Dreamcast I: Become A Believer
Chapter 4: The Magic of Ecstasy
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
Rivers had been sewn special traveling habits after the elves concurred in was near impossible to stuff a human into elvish traveling attire. Her bust line couldn't support any loose tunics, nor could it fold into a snug one. Leggings were too baggy for her spindly legs and the servant became vexed shortly, sending for the seamstress.
Rivers was given eight outfits; two in green, two in white, and four in brown, styled the same. The complex methods of dressing herself (with the aid of three helpers) slowed her down, but she admired the effect in the end.
First, a white, stretchy material was put on, covering her legs and arms to the elbows. Next, she wriggled into a leather tunic, custom-made to hug her shapely form. After sliding into the breeches, she draped her crimson cloak about her shoulders and winced as an elf tugged on her hair. The result was stunning and she thanked her servants repeatedly.
She twisted a lock of her bandy, braided, hair at the gate of Rivendell, about to embark on the adventure of her life. She lingered too long.
A warm hand shook her slightly. "Come, Lady."
She turned, looking down the nose and to the ice-blue eyes of Legolas Greenleaf. Lost for words, she stumbled past him. "Right."
The journey over the hills and rugged plains of Middle Earth made Rivers muscles scream, but she pushed on. Conversation was scarce, expect for the small bursts of encouragements from the hobbits. Finally, Gandalf said they might rest upon the stone ruins on a mountainside.
Rivers slumped down onto a rock, weary and beaten. Gandalf yelled from a higher stone, "We must hold this course west of the Misty Mountains for 40 days. If our luck holds the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there our road turns east to Mordor."
She almost didn't hear. Her head had drifted onto her sack, the odd- shaped bag molding to support her head. Faintly, swords clanged and laughed echoed around her ears. Weary feelings shut out anything else. She escaped the wrecked world of Middle Earth for a moment.
* * * * *
Legolas was a bit worn, but otherwise absolutely fine as he scaled the various rocks on the hillside. He chuckled as the hobbits jumped all over Boromir, who seemed merry for the first time.
He spotted Rivers snoozing on the rocks. Her head was laid into her pile of things, ringed hair strewn carelessly about her, elvish braids barely visible from her constant fondling. She was enveloped in the soft grip of her scarlet cloak. Bosom steadily rising in her slumber, she wriggled her nose, pinching her unblemished face with temporary wrinkles. His eyes lingered for a moment, captivated by her catlike look in her sleep.
Something twitched in his brain. His ears picked up sound and he skittered across the rocks, straining to hear. Suddenly, he recognized them. "Crebain from Dunland!"
"Hide!"
The hobbits scrambled beneath the stones, closely followed by Boromir and Aragorn. Legolas ducked beneath a bush, but darted out in remembrance: Rivers.
The ravens soared overhead and their screeches forced Rivers to her senses. No sooner had she opened her eyes, she was tossed onto the rocky carpeting of the mountain. Soft hands gripped her firmly as she tumbled into the cavernous security of a tiny stone.
Adrenaline surged through her. She bucked against him, the cawing of the birds peaking her fright. She was pinned beneath his iron grip and he subdued her feeble struggles with inhuman strength. Her strength smoldered away, leaving to only gasp unevenly.
The yelling had dissipated, but her latent energy pinched her eyes shut and shoved gasps of air down her lungs. Her captor's face was inches above her own. The inches were becoming centimeters . . .
"Spies of Saruman! The passage south is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras."
Legolas rolled out from underneath the rock, hearth hammering in his chest. Why had he become so tense? As he remembered, she was a quivering mass of pent up energy, wriggling beneath him. She stood up, dusting herself off and picking up her cloak, shaking its free of grime.
* * * * *
The ice and snow dug into her, shoveling their way to her bone. She did not hear Frodo loose his footing and tumble downwards, only to be steadied by Aragorn. Rivers did not watch him, nor did she move.
The Ring of power was a foot away from her. She stretched for it, hating the touch of the metal against her skin. The sensation was vile, but something in her thirsted for it.
"Rivers."
She pivoted to face Aragorn and the hobbit, extending the chain. "Here, Frodo."
The hobbit waded through the snow, closing in on her. The nearer he came, the more she wanted to hurt him. Something regretted the loss of such a trinket and something else scolded her for touching it.
His hand was coming closer, reaching for it.
She withdrew. Aragorn stepped.
Everyone concentrated on her face. She had knuckled it in effort to extend her arm, perspiration freezing as she trembled. Legolas heard her whispered, "Not . . . me."
Once again, her hand went out. Frodo snatched it, giving her no time to retaliate.
"I'm sorry." She turned away, trudging forward into the cold depths of the snow.
* * * * *
"There is a fell voice on the air!"
Rivers pulled the cloak closer. Legolas' heels were visible at her eyes, which blended with the ice. It chilled her to her innermost core. Gandalf slurred something into the air and Rivers stumbled.
Legolas felt the snow shift beneath him. He looked down from his perch atop the unpacked flakes and saw a hole gouged into the ice. It shifted again as he bounced into the trench.
Snow piled in around him, sealing him in a permanent white frost. Rivers, wrapped in scarlet, lie in ruin at his feet. She shuddered in the cold as he scooped her up, bounding out of the snow.
Aragorn's head surfaced, but disappeared as he ducked to find Frodo. Legolas saw people pop out of the snow, their weight preventing them from moving. His attention snapped to the girl in his arms as she groaned.
"Are you alright, Lady?"
She shuddered. "My name's Rivers. Please call me that." Her body was wracked with cold, and he lips squelched as she gasped a laugh. "God, it's cold."
He wrapped her cloak tighter around her. Aragorn yelled, "It's to dangerous! We must turn back!"
Rivers choked quietly, "You won't turn back." The ice had grasped her, and she fell under the freezing spell of cold.
