A/N: Whooo! We are officially over 40 reviews!!! Do you know how happy
that makes me? ::noisily kisses each and every one of you:: Muuuaaaaah!
A note to biisis- actually, yeah, you can make suggestions, because I'm
constantly rewriting chapters; it's all in rough point-form until it's
typed and posted. Note to orlyluvr- thank you for your diligent loyalty,
but the Assistant wasn't insulting me; she was replying to another
reviewer. Note to everyone- THANKS A MILLION!!! I ::heart:: u.
Disclaimers: I am becoming more and more convinced that JRR Tolkien is the owner of the LOTR universe, not me. It's weird, but I can't seem to shake that feeling.
Chapter 6: Going to the Elf Place ~ ~ ~
#2's hand shot out the second the word left my...Look, I'm not very good with ring anatomy, so let's just say mouth, alright? The second I said "Three," he reached out quickly. Too quickly. Those Ringwraiths have always been a little klutzy, and #2's no exception. "Um, oops?" he offered.
"This isn't gonna go over well with the wet ranger dude, is it?" another Ringwraith asked, coming up to us. See, #2, in his haste, had sorta let his hand slip, and now Frodo was a little impaled through the shoulder.
Strider ran over and buried a torch into #2's face. Nope, this most definitely isn't gonna go over well with the wet ranger dude. Not at all. After several minutes of Strider going all pyro on the Ringwraiths, he worked off enough stress to come over and check on our favourite little hobbit muffin. Sam, who seemed to be taking all this as an excuse to put his grubby little hands all over Frodo, grudgingly moved away when Strider shoved at him insistently.
"A Morgul blade!" Strider announced dramatically.
He received four clueless stares and a "I don't really care what it is, it just fuckin' hurts!"
"Right. Um, look, that sword was magical. Got that? Okay. And Frodo's going to be in some serious trouble if we don't haul ass to Rivendell, where the elves can cure him. Do you understand? Is this concept clear to you?" he enunciated with just a touch of a patronizing air. My, my, is our dear Strider already annoyed with the innocent ignorance of the hobbits? Frodo, through his haze of pain, shot him a glare. Strider sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry. Everything's going to be okay, don't worry, blah blah comfort blah. Let's just go to Rivendell, okay?" He is so whipped.
Oh yay, more running through the wet woods, this time in the dark. Only one of us is enjoying this nighttime excursion, and it's not me, Pippin, Merry, Sam, or Frodo. Go figure. Frodo started getting a fever along the way, and I'll admit that even I started to feel a twinge of sympathy for him. I'm still pissed that he blew me off for a damp dirtbag, but the dammit, he's such a cute little bit of hobbit that it's hard to hold a grudge against him.
Strider finally stopped his happy tramping to make an astute observation. "Frodo's sick." Yeah, no shit. Do something about it. "C'mon Sam. Let's go wade through moss and puddles to look for a weed that looks like any other weed." Oooookay, not quite what I had in mind, but if it gets Sam's wandering hands away from Frodo, I won't complain.
I settled down for some rest, and was just about asleep when Strider came back with a weed and a look that said, "I don't know what this is nor what I'm doing, but let's hope for the best, shall we?"
Frodo gave him a scared look in return. Before he could get up and run away, though, a pretty elf lady stepped out from behind Strider and blabbed something in pig-Latin. Frodo blinked. Strider cleared his throat. "Hey, look who I ran into! This is Arwen, one of---er, I mean, my one and only, girlfriend. Funny how things turn out, huh? Now she can take Frodo to Rivendell while we frolic around in the forest some more!" he told us all. The three other hobbits shot each other panicked looks while I thanked my gods that I get to go with Frodo. If I had a tongue, I would've stuck it out at Sam.
I was starting to regret being chained to Frodo's neck, however, when the pig-Latin-speaking elf lady started riding. Screw the wind; that Arwen rides like a fuckin' tornado. I know that Frodo needs emergency medical attention and all, but it's not going to help any if your horse spontaneously combusts under us. I expressed those sentiments out loud, and she muttered "Shut up, evil Ring. This is all your fault in the first place."
"*My* fault?! Sauron's the one who started all this, Isildur's the one who continued it, and you're the one who's riding this horse so hard it's foaming at the mouth. Don't you start blaming me for all your problems!"
Ha. That shut her up. "Yeah? Well, well, well I'm the spoiled daughter of the great lord Elrond! Beat that!"
Oh no you didn't. Did you just start the haughtily-proud game with me? I'll have you know that I am the champion of that game. "I'm the single most cherished possession of Sauron, the strongest power on the face of the planet. Bite me."
"So? I've got more---" The game would have gone on forever if the Ringwraiths didn't show up at that moment.
"Guys! You're alive!" I shouted. Larry grumbled something about Sauron working them like slaves, not letting them have a break even for reason of third-degree burns. Arwen spurred her horse on faster, and dude, how can anything with a pulse run this fast? Anyhow, outrunning the Ringwraiths wasn't really what I wanted to do at the moment, so I discreetly sent the horse some subliminal messages to slow down, hoping that Arwen wouldn't notice. She didn't notice, and neither did the horse. We ran, ran, ran, then soared over a rapid stream gracefully. Da~amn, I'm telling you, this thing is like a SuperHorse, with radioactive super powers or something. The snorting, twitchy, black horses of the Ringwraiths weren't blessed with such powers, and landed not quite over the river. Well, replace "not quite" with "smack dab," and "over" with "in the middle of." Yeah. That's the idea.
