~
Chapter 22
~
For some reason, no matter what universe you're in, once you get a group of people celebrating victory and the lives of the dead, they always wanna party. I think to make sure they're still alive. The Irish are the worst.
No, that's not meant in an offensive way. Nobody can celebrate life like the Irish, although the French are good at it, too.
I watch as Théoden raises his tankard. "All hail the victorious dead!"
"Hail!" the Rohirrim yell back, and drink deeply.
I set mine aside and slip out the door. This is in so many ways not my idea of a good time. I don't even LIKE alcohol. Besides, it beats the crap out of watching Eowyn hit on Aragorn and the Hobbits dance on tables. And Gandalf bopping.
Gandalf. Bopping. It was very disturbing.
"Kayli?" says a quiet voice right by my shoulder, and I try not to jump out of my SKIN.
Bad Elf! Bad!
"Legolas," I say, very carefully, "we've talked about this. Could you not sneak up on me, please?"
I look back at him, and he's smiling. I wish he wouldn't do that. It makes my stomach feel all funny. Like I'm gonna throw up.
I had this conversation with one of my friends about a year ago, after I had a bad breakup. This would be Jared, 'I'm sorry honey, but I knocked up my stepsister.'
It went something like this. "You know you're in love. You get this funny feeling in your stomach, like the room's spinning really fast and your stomach's in your throat."
My response: "You mistook nausea for love? And you MARRIED him?"
The moral of the story: Love really does make you feel like you're gonna throw up. Ain't it grand?
A gentle hand touches my face, and I come back to reality with a rather unpleasant lurch, to find Legolas staring at me with concern. "Are you quite all right? You look...troubled."
I let out a quiet laugh. It doesn't sound like I think something's funny, but, hey, since when is a sharp stabbing pain not humorous?
I've completely lost what little mind I had to begin with.
"I beg your pardon?" Legolas asks.
Ooops. Did I say that last bit out loud?
"I assure you, Kayli, you are quite sane."
This time I DO laugh. That WAS funny. And I thought he kinda knew me. Hah!
I shake my head and pull out of his grasp. "I'm alright, Legolas. It's just..." I shake my head again and squeeze his hand. "I'm fine. Thank you."
I walk away.
I don't hear Legolas move, but when I glance back, he's gone.
Stinking, stealthy Elves.
~
Gandalf, Boromir, the Hobbits and I are all camped with the Rohirrim. I'm sleeping between Boromir and the Hobbits. God only knows where Gimli is.
I snap awake when I hear the doors slam open in the hall, rolling to my feet with a knife in hand. Ah, those warrior instincts.
The next thing I notice would be the shiny, FLAMING black ball in Pippin's hands.
"Pippin!" Boromir yells, trying to get to his feet.
Everything kind of slows down for a minute. I see Gandalf snap awake, and I watch as Aragorn wrestles the ball away from Pip, but then gets caught in Sauron's eye.
Oh, this is SO charming.
Boromir and Legolas finally manage to wrestle Aragorn's hands free of the giant marble, and I toss my blanket over it. Boromir gives me a nod and a tiny smile.
And here comes Gandalf, about as reassuring as a blizzard. He grabs Merry by the shoulder and tosses him aside like yesterday's trash.
Jesus, y'know, there, Whitey, some days I really fucking hate you.
I kneel down next to Merry, wrapping both of my arms around his shoulders, even thought I have a knife in one hand.
"Look at me," Gandalf says.
Pippin just lays there and shakes, tears rolling down his face. Merry hides his head in my shoulder. "Gandalf, forgive me!" he sobs, and tries to close his eyes.
"Look at me, Peregrin Took! What did you see?"
There's a long pause, and Pippin seems to be calming down, thank God.
"I saw...a tree," he whispers. "A white tree, in a stone courtyard." Another pause. "It was dead." He shivers. "The city was burning."
"Minas Tirith," Boromir whispers.
Oh, crap. Another field trip.
~
"I thought perhaps... I could control it," Aragorn is saying quietly a few hours later.
I roll my eyes. "No, instead you just let him get a good, long look at ya. Way to go, doofus."
Haldir mouths the word 'doofus.'
Aragorn turns and looks at me. "I beg your pardon?"
I wave a hand at him. "Don't do that. I hate to see a grown man beg."
He mutters something under his breath that I'm quite sure is obscene. "If you have nothing of value –"
"He's afraid," I interrupt. "We have the one thing on our side that could REALLY fuck up his plans for world domination."
"And what is that?" Haldir asks. He sounds amused. He usually does. Like the world's just one big joke, and it's at everybody's expense but his.
