Title: Monty Sauron and the Only Ring
             (Monti Sauran ik den Onli Ringen)

Author: Wolfine (JWolfine@Hotmail.com)
             (Rotern nik Wolfein) 

Movie: Lord of the Rings
             (See the loveli slashen)

Pairing: Sam & Frodo, Merry & Pippin implied
             (And mani interesting furry animals)

Category: Humor, Parody
             (Including the majestic moose)

Rating: R
              (A Moose once bit my sister...)

Archive: Library of Moria, Open Air Asylum, Least Expected, yes if you ask me
             (No realli! She was karving her intials on the moose with the sharpened 
end of an interspace toothbrush given to her by  Svenge - her brother-in-law - an 
Oslo dentist and star of many Norwegian movies: "The Hot Hands of an Oslo 
Dentist",  "Fillings of Passion", "The Huge Molars of Horst Nordfink")
           
Warning: We apologize for the fault in the subtitles. Those responsible have been 
sacked.

Disclaimer: Shall be read by Brother Maynard from the book "Please Don't Sue 
Me, I was Only Kidding"..."And the writer did put forth her fingers upon the 
keyboard, and did smite the keys. From this, a story was borne, but behold! For 
the characters within were not her own, but did belong to New Line, the Tolkien 
estate, and a multitude of lucky buggers, and references to the Holy Grail owned 
by them what owns it. The writer, knowing her bum was toast, did beg their 
mercy, proclaiming the truth: for she made no gain from her labor, save 
entertainment." 

Summary: The story of The Lord of the Rings...not so much crossed with that 
other classic fantasy lexicon, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, as imbedded 
with the shrapnel of it, as if it had blown to bits. (Mynd you, moose bites Kan be 
pretty nasti...)

Thanks: Praise goes to AK, the Wonder Llama, and to Creed from Llama Fresh 
Farms. (Suggestive poses for the Moose suggested by these two.)

Feedback: Sack JWolfine@Hotmail.com 
              (We apologize again for the fault in the subtitles. Those responsible for 
sacking the people who have just been sacked have been sacked.)


**Monty Sauron and the Only Ring**


 A long time ago, so long that none yet live who remember it, there was a really 
nasty bugger named Sauron. No one's sure just how he got that way, maybe his 
father was very distant, or he was constantly teased on the playground, all his 
little friends shouting cruel things at him, like "Sauron's a moron" and throwing 
rocks at him when he wasn't looking. Whatever the case, he grew up and decided 
the best revenge for all this would be to snuff out all his enemies and enslave the 
rest of the world. Now, the world being a really big place and all, and Sauron 
being just one guy, he had to come up with a plan. 

 He decided to hand out magic earrings to all the important people of Middle 
Earth, earrings that would enslave their very souls when they were worn! 
Unfortunately, things didn't work out very well. The elves were allergic to the 
cheap metal and developed horrid infections in their delicate, pointy ears, the 
dwarves thought they looked poofy and the human kings couldn't come to an 
agreement about whether they should be worn in the left ear or the right, a matter 
of grave importance to some of them. Scrapping that idea, Sauron then forged 
magic finger rings and handed those out. These worked a bit better as they were a 
more trendy design and worked with just about any outfit, formal to casual. 
Without telling anyone, Sauron made one more ring which would control them 
all and was imbued with some of his very own blood, the result of an accidental 
cut sustained while he was forging it in shop class. 

 Everyone really liked the rings, but alas, the elves caught on to the whole 
enslavement thing right away, and the dwarves weren't stupid either. The only 
ones who kept the darn things were a group of men, and they allowed Sauron to 
build an army to make war on the brighter beings of the land of Middle Earth. 
Sauron almost won that war, except that a panicky young fellow managed to lop 
off the Dark Lord's finger which housed the One Ring. It was the one flaw in an 
otherwise well thought out plan, and Sauron and his entire army vanished, 
leaving the elves and men to clean up the mess.

 Isildur, the young man who later bragged he had defeated Sauron with one 
finger, should have lobbed the ring into the fires of Mount Doom, but he had 
never won anything before in his life and instead kept the Ring. Of course, he 
met up with all sorts of nasty things that were keen on jewelry themselves and 
they killed him to gain it, only to lose it underwater. Since nasty things are 
deathly afraid of cleansing water, there it stayed for a few millennia, until an odd 
creature found it and kept it in it's cave for a few hundred more years. In fact, the 
Ring had all but given up on trying to get back to Sauron until it was finally 
picked up by a hobbit named Bilbo.

 The Ring kept whispering to Bilbo for years after that, trying to hint that it 
wanted to get out and see the world and not stay forever in his smelly pocket, but 
hobbits are easily distracted by food, sex, and a good pipe and it was nearly sixty 
years before anything happened. The Ring was ecstatic when its whisperings paid 
off, and Bilbo had decided to leave the Shire to roam. Unfortunately for the Ring, 
Gandalf the Wizard showed up about then and convinced Bilbo to leave it 
behind, causing much frustration and metaphorical foot stomping for the Ring. 
Happily, it was finally passed to Frodo and the Ring experienced a moment of 
joy to realize it was leaving the Shire, only to wind up, again, in a smelly hobbit 
pocket. The Ring beat it's metaphorical head against a metaphorical wall until it 
decided to look on the bright side: at least it was getting the hell out of town.

 Gandalf abandoned Frodo shortly after they left the Shire, riding off to see his 
mentor and promising to meet up with Frodo later at a bar in Bree. 
Accompanying Frodo on the journey to the bar was Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's 
faithful gardener, unrequited love interest, and good-natured pack animal. Joined 
by Frodo's cousins Pippin and  Merry, the hobbits quickly encountered their first 
peril. The kings who possessed the original nine rings got wind that there was a 
tenth one to be had and decided they needed it to complete their collection. Not 
having access to eBay, they scoured the land in search of it, turning slowly into 
hideous wraiths, mounted on nervous black horses. The gang called themselves 
the Ring Wraiths, and pursued  the hobbits until they escaped across the river. 
Having eluded the Wraiths, the hobbits made their way to the Prancing Pony, 
only to be carded at the door and forced to spend a good half hour convincing the 
bartender they really were adults and quite short for their age. 

			*			*			*

 Meanwhile, Gandalf rode hard into Isengard to chat with Saruman, head of the 
order of wizards and Gandalf's good friend. He was not surprised when the 
wizard descended the steps of his ridiculously tall tower to meet him; Saruman 
was lord of this domain and seemed to know everything that went on. He first 
lead Gandalf on a tour of his grounds, trying to impress the younger man with his 
landscaping  ideas and throwing in a few insults about Gandalf's choice of 
company and recreation. Once inside the great tower, Gandalf's curiosity was 
drawn to the cloth covered item that sat upon a pedestal in Saruman's room. He 
was hoping it was his much delayed birthday present, and he only half listened to 
what his mentor  was saying as he tried to hint at his desire to see what it was.

 "...drawing one's attention to the small white flowers in the northern patch."

 Gandalf stroked his beard as if intrigued. "Mmm, hmmm."

 "But as the drainage there is so difficult to maintain, I was toying with the idea 
of a line of dwarf willows to balance it out."

 Gandalf nodded gravely. Maybe if he stared at the thing, Saruman would get the 
idea it was present time?

 "However, in the end, I fell upon the idea of just buggering the daylights out of 
my horse and proposing marriage."

 Maybe if he asked Saruman for more tea, he could snatch a peek for himself? 
Gandalf blinked. "Wh-what did you say?"

 Saruman sighed. "As usual, you're not listening to a word I'm saying. Do you 
think the landscaping around here just *grows* that way?" 

 Gandalf sighed. He never could fathom Saruman's love of planting and 
arranging. "I'm sorry. There is just so much going on right now." Like my lack of 
birthday gifts, he thought sourly.

 Saruman finally noticed where Gandalf's attention kept swaying. "By the way 
my dear boy, have you seen my newest?"

 Gandalf nearly shot out of his seat. "Why, no. What have you got this time?" He 
quickly followed Saruman to the cloth-covered pillar. Saruman grabbed a corner 
and flipped it off with a flourish.  

 To Gandalf's dismay, instead of a nicely wrapped gift, a smooth, dark palantir 
sat like a blemish on the pale stone. He instinctively pulled back from it, noting 
Saruman had no fear of the thing. "I've gotten the hang of this palantir, and I 
must say, it beats squinting across the plain to catch what's going on in Mordor."

 Gandalf grabbed the cloth and swung it back over the globe. "I can't believe 
you're using that! Do you know what kind of hidden charges you can rack up? 
And you never know just who's on the other end..."

 Saruman chuckled at him. "Actually, I've become rather taken with the amount 
of good, volcanic soil in Mordor. In fact, plots of land there are fairly cheap..."

 "WHAT?" roared Gandalf. "You're not serious about buying land in Mordor, are 
you?"

 Saruman sighed, he had so hoped Gandalf to be more open to the idea. "Gandalf, 
I bought this land when it was a swamp. Other wizards said I was daft to build a 
tower on it, but I did it all the same...just to show them. It sank into the swamp. 
So I built another one...that sank into the swamp. I built another one...that burned 
down, fell over, and sank into the swamp, but I built another and that one stayed 
up!" Gandalf suddenly realized just why Saruman built his tower so damn high. 
"Now, Mordor has more open volcanic land than anywhere else in Middle Earth! 
And that's what I'm gonna get. It'll revolutionize my ideas for landscaping..."

 "It'll get the interest of Sauron, that's what it'll do, ya daft git." Gandalf turned on 
his heel with a huff and was about to make for the door when a heavy stick 
rapped his skull sharply. "Ow!" He turned to Saruman, only to catch the wizard's 
staff square in the face. "What in hell are you doing?"

 Saruman got a crazed look in his eye. "No one can resist the power of Sauron! 
He's rich...he's powerful...he has HUGE tracts of land...Ooof..." Gandalf's staff 
connected with his middle, striking the breath from him. "You'll pay for that, 
hobbit bugger!" he wheezed.

