Disclaimer: I own it! I own it! Just kidding. Can't you people take sarcasm? This is a humor fic. Live a little. I don't own it though, it is a new law of nature. MornieGalad owns nothing.
MornieGalad
Chapter Six: Snores, Toes and Elves in the Night.
"Eleven."
"Ten."
"Eleven."
"Ten!"
"Eleven!"
"Ten!"
"Eleven!"
"Shut up!" the rest of the Fellowship yelled at Legolas and Gimli. They had finally decided to stop for the night and most everyone was trying to sleep. Even the good natured Hobbits were glaring at the pair. Legolas rose, even tempered, and strode off a few pace. Boromir followed him with his eyes. Gimli shrugged and, lacking someone to argue with as well as a motive, plopped down on the ground. Soon the sound of his loud snoring kept the entire company awake. Not being in the mood to be kept awake by Hobbits who couldn't sleep through the racket, Aragorn shuffled over and kicked Gimli. He soon realized this was not his most brilliant course of action, as Gimli was heavily armored. He hissed in pain.
"What is it, Aragorn?" asked Frodo, who had been in a deep conversation about hearing loss and sleep deprivals.
"I think I just broke my toe," the Ranger grimaced. He thought he heard a snicker from Legolas' direction, but couldn't be certain through Gimli's snores.
"Let's go back to Rivendell and have Lord Elrond fix it," Pippin suggested. Boromir's face could have lit up Middle Earth from his delight at this suggestion.
"We can't go back," Frodo said in a very depressing tone.
"There is no need to go to Rivendell. Broken toes I can mend," declared Gandalf. Boromir couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a look of fear pass over Aragorn's face. In ordinary circumstances, the Ranger would have entrusted Gandalf with his life unquestioningly, but at the moment, he couldn't help remembering the drunken wizard of a few hours past.
"It's all right, Aragorn. I think Mithrandir is quite sober now," Boromir reassured him.
"I need a drink now that you called me that," Gandalf exclaimed.
"What?" Boromir wondered.
"Mithrandir," Gandalf answered. "Now, where's my drink?"
"Oh, me too!" cried Pippin and Merry, leaping from their blankets. Sam grabbed his pots and pans and hid behind them. He didn't want to be involved if there was to be a late night party with those two drunkards.
"No drinks until King Elessar is mended," Boromir said sternly, but a smile still flickering over his face.
"I'm not the king yet!" Aragorn hollered. Legolas covered his ears and whirled around to glare at his friend.
"Boromir is being obsessive with the Elvish language!" Gandalf screamed at the Elf.
"Mellon nin, you can scarcely deem using two Elven titles obsessive use of the language," objected the Gondorian.
"For a Gondorian who lives nowhere near an Elven settlement, any use of the Elven language is . . ." Aragorn groped for the proper word to describe Boromir's insanity.
"Unnatural?" Pippin suggested.
"Yes!" exclaimed Aragorn. "Furthermore, you acknowledged me as the heir of Numenor and, inaccurately, labeled me as your king. Not one day ago, you told me that Gondor didn't need a king. Are you drunk?"
"No, I just had a change of heart." Aragorn backed away from him, wondering why the snores were getting louder behind him.
"I have a very gorgeous Elf maiden who wants to become mortal and spend her life with me. I'm taken."
"I didn't mean that kind of change of heart," Boromir laughed and Aragorn relaxed. "I see you are the next Beren Erchamion for which Luthien Tinuviel shall fall into darkness." Everyone except Gimli, who still sang his song with only one letter-sound, and Legolas, stared at the Gondorian in either amazement, confusion, or a combination of the two. For an awkward moment, Gimli made the only sound.
"Legolas, he's doing it again!" shrieked Aragorn.
"I know," groaned the Elf, holding his ears. "He speaks our language better than you do." Aragorn stuck his tongue out, tried to rise, undoubtedly planning some awful fate for Legolas, but put too much pressure on his injured toe and collapsed back to the ground.
