When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition:
When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...
Chapter Five:
In which Sakura learns that Hobbits are Not Cute
Disclaimer:
The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto
The story continues:
Hobbits, Sakura now knew without a shadow of a doubt, were not cute. They were whiny, tiresome and downright irritating. Sakura was moodily coming to the conclusion that she didn't actually like Hobbits at all. Those piping little voices grated across her every nerve, and was she ever a bundle of nerves this morning.
First off, she and Aragorn had stayed up all night. Their little charges had been far from alone when they had arrived in Bree, and not long after barricading them into the room, Strider had sent Sakura off to guard the hobbits room. She had seen the Black Riders herself.
There were five of them, at the least, each cloaked in those shadow-black cloaks and glinting black armour, and each astride a great black horse. The horses themselves looked as flesh-and-blood as she was, foaming at the mouth with the effort their relentless riders pushed them through. But the riders themselves? She'd known from the start that they were inhuman creatures, but it had never been as clear as it had been that night, as they melded out of the shadows and entered what she recognised as the hobbits rooms, like a whisper. Sakura had followed. Like a spider, she scuttled across the roof, masking her chakra lest somehow these formidable beings could somehow sniff it out. And, poised upside down over the window, and peering through a crack in the glass, she saw them raise their blades like a prayer, and bring them slamming down into the mattresses. The shriek that they emitted when they realised that the beds were empty – it was the most bone-chilling thing Sakura had ever heard. It pierced right through to her gut, clenched it tight, and took hold of her legs for good measure. She was away and across the rooftops like a bullet before her ears had even stopped ringing.
Thankfully, her training had kicked in halfway across the courtyard, and Sakura had abruptly changed her course. She went for a good long jog around the village and sent off two clones in opposite directions before she'd felt safe enough to sneak back to the room she shared with Aragorn. The last thing she wanted was to lead those things in the right direction. It didn't stop her clenching her teeth every time she heard hooves outside. The hobbits, bless their little hairy feet, were fast asleep and perfectly oblivious, but she and Aragorn had barely slept throughout the night, each with weapons in hands and eyes on the exits.
They'd left at dawn, with only a hurried breakfast to still the complaints of the Halflings. They'd not stopped complaining since. Their feet hurt. They were hungry. They were cold. Rangers were not to be trusted with Mr. Frodo's safety and how did they know they weren't leading them into a trap? That one was the fat hobbit. Aragorn handled their constant complaining far better than she did – she was using all her restraint not to turn around and smack one of them. Especially the fat one. His mutterings were like a constant stream of displeasure directed at her head, and she bore it only by forcibly reminding herself that it was just his loyalty and concern for Frodo that was talking. She tried very very hard to keep remembering that. Thankfully nobody had yet noticed that her footsteps were leaving deepening dents in the frost-bitten ground.
Which brought her to another point, yes it was cold. But they were wearing considerably more clothing than her, and were thus warmer, and therefore had no right to complain. At least their feet had more hair on than a sheep, even if they didn't have boots with the bloody toes chopped off. Her toes were freezing!
'Stupid idiot who designed ninja sandals…should be hung' she thought, on the verge of breaking out into mutters herself. Mornings in Middle Earth, Sakura had decided, were right up there with the Hobbits on the list of things she didn't like. She scowled as she hugged her cloak close. Because, of-bloody-course, the one time she'd forgotten to pack her pink arm warmers was the one time she needed them. And her little elbow guards were hardly warming material. Her gloves had long since become a permanent fixture on her hands, and she'd made use of her oldest roll of bandages to wrap her forearms. It kept the chill off a little more, but it was hardly the same as her woolly arm warmers. There was a slightly wistful expression on her face as she thought of those. Maybe now was the time to consider trading in her little red shirts for the standard long sleeved chuunin uniform.