 Gandalf roared and the battle was on. After several agonizing minutes of 
slamming each other with their pointy sticks, Saruman was literally mopping the 
floor with Gandalf's hair, the younger man's body suspended in air. Tiring of the 
small act of housecleaning, he called for his two orc guards. "Make sure Gandalf 
doesn't leave this room until I come and get him."

 The first orc nodded. "Not...to leave the room...even if you come and get him."

 Saruman, on his way out, turned back to the orc. "No. Until I come and get him." 
The second orc nodded emphatically.

 "Until you come and get him, we're not to enter the room."

 "No...you stay in the room and make sure he doesn't leave."

 "And you'll come and get him."

 "Right."

 The orc looked puzzled. "Oh...if we...er...if we..."

  "Look, it's simple. Just stay here and make sure he doesn't leave the room."

 "Oh wait! can he leave the room *with* us?"

 Saruman sighed. "No...keep him in here...and make sure he doesn't leave."

 The orc blinked and nodded his head. "Oh, of course we'll keep him here, 
obviously. But if he *had* to leave, and we were with him..."

 "No...no. Keep him in here until I get back."

 The orc smiled suddenly, as if he finally understood. "Right. Keep him in here 
until you, or anyone else.."

 "No, not anyone else. Just me."

 "Just you..."

 "Get back."

 "We're to remain here until you get back."

 Saruman made to leave again. "And make sure he doesn't leave."

 The orc blinked. "Gandalf?"

 "Yes...make sure..."

 "Oh yes, of course! I thought you meant *him!*" The orc laughed slightly and 
pointed at his fellow guard. "It was a bit confusing my Lord, me having to guard 
him when he's a guard."

 Saruman rolled his eyes and headed for the door, only to notice the two orcs 
following him. "Where are you going?"

 "We're coming with you."

 "Oh sod it! Just stuff Gandalf up the damn chimney, will you?" With that, he 
rode out of the room on a bad temper, his only enjoyment coming from the grunts 
Gandalf made as the two orcs man-handled him to the top of the Isengard tower.

			*			*			*

 Part 2:


 Strider leaned back in his chair, lighting his pipe and thinking. His reputation as 
a mysterious and enigmatic type being had been established, but he was still 
working on being a Hero. He had the secret identity and shady background, but 
none of the locals really considered him a Hero yet. He was more of a free-
ranging weirdo to them, and he was pondering this very thing at the back of the 
Prancing Pony on a rainy night in Bree. A group of hobbits had come in and 
started putting away food and drink like only hobbits can do, when Strider's 
sharp, hero-like eyes singled out the little dark haired one.

 He was cute in a hamster-ish sort of way, and Strider almost fell off his chair 
when he got a look on his face like someone was giving him a blow-job under the 
table. The Ranger held his breath as the little man parted his lips, panting slightly 
as beads of sweat formed on his upper lip. It was a mesmerising sight, and he 
found himself getting twitchy, wondering just how odd it would appear if he 
bolted out of his seat and ran across the room to devour the lips of the smaller 
man? It was then it occurred to Strider what was missing from his life: a sidekick. 
Every Hero had a sidekick, and the more clumsy and cute they were, the more 
the Hero looked like...well, a hero. He was working out the details of how to 
present his idea to the hobbit when the  little guy jumped out of his seat and 
launched himself at the other hobbit at the bar. A small scuffle ensued, and he 
wound up on the floor, only to disappear a second later.

 Strider knew enough about history to know how the young hobbit had managed 
the disappearing act, and he also knew the dangers involved, so as soon as the 
hobbit reappeared, Strider snatched him up, slinging him over his shoulder and 
headed upstairs to his room. In his haste to gain the safety of his quarters and 
being distracted by an irate hobbit elbow being shoved repeatedly into his ear, he 
tripped over the threshold to his room and sent his prize spilling onto the floor. 
He straightened and put on a menacing face, trying hard to look like he had 
meant to hurl the hobbit across the room.

 "Ow! Flipping, horse-dung...what did you do that for?" The small man glared at 
him.

 "Are you afraid of me?"

 The hobbit seemed to consider. "Yes."

 "Not nearly enough."

 "Well, we've only just met." Frodo looked around tentatively. "Where are we?"

 "My bedroom."

 "Ah. Now I'm more afraid."

 Strider was somewhat insulted. "I would never hurt you, little one."

 "That's what they all say, until I'm on my knees, then it's 'this might pinch a bit 
now...'"

 "My name is Strider. I am a Ranger, sworn to protect the innocent, the just, and 
the terminally cute."

 Frodo hesitated, then gave the man his name. Maybe it was the soft eyes, the 
gentle voice, or the filthy hair, but something about the tall man set Frodo's mind 
at ease. 

 "Well, Frodo, how would you like to become a sidekick?"

 "A what?"

 "You see, I'm a Hero, and every Hero needs a sidekick."

 "Look, that sounds great and all, and I'm flattered, really, but I've got this job to 
do  and I'm not really looking..."

 "It'll be fun, trust me." Strider advanced slowly on the hobbit, his voice soothing 
as he gently pulled Frodo towards him for a light embrace. " We'll have grand 
adventures during the day, and I'll keep you warm and safe at night, all tucked up 
tight against me in the dark, your soft breath caressing my cheek..." Frodo very 
nearly swooned, the images Strider painted sounding wonderful after months of 
lust filled longing over a hobbit who seemed only to see him as a friend. He tilted 
his head up towards Strider's lips, shutting his eyes and waiting breathlessly for 
the sweet pressure of the man's kiss.

 Just then the rickety door burst wide and a tide of angry hobbits streamed in. 
There were only three of them, actually, but they held their fists aloft in a 
menacing fashion, being right pissed that someone had made off with their friend 
and left them to pick up the bar tab. 

 "You leave him alone, you big bully, or you've me to answer to!" Sam seemed 
especially incensed, which warmed Frodo's heart, even as he tried to calm his 
fellow hobbit.

 "It's all right, Sam. He just wanted to offer his services."

 "I'll bet he did..." 

 "I know how this looks, but really he just..." Just then a screech like dragon's 
claws on a chalkboard sounded, and Strider strode manfully to the window, 
pinching out the candle and going all Ranger-stealthy. The four hobbits smashed 
together as if they had suddenly become magnetized and shuddered as one.

 "Wh-what was that?"

 Strider bit his lip. "Ring Wraiths. Dead kings who search for the bauble you 
carry." He indicated Frodo's pocket. "The Ring calls to them to bring it to its 
Master. They will never stop until they find it. They never eat, they never rest, 
they never stop to go tinkle. They serve Sauron and will kill you when they catch 
you." Strider opened a window, then grabbed his bow and notched an arrow with 
a thin rope attached to it and sighted along it to a window across the street. 

 "What'll we do?"

 Strider let fly the arrow, which whizzed through the air and landed with a soft 
thunk, followed by a small shriek, followed by a soft thud. Strider bit his lip and 
leaned out the window. "Sorry!" Taking another arrow from his quiver, he strung 
his bow again and sent another arrow aloft, this one imbedding itself nicely into 
the window casing in a building across the street. "Ah, there we go. Now we just 
have to climb out and shimmy across to the inn over there, and we'll be safe for 
the night."

 Frodo, not keen on heights, looked at him as if he were mad. "Are you mad? 
Why do we have to do that?"

 Strider smiled indulgently; Frodo was acting the part of sidekick already. "The 
Ring Wraiths felt the pull of the Ring when you used it in the bar below. They 
will come here, looking for you! We need to fool them by hiding over in the 
other inn until they go away." Strider began securing the rope to their window 
and helping poor, frightened Merry to swing out over the street.

 "Yes, yes...I've got that. I'm asking why we can't go down the stairs and cross the 
street like normal beings."

 Strider had pushed Pippin and Sam out and now turned to Frodo, picking him up 
easily and shoving him through the casing. "Look, this is how Heroes *do* 
things, and if you're going to be a sidekick, you've got to get used to this."

 Frodo clung desperately to the rope, happy to see that Merry and Pippin had 
already made it across and were helping Sam into the window, when he felt 
Strider's weight pull on the rope. The Ranger had decided to start across should 
Frodo need help, but only succeeded in stressing the line to the point where it 
pulled out of the side of their building and sent Frodo and Strider smashing into 
the front of the opposite inn. After landing in a heap at the front door, Strider 
purchased a room for them and spent the rest of the night watching Hobbits sleep 
in a pile and kissing Frodo while he was dreaming. 

 Across town, four black riders galloped up to the wooden doors of Bree and 
faced the Gatekeeper.

 "We search for the Ringbearer. We seek the Only Ring."

 "Be off with you, I don't care what you're selling! Damn equestrian 
marketers...day and night...calling all hours...just when you sit down to dinner..."

 The first rider's horse snorted loudly as it's rider grew frustrated. "We search 
for..."

 The Gatekeeper waved him off again. "Yeah, yeah, well...we've already got one, 
thank you very much."

 A second Ring Wraith pulled alongside his fellow rider. "What?"

 "He says he's got one." The first Wraith sounded genuinely confused.

 "Are you sure he's got it?"

 The Gatekeeper, eager to forestall a sales pitch, piped up. "Oh yes, it's very 
nice."

 "Well, can we come in and see it?"

 "Of course not! You're faceless, ghosty types who want to sell me worthless junk 
I can't use. Like soap and stuff."

 A third black Rider leaned forward in his saddle. "You could use a bit of soap."

 The Gatekeeper sputtered indignantly. "Mind yer own business and be off!"

 "If you do not show us the Ring, we shall storm your town." The other Riders 
nodded enthusiastically.

 "You don't frighten me, silly Wraith-like persons. I blow my nose at you..." and 
he did, just to illustrate his point.

 The Riders glance at each other. "What a strange person."

 "I'm not gonna sit here in the rain and talk with you, you dung-breathed scraps of 
Kings undergarments! I'm farting in your general direction! Your mother was a 
hamster and your father smelled of elderberries...GAH!"

