KT SHY: And now for your annual dose of Eye on the Prize! (Author comments and review stuff is NOW at the bottom…!)
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Eye on the Prize
Act XV: Wind chimes and Cinnamon
Sunlight accompanied by the tinkling song of wind chimes streamed through the little window leaving a bright square upon the pillow. As the minutes ticked by on a small wooden wall clock, the square of light traveled across the feather pillow until it rested upon the closed eyelids of the bed's sole occupant. There was a slight groan, then the lids lifted partway to reveal slivers of blue. The small figure laid there for a while, uncomprehending, a warm wool blanket tucked all the way up under his chin. He began to hazily take in his surroundings… a small room, single wooden door, trunk, dresser, cabinet, Gollum mid-air brandishing a pillow…
'GOLLUM MID-AIR BRANDISHING A PILLOW!' Sauron cried as Gollum bore down on him, the intent of total smotheration and annihilation in his eyes.
'WE KILLS IT!'
'AAAAAAAAAARGH!'
Then a voice came from the far side of the room accompanied by the smell of baked dough and cinnamon… and fish, 'So this is where you've scampered off to… oh good! Your friends awake!'
Gollum immediately ceased his barrage and scampered off the bed towards the source of the voice. Sauron shoved the pillow off his face and sat up gasping, feathers everywhere, his bleary gaze darting to where Gollum was running circles around the figure who dropped a large silvery fish down to him.
'I just fished it out with no time to prepare it… but you specified uncooked, so…' clearly a woman's voice. She looked up from Gollum to smile at Sauron and upon meeting her gaze he froze.
Lúthien!?
No. When he looked again he wondered how on Middle-earth he'd been able to make the connection in the first place. It was something about the look in her eyes when he first met them… but upon closer inspection, there was nothing.
She stood there smiling blithely, framed by the doorway, a tray of indefinable baked goods in her hands. She had an eastern look to her. Not exotic but plain, with her dark hair wrapped in a neat bun, a few curly wisps hanging around her ears, forehead and the back of her neck. Her age was difficult to judge as well, she could have been anywhere between 42 and 44.
No, now that he looked there was nothing remarkable about the average brown eyes planted in her average brown face, which attached to her average sized body.
A little thick around the waste, he noted with his usual jack-assed way of thinking, but average, average, average.
Lúthien Tinúviel this was not.
'Fancy something warm to eat?' she smiled through beautifully white teeth. But receiving only the look-of-death from the other side of the room, she set the tray down on the dresser. 'I must say, I haven't had many visitors here in a long time. I don't have any guest rooms to speak of, but I hope you've found my room to be comfortable…'
Glare.
Her smile faltered a bit, but she continued trying to make light conversation 'My names Yurival… what's your name?'
Sneer.
'Umm… okay, you don't have to give me your real name or anything… what would you like me to call you?'
Glare.
'Oh… OH! I think I get it, I'm so sorry, you're mute aren't you?'
'No jusst antisssocial.' said Gollum smirking at Sauron from behind Yurival.
'Well that's good,' said the woman regaining her bright composure. 'If your still cold there's a fire downstairs, I just need to get it going again…'
Cut-eyed glare.
'Alright then! If you'll just follow me…'
Sauron had no idea how a cut-eyed glare could be interpreted as 'okay I'm coming' but decided to follow for lack of anything better to do.
They descended down a small flight of wooden stairs and into what must have been the living-room. Yurival rolled up the sleeves of her dress in preparation for fixing the dying fire that was situated in the stone fireplace. Slightly beefy arms pulled out a metal poker from the rack of tools beside the hearth.
The colour of her dress was familiar, Sauron noted, and he recalled that the last thing he saw before fainting (or "taking a strategic nap" as he referred to it) on the shore was the hem of a green robe. As if in answer to his thoughts she began to speak again…
'I found you down by the shore,' she said stirring the fire back to life with the poker, and then hanging a kettle on the overhanging iron hook. 'Tea?'