And speaking of which, so what if her clothes were odd? So what if she was a girl? Quite apart from the complaining, it was the constant stares that were really beginning to irritate her. Mistrustful stares from the fat hobbit, anxious stares from the dark-haired 'Frodo', cautious stares from the sandy-haired hobbit and oddly awed stares from the little 'Pippin'. Just because she was a girl did not give them the right to stare at her! She ignored the fact that pink-haired girls who threatened people with knives were probably not a common occurrence here. She had not stayed awake all night with Aragorn, watching over these ungrateful Hobbits, to be stared at! So, not only was she cold and hungry, but tired and irritated beyond all hell. She really didn't know how Aragorn could stand it.
And today was only the first day on their journey to Rivendell - a journey which, by Aragorn's estimate, would take at least eighteen days. Eighteen. Almost three weeks. On foot; through barren wasteland and midge-infested marshes; and pursued by the creepiest creatures she'd ever had the misfortune to run into.
Middle Earth, she thought, certainly wasn't shaping up to be her favourite place in the world.
~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~
Lunch was bread and cheese, procured from the Innkeeper's pantry and produced with little aplomb from the depths of Striders pack. It was filled out with what was left of the Hobbits' own travelling rations – some dried meat and mushrooms - which the fat hobbit shared with his kin, but expressly failed to offer 'Strider' and 'Stranger'. Sakura rolled her eyes without discretion, and wandered off into the underbrush. A few seconds, a muffled thump, and she returned with an entire branch in her hand, from which hung several ripe, juicy apples. She smiled sweetly at the hobbits, pulled off six, and began gently placing the rest into her bag. Then, she gave three to Aragorn, and began munching happily on the three in her lap, with many exaggerated noises of enjoyment. She thought she heard Aragorn chuckle, but the crunch of perfectly ripe apples was too overshadowing to be sure.
She continued to eat her apple all the way into the afternoon, chewing it right down to the core and neatly spitting out the seeds afterward. And without further ado…she started on the second one with apparently as much enjoyment as the first. It didn't escape her notice that the short hobbit – Pippin – was watching the apple with an almost disturbing amount of longing in his eyes. The quiet grumble of his stomach seconded, thirded and carried that notion. He smiled embarrassedly when she caught him looking.
"You, ah, you wouldn't consider sharing one of those, would you Miss Stranger?" he asked in an innocent, hopeful kind of tone. She assessed his face shrewdly, and Pippin shifted a little uncomfortably, before she chomped down hard on the fruit.
CHOMP. "No."
His face fell, as her face darkened. "You talk too much," she added, in the sickeningly sweet way that people only use when they are trying to hold onto their rapidly fraying temper. Her eyes flashed under her hood, and Pippin was abruptly reminded that this girl was carrying weapons and knew how to use them. And she was definitely cross.
"You," Sakura continued meanwhile, pointing to Frodo with her apple, "on the other hand, are twitchier than a bloody rabbit and you" she glared at Sam, "are without a doubt, the biggest pain in the ass that I have ever had the misfortune to have assault my ears. And trust me, if you knew the people I know, you would see what a bloody big pain that is!"
The sandy-haired hobbit actually shook a little as she turned to him, and appeared to consider him for a long moment. "You," she began thoughtfully. Merry gulped. "You don't complain so much. You I think I like. What's your name?"
"Meriadoc Brandybuck, Miss Stranger," he replied quickly, "folks call me Merry." He shut his mouth fast; as if anxious he'd talked too much.
"Have an apple Merry," said Sakura, and smirked. He fumbled as she tossed the third one to him. "Keep him" she jerked her thumb at Pippin, "quiet."
Feeling like she'd got one up on them, and therefore feeling better, Sakura hopped up to the rise where Strider was waiting, apparently apathetic to the whole exchange. Her smirk widened as she caught sight of Merry in her peripheral vision – he was trying to bite the apple in half, while a puppy-eyed Pippin hung off his arm. He clapped her gently on the back, but she wasn't sure whether it was a congratulatory pat or an admonishment. She settled for a mildly sheepish, and slightly strained, smile.