 At the mention of his mother, the first Wraith screeched and charged, his fellows 
falling in rank behind him. The wooden wall collapsed under their assault, 
flattening both it and the Gatekeeper under it. Like a wave, they flooded the 
streets, finally locating the Prancing Pony and crept upstairs to slay the 
Ringbearer and steal the Ring. To their dismay, the beds only contained blankets 
and bedding, and the Wraiths took out their frustration in a spirited pillow fight. 
Satisfied they had trashed the room, they mounted their horses and rode out of 
town, barely hearing the muted curse from under the wall of Bree...

 "Bastards..."

			*			*			*

 In the morning, Strider promised to take the hobbits to Rivendell where they 
could hand over the Ring to the elves. He himself was keen on taking them so 
that he could show his adoptive father, Lord Elrond, that he really was a hero 
now because he'd got himself not one, but four sidekicks. One thing he had not 
counted on was the sheer quantity of edibles the little buggers could consume, 
and when they stopped for the night on old Weathertop, his first priority was to 
go hunt for more food. 

 He had just managed two small rabbits and mouse when he heard girly hobbit 
screaming coming from the center of the ruined fortress. He dashed back to his 
charges to find them at the mercy of several Ring Wraiths. It was common 
knowledge that the Wraiths washed their riding cloaks in gasoline, so they were 
especially flammable. Strider quickly fought them off with sword and fire, 
feeling like such the hero as the black shadows dove from the fortress and rode 
away. 

 Unfortunately, Frodo had gotten himself stabbed with a Morgul blade and would 
soon die, so they began to hoof it to Rivendell as fast as they could. Strider, 
feeling somewhat guilty at not being able to keep his new charge free from harm, 
nevertheless looked forward to providing some snuggly comfort to Frodo as he 
mended. He slung the poor hobbit over his shoulder and ran on, cursing his 
decision to trade his horse for some cheap pipe weed back in Bree.

			*			*			*

 Meanwhile, back at the Tower of Ornthanc, Gandalf was feeling especially 
miserable. Once he had regained his wits after being shoved roughly onto the 
roof, he had watched, amused, at the scenario below him. Saruman's outraged 
voice could be heard cursing and screaming at his orc minions, shouting orders 
and lamenting their lack of brains. Apparently, while Saruman was busy kicking 
Gandalf's ass, the greasy idiots had gone and felled most of the large trees 
surrounding the tower.

 "Mindless dolts! I said cut down *these* trees, not the whole stinking forest! Oh 
for...I just wanted a bigger path." Scratchy orc voices drifted skyward, groveling 
and offering to make amends, while Saruman paced furiously, thinking of some 
way he could salvage this mess. "We need something to fill in the bare 
spots...bring me...a shrubbery! You will bring me a shrubbery or else you *will* 
die horribly!...One that looks nice....and not too expensive...Now GO!"

  Shadowy orc shapes trotted away to do their Master's bidding. Gandalf sighed 
and closed his eyes, unsure how he was ever going to get off this tower. Just then 
the air around his nose seemed to wiggle and his eyes shot open at the same time 
his hand closed over the shape that had been fluttering in front of his face. When 
he opened his hand, he found a large moth nestled in his palm, and he licked his 
lips.

 "Excellent. I was getting quite famished up here..." But before he could pop the 
impromptu, winged luncheon into his mouth, he heard a small whine.

 "Wait! Don't eat me!"

 Gandalf blinked, wondering if the lack of food was affecting his mind, when the 
moth stood up straight in his hand and waved an antennae at him. Gandalf felt 
foolish, but there was no one else at the top of the tower, so he addressed the 
insect. "Are you talking to me?"

 To his relief, it answered him. "Yes! Don't eat me. If you spare me, I will do you 
a favor someday."

 Gandalf snorted, momentarily unseating the moth who flapped without grace in 
his hand. "Help me? Can you fly me down to the ground from here?"

 "Well, no."

 "Got any weapons?"

 "Not really."

 "Know any secret doorways that lead down from here?"

 "Not large enough for you, no."

 "Well, you're not much help then, are you? I mean, you'd be helping me more by 
hopping into my mouth for a chew." 

 At this, the moth paled. "Look, my name's Graham and I'm not really all that 
tasty and I do promise to think of something to help you out! Have mercy and 
don't eat me?"

 Gandalf smiled sadly. "All right, just this once." With that he let the moth fly 
away while it chortled it's thanks and gratitude. Then he went back to being 
miserable.

Part 3:

Strider whipped his torch around, looking frantically through the weedy 
undergrowth. Why is it you tripped over the damn stuff everywhere but you 
couldn't find it when you needed it? Frodo had gotten much worse, the poison 
from the blade travelling through his smaller body at an alarming pace. Strider 
was hoping to find something to slow the advance of the poison when he felt a 
cool blade at his throat. To his joy, the blade belonged to Arwen, his elven friend 
from childhood, who stood smirking at catching him unawares. He quickly 
explained their dire situation, and he and Arwen did 'rock-paper-scissors' to 
decide which of them would carry Frodo into Rivendell. Arwen won, and quickly 
mounted her steed Patsy with her sickly cargo and whispered to the horse to 
hurry. Strider watched as she rode away, realizing she had spent a lot of time 
with her telepathically nosey grandmother Galadriel, and was probably a terrific 
cheat. Strider shrugged and turned to the remaining hobbits. Sam was fairly 
frantic at the loss of Frodo and Strider got the other two moving by reciting all 
the food they could eat once they reached the elf city.

			*			*			*

 Arwen rode hard, using all her elvish powers of concentration to avoid thinking 
about how many times Frodo had barfed on her and how it was going to be hell 
washing the stuff out of her saddle. To her dismay, the Wraiths caught up with 
her just outside of the river that bordered her father's city, and she spent several 
minutes dodging them, weaving in and out of trees, jumping over logs and 
making poor Frodo even more horsesick. She finally saw the stream that fed the 
mighty river along the border and wasted no time splashing across it. The 
Wraiths, fearing the cleansing properties of water, dithered at the opposite shore, 
unsure if they would melt if they got sprayed with the stuff. Arwen taunted them, 
hoping to get them into the middle of the stream as she was sure she had timed 
this just right.

 "You want him? Come and get him, you feelthy Ring Wha-Raiths!"

 Frodo stirred, his voice rasping weakly. "It's not Wha-Raiths. It's just wraiths. 
The W is silent."

 Arwen blinked, totally unused to being corrected. "Are you sure?"

 Frodo's eyes rolled back and he wheezed. "Quite sure."

 Arwen snorted. "Well, how am I to know? I learned your language from 
'Hooked on the Common Tongue.' It's a great program that teaches language 
using phonics..." She prattled on for some time, completely missing the shallow 
breath and rolling eyes of the Hobbit until he glerbed some green muck right onto 
her arm. "...and I...ewww, gross!"

 With that, she noticed the Wraiths had finally worked up the nerve to enter the 
water and were smack in the middle of the drink as  the rumbling began. It was 
mid morning, and Arwen knew every bath in Rivendell was pretty much 
emptying at the same time, and sure enough a wall of water cascaded around the 
corner and effectively washed the Wraiths downstream. Arwen was quite pleased 
with herself until Frodo glerbed again and she rode like the wind to her father's 
house.

			*			*			*
 Frodo stirred restlessly, his dreams troubled by the figure of a floating elf head 
with long black hair and small, perfect teeth. Coming awake at last, he opened 
his eyes and blinked, finding Gandalf sitting next to him. He wanted to yell 
'Where the fuck where YOU?' but Bilbo had raised him to be polite and he really 
didn't have the strength to work up more than a feeble croak. Gandalf seemed 
pleased to see him, and Frodo did finally work up enough strength to question the 
old wizard. Gandalf didn't answer right away as his eyes glazed over and he 
drooled. This was normal behavior for him after smoking Old Toby all night 
long, so Frodo wasn't alarmed.

			*			*			*
 Gandalf thought back to his time spent on the Ornthac Tower. He had listened to 
Saruman rant and fuss for most of the night and into the next day, the only 
change had been his conversation with the moth with the big ego, whom he was 
beginning to regret not eating after all. Finally, Saruman came up to taunt him, 
trying to convince him to join him in some crazy land scheme. Truly the palantir 
had affected his mind. To Gandalf's amazement, a moth buzzed past Saruman 
while he was yammering on about tax breaks and nature preserves, and to his 
delight, it was Graham. Saruman took Gandalf's smile of recognition as humor at 
his expense and used his magic to throw Gandalf about some more, completely 
ignoring the rush of heavy wings behind him. Gandalf was dumbfounded, the 
little shit moth had come through after all! With a last taunt at Saruman, Gandalf 
stepped off the tower and landed on a giant eagle as it flew by, causing the bird to 
screech and flap furiously. Apparently Gandalf had put on a few pounds since 
they had done this last, but it managed to stabilize and headed out across the 
mountains. In his wake, Saruman fumed, batting uselessly at an annoying moth 
which flew off smugly into the night, making a weird sniggering noise.

			*			*			*
 "Gandalf....Gandalf....GANDALF!"

 Gandalf nearly fell off his chair, sputtering awake and glaring at the tall elf who 
had shoved him so roughly. Lord Elrond frowned at him, both concerned and 
annoyed, then switched his attention to the pale hobbit who was cowering under 
the gigantic covers of his bed and murmmering like a mad thing.

 "Elf head...floating...teeth..."

 "Frodo!" Gandalf shook the little being, who came around slightly, but still kept 
a wary eye on the Elf. "It's all right Frodo. You are in Rivendell, in the house of 
Lord Elrond." At this the scary elf head smiled benignly at him. "You were 
poisoned by a Wraith's blade. Lord Elrond saved your life." Frodo had just 
granted his host his thanks when the door burst open and a flurry of worried 
hobbit dashed in, rushing to Frodo's side and grabbing his hand as if he were 
drowning.

 "Frodo! My dearest, you're awake!"

