What The Actual? (LotR x Reader)

Shadow Puppets

It was getting colder step by step (oooh baby) and you were shivering, despite the Elvish cloak you donned (courtesy of Arwen what a sweet thang). Not only was the air growing colder as you neared the mountain pass, day by day, but Gimli was eventually right about the humidity. The day after and a few more, the cloud rolled in darker, and finally, it rained. Stormed more like it. It wasn't cold enough to be frozen or snow however, just enough to sting when it hit your skin.

Aragorn was right, you did regret wishing for colder weather.

You had blisters on your feet, but were thankful for the Mirkwood boots you had, which didn't allow for rain to enter the top. You were surprised they had them, always thinking Elves only wore light shoes because they didn't need them--but apparently Thranduil had a badass Elven dress code so all of his soldiers didn't look like soft losers.

Worked for you.

Not even you spoke, the rain too loud for any one to be heard from more than a foot away, and you had to squint to see ahead. far too many times have Boromir and Legolas had to yank your arm to keep you from tripping into ditches and tumbling over down the wrong path.

"When we reach Lothlórien, perhaps you should ask Galadriel to equip you with a bell for your neck," You mimicked the Elf by making dopey noises, grumbling and shouting to Gandalf eventually--already knowing what he was going to say.

"Yo! Can't you do anything about this rain? I know you have a key philosophy about nature but come on," His voice, always full and deep, seemed to boom as he answered, one hand holding his hat down on his head due to the harsh wind.

"It will rain until the rain is done." Your eyes rolled, and you muttered something about pointless magic.

"If I had the gift of magic--"

"You would surely cause nothing but chaos and destruction." You scowled bitterly at the Elf. Pippin was clinging to Boromir's cloak tightly, with iced, pale fingers, and Merry's hair stuck to his face as Aragorn kept a firm hold onto his hood. Sam and Frodo had their arms locked, side by side, and pushed through the rumbling winds, and you would have awed if you could have seen them. After a bit longer, you all reached a trail. And climbed.

And climbed.

And climbed.

Gimli seemed the least bothered, as if he was in his element, and trudged on, you on the other hand...

Things weren't going so well for you.

The rocks were slippery as you used them to help you balance using the mountain's jagged side, and you cut your hand on a sharp stone, a loud curse echoing as you spewed off. You squeezed it tight, teeth gritting as you walked directly behind Boromir, the dark grey rocks molding with the blackening sky.

You grimaced.

"I better not get tetanus." A few more stumbles, faltering into Boromir's back, you complained. This was not what you signed up for.

"I hate walking. It's absurd." Crossing your arms in defiance you glared at the ground, watching your feet.

Stupid ground.

Stupid rocks.

Stupid rain.

Stupid mountains.

"I hate mountains," you said aloud. "They're bitch volcanoes." All you received were weary glances from the two who could actually hear you, a spit out some of the rain that got into your mouth, waving around.

"Disgusting. I swear if the rain does not stop, I'm throwing myself off of this mountain. Sauron can come uber me to Mordor, I'll go willingly."

Apparently not everyone could tolerate your loud complaining, and with one finally grunt of annoyance the Elf moved beside you, an edge in his voice.