0300: Last of the Lost Part Two (Ls and Bookworm coriff)

Title: Last of the Lost
Author: The BefuddledBookworm
Topic: Lord of the Rings (and also Narnia, briefly)
Media: Book
Genre: Adventure, Romance
URL: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JEwZUZTnsUQ1eHgZk29QtLvU1d8c2dqAqpNtyEcxTRo/edit
Critiqued by TheBefuddledBookworm and Linstar.

Ls: Weeeelcome back to Last of the Lost, where we have more random Latin, plot speedrunning, and angst. With me again is Bookworm. 

Book: Hi! I might not be saying as much today. I’m finding this very hard to read.  

Editing Ls: Wow, our 300th post! That’s… almost a tenth of the Library’s backlog. Woo!

Chapter III 

When I woke up, I was lying on a soft, white bed, and that by itself was so odd that I thought I must be dreaming. 

Book: This OC getting rescued from Mount Doom makes no sense. If she really was a Ringwraith, she should be dead.

Ls: I find it odd how every single sequence ends with Protagonist falling asleep and waking up elsewhere. Narcoleptic Scene Transitions is one of the squares on my bingo board, in fact. 

Book: I don’t think I did that on purpose. I just didn’t know how to do scene transitions. 

I wondered how I was not dead, or maybe I was dead and this was Middle Earth’s version of heaven or something. 

Ls: Wait, when did you learn that the place you were in is called Middle-earth? (Nice mini, of course.)

Book: Sard! I thought I was better at spelling than that. I think I will adopt this one. 

Then I decided that I was not in heaven, because I felt like I had been through a mixture of a meat tenderizer and a chopper. 

Ls: Hell, then? 

Book: Unfortunately, not Hell. Maybe we should try and ship her over there after this.

Ls: Writing a spitefic about your own Sue. Interesting.

Book: I have thought about it, but I’m not sure I could make that work. 

I moaned softly, because this hurt more than it usually did when the Nazgûl tortured me. Then I saw a man looking at me. “Where am I?” I muttered. The man answered me saying “This is Ithilien.” Then I asked him, “How did I get here, and how am I still alive?”. Then he replied “Gandalf brought you here. He found you on the slopes of Mount Doom with Frodo and Sam. As for your second question, I am surprised that you survived. When Gandalf brought you, I wondered how you were still breathing with all the wounds you had.” 

Ls: And Gandalf wanted to rescue you why? 

Book: I don’t know. There are so many things that have no good reason. 

Then I asked him who he was. “I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. What is your name?” I did not know how to answer that question because the Nazgûl had called me Dôlguzagar for so long I had forgotten what my real name was. Also, I did not want to tell Aragorn a name which meant black-sword in Númenórean.

Book: I just realized that Protagonist not wanting to tell Aragorn the name Dôlguzagar may mean that they know a lot more about Aragorn than is at all reasonable for them to know. Oh, dear. 

Ls: Gah. I was hoping Protagonist would at least get a na–

 “The Nazgûl gave me a name when I turned into one of them, so I forgot my old one. Do you think I could be called Nienor?” I asked him. “Yes,” he said. 

Book: How would she know the name Nienor? The Nazgûl would not have told her any of the Great Tales. 

Ls: Oh, okay, I guess.

Then he brought me to the houses of healing in Minas Tirith, where I stayed to rest and heal. When I first looked in a mirror, I still looked like a Nazgûl. For some reason, when I turned back into a human, I had bright red eyes and my skin and hair were white. For a moment I could have sworn that I was still one of them. 

Book: Ack. This description says Mary Sue all over it. 

Ls: I swear, the mechanics of this whole thing are beyond confusing.

One day when I was nearly healed, I took a walk in the garden. I stood near the beds of healing herbs and started to sing a song. It was an old song of someone who did not like their fate, so that was why I was singing it. 

Ls: Oh, so it wasn’t to annoy us to death with songfic? Could’ve fooled me.

