Dreamcast I: Become A Believer
Chapter 8: Good Mourning
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
Blood burst from her flesh, creating a deadly illusion on the column now painted with the scarlet liquid that had escaped her vessels. All the time he watched, remaining as silent as she. His muscles spasmed and sent an arrow askew.
Somewhere, Frodo screamed. Legolas pulled another arrow across the string and released it. The troll was falling. It hit the ground, the echo of its slap causing the orcs to flee.
He was at her side, hesitant to touch her. Her mangled body was breathing not rhythmically, and she was torn across the brow. Blood rushed from her nose and leaked from her empty white eyes. Aragorn had pulled Frodo to his feet and strode next to the elf, the hobbit tagging along.
Frodo dropped to his knees, crimson soaking into his breeches. Rivers eyes fluttered open, the mystic hues of a faint world creeping away. "I'm sorry, Frodo," she rasped. "I've failed you all!"
Sam whispered a prayer as Rivers closed her eyes. Gandalf shoved past them. "Can't have you trailing blood around, good woman."
A light blossomed from the peak of his staff. Heat radiated from the point, morphing into a sphere of pure energy. A mist from the globe seeped into the grievous wounds of the bandy haired maiden.
She screamed as the cuts sealed themselves shut, tears spilling down her cheeks. The flesh sewed itself together and enveloped her in excruciating anguish—
And she vanished into a spectrum of pale colors, left with the faint connection back to Legolas' grasp, and it was here she resided until her waking in one of the great halls of Moria. Once again, she awoke to the bouncing world around her. As her vision slurred into focus, she realized where she was.
"My lady?"
Legolas' looked down quickly and smiled. "You're awake! You took quite a blow from that troll."
"We're running from the Balrog, aren't we?"
He almost tripped. "Yes, but-"
"Don't talk! Run!"
His elven grace swept him easily across the rocky steps of the cavernous deep of Moria. The tight hall exploded into a great passageway with a broken stairwell twisting to the other side. As they approached the gap, Rivers' vision faded, the images blobbing and clumping into large masses of colour. "Great."
Legolas jumped into the other side and set her at his feet. Confused and half-blind, she scrambled about the floor. Something shifted and she expected Boromir, Merry, and Pippin hand flopped down on this side. It wriggled again.
The group had landed, but the entire rock did not quake. "Oh, shit."
A chunk of the stone cracked and shredded off from its brethren. Of course, Rivers couldn't see the fine points off this; she knew only that she was falling. She flung her arms at the edge, catching the sharp line of the ledge with her palms.
The lip plunged into her scar. Her scream was the incarnation of fear and she held on, unwilling to fall. Strangely, the lament cleared her vision, sharpening it as Legolas bent to pick her up.
With her new sight, she searched his face. Blue eyes ringed with black lashes were plagued with fear. High cheekbones, barely visible, supported gorgeous features and a slender nose. He whispered, "Stay with me now."
Once again she relished his warmth from her cradle in his arms. They whirled together to face the break.
Gimli jumped, but not far enough. Rivers' hand lashed out, snatching his bread. She saw every hair, every threadlike fiber stringing from her hand to his chin. The weaved braids tensed from the stress and he cried, "Not the beard!"
Aragorn stepped, but the stones gave way and crumbled to the hungry fires below, licking thirstily at the rock as it fell. The giant pillar swayed, drifting backwards. "Lean! Rivers shouted.
The duo thrust their bulk towards the front of the rock. The column hesitated, but swung forward and slammed into the main stair for long enough for them to get off before falling to the fires below.
"Run!"
The stairs collapsed behind them, cringing into the heat of the blaze below. The Fellowship broke across to the bridge of Khazad-dûm. The thin strip of stone looked unsteady, but Rivers knew many feet had treaded the path before them.
A hiss of flame and a growl of shadow lit the dank empty behind them. Legolas had reached the other side safely. Rivers shuddered in his grasp, which tightened at her reflex.
Fly, you fools!
She burst into tears, yelling, "Gandalf! Hurry, please!"
"You shall not pass!"
Frodo and Rivers sang, "Gandalf!"
His staff illuminated the sliver of bridge than held him from the dark. "I am the servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you! Flame of Udun!"
The Balrog's sword shattered against the wizard staff. In anger, it slid dangerously close, with Rivers and Frodo calling his name in pandemonium. "Go back to the shadow!"
He will return, she told herself, but not soon enough.
"YOU . . . SHALL NOT . . . PASS!" He drove the sword at wooden tower into the ground, grinding against the latent spell that was Khazad-dûm.
The flaming shadow slammed a foot down on the bridge, which crumbled. The flame was engulfed in shadow, left to fall to the angry depths of the dark. For the second he turned to join them, Rivers thought he would make it.
But the lash of fire shot up from behind, dragging him down to the deep. He grasped the ledge as Frodo screamed wildly, restrained by Boromir. Gandalf stopped flailing.
"Fly, you fools!" and he vanished into the abyss.
Struck dumb by her poor preparation, Rivers sat limply in the elf's arms as he hustled out of the East Gate of Moria.
