ongoing role-play parody by various fans on Bucklebury.net
Fog on the Barrow Downs
smoke, the fog on the Barrow Downs crawls through the shallow valleys
and clings like moist cotton candy to the monolithic stones over Rag's
tomb...."As I ride through the land on this maniacal chase,
Impatiently Rags waits. He decides to
listen to a little music while time passes, so he turns on his hi-fi
and settles back with a cup of tea.
"And now for your listening pleasure, "Ringwraith's Paradise",
by Elf Agent, the hottest new act since The King Has Left The
(To the tune of "Gangsta's Paradise" by Coolio in "Dangerous
I know I can't crack a smile, 'cause I don't even have a face.
And I've been dwelling in shadow so long that
Even my charger thinks that my mind is gone.
But I ain't never killed a man that kept out of my way;
If you don't want any trouble, stay off the highway.
You better watch what you're sayin' and where you're strayin'
Or you and your comrades might be roadkill one day.
I�m bored to death unless executing tasks
For the psycho dude that sports hokey metal masks, fool...
If my cohorts come obliterate you, who's to blame us?
I�m not after your cash; sure I'm poor, but I�m famous.
We�ve all spent our afterlives walkin' in a Ringwraith's paradise.
We had rings, but paid the price walkin' in a Ringwraith's paradise.
We�re just nine old undead guys walkin' in a Ringwraith's paradise.
Stop and smell the edelweiss walkin' in a ringwraith's paradise."
Rags reaches over and turns of the radio with a snap. "I HATE
The hobbits stuffed the last of the
potatoes in among the packs on the ponies and set off at a brisk pace,
confidently but not without at least a few wary backward glances at the
shuttered windows of the house behind them. The rain had made
everything delightfully freshened and the fogbank looked almost
cheerfully bright in the morning sun. They made good time without
sign of pursuit and no sound of any hoy-hoy-dilly-dallys,
great sigh of relief as they ducked into the swirling fog.
"I know the Road is around here somewhere," said Frodo as they walked
along through the mist, "so let's keep an eye out for it. That's
supposed to take us straight to Bree. Gandalf said he'd be there, and
it would be nice to have a good ale for a change... Say, how about we
stop for a bit to eat? This big rock here would work to lean our
on. Break out the potatoes, Sam!"
To the hobbits's surprise and delight,
they found a chequered cloth spread on the ground beside the chilly
stone. On it was spread a sumptuous luncheon; roast mutton and
jelly, mushrooms and bacon, fresh-baked bread and bowls of steaming
carrots and candied apples. Also there was a plate full of
cookies, full to heaping. There was no one in sight. It was
as if it
had been laid out for them.
On the edges of the blankets were small white place cards, written in
rusty ink with the names of each hobbit.
There was even a dusty bottle of wine, rather dry but richly flavoured.
The fog was thick all around, except on the top of this strange mound,
where the sun was warmly shining. It was cool near the great
where, if the hobbits get close enough, they might see a small sign
which reads "Wet Paint"
Merry's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the wonderful feast,
and he looked at his companions.
They looked doubtful, albeit hungry, but Merry had had his fill of
potatoes the day before and roast mutton with mint jelly was one of his
very favorite dishes.
Then he saw the bowl of carrots and his
face fell. "Oh, no," he groaned, "after that last run in with Farmer
Maggot I swore a sacred oath that I'd not eat anything that's been
cooked with or placed near a bowl of carrots. I think I'd best not have
His stomach growled piteously but Merry took a step away...
..then was promptly knocked down as three pairs of hobbit feet trode
him into the mud on their way to the picnic feast.
"Oh, that's going to leave a mark," he moaned. "Wow - look at this
picnic!" said Frodo
happily. "Who cares where it came from - finder's keepers! Every hobbit
for himself!" He joined the others, locust-fashion, stuffing
faces until they couldn't eat another bite which is saying quite a lot
Finally filled to the brim with something other than potatoes,
found he was beginning to nod off. After all, they'd hardly had
could be called a restful sleep the night before and had been walking
for some time already that day...and the tiny patch of sun was so nice
and warm.... What harm could a little nap do? Bree could
little longer, and maybe some of the fog would lift by then so they
could find that blasted Road that was still eluding them.
