PART ONE: ANACHRONISM
Chapter XL: The Effects Of Spider Poison
"Ana…" murmured Bofur.
"Ana," roared Thorin, who was regaining some strength in his voice as the power of the spiders' poison diminished. "Do not run away!"
"Sorry, Thorin!" I cried, leaping over a series of intertwined roots. "But spiders scare me more than your majesty!"
"My majesty will never forgive you."
I sprinted through the forest as fast as my legs could carry me. I didn't get very far. Spiders scampered down the tree trunks in front of me, poison dripping from their stingers. I screamed and turned to my right. More spiders. I looked behind me. More spiders. Left. Spiders. Right. Spiders. In front. Spiders. Behind Spiders. Above. Spiders. Spiders. Spiders.
I screamed.
"Ana," said Bofur, his voice slow from the poison. "Run…"
"They're gross!" I cried. "Get them away from me! No!" I jumped away from the spider. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no—Thorin! Use your majesty to scare them away!"
"Clearly, that did not work the first time," said Thorin, struggling against the threads that bound him.
The spiders were surrounding me. Their beady eyes watched me with each step they took. Their legs kept wriggling, the coarse, white hairs quivering. I drew my arms up to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. The spiders crept ever closer.
"You're invading my personal space!" I wailed. "I can't breathe. Ew. Go away. Go away. Look at the dwarves. Please?"
"Do not send them over here," said Kíli.
"Are you surprised?" asked Fíli. He shifted in his ball of spider web. "Whenever a dangerous creature comes, Ana tells it to devour us instead."
"Help me!" I was close to tears. "I don't like spiders!"
"And they do not like you," said Glóin. "Except as dinner. And when you are served with ale."
Say what? Glóin's bizarre comment momentarily distracted me from the spiders, and I turned to stare up at the red-haired dwarf. His face was calm from the dulling effects of spider poison, and it didn't match the strange comment he'd made about serving me with ale.
"Think of it as a valuable lesson," said Balin. "When you do not help others in need, they will not help you in need."
"That is cruel," said Bofur. His eyes fluttered, and he had to shake himself awake. "I think she is truly terrified of the spiders."
"Why is that tree upside down?" asked Kíli dreamily.
It dawned on me then that maybe the spider poison was doing more than making them drowsy—it was also making them crazy.
"Poor thing. She is trembling," said Bombur.
I glanced around at the spiders, who were closing in on me. There was a gap between two fat, black bodies, and gathering up my courage, I sprinted between the two beasts. However, a spider moved behind them, blocking my escape route. I screamed and jumped backwards only to trip over a spider leg and go crashing to the ground.
"Ana?"
"Careful, Ana."
My name rose like a chorus from the dwarves. My screaming was like the music to the strange symphony. If you add my thoughts into the mix, then you have this whole new music genre: "Ana." Ew. Ew. Ew. "Aaaaaaahhhahhhhaaaaaah!" Legs! "Ana?" "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Pincers and legs! "Ana…" Legs and pincers! "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" Don't let me die! Don't let me die! "Ana." "Someone save her!" "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" "I cannot move!" I don't wanna die! "Aaaaaaaaaah!" Not like this! "Aaaaaaaaaaah!" Not death by spiders! "Aaaaaaaaaaah!" "Ana."
I think that song is the next big Middle Earth hit, don't you?
Okay, okay, the joke wasn't funny. I'll just move on and pretend that never happened.
You'll be pleased to know that the spiders didn't kill me. Which, I guess is pretty obvious since I'm telling this story. Unless I died and came back as a ghost. That would make this story ten times more awesome. Or stupid. But anyways, I'll just jump to the point—I didn't die because I was saved by an invisible hobbit. (They're the best kind of hobbit.)
I was lying on my back, thrashing wildly and trying to avoid the spiders' pincers and stingers. Unfortunately, one spider managed to embed its stinger in my left thigh. I screamed in pain as the poison was injected and blood oozed out from the hole in my leg. (To this day, I still have a faint scar on my thigh from that frigging spider's pincer.)
Just then, one of the spiders' back split open, spraying purple blood in all directions, including my face and arms. The spider let out a shrill squeal before collapsing on the ground beside me, twitching but dead.
The other spiders scurried about, releasing a single inhuman scream. They reeled away from their dead companion and looked about in confusion, trying to figure out where the attack came from.