These are the words: 

Book: This is not my invention. These are the words to O Fortuna, a really cool piece of classical music. I feel bad that Past Bookworm filched it for this ignoble purpose. 

Ls: Well, I have a solution: *SNIP!*

Book: Good solution. Thanks! I think this will help me get through the rest of this. It will go well with all the angst. 

Then I heard a voice “That was a beautiful song. Where did you learn it?”. When I turned around, I saw Frodo Baggins. I thought “If he recognizes me he’ll probably kill me! He has every right to, after what I did”. So I ran away from him, as fast as my legs would take me. I used to be a fast runner, but I was much slower than I used to be. I ran until the pain stopped me. When I saw Frodo, it made my wounds ache again, because of the memories of what I had done. Even though I knew it was the Witch-king who had forced me to try to turn Frodo into a wraith, I still blamed myself. Then I sat down on the ground in front of a pool and cried. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Non sum ancilla tuus, Dominus Tenebris!” I gasped.

Book: More gratuitous Latin. Wonderful. 

 Being touched unexpectedly always meant that the Nazgûl were going to torture me, so I didn’t like being touched with no warning. When I turned around, I saw Frodo sitting next to me looking surprised. That made me cry harder, because if I told him that I was the Nazgûl who tried to turn him into a wraith, I was sure that he would kill me. When I stopped crying, he asked me “Why did you run away when you saw me?”. I said “If I tell you, will you promise not to kill me?” When I said that, he looked even more surprised. “I promise I will not kill you,” he said. So I told him everything, how I came to Middle Earth because the spell backfired and being a Nazgûl and everything that happened to me. When I told him about Amon Sûl I cried again because I hated telling him that I had tried to turn him into a wraith. He said that he thought it was the Witch-king’s fault, not mine. So I told him the rest of the story. Then Frodo told me that he was going to leave to go back to the Shire. He asked me to come with him, because I didn’t have a home. I accepted his invitation, and the next week we set out. Before we left, Aragorn came to me. He held a sheathed sword in his hands. “This is for your journey to the Shire, Nienor. I think you may need it.” he said. “Thank you, Aragorn. You have given me my life and I am forever in your debt” I told him.   

*The giant paragraph plows through Ls’ desk, sending both him and Book reeling.*

Ls: Ow! 

Then I heard a voice “That was a beautiful song. Where did you learn it?”. 

Ls: Good question.

When I turned around, I saw Frodo Baggins. I thought “If he recognizes me he’ll probably kill me! He has every right to, after what I did”. 

Ls: Even though all his friends know who you are and are still giving you medical care?

So I ran away from him, as fast as my legs would take me. I used to be a fast runner, but I was much slower than I used to be. 

Ls: Scintillating.

I ran until the pain stopped me. When I saw Frodo, it made my wounds ache again, because of the memories of what I had done. Even though I knew it was the Witch-king who had forced me to try to turn Frodo into a wraith, I still blamed myself. 

Ls: 

Then I sat down on the ground in front of a pool and cried. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Non sum ancilla tuus, Dominus Tenebris!” 

Ls: That means “I am not your handmaiden, Dark Lord!” Well, according to my translation site it does.

Book: Yes, it does. I don’t know why she knows all this Latin. Putting it all in was a bad idea. 

Ls: Malum idea, you could say?

I gasped. Being touched unexpectedly always meant that the Nazgûl were going to torture me, so I didn’t like being touched with no warning. When I turned around, I saw Frodo sitting next to me looking surprised. That made me cry harder, because if I told him that I was the Nazgûl who tried to turn him into a wraith, I was sure that he would kill me. 

Ls: 

When I stopped crying, he asked me “Why did you run away when you saw me?”. I said “If I tell you, will you promise not to kill me?” When I said that, he looked even more surprised. “I promise I will not kill you,” he said. So I told him everything, how I came to Middle Earth because the spell backfired and being a Nazgûl and everything that happened to me. 

