Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth
Chapter Twenty: Wit Ends
by Galadriel Tolkien
My body had decided I should sleep, and I did. For about two days. There were periods of wakefulness during that time--mostly for food and movement and another bath or two. Clean or not, I liked water. There was also at least one memorable ravishing of Gandalf. At some point, I remember telling him about Denethor, as well. I woke to him pacing back and forth agitatedly, muttering. That didn't last longer than I had time to untangle myself and pounce him.
Peoples' obtuseness apparently provided for lots of sexual frustration, and I fell asleep rather exhausted. I'm sure his relaxation at the next meeting of the 'council' was a shock to some people.
For councils of war convened as I slept, and went on day and night for those days.
Healing and rest went on, too, and one of my awake periods was spent chatting to Pippin about those I knew. Faramir and Merry had been healed by Aragorn, which gladdened my heart. I could have done it, but it hadn't seemed my task--and sleep had been more important.
The Lady of Rohan had also been healed in a similar fashion. She was apparently still mooning over Aragorn, too. Poor man.
Gollum walked through my dreams, an ever-present apparition of doom. Or Doom. I wasn't sure. "Soon," he would hiss, voice oddly flat. "Ssooon, my preciouss shall return. And poor Smeagol shall be pleased. Yess."
Beside him stalked the ever-present heaviness that exuded from the very air of Minas Tirith, as if the battles and death had stolen the heart of the city, turning it from a gay and happy place into one full of pain and dank. It was somewhat irritating.
The people of Minas Tirith slowly trickled back while I spent my days and nights asleep. Many of them waited, though, sure that to return to their once peaceful city was to court death, or worse. Many of the armies camped at the base of the walls, Rohirrim and men of the South alike pleased to be considered some sort of heroes.
At least, I assume they did.
Food helped restore me, but it wasn't enough. Unless my reserves were restored as they had been in Lothlorien, I was going to be rather handicapped in what I could do against Sauron. Or maybe I just wasn't trying enough.
My dreams of Frodo and Sam worried me, too. They were always so lost, unable to do anything except wearily travel road after dusty road.
Even worse were the times I saw Mount Doom erupting, the fire and lava destroying the entire land of Mordor, Ithilien burning, forests turned to so much charred ash. Lava feelers creeping out to the banks of the Anduin, turning the water to boiling and sending great clouds of steam into the air.
Ash fell in a rain over Minas Tirith, drowning it in grey as the people died from oxygen-deprivation.
Over the plains of Rohan, fire fell, as thousands of tons of molten rock spewed into the air and traveled above the clouds.
There was a certain malevolence to the dreams, as if something were trying to touch me, to scare me off. They merely pissed me off and made me wish I could actually have a hand in Sauron's death.
I hadn't been allowed to kill Saruman, I figured I should be up for punching the card of the Ultimate Evil of Middle Earth.
Gandalf awoke me from one of those dreams, and we made love, he almost desperate for the comfort of our bodies entwining. Then he left me again. Sleepy, I drifted off, to dreams filled with shadowy figures I couldn't kill until they'd destroyed all I loved. Waking for good was a blessing.
Pippin seemed to have been watching me, and he smiled as I turned my head. "Water?"
I nodded and he brought me a cup. It was wonderfully clear and refreshing. I drank it all, then sighed, "What's news?"
He moved away and continued his interrupted task, packing a small bag. "We leave soon."
"Where's the battle?"
"Mordor."
The name sent a shiver through my body, but I knew it had been inevitable. The end of a quest meant the end of an era, risking it all at the scene of great evil. Or Grated Evil. I wondered if Sauron was into cheese.
"We march on the Black Gate to provide Sauron a focus away from Frodo and Sam."
I nodded, "They're still alive, Pippin."
He smiled at me, "Yes."
"How long until we leave?"
"The morning."
I sighed. "Well, no time like the present for getting up." I got out of bed and stretched, body protesting lazily.
Pippin's eyes went wide as he blushed then looked away. "You have a lot of scars, Marya."
I yawned then blinked. I wasn't wearing a stitch. No wonder he'd blushed. "Sorry." I located my robe draped on the back of a chair and pulled it on. "The scars sort of come with the territory."
He glanced at me again, still blushing, but relieved to see I was clothed, "Have you much to pack?"
