Brother's Keeper
Part4

"I find you at last, Todd."

I glanced up to see Legolas standing at the entrance of my room again. After my little talk with Celeborn and Galadriel, I was depressed enough to go back up the tree and try to clean my weapons. Try being the operative word. Without the proper brushes and solvents, I was probably just shoving dirt and orc-blood into the operating parts of my rifle. Oh well, I thought. Better frustrated than depressed. When you're frustrated, sooner or later you get to hit something.

I turned my attention back to my gun. "What's up, Legs?"

He frowned at me, then up into the tree, then down at his legs. "I beg your pardon?"

I winced to keep from laughing. "Sorry, Legs--Legolas. I'm used to using a lot of slang when I talk. I just meant 'What's new?' 'How is everything with you?' 'Any word on if Celeborn is going to behead me today or tomorrow?' Take your pick, man."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "We did hear of your....conversation with Lord Celeborn. You told him to 'fuck' his horse?"

"No! I said for all I cared about him and his attitude towards me, he could fuck himself and his horse. I don't give a damn. And for another thing, I didn't even say it, I thought it. I've never had to curtail my thoughts before, so I kinda just think whatever the hell I want. How the hell am I supposed to curb my thoughts when I'm trying to recover from being half-exhausted and half-starved while I'm half-drunk? It's not my fault he's a fucking psychic!" I punctuated my last sentence by slamming my rifle onto the table. The force of the blow made a few grenades start rolling towards the edge of the table. I scrambled to catch them and, having succeeded, slumped in the chair with a heavy sigh. "I can't go home, Legs. I don't know how I got here. You don't know how I got here. They don't know how I got here. So no one knows how I got here, and no one knows how to get me back home. I don't have a helluva lot of prospects here."

He nodded. "I see...you are frustrated."

I laughed. "'Frustrated?' I'm stuck god-knows-where with hobbits and knights, an elf-king that hates me, and no way home. 'Frustrated' is not the word, Legs. It's called 'scared shitless.'"

"You are a brave man, Todd....strange perhaps, but as brave as any man I have met, and I have met many in my lifetime. Do not worry; you will find your path. Here...." He handed me a bundle that I recognized as my clothes, now free of orc-blood.

I took my clothes and tossed the lot onto the bed. Despite dirtying my elf-clothes while "cleaning" my gun, I didn't feel like changing back into my uniform. It's not like a commanding officer was going to walk in and demand to know why I was wearing silk and velvet.

"Thanks," I told Legolas. He bowed slightly and turned to leave. "I'm not that brave, Legs," I muttered. He stopped and turned back to me. "I was brave against those orcs 'cause I'm trained for battle. 'Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission though I be the lone survivor.' Fighting with you guys wasn't exactly my mission, but it was my ass on the line too, so...." I spread my hands in a helpless gesture. "Here I am....and I'm not trained to be utterly lost and helpless in a place that, by all reason, shouldn't even exist. I'm not that brave." I cast my eyes down and sighed again. I probably would have cried, but the macho butch army man in me refused. Instead I packed my gear away and wished that I could go downstairs and someone would point the way home.

Hands rested comfortingly on my shoulders. "You are braver than you know, Todd Blackburn." Legolas turned to leave again. "Dress in your own clothing or not, as you will, Todd, but you must move your belongings below. You were only allowed a room for your ailment, and now that you are feeling well, the Lord and Lady wish for you to leave the trees and dwell with the Fellowship whilst we are here."

No more room with a view? Now there's a surprise. The sarcasm was practically dripping from my cerebral cortex. I finished packing and followed Legolas downstairs.

Everyone below was relaxing. Aragorn and Gimli were quietly debating the merits of this metal versus that for armor. "Of course mithril is the best," Gimli was saying. "A pity the knowledge of its making was lost." Aragorn nodded his agreement and puffed on a pipe. The hobbits were trying to nod off, with the exception of Sam, who was trying to relight the campfire. He seemed to be having trouble with his flint and tinderbox. Boromir was absorbed in his own thoughts, idly stroking the ornate horn he always carried with him. They looked up and greeted me as Legolas I drew near.

I dumped my gear in an empty space near the fireside and went to help Sam. "Here," I said as I flicked out my lighter. Everyone looked in awe at my little flame.

"Magic?" Sam asked in barely a whisper.

"Nah, just think of it as a tiny tinderbox." I lit the straw and twigs at the bottom of the firepit, and the little flame licked its way up into a warm, crackling fire.