Lucky bastard.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. "Him," I answer, pointing at Aragorn. "The one thing that he would fear would be the Kingdoms of Men uniting against him. The one thing that would make that happen would be a King on the Throne of Gondor. And since Aragorn's the only King we brought along, it's gonna have to be him."
"What brings you to this conclusion?" Gandalf asks sharply.
"Common sense," I snap back. "Unlike most of the other people in this circus act from Hell, I came with some. Now, since Sauron knows all about our not-so-secret weapon, what the hell are we gonna do about it?"
There's a long pause.
"She is blunt," Haldir murmurs, studying his nails.
"She also has a point," Gimli adds, giving me a small smile.
I love that Dwarf. I really, really do.
"We must go to Gondor's aid," Boromir says passionately. After all, isn't that what started this whole mess?
"Why should we go to the aid of those who do not come to ours?" Théoden demands. "What do we owe Gondor?"
I roll my eyes. MEN.
"I will go," Aragorn says suddenly.
"No," Boromir says. "I will go. My father will need some time to get used to the idea that he is going to be replaced."
Oooh, that's right. Denethor's a lunatic. I'd forgotten about that.
"They must be warned," Aragorn agrees.
"They will be," Gandalf says firmly.
~
About two hours later, just after dawn, all the arrangements are hammered out. Boromir, Gandalf, and Pippin will ride to Minas Tirith. They'll light the beacons, and raise the alarm, and send out the cavalry, and the smoke signals and the Morse code and whatever the hell else needs to be done.
One good thing about being a girl? I can have gushy goodbyes. I hug Boromir tightly, and make him promise to be careful, and he gets the same promise out of me. Then I kneel down and hug Pippin, who's on the verge of tears.
"Take care of Merry," he whispers. I nod and kiss his cheek.
Then I get up and go over to talk to Gandalf. I have a few words to say to his Whiteyness.
"Gandalf?" I ask, keeping my voice sweet.
"Yes, child?" he answers.
"How was death?"
He turns and stares at me. "I beg your pardon?"
I smile. "I hope you liked it. 'Cause if anything happens to either one of them, you get to repeat the experience." I smile, stand on my toes, and kiss his cheek. "Have a nice trip."
I turn and walk away. I can hear Gimli chuckling.
TBC...
Chapter 22
~
For some reason, no matter what universe you're in, once you get a group of people celebrating victory and the lives of the dead, they always wanna party. I think to make sure they're still alive. The Irish are the worst.
No, that's not meant in an offensive way. Nobody can celebrate life like the Irish, although the French are good at it, too.
I watch as Théoden raises his tankard. "All hail the victorious dead!"
"Hail!" the Rohirrim yell back, and drink deeply.
I set mine aside and slip out the door. This is in so many ways not my idea of a good time. I don't even LIKE alcohol. Besides, it beats the crap out of watching Eowyn hit on Aragorn and the Hobbits dance on tables. And Gandalf bopping.
Gandalf. Bopping. It was very disturbing.
"Kayli?" says a quiet voice right by my shoulder, and I try not to jump out of my SKIN.
Bad Elf! Bad!
"Legolas," I say, very carefully, "we've talked about this. Could you not sneak up on me, please?"
I look back at him, and he's smiling. I wish he wouldn't do that. It makes my stomach feel all funny. Like I'm gonna throw up.
I had this conversation with one of my friends about a year ago, after I had a bad breakup. This would be Jared, 'I'm sorry honey, but I knocked up my stepsister.'
It went something like this. "You know you're in love. You get this funny feeling in your stomach, like the room's spinning really fast and your stomach's in your throat."
My response: "You mistook nausea for love? And you MARRIED him?"
The moral of the story: Love really does make you feel like you're gonna throw up. Ain't it grand?
A gentle hand touches my face, and I come back to reality with a rather unpleasant lurch, to find Legolas staring at me with concern. "Are you quite all right? You look...troubled."
I let out a quiet laugh. It doesn't sound like I think something's funny, but, hey, since when is a sharp stabbing pain not humorous?
I've completely lost what little mind I had to begin with.
"I beg your pardon?" Legolas asks.
Ooops. Did I say that last bit out loud?
"I assure you, Kayli, you are quite sane."
This time I DO laugh. That WAS funny. And I thought he kinda knew me. Hah!
I shake my head and pull out of his grasp. "I'm alright, Legolas. It's just..." I shake my head again and squeeze his hand. "I'm fine. Thank you."
I walk away.
I don't hear Legolas move, but when I glance back, he's gone.
Stinking, stealthy Elves.
