Chapter 22: The Experiment
The holiday euphoria's starting to set in!!!!! ONE WEEK TO GO! You can probably expect a sudden barrage of updates come 7th of June.
Disclaimer: Who's do you think it is?! Mine? Hers?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cold, swirling snow. The whole world was white, filled with flurrying snowflakes.
Gwen crossly pulled her feet out of the deep snow and sank them in again. Trudging behind her, Diana was trying to coax her skittish mount to move. Holding the woven bag she never let go of nearer under the billowing cloak and tugging on the lead rope of the more placid and trusting dapple grey, Pris was grumbling something under her breath. The situation was decidedly not good. Not only did they have to get themselves halfway up the mountain before Gandalf realised it was hopeless to go on, but each girl had a horse to manage, and, in Sara and Diana's case, a very skittish one at that. Sara had had to resort to the cloth-over-eyes method, which was usually reserved for most dire situations.
"Let's have a break!" Merry called out.
So the company halted. The girls gratefully cleared a patch and sank to the ground, keeping close together. Their horses bunched up, fidgeting ceaselessly.
"Bloody freakin' hell......"
"Cold. Absoballylutely freezing cold."
"Stupid horse gave me rope burns."
"The hem of my godamned dress is soaked and so are my shoes."
"My fingers are NUMB."
*
Aragorn and Boromir were failing miserably in their attempts to light a fire. If there was so much as an ember, the biting wind instantly blew it out. The wood was damp, and the two men repeatedly choked on the smoke. Gwen could be heard whispering, "See? Smoking is bad for your health!"
"Gandalf, *please*?"
Absently, the Istari shook his head.
"Please......"
"Look, in this weather it's not as if anyone can see through this snow."
With a deep heavy sigh, Gandalf pointed his staff to the faggot in Aragorn's hands.
"Yeouch!"
The Ranger quickly dropped the wood as it burst into flame.
"What was that for?!"
The eighteen of them gathered around the fire. Gandalf produced the Miruevor [A/N: Don't have the book with me so I can't refer and am not exactly sure of the spelling.....].
"Uh-oh......"
"I don't think we're *allowed* to drink alcohol. None of us has reached eighteen yet."
"Oh well. If we can't have alcohol I have warheads."
"You actually had *sweets* all along and you *never* told us?!"
"NEZ!"
"I was saving them." The girl in question sulked. But she passed the sour candies around anyway.
There was the customary sixty seconds of puckered mouths and fidgeting after the sweets were popped in before the candies became sweet.
"Hey, I just thought of a *little* experiment to pass the time." Shuwen grinned.
"What?"
"Aim or objective: To find out whether elves can stomach warheads."
"I got another one." Sara grinned. "To see, no, *observe* the result when elves eat warheads."
Polinn had cottoned on.
"Hypothesis: the elf, no, test subject, will jump all the way over the cliff."
"Procedure....."
*
Legolas looked over at the girls.
"Mmmmm........"
"Yum......."
"The last one's mine!"
They were passing around a bag and taking small packets of thing from it. Presumably the packets were made of paper as the ripped so easily. In the packets were what looked like discs of hard things, and these the girls ate.
*
Aragorn glanced up. Legolas was jumping around in an attitude very unbecoming of an Elven prince.
"Legolas, man agorech?" (What did you do?)
The elf made no reply except to gulp down a whole flask of water. When he had swallowed, he returned to his original demeanor.
"What happened?" Aragorn enquired, seeing his friend's relieved face.
"Do all the young ones of your race have such......deranged senses of taste? They called it a *sweet* but, oh Eru, it's SOUR."
From the other side of the camp a voice wafted over.
"Conclusion: The hypothesis is rejected. Let's make a new one."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"We must go back!"
"He's trying to bring down the mountain!"
"EEEEEE!"
There was a frantic scuffle as the Company dove for cover. A huge cascade of snow thundered down. If this was Everest, noone would have made it to the top yet, not in all its thousand or so years of existence.
"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the mines of Moria!"
"NO!!!!" Inez yelled at him. She knew all too well what was in store for her favourite character.
"Think of something better, Shorty!"
"Gandalf! Let us go through the Mines!"
The wizard was silent for a while, as if contemplating. He sighed resignedly.
"Let the Ring-bearer decide."
"We will go through the Mines."
"No, Nezzo, you will NOT kill the Ring-bearer!" Polinn panted, trying to restrain her.
