((Frodo, Legolas is trying to wake Will! You could respond to that!))

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

Gandalf began loading the few items they had onto Bill, impatient to get a start on the day. "Come hobbits," he said, mostly to Merry and Pippin, "There's no time to spend in idle conversation on pipeweed."

Sam got up, picking up his blankets with him and putting them in the pack. He walked over to Frodo, smiling and whispered in his ear, "Well Mr. Frodo, we weren't murdered in our sleep. Guess these visitors might not be such bad luck after all."

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

At the mention of mountains, Barbossa glanced up at the slopes on which they would soon be travelling. Of the four pirates, he suspected that he was the only one who had ever laid eyes on snow or even a real mountain, and even for him it had been decades. His only experience with such conditions had been in his childhood, and those trips had been few and far between. The one thing he remembered distinctly was the biting cold. Relocating to the warm waters of the Caribbean had been markedly one of his better decisions.

At the moment, however, it really made no difference what the climate was, nor how protected or unprotected he was. He would be miserable regardless. What little heat could be provided by the blanket would be of no comfort, and going without couldn't kill him, making it all rather irrelevant. "I'll be fine," he finally replied, tossing aside the blanket he'd been given. "The lady may help herself to mine if she so wishes, but I'll manage just fine without."


Aragorn considered arguing this point, or perhaps commenting on the fact that neither of the captains had eaten anything yet -nor had they eaten last night- but instead mentally set the topics aside for later discussion. Now was not the time for such conversations. Right now they just needed to focus on picking up quickly and being on their way. The more time they lost, the harder the trek up the mountain would prove to be.

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Legolas was just a supprised as Will.
"What kind of witchery is this? We look like each other," he quickly walked over to Gandalf, and told his that he and Will looked alot alike...

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

For the moment, Gandalf continued loading the packs, and said nothing. And then he glanced up into Legolas's eyes, noting sagely, "We've just encountered people from an entirely different world, who know nothing of Middle Earth or how they came to be in it. Is finding someone bearing a striking resemblance to yourself so very strange?"

He brushed pass him, handing some food to Pippin, and tossing some also to Jack. "Hobbits," he muttered to himself, glancing upwards. "Do they ever stop thinking of their own stomach."


Boromir watched the pirates closely still, not having even the slightest inclination to trust them. When Will began yelling, he strode over quickly, and put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.


Sam hadn't like Strider much originally, but he most definitely liked him better than these pirates. Although he wanted to stay close to him, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with the ranger's pace... and more importantly, neither would Frodo.

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Merry was currently much occupied in rooting through an expansive saddlebag he seemed to have plundered off Bill, and in a moment was happily munching upon a piece of hobbit nutbread. Miraculously, it had survived thus far, and despite being rather stale (thought Merry, chewing thoughtfully) was decidedly not bad. "Mmmf. Bread's good, Pip," he added, searching one-handed for more.

Elizabeth's response to Barbossa's statement about the lady could only be described as a scathing look. Could the pirates at least pretend to be concerned with normal human conveniences? Undead or not? Jack received no credit for his request - though it was more like a demand - for food, as Elizabeth suspected he'd merely forgotten. Bloody pirates.

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"I am Prince Legolas Greenleaf of the Woodland Realm," Legolas replied to Will, "and what be your name?"

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

Barbossa merely stared back at Jack for a moment before sneering and grudgingly accepting a tiny piece of the proffered bread. Jack wanted to play the fool? Fine. He'd play along for the time being. Besides, he suspected that their new companions had already noticed that something was not quite right, and it might be prudent to at least occasionally perform some mortal task to assuage any apprehension they might be feeling. Barbossa glanced down at the piece of bread with barely-concealed disgust, braced himself mentally, and quickly tossed the food into his mouth. It was utterly revolting, but somehow he managed to ignore the overwhelming urge to spit it right back out and swallowed, flashing Jack a brief grin as he did so. He was going to kill that man as soon as he was able to be killed...


"Patience, Frodo," Aragorn replied softly, looking down at the anxious halfling. "We are leaving shortly."

"'S all gone," said Merry mournfully, and popped the last bit into his mouth. "Sorry, Pip! Maybe when we stop..." and here he shot a glowering look at Gandalf. "If we ever stop..."

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The pony was at last packed, and what things were not on it they could easily carry. Gandalf nodded, with a slight empathizing smile towards the anxious hobbit.

It only took a few moments, threats, poking, admonishing, and speeches about the better good to get all the hobbits up and following the rest of the company on their trail. Gandalf thought once, they had so much to learn, and would despair of all hope that they ever aid the Fellowship. But something inside told him that they would, they would be a blessing and not a curse on this quest.

The air grew harshly colder as the morning wore on, and Boromir longed for the sun to show herself out of the harsh grey clouds. He folding his arms across his chest, and every now and then looked upon the halflings to see that they were still moving. Blast that elf, he didn’t seem to be at all effected by the cold.

Actually, now that he began to observe it... neither did the two older pirates. He made his way over to the older one, seeing as what he usually said made a bit more sense than the younger. He was curious and wary, but in the end his curiosity wore out.

“What did you for work, in your world?” he asked of Barbossa, keeping stride along with him.

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Barbossa trudged along wordlessly, arms folded tightly across his chest. Though he would never openly admit it, a small part of him was beginning to regret relinquishing his blanket. Of the four Caribbean-dwellers, he was the most warmly dressed, but his overcoat was still not designed for this sort of climate and did little to block the frigid wind. As they continued to move along, he suddenly became aware of one of the men speaking to him.

"Piracy," he replied to the man's inquiry with a grin that could be described as anything but friendly or comforting. "I be captain o' my own ship."