More silliness and adding to the characterization. Arwen's a rather strong female personality – can you imagine the henpecking Aragorn goes through? 'I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE KING OF GONDOR OR KING OF THE MOUNTAIN, YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE A BATH!'
=P That's just my take, though. I hope everyone's realized by now that there's very little seriousness in this.
Chapter 2
When I came to, my head hurt. Well, that's the understatement of the year, or rather, it comes right up behind the first thing I heard.
"Frodo looks sick." Oh great. It'd happened. He'd been stabbed. Well, not that I was expecting to make a real dent in any black riders, but one could always hope…
"No, Pippin, you think?" Merry grumbled.
"Mr. Frodo? Mr. Frodo, hold on, Strider's getting something to help you." Oh nice. It was to be hoped that I hadn't been completely forgotten! At least I didn't feel any ropes tying me up. Of course, I couldn't feel much of anything right now except pain.
I groaned, making myself known.
"Oh, she's up." That was the only recognition I got. I opened my eyes and immediately regretted it. I gave another pitiful groan. On the bright side, I knew for certain that I didn't feel anything near what Frodo did. Ugh, bright. Yeah, bright. Really bright, blindingly bright. And that was only the firelight messing with my mind and eyes.
"W-what happened? What's wrong with Frodo?" I knew the basic situation, but some things may have changed.
"He's…hurt. I don't know exactly what's wrong with him, but it's something bad. Strider's gonna help him." That was possibly the most I'd gotten out of any of them so far. The headache dulled my urge to victory dance somewhat. I forced my eyes open for longer than the few instants I'd held them open before (no use putting it off) and they watered from the light as I looked at Frodo.
"He wasn't stabbed?" I asked worriedly.
"Of course he was. We're lucky that's all!" Sam was near panic with this, but the other two seemed strangely calm.
I looked more closely at Frodo from where I was. His breathing was a bit shallower, but it wasn't too bad yet. I reminded myself that we had something around two weeks until Rivendell. In which time it would be much worse.
"I would say let's suck out the poison, but I have the feeling that it would burn my mouth." I was grossed out just saying that.
"Well, if you have nothing useful to say then, you don't need to talk." Well that was nice. And here I was thinking I'd finally gotten them to talk to me.
"Come on, Sam, she's not the one who stabbed him. You're getting snappy."
"I am not!"
"Are too!"
"Don't start, Pippin." Merry, ever his keeper. Now that my eyes were feeling better, I felt it was safe to get to my knees. After that wave of nausea passed without incident, it was up to my swaying feet.
I was vaguely surprised that I wasn't busy throwing up the meager food we'd eaten from the sight of the blood, but also sure that that would come in due time. So, let's see what I remembered from my health test.
This was called…what? Ah, no clue. Elevate it? No, that wasn't right. Put ice on it? Yeah, right, from where? Aragorn had obviously already staunched the bleeding. While my mind protested that the first thing to do was to call 911, Aragorn came back with the Athelas. He looked faintly surprised that I was up, but handed me a bit.
"Stew it, if you will, while I apply some directly. Do you know how to do that?"
"Yes, I know how to do that." I said a bit snappishly. The headache was still there, and my common sense (the thing in your head that tells you not to anger xenophobic rangers) was still befuddled. I went over to the fire and paused.
"Where's the tea kettle?"
"Over here." Sam tossed it to me and nearly hit me in the head.
"Hey! My coordination isn't wonderful right now! You're going to knock out your manual labor!" Not that I'd done too much yet, but it sounded good.
"Just please get it brewed?" There was a sad helplessness in that voice. I was shaken as the reality of the situation came crashing down.
He thinks he's going to die.
Hell, he might if I change something.
I hurried and poured some water in the kettle from my water skin. We'd have to refill them at the first river. I almost began to calculate where and when that would be before snapping back to the real world.
"Hey!" I called to Aragorn, who was changing Frodo's bandages and adding a very strange, very smelly poultice to the wound. "Chopped or whole leaves?" I know how to boil water and stew stuff, but I'm not exactly a world-class cook.
"Chop it, it'll boil it out faster." Oh. I should've known that. Too bad salt was so scarce, could've gone even faster. I found that hunting knife that I hadn't even used yet and stuck it in the fire to clean it off. Before it got red, I pulled it out and carefully chopped up the Athelas. Feeling quite proud of myself, though why I'll never know, I put the remains of the poor plant in our pot.
"How long?"
