When Saruliel awoke, she was lying in front of a fire with several warm
blankets wrapped around her body. She blinked her blue-silver-whatever
eyes lazily, and wondered where she was. Hadn't she just been terribly
cold? Legolas...
Of course! Legolas had rescued her! Noble Elf, he had probably run up the mountain looking for his beloved, and nursed her tenderly back to health. What a sweet, dearie, hot, yummy, mmhmm... (A pause in which Saruliel did the mental equivalent of a cold shower) nice Elf.
"You're awake," said a voice across the fire. Saruliel sat up wearily. Aragorn was leaning against the wall of the cave opposite her (for she was in a cave, Saruliel now realized) and smoking.
"How did err... How did'st I becomings to such lovelieth of spoteths?" said Saruliel, rubbing her eyes (all the better to see an Elven Prince, my dearie).
Aragorn put his pipe down. He went into medic mode. "You contracted disease while being half-frozen on Caradhras. We had to warm you, and then Gimli burned the snow away, and then I had to treat you for burns as well. Using a salve from the crushed petals of a Mabawakajuudgie plant, and the Essence of Blamerankallagong root, I created a paste of healing with which to revive you," said Aragorn smugly. In truth, all he had really done was defrost her gradually, but Saruliel wouldn't buy it unless he made it sound intricate. Hence the made-up herbs.
"Didst Legolas-"
"Boomboomdoomboomdoomboomdoomityboom!" came an odd voice from outside. Legolas seemed to be having one of his fits again.
"No, you were saved by Gimli, Boromir, and I," replied Aragorn, blocking out the sound of Legolas trying to hammer himself into Caradhras. Needless to say, the Elf's efforts weren't working. Evil mountains do not want insane Elves inside of them.
"You're awake then." Sam appeared at the mouth of the cave, carrying a bundle of firewood under his arm. "Can't say I'm glad," he muttered under his breath, depositing the bundle next to Saruliel.
"Fool of an Elf!" came an irritable cry. "Do not anger Caradhras further. Now, I believe it's time to have our Talk." A few seconds later Gandalf strode into the cave, holding Legolas' elbow in a vice-like grip. The Elf was -not surprisingly- struggling the whole way.
"Saruliel, we need to have a Talk," said Gandalf, once he had settled himself against the cave wall, next to Aragorn. Legolas was sandwiched in between them, trying to burrow into the ground. The effect for Saruliel was rather like talking to a panel.
"What dost thyne wishest of mine-selfeth?" replied Saruliel, trying to appear "affectionately indifferent" toward Legolas. He whimpered.
All of a sudden, realization, or perhaps something akin to it, pounced upon Saruliel, grappled with her beliefs, and branded them with a new thought. Legolas looked ill. Not just sick, but really, mentally ill. "Ist thyne noble-eth upon fair-eth Elf Prince all right?" she asked in a concerned manner. Worry flitted through her half-formed brain. If Legolas was mentally retarded, their children...
*No* snapped Saruliel's mind. *Legolas, is he okay? Stay on track.*
Aragorn grimaced. "That is what we were going to discuss. Legolas is, to put in mildly, *allergic* to you."
"Be'ast it my magicallings of powerfulness?" replied Saruliel, who in her head was thinking that she probably shouldn't have worn that "Eau d'Magique" cologne that her mom... err... Galadriel had given her, if Legolas was having an allergic reaction.
"What was that?" asked Aragorn, aside to Gandalf.
"She wants to know if her magic is doing it," answered the wizard.
"How can you understand her?" wondered Isildur's Heir.
"Istari secret," replied Gandalf.
Aragorn shrugged and returned to Saruliel. "In a way, perhaps, your magic is the cause. We have spoken with Legolas, and he has agreed to keep twenty paces away from you, if you, Saruliel, will keep thirty paces away from him."
"Any measure shall be'ast taken to helpeth and cure-eth fair companion Legolas," agreed Saruliel reluctantly. Perhaps in Lothlorien Galadriel would be able to provide medicine for her Elf.
"Legolas, you may go now," said Aragorn gently, looking at the lump that was Legolas' back as he hunched over himself, and out of Saruliel's eyesight.
