Disclaimer: Tolkien owns all except for the lyrics to "Pilgrim" which belongs to the ever-lovely Enya and the character Beverly who belongs to me. (Yay, I own something!)
UNPLUGGED: Chapter Four
Oxygen Deprivation
By SilentBanshee
Beverly had gone insane and Legolas kept muttering something about Lothlorien. All she would ever talk about was commodities that her male companions had never before heard of and, for the fourth time since she had awoken at Amon Hen, Aragorn asked her--rather pointedly--where it was that she had come from. Her coloring was too light to be Gondorian yet too dark to be Rohoric and she was far too tal to be from Bree.
"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Beverly said in a sing-song voice that she only used when in a state of delirium or when her ponytail was simply too tight, and she wasn't wearing her hair in a ponytail.
"She's gone mad," Gimli called from several feet behind Aragorn. They were on their second day of travel and Aragorn insisited that they not rest for any longer than it took to take a drink from a waterskin which was hardest on Gimli who claimed that the lembas had given him "indigestion." So since yesterday, they had been carrying on converstations while running to keep boredom at bay and to promote breathing, which both the human woman and the Dwarf had been having difficulty with and twice now has Beverly brought up mp3's and computers in her grumblings.
"Why don't you tell us anyway?" Aragorn called back from the lead. Legolas closely followed him.
"All right," she answered, the wind staining her cheeks a pink that threatened to turn blue if subjected to the wind's bite for much longer. "Orginally, I'm from Connecticut, but I moved to New York when I was nineteen."
"I recognize neither place," Legolas remarked while mentally scanning through all the place to the East that he had heard of."
"New York...is that your husband's home?"
Beverly let a laugh escape her oxygen-deprived lungs. "I don't have a husband, thank God."
Legolas raised his left eyeborw at this, stopped running, and turned to face her. "Not an advocate for marriage?"
"Not the way people where I'm from marry, atleast. Marriages don't last long there."
The Elf scoffed at this and waited for her to catch up to him. "No mortal marriage lasts for long."
"I think she meant in mortal terms, mellon nin." Aragorn laughed and stopped running and put his ear to the ground.
"Yes, well, humans here are just as loyal to their 'loves'."
"Well," she panted for breath as she finally caught up to the platinum blond Elf. "Glad to know things don't change."
"You fear change, hiril nin?"
"I fear losing something I hold dear because of a change."
"What would you lament losing?" The Elf smiled.
"Well," she was silent for a moment as she thought. "I lost my muisc when I came here."
Legolas parted his lips and squinted his eyes. "Music? Is that what you have been longing for? We have music here. What do you wish to hear?" He put his hands on his hips and Beverly swore that she had seen roosters look less smug.
"You'll sing for me?" Her smile grew in a way that Legolas did not like. He nodded. "All right, sing 'Sympathy for the Devil'."
Blank stare.
"'Unchained Melodies'."
Blank stare.
"'Hey Ya'?" She smiled at Legolas's quizzical stare.
"I know not any of those."
"I didn't think so." She turned to find a rock that might offer her some privacy from the three sets of nearby eyes even if it wouldn't save her from elven ears.
"Teach me them."
Her head snapped back to look at Legolas. "What?"
Legolas smiled and noted the annoyed look Gimli shot at him. "Teach me them," he repeated, enunciating his words in a way specifically designed to aggrevate insolent women.
"I can't."
"Why not, lassie?"
"Because I don't have all the words memorized to all of them."
"So, sing a song you do know."
"Fine, what soft of song do you want to hear?"
"Your favorite," Legolas answered before Gimli could.
"You wouldn't like my favorite."
"Second favorite then." Aragorn offered as he stood.
"All right." She sighed. "This is a song I liked when I was still in Connecticut."
Pilgrim, how you journey
on the road you chose
to find out why the winds die
and where the stories go.
All days come from one day
that much you must know,
you cannot change what's over
but only where you go.
One way leads to diamonds,
one way leads to gold,
another leads you only
to everything you're told.
In your heart you wonder
which of these is true;
the road that leads to nowhere,
the road that leads to you.
Will you find the answer
in all you say and do?
Will you find the answer
In you?
Each heart is a pilgrim,
each one wants to know
the reasons why the winds die
and where the stories go.
Pilgrim, in your journey
you may travel far,
for pilgrim it's a long way
to find out who you are...
Pilgrim, it's a long way
to find out who you are...
Pilgrim, it's a long way
to find out who you are.
"How does it end?" Aragorn asked, his face showing no mirth.
"What do you mean? That is the end," she replied with a small, nervous laugh.
"Does he come to terms with himself?"
She shurgged in response. "I doubt it."
The Dwarf "hurmph"-ed. "Aren't you the cheerful one?"
