A/N: Is that what I need to do to get reviews? Beg? Do I only get reviews
when I cry and plead? Have I no dignity? Why is everything a question?
Can I stop? Okay. But, yeah, y'all only review when I beseech you in the
most pitiful way imaginable---otherwise, you just shrug and don't give me
feedback. You're mean. But I love you anyways.
Disclaimers: So, you think this is true. You think that elves and talking rings and dwarves and animated flaming eyeballs and whatnot really *do* exist, and are running around secretly, and I own them. Okay then. Time for your meds now.
Chapter 11: The Beginning of a Long and Pointless Walk ~ ~ ~
Before we left, Bilbo also gave Frodo a sword named after that blond British singer...you know, the old one who used to sing for The Police before going off and being huge all by himself? Whatsisname, um...oh yeah! Sting. Yeah. So now Frodo has a sword that glows in the dark and is named after a late-eighties popstar. Which isn't actually so bad, I guess, considering how Aragorn lovingly names all his swords, and I've heard Gandalf call his pointy hat "Carmelita."
Boromir drew the short straw and had the unpleasant task prying Legolas and Aragorn out of their bed. The horny bastard probably videotaped them. We managed to start off without too much of a hassle, though---no embarrassing melodramatics or injuries. There was a bit of feather-ruffling over the order we would walk in, though. Gandalf just *had* to be the leader, and neither Boromir nor Gimli liked that too much. Aragorn didn't want Boromir walking behind his elf, since he figured (quite correctly) the human would perv on that fine piece of elvish ass. Similarly, Pippin and Merry suspected Sam might perv on Frodo, and the little pony named Bill begged and pleaded to not be the last in line. I suggested that we avoid confrontation by scrapping the line formation. Did anyone listen? Hmmmph. Why do I still bother to voice my brilliant ideas, when no one listens? Oh, I know---because if it weren't for me, we wouldn't even *have* ideas. Stupid Fellowship.
Eventually, everything was sorted out, and we went on our merry way. Apparently, we were to travel for forty days until we hit the Misty Mountains. That's what the maps say. But seeing as it took us a day just to get going, I figured "travel for 20000000000000000 days until we kill each other" is a more accurate description.
We wandered up a bunch of hills, and down a bunch of hills. Up some more hills, and down more hills. Around some hills, and through some bushes. Up more hills. Down more hills. Through some puddles, and up yet another hill. I was willing to bet a body part that we were lost, but Mr. Outdoorsy Aragorn was just having the time of his life. Gawd, I hate him. Mr. Fuckin' "look at me! I can walk for miles without breaking a sweat!" Strider, the fuckin' "watch my hair stay wet, even though you're all dry and the Sun would've dried it!" Elfstone. And his damn elf, flitting and nancing around without the slightest care, because he's an elf, and elves don't need water or food or sleep---they just need their annoying Ranger boyfriends to be happy, and they're complete. Excuse me while I gag.
At least my Fellowship (that's right, "Fellowship of the Ring"...as in, *my* Fellowship---I own it) is a group of people who can't get along, and are therefore muchly entertaining. It's like having one of those reality TV shows live and uncensored in front of your eyes 24/7. Non-stop. Alright, now that I think about it, it's kinda on the annoying side, but I digress. The point is, all sorts of interesting conflicts and alliances seem to be developing on a daily basis. Okay, well, to be perfectly honest, the conflicts-to-alliance ratio is like 762-to-1, but hey, more fights equals more fun. Really.
Take Gimli, for example. The skunk is like *this close* to lynching Legolas in his sleep. Joke's on him, though, because really, do Legolas and Aragorn ever sleep?
And then there's Sam. He has got it for Frodo so bad, but Frodo's like all business now. Very serious, "bearer of the Ring," no time for play, must carry burden (I'm not, dammit!). Sam had a very slim chance before, but now no one can get at Frodo. So sexual frustration combine with the plain fact that he's a jerk, and what do you get? Something very hard to live with. Somebody is going to kill him quietly at any given moment now.
And Boromir? Don't even get me started on him. What a loser. He's still hung up on me---I mean, I can understand why, because everyone wants me, but still... And he's always picking fights with everyone but Pippin and Merry. I'd watch out if I were them, because good ol' Boromir seems to have a little thing for them. ... Ew...
Gandalf held himself quietly removed from all the conflicts at first, but it's starting to become apparent that he's just a bitter old man. He's jealous of Legolas's looks and Aragorn's ::ahem:: *stamina*. He wants his beard to curl like Gimli's. He wants to get closer to Frodo, but Sam's already there. He wants to have a Horn like Boromir's. He really really wants Merry and Pippin to shut the hell up.
So yes, things are turning out to be mighty interesting indeed. No wonder Lord Elrond doesn't have much faith in the Fellowship's success. He's already got everything set to send all his children and furniture and pretty purple dresses and anything else he holds dear to some foreign land in case my Fellowship fails. To kill me, by the way. Can't let you forget that. ::sigh::
After several weeks of *absolutely pointless wandering,* we climbed onto a rocky hill slightly bigger than all the other hills we'd climbed. The mountains on the horizon were suddenly not on the horizon, but much, much closer. Those had better be the Misty Mountains we're aiming for. Anyhow, we climbed onto this one hill that's a tad higher than the others, and Aragorn happily announces that this is where we will set up camp tonight. And sleep by an open fire under the starry sky, on the cold hard ground with bugs crawling up our asses. Whee, fun. Legolas bounced off to collect firewood, and Aragorn went with him. They won't be back for a while. Sam rolled out his and Frodo's bed, no doubt wishing they were sharing the same bed. Gimli went off to sulk about the fact that Legolas is still alive, Gandalf went off to smoke, and Boromir talked Pippin and Merry into practicing swords with him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ TBC
Disclaimers: So, you think this is true. You think that elves and talking rings and dwarves and animated flaming eyeballs and whatnot really *do* exist, and are running around secretly, and I own them. Okay then. Time for your meds now.