"Ana, are you injured?" asked a familiar voice.
"Bilbo?" I looked around in confusion. I couldn't see the hobbit anywhere.
"I am hidden," he said. "How are you?"
I managed to get to my feet. A sharp pain sprung through my left thigh. I gritted my teeth and said, "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Who are you speaking to?" asked Balin, looking about.
"My imaginary friend," I said. "His name is Bilbo."
"Ana," said Kíli. "You named your imaginary friend after Bilbo. That is so sweet of you." (Kíli, I learned, did not take spider poison well.)
"Bilbo?" asked Dori. "Where is he? I cannot see him."
"He's hiding," I said.
"The spiders are returning," said Bilbo.
They were. They had been unable to locate their attacker and had now turned their attention back to me (the visible one). They approached slowly, cautiously, constantly aware that their attacker might still be out there. However, their hunger won out over fear, and they could not resist the juicy morsel that was me.
"Bilbo…" I said, edging away from the spiders. "Save me…"
"Save us," said Nori.
Thorin nodded. (I think spider poison made him more talkative.) "Ana is currently learning an important lesson about helping others."
"Virtues are a good thing," said Balin, wiggling in his prison of cobweb.
"They're spiders!" I wailed. "Don't abandon me to the spiders!"
A spider to my right was decapitated. The other spiders shrieked and howled, terrified by the unknown enemy. Another spider—this time to my left—lost a leg. It moaned and collapsed to the forest floor, bleeding everywhere. Bilbo brought his sword crashing down into the spider's back.
"This is Sting," said Bilbo. "You stung my friends, but now I will sting you."
"That is the most cliché thing I have ever heard!" I cried.
"I found a name for my sword," grumbled Bilbo. "Let me use it."
"That's great!" I sprinted away from a spider that tried to sink its pincers into my other leg. I stumbled, almost falling to the ground. I caught myself on a tree branch and stood there, gasping. "But you need a better catch phrase than that."
"Catch phrase?" asked Bilbo.
"Yeah. Like—I am the wasp that is about to sting you. Except better. Because that was really bad."
"Why is Bilbo a wasp?" asked Bombur. "Can Bilbo be a goat instead?"
I gawked at Bombur. Spider poison was some strong stuff.
Bilbo stabbed another spider in the head. The others began to retreat. Their numerous legs quivered about as they scampered back to the trees and disappeared up the trunks.
"I think my first catch phrase was best," said Bilbo.
"Do you have a catch phrase?" asked Nori.
"Me?" I pointed to myself.
Nori nodded slowly. His eyes seemed to fade out of focus for a second.
"I don't have one," I said. "I'm too awesome for a catch phrase."
"Bilbo has just saved your life," said Dwalin. "I think that would make him more, um, awesome than you."
"Her catch phrase is, 'I am just passing through'," said Thorin. His words slurred only slightly as he spoke.
"It is true," said Óin. "She says that…" He trailed off, trying to think of the right word.
"Often," said Glóin. "She says that often."
"Of course…" Óin nodded.
"Are you…okay?" I asked. The world went black for a second. I blinked. "Did a pink elephant just run through here?" Oh my God, I realized, the spider poison was affecting me too.
"I saw the pink elephant," said Ori.
"What is an elephant?" asked Dwalin.
"I do not know," said Ori.
Dwalin frowned, trying to figure out the illogicalness of this statement. But thinking proved to be too difficult, so Dwalin just closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep instead.
Thorin sighed. "Bilbo, cut us down from here. Before the poison does any more to addle their wits."
Bilbo slipped off the Ring and slid it into his pocket before any of the drugged-up dwarves could see. I pretended to be staring at the nonexistent pink elephant, so Bilbo wouldn't know I knew of the Ring.
Then, with me acting as a step-ladder, Bilbo climbed up into the tree. He used Sting to cut the threads away from the dwarves. One by one, the dwarves were freed from the spider webs that bound them and they fell to the ground with heavy thuds. Little bits and pieces of thread still clung to their clothing, but other than that, they were free, and they staggered to their feet. Of course, there was also the fact that they (we) were drugged by spider poison.
