Chapter 12b

Tempers Flare

I stand before the Fellowship in disgrace. Frodo sits at the end of the long couch, Sam to his left, followed by Aragorn and Gandalf. Seated on the loveseat are Boromir, and Gimli with Pippin and Merry on the back of the sofa. Legolas is conspicuously absent. Frodo looks at me in disgust. His arms are crossed over his chest as he gives me a deadly blue- eyed stare. When he sees me looking at him admiringly, he merely turns his face away with a harrumph. I am feeling decidedly uncomfortable standing before them in my shorts and tee shirt. Pippin ogles my white legs. He leans over to Merry and whispers, “Merry, she’s wearing naught but her small clothes.” Merry merely nods as he gives me a disapproving stare.

“We are most displeased with your untimely entry of the next chapter, Lady,” Gandalf mutters.

“Most displeased…” I hear Aragorn echo as he unsheathes a wicked looking knife.

“I can explain,” I begin in my defense.

“I should hope so. How could you leave me in such a predicament? I grow tired of being constantly ill and appearing weak. I AM NOT WEAK!” Frodo exclaims.

“Of course you’re not. How dare you leave my Master like this, you despicable woman?” Sam shouts.

“I fully plan to continue. In fact, I am almost finished with the next chapter. I hope to have it posted in the next couple of days, I promise you,” I entreat them.

“I understand you enjoy writing h/c. The hurt part I am all too aware of, but where is this comfort you speak off? And why… why must you torment me in every one of your tales? Why can’t you be more like Shirebound? Now HER stories show the true meaning of ‘comfort’.” All nod their agreement.

“If I have to sharpen this sword one more time, it will be little more than a toothpick,” Boromir grumbles. Aragorn snorts and Boromir gives him a threatening glance.

“I have sharpened my axe until it is little more than a hatchet,” mumbles Gimli. Pippin and Merry find this very funny and start to giggle. The dwarf is not amused.

“And how come we have such small meaningless parts in this story of yours? Where’s the levity? Where’s the singing and dancing?” Pippin pipes in.

“Well…I …didn’t think it was appropriate, considering the darkness of the tale,” I try to explain.

“Exactly! And why is that, by the way? Hobbit’s are gay and sweet characters. Your fictional depictions of us are so dark and brooding. Oh, how I long to have a good day just for once,” Frodo says longingly.

“I give you my most profound apologies. I have been so busy with real life issues plus I have company coming and surgery planned for next month…” They all roll their eyes having heard these same excuses multiple times.

“Surgery? What kind of surgery?” Aragorn asks his face perking up at the chance to be involved in yet another healing adventure.

“Ummm…. it is of a personal nature. Female problems, you understand,” I say, blushing.

“Ooooh, might I be involved? I very seldom have a chance to treat anyone but Frodo and a woman would be MOST interesting,” he says enthusiastically.

“Aragorn! Try to focus on the issue at hand for a change,” Gandalf chides. Aragorn gives him a longsuffering look. While the prospect of having the ranger near me is enticing, having him see my huge body splayed out on an operating room table is not, and I politely decline to his great disappointment.

“Perhaps WE should write an angst, h/c tale about Tree,” offers Frodo. His look of vindictive glee is enough to make my blood run cold. “Yes, we could put her through all sorts of unpleasantness…an infection, or blood loss or, well, Aragorn you know far more about this than I do. Don’t you think it would be fun or, at the least, just compensation for our being stranded like we have?” Frodo looks WAY too enthusiastic about this idea for my taste, and I begin to feel an urgent need to return to my computer and retrieve my unfinished chapter.

“We shall discuss this later. It might prove a welcome diversion,” Aragorn muses, as he looks me up and down. Frodo pulls out a piece of parchment and a quill and begins to jot down some ideas for my upcoming torment. I gulp.

At that moment Legolas comes bounding into the room. “I found the most unusual creature for our supper, Sam.” He holds up a porcupine, his face full of boyish glee.

“I ain’t skinnin’ that unnatural critter,” Sam mutters.

Legolas’s face falls. “Well, what do you expect? We’ve been here so long I’ve killed all of the edible animals,” he shoots me a deadly glance.

“Those quills might make nice toothpicks, what with all the meat we’ve been forced to eat,” Sam says shooting me a meaningful look.

I gulp. “Soon, I promise you, I will update soon.”

“See that you do, Madame. I grow weary of this constant sickliness. It’s time to move on, I say,” Frodo says. All nod their agreement.

Aragorn shoots me a threatening look. “We cannot be held responsible for our actions should you fail in this endeavor. I suggest you ‘post’, as you say, with all due haste or suffer the consequences.”

I swallow thickly; the air fairly palpitates with their rage.

“A blue eyed frog…hmm, it might be interesting,” Gandalf muses, looking me over.

I cringe backwards. They all rise and begin to file from the room. “Remember, Tree, you are hereby warned that if no action is taken within four days time, we will be most ‘displeased’,” he continues. “And put some clothes on, for God’s sake. It’s usually quite titillating to see a bit of a woman’s leg, but I am afraid, my dear, that in your case it is an unpleasant sensation.” I look down at my hairy white legs and have to agree with the wizard.

As they leave I receive an assortment of unpleasant glances and quickly move to my computer, blowing off the dust, and settle in to write more of the saga of Frodo and the Ring of power.