So, yes, for all of you actually reading this,
1. Tell your friends!
2. I'm going to be fixing up some weak points on my previous chapters because I'm a perfectionist. don't worry, I'm not taking anything out, except the really bad thing in the first part that makes me nauseus to read. Essentially, if reading it makes me want to kill myself, I'll delete it.
3. I still love you!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Does "Whoosh-Thud"x1000 mean anything to you?
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I cannot hold myself up. I honestly feel like I'm going to fall right off this damn pony. Clip clop. Clip clop. That's all I ever hear. It's thudding into my brain and I can feel myself slowly going insane.
Well, not really, but that'd be a nice twist, huh? Definitely unique. Uh, no. I have some honor, you know.
Pita is showing a distinct lack of enthusiasm for this constant trotting. If his head goes any lower, he'll do a somersault. I can't really blame him, I must be even heavier for him with all of this goddamn armor. I hate Aragorn. Hate, hate, hate. Like hobbits.
It's been a day since we left camp. A day of nothing but trotting. No camping for the night. No nothing. You know all that firewood Legolas and Gimli didn't take half long enough collecting? Apparently, we're saving it for Moria the Morbid.
You can see I have become quite cynical.
Because I am ultimately the most pathetic person on the face of the earth (or Middle-Earth, if you're a picky stiff), I have been way overthinking Legolas bringing me my pony. Of course, he hasn't actually been showering me with attention since then. In fact, he's sort of just minded his own business.
At least he doesn't always glare at me like he wants me to take a long walk off a short pier or something. He just looks...indifferent.
I decide that I have dealt with my suffering long enough. I'm going for help.
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I refuse to ask Pippin or Merry. They're too innocent to know anything about my miserable plight. Okay. Definitely not Aragorn, I'm still pissed at him about this whole armor situation. I know. Gimli! We've been talking pretty much lately.
I kick little Pita into a canter to catch up with Gimli's horse. "Can I ask you a question?" I begin tentatively.
"I don't see why not." Wow. Gimli's in one of his amiable moods.
"Does Legolas hate me?" Wow, Amy, could you PICK a lamer question? I doubt it. You have sunk to a new low.
Gimli blinked. "How should I know? I'm not the elf's mother." Amiable mood gone. I sigh.
"Nothing?" I persist.
"Well, he did say you were 'queer', whatever that means."
QUEER!?
QUEER!?
"I hope that's in the strange context." I mutter.
"What other context is there?" Gimli inquires.
"Um..."
"Now, why did you ask?" Gimli, I adore you for changing the subject. I hate you for changing it to THIS topic.
"Um..." Okay. What to say? I glance fearfully at Legolas and his horse. I slow Pita, hoping Gimli will slow his horse to stay in stride with me. He does. "I think I sort of like him. Or something. I don't know. And I just want to know what's going on with him is all." Eloquently put, Amy.
Gimli looks almost thoughtful for a moment, then says, "I can't really say I understand. Dwarves don't really have that problem, they sort of just pair up and jump into some small, remotely secluded area-"
"Ew! No! I was looking for helpful advice, not dwarf sex ed!" I screech.
Never ask a dwarf romance advice.
EVER.
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I have to ask someone though. I have to know. Wait. Why didn't I think of this earlier? Arwen! She's another girl. At least, I think. She's an elf, but she's still a female. She's got to have somewhat similar hormone issues.
"Arwen?" I ask. "Can I ask you something?"
"Is this about Legolas?" she says politely, glancing down at me from the top of her gorgeous silver horse. I feel very self-conscious of my plodding little nag.
"How did you know?" I gape at her. Wow. Are elves psychic? Because if they are, I'm definitely screwed in a lot of ways.
"I overheard you and Gimli converse. Forgive me." Arwen looks apologetic. I nod weakly.
She heard.
If she heard...
Did everyone hear?
Oh my god.
I want to die.
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"Are you okay? Amy, what did you want to ask me?" Arwen looks concerned.
"Um...are all elves like you guys?" I have to ask something not completely Legolas-related.
"We have a variety of personalities, just like-" Arwen begins. Then, a pained expression crosses her face. Fear flutters in my heart, and not because everyone heard the woes of my heartache.
"Arwen." I say. "What's wrong?"
"I feel ill." She says, before falling sideways off of her horse.
"ARAGORN!" I scream, leaping/falling off of Pita next to Arwen. The Hobbits trot up on their ponies and jump off. Aragorn rushes over.
"She's sick. Legolas, can you diagnose her?" Aragorn asks as he kneels beside Arwen.
"I'm sorry." The incredibly-hot-when-he's-worried elf says.
"Then her father will be able to. I must take her to Rivendell at once." Aragorn picks up Arwen and goes to his horse.
I fidget and play with Pita's mane. If Arwen kicks the bucket, I will cry. and that will ruin me. See? I am being completely selfish. Don't think for a moment that I care about Arwen or anything.
for once in my life, I suck at lying.
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"But Aragorn, we are so close to Moria, and we must take Amy to Gandalf so that he may help her to get home." Legolas says. Right. try to get rid of me why dont you.
"I know, but-" Aragorn begins. Then we see a group of dark shapes coming toward us. I clutch onto Pita's mane harder. The pony gives a disapproving toss of his oddly-shaped little head.
"Orcs." Gimli mumbles. Pippin and Merry look nervous. I'm scared shitless, but I try to remain calm. I do a damn good job, I think. Kind of nonchalant. like when your sworn enemy is stomping toward you with an army of mindless cronies and trying to intimidate you.
"Aragorn, the elf and I will go ahead and take them out. There doesn't seem to be too many." Gimli says, gathering his horse's reins. Legolas agrees.