The ponies strayed upon the grass, nibbling odd tufts and slowly
wandering off into the fog as the hobbit's eyelids began to droop.
Rags peeks from around the monolith to
watch the hobbits gorge themselves, grinning with much satisfaction.
Actually, since the skin on his face had rotted off, he pretty
grinned all the time. He made a mental note to send a thank-you
to the Carn Dum Catering Service.
Rags wheeled his barrow (which he had barrowed from the Albino) out of
its hiding place, and loaded each overfed and torpid halfling into it.
Whistling "Bach's Fugue", he bears them into the darkness of his
crypt. This was going to be sooooo much fun.....
Frodo awakes from his gluttonous comma slowly, and what he sees seems
strange enough to still be a dream. He is sitting at a table that
set for tea, in a dark room with no windows. The walls of the
seem to be made of earth, and they are damp and treeroots have forced
their fingertips through into little knotted fists. A faint
light gives just enough illumination to show his companions, and then
Frodo wakes up fully with a gasp!
Across the table is
Meriadoc, but he is dressed in a blue pinafore with a white apron!
Samwise and Pippin are both wearing frocks with large floral prints,
and Frodo himself is now sporting a colourful muumuu.
Frodo hears a voice singing; the song is insidious and catchy, and he
finds himself almost singing along....
to the tune of "It's a Small World"
It's a world of shadows, a world of tears
It's a world of pain and a world of fears
Since we�re all going to die
Why should we even try?
It's a dead world after all
It's a dead world after all
It's a dead world after all
It's a dead world after all
It's a dead, dead world
There is just one moon
and one golden sun
And some day the Dark Lord will enslave everyone
Every hero must die
So lay back, close your eyes
It's a dead world after all
It's a dead world after all
It's a dead world after all
It's a dead world after all
It's a dead, dead world
Frozen with fear, Frodo wonders if this might be the end of his
Aragorn wondered how many hours he had
been wandering in the fog now. It had gotten dark for quite a
then light again, so he figured it must have been at least a night and
a day. He was getting pretty hungry, and the only thing he had
able to find, much to his confusion, were some potatoes that were
simply scattered here and there, as if they had been dropped by
someone. He ate them. Raw.
He passed what appeared to be a rumpled red-checked tablecloth and
faintly heard music that seemed to be coming from the earth itself.
Huh, he thought, must have been hallucinogenic potatoes.
He kept going.
Gandalf had ducked behind Saurman's
chair still trying to sort out his pockets, without success. He fell
over as another tickle blast hit him unexpectedly.
Since he was already down, he smacked himself with his staff and turned
into a giant tortoise. Pulling his head, arms and legs inside he
continued to rifle through the pockets of his robe.
only stuff useful he found was a bit of string and a seriously dead
chicken. How he didn't know it was there he didn't really know as it
well and truly stank.
The thwacked himself with the staff
again and returned to his normal state. Still behind the chair, he tied
the chicken to the string and came out swinging!
Merry blinked at Frodo, then at the singing barrow-thingy, and then
down at his rather feminine attire.
"Does this make my bum look big?" he asked Frodo.
Frodo blinked uncomprehendingly at
Merry, then checked under his plate, in case there was a sticker.
that he was sure he would want whatever the doorprize was for this kind
of tea party...
Something tickled. He reached up and pulled a large floppy fake
hibiscus flower out from behind his ear and just sat and looked at it
for a minute. What in the world was going on? If it was a
was far too real. Where were they? Looking at the roots, it
to be underground...were they inside one of those forbiddingly spooky
He poured a cup of tea and added a squeeze of lemon to it, then poured
one for Merry. "Where d'you think our clothes went, Merry?