 Frodo smiled. It was his sweet Sam, whom he loved more than life, but who 
would never be his lover. "Sam! It's so good to see you." 

 Elrond rolled his eyes and left the room, muttering something about needing a 
break and hobbits needing a room. Gandalf told Frodo how Sam had never once 
left his side and Sam's sappy smile and wet eyes made Frodo's stomach flutter as 
it always did when his friend petted and fussed over him. Sam adjusted the 
covers over his chest so he would not catch a chill and it was all Frodo could do 
to hold in a gasp of delight as Sam's fingers brushed slowly over his exposed 
nipple. A sudden change in his breathing and desperate biting of his lower lip had 
Sam chasing Gandalf out of the room so as not to tire Frodo. 

 Then Sam gathered the sickly hobbit into his arms and spent several minutes 
stroking his master's hair and placing small kisses all over Frodo's face, relating 
all that had happened to the company while Frodo had been recovering. Frodo 
snuggled into Sam's warm embrace, worried himself about his friend as Sam's 
breathing seemed heavy and uneven and he was sweating. As pleasant as the 
petting was, the blissful blankness of sleep was far better than the torture of 
having those warm hands roving over him in chaste friendship, and Frodo 
promptly willed himself to sleep. He so wished Sam could see their friendship as 
something more than it currently was, but Frodo would rather live in frustration 
than spoil his relationship with Sam. Sam, on discovering Frodo had fallen 
asleep, ground his teeth in frustration and cursed like a sailor.

			*			*			*
 In a few short days, Frodo was well enough to get up and began to explore the 
fabulous elf city. Merry and Pippin had already ferreted out all the swell hidey-
holes and knew the exact times the kitchen was left unguarded. They ran into 
Bilbo, who was looking a bit ragged around the edges, and Frodo had long chats 
with his benefactor. In the meantime, representatives from the free races of 
Middle Earth rode into Rivendell to discuss a weighty matter and freeload off of 
Elrond for a few days. Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, was looking forward to this 
meeting especially as he had developed a thing for the ranger, Strider, and was 
hoping to score some serious points with the human.

 The very next morning found them all meeting on Elrond's porch, shuffling in to 
grab a seat. The elves muttered about the beds being too hard, and the dwarves 
complained about the beds not being hard enough, and the humans wondered if 
they'd still get breakfast if they killed everyone at the meeting. Legolas was 
thrilled to see Aragorn there, but blushed and looked away quickly whenever the 
man caught him staring. Frodo had been invited as a courtesy and scurried to sit 
next to Gandalf, his feet swinging lazily from the chair as Lord Elrond rose 
gracefully and addressed the council.

 "Friends, free people of Middle Earth, I have asked you all here to discuss a 
matter of grave importance. We meet at this round table so that none may feel 
any less or more than another as this involves each and every-"

 "A what?"

 Elrond paused abruptly, unused to being interrupted. "What?"

 One of the elder humans spoke. "What did you call it?"

 Elrond frowned in confusion. "What?"

 The group of humans scoffed and pointed at the plinth in the center of their 
circle. "That's hardly what you'd call a table." More snickering came from the 
group of humans and even some of the elves joined in. "More of a stool, really." 
The humans chuckled heartily. Legolas took in the sad face of Aragorn and 
kicked the shin of one of his fellow elves who was cracking up, making him 
squeak.

 Elrond rolled his wide eyes and relented. "Okay, fine. I call this meeting of the 
Round Stool to discuss-"

 "It's the perfect size for a table! Can't be helped you're taller than you've a right 
to be!" As expected, the surly dwarves had taken offence and rose to challenge 
the too-tall humans. The humans took offence to this, and began a heated 
argument until Lord Elrond lost it.

 "QUIET! Now shut your lembas holes and sit down!" Caught off guard by the 
elf Lord's rare temper, everyone settled back into their seats. "Thank you. Now, 
welcome again to the Council of the Round Table..." he said, turning to glare at 
the humans. "And or Stool. It has come to our attention that the Only Ring has 
resurfaced yet again and we are here to decide it's fate. Frodo? Bring forth the 
Ring." Elrond nodded at the small hobbit who dropped off the chair, fishing in 
his pocket. To everyone's amazement, he pulled out a simple gold band and 
placed it in the middle of the short table, or average sized stool. A hushed gasp 
rippled through the council as they beheld the Ring in it's simplicity. Lord Elrond 
gave a short history of it, trying to explain it's evil nature, but Boromir, the 
Steward of Gondor, challenged this view.

 "How do you know it is evil? Perhaps we can use it for good." Various members 
of the council all began speaking at once, eager to share their tale of how the 
Ring had haunted their lives.

 "I've seen it burn whole villages!"

 "It turned elves against each other!"

 "It clogged up my drain!"

 "It ruined my souffle!"

 "It turned me into a newt!"

 All eyes focused on the young dwarf who claimed to suffer from being turned 
into an amphibian, and wondered how it was he was a newt no longer. "I got 
better..."

 Lord Elrond called for quiet again but Boromir was not finished. "Look, you lot 
get the benefit of my warriors fighting off orcs, protecting your lands. We could 
use a bit of help and the Ring may be just the thing."

 Aragorn spoke up. "The Ring is evil and cannot be used for any good." The 
Ring, while enjoying being out in the fresh air again, made a mental note to get 
Aragorn killed as soon as possible as he didn't seem to be helping its case.

 Boromir turned to the newly scrubbed, yet scruffy, man. "How would you 
know? You're just a silly Ranger."

 Legolas jumped up, his stunning visage full of indignation. "You'd do well to 
heed the words of this Ranger, for he is also Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of 
Isildur..."

 Aragorn, blushing fiercely, tried to wave off the elf. "Legolas..."

 "...Keeper of the Key to the Back Room that No One Talks About in the White 
City and heir to the Right Nasty Hounds of..."

 "Legolas, enough!"

 The blonde elf was startled out of his litany, and decided to end with a flourish. 
"In short, he's your King!" This comment was directed at Boromir, who turned to 
Aragorn, less than impressed.

 "Oh, very nice. However, since you've been gone, Gondor has become an 
autonomous collective, an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to 
act as a sort of executive officer for the week, but all the decisions of that officer 
must be approved at a bi-weekly meeting by a simple majority in the case of 
purely internal affairs."

 Listening to Boromir drone on about the political structure of Gondor helped 
Aragorn get over his embarrassment at being outed by Legolas and he wanted to 
concentrate on the matter of the Ring. "Boromir, shut up."

 But Boromir needed to prove Gondor didn't need a King. "But a two-thirds 
majority..."

 "Boromir, I order you to be quiet."

 "Order, eh?" Boromir looked at his fellow humans at the council. "Who does he 
think he is?"

 Legolas re-entered the argument. "He is your King!"

 "Well, I didn't vote for him."

 "You don't vote for kings."

  Aragorn began to receive glares from Lord Elrond. "Boromir, will you shut up!"

 "I mean, if I went round saying I was an Emperor just because my dam spread 
her legs for some pale-assed land owner with the largest knob in the county-"

 Aragorn rose and grabbed Boromir by the collar. "Shut up, will you...shut up!"

 "Ah! *Now* we see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I'm being 
repressed!"

 Lord Elrond pushed himself between the two, glaring at them both. Aragorn 
released Boromir, shoving him towards his seat. "Peasant!"

 Boromir glared at him. "Ooooooh! Did you hear that! What a giveaway. You see 
how he was repressing me? This is why Gondor needs no King."


Part 4:

Elrond glared at them some more until they quieted yet again. "Isildur's heir is 
right, the Ring can only be used for evil. It must be destroyed."

 Gimli, one of the more robust dwarves, stood. "Well, what are we waiting for?" 
With a mighty blow, he swung his great axe down square on the Ring, breaking 
the weapon into shards, one of which lodged in Frodo's temple.

 "Ow," said Frodo, jumping slightly and rubbing his head.

 The council as one looked at the Ring, still whole upon the plinth, as Elrond 
explained. "The Only Ring cannot be destroyed with any weapons we can make. 
It must be cast back where it was made-into the fiery depths of Mount Doom. 
Who will take it to be destroyed?" A deep silence settled on the group for the 
first time since they had stepped onto the porch. Falling leaves made more noise 
as they all looked back and forth at each other. "Oh, come on people."

 "Why don't *you* take it?" This from one of the elder humans.

 Elrond pursed his lips, glaring his darndest. "Well, I can't. Busy here. Rivendell 
doesn't run itself, you know."

 A dwarf snorted. "I'm not taking it. I took it last time."

 Elrond stared at him in disbelief. "Last time? I'm the only one who can use that 
excuse!"

 "Yeah, and you didn't do so well, did you?"

 "Well, don't look at me to take it."

 "Can't go to Mordor. Sulfur gives me a rash."

 "I'm booked clear through next summer. What about you?"

 "Me? I've got archery lessons! Why don't *you* get off your fat ass and take it?"

 "Who are you calling fat, you straw-haired, pointy-eared sissy-boy?"

 The entire council had risen by this time, their voices raised in anger and 
generally getting in each other's faces. Even Gandalf got up at some point and 
tapped Boromir in the nuts with his staff to shut him up. Frodo sat miserably, 
trying to work the axe shard out of his temple and ignore the whispering of the 
Ring. It seemed to grow more excited as tempers flared stronger, and Frodo 
decided that while he might be the most unlikely person to take the Ring to 
Mount Doom, he was also the only real candidate.

 "I'll take it."

 Gandalf sighed, having heard the hobbit's soft declaration over the voices of all 
the others. They finally all shut up and turned to look at Frodo, not sure if he was 
serious.

 "I'll take it, but I've never been there before so I'm going to need a map."

 Elrond smiled sadly and nodded. Gandalf strode to stand by the hobbit and put a 
reassuring arm around him, promising to accompany him.  Aragorn suddenly 
realized his cute, new sidekick was going on a dangerous trip which would 
provide him with ample hero material, and stood to offer his services. "If by my 
life or death I can protect you, I will."