"Not really." I pulled open the clothes press and retrieved the dragon mail. Ruefully, I wondered if my blood-soaked battle clothes had been burned.
"Well, I must go help pack up the tower guard." He smiled self-consciously, "I'm glad you're going with us."
"So'm I." I said softly.
After he'd gone I pulled the dragon mail on, glad it tended to keep itself clean. I'd forgotten to wash it when I washed myself, and dirty mail would have been... uncomfortable. I rummaged around until I found a shirt and trousers I could wear, and dragged them on. A sigh escaped me as I finally realised that something was missing. My weapons and harnesses.
::All the leather work was repaired--some of it got burned off, remember?:: Alayna's voice was gentle.
::Yeah. Sword?::
::It's all down here with my tack. They seemed to think that was a good place to put it.::
::Thanks.::
::Sleep well?::
::Yep. You?::
::Of course. Even when you were all lusty and nightmared.:: She chuckled, ::I think I scared the stablehands a bit. They're not used to horses just sleeping for hours and hours without eating or moving. Gandalf explained it to them. Apparently, I'm an Elven Horse.::
::The elves don't use horses.::
::They don't know that.::
I snorted. ::So we're a legend in our own time.::
::Aren't we always?::
::Sometimes.:: I wistfully considered a life of quiet anonimity.
::Besides, there's a large circle of molten glass on the Pelennor. What do you think their response is?::
Very true. ::I overdid it, didn't I.::
::No. You did what you had to.::
::Think I tipped our hand?::
::Maybe. But Sauron already knew you were here.::
::True.:: I finally found my boots and pulled them on, glad someone had been kind and cleaned them. My stomach rumbled and I realised I was starving. Food.
::Try the kitchen. And come visit me. I'm bored.::
I smiled, ::Yes, dear.::
--
::You look a hell of a lot better.:: Alayna observed as I stopped in front of her stall and unlatched the door.
::Thank you.:: I stepped into her stall, curry comb in one hand. ::You, on the other hand, look a little shaggy.::
::OOoooh. Brushes.:: She wriggled closer, eyes bright with anticipation.
I chuckled and began brushing with long strokes. It was a moment of peace between battles, and I relished it. Every stroke and movement, every flake and bit of hair that lazily floated away on the late evening breeze. Almost idyllic in a way, we were in our own little corner of the world, and I cherished it.
Too soon would it all end, we'd be back on the road, there would be more fighting and killing. Death. But right now, there was peace.
::Harder. There's an itch there I haven't been able to get rid of.::
Another chuckle escaped me, and I snorted, ::Wench.::
::Y'know, I could kick you.::
::I'd stop brushing.::
::....point.::
Silence fell again, the only sound brushes against hide and hair, and the occasional creak from my boots as I moved to get hard to reach places.
--
The armies of the Men of Gondor and the West set out at dawn. Grey light highlighted the depression so many of us felt. So many had fallen in the battle for Gondor, and more would fall at the Black Gate. It was enough to make a sane person curl up and cry.
None of us were that sane, of course.
I think Gimli was actually looking forward to the coming battle. Apparently, he hadn't had enough.
For me, Helm's Deep had been the worst, but the Pelennor had been almost as bad. And the Morannon... I wasn't looking forward to it. Something told me I could die there.
And while I'd just end up coming back to life, it would be painful.
There was also something oddly disquieting about the land of Mordor, as if it awaited the approaching army, wishing to speak with us.
I resolved to try talking to it once we were there. But first, we had to travel through the last vestiges of Gondor and Ithilien, the forest Frodo had met Faramir in.
Reprovisioning myself at Gondor's expense had been vaguely amusing. I now had about ten knives, three quivers, a bow, and something that might have been a shield, once. There were also a few bags of food now hooked to Alayna's saddle. One of water, another of firewood and a pot. We could strike out on our own and camp for a month.
As the column passed, I waited for the end. I figured it was the best place for me, for now. The size of the army startled me as I fell in with the rearguard. Had there been this many men on the field of the Pelennor that last day? Or had more been found somewhere? Perhaps we might win the day.
"My lady!" The voice came from the right, and I blinked.
"Phred! I'm glad to see you." Alayna trotted to his side without my urging. "How are you?"
"You are here. All is well." He smiled.
