Time: memories refound and forgotten
The group continued for nearly three days; stepping over decaying bodies; fearing every sound they made; watching closely for movement in the dark. Almost never stopping except to eat and rest briefly, the group made exceptional progress. Pippin became fascinated with Rachel while Holly intrigued Merry. The Fellowship was mystified by the two women who seemed so adapted to fighting. They were so young, but so experienced in battle and nearly fearless. Holly seemed to be a child; innocent in the ways of war, yet so powerful and so loyal to friendship. She had a very cheerful approach to everything, but seemed, in the midst of it all, to be sad and fearful. Rachel was emotionless; a sure sign of war. There was an air of great wisdom and strength to her character, which demanded respect. She was a being who was always alert, always having something to rejoice about, always having something to grieve about.
"Almost elvish," Aragorn whispered to himself. Legolas looked at him, knowing what the ranger was thinking. He had thought so too.
They stopped at a fork in the passageways. Frodo stepped forward, looking at Gandalf, their leader.
"What's the matter, Gandalf?" he asked. The wizard stood there, staring the paths he could choose.
"I have no memory of this place."
Rachel and Holly sat on the ground and flung their packs to the side. Pippin and Merry sat beside them and Frodo and Sam sat opposite them. Legolas stood. Aragorn and Boromir, along with Gimli, sat on stones outlining the staircase they had just climbed. Gandalf, mumbling to himself, sat in front of the fork he couldn't remember. Frodo stood and sat beside the wizard, speaking to him softly.
"So what's your home like?" Pippin asked in a whisper. Holly began explaining it as "the Shire only not as green." Rachel sighed and grabbed her sketchbook and pencil, drawing their home. She showed them the white farmhouse surrounded by oak trees and the little red barn on the other side of the drive. She drew the cows in the pastures and the hills and the lake they had fallen asleep beside. She even sketched her real home for them. She stayed with Holly during the summers and owned her parents' old home in town. It was an enormous modern, brown home with three slanted roofs, a carport, two porches, two decks, four sunroofs, and eighty-three windows in all. There was an enormous library with a sliding ladder and a loft. There were three bathrooms, four bedrooms, a living room, a family, a dining room, a kitchen, and a balcony. The house was beautiful and Rachel loved describing it.
"You two must be royalty to live in such beautiful homes," inquired Aragorn. Rachel and Holly looked at him with strange flattery.
"Thanks, but no. I mean, Rachel is, but I'm not. Wealthy middle class," Holly explained. Rachel sighed and gave her friend an evil glare.
"Are you now?" Boromir said suspiciously. Rachel nodded.
"My family has a castle in a country called Wales. If I lived there, I'd be basically in command of my own small kingdom. Nothing more than that, really," she said, making excuses for herself.
"I'm honored, my lady," Aragorn said, bowing slightly. Rachel growled at him.
"Don't ever call me that again. I hate it," she warned. The ranger held up his hands in surrender.
"Ah! This way!" Gandalf said happily. Everyone stood and Frodo laughed slightly.
"You've remembered!"
"No. The air down there doesn't smell so foul! When in doubt, just follow your nose!" he said, leading them on.
The group continued for nearly three days; stepping over decaying bodies; fearing every sound they made; watching closely for movement in the dark. Almost never stopping except to eat and rest briefly, the group made exceptional progress. Pippin became fascinated with Rachel while Holly intrigued Merry. The Fellowship was mystified by the two women who seemed so adapted to fighting. They were so young, but so experienced in battle and nearly fearless. Holly seemed to be a child; innocent in the ways of war, yet so powerful and so loyal to friendship. She had a very cheerful approach to everything, but seemed, in the midst of it all, to be sad and fearful. Rachel was emotionless; a sure sign of war. There was an air of great wisdom and strength to her character, which demanded respect. She was a being who was always alert, always having something to rejoice about, always having something to grieve about.
"Almost elvish," Aragorn whispered to himself. Legolas looked at him, knowing what the ranger was thinking. He had thought so too.
They stopped at a fork in the passageways. Frodo stepped forward, looking at Gandalf, their leader.
"What's the matter, Gandalf?" he asked. The wizard stood there, staring the paths he could choose.
"I have no memory of this place."
Rachel and Holly sat on the ground and flung their packs to the side. Pippin and Merry sat beside them and Frodo and Sam sat opposite them. Legolas stood. Aragorn and Boromir, along with Gimli, sat on stones outlining the staircase they had just climbed. Gandalf, mumbling to himself, sat in front of the fork he couldn't remember. Frodo stood and sat beside the wizard, speaking to him softly.
"So what's your home like?" Pippin asked in a whisper. Holly began explaining it as "the Shire only not as green." Rachel sighed and grabbed her sketchbook and pencil, drawing their home. She showed them the white farmhouse surrounded by oak trees and the little red barn on the other side of the drive. She drew the cows in the pastures and the hills and the lake they had fallen asleep beside. She even sketched her real home for them. She stayed with Holly during the summers and owned her parents' old home in town. It was an enormous modern, brown home with three slanted roofs, a carport, two porches, two decks, four sunroofs, and eighty-three windows in all. There was an enormous library with a sliding ladder and a loft. There were three bathrooms, four bedrooms, a living room, a family, a dining room, a kitchen, and a balcony. The house was beautiful and Rachel loved describing it.
"You two must be royalty to live in such beautiful homes," inquired Aragorn. Rachel and Holly looked at him with strange flattery.
"Thanks, but no. I mean, Rachel is, but I'm not. Wealthy middle class," Holly explained. Rachel sighed and gave her friend an evil glare.
"Are you now?" Boromir said suspiciously. Rachel nodded.
"My family has a castle in a country called Wales. If I lived there, I'd be basically in command of my own small kingdom. Nothing more than that, really," she said, making excuses for herself.
"I'm honored, my lady," Aragorn said, bowing slightly. Rachel growled at him.
"Don't ever call me that again. I hate it," she warned. The ranger held up his hands in surrender.
"Ah! This way!" Gandalf said happily. Everyone stood and Frodo laughed slightly.
"You've remembered!"
"No. The air down there doesn't smell so foul! When in doubt, just follow your nose!" he said, leading them on.