Ls: Traumadumping is always a good idea.

Book: I don’t think she knows what else to do. 

When I told him about Amon Sûl I cried again because I hated telling him that I had tried to turn him into a wraith. He said that he thought it was the Witch-king’s fault, not mine. So I told him the rest of the story. Then Frodo told me that he was going to leave to go back to the Shire. 

Ls: This is a lovely conversation, I’m sure. Too bad we don’t actually get to listen to it, just a point-by-point replay. 

Book: Past Bookworm didn’t know how to do dialogue, so she tried to avoid it at all costs. 

Ls: Yeah, it shows.

He asked me to come with him, because I didn’t have a home. I accepted his invitation, and the next week we set out. Before we left, Aragorn came to me. He held a sheathed sword in his hands. “This is for your journey to the Shire, Nienor. I think you may need it.” he said. “Thank you, Aragorn. You have given me my life and I am forever in your debt” I told him. 

Ls: See? Dialogue!

     On the way, we stayed in Rivendell, and I met Bilbo, who had found the Ring. He was writing a book about his adventure, and said that Frodo should write one about his own adventure. Bilbo would not come back to the Shire with us because he said that traveling was too much of a bother. He said that he was too old anyway. 129 is very old, even for a Hobbit. 

Even though Rivendell was beautiful and peaceful, I felt that I did not belong there. Lord Elrond had welcomed me courteously, but many of the elves would look askance at me when they thought I could not see. It made sense to me that the elves would be mistrustful of me but it made me want to leave for the Shire, where no one would know of the darkness in my past. 

Ls: The wangst is wonderful.

So we set out from Rivendell with the blessing of Elrond. It was October 6, and I ached all over, but I was too proud to show it. Because of that, I was very grumpy all day. I was angry with myself, because I had not been able to resist the Witch-king’s order to stab Frodo with a Morgul-blade and still blamed myself for what had happened on Amon Sûl. 

Ls: Why, though? Frodo is fine, and so are you.

When we came to the ford of Bruinen, I noticed that Frodo did not want to ride into the water. He seemed not to see or hear the others in our party, but I saw him look at me with fear in his eyes. I guessed that he was thinking of the Nazgûl and what happened on Amon Sûl. 

Ls: Get over it!

Then I turned away because I did not want him to see the tears silently pouring down my face. 

Ls: Geesh, would you stop it?

Later, when we made camp for the night, I went over to Frodo. He looked sad and tired and I hoped that I could do something for him. So I sat down next to him. “I wish none of this had happened, that I could undo what I did. Is there anything I can do for you?”, I asked him. 

“Yes, there is. Could you sing a song for me?” he replied. 

So I sang him an old lullaby that my mother used to sing to me when I was little. These are the words: 

Book: This isn’t mine either. It’s a song by a group called Solyma. This is another good song past Bookworm filched. 

Ls: By the power of *SNIP!*, it is gone.

By the time I had finished singing, I discovered that Frodo had fallen asleep on my shoulder. I tried to be as still as I could, so he wouldn’t wake up. I drifted off to sleep with him still sleeping on my shoulder. 

Book: I tried to have this be a nice moment. I’m not sure it worked. 

Ls: Yeah, I’m just mildly confused by this.

The next thing I knew, I was being shaken gently. When I looked up, I saw Frodo. He had been shaking me because I had fallen asleep and it was the next morning. “Please get up Nienor, it’s time for breakfast. If you don’t get up now there won’t be any left”, he said. 

Ls: Well, that sounds like a hobbit.

“Fine”, I muttered groggily. “I’m up”. Then we had breakfast and started walking. We journeyed on for many days, until we came to Amon Sûl. 

Ls: Then… what was the point of the breakfast? 

