Slot #2

Soluna Skystar

Fam Find's Out

Words: 8286

Clearing the mines of Moria unscathed was a stroke of luck that Gandalf, as it appeared, did not think they'd encounter on their journey.

Viper knew why. Goblins and trolls and orcs, and that weird, knobby-kneed little not-Hobbit. Schmee-something. The immortal's colorless eyes slid over to Frodo, who was walking alongside Sam, talking with his friend in low murmurs and hugging his pack to his chest like it was a teddy-bear. He could tell by the Shireling's face, deep and introspective with gleaming blue eyes, that Frodo was still considering Viper's take on killing Schmee. He knew without looking that Gandalf was steadfast in his opinion of being merciful.

Viper knew exactly what mercy was, however, and it definitely wasn't what the old man was hell-bent on defending. Viper was possibly the only being in the universe who understood life so thoroughly, hated it so deeply, and longed for death so completely, that mercy was a very clear concept to him. He knew what was merciful and what wasn't. Leaving that bald little gremlin alive was probably the most heartless plan that Gandalf, in all his grandfatherly ways, could support. (Yet another parallel to another old man Viper had known, long ago and many worlds before. A good man, a learned man who liked puzzles. A man that, even with all his wisdom, was still so very naive.)

Viper didn't even need to look at the tiny, pale-skinned creeper to know he'd suffered. His own doing, surely, but the influence of the mind was an extremely powerful thing. Just look what it had done to Frodo's uncle! And Bilbo was such a kind soul. Prideful and clearly fading away, but kind. Schmee, on the other hand, had suffered a fate much worse than Bilbo. He'd been driven out and alone with the blasted ring for years and years. He hadn't faded, he'd wasted away.

Killing him would be the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him. Of that, Viper was absolutely certain. It might seem cruel, to those who understood less, but Frodo and especially Sam seemed not to be the type.

Sure, it was a notion that weighed heavily on the conscience, but Viper's had wavered and fallen many, many worlds ago. He didn't particularly care what happened to Schmee (whose name sounded awfully familiar, now that he thought about it. A quicksilver image of the gremlin, all plumped up and dressed as a pirate, passed through his mind's eye, but the immortal teen batted it away with a confused frown), but the entire story seemed to plague Frodo in such an odd way. Even if Viper didn't understand why, he'd try his best to help it.

"Here," Strider was saying, and Viper blinked over at him owlishly. The man paused for a moment and stared back at him before a small, barely-there smirk curved his lips upward. "We'll stop here for the night."

Viper's brows furrowed slightly as he tilted his head, wondering. He thought back and realized Boromir had smiled at him in a similar manner on the way out of Moria. As had Gimli, though the ginger (and it was ginger, no matter what the dwarf said) beard made it difficult to see; actually hadn't Legolas looked at him like that too? Why on earth?

Viper pursed his lips, frustrated when he didn't immediately come across the answer. He gave a silent huff and tossed his bag- -that he'd eventually been coerced to take back from Pippin, which was completely unfair since he'd given his bags to poor Sam to carry- -onto the ground and stood there for a moment, frowning down at it.

He heard a snicker and cast Pippin and Merry a poisonous glare. It shut them up immediately, and Merry may have even turned a little pale, which pleased Viper and made the immortal relax some.

Strider and Boromir set out to gather some firewood while Gimli helped Legolas with laying out the bedrolls. Viper plopped right down on the ground next to his pack and crossed his legs, sighing morosely. So far, this trip had been far below his expectations. The only thing exciting to happen was when they'd become trapped in the mines- -but even that had ended up being boring! Sure, they'd narrowly escaped being goblin grub, but it had been too easy! Where was the suspense? The difficulty? The character development? Had the plot structure completely abandoned him? What did a poor immortal have to do for some fun around here?

He certainly didn't want to have to kill anyone, if that was what Fate wanted. Fate was a bitch anyway, Viper really didn't like doing what she wanted.

The teen cringed and bit his lip, casting a furtive glance around at his surroundings, looking for anything out of place. When nothing happened, he felt almost ill, uneasy at the calm. Usually, when he badmouthed Fate, she'd toss something horrible at him in retaliation. She was a vengeful bitch who really did not like being called a bitch, and Viper probably had to be a masochist to keep calling her that. It wasn't his fault, he'd developed a habit of it! Those were very hard to break!

"Viper? Is everything alright?"

The teen cast Legolas what he knew was a very unconvincing face of innocence, but he had to try, didn't he? Though, it seemed that Legolas hadn't noticed what he'd thought he had- -in fact, the elf looked vaguely alarmed and, glancing over at Gandalf and the hobbits, they looked worried too.

Ah.

"No, everything's fine, ha," he folded his hands together and smiled at them, a bit too nervously, and they looked absolutely un-reassured. Legolas wandered over to stand over him, staring down into his face.

Blondie frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Viper blinked up at him. Then, after a pause, the teen flashed him a confident grin. "Of course. Why?"

Legolas, ever the stoic (though completely adorable, what with his tendency for stating the obvious, and overestimating human ability) elf son of Thranduil, raised an eyebrow at him. He even placed a hand on his hip. Viper tilted his head, silently cursing him and his silence. What did Legolas expect him to do? It wasn't like Viper could read the elf's mind! Well, he could, but he was sure Legolas would notice something like that, and something told him the elf wouldn't like it very much.

