"Why doest thou not-eth like-eth myself?" wailed Saruliel for the fifth time.

Boromir grunted in a manly way and drew his cloak about him tightly as he prepared for sleep. "We do not need you here, for the fifth time."

Saruliel started to cry in the most beautiful way ever invented. Instead of becoming all red and having snot drip from her nose, her tears became "crystalline silver" and her eyes "swelled to the size of a that of a child loosing its mother". That last analogy did not quite make sense, but by that time the Fellowship was used to pointless and illogical comparisons.

"Hush, foolish girl. You shall alert the orcs of our presence!" snapped Gandalf as Saruliel tried to blow her nose on his borrowed cloak. Gandalf looked around at the group as Saruliel tried to stifle her sobs. "And speaking of alerting orcs, are we not forgetting something?"

Pippin jumped to attention. "Oh, yes. Sorry." The young hobbit got to his feet and grabbed a rock from the floor. Walking over to the well at the center of the guardroom, he casually tossed the pebble down into the depths of Moria.

The Nine Walkers and Saruliel paused for a second, and then the soft drumbeats began to echo below them. Pippin prepared to take the place of sentry and the rest of the Fellowship arranged themselves for sleeping. Saruliel, however, did not understand. "What did'st thou doeth that for- eth?"

Pippin shrugged. "Plot purposes."

Saruliel nodded suspiciously, then remembered that she was In The Doghouse. "Good nighteth, mine fair companions lovelieth! Though thou dost nay loveth me -sniff- I shall be content-eth with mine role as yon unloved-eth princess of-eth Lothlorien. -sniff- No one-eth loveths myself, everyone- eth hateth mineself..."

"I think I will go eat worms!" cried Aragorn suddenly.

"Shut up, Aragorn," grumbled the rest of the Fellowship. Boromir especially hated Aragorn's amnesiac persona. Let it not fool you, Boromir knew Aragorn well. He knew what color socks he wore, when he shaved (rarely, that is), and many other things that one will only know after spending a near eternity with the same person on a road trip. But he did not like to see his friend crazy. It scared him. He worried how Gondor would look if the king went about capering with his fingers in his nose.

Boromir had warned Aragorn many times after they became accustomed to the quest-loop: "Do not ever do anything to embarrass Gondor. And give me my gauntlets back." Singing about worms and bits of bloody squid would surely bring shame to his country, and Boromir would do anything to prevent this.

All of a sudden Pippin stood up in shock. "Hold a moment, where is Legolas?"

"First came Elendil, he was first! Then Isildur'n Valandil! Then there was Eldacar, Eldacar and Arantar--- Tarcil's after he! Tarondor and Valandur, then up next was Elendur--- Eärendur's after he, he, he!" sang Aragorn. "Amlaith of Fornost, eldest son of Eärendur, followed as Dúnadan! After was Beleg and Mallor and Celepharn--- Celebrindor's after he!"

"Will somebody shut him up?" cried Boromir exasperatedly.

"Malvegil, Argeleb, Arveleg and Araphor, they mostly start with... 'ARR!' Argeleb, Arvegil, Arveleg, and Araval! There's more to come you see! Ha ha!"

"If I may ask, what is this?" questioned Sam.

"Aragorn's ancestors," replied Gandalf bemusedly. "I wonder if he wrote this himself..."

"Leading now was Araphant, hey that rhymes with 'Oliphant'! Arvedui's after he!"

"Must he sing when he is concussed?" Frodo asked Gandalf as Aragorn moved on to the chieftains of the Dúnedain.

"Aranath comes after Arvedui, he's the next that were, Arahael, Aranuir, then Chieftain Aravir! Aragorn and Araglas, Arahad lived in the past--- Aragost's after he! Aravorn and Arahad, Arassuil didn't last... 'Cause Arathorn's after he, he, he!"

"Where *is* Legolas, anyway?" asked Merry, standing up to take a head count. The hobbit tentatively looked down into the well. "Not down there."