His shoulders were tense under his cloak, she noticed, and it was getting dark. Of course he had more important things to worry about than her silly little squabbles with the hobbits. Sakura's sheepish smile faded into real shame, and she ducked her head. Determinedly, she cycled through her memory, feeling a sudden strong drive to be useful.
"Strider," she called quietly, being sure not to use his name. "There was an outcrop of rocks back there; it could be a good place to set up camp."
He nodded distractedly, scanning the surrounding area quickly. "Can you do that technique you did before? To conceal us?"
She nodded quickly, genjutsu wasn't her specialty but she was decent at it, and although she wasn't certain it would work on the Ringwraith's that followed them, a simple genjutsu would at least provide more safety than none at all. She began forming hand-signs. Aragorn concentrated and felt the barest of brushes against his skin as the technique took hold, but the feeling was gone as soon as his concentration dropped. He was only half-sure he hadn't imagined it in the first place. Sakura seemed to be satisfied however, as she crouched atop the outcrop looking over something he couldn't see.
The genjutsu took hold well; Sakura thought with satisfaction. She could barely feel it; 'Not bad, if I do say so myself'.
Aragorn herded the Hobbits under the outcrop, and firmly rejected a cooking fire. Sakura had to admire the way he steamrollered over their protests and simply distributed crusty rinds of bread and generously flicked out his knife – much to the alarm of the hobbits – and began slicing his remaining two apples into chunks – much to their relief. He had clearly warned them against speaking to Sakura - when she hopped down and took her place by Strider the camp was utterly silent, and their charges were determinedly looking everywhere except her person. She batted him a quick smile of gratitude.
Night stole in slowly, until the Ranger ordered the hobbits to bed. A brief argument over who should take first watch culminated in a short lecture-a-la-Sakura on the wonder that is soldier pills, along with an equally short explanation that Aragorn wouldn't be able to use them, and therefore was going to need his sleep if he expected to be of any use as a guard. His responding argument was abruptly squashed when Sakura chomped down on the aforesaid pill, with the declaration "Too late now buddy, get your ass over there with those lazy buggers and sleep." She pointedly ignored his rejoinder about "unladylike speech," and "unbecoming tempers."
Nonetheless, both Aragorn and Sakura were up well before dawn. The dew sprinkled the ground with icy little crystals, and the air was crisp like a newly pressed sheet. If possible, it was even chillier. It occurred to Sakura belatedly that the seasons here may very well be on a very different cycle to that back home. They could very well be headed into winter. The thought had her near kicking herself for not thinking of it sooner, but a quick query of Strider confirmed it. She would definitely need to find some warmer clothes.
Meanwhile, the cold morning brought little change in the hobbits, who did not appreciate being woken at sunrise and walked through the frost at a "leg-breaking pace" on a mediocre breakfast of mushrooms and bread. Sakura had expected them to want a break at some point, but she didn't expect them to start hunkering down and getting out the pots and pans. Apparently neither had Aragorn.
"What are you doing?" He asked incredulously. It was Pippin who replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Breakfast."
"You've already had it."
Pippin gave him what could only be described as "a look".
"We had one yes, but what about second breakfast?"
Aragorn just shook his head and walked away, muttering something under his breath that sounded like "Hobbits."
Sakura watched in amusement as Merry stood up and clapped Pippin on the shoulder. "I don't think he knows about second breakfast Pip." Pippin looked horrified.
"What about brunch? Afternoon tea? Elevenses? He knows about those doesn't he?"
"I wouldn't count on it."
The conversation was interrupted when an apple came whooshing over the treetops and clonked poor Pippin rather soundly on the head. Sakura rummaged around in her pack until she'd found the last of them, only a little bruised and still looking delightfully green and crisp. She distributed them with as much grace as she could muster, and finished her own apple rather quickly; while the group travelled much as they had the day before. Sakura found herself in a marginally more forgiving mood this morning, most likely due to a few decent hours of sleep. She almost regretted her harsh thoughts from the previous day. But only 'almost'. Frodo, for his part, was mostly silent – Sakura counted her blessings for that – but Merry and Pippin kept up a steady stream of (thankfully quiet) chatter around mouthfuls of apple. She was somewhat glad that those two seemed to have relaxed somewhat in the presence of herself and Aragorn (and food), but Sam was clearly indisposed to follow suit.
