A/N: The updates are getting kinda infrequent, but I have a stupid cold
that makes it hard to do anything but sleep. That, and my midterms are
coming up. So, please, bear with me. I promise that longer chapters will
be put up more regularly once Valentine's Day rolls around. And thank you,
dear readers, for staying with the story!
Disclaimers: I don't own a damn thing. Except for all the things I do own, of course, which just makes this disclaimer about as clear as mud. Consider it an IQ test. If you aren't smart enough to sort out what I do own and what I do not own, then you aren't smart enough to understand the fic. Do yourself (and me) a favour and leave.
Chapter 3: A Bit Past the Beginning ~ ~ ~
On the way to Bree, my new love-interest/enemy and his sex slave crashed into two other short little men, and the poor things got dragged along for the ride. I seriously feel ssoooooooo sorry for Merry and Pippin, seeing as how all they wanted was free vegatables, and what they got was a stupid and pointless journey instead.
Before I could voice my brilliant opinion, however, the annoying Nine Ringwraiths showed up in their ragged glory, screaming (silently, for dramatic effect) for my blood. Like, holy shit. Just because I had replaced them as Sauron's favourite plaything, and all those years ago, too. Those guys sure can hold a grudge. The midgets thought the Ringwraiths were after me for my "power", so they kept me safely hidden while they ran away. I wasn't about to complain. All four of them jumped under some huge ass tree root, and the Ringwraiths leaned very close, but missed us. Somehow. As one Ringwraith (I think it was Larry) loomed close, he muttered a long string of profanities and turned to his fellows, calling out "Dammit! Now we have to go tell Sauron that we missed them!" Go tell Sauron? But, but, but Sauron *died*! Right under my ass! Many many years ago! ...Um, didn't he? Crap, I should so have listened to Gandalf when he was prattling on about Sauron to Frodo.
Frodo and his boys ran to some river, and it's our good fortune that a raft just happened to be tied there. We jumped onto it, and the Ringwraiths backed off. Larry's blatant hydrophobia lead me to suspect he'd caught rabies. Rabies would certainly account for all the head-twitching, arm- flailing, and snarling that he does.
On the raft, Frodo explained to Merry and Pippin what Gandalf had told him. I tried to keep my cool---honest, I did! But I couldn't help spazzing a little, screaming "those are lies! All lies, you hear me? ALL LIES!!!!!!!!" because, well, they *were* all lies, excuse me if I lose my cool when people talk about their need to annihilate me. Frodo, damn him, looked at his friends with his frickin' huge doe-eyes and said solemnly, "Did you hear that? The Ring has Voice; such is its power. It can use persuasion so that even the strongest of men cannot but resist its call. We must destroy it for the Shire!" And his little hobbit friends responded with a patriotic "Hurrah!" Weeeeeeeell, I'll just be keeping my mouth shut now, if it's gonna dig me a deeper hole. Lucky thing I decided to keep my mouth shut just then, because that was when Frodo began to explain the whole Sauron thing.
Apparently, Mr. Manly Man wasn't such a weakling after all. Surprise, surprise. He crumpled, but his inner soul didn't. the fact that his inner soul came back to life and manifested itself as a giant flaming eyeball probably says something about his personality, but hey, it could be worse. I, personally, had always imagined his inner soul to be a giant flaming toilet plunger instead. But I digress. Anyhow, now that badass Sauron was (sort of) back, he wanted his pretty jewelry back. I was flattered by his devotion to me, especially since I'd been less than faithful to him. Still, why would he send the Ringwraiths for me? FedEx would have gotten me to him in twice the comfort and half the time. Besides, did he even have a finger anymore? Strange.
That night was proof that surprises don't come alone---they're always accompanied by others. The next surprise was the fact that we actually made it to the other side of the river without drowning. And here I thought the little raft wouldn't stand a chance against all the veggies Pip and Merry brought onboard. We all piled off the deceptively rundown- looking raft, which promptly drifted off to another harbour on the river, no doubt to be magically tied up and waiting for another stupid group on a stupid walk running from stupid Ringwraiths on their stupid black horses. Did I mention that it was raining? Rain makes me crabby.
We trekked along a muddy path to Bree in silence. You think hairy hobbit feet are ugly? You don't know ugly until you see hairy hobbit feet illuminated by the moon, mud squished between the toes, occasionally mushing an innocent little worm that crawled up from the ground to avoid drowning. Now *that* is ugly. Wait, no, I change my mind. The face that loomed over us when we reached the little town we were headed for, the old, wrinkly, wet, bearded, toothless, dripping face of the gatekeeper of Bree, so hideous that his/her gender was indistinguishable...*that* is ugly. My only consolation was that the face and the gates that opened after it questioned us signified our arrival at Bree. Finally, we could go meet Gandalf and get all this kill Al shit sorted out.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ TBC
Disclaimers: I don't own a damn thing. Except for all the things I do own, of course, which just makes this disclaimer about as clear as mud. Consider it an IQ test. If you aren't smart enough to sort out what I do own and what I do not own, then you aren't smart enough to understand the fic. Do yourself (and me) a favour and leave.