Chapter 11: The Beginning of a Long and Pointless Walk ~ ~ ~
Before we left, Bilbo also gave Frodo a sword named after that blond British singer...you know, the old one who used to sing for The Police before going off and being huge all by himself? Whatsisname, um...oh yeah! Sting. Yeah. So now Frodo has a sword that glows in the dark and is named after a late-eighties popstar. Which isn't actually so bad, I guess, considering how Aragorn lovingly names all his swords, and I've heard Gandalf call his pointy hat "Carmelita."
Boromir drew the short straw and had the unpleasant task prying Legolas and Aragorn out of their bed. The horny bastard probably videotaped them. We managed to start off without too much of a hassle, though---no embarrassing melodramatics or injuries. There was a bit of feather-ruffling over the order we would walk in, though. Gandalf just *had* to be the leader, and neither Boromir nor Gimli liked that too much. Aragorn didn't want Boromir walking behind his elf, since he figured (quite correctly) the human would perv on that fine piece of elvish ass. Similarly, Pippin and Merry suspected Sam might perv on Frodo, and the little pony named Bill begged and pleaded to not be the last in line. I suggested that we avoid confrontation by scrapping the line formation. Did anyone listen? Hmmmph. Why do I still bother to voice my brilliant ideas, when no one listens? Oh, I know---because if it weren't for me, we wouldn't even *have* ideas. Stupid Fellowship.
Eventually, everything was sorted out, and we went on our merry way. Apparently, we were to travel for forty days until we hit the Misty Mountains. That's what the maps say. But seeing as it took us a day just to get going, I figured "travel for 20000000000000000 days until we kill each other" is a more accurate description.
We wandered up a bunch of hills, and down a bunch of hills. Up some more hills, and down more hills. Around some hills, and through some bushes. Up more hills. Down more hills. Through some puddles, and up yet another hill. I was willing to bet a body part that we were lost, but Mr. Outdoorsy Aragorn was just having the time of his life. Gawd, I hate him. Mr. Fuckin' "look at me! I can walk for miles without breaking a sweat!" Strider, the fuckin' "watch my hair stay wet, even though you're all dry and the Sun would've dried it!" Elfstone. And his damn elf, flitting and nancing around without the slightest care, because he's an elf, and elves don't need water or food or sleep---they just need their annoying Ranger boyfriends to be happy, and they're complete. Excuse me while I gag.
At least my Fellowship (that's right, "Fellowship of the Ring"...as in, *my* Fellowship---I own it) is a group of people who can't get along, and are therefore muchly entertaining. It's like having one of those reality TV shows live and uncensored in front of your eyes 24/7. Non-stop. Alright, now that I think about it, it's kinda on the annoying side, but I digress. The point is, all sorts of interesting conflicts and alliances seem to be developing on a daily basis. Okay, well, to be perfectly honest, the conflicts-to-alliance ratio is like 762-to-1, but hey, more fights equals more fun. Really.
Take Gimli, for example. The skunk is like *this close* to lynching Legolas in his sleep. Joke's on him, though, because really, do Legolas and Aragorn ever sleep?
And then there's Sam. He has got it for Frodo so bad, but Frodo's like all business now. Very serious, "bearer of the Ring," no time for play, must carry burden (I'm not, dammit!). Sam had a very slim chance before, but now no one can get at Frodo. So sexual frustration combine with the plain fact that he's a jerk, and what do you get? Something very hard to live with. Somebody is going to kill him quietly at any given moment now.
And Boromir? Don't even get me started on him. What a loser. He's still hung up on me---I mean, I can understand why, because everyone wants me, but still... And he's always picking fights with everyone but Pippin and Merry. I'd watch out if I were them, because good ol' Boromir seems to have a little thing for them. ... Ew...
Gandalf held himself quietly removed from all the conflicts at first, but it's starting to become apparent that he's just a bitter old man. He's jealous of Legolas's looks and Aragorn's ::ahem:: *stamina*. He wants his beard to curl like Gimli's. He wants to get closer to Frodo, but Sam's already there. He wants to have a Horn like Boromir's. He really really wants Merry and Pippin to shut the hell up.
So yes, things are turning out to be mighty interesting indeed. No wonder Lord Elrond doesn't have much faith in the Fellowship's success. He's already got everything set to send all his children and furniture and pretty purple dresses and anything else he holds dear to some foreign land in case my Fellowship fails. To kill me, by the way. Can't let you forget that. ::sigh::
After several weeks of *absolutely pointless wandering,* we climbed onto a rocky hill slightly bigger than all the other hills we'd climbed. The mountains on the horizon were suddenly not on the horizon, but much, much closer. Those had better be the Misty Mountains we're aiming for. Anyhow, we climbed onto this one hill that's a tad higher than the others, and Aragorn happily announces that this is where we will set up camp tonight. And sleep by an open fire under the starry sky, on the cold hard ground with bugs crawling up our asses. Whee, fun. Legolas bounced off to collect firewood, and Aragorn went with him. They won't be back for a while. Sam rolled out his and Frodo's bed, no doubt wishing they were sharing the same bed. Gimli went off to sulk about the fact that Legolas is still alive, Gandalf went off to smoke, and Boromir talked Pippin and Merry into practicing swords with him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ TBC