There was a keening wail from Legolas, and he wrapped his arms around Aragorn's boot. Aragorn sighed. It was trying to see his friend reduced to such a thing. Almost worse were the times when a Sue decided that he shouldn't love Arwen, and he never saw her in Rivendell. That, or she had been transformed into a horrible, whining wench, and was unrecognizable. Isildur's Heir rubbed his forehead. Arwen hadn't been through as many Quest Loops as he had, and was not yet strong enough to fight author influence. Yet sometimes he could see a glimmer in her eyes, that perhaps she knew what possessed her. And sometimes not.
"Go on, Legolas," sighed Aragorn, pushing him forward. The Elf whimpered softly and scampered out the cave entrance. He turned back to Saruliel. "There is one more thing..." Aragorn paused and looked pleadingly at Gandalf. He did not want to be the one to do the next item.
"Find Pippin, Aragorn. He is in possession of the thing." Gandalf stated, letting Aragorn take his leave. As soon as the Ranger was out of sight, Gandalf looked at Saruliel, who was still wrapped up in her blanket.
"What did'st thou wishest to spake about-eth withest mine-self?" questioned Saruliel.
"We are going through the Mines of Moria," began Gandalf. Saruliel did not seem especially surprised about this. Mithrandir continued. "You will not get far with such a gown, Lady."
Saruliel's emerald-sapphire-diamond optics flitted to the hem of her gown. Eww, it was all tatty. *Needs new dress* whined Saruliel's hormones. *No Legolas without pretty dress!*
*Legolas is sick* argued reasonable Saruliel. *We cannot be near the Elf Prince until he gets better!*
*Wants Legolas NOWW!!* wailed the hormones, with a distinctly whining voice. *No Legolas without cleavage!!*
*SHUT UP!!* yelled Saruliel (mentally). *Don't you hear what I'm saying? We, have, to, wait!* she said, punctuating each mental thought with a twist of her hand.
The hormones went to whimper in the corner. Intelligent (overstatement, yes, but anyway) Saruliel sighed and mentally stroked the thought's silver- purple hair. *We'll have Legolas some day, just be patient.*
Hormonal Saruliel Mental Voice looked up, her eyes streaming with tears. *Promise?*
*Sure.*
"Saruliel? Saruliel?"
The Sue's head snapped up out of her mental repartee and looked at the wizard. "What?"
"I said, the Fellowship discussed the problem and has found you some suitable walking garments," Gandalf repeated. For a couple minutes there he had seen Saruliel's eyes glaze over, in a way that reminded him distinctly of Gollum. The Istari shrugged. He couldn't fathom the Sue's "mind".
"W-walking garments-eth?" stuttered Saruliel. Heaven forbid, no scarlets and fuchsia!
At that moment Aragorn returned carrying a bundle of cloth. "For you," he said, dumping the pile at Saruliel's feet. He turned on his heel and strode out of the cave abruptly.
Gandalf stood up and gathered his robes about him. "I will leave you to change your clothing." he said, and left abruptly as well.
Saruliel felt slightly hurt that the Fellowship members didn't want to see her get... Eww... Gandalf... Saruliel remembered whom she was talking about. She untied the bit of string that held the bundle together and looked to see what the Nine Walkers had given her.
On top of the pile was a shirt that Saruliel recognized as Boromir's. The Fellowship had actually had a great deal of fun picking out the clothes after Gandalf had broached the subject. Gimli had suggested that Boromir give a shirt, as he was the broadest in the shoulders, and Saruliel was somewhat broad as well... in the chest area.
Aragorn had given a pair of breeches, which were in (somewhat) better condition than his usual attire. As soon as Saruliel put the black pants on she immediately realized *why* he had given them to her. They reeked of the Midgewater Marshes.
Gimli had donated a pair of iron underpants*. Saruliel put this aside and thought that maybe she'd just keep her own.
Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin had collaborated to sew her a nice sort of tunic. Saruliel looked at the fine handiwork and threw the shirt over her head without examining it closely. If she had checked the back, the Sue would have perhaps noticed the "Hit Me" message that had been stitched onto the back. Pippin was giggling about it for days to come.