"Take Amy with you. It shall be good experience for her, and she'll need it to survive Moria." Oh my god. Aragorn is trying to kill me now. I hop back onto Pita.
"What about you?" I ask.
"Pippin, Merry, and I will stay and protect Arwen in case any come from this angle. We'll catch up with you after."
"Come on, then." Legolas says. He doesn't sound overly concerned. Damn elf. We urge our horses into a gallop (well, they're cantering slowly. Pita's galloping) toward the orcs.
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We halt in a pathetically small line before them. Using my wonderful arithmetic skills (Yes, I DID attend all of my classes in elementary school) I count the orcs before us. "They're sixteen." I say. Damn. Sixteen power-packed orcs, all of them staring maliciously at us.
"Does sixteen divide by three?" Gimli asks. Gee, great time for a math lesson, dwarf.
Legolas glances at us. "Not evenly." he says. Then, I begin to understand. Its their game.
"Okay, then. I'll take fourteen, you guys take the other two." Gimli orders. Surely he jests.
"Not likely, shrimp." I hiss. The three of us lean forward and our horses accelerate into a gallop.
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I feel like a jouster as I gallop on my short little pony, whose legs jar even more at a gallop than a trot, toward the orcs who are still taller than us on foot.
"Keep going straight for once, damnit." I tell the pony. I drop the reins and grab my two daggers. Pita gamely continues galloping straight on into the first orc, his merry little head held high. I think he enjoys fighting, for some strange reason.
I drive one of my daggers into the first orc's chest as we gallop past. it swipes at me, but misses as it falls to the ground. One.
the next one very nearly takes me off my valiant little pony, but, as it lunges toward me, I dig my dagger into its head. It sounds all hollow. Hahaha. I'm not surprised. Two.
I am actually enjoying myself. A lot. It's like a dance. If you take a misstep, you die, but, while you're doing it, it's great fun. And with all the arrows flying everywhere, it's like a slightly more dangerous game of dodgeball (of course, this is no more dangerous than archery lessons at my school. Phew.)
Another orc lunges toward me from behind. Pita, as into this as I am, kicks up at it and knocks it back. Then he spins around so quickly I almost fall off, but, instead, I thrust my dagger into the orc and draw it back (ew. My dagger is black. Orc blood is repulsive.)Three.
But while I'm doing this, another orc comes at me from the front. As I turn around, I see a mace flying straight toward me. Damn. I'm dead. Goodbye world. I knew ye only for fifteen wonderful years.
And I would be, if it wasn't for my precious little Pain in the Ass pony. Pita rears, and, as I clutch desperately to his neck, kicks out at the orc, and knocks it over. He then proceeds to leap onto the downed orc, stomp on it, then stand triumphantly with his mane blowing in the breeze. I hug him. Four. At least, I think that counted.
I look up, after whispering embarrassing things to my pony about how much I absolutely adore him and will love him forever no matter how short he is. All of the orcs are dead. Legolas and Gimli are walking toward me, their horses prancing and enthusiastic. Ha. Pita's better.
"How many did you get?" Legolas asks, bringing his horse to a halt.
"Four." I grin. Unfortunately for me my math is lacking. If I hadn't ditched all those math classes to go joyriding in Principle Ganderbill's ferrari, I would've known that it was impossible for me to have won with four orcs.
"five." Gimli grumbles.
"Seven." Legolas says, smiling. Yes. He was smiling. Smiling at me. Well, me and Gimli. But he obviously wasn't wishing I'd take any walks off of piers.
Yes, I know I look wonderful, smelling of pony and dead orc, hair everywhere, and twin black-dripping daggers in my hands, but I have never felt so good in my life.
And if any of you start singing Jessica Simpson I am going to kill you.
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My head in the clouds, I don't notice Pippin and Merry riding up to us. "Oi! You guys!" Pippin calls.
"What?" I respond. Okay. I'm in a talkative mood.
"Aragorn's taken Arwen to Rivendell! He wants us to go through Moria, he'll meet us on the other side!" The little hobbit says.
"What? He's going all the way to Rivendell alone? No, I won't let him!" Legolas turned his horse back toward the top of the hill where Aragorn had been.
"He's already left!" Merry piped up.
"He told us to go through the mines, elf! And besides, he's Aragorn, king of Gondor! He can defend himself!" Gimli says. Legolas is silent. Aww. He's so loyal. I love it.
I say nothing. I suck at being supportive, so I refuse to try.
"Fine. We'll reach Moria in a matter of hours." Legolas is all solemn again. Damn Aragorn. Ruining my precious' mood.
I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. Moria. Goblins and trolls and Balrogs, oh, my!
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"Here we are. The gate of Moria." Legolas says. We draw to a halt alongside the big door in the massive mountain.
"The horses can't pass." Gimli announces, jumping off of his horse.
Damn. I don't want to leave Pita! The two of us have grown together! "Can't we go around the mountain?"
"We've received quite the snowstorm since the four of us came through initially. It is impassible, especially if we intend to take the hobbits and their small ponies." Did Legolas just call my pony short? Humph.
I can't think of another protest, so I just slide off of Pita and take his tack off. "I wish I could take you, you Pain in the Ass." I give him a little swat on the shoulder. "So, get back to the Shire, punk."
Pita blinks, then trots away. The other horses follow. Ah, it's so sweet, them all following my little precious. Awww, that thing so grew on me...
Damn pony.
"Well, should we, uh, enter?" Merry says. Damn hobbit. I don't want to go in.
"Indeed." Legolas agrees somberly. He walks up to the gate. No.
I hate Moria.