"I'll go look," said Boromir, shouldering his shield. "I have to get away from him."

"Argonui... Arador... They proceeded... Arathoooooorrrnnn..." The Ranger paused to take a deep breath. "Then's Aragorn, that's me! Ha ha!"

"I'd say about thirty generations of Dúnedain are rolling over in their graves right now, wouldn't you, Mr. Frodo?" remarked Sam.

"Yes, I would agree with that."

Gandalf got wearily to his feet and stood to look sternly at Aragorn (who was seated with his back to the wall and his knees tucked under his chin, without a care in the world). "I daresay this will leave a mark, Aragorn, but I find that it is for your own good." The Istar brought his staff down in a great "crack!" on Aragorn's head. The Dúnadan's eyes unfocused briefly, then he was Aragorn again, rubbing the mark on his forehead.

"I had another... episode, if I can guess correctly," said Aragorn, blushing slightly. "How far did I... go?"

Gandalf patted him on the shoulder. "Do not despair, Aragorn. I stopped you from getting to the part about all of the children that you intend on having with Arwen."

"Thank the Valar," mumbled Aragorn.

At once, the door burst open and Legolas was thrust into the room, Boromir behind him. "Come now, show them what you have," said Boromir, gripping Legolas' shirt collar.

Legolas squirmed around and said "Bwarf!" a couple of times before he dropped the Trombone slide oil from the Weird Mathom's sack which he had had clenched in his fist.

Gimli got anxiously to his feet. "Legolas, you know you are not supposed to eat that!"

Boromir ground his teeth together disapprovingly. "He was not eating it, he was simply DEFILING MORIA."

This did not quite produce the reaction that Boromir had intended.

"But, Boromir," said Merry. "Moria *is* defiled. There are skeletons and such all over the place. What could Legolas do?"

Boromir rolled his eyes. "Do you want to see this?" He opened the door and stood back for them to look. Gandalf walked over and held up the light of his staff in order to see. The beam fell on the stone stairs, and the oily Trombone goo reflected in the light. Phrases such as "I hate Saruliel!" and "I'm a bachelor!" written in Sindarin stood out.

Saruliel, who had remained quiet for the past few minutes became the subject of many amused gazes. Anticipation hung over the small room.

Saruliel said nothing. She walked back over to her bedroll and curled up with her back to the Fellowship. All of you who had money on her reaction must now pay up.

Legolas' eyes darted back and forth warily, then he curled up like a great, watchful cat in the corner opposite the Sue. Gandalf cleared his throat in a manner which suggested the phrase "that was uncalled for" and guided the rest of the Nine Walkers back into their camp. "Sam, second watch with Saruliel," said the Istar before settling down to sleep.

*Why did I come here?* asked Saruliel's mind quietly.

*We wants him, Precious... Legolas...* replied Saruliel's hormones.

Saruliel choked back tears. *Legolas doesn't want us, Precious.*

*Aragorn?* offered the hormones.

Saruliel pushed those thoughts to the back of her head and began to ponder her recent discovery. *Why doesn't the Fellowship like me? They never like what I do for them, and I bring the vivacious girl power so lacking in that J. R. T. Tolking, whatever-his-name-is' books. Why don't they like *meee*?* wailed Saruliel mentally.

Some time later Saruliel awoke to someone shaking her shoulder. "Up you get, Saruliel. Time for our watch," said Sam. Saruliel moved herself into a sitting position and leaned against the wall wearily.

"Why dost thine noble-eth companions fair-eth nay likest myself?" blurted Saruliel before she could compose herself.

Sam seemed a bit startled by the question. "What makes you say that?"

Saruliel leaned forward as if about to impart a great secret. "Well, have- est thou ever noticed-eth how mine lovelieth Legolas dost run from mineself? Or how yon companions-eth Merry and Pippin point-eth at myself and giggle... -eth?"

Sam bit his lip. "Well, yes, Miss Saruliel..."

