Dreamcast I: Become A Believer
Chapter 4: Troubled Meetings
Rating: R (for mild language, suggestive themes, some sexuality)
Summary: Rivers is thrown into Middle Earth in a freak car accident.
Somewhere between killing orcs, riding fell beasts, and snogging elves, she
realizes it's more than just a dream and living hell . . . because there is
no going back!
Feedback: nano_starr@metrodesic.com
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate--this one doom."
Rivers pinched her lips into a grim pout. Elrond had ordered her presence at his council after she told him she would give the
"Frodo, bring forth the ring."
Frodo nodded, placing the gold band in the middle of a stone pedestal. It gleamed in the elvish light, like an evil centerpiece of glittering deception. It was the trinket of Sauron, forged in the malicious fires of Mount Doom. An infernal whispered caressed Rivers ears, and then vanished into the silence.
"So it is true," a man said. His chin was cloaked in a brown-bristled bread with a set of chocolate eyes to match. For that matter, the whole of him was drenched in brown, including a fudge-colored attire and tan skin.
Rivers whispered, "The doom of Man."
The brown man said in a raised voice, "It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay? The blood of our people keeps your lands safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"
A man on the far stretch of the circle said in a hushed voice, "You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."
Rivers gasped to herself. This was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, future king of Gondor. He was the only heir to the throne of this plagued kingdom. The burden of a thousand people's pain smote his face with a weary look. Rivers knew better than to let her eyes tweak her feelings, for he was a deadly assassin and a passionate lover.
The brown man snapped, "What would a ranger know of this?"
That was when she saw him. Real, alive, in colour. The elf, Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, spat a smart comment back at the chocolate one.
His ears came to two distinct peaks, golden locks falling about his ears like fresh snow. Blue eyes twinkling angrily, he returned to his seat on order from Aragorn.
"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king."
"Aragorn is right," Gandalf sighed. "We cannot use it."
"Then we must destroy it." Elrond's odd eyes brows pinched together in frustration.
Silence ringed the council. Whispers flew about harshly, all unwilling lay claim to a believed certain death. A dwarf jumped to his stubby feet, drawing a gleaming axe from his chair. "What are we waiting for?"
Rivers felt a single pair of eyes scanning her shapely form as she watched Gimli's axe shatter against the band of malice. Frodo whimpered somewhere, but Rivers heard nothing, she heard only the call of the Ring . . .
"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came."
Rivers eyes widened in fear. "Ash nazg . . ."
"One of you must do this."
It was calling to them. How could they not hear?
"One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland. Riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!"
Legolas' gaze upon the lady of Hastings wrenched a question from his lips. "Good lady? Are you alright?"
Everyone's eyes strayed to Rivers; bandy hair frizzing, she wet her lips to speak, but no words left. Finally, she rushed, "It is true. I thought it was just a book that Kyler likes, but you can hear it, talking to you in your head!"
Elrond sighed. "This is the power of the Ring! We must destroy it!"
"How? We do not possess an army powerful enough to get into Mordor!"
"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!"
"I supposed you think you're the one to do it!"
Gimli jumped up at Legolas, screaming, "I would die before I saw the Rings in the hands of an Elf!" The elves began to shout at the dwarves, and soon a verbal battle shook the council.
Rivers sighed. So much hate and prejudice plagued this world! It wasn't so different here. But she heard a feral voice in! to recesses of her mind, calling to her with a sinister voice. "Ash Nazg Durbatuluk! Ash Nazg Gimbatul! Ash Nazg Gimbatul! Ash Nazg Gimbatul!
"I will take it! I will take it! I will take the ring to Mordor . . . though I do not know the way."
Frodo came forward, the Ring in his hand. Gandalf stood behind him with his aged hands resting on his shoulders. "I will help you bear this burden, as long as it is yours to bear."
"If by my life or death, I will protect you." Aragorn knelt before the Ringbearer. "You have my sword."
Rivers eyes shot to Legolas before he stirred and noticed his eye was upon her. "And you have my bow."
"And my axe." Gimli exchanged a dark look with the elf before grimly standing beside Frodo. The brown one pushed past him, saying, "You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."
A rustling from the bush produced the plump hobbit, Sam. "Mr. Frodo won't go anywhere without me!" Two more halflings ran beside Frodo, curly hair bouncing in their uneven steps. "And we're coming, too!"
"You need people of intelligence on this sort of . . . quest-thing."
"Nine companions . . . I add one more to your number."
Rivers was surprised to find herself stumbling forward from a small shove from Elrond. Quickly retaining her balance, she avoided slamming into Frodo and whisked around to the side with a flourish of her cloak. "You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring, sharing the burdens of Middle Earth upon your very backs."
