These Lovely Scars (Lord of the Rings Fanfic)

A Big World

Gandalf walks at the front. Frodo follows behind him, followed by Aragorn. I walk behind Aragorn, sometimes beside, but behind when we walk in straight line formation. Two of the other hobbits walk alongside each other behind me, and Legolas the elf is behind them. Behind Legolas is the other hobbit, who tends to the pony carrying supplies. Boromir of Gondor takes the rear.

We traverse across open plains and hillsides and through dense forests. After what seems like hours, we finally stop to take a break. I sit down on a rock. We are on a hilly landscape in the wild, and tangled brush and rocks surround us. In the distance, mountains covered with white snow caps lace horizon. I feel like I have seen nothing like this in my life, yet the sight of the snow covered mountains seems to tap at something in the back of my mind.

Gandalf's voice breaks through the silence and my thoughts. "We must hold this course west of the Misty Mountains for forty days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there our road turns east to Mordor." I hear one of the hobbits groan, and I can't help but agree a little bit. Forty days? How long is this quest going to take? Oh, I'm being silly - it could take us two years for all I know.

I stretch out on my rock, with my blood red cape fanning out under me. Aragorn comes and sits next to me. "Are you doing alright? Is everything okay?" He asks.

I laugh a little at his protectiveness. "I'm fine. Everything's absolutely great."

"I feel like you're being sarcastic."

"I'm not! I'm serious, this is really cool!" I protest with a little laugh. "So tell me," I say, changing the subject. "Who is everyone?"

"Samwise," he calls out, and the hobbit who was tending the pony earlier comes. He seems to be cooking, and I can tell he is the closest with Frodo. He is, well, like all hobbits, short. He is a little plump, heavier than his companions, and has strawberry blond hair the curls in little tendrils. "Meet Adrianne Velika of the House of Rivendell. Adrianne, meet Sam."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Adrianne," the hobbit says a bit shyly, but friendly. "I can tell you are very brave."

"The bravest I know," Aragorn says, a little to himself.

"As to you, Sam. I am honoured to be of your acquaintance." I say. I can tell this makes him happy, as he smiles proudly and seems to stand a bit taller. "So tell me of the Shire. What's it like? I've never been before."

Sam goes into a detailed description of the Shire and Hobbiton, what life is like there and what it looks like. I can almost picture the rolling green hills and tilled earth in my head. Halfway through his description, Frodo comes along. I get the chance to talk to him as well.

"You are not an elf," Frodo says quietly when we are alone. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" I already know what he is going to say, but I let him. "Are you the girl who fell from the sky?"

I never liked being known as that. It always felt...off in some way, or untrue. "That's me," I say though, because what else am I? "How did you know?"

"I've heard stories. My Uncle Bilbo is a friend of Rivendell." There is a silence. "I have scars too, you know," he says after seeming to consider whether or not to tell me this. He pulls up his shirtsleeve, and I see three harsh slices down his forearm. "I got these in a boating accident. My parents died that day." That's all he needs to say. I can tell that he watched his parents die, and I turn away as tears form in his eyes.

I scoot closer to him so that my side touches his shoulder. We sit together in silence. Not awkward silence, but nice silence. Thoughtful silence. I feel like I have just made a bond with Frodo.

Something stirs at the back of my mind, but I push it down. I don't know what it is, but for some reason, I don't want to think about it.

I look around at the rest of the fellowship. Gandalf is deep in thought, staring across the expanse of grass and hill. Gimli the dwarf sits nearby him, trying to convince him about something. My eyes wander to Aragorn, who is talking quietly to Legolas. They were close friends before this, so I wonder why I have never met him prior to this fellowship. Sam has gone back to his cooking, and the faint smell of smoked sausages lingers in the air. The two other hobbits are practicing swordplay with Boromir. "That's Merry and Pippin," says Frodo when he sees me looking at them. "They're partners in crime."

"I had a feeling," I say.

"Two, three, four," Boromir counts off each clink of metal on metal. "Good, very good."

"Move your feet!" Aragorn and I both say at the same time. I give him a creeped out look. Sometimes, we just read each other's minds.

The two hobbits listen to our advice. "You look good, Pip!" The hobbit Merry says.

"Thanks!"

"Faster," Boromir says, switching to double time. Merry and Pippin move frantically, and Frodo and I both laugh.

"OWWWWCHHHHH!" Pippin cries dramatically, clutching his hand. Boromir must have scraped it with the hilt of his sword.

"I don't see any blood," I point out.

"Me neither," Frodo laughs.

"Sorry - " Boromir starts, but Pippin kicks him on the shin. I hold back a laugh and give Aragorn a look as Merry and Pippin initiate a full on attack on Boromir. All in good measure, though. Aragorn goes over to calm the two rowdy hobbits down, but they pull his legs and he falls onto his back. I can't hold back the laughter anymore.

"FOR THE SHIRE! Hold him! Hold him down, Merry," Pippin shouts with glee. They have Boromir pinned down under the weight of both of them, and his chest rumbles with laughter.

"Hey, Frodo," I begin, turning back around to face him, but he's no longer paying attention to his friends' antics. The hobbit stands a few paces away from the rock we were sitting on, staring at something in the distance with Legolas. I try to pick up pieces of their conversation, but I have no elf ears.

"Not a cloud," I think I hear Frodo say. I turn my eyes to the darkening sky. I hadn't noticed earlier, but rain clouds bloom darkly in the distance, slowly blocking out the sun. But...it's not a rain cloud. Rain clouds don't move. At least, not like this.

While I'm still trying to decipher what the dark, fast-moving blob in the sky is, Legolas shouts out,"Crebain from Dunland! Take cover!"

I don't know what Crebain from Dunland is, but the others seem to. Merry and Pippin dismount Boromir, and the three of them take shelter underneath a large structure of rocks. Sam splashes out his fire with a draught of water and runs to hiding like the rest of the fellowship. I do the same. The dark cloud is coming closer now, and I don't think I imagined the faint by growing sound of birds cawing and screeching in the distance. I wiggle my way into the thick underbrush next to Aragon. "What's going on?"

He keeps his eyes on the sky, but replies,"They're birds. Crebain is a large species of crow used as spies. Spies of Saruman."

"Saruman?" I question, feeling a bit stupid for not knowing anything. "Saruman the White? Isn't he good? He's on our side, right?"

"Not anymore. Now be quiet; they have a strong sense of hearing." I hold my tongue from asking any questions and listen to the sound of the wind blowing harshly and the birds drawing nearer. Their cries have grown terribly loud, and I can almost hear their leathery wings beating against the wind.

Soon enough, one, then two, then three more black dots speckle the sky above us. We are hidden from their view underneath the shrubbery and rocks, but they are not hidden from our view. In a matter of time, hundreds are flying over us, their cries deafening. They are a sea of black over us. Eventually, I turn my head into Aragorn's shoulder and stop watching. "This is just the beginning of it," He whispers into my ear. It should've scared me, but Aragorn knows me too well. He knows how to push me, how to make me better. So I turn my head to the sky and watch as the rest of the birds fly over us.