All right. first attempt at chapter three did not go so well, but hopefully
this will be better. I only own Nigel and Platy. sigh.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter three: A monstrous time jump, and Nigel returns!
The cruel winds of Caradhras whipped snow and sleet through the air, driving it through the cloaks of the nine figures struggling up the mountain. The tenth figure was curled up in a miserable ball inside Legolas's shirt. Platy hated the cold.
Legolas honestly hadn't meant for things to get so far. When he had been summoned to Elrond's council, Platy had begged to come along, and Legolas had steadfastly refused. The fact that Platy seemed to think that her best chance of finding Nigel lied in tagging along with Legolas was something that the elf found very disconcerting. He had been secretly hoping that the whole issue would somehow resolve itself while he was away, and he would never have to deal with that lunatic again. Platy had seemed to give up, and Legolas was feeling pretty good overall. Halfway to Rivendell, he discovered Platy curled up in his pack, shedding on his best robes and snoring uproariously. It had been too late to turn back, so he had begrudgingly allowed her to accompany him to Rivendell. He forbid her from going to the council meeting, and, much to his surprise, she stayed away.
"It's cool," she had said casually, waving a hand, "I don't need to be there." Legolas should have been more suspicious and less grateful. And he *definitely* shouldn't have trusted her when she said that she'd happily remain behind in Rivendell. As it turned out, she snuck into his pack once again (this time shedding on his best cloak). By the time he found her it was too late, and he had no choice but to let her accompany the fellowship, most of whom, to Legolas's great annoyance, found her "cute," and rather enjoyed her company.
Unfortunately, there was nothing at all cute or enjoyable about their current situation. Legolas stepped forward, listening hard.
"There is a fell voice on the air," he commented, frowning.
"It's Saruman!" Gandalf shouted over the wind.
"Wait . . ." Legolas's scowl deepened. "There is more than one."
"Does Saruman have an apprentice?" Aragorn asked, completely baffled.
"No, it's . . . oh no . . ." Legolas had suddenly recognized the second voice, and he dearly wished that he hadn't.
"TALLYHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEE!" A figure came swinging down the cliff towards the huddled company. With a large spray of snow, Nigel Pivington Jones landed right in front of Legolas and immediately brandished a sword at him. "We meet again, scurvy cur! Prepare to be annihilated!"
"Who is that?" Gandalf asked. Platy poked her head out of Legolas's collar.
"Nigel!" She barked, and the man started guiltily, hastily sheathing the sword in his belt. "Where did you get that?!"
"I, er . . ." he shuffled uncomfortably.
"Did you steal it??" Platy was glaring at Nigel with pure murder in her little beady eyes.
"I didn't steal it, exactly," Nigel said, hedging. "I sort of . . . you know . . . borrowed it . . . without exactly . . . asking permission."
"And without intending to return it! Dammit, Nigel!!" Legolas could feel Platy shaking with rage. Gandalf and the rest of the fellowship were watching this exchange with complete bafflement on all of their faces. Platy sighed. "You listen to me, Nigel! You are going to come with us, and you are going to behave yourself, understand?"
An obstinate spark flared briefly in Nigel's eyes. "Or you'll what?"
"I'll delete you!" Platy snapped, and Nigel gasped and staggered backwards as if he had been physically struck. "So help me, God, I'll delete you where you stand!!"
"You wouldn't!" Nigel cried, white as the surrounding blizzard.
"Try me," Platy said dangerously. Nigel gulped.
At that moment, a blast of lightening struck the cliff above them, sending a cascade of snow down on their heads. Legolas dug himself out in a matter of moments. Platy pointed eagerly to a rectangular object poking out of the snow.
"Grab it! Get it, quick!" More than a bit confused, Legolas picked up the object. It was a book. Legolas frowned. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkhaban? Platy laughed aloud. "Ha! Put that in your pack, and make sure that Nigel never gets it! This'll simplify things!"
Nigel was the last one to emerge from the snow. He was curled up in the fetal position, whimpering when they found him.
"I've been deleted! Oh, no, I never thought she'd really do it . . ." he moaned to himself.
"Pull yourself together!" Platy whacked Nigel lightly on his safari hat. "I didn't delete you . . . yet. I may change my mind!"
"I'm not gone?" Nigel picked himself up and patted his torso gingerly. "Why, I'm still all here! Huzzah! Nigel Pivington Jones triumphs once again!" Nigel pumped his fists ecstatically into the air.
