Chapter 6
~
Brr. It's so cold up here, I think my teeth are frozen together. It's at least ten below. And I would know, being a Minnesotan, born and bred.
Hey, I didn't do it on purpose. And it really sucks, since I don't like snow. The cold's alright, but snow sucks.
And here I am, wrapped as deep as I can get into my cloak and not come out the other side, listening to Boromir quietly talk to Merry and Pippin. Legolas walks by me, on the snow, which, all fangirl urges aside, makes me want to knock him off the mountain.
Just then, Frodo slips, tumbling down the slope. Aragorn catches him, pulls him to his feet, and I watch in dismay as Boromir picks up the ring.
Crap. Can't interfere, can't interfere, can't interfere. Must let it play out. This is not my story. Boromir is not your friend. He is going to die and you cannot stop it.
Argh! Fuck! You know what? Fuck it. I can't interfere, but I really, really, really want to. I don't want to take any of the glory from Frodo or Sam or Aragorn or any of the others, but I really, really want to save Boromir. Because he really is my friend.
"Boromir," Aragorn says sharply, and I lay a hand on my friend's arm. ~Please, Boromir, give it back...~
Boromir smiles nervously and hands the ring back to Frodo. "Take it, I care not," he says, and walks by, ruffling Frodo's hair as he goes. But it's obvious he does care, and it worries me. Because he is my friend.
Maybe if I repeat it long enough I'll convince myself that I can't interfere. Or maybe I'm trying to convince myself that I can.
~
I would pay money – the real stuff, not stuff I jacked out of my brother's many Monopoly games – to be in a Buffy fic. At least then I would be in Southern California, and it would be WARM. And I wouldn't have to worry about any of those pesky fangirl urges, since I don't want to glomp any of Buffy's male cast. No, not the female cast either. Gutterface.
Ooh! Or maybe Forgotten Realms? Now Drizzt, there's somebody I could get in to. Maybe I just have a yen for Elves, dark or otherwise.
But no, it's cold there, too. Forget it. I just can't win, can I?
Hmm...maybe...
Nope. No where else I would be. At least here I can sneak a glance up Legolas's tunic.
Argh! Bad thoughts!
Nice ass.
~
I should be deeply ashamed of myself. Deeply.
I'm not, of course, but I really should be.
But, anyway, back to the fact that it's really cold. We're further along the mountain, and it's snowing harder, and Legolas, lucky bastard, gets to walk on the snow, but that just puts him right out in the wind, so I'm not sure if I think he's lucky or not.
Ah, Gandalf just started shaking his staff and yelling at Saruman's 'fell voice.'
Ow! Hey! Rock!
I duck further back into my cloak, dodge a rock, and nearly trip over Gimli. Poor Dwarf can barely see over the snow, but no one's trying to carry HIM. Of course, all the leather and metal he's wearing, he probably weighs more than any three of the Hobbits combined.
Am I rambling? I am, aren't I?
Leilanni and Mitanna prepare to step forward to help Aragorn make his big, leaderly decisions. Actually, that's what Mitanna was doing. I think Leilanni was just trying to sneak a glance up Legolas's tunic. I really can't fault her for that.
God, I think my brain's freezing.
"Instead of going over the mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria!"
Ah, crap. I don't like caves any more than I like heights. Yes, I am a wimp.
Gandalf goes very still for a moment, then he turns and looks at Frodo, who's half-buried in Aragorn's cloak. "Let the Ringbearer decide."
Frodo looks uncomfortable, then squares his shoulders, as best he can when being carried. "Let us go through the mines."
Gandalf immediately looks grim and foreboding. "So be it."
Please no. Oh, I hate enclosed spaces, and I hate the dark, and anybody else remember that bridge?
I am so screwed. God hates me. That's what it is.
Damn.
~
"The walls of Moria!"
Oh. Yay.
"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gimli explains, tapping the rock face with his axe.
"Yes, Gimli," Gandalf calls back from the front. "Their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Legolas mutters from next to me.
I hide a smile in the hood of my cloak. Boromir grins, then falls back to walk next to me once Legolas is out of earshot. Well, more or less out of earshot. With those Elves, who knows?
"I see you have found something to occupy your time," he whispers, smirking at me.
"What do you mean?" I whisper back. "Why are we whispering?"
