A/N: Next to no one reviewed the last chapter, aside from the ever-loyal
Paige Darke and biisis. Not even the assistant ::stern cough:: Rather
disappointing, I must say. Anyhow, as per biisis's request, I put in more
Al/Frodo interaction for this chapter. Now don't go getting the idea that
you can just request whatever you want to see in the story, and I'll put it
in. The only reasons I did it for her was 1) She's reviewed every single
chapter, 2) She's a friend, and 3) She plugs my fic! Yay!!!
**My apologies to everyone for the late update. If I presented my excuses, this chapter would get too long.**
Disclaimers: Okay, here's the thing. LOTR is obviously not mine. Because if I owned it, this would be posted under "Original Fiction" at fictionpress.net, instead of here, as *fan*fiction.
Chapter 18: Continuing the Long Underground Walk ~ ~ ~
Days we've been wandering around in this dank and cheerless abyss: 4. Number of times Merry and Pippin have sung "100 Bottles of Beer On the Wall": 85. Times we've stopped so old men and wet Rangers can have their smoking breaks: 16. Number of arguments between Legolas and Gimli: 765 413...and counting. Number of times Aragorn has threatened Boromir with either extreme bodily injury or death: 129. Number of baths and/or showers we have taken: 0. Zeeeeero. NONE. At all. Amount I would pay to be anywhere but here: *Absolutely limitless*.
Do you see what I'm getting at here?
God fucking dammit, whatever did I do to deserve this fate??? I am *this close* to killing myself, just to save us the journey. Because I cannot imagine being with these nine cretins a second longer, much less being with them all the way to Mt. Doom. At best, Mount Frickin' Doom is a month away. With our track record, it is at least several years away. But then I think about how happy Sam would be if I offed myself, and y'know, I just can't bear to give him that kind of satisfaction. Still, suicide is getting mighty tempting.
The only remote bit of entertainment I can get is by tormenting people. Yeah, that's my excuse. But hey, I'm an immortal ring with a short attention span...you gotta give me something to do, right? The person I'm currently amusing myself with is Legolas.
"I *am* not!"
Dude, ask around. You so are.
"I am most definitely not!!! I am not, by any means, 'swishy'."
Listen, stud-muffin. If you were any swishier, you'd be a windshield wiper.
"Excuse me?!" He paused to give a affronted gasp, slender hand clasped daintily in front of his mouth. Yeah. Reeeeeaaal manly.
You are. You are the poster boy for campy gayness that usually can only be found at nude art galleries and drag-queen contests. If swishiness wanted to assume shape and walk around as a living thing, it would look at you for guidance. You are swishiness incarnate.
Legolas whirled around to look at Aragorn. "I am not. Am I?" he demanded.
The look on Aragorn's face was usually reserved for cows who are about to become leather pants. "Um...sweetie? I'm don't know. I'm not an expert in the matter, or anything, you know?"
Not an expert my ass! Strider, you are the epitome of over-the-top ruggedness. If anyone knows anything about manliness, it's you. So go ahead and tell Legolas the truth.
The look Aragorn gave me was usually reserved for threatening Boromir. But too late, the damage was done. Legolas was waiting for an answer.
"Sugarplum, you know that I love you the way you are, right? And even though you may not be the most masculine pers---"
Legolas flounced off to the front of the group, crying. (On the way, of course, he "accidentally" stepped on Gimli's foot.)
"See what you have done?" Aragorn glared daggers at me. "Frodo, why can't you keep your Ring wrapped up in something tight and smelly?"
Frodo looked up from his intense brooding. "Because you are the only one of us who owns anything tight and smelly," he muttered. That's my boy.
"What?"
"Nothing. Er. I feel more secure with the Ring around my neck. What harm can it do?"
