Catherine Maria – I'm sorry! I couldn't stop her! She just shot him! Thank
you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it!
Meee – OK, I think that's FOUR votes to see Elladan and Elrohir again. Thanks so much!
Ainu lote – Thanks! Hugely!
Sylvia Viridian – You're asking me? I have no idea! When they catch up to Leilanni, I'm sure Kayli'll ask her. Probably with the tip of her dagger. You're the only person to comment on the interludes! Thanks so much!
~
Chapter 14
~
OK, I hate being the only chick on this field trip. Do have any idea how hard it is to find a split second of privacy amongst four macho, macho Men, Dwarves, and Elves?
Oh, and don't even think for a SECOND that Legolas isn't masculine. Just because he has long hair and a smooth face does not mean he isn't a guy. As a matter of fact, he's more manly than a lot of guys I know back home, and yes, Micah, I AM talking about you. Not your boyfriend. Just you.
I think I've gone crazy. No, I'm almost positive I've gone crazy.
I'm pretty sure I'm also managing to run and sleep at the same time. Convenient, that.
OK, maybe not so much when somebody grabs you and throws you into a ROCK!
Ow. Thanks a lot, Aragorn.
"Riders of Rohan," Legolas says softly. "One hundred and five. Armed with spears."
Boromir and I exchange a glance. Boromir mouths something that looks suspiciously like the word 'wow.' I shrug, trying to release the tension in my shoulders. Elves are swell. Yay.
I am so far gone that not even Legolas can impress me. How sad is that.
And here we have. Aragorn steps out and thus exposes himself.
No, not that kind of 'exposes.' As in shows...oh, hell. Forget it.
He steps out from behind the rocks and yells. "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"
"Um, are we sure we want them over here?" I ask softly.
Too late. We're surrounded. And can I just say I am really tired of having the pointy end of ANTYHING pointed at me?
"What business have two men, an Elf, a Dwarf and a woman –" He spits out 'woman' like it's a bad word – "Have in the Riddermark?"
I do not make any comments about ghost ships, or maggots, or falling through deck plates, or anything related to Julianna Marguiles. Or Hercules or Xena. And I do not ask about the REAL relationship between him and his horse, even though I really, really want to.
Since that's more or less all of my conversational options, I do not speak. I refrain. Aren't you proud?
Besides, Boromir and Gimli are both gripping my arms, as if they're afraid I'll say something stupid. Would I do that? Shut up. It was a rhetorical question.
"Give me your name, horse master, and I'll give you mine," Gimli says, glaring at him.
Caesar...I mean, Eomer...gets off his horse and draws his sword. "I would cut off your head, if it stood but higher from the ground."
Finally, somebody ELSE is having something sharp pointed at them. Go, studly!
"You would die before your stroke fell," Legolas snarls. Yes, snarls. Ooh, I'm all aflutter.
Somebody help me. I think I'm broken.
Aragorn gently pushes Legolas's arrow aside. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Boromir, son of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor."
"We have met," Boromir mutters.
Aragorn ignores him and continues. "Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas, of the Woodland Realm. And this is Kayli, another warrior joined our quest."
Rough, masculine laughter greet this last comment. They don't believe him. Oooh, bummer. My heart is breaking. I really don't think I like Mr. Testosterone, over there.
And he just keeps going, even in the face of overwhelming odds. He must either be a hero, or a masochist. Guess which one I'm going for?
Yeah, you guessed it.
"We are friend of Rohan, and of Théoden, your King."
Eomer sighs, lowering his sword. "Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." He pulls off his helmet. "Not even his own kin."
The helmet removal must be some kind of secret Rohirrim code. The others all lower their spears. I roll my eyes at the one closest to me, ignoring Legolas's hand on my arm. God, MEN.
Eomer frowns, looking at each of us in turn. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets."
"We're not spies," I say softly, brushing my hair out of my eyes.
He doesn't even bother to spare me a glance.
So Aragorn repeats the statement. "We are not spies. We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive."
Eomer is shaking his head before Aragorn even finishes speaking. "The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them in the night."
