Fiction GotG Chapter 07

Title: Gamble Of The Gods

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to either J.R.R. Tolkien’s "Lord of the Rings" universe, nor David and Leigh Edding’s "Belgariad".

Rating: PG

Genre: Crossover of LotR and The Belgariad

Type: WiP

Timeline: LotR- The beginning of the Fellowship (follows the movies mostly.)

The Belgariad- post books. Beldaran is a young woman now, about seventeen now.

Summary: In an effort to encourage the Fellowship, help is brought into the world in the form of a young woman whose world has already seen the end of its own war.

Chapter Seven

They’d been travelling many days now, heading for the south passage. Gandalf had finally called a halt on a rocky outcropping. The poor hobbits had been whining quite a bit by then. Of course, they still hadn’t got used to traveler’s rations. And as they were making good time, Gandalf allowed it. It also gave Boromir and Aragorn a chance to train the hobbits further with their swords.

As Beldaran watched Boromir take his turn putting Pippin and Merry through simple paces, she had to stifle a chuckle as memory poured over her. When Aragorn had agreed to spar with her, she’d run off to get her sword. She’d met the pair in the glade she’d been in earlier. Boromir, who’d wanted to get a good look at the girl who’d bested his countrymen, had joined them. After a moment’s discussion, Aragorn bade Beldaran to draw her sword. She’d done so, then had to laugh at the male’s reaction to it.

Aragorn, having traveled with Gandalf before, was aware of Glamdring, Gandalf’s sword, flashing silvery-white when the enemy was present. So his shout of ‘orcs!’ was a natural reaction. Boromir yanked his sword free as Legolas settled bow to hand in the blink of an eye, strong Elvish eyes seeking everywhere at once. Beldaran laughed so hard, she’d developed a stitch in her side. When her breathing returned to normal, she was able to relate why it was so funny to her.

"Don’t worry boys," she’d chuckled. "The sword does this every time I draw it, enemy or no."

"Truly?" Boromir had gasped. He’d been duly warned about the sword, but they all knew little more than that.

"Yes, it’s blessed that way," she’d giggled. "Hang on one moment." She concentrated and silently bid the sword to calm down. The orb, very sentient, if childlike in it’s understanding, mutinously obeyed. It had been so long since the hand of the Iron-grip bloodline had caressed it, that it wanted nothing more than to rejoice. The males gasped again when the last lick of blue flame disappeared and it appeared as any other sword.

After that, the two men took turns helping Beldaran work the kinks out of her dance. But when Boromir took on a slightly condescending tone, she decided to teach him a lesson as well. She’d put a stop to his rambling, and told him that she was aware that she needed to work on certain things. She asked simply that he not flinch. He’d grinned good-naturedly and they began to spar. Within seconds, she’d kicked his right knee out from under him and as he landed, she caught his sword arm in her left hand as her sword made a dangerous downward arc. She’d stopped a hair’s breadth from his skull. She’d pulled away, still holding his sword arm and muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, "you flinched." They both had a good laugh and Beldaran was glad to see him a little lighthearted.

She came out of her reverie to hear Aragorn ordering the Hobbits. "Gentlemen! That’s enough!" She glanced up to see what had happened. Merry and Pippin had Boromir on his back, both of them sitting on top of him. Aragorn was striding forward to pull the mischievous duo away, when the canny halflings each reached to hook a leg. They quickly dispatched of Aragorn, as he landed on his back, the apple he’d been eating rolling from his hand. Beldaran smothered another giggle.

"What is that?" Sam suddenly demanded. Everyone looked up to see what Sam and Legolas were looking at so intently. Beldaran set her plate aside and hurried to the Elf’s side.

"Nothing!" Gimli boomed confidently. "Just a wisp of cloud." They continued watching.

"It’s moving fast," Boromir noted. "Against the wind." Beldaran glanced up at the Elf, still peering intently at the southern sky. His eyes widened noticeably.

"Crebain, from Dunland," he hissed. He grabbed Beldaran’s wrist and yanked her down from the boulder as Aragorn and Gandalf yelled at everyone to hide. The Elf swept her under a rock, where an overhanging of brush could cover them. The others did likewise after a frenzied clean up of packs and fire. Legolas watched quietly as the birds flew as a pack closer to their hiding place. He would have continued to watch, but the fierce trembling of the woman at his side caught his attention.

They were lying along the length of each other, a fact that his body definitely made notice of. He looked down at her as she watched the birds, a pained expression on her face. When a loud screech reached their ears, she bit her lip and ducked her head quickly into his chest, the trembling increasing. In silence, he carefully stroked her hair, trying to reassure her without alerting the birds. He watched them wheel about and head back the way they’d come. Beldaran’s head came up and caught Legolas staring at her.

He stared down at her, absently noting the unshed tears in her eyes, bringing even more sparkle to them. She moistened her lips and a yearning came over him. His head began to descend towards her before his mind registered. His only instinct to soothe and comfort her in her fright. Her lips parted, he was so unbelievably close.

"Spies of Saruman!" Gandalf voice startled them both. Beldaran blushed, ducking her head once again as she rolled away from Legolas, coming to her feet in an easy motion. Legolas followed, a little more than sorry that the moment had passed. "The passage south is being watched," the old wizard continued. "We must take the Pass of Caradhras."

There were shudders all around. None looked forward to braving the snow-capped mountain. But there were no arguments either. As the group rounded up their supplies, Aragorn noticed Beldaran wiping a few tears from her face. And the Ranger also noticed his Elven friend watching the woman with a stricken look upon his face. Aragorn wondered what could have happened in such a short time to hurt both of them. And though he had a few ideas, he silently resolved to approach them at a more opportune time.

