Chapter Eight: Road Rage

*The next day came far too early for most of the Fellowship. Moaning and groaning was the only noise heard throughout the camp as the men and woman woke slowly from their unsettling dreams. The fire that had been banked the night before was rekindled, and soon Sam had water boiling.

“Sam, what do you cook this morning?” Serein asked as she sat near the four hobbits.

“Good morning Serein!” Frodo and Sam chorused. Merry and Pippin, still not quite sure of what to make of her, muttered a good morning as well.

“And did we sleep well last night short ones?” She replied out of habit. Their customary morning ritual was a nice way to remind her that no matter what went on in the world, some things would never change.

“Very well.” Was their solemn response. All three looked at each other for a moment. Then Sam and Frodo laughed and Serein grinned.

“What is there to smile upon this morning?” Gimli groaned as he joined them.

“Master dwarf, we merely grin upon the day.” Frodo announced.

“As well as we should.” Aragorn joined them, Gandalf by his side. “For we have lived to see it.” That brought smiles all around.

“How long do you think it will be before orcs are roaming this place for anything salvageable?” Serein asked the men as they sat. But she saw no Legolas. Where was he? Did he need help, or was he just not awake?

“They’re moving faster than we had originally thought they could. Instead of being confined to the night, as they used to be, they have been traveling by day as well. I would say we will have today to out this place behind us, and then they will be upon it.” Aragorn mentally worked out as he spoke.

“Then we move again? I don’t think my legs will carry me very far.” Pippin whined.

“Do not complain. Would you Sauron’s army of orcs rather recapture you? You be carried off again?” Gandalf reprimanded him.

“All the same…” he continued to bait the old wizard. “I don’t think I’ll make it.”

“Then we shall carry you.” Gimli nodded in satisfaction.

“Food’s ready!” Sam called. The eight of the Fellowship gathered to partake of Sam’s cooking, and they all noticed something odd.

“Where is Legolas?” Aragorn asked. They shook their heads to say they didn’t know.

“Serein, you were the last one to see him last night. Where is he?” Gandalf accused.

“Old man, I tire of you treating me as an incompetent being.” Her voice was heavily laden with warning. “Last I saw of the elf, he was on a rock in a clearing not too far from here. I came back to go to sleep, and he remained. He most likely fell asleep in a tree somewhere.”

“Why do you say that?” Merry asked.

“Say what?”

“That he’s in a tree?”

“Because it is an elfish habit to find a tree to sleep in when one is too tired to make it back home, or to camp.”

“Really?” All four of the hobbits perked their ears up as she mentioned the lifestyle of the elves.

“Yes, really.” Serein confirmed.

“And how would you know that?” The group turned their heads and walking up to them was Legolas, a large smirk across his thin lips.

“How would I know that? How would I know that?” She mocked him. “It might be that I can read minds. Or perhaps I am simply a genius.” Now her smirk grew.

“A genius? Spare us your hot air, fair maiden.” He mocked. Her smirk dropped, her jaw following it. She stood there for a good minute, her mouth open in shock at his words. His smirk never fell, not once.

“Well then.” She finally spoke. “Since Lord Prince Legolas has spoken, I believe I should abide by his will and ‘spare’ you all of my ‘hot air.’” Turning around, she sat by the fire, sulking. His smirk finally dropped off.

“Come now Serein, I didn’t mean it!” He begged her to listen to him. She turned the other way.

“Aragorn, what time did you say we should leave around if we wanted to put a good deal of distance between here and ourselves?” She asked, ignoring Legolas’ plea. Aragorn was caught off guard.

“Soon, most likely.” He answered in an undignified manner.

“Then let us begin packing immediately.” Gimli offered, trying to break the heavy mood.

“Yes, lets.” The hobbits followed him to pack their things. Gandalf pulled Aragorn to the side for a private conversation, leaving Legolas and Serein at the fire.

“Serein, I was only joking. Elves have a reputation for joking. You yourself were joking. Don’t be angry.”