Frodo would not look at the hill, and begged us to hurry. When we made camp for the night, it took me a long time to fall asleep, and when I did, I was forced to reenact in nightmares that horrible night on Amon Sûl. When I stabbed Frodo, the knife turned in my hands and stabbed me also. I saw Frodo turn into a wraith as I tried to tell him it was the Witch-kings fault, 

Ls: Those goshdarn Witch-Kings!

but he said “You think that I would believe a traitor like you?” and laughed harshly at me. At last my own screams woke me. It was the middle of the night and I saw Frodo looking at me like he understood, and I’m sure he did. 

Ls: He saw how annoying it was constantly being told rather than shown how awful the wraith stuff was.

He hugged me, then I fell asleep. There were no more dreams. The next day we continued walking, and came to Bree that evening. When we got to the inn, we were welcomed by the innkeeper, Barliman Butterbur. That night, we slept in warm beds, which were much nicer than camping in the wild. From there, we traveled to The Shire. Frodo had told me much about the land that was his home, and I looked forward to seeing it. 

Ls: Or rather, be blandly narrated a sped-up version of it.

When we came to the Brandywine Bridge, there was a tall, spiked gate. There had never been a gate there before by all that I had heard. So we hammered on the gate because we were not going to sleep out in the cold and wet when we were so near warm houses and beds. A voice shouted “Be off! Can’t you read the notice? ‘No admittance between dusk and dawn’ ”. Sam shouted back “If hobbits of the Shire are to be kept out in the wet, I’ll tear down your sign when I find it”. A window slammed, and a crowd of hobbits all carrying lanterns came out of a building behind the gate. Apparently, we were breaking some kind of rule by asking to be let in after nightfall. We spent the night in one of the houses behind the gate. The next morning, we set out towards Hobbiton. The road was blocked, and there were Shirrifs 

Ls: Shirrifs?

*Googlefu*

Ls: Wait, no, that’s canon.

Book: Yes, that is canon. This fic is a weird combination of bad writing and my (even then) reasonably extensive knowledge of the canon. 

Ls: I’ll admit that it’s been a while since I read the books (and I’ve yet to read the Silmarillion!) and I still have yet to see the movies; so the only other LoTR fic I’ve riffed on the Asylum was Kelly the Roman Warrior, which was more typo than canon.

in front of it. They said that we were under arrest for breaking various Rules. Then we continued our march. The pace was too quick for the Shirriffs, and they said that they would not be responsible for us breaking arrest. We were nearing Hobbiton when we found a group of large, ugly men with clubs and horns in their belts. They scowled blackly at us 

Ls:

Book: *looks horrified* That was not my intention! 

Ls: Oh, no, it’s an entirely fair way to say that; I don’t actually think it’s racist, I… just like making jokes sometimes. 

Book: Good. It was meant to be like how it says in the dictionary. 

and one of them called Frodo “little cock-a-whoop”. 

Ls: Is this just canon regurgitation? Because I have no idea what that means.

That was too much for Pippin and I. We drew our swords, and Pippin said to them “Down on your knees is the road and ask pardon, or I will set this troll’s bane in you”. At this the ruffians ran away, and we heard a horn blowing. The ruffians probably had reinforcements somewhere nearby, so we had to hurry if we were going to find more people to help us. Merry blew his horn, and it rang loud in the hills around us. It made me feel brave enough to fight my way through a thousand ruffians when I heard it. Then the hobbits came with weapons: long knives, axes, hammers, and other weapons. They lit a large fire, partly to keep warm and partly because it was against the Rules. Some of the hobbits set boundaries on the roads, and when the Shirriffs came, they were very surprised. Most of them took the feathers out of their caps and joined us. A few slunk off. Then Pippin rode away. He said that he was going to bring us an army of Tooks. Everyone who had no weapons went into the houses. When the ruffians came, the hobbits opened the barrier for them. They laughed roughly and told everyone to go back to their homes. We would not, and then the biggest ruffian ran at Merry with a knife in one hand and a club in the other. He fell dead with four arrows in him before he reached Merry. The other ruffians surrendered immediately. Then Merry arranged for guards on the barriers, and he, Frodo and I went to Farmer Cotton’s house. 