It wasn't a fatuous smile, or one of hero-worship. It was more comrade to comrade, and I felt comforted by it and smiled back. All was probably not well, but I didn't feel like disabusing him of that notion. For a moment, I was reminded of Vin. And I saw his head held high, triumphantly, the pike running through it sticky with his blood. I fought off the vision and asked a question I'd considered earlier, wondering the answer. "How has fared the company from Osgiliath?"
"Most survived." He grimaced, "I believe we are the only two not left behind due to injuries."
I considered this, suddenly struck with amusement. "Has anyone, um, actually mentioned the state Osgiliath is in to our commanders?"
One of the other men riding nearby snorted. "There's talk it's been destroyed." He eyed me, "By you, or Sauron himself. I say either theory is mere speculation, and rubbish."
Phred stared at him, then glanced at me, and both of us laughed. Others in the back of the column turned to stare at us, and I lost it completely, doubling over in the saddle and letting loose great mirth. Hysterical, almost.
When I finally calmed down, I gestured towards the front of the line. "I suppose we should tell them."
"Eventually," Phred agreed. "Or maybe not until after they have viewed it for themselves."
I considered this, trying to remember my last images of Osgiliath. Flames, conflagration, explosions... Possibly molten lava, depending on how hot some of it had gotten. Could be rather interesting looking now. "Good plan. We'll tell them when we're closer."
He nodded, "And, meanwhile, we ride together."
There were so many ways I could have taken that. But I left it, and reached down to retrieve an apple from a saddle bag. I ate as we rode, slowly letting my mind drift as the sun bore down on us. It was warm sunlight, and I began to bask in the heat that baked into my skin and bones. Happily, the dragon-mail *likes* sunlight, and has the capacity to suck it in and store it.
Slowly, the troop made its way through the vestiges of Gondor. The Causeway Forts were passed and a few were left to begin restoring them to operation. Next would be Osgiliath, and I considered that should Gandalf see it before I told him of its state, he might be unhappy. To say the least. Of course, he'd probably be unhappy anyway. I could just stay hidden and avoid his wrath. Glancing around, I realised we had little time left before we would get there, and to tell them now would be best.
"Come, Phred, I think we should inform them."
The captain hrmphed. "He is under my command."
I looked at him, "One of Imrahil's, aren't you."
"Yes."
"Well, I'll have a page come back to clear things completely, but this man fought beside me at Osgiliath. He comes with me." I waved an airy hand, "I'm the Lady Rainbow Luthien, and I command it so."
Before he could answer, I rode off, Phred following. He was chuckling again.
--
The column was mainly foot, with some light horse mixed in here and there. The horse were from Rohan, the Rohirrim, some 500 proud. The foot were a combination of Gondor, Imrahil's troops, the Lassarnach, and various others called to the purpose. I suspected they were from father south, possibly recruited by Aragorn.
As we rode past, I saw swift glances at us. I didn't blame them, Alayna *is* bright green.
But the occasional muttered comments weren't quite so complimentary.
::Heheheheheh. They're calling you the White Wizard's Whore. I could dine out on that for weeks.:: Alayna sounded smugly amused.
I snorted and ignored them all, head high as we slowly passed them by.
We finally neared the head of the column, and I took a long look at the group riding there. Pippin, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Eomer, and Gandalf I knew. The others, I didn't. One had to be Prince Imrahil, but of the rest I could only vaguely guess. Probably commanders of the various companies which marched behind.
All that glittering male dominance should have paused me. But I was on a mission. Besides, estrogen is my friend.
Sadly, it did pause Phred, I left him and continued alone towards the majesty.
Aragorn saw me first, and seemed startled, "My lady?"
I pointed down the road to where the river could be seen now as a glittering ribbon. "Hi. I don't suppose anyone's mentioned to any of you what shape Osgiliath is in?"
He blinked at me, "Shape?"
"Yeah. It's, uh, kind of... destroyed."
Gandalf raised an eyebrow at me while the others sort of stopped and stared. "What did you do?"
"Um... A few minor fire spells..." I tried for an innocent look.
"Which did what, precisely." He suddenly sounded very White Wizardy.
I felt like a chastised child for some reason, and ducked my head to stare at my hands on the cantle. "Turned it to charred rubble." I mumbled in answer. I grinned suddenly, "It all matches up now."
"Dare I ask how?"
"It's all rubble," I explained.
Gandalf blinked at me. "This should be... amusing, I suspect."
I shrugged. "Probably."