And how do
we get out of here?" he whispered. Slicing a tea cake with a
leaf-bladed damasked knife that was laying on the table, he looked
around carefully but the dim lighting showed no exits. The
really getting on his nerves.
"Hey!" he suddenly hollered
at the wight. "Cut it out with all that racket!" He took a better
at their host. "Ewww....what happened to you? You look like you need a
serious vitamin infusion...er...you're really pretty creepy-looking,
you know....that's not really your real face is it? I mean, this is a
joke, right?...." His muumuu tangled around his legs as he tried
get up and back away from Rags.
Rags ceased his singing, and approached
the hobbits, moving slowly and smoothly, as if floating above the
floor. He bowed to Frodo and Merry, saying in a deep, chilly
"Good evening! I am your maitre d'eath. I will be slaying
tonight. Would you care to order off of the menu?" and with his
scaberous fingers, covered with dried skin like weathered parchment, he
thrust small yellowed squares of paper into their hands, even Sam and
Pippin's though they were not yet awake. "I'll give you a few
to decide. Enjoy your tea." And he drifted away into the
Frodo and Merry looked at the papers in their hands, and their eyes
grew wide with horror. Listed on that parchment were three
sixty five different ways to die, all more hideous and terrible than
At the bottom of the paper, there were the words, "Join our Club!
Experience every kind of death once and become a charter member
of the Death of the Day Club!" and then the note, "Parties
consisting of 8 or more, gratuity will be calculated at 15%."
Merry gulped and his face grew as white as his pinafore.
'Fr-Frodo, just look at the ways to die on the list," he whispered. "'
You will eat every cookie that every hobbit lass in Buckland who wants
to marry you bakes for you, and you'll eat until your insides explode.'
An-and look at number 215- 'your pictures in these dresses will be hung
up for all to see in the public room at your local tavern and your
reputations will die an instant death.' An-and number three hundred...'
You will listen to your cousin Peregrin recite every single cousin in
his family tree- in six languages until you perish from boredom!'
Merry rolled up the list and whacked Frodo with it. "That's what I get
for following you on this trip!' he wailed. "How are we going to get
out of here?"
Frodo ducked away from Merry's whacking. "Oh come on! This
can't be for real...." He looked around the place, glanced
the menu and shuddered. No, he didn't want to imagine what it
like to die by smothering in carrot-and-raisin salad. "You feel
that wall, and I'll feel along this one - there's got to be a door or a
hole or something somewhere. Maybe we can dig our way out with these
knives, or with the tea spoons...keep an eye out for our host,
though...brrr, he gives me the creeps!"
They thumped and
pried and dug at the walls in futility for several minutes, but
succeeded in bringing down a shower of loose dirt on their sleeping
"Hey, look here Merry! It's a sort of airhole
or something - a ventilation pipe! That means it must go outside,
maybe someone would hear us and help us!" Frodo put his mouth to
pipe and hollered into it. "Hhhhheeeellllp!"
Sam awoke by the sound of Frodo yelling.
"What's going....?" He let out a yelp....a quite girlie one at that.
"What in Mordor's name am I wearing??" He glared at Frodo and Merry.
"What did you do to me?"
He noticed the piece of paper in his hand and looked at it. His eyes
widened and his jaw dropped. He completely forgot about the flowery
frock he was wearing.
"....'you will be forced to listen to Bill the Pony's life story as
you eat Goldberry's famous "Tuna Surprise" '.......Mr.Frodo? What
is this? It can't be true!! WHAT IS GOING ON!?"
Sam was becoming hysterical.
Merry shoved Frodo aside. "Frodo, with
that wimpy squeaky voice of yours, no one will ever hear us! Besides, I
know how to get us some help nice and fast!"
Merry cleared his throat, swelled his chest, and bellowed, "GOLDBERRY
IS THE WORST COOK IN ALL OF MIDDLE EARTH! SHE'S SUCH A BAD COOK, THE
FLIES CHIPPED IN TO FIX THE SCREEN DOOR!"
