Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Any real life events that are similar to the ones listed in the story are pure coincidence—hey wait a minute…these are fictional characters…so that means I don't have to write this—( starts babbling about disclaimers and all that stuff.)
Aragorn: I wonder what she'll say when she realizes that dream she had about us coming to earth wasn't a dream…
Frodo: Probably something along the lines of "WHAT THE HELL?"
Merry: How I love observing the antics of one who is constantly hyper.
Pippin: Hey! I cut back on my espressos…
Merry: I wasn't talking to you.
Pippin: Oh.
Saruman: Has anyone seen my curling iron?
A/N: Okay, I know. It's been forever since I updated. I'm really sorry about this, guys, but the last month or so has been crazy. I had to take and study for finals and that chewed lots of my time up. Then, when I finally finished finals, our Internet went all crazy and stuff and we had no connection for a week and a half. I've also been sick pretty often. And in these past couple of weeks I had a crap load of stuff going on and there was a huge formal winter dance thing, and that was taking up so much of my time (I hate dress shopping). And then the dance really sucked. My date (I was set up) was about as exciting as a tree trunk. Anyhow, that is a sort of brief account of why I have been seemingly dead for the past month or so.
AHHHHH!!! I HAVE A SCRIPT!!!! YAY!!! Thank you SO much to Daphne and Little Ray of Moonlight who provided me with a source and Karylina, who suggested checking eBay (although my mother vetoed it…they didn't have copies…yet…*glares angrily at whoever owns eBay*) and also corrected a mistake I made about the horse's name. THANK YOU ALL SOOOOOO MUCH! Chocolate, gummy bears, and spinning pinwheel hats to you all!
I've gotten several inquiries as to where I learned Sindarin. I actually don't know Sindarin—I have a book about Tolkien's languages and in there they have an Elvish-English dictionary. The book is called The Languages of Tolkien's Middle-earth by Ruth S. Noel, and you can probably find it at Barnes and Noble or Borders.
Also, I wanted to briefly clarify something: last chapter, Haley may have seemed slightly out of character, due to her silence. I was trying to make her seem scared without directly saying anything—showing as opposed to telling. Anyhow, just wanted to make sure that was clear.
Romance: It's coming…possibly soon…I just don't want it to completely take over the plot. This story is both a romance and action/adventure, and I don't want the action part to just evaporate. My other reasons for keeping the romance gradual include (but are not limited to): a) I could possibly run out of ideas before the conclusion of the third book b) want to focus more on character development and not ruin what I've already got c) want it to be gradual because I didn't write this story to be a whole "love at first sight" thing, and d) future plot devices…
Chapter Twenty-Four
Horseback riding makes one seriously miss public transportation.
Well, maybe the schedules are unpredictable and often coded in some strange jargon that is only familiar to the operators of the vehicles, and maybe the utilities are often dirtied with centuries worth of discarded chewing gum and graffiti that oh so eloquently describes how much life sucks, often followed by an argument regarding the superiority of skaters to preps, or vice-versa.
However, my muscles never experienced such pain from the bus as they did from horseback riding.
It may have helped if I had actually had some basic training before I left Rivendell, but I suppose Elrond didn't really consider it—or he figured that the Fellowship would need some entertainment along the way. Either way, my lack of experience certainly did not make the ride more pleasant. The unfamiliar jolting movement of the horse galloping across the plain was enough to frighten me into silence, each bump feeling like the one that would send me flying of the saddle and into a broken heap on the ground.
And whoever said horseback riding was romantic obviously hasn't been around when the horse needs to make a pit stop…
After galloping across a seemingly endless stretch of land, Calatar came to a complete stop. I had fallen into a daze, too terrified to really do anything but tightly grasp the reigns and put all my trust in the horse to keep me safe. Calatar whinnied softly, pawing at the ground impatiently, bringing me out of my trance-like state. I exhaled slowly, not even realizing that I had been holding my breath. I carefully removed myself from the saddle, swinging my feet down to the solid ground beneath me. Leaning against Calatar's heaving flanks for support, I steadied myself as a brief dizziness swept over my body as I tried to readjust myself to being on solid ground again. My stomach ached and I could faintly feel bitter bile rising at the very bottom of my throat. After a moment, I let go of the horse and looked ahead for the very first time.