Blood burst from her flesh, creating a deadly illusion on the column now painted with the scarlet liquid that had escaped her vessels. All the time he watched, remaining as silent as she. His muscles spasmed and sent an arrow askew.
Somewhere, Frodo screamed. Legolas pulled another arrow across the string and released it. The troll was falling. It hit the ground, the echo of its slap causing the orcs to flee.
He was at her side, hesitant to touch her. Her mangled body was breathing not rhythmically, and she was torn across the brow. Blood rushed from her nose and leaked from her empty white eyes. Aragorn had pulled Frodo to his feet and strode next to the elf, the hobbit tagging along.
Frodo dropped to his knees, crimson soaking into his breeches. Rivers eyes fluttered open, the mystic hues of a faint world creeping away. "I'm sorry, Frodo," she rasped. "I've failed you all!"
Sam whispered a prayer as Rivers closed her eyes. Gandalf shoved past them. "Can't have you trailing blood around, good woman."
A light blossomed from the peak of his staff. Heat radiated from the point, morphing into a sphere of pure energy. A mist from the globe seeped into the grievous wounds of the bandy haired maiden.
She screamed as the cuts sealed themselves shut, tears spilling down her cheeks. The flesh sewed itself together and enveloped her in excruciating anguish—
And she vanished into a spectrum of pale colors, left with the faint connection back to Legolas' grasp, and it was here she resided until her waking in one of the great halls of Moria. Once again, she awoke to the bouncing world around her. As her vision slurred into focus, she realized where she was.
"My lady?"
Legolas' looked down quickly and smiled. "You're awake! You took quite a blow from that troll."
"We're running from the Balrog, aren't we?"
He almost tripped. "Yes, but-"
"Don't talk! Run!"
His elven grace swept him easily across the rocky steps of the cavernous deep of Moria. The tight hall exploded into a great passageway with a broken stairwell twisting to the other side. As they approached the gap, Rivers' vision faded, the images blobbing and clumping into large masses of colour. "Great."
Legolas jumped into the other side and set her at his feet. Confused and half-blind, she scrambled about the floor. Something shifted and she expected Boromir, Merry, and Pippin hand flopped down on this side. It wriggled again.
The group had landed, but the entire rock did not quake. "Oh, shit."
A chunk of the stone cracked and shredded off from its brethren. Of course, Rivers couldn't see the fine points off this; she knew only that she was falling. She flung her arms at the edge, catching the sharp line of the ledge with her palms.
The lip plunged into her scar. Her scream was the incarnation of fear and she held on, unwilling to fall. Strangely, the lament cleared her vision, sharpening it as Legolas bent to pick her up.
With her new sight, she searched his face. Blue eyes ringed with black lashes were plagued with fear. High cheekbones, barely visible, supported gorgeous features and a slender nose. He whispered, "Stay with me now."
Once again she relished his warmth from her cradle in his arms. They whirled together to face the break.
Gimli jumped, but not far enough. Rivers' hand lashed out, snatching his bread. She saw every hair, every threadlike fiber stringing from her hand to his chin. The weaved braids tensed from the stress and he cried, "Not the beard!"
Aragorn stepped, but the stones gave way and crumbled to the hungry fires below, licking thirstily at the rock as it fell. The giant pillar swayed, drifting backwards. "Lean! Rivers shouted.
The duo thrust their bulk towards the front of the rock. The column hesitated, but swung forward and slammed into the main stair for long enough for them to get off before falling to the fires below.
"Run!"
The stairs collapsed behind them, cringing into the heat of the blaze below. The Fellowship broke across to the bridge of Khazad-dûm. The thin strip of stone looked unsteady, but Rivers knew many feet had treaded the path before them.
A hiss of flame and a growl of shadow lit the dank empty behind them. Legolas had reached the other side safely. Rivers shuddered in his grasp, which tightened at her reflex.
Fly, you fools!
She burst into tears, yelling, "Gandalf! Hurry, please!"
"You shall not pass!"
Frodo and Rivers sang, "Gandalf!"
His staff illuminated the sliver of bridge than held him from the dark. "I am the servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you! Flame of Udun!"
The Balrog's sword shattered against the wizard staff. In anger, it slid dangerously close, with Rivers and Frodo calling his name in pandemonium. "Go back to the shadow!"
He will return, she told herself, but not soon enough.
"YOU . . . SHALL NOT . . . PASS!" He drove the sword at wooden tower into the ground, grinding against the latent spell that was Khazad-dûm.
The flaming shadow slammed a foot down on the bridge, which crumbled. The flame was engulfed in shadow, left to fall to the angry depths of the dark. For the second he turned to join them, Rivers thought he would make it.
But the lash of fire shot up from behind, dragging him down to the deep. He grasped the ledge as Frodo screamed wildly, restrained by Boromir. Gandalf stopped flailing.
"Fly, you fools!" and he vanished into the abyss.
Struck dumb by her poor preparation, Rivers sat limply in the elf's arms as he hustled out of the East Gate of Moria.