There was a sigh as Aragorn finished replacing Frodo's bandages. "Just get out of the way." Oh fine, fine. I see. Not much use other than chopping our veggies, am I?
But then, this was life or death from his point of view. I calmed myself down and obeyed.
So…let's watch Frodo, shall we? He was looking much better after those bandages. Not quite so white. Sam, of course, refused to leave him, even though he was the cook of our merry little band.
"He'll make it," I said confidently to Sam. "He's a Baggins, right? He's got enough blood left in him to keep him stubborn."
Oops. The gardener was looking at me strangely. "How-"
"It's done." Rescued by the xenophobic ranger. Who would have guessed.
Strider applied the poultice carefully, Sam wincing as Frodo did.
"He should regain consciousness soon, he just hit his head a bit hard. The wound will be another matter, but he should last a while."
I dared to intervene. "Where are we going? Actually, I know where we're going, you said that, but how will we get there?" Strider gave me a sour look, but replied.
"We'll pass the Hoarwell, and then it is but a short distance to the Ford. Once we are closer to Rivendell I should feel much safer, but we are still a ways yet." I nodded, a hazy map of Arda in my mind. Isengard was down there somewhere, and the shire was Northish… oh yeah, I was confused.
Strider smiled grimly, as if reading my mind, and picked up Frodo.
"I hope you don't mind that he'll be taking the horse?" he asked mildly. I was quite sure that he'd been thinking the same as I – that had we had more horses, I would be hogtied on top of one.
"Oh no, not at all," I protested. There were always the small things to be grateful for.
**
I spent the next few days trying to remember important things about our path, succeeding only very little. Meanwhile, Frodo got steadily worse, though he had become awake and very much alert after the first day. Stubborn hobbit obviously refused to show it, though. It made me angry that I was so correct about the Bagginses. I had sort of guessed about the stubborn thing…
When we reached the Hoarwell crossing, Frodo was doing much worse. Strider, of course, was wondering why we hadn't happened to meet any Nazgûl along the way. I knew – it was one of the few things I did know – so I didn't worry about it nearly as much as he did.
Aragorn returned from a small ford with a small green jewel in his hand the day after he had voiced this question. "It gives me hope, and explains much," he told us. "Beryl is an Elven jewel. I have a feeling there is a good reason the riders have not attacked again." No one uttered a word, as we were all tired from marching and very worried. That night, we camped in a very uncomfortable, rocky place. The rocks certainly didn't stop it from being wet, and Frodo was all the worse for it.
Aragorn explained that night that we were too far North of Rivendell and had to go back. There were groans from every side.
I turned around and tried to settle myself into a pile of leaves. I closed my eyes and attempted a fitful sleep.
It wasn't comfortable. I had rocks digging into my sides the whole night. I mean, I'd always thought that after sleeping outside on one of my camping trips that I might be able to take something like this. But then, that was a forest, and on soft, level ground. Comparatively.
The fast pace's toll on everyone became much more obvious the next day. There were shadows under everyone's eyes, but there was no way we could stop. Frodo protested that we could take time to rest, but the idea was a weak thing, which was brushed aside. We'd doubled back, and nearly had a scare with a few trolls. If they'd been real, we might've had a problem, but Aragorn simply walked up to the statues and broke a stick on one of their behinds. Everyone relieved a bit of tension by laughing very loudly, but it sounded hollow. After the short break we once again continued on. When we were about to stop for a night, I wasn't surprised at all to hear hoof beats coming.
"Have the Nazgûl finally returned?" asked Frodo wearily. I smiled broadly, knowing that this was untrue, and hastened to explain lest I seem a bit eager.
"Why would they show up now if they haven't before? And I haven't got those funny tingles going up my back either." Indeed, the golden haired Glorfindel had appeared on the scene in all of his splendour, and with him came the horse that would save Frodo's life. I was frankly disappointed that there weren't trumpets and lighting effects accompanying it, but there you go.
He was… ethereal. Beautiful, though it pains me to describe a man like that. Not being an elf-fanatic myself, I only marveled slightly less than Sam. Reading about an elf and seeing one were two completely different things. One part of me wanted me to fall to my knees and stare in wonder while another, more curious side, was wondering if they really did live as long as Tolkien said.
This became a completely moot point as Strider approached him and greeted him. Glorfindel spoke a few words in elvish (beautiful language… wish I could understand it, but I was never that much of a fanatic). In short order, the ring bearer, despite protests, was loaded onto the beautiful horse (which went nicely with the beautiful man and the beautiful language) and sent to Rivendell.
