Author's Note
Wheee!!!!! Lord of the Rings won Best pic and Best Director and Best Soundtrack and Best Song from a Movie!!! Yay! We're gonna win the Oscar this year! Thank you so much my few faithful reviewers! Especially to GoGotorturegirlYeah! (I think that's right?) You're awesome! This part isn't going to be as exciting. Just some reflections. I don't own Merry or Pippin or Boromir or the orcs..Not that I would want to own any orcs.
"It may be that the ones we call foolish are in fact the heroes we wish to be"
A fool. Fool, fool, fool. All his life he'd heard those words.
"Foolish hobbit" they'd say. A fool of a Took.
Apparently you weren't supposed to touch nasty skeletons that sit on the edge of wells. Because they will fall in and bring an army of goblins up out of the depths, and other menacing creatures that he couldn't name.
And so, for a while, they had lost Gandalf. Had Gandalf been with them when the Uruk Hai attacked, Boromir probably wouldn't have died.
Boromir. The one brave thing he had done to save Frodo had led to the death of another.
Three arrows in the chest. And how would he forget the pain written in the man's face. The hopeless despair he knew so well when he heard him blow the horn of Gondor in a cry for help.
They must have gotten there to late. He didn't know. He and Merry were carried away, struggling. Their antics of escape only amusing the orcs.
Their universe from there on out seemed only to consist of running. And when they fell, too exhausted to even think, they were thrown over the shoulder of some unmerciful orc and carried until they could run again.
They would stop at night, but he and Merry could never seem to find time to speak. And besides, it was forbidden. But he never stopped thinking of Merry. It sort of carried him through everything.
At night, the orcs would fight; they'd kill their opponents, jealous in their stupidity. Then the air would reek of burning orc, when the bodies were thrown on the fire. Various parts sometimes pulled off the charred bodies and eaten, for lack of better food.
But then came the night they finally were freed. Blessed be the name of the Riders of Rohan forever.
They made their way into the Fangorn Forest. Tired, weary, but nonetheless free.
And there they met Treebeard. And made a choice.
A choice that led to the destruction of Isengard, and marked them as part of the war forever. A choice of simply deciding the direction in which they wanted to travel.
A choice that for once wasn't foolish.
Wheee!!!!! Lord of the Rings won Best pic and Best Director and Best Soundtrack and Best Song from a Movie!!! Yay! We're gonna win the Oscar this year! Thank you so much my few faithful reviewers! Especially to GoGotorturegirlYeah! (I think that's right?) You're awesome! This part isn't going to be as exciting. Just some reflections. I don't own Merry or Pippin or Boromir or the orcs..Not that I would want to own any orcs.
"It may be that the ones we call foolish are in fact the heroes we wish to be"
A fool. Fool, fool, fool. All his life he'd heard those words.
"Foolish hobbit" they'd say. A fool of a Took.
Apparently you weren't supposed to touch nasty skeletons that sit on the edge of wells. Because they will fall in and bring an army of goblins up out of the depths, and other menacing creatures that he couldn't name.
And so, for a while, they had lost Gandalf. Had Gandalf been with them when the Uruk Hai attacked, Boromir probably wouldn't have died.
Boromir. The one brave thing he had done to save Frodo had led to the death of another.
Three arrows in the chest. And how would he forget the pain written in the man's face. The hopeless despair he knew so well when he heard him blow the horn of Gondor in a cry for help.
They must have gotten there to late. He didn't know. He and Merry were carried away, struggling. Their antics of escape only amusing the orcs.
Their universe from there on out seemed only to consist of running. And when they fell, too exhausted to even think, they were thrown over the shoulder of some unmerciful orc and carried until they could run again.
They would stop at night, but he and Merry could never seem to find time to speak. And besides, it was forbidden. But he never stopped thinking of Merry. It sort of carried him through everything.
At night, the orcs would fight; they'd kill their opponents, jealous in their stupidity. Then the air would reek of burning orc, when the bodies were thrown on the fire. Various parts sometimes pulled off the charred bodies and eaten, for lack of better food.
But then came the night they finally were freed. Blessed be the name of the Riders of Rohan forever.
They made their way into the Fangorn Forest. Tired, weary, but nonetheless free.
And there they met Treebeard. And made a choice.
A choice that led to the destruction of Isengard, and marked them as part of the war forever. A choice of simply deciding the direction in which they wanted to travel.
A choice that for once wasn't foolish.