A/N: Can you believe this? It's the second time in a row where I've only
taken one week to update! Don't I rock? Yes, I rock. :) Pardon me. I
stayed out late with my good friend and partner in crime (you may recognize
her penname, The Late Blake's Assistant) last night, so I'm in a really
good mood right now. Oh, yes, I must not forget---Destria, say hi to your
grandmother for me. I meant to give her a shout-out last week, but it
slipped my mind. Also, I'd like to welcome ReginaLucifer, our newest Al
groupie. And a message for the readers who don't review: See what happens
when you review? You get =recognition=! So review!!! One more thing. If
this chapter sucks, or has a lot of mistakes, blame my right hand. I'm
developing mild carpal tunnel syndrome or something...it hurts, and it won't
bend properly. So bad story-telling skills in this chapter can and will be
attributed to that.
Disclaimers: This work of fanfiction is in no way meant to offend or infringe upon the rights of the Tolkein estate, its subsidiaries and bastard children, whoever's still alive at publishers Allen & Unwin, the executive/office/backroom/janitorial staff of HarperCollins Publishing, the hard-working people of the Time-Warner (also known as Warner Brothers) Corporation, commercial sponsors of anything that ever had anything to do with Lord of the Rings, the caterers to any and all of the events ever featuring Lord of the Rings, people who have paid to read/see Lord of the Rings, or the horse Peter Jackson's chiropractor rode in on.
Chapter 3: More RingVision - - -
Frooooodo...
"What?" he snapped crossly, while attempting to climb upon a particularly slippery boulder.
Nothing. I'm just bored.
"Well, entertain yourself, because I'm busy," he replied, desperately feeling around for some sort of handhold.
But you're the Very Official Ring-Bearer. You're responsible for me.
"Not =now=!" he cried, trying to generate enough leverage by pulling on a decrepit old weed.
Hmph. Be that way. See if I ever do anything nice for you again.
"Ring," he said, little legs scrambling madly as he hauled himself up, "if you don't become a lot less annoying in the next few moments, I will hand you over to Gollum, and that will be the end of that."
Shutting up now. I'll just take a peek at what the others are doing.
Legolas and Aragorn were still tracking the hobbits. They were getting close enough for Legolas to see them. According to the elf, the whole procession was heading for Isengard.
Wait, Isengard? Isn't that where Saruman lives?
"Yes, it is," Aragorn agreed gravely. Then he blinked. "Who said that?"
Oh, me. Al.
"The Ring?" he asked incredulously.
Yes, the Ring. God forbid you refer to that Ring by his actual name.
"But how?" Legolas asked, puzzled.
Damned if I know. Some sort of telepathic power thing. I can see you, too.
Legolas blushed. "Can you see us at all times?"
I'm not perving on you, if that's what you're worried about. God knows I've already seen waaay more than I need to back in Rivendell. Besides, I'm not watching you at all times. I've got life problems of my own to deal with over here.
"Frodo and Sam are still unharmed, then?" Aragorn inquired.
Yeah, a whole day away from your manly protection, and we're still alive and kicking. You're shocked, aren't you?
"Well, I wouldn't say =shocked=, exactly..." He cleared his throat. "But back to the matter at hand. Isengard. Saruman. Traitor to the cause."
Hey, you know what? I could look into that for you.
"You would do that?"
Sure. I have nothing else to do. Frodo is absolutely no fun. He's got to be the world's most boring travelling partner, ever. All he does is mope and frown and brood. It's not very hobbity, you know, to never laugh or even smile a little. Besides, if I can help you achieve world peace, maybe everyone will finally see I'm not evil and stop trying to kill me.
Did you hear that, Frodo? I temporarily turned from Aragorn and Legolas to talk to him. I came up with a plan before you did. You owe me a dollar.
He ignored me.
Frodo says hi, Strider. Okay, so I'll snoop around Isengard and see what Saruman is up to, while you rescue the other hobbits and save Rohan from certain doom.
Aragorn, satisfied with the plan, squared his shoulders heroically. "Come, Gimli!" he called to the distant figure. "We are less than half a day away!"
I concentrated on sending my mind to Isengard, where Saruman was...oh. Crap. Crappity-crap-crap fuck.
