet, instead, the creature had caught a fish for him. Perhaps there was kindness in the beast after all. Standing up slowly, he stretched his arms and his legs. He was slightly confused. He was sitting too far from the brook for Sméagol to catch a fish. Shrugging to himself, he didn't ponder it.
"But man musst eat the fishy. Only had nasty elf bread for daaayyss now. Get himself sick he has," Sméagol said, following behind the ranger as he started off once more.
"I'm fine Sméagol. You eat it. A raw fish could make a man sick," Aragorn replied, hoping that the creature wouldn't start whining. He had too much on his mind.
"Fines fines fines." Sméagol sniffed, and slowly devoured the fish as they moved along.
Elbereth help me, Aragorn thought, as he watched the setting sun. Help me make it through this.
~*~
TBC
~*~
Um, yes, I am thinking about writing a sequel to "Two Men and a Thorn Bush" because everyone seems to want it. I'm not sure how to write it yet, so, it could appear at just about any time! ^_^ Keep an eye out for it!