I was first assaulted with the stench of burning meat way past its prime. It mingled with the already revolting reek of the orcs, a combination so overpowering that it burned at not only my nostrils, but at my eyes and ears as well.
It smelled like death.
The smell alone was intolerable, but the sight that awaited me was equally awful. The fire had managed to destroy a good portion of the corpses, reducing them to nothing but blackened bones and charred armor. A skeleton leered at me hauntingly, an eerie grin plastered across its scorched and crumbling face. My stomach lurched painfully.
This was the fate of Merry and Pippin…I thought to myself, fighting tears.
Gimli began digging through the pile with amazing speed, casting aside broken swords and helmets. After a moment or so, he stopped, holding something gently in his gloved hands.
"One of their little belts…" he murmured quietly after a moment, holding up a belt one of them had received from Galadriel. The fire had blackened the beautifully twisted gold and silver to a nearly unrecognizable mess, the gentle carvings of the Lorien elves barely visible. This simple token of the two jovial hobbits was enough to confirm what I prayed not to happen. They were dead. The small hope that had been flickering inside of me was abruptly replaced with the harsh realization that they were truly gone, scattered among the bones and armor that were piled before us. Tears burned in my eyes and my stomach ached as I stared at the smoking mess before me.
Legolas bowed his head and closed his eyes, murmuring softly in elvish. Aragorn angrily kicked at a stray helmet, letting a cry of grief and anger escape his lips before he fell to his knees, his proud shoulders sagging.
"We have failed them," Gimli said dejectedly, his voice laden with sadness and a bitter anger.
I was going to say something at that point when my stomach pitched violently and an imminent feeling of nausea swept over me. I doubled over, clutching my abdomen, while at the same time trying to stagger away from Legolas and Gimli who were both dangerously close to me.
In short, my plan didn't work so well. I threw up all over Legolas' shoulder before collapsing to the ground, retching. I'll spare the reader the details.
When I had successfully thrown up all I had eaten for breakfast and lunch that day and ruined yet another sentimental moment, I knelt on the ground on the verge of sobbing. Not only was everything completely lost, but also I had just thrown up all over the place, including Legolas' shoulder. I fumbled in my tunic pocket for a handkerchief, wiping my off my mouth and furiously brushing at the tears that had begun to trickle down my cheeks. Someone grabbed a hold of my arm and hoisted me to my feet. I tried to control the tears that were beginning to well up in my eyes as I found myself staring into the all-too-familiar eyes of Legolas, who, despite all things, looked genuinely concerned.
"I'm….really…sorry…" was all I managed to choke out without completely losing control.
"Drink some water," he instructed, handing me my canteen. I sipped at the cool water, feeling humiliated and depressed as everything began to sink in.
"If you ask me," Gimli began as I drank, "a good draught of Dwarven ale would fix her up right away." It took a lot of self-control, but I managed to not spit out my mouthful of water. I made a vow right then to never accept any medical advice from Gimli. I suspect that most of his remedies, from skin irritations to broken ankles, include a large consumption of Dwarven ale.
"I'm really sorry," I offered again, after I finished my water. Legolas shrugged.
"Worse things have happened," he replied simply, with the hint of a smile.
"A hobbit lay here," Aragorn said suddenly, peering intently at a patch of grass, seemingly unaware of my little adventure. "And the other…" he motioned to another area, inches away from the first one. "They crawled…" He began to follow a set of tracks that only his sharp eyes could discern from the bent and broken carpet of green. I trailed along after him with Legolas and Gimli. "Their hands were bound…" Aragorn bent to retrieve something from the grass. A frayed piece of dirty rope. "Their bonds were cut." At that moment, a small ray of hope began to glow inside of me. Maybe we still had a chance to save them and make things right again. Maybe. "They ran over here and were followed…" Aragorn nimbly strode beside the track the two hobbits had made, wearing a mixed expression of anticipation and relief. "Tracks lead away from battle and into…Fangorn Forest."
I looked up at the forest that had been quietly watching us for the duration of our stay here. Now that we were closer to it, it seemed to loom threateningly over us, invisible eyes peering out of the darkness that lay beyond the trees. This forest was different from Lothlorien. Fangorn lived. The whole forest seemed to possess a consciousness, a mind of its own. The wind whispered ominously through the leaves and I thought I could hear faint snatches of conversation in an unfamiliar tongue. I shivered involuntarily.