Saruliel banged her fist on her knee. "Well, why dost thineselves not liketh mineself?"

Though Saruliel could not see it, Sam raised his eyebrows and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps if you learned to speak better, we wouldn't have such a hard time understanding you," he offered.

"Speaketh better? In which waying-eth?" Saruliel was startled. She had this 'Olde Englishe' down pat!

"Mayhap if you started using 'I am' and 'me' instead of 'mineself' and 'I be'ast'?" suggested Sam, fiddling with the edge of his cloak.

"I... am?" stammered Saruliel. "But thou nay'ast talketh like that styling!"

"I am Samwise Gamgee," said Sam coolly. "Try it."

"I... am... Saruliel," said she, looking more confused by the second. "How be'ast -are, I mean are- y-you?"

They practiced until their watch was over. Saruliel went to sleep with the phrase, "Why do we not go this way?" running through her mind (which prompted some rather nasty reveries about flying street signs, but that is beside the point).

Day broke (presumably) and the Fellowship was off once again. Saruliel took her position as vanguard, reciting her verb conjugations with each step.

"I am Saruliel, You are Legolas, He is Legolas, She is Saruliel, We are Elves, You all are *not* Elves, They are much in love," she said, skipping on one foot with each phrase.

*Why didn't anyone tell us that Legolas doesn't like our speakings, my Precious?* wondered Saruliel's hormones darkly.

*They must have liked the sound of my delightful voice too much to tell me otherwise,* said Sensible (overstatement, yes, yes, I know) Saruliel.

"I have a pretty dress, You have a bendy-bow, She has a magic sword, He has arrows, We have fighting things, You all do not have fighting things, They have much in common," said Saruliel, pleased with her affirmation.

Meanwhile, about five passes behind the Sue, the Fellowship was having a Meeting.

"I just taught her some basic things to say!" protested Sam. "Something not garbled and unintelligible, you know, so we can tell what she is talking about?"

Aragorn folded his arms over his chest as he walked. "It is a noble idea, Sam, yet I doubt Saruliel's mind will be able to grasp these concepts."

"She seems to be doing all right up there now," said Sam.

Legolas furrowed his brow suspiciously. "Master Hobbit, tell me truthfully. Have you taken a liking to that monster?"

Sam shrugged. "No, I still don't like her one bit. Annoying thing, worse than midges. But I did feel a little, you know, pity."

Gimli clucked deep in his throat. "She will turn on you, Master Hobbit. Once she digs her claws into Legolas your kindness will be wasted. Never waste generosity on a Sue. She will desert you once she knows how to write sonnets for Thranduilion."

"Since when do you call me Thranduilion?" asked Legolas incredulously. Saruliel turned back to glance over her shoulder (she walked into a wall after that, but anyway) at Legolas, and the Elf ducked behind Gimli.

Gimli tilted his head slightly. "Plot purposes."

"I found-eth, no, I found something!" cried Saruliel suddenly. Gandalf hurried ahead, moving quickly with his staff.

"This not noteworthy, Saruliel. It is merely the Great Hall. My, if I had a jewel for every time I had seen this," Gandalf murmured under his breath.

The Great Hall of Khazad-dûm was massive. Gimli never stopped being in awe of the pillars or beautiful fretwork that his ancestors had wrought in these caverns, no matter how many times he saw them. "I suppose Balin's tomb is ahead, then," commented the Dwarf casually. "Is everyone ready? We have this Hall to trek and a fight to win before leaving."

*********

Author's Note: "The Dúnedain Song" is mine. I wrote it! *chuckles quietly* Don't steal it! Some time after it was completed I realize that the tune is a compilation of that accursed Spongebob song and the William Tell Overture (neither of which I own, fortunately). Anyway, go figure.

Oh, and the Author will now take this time to thank all of the reviewers. We like reviewers, don't we, Precious? Yes we do, Precious. (Hint, hint -review!)