~
Gandalf, Boromir, the Hobbits and I are all camped with the Rohirrim. I'm sleeping between Boromir and the Hobbits. God only knows where Gimli is.
I snap awake when I hear the doors slam open in the hall, rolling to my feet with a knife in hand. Ah, those warrior instincts.
The next thing I notice would be the shiny, FLAMING black ball in Pippin's hands.
"Pippin!" Boromir yells, trying to get to his feet.
Everything kind of slows down for a minute. I see Gandalf snap awake, and I watch as Aragorn wrestles the ball away from Pip, but then gets caught in Sauron's eye.
Oh, this is SO charming.
Boromir and Legolas finally manage to wrestle Aragorn's hands free of the giant marble, and I toss my blanket over it. Boromir gives me a nod and a tiny smile.
And here comes Gandalf, about as reassuring as a blizzard. He grabs Merry by the shoulder and tosses him aside like yesterday's trash.
Jesus, y'know, there, Whitey, some days I really fucking hate you.
I kneel down next to Merry, wrapping both of my arms around his shoulders, even thought I have a knife in one hand.
"Look at me," Gandalf says.
Pippin just lays there and shakes, tears rolling down his face. Merry hides his head in my shoulder. "Gandalf, forgive me!" he sobs, and tries to close his eyes.
"Look at me, Peregrin Took! What did you see?"
There's a long pause, and Pippin seems to be calming down, thank God.
"I saw...a tree," he whispers. "A white tree, in a stone courtyard." Another pause. "It was dead." He shivers. "The city was burning."
"Minas Tirith," Boromir whispers.
Oh, crap. Another field trip.
~
"I thought perhaps... I could control it," Aragorn is saying quietly a few hours later.
I roll my eyes. "No, instead you just let him get a good, long look at ya. Way to go, doofus."
Haldir mouths the word 'doofus.'
Aragorn turns and looks at me. "I beg your pardon?"
I wave a hand at him. "Don't do that. I hate to see a grown man beg."
He mutters something under his breath that I'm quite sure is obscene. "If you have nothing of value –"
"He's afraid," I interrupt. "We have the one thing on our side that could REALLY fuck up his plans for world domination."
"And what is that?" Haldir asks. He sounds amused. He usually does. Like the world's just one big joke, and it's at everybody's expense but his.
Lucky bastard.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. "Him," I answer, pointing at Aragorn. "The one thing that he would fear would be the Kingdoms of Men uniting against him. The one thing that would make that happen would be a King on the Throne of Gondor. And since Aragorn's the only King we brought along, it's gonna have to be him."
"What brings you to this conclusion?" Gandalf asks sharply.
"Common sense," I snap back. "Unlike most of the other people in this circus act from Hell, I came with some. Now, since Sauron knows all about our not-so-secret weapon, what the hell are we gonna do about it?"
There's a long pause.
"She is blunt," Haldir murmurs, studying his nails.
"She also has a point," Gimli adds, giving me a small smile.
I love that Dwarf. I really, really do.
"We must go to Gondor's aid," Boromir says passionately. After all, isn't that what started this whole mess?
"Why should we go to the aid of those who do not come to ours?" Théoden demands. "What do we owe Gondor?"
I roll my eyes. MEN.
"I will go," Aragorn says suddenly.
"No," Boromir says. "I will go. My father will need some time to get used to the idea that he is going to be replaced."
Oooh, that's right. Denethor's a lunatic. I'd forgotten about that.
"They must be warned," Aragorn agrees.
"They will be," Gandalf says firmly.
~
About two hours later, just after dawn, all the arrangements are hammered out. Boromir, Gandalf, and Pippin will ride to Minas Tirith. They'll light the beacons, and raise the alarm, and send out the cavalry, and the smoke signals and the Morse code and whatever the hell else needs to be done.
One good thing about being a girl? I can have gushy goodbyes. I hug Boromir tightly, and make him promise to be careful, and he gets the same promise out of me. Then I kneel down and hug Pippin, who's on the verge of tears.
"Take care of Merry," he whispers. I nod and kiss his cheek.
Then I get up and go over to talk to Gandalf. I have a few words to say to his Whiteyness.
"Gandalf?" I ask, keeping my voice sweet.
"Yes, child?" he answers.
"How was death?"
He turns and stares at me. "I beg your pardon?"
I smile. "I hope you liked it. 'Cause if anything happens to either one of them, you get to repeat the experience." I smile, stand on my toes, and kiss his cheek. "Have a nice trip."
I turn and walk away. I can hear Gimli chuckling.
TBC...