Ls: I …think this is just regurgitation of the Scouring of the Shire?

Book: Yes. That’s what you get for Past Bookworm knowing the books pretty well. *sighs*

The next morning, we all woke up early. A messenger from the Tooks rode in and told us that Pippin was bringing all the Tooks he could find to come and help us. Then Merry came with news that a large gang of ruffians were coming and that they were only about four miles away from Hobbiton. Luckily, Pippin arrived before them with a hundred sturdy Tooks. 

When the ruffians came, they found a barrier of carts erected in their way. Then hobbits pushed other carts that they had made ready into the road behind them. They still wanted a fight, and many were shot as they tried to escape. Some of the hobbits were killed, and many were injured. During the battle, I killed three of the ruffians with the sword Aragorn had given me. When I was a Nazgûl I had learned something about sword fighting through my escape attempts, so these ruffians were much easier to fight than eight Nazgûl trying to prevent me from escaping. 

Ls: Good for you; you can fight hobbits easier than Nazgul.

Killing the ruffians was my attempt to pay back Frodo, because I wanted to do something to repay him for sparing my life when he had every right to kill me. 

The dead ruffians were buried in a nearby sand pit. Then we went towards Bag End. All the trees along the road had been chopped down and lay near the roadside. When we arrived at Bag End, there were piles of trash everywhere, and the garden all around the house was filled with ugly wooden huts. We walked into the house, which smelled musty, like it had not been lived in for a long time. There was no one in any of the rooms until we came to the back of the house. There a tall white haired man looked at us like he was expecting our arrival. He laughed, and his black eyes twinkled. “I am here to welcome you home, my hobbits. If only you had stayed away a little longer, you would have learned a harsher lesson. But still there are many things in your little rat-land that will be hard to mend” he said.”Leave this land and never return to trouble us!” Frodo commanded him. The man turned and called into a darkened room “Come, Worm! These lordly folk are dismissing us”. Out came a thin man with pale yellowish skin and greasy hair. “I hate him, he only gives me kicks for my service. Poor Grima, always kicked and cursed. I want to get away from him” he whispered as he crawled on the ground towards the other man. He was kicked in the face. As the other man walked away, Grima drew a hidden knife and slit the throat of his master. Then he ran away with a yell. 

Ls: Oh. Bye, Grima and Saurman Saruman! 

We spent the next months repairing and restoring all that we could in the Shire. In the old tunnels called the Lockholes, we found many of the hobbits who had tried to resist the ruffians. They had been locked up to prevent them from causing trouble. Among them was Will Whitfoot, the Mayor of Hobbiton. He asked Frodo to be Deputy Mayor while he rested and recovered from his imprisonment. The only thing Frodo did while he was Mayor was to reduce the Shirriffs to their proper number. 

Ls: The plot regurgitation is so dull.

The winter was not nearly as bad as we had thought it would be. The ruffians had hid most of the food they collected in the sheds that they made, so there was enough to last the winter. When spring came, it was beautiful and full of flowers. It had been so long since I had seen flowers that I had forgotten what they were. 

Ls: How long has it actually been? And why wouldn’t you have seen flowers last year in spring?

Book: I’m not sure how long it’s been. I think that she wouldn’t have seen flowers because they don’t grow in Mordor. I don’t think flowers grow in Mordor. I could be wrong about that.

The summer passed bright and hot as the fruit ripened and wheat grew tall in the fields. Harvest that year was a good one, and there was singing and dancing far into the night. 

     In October there was a shadow of old troubles. Two years ago it was dark on Amon Sûl. 

Ls: Any fic made after October can’t be bad enough… all they know is songfic, have they boring OC, weird romantic undertones, be bland, vomit hot plot regurgitation and angst.

