Authors note: I'm going to write more whether you want me to or not :p but please write a review saying what you liked/detested to help me out!
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine; I'm a thief etc. The term "Rebellious Tenth" was inspired by a dear friend of mine, and though she has no legal claim over it if you steel it she will come and beat you up with a big stick! I kid you not!!!
Strider had found them a small clearing amongst the dense woodland where they could rest that night before the long journey ahead of them tomorrow. Tired though he was, Sam had been too anxious to sleep for fear of what was becoming his master. Eventually the ranger managed to persuade him that no amount of worrying would help Frodo now, and he would be best served by Sam if he was conscious enough to tackle the trip to Rivendell. This reasoning seemed to suffice, and as if to prove what the good servant he was, the hobbit was now snoring with a vengeance.
Pippin however, was not granted this privilege, being the first on watch with Strider. Pulling his cloak tighter around him he glanced out nervously into the deep darkness that lurked amongst the trees, imaging what horrors hid within. The very thought made him shiver.
"Relax master half-ling," Strider said with a coy smile "The Riders seek for Frodo, not you. Glorfindel will have led them far away by now."
"I'm afraid your much mistaken, Ranger," Pippin replied proudly. "I was not shivering due to fear, but due to the cold. I do wish you'd allow us a fire – the light would also offer more comfort than sitting in this gloom here."
"If we lit a fire we'd be letting anyone know our whereabouts. Do you really wish to lead them right to us and your friends?"
The hobbit looked over to where Sam and Merry were fast asleep and shifted uncomfortably. Then staring at his hands he spoke in barely a whisper.
"What will happen... if they don't make to Rivendell in time?"
Pippin heard a sad sigh next to him as the ranger thought about that gloomy prospect.
"I suppose... there is still a hope if we made it to Rivendell. If we warned the elves and were able to stop the riders before they made it to Mordor. Not much of a hope... but a hope."
"And Frodo?"
Strider paused for along time before he spoke.
"He'd be one of the ones we'd be trying to stop."
"Oh..."
The young Took stared blankly into space. Suddenly he rose and began to walk into the woodland.
"Peregrin!" Strider called out "Don't wander off on your own! Its too dangerous!"
"I'm O.K!"
"Come back here!"
"Honestly I can cope!"
"What is so important that your willing to risk yourself in such a manner?!"
Pippin spun around angrily.
"I need a piss – alright?!"
There was an embarrassed cough.
"Oh... well, er, be careful."
And so Pippin strode off unaware that his bodily functions were what was about to save his life while the other hobbits stirred wanting to know what all the noise was about.
"Hey!" started Merry. "Where has Pip gone? I heard him call out!"
"It was the black riders wasn't it? They got Pippin!"
Strider rolled his eyes.
"How many times do I have to tell you hobbits? There are no black riders going to jump out and surround us at any moment!"
Then just at that moment nine black riders jumped out and surrounded them. Irony – it never fails.
Pippin was returning when suddenly he heard the attack. He ran back and witnessed the nine shadowing figures slowly close in on his three companions. Strider was in front holding his broken sword out in front of him, daring them to try and challenge him. Sam and Merry were standing behind him, but in true hobbit spirit had their daggers at the ready, not willing to go down without a fight.
Suddenly he felt another presence, and everyone went quiet. The riders stopped and turned to face the individual that stepped into the clearing.
His attire was the same formidable robes of that worn by the riders, however they lacked the full effect, as this person was dramatically shorter stature than the others, and the hairy toes sticking out at the bottom gave the character overall a rather comical appearance.
But these features caused Pippin to despair. Alas! This is what had become of his beloved Frodo. But it was no longer Frodo was it? It was just a soulless servant like the others, one that wished him and his companions harm.
This mourning was not long lived, as the ring wraith/hobbit gazed coldly upon the faces of former friends.
"One of the half-lings is missing," he hissed, and sniffed the air. Suddenly he turned to where Pippin was hiding and shrieked. "There he his!" Upon these words the creature dashed towards him, chasing him through the trees.
Pippin felt for his dagger as he ran, but discovered he had left it back at the clearing. Oh well, it probably wouldn't of made much difference anyway. At least he was a much younger, fitter hobbit than Frodo was... or had been, and a good distance was forming between the two, but he wouldn't be able to keep it up very long.
Ducking behind a bush he grabbed a rock and waited. Soon Frodo charged around the corner to be greeted with a THUMP right on the head, knocking him unconscious.
"Sorry pal," Pippin muttered between gasps for breath. Just as about he was going to make his escape he heard the other nine approaching. There was no way he could take on this lot; there just simply weren't enough rocks! Thinking fast he stole Frodo's robes and put them on. He heard them call out.
"Its O.K. I'm here!" he walked out from behind the bushes. They looked at him blankly. "Hiss?" he suggested.
The Witch-King shrugged.
"Come along you lot – we better get the ring to the Great Eye."
Pippin followed. Great, now he was going to have to pass himself as a Ringwraith and steal the ring back to save mankind! How are you supposed to act if you're a Ringwraith anyway? He sighed. He just hoped there wouldn't be any slash.