"Whoa, hold it! I wanted to get home, not go on some quest thingy!" Rivers cringed afterwards, realizing how childish she sounded. She needed something . . . Middle Earthy. "With all due respect, I really don't think it would be wise to send me on a quest, err, because, um, I'm a woman."
"My Lady," Elrond said in mocking tones, sounding quite fruity, "You would not abandon the people of Middle Earth in their time of need?"
"But I'm not from Middle Earth . . . Oh, alright." She scooted toward Frodo reluctantly.
"Great!" Pippin chimed. "So, where are we going?"
* * * * *
Frodo had vanished into Bilbo's quarters, this Rivers knew from the story. She stood in somewhere in Rivendell where there was no sound, wind, or people. Oddly enough, she was comforted by the solitude.
There was no time. She abode in the darkness until a voice shattered the perfect silence she had maintained for hours. "I greet you, Lady of Hastings."
A thin, watery smile was plastered to her lips as Gandalf approached her. "You seem to like that cloak of mine."
"Oh, right." She began to pull in off, but he stooped her. "A gift, good woman, from Gandalf Stormcrow."
They stood in an empty darkness, plagued by the shadows of the evening for long, stretched minutes. Finally, Rivers blurted, "You want to talk about something?"
"Yes, I do. Where did you come upon my passing at the bridge of Khazad-dûm?"
"I'm sorry, Gandalf. But you'll be back-"
"How did you know?"
"Long story. But I won't do it again, ok?"
"Can you possibly explain this to me in any way?"
Pause. "No. It's really complicated."
"My Lady, you hold something in you none have. You must promise me something." He took her hands, rubbing them with his thumbs. The bloods shivered in the vessels at his touch. One of her defined eyebrows climbed her forehead. "Promise you what?"
"Not to use your power."
"Not to use it? But then why am I coming with the Fellowship?"
"Strangers in Rivendell cause problems. Besides, you have nothing else to do, and perhaps we might find another use of you." He glanced at her slyly. "One you'll like."
"Gandalf!" She shoved him playfully. She chuckled, but slurred it into a serious tone. "You must swear to me now."
"But you're going to die! Why can't we do something about it?"
"You can only delay things before fate tugs it from your grasp."
"But I'm extra baggage!"
"Lady, time reveals things the same as it heals them." His fingers grazed her ripped palms. "These got you here, no? Perhaps, they can get you father. Good day, my Lady."
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate--this one doom."
Rivers pinched her lips into a grim pout. Elrond had ordered her presence at his council after she told him she would give the
"Frodo, bring forth the ring."
Frodo nodded, placing the gold band in the middle of a stone pedestal. It gleamed in the elvish light, like an evil centerpiece of glittering deception. It was the trinket of Sauron, forged in the malicious fires of Mount Doom. An infernal whispered caressed Rivers ears, and then vanished into the silence.
"So it is true," a man said. His chin was cloaked in a brown-bristled bread with a set of chocolate eyes to match. For that matter, the whole of him was drenched in brown, including a fudge-colored attire and tan skin.
Rivers whispered, "The doom of Man."
The brown man said in a raised voice, "It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay? The blood of our people keeps your lands safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"
A man on the far stretch of the circle said in a hushed voice, "You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."
Rivers gasped to herself. This was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, future king of Gondor. He was the only heir to the throne of this plagued kingdom. The burden of a thousand people's pain smote his face with a weary look. Rivers knew better than to let her eyes tweak her feelings, for he was a deadly assassin and a passionate lover.
The brown man snapped, "What would a ranger know of this?"
That was when she saw him. Real, alive, in colour. The elf, Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, spat a smart comment back at the chocolate one.
His ears came to two distinct peaks, golden locks falling about his ears like fresh snow. Blue eyes twinkling angrily, he returned to his seat on order from Aragorn.
"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king."
"Aragorn is right," Gandalf sighed. "We cannot use it."
"Then we must destroy it." Elrond's odd eyes brows pinched together in frustration.
Silence ringed the council. Whispers flew about harshly, all unwilling lay claim to a believed certain death. A dwarf jumped to his stubby feet, drawing a gleaming axe from his chair. "What are we waiting for?"
Rivers felt a single pair of eyes scanning her shapely form as she watched Gimli's axe shatter against the band of malice. Frodo whimpered somewhere, but Rivers heard nothing, she heard only the call of the Ring . . .
"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came."
Rivers eyes widened in fear. "Ash nazg . . ."
"One of you must do this."