"How do we know we can trust this 'Strider'?" She heard him mutter grumpily, obviously intending the words for his fellow hobbits' ears only, and she was immediately flooded with outrage for her friend. Did that fat, ungrateful hobbit not notice anything? How Aragorn was risking his own safety by protecting them? How he'd barely slept the past two nights, watching out for them? So absorbed in her thoughts, Sakura didn't hear Frodo's reply, and it was only when she felt Aragorn's concerned hand on her shoulder that she realised she'd been glaring at Sam. He'd gone rather pale, actually, so she must have looked fierce. She hadn't even noticed that her hood had blown off and exposed the full force of her death-glare on the hobbit. She wasn't sure if it was inherent loyalty or just the lack of food and sleep talking, but Sakura was angry.
"You're a lot safer with him than with me, Hobbit." She snarled, and even Aragorn was taken aback by the venom in her voice.
Once again, Aragorn found himself at something of a loss as to what to do. He had no experience in this field, and Sakura was such a strange girl that he found himself doubting that it would help even if he did. He patted her shoulder awkwardly, attempting to mediate, or at least dispel the building tension. It would not do for a fight to break out. "Sakura, perhaps you could scout ahead?" He tried, keeping his voice neutral and as placating as possible, still unsure as to the source of her ire. She nodded stiffly, and marched into the trees. He noticed with some consternation that she was making deeper and deeper depressions in the ground as she stomped away.
He watched after her until she'd disappeared completely. Finally, Strider turned to Sam, his expression blank. "What was that about?"
Sam scowled darkly. "Damned if I know. All I know is she's been naught but unpleasant since we met, always glaring and growling at a fella'. She don't like me, an' I don't like 'er. Don't trust 'er either." Sam stopped and glared at Aragorn. "Or you for that matter. Ow'd we know if you're a friend o' Gandalf?"
Pippin helpfully pointed out that he'd already said that, just now, to Frodo- and almost immediately Merry not-so-subtly elbowed him in the gut - the universal sign for "Now would be a really good time to shut up". Aragorn however, looked unperturbed, and merely raised his eyebrows. Unknowingly he repeated Frodo's earlier sentiments: "What choice do you have?"
With apparently no more to be said on the matter, and four speechless hobbits on his hands, he turned and silently led them onward. But his mind was far from silent. Why had Sakura reacted so? Could it really be that Sakura had reacted in such a way, simply because Sam had questioned his honesty? In defence of him? Aragorn found himself feeling rather flattered.
He was broken out of his ponderings by his scout's deft landing in front of him. Surprised, he spared a moment to inspect the tree she had apparently just jumped down from, but before he had time to wonder about it she began reporting.
"I can see no signs that we are being followed. Of course that doesn't mean we aren't. There is small village just under a mile from here." She finished, pointing in the appropriate direction.
Aragorn merely nodded, inwardly pleased that they had made such good time. He intended to pick up some more food and supplies from there if they could, and possibly a pony or mule – he suspected the hobbits would travel better with a beast to carry their packs for them, and perhaps happier hobbits meant a happier Sakura. For her part, she kept up a constant watch for the rest of the journey to the village. She appeared sometimes from the rear, and sometimes from ahead, and Aragorn found himself wondering whether she was using that strange technique to copy herself again, or if she was just that fast.