I woke up in the middle of the night when I heard a scream from Frodo’s bedroom. Then I ran to his room, fearing that there was someone attacking him. When I got to his room there was no one there. Frodo was screaming something in elvish, but I could not understand what. I held him in my arms, but he turned away muttering something that sounded like “No… you can’t have it… no, no!”. I nearly cried when he said that, because I knew he was dreaming of me. “Pax, anima mea” I whispered. “Umbrae sunt mentiae… tu non mortuus est”. 

Ls: That means… “Peace, my soul. Shadows are mental, you are not dead.”

Ls: Why is Nienor babbling this to herself?

Book: I’m not sure. She might be a little bit insane.

Ls: My headcanon is that she hit her head while fighting the wraith in her homeworld and the rest was all hallucination.

Book: I like that.

He looked at me with his blue eyes full of fear. Then I started to sing: 

Ls: No! No songfic!

*SNIP!*

Ls: It was just Dormire by Solyma again.

Ls: Shoutout to Florida for getting a mention, though.

Book: Florida? It wasn’t supposed to have Florida in it. I think Florida means flowering in Latin (or maybe Spanish) if I remember right. 

Ls: That’s probably it, but I figured Em would get a kick out of it.

     When I finished the song I sat there rocking him and humming. Frodo fell back to sleep 

Ls: I think most readers would be put to sleep by this.

and I went back to my room. There I gathered my cloak and walked quietly out the door. It was about midnight and I walked fast to keep warm. Then I walked into the forest for about five miles and found a hollow tree to sleep in because I felt that my presence would only serve to remind Frodo of that horrible night on Amon Sûl. 

Ls: I thought you guys were friends! Stop angsting about that, it’s just annoying.

I figured he would have a rough time as it was without a living reminder of what happened. 

Ls: We get it. 

     The next morning, I woke up to someone shaking me. “Wake up, Nienor. Why did you leave the house?” said Frodo. “You were having nightmares, and I didn’t think I should be around when you woke up,” I told him. “I see. It took me all morning to find you. Let’s go have lunch.” he said. 

     As time passed, the hobbits of the Shire began to forget Frodo and I. I was glad of that, because I was tired of everyone who met me looking askance or asking awkward questions about my past. The Shire was beautiful and peaceful and I loved Bag End, but all Frodo’s kindness could not completely erase the guilt for what I had done. 

Ls: I’m considering starting a counter for this angst, because it’s far and away the most annoying thing here. 

Book: Good idea. 

Even though Frodo had forgiven me, I still tried to repay him in any way I could. 

One night near the end of September, Frodo, Sam and I were walking in the woods. Coming up out of the valley we heard a song in Elvish drifting on the breeze. 

A! Elbereth Gilthoniel! 

silivren penna miriel 

o menel aglar elenath, 

Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth! 

We still remember, we who dwell 

In this far land beneath the trees 

The starlight on the Western Seas. 

Ls: Now we’re just directly copying from the books.

There were many elves, Elrond among them. Behind him rode Bilbo, who seemed to be asleep on the small grey pony he rode. Elrond greeted us graciously. Then Bilbo woke up and said, “I think I am ready for another journey. Are you coming?” 

“Yes, we are coming,” said Frodo. “Where are you going?” said Sam, although I think he already knew the answer. “To the Havens,” Frodo replied. Then we went on. 

At last we came to the Grey Havens where a ship had been prepared for us to sail over the Sea to the Undying Lands. 

Ls: Why are you coming along, Nienor?

We heard hoofbeats behind us, and there were Merry and Pippin. They had followed us from the Shire. Frodo and I hugged them goodbye, and last of all Frodo hugged Sam. Then we boarded the ship. While the ship sailed, I wondered what would happen when we would arrive in Tol Eressea and what the Valar would say about me.