And, Aragorn switches gears into the 'lecturing parent' mode he goes into whenever he thinks one of the Fellowship is underestimating me. Because he's still convinced I have 'powers'. "What harm can it do? What harm can it do??? Those could have been the very words spoken by the ancient peoples before they were all killed by a sweep of Sauron's hand!"
You'll note that it was a sweep of Sauron's hand. Not mine. I don't even have a hand! I'm harmless. Sauron may have been a bit of a megalomaniac, but I'm pure gold! In both senses of the phrase!
I was, as per usual, ignored.
"That Ring is mastered by Sauron. It *wants* to be found!" he warned ominously. He's been saying that whole 'it wants to be found' thing a lot. Like it's any big surprise. OF COURSE I WANNA BE FOUND! You are on a mission to kill me. Put yourself in my shoes. Wouldn't you want to be found, too? Huh??? Wouldn't you?!?!?! Plus, if Sauron finds me, he will undoubtedly take me back. Take me away from you insane fanatics, away from this hellhole, and far far away from Sam. Yeah, I wanna be found, but can you blame me? Can you?!?!?!?!?!?!
...
Ahem.
I had to get that out.
"Yes. Um, right." Frodo tucked me back into his shirt, while Aragorn quickly made his way to the front of the posse, mumbling something along the lines of "I have to see to my, uh, Legolas."
Mm-hmm. I see I have presented my case strongly.
Frodo fell back to brooding, as he has been doing for most of the journey. Gandalf was yelling at Sam, and the fucker probably deserved it. Clamour at the front of the group indicated that Legolas had managed to start yet another fight with Gimli. And when that ended, it was replaced by wet sounds and lots of moaning, meaning Aragorn and managed to win back Legolas's (swishy) heart. Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin broke out in song *again*. This time, it was some bawdy refrain Boromir had been teaching them, and after a few bars Boromir himself joined in. And then Gandalf joined in. Oh heavenly father take me now---okay, wait. How in hell did *Gandalf* know that song? Gimli yelled at them all to shut up, claiming that singing such a crude song in the place where his whole family died isn't really nice. They all kept on singing. And then Frodo woke from his brooding and burst into tears.
You guys? You guys!!! I think it's time for you to take a smoking break, if you know what I mean.
Everyone stopped. Legolas rushed over in a flurry of silk and blond hair, all concerned for his puppy. "Frodo? Pray tell, what is the matter?"
"I cannot stand this! I can't take it anymore! The burden is too much!!!"
Hey, excuse me, I resent that.
Legolas did that annoying 'no words, communicating with our eyes' thing with Aragorn. Aragorn nodded and herded everyone onto a big rock, telling them we were taking a break. Gandalf shrugged and took out his pipe.
"Dear Frodo, so small to be carrying such a big burden." Legolas knelt down and hugged him. "But you must realize that you are doing very well. Think of the stories you can tell your fellow hobbits when you are home safe, when all of this is over."
Frodo sniffled and nodded. "Thanks, Legolas. I think I just need a little air, a little alone time to collect myself."
Legolas nodded kindly. "Of course. We will wait until you are ready."
And Frodo toddled off to a separate boulder, climbing onto it with a sigh. See, it's people like that damn elf who make me look bad. How can he naturally know what to say like that? Do they have like little elf-lessons for this, or do they--- "Oh, do be quiet, you."
Hey, don't even start on me, pal. You're the one who went and dragged up that shit about me being a burden.
"I wasn't referring to you, Evil Ring. I swear. I just needed a little room to myself, because frankly, all of that bickering and noise and squabbling was getting to be too much. I was developing a huge headache and an even huger urge to hit someone. When I said burden, everybody thought I meant you. But I really had Boromir and his cursed songs in mind."
Really?
"Yes. Now, if you will kindly be quiet. I intend to enjoy my half-minute of sanity."
Wow. I think that's like the nicest thing you've said to me since you met me. Not the last sentence. I mean, the thing about you not meaning me when you said 'burden.' And I am so glad I'm not the only one who thinks they're all too much. I know what you mean by the whole urge to hit them thing. I so have that too. Except, y'know, you actually have fists and I don't. I think I can still---
"Stuff it."
