Frolijah – Part 16
Voices in my head announce the day TV saved my life!
Disclaimer: All of you who think I own Tolkien’s work, please put up your hands. You’re all wrong – I do! Just joking! Geez, you know, you could laugh instead of staring at me like that. Anyway. Ahem: Elijah Wood and all of Tolkien’s characters are their own selves; I don’t own them. But I do, however, own this story – so please respect that! You all know what is mine and whatnot. Thanks.
Recap: Last we heard of this story, in part 15, Alice and Frolijah had just been stabbed by Nazgûl. Frolijah’s wound was comparable to that of Frodo’s in The Book, but Alice’s went straight to her heart. Lea (thank you, Lea, and . . . um . . . sorry?) wrote us an interesting essay on her point-of-view. Anyway, here we go!
[insert scary sound-track here]
I woke up in a world where even the sun shines no light, and vision is forgotten for the lust of thins more powerful – so much so, that none can contain them. Perhaps not even their maker. One by one, all of the bearers had fallen to their power of their own. After all, no human from Middle-earth could hope to resist the draw of such Rings, or the wraiths who wore them. Any who died from the stab of a Nazgûl’s knife was doomed to be ever subservient to them.
But, see, I wasn’t from Middle-earth . . . and my home had always had a television. so, to use the cliche, I wasn’t exactly in the same boat as most people who had been stabbed by a Ring-wraith. My brain had already built up hundreds of defenses. True, they were mostly against Dawn Detergent commercials and the like, but the fact was that I was not nearly so apt to fall under the suggestions of people trying to make me do things. Actually, their attempts just made me annoyed. Funnily enough, Frolijah reacted rather more like Frodo had through all of this, not like me. Huh. Odd.
In any case, eventually, the wraiths left me alone – what a rude people! – to wander throughout Middle-earth blind, but with a powerful draw by something and a wonderful sense of smell. Funnily enough, surrounding the thing I felt I had to follow, there was a particularly pungent stench. I wondered what it was.*
*ANnoyingly Inserted Random Author’s Note That Should Be A footnoTe or Something: (AN.I.RANTS.BATS) this would be wondering either what the draw was from or what caused the stench. I thought clarifying would be too much work, so there you are. Pick your favorite. Or mine, whatever you like.
Of course, during the whole time when that was happening, I had been completely calm and composed. Let me see, how was it? Ah yes, flashback . . .
*******&%4865465840909********The transponder isn’t working, Captain*********Beam me up, Scotty******Get us out of here, Mr. Data******I died on Episode!!*******Initiating the quantum flux*****This is what makes the time machine work!********Lily, we have a problem********Got it! *********847398472093857265********peanuts . . .
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh *wheeeeze* I can’t breath! Hold, sec. okay, I’m back: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahaahaaaaaa!! Stop, that tickles, stupid authoraaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! I’m a ghost! I mean a specter! A shade – spirit – Halloweenie – spook, phantom, shadow, apparition! Um, um . . .”
The word is `wraith.’
“Oh, right. A wraith! And wraith of the Ring – except I don’t have a ring! I must be a wraith of a wraith, or a sword, or, wraith-forbid (ha, ha, get it? Fine, don’t laugh) a mushroom-wraith! Mmm, mushrooms sound good.
“No! I can’t be a cookoo wraith also! Wraith, wraith, wraith. I should stop saying that word – it’s getting repetitive. Redundant. Iterative. Boring and sentence-fragmented. But I can’t! I’m in panic! I’m, I’m . . . evil. Bwahaha. It doesn’t even sound right.
“Help!!!! Help!!!!!! Aaaah, with that many exclamation points, I must be insane!!!”
Alice, calm down.
“Okay. Thanks, I feel much better now.”
Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?
“What’s wrong? Everything’s wrong! Look at me!!
****Transiting back to normal space-time, Captain****
As I said, I was cool about it. Ahem, anyway, back to the present. I figured that most likely, the thing that was pulling me was the Ring (dun, dun, dun) and the only way I could distract myself from its pull was to make Frolijah miserable. No, really, I thought that. It actually worked . . . kind of . . . I mean, I certainly didn’t think about it for a while . . . `course, I might have preferred being conscious to enjoy it . . .
That’s when things took a particularly unfortunate back-flip. When I decided to torment Frolijah, that is, no when I was unconscious. Not that that was so great either.*
AN.I.RANTS.BATS: See previous AN.I.RANTS.BATS for further explanation.
At last I realized in full the consequences of being blind and having to rely on smell. They all stank.