“I know I was joking. But you took it too far. And in front of everyone else. I have a hard enough time with Gandalf. But to lose respect with such people as Aragorn, Gimli and the hobbits would be too much.”

“I didn’t think…”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Now stop right there.” He commanded, his voice growing darker. He lifted his arm and snaked it around her, then used his hand to force her to look in his direction. “Maybe I didn’t think it would hurt you, but I did think. Your sulking about it will not do anything to help the matter. Stop trying to blame the whole thing on me.”

“I’m not the one who fell asleep in the tree and came in late to breakfast, therefore worrying everyone of your companions, including me. Yes, I did worry when I didn’t see you, but I brushed it off until everyone else noticed you were missing. And even then, when I assumed you had fallen asleep in a tree, I still worried. You should have returned here last night. It would have saved us a lot of trouble.”

“Yes, I should have. But why would you worry for me?” He questioned her. He hadn’t expected to here this from her.

“I worry for all on this journey.” She stood quickly, evoking a gasp of pain. Her back. She had forgotten how tender it was, and she was sure sleeping on it on the hard and rocky ground the night before had not helped her much.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he stood to stabilize her.

“Yes. A momentary lapse in memory is all. But I think the pain has sufficiently reminded me.”

“Sit back down.”

“No. I need to stand and pack. We should leave soon.”

“It…”

“Is important to pack.” She cut him off and pulled her arm back from his grasp. Then she walked away from him as if nothing had just passed between the two, not even a good morning. Legolas simply stood in confusion. Then he felt a heavy hand clasp down upon his shoulder.

“She’s quite a woman. But don’t worry. They’re all like that sometimes. Don’t let her scare you away. If anything, push for it harder.”

“Push for what?” Legolas questioned Aragorn, who seemed to know what he was speaking about. But Aragorn said nothing in reply. Instead he gave a short laugh and clapped Legolas’ shoulder again. Then he turned and walked off.

The road was easy to follow, but the worry of coming across orcs kept their feet sodden with lead. North they headed, towards the great Mountain of Doom, where the one ring had once been forged out of all of the collective hatred in the world.

“But even if we get there, won’t there be a lot of orcs?” Pippin was questioning Gandalf again.

“Yes, more than you could ever hope to count.”

“The how will we get the ring into the mountain?” Merry asked.

“We will have to worry about that when we get there.” Gimli stated. “We can’t strategize for something we have no knowledge on.”

“But with Frodo climbing the mountain, and only the other eight of us,” Sam paused and looked at himself and the other two hobbits. Then he sized up the others, true fighters. “Well, alright, the five of you,” the elves, humans, and dwarf grinned, “can’t really hold off that many orcs, can you?” Sam asked concerned.

“We will if it comes to it. Our only desire is to let Frodo destroy the ring. If we must die to complete our quest, then so may it be.” Serein answered.

“But the little ones do have a point.” Gandalf muttered to himself. All talk then ceased until they broke for a mid-day break, and in the case of the hobbits, a mid-day meal. Gandalf, who had been silently speaking under his breath for hours, finally spoke.

“The hobbits are right. We cannot hold off so many orcs on our own and still help Frodo into the mountain. We will need help.”

“Yes, but whom?” Legolas asked.

“The dwarves would perhaps give it, but they alone would not be enough.”

“Humans would give it, but they too would not be enough alone.”

“The same for elves.” Gandalf searched the eyes of the dwarf, human, and elf that had become his friends on the quest. Then he grimly nodded.

“So then, we will need an alliance of the allies of good.”

“Are you suggesting another War of the Ring?” Aragorn stood to look Gandalf in the eye.

“I am. It is the only way I can see.”

“How will we get the men here?” Gimli asked.

“They can take the pass. Now that Saruman is no longer guarding it, and it is spring, the snow will have melted away enough for the men to go through. They could be here within three day’s time.”

“Why not send them directly to the base of Mount Doom? Have them gather there and when we arrive we will meet them there?” Legolas suggested. Throughout the whole conversation, Serein had remained quiet.