I feel Legolas go very still next to me, and I can feel my heart pounding. What if me saving Boromir changed how Merry and Pippin live in this 'verse? What if me saving Boromir killed them? What if?
God, I fucking hate what if's.
I tune out the rest of the conversation. I come back to reality when Eomer calls forward four horses. Yes, four. Apparently, there were more floating around the back of the herd in the movie. I guess.
I grin and approach one of them, stroking my hands across his smooth brown mane. He's a solid, rich chocolate, absolutely beautiful.
Why, yes, I DO know how to ride. I don't find it particularly enjoyable, since my feet aren't touching the ground, but yes, I can ride. One of my friends in school had a farm, with horses, and I learned how to ride there.
"Do you need help...mounting him?" asked one of Eomer's riders, complete with a rude gesture.
I could feel both Boromir and Legolas stiffening. They don't take insults towards a lady very well. Gimli snorts. Aragorn just sighs.
I look up at him and smile slowly, looking him over from head to toe in a deliberate way. "I don't think you have the right...equipment."
Several of the other Riders burst into deep, masculine laughter and rather crude jokes at his expense. Aragorn is leaning his face into Hasufel's mane, Gimli's chuckling, Boromir's got his jaw hanging open, and Legolas looked like he was clipped with Sam's frying pan of DOOM.
I smile at them innocently. "Was it something I said?"
Gimli laughs harder.
~
It's a good thing we ended the last bit on a good note, since the big heaping pile of charred Uruk corpses really isn't cute. Or...anything other than gross and synonyms there-of.
Gimli holds up the belt, tears gleaming in his black eyes. "One of their wee belts," he says softly.
Legolas turns his face away. He murmurs under his breath in Elvish, something that sounds like a prayer.
Then Aragorn lets out a scream of rage and drops to his knees. He sounds like me when I'm made at my car.
We start to follow him across the field, listening to him mutter. "They went into Fangorn," he says softly, and we stand there and stare at the forest.
"Fangorn," Gimli whispers.
"What madness could have driven them there?" Boromir asks.
Uhhh....orcs? Maybe?
I shrug. "Only one way to find out."
We walk in.
~
I tuned out again, didn't I? Dammit.
"This forest is old," Legolas whispers. His expression is reverant. I guess this must be the equivalent of a mecca for an Elf. "Full of memory...and anger."
Groans suddenly fill their air. "Is that the TREES?" I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. OK, flesh, anytime you wanna stop crawling is alright with me.
Gimli raises his axe. Poor Dwarf.
"They are speaking," Legolas says softly, directing it mostly at me. "They have sense of the world around them, just as we do."
"The TREES?" I whisper back, not even bothering to keep the disbelief out of my voice. I'm sorry, it's just...they're TREES.
Legolas just smiles. "Aye, the trees."
"Gimli," Boromir hisses back over his shoulder. "Lower your axe. You're making the trees nervous." He gives Legolas a sarcastic look.
Legolas glares back. I touch their arms. "Now, now, boys, play nice."
They both turn to stare at me. Legolas frowns, glances around the forest, then turns back to Aragorn and says something in Elvish.
Aragorn answers.
"The White Wizard approaches," Legolas whispers.
Oh. Oh, OK. Yay?
They all draw their weapons, whipping around with a yell. I pull one of my daggers, then swear and drop it as the hilt turns white-hot.
Ow, ow ow!
So I'm standing their, clutching my hand, glaring at a bright flash of white with long with hair and robes. Yes, it's Gandalf. I remember now. Shut up.
"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits," the White Wizard says, and I resist the urge to call him Count Dooku.
"Where are they?" Boromir demands. He would look fiercer if he wasn't cradling his hand.
"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They meant someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" he continues.
"Um...no?" I whisper.
"Who are you?" Aragorn demands. "Show yourself."
The light fades, and it's...gasp! Gandalf.
I sigh and lean against a tree. This much stress cannot be good for your heart.
The others murmur with surprise. Legolas kneels.
I am NOT kneeling before Gandalf. Maybe if I just fall down.
Gandalf is telling them how he defeated the Balrog. The ground is spinning. It is not pleasant.