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine; I'm a thief etc. The term "Rebellious Tenth" was inspired by a dear friend of mine, and though she has no legal claim over it if you steel it she will come and beat you up with a big stick! I kid you not!!!
Strider had found them a small clearing amongst the dense woodland where they could rest that night before the long journey ahead of them tomorrow. Tired though he was, Sam had been too anxious to sleep for fear of what was becoming his master. Eventually the ranger managed to persuade him that no amount of worrying would help Frodo now, and he would be best served by Sam if he was conscious enough to tackle the trip to Rivendell. This reasoning seemed to suffice, and as if to prove what the good servant he was, the hobbit was now snoring with a vengeance.
Pippin however, was not granted this privilege, being the first on watch with Strider. Pulling his cloak tighter around him he glanced out nervously into the deep darkness that lurked amongst the trees, imaging what horrors hid within. The very thought made him shiver.
"Relax master half-ling," Strider said with a coy smile "The Riders seek for Frodo, not you. Glorfindel will have led them far away by now."
"I'm afraid your much mistaken, Ranger," Pippin replied proudly. "I was not shivering due to fear, but due to the cold. I do wish you'd allow us a fire – the light would also offer more comfort than sitting in this gloom here."
"If we lit a fire we'd be letting anyone know our whereabouts. Do you really wish to lead them right to us and your friends?"
The hobbit looked over to where Sam and Merry were fast asleep and shifted uncomfortably. Then staring at his hands he spoke in barely a whisper.
"What will happen... if they don't make to Rivendell in time?"
Pippin heard a sad sigh next to him as the ranger thought about that gloomy prospect.
"I suppose... there is still a hope if we made it to Rivendell. If we warned the elves and were able to stop the riders before they made it to Mordor. Not much of a hope... but a hope."
"And Frodo?"
Strider paused for along time before he spoke.
"He'd be one of the ones we'd be trying to stop."
"Oh..."
The young Took stared blankly into space. Suddenly he rose and began to walk into the woodland.
"Peregrin!" Strider called out "Don't wander off on your own! Its too dangerous!"
"I'm O.K!"
"Come back here!"
"Honestly I can cope!"
"What is so important that your willing to risk yourself in such a manner?!"
Pippin spun around angrily.
"I need a piss – alright?!"
There was an embarrassed cough.
"Oh... well, er, be careful."
And so Pippin strode off unaware that his bodily functions were what was about to save his life while the other hobbits stirred wanting to know what all the noise was about.
"Hey!" started Merry. "Where has Pip gone? I heard him call out!"
"It was the black riders wasn't it? They got Pippin!"
Strider rolled his eyes.
"How many times do I have to tell you hobbits? There are no black riders going to jump out and surround us at any moment!"
Then just at that moment nine black riders jumped out and surrounded them. Irony – it never fails.
Pippin was returning when suddenly he heard the attack. He ran back and witnessed the nine shadowing figures slowly close in on his three companions. Strider was in front holding his broken sword out in front of him, daring them to try and challenge him. Sam and Merry were standing behind him, but in true hobbit spirit had their daggers at the ready, not willing to go down without a fight.
Suddenly he felt another presence, and everyone went quiet. The riders stopped and turned to face the individual that stepped into the clearing.
His attire was the same formidable robes of that worn by the riders, however they lacked the full effect, as this person was dramatically shorter stature than the others, and the hairy toes sticking out at the bottom gave the character overall a rather comical appearance.
But these features caused Pippin to despair. Alas! This is what had become of his beloved Frodo. But it was no longer Frodo was it? It was just a soulless servant like the others, one that wished him and his companions harm.
This mourning was not long lived, as the ring wraith/hobbit gazed coldly upon the faces of former friends.
"One of the half-lings is missing," he hissed, and sniffed the air. Suddenly he turned to where Pippin was hiding and shrieked. "There he his!" Upon these words the creature dashed towards him, chasing him through the trees.
Pippin felt for his dagger as he ran, but discovered he had left it back at the clearing. Oh well, it probably wouldn't of made much difference anyway. At least he was a much younger, fitter hobbit than Frodo was... or had been, and a good distance was forming between the two, but he wouldn't be able to keep it up very long.
Ducking behind a bush he grabbed a rock and waited. Soon Frodo charged around the corner to be greeted with a THUMP right on the head, knocking him unconscious.
"Sorry pal," Pippin muttered between gasps for breath. Just as about he was going to make his escape he heard the other nine approaching. There was no way he could take on this lot; there just simply weren't enough rocks! Thinking fast he stole Frodo's robes and put them on. He heard them call out.
"Its O.K. I'm here!" he walked out from behind the bushes. They looked at him blankly. "Hiss?" he suggested.
The Witch-King shrugged.
"Come along you lot – we better get the ring to the Great Eye."
Pippin followed. Great, now he was going to have to pass himself as a Ringwraith and steal the ring back to save mankind! How are you supposed to act if you're a Ringwraith anyway? He sighed. He just hoped there wouldn't be any slash.