~*~
After some discussion, the company had turned back and left the mountain. As soon as it was warm enough for Platy's taste, she hopped down and walked herself. When the fellowship stopped for a break, she confronted Nigel.
"Let's have a look at that sword, then," she said. Nigel whipped it out and waved it around, enjoying the whooshing noise that it made. Platy watched him for a minute with something like amusement, then frowned. "Wait . . . stop swinging it." Nigel obeyed, much to Legolas's surprise. Platy's frowned deepened. "Nigel," she said in a dangerously light voice, "can you read?"
"Of course I can read!" Nigel looked offended. "I will have you know that I-"
"Read what it says on that sword," Platy ordered. Legolas could see her turning red under her fur, and was suddenly, forcefully reminded of one of Gandalf's fireworks.
"It says," Nigel frowned for a moment, "RODNIFFYRG CIRDOG."
"GODRIC GRYFFINDOR, you TWIT!!" Platy shouted in apoplectic rage. "YOU STOLE THE SWORD OF GODRIC GRYFFINDOR!!! DAMMIT, NIGEL!!!"
"Is this Gryffindor person still alive?" Nigel asked nervously. Platy shook her head, too angry to speak. Nigel brightened. "Well, then, he won't be coming back to claim it, will he?" He sheathed the sword with a flourish.
"You . . . idiot . . ." Platy said quietly, voice trembling with rage. "You *idiot*!"
"There's no need to call people names," Nigel said primly, and Legolas snorted.
"If I didn't have to watch you," Platy grumbled, "I'd take that back right now. Unfortunately." she sighed heavily. "Do you realize how much easier things would be if I deleted you, Nigel? A whole lot easier, that's how much!"
"That's a bit hard, isn't it?" Nigel looked hurt, and then smiled in a manner that he probably thought was winning. "I'm Nigel Pivington Jones! I spread cheer wherever I go!"
"You're confusing yourself with Santa Clause," Platy said bitterly, then stormed off to sit on a rock.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Nigel's back! Huzzah! Look at the little periwinkle button down and to your left! You want to press the button . . . you're being irresistibly drawn to the purty periwinkle button . . . press it . . . you know you want to . . .
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter three: A monstrous time jump, and Nigel returns!
The cruel winds of Caradhras whipped snow and sleet through the air, driving it through the cloaks of the nine figures struggling up the mountain. The tenth figure was curled up in a miserable ball inside Legolas's shirt. Platy hated the cold.
Legolas honestly hadn't meant for things to get so far. When he had been summoned to Elrond's council, Platy had begged to come along, and Legolas had steadfastly refused. The fact that Platy seemed to think that her best chance of finding Nigel lied in tagging along with Legolas was something that the elf found very disconcerting. He had been secretly hoping that the whole issue would somehow resolve itself while he was away, and he would never have to deal with that lunatic again. Platy had seemed to give up, and Legolas was feeling pretty good overall. Halfway to Rivendell, he discovered Platy curled up in his pack, shedding on his best robes and snoring uproariously. It had been too late to turn back, so he had begrudgingly allowed her to accompany him to Rivendell. He forbid her from going to the council meeting, and, much to his surprise, she stayed away.
"It's cool," she had said casually, waving a hand, "I don't need to be there." Legolas should have been more suspicious and less grateful. And he *definitely* shouldn't have trusted her when she said that she'd happily remain behind in Rivendell. As it turned out, she snuck into his pack once again (this time shedding on his best cloak). By the time he found her it was too late, and he had no choice but to let her accompany the fellowship, most of whom, to Legolas's great annoyance, found her "cute," and rather enjoyed her company.
Unfortunately, there was nothing at all cute or enjoyable about their current situation. Legolas stepped forward, listening hard.
"There is a fell voice on the air," he commented, frowning.
"It's Saruman!" Gandalf shouted over the wind.
"Wait . . ." Legolas's scowl deepened. "There is more than one."
"Does Saruman have an apprentice?" Aragorn asked, completely baffled.
"No, it's . . . oh no . . ." Legolas had suddenly recognized the second voice, and he dearly wished that he hadn't.
"TALLYHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEE!" A figure came swinging down the cliff towards the huddled company. With a large spray of snow, Nigel Pivington Jones landed right in front of Legolas and immediately brandished a sword at him. "We meet again, scurvy cur! Prepare to be annihilated!"