And so the mountain trek began. The group came quickly to the snow and as the day wore on, it was getting increasingly more difficult for the littler members of the group. Gandalf led, followed by Gimli and the Hobbits strung between them. Legolas walked beside Beldaran, both of them locked in silence. Boromir, Frodo and Aragorn brought up the rear. The group heard a cry and turned as one to see Frodo slip and roll back down a slight way. Aragorn caught him up and set him on his feet again.

Frodo furiously brushed the freezing snow from his body and suddenly realized the ring was gone. Of course, the gold glinting in the snow, made it easy to pick out, but before he could move, Boromir had the chain. He picked it up, staring in thrall at the object, muttering about the impossibility of such a small thing being worth so much fear and doubt. With his back to the majority of the group, they were visually unaware of his temptation. But the sight of Aragorn’s hand on his sword hilt told them enough.

"Boromir," Aragorn snarled. "Give the ring to Frodo." The stunned man faltered, then made his way to them Frodo fairly snatched the ring from his gloved hand. Boromir did not miss the threat in Aragorn’s eyes.

"As you wish," he scoffed. "I care not." Then with forced good-cheer, tousled Frodo’s hair and turned away. Aragorn watched him a moment longer, then relaxed his grip on his sword.

Higher up on the mountain, Beldaran watched as Boromir began to trudge once more towards them and a distasteful shudder ran through her. Legolas noticed and rested a friendly hand on her shoulder.

"Are you all right, my lady?" he asked, his words stiff. He was still ashamed of himself for his lack of control earlier. Beldaran glanced up at him shyly.

"I will be fine," she assured him, "as soon as I get those birds screeching out of my memory." Legolas gave her a half-smile.

"Aye, that noise was unpleasant," he agreed.

"And the things they were saying," she shuddered again, not noticing Legolas’ shocked look.

"You could understand them?" he demanded. She seemed puzzled by his question.

"Of course," she shrugged. "Couldn’t you?"

"That is amazing?" Legolas breathed. "Is it all birds, or just those?"

"All birds," she confirmed. "Not that any of the birds I am acquainted with were that bloodthirsty."

"Bloodthirsty?" again he was stunned. She simply nodded, not wanting to repeat the very things she was striving to forget. Legolas watched her for a moment as she continued up the mountain. He learned something new about her each day and it seemed as if he would never exhaust his joy of being taught.

As the snow deepened, Beldaran was able to sweep the memory aside as she concentrated on plowing through the drifts. She was relieved when Gandalf called a halt for the evening. Her legs were aching due to the constant force she was exerting, even with others breaking the path before her. A fire was quickly built up for the evening meal and once she’d shed her pack, she gratefully sank down near it.

The hobbits had noticed her sad mood on the trek and Merry and Pippin took it upon themselves to cheer and charm her out of it. They began by telling her riddles, which all hobbits enjoyed. But she proved swift and answered them easily. Then they regaled her with tall tales of their adventures in the Shire. She’d begun to laugh as Sam recalled young Peregrin’s misdeeds with a certain Farmer Maggot’s crops. She finally wiped a few tears of mirth from her eyes and turned to the grinning halfling.

"Peregrin?" she teased gently. "You do not look like a fierce hawk to me."

"Well," he declared, "at least I have a nickname to use. And one not such a mouthful, like Beldaran."

"Hey," she growled playfully. "I like my name."

"And I like my nickname," Pippin answered smartly, his eyes gleaming. "In fact, I think you could use one as well." Beldaran laughed again as she rolled her eyes.

"Aldur save me from imaginative halflings," she chortled.

"I know," Merry snapped his fingers. "She laughs like a tinkling bell." He grinned at his companions. They all caught the connotation and began to agree.

"Bell," Frodo smiled kindly at her. "I like it." He noticed her blush then. "What is the matter? Don’t you like it?" Beldaran glanced away.

"It’s a nice idea," she grimaced slightly. "But it means something in one of the languages I know."

"And what’s that then?" Pippin demanded. She blushed even further, ducking her head and mumbling a reply. "What was that? Didn’t catch it." She looked up and fixed him with a small glare.

"I said in French it means ‘beautiful’," she sighed. Pippin and the others exchanged wicked little, mischievous grins.

"Bel it is then," the decided in one voice. She rolled her eyes again.

"Peregrin," she spoke in a warning tone, blaming this on him.

"Yes Bel?"

"Peregrin," she growled.

"Yes Bel?" he asked, beginning to laugh uproariously as she glared. Aragorn, who’d just finished attending to Bill, the pony, sauntered over and took a seat in the midst of the argument.

"What’s going on?" he asked of her, but she ignored him. She pointed a stern finger at the youngest hobbit.

"You behave yourself mister, or I will turn you over my knee and spank you like the naughty child you are," she threatened. Pippin’s eyes widened in delight.

"Ah, but you’d have to catch me first!" he yelped and sprang away from the group with a laugh. His frenzied burst away from the group ended when he realized she wasn’t chasing him. He turned and stared at her with such a crestfallen look, that she could not hold to her stern mien. She doubled over laughing.

"All right Peregrin Took," she gasped. "If you want to play tag, then I’m game." And soon, once the others caught on, Merry, and Pippin were avid players. They even managed to get the dwarf chasing them, when they pilfered his axe. The rest of the crew laughed over their play. Finally Aragorn turned to see Frodo, a lighthearted grin on the hobbit’s face, such as the ranger hadn’t seen before.

"She is good for us," he sighed softly. Frodo turned up to look at his friend.

"Aye, she is," he agreed, just as softly.

"So tell me," he asked as they watched, "what set this off?" Frodo with a grin, explained what Bel’s new nickname meant and Aragorn found himself agreeing just as intently with the halflings. Bel was beautiful indeed. In mind, body and spirit.

Chapter Eight