"Truly, your people have amazing gifts," said Boromir. "I wonder if you might show us your weapons....explain them to us, their workings?"

I hesitated. I wasn't sure how my current situation fitted into the Don't give technologically underdeveloped cultures your technology rule. Then I thought, Fuck that....this isn't Star Trek, and launched into the particulars of guns. I found it easier to explain by comparing them to a weapon they already knew. I fished a bullet out of a cartridge. "This is like an arrow. It's what actually does the damage. This" I motioned to my rifle "is the bow. It sends the bullet to do the damage."

Legolas's curiosity was peaked by my comparison. He looked closely at the bullet and frowned. "'Tis so small....and not even sharp."

"Doesn't have to be sharp if it's moving fast enough." I aimed and fired once into the ground. The resulting crater was small but impressively deep.

Legolas found one of his own arrows and stuck it down the bullet-hole for a measurement. He then got out his bow and fired the arrow straight down next to the hole. "Your rifle is most powerful, Todd," he said after comparing the two depths, the bullet being much deeper.

I put my gun away. "Yeah well, it's not forever." I made a pleading gesture to Aragorn and his pipe. He smiled and obliged by handing it over.

"Forever?" Boromir asked.

Whatever Aragorn smoked, it wasn't tobacco, but it was good for someone on nicotine withdrawals. Turning back to Boromir, I exhaled a warm lungful of smoke and said, "I only have so many bullets. Once they're gone, all I have is metal club."

"You cannot forge more?"

"No, I'm trained in their use, not their manufacturing. And before anyone volunteers to ask the local smith if he can bang out a few, bullets aren't just solid metal. The bow and arrow analogy is pretty basic - send projectile, projectile causes damage. The makeup of the this projectile and exactly how it gets sent is a lot more complicated that that. I can't really explain it further unless you want your heads to spin right off your shoulders. Hell, it gets my head spinning sometimes."

"Then perhaps you would do well to learn our weaponry," said Aragorn. He partially unsheathed his sword. "Compared to your armory, ours would be much simpler to learn, I think."

Nodding, I returned his pipe and thanked him for the offer, but commented that lessons could probably wait until morning, as it was getting rather late. He agreed, and we all bedded down near the warm fire.

Despite not actually having a bed, sleep came easily to me on the soft grass and warm blankets. Unfortunately, sleep also came easily to Gimli. I was woken several times by his heavy snoring. The others had apparently become used to this and had no problem ignoring him in favor of rest.

During one such moment of annoyed wakefulness, I heard blankets rustle beside me. I hoped it was someone nearer to Gimli who could prod him and stop the noise. Gimli's continued nasal echoes told me that was not the case. I turned over and saw Frodo following a white spectre away from the camp. I grabbed my pistol and followed him because frankly, with the exceptions of Legolas and Galadriel, I didn't trust elves.

I kept a good distance between us but kept him in sight. When he stopped in a small clearing, I could see that he hadn't followed any spectre but Galadriel, wrapped in gauzy white. Frodo was peering into a basin of water, while Galadriel looked on. From my hiding place, I couldn't see what was happening very clearly, but Frodo seemed distressed. He jerked back suddenly and landed flat on his back.

"I know what it is that you saw," she said to him. "For it is also in my mind."

Frodo just stared back at her and lifted his hand in an offering gesture.

She seemed surprised. "You offer it to me freely?" She considered Frodo and whatever was in his hand for a moment, then looked off into space as though considering a possibility. "I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this."

"In place of a Dark Lord, you would have a Queen." She shifted suddenly. Galadriel was no longer a gauzy white ethereal beauty. She looked dark and bright at the same time; shining like the stars, but tarnished like old silver; larger than life, but shrunken and hollow. "I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!" She shifted again, back to her normal self. She sagged from the effort of her speech. "I pass the test," she whispered. "I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel."

The two parted. Frodo put the necklace he had in his hand back around his neck and began to trudge his way back to our camp.

I scurried ahead of him, hoping he wouldn't catch me snooping into his business. I hadn't meant to snoop, only to make sure he wasn't going to get hurt. Even though they were adults, the hobbits had a very childlike quality that made you want to protect them. Frodo in particular seemed so vulnerable and afraid.

I got back to my blanket by the fire and bedded down again. Then I sat up and tossed a small rock at the still-snoring Gimli. The rock bounced off of his helmet with a tiny clang. Gimli snorted once and slept on silently.

I was smiling at my proficient aim when Frodo returned. Fortunately for me, he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice me quickly avert my eyes and lay back down to sleep.