After a longer pause, Viper blinked again. When Legolas still didn't say anything (Gimli actually looked to be about to stalk over and interrupt), the immortal smiled hesitantly and scratched the back of his head...

Oh.

Viper coughed lightly, a blush working its way across his cheeks as he flipped his hood back over his head. He missed the disappointment that crossed over the faces of his companions, too busy berating himself for being so dense. Absolutely airheaded! How could he not notice his hood was still off? He didn't much mind the others seeing his face; it was more that he'd completely forgotten he'd been showing it off in the first place. Was that what he was now? Forgetful? No!

Entirely embarrassed with himself, the immortal curled inward and hugged his knees to his chest, sighing irritably. His hands curled around his elbows and the teen buried his face into the tops of his knees immediately upon the notice that he was still missing a glove- -yet another oversight. Something else he'd forgotten! Actually, hadn't he even reminded himself to conjure up a new glove later?

Well, it was later, and one of his hands had a glove while the other did not.

"I thought you said everything was fine?" Legolas asked somewhat bemusedly, and Viper quietly groaned.

"It is," he insisted. "It's fine, everything's fine."

Undoubtedly, they didn't believe him.

That was alright, because he didn't believe him either. It was obvious that he was slowly, ever-so slowly, becoming senile- -and wasn't that just the most terrifying thought?

Strider and Boromir returned soon after Viper's dilemma, dropping large armfuls of sticks onto the ground, right in the center of where Gimli and Legolas had circled the bedrolls around. Pippin and Merry (and Sam, actually) were bemoaning the suddenly very obvious lack of a full meal that they all had while Frodo was entirely engrossed in a quiet discussion with Gandalf.

Viper, over the course of about three minutes, had slowly scooted himself over to the nearest bedroll and was now sprawled out across it on his stomach with his arms supporting his head. Just before the two humans got back from their wooden scavenger hunt, he'd turned to smother his face in his forearms and was now intent on taking a nap.

Sleep, however, as it often decided to do when Viper was traveling, did not come easily, and the immortal was soon suspended in a sort of not-sleep one got when they were so close, almost there, but not yet unconscious. The rest of the world existed in this murky, muted atmosphere that didn't quite silence his surroundings, but certainly tried to. Instead, it seemed to amplify voices just so, and Viper was becoming very frustrated. He just wanted to sleep, not eavesdrop on everyone's conversations!

"- -built entirely upon the trees that were chosen to bear them," Legolas was telling the hobbits(bar Frodo, who was still listening to Gandalf wax poetic nonsense about ignoring Viper's claims about mercy kills, and how much Schmee should be pitied. Scummy old man- -Viper knew what he was talking about, dammit!)

"Really?" Pippin asked, sounding amazed. "I mean, we've heard Bilbo tell stories- -but I didn't think elf houses were tree-houses!"

"I don't think they're just regular tree houses, Pip," Merry sounded like he was frowning. "Legolas is talking about an entire palace, here. Dontcha think that's a bit more... well, more?"

Legolas gave this little, indulgent laugh. "I am not well-versed enough in Hobbit architecture to know what your 'tree-houses' look like, but I can assure you that Mirkwood was crafted with the natural beauty of the nature around it in mind. All the trees remain alive, and some of them have grown to be very large since construction."

"Sounds all sorts of complicated," Pippin replied, as Boromir and Strider's voices began to argue about fire-starting techniques in the background. "Us hobbits prefer our grassy hills and round doors, we do. Trees are nice, I'd like to think, but they sound a little bit too high of the ground for me."

"What about dwarven abodes, eh?" Gimli's rough baritone, louder than the other's voices for some odd reason, sounded. "What d'ye think of them, then?"

"Not to be rude, or anything," Pippin chimed doubtfully, "but, if they're anything like Moria was, I'd rather opt out." Merry made a vague agreeing noise in the back of his throat, and Viper thought he heard Legolas snicker a little.

Gimli, on the other hand, made a rather affronted sound. "Moria'd be an unfair example, what with how it is now that them ugly little wastrels taken over it once more," he sniffed mournfully. "The hospitality of a real dwarf colony- -Aye, now that, laddie, is somethin' ter look forward to!"

"Wait until you experience Gondor as a privileged guest," Boromir cut in, sounding almost triumphant- -but that might have been because he'd won the little dispute on who would be starting the fire. Strider had wandered off to sit by Gandalf and sulk.

"I like that city best at sundown, I think," the Steward's son told them as he leaned forward to coax the flames out. "And we throw excellent parties if I do say so myself."

"Do you, though?" Pippin asked keenly, interested.

Boromir tossed his stirring stick in the fire- -from what the sudden crackle of sparks told, and straightened up to claim one of the remaining bedrolls for himself. "I do!"

"I've traveled a lot in my life," Strider spoke up wistfully from his spot over by the fallen tree Gandalf and Frodo occupied. "Nothing triumphs Rivendell in its splendor, however. The elves and their banquets…" He shook his head and chuckled.

Boromir, Viper thought, was probably opening his mouth for a witty quip and an argument that Gondor was clearly superior, but Merry interrupted him.

