Author: LokiMinerva
Title of Story: Tales of the Nine
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Although I desperately wish I owned Lord of the Rings, I don't. *Agonized wail is heard from author* I also don't own Harry Potter or the Mists of Avalon.
A/N: I know, I know. Another HP meets LOTR Fanfic. Bear with me here, it's actually a good story, despite the premise having been done. All flames will be ignored or used as an alternative heating source.
*Tales of the Nine *
The Fellowship of the Ring paddled their boats down the river Anduin. It had been a trying day, and they had been alternately paddling and thinking of what to do when they reached the falls of Rauros the next day. With sore arms, the Fellowship paddled ceaselessly on, each member intent on his own thoughts. As he peered into the gathering dusk, Gimli realized that a thick fog had settled on top of the water, though nearly undetectable in the fading light.
"Legolas," he whispered to his elf companion, who was gracefully paddling the boat, "has the fog been getting thicker? I think that it is a sign that we should stop for the night, and get to someplace where we can defend ourselves, for my very blood seems stolen by the fog. It seems to bring a darkness with it."
Legolas surveyed the surrounding waters; the fog grew thicker with each passing moment. His eyes were better than Gimli's, yet the fog obscured his sight as well. He gave a sigh, for he was not tired, and wished to keep going, though it would be against his better sense.
"Aragorn." Legolas called the man's name softly.
"What is it?" he called back, the two hobbits in the fore of his boat also shifting with unease.
"We should get off of the river and make for a more sheltered spot."
"I agree." Aragorn nodded his dark head. "All those paddling..." he started to say. Merry gave a snort of irritation from the prow of Boromir's boat and muttered mutinously, "Meaning all save Sam and Pippin." His younger cousin, the latter in Merry's statement, started into wakefulness after a short nap, yawned and said thickly through a half wakeful haze, "Well, you had said you wanted to paddle, so-"
Pippin was cut short by Aragorn's piercing look of impatience, which he managed to show Pippin through the fog. Aragorn sighed and softened, he could understand that Pippin's nature had caused him to interrupt, and he hadn't meant any harm. "As I was saying, all those paddling, make for the shoreline up there; we shall camp under the trees over yonder," he said.
The rowers silently maneuvered the boats to said shoreline, the growing fog far less of a trouble when Aragorn's boat, the one in the lead, scraped its hull against the gritty sand. Frodo nudged the sleeping Sam behind him into wakefulness, and the two hobbits stumbled out of the boat and began unloading the packs from Legolas and Gimli's recently beached boat. Merry and Pippin soon joined them, while Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli split into two groups and dragged the boats into the secluded patch of forest where the camp was.
The Fellowship gathered around the small fire they had risked to light, their breath hanging in white wisps in front of their faces despite it. Aragorn had settled himself on the ground, and was sitting with his head bowed, deep in thought. The others had started a small conversation.
"All I'm saying, Frodo, is that I think we should go to Boromir's city – what was it called again? – before we head to Mordor. Maybe other people would be willing to help us!" Merry said, giving voice to the thoughts that had plagued them all.
"I don't know about that Merry," said Frodo doubtfully. "I mean, it would be wonderful if we were to rally more people to our cause, but then again maybe the Enemy would begin to suspect something."
"If'n that's all right with you, I'd like t' put my two cents in too, Mr. Merry. The more people that know about the, the Ring," Sam glanced furtively around as he spoke the last word, "the worse it could be, if you take my meanin' sir. What if someone tried to take it from him?"
"What do you think Legolas?" Pippin looked up from his vantage point at the base of a dead log; he was resting his back against it as he listened to the conversation.
"Although, I too would opt for Minas Tirith," Legolas said, *That's the name of the city!* Merry thought with a jolt, "I will go where Frodo chooses," he finished.
"Well, we have until tomorrow night to decide, so think well," said Gimli.
"What's wrong Boromir?" Pippin asked. He was always curious, especially when the other members of the company had a dilemma and he thought the rest of them could help.
Boromir was facing Sam and Frodo, but he wasn't looking at them so much as he was the shoreline a hundred yards or so behind them. "Is it not strange that the mist has begun coming inland?" he asked with a puzzled look on his proud face. All of the others now noted the heavy mist climbing towards them, and Aragorn's head came up sharply as he told the others to get further back into the woods, the urgency in his voice causing them to scuttle back and draw their weapons.
They stood, tense, waiting for a signal.
Then a shriek of fear rent the air.
A/N: I really hoped everyone enjoyed it! If people really like this, and I get enough reviews, I'll post another chapter.