Chapter Twenty: Wit Ends
by Galadriel Tolkien
My body had decided I should sleep, and I did. For about two days. There were periods of wakefulness during that time--mostly for food and movement and another bath or two. Clean or not, I liked water. There was also at least one memorable ravishing of Gandalf. At some point, I remember telling him about Denethor, as well. I woke to him pacing back and forth agitatedly, muttering. That didn't last longer than I had time to untangle myself and pounce him.
Peoples' obtuseness apparently provided for lots of sexual frustration, and I fell asleep rather exhausted. I'm sure his relaxation at the next meeting of the 'council' was a shock to some people.
For councils of war convened as I slept, and went on day and night for those days.
Healing and rest went on, too, and one of my awake periods was spent chatting to Pippin about those I knew. Faramir and Merry had been healed by Aragorn, which gladdened my heart. I could have done it, but it hadn't seemed my task--and sleep had been more important.
The Lady of Rohan had also been healed in a similar fashion. She was apparently still mooning over Aragorn, too. Poor man.
Gollum walked through my dreams, an ever-present apparition of doom. Or Doom. I wasn't sure. "Soon," he would hiss, voice oddly flat. "Ssooon, my preciouss shall return. And poor Smeagol shall be pleased. Yess."
Beside him stalked the ever-present heaviness that exuded from the very air of Minas Tirith, as if the battles and death had stolen the heart of the city, turning it from a gay and happy place into one full of pain and dank. It was somewhat irritating.
The people of Minas Tirith slowly trickled back while I spent my days and nights asleep. Many of them waited, though, sure that to return to their once peaceful city was to court death, or worse. Many of the armies camped at the base of the walls, Rohirrim and men of the South alike pleased to be considered some sort of heroes.
At least, I assume they did.
Food helped restore me, but it wasn't enough. Unless my reserves were restored as they had been in Lothlorien, I was going to be rather handicapped in what I could do against Sauron. Or maybe I just wasn't trying enough.
My dreams of Frodo and Sam worried me, too. They were always so lost, unable to do anything except wearily travel road after dusty road.
Even worse were the times I saw Mount Doom erupting, the fire and lava destroying the entire land of Mordor, Ithilien burning, forests turned to so much charred ash. Lava feelers creeping out to the banks of the Anduin, turning the water to boiling and sending great clouds of steam into the air.
Ash fell in a rain over Minas Tirith, drowning it in grey as the people died from oxygen-deprivation.
Over the plains of Rohan, fire fell, as thousands of tons of molten rock spewed into the air and traveled above the clouds.
There was a certain malevolence to the dreams, as if something were trying to touch me, to scare me off. They merely pissed me off and made me wish I could actually have a hand in Sauron's death.
I hadn't been allowed to kill Saruman, I figured I should be up for punching the card of the Ultimate Evil of Middle Earth.
Gandalf awoke me from one of those dreams, and we made love, he almost desperate for the comfort of our bodies entwining. Then he left me again. Sleepy, I drifted off, to dreams filled with shadowy figures I couldn't kill until they'd destroyed all I loved. Waking for good was a blessing.
Pippin seemed to have been watching me, and he smiled as I turned my head. "Water?"
I nodded and he brought me a cup. It was wonderfully clear and refreshing. I drank it all, then sighed, "What's news?"
He moved away and continued his interrupted task, packing a small bag. "We leave soon."
"Where's the battle?"
"Mordor."
The name sent a shiver through my body, but I knew it had been inevitable. The end of a quest meant the end of an era, risking it all at the scene of great evil. Or Grated Evil. I wondered if Sauron was into cheese.
"We march on the Black Gate to provide Sauron a focus away from Frodo and Sam."
I nodded, "They're still alive, Pippin."
He smiled at me, "Yes."
"How long until we leave?"
"The morning."
I sighed. "Well, no time like the present for getting up." I got out of bed and stretched, body protesting lazily.
Pippin's eyes went wide as he blushed then looked away. "You have a lot of scars, Marya."
I yawned then blinked. I wasn't wearing a stitch. No wonder he'd blushed. "Sorry." I located my robe draped on the back of a chair and pulled it on. "The scars sort of come with the territory."
He glanced at me again, still blushing, but relieved to see I was clothed, "Have you much to pack?"