"What about your home, Viper? What's it like?"

Sleep, now realizing that they wanted Viper's attention, deftly punted him out to face the hungry wolves, and the immortal groaned- -dammit, Sleep! Whatever, though; it's not like he really needed it, anyway. Dying due to insomnia wasn't the worst way to go, and the hallucinations were certainly entertaining enough.

"I'm sleeping." He almost demanded. It really was a lost cause now that they'd called him out specifically and had brought him back to full awareness, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"No, you're not," Boromir said amusedly, swatting him over the head with a movement that was more of a fond pat than anything else.

The teen huffed, pushing himself up to lean on his elbows. He sent the lot of them his best put-out face to let them know he was unhappy with their prodding. "I was."

"You're not now, though," Frodo laughed as he nearly pranced over to their little group. He plopped right down next to where Sam was sitting and cast Viper a small smile. "So tell us about your home- -did you grown up on that other continent?"

At his words, the others- -especially the hobbits- -grew even more interested, and Viper pouted. Still, he tilted his head thoughtfully and considered it. What was something he could say that wasn't an outright lie? The best lies were built on truth, and this was more of a… alternate story, if anything. If he'd been born in this world, where would he have lived? What would he have become? Certainly, whatever it was, it was better than this existence he toted now. Anything was better than this.

It was something he thought about often, really. With each new world he came across, the wistful thoughts and fantasies came with it. If he'd been born in this world, he may have become a carpenter, perhaps. In this world, maybe he'd have been a blacksmith; he did like making things. And what about this world, with no magic? Well, the military seemed interesting enough, and he definitely was a fighting spirit. He may have ended up there.

What if. Maybe. Might have. Nothing, really, in the end, and sometimes Viper was disgusted with himself for losing his mind to the thoughts, but he just couldn't help it. What if he'd been born to this world? Maybe he'd have actually had a family. He might have even grown up to be a politician. Who honestly knew?

He wouldn't. He'd never know.

It was, truth to be told, perhaps one of the worst things Viper subjected himself to.

He was definitely a masochist.

Viper pursed his lips and rolled over. You learn something new about yourself every day, he supposed.

"Viper," Pippin nearly whined, reaching out to poke the teen in the arm. Viper swatted his finger away with a huff. "C'mon, tell us!"

"Yeah," he finally relented, and everyone's expression seemed to brighten. Ugh, it was awful. "I grew up over there. What about it?"

It was nearly the truth, anyway. He'd spent most of his time in this particular world in Alagaesia anyway. He'd only made his way over to explore Middle Earth very recently, and was honestly still in the throes of even just working out the languages for himself, much less the history. It was all still somewhat new to him- -a breath of fresh air, if anything was.

"What is it like over there?" Sam asked, eyes nearly pleading. Viper crumbled immediately- -he'd always been a sucker for the puppy eyes, sure, but Sam nailed them every time (that was, of course, nothing to say about Legolas, but Viper refused to think about that now).

"Hm," He hummed vaguely, tilted his head back to stare up at the starry sky. He shifted on his elbows to get the blood circulating again and tilted his head.

What was Alagaesia like, in comparison to Arda? "Dragons," he said, and watched their eyes- -Legolas and Gandalf's in particular, widen significantly. "Lots and lots of dragons."

Then, before they could say anything, Viper frowned and tacked on, "Well, before, at least. There's kind of a distinct lack of dragons now that they're all sort of dead. Not all of them, I mean, but… most of them. And," he continued; because hey, might as well, now that he was talking, "There're the mountains. Lots of mountains ranges, of course, especially in the West- -they call that the Spine, but there's one in the south that's absolutely colossal. They call them the Beor Mountains. They reach… really high," Viper trailed off, looking puzzled at how to really explain them. One didn't just describe the Beor Mountains.

"How high?" Frodo asked, leaning forward, eyes round and curious. Viper considered him for a moment.

"There's no end to them," he grinned, twisting himself around to sit up. He crossed his legs and took a breath- -Alright, story time, then? "I heard that some of them reach even ten miles high- -"

"Impossible," Legolas muttered under his breath, and even Gimli the dwarf looked stunned. Viper smirked.

"No, it's true! Possibly the tallest mountains I've ever seen in my life, I swear!" It was the actual truth, too. Never in any world had Viper encountered mountains as enormous as the Beor mountains. "You can't actually see their peaks, they're so high, it's just sort of this… big wall of ice and snow, up there. Not even the Dragon Rider's can reach them, and they can fly."

"Dragon riders?" Legolas lurched forward, completely gobsmacked, and Viper laughed at the face he was making.

"Yeah, they've got elves over there too," he confided, and really enjoyed the way they were taken by amazement. "History has it that one elf made a pact with this one dragon, and after years of war, the two races decided a truce. After that, they were allies and joined one another in battle. There are probably only three or four dragons left in all of Alagaesia, and all but maybe one of them has a Rider."

"What about these mountains, then?" Gimli grunted, looking equally as stunned to hear about the dragons but, as all dwarves were, was more interested in the mountains. "They habitable?"

"Of course" Viper waved a hand dismissively. "Lots of animals- -that are all a lot larger than their kin, I assure you. Beor animals tend to be very large."