 Legolas suddenly realised his new crush was going on a trip which would 
provide ample opportunities for camping and snuggling together for warmth. He 
too went to stand by the hobbit. "You have my bow."

 Gimli suddenly realised an elf was showing him up. "And my axe!" 

 Legolas rolled his eyes at Aragorn who fought a smile. Not to be outdone, 
Boromir also joined the small group. "My week as Steward is up anyway, so I 
might as well come along."

 Just then a rustling of shrubbery was heard and out popped Sam, who barreled 
toward the group. "If Frodo's going, I am too! He doesn't go anywhere without 
me!" He folded his arms to indicate he was serious, but nearly melted into a 
puddle when Frodo smiled at him. Lord Elrond was just about to declare the 
group finished when Merry and Pippin came scurrying across the porch to join 
the others. They formed an unlikely group, but Elrond had formed successful 
boybands with less likely candidates, so he had high hopes. 

 "You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." A collective sigh raced through the 
council as they all suddenly realized they were off the hook. The Fellowship, 
now suddenly realizing what they had just volunteered for, shuffled off to pack 
their gear. Aragorn said good bye to Arwen, who swore she spotted Legolas in 
the trees, his tongue stuck out at her. Sam had already packed all of Frodo's 
things in anticipation of their return to the Shire, so Frodo went to say good bye 
to Bilbo. The old hobbit gifted him with an elven sword which had the valuable 
ability to detect the presence of orcs, and a spiffy shirt made of mithril. Frodo 
thought the shirt was a bit too disco for him, but agreed to wear it under his other 
clothing. He joined the rest of the group, only having to slap Bilbo twice to get 
away from the suddenly freaky elder hobbit. The Ring seemed to have had a 
strange effect on him, and Frodo was eager to get as far from him and the scary 
elf head guy as quickly as possible.

			*			*			*
 Meanwhile, deep in Isengard, Saruman was finally sitting down to lunch in his 
quarters. It had taken him several days to whip up some sort of layout for the 
grounds after his minions had felled every tree they could get their misshapen 
hands on. Saruman sighed, mentally patting himself on the back for his amazing 
display of restraint after he had discovered the error, killing only twenty orcs to 
vent his anger. He had since spoken to Sauron, who had encouraged him to not 
waste his energy on such worthless beings, but instead to build Sauron some sort 
of invincible army. Saruman had recognized the wisdom of this and tried to set 
his feelings aside. Orcs really were idiots after all; they could hardly be held 
accountable.

 "Scabby! Bring on the wine!" 

 Saruman jumped as the orc serving him lunch bellowed for his fellow orcs to 
assist him. "What?"

 The orc faltered. "What my Lord?"

 "What did you just call him?" He waved vaguely at the wine bearing orc.

 "That's Scabby, Sir. Scabby Rash Welt." The orc bowed to Saruman.

 "That's positively disgusting." He stared at the orc. "And you're called?"

 "Itchy Mud Bottom, my Lord, at your service." Saruman made an "Eeew" face 
as Itchy gestured at the other orcs waiting in attendance. "And that's Picky 
Dangle Bits and old Crusty Dirt Squirter."

 "All right, enough!" Saruman lost his temper, feeling a bit green. "Don't any of 
you have normal names?" The orcs looked at each other, obviously confused and 
frightened. "You know, like Denali...or...or Weta." He looked at them as they 
cowered, not even sure they understood what he was getting at. "I mean...why do 
you have to be so foul? What do you call your women?" He felt perhaps the 
fairer orc sex held the key to less offensive monikers.

 Itchy brightened slightly. "Oh, well...there is Martha, Sir." The others nodded as 
he rambled on. "She's such a clever gal. She made these napkin rings out of pigs 
knuckles!" He indicated them proudly as Saruman quickly pulled his hand away 
from the greasy bone ring.

 "See, now that's a nice name. Martha you say?"

 "Aye Sir. Martha Stew Wart."

 "Arrgh!" Saruman, having completely lost his appetite, rose rapidly and left the 
room to oversee the rise of his new orc army. Itchy belted Crusty just because, 
and the rest of the orcs hastily left the room leaving Itchy with a full bowl of 
soup to polish off, which was why he was one of the plumpest orcs in the region.

 Saruman had made his way below, only to witness the birth of one of the new 
breed being dug out of the ground. It smelled even worse than it looked, and he 
trotted back upstairs, ordering the thing to be brought to him after the others had 
hosed it down. Of course, the damn orcs had hosed it down with more slime and 
now it stood in his chamber, dripping slowly and growling to itself softly. 
Saruman circled the one called Lurtz, impressed at his size and musculature. 

 "You are perfection, better than orcs or men. You are stronger, faster, and have 
the ability to say...the word!"

 Lurtz blinked and looked at his master. "Ni?"

 Saruman shuddered. "Yes...you are the Urak-Ni!" 

 Lurtz growled in satisfaction.

			*			*			*
 "Ooooof! O...okay...okay, maybe not quite so hard this time." Boromir grunted, 
having just taken a blow to the stomach from Merry while Pippin had distracted 
the human. The two hobbits giggled to each other while the rest of the company 
rested and enjoyed  the sport. Boromir had decided to teach them to defend 
themselves, never realizing cunning and underhanded cheating beat a sharp 
sword almost any day. The two hobbits routinely tag-teamed him, and if they 
weren't so adorable, he would have killed the little shits by now. As it was he was 
growing cross.

 Pippin approached him on his left. "Boromir, remember that move you showed 
me the other day?"

 "Oh, yes, you mean the...aaaaaahhhhhh!" Boromir crumpled to the ground, his 
leg having been kicked out from behind by a grinning Merry. "All right then!" he 
yelled. "One more trick like that and...and I don't know what I shall do!"

 Pippin's eyes got as big as saucers. "Wicked, wicked hobbits. We have been bad, 
and must pay the penalty!"

 Merry nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! You must hold us down..."

 "And spank us!" finished Pippin.

 Sam's ears perked up. "A spanking!"

 Frodo too, became excited. "Yes! You must spank them well, and deal with 
them as you like and then...spank me."

 Gandalf piped up. "And spank me!"

 "And me!" said Aragorn, somewhat excited by Boromir's manliness.

 "And me as well!" said Gimli, not altogether into that sort of thing, but not 
wanting to be left out.

 Gandalf nodded agreement. "You must give us all a good spanking." 

 At this, a chorus of "A spanking! A spanking!" arose from most of them, leaving 
Boromir wondering just what kind of loonies he was travelling with. "Uh..well...I 
guess it wouldn't hurt. Me anyway." He winked at Merry and Pippin, thinking 
about raising a lovely blush to their nether cheeks. Legolas, however, was not 
very keen on this spanking idea, especially as Aragorn seemed most willing to 
have Boromir fondle his bottom. He turned away to look across the horizon and 
noticed a dark shape in the sky.

 "Wait!" The elf's cry interrupted the rest of the troop who were busy lowering 
trousers and arguing over who was going to lay over Boromir's knee first. 
"There's something coming..."

 Gimli grumbled, pushing Sam out of his place in line. "It's just a cloud. Nothing 
to worry about."

 "No! It's a swarm of...swallows!"

 Aragorn looked puzzled. "African or European?"

 "I can't tell."

 Aragorn squinted at the dark, undulating shape. "Well, do they look like they 
could carry a coconut?" Legolas gave him an odd look.

 Gandalf had spotted them now. "Never mind! We're not on a migratory path for 
swallows.They act as eyes for Saruman, we must hide!"

 The group scattered, yelling "Run and hide! Run and hide!" while seeking out 
places of concealment. The swallows circled the rocky area, then turned and flew 
back the way they came. When they were well out of sight, the Fellowship 
crawled out, but the mood for spanking was broken.

 Gandalf sighed. "We're being watched by Saruman. We'll have to take the Pass 
of Caradhras." 

 Legolas grumbled. "I wish I had known, I would have packed my fashionably 
fuzzy boots." His mood improved though, as Aragorn gave him a quick shoulder 
hug before heading off to thumb wrestle Boromir to determine who got to carry 
Frodo up the snowy mountain. 

 Merry and Pippin pouted at being so cruelly robbed of a spanking, and Merry 
tried to cheer the younger hobbit. "Don't worry Pip, we'll figure it out somehow. 
We'll have a spanking."

 "And after the spanking...the oral sex! Right?" Pippin fairly bounced beside him.

 "Just so, Pip. Just so."

 Sometime later the group straggled along a ridge, forming a line to break up the 
snow and making Gandalf go first as it was his smart idea to come this way. The 
deep snow was especially hard on the hobbits, being so short, and before long 
Frodo lost his footing and rolled down a hill until Aragorn caught him. Once on 
his feet again, Frodo was alarmed to find the chain holding the Only Ring had 
slipped off his neck and was lost. His eyes traveled up the broken snow and he 
spied it, just as Boromir was picking it up.

 "Oh, look what I found." The human seemed entranced by the sparkly ring.

 Aragorn glared at the him. "That belongs to Frodo."

 Boromir glanced up. "I don't see his name on it. Could be anybody's. Finders 
keepers."

 Aragorn gaped at Boromir. "We're on a mountain in the middle of fucking 
nowhere. Who else is going to lose a gold ring up here? Now give it back, 
Boromir."

 The man smirked and handed the chain to Frodo. "Fine. But don't say I never 
gave you anything." He ruffled the hobbits dark curls as Frodo fumed. The hobbit 
had decided it was a good thing they had skipped the spankings after all. He 
wasn't sure he really trusted the human anymore.

 Hours later, Frodo didn't care if Sauron himself showed up and asked for the 
damn ring. They were traveling along a steep and narrow ledge, plowing through 
drifts that sometimes reached over Frodo's head. Aragorn had won the honor of 
carrying himself and Sam, but he was starting to regret wearing his fashionable 
short trousers as his bottom half was freezing. Watching Legolas walk on top of 
the snow began to annoy him as well, the situation made worse because the damn 
elf decided to catch up on his aerobics while he waited for the rest to catch up. 