Getting only a nasty sneer in response, the woman prattled on. 'So I carried you both, with a little bit of difficulty, back here –'
'What's "here."' Sauron cut her off sullenly, finding the nicest looking chair in the room, and sitting upon it hoping there was enough muck left over on his clothes to eternally stain the fabric.
'Amber-lei… it's the name of this cottage. Named so because of the garlands of yellow flowers that are strung up everywhere.' She held up a hand gesturing to the flowers and Sauron felt an overpowering urge to punch her for her (in his opinion) lack of interior-design-sense. There were indeed golden flower garlands everywhere; hung over the fireplace, across the top of every door frame, up along the stairwell and bordering the windows. It was quite charming in all actuality; the entire place had a sweet rustic atmosphere… so of course Sauron hated it.
'And there are even more outside,' she said proudly, 'If you'd been awake when I brought you in you'd have seen them woven into the thatched roof of this place!'
The kettle gave a low whistle, and Yurival scooped up a floral printed cloth to prevent her hands from burning as she transported it from living-room to kitchen. Gollum trailed after her in a jaunty crawl, leering at Sauron as he left.
It was at this moment that Sauron realized he was in hell. It was the only way to rationalize this world of flower petals, cedar smoke, peppy middle-aged women and bake goods that he was trapped in. He hadn't survived the fall off Rauros, but died a bubbly death instead… and now he was paying dues for eons of misdeeds. And to top it all off…
'THE RING!' he slapped a hand dramatically over his own mouth, eyes darting over to the kitchen, but the happy house-keeper didn't appear. He exhaled slowly. What followed next was a hasty panicked searching of his own person amidst clenched-teeth curses and barely audible profanities… the combinations of which were astounding! The conclusion… no Ring. He was about to put a hole in something (preferably valuable), when…
Maftehr? Sauron barely heard the muffled voice.
'Where are you!?' he hissed quietly.
I'm begiffin' to ferioufly douft vou care avout me …vou keef forgettin I'm even hea'w…
'Shh, quiet down, quiet down,' he didn't want Gollum to hear its voice, 'where are you?'
'n youh' fand!
When Sauron had just stood there for a few minutes without any idea as to what the Ring had said, it gave an exasperated sigh and tried to elaborate, Youh' fand! Dow' heah'! Da fing you do fings wif… like eaf focolate and scraff youh a-'
'Oh…oh! My hands!' He brought them up to his face grinning, but was confused by what he saw. Although his brain had long ago sent the signal for them to unclench from their punch-hole-in-something-expensive mode, the right hand remained in a stubborn fist. He looked at it curiously, tried to will it to open, tried to PRY it open with his other hand… but no such luck. Then it hit him. He rubbed his jaw where he'd punched himself, but it also hit him figuratively speaking, as he came to the realization that all along he'd been holding the Ring in his right hand, starting from when he'd grabbed it last night in the forest, his fall from the cliff, even the struggle to shore; that he'd managed to keep it clenched so long only to find it still in the same position… implied that it had frozen that way.
'You've got to be kidding me.' Once again he tried to force it open, using all his strength to pull at the thumb and fingers. Then he started biting them but that didn't work too well either. Having failed that, he cast about looking for a tool of some kind to aid in his endeavor.
His eyes fell upon the poker that Yurival had used to get the fire going again. Since he'd spent a lengthy amount of time as a being of flame, it never occurred to him that fire might hurt, so he picked up the smoking poker, stuck the pointy end into the gap between his fingers, then let loose a string of curses so loud and so foul that they would have made orcs weep to hear them.
***
'… so, you seem to have come a long way.' Yurival poured the steaming water into a brown pot containing two teabags, when the substances mixed a sweet vapor rose into the air smelling of fruits and nutmeg. Gollum's eyes drooped a bit but the cunning part inside snapped him back to attention.
'Yess, we hass. Not that it'ss any of its businesss.'
'No I suppose not,' the woman placed the lid on the teapot, cutting off the aromatic steam. What she did next surprised Gollum; she turned, crouched down like she would to speak with a child and regarded him at eye-level.