Merry paused, then
pushed his head in further and yelled, "AND SHE WOULD WEAR DRESSES THAT
MATCHED HER EYES, BUT THEY DON'T MAKE BLOODSHOT DRESSES!"
pulled out and faced his astonished friends with a triumphant grin. "If
that doesn't bring Tom Bombadil running, nothing will!"
Merry's panic-stricken shouting awoke Pippin.
"Hey, what's all the racket for?....er Frodo what have you done with my
clothes?" followed by a brief gulp as the others merely looked grim and
pointed various fingers at various items on the 'menu'
"Oh...I see" he grabbed one of the sword-like cake slices and stood in
the shadows by the dark archway that lead off beyond the table. "When I
hit him we'll just shove off through the kitchens" then in his best
Tookish tones Pippin called out "Waiter!"
Rags was in the kitchen, sharpening his
scythe with long even strokes the way Deadie had taught him. He
heard the guests calling out and whispering in their delicious terror,
and he had decided that they had had enough time to choose their
prefered deaths. He straightened his shroud and checked to make
all his facial bones were still in place, then began creeping back into
He did so hope that they weren't going to opt for the self-service
buffet. Sepuku wasn't nearly as much fun as decapitation....
As the dark figure swished in through
the arch, Pippin brought the sword down hard and fast, the way papa had
shown him how to chop wood.
Unfortunately this meant the blade came down in a hurry (it was a
little on the large size for him).
Thus it made a bonk noise on the skull, followed by a rap
as the jaw was knocked askew and the a clatter as various arm
and wrist bones were sent flying.
All of which was followed by a faint doiiing as the figure's
momentum sent it tripping over the sword.
The green glow now showed a rag-clad distinctly emaciated set of legs
poking out from under the table.
The red and gold damascened knife, now a
sword in a hobbit's hands, came down on Rag's boney head and sent his
jaw bone flying, knocking out both of his bulgey eyes and snapping off
his right hand. He then tripped over the blade gone heavy in
hand, and tumbled beneath the table.
He laughed, a haunting sound without his jaw. It had been years
anyone had killed him. It was like old times again! He
under the table, searching for his rolling eyes. This was going
a lot of fun. Merry stood in the corner, watching Pippin with wide
He put a hand over his heart, looked heavenward and sighed, "My little
boy is growing up."
He glanced around. "Nice work on Bonehead over there, Pip. Now where's
our Fearless Leader and his tater-tossing sidekick?"
Meanwhile somewhere in the forest,..a chase through the treetops...
Elrohir pursued his fleeing script
through the trees, cursing at the laughing squirrel who had stolen it.
Elladan paced him below on their horses, calling encouragement
taking candid snapshots of his brother whenever he did something
un-elflike and graceless.
Elrohir was just gaining on the
little monster when suddenly the branch he was standing on gave way,
and he tumbled to the ground at the feet of an apparation.
dismounted and came forward to help his brother stand up, his own mouth
gaping open in shock.
"I... I don't believe it!" gasped Elrohir, "It's... The
Two bare feet, naked bowed legs covered with coarse hair, a pair of
livid bermuda shorts and a violently purple shirt, topped by a wild
head of hair with beard to match; The Director looked at the tall elven
lads and adjusted his glasses, then glanced down at the squirrel-gnawed
script in his hands. He shouted over his shoulder, "Phillipa?!
think we got a couple of yours over here! I thought we agreed to
a leash on the elves until we got to Rivendell?"
squinted at the two for a moment, then sized them with his thumbs and
forefingers. "You know... you two would not make half-bad.... um!
Hey, you guys ever think of being in the movies?" He
meaty hands on their shoulders, steering them toward the trailer parked
in the trees with a sign on it that read "Extras: Bree"
Meanwhile in the Tickle Tower of Isengard....
Saruman didn't know what hit
him...literally. The chicken came flying so fast, that Saruman didn't
have time to freeze it in middair.
He lay sprawled on his
back in the middle of the floor as Gandalf continued to mercilessly
whack him with a chicken-on-a-string.