"Who is that?" Gandalf asked. Platy poked her head out of Legolas's collar.
"Nigel!" She barked, and the man started guiltily, hastily sheathing the sword in his belt. "Where did you get that?!"
"I, er . . ." he shuffled uncomfortably.
"Did you steal it??" Platy was glaring at Nigel with pure murder in her little beady eyes.
"I didn't steal it, exactly," Nigel said, hedging. "I sort of . . . you know . . . borrowed it . . . without exactly . . . asking permission."
"And without intending to return it! Dammit, Nigel!!" Legolas could feel Platy shaking with rage. Gandalf and the rest of the fellowship were watching this exchange with complete bafflement on all of their faces. Platy sighed. "You listen to me, Nigel! You are going to come with us, and you are going to behave yourself, understand?"
An obstinate spark flared briefly in Nigel's eyes. "Or you'll what?"
"I'll delete you!" Platy snapped, and Nigel gasped and staggered backwards as if he had been physically struck. "So help me, God, I'll delete you where you stand!!"
"You wouldn't!" Nigel cried, white as the surrounding blizzard.
"Try me," Platy said dangerously. Nigel gulped.
At that moment, a blast of lightening struck the cliff above them, sending a cascade of snow down on their heads. Legolas dug himself out in a matter of moments. Platy pointed eagerly to a rectangular object poking out of the snow.
"Grab it! Get it, quick!" More than a bit confused, Legolas picked up the object. It was a book. Legolas frowned. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkhaban? Platy laughed aloud. "Ha! Put that in your pack, and make sure that Nigel never gets it! This'll simplify things!"
Nigel was the last one to emerge from the snow. He was curled up in the fetal position, whimpering when they found him.
"I've been deleted! Oh, no, I never thought she'd really do it . . ." he moaned to himself.
"Pull yourself together!" Platy whacked Nigel lightly on his safari hat. "I didn't delete you . . . yet. I may change my mind!"
"I'm not gone?" Nigel picked himself up and patted his torso gingerly. "Why, I'm still all here! Huzzah! Nigel Pivington Jones triumphs once again!" Nigel pumped his fists ecstatically into the air.
~*~
After some discussion, the company had turned back and left the mountain. As soon as it was warm enough for Platy's taste, she hopped down and walked herself. When the fellowship stopped for a break, she confronted Nigel.
"Let's have a look at that sword, then," she said. Nigel whipped it out and waved it around, enjoying the whooshing noise that it made. Platy watched him for a minute with something like amusement, then frowned. "Wait . . . stop swinging it." Nigel obeyed, much to Legolas's surprise. Platy's frowned deepened. "Nigel," she said in a dangerously light voice, "can you read?"
"Of course I can read!" Nigel looked offended. "I will have you know that I-"
"Read what it says on that sword," Platy ordered. Legolas could see her turning red under her fur, and was suddenly, forcefully reminded of one of Gandalf's fireworks.
"It says," Nigel frowned for a moment, "RODNIFFYRG CIRDOG."
"GODRIC GRYFFINDOR, you TWIT!!" Platy shouted in apoplectic rage. "YOU STOLE THE SWORD OF GODRIC GRYFFINDOR!!! DAMMIT, NIGEL!!!"
"Is this Gryffindor person still alive?" Nigel asked nervously. Platy shook her head, too angry to speak. Nigel brightened. "Well, then, he won't be coming back to claim it, will he?" He sheathed the sword with a flourish.
"You . . . idiot . . ." Platy said quietly, voice trembling with rage. "You *idiot*!"
"There's no need to call people names," Nigel said primly, and Legolas snorted.
"If I didn't have to watch you," Platy grumbled, "I'd take that back right now. Unfortunately." she sighed heavily. "Do you realize how much easier things would be if I deleted you, Nigel? A whole lot easier, that's how much!"
"That's a bit hard, isn't it?" Nigel looked hurt, and then smiled in a manner that he probably thought was winning. "I'm Nigel Pivington Jones! I spread cheer wherever I go!"
"You're confusing yourself with Santa Clause," Platy said bitterly, then stormed off to sit on a rock.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Nigel's back! Huzzah! Look at the little periwinkle button down and to your left! You want to press the button . . . you're being irresistibly drawn to the purty periwinkle button . . . press it . . . you know you want to . . .