"What's wrong?" Frodo asked.
Oh, now you pay attention to me. I don't see why I shouldn't just ignore you the way you've been ignoring me all morning.
"Because I've been carrying you all morning. If you'd rather I let Gollum carry you, fine."
You know what? One of these days, the Gollum threats will stop working, and then where will you be?
"I'll worry about that when that day comes. Now tell me what Saruman is doing that is making you curse so creatively."
He's building an army. An Orc army of mass proportions, fuelled by misplaced ideals and boiling hatred. An Orc army, armed to the teeth and lead by super-smart monsters called Uruk-hai.
"Why would he do that? Isn't he on our side?" Frodo asked, charmingly naïve.
Sauron got to him. The demented old Afghan hound look-alike knows he isn't strong enough to hang around for long. His health is failing, his power is diminishing...he thinks by latching himself onto Sauron, he can stay in control. And Sauron, of course, is perfectly content to let him think that; he needs someone with an actual body to do the dirty work.
"Are you just guessing all of this? How do you know?"
Oh, young Frodo, you do forget yourself. I'm older than you, Gandalf, Aragorn, and Saruman put together. I've been around. I was around for Sauron's very first world domination project. I know how the guy works. And he's good at it, too---the best around. He's got the armies over here, he sics them on the major cities, and while everyone is busy hacking everyone else to death, he takes the throne. He's got world domination down to a precise =art=.
"So what do we do?"
Us? Nothing, for now. It's Aragorn and Co.'s problem right now. Until we're somewhere a little less barren, we can't really do anything. Maybe once we've infiltrated the Black Gate...
"Hey, what's in it for you?" Sam growled. "You've no reason to help us. Why should we believe anything you say?"
Because I don't want to get thrown into Mount Doom, and I see only one way out. Trust me, Sam, being on the same team as you disgusts me more than it does you. But I have no choice. If I don't fight for peace and love and the light of good and sugar and spice and everything nice, I'll be killed. Actually, I'll probably be killed even if I fight on your side, but the prospect is less immediate. Like, in two months, as opposed to sometime next week.
"I still don't believe you," Sam groused, pissed that my superior logic defeated his doubts.
I got news for you, fucktard. It doesn't matter if you believe me. Aragorn, Legolas, Frodo, and Gandalf (if he's still alive)---the people who are calling the shots---they believe me. So you might as well. Because I'm the only one with the insider information you guys will need even stand a chance against Sauron.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TBC
Disclaimers: This work of fanfiction is in no way meant to offend or infringe upon the rights of the Tolkein estate, its subsidiaries and bastard children, whoever's still alive at publishers Allen & Unwin, the executive/office/backroom/janitorial staff of HarperCollins Publishing, the hard-working people of the Time-Warner (also known as Warner Brothers) Corporation, commercial sponsors of anything that ever had anything to do with Lord of the Rings, the caterers to any and all of the events ever featuring Lord of the Rings, people who have paid to read/see Lord of the Rings, or the horse Peter Jackson's chiropractor rode in on.
Chapter 3: More RingVision - - -
Frooooodo...
"What?" he snapped crossly, while attempting to climb upon a particularly slippery boulder.
Nothing. I'm just bored.
"Well, entertain yourself, because I'm busy," he replied, desperately feeling around for some sort of handhold.
But you're the Very Official Ring-Bearer. You're responsible for me.
"Not =now=!" he cried, trying to generate enough leverage by pulling on a decrepit old weed.
Hmph. Be that way. See if I ever do anything nice for you again.
"Ring," he said, little legs scrambling madly as he hauled himself up, "if you don't become a lot less annoying in the next few moments, I will hand you over to Gollum, and that will be the end of that."
Shutting up now. I'll just take a peek at what the others are doing.
Legolas and Aragorn were still tracking the hobbits. They were getting close enough for Legolas to see them. According to the elf, the whole procession was heading for Isengard.
Wait, Isengard? Isn't that where Saruman lives?
"Yes, it is," Aragorn agreed gravely. Then he blinked. "Who said that?"
Oh, me. Al.
"The Ring?" he asked incredulously.