The party continued to travel at a brisk pace. Apparently a volatile and angry Sakura was a good motivator. He offered no explanation or reassurance to the hobbits, and they were content to mutter among themselves, until the sun reached its highest point in the sky and a cluster of houses became visible through the brush. The village was made up of wooden buildings similar to those found in Bree, though the roads were only packed dirt instead of cobbles. Aragorn whispered to Sakura that it was named Archet, and she sifted through her memory for the name, vaguely recalling it as a dot on the map, even more insignificant than Bree. For his part, the ranger wanted to remain there as short a time as possible, and would much have preferred to push on, but after looking over his party, he was more inclined to let them rest and recover their spirits. They found the local Inn easily and secured a room for the night with little questioning. He and Sakura worriedly mapped out a watch and as many ways they could think of to throw the Rider's off their trail, before Sakura slipped out into the woods and threw up as many genjutsu as she could. For good measure, Sakura summoned as much chakra as she could spare and with a 'poof' two clones appeared in front of her. She set them on a grid pattern scout, and headed back to the Inn with her mind plotting out tripwire traps. She might not be able to trap the road, but the door to their room was fair game and anything was better than nothing.
pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~
The night passed almost too quietly, and for all that they were in comfortable beds none of them slept easily. Sakura raided the kitchen early and left a pile of coins on the stove in recompense, and shortly afterward another dawn saw the hobbits stumbling blearily after the Ranger, with Sakura bringing up the rear. They left the road quickly and began making their way across fields, utilising brooks wherever they came across them to mask their trail.
They travelled in single file, stooped slightly with tiredness, and mud sucking dully at their feet. Sakura grimaced at the feeling of it between her toes, and felt a pang of sympathy for the hobbits, for whom it must surely be worse. Or for three of them at least; she watched Sam (she'd finally bothered to learn his name) pick his way through the muck with a disgruntled expression on his chubby face, and smiled vindictively.
It was around this time, when insects were starting to wake up and make a nuisance of themselves, and the end of the planted fields was in sight, that a sound reached their ears. It was dull, far away, at first. But with each step they took it grew louder, clearer and soon the party rounded a cluster of wind-breaking trees and came upon a sight that none of them cared to see. The steady thwack thwack thwack that had guided their footsteps was, in fact, the sound of a large flat stick roughly striking the rump of a skinny and scraggly pony, which appeared to be grossly overloaded with large sacks of grain.
"Move, you thrice-damned pony," growled a stocky, bandy-legged old man.
"Can't he see that pony's overloaded?" growled Sam, "Why, no wonder the poor thing can't hardly move!"
The old man raised his stick to strike the pony again, but his hand was stopped abruptly mid-swipe.
"I should be happy to take that animal off your hands," said Strider smoothly, tightening his grip on the man's wrist meaningfully, "if it is so very badly behaved."
The eye's of the old man widened in something like surprise - and a lot like fear - before his face took on the shrewd expression of a man who saw a profit in the making.
"Twelve silver pennies and he's yours," he sneered. Sakura had picked up a basic grasp of the currency here, but being unused to horses she had no idea what one might be worth. Behind her though, she heard the hobbits quite clearly muttering about the price being three times the pony's worth, and her eyes narrowed.
"The beast is half-starved and you yourself cannot move him," Strider raised an eyebrow, "yet you insist he is worth that much?"
"I'll not give him up for less," the man sniffed imperiously, as if he had every right to demand so much for so poor an animal. Aragorn fought the urge to strike the man as the animal let out a pitiful whinny. Sakura had no such reservations – she was a healer, and she'd be damned if she watched any animal in that much discomfort. She stalked forward with more menace than her slight frame would suggest, and grabbed the old man by his collar. She jerked him roughly, so that his arm slid out of Aragorn's grasp, but the old man merely smirked as if his new captor was no more than an amusing distraction.
She quickly stripped him of that illusion.
She lifted him bodily off the ground. He paled.
"What's your name?" she inquired pleasantly, as if she was doing nothing more than asking about the weather. He kicked his bandy legs a little feebly, and muttered something under his breath.
"Didn't catch that," she said sharply.
"M'names Bill Ferny," he scowled down at her, baring his crooked teeth. "And you'll not have the beast at all if'n ye' don't put me down!"