It was calling to them. How could they not hear?
"One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland. Riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!"
Legolas' gaze upon the lady of Hastings wrenched a question from his lips. "Good lady? Are you alright?"
Everyone's eyes strayed to Rivers; bandy hair frizzing, she wet her lips to speak, but no words left. Finally, she rushed, "It is true. I thought it was just a book that Kyler likes, but you can hear it, talking to you in your head!"
Elrond sighed. "This is the power of the Ring! We must destroy it!"
"How? We do not possess an army powerful enough to get into Mordor!"
"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!"
"I supposed you think you're the one to do it!"
Gimli jumped up at Legolas, screaming, "I would die before I saw the Rings in the hands of an Elf!" The elves began to shout at the dwarves, and soon a verbal battle shook the council.
Rivers sighed. So much hate and prejudice plagued this world! It wasn't so different here. But she heard a feral voice in! to recesses of her mind, calling to her with a sinister voice. "Ash Nazg Durbatuluk! Ash Nazg Gimbatul! Ash Nazg Gimbatul! Ash Nazg Gimbatul!
"I will take it! I will take it! I will take the ring to Mordor . . . though I do not know the way."
Frodo came forward, the Ring in his hand. Gandalf stood behind him with his aged hands resting on his shoulders. "I will help you bear this burden, as long as it is yours to bear."
"If by my life or death, I will protect you." Aragorn knelt before the Ringbearer. "You have my sword."
Rivers eyes shot to Legolas before he stirred and noticed his eye was upon her. "And you have my bow."
"And my axe." Gimli exchanged a dark look with the elf before grimly standing beside Frodo. The brown one pushed past him, saying, "You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."
A rustling from the bush produced the plump hobbit, Sam. "Mr. Frodo won't go anywhere without me!" Two more halflings ran beside Frodo, curly hair bouncing in their uneven steps. "And we're coming, too!"
"You need people of intelligence on this sort of . . . quest-thing."
"Nine companions . . . I add one more to your number."
Rivers was surprised to find herself stumbling forward from a small shove from Elrond. Quickly retaining her balance, she avoided slamming into Frodo and whisked around to the side with a flourish of her cloak. "You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring, sharing the burdens of Middle Earth upon your very backs."
"Whoa, hold it! I wanted to get home, not go on some quest thingy!" Rivers cringed afterwards, realizing how childish she sounded. She needed something . . . Middle Earthy. "With all due respect, I really don't think it would be wise to send me on a quest, err, because, um, I'm a woman."
"My Lady," Elrond said in mocking tones, sounding quite fruity, "You would not abandon the people of Middle Earth in their time of need?"
"But I'm not from Middle Earth . . . Oh, alright." She scooted toward Frodo reluctantly.
"Great!" Pippin chimed. "So, where are we going?"
* * * * *
Frodo had vanished into Bilbo's quarters, this Rivers knew from the story. She stood in somewhere in Rivendell where there was no sound, wind, or people. Oddly enough, she was comforted by the solitude.
There was no time. She abode in the darkness until a voice shattered the perfect silence she had maintained for hours. "I greet you, Lady of Hastings."
A thin, watery smile was plastered to her lips as Gandalf approached her. "You seem to like that cloak of mine."
"Oh, right." She began to pull in off, but he stooped her. "A gift, good woman, from Gandalf Stormcrow."
They stood in an empty darkness, plagued by the shadows of the evening for long, stretched minutes. Finally, Rivers blurted, "You want to talk about something?"
"Yes, I do. Where did you come upon my passing at the bridge of Khazad-dûm?"
"I'm sorry, Gandalf. But you'll be back-"
"How did you know?"
"Long story. But I won't do it again, ok?"
"Can you possibly explain this to me in any way?"
Pause. "No. It's really complicated."
"My Lady, you hold something in you none have. You must promise me something." He took her hands, rubbing them with his thumbs. The bloods shivered in the vessels at his touch. One of her defined eyebrows climbed her forehead. "Promise you what?"
"Not to use your power."
"Not to use it? But then why am I coming with the Fellowship?"
"Strangers in Rivendell cause problems. Besides, you have nothing else to do, and perhaps we might find another use of you." He glanced at her slyly. "One you'll like."
"Gandalf!" She shoved him playfully. She chuckled, but slurred it into a serious tone. "You must swear to me now."
"But you're going to die! Why can't we do something about it?"
"You can only delay things before fate tugs it from your grasp."
"But I'm extra baggage!"
"Lady, time reveals things the same as it heals them." His fingers grazed her ripped palms. "These got you here, no? Perhaps, they can get you father. Good day, my Lady."