Rivers had been sewn special traveling habits after the elves concurred in was near impossible to stuff a human into elvish traveling attire. Her bust line couldn't support any loose tunics, nor could it fold into a snug one. Leggings were too baggy for her spindly legs and the servant became vexed shortly, sending for the seamstress.
Rivers was given eight outfits; two in green, two in white, and four in brown, styled the same. The complex methods of dressing herself (with the aid of three helpers) slowed her down, but she admired the effect in the end.
First, a white, stretchy material was put on, covering her legs and arms to the elbows. Next, she wriggled into a leather tunic, custom-made to hug her shapely form. After sliding into the breeches, she draped her crimson cloak about her shoulders and winced as an elf tugged on her hair. The result was stunning and she thanked her servants repeatedly.
She twisted a lock of her bandy, braided, hair at the gate of Rivendell, about to embark on the adventure of her life. She lingered too long.
A warm hand shook her slightly. "Come, Lady."
She turned, looking down the nose and to the ice-blue eyes of Legolas Greenleaf. Lost for words, she stumbled past him. "Right."
The journey over the hills and rugged plains of Middle Earth made Rivers muscles scream, but she pushed on. Conversation was scarce, expect for the small bursts of encouragements from the hobbits. Finally, Gandalf said they might rest upon the stone ruins on a mountainside.
Rivers slumped down onto a rock, weary and beaten. Gandalf yelled from a higher stone, "We must hold this course west of the Misty Mountains for 40 days. If our luck holds the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there our road turns east to Mordor."
She almost didn't hear. Her head had drifted onto her sack, the odd- shaped bag molding to support her head. Faintly, swords clanged and laughed echoed around her ears. Weary feelings shut out anything else. She escaped the wrecked world of Middle Earth for a moment.
* * * * *
Legolas was a bit worn, but otherwise absolutely fine as he scaled the various rocks on the hillside. He chuckled as the hobbits jumped all over Boromir, who seemed merry for the first time.
He spotted Rivers snoozing on the rocks. Her head was laid into her pile of things, ringed hair strewn carelessly about her, elvish braids barely visible from her constant fondling. She was enveloped in the soft grip of her scarlet cloak. Bosom steadily rising in her slumber, she wriggled her nose, pinching her unblemished face with temporary wrinkles. His eyes lingered for a moment, captivated by her catlike look in her sleep.
Something twitched in his brain. His ears picked up sound and he skittered across the rocks, straining to hear. Suddenly, he recognized them. "Crebain from Dunland!"
"Hide!"
The hobbits scrambled beneath the stones, closely followed by Boromir and Aragorn. Legolas ducked beneath a bush, but darted out in remembrance: Rivers.
The ravens soared overhead and their screeches forced Rivers to her senses. No sooner had she opened her eyes, she was tossed onto the rocky carpeting of the mountain. Soft hands gripped her firmly as she tumbled into the cavernous security of a tiny stone.
Adrenaline surged through her. She bucked against him, the cawing of the birds peaking her fright. She was pinned beneath his iron grip and he subdued her feeble struggles with inhuman strength. Her strength smoldered away, leaving to only gasp unevenly.
The yelling had dissipated, but her latent energy pinched her eyes shut and shoved gasps of air down her lungs. Her captor's face was inches above her own. The inches were becoming centimeters . . .
"Spies of Saruman! The passage south is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras."
Legolas rolled out from underneath the rock, hearth hammering in his chest. Why had he become so tense? As he remembered, she was a quivering mass of pent up energy, wriggling beneath him. She stood up, dusting herself off and picking up her cloak, shaking its free of grime.
* * * * *
The ice and snow dug into her, shoveling their way to her bone. She did not hear Frodo loose his footing and tumble downwards, only to be steadied by Aragorn. Rivers did not watch him, nor did she move.
The Ring of power was a foot away from her. She stretched for it, hating the touch of the metal against her skin. The sensation was vile, but something in her thirsted for it.
"Rivers."
She pivoted to face Aragorn and the hobbit, extending the chain. "Here, Frodo."
The hobbit waded through the snow, closing in on her. The nearer he came, the more she wanted to hurt him. Something regretted the loss of such a trinket and something else scolded her for touching it.
His hand was coming closer, reaching for it.
She withdrew. Aragorn stepped.
Everyone concentrated on her face. She had knuckled it in effort to extend her arm, perspiration freezing as she trembled. Legolas heard her whispered, "Not . . . me."
Once again, her hand went out. Frodo snatched it, giving her no time to retaliate.
"I'm sorry." She turned away, trudging forward into the cold depths of the snow.
* * * * *
"There is a fell voice on the air!"
Rivers pulled the cloak closer. Legolas' heels were visible at her eyes, which blended with the ice. It chilled her to her innermost core. Gandalf slurred something into the air and Rivers stumbled.
Legolas felt the snow shift beneath him. He looked down from his perch atop the unpacked flakes and saw a hole gouged into the ice. It shifted again as he bounced into the trench.
Snow piled in around him, sealing him in a permanent white frost. Rivers, wrapped in scarlet, lie in ruin at his feet. She shuddered in the cold as he scooped her up, bounding out of the snow.
Aragorn's head surfaced, but disappeared as he ducked to find Frodo. Legolas saw people pop out of the snow, their weight preventing them from moving. His attention snapped to the girl in his arms as she groaned.
"Are you alright, Lady?"
She shuddered. "My name's Rivers. Please call me that." Her body was wracked with cold, and he lips squelched as she gasped a laugh. "God, it's cold."
He wrapped her cloak tighter around her. Aragorn yelled, "It's to dangerous! We must turn back!"
Rivers choked quietly, "You won't turn back." The ice had grasped her, and she fell under the freezing spell of cold.