"Why's it called B-Beor?" Merry questioned, tilting his head at the strange, foreign syllables that he had a tough time wrapping his tongue around.

"It's not, really," Viper shrugged. "I mean, that's what we call it but they actually have a real name. No one but the dwarves know the real name, though, and they sure aren't telling."

"Dwarves?" Gimli nearly demanded, leaning forward himself.

"Sure, dwarves!" Viper exclaimed. "What, did you think you were the only ones? The Beor mountains are home to most all of the dwarven clans, and there's one specific mountain that holds their capital, Tronjheim. The mountain is called Farthun Dûr. It's a city-mountain, and it's said that it took generations to build."

"City mountain?"

Viper grinned, almost excited to share his own amazement. "Yup. One of the biggest mountains in the Beor range, and it's been completely hollowed out to make way for the largest Dwarven city in all of Alagaesia!"

Gimli seemed to be shaking with excitement, but Viper shook his head and forged on.

"Enough of that, though, let's talk about the elves- -they've got some interesting homeland too." Gimli seemed to deflate while Legolas straightened with interest, and Viper nearly cackled. "Let's see now, the north is utterly covered with forest and wooded lands. All the elves have secluded themselves up in there, since they seem to like trees so much, in a place they call Du Weldenvarden. Ellesméra is their capital. I've been there, and it's probably one of the eeriest places in this world. Beautiful, sure, but all of those elves are the strong, silent types, and awfully mysterious."

Boromir narrowed his eyes. "This land have any orcs?"

The others seemed to sour at the thought, and Viper gave an annoyed sigh. "No, but they have something like them. Not really, I mean, they're more berserker tribes than anything. They're called Urgles, and they're extremely bloodthirsty and remind me a lot of orcs. But I've met one personally when they allied with my friends in a war once. They're actually pretty honorable if you have their trust. Mostly uneducated, in the normal sense of the word, so they make up for that in brute force. They have their own families of course, so I'd say they're about the same as any other race, just seen as evil when they aren't, really. Not inherently, at least."

"What about your home?" Sam asked, narrowing his eyes in thought. "You haven't said anything about that, yet."

Viper shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at his lap. The others had seemed so interested in what he'd been saying(excitement in Legolas and Gimli for hearing about their kinsmen across the eastern- -in terms of Arda- -sea, and an odd sort of longing from all of them, for a land without the infestation of orcs). He'd been hoping they'd forget about it, too distracted by everything else he'd been tossing at them.

Where to live? He'd been to them all, many times, so what would fit his childhood best?

"Alagaesia is essentially made up of four main… kingdoms, I guess you could call them. There are the elves, in the north, and the dwarves in the south-east. There's also this huge dessert in the center of the continent, but it's not really inhabited by any people. There is a human-ruled empire, that takes up most of the western coast, called the Broddring Empire. Then, there's this smaller country in the south called Surda. That's where I grew up."

Strider blinked, and settled down on the bedroll next to Viper's. "What's it like?"

Viper chewed on his bottom lip, thoughtfully. "Mostly grassland. A bit like Rohan in that aspect, I think. The beaches on the coastlines can be really nice in the summertime, though. It's nestled right next to the Beors, so you just have to glance to your left a little to see them."

"It sounds nice," says Boromir, who'd frequented Rohan enough to become somewhat fond of the land. "And your family lived there, with you?"

Viper hunched his shoulders a bit at that, countenance darkening. Strider scowled and punched Boromir, who looked absolutely regretful, in the arm, but Viper was too busy thinking on how to spin things in his story to notice.

"I lived with my uncle," he began slowly, staring at his hands in his lap. "He was… an aristocrat- -he owned a bit of land and had some people who worked under him to harvest it all when the crop turned. My parents were killed when I was very young, so he and my aunt took me in, to… raise me alongside their own son."

He'd faltered a bit on the word 'raised,' since Viper knew painfully well that Vernon and Petunia had failed rather horribly in that aspect of things. The other's, however, had picked up on his hesitance, and now most of them were frowning.

He cleared his throat and noticed he was back to hugging his knees. Shaking his head, the immortal continued, "Anyway, I left home when I was still really young." As soon as I could, was left unsaid, but clearly still there, and the teen winced. "I didn't really see any of my family again, after that."

"Where'd you go?" Pippin asked, voiced hushed. He looked a little sad, and Viper's lips turned downward.

"I traveled around the Broddring Empire a bit. Kept mostly to the coastal towns, but there's this one really big lake that I visited a lot, called Leona. There was another one closer to Surda, called Tiidosten, and I liked that one too. The Tiidosten was closer to the Hadarac desert, so it was a lot warmer than the Leona. I stayed for a long while in a town on the east coast in a city called Teirm, which was right at the mouth of the river that fed into Leona lake. It's this big trading town, surrounded by a huge white wall that's a good hundred feet thick. It's all built with heavy defenses since it was often attacked by pirates. Made it real easy for thieves and the like to run about inside, though," Viper grinned at them, rubbing his hands together. "That was a fun time, I'll tell you."

"You were a thief?" Strider asked, sounding more exasperated than anything. The others looked across at him fondly, as if they'd expected nothing less than that.

