Article: 35375 of alt.fan.tolkien Path: uchinews!newsfeed.berkeley.edu!freenix!oleane.net!oleane!newsfeed.icl.net!colt.net!ams-newsfeed.speedport.net!newsfeed.speedport.net!zonnet-feed!zonnet-reader-1.POSTED!not-for-mail From: "Dany Belinfante" <<>> Newsgroups: alt.fan.tolkien,rec.arts.books.tolkien Subject: E-text, Book II, chapter 6 Lines: 312 X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Newsreader: Microsoft Outlook Express 5.00.2615.200 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2615.200 Message-ID: <8JS35.6504$vJ6.205590@zonnet-reader-1> Date: Wed, 21 Jun 2000 00:59:29 +0200 NNTP-Posting-Host: 213.35.132.120 X-Complaints-To: abuse -aaatt- zonnet -daht- nl X-Trace: zonnet-reader-1 961542084 213.35.132.120 (Wed, 21 Jun 2000 01:01:24 MET DST) NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 21 Jun 2000 01:01:24 MET DST Xref: uchinews alt.fan.tolkien:35375 rec.arts.books.tolkien:211314 So here is my contribution. I must admit I found it very hard indeed to abide by the storyline as it stood where I picked it up, purely because it took so much rereading, and it's quite likely I've introduced some anomalies. They are completely inadvertent. However, even JRR himself was guilty of this, so at least I'm in good company. It also turned out a lot longer than I had planned, but even in such a short chapter there are so many instances that can be made fun of, and you just have to check yourself. I lurk so little at the moment that I had no idea how long the average contributor took to submit his/her part, and I'd be damned if I was going to ask Steuard any more stupid questions, so I decided to hurry up and get it over with. I hope you all find at at least amusing, I at least had great fun writing it and I'm submitting again for another part. If any or all of you would rather not have me write another part, say so and I'll only be slightly hurt. But any response is very welcome. Dany ======================================================== Book II, chapter 6 - Lothlorien "I fear we can stay here no longer", said Aragon. Looking at the mountains, raising high his sword he cried: "Farewell Gandalf! Why did I not warn you If you pass through Moira, beware!" This produced a suppressed snickering and a "yeah right", but silence returned among the partly grief stricken group when Aragon shot an angry glance in the general direction of the hobbits. He decided no to vent any more anger and grief at this point as they were clearly not shared by all. The company got up and looked around them. The scenery was as dreary as could be expected of a ski resort in high season, but still Aragon felt the need to point out some landmarks. "Over there are the Rimdilstairs. Next to those waterfalls is where we should have come down, had fate been kinder to us". "Or bureacracy and corruption less rampant", added Giggly. "Curse those greedy bastards, waylaying innocent travelers with outrageous visa demands!", and he actually looked quite endearing, shaking his cute little fist, still red from orc blood. "Well, enough enjoying the scenery. As I am senior, I will lead you now and the next stop is Lorien". Aragon was still annoyed that some in the company suspected him of being less than totally sincere in his grieving for Gandalf, and now wanted to drive the ungrateful scum into the ground by forced march. "Wait up hoss", said Boromir(tm). "Who died and made you boss?". For a second he looked more like a sheep than a 37th generation sheep, coming from good sheep stock, bred in good sheep country and genetically engineered to look and feel even more like sheep than your average sheep. He quickly overcame his embarrasment and said "Well ok, Gandalf died, but did he make you boss?". "Actually he did", smirked Aragon, "In closed chambers I was named SiC, in case anything happened to him, like *SABOTAGE* (malicious look at the hobbits) or a *5TH COLUMN* (more looks-that-could-kill)". "Oh yeah?! Just 'cause you say so doesn't make it so. Got any proof?" Boromir(tm) wasn't about to give up now, his foot was so far in his mouth, it couldn't possibly get any worse. Aragon produced a very official looking document, and the reason it looked so official was that it was indeed official. It stated that should Gandalf fall in any cracks anywhere, Aragon, son of Arathon, the guy with the broken-reforged sword, was to lead the company in his stead. It carried the internationally recognised Veriseal, so it must be ok then. They followed Aragon down the mountain, some more willing than others. Boromir(tm) was clearly not happy, muttering something about "sly motherf.. always an answer to everything", but the rest of the company ignored him. As they left the East gate of Moira behind them they started encountering ruins of sorts, and Giggly