Aggie: This salad is tasty, Ginny.
Ginny: Sure is. Glad we're finally eating healthy.
Moolie: Guys, that's weird looking lettuce. Did you get it at Whole Foods? You know we can't afford that!

Aggie: No, it's Carol.

Moolie: It's…what?

…

Chapter Ten: She Wants Me

Eomer sighed deeply. The up and coming battle could mean life or death, and yet here he had to settle. He cautiously reached down and picked up the harrowing instrument with his hand.

"Thanks for letting me borrow your bedazzler, Aragorn," Eomer said hollowly. "I left ol' Betsy back at Edoras."

"It's nothing, man," Aragorn said nonchalantly. "That thing's gotten me through a lot of turmoil. It will serve you well. And don't forget, I bought the 'Deluxe Tropical Shades' pack. I really think the coral and the sunset fuchsia will go well with your chainmail." Aragorn reclined in a pink plastic lawn chair, his fingers outstretched to help dry the clear base coat of nail polish.

All around them, men were sharpening swords and pleating beards. Polishing armor and plucking eyebrows. Stringing bows and waxing bikini areas. Gimli was busy braiding lovely pink azaleas into his fiery red beard. Theoden carefully applied "Touch of Grey for Men" to his elegant old man hair. Legolas struggled to put a purple-colored contact into his Elf eye.

Azimah was none too happy with the operation at hand. As much as Eowyn tried to cheer her up or help her do her hair, the she-Elf refused to move from her pouting position, arms crossed and a snarl plastered across her face.

"C'mon, Azzy! It's fun!" Eowyn encouraged, tugging at Azimah's arm.

"No."

A ways away, the friendly old blacksmith had finished wiping off his salon chair. "Why, hello, Mr. Brandybuck! Is it time for your 2 o'clock curling appointment?"

"I believe so," Merry said tersely, closing the Glamour magazine he had been skimming.

As Merry sat with curlers in his hair, he heard the pleasant song of a mistle thrush, which inhabits many of the woodlands of Middle Earth. Merry sprang from his chair, nearly losing many curlers in the process. As the thrush daintily dropped a rolled piece of parchment into the hobbit's hands, Legolas skipped by, one eye closed and watering. "Damn these contacts!" Merry quietly ducked beneath the Elf, scurrying secretively toward his pack. Before he could put it away, Eomer tackled him to the muddy ground, laughing jovially.

"What's that in your hand, little hobbit?" he asked, snatching the letter from Merry.

"N-no, wait!" Merry stuttered, rising to his feet and puffing out his chest. "Give that back!" It was too late. Eomer had already unrolled the paper and donned his half-moon spectacles.

"Dearest Meriadoc," Eomer started, immediately gaining the attention of all the other protagonists. Merry's face was stained blotchy purple in embarrassment. "Thank you for sending the lovely flowered handkerchief. I shall keep it with me for luck."

"Sent her your handkerchief, huh, Merry?" Gimli jeered.

"I think it's cute!" Eowyn chimed in.

Eomer rolled his eyes at his sister and continued. "I pray you are doing well. Sometimes I worry about you. I hope that when this whole ordeal is through, we could go on that picnic in the Shire you promised me."

At this point the entire cast of men started to get rowdy with collective "Ohoho"s and "Hohohohoho"s. Legolas attempted to join in, but his damaged eye was too great a distraction and he began to cry in the middle of his laugh.

Eomer recovered from his fits of giggles long enough to finish reading the note. "Please stay safe for me. I hope I am not being too forward by penning this word, but I send my dearest love. Atzi."

The men began to patronize the love letter from the forest sprite.

"Who's this Atzi writing you love notes?" one soldier asked, putting a hand on his shapely hip.

Merry snatched the letter out of Eomer's hand in agitation. "This girl I met back in Fangorn. She wants me. No big deal."

The men quickly dispersed and walked back to their previous tasks. Merry read the note over again and, smiling to himself, tucked it under his shirt.

…..

This was not one of Samwise's better days. So far, they had skipped second breakfast and elevensies, and now this emaciated grey creature was leading him and Mr. Frodo up an endless flight of stairs to Tolkien-knows-where. Mr. Frodo hadn't been doing well as of late. He refused to eat and his color was much paler than usual, which was saying something. He was irritable, ill-tempered, and growing worse everyday.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam called ahead. "What was that, Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo had been muttering under his breath for the past hour or so as he climbed up the stairs in a state of delirium. "Heavier…it's…getting…"

"Why don't we stop for a break?" Sam recommended cheerfully. Frodo merely gave a jerky nod. The three of them came upon a fairly sizable ledge to rest on. Frodo sat down and slumped weakly against Sam's shoulder. Sam offered him a chunk of Lembas bread, but Frodo waved it away absentmindedly.

"Fado…" Frodo muttered, his eyelids fluttering.

"Don't worry, Mr. Frodo!" Sam said. "We'll see her again, don't you worry. We'll see everyone again! After all of this blows over, we'll see Fado and Strider and we'll be back home, safe and sound, in the Shire!"

As Sam droned on about his plans after the war, Frodo kept muttering, as if he couldn't hear him. "It's my fault…it's all my…"

"What's your fault, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked.

Frodo slowly turned his gaze up at him. "She…I couldn't…"

"Miss Fado's fine, Mr. Frodo. She can hold her own."

"I couldn't stop them."

Sam smiled grimly. "We'll get her back, Mr. Frodo," he said unconvincingly. "Don't worry."