Viper hummed, scooting closer to the fire. He rubbed his hands together again, and Legolas tossed him a blanket from the pile of packs they'd tossed to the side. The teen smiled gratefully.

"Sure thing. Since the wall was added early on, the city only had one direction to grow, and that was up. Building's got progressively taller, and it was ridiculously easy to scale them up and down. Lots of chases, and very entertaining." He smirked, and got some more head shakes and even more smiles. "Teirm was a hub of education, too, believe it or not. At first, I just stuck around since it was the city my parents had lived in before they died. Eventually, though, I took some time and dipped into funds to attend one of their universities for a while, got an education. Yes, I am actually very smart and learned, thank you." He sniffed at the mockingly shocked looks of surprise.

They laughed at him. Viper crossed his arms- -how rude!

"'Course," and here, he rolled his eyes, "then the crazy guy who murdered my parents hears I'm in town, and goes after me. Predictable, sure, but I was going to school, y'know? Sort of made it a bit difficult to study, with someone like that breathing down my neck."

"You got him, right?" Frodo asked, hurriedly, and the rest of them were casting him worried looks- -like V was still a problem, or something. Viper laughed- -he was way over it, already.

"Of course I did!" He chuckled. "I mean… well, he was this dictator of a king, and it took a while, and I ended up allying myself with the Varden- -a revolutionary organization- -and made friends with elves and dwarves and urgles and sort of got adopted by this Dragon Rider along the way- -but I eventually took care of him and he didn't bother me again." He ignored their wide-eyed looks and flopped back against his bedroll with a loud sigh. "Of course, then the entire Empire had to go through a political overhaul, and we switched some governments around- -Teirm became a city-state and there were a ton of negotiations with stuffy old guys who should really just retire already and leave the positions to the younger generation, but I digress. Boring stuff, I tell you."

"As long as he's not bothering you anymore," Strider said hesitantly, and then pinned Viper with a sharp glance. "You did finish your studies, though, yes?"

Viper rolled his eyes. "Yes, Strider. I got all my schoolwork done before I toppled the government, don't worry."

That got him a laugh, and Viper rolled over on his bedroll to finally go to sleep. Sure, they nagged him for some more story time, like the petty little children they were, but he ignored them. It was late and he was tired and sleep would not avoid him any longer! Sure, it might try, but Viper was a hunter on a mission tonight. It couldn't hide from him; sleep would soon be his.

He drifted off eventually, to the soft murmurs of his companions' conversations around the fire.

"It's dead?" Viper inquired flatly, unimpressed. "Why do you keep a dead tree around, then? And in a place of honor, too. Seems pointless."

"That 'dead tree' has a lot of historical value to all of Gondor, Viper. It's a sign of hope for the future to the people." Boromir threw back at him, almost scathingly. These people were all so defensive of their homes, it was hilarious. Entertaining, too.

"Sure, but wouldn't the whole place be prettier if you had, I dunno, a living tree?" Viper hedged some more and grinned delightedly when the Steward's son threw up his hands and harrumphed loudly. He was just so fun to tease!

The immortal had spent all day interrogating his companions on the subject their homes, much like they had questioned him the night before. In fact, he'd even, after a few rounds, sprung a pop quiz on Pippin about the Shire. Pippin was a good one, though, and had gone along with it merrily. The other hobbits had enjoyed it as well, even joining in when Pippin had paused too long on one question in his mock-thoughtfulness, and Frodo had blurted out the answer with a grin instead.

Sure, he'd given up most of the information last night without much prompt after the beginning, but he had to do something to fend off his boredom, didn't he? Spite was just his thing. Plus, the hobbits were having fun, too- -that's all that mattered, surely.

That it annoyed Gandalf was just a bonus.

"I'm not going to regale you with embarrassing tales about my upbringing, Viper," the old wizard sighed for the umpteenth time, and Viper had even given him his best pout! Why not, though? What was a few baby stories, anyway, but icebreakers for conversation?

"We'll stop here for the night, I think," the Istari said rather suddenly after Viper asked him again, about five minutes later. The others looked at each other and shrugged, going about to set up camp. Viper tilted his head back and looked up at the sky- -it wasn't as late as last night. In fact, he might even be tempted to say it was a bit early! He must have worn Gandalf out more than he thought.

Boromir and Aragorn stood off to the side as the elf and dwarf went about setting the camp up, all of them quietly bickering with one another. Viper disappeared behind a copse of trees to shower Tharbadir with his special brand of love, and plenty of those small sugar cubes that none of them knew where he kept on himself. That stallion was always able to sniff them out, though, much to the teen's delight. Viper certainly adored spoiling the creature.

The four hobbits arranged the bedding in a circle around where Gandalf was working up a flame, and Pippin soon drifted over to help Merry riffle through their packs for food to go with their evening meal. Aragorn shot the two a quick look, before sharing a despairing one with Boromir and nodding.

"We're going to hunt for dinner," he told the rest of them and nearly rolled his eyes when the faces of the halflings positively lit up in a pleased sort of happiness.

"If you manage to catch something and drag it back here, I might actually be able to cook something for once," Viper stated dryly as he reappeared from the vegetation. The two men shot him narrowed gazed, and he shrugged.