Boromir shrugs. I sit on a rock and he crouches next to me. "You have been watching the Elf for the last several days."
I shrug, ducking my head to hide my embarrassment. "He's gorgeous. Sue me."
He frowns at me. "I beg your pardon?"
Oh, what I wouldn't give for a conversation with somebody who understood modern slang. "He's beautiful. I watch him because he's beautiful. Is that a problem?" I know I sound all rude and defensive, but I can't help it. That is why I do it.
Boromir frowns at me. "I think it is more than that."
"You think wrong."
He just stares at me, for a long moment until I look away. "Do I?" He gets up and moves to join Aragorn. Legolas glances back at me, a small smile on his lips, and I know that he heard me. I glare at him, blushing, and then duck my head.
OK, Earth, any time you wanna open up and swallow me is good with me.
Meanwhile, up at the door, Gandalf plops down, having exhausted his supply of passwords. He's glaring at the door, like it's all the poor door's fault.
"So what are we going to do now?" Pippin asks. Ah, sweet, innocent Pippin, he should know better.
"Smash your head against them, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed some respite from foolish questions, I shall think of something else!"
Pippin bows his head, looking ashamed. I reach out and touch his shoulder. "It's all right," I whisper. "He's just all cranky 'cause he can't figure it out."
Pippin grins at me. I smile back and wander away. He and Merry start to throw rocks in the water. I wince. We all know what THAT'S gonna wake up.
Mitanna wanders up to stand next to Gandalf, who has finally sat down in despair. "I once knew every spell in the tongues of Elves, Men, and Orcs." Oooh, that line was in the wrong place! I am SO writing Peter Jackson!
If I ever get back to my world.
Anyway, back to Red. She's smiling broadly, and I want to smash her face in. She's going to steal Frodo's line. Bitch. "It's a riddle! 'Speak friend and enter.' Do you see it, Leilanni?"
Leilanni glides up next to her, looking serene and perfect. "Indeed! How clever! 'Tis the Elvish word for friend."
"Mellon," Legolas says softly, and the doors swing open.
I look at them and wince. I don't really like the dark either. Didn't I tell you I was a wimp?
TBC...
~
Brr. It's so cold up here, I think my teeth are frozen together. It's at least ten below. And I would know, being a Minnesotan, born and bred.
Hey, I didn't do it on purpose. And it really sucks, since I don't like snow. The cold's alright, but snow sucks.
And here I am, wrapped as deep as I can get into my cloak and not come out the other side, listening to Boromir quietly talk to Merry and Pippin. Legolas walks by me, on the snow, which, all fangirl urges aside, makes me want to knock him off the mountain.
Just then, Frodo slips, tumbling down the slope. Aragorn catches him, pulls him to his feet, and I watch in dismay as Boromir picks up the ring.
Crap. Can't interfere, can't interfere, can't interfere. Must let it play out. This is not my story. Boromir is not your friend. He is going to die and you cannot stop it.
Argh! Fuck! You know what? Fuck it. I can't interfere, but I really, really, really want to. I don't want to take any of the glory from Frodo or Sam or Aragorn or any of the others, but I really, really want to save Boromir. Because he really is my friend.
"Boromir," Aragorn says sharply, and I lay a hand on my friend's arm. ~Please, Boromir, give it back...~
Boromir smiles nervously and hands the ring back to Frodo. "Take it, I care not," he says, and walks by, ruffling Frodo's hair as he goes. But it's obvious he does care, and it worries me. Because he is my friend.
Maybe if I repeat it long enough I'll convince myself that I can't interfere. Or maybe I'm trying to convince myself that I can.
~
I would pay money – the real stuff, not stuff I jacked out of my brother's many Monopoly games – to be in a Buffy fic. At least then I would be in Southern California, and it would be WARM. And I wouldn't have to worry about any of those pesky fangirl urges, since I don't want to glomp any of Buffy's male cast. No, not the female cast either. Gutterface.
Ooh! Or maybe Forgotten Realms? Now Drizzt, there's somebody I could get in to. Maybe I just have a yen for Elves, dark or otherwise.
But no, it's cold there, too. Forget it. I just can't win, can I?
Hmm...maybe...
Nope. No where else I would be. At least here I can sneak a glance up Legolas's tunic.
Argh! Bad thoughts!