"STOP!" Gandalf froze
in his steps, the chicken dangling from it's string. Saruman stood up,
and brushed himself off. Gandalf stood staring, unable to do anything
except watch. Saruman let out a little giggle and ran out of the room.
When he came back, Gandalf was horrified...
Saruman had in
his arms, a pink, frilly, dress type thing, some sort of glitter make
up stuff, and Gandalf was pretty sure he saw hair scrunchies on top of
the pile Saruman carried....
Orcs came in and started
taking pictures as Saruman dressed his fellow wizard up. He un-froze
Gandalf just enough so that he could talk.....Saruman continued to
In the Barrow...
And now, back to our heroes . . . . as
they tremble at the sight of Rags and
his many torturous death implements. (ooh gruesome . . . . Goldberry's
tuna suprise, ewwwwww ) the laughing skull jumps around snapping at the
hobbits feet, laughing manically . . .
Who should come round the corner with a whistle and a tiddley om pom
berry derry but,
he came upon Rags in a blind fury, stamping and stomping,
"argggghhhhhhhhh why you lil, om pom berry derry DOL!"
But Rags dodged his every step, stomp and stamp, (the ones you dont
have to lick)
(sorry if I'm taking character liberties here . .. . .)
Tom: How dare yee curse my wonderful Goldberry derry dols cooking, and
she is the most be-a-u-tifil lil
lady ever, bloodshot indeed . ! grrrrrr
Rags:BUT I . . .
Tom: OH HO! So now you want to apologise . .
Rags: I never . . .
*dodges Tom's foot*
Rags continues: Ow, said those things . . .
Tom stopped and stared, jaw dropping.
Tom: Who did?
Rags: Them, they did it, (indicating the hobbits)
Tom grabbed the sword and leaped towards the hobbits, hacking and
slicing, he picked up Rags' giggling skull and chucked it at 'em,
hitting Merry square on the back as the hobbits fled for their lives .
. . . .
Tom crashed after them still clutching the sword.
position on the ground Rags head cackled and mused to himself, (well
bit of him that's present and accounted for anyway )
that one to my list, axed and hacked by madman. Then carted off to
apologise profusely to Goldberry, who will take it in her heart to
forgive you, and consequently adopt you, . . . . . you will die as her
offspring . . . "*he shuddered* "ewwww, thats not nice, I
As Merry fled for his life with the
other hobbits (and now genuinely regretting all that stuff he'd said
about Goldberry's cooking) he kept looking wildly behind him, above
him, while turning his pockets inside out and desperately dodging a
thrown tibula and femur.
When Pippin asked him what he was doing, Merry said, "I'm looking for
the plot, because I don't have the foggiest notion what's going on!"
Trotting out the hole Bombadil had made,
as soon as he'd begun jumping on their raggedy skeletal - but obviously
well-trained - waiter Pippin tripped over a fat, badly bound book of
papers. Wondering what it was and how it had come to be there, he'd
paused and while wondering why the others were taking so long, idly
flicked the pages...
As it was the others soon came running too, followed by a sword waving
Bombadil (oh great they've upset him too!).
He joined the others as the trotted around the monolith beside the
waiters mound. Merry's furious pocket searching begged the obvious
question as Pip jogged along beside him, at Merry's retort Pippin waved
his new book at him:
"Why not have a shufty at this then,
its a book called "LotR Script Version LXII- Elrond's Copy" maybe that
will help, we're in it, but doing something else!
Meanwhile....back in Rivendell....
Elrond reclined by the swimming pool on
his terrace in his Agent shades, sipping a frozen miruvorita while
trying not to poke his eye out with the little paper umbrella.
The air was too nippy for swimming but just right for a graceful lounge
in a stunning tank and shorts combo with color-coordinated casual
robes. He had gotten an unexpected break from his work on the new
Matrix movie (somebody had to work to support all those layabout elves,
you know) and was enjoying a quiet moment away from the hassles of
secluded valley management and elvish dole disbursements. He knew he
would soon be dragged back to reality with all the planning he had to
do for the upcoming council, but for now he was enjoying an Elrond
moment before the rest of the elves realized he was back.