Title of Story: Tales of the Nine
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Although I desperately wish I owned Lord of the Rings, I don't. *Agonized wail is heard from author* I also don't own Harry Potter or the Mists of Avalon.
A/N: I know, I know. Another HP meets LOTR Fanfic. Bear with me here, it's actually a good story, despite the premise having been done. All flames will be ignored or used as an alternative heating source.
*Tales of the Nine *
The Fellowship of the Ring paddled their boats down the river Anduin. It had been a trying day, and they had been alternately paddling and thinking of what to do when they reached the falls of Rauros the next day. With sore arms, the Fellowship paddled ceaselessly on, each member intent on his own thoughts. As he peered into the gathering dusk, Gimli realized that a thick fog had settled on top of the water, though nearly undetectable in the fading light.
"Legolas," he whispered to his elf companion, who was gracefully paddling the boat, "has the fog been getting thicker? I think that it is a sign that we should stop for the night, and get to someplace where we can defend ourselves, for my very blood seems stolen by the fog. It seems to bring a darkness with it."
Legolas surveyed the surrounding waters; the fog grew thicker with each passing moment. His eyes were better than Gimli's, yet the fog obscured his sight as well. He gave a sigh, for he was not tired, and wished to keep going, though it would be against his better sense.
"Aragorn." Legolas called the man's name softly.
"What is it?" he called back, the two hobbits in the fore of his boat also shifting with unease.
"We should get off of the river and make for a more sheltered spot."
"I agree." Aragorn nodded his dark head. "All those paddling..." he started to say. Merry gave a snort of irritation from the prow of Boromir's boat and muttered mutinously, "Meaning all save Sam and Pippin." His younger cousin, the latter in Merry's statement, started into wakefulness after a short nap, yawned and said thickly through a half wakeful haze, "Well, you had said you wanted to paddle, so-"
Pippin was cut short by Aragorn's piercing look of impatience, which he managed to show Pippin through the fog. Aragorn sighed and softened, he could understand that Pippin's nature had caused him to interrupt, and he hadn't meant any harm. "As I was saying, all those paddling, make for the shoreline up there; we shall camp under the trees over yonder," he said.
The rowers silently maneuvered the boats to said shoreline, the growing fog far less of a trouble when Aragorn's boat, the one in the lead, scraped its hull against the gritty sand. Frodo nudged the sleeping Sam behind him into wakefulness, and the two hobbits stumbled out of the boat and began unloading the packs from Legolas and Gimli's recently beached boat. Merry and Pippin soon joined them, while Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli split into two groups and dragged the boats into the secluded patch of forest where the camp was.
The Fellowship gathered around the small fire they had risked to light, their breath hanging in white wisps in front of their faces despite it. Aragorn had settled himself on the ground, and was sitting with his head bowed, deep in thought. The others had started a small conversation.
"All I'm saying, Frodo, is that I think we should go to Boromir's city – what was it called again? – before we head to Mordor. Maybe other people would be willing to help us!" Merry said, giving voice to the thoughts that had plagued them all.
"I don't know about that Merry," said Frodo doubtfully. "I mean, it would be wonderful if we were to rally more people to our cause, but then again maybe the Enemy would begin to suspect something."
"If'n that's all right with you, I'd like t' put my two cents in too, Mr. Merry. The more people that know about the, the Ring," Sam glanced furtively around as he spoke the last word, "the worse it could be, if you take my meanin' sir. What if someone tried to take it from him?"
"What do you think Legolas?" Pippin looked up from his vantage point at the base of a dead log; he was resting his back against it as he listened to the conversation.
"Although, I too would opt for Minas Tirith," Legolas said, *That's the name of the city!* Merry thought with a jolt, "I will go where Frodo chooses," he finished.
"Well, we have until tomorrow night to decide, so think well," said Gimli.
"What's wrong Boromir?" Pippin asked. He was always curious, especially when the other members of the company had a dilemma and he thought the rest of them could help.
Boromir was facing Sam and Frodo, but he wasn't looking at them so much as he was the shoreline a hundred yards or so behind them. "Is it not strange that the mist has begun coming inland?" he asked with a puzzled look on his proud face. All of the others now noted the heavy mist climbing towards them, and Aragorn's head came up sharply as he told the others to get further back into the woods, the urgency in his voice causing them to scuttle back and draw their weapons.
They stood, tense, waiting for a signal.
Then a shriek of fear rent the air.
A/N: I really hoped everyone enjoyed it! If people really like this, and I get enough reviews, I'll post another chapter.