The hobbits and Strider, meanwhile, had been rather drastically taken aback at the ease with which Sakura had lifted him. Such a thing they would have readily believed of Strider, who was tall and had rather long arms, but Stranger was barely a head taller than the hobbits and of such a light build that she almost looked like she'd fall over with a strong gust of wind. And she was a woman to boot; who, though they did not think less of her for it, were not often considered physically strong, nor quite so emotionally aggressive as men. It was frankly astounding.
It was Aragorn who decided to intervene. He'd spent enough time with Sakura to know that she had both strange strength and abilities, and a short temper. He knew that her temper was already worse for wear.
"We'll give you half that for the pony," he said in a firm tone. Ferny opened his mouth to object hotly, regardless of the fact that his feet weren't touching the ground, but Aragorn smoothly cut across him and continued, "The other half you may have in exchange for food, and a warm blanket or two if you have them."
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but nodded stiffly.
"Put him down, Sakura," Aragorn murmured close to her ear, careful that neither the hobbits nor the detestable Bill Ferny should hear it. She obliged begrudgingly.
The farmer dusted himself with a huff and a sneer. "Just where are you lot off to that you need so much food and blankets, and a beast of burden to boot?"
"Our business is our own," Frodo interjected quickly, sticking his chin out in a somewhat defiant fashion.
"Hmph," huffed Bill Ferny. Sakura began very meaningfully to crack her knuckles one by one. Aragorn maintained an aloof and deceptively pleasant outward appearance.
"The food and blankets if you please. We do not wish to tarry."
Ferny's eyes shifted from person to person, and with a grumble he shuffled off. Sakura followed him without direction, but the Ranger remained with the hobbits, and together they set to unloading the pony.
Without the calming presence of her 'fellow ranger' Sakura found herself snappish and inclined to fall back on the basic interrogatory techniques of her early training. She presented an impenetrable front, and refused to let down her guard. The barest glint of metal under her cloak let anybody who was inclined to look know that she was armed. She was sure to follow him just a tad too close to truly be comfortable, and was doubly sure to make not a single sound. So complete was her silence that he'd turned back more than once to check if she was there, only to get a fright when he found her hovering over his shoulder. Hidden under her hood, Sakura smirked. She was unnerving him.
There was a rough hessian sack hanging by the door of a fairly well-kept cottage, and this Ferny grabbed on his way inside. Sakura, mindful of the respect one should pay a household, waited semi-patiently against the door jam, observing mildly as the farmer muttered to himself and shoved items into the sack without care. She was half-certain that the loaf of bread that went in there was already stale, and that the cheese was a tad too hard and shiny looking to be in its prime. Nonetheless, she refrained from commenting as a couple of bruised apples and a surprisingly generous helping of dried meat went in there. Then again, she mused to herself, it was probably dog jerky. Her mouth quirked a little at the thought.
It was that moment that Bill Ferny turned around, and catching sight of that strange little half grin, made an abrupt show of adding another loaf and some healthy looking vegetables from the pantry. He bustled out of the room in short order, and Sakura heard him muttering and swearing as he rummaged around with something in the hall. She presumed a cupboard. When he returned two large items of cloth had been hurriedly shoved into the sack and the whole thing pressed into Sakura's hands.
He was paid without further provocation, and without further ado the troop set off again, mindful of his beady little eyes tracking their path. They made as if back toward Archet, only to double back later and return to Strider's original route.
As for the pony, Sam had dubbed him "Bill" much to Sakura's disgust. Nor did she care for his argument that 'the name ought to have one good creature attached to it." Sam was adamant however, and the name soon stuck. They gave him as much as they had the heart to have him carry, and were careful not to weigh him down too much. But Bill was a sturdy pony, and much more inclined to follow the direction of a carrot or apple than that of a stick. Sakura checked him every so often with a minor medical jutsu, but to all ends he was healthy, if a little undernourished, and was as happy as Larry once she'd healed over the welds on his bottom.