It wasn't anything the other's didn't think of all the time, either. All of them missed home-cooked meals like they were their own limbs. There was a particular type of starving that the hobbits and even the ones used to traveling like Aragorn and Legolas and Gandalf had to get accustomed to. Your stomach wasn't empty, per say, because you kept it sated with your dried meats and your lembas bread and your water. There was a certain warmth to freshly cooked food, however, that these substitutes could not compare too. They didn't fill you as full, didn't sate you for as long, couldn't keep you going like a nice pot of stew or a sizzling steak could.

It stayed there, in the back of their minds. The longing for food that would encompass their weary, traveled selves. The urge nudged at their thoughts, never forefront, but always there.

"You cook?" Aragorn asked, giving their party's youngest member a raised brow. Viper returned it with a light-hearted scowl, arms crossing over his chest and tossing his head in a gesture reminiscent of his stallion whenever something was said that somehow offended the creature.

They immediately set their minds to scheming up ways to keep Viper away from Tharbadir for a while. The likeness was too great for comfort.

"Of course I can cook!" Viper reiterated, sounding absolutely aghast. "What civilized, educated, exemplary young man can't cook a decent meal, huh?"

He paused, and then a distinctively cruel grin that encompassed both Aragorn and Boromir crawled across his face, eyes alight like fire and brimstone. "Ah, but I forget who I converse with."

The two Gondorians shot him nearly identical looks of contempt, which made him break into a fit of thrilled laughter. The sound seemed to soften their features, but not by much, and Boromir turned a glare on him.

"That's enough out of you," he insisted, grabbing for his crossbow and stalking to the edge of the woods. Legolas leaped up with his bow in hand, looking eager to join them and rub the fact that he could actually shoot a real arrow in Boromir's face. The sandy-haired son of the Steward sent him a nasty, narrow-eyed stare, but didn't say anything as Aragorn ushered them both into the trees.

"We'll be back before nightfall, in the least," the king-to-be called over his shoulder, and the trio soon disappeared from all natural senses.

Viper immediately collapsed upon the nearest bedroll, pointing a finger halfheartedly at the pile of tinder at Gandalf's feet. It immediately burst into flames, and the elderly wizard shot the teen a disdainful glance. Viper grinned cheekily back up at him.

"Ajooz," he said. When no one even looked up at the nonsense words falling from his lips, he pouted and laid on his side. "You'd think your magic would make forming flames a simpler task, would you not?"

Frodo and Gimli shared an exasperated look, rolling their eyes at one another even as Pippin snickered (for which Merry hit him on the arm). It was common knowledge, now, that Viper quite plainly did not take Gandalf's Istari magic seriously, in any sense of the word. The old wizard didn't necessarily mind Viper's conviction, in fact he practically ignored it in favor of humoring the teen with a short game of competition.

"Butterflies?" Gandalf asked with an indulgent smile, eyes twinkling at the way Viper's entire visage seemed to light up, ever so slowly. Youthful, silvery eyes narrowed in concentration on the crackling flames of the campfire, and Gandalf turned his attention toward twisting the gem atop his staff with a single-mindedness that came from focus. The hobbits settled themselves down eagerly for a show.

Gimli chortled merrily, plopping himself down next to Samwise as the campfire abruptly burst into a livelier dance. Tiny, fluttering wings of ember took flight, bobbing up and down like fireflies and gently following the breeze. They journeyed around the heads of their fascinated audience peacefully, holding a strange type of soothing touch to them.

Gandalf observed the tiny creatures of fire with a fond smile, before tilting his staff forward. A soft white light appeared at the end, just barely, and Viper was soon scooting forward to allow the tiny winged creature to land on the bridge of his nose. He went cross-eyed in his attempt to bring it into focus, and a soft breath escaped his mouth. Warmth settled into all their chests at the sight of the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"The lad's was a bit more showy," Gimli eventually commented, and Viper cast Gandalf a triumphant smirk.

"Can it really beat actual life, though?" Frodo asked, gazing at the butterfly that was now on Viper's cheek to the trail of tiny lights disappearing past the tops of the trees to join the stars.

"Fire is the very definition of life, my dear halfling." Viper caught the butterfly on the tip of his finger and laid back down, avidly examining his new friend. "You have it in your very soul, that light; a spark that keeps you going. The strength of your will, the defenses of your mind, the very energy that travels through your body. It's all a type of fire, in its own right."

"Viper is correct," Gandalf admitted, and they all watched the Istar's creation jaunt off into the evening breeze. Viper pouted at its departure, but soon turned a catlike grin on their eldest companion.

"So that means I win, does it?" He asked, and Gandalf sighed.

"Yes, but it is now your turn." He allowed, and Viper cheered, turning onto his back to think of a new prompt word.

Pippin leaned over to nudge at his fellow hobbits. "Hey," his whispered. "That's 34 wins for Mister Viper, isn't it?"

"Gandalf's still in the lead by about four points, though," Frodo pointed out, and they all sat back to watch Viper think.

Before the teen could come up with anything, however, Merry tilted his head and interrupted.

"Hey, Viper?"

"Hmm?" The teen tilted his head bright back at him, a playful smirk on his face.

"You know that evil king you said ruled the big people kingdom, back in your home?"