'What's your name little fellow? I just realized I never asked!' there was no hint of repulsion, suspicion, pity or fear in her eyes. This above all things he was not used to.
'We… we iss called,' but at that moment Gollum went into a coughing fit where many 'hackglackGollumGollumsweetmaryjosephGOLLUMcoughcough's could be heard.
'Aha!' said Yurival standing up and grinning, 'Your name is "Coughing-fit!"'
'It'ss Gollum.' he said recovering.
'Gollum it is!'
Suddenly a string of curses so foul they made Gollum's eyes well up with tears blasted from the living room.
'Oh dear, I hope he wasn't trying to eat the wall plaster,' Yurival's eyes widened as she turned back to Gollum, 'no offence but your friend seems to be a rather confused individual.'
'Amongsst other things,' Gollum replied ironically, following as she sprinted into the other room.
By the time they reached the living room, Sauron had already pulled out the poker. He whipped it back into the fireplace and began writhing about in such considerable amounts of discomfort that he didn't even notice Yurival had picked him up and was carrying him at arms length back to the kitchen until she dunked the burned hand into a washing basin… which was filled with water… cold water. Obviously.
'Keep it there for a few minutes, I'm going to get some bandages and ointment!' she darted out of the room with a twirl of skirt and jiggle of arm flab and ran up the wooden stairs to her bedroom/attic.
Sauron sighed contentedly as the cold water took its healing affects on his hand, then sent a nasty glare at Gollum who'd climbed up onto the stool beside him, perching like a frog, and grinning cruelly.
'Doess it hurt? We bet it hurtss right and nassty, hot pokerss has that affect.'
'I'll bet this scene pleases you to no end.'
'More then it knows, preciouss.' With much emphasis on the last word, Gollum's eyes directed knowingly down upon the burned hand. 'What has it got in its handsess, preciouss?'
'Wouldn't you like to know,' Sauron shot back feeling more agitated by the minute.
'Oh, we think we doess.' the grin widened.
'Well whatever you think it is, once the bandages are applied you obviously won't be getting at it for a while, so HA!'
Gollum just shrugged and climbed off the stool mumbling to himself, 'It thinkss that doesn't it precious? It doesn't know that if we cutss off its handses then we can take all the time we wantss. We just need to wait for the right moment.'
Sauron's eye twitched and he resolved never to fall asleep again.
***
'… done and done.' said Yurival pinning the last strip of bandage in place to keep it secure. 'The ointment is top notch quality but still it'll take a while before the bandages can come-'
'How long,' snapped Sauron ungratefully.
The woman placed a dark finger upon her lip in a thinking gesture, '… aboooout… a week.'
Sauron winced at this, his gaze involuntarily settling on Gollum who was inspecting a pair of wall-hung garden sheers with interest. He brought the hugely bandaged hand closer to himself for protection.
Yurival packed the medical supplies back into their tin, and then stood up regarding Sauron as if she'd never seen him before. 'Look at the state you are in!'
'Eh?'
'Flithy!'
'Now you DIE!!!!'
She politely ignored him, 'The bath's been drawn already and I'll give you some clean linens from my younger days, they should fit well enough, leave your rag-tag-gal clothes outside the door and I'll do my best to darn them.' And with that Sauron found himself shoved into the washing room, a white human-sized night shirt hanging over his good arm.
'And don't put the bandaged arm in the water!' Yurival's voice said from the other side of the door.
'Meee meh muh meh meh mehm meeee!' Sauron muttered in a nasty imitation of her voice.
He dropped the night shirt on a wall rack and regarded the warm water with distain, 'Dark Lords don't take baths.'
But a polished bronze mirror in the corner caught his eye and he involuntarily jumped back in spite of himself. The Jolly Green Jiggler was right! He was a wreck! Dark circles and sunken eyes protruded out of a face that was undernourished, frightfully pale, and covered in scratches. A fair sized purple welt marred his left cheek where the Uruk-Hai had backhanded him earlier. Dirty tangled hair rife with twigs, leaves… and he could have almost sworn he saw a weasel in there, but it scampered back inside to its nest before he could spot it clearly. Then there were his clothes, clothes that were so torn his elbows and knees snuck out, red marks everywhere from all his crashing around in the wood. 'Okay… I guess Dark Lords can make exceptions.'