"He will outdistance the dark riders without problem," said the elf with relief as Frodo's retreating figure disappeared into the distance. I was a little sad that I wouldn't see the ford flood, but not such a fool that I didn't know why it was completely stupid to want to see it. And man… I was too tired for anymore excitement.
When Glorfindel passed around the silvery liquid, I took it without question, reasoning that if it were poison it would at least end the suffering. Not that I suspected an elf lord of poisoning me, but if he was Aragorn's friend…
"So… how's the elf lord life treating you?" I asked him, feeling a little woozy from the drink. Oh, I was quite awake, but that elf stuff is strong.
Glorfindel was looking at me strangely. "You said she fell from the rafters?" he addressed Aragorn, who was attempting (but failing) to look unaffected by the potion.
"Hm? Oh yes, yes, of course. Yes." Apparently, elf lords can hold up to this stuff easier. Who knew that elves brewed such potent stuff? The remaining hobbits were now counting mushrooms off the road. I figured it must have affected them much more because of their small bodies. Or maybe they really were just counting mushrooms for the heck of it.
"She has an odd accent I haven't heard before," I heard the elf lord continue. "Didn't you notice?"
Aragorn shrugged. "You're talking to someone that spent nearly their entire life with elves. I don't think I would recognize many accents."
"Point taken."
"Would you stop talking about me like I'm not here?" I was already annoyed with him. That wasn't a good sign, especially as I couldn't even annoy him back without fear for my life.
"She looks a bit weak," commented Glorfindel, completely ignoring me. "No muscle on her at all."
"HEY! Not all of us have spent our lives training! SO WHAT!" They were ignoring me again. This was quickly getting old.
"You're right, she can't even use a sword. Not that I've intentionally let her get hold of one, but there have been instances…"
"Perhaps we could get her work as a laundry woman in Rivendell," said the elf airily.
"EXCUSE ME! I am RIGHT HERE! I can hear every word you jerks are saying and you SHALL regret it!"
That gave them pause. I was happy, in spite of myself, because I was finally being recognized.
"…Do you know what a 'jerk' is, Glorfindel?"
"No, I can't say I've heard it before. I would guess it is an unflattering name for someone." With that, they turned back to their conversation about how terribly useless I was. Predictably, this did wonders for my self-esteem.
"…if we were going to have a woman along, she could have at least been pleasing on the eyes…"
That one made me laugh. "You would have hated her," I said offhandedly.
"What?" Both turned to look at me once more.
"I said you would have hated her utterly. You have no idea how many times people have thought- I mean, I know some like that, they're worse than I am. Always having to get rescued and such. You find yourself spouting poetry in the middle of a battle…" Glorfindel shook his head and said something in elvish. I'm not sure what it was but I would guess it was 'an unflattering name for someone.' Probably something along the lines of 'crazy, delusional, half-wit…'.
I was quickly becoming less and less enamored with the beautiful language and the beautiful man. In fact… "Doesn't laundry require coordination, though? Perhaps she could wash the dishes?" …yep. There went my last bit of admiration.
It was to the tune of my flaws I walked to Rivendell. No, I mean literally. Merry and Pippin, to the consternation of the other hobbit, had come up with a song of them. They sang it loudly as much as they could. And they were tone deaf.
At some point, I think I threw a pinecone at one of them. I'm not sure because I wasn't exactly coherent at that point. Another dim memory of a ranger holding me back surfaces presently. I think there was also a knock over the head. Ouch.
What next I remember is Rivendell. And I will let all of you know that I wanted nothing less than to kiss Elrond's feet at this point. Maybe I tried to. When the idea that I should do dishes was pitched at him, he pitched it right back and said, "A guest in the city of elves shall not do menial labor."
He's a lot nicer than people make him out to be. Despite being very intimidating.
It was soon that I found he didn't know everything that went on in the absolutely wonderful city. Despite the waterfalls, the trees, the birds, and the absolutely gorgeous sunsets, Rivendell Resort was not all it's cracked up to be. For instance, I was ALWAYS flanked by at least one elf making sure I wasn't going to suddenly go homicidal and go on an elf-killing spree. I had to sleep in a room with Aragorn (on the floor, damnit) and it was not a pleasant experience. Especially as he definitely wanted to be somewhere else. If you don't know whom I'm talking about, I won't tell you. I heard her name so much that I hated her before I ever met her.