…

"Please, please don't go!" Fado begged as Satchel prepared his pack. "Lord Denethor is crazy, you can't seriously be following his orders!"

Satchel solemnly crouched before Fado. "Listen: I'll be back in no more than a day's time. You won't even have time to miss me, okay? Now, chin up. I don't want to see anymore of those crocodile tears."

Fado sniffed and went to embrace him. Satchel, holding back manly tears, returned the hug. After awhile, Satchel straightened up and grabbed his pack.

"Well, I guess I'm off, then."

"No, you're not."

"Fado, I thought I said-"

"There's still someone you have to say goodbye to."

…

Kelly was frantically organizing and reorganizing her tiny studio on the second level of Minas Tirith. After alphabetizing her Zumba records for the fifth time, she resorted to pacing the hard wood floor.

"Hey."

Kelly looked up into full-room dance mirror in front of her. Satchel stood, breathless, in the doorway, setting down his pack.

"I thought you were already on your way," Kelly whispered.
Satchel slowly approached her. "I had to say goodbye."

"Satchel, I can't-"
"Kelly, listen to me. If anything should happen to me, you need to keep an eye out for Fado."

"But nothing will happen, right?" Kelly asked, on the verge of tears.

Satchel took her hands. "I cannot promise you that. But I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to return to you."

"You mean more to me than my limited-edition Zumba toning sticks autographed by J-Lo," Kelly said tearfully.

Satchel gave her hand a final squeeze. "You make my heart soar as if I'm doing a cumbia-merengue 6-step combo." He slung his pack over one shoulder and turned to go. Satchel stopped at the doorway; something had come over him. He turned sharply on his heels and marched over to Kelly. Tipping her chin he leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth. He broke off, looking nervously at her. Kelly gave him a teary smile, then leaned up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear.

"You were always the spiciest salsa dancer in my class."

….

Satchel arrived back at the barracks just as the other men were saying their goodbyes and saddling their horses.

"Satchel!" Faramir called. "Where have you been?"

Satchel wiped his eye swiftly. "Kelly. She wants me. No big deal."

Faramir smiled knowingly. "Satchel, you old dog…"

Denethor suddenly stormed into the barracks. "Let's get a move on, now! Gotta get home in time for lunch!"

Faramir looked at his father sadly before turning to mount his horse.

"Faramir," Gandalf said. "Do not go on this fool's errand. It is suicide."

"It's what the steward commands," Faramir responded tonelessly. "What am I to him if not a good Captain."

"Your father loves you, Faramir," Gandalf went on. "He will realize it before the end."

Nora approached Faramir, patting him awkwardly on the knee. "Look, I have Dad issues, too. You've seen how I deal with it. And…" Nora searched for words, girlishly tucking her disheveled hair behind her ear. "…I think you're a pretty good Captain."

Faramir squeezed her hand and gave her a warm smile. The farewell party backed away as the soldiers nudged their horses into motion. Nora stepped beside Pippin to watch them go.

"Seems as if you two have gotten quite friendly…" Pippin muttered. Nora, baffled, opened her mouth to fire back a sarcastic response, but Pippin turned and walked away without another word.

…

Nora sat on her bed, deep in thought. The events that had taken place over the last couple of days were not panning out well. She rolled back onto the mattress and groaned.

"Damnit," she sighed. "It's not like I meant to piss him off."

"Tell me about it," Fado said, inexplicably emerging from Nora's covers.

Nora proceeded to tell her about it. "I wasn't thinking straight. I'm usually level-headed when it comes to men, but Faramir's so handsome and well-spoken and polite…it just gets to me. And I hate it, but it gets to me, you know?"

Fado nodded as she picked at a hangnail on her thumb. "I know, I know."

Nora sighed again, lifting herself onto her elbows. "And I like Pippin. I really like Pippin, Fado. But dealing with being a runaway bride, proving myself as a capable warrior, and trying to sort out whatever this is between us is too much. I don't want to like Faramir like this, but it happens, you know? I mean, I do like Pippin…"

"You said that three times, Nora," Fado stated, smirking.

"Yeah…" Nora looked at the wall in front of her, then at her bare feet, then at the small sprite in her bed. "How'd you get in my room, anyway?"

Fado waved her away. "Irrelevant. We're talking about boys."

Nora nodded. "How's the whole Frodo situation going?"

Fado shrugged. "I miss him. Heck, I miss everyone."

"What are you thinking of doing after all of this is over?" Nora asked.

"I don't know," Fado said softly. "I don't really want to go back to Fangorn, but it's not like I have anywhere else to go."

"Yeah, I don't really like the idea of going back to Forodwaith…" Nora thought for a moment. "We could always bum around here for awhile. Or go to Rohan. Ever been to Rohan?"

Fado shook her head.

"Well, it's nice."

Fado joined Nora in looking up at the ceiling. "We could always go visit the Shire, you know."

Nora smiled. "Yes, I know."

"There'd be cute boys there."

"Yes. I know."

…

Azimah laid on her bedroll, looking up at the ceiling of the tent she shared with Eowyn. She tried to ignore the pains in her chest as she glanced out of the opening of the tent at the stars, wondering how many more nights she would get to see them. It was very lonely there in the dark.

…

Ginny: She was a weak link, Moolie! And we need a strong chain.

Moolie: She trusted you! And you stabbed her in the back!

Aggie: We were hungry, Moolie. And Ginny's getting fat.

Ginny: Negative.

Moolie: …fine. Pass me some, will you?