 Gimli suggested they go through the mountain instead, as he was related to the 
dwarves who lived there, but Gandalf had been against the idea. None of the 
others knew, but Gandalf often gambled with Balin, the King of Moria, and owed 
the dwarf quite a lot of money. Balin always insisted his luck with the cards came 
from several charms he wore, but Gandalf suspected he was just a cheat. They 
had not parted on great terms and Gandalf was loathe to confront Balin again.

 The swallows had returned to Saruman, however, and after hearing where the 
Fellowship was headed, he promptly strode to the top of his tower and used his 
powers to wreak havoc on the mountain. To the groups dismay, a small 
avalanche fell from above, burying them in powdery whiteness. Seeing Legolas 
finally getting snow in his ears lifted their spirits somewhat, but in the end, Frodo 
decided to take their chances in the mines and the group made their way slowly 
down the mountain.


Part 5:

 Nightfall found them outside the door of Moria, smoking and fidgeting while 
Gandalf kicked and swore at the unmoving stone. Pippin wanted very much to 
laugh, but he could tell from the look on Gandalf's face he would get a spanking 
from the old wizard that he wouldn't enjoy one bit. Frodo, being a very clever 
hobbit who liked puzzles, figured out the secret word to open the door, and in 
they went. It was very dark and dusty in the mine, and once Gandalf had ignited 
the crystal in his staff, they discovered the rotting remains of dwarves and orcs 
strewn about the stairs. High pitched girly screams echoed from one end of the 
mountain to the other, and the band fell over itself trying to get out as fast as 
possible. 

 "Run and hide! Run and hide!"  Unfortunately, something wicked awaited them 
as they streamed out of the mine. An enormous tentacle wrapped around Frodo's 
waist and began to drag him to the inky water. Boromir began slashing at the 
ropey appendages, yelling for help while the hobbits tried to grab Frodo. 

 Aragorn gasped. "Gandalf! It's a huge sea creature!"

 Gandalf frowned. "Oh, I think not. We're too far inland for salt water. No, I 
rather think..."

 Sam began to panic as the Watcher lifted his beloved Frodo high into the air. 
"SCREW THAT! Help us!" Aragorn and Boromir continued to hack away while 
Legolas managed to send an arrow into a tender part, causing the creature to lose 
it's grip on Frodo and become even more enraged. The Fellowship had no choice 
but to take refuge in the mine, but the Watcher pursued them and caused a cave-
in. With little else to do, Gandalf lighted his staff and they headed out through 
the mountain.

 It was slow going, being so dark and with the place in obvious neglect. Gimli 
had bragged and promised such a welcome for them in Moria, tales full of warm 
fires and cool beer, but he had been silent for the past few days. They did get lost 
once, and while they rested, Frodo spied the luminous eyes that had been 
following them. He mentioned it to Gandalf, who knew it was Gollum all along.

 "Gollum! Goodness Gandalf, maybe we should kill it?"

 "Don't be in such a hurry to waste stuff, Frodo. What's gotten into you? You're 
generally not so bloodthirsty."

 Frodo pursed his lips cutely. "I've heard tales about Gollum. They say...they say 
Gollum might be a...girl."

 Gandalf smoked some more, still trying to figure out which way to go. "What of 
it?"

 Frodo looked at the old wizard as if he were mad. "Gandalf, this is an all boy 
Fellowship! I don't want girls to start following us on our secret quest and 
spoiling it." He didn't mention it, of course, but he was especially worried 
because girls seemed to gravitate to his Sam, and he was rather enjoying the 
amount of exclusive attention his fellow hobbit had been lavishing on him this 
trip. Gandalf began to laugh so hard he fell off the rock he was sitting on, but that 
turned out to be beneficial as it showed him the way out.

 Across stone bridges and around a few bottomless pits later, they found 
themselves in an impressive hallway, lined by huge stone pillars that seemed to 
go on for miles. Gimli spotted a shaft of light streaming into a room and dashed 
off to investigate. To his despair, the light led him directly to a room which 
housed a stone sarcophagus. Gandalf read the inscription on the tombstone.

 "Here lies Balin, beloved king and really good card player." Good card player 
my ass, thought Gandalf, who still believed the dwarf cheated, but he said 
nothing as Gimli mourned. 

 Aragorn swallowed, realizing not everyone loved a king. "Did he have any 
enemies who could have done this?"

 Gimli sniffed. "Oh, many. They were always after his lucky charms." Boromir 
comforted the dwarf as Gandalf read from the slashed and decrepit gambling 
book that had been clutched for years in the grasp of a skeleton. The writing 
indicated there was something evil in the mines, something the wilely dwarves 
could not kill or outrun. Legolas urged flight, citing how badly he reacted to 
imminent death. Left unsupervised, Pippin had begun exploring the tomb and 
spotted a cobweb encrusted skeleton sitting on a toilet. He felt rather sad for the 
hapless dwarf, having his constitutional so brutally disturbed, and tried to at least 
free the arrow from its chest. No sooner had he touched it, however, when the 
whole skeleton collapsed and fell into the john.  Everyone froze as the sound of 
bones, armor and a stray bucket clattered noisily into the dried up sewer, deep in 
the heart of the mountain. Pippin nearly burst into tears.

 "Fool of a Took!" rasped Gandalf. Sure enough, strange drums started up and 
they found themselves beset by a troop of orcs before they could even leave the 
room. A cave troll followed shortly after, totally pissed at being awoken and 
began smashing everything in its path. Much fighting and girly screaming later, 
the troll, the orcs, and Frodo lay dead on the floor of the tomb. Sam had 
witnessed the troll stabbing Frodo and gone completely postal, killing everything 
that moved until he could reach Frodo's side. With shaking hands, he gently 
touched his sweet friend, gasping in joy to discover that the hobbit was still alive. 
A shirt of mithril, Bilbo's parting gift, had spared him a nasty death by spiking, 
and it was all Sam could do to keep from kissing him right on the mouth. He did 
manage to grope a bit, before they decided they better get the hell out of the 
mines before more orcs showed up.

 Naturally, that's exactly what happened. Not far from the tomb, they were 
surrounded in the great hall by a virtual sea of orc warriors, all licking their lips 
and making rude gestures. Sam was very nearly about to declare his love to 
Frodo, seeing as they were about to die and all, when suddenly the orcs began 
scampering away from the astonished group. In a matter of moments they were 
alone again in the stone hallway, scratching their heads. Legolas sniffed 
experimentally and flicked a glance at Gimli.

 "You didn't..."

 Gimli blustered. "I most certainly did not!"

 A red glow began to pulse farther back in the mine, and a deep rumbling could 
be heard. Gandalf blanched, matching the panic on Legolas' face. "To the bridge 
of Khazad-Dum! Run!" They took off, dashing over stairs and walkways, nearly 
heaving themselves into a pit in their haste. The stairs were badly damaged when 
they got there, and the quaking underfoot began to erode the stone stairway 
further, but they all managed to either leap or be thrown across. By now a huge 
fiery shape could be seen pursuing them, and they made haste across the bridge 
with Gandalf bringing up the rear. 

 "What the hell is that?" Boromir shouted, Merry, Pippin and Sam clutching at 
his legs in fear while Frodo leaped into his arms.

 Gandalf looked grim. "Death. Death with nasty, big, pointy teeth!" Red firelight 
bled into the corridor, a huge shadow darkening the far wall. "Too late! There it 
is!" Legolas gripped Aragorn in a lusty panic while Gimli squeaked manfully.

 "Where? Where?" shouted Aragorn.

 The shadow shrank as the being came closer, finally revealing a small white 
rabbit hopping erratically towards the bridge. "There!" shouted Gandalf.

 "Where? Behind the rabbit?"

 "It *is* the rabbit!" snarked Gandalf. The rest of the Fellowship stared at the 
hare as it bounced around the end of the bridge, wiggling it's nose. 

 Boromir scoffed, Frodo still clutched firmly to his chest. "You silly sod. You got 
us all worked up."

 "You old git, I nearly soiled my armor." Gimli was not pleased.

 "Mind, that's no ordinary rabbit. It's a Bunrog! The most foul, cruel and bad 
tempered thing you'll ever set eyes on. He's got a vicious, killing streak."

 Boromir chuckled as Merry and Pippin released their death grips on his legs. 
"What's he do? Nibble your bum?"

 Gandalf seemed no less frightened. "Well, it's got huge...very sharp...it can 
jump...you, you saw the bones!" Taking advantage of the wizard's inattention, the 
rabbit leaped halfway across the bridge and sank it's fangs into his leg, spilling 
forth a torrent of blood. 

 "Gandalf!" screamed Frodo, as the others looked on in horror.

 "I warned you! Did you listen to me? Noooooooo...you knew better didn't you!" 
Gandalf swung at the rabbit with his staff, but the hare was too fast for him and 
struck again at the other leg. "No, it's just an ordinary rabbit isn't it. What you 
must have thought of me." Just then the stone bridge collapsed and the rabbit 
made a final leap onto his back, tearing at his flesh as the old wizard clung to the 
rock, the great pit spinning below him. "Can't say I didn't warn you! It's always 
the same..."

 "Gandalf!" Frodo screamed again, helpfully.

 Gandalf looked meaningfully at Aragorn. It was up to him to lead the Fellowship 
to its destiny as Gandalf let go of the bridge, sending himself and the Bunrog 
plummeting into the abyss. 

 "Nooooooooo! Gandalf!" It was a good thing Boromir hadn't put Frodo down as 
the young hobbit would have surely leapt in after his old friend. Knowing there 
was nothing more they could do, the rest ushered the other hobbits out of the 
mine. They finally broke free and had themselves a very brief sob before setting 
off on their journey. None of them were feeling very spunky after all this, and 
Legolas suggested they stop in the elf city of Lothlorien.

 "Do you know much about it?" asked Aragorn.

 Legolas looked hopeful. "Well, I hear they have naked archery tournaments."