"Not really." I pulled open the clothes press and retrieved the dragon mail. Ruefully, I wondered if my blood-soaked battle clothes had been burned.
"Well, I must go help pack up the tower guard." He smiled self-consciously, "I'm glad you're going with us."
"So'm I." I said softly.
After he'd gone I pulled the dragon mail on, glad it tended to keep itself clean. I'd forgotten to wash it when I washed myself, and dirty mail would have been... uncomfortable. I rummaged around until I found a shirt and trousers I could wear, and dragged them on. A sigh escaped me as I finally realised that something was missing. My weapons and harnesses.
::All the leather work was repaired--some of it got burned off, remember?:: Alayna's voice was gentle.
::Yeah. Sword?::
::It's all down here with my tack. They seemed to think that was a good place to put it.::
::Thanks.::
::Sleep well?::
::Yep. You?::
::Of course. Even when you were all lusty and nightmared.:: She chuckled, ::I think I scared the stablehands a bit. They're not used to horses just sleeping for hours and hours without eating or moving. Gandalf explained it to them. Apparently, I'm an Elven Horse.::
::The elves don't use horses.::
::They don't know that.::
I snorted. ::So we're a legend in our own time.::
::Aren't we always?::
::Sometimes.:: I wistfully considered a life of quiet anonimity.
::Besides, there's a large circle of molten glass on the Pelennor. What do you think their response is?::
Very true. ::I overdid it, didn't I.::
::No. You did what you had to.::
::Think I tipped our hand?::
::Maybe. But Sauron already knew you were here.::
::True.:: I finally found my boots and pulled them on, glad someone had been kind and cleaned them. My stomach rumbled and I realised I was starving. Food.
::Try the kitchen. And come visit me. I'm bored.::
I smiled, ::Yes, dear.::
--
::You look a hell of a lot better.:: Alayna observed as I stopped in front of her stall and unlatched the door.
::Thank you.:: I stepped into her stall, curry comb in one hand. ::You, on the other hand, look a little shaggy.::
::OOoooh. Brushes.:: She wriggled closer, eyes bright with anticipation.
I chuckled and began brushing with long strokes. It was a moment of peace between battles, and I relished it. Every stroke and movement, every flake and bit of hair that lazily floated away on the late evening breeze. Almost idyllic in a way, we were in our own little corner of the world, and I cherished it.
Too soon would it all end, we'd be back on the road, there would be more fighting and killing. Death. But right now, there was peace.
::Harder. There's an itch there I haven't been able to get rid of.::
Another chuckle escaped me, and I snorted, ::Wench.::
::Y'know, I could kick you.::
::I'd stop brushing.::
::....point.::
Silence fell again, the only sound brushes against hide and hair, and the occasional creak from my boots as I moved to get hard to reach places.
--
The armies of the Men of Gondor and the West set out at dawn. Grey light highlighted the depression so many of us felt. So many had fallen in the battle for Gondor, and more would fall at the Black Gate. It was enough to make a sane person curl up and cry.
None of us were that sane, of course.
I think Gimli was actually looking forward to the coming battle. Apparently, he hadn't had enough.
For me, Helm's Deep had been the worst, but the Pelennor had been almost as bad. And the Morannon... I wasn't looking forward to it. Something told me I could die there.
And while I'd just end up coming back to life, it would be painful.
There was also something oddly disquieting about the land of Mordor, as if it awaited the approaching army, wishing to speak with us.
I resolved to try talking to it once we were there. But first, we had to travel through the last vestiges of Gondor and Ithilien, the forest Frodo had met Faramir in.
Reprovisioning myself at Gondor's expense had been vaguely amusing. I now had about ten knives, three quivers, a bow, and something that might have been a shield, once. There were also a few bags of food now hooked to Alayna's saddle. One of water, another of firewood and a pot. We could strike out on our own and camp for a month.
As the column passed, I waited for the end. I figured it was the best place for me, for now. The size of the army startled me as I fell in with the rearguard. Had there been this many men on the field of the Pelennor that last day? Or had more been found somewhere? Perhaps we might win the day.
"My lady!" The voice came from the right, and I blinked.
"Phred! I'm glad to see you." Alayna trotted to his side without my urging. "How are you?"
"You are here. All is well." He smiled.