Ori collapsed almost the moment he was free. Nori managed two steps before his legs gave out beneath him. Bofur didn't even try to move, he just lay on the ground, staying at the brown leaves. Dwalin clung to a tree branch, trying desperately to remain upright. Balin sat down on a tree root and refused to move an inch until his headache had disappeared. Fíli and Kíli were leaning on one another, each using his brother as a crutch. Óin and Glóin tried to remember one another's names and came up with nothing. Dori kept squinting at something in the distance. Bombur wobbled about the clearing for a minute, before he fell on his behind and sat there mutely. Bifur muttered something in the dwarvish language and banged his head against the trunk of a tree. That seemed to do the job, because after that, Bifur stood upright with some control over his brain function.
Thorin seemed immune to the poison; I think he remained standing out of sheer willpower alone. The only side effect I noticed was that he talked more than usual.
Unfortunately, I didn't have Thorin's willpower. The spider poison made the world fuzzy and out of focus, and you'll have to forgive me if my recount of this part of the story isn't one-hundred-percent accurate.
"Kíli," I said, waving my hands in front of my eyes. "You have a beard."
"I do?" asked Kíli excitedly. He touched his chin. "A beard?"
"Wait…" I squinted at him. "No. It's just the poison talking."
Kíli's face fell.
"He was almost majestic for a second there," said Fíli. "You stole it from him."
"Burgling is Bilbo's job," said Balin.
"He is doing a wonderfully good job of it," said Bofur. "I do not think Ana should take over his job."
"I don't want…" I stood still, swaying from side to side. My gaze was glued to a patch of gray fungus. I couldn't tear my eyes away—there was just something so fascinating about that fungus.
"Ana."
"Huh?" I turned to Glóin (I thought it was Glóin though it might have been Ori.)
"You do not want what?" asked Glóin/Ori/Dwalin. "You did not finish what you were going to say."
"Oh." I blinked and opened my eyes wide, trying to make the fuzziness go away. "What was I saying?"
"I do not recall," said Glóin/Ori/Dwalin/Bofur.
"You were talking about how you do not want to take over Bilbo's job as a burglar," said Thorin helpfully.
"Right." I smiled at him. "You're so smart, Thorin."
Thorin nodded and said, almost smugly, "I know. You say that often."
I blinked. "I d—"
"The spiders are returning!" cried Bilbo, the only sane one left.
The spiders were indeed returning. They had spotted Bilbo after he'd taken off the Ring and had come to realize that their attacker was nothing more than a hobbit. They came after us again, crawling down from the trees, determined not to let their dinner go free.
Of course, to me addled from the poison, they didn't look like spiders. They were more like these black blobs that were slowly creeping closer. The blobs kept expanding and expanding until almost my entire vision was blotted out.
I took a stumbling step backwards. "Whoa…"
"Run!" roared Thorin.
"Where?" I asked.
I could hear the sound of pounding footsteps around me—the dwarves were running. I couldn't see anything. It was dark. Insanely dark. I didn't know where to run; everything was black. My body felt heavy. So heavy. My arms were like stone. My legs were like stone. My head was pounding. My left leg was burning as if it was on fire.
"Ana, hurry up!"
Someone grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me through the forest. My feet stumbled clumsily over the tree roots (I think they were tree roots). Two strong arms lifted me before I could face-plant on the ground and slung me over a hard back, covered in thick chain mail and pieces of cobweb. I clung on to what I could and closed my eyes.
Have you ever been poisoned by giant spiders before? No? Well, trust me, it is no picnic in the park. Everything goes dark. Your body becomes immobile. The world starts spinning. You start thinking things you never realized you could think. You have no control over your thoughts. No command over what comes and goes through your head.
There were so many trees around me. Trees. Trees. Trees. The kind of trees elves would like. Stupid elves. They act like their so superior to everyone else. They act like they're above biases and like they're so magnanimous, but they're just as petty and prejudiced as dwarves.
In, through the haze, I saw dwarves laughing and drinking around a table. I wanted to join them, but for some reason, I couldn't. My legs wouldn't move. I was perched on the edge of white cliff, looking out at the horizon where the sky met the sea. And then, I stood in fields of dead people. In the distance, Minas Tirith was alight with fire. Orcs pillaged it. Mankind was dead. There was no one was left now. No elves. No hobbits. No dwarves. Just orcs. Lots and lots of orcs.