 Gimli spoke up. "It's a cursed wood, ruled by a witchy elf. Up to no good, if you 
ask me."

 "No one asked *you*," said a voice from the woods. A small band of elves, led 
by a snotty boy named Haldir, appeared from behind the trees and began to sing 
and dance.

 "We're the elves of Lothlorien,
  We'll sing and dance some more and then-
  You can grab some grub, soak in a tub
  Settle down and start to snore again,
  Or have a wank, till your mind goes blank,
  Overload your sensorium!

  We're the elves of Lothlorien,
  Singing Gandalf a memorium,
  We'll lend you boats, as we hit high notes-
  In our spacious auditorium,
  Just don't make a mess, when you eat Lembas,
  At the sparkling sanitarium!

  We're the elves of Lothlorien,
  Our king is Lord Celeborium-
  He is quite dull, but when there's a lull,
  Galadriel's a moratorium,
  You don't dare laugh, at her bird bath,
  Or she'll kick your ass…right out of....Loth...lorien!"

 The elves finished with a flourish, disappearing again into the forest. Aragorn 
blinked, then looked at Boromir and Legolas before making his announcement.

 "Let's not go to Lothlorien. It is a silly place."

 Gimli grunted in agreement and the group continued on their way to the shores 
of the river to steal the elven boats while no one was looking.

			*			*			*
 Legolas twitched, staring off into the woods that lined the Anduin. He had felt 
an uneasy presence since they had swiped the boats, but did not wish to mention 
it to Gimli as he was sure the dwarf would insinuate Legolas was just trying to 
get Aragorn's attention. Gimli was doing a lot of that, and it was getting on the 
elf's nerves. Aragorn and Boromir paddled on ahead, racing each other like 
children and making the hobbits squeak with fear as the diminutive beings could 
not swim. With his more sensitive ears, Legolas thought he could hear sounds in 
the forest. Oily dark shapes that crunched leaves and snapped twigs and voices 
that sounded disturbingly like they were saying "Ni, Peng, and Nee-wum!" 

 They finally reached a point on the river suitable for stopping and the hobbits 
hopped out, grousing about getting their foot fur wet, while the stronger members 
of the group hauled the boats onto shore. Legolas took an opportunity to cuddle 
up to Aragorn to warn him of his vague misgivings. To his delight, Aragorn shot 
him a smouldering look which made Legolas all wobbly inside. Aragorn, on the 
other hand, decided Legolas looked rather cute all warm and bothered, and made 
a plan to sneak up on the elf that night and scare the pants off of him. 

  Everyone was busy setting up camp and it wasn't until Merry decided he needed 
something from Frodo's pack that they discovered he was missing. Sam began to 
panic and even Aragorn was concerned when he noticed Boromir was also 
missing. The group split up and set off to find the errant members.

 Not far away, but far enough that the rest of the Fellowship was out of earshot, 
Boromir busied himself gathering firewood. Looking up, he noticed Frodo 
crouching next to an extrodinaryly large carved stone face that was lying on its 
side, while the hobbit had his hand stuck in the nostril, busily groping at 
something. He cocked his head to the side and edged closer, trying to keep from 
laughing out loud.

 "Find anything good in there?" he asked as quietly as he could so as not to startle 
the hobbit.

 "GAH!" Frodo said, anyway.

 "What are you doing?"

 Frodo panted in startlement. "I was...I found some mushrooms." He held out his 
hand and displayed his find, but as Boromir came closer to see, light from the 
Only Ring at Frodo's neck caught the human's attention. Frodo looked up, 
slightly alarmed at the look in Boromir's eyes as he stared at the Ring.

 "You know," said Boromir, "that ring is definately not your color."

 Frodo began to sweat. "Wh-what do you mean?"

 Boromir gestured at Frodo's head. "Dark hair like that? You should only be 
wearing silver. It would compliment your eyes too."

 Frodo backed away, very sure there was something amiss with Boromir. "Since 
when did you become an expert on jewelry?"

 Boromir scoffed. "I know these things. I'm a Steward of Gondor! You're just a 
simple Shire peasant. I mean, nothing wrong with that, but you haven't the 
sophistication when it comes to accessorising. Trust me, you need to be a blonde, 
like me, to pull off a gold band like that."

 Frodo's eyes widened. "You can't wear it!"

 Boromir turned rather nasty. "Look you little backwater snot, I'm the only one of 
this group who has the breeding and natural hair coloring to wear that ring with 
any sense of style. Now give it!" 

 He dove at Frodo, but the little hobbit was quick and Boromir only just managed 
to grab one large hairy foot. Frodo squeaked in alarm and instinctively batted at 
Boromir's face with his hands. Unfortunately for Boromir, one hand still held the 
mushrooms Frodo had picked from the statue's nose, and he got himself a 
mouthfull of foul smelling loam. Roaring in disgust, he spat and backed off of the 
hobbit, giving Frodo just enough time to kick him in the chest and slip on the 
Only Ring, rendering himself invisible. Boromir gagged and choked, wiping his 
mouth, until he realized the hobbit was no where to be seen. He paniced at first, 
thinking Frodo had been taken, but then realised the frightened hobbit must have 
used the ring to escape him. Crying, the human apologized profusely, but Frodo 
stubbornly refused to answer.
		*			*			*


Part 6:

A few miles away, the legion of Urak-Ni who had been trailing the Fellowship 
caught the scent of the Only Ring being used and Lurtz changed their course, 
excitedly homing in on the prize. Saruman had created them for this sole 
purpose, and after anointing them with marshmallow fluff, had sent them off to 
locate the group who carried the Ring. Lurtz was hoping to hunt for something 
more worthy of a warrior of his great strength and cunning, but fetching 
something Saruman had lost was probably the old wizards way of a trial run. 
Lurtz had no intention of screwing it up and urged his troop faster towards the 
stone ruins on the hill.

 Frodo stumbled in the windy shadows that always accompanied his putting on of 
the Ring. He also had to deal with the fiery eye of Sauron which freaked him out 
completely. If the damn thing would just blink, he could maybe deal with the fact 
that it was taller than a mountain and made of fire, but the unnaturalness of the 
staring eye was more than the hobbit could take and he pulled off the Ring. 
Unhappily, he also fell off the stone ruins and landed on his shapely ass in the 
dirt. Sighing, he was thinking what a good thing it was no one had witnessed this, 
when a voice called his name.

 "Frodo, are you all right?"

 Squeaking, and making a mental note to break himself of the habit, Frodo 
jumped to his feet and whirled around, worried Boromir was right behind him. 
To his relief, Aragorn stood there, looking sweaty and very concerned. Frodo 
allowed himself a shudder as he remembered his exchange with the other human.

 "It's Boromir. The Ring has taken his wits. He tried to jump me." Aragorn 
looked puzzled, wondering why anyone would need an evil influence to want to 
jump such a cutie like Frodo. "He was after the Ring."

 "Oh, that *is* bad. Looks like Boromir may need a spanking more than the rest 
of us." Aragorn stepped into the clearing, but halted when he noticed Frodo 
backing away from him. "What's the matter? Surely you know I would never hurt 
you."

 Frodo's bottom lip trembled sweetly. "How can I be sure? Boromir could not 
keep from desiring the Ring. How do I know you won't take it?" At that point the 
hobbit seemed to deflate, the stress of the task before him becoming too much. 
"Maybe you should take it."

 The Ring tempted Aragorn, not altogether thrilled with the human, but it wasn't 
going to be picky if it meant it could escape the stubborn hobbit. While it was 
happy to be out of his smelly pocket, it had been chained around his neck ever 
since, and was growing impatient. It shivered slightly as Aragorn knelt, his hand 
slowly reaching for it.

 At the last moment, Aragorn curved Frodo's hand around the Ring and pressed it 
against his chest, causing the Ring to metaphorically slap itself silly. "I can't take 
it, Little One. Arwen thinks we have a "thing" going between us and would kill 
me if she caught me wearing someone else's ring. I'm sorry. I was really looking 
forward to camping out on Mount Doom with you." Tears sprung to Aragorn's 
eyes as he realized he was giving up his precious sidekick, but it couldn't be 
helped.

 Frodo nodded, resigned to his fate. "I have to go alone. Please look after my 
sweet, sweet Sam and tell him I wish there could have been more between us. 
Oh, and watch out for the others. They're sort of idiots." Aragorn smiled sadly, 
kissing Frodo's fingers. Looking down, he was shocked to see the hobbit's crotch 
was a funny blue color, then realized what it meant and sprang to his feet.

 "Sting!"

 Frodo blinked. "Beg pardon?"

 "Your sword! Orcs are coming! Run Frodo, I shall hold them off as long as I 
can."

 Frodo sniffled and took off, heartbroken that he was going to have to finish this 
trek by himself. Just then the Urak-Ni sprang from the forest, shouting words 
which brought fear and pain to all who heard them. Frodo stuck his fingers in his 
ears and scampered over and under bushes and trees, headed for the river. 
Aragorn was joined in the mayhem by Gimli and Legolas who had a bet in 
Balin's honor to see who could kill more of the orcs. 

 Meanwhile, Boromir was on his way back to camp, feeling rather low about 
himself and surprised that he had wandered so far away, when he saw the Urak-
Ni chasing Merry and Pippin. Breaking into a heroic run, he leapt upon the beasts 
assaulting his lovely hobbits and began hacking and slashing. He had just enough 
time to blow his horn before a tide of the new and improved orcs burst into the 
clearing, their shouts of "Ni!" crippling the brave human and allowing them to 
shoot him with their thick, manly arrows. Boromir fell to his knees sobbing as he 
saw the Urak-Ni making off with his hobbits.

 Aragorn had been on his way back to the river when he heard the Horn of 
Gondor and knew Boromir had to be in big trouble to risk blowing it as the man 
got teased mercilessly every time he used it. Legolas and Gimli had stayed 
behind to make sure all the orcs were dead and that no more would follow, so it 
was up to Aragorn to stop the lead orc from finishing Boromir off. Flying into the 
woody clearing, Aragorn kicked Lurtz behind the knees in a move that would 
have made Merry proud. Lurtz went down with a roar and jumped back up, only 
to feel Aragorn's sword slice clean through his left arm.