I hit the ground. I'm very glad. It's not moving anymore.
TBC...
Meee – OK, I think that's FOUR votes to see Elladan and Elrohir again. Thanks so much!
Ainu lote – Thanks! Hugely!
Sylvia Viridian – You're asking me? I have no idea! When they catch up to Leilanni, I'm sure Kayli'll ask her. Probably with the tip of her dagger. You're the only person to comment on the interludes! Thanks so much!
~
Chapter 14
~
OK, I hate being the only chick on this field trip. Do have any idea how hard it is to find a split second of privacy amongst four macho, macho Men, Dwarves, and Elves?
Oh, and don't even think for a SECOND that Legolas isn't masculine. Just because he has long hair and a smooth face does not mean he isn't a guy. As a matter of fact, he's more manly than a lot of guys I know back home, and yes, Micah, I AM talking about you. Not your boyfriend. Just you.
I think I've gone crazy. No, I'm almost positive I've gone crazy.
I'm pretty sure I'm also managing to run and sleep at the same time. Convenient, that.
OK, maybe not so much when somebody grabs you and throws you into a ROCK!
Ow. Thanks a lot, Aragorn.
"Riders of Rohan," Legolas says softly. "One hundred and five. Armed with spears."
Boromir and I exchange a glance. Boromir mouths something that looks suspiciously like the word 'wow.' I shrug, trying to release the tension in my shoulders. Elves are swell. Yay.
I am so far gone that not even Legolas can impress me. How sad is that.
And here we have. Aragorn steps out and thus exposes himself.
No, not that kind of 'exposes.' As in shows...oh, hell. Forget it.
He steps out from behind the rocks and yells. "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"
"Um, are we sure we want them over here?" I ask softly.
Too late. We're surrounded. And can I just say I am really tired of having the pointy end of ANTYHING pointed at me?
"What business have two men, an Elf, a Dwarf and a woman –" He spits out 'woman' like it's a bad word – "Have in the Riddermark?"
I do not make any comments about ghost ships, or maggots, or falling through deck plates, or anything related to Julianna Marguiles. Or Hercules or Xena. And I do not ask about the REAL relationship between him and his horse, even though I really, really want to.
Since that's more or less all of my conversational options, I do not speak. I refrain. Aren't you proud?
Besides, Boromir and Gimli are both gripping my arms, as if they're afraid I'll say something stupid. Would I do that? Shut up. It was a rhetorical question.
"Give me your name, horse master, and I'll give you mine," Gimli says, glaring at him.
Caesar...I mean, Eomer...gets off his horse and draws his sword. "I would cut off your head, if it stood but higher from the ground."
Finally, somebody ELSE is having something sharp pointed at them. Go, studly!
"You would die before your stroke fell," Legolas snarls. Yes, snarls. Ooh, I'm all aflutter.
Somebody help me. I think I'm broken.
Aragorn gently pushes Legolas's arrow aside. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Boromir, son of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor."
"We have met," Boromir mutters.
Aragorn ignores him and continues. "Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas, of the Woodland Realm. And this is Kayli, another warrior joined our quest."
Rough, masculine laughter greet this last comment. They don't believe him. Oooh, bummer. My heart is breaking. I really don't think I like Mr. Testosterone, over there.
And he just keeps going, even in the face of overwhelming odds. He must either be a hero, or a masochist. Guess which one I'm going for?
Yeah, you guessed it.
"We are friend of Rohan, and of Théoden, your King."
Eomer sighs, lowering his sword. "Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." He pulls off his helmet. "Not even his own kin."
The helmet removal must be some kind of secret Rohirrim code. The others all lower their spears. I roll my eyes at the one closest to me, ignoring Legolas's hand on my arm. God, MEN.
Eomer frowns, looking at each of us in turn. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets."
"We're not spies," I say softly, brushing my hair out of my eyes.
He doesn't even bother to spare me a glance.
So Aragorn repeats the statement. "We are not spies. We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive."
Eomer is shaking his head before Aragorn even finishes speaking. "The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them in the night."
I feel Legolas go very still next to me, and I can feel my heart pounding. What if me saving Boromir changed how Merry and Pippin live in this 'verse? What if me saving Boromir killed them? What if?