My throat was thick with unshed tears. Where was Boromir? That's right, he died. I let him die. I had a chance to save him, but I brought him back to die. I would have left Frodo to die. And probably Sam too. How many would I let die even if I had the chance to save them?
You cannot change what was meant to happen.
I didn't understand. What was meant to happen? What was I meant to change? I didn't want anyone else to die.
It doesn't end, you have to understand that. The spiders' poison is not made for happy dreams. You are meant to suffer. You are meant to writhe in agony, to scream, to hate, to despise. The spiders are ugly creatures. They want you to suffer before they devour you.
Next, I saw myself standing in a shallow river, the corpses of a hundred men lay around me, their unseen eyes fixed on me. My heart raced and my hands shook. They were dead. They were dead. What could I do? I didn't know what to do. So I laughed. Even as the tears streamed down my face, I laughed.
I got it. I was a failure of a human being. I couldn't take anything seriously, because being serious hurt too much.
In the next dream, I was sitting in a living room. Bonnie was sitting on the couch. She wanted to know why I was mad.
Why was I mad?
Did she think Skipping to Middle Earth was a game? Did she think Skipping to Middle Earth was fun? That's because she partied with elves the whole time. She didn't watch Boromir die. She didn't flee the balrog. She didn't watch Merry die. She didn't watch Gandalf fall. She didn't find out she was doomed to go insane. These weren't her problems. She had a three week vacation with elves. She didn't understand. No one understood. I could explain it all I wanted, but no one would understand. They played along. They pretended to understand. They even tried to understand. But no one really got it. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. My life was not fun. My life was hell.
"Is the poison still affecting you?" A frantic Bofur stood over me. "How are you feeling? Is your forehead hot? Do you need something to drink? Sometimes water helps. But I do not have any water. Does anyone have any water? It would be much appreciated."
"I'm fine…" I murmured.
As the last of the spider poison faded, my eyes regained focus, and I finally registered my surroundings. I was sitting between two tree roots that crossed just perfectly to provide a comfortable seat for me. The Company had decided to rest in a clearing between four thick trees, and while waiting for me to regain consciousness, they'd set up camp.
From what I could gather, Dwalin had carried me through the forest, but he couldn't travel far since the poison ran through his veins as well. Dwalin had collapsed in the small clearing and the other dwarves stopped around him. As the spiders closed in on us, the other dwarves tried to pull us along with them, but neither Dwalin nor I were moving. However, the spiders dared not enter the clearing—they scurried around its parameter, trying to find an entrance, before fleeing back to their nest.
As it turned out, the dwarves had stumbled across some elves partying in the very same clearing earlier that night. The elves had created some sort of circle around the area that repelled evil, so now that the clearing was elf-free, the dwarves could take refuge between the trees. And, as an added bonus, there was some sort of healing magic in the clearing, and our wounds began to close themselves.
"Whew," I said, inspecting the wound on my left thigh that, in an hour or so, would soon be nothing more than a scar. "That spider poison is strong. We could probably sell that stuff on a street corner and make tons of money."
"I do not know what she says," said Ori.
"I think she wishes to sell spider poison for profit," said Balin.
"Who would anyone want to buy such a thing?" asked Dori.
"You'd be surprised the things people are willing to buy," I said. "There are so many idiots in my world that sometimes I fear for the survival of humanity."
"I need only look at you, and I fear for the survival of humanity," muttered Thorin, though he was half-smiling when he said that.
"Aw, you're too kind." My eyes fluttered, and I shook my head. The effects of the poison had not entirely disappeared.
"Ana?" A crease appeared between Bofur's brows. "Are you sure you should be talking in that condition? You should not exert yourself."
"She is fine," said Glóin, pulling Bofur away from me.
I glared up at Thorin. "I may be a walking disaster unto myself, but I pride myself on not bringing about the downfall of humanity."
"I am just pointing out a fact," said Thorin. "You should not insult your fellow idiots."
"It's like the pot calling the kettle black."
"Ana Jezebel." Thorin half-laughed, half-sighed. "I do not understand that expression."
I froze. My eyes were round and wide as I stared up at Thorin.
He frowned. "What?"
"How do you know my middle name?" I asked.
The surprise disappeared from his face and Thorin's usual grim expression returned. "You told me."
"No, I didn't."
"You did."
"I never tell anyone my middle name because it's an awful middle name. It doesn't suit me at all!"