He managed to remove the clothing with great difficulty because of the boxing-glove size bandage on his hand, chucked them out into the hall and hopped into the comfortably warm water.
'Not bad, not bad…' he mused relaxing. There was a muffled undertone coming from somewhere but Sauron took no heed of it. So, the Ring tired of being ignored by its master quieted down and went into a kind of dormant state of sleep.
For a few minutes things were blissfully peaceful. But it wasn't too long before something Yurival had said began niggling at the back of his mind:
'The bath's been drawn already and I'll give you some clean linens from my younger days…'
'The bath's been drawn already...'
'…already…'
'Hey, lady!' Sauron said loudly so that Yurival could hear through the door where she was picking up the dirty clothes.
'Hmm?'
'Was there anyone in here before me?'
'Well, now that you mention it, your little Gollum friend took a quick dip…'
Sauron was outta there in a flash, the weasel chittering angrily at its house's abrupt movement.
***
A roaring fire blazed in the fireplace (thankfully) as the occupants of Amber-lei gathered into the living room. Night was descending quickly outside of the cottage. Yurival placed a warm tray of newly baked goodies on the edge of the fireplace beside Sauron, who looked distrustingly up at her from where he was trying to dry his wet and already curling hair.
'Go ahead, try one.' she said gesturing to the tray.
He was still trying very hard to be moody and uncooperative, but his stomach gave a treacherous growl, so sighing he complied.
The pastry was flaky and good, filled with hot apple chunks mixed with cinnamon. Even Sauron had to admit it was at least moderately satisfying, which he did so grudgingly. Yurival's face lit up in its customary smile and she sat herself in a rocking chair facing the fire. She picked up a pair of knitting needles, a string of thread and set to work sewing up the patches in Gollum's loincloth. The owner of which was currently scampering about the room in an oversize white nightshirt, tripped on the hem, then began rolling around in circles biting at the fabric.
Yurival's laugh was clear and cheerful, 'I like that little guy… he's like a really happy puppy!'
'Yeah, that's right… happy puppy,' muttered Sauron through a yawn recalling his many bumps, cuts and bruises supplied by said puppy.
'What's your name?'
'S- rodo.' He'd never be sure whether or not she had picked up on the near slip up, her eyes showed nothing. Maybe he was making something of nothing, but the question had been asked unexpectedly and as soon as his guard was down… not that it mattered… why should it? It didn't. But something about the barely visible almost triumphant looking smile in the far corner of her lips irked him.
For a minute all was quiet save for the click, click, click of Yurival's needles, Gollum's antics as he moved his fight with the night-shirt into another room, and the crackle of fire. Sauron turned his attention upon the latter. He watched the orange and blue claws tear greedily at the rotten logs for a long time. The heat of it bore into his cheeks, slowly drooping eye-lids, and the skin under his nose. Then Sauron, enemy of all free nations, fell asleep (once again, despite himself) by the hearth.
TBC (Thank Booze for Concentration)
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KT SHY: Awwwww! *cuddles Sauron* No wait! BAD! BAD SAURON! *starts smackin' him with a slipper*
Now for the Reviewers!
Nine-Fingered Emilee~ Yes, Faramir'll be showing up in (checks) Chapter 18, so only a few to go. WOW! Almost at the big 100, eh? I'm pretty amazed myself! I never really expected this to go anywhere after chapter 1! Party!!! *runs around trying to catch the catapulted hobbits* AHHHHHH! *thud* Ohmahgawd, Sam are you okay… wait… oh it's just the Ralph Bakshi Sam… never mind.
Starbrat~ No sympathy for the devil, eh? That cat-fish scene at the beginning of ROTK gave me nightmares…
( ^ both reviewed the day of my update… thanks for sticking with me you guys, sniffle)
Hope you all enjoyed the winter break now that school's back in session… groaaaaan. Please gimmee reviews pleeeeaaaaase!