Gandalf had donated (somewhat grudgingly) an old gray cloak of his, all the while complaining about "no peace for an old man". It was his preplanned Rohan speech. Eventually Frodo had wheedled the cloak out of the old wizard, though Gandalf made sure it was the one he had received from Radagast in the earlier years. The one that Radagast had used to house his moth-friends.
Unbeknownst to Saruliel, the topic of Radagast's moths had been discussed at great length by the Fellowship. Gandalf had declared that Radagast had given him the cloak as to be a homing-beacon to his moths so that they could find him anywhere.
Then Aragorn, who had met Radagast briefly in past Quest-cycles, had asked if Iluvatar had allowed Radagast to grow Sea Monkeys yet.
Gandalf had sighed and answered that even though Sea Monkeys were slightly more likely to adapt to Middle-Earth than horses with horns growing out of their heads, Eru still wouldn't allow it.
Not knowing that this cloak had prompted a fascinating revelation about Iluvatar's beliefs on Sea Monkeys, Saruliel simply put on the large gray garment and moved on to the next item.
It was from Legolas. He had been cajoled into giving Saruliel a pair of old shoes. And a leaf of poison ivy.
A few minutes later Saruliel emerged from the cave, dressed in the Middle- Earth version of Salvation Army. Merry and Pippin, who were watching Boromir slice an apple with a single peel, broke off their attention long enough to stare at Saruliel's odd attire.
Black pants, gray boots, wine-colored shirt, blue tunic, and a big gray cloak seven sizes too big... The hobbits were rolling on the ground with laughter in a matter of seconds. Saruliel felt the beginnings of frustration sweep over her. Why weren't they groveling at her beauty and congratulating her on her quick recovery?
Perhaps it was the "Hit Me" sign.
*********
Author's Notes: Those of you who have and haven't already noticed, yes, I'm going for the Dr. Strangelove-sounding title. FF.net hasn't been cooperating with me lately, hence the delays and title problems.
*"Gimli's Iron Underpants" is the creation of Lady Alyssa in her fic, "Bagenders". Just so you know, it's her invention, not mine.
Of course! Legolas had rescued her! Noble Elf, he had probably run up the mountain looking for his beloved, and nursed her tenderly back to health. What a sweet, dearie, hot, yummy, mmhmm... (A pause in which Saruliel did the mental equivalent of a cold shower) nice Elf.
"You're awake," said a voice across the fire. Saruliel sat up wearily. Aragorn was leaning against the wall of the cave opposite her (for she was in a cave, Saruliel now realized) and smoking.
"How did err... How did'st I becomings to such lovelieth of spoteths?" said Saruliel, rubbing her eyes (all the better to see an Elven Prince, my dearie).
Aragorn put his pipe down. He went into medic mode. "You contracted disease while being half-frozen on Caradhras. We had to warm you, and then Gimli burned the snow away, and then I had to treat you for burns as well. Using a salve from the crushed petals of a Mabawakajuudgie plant, and the Essence of Blamerankallagong root, I created a paste of healing with which to revive you," said Aragorn smugly. In truth, all he had really done was defrost her gradually, but Saruliel wouldn't buy it unless he made it sound intricate. Hence the made-up herbs.
"Didst Legolas-"
"Boomboomdoomboomdoomboomdoomityboom!" came an odd voice from outside. Legolas seemed to be having one of his fits again.
"No, you were saved by Gimli, Boromir, and I," replied Aragorn, blocking out the sound of Legolas trying to hammer himself into Caradhras. Needless to say, the Elf's efforts weren't working. Evil mountains do not want insane Elves inside of them.
"You're awake then." Sam appeared at the mouth of the cave, carrying a bundle of firewood under his arm. "Can't say I'm glad," he muttered under his breath, depositing the bundle next to Saruliel.
"Fool of an Elf!" came an irritable cry. "Do not anger Caradhras further. Now, I believe it's time to have our Talk." A few seconds later Gandalf strode into the cave, holding Legolas' elbow in a vice-like grip. The Elf was -not surprisingly- struggling the whole way.