Having the topic of Alagaesia suddenly brought up again, the corner's of Viper's mouth tilted downward. They pretended not to notice, but the easygoing air they'd previously been enjoying wasn't there anymore. Pippin, Sam, and Frodo shot Merry each a scowl. He shrugged helplessly at them.

"Yes, what about him?"

"Well…" Merry shifted uneasily, turning his attention away from the fact that he was suddenly not the most popular person in the camp at the moment. "You said he was after you specifically, right? Why was that?"

And suddenly, Viper was in another one of his bad moods. Merry winced, really regretting his decision to indulge in his curiosity now. Viper's bad moods weren't really fun for anybody- -the last time he'd fallen into one, he'd unintentionally hurt Gandalf's feelings, the night they'd stayed under the abandoned aqueduct. Come to think of it, that was the night they'd learned of the "curse" that Viper suffered from, where the teen had to see all of his friends die before him (they were determined to prove that curse wrong, but something inside him told Merry that they weren't really quite aware of what they were getting into).

"... There was a prophecy about it," Viper eventually said, shifting on his bedroll and clutching the rather flat pillow to his chest, looking altogether unhappy. "It said that a child of those who'd "thrice defied him" would bring about his downfall. Unfortunately, he caught word of it, and it just so happened that my parents were one of the couples that fit the bill. So he came after my family. He got my parents, but a friend managed to get me away in time. Took me to my aunt and uncle's home to be raised in safety."

He looked dubious of just how "safe" his aunt and uncle's home had been, and something stirred worriedly in their guts.

"So you had to fight him?" Frodo asked, frowning at the idea.

Viper nodded, though. "Prophecy said that I was- -" he paused for a moment, looking off to the side in thought, before continuing. "It said I was the only who could kill him. And since there were quite a number of people who really wanted him dead, I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Of course, it didn't help that he kept trying to kill me. I guess you could say I eventually just got sick of it and offed him anyway."

"An unfortunate lot of luck, there," Gimli offered his sympathies, and Viper graced him with a short, minute smile that had the rest of them relaxing, even if only a bit.

"Well, I've always had quite rotten luck," Viper mumbled, pressing his face into his pillow morosely. "If you'll believe me on that."

They did, as a matter of fact, and none of them spoke again until Aragorn and his fellow hunters trooped back into the clearing with a nice-sized boar carried across their shoulders.

"And where did you say you learned to cook, again?" Aragorn demanded when Viper stole away his prize and began to rid it of its skin and undesirable organs.

The teen worked the knife with a type of skill that none of them had seen outside of a master chef, before, and Viper tossed them all a hesitant but winning smile.

"...You could say I started young."

"How young was that?" Boromir asked, nabbing one of the slimy eyes for himself and popping it into his mouth. He ignored the utterly disgusted looks from the others this action garnered, and the unbridled horror that shone in the faces of the hobbits as he chewed on his snack. Viper grinned cheerfully at him.

"Ah, I was pretty young, I think. Don't actually remember how young, so it must've been quite early on."

Legolas tossed him a suspicious glance as he helped the teen strip the skin of his prey. "You said your uncle was a lord, did you not? Why would you have to learn to cook your own meals?"

Viper paused at that, and a somewhat uncertain expression crossed his features. It disappeared just as quickly, however, and he scratched the side of his face with a bloodied hand and a somewhat sheepish smile, ignoring the disgruntled noise the hobbits made at such an unsanitary gesture.

"They weren't very fond of me, if you can believe it. I think uncle said something about- -," he cleared his throat, focusing his attention solely on his work now as he spoke, "- -about learning humility, or something or other."

He missed the dark looks his explanation received from his companions, so intent on stripping flesh from bone and cutting the liver free.

"Put a pot on over the fire, Merry."

"We don't have a pot, Mister Viper."

Viper snapped his fingers, and Merry made a curious noise in the back of his throat when he found this to no longer be much of a problem.

There was a stifling sort of quiet in the air as Viper sent hobbit after hobbit to fetch him herbs and borrow him the seasonings that Sam kept in his bags ("Don't you give me that look, Samwise, I know they're there, in the third pocket- -yes, that's right. Hand them over."), and even sent Gimli off to fetch some more water. Soon, however, there was a stew simmering within the pot over the fire, and a simple delicious smell wafting through the air. The hobbits were practically salivating, longing expressions twisting their young faces into something almost frightening. Legolas sat off to the side, eventually falling into a near-silent quarrel with Gimli, hushed voices strained against the confined of their throats in their attempt to keep it quiet, and Aragorn was speaking in low tones with Gandalf near the tree stump when Viper called them all to eat.

They, in a fit of common sense, waited for the hobbits to ravage the stew pot to get first helpings and, in the midsts of their delighted moans, went forth to serve themselves.

"Th-This is…" Aragorn seemed absolutely speechless when he took his first spoonful, eyes widening. "Viper, how did you learn to make this?"

Viper raised a brow at him from over his own bowl and took a long draw of the heavy broth before answering. "What? It's not like it's a recipe or anything, Strider. I just threw a bunch of things that sounded good together in a bowl and stirred. Pretty simple, if you ask me."

"No," Gimli refused to believe it. "No, you had to have done something magical to this. 'Tis far too delicious for any natural…" He trailed off at the dark, narrow-eyed stare he was suddenly pinned under, and gulped. Viper's eyes could look absolutely menacing when he wanted them to.