"But -"
"Yet."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The holiday euphoria's starting to set in!!!!! ONE WEEK TO GO! You can probably expect a sudden barrage of updates come 7th of June.
Disclaimer: Who's do you think it is?! Mine? Hers?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cold, swirling snow. The whole world was white, filled with flurrying snowflakes.
Gwen crossly pulled her feet out of the deep snow and sank them in again. Trudging behind her, Diana was trying to coax her skittish mount to move. Holding the woven bag she never let go of nearer under the billowing cloak and tugging on the lead rope of the more placid and trusting dapple grey, Pris was grumbling something under her breath. The situation was decidedly not good. Not only did they have to get themselves halfway up the mountain before Gandalf realised it was hopeless to go on, but each girl had a horse to manage, and, in Sara and Diana's case, a very skittish one at that. Sara had had to resort to the cloth-over-eyes method, which was usually reserved for most dire situations.
"Let's have a break!" Merry called out.
So the company halted. The girls gratefully cleared a patch and sank to the ground, keeping close together. Their horses bunched up, fidgeting ceaselessly.
"Bloody freakin' hell......"
"Cold. Absoballylutely freezing cold."
"Stupid horse gave me rope burns."
"The hem of my godamned dress is soaked and so are my shoes."
"My fingers are NUMB."
*
Aragorn and Boromir were failing miserably in their attempts to light a fire. If there was so much as an ember, the biting wind instantly blew it out. The wood was damp, and the two men repeatedly choked on the smoke. Gwen could be heard whispering, "See? Smoking is bad for your health!"
"Gandalf, *please*?"
Absently, the Istari shook his head.
"Please......"
"Look, in this weather it's not as if anyone can see through this snow."
With a deep heavy sigh, Gandalf pointed his staff to the faggot in Aragorn's hands.
"Yeouch!"
The Ranger quickly dropped the wood as it burst into flame.
"What was that for?!"
The eighteen of them gathered around the fire. Gandalf produced the Miruevor [A/N: Don't have the book with me so I can't refer and am not exactly sure of the spelling.....].
"Uh-oh......"
"I don't think we're *allowed* to drink alcohol. None of us has reached eighteen yet."
"Oh well. If we can't have alcohol I have warheads."
"You actually had *sweets* all along and you *never* told us?!"
"NEZ!"
"I was saving them." The girl in question sulked. But she passed the sour candies around anyway.
There was the customary sixty seconds of puckered mouths and fidgeting after the sweets were popped in before the candies became sweet.
"Hey, I just thought of a *little* experiment to pass the time." Shuwen grinned.
"What?"
"Aim or objective: To find out whether elves can stomach warheads."
"I got another one." Sara grinned. "To see, no, *observe* the result when elves eat warheads."
Polinn had cottoned on.
"Hypothesis: the elf, no, test subject, will jump all the way over the cliff."
"Procedure....."
*
Legolas looked over at the girls.
"Mmmmm........"
"Yum......."
"The last one's mine!"
They were passing around a bag and taking small packets of thing from it. Presumably the packets were made of paper as the ripped so easily. In the packets were what looked like discs of hard things, and these the girls ate.
*
Aragorn glanced up. Legolas was jumping around in an attitude very unbecoming of an Elven prince.
"Legolas, man agorech?" (What did you do?)
The elf made no reply except to gulp down a whole flask of water. When he had swallowed, he returned to his original demeanor.
"What happened?" Aragorn enquired, seeing his friend's relieved face.
"Do all the young ones of your race have such......deranged senses of taste? They called it a *sweet* but, oh Eru, it's SOUR."
From the other side of the camp a voice wafted over.
"Conclusion: The hypothesis is rejected. Let's make a new one."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"We must go back!"
"He's trying to bring down the mountain!"
"EEEEEE!"
There was a frantic scuffle as the Company dove for cover. A huge cascade of snow thundered down. If this was Everest, noone would have made it to the top yet, not in all its thousand or so years of existence.
"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the mines of Moria!"
"NO!!!!" Inez yelled at him. She knew all too well what was in store for her favourite character.
"Think of something better, Shorty!"
"Gandalf! Let us go through the Mines!"
The wizard was silent for a while, as if contemplating. He sighed resignedly.
"Let the Ring-bearer decide."
"We will go through the Mines."
"No, Nezzo, you will NOT kill the Ring-bearer!" Polinn panted, trying to restrain her.
"But -"
"Yet."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~