'She's a wonder on horseback, light as a feather, beautiful as the evening stars, her smile is like the sun…'
Just when I'd given up any and all hope of sleep (rangers get so very little…) miss Evenstar herself graced Aragorn with her presence.
She came through his bedroom door, a vision of loveliness, reminding me of nothing if not a Mary Sue in all her elvish splendor. Except for the fact that her face was smudged with dirt and her hair had more than a few twigs in it.
"Aragorn!" She flung her arms around him. He fidgeted.
"Ah…Arwen…long time, no see." The future king was looking pale.
"Long time no see? LONG TIME NO SEE? It has been FOREVER! What have you been doing since you last saw me? Why haven't you written? Why haven't you even stopped by just for tea?"
"Now I'm a busy man, Arwen, I've got a forest to protect and all…"
"Don't you DARE give me that, Aragorn, son of Arathorn! And who is THIS?" She'd spotted me. I waved weakly.
"She's some girl we picked up, it's my job to keep an eye-"
"YOU BETRAYED ME FOR A HUMAN?"
"Now, now, Arwen-"
I beat him to it. "ME? HIM? You have GOT to be KIDDING!" The fact that she was the princess escaped me at the moment. "I've been two words from hogtied the whole freaking way here! I've had a sword at my throat more times than I can count, walked miles each day, was attacked by Nazgûl, was constantly in fear for my life, and you think I would actually…" I was livid. Speechless. Arwen, on the other hand, looked angrier than ever.
"I can't believe you, Aragorn! Didn't you stop to have a decent bath along the way? No, don't answer me, I don't want to hear it! You had better get your act together and find some time to come and see me or so help me I will hogtie YOU!"
She left, slamming the door behind her. I could have groaned. I did. Aragorn was going to blame this all on…
"Would you look at what you did? Now she's mad at me!"
Yup. Me.
"Not my fault, ranger boy. I couldn't have written those love letters home for you. In case you're wondering, even though you still don't believe me, less than a month ago I was sitting happily at home by my fire, with my cat and my hot chocolate. Oh yeah, and I had INDOOR PLUMBING!" This odd assortment of foreign concepts didn't deter him.
"Those nonsense words aren't going to strengthen your ridiculous lies. Stop covering for yourself. You were eavesdropping!"
"I wasn't dropping any eaves!" I said, mimicking Sam. "I was knitting, of course," I continued sarcastically. "What kind of a fool do you take me for?"
"You're either crazy or you're trying to make fun of me. Neither of which is good!"
Something suddenly struck me that I had quite forgotten until now. Oh yes, the wonders of mandatory and useless classes. Communications Applications. Look them straight in the eye and they back down.
I looked him right in the eyes. "I. Am. Not. Crazy. I am from another world. I was quite happy there. Something about this stupid ring and this stupid quest brought me here. Now, if you don't want to believe me, that's fine. Don't penalize me for your ailing love life though. I am GOING to go with you to destroy that ring and you are GOING to find a way to get me home!"
"Then that means you're making fun of…" Aragorn trailed off, blinking.
Wait a minute… I had a bad feeling I'd said something I shouldn't have.
"Destroy the ring? Who said we were going to destroy it? Who said we were going anywhere at all? We haven't even met to figure out what to do with it!" Uh oh. Bad. Bad, bad, bad. My big mouth and me.
"It's the logical solution!" I shot back, trying to look as though he hadn't just scared me out of my wits. "The thing is going to call to everyone around it and it's only a matter of time until someone gives in. Sauron wants it, and so we get rid of it."
"Who says we've got to go anywhere to destroy it?"
"If someone didn't do it before now, it must have been dangerous."
There was silence.
"Fine." I nearly leapt for joy. "On one condition. You stay out of the way. You don't talk unless you're spoken to. And…" That didn't seem so bad. "You do the cooking, the laundry, and the dishes."
My hands clenched reflexively as I imagined them around his neck.
"Deal." What in hell made me say that?
He looked surprised. "Wait, and you get to chop wood."
"Nope. We already agreed. Besides, I can't chop worth crap. I have the muscles of a computer freak." At his puzzled look, I decided I didn't even want to explain. "I have no muscles. I can't lift an axe."
We shook on it. Then I smiled as I ordered him to go make up with his girlfriend. It got me another of those floor throwings, and I think there was a painful wrestling move in there, but things were looking up.
Besides, he may not have known when he made the deal... but I couldn't cook worth crap.