So, me being me, and all, I went for the one who reeked the most. Frolijah, right? Wrong. Strider. I ran (or glided) in front of the Ranger and yelled in his face “Yo yo, whazzup? How’ ya doin’, punk?” grabbed his nose, and, in a perfect imitation of Peeves, (as I WILL say so myself. Because I just did) added “Ha, ha, got your conk!”
Strider drew his sword. I fled. Unfortunately, he still hit me with it. Fortunately, it didn’t hurt. Unfortunately, it still knocked me out for a moment. Fortunately, I woke up just as Frolijah’s foot was passing by, and I was able to grab it and trip him. Unfortunately, I found out that, while Frolijah didn’t smell quite as bad as Strider, he probably would soon if he kept up in the same manner. Fortunately, I fell unconscious again soon enough not to feel the agony in my nose. Unfortunately, he stepped on me. Fortunately, I’m done with this stupid “fortunately, unfortunately” paragraph.
So you see my problem – not only was I a shade . . . wraith . . . thingy, but I had come in close contact with Frolijah’s foot, I was speaking to a random voice without quotations which actually answered back, and Strider was now on the look out for Nazgûl – including, what he thought I was.
Wait! They were leaving me! What was going on? No long conversation about how great I had been? And why did I have a headache that seemed to be digging its roots into my fried brain to make yet more tortuous pains in my head? Be gone pains! It’s all about psychology: I think, therefore they are not. Yeah, right.
Follow them, precious. Oops. Ha, ha! Look, I’m imitation!Gollum even though he hasn’t appeared yet in this story! I don’t want the Ring! That thing is evil! Evil!Ring. Ups, (United Postal Services) too many high-caffeine shadows for Alice, the friendly wraith . . .
Elijodo sat in what might now be called his room. Between his two hands, he cradled a history book which Lea had once had to buy from the school, having attempted to light it on fire. (The entire box full of matches had been expensive at the time – her being in 10th grade – but she had thought it worth it. If only she had known what real money was then: $50 dang bucks for the stupid textbook. And to think, it had turned out to have been made of non-flammable paper.) But it was becoming very useful now to one formerly-middle-aged-hobbit as he attempted to learn about the history and culture of the strange world he had been transported to.
” . . . In England, the prospect of taxation and conciliation of North America was a popular and pressing debate. Because of the ocean separating the two countries, many things seemed impossible. Several suggestions brought up included . . . ” Elijodo sighed and made himself continue to read. The words seemed to cliche – I mean swim – before his eyes on the page. He supposed it was the translating effect of the times. But even so . . . perhaps Lea was right in that the history of her country was not so very well written after all. Elijodo was determined to finish it, though. So he ploughed on.
Meanwhile, Lea was having a jolly old time banging her head against the computer screen. “They didn’t believe me,” she whispered. “They laughed at me, and thought it was a joke. Out of all of them – only one even stopped to consider it! And the author read it too . . . at least she can see the problem. But I suppose she just thinks she’s making it all up like everybody else. Ohh . . .”
Lea disconnected her head from the monitor for a moment to stare at it, before pulling out the plug. No, she wasn’t going to stand for this anymore. If the readers wanted a story, they’d get one. Perhaps even to much so. It was time to get Elijodo.
Running up the stairs, Lea grabbed the former hobbit away from the textbook (“However, Lord North’s plan was something rather different . . .”) and pulled him down behind her to her red Mustang. When he protested, Lea merely told him: “I’m going to teach you more about this world than you’ll ever learn from that book. And then we’re taking a little road trip to see the country.”
“Miss Lea,” Elijodo said, finally pulling himself free. “Are you sure this is wise? I am unfamiliar with this land . . . and do I not have more pressing engagements?”
“I’m a nurse, Elijah – Frodo – whoever you are! You’re on sick leave! Now get in the car!”
Elijodo stared at her with cool blue eyes until the other looked away. “No,” he said quite calmly. That is not right. I do not know where my future lies, but this is not the answer. There are better ways.
Lea looked up and stared at him, an idea growing in her mind. Yes, there was another way . . . “Would you object to a short trip then?” she asked, “On foot?”
“Where do you intend to take me?” Elijodo asked.
“Oh, all around the city – you know, McDonalds, the mall, wherever.”
Seeing the desperateness in Lea’s face to just do something, Elijodo nodded his consent. She was right, in a way. If, in the end, he had no more chance of getting back than he had had of making it to Rivendell, it would be best to learn about the people he was with. Surely they couldn’t be too different from hobbits . . . ?
[end scary sound-track here]
Author’s Notes: I apologize for this taking so long. I have part of the next segment cut out, and new ideas, but I’m not going to be as fast with school here. Enjoy and review please.