 This gave Lurtz pause, and he glanced down at the spurting stump. Aragorn, on 
the other hand, was grinning rather smugly, hopping around the clearing, faking 
stabs at the hulking orc and just waiting for the damn thing to die.

 "Aha. Cut your arm off, didn't I?"

 To his great surprise, Lurtz merely stared back at him. "It's just a scratch."

 Aragorn ceased his hopping and the smug look left his kingly features. "A 
scratch? Your arm's off!"

 "No it isn't."

 Aragorn pointed at the appendage lying in a bed of bloody leaves. "Explain 
that."

 "I've had worse."

 "Liar."

 "Come on, you twink. I've heard humans are fey."

 Aragorn rushed the beast, slamming his elbow into the bloody stump and 
avoiding Lurtz's own blade. They crossed swords viciously for a few moments 
until Lurtz let his guard down and Aragorn promptly lopped off his right arm as 
well, jumping away from the fountaining blood. 

 "YES!" Aragorn punched the sky, grinning like a mad thing, but Lurtz only 
pursed his hideous lips and assessed his damage, then faced off with the smaller 
human again.

 "Come on then."

 Aragorn stopped and stared. "What?" Lurtz took advantage of Aragorn's 
confused state and gave him a kick square across the thigh. The human howled in 
pain, grabbing his leg. "Are you mad?"

 "Had enough?"

 "You stupid bastard. You haven't got any arms left!"

 "So? It's just a flesh wound." Lurtz got in a heavy kick to Aragorn's butt. "Had 
enough?"

 "Stop that or I'll have your leg!" Lurtz aimed another kick at the human and 
Aragorn lost his temper, slicing cleanly through Lurtz's leg. The great orc 
managed to stay upright, but he was rather pissed about the loss of limb. 

 "I'll do you for that."

 Aragorn gaped at him. "You'll what?"

 "Come here, human scum."

 Aragorn scoffed. "What are you going to do, bleed on me?"

 "I am invincible."

 "You're a looney."

 "Saruman says I will always triumph! Have at you."

 "He's as daft as you are." So saying, Aragorn hacked the last leg off and Lurtz 
fell onto his stumpy butt on the ground. The orc wiggled a bit.

 "All right, we'll call it a draw." Aragorn noticed Boromir had fallen over and he 
turned to see to his friend. "Oh, running away, eh? You yellow bastard. Stay here 
and take what's coming to you! I'll bite your legs off!" Then he belatedly 
remembered he was one of the orcs who say "Ni," so he began to say "Ni" until 
Aragorn had had enough and came over and chopped his head off.

			*			*			*
 Near the shore of the river, Frodo had finally managed to shove one of the elven 
boats out into the current and was paddling as fast as he could to the other side. 
To his dismay, Sam had burst from the edge of the wood, screaming his name 
and insisting he be brought along. It broke Frodo's heart, but he denied the 
younger hobbit, only to watch, shocked, as Sam ran into the water after him. Sam 
splashed and flailed, finally sinking like a stone as Frodo screamed his name 
helpfully. He paddled as fast as he could to the last spot he had seen his beloved 
Sam and plunged a hand into the cold water. Swirling it about, he finally gripped 
hairy curls and pulled. The extra pain startled the drowning hobbit and he surged 
to the surface, coughing and gagging as Frodo helped him into the boat. Sam 
gasped and sputtered, quaking with fear and cold, and risked a look at Frodo.

 "Sam, I have to do this alone. Why did you follow me?"

 Wiping water from his face, Sam finally decided to risk his heart. "Mr. Frodo, I 
can't let you go alone. First off, Mr. Gandalf'll haunt me sure if I don't keep an 
eye on you, but it's more than that." Frodo blinked and stared at him with wide, 
blue eyes and Sam thought he would burst. "If you went on without me and 
something were to happen to you, why, I would just die, no mistake. You're my 
world and my heart would go still if I couldn't be with you."

 Frodo blinked, wondering if he had sustained a blow to the head and was 
hallucinating. "What are you trying to say, Sam?"

 The other hobbit sighed. "I love you, Frodo."

 Frodo gave a tiny gasp. "You love me?" Sam smiled wide, and Frodo squeaked 
with joy, his new resolution be damned. He threw himself at Sam, wrapping his 
arms around him and felt Sam embrace him just as tightly. Tears of joy ran down 
his face, but that was okay because amidst his darkest hour, his dream had finally 
come true. "Oh Sam, you mean to tell me all those brotherly hugs you gave me 
were because you had feelings for me?"

 Sam blushed. "Yes."

 "And...and when you'd hold my hand when we took walks in the woods 
together, and you said it was because you were frightened, even though I seemed 
more scared than you...you just wanted to hold my hand?"

 Sam smiled. "It's true."

 "And that's why you insist on tucking me into bed and kissing my cheek, even 
though we're much too old to be tucked in anymore?"

 Sam sighed. "Mmmm hmmm."

 "And when you'd steal my clothes at the swimming hole and wouldn't give them 
back and you'd hold them over your head and make me jump and jump to try and 
get them?"

 Sam's blush rushed up his neck. "Yeah, well..."

 "And all the times we climbed trees and you'd insist on helping me by gripping 
my butt and lifting me up?"

 "Uh...you know I always thought that was sort of a dead giveaway..."

 "Oh Sam!" Frodo hugged the red-faced hobbit fiercely and the two took up the 
paddles and headed for the opposite shore.

			*			*			*
  Deeper in the woods, Legolas was the first to hear the heated battle between 
Aragorn and another set of Urak-Ni and urged the squat dwarf to run faster. He 
burst into the clearing, tripping over more dead orcs, totally absorbed in the sight 
before him. Aragorn, beautiful, pungent Aragorn, was bent over the body of the 
rude human Boromir, who was even now exchanging some sort of vow of fealty 
to his liege. Legolas ground his teeth together. Aragorn was HIS! He managed to 
keep from drawing his bow on the human though, noticing he already sported 
three arrows the size of fishing rods in his chest cavity. Legolas had to admire the 
strength of will certain humans possessed. They clung to life rather tenaciously 
when they had a mind to, and apparently got real chatty when they realized they 
were going to die.

 Boromir stopped his yakking after a moment and Legolas breathed a sigh of 
relief. Now he had no real competition for Aragorn's affection; Gimli was too 
hairy and the hobbits were too small. It was all he could do to keep the smile 
from sneaking onto his face, when suddenly Aragorn bent down and kissed 
Boromir! Legolas nearly choked, hoping that was just a brief display of grief and 
not a hidden love thing, or that Aragorn was into necrophelia. He swallowed hard 
as the sovereign of Gondor rose, unshed tears welling in his eyes. 

 "We need to prepare a fitting ceremony for him. He fought bravely."

 Legolas nodded. "I'll stand watch over him," he offered, as Gimli and Aragorn 
set off to make a travois to drag the body to the river with. As he stepped closer 
to the still body on the ground, his keen elven eyes caught the slight rise and fall 
of Boromir's chest. Sucking in a quiet breath, Legolas watched the others as they 
stepped into the woods, hoping they didn't notice. They were happily out of 
earshot when Boromir began to groan softly. Legolas shushed him.

 "Ohhh...Legolas, is that you? Damn, these arrows hurt. Do you think you could 
pull them out? I'm kinda...well..."

 "Look, those wounds are fatal Boromir. No sense causing yourself undue pain. 
You and Aragorn just shared a peaceful good bye, now just leave it at that."

 "Aragorn," Boromir got a lazy smile on his face that Legolas wanted to slap 
right off. "He's so nice...he's got pretty eyes..." Unable to reign his temper, 
Legolas kicked the side of Boromir's head sharply. "Oww! Whad'ja do that for?"

 Legolas feigned innocence. "Do what? You must be hallucinating. I hear that 
happens to your kind when you die."

 Boromir thought about that for a minute. "Actually, I'm feeling a bit better."

 "No, it just feels that way because you're losing sensation in your body. It'll 
pass."

 "No really, I think I can lick this." His hands began to twitch, seeking the shaft 
of the arrows imbedded in him.

 Legolas rolled his eyes. What did it take to off these humans, anyway? "You're 
not fooling anyone you know. You're done for and we're going to give you a 
proper watery send off, so just be still."

 "Proper send off?" Boromir began to whine. "But, I don't want to go on the 
boat!"

 The Elf could hear Aragorn and Gimli returning to the clearing, and clubbed 
Boromir soundly with his bow before they could catch on. Finally the man was 
still and the three dragged him to the shore, arranging his body in one of the 
elven boats, his sword in his hand. Happily, he only began to stir as they were 
shoving the boat out into the current, but Legolas helpfully covered his mouth 
with a steady hand.

 Stepping to his side, Legolas put a comforting arm around Aragorn, who sniffled 
slightly as the boat bearing the brave warrior plummeted over the waterfall. The 
man stuck his chin up though, and suggested they go chase orcs to cheer 
themselves up. Legolas happily pranced after his love, wincing only slightly 
when he heard a faint voice from below the falls.

 "I'm okay!"

			*			*			*
 On a rocky hillside overlooking the valley at the base of fiery Mount Doom, two 
hobbit voices rose over the sickly breeze.

 "...and how you would never let me have a taste of your birthday cake unless 
you fed me with your tongue?"

 Sam sighed hugely. "Yeah, that too." 

 They stopped, looking at their destination and Frodo leaned over and placed a 
kiss on Sam's lips. "I'm so glad you're with me, Sam. I just wish I had known 
how you felt all those years ago." They continued on the trail, holding hands and 
smiling.

 "And how about that time you had to help me, cause you were very sure I wasn't 
masturbating quite right...."

 "You really are dense, aren't you Mr. Frodo?"

 "Oh! And that thing you do with your toes when we're in the bath together?"

 "Don't know what I see in you..."

 Fin