Nice ass.
~
I should be deeply ashamed of myself. Deeply.
I'm not, of course, but I really should be.
But, anyway, back to the fact that it's really cold. We're further along the mountain, and it's snowing harder, and Legolas, lucky bastard, gets to walk on the snow, but that just puts him right out in the wind, so I'm not sure if I think he's lucky or not.
Ah, Gandalf just started shaking his staff and yelling at Saruman's 'fell voice.'
Ow! Hey! Rock!
I duck further back into my cloak, dodge a rock, and nearly trip over Gimli. Poor Dwarf can barely see over the snow, but no one's trying to carry HIM. Of course, all the leather and metal he's wearing, he probably weighs more than any three of the Hobbits combined.
Am I rambling? I am, aren't I?
Leilanni and Mitanna prepare to step forward to help Aragorn make his big, leaderly decisions. Actually, that's what Mitanna was doing. I think Leilanni was just trying to sneak a glance up Legolas's tunic. I really can't fault her for that.
God, I think my brain's freezing.
"Instead of going over the mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria!"
Ah, crap. I don't like caves any more than I like heights. Yes, I am a wimp.
Gandalf goes very still for a moment, then he turns and looks at Frodo, who's half-buried in Aragorn's cloak. "Let the Ringbearer decide."
Frodo looks uncomfortable, then squares his shoulders, as best he can when being carried. "Let us go through the mines."
Gandalf immediately looks grim and foreboding. "So be it."
Please no. Oh, I hate enclosed spaces, and I hate the dark, and anybody else remember that bridge?
I am so screwed. God hates me. That's what it is.
Damn.
~
"The walls of Moria!"
Oh. Yay.
"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gimli explains, tapping the rock face with his axe.
"Yes, Gimli," Gandalf calls back from the front. "Their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Legolas mutters from next to me.
I hide a smile in the hood of my cloak. Boromir grins, then falls back to walk next to me once Legolas is out of earshot. Well, more or less out of earshot. With those Elves, who knows?
"I see you have found something to occupy your time," he whispers, smirking at me.
"What do you mean?" I whisper back. "Why are we whispering?"
Boromir shrugs. I sit on a rock and he crouches next to me. "You have been watching the Elf for the last several days."
I shrug, ducking my head to hide my embarrassment. "He's gorgeous. Sue me."
He frowns at me. "I beg your pardon?"
Oh, what I wouldn't give for a conversation with somebody who understood modern slang. "He's beautiful. I watch him because he's beautiful. Is that a problem?" I know I sound all rude and defensive, but I can't help it. That is why I do it.
Boromir frowns at me. "I think it is more than that."
"You think wrong."
He just stares at me, for a long moment until I look away. "Do I?" He gets up and moves to join Aragorn. Legolas glances back at me, a small smile on his lips, and I know that he heard me. I glare at him, blushing, and then duck my head.
OK, Earth, any time you wanna open up and swallow me is good with me.
Meanwhile, up at the door, Gandalf plops down, having exhausted his supply of passwords. He's glaring at the door, like it's all the poor door's fault.
"So what are we going to do now?" Pippin asks. Ah, sweet, innocent Pippin, he should know better.
"Smash your head against them, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed some respite from foolish questions, I shall think of something else!"
Pippin bows his head, looking ashamed. I reach out and touch his shoulder. "It's all right," I whisper. "He's just all cranky 'cause he can't figure it out."
Pippin grins at me. I smile back and wander away. He and Merry start to throw rocks in the water. I wince. We all know what THAT'S gonna wake up.
Mitanna wanders up to stand next to Gandalf, who has finally sat down in despair. "I once knew every spell in the tongues of Elves, Men, and Orcs." Oooh, that line was in the wrong place! I am SO writing Peter Jackson!
If I ever get back to my world.
Anyway, back to Red. She's smiling broadly, and I want to smash her face in. She's going to steal Frodo's line. Bitch. "It's a riddle! 'Speak friend and enter.' Do you see it, Leilanni?"
Leilanni glides up next to her, looking serene and perfect. "Indeed! How clever! 'Tis the Elvish word for friend."
"Mellon," Legolas says softly, and the doors swing open.
I look at them and wince. I don't really like the dark either. Didn't I tell you I was a wimp?
TBC...