Ls: 

When our ship landed, we were greeted by heralds, who brought me to Mount Taniquetil, the home of Manwe, King of the Valar and Lord of Arda. There he sat on a throne and I knelt before him. “Arise, Nienor,” he said. When he looked at me, I felt like he was reading my mind. “You cannot stay here,” he said. 

Book: Bringing Manwe into it? Oh, the audacity! 

Ls: Yes, Manwe. Tell her to go away.

“I understand, my Lord. But where will I go now?” I asked him. 

“I will make a portal for you to another world,” 

Ls: I wonder which dimension we’ll invade next!

he replied. Then he raised his hands and sang. The song was beautiful, but I could not understand any of the words. A swirling cloud of blue mist appeared, and through it I saw a battlefield where a horde of monsters led by a tall white lady fought a small group of men and animals, some of them obviously magical. 

Ls: ….Narnia. Of course it’s friggin’ Narnia. 

Book: They were my second favorite series of books after LoTR. 

Ls: Very good series; which is why I want Nienor to stay far, far away from.

Then I took a deep breath and stepped through the swirling mist towards the small group. They seemed to be in need of help, and if I had to leave Middle Earth for a new world, I would try to help these people. 

Ls: Fat lot of good you did here in Middle-earth, though. You just sped through the plot at high speed while angsting.

[A/N: Here is an extra that I thought should go into this but didn’t end up working out with the rest of it.] 

Ls: Eh, at least you know where to place an author’s note.

 I ran away across the garden even though it sent stabs of pain flashing through me. I was afraid that Frodo had recognized me. If he did I would pay with a life of servitude or blood for blood. 

Ls: You would? Why?

That was how debts were paid in the land where I came from, and I did not think that things would be any different here. 

Ls: Oh. That kinda makes sense, actually, and explains why Nienor was so scared of Frodo. 

Book: That explanation should have gone earlier where it would make more sense. Argh! 

Ls: Ideally, it would be best to place it in the section in Nienor’s homeworld, where it would make sense.

Book: I don’t think I have enough muscle to drag it into the right place.

For all I knew, I would pay with my life. Blackness was swirling at the edge of my vision, but I still tried to keep running. At last it was too much for me, and everything went black. 

Ls: More narcolepsy, yay.

     When I woke up, I was in bed. Aragorn was sitting next to me. He looked worried. Then I tried to sit up, and stopped. I felt like someone had put a knife in my ribs. I closed my eyes, hissing sharply. Nazgûl don’t cry in front of people. 

Ls: I didn’t think you thought of yourself as one, though.

Hissing was as close as I would get. 

Ls: And then we get some questionable Latin translations of all the dialogue and the songs here at the bottom, which I’ll *SNIP!* because it’s not very riffable and it doesn’t really matter.

Ls: Anyway, that’s it for this fic. It was bland, the initial worldbuilding was confusing, and the prose was dull. Its inability to stick to a scene, incessant plot regurgitation, random songs, and constant angst made it hard to read, and the Latin made no sense. While Nienor is nowhere near the worst character we’ve had here on the Asylum (that would be… very difficult to decide, but Kiacstu probably), she’s still not all that likable or interesting and has some fairly Sueish traits. Overall, I give this fic a 6.5/10. If it weren’t your old shame, Bookworm, I doubt I would have riffed it. This is probably one of the least bad fics we’ve riffed this year; it isn’t good, but it’s far from awful.

Ls: Anyway, thanks for doing this with me, Bookworm. It was very fun, and I hope to see more of you soon.

Book: You’re welcome! There is part of a sequel that I have in a Google doc. Perhaps we could riff that next. It goes into Narnia. 

Ls: I would be up for that! Send me a link and I’ll be happy to go ahead with it. 

Book: Sure! I think I need some good Tolkien fanfic to restore my energy first. Do you have any recommendations?

Ls: Sadly, no. I’ll say I’m generally much more familiar with badfic. Anyway, see y’all later, dear readers, and remember to stay loony!