Yes sir.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ TBC
(Wow. I think that's one of the longest chapters ever. Go me.)
**My apologies to everyone for the late update. If I presented my excuses, this chapter would get too long.**
Disclaimers: Okay, here's the thing. LOTR is obviously not mine. Because if I owned it, this would be posted under "Original Fiction" at fictionpress.net, instead of here, as *fan*fiction.
Chapter 18: Continuing the Long Underground Walk ~ ~ ~
Days we've been wandering around in this dank and cheerless abyss: 4. Number of times Merry and Pippin have sung "100 Bottles of Beer On the Wall": 85. Times we've stopped so old men and wet Rangers can have their smoking breaks: 16. Number of arguments between Legolas and Gimli: 765 413...and counting. Number of times Aragorn has threatened Boromir with either extreme bodily injury or death: 129. Number of baths and/or showers we have taken: 0. Zeeeeero. NONE. At all. Amount I would pay to be anywhere but here: *Absolutely limitless*.
Do you see what I'm getting at here?
God fucking dammit, whatever did I do to deserve this fate??? I am *this close* to killing myself, just to save us the journey. Because I cannot imagine being with these nine cretins a second longer, much less being with them all the way to Mt. Doom. At best, Mount Frickin' Doom is a month away. With our track record, it is at least several years away. But then I think about how happy Sam would be if I offed myself, and y'know, I just can't bear to give him that kind of satisfaction. Still, suicide is getting mighty tempting.
The only remote bit of entertainment I can get is by tormenting people. Yeah, that's my excuse. But hey, I'm an immortal ring with a short attention span...you gotta give me something to do, right? The person I'm currently amusing myself with is Legolas.
"I *am* not!"
Dude, ask around. You so are.
"I am most definitely not!!! I am not, by any means, 'swishy'."
Listen, stud-muffin. If you were any swishier, you'd be a windshield wiper.
"Excuse me?!" He paused to give a affronted gasp, slender hand clasped daintily in front of his mouth. Yeah. Reeeeeaaal manly.
You are. You are the poster boy for campy gayness that usually can only be found at nude art galleries and drag-queen contests. If swishiness wanted to assume shape and walk around as a living thing, it would look at you for guidance. You are swishiness incarnate.
Legolas whirled around to look at Aragorn. "I am not. Am I?" he demanded.
The look on Aragorn's face was usually reserved for cows who are about to become leather pants. "Um...sweetie? I'm don't know. I'm not an expert in the matter, or anything, you know?"
Not an expert my ass! Strider, you are the epitome of over-the-top ruggedness. If anyone knows anything about manliness, it's you. So go ahead and tell Legolas the truth.
The look Aragorn gave me was usually reserved for threatening Boromir. But too late, the damage was done. Legolas was waiting for an answer.
"Sugarplum, you know that I love you the way you are, right? And even though you may not be the most masculine pers---"
Legolas flounced off to the front of the group, crying. (On the way, of course, he "accidentally" stepped on Gimli's foot.)
"See what you have done?" Aragorn glared daggers at me. "Frodo, why can't you keep your Ring wrapped up in something tight and smelly?"
Frodo looked up from his intense brooding. "Because you are the only one of us who owns anything tight and smelly," he muttered. That's my boy.
"What?"
"Nothing. Er. I feel more secure with the Ring around my neck. What harm can it do?"
And, Aragorn switches gears into the 'lecturing parent' mode he goes into whenever he thinks one of the Fellowship is underestimating me. Because he's still convinced I have 'powers'. "What harm can it do? What harm can it do??? Those could have been the very words spoken by the ancient peoples before they were all killed by a sweep of Sauron's hand!"