overcame some of his grief as he thought he recognised the surroundings. "That must be Durins Stone", he exclaimed, "I can't pass it without looking at the wonder of the valley". "Be quick about it then" said Aragon, thoroughly enjoying his new role, and starting to wish Gandalf had departed quite a bit sooner. "We'll be safe once we're in Lothlorien, and Wednesday is meatloafday. We don't want to miss _that_" He didn't add that the last thing he wanted was to get his mother-in-law's mother angry by being late, and she was known for her temper. Giggly jogged towards the stone pillar, and called for Frodo to follow him. Frodo's upper body was aching from the impact of the orc's stick, but he was strangely attracted to the silent blue water, and the scent that hung over the place. Together they stood still, for a moment in grave silence, in awe of the moment, and of the history of the place. "This pillar marks the spot where the Dwarves first erected a McDonalds concession. Cholesterol levels have never been the same, but you just can't beat that Quarter Pounder cheese, now can you?" Giggly was clearly overcome with emotion, but Frodo just wished that more of the once proud restaurant remained than the lingering smell of hamburgers and fries. "Oh Ronald McDonald, succulent and juicy", said Giggly. "There it lies, the Big Mac, until the Power comes back on", and with a bow he left. "What did you see?", Pipsqueak asked Frodo on his return, but Frodo couldn't bring himself to torment his companion with descriptions of menus and smells, and remained silent. Aragon now led the company south, over a steep path down. "_I_ will lead you on the road that Gandalf chose", unnecessarily emphasizing himself but wanting to shut Boromir(tm) and any other would-be contenders up for good. "First I hope to get to the woods where the Silverlode flows into the Great River" he pointed, " - Over There". He immediately realized this didn't sound very authorative but it was too late. "Hope?". "Hope? Do you actually have any idea where we're headed?" asked Boromir(tm) smugly. "Wh- when I said 'Hope', I- I- I- meant to- to arrive safely" stammered Aragon, experiencing a sinking feeling not felt since a certain luxury cuiseship thought unsinkable proved not to be. But once again an elf maid came to his rescue, although this time it was Lego-lass. "There lie the plains of Lothlorien, fairest of all dwellings of my people. There are no trees in that country, at least there didn't used to be, they were all cut down, for the leaves of the trees were made into a currency and subsequently its entire population became millionaires overnight. But they spent the money well and now they run some of the finest, most exquisite golf courses in Middle Earth. Teeing off is said to induce a state of euphoria, and putting in Lorien is praised above all else in the songs we sing in Mirkwood. My heart would be glad to behold a golf bat in Spring, in Lorien." "It's a club, and I'll be glad even if it were winter. But it's still quite some distance," (again cursing himself for his indecisiveness)", and we have to hurry." "Do you have to be a member-" Arwen tried to ask, but she was interrupted. "I have to rest", Frodo cried. The jog with Giggly and the gnawing hungry feeling the hamburgerjoint had awoken had compounded the pain in his side from the orc stick, and suddenly his strength was gone. Aragon silently cursed him for spoiling his planned forced march, but he feinged compassion and ran to Frodo. "I am so sorry, Frodo, in all the confusion I forgot about your ordeal, and, well, you seemed allright what with how you rocketed up the mountain after Giggly like a decathlon champion on benzedrine. Please forgive my insensitivity. Come! A little further up is a place where we can rest, and I shall tend to your injuries. Boromir(tm), carry him." Feeling very pleased with himself for that last command, he turned and led them to a small clearing. A fire was made, and Aragon examined Frodo. Frodo dreaded taking his clothes off. The memory of being taunted mercilessly was enough to make him shudder, but even more he feared that all would discover his theft of Bilbo's unique and priceless Mithril mail coat. "I'm allright" he writhed, "All I need is a McChicken and a Coke". His squirming came as much from the pain as from the image of being exposed as the thieving little sh*t that he now thought himself to be. "No" said Aragon. "I'm surprised at all that you're still alive after nearly being impaled with that orc twig, and I'd be negligent in my duties as a responsible _leader_ if I didn't do all that I can to relieve your pain." That sounded quite sincere, if a little contrived. He carefully removed Frodo's jacket, and started laughing uncontrollably. "No wonder it hurts! Giggly, look