"Why do you think it is ill-suited?" asked Bilbo.
"I think it is a lovely name," said Ori.
I glanced around the Company. They had all stopped in the middle of packing up camp to stare curiously at Thorin and me. Thorin looked furious for some reason. I would have let the matter drop, but as the dwarves continued to ask questions, I ran my fingers through my knotted hair and said, reluctantly, "A Jezebel is a seductress."
Bofur let out a brief, loud laugh before quickly covering his mouth and giving me an innocent smile. Ori and Bilbo were trying to hold back their snickers, while Fíli and Kíli didn't even try. Dwalin released a wave of booming laughter, completely disregarding my feelings.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. "It doesn't suit me." I turned to glowered at Thorin. "But who told you my middle name?"
Thorin scowled. "I do not recall."
"Liar!" I pointed at him. "You definitely do."
A shadow crossed over Thorin's face. "Are you calling me, the King Under the Mountain, a liar?"
"Yes!" I cried. "You obviously found out my middle name for somewhere—it wasn't just a lucky guess!"
"Who could make a guess like that," muttered Thorin.
"Exactly! So where did you find it out? Who told you? Was it Nick? Did that weasel tell you anything while we were escaping Goblin town."
Thorin blinked. "Yes. Yes, it was Nick."
"Ah-ha!" I cried. "You lair, not even Nick knows my middle name."
"I—" Thorin stopped. He expression seemed to freeze in place. Then, slowly, his expression hardened to a scowl. He leaned forward, his fingers brushing against the handle of his blade.
"What's going on?" I looked around the clearing. Dread filled my stomach, weighing like iron.
The other dwarves were gone. One moment we had all been in the clearing together. The dwarves had been trying to sort out what supplies we still had, while Thorin and I argued. But now, the other dwarves were nowhere to be seen. Had they left the clearing without me noticing? No. I may have been drugged up on spider poison and distracted by Thorin, but even I couldn't miss twelve dwarves and a hobbit vacating the area. They had all just sort of…disappeared.
Thorin and I were completely alone.
The trees suddenly seemed much taller. Their branches extended towards me, as if they were trying to capture me, and I could've sworn the shadows of the forest had grown in the last few minutes, stretching across the ground like demons on the prowl. A heavy mist had settled in the forest, slithering through the trees, filling all the cracks and crevices.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"I do not know." Thorin turned around, scanning the area. "Fíli! Kíli!"
There was no response.
I got to my feet. My legs were shaking beneath me. "They're gone."
Thorin stilled. He wasn't looking at me, his hand was on the hilt of his sword and his gaze scanned the edges of the clearing. It was unnaturally quiet. No rustle of branches, no call of an owl; I could only hear the sound of my own soft breathing.
"Where did they go?" I asked. "Did the forest take them?"
Thorin looked sidelong at me. His blue eyes widened in horror.
"What?" I asked. "Do I look funny?"
"Elves."
I spun around and found myself face to face with an arrowhead.
I gulped. I had faced death in excessive amounts today; it would've been be nice to have a break every once in a while.
Holding the arrow was an all too familiar female elf with red-brown hair. Tauriel's eyes were sharp with anger, and she kept the bow taut despite knowing. There were other elves present, all with white-blond hair and bows strung to fire. Their gazes were fixed on Thorin and me.
I smiled sheepishly. "Come one, Tauriel. We're all friends here. We even drank together once."
"Should I shoot?" Tauriel spoke to someone behind her.
The elves parted to make room for another of their kind. A tall, blond elf, dressed in silver robes, came forward. He sat on the back of an elk, his proud face visible in between the elk's massive antlers. A backwards crown was perched on the elf's head, made of what appeared to be silver tree branches. His blue eyes landed on me, and a frown appeared on his pale face.
Thorin was tense beside me. He hadn't drawn his blade yet but his hand hadn't left the hilt either.
All right, I thought, I needed to remember that making jokes doesn't always help the situation. Sometimes, I just had to be serious.
"Thranduil," I said gravely. "I don't like weapons being pointed in my face."
"Yes," said Thranduil. "And I do not like to look upon your face. We both have our issues, Ana."
"Oh." I swallowed. "You remember me."
Thranduil nodded curtly. "Oh yes, Ana Stonbit, I remember you."