"Saruliel, we need to have a Talk," said Gandalf, once he had settled himself against the cave wall, next to Aragorn. Legolas was sandwiched in between them, trying to burrow into the ground. The effect for Saruliel was rather like talking to a panel.
"What dost thyne wishest of mine-selfeth?" replied Saruliel, trying to appear "affectionately indifferent" toward Legolas. He whimpered.
All of a sudden, realization, or perhaps something akin to it, pounced upon Saruliel, grappled with her beliefs, and branded them with a new thought. Legolas looked ill. Not just sick, but really, mentally ill. "Ist thyne noble-eth upon fair-eth Elf Prince all right?" she asked in a concerned manner. Worry flitted through her half-formed brain. If Legolas was mentally retarded, their children...
*No* snapped Saruliel's mind. *Legolas, is he okay? Stay on track.*
Aragorn grimaced. "That is what we were going to discuss. Legolas is, to put in mildly, *allergic* to you."
"Be'ast it my magicallings of powerfulness?" replied Saruliel, who in her head was thinking that she probably shouldn't have worn that "Eau d'Magique" cologne that her mom... err... Galadriel had given her, if Legolas was having an allergic reaction.
"What was that?" asked Aragorn, aside to Gandalf.
"She wants to know if her magic is doing it," answered the wizard.
"How can you understand her?" wondered Isildur's Heir.
"Istari secret," replied Gandalf.
Aragorn shrugged and returned to Saruliel. "In a way, perhaps, your magic is the cause. We have spoken with Legolas, and he has agreed to keep twenty paces away from you, if you, Saruliel, will keep thirty paces away from him."
"Any measure shall be'ast taken to helpeth and cure-eth fair companion Legolas," agreed Saruliel reluctantly. Perhaps in Lothlorien Galadriel would be able to provide medicine for her Elf.
"Legolas, you may go now," said Aragorn gently, looking at the lump that was Legolas' back as he hunched over himself, and out of Saruliel's eyesight.
There was a keening wail from Legolas, and he wrapped his arms around Aragorn's boot. Aragorn sighed. It was trying to see his friend reduced to such a thing. Almost worse were the times when a Sue decided that he shouldn't love Arwen, and he never saw her in Rivendell. That, or she had been transformed into a horrible, whining wench, and was unrecognizable. Isildur's Heir rubbed his forehead. Arwen hadn't been through as many Quest Loops as he had, and was not yet strong enough to fight author influence. Yet sometimes he could see a glimmer in her eyes, that perhaps she knew what possessed her. And sometimes not.
"Go on, Legolas," sighed Aragorn, pushing him forward. The Elf whimpered softly and scampered out the cave entrance. He turned back to Saruliel. "There is one more thing..." Aragorn paused and looked pleadingly at Gandalf. He did not want to be the one to do the next item.
"Find Pippin, Aragorn. He is in possession of the thing." Gandalf stated, letting Aragorn take his leave. As soon as the Ranger was out of sight, Gandalf looked at Saruliel, who was still wrapped up in her blanket.
"What did'st thou wishest to spake about-eth withest mine-self?" questioned Saruliel.
"We are going through the Mines of Moria," began Gandalf. Saruliel did not seem especially surprised about this. Mithrandir continued. "You will not get far with such a gown, Lady."
Saruliel's emerald-sapphire-diamond optics flitted to the hem of her gown. Eww, it was all tatty. *Needs new dress* whined Saruliel's hormones. *No Legolas without pretty dress!*
*Legolas is sick* argued reasonable Saruliel. *We cannot be near the Elf Prince until he gets better!*
*Wants Legolas NOWW!!* wailed the hormones, with a distinctly whining voice. *No Legolas without cleavage!!*
*SHUT UP!!* yelled Saruliel (mentally). *Don't you hear what I'm saying? We, have, to, wait!* she said, punctuating each mental thought with a twist of her hand.
The hormones went to whimper in the corner. Intelligent (overstatement, yes, but anyway) Saruliel sighed and mentally stroked the thought's silver- purple hair. *We'll have Legolas some day, just be patient.*
Hormonal Saruliel Mental Voice looked up, her eyes streaming with tears. *Promise?*
*Sure.*
"Saruliel? Saruliel?"