The Black Riders were washed away by a wave of water, and I heard Larry sigh, "Ahhh, so soothing on the burns," before they flooded away from sight, which lead me to be suspicious about the accidental nature of the tumble into the stream. I wasn't given too long to dwell on that, though, because I had something else to worry about. We were now at the elf place. The largest known population of people who can't die and want me dead. Life blows.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ TBC
Disclaimers: I am becoming more and more convinced that JRR Tolkien is the owner of the LOTR universe, not me. It's weird, but I can't seem to shake that feeling.
Chapter 6: Going to the Elf Place ~ ~ ~
#2's hand shot out the second the word left my...Look, I'm not very good with ring anatomy, so let's just say mouth, alright? The second I said "Three," he reached out quickly. Too quickly. Those Ringwraiths have always been a little klutzy, and #2's no exception. "Um, oops?" he offered.
"This isn't gonna go over well with the wet ranger dude, is it?" another Ringwraith asked, coming up to us. See, #2, in his haste, had sorta let his hand slip, and now Frodo was a little impaled through the shoulder.
Strider ran over and buried a torch into #2's face. Nope, this most definitely isn't gonna go over well with the wet ranger dude. Not at all. After several minutes of Strider going all pyro on the Ringwraiths, he worked off enough stress to come over and check on our favourite little hobbit muffin. Sam, who seemed to be taking all this as an excuse to put his grubby little hands all over Frodo, grudgingly moved away when Strider shoved at him insistently.
"A Morgul blade!" Strider announced dramatically.
He received four clueless stares and a "I don't really care what it is, it just fuckin' hurts!"
"Right. Um, look, that sword was magical. Got that? Okay. And Frodo's going to be in some serious trouble if we don't haul ass to Rivendell, where the elves can cure him. Do you understand? Is this concept clear to you?" he enunciated with just a touch of a patronizing air. My, my, is our dear Strider already annoyed with the innocent ignorance of the hobbits? Frodo, through his haze of pain, shot him a glare. Strider sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry. Everything's going to be okay, don't worry, blah blah comfort blah. Let's just go to Rivendell, okay?" He is so whipped.
Oh yay, more running through the wet woods, this time in the dark. Only one of us is enjoying this nighttime excursion, and it's not me, Pippin, Merry, Sam, or Frodo. Go figure. Frodo started getting a fever along the way, and I'll admit that even I started to feel a twinge of sympathy for him. I'm still pissed that he blew me off for a damp dirtbag, but the dammit, he's such a cute little bit of hobbit that it's hard to hold a grudge against him.
Strider finally stopped his happy tramping to make an astute observation. "Frodo's sick." Yeah, no shit. Do something about it. "C'mon Sam. Let's go wade through moss and puddles to look for a weed that looks like any other weed." Oooookay, not quite what I had in mind, but if it gets Sam's wandering hands away from Frodo, I won't complain.
I settled down for some rest, and was just about asleep when Strider came back with a weed and a look that said, "I don't know what this is nor what I'm doing, but let's hope for the best, shall we?"
Frodo gave him a scared look in return. Before he could get up and run away, though, a pretty elf lady stepped out from behind Strider and blabbed something in pig-Latin. Frodo blinked. Strider cleared his throat. "Hey, look who I ran into! This is Arwen, one of---er, I mean, my one and only, girlfriend. Funny how things turn out, huh? Now she can take Frodo to Rivendell while we frolic around in the forest some more!" he told us all. The three other hobbits shot each other panicked looks while I thanked my gods that I get to go with Frodo. If I had a tongue, I would've stuck it out at Sam.
I was starting to regret being chained to Frodo's neck, however, when the pig-Latin-speaking elf lady started riding. Screw the wind; that Arwen rides like a fuckin' tornado. I know that Frodo needs emergency medical attention and all, but it's not going to help any if your horse spontaneously combusts under us. I expressed those sentiments out loud, and she muttered "Shut up, evil Ring. This is all your fault in the first place."
"*My* fault?! Sauron's the one who started all this, Isildur's the one who continued it, and you're the one who's riding this horse so hard it's foaming at the mouth. Don't you start blaming me for all your problems!"
Ha. That shut her up. "Yeah? Well, well, well I'm the spoiled daughter of the great lord Elrond! Beat that!"
Oh no you didn't. Did you just start the haughtily-proud game with me? I'll have you know that I am the champion of that game. "I'm the single most cherished possession of Sauron, the strongest power on the face of the planet. Bite me."
"So? I've got more---" The game would have gone on forever if the Ringwraiths didn't show up at that moment.
"Guys! You're alive!" I shouted. Larry grumbled something about Sauron working them like slaves, not letting them have a break even for reason of third-degree burns. Arwen spurred her horse on faster, and dude, how can anything with a pulse run this fast? Anyhow, outrunning the Ringwraiths wasn't really what I wanted to do at the moment, so I discreetly sent the horse some subliminal messages to slow down, hoping that Arwen wouldn't notice. She didn't notice, and neither did the horse. We ran, ran, ran, then soared over a rapid stream gracefully. Da~amn, I'm telling you, this thing is like a SuperHorse, with radioactive super powers or something. The snorting, twitchy, black horses of the Ringwraiths weren't blessed with such powers, and landed not quite over the river. Well, replace "not quite" with "smack dab," and "over" with "in the middle of." Yeah. That's the idea.
The Black Riders were washed away by a wave of water, and I heard Larry sigh, "Ahhh, so soothing on the burns," before they flooded away from sight, which lead me to be suspicious about the accidental nature of the tumble into the stream. I wasn't given too long to dwell on that, though, because I had something else to worry about. We were now at the elf place. The largest known population of people who can't die and want me dead. Life blows.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ TBC