"Are you somehow insulting my cooking skills, dwarf?" The teen asked, casual voice providing a hint of steel.

"N-No, of course not!" Gimli fell over himself, backtracking. "I was just sayin'- -"

"Thought not," Viper interrupted cheerfully, taking another bite of his own meal. "I mean, my ears deceive me sometimes, so I wasn't sure, right?"

"Right," Gimli agreed uncertainly, but since Viper seemed happy enough, he relaxed.

"Oh, sh- -!"

"Viper!" Several voices called out disapprovingly. Boromir went as far as to cover the nearest hobbit's ears in a vain attempt of preserving innocence, but Pippin grinned unrepentantly, already knowing this particular curse word himself.

"Ow," the admonished teen whined, clutching his left arm to his chest protectively. He took a peek down at it for a moment, poking curiously at the cut, before letting out another whine and hugging it closer. He cast the troublesome bear they'd had the deplorable luck of coming across the cubs of- -or at least, it's corpse- -a hurt look, eyes wide and offended.

"Here, let me see," Legolas was at his side in an instant, trying to tug Viper's arm free, but the teen held tight. "Viper, let me see- -"

"No, no, it's fine." Viper insisted, watching the elf with an increasingly wary expression. He even began to back away, but stopped when Legolas looked at him with the patented sad-blonde-elf look.

Thranduil would have toppled nations if he'd had even an ounce of his son's puppy-dog skills.

"That doesn't work on me," Viper still tried, but he grumbled under his breath and offering out his injured arm anyway.

"That's pretty deep," Aragorn noted from over his elf friend's shoulder, and Viper gave the older man an accusing look when he made no move to save him. "Long reach, too- -you'll have to take your shirt off, Viper."

"Hell to the no," Viper immediately refused, crossing his arms around his midsection in his self-hug protective stance.

"Come now," Gandalf spoke up. "We're all males here. It's nothing we haven't seen before, my boy."

As predicted, Viper slowly began to crumble after Gandalf used the term of endearment his old mentor apparently had once used as well, and the teen was soon cursing all old men and their stupid manipulative streaks in a variety of languages under his breath, as he stripped off his outer vest. Gandalf smiled serenely.

His smile, of course, soon disappeared when Viper eventually did take his shirt off and offered up his collection of scars for everyone to see.

"Viper?" Aragorn began, voice vaguely strangled, eyes fixated on a certain point on the teen's shoulder. Viper sighed.

"Yeah, Strider?"

"Where's that from?" Aragorn pointed out the old burn mark, finger just shy of touching the skin. "And that one?" He asked of another, smaller healed over gash beneath it.

Viper twisted around in an attempt to view his own shoulder blades, and eventually gave up with a shrug. "I was an unruly child."

There were likely no other words that could freeze their blood quite as fast as those had.

"I'm sorry?" Boromir choked, stumbling forward and catching himself with a hand clasped to Viper's shoulder.

Viper watched him, and the rest of them, a bit too closely to be comfortable- -but then again, nothing about this scene was comfortable in the least.

"I was an unruly child," he repeated and shrugged once more. "My uncle saw fit to try and stamp that particular characteristic out of me before it got to be too much for him." Then, he continued on in a darker, lower voice, more to himself than them, "Not that that helped him, any."

"Why?" Boromir demanded. The hobbits seemed far too stunned for words, eyes round and disbelieving. "Were you not his family?"

"Not really," Viper said, allowing the silent Legolas to dress his wound before quickly tugging his shirt and vest back on without any more ado.

"Freaks weren't allowed in his family," he murmured, barely a breath, but they still heard it.

"Freaks?" Gandalf questioned, eyes and voice sharp, searching. Viper's snapped up to meet his own, barely visible from beneath the hood he'd just flipped over his head. They stared at one another for a single, silent moment, before Viper turned on his heel and made for the trees.

"I think I sleep up high, tonight," he told them all thoughtfully. His voice sounded distant and not-all-there.

They watched him disappear among the foliage, heard Tharbadir's disgruntled and worried (he was a horse, they had to remind themselves, time and time again) neighing, felt the teen's presence elevate in regards to their own.

They turned their discontent and cool looks upon one another, and for once, they were all in total agreement about one thing; the Fellowship was not very fond of Viper's supposed "family" in the least.

Maybe one day they could do something about it.

Deep in his gut, Merry doubted it.

Writing this one was like pulling teeth, let me tell you. I don't like how it turned out, at all, really. It's all broken up, and choppy in places, and doesn't really flow together at all, and doesn't exactly follow the prompt in the way that I wanted, and I just am very unsatisfied with it? I'm also so sorry that it took me this long to get out, but as you know; pulling teeth is a difficult and terribly time-consuming job.

Anyway, hopefully, the next ficlet will come easier to me. Also, happy birthday Soluna! You said that was soon, so I wanted to say it first :)

Thanks for reading this… well, this disastrous hurricane of a drabble, more like. Hopefully I'll do better on the next one :/

I hope you guys don't expect all of them to be thing dang long though *face desks* I didn't mean for it to go on for so long, I just had too much idea to make it as short as I'd planned initially, ahaha...

~Skye