He was browsing through Varda Star Line and Eressean Cruises brochures
when suddenly an icy droplet slid down the back of his neck. Elrond
jerked his head up to come face to face with a brilliant,
dragon head, so bright it nearly blinded him. Another drop formed on
the end of the dragon's shining fang, but before it could fall Elrond
screamed like a little girl and leapt to his feet ...
"Delivery for Mr. E. Peredhel," said a
rather scruffy and unattractive dwarf pushing the wheelbarrow
containing the oversized ice sculpture. The dwarf's nametag on
coveralls said "Hi my name is Boing" in the Common Speech, Sindarin,
and some chicken-scratch Elrond assumed to be dwarvish. The sun beat
down on the ice dragon, which was beginning to puddle.
"But I didn't order any ..." Elrond took a closer look at the receipt
on the clipboard the dwarf handed him to sign and fumed. He recognized
Elladan's mallorn card number. "I thought I'd had that cancelled," he
muttered. Not only had they stolen his script, but apparently the
Elbrats had sneaked his production schedule and planned a big party in
the house while the old man was out of town. Either that or they were
cooking up some prank involving an ice dragon the size of Galadriel's
monthly hair care products bill that Elrond shuddered to contemplate.
"Look, it says Mr. E. Peredhel on this order form, and you're Mr. E.
Peredhel aren't you?" said Mr. Grumpy Dwarf. "It was frozen when it got
here -- if it melts on your doorstep, that's your problem. No refunds!"
Not unaccustomed to unpleasant surprises
from his sons, Elrond signed the receipt and fumbled in the pocket of
his robes for some change to tip the delivery dwarf. Finding nothing in
his pocket but a linty altoid and an eyebrow tweezer, Elrond led the
way into the house.
He had to admire (grudgingly) dwarvish ingenuity. Transporting an ice
dragon all the way to Rivendell took some skill. Elrond glanced at the
invitation list lying on his desk nearby. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to
include the dwarves in the council after all ... Elrond tossed a couple
of coins in the dwarf's direction and thought about sending an
invitation with the little guy. Boing scrambled madly on the floor
after the coins, then straightened, gave a satisfied belch, and
scratched his rear with his clipboard. Naaaah, thought Elrond, quickly
covering the list ...
He glanced at the dwarf up and down trying to determine his origins.
"Lonely or Blue?" Elrond asked.
The dwarf stepped back with a suspicious look. Elrond, remembering that
dwarves, being like all creatures inferior to elves, must naturally be
rather dense, said slowly and clearly, "From whence came you?"
Relieved, the dwarf introduced himself with a smile and deep bow.
"Boing of the Lonely Mountain, at your service."
Elrond, always the polite host, bowed in return. "Elrond Peredhel,
former herald of Gil-galad, now master of the Last Homely House west of
the mountains, at yours and your family's." He might be a stuck up
prat, but he at least knew the proper forms of etiquette. "I
realized Dain's folk had branched out in to ice sculpture. How did you
manage to get that thing all the way from the Lonely Mountain without
Boing gestured to his refrigerated all terrain
vehicle parked at the gate and shrugged. "Well, since we got rid of
that dratted Smaug, we've kinda had a hard time keeping the old place
warm. Seemed only natural."
Boing returned to his delivery
truck as Elrond instructed a passing elf to wheel the dragon into the
twins' room. A half melted ice dragon in their beds when they got back
from Isengard seemed a proper way to welcome them home, Elrond
Frodo was still a bit stunned with the
rapid change in their fortunes and the bizarre way it was coming about.
When the bones started flying, he grabbed the two knives off the
to defend himself from the maniacal Tom, just in case. Dodging
the mayhem, he stumbled out into the foggy daylight after the others
and headed for the monolith, hoping they could at least hide behind it.
