Chapter Thirteen: Of Rabbits and Blondes

"It's too late to change your mind,
Even though this fragile world is tearing apart at the seams,
We can't wash these sins away, This sinking feeling everyday:
I'm waking up in someone else's life."
- Evanescence, Erase this.

Dear Weather,

You are an ugly, incompetent buffoon. No one likes you.

Insincerely,

Ms. E. J. Sparrow.

The letter was scrawled hastily in the snow. She had left several identical annotations around Caradhras, to express her new distaste for the climate. She wrote a few other letters about the height of the mountain (She made the mistake of looking down. Never, ever look down. Ever. Unless you're wholly unafraid of heights, then, by all means, go ahead.) What I wouldn't give to be in the Harry Potter world. Or Pokémon. Or Percy Jackson. But not Twilight. Definitely not Twilight. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her body, teeth chattering. If she thought walking on the ground was bad, walking on snow was horrendous. Her leggings were soaked from the knee down.

"And since we've no place to go, Stop snowing, stop snowing, stop snowing..." She half sung, half grumbled. I think I'll go and annoy Gandalf. I haven't done that in at least an hour.

Legolas had felt the brunt of the tidal wave that was her unoccupied time. He had the patience of a saint to tolerate her, though he had thousands of years practice. "Gandalf?" She fell into step beside him. The wizard pretended to concentrate on a patch of sky that hadn't received his attention yet.

"Gandalf? Gandalf? Gandalf? Gaaandalf?"

He sighed, knowing it would be futile to snub her for very much long. "What do you want?"

"We're on a mountain, Gandalf!"

Ah, how I love Charlie the Unicorn references. A startled yelp caught her attention. Upon turning back, she found Frodo slipping down the harsh incline. Aragorn caught him just in time and Boromir picked up the Ring."Boromir?"

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer. So much fear and doubt over a small thing... such a little thing..." Shall I interfere? No. Wait, yes. No. Yes. Must make my mind up... No, I'll let this play out. I know it's going to be okay. It's not like Boromir DIES or- oh. Yeah.

"Boromir!" Crap, why don't I ever listen to myself?

"Boromir, give the Ring to Frodo."

He snapped out of his trance, all glimmers of greed gone from his eyes. "As you wish. I care not." He smiled hollowly and ruffled Frodo's hair. She couldn't help feeling proud of him. She did her absolute best not to get too close to the Ring. It tempted her and she felt it's irresistible power. She knew how hard it was to walk away from such temptation. She caught Boromir's eye and smiled.

She turned back to carry on and, for the hundredth time, Elizabeth fell over. She had been doing her best to keep her balance, but snow and ice are slippery and a convenient arm wasn't there to grab onto. So, she fell. Aragorn tried, and failed, to hide his amused chuckle. "I'll have you know." She said. "That, under normal circumstances, I have damn good balance."

"If your balance is so good, why did you fall?"

"Oh my God, Aragorn, you can't just ask people why they fall over." The reference went straight over his head and he didn't bother to ask. She snickered. Ever since she had caught him tapping along to a Lady Gaga song she was singing, he backed down far too easily. They had travelled far that day, and she knew it was nearly time for the next big step: The Pass of Caradhras. And you know what that means? Lots more snow.

She scooped up a handful of snow and, to her joy, found it to be sufficient for one, small snowball. "Lady?" She grinned. His feet coming closer. "Elizabeth?" Without much consideration for direction, she whirled around and chucked the snow at a very startled Aragorn. Hahaha! He looks like a rabbit when he's startled.

Her pleasure at his expense was extremely short lived, as her shot missed by about a mile. He stared at her for a moment. "How old are you?"

"Twenty five."

"Don't think you should be setting an example?"

"I am. I'm the bad example."

She wanted to shove Legolas off the mountain. Oh, look at him there, walking on the snow. Bastard. His face makes me want to hit him with a hammer. She glared at him from below. He smirked, glad to irk her without resorting to childish measures. The blizzard was blinding. No metaphor was needed to explain that. It was blinding. Snowflakes pelted down on them, preventing them from seeing more than a few metres ahead and clung to garments and hair. It was so cold that frost started to collect on her hair and clothes. She tapped the man in front of her. "H-Hey, Aragorn?"

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, unwilling to be the butt of her interminable jokes. Walking onwards, rather than looking back to face her, he said, "Yes?"

"Why don't blondes like buttered toast?" She called, putting extra emphasis on 'blonde', making sure Elven ears could hear above the wind.

This was one he hadn't heard before. What do blondes have to do with anything? "Why?"

"Because they can't figure out which side the butter goes on."

"What does that have to do with hair?" The Hobbit-shaped lump on his back shivered. She wasn't sure who was under there, but vowed to make several innuendos about being under Aragorn's cloak.

They were interrupted by Legolas, whose timing was less than impeccable, saying, "There is a fell voice in the air!"