It wasn't a fatuous smile, or one of hero-worship. It was more comrade to comrade, and I felt comforted by it and smiled back. All was probably not well, but I didn't feel like disabusing him of that notion. For a moment, I was reminded of Vin. And I saw his head held high, triumphantly, the pike running through it sticky with his blood. I fought off the vision and asked a question I'd considered earlier, wondering the answer. "How has fared the company from Osgiliath?"
"Most survived." He grimaced, "I believe we are the only two not left behind due to injuries."
I considered this, suddenly struck with amusement. "Has anyone, um, actually mentioned the state Osgiliath is in to our commanders?"
One of the other men riding nearby snorted. "There's talk it's been destroyed." He eyed me, "By you, or Sauron himself. I say either theory is mere speculation, and rubbish."
Phred stared at him, then glanced at me, and both of us laughed. Others in the back of the column turned to stare at us, and I lost it completely, doubling over in the saddle and letting loose great mirth. Hysterical, almost.
When I finally calmed down, I gestured towards the front of the line. "I suppose we should tell them."
"Eventually," Phred agreed. "Or maybe not until after they have viewed it for themselves."
I considered this, trying to remember my last images of Osgiliath. Flames, conflagration, explosions... Possibly molten lava, depending on how hot some of it had gotten. Could be rather interesting looking now. "Good plan. We'll tell them when we're closer."
He nodded, "And, meanwhile, we ride together."
There were so many ways I could have taken that. But I left it, and reached down to retrieve an apple from a saddle bag. I ate as we rode, slowly letting my mind drift as the sun bore down on us. It was warm sunlight, and I began to bask in the heat that baked into my skin and bones. Happily, the dragon-mail *likes* sunlight, and has the capacity to suck it in and store it.
Slowly, the troop made its way through the vestiges of Gondor. The Causeway Forts were passed and a few were left to begin restoring them to operation. Next would be Osgiliath, and I considered that should Gandalf see it before I told him of its state, he might be unhappy. To say the least. Of course, he'd probably be unhappy anyway. I could just stay hidden and avoid his wrath. Glancing around, I realised we had little time left before we would get there, and to tell them now would be best.
"Come, Phred, I think we should inform them."
The captain hrmphed. "He is under my command."
I looked at him, "One of Imrahil's, aren't you."
"Yes."
"Well, I'll have a page come back to clear things completely, but this man fought beside me at Osgiliath. He comes with me." I waved an airy hand, "I'm the Lady Rainbow Luthien, and I command it so."
Before he could answer, I rode off, Phred following. He was chuckling again.
--
The column was mainly foot, with some light horse mixed in here and there. The horse were from Rohan, the Rohirrim, some 500 proud. The foot were a combination of Gondor, Imrahil's troops, the Lassarnach, and various others called to the purpose. I suspected they were from father south, possibly recruited by Aragorn.
As we rode past, I saw swift glances at us. I didn't blame them, Alayna *is* bright green.
But the occasional muttered comments weren't quite so complimentary.
::Heheheheheh. They're calling you the White Wizard's Whore. I could dine out on that for weeks.:: Alayna sounded smugly amused.
I snorted and ignored them all, head high as we slowly passed them by.
We finally neared the head of the column, and I took a long look at the group riding there. Pippin, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Eomer, and Gandalf I knew. The others, I didn't. One had to be Prince Imrahil, but of the rest I could only vaguely guess. Probably commanders of the various companies which marched behind.
All that glittering male dominance should have paused me. But I was on a mission. Besides, estrogen is my friend.
Sadly, it did pause Phred, I left him and continued alone towards the majesty.
Aragorn saw me first, and seemed startled, "My lady?"
I pointed down the road to where the river could be seen now as a glittering ribbon. "Hi. I don't suppose anyone's mentioned to any of you what shape Osgiliath is in?"
He blinked at me, "Shape?"
"Yeah. It's, uh, kind of... destroyed."
Gandalf raised an eyebrow at me while the others sort of stopped and stared. "What did you do?"
"Um... A few minor fire spells..." I tried for an innocent look.
"Which did what, precisely." He suddenly sounded very White Wizardy.
I felt like a chastised child for some reason, and ducked my head to stare at my hands on the cantle. "Turned it to charred rubble." I mumbled in answer. I grinned suddenly, "It all matches up now."
"Dare I ask how?"
"It's all rubble," I explained.
Gandalf blinked at me. "This should be... amusing, I suspect."
I shrugged. "Probably."