----------------------------------
Author's Notes (also known as My Desperate Pleading):
Reviews make me happy. Happiness makes me write. Capice?
UNPLUGGED: Chapter Four
Oxygen Deprivation
By SilentBanshee
Beverly had gone insane and Legolas kept muttering something about Lothlorien. All she would ever talk about was commodities that her male companions had never before heard of and, for the fourth time since she had awoken at Amon Hen, Aragorn asked her--rather pointedly--where it was that she had come from. Her coloring was too light to be Gondorian yet too dark to be Rohoric and she was far too tal to be from Bree.
"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Beverly said in a sing-song voice that she only used when in a state of delirium or when her ponytail was simply too tight, and she wasn't wearing her hair in a ponytail.
"She's gone mad," Gimli called from several feet behind Aragorn. They were on their second day of travel and Aragorn insisited that they not rest for any longer than it took to take a drink from a waterskin which was hardest on Gimli who claimed that the lembas had given him "indigestion." So since yesterday, they had been carrying on converstations while running to keep boredom at bay and to promote breathing, which both the human woman and the Dwarf had been having difficulty with and twice now has Beverly brought up mp3's and computers in her grumblings.
"Why don't you tell us anyway?" Aragorn called back from the lead. Legolas closely followed him.
"All right," she answered, the wind staining her cheeks a pink that threatened to turn blue if subjected to the wind's bite for much longer. "Orginally, I'm from Connecticut, but I moved to New York when I was nineteen."
"I recognize neither place," Legolas remarked while mentally scanning through all the place to the East that he had heard of."
"New York...is that your husband's home?"
Beverly let a laugh escape her oxygen-deprived lungs. "I don't have a husband, thank God."
Legolas raised his left eyeborw at this, stopped running, and turned to face her. "Not an advocate for marriage?"
"Not the way people where I'm from marry, atleast. Marriages don't last long there."
The Elf scoffed at this and waited for her to catch up to him. "No mortal marriage lasts for long."
"I think she meant in mortal terms, mellon nin." Aragorn laughed and stopped running and put his ear to the ground.
"Yes, well, humans here are just as loyal to their 'loves'."
"Well," she panted for breath as she finally caught up to the platinum blond Elf. "Glad to know things don't change."
"You fear change, hiril nin?"
"I fear losing something I hold dear because of a change."
"What would you lament losing?" The Elf smiled.
"Well," she was silent for a moment as she thought. "I lost my muisc when I came here."
Legolas parted his lips and squinted his eyes. "Music? Is that what you have been longing for? We have music here. What do you wish to hear?" He put his hands on his hips and Beverly swore that she had seen roosters look less smug.
"You'll sing for me?" Her smile grew in a way that Legolas did not like. He nodded. "All right, sing 'Sympathy for the Devil'."
Blank stare.
"'Unchained Melodies'."
Blank stare.
"'Hey Ya'?" She smiled at Legolas's quizzical stare.
"I know not any of those."
"I didn't think so." She turned to find a rock that might offer her some privacy from the three sets of nearby eyes even if it wouldn't save her from elven ears.
"Teach me them."
Her head snapped back to look at Legolas. "What?"
Legolas smiled and noted the annoyed look Gimli shot at him. "Teach me them," he repeated, enunciating his words in a way specifically designed to aggrevate insolent women.
"I can't."
"Why not, lassie?"
"Because I don't have all the words memorized to all of them."
"So, sing a song you do know."
"Fine, what soft of song do you want to hear?"
"Your favorite," Legolas answered before Gimli could.
"You wouldn't like my favorite."
"Second favorite then." Aragorn offered as he stood.
"All right." She sighed. "This is a song I liked when I was still in Connecticut."
Pilgrim, how you journey
on the road you chose
to find out why the winds die
and where the stories go.
All days come from one day
that much you must know,
you cannot change what's over
but only where you go.
One way leads to diamonds,
one way leads to gold,
another leads you only
to everything you're told.
In your heart you wonder
which of these is true;
the road that leads to nowhere,
the road that leads to you.
Will you find the answer
in all you say and do?
Will you find the answer
In you?
Each heart is a pilgrim,
each one wants to know
the reasons why the winds die
and where the stories go.
Pilgrim, in your journey
you may travel far,
for pilgrim it's a long way
to find out who you are...
Pilgrim, it's a long way
to find out who you are...
Pilgrim, it's a long way
to find out who you are.
"How does it end?" Aragorn asked, his face showing no mirth.
"What do you mean? That is the end," she replied with a small, nervous laugh.
"Does he come to terms with himself?"
She shurgged in response. "I doubt it."
The Dwarf "hurmph"-ed. "Aren't you the cheerful one?"
----------------------------------
Author's Notes (also known as My Desperate Pleading):
Reviews make me happy. Happiness makes me write. Capice?