You'll note that it was a sweep of Sauron's hand. Not mine. I don't even have a hand! I'm harmless. Sauron may have been a bit of a megalomaniac, but I'm pure gold! In both senses of the phrase!
I was, as per usual, ignored.
"That Ring is mastered by Sauron. It *wants* to be found!" he warned ominously. He's been saying that whole 'it wants to be found' thing a lot. Like it's any big surprise. OF COURSE I WANNA BE FOUND! You are on a mission to kill me. Put yourself in my shoes. Wouldn't you want to be found, too? Huh??? Wouldn't you?!?!?! Plus, if Sauron finds me, he will undoubtedly take me back. Take me away from you insane fanatics, away from this hellhole, and far far away from Sam. Yeah, I wanna be found, but can you blame me? Can you?!?!?!?!?!?!
...
Ahem.
I had to get that out.
"Yes. Um, right." Frodo tucked me back into his shirt, while Aragorn quickly made his way to the front of the posse, mumbling something along the lines of "I have to see to my, uh, Legolas."
Mm-hmm. I see I have presented my case strongly.
Frodo fell back to brooding, as he has been doing for most of the journey. Gandalf was yelling at Sam, and the fucker probably deserved it. Clamour at the front of the group indicated that Legolas had managed to start yet another fight with Gimli. And when that ended, it was replaced by wet sounds and lots of moaning, meaning Aragorn and managed to win back Legolas's (swishy) heart. Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin broke out in song *again*. This time, it was some bawdy refrain Boromir had been teaching them, and after a few bars Boromir himself joined in. And then Gandalf joined in. Oh heavenly father take me now---okay, wait. How in hell did *Gandalf* know that song? Gimli yelled at them all to shut up, claiming that singing such a crude song in the place where his whole family died isn't really nice. They all kept on singing. And then Frodo woke from his brooding and burst into tears.
You guys? You guys!!! I think it's time for you to take a smoking break, if you know what I mean.
Everyone stopped. Legolas rushed over in a flurry of silk and blond hair, all concerned for his puppy. "Frodo? Pray tell, what is the matter?"
"I cannot stand this! I can't take it anymore! The burden is too much!!!"
Hey, excuse me, I resent that.
Legolas did that annoying 'no words, communicating with our eyes' thing with Aragorn. Aragorn nodded and herded everyone onto a big rock, telling them we were taking a break. Gandalf shrugged and took out his pipe.
"Dear Frodo, so small to be carrying such a big burden." Legolas knelt down and hugged him. "But you must realize that you are doing very well. Think of the stories you can tell your fellow hobbits when you are home safe, when all of this is over."
Frodo sniffled and nodded. "Thanks, Legolas. I think I just need a little air, a little alone time to collect myself."
Legolas nodded kindly. "Of course. We will wait until you are ready."
And Frodo toddled off to a separate boulder, climbing onto it with a sigh. See, it's people like that damn elf who make me look bad. How can he naturally know what to say like that? Do they have like little elf-lessons for this, or do they--- "Oh, do be quiet, you."
Hey, don't even start on me, pal. You're the one who went and dragged up that shit about me being a burden.
"I wasn't referring to you, Evil Ring. I swear. I just needed a little room to myself, because frankly, all of that bickering and noise and squabbling was getting to be too much. I was developing a huge headache and an even huger urge to hit someone. When I said burden, everybody thought I meant you. But I really had Boromir and his cursed songs in mind."
Really?
"Yes. Now, if you will kindly be quiet. I intend to enjoy my half-minute of sanity."
Wow. I think that's like the nicest thing you've said to me since you met me. Not the last sentence. I mean, the thing about you not meaning me when you said 'burden.' And I am so glad I'm not the only one who thinks they're all too much. I know what you mean by the whole urge to hit them thing. I so have that too. Except, y'know, you actually have fists and I don't. I think I can still---
"Stuff it."
Yes sir.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ TBC
(Wow. I think that's one of the longest chapters ever. Go me.)