The Sue's head snapped up out of her mental repartee and looked at the wizard. "What?"
"I said, the Fellowship discussed the problem and has found you some suitable walking garments," Gandalf repeated. For a couple minutes there he had seen Saruliel's eyes glaze over, in a way that reminded him distinctly of Gollum. The Istari shrugged. He couldn't fathom the Sue's "mind".
"W-walking garments-eth?" stuttered Saruliel. Heaven forbid, no scarlets and fuchsia!
At that moment Aragorn returned carrying a bundle of cloth. "For you," he said, dumping the pile at Saruliel's feet. He turned on his heel and strode out of the cave abruptly.
Gandalf stood up and gathered his robes about him. "I will leave you to change your clothing." he said, and left abruptly as well.
Saruliel felt slightly hurt that the Fellowship members didn't want to see her get... Eww... Gandalf... Saruliel remembered whom she was talking about. She untied the bit of string that held the bundle together and looked to see what the Nine Walkers had given her.
On top of the pile was a shirt that Saruliel recognized as Boromir's. The Fellowship had actually had a great deal of fun picking out the clothes after Gandalf had broached the subject. Gimli had suggested that Boromir give a shirt, as he was the broadest in the shoulders, and Saruliel was somewhat broad as well... in the chest area.
Aragorn had given a pair of breeches, which were in (somewhat) better condition than his usual attire. As soon as Saruliel put the black pants on she immediately realized *why* he had given them to her. They reeked of the Midgewater Marshes.
Gimli had donated a pair of iron underpants*. Saruliel put this aside and thought that maybe she'd just keep her own.
Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin had collaborated to sew her a nice sort of tunic. Saruliel looked at the fine handiwork and threw the shirt over her head without examining it closely. If she had checked the back, the Sue would have perhaps noticed the "Hit Me" message that had been stitched onto the back. Pippin was giggling about it for days to come.
Gandalf had donated (somewhat grudgingly) an old gray cloak of his, all the while complaining about "no peace for an old man". It was his preplanned Rohan speech. Eventually Frodo had wheedled the cloak out of the old wizard, though Gandalf made sure it was the one he had received from Radagast in the earlier years. The one that Radagast had used to house his moth-friends.
Unbeknownst to Saruliel, the topic of Radagast's moths had been discussed at great length by the Fellowship. Gandalf had declared that Radagast had given him the cloak as to be a homing-beacon to his moths so that they could find him anywhere.
Then Aragorn, who had met Radagast briefly in past Quest-cycles, had asked if Iluvatar had allowed Radagast to grow Sea Monkeys yet.
Gandalf had sighed and answered that even though Sea Monkeys were slightly more likely to adapt to Middle-Earth than horses with horns growing out of their heads, Eru still wouldn't allow it.
Not knowing that this cloak had prompted a fascinating revelation about Iluvatar's beliefs on Sea Monkeys, Saruliel simply put on the large gray garment and moved on to the next item.
It was from Legolas. He had been cajoled into giving Saruliel a pair of old shoes. And a leaf of poison ivy.
A few minutes later Saruliel emerged from the cave, dressed in the Middle- Earth version of Salvation Army. Merry and Pippin, who were watching Boromir slice an apple with a single peel, broke off their attention long enough to stare at Saruliel's odd attire.
Black pants, gray boots, wine-colored shirt, blue tunic, and a big gray cloak seven sizes too big... The hobbits were rolling on the ground with laughter in a matter of seconds. Saruliel felt the beginnings of frustration sweep over her. Why weren't they groveling at her beauty and congratulating her on her quick recovery?
Perhaps it was the "Hit Me" sign.
*********
Author's Notes: Those of you who have and haven't already noticed, yes, I'm going for the Dr. Strangelove-sounding title. FF.net hasn't been cooperating with me lately, hence the delays and title problems.
*"Gimli's Iron Underpants" is the creation of Lady Alyssa in her fic, "Bagenders". Just so you know, it's her invention, not mine.