Sakura didn't bother to mention her little healing talent to the others, figuring that her little display earlier was probably quite enough for them to take in, in one go, and so it merely seemed that she was fond of petting the pony. Discreetly though, she was trying to remember and initiate the metabolism aiding jutsu that Tsunade had taught her once – on the fly – because it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Considering that at the time she had had her hands full with one of Chouji's young cousins, who'd managed to get into those little traffic-light pills of his, it probably was a good idea. But that didn't necessarily make the jutsu applicable to ponies. She did her best however, tweaked it as much as she dared, and by the third day she was almost certain she could see results. For his part, Sam was as much inclined to share his dinner with the pony as he was to share it with Frodo, and between the frequent titbits, and the plentiful grass and shrubs throughout the wilds, and Sakura's aid, Bill began to put on weight at a steady rate.
Sakura was immensely pleased with this. She was even more pleased to find that with Bill carrying most of the weight, the hobbits were less disposed to dawdle and complain. The relative quiet was much to her relief, and the relief of her temper, and by the time that they neared their destination – a great hill topped with a ruin – she had even simmered down enough to hold a semi-civil conversation with Merry (who was the least annoying) and Pippin (who wouldn't have been deterred anyway). It seemed that nothing however, could make her lessen her ill-opinion of Samwise Gamgee, who'd secured himself rather firmly in her bad books. Likewise, Sam was disgusted to find that Bill (his Bill) was as much disposed to favour Sakura as he was to favour him. Sullen and Icy Glares were frequently exchanged, much to the discomfort of Frodo and Merry, though Pippin remained cheerfully oblivious.
The relief to both the two hobbits and the Ranger, when they finally reached the base of the hill, was dampened only by the looming prospect of the climb. Strider's long legs scaled the rocky hillside easily, and though he paused frequently to help one or other of the struggling hobbits, his progress was quick. Only the ever stubborn Sam refused help, instead hovering as near behind Frodo as was safe and offering him a sturdy elbow whenever the dark-haired hobbit needed it. There was a rough sort of track that wound around the hill; little more than a line of dirt in the grass or the slightest hint of stone peeking between the roots of thorny bushes, which might have once been a true path. They followed it as best they could, for while climbing the hillside – which in some places was near vertical, thanks to rock falls and the beating of the wind – would be faster in theory, the shortness of their charges legs, and their reluctance to do so, surely made the track the lesser of two evils. Either way, the going was steep, and poor Bill had to stop on more than one occasion. He was, after all, not a young pony.
'Stranger' found the entire thing more or less a pointless exercise, and a waste of time to boot. She knew genins that could scale this entire hill, ruined tower and all, vertically in little more than five minutes. But hobbits were not ninja, and Sakura was forced to dawdle impatiently behind them as they wound their way steadily upwards. By the time they reached the top, Sakura was just about ready to drop to the ground and start kissing the stonework. She didn't know how Aragorn could possibly be so patient.
She didn't get a chance to ask him though, because the bugger disappeared not long after herding the hobbits into a disused guard room and leaving her to deal with the setting up of camp and the bedding down of whiny halflings.
'Git.' She thought unhappily.
To be continued…
For your benefit, changes (if they're not obvious) made to this chapter include:
Not all that much I guess…How about a game of spot the difference?
NEW EDIT: I HAVE BEEN TRAVERSING SECOND HAND BOOKSHOPS AND FINALLY GOT MY OWN COPIES OF ALL THREE LOTR BOOKS (INSTEAD OF STEALING MUM'S) AND HAVE BEEN READING THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING. I'VE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH THE BOOKS MORE THAN EVER AND SO I'M CHANGING MY STORY TO BE A BIT MORE LOYAL TO THE ORIGINAL BOOK. PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ THE BOOKS WILL RECOGNISE THOSE BITS. Of course, people will probably be rolling their eyes at me now, since I can't seem to be happy with anything I write. Oh well.
SEE IF YOU CAN SPOT THE NEW CHANGES. (Hint: I've changed things in other chapters too….yeah I know, I'm a pain eh? Sorry)
~Devi1OnUrShou1der~