God, I fucking hate what if's.
I tune out the rest of the conversation. I come back to reality when Eomer calls forward four horses. Yes, four. Apparently, there were more floating around the back of the herd in the movie. I guess.
I grin and approach one of them, stroking my hands across his smooth brown mane. He's a solid, rich chocolate, absolutely beautiful.
Why, yes, I DO know how to ride. I don't find it particularly enjoyable, since my feet aren't touching the ground, but yes, I can ride. One of my friends in school had a farm, with horses, and I learned how to ride there.
"Do you need help...mounting him?" asked one of Eomer's riders, complete with a rude gesture.
I could feel both Boromir and Legolas stiffening. They don't take insults towards a lady very well. Gimli snorts. Aragorn just sighs.
I look up at him and smile slowly, looking him over from head to toe in a deliberate way. "I don't think you have the right...equipment."
Several of the other Riders burst into deep, masculine laughter and rather crude jokes at his expense. Aragorn is leaning his face into Hasufel's mane, Gimli's chuckling, Boromir's got his jaw hanging open, and Legolas looked like he was clipped with Sam's frying pan of DOOM.
I smile at them innocently. "Was it something I said?"
Gimli laughs harder.
~
It's a good thing we ended the last bit on a good note, since the big heaping pile of charred Uruk corpses really isn't cute. Or...anything other than gross and synonyms there-of.
Gimli holds up the belt, tears gleaming in his black eyes. "One of their wee belts," he says softly.
Legolas turns his face away. He murmurs under his breath in Elvish, something that sounds like a prayer.
Then Aragorn lets out a scream of rage and drops to his knees. He sounds like me when I'm made at my car.
We start to follow him across the field, listening to him mutter. "They went into Fangorn," he says softly, and we stand there and stare at the forest.
"Fangorn," Gimli whispers.
"What madness could have driven them there?" Boromir asks.
Uhhh....orcs? Maybe?
I shrug. "Only one way to find out."
We walk in.
~
I tuned out again, didn't I? Dammit.
"This forest is old," Legolas whispers. His expression is reverant. I guess this must be the equivalent of a mecca for an Elf. "Full of memory...and anger."
Groans suddenly fill their air. "Is that the TREES?" I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. OK, flesh, anytime you wanna stop crawling is alright with me.
Gimli raises his axe. Poor Dwarf.
"They are speaking," Legolas says softly, directing it mostly at me. "They have sense of the world around them, just as we do."
"The TREES?" I whisper back, not even bothering to keep the disbelief out of my voice. I'm sorry, it's just...they're TREES.
Legolas just smiles. "Aye, the trees."
"Gimli," Boromir hisses back over his shoulder. "Lower your axe. You're making the trees nervous." He gives Legolas a sarcastic look.
Legolas glares back. I touch their arms. "Now, now, boys, play nice."
They both turn to stare at me. Legolas frowns, glances around the forest, then turns back to Aragorn and says something in Elvish.
Aragorn answers.
"The White Wizard approaches," Legolas whispers.
Oh. Oh, OK. Yay?
They all draw their weapons, whipping around with a yell. I pull one of my daggers, then swear and drop it as the hilt turns white-hot.
Ow, ow ow!
So I'm standing their, clutching my hand, glaring at a bright flash of white with long with hair and robes. Yes, it's Gandalf. I remember now. Shut up.
"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits," the White Wizard says, and I resist the urge to call him Count Dooku.
"Where are they?" Boromir demands. He would look fiercer if he wasn't cradling his hand.
"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They meant someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" he continues.
"Um...no?" I whisper.
"Who are you?" Aragorn demands. "Show yourself."
The light fades, and it's...gasp! Gandalf.
I sigh and lean against a tree. This much stress cannot be good for your heart.
The others murmur with surprise. Legolas kneels.
I am NOT kneeling before Gandalf. Maybe if I just fall down.
Gandalf is telling them how he defeated the Balrog. The ground is spinning. It is not pleasant.
I hit the ground. I'm very glad. It's not moving anymore.
TBC...