Chapter 3: A Bit Past the Beginning ~ ~ ~
On the way to Bree, my new love-interest/enemy and his sex slave crashed into two other short little men, and the poor things got dragged along for the ride. I seriously feel ssoooooooo sorry for Merry and Pippin, seeing as how all they wanted was free vegatables, and what they got was a stupid and pointless journey instead.
Before I could voice my brilliant opinion, however, the annoying Nine Ringwraiths showed up in their ragged glory, screaming (silently, for dramatic effect) for my blood. Like, holy shit. Just because I had replaced them as Sauron's favourite plaything, and all those years ago, too. Those guys sure can hold a grudge. The midgets thought the Ringwraiths were after me for my "power", so they kept me safely hidden while they ran away. I wasn't about to complain. All four of them jumped under some huge ass tree root, and the Ringwraiths leaned very close, but missed us. Somehow. As one Ringwraith (I think it was Larry) loomed close, he muttered a long string of profanities and turned to his fellows, calling out "Dammit! Now we have to go tell Sauron that we missed them!" Go tell Sauron? But, but, but Sauron *died*! Right under my ass! Many many years ago! ...Um, didn't he? Crap, I should so have listened to Gandalf when he was prattling on about Sauron to Frodo.
Frodo and his boys ran to some river, and it's our good fortune that a raft just happened to be tied there. We jumped onto it, and the Ringwraiths backed off. Larry's blatant hydrophobia lead me to suspect he'd caught rabies. Rabies would certainly account for all the head-twitching, arm- flailing, and snarling that he does.
On the raft, Frodo explained to Merry and Pippin what Gandalf had told him. I tried to keep my cool---honest, I did! But I couldn't help spazzing a little, screaming "those are lies! All lies, you hear me? ALL LIES!!!!!!!!" because, well, they *were* all lies, excuse me if I lose my cool when people talk about their need to annihilate me. Frodo, damn him, looked at his friends with his frickin' huge doe-eyes and said solemnly, "Did you hear that? The Ring has Voice; such is its power. It can use persuasion so that even the strongest of men cannot but resist its call. We must destroy it for the Shire!" And his little hobbit friends responded with a patriotic "Hurrah!" Weeeeeeeell, I'll just be keeping my mouth shut now, if it's gonna dig me a deeper hole. Lucky thing I decided to keep my mouth shut just then, because that was when Frodo began to explain the whole Sauron thing.
Apparently, Mr. Manly Man wasn't such a weakling after all. Surprise, surprise. He crumpled, but his inner soul didn't. the fact that his inner soul came back to life and manifested itself as a giant flaming eyeball probably says something about his personality, but hey, it could be worse. I, personally, had always imagined his inner soul to be a giant flaming toilet plunger instead. But I digress. Anyhow, now that badass Sauron was (sort of) back, he wanted his pretty jewelry back. I was flattered by his devotion to me, especially since I'd been less than faithful to him. Still, why would he send the Ringwraiths for me? FedEx would have gotten me to him in twice the comfort and half the time. Besides, did he even have a finger anymore? Strange.
That night was proof that surprises don't come alone---they're always accompanied by others. The next surprise was the fact that we actually made it to the other side of the river without drowning. And here I thought the little raft wouldn't stand a chance against all the veggies Pip and Merry brought onboard. We all piled off the deceptively rundown- looking raft, which promptly drifted off to another harbour on the river, no doubt to be magically tied up and waiting for another stupid group on a stupid walk running from stupid Ringwraiths on their stupid black horses. Did I mention that it was raining? Rain makes me crabby.
We trekked along a muddy path to Bree in silence. You think hairy hobbit feet are ugly? You don't know ugly until you see hairy hobbit feet illuminated by the moon, mud squished between the toes, occasionally mushing an innocent little worm that crawled up from the ground to avoid drowning. Now *that* is ugly. Wait, no, I change my mind. The face that loomed over us when we reached the little town we were headed for, the old, wrinkly, wet, bearded, toothless, dripping face of the gatekeeper of Bree, so hideous that his/her gender was indistinguishable...*that* is ugly. My only consolation was that the face and the gates that opened after it questioned us signified our arrival at Bree. Finally, we could go meet Gandalf and get all this kill Al shit sorted out.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ TBC