Yes, the Ring. God forbid you refer to that Ring by his actual name.
"But how?" Legolas asked, puzzled.
Damned if I know. Some sort of telepathic power thing. I can see you, too.
Legolas blushed. "Can you see us at all times?"
I'm not perving on you, if that's what you're worried about. God knows I've already seen waaay more than I need to back in Rivendell. Besides, I'm not watching you at all times. I've got life problems of my own to deal with over here.
"Frodo and Sam are still unharmed, then?" Aragorn inquired.
Yeah, a whole day away from your manly protection, and we're still alive and kicking. You're shocked, aren't you?
"Well, I wouldn't say =shocked=, exactly..." He cleared his throat. "But back to the matter at hand. Isengard. Saruman. Traitor to the cause."
Hey, you know what? I could look into that for you.
"You would do that?"
Sure. I have nothing else to do. Frodo is absolutely no fun. He's got to be the world's most boring travelling partner, ever. All he does is mope and frown and brood. It's not very hobbity, you know, to never laugh or even smile a little. Besides, if I can help you achieve world peace, maybe everyone will finally see I'm not evil and stop trying to kill me.
Did you hear that, Frodo? I temporarily turned from Aragorn and Legolas to talk to him. I came up with a plan before you did. You owe me a dollar.
He ignored me.
Frodo says hi, Strider. Okay, so I'll snoop around Isengard and see what Saruman is up to, while you rescue the other hobbits and save Rohan from certain doom.
Aragorn, satisfied with the plan, squared his shoulders heroically. "Come, Gimli!" he called to the distant figure. "We are less than half a day away!"
I concentrated on sending my mind to Isengard, where Saruman was...oh. Crap. Crappity-crap-crap fuck.
"What's wrong?" Frodo asked.
Oh, now you pay attention to me. I don't see why I shouldn't just ignore you the way you've been ignoring me all morning.
"Because I've been carrying you all morning. If you'd rather I let Gollum carry you, fine."
You know what? One of these days, the Gollum threats will stop working, and then where will you be?
"I'll worry about that when that day comes. Now tell me what Saruman is doing that is making you curse so creatively."
He's building an army. An Orc army of mass proportions, fuelled by misplaced ideals and boiling hatred. An Orc army, armed to the teeth and lead by super-smart monsters called Uruk-hai.
"Why would he do that? Isn't he on our side?" Frodo asked, charmingly naïve.
Sauron got to him. The demented old Afghan hound look-alike knows he isn't strong enough to hang around for long. His health is failing, his power is diminishing...he thinks by latching himself onto Sauron, he can stay in control. And Sauron, of course, is perfectly content to let him think that; he needs someone with an actual body to do the dirty work.
"Are you just guessing all of this? How do you know?"
Oh, young Frodo, you do forget yourself. I'm older than you, Gandalf, Aragorn, and Saruman put together. I've been around. I was around for Sauron's very first world domination project. I know how the guy works. And he's good at it, too---the best around. He's got the armies over here, he sics them on the major cities, and while everyone is busy hacking everyone else to death, he takes the throne. He's got world domination down to a precise =art=.
"So what do we do?"
Us? Nothing, for now. It's Aragorn and Co.'s problem right now. Until we're somewhere a little less barren, we can't really do anything. Maybe once we've infiltrated the Black Gate...
"Hey, what's in it for you?" Sam growled. "You've no reason to help us. Why should we believe anything you say?"
Because I don't want to get thrown into Mount Doom, and I see only one way out. Trust me, Sam, being on the same team as you disgusts me more than it does you. But I have no choice. If I don't fight for peace and love and the light of good and sugar and spice and everything nice, I'll be killed. Actually, I'll probably be killed even if I fight on your side, but the prospect is less immediate. Like, in two months, as opposed to sometime next week.
"I still don't believe you," Sam groused, pissed that my superior logic defeated his doubts.
I got news for you, fucktard. It doesn't matter if you believe me. Aragorn, Legolas, Frodo, and Gandalf (if he's still alive)---the people who are calling the shots---they believe me. So you might as well. Because I'm the only one with the insider information you guys will need even stand a chance against Sauron.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TBC