at what the little hobbit princeling is wearing!" Aragon could no longer control his limbs and fell on his knees with laughter. When Giggly approached and saw what made Aragon suffer fits, he also burst out laughing. "What is _THAT_?! What _are_ you wearing??" Frodo looked at the coat, and saw that it was all rusted, and where the stick had impacted it had broken, the rings being driven into his flesh and the wound already disinfecting. "Wait wait, don't tell me, it's the coat Thorin gave Bilbo when he supposedly forgave him on his deathbed. I knew Bilbo was thick, but who's ever heard of a forgiving dwarf, and then one who's been robbed of what he holds dearest in all the world? Come ON! That thing is cursed worse than Tinwelint's treasure! Let alone that it's made of tin..." "I expected better from you than to accept that as a gift from Bilbo, Frodo. All in Rivendell knew that it was an evil thing Thorin gave to Bilbo." But Frodo was just relieved that everyone in the company assumed Bilbo had given the damn thing to him. He felt better already, and his spirit rose even more when Aragon, feeling magnanimous, decided to allow the company a dose of Vala dust. He could do no wrong after that. After coming down from their trip, the company ran out of excuses to avoid the forced march Aragon had set his mind on, and so they progressed, at neckbreaking speed through the dark. The country passed them by, until a golden flickering seemed to envelop them. They came to a halt, and noticed that a high dense forest was before them. In the pale light of the stars they saw that it was the leaves that shone the pale light. At the edge of the treeline a sign lay on its side, and Aragon stooped and picked it up. "Lothlorien. Population 23.726 and waning. Galadriel and Dullborn presiding." Mystery was written on the faces of Aragon, Lego-lass and Arwen. The hobbits were as usual out of it, Boromir(tm) smelled another chance to confront Aragon with his (alledged) inadequacies and only Giggly remained relaxed, with a patient, almost serene expression on his face. Vala dust can do that to a dwarf. "It can't be" said Lego-lass."There haven't been any trees for as long as my people can rememer, in fact since the battle in which the last Balrog squadron, led by the Red Balrog with triple wing configuration, was defeated. And where are the fabled golf courses?" "Don't start that again! I don't know where your precious golf courses are, but I have a feeling we're about to find out," said Aragon. He paused, then added for effect "But it's quiet here, too -," "Oh come off it, it's quiet because _THERE'S NO ONE HERE!_ Now let's get packing, I for one want to see this witch!". Boromir's(tm) rude interruption made Aragon spasm with anger, and it was all he could do to control himself and not run Anduril through that upstart Steward's heir. That reminded him, he could just fire the moron, and his father while he was at it... His musings were interrupted by Lego-lass, who with typical Elven delicacy was blundering into the forest, making a raucous like a herd of oliphaunts. The company had no choice but to follow, and so they did. After a short while they came upon a fastflowing river, and Lego-lass recognized it as Nimrodel, exclaiming "Any elf would recognize the voice of this water, we made many songs about it and the golden flowers that floateed in her foaming current." "Or maybe she knew by the sign here, saying 'Nimrodel'. She's such a bimbo." Arwen was clearly getting annoyed at Lego-lass, for reasons as yet unclear to the company. "Follow me guys," said Lego-lass, "The water soothes aching feet and it's not very deep!" She climbed off the steep bank and disappeared immediately in the swirling cauldron. It took the combined efforts of Boromir(tm) (who acted before Aragon had a chance to order him), Giggly and Arwen to pull her from the freezing water. "Per - Haps -We - Should -Try -At -An -Oth - Er - Cros- Sing," she gulped. Aragon felt his control of the company slipping, and while cohesion had never been a strong point, now it seemed as if the group was falling apart. Well, tough. Lego-lass regained her composure rapidly, in spite of the incessant back beating by Arwen, who was pretending to help Lego-lass get rid of the water in her lungs. "Do you hear the voice of - Arwen will you stop that?! - The voice of Nim - Leave me alone will ya?! I can hear the voice of the river, it reminds me of a song my people sing. I will try to translate it into Westron." In a soft voice the elf began: There once was an old elven-maid With nothing to do all day Spent time and money on trendy clothes Just had to have her way Her hair was white, her limbs were gone And she was fairly free; And in the wind her ribcage whistled Like chimes in a linden-tree