"Fangorn!" exclaimed Gimli. "What madness drove them there?"
*
Well, I'm guessing it was the same madness that drove us there because several minutes later (this was after Legolas changed into a clean shirt), we were making our own journey to the heart of the forest.
The air was oppressive inside the forest, bearing down on us from every direction. The silence that occupied the woods was enough to drive anyone insane, and it didn't help that we were often the ones to break the silence, earning disapproving whispers from the trees. Deep voices slithered through the air like snakes, poisonous venom dripping from each word. I shivered as one particularly disgruntled voice muttered something that seemed like a threat.
We followed tracks for a while—well, Aragorn and Gimli did most of the tracking and of course Legolas was making his extra-special elven analysis of the woods. I spent most of the time searching the foliage around me with a growing feeling of fear and paranoia, and actually apologizing out loud to the trees if I happened to trip on a lone root.
"This forest is old," Legolas murmured after a while, his eyes scanning the vegetation slowly. "Very old. Full of memory…and anger." That last bit was certainly quite true, and the voices grew louder, as though they were confirming that observation. I could feel my shoulders tensing up as the voices ricocheted throughout the forest. "The trees are speaking to each other," Legolas continued. I stared uneasily at an ancient moss-covered oak that seemed particularly angry. Gimli had raised his axe slightly, his eyes shifting slightly.
"Gimli!" Aragorn exclaimed after a moment.
"Huh?" The dwarf started slightly at the sound of his name.
"Lower your axe," Aragorn replied, motioning with his hands.
"Oh…" Gimli looked at the trees, a fearful apology written on his face as he lowered his axe.
"Aragorn, ná edno en nas!" Legolas said quietly. I managed to translate most of the sentence into "something is out there!" but I wasn't incredibly sure. He could have told him he smelled like a fish for all I know.
"Man cenich?" Aragorn replied. This I knew meant, "what do you see?" as I had been drilled on similar phrases on several occasions. Legolas stared intently at the surrounding foliage, his keen gaze seeming to penetrate even the thickest of trees.
"The White Wizard approaches," he whispered after a moment. My heart pounded in my ears. I had never seen Saruman, but I had heard enough about him to determine that he was evil and quite possibly crazy. I felt anger welling up in my chest as I recounted the events that had happened because of him. He was the one who dumped all that snow on us at Caradhras. He was the reason why we had to go through Moria. He was the reason that both Gandalf and Boromir were dead. I swallowed and tried to control myself as mixed feelings of violent anger and fear ran through my veins.
"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us!" advised Aragorn, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his sword. My hand went to my own sword, my fingers gripping the hilt tightly. Gimli tightened his hold on his axe and Legolas held his quiver gently in his hands, ready to retrieve an arrow at less than a moment's notice.
"We must be quick," Aragorn said quietly as we waited in the silence.
Suddenly, as if we were responding to some silent cue, we all spun around, weapons withdrawn and ready to fight. A bright white light flashed in my eyes the second I spun around, blinding me completely. I blinked frantically, trying to regain my sight, stumbling slightly, only seeing an endless stream of pure white light. The hilt of my sword suddenly became hot in my hand before escalating to a temperature that made fire seem cool in comparison. I cried out as my skin blistered and dropped my sword, wincing as the handle landed painfully on my foot. I held my hand to my chest, blinking and rubbing at my eyes. I was certain that I was done for.
"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," a powerful voice said as I tried to regain my balance, expecting to be killed or imprisoned at any moment now.
"Where are they?" demanded Aragorn, his voice somewhere off to the left.
"They passed this way, the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" the voice asked.
"No…" I replied, rubbing at my eyes.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" demanded Aragorn.
The light slowly began to dim and color began to slowly seep back into the world. I blinked a few times before my vision was restored. I looked up toward the direction of the voice, expecting to come face to face with the wizard who had been the cause of most of our problems. What I saw instead sent me to my knees in awe and tearful gratefulness.
"It cannot be!" whispered Aragorn.
For in front of me, clothed in white, a gentle light emanating all around him, his familiar gentle eyes radiating that grandfatherly kindness and immense power, stood Gandalf.