Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I went to St. Croix for a week, US Virgin Islands. Then I came back and lo and behold, Beth's Page of Marth has been abandoned. She no longer updates it. This would be ok, except I can't even visit the remains of the site, as something screwy is going on and not letting me click anything on the navigation bar. Ah well, I will not bore you with my troubles. I have gotten into a slightly better mood with the help of jelly beans, Yoshi's Island for Gameboy Advance, SSBM, ice cream, Scooby-Doo Mac and Cheese, Harry Potter, and Oscar Winner Predictions from Entertainment Weekly. It takes a lot to cheer me up, I guess. On with the show!
Reviewers! You rock! You guys are extraordinarily cool and I lurve you. And now I will respond to each and every one (an incredible 5).
ryna*riddle: Well, thank ye very much! I went on and read some of your fics, and you really like that sad, dark stuff, don't you? Well some of them were happy-ish...They were wicked good, though...loved them. But I'm not sure I can measure up to the sadness and darkness of yours.....eep.
MaidenOfImladris: Your review, while touching, was mildly unnerving. However, we hope the refresh button works more effectively in the future. "We" being me...and, um....stuff.
soymaid: Thanks! Yay, fluff is good! ...heh, heh, heh. Like a hammer.
Vreda Morrison: Um, yes, I will! But I can't drive. And in response to the review for my other story...I'm sorry I don't know you as well. Well, heck, I practically do know you! Sort of! Um...call me sometime. Or something.
Julia: Thank you! You shall see! And lastly, I did!
Ok, this chapter is REALLY short. I set out with only one goal, really, for this chappie. And I achieved it rather quickly, and then the chapter just ended. So, sorry 'bout the shortness.
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Chapter Three:
Mount Doom hovered threateningly, coughing up foul smoke into the sky. It loomed large and black, a very uninviting sight. Its slopes were littered with crumbling gray rock, making an ascent seem almost impossible.
And that was how it seemed to Frodo, as well. He glanced up at the mountain every few steps, watching as it came closer and closer every time. It seemed incredibly tall and steep, and the fiery spout at the top was even less attractive. Frodo was doubtful that anyone, let alone he, should be able to scale those slopes. He lowered his eyes.
Frodo tried to focus on the fact that he was not alone. The ring was pulling him into a sense of detachment, aloneness. The world was blacker than ever, and Frodo felt that he was seeing everything through a shadowy veil. He was falling.
A nettle brushed his calf, the sting bringing him back to reality. He shut his eyes tightly and started to shake his foot, trying to force the pain out. Then he realized that perhaps it would be better to focus his mind on the pain, use it as something to hold onto. He looked around him, at the nettles on his left. It seemed appropriate to him that the only things that grew here were nettles and scratchy patches of brush. He had seen no other growing things here, and he realized that Sam was probably more attentive to this fact as he was a gardener by trade. He turned his eyes to Sam, but carefully, as if he was afraid that Sam would do the same and see him. He felt like a tweenager with these kinds of actions, and despaired at the fact that he thought he had left this behavior behind at his coming-of-age.
And anyway, it was only Sam. He almost laughed aloud at the thought. It was only Sam, his companion, his friend. Frodo smiled. The one who had traveled far and wide with him, across rivers and Amon Hen, who was here with him now. Frodo glanced at him again to make sure, and of course, Sam was still there. Sam, a fellow hobbit. Sam, a fellow male hobbit.
Frodo stopped smiling. A fellow male hobbit. Sam. Whom he had the urge to glance over at every few seconds, just to make sure...what? Sam, who was walking slowly next to him, calmly. Sam, whose comforting words had kept him sane when he awoke in the middle of many nights. Sam, whose arms were a shield. Sam, the person Frodo knew the best, and who had been there through the worst.
Frodo looked over at Sam again and shivered. Then he shut his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his mind. His thoughts were jumbled, but even through the confusion one thought unnerved him. He didn't need to clear his mind. He already knew exactly what was going on.
He was falling, in more ways than one.
Frodo brushed his calf against a nettle, purposefully this time. It stung, and the cold pain made him shiver a little again. He gathered his thoughts and concentrated, focusing his mind on the pain, and walked on.
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End of chapter. VV short, yes, I know. You know the drill, review me! And I will go buy more sugar and sugary products. The effect of ice cream is waning, I fear, and my new passion is jelly beans. Jelly Belly jelly beans. Scrumptious. Ew I hate that word. OK I have to shut up now.
*ALERT! ALERT* In regards to my story, Frodo is NOT, I repeat, NOT going to become self-destructive and -mutilating. It was just a one-time thingy. He promises never to do it again.