Something tugged at his foothair and ankle almost tripping him. If he
had not been a hobbit, he might have thought he was tripping on his
shoelaces. He kept running, but looked down at his feet only to shriek
and begin a strange hysterical dance that most people only engage in
when they have discovered that a hornet has flown down their shirt and
is heading for their pants. Screeching, twisting, flailing and
he came at the others, a pale, flopping skeletal hand clinging to his
"Get it off get it off get it off get it off get it
off!" he cried wildly, shaking his foot (and hand) in the air near
others. If he hadn't still been armed with a knife in each hand
might have done so, but as he was looking like a Ginsu commercial on
speed, they turned and ran from him instead. He followed them out
the foggy downs, still shrieking and batting at the hand.
As they ran pell-mell into the night,
Merry hoped that no one would hear Frodo's girly shriek and think that
they were related.
As they raced along, Merry tried to grab at the bony hand and wrist and
complained, "No fair hogging it Frodo! That was your problem the whole
time we were kids, you would never give me a hand with anything, and I
guess you're not starting now!"
Frodo suddenly stumbled just enough to
cause his muumuu to whip forward, tangling around his legs and sending
him sprawling onto the turf. Merry, barely avoiding following
with his voluminous pinafore, leaping past him. The bony hand, whipped
loose by the force of Frodo's fall sailed smack onto Merry's back where
it promptly set about untying his big floppy eyelet bow.
Unheeding of Merry's cries, Frodo just lay there for a moment and
gasped for breath, he was so relieved at successfully unhanding his
feet, and grateful that the garbled rhyming yells of Tom had faded off
into the fog. He clambered back up just in time to witness Pippin
running full-speed smack into one of the grazing ponies with a thud
a multi-colored fluttering of spare clothing from the air-bag like
explosion of the pony's saddlebag. The pony gave a small "oof,"
in surprise with its mouth still full of grass and then
slo-o-o-o-w-w-ly tipped over.
Lifting his skirts, he ran forward to gather up a welcome change of
Gandalf was horrified, all of the
sudden, to find his feet stuck to the floor. He would have fallen over
at the quick stop, but his entire body was frozen in place.
He tried to yell as Saruman wheeled about and ran from the room, but he
couldn't even do that. His eyes tried to widen in terror as Saruman
returned and with papparazzi! He wailed silently. He'd never live this
down as it was and now pictures?
Gandalf felt his face
unfreeze. "SARUMAN! If you even THINK you are going to put that dress
on me you can just forget it! I'm not that kind of wizard and you know
I hate the color pink."
Gandalf wailed and railed and
even went so far as to say a naughty word or two, but all Saurman did
was laugh harder and ended up calling for a few of his minions to help
with the finishing touches like fluffing up the bows and getting the
necklaces to hang just so. Once that was done the Evil Evil wizard
called in his hairstylist. The ratty tangle of hair and beard... well
they just HAD to be dealt with.
All the while there was no
less than two orcs snapping photos. Gandalf wanted to crawl away and
hide, but he still couldn't move.
Meanwhile, Merry successfully got the hand off his eyelet bow and was
now trying to teach it to sit up and beg.
"It'll make a great conversation piece when we get home," he explained.
"I need a good name for it, though. Hmm...how about...Bones
While he thought, the bony hand thoughtfully scratched his head for him
to help stimulate thought.
Then Merry shrugged, stuffed the hand in his pack, and rooted through
the capsized pony's pack to find clothes more suitable than his
Frodo was grateful that the muumuu was
so loose as it took little effort to convert it to a changing tent,
preserving their modesty as they slipped into less ridiculous clothing.
The fog was lifting slightly and he could see what looked to be
edge of the Road off to one side, as well as their missing ponies
patiently cropping the weeds that grew alongside it.
"Sam!" he said, tugging his belt and cloak into place at last. "Get
that pony up. Let's get out of here before anything else happens to us.
Gandalf should be waiting for us in town, and it's getting late!
Merry, give Sam a hand, will you?"