“I think it is a brilliant idea. But there is a flaw.” She spoke, uncertainty wavering in her voice.

“And what might that be?” Gandalf asked.

“How will you inform these armies of each race what your idea is? How will you communicate with them?”

“That is easy enough.” The old wizard reached for a pouch of leather attached at his hp. A light dust poured into his hand. “Now stand back.” He warned them. Serein wrapped an arm each around Frodo and Pippin, and Legolas put his hands on her shoulders, as if to protect her. She looked up to acknowledge his presence, but no more. So she was still angry with him. His heart sank or a moment, then grew lighter again. He would just have to try harder to apologize.

Gandalf through the dust into the fire and the flames grew large and high with an unbearable heat as he muttered an enchantment of some sort. Within seconds, a miniature image of Elrond appeared in the flames.

“Gandalf. News? Good I hope?” The image stated.

“A bit of both. Saruman in the southeast has fallen.” The wizard told the elfin king.

“That is indeed good news. And the hobbits? What of them?”

“All four are here with us, in perfect health. All of us but Boromir are safe. I am sad to inform you of his brave fall in a battle with orcs.”

“That is indeed bad news. I shall relay it to his father. Was there something else?” Gandalf took a large breath and began to explain to Elrond of the idea of one last final stand by all the good allies. Elrond took to the idea at once.

“So we are to repeat the War of the Ring. Well then. I will call the other leaders and we shall assemble at Mount Doom in three days time. Good luck until then, my friends.”

“And good luck to your, Lord Elrond.” Gandalf stated. Then the image of Elrond faded into the flames, and the fire with its heat died down. All were quiet for a moment.

“So then this will be it. This will be our last stand.” Gimli said what all had been thinking. It was, indeed, to be their last and final fight. After the mid-day meal had been packed, the company once again began moving north.

At least they could move slower. Having to give the armies a little more time to get to the mountain, the Fellowship themselves was able to lessen their pace. The hobbits walked in pairs, two by two. The pair in front, Merry and Pippin, were shamelessly bothering Gandalf with questions. Frodo and Sam were speaking of a girl they had known in the Shire, and Gimli and Aragorn were speaking of Moria. Legolas and Serein found themselves bringing up the rear to the trail of travelers, and Serein was uncomfortable with the position.

No, it was not uncomfortable being last, but being last with Legolas was a different story. The elf had desperately been trying to get her to speak to him for the last… well, all day. He chattered of the trees and the weather. She ignored him. Or tried to. But he was driving her mad.

“Legolas! “ She finally cried in exasperation. “I forgive you.” The rest of the Fellowship paused at her outburst and gave her a strange look. Legolas, though, looked pleased. She melted of embarrassment under their intense glares.

“Really?” He mocked her.

“Yes, really. Now stop speaking before my head bursts with confusion at all of your empty words!”

“Of course.” He obliged her easily. They walked together in a comfortable silence for another few hours, occasionally speaking to each other, but for the most part avoiding words. Neither truly knew what to say, but each was concentrating on the other so much that they soon forgot speech.

Three days passed, and nothing out of the ordinary occurred. No orcs in sight, not one. Their nights were warmer and quiet. No substantial talk was said, only superficial things. It was their way of coping with the future that would soon lead to either a bigger future, or death. On the third day, Merry spotted a building through the trees.

“Look!” He called out.

“The Dark Lord’s castle.” Gimli muttered.

“Mount Doom.” Aragorn stated. “Come. The army of the good allies will already be gathering for the attack.” They quickened their pace, and soon reached the end of the forest. In front of them lay a barren waste land of rock, and beyond that their final destination.

“Halt! State your name in the name of good or evil!” A voice called to them.

“Fear not, for we are on the side of the good allies! Please lower your weapons, we mean you no harm!” Aragorn called to the voice.

“I have been told to watch for you. It is good to see you again Aragorn.” An elf came into view.

“Haldir of Lothlorien.” They acknowledged him with smiles.

“Come, Elrond is waiting.”*