"Ah, yes," Gandalf exclaimed. "Hold still, Elessar."
"Stop calling me that!"
"Why do you have so many names?" Pippin asked Aragorn as Gandalf bent down to fix his toe.
"It is because Elves are too complicated," growled the Ranger.
"Perhaps it is because the Numenorians are far too simple minded to be able to remember one name, so they give their rulers, or future rulers, more than one name in hopes that one of them will be remembered. You will note, Estel, that most of your names are from either Quenya or Sindarin and I have only one name, though I am a prince of Mirkwood."
"You're a prince!" Pippin exclaimed. Legolas ignored him, trying to make his point.
"Also, most ignorant Gondorians, no offense intended, Boromir, no longer concern themselves with these languages because they believe the Elven race will soon leave Ennorath."
"Why do the Elves leave Middle Earth?" Sam interrupted, emerging from behind his pots and pans.
"Their race originated in Valinor, but crossed to Ennorath with Fëanor to retrieve the Silmarils, in which the light of the two trees was held. To make a long story short, the Elves must someday return to Valinor, their home. Ear ganed na mar." Boromir said, seemingly slipping into a dream as he once again fell into the Elven tongue. Once again, the rest of the Fellowship fell silent, utterly astounded at what Boromir had just said.
"Huh?" Pippin finally asked.
"I'll explain it when you're older," Frodo promised.
"Legolas, he's turning into an Elf!" Aragorn fretted to his friend, who had returned to sit with the rest of the Company.
"Good."
"No, that is not good. He's a Gondorian. That is bad. He'll be alienated from his people."
"What would you care? You've been an exile all your life," Gandalf chuckled. "There, I'm done." He stepped away from Aragorn's toe to admire his handiwork.
"Not bad," the Ranger said.
"Aragorn, what do all your names mean?" Frodo asked. "I know a little bit of Elvish, but not enough for my liking."
"You said I was unnatural?" Boromir laughed. "A Hobbit carrying the worst evil in Ennorath, which happens to be a tiny ring, is concerned enough to want to learn Elvish." Guessing that Aragorn would go off on a tangent with this comment and ignore his heritage, Gandalf spoke up.
"Elessar means Elf stone . . ."
"Elf stone?" Pippin echoed. "This is too confusing. I'm going to bed." Merry yawned in agreement. Frodo was already lying down and Sam had returned to his comfortable spot behind his pots and pans. As everyone settled down, Legolas wondered if anyone save Aragorn would be getting any sleep with the very loud snoring.
Meanwhile in Gondor . . .
"Am I late?" Faramir asked Lossulwen.
"A little, but that's okay. I'm glad you are here now."
"I am sorry. I was trying to secure the city of Osgiliath. That is, I was planning the defenses." This was the truth of the matter, omitting the fact that he had completely forgotten he had promised to meet the love of his life this night.
"That does not sound like you," Lossulwen commented as she strolled beside him, trying to get him to take her hand.
"Why not?" he laughed.
"It reminds me of your brother. I don't want you to go off to war and not return, as he did."
"If it is the right . . ." Faramir paused. "Why did you say that?"
"Say what, melleth nin?" She was now clinging to his arm, gazing into his eyes. Her black hair swirled in the chilly wind and she snuggled to his chest. He took her and held her at arms length, locking eyes with her.
"You said Boromir wouldn't return. Why? Have you seen it?" Lossulwen broke their gaze.
"Meleth nin, mornie utulie. Amin mela lle. Amin dele ten'. (My love, the darkness has come. I love you. I am worried for you)." Faramir, not understanding a word she said, leaned in, and kissed her very passionately. After a while, he drew back. "Aratoamin, amaelamin, n'gwanna na dagor. (My champion, my beloved, do not go to battle)." Faramir nodded and kissed her again.
What has Faramir gotten himself into? How did you like it? Do not forget to review.
Hannon le.
MornieGalad