Where now she wanders none can tell In Bondstreet or Times Square Her creditcards were all revoked Her bankaccounts laid bare A wind by night in Projects-South Arose, and bad it stunk Drove shopping trolley thru the street And she lost all her spunk Amroth beheld his bankuptcy And cursed the faithless b*tch His debt now stacked too high to see His credit blown to bits From window high they saw him leap a sack of flour from a barn plunge to the streets below, so deep Ending this sad sad yarn "I apologise if the translation is less than perfect, but I'm sure you all get the drift of the story. It's very sad, for it tells how greed came to Lorien, when the dwarves wakened bureaucracy and corruption in the mountains." "But the dwarves did not make the bureaucracy and corruption," said Giggly. "Don't get so defensive shorty, I never said they did." Aragon decided this was _the_ moment to reestablish his leadership and rounded them all up. He led them deeper into the forest, until it became to dark to see, and it was decided to make camp. Following Lego-lass' advice they were about to climb the trees, which seemed the safest place to sleep, when a commanding voice sounded from the trees. Unexpectedly, they had found elves of Lorien, and they felt safer. As Aragon had a bad case of vertigo, he had no choice but to deputize Lego-lass to talk to them. She disappeared up a tree and came back down after half an hour or so. "It seems Halfwit, Rummage and Orphan knew we were coming, and anyway, they heard me nearly drown and then cough my lungs out back at the river, so they let us pass. They'll escort us to Galadriel and Dullborn, but because elves hate dwarves - as my dad showed your dad, Giggles - and the Lorien folk have not yet been infected with the Political Correctnes virus, Giggly willl have to be gagged, blindfolded and tied to a pole, after receiving the mandatory flogging of course... No, I'm kidding, but a blindfold will be necessary." The dwarf made no objections, and aside from some torn ligaments and a broken nose there followed an uneventful leisurely walk until Halfwit froze, and the entire company felt the tension. "Yrch!" said the elf in a hissing whisper, staring into the darkness, and they heard him sniffing as well. "What is it, not orcs I hope?," whispered Aragon to Lego-lass. "No, he just stepped in some dog doodie, probably from one of Galadriel's, they tell me she lets those mutts run around free all the time, and this is what you get." The company tried to walk more carefully after that, but it was no use, sooner or later they all stepped in it, except Giggly, who somehow managed to use the elf leading him as guide to where not to tread. For that night and the next day they walked, and apart from the occasional rest, which invariably involved a small picnic (these elves were not used to bingeing Hobbits, and had yet to learn to say No) it was all pretty boring, so a routine evolved whereby one member would talk to Giggly, and another (Morrie volunteered for this more than the others) would curl up into a rock-like position, placing himself in Giggly's path. The dwarf's guide was happy to cooperate, and they laughed themselves silly as the poor Dwarf tripped and fell time after time, being warned just a little too late every time. It made time pass by more quickly for all involved. In the afternoon more elves joined the company, and Giggly's blindfold was removed. "Galadriel has personally ordered this. You are the first dwarf to behold the Course of the Naith of Lorien since Durin's day!" Before them stretched what must have been the only remaining golf course in the entire elven realm, but what a beauty it was. It's grass was just greener, its sand was just - well you know, it was an elven version of a perfect golfcourse. "Behold! You are come to Cerin Amroth," said Halfwit. "For this is the heart of the acient realm as it was long ago, and here is the mound of Amroth, where they buried what they managed to scrape off the pavement after his unfortunate fall." The other cast themselves down upon the grass, but Frodo had never played golf, had never even seen a golf cart, and badly wanted to drive one. He thought he had managed to sneak away unseen and sat down behind the wheel of beautifully cream colored cart, when Aragon sat down next to him. He felt caught, but Aragon put him at ease. "This is the best golf course on earth," he said, and added with what can only be described as a malicious smirk, "and here I scored a hole-in-one for the first time in my life, and this was before I ever learned to play golf...You have not scored yet, but your luck may change." And feeling magnanimous once more, he took Frodo's hand and showed him the way to Arwen's cousin's dwellings, and came there as healthy men do.