"Oh no! Who could have foreseen this interesting turn of events?"

"It is Saruman!"

A flash of lightning licked across the sky and she jumped, startled. Shit. Not a storm, not a storm, not a storm. Thunder dinned in the distance. Quiet, soft thunder but it was enough to make her scream, "I'm too young to die! I never even got to see the Deathly Hallows Part 2!" A variety of debris fell from above. No matter how pretty it looked under the golden glow of the sun, they still hurt like nobody's business when they hit you.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!"

"Bloody hell!" Elizabeth barely jumped out of path of a rapidly descending snow drift.

"Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho I ruith!" (Sleep Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!) Chanted Gandalf, raising his staff.

Saruman's voice strengthened, rolling past the fellowship like another clap thunder. A lightning crack exploded on the mountainside above them. Elizabeth looked up in horror as an avalanche roared towards them. She threw herself against the cliff face as snow piled around them. Within moments, the pass was blocked and the group enveloped in snow. She dug through to the surface, humming the Indiana theme. "Don't worry about me. I was simply excavating that spot for dinosaur bones. It's not like I was covered in ice or anything." She quivered. How could anyone stand this cold?

"We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city."

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard."

"Yeah," She whined. "I'm tired, can't we just go through the Mines now?"

"The girl talks sense. If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go though the Mines of Moria."

"Let the Ring bearer decide."

Amazing. When I talk in the middle of an important scene, I still can't make them say other stuff. The burden of the decision was weighing down on the Halfling. Merry and Pippin shivered, clinging to Boromir. Aww, I forgot how nice Boromir was! Hold on, no. I do not, under any conditions, want to hug him, make him tea and share my sweets with him.

"We will go through the Mines."

"Spiffing." She blew on her hands to warm them. "Let's get off this damn mountain."

"God save our gracious Queen, long live our noble Queen..."

"Who is this Queen you speak of?"

Ah, yet another camping scene in this tale of epic proportions. They were gathered around a – yes, you guessed it – a camp fire. Night had fallen and the sky was almost a deep purple with small points of light where the stars were scattered. Legolas was laying back, watching the stars. The Hobbit's were out for the count and Aragorn was scouting around, most likely doing whatever Rangers do. Elizabeth wasn't really very interested. She put her head in her hands. "The Queen of my country. She's called Elizabeth as well."

"Is she a noble queen?" Boromir was suddenly quite interested in her home and nation.

"I think she tries her best." She chose her words carefully. "But there's no way she could eradicate all the bad stuff that goes on in the country. Then again, England was never really my true home. My home is in Ireland." She sighed.

Boromir nodded, not really having much idea what she was saying, yet assuming it was something pleasant. "Do you miss it?"

She retaliated. "Do you miss Gondor?"

"Point taken." He chuckled. "Gondor will always be my home, I miss it deeply."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, just watching the flames devour the wood. After a while, she spoke. "Can I ask you a question?" Without waiting for a response, she went right ahead. "Why is it a horn of Gondor? What's wrong with a nice xylophone?"

"I do not know what a xylophone is. The horn was given to me by my father. It was made from the horn of a wild ox of Rhun."

"Oh." She said. "I still think a xylophone would carry a nice tune."

"The Great Horn is not for musical use. It is only sounded in a time of great need."

She looked him right in the eye. "Stop. Calling. Me. Lady. My name is Elizabeth. I call you Boromir all the time. Want me to use YOUR title?"

"There is no need for my title." He murmured. "However, it would be not be proper to call you otherwise."

"If you're going to call me by a title. You may as well call me 'High-Queen-of-Nonsense-Land' because that's where I live most days." She ranted. "Do you know what Elizabeth means? It means to be truthful and intelligent. So, technically, calling me that would be more complimentary than calling me Lady."

"You are absurd." He muttered.

"Yes. Absurdly amazing. If you're so high and mighty, what does your name mean?"

"To my knowledge, my name means 'steadfast, trustworthy jewel'."

"Ah." Her plan backfired. "Yeah, well..." She struggled to find something intelligent to say, as if to prove she had been given her name for a reason. "Ask me if I'm a tree."

"Are you a tree?"

"No."

The angel, if she was that, was back. Elizabeth found herself by the ocean once again and unable to move. "Who are you?" She asked through clenched jaw. The lady had tears pouring down her lovely cheeks and she seemed indifferent to them. This time, Elizabeth could see more clearly and the lady had the face of a tortured saint or a martyr with those big, mournful eyes. Yet she smiled, like she was pleased to see her.

"Lost One." The stranger spoke. Lost One? Elizabeth had been called that before, when the thought that sprang unbridled to her mind as she was fighting the Ringwraiths. "Lost One, you-"

Then Elizabeth was falling, longing to know what the angel had said and wanting to know why she was falling through rapidly breaking tea cups. The fragile porcelain shattered, the elaborate pink and gold fine china alien against the blackness in which she was falling.