Article: 239779 of rec.arts.books.tolkien Path: news.uchicago.edu!newsfeed.stanford.edu!news.tele.dk!130.133.1.3!fu-berlin.de!uni-berlin.de!user-hki4-52.dial.inet.FI!not-for-mail From: "Morgil Blackhope" <<>> Newsgroups: alt.fan.tolkien,rec.arts.books.tolkien Subject: Etext Book IV, chapter 8 Date: Sun, 24 Jun 2001 18:42:46 +0300 Lines: 165 Message-ID: <9h51af$c3ugi$1@ID-81911.news.dfncis.de> NNTP-Posting-Host: user-hki4-52.dial.inet.fi (212.213.243.52) X-Trace: fu-berlin.de 993396881 12712466 212.213.243.52 (16 [81911]) X-Newsreader: Microsoft Outlook Express 4.72.3110.5 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V4.72.3110.3 Xref: news.uchicago.edu alt.fan.tolkien:69183 rec.arts.books.tolkien:239779 Another joint venture from Morgil and Menelvagor, who like the Uruk-Hai get to do all the work, it seems... Anyway, hope you enjoy it. (Well did you?) E-Text Book IV, Chapter 8: Drunken at the Crossroads Much to his surprise, Frodo found himself sitting on the cave in his bedplace. Quickly he felt on his head and sighed with relief. The mouse-ears were gone. Thank Eru, it was all a dream. He looked around and noticed Sam and Spiegel sleeping peacefully nearby. /Either that or the whole thing needed some serious rewriting/, he decided and returned to the realms of Irmo. Soon however, the hobbits were woken up, and led to a table where food was set for three. Faramir broke his fast with them, and there was some confusion of who was to be left without a seat until Frodo got the message that his presence was not desired and returned to his bed. When they had finished, they stood up. "A word of warning for you two:" said Dr. Faramir. "Beware Frodo son of Bilbo. He has done murder-death-kill before, or at least tried to; and his uncontrollable urges may lead you in the world of trouble yet." "Yet we must go with him, at least for a while," replied Sam. "Because of the agreement we have made. He´s still the boss, or so he must think, until time is right. And he wants to go to Mordor." "Then you must go right now," said Dr. Faramir. "The land is empty of drug-dealers, and the ´Voice´ is hiding somewhere, licking his wounds. But my scouts who have crept within sight of Morannon, bring strange news. All is quiet in the nameless land. The choir-practices have ceased, and the class-trips have been cancelled. A waiting silence broods there, and I know not what this portends. Perhaps Sauron is planning nothing more but another walking-concert, and yet I fear that the time of some great conclusion draws near. For it is only Gondor(tm), which stands between him and the great Renaissance of Middle-Earth, and if she falls, then the light entertainment may completely disappear from the western lands." Before seeing them off, Dr. Faramir gave the hobbits some provisions. "The Mordorians have weird tastes in cuisine," he said, "and I am strongly opposed to experimentation in an uncontrolled setting. In addition, I would give you these gifts." To Sam he gave a small laboratory kit and a lab-book, that he might continue experimenting on Frodo during their journey. To Spiegel he gave a bottle of medicine to help her controlling her channelling problem, and to Frodo a copy of Playtark, that he might behold the beautiful blondes therein, and be cured. (Actually, Frodo was already beginning to change sexual identities again. The good news is that he had the hots for females again. The bad news is that these females were mostly fishes.) "I can nay offer you any more help," he said to Frodo. "Unless you are willing to come with me to Minas Tirith(tm), where we have the best lab-equipment money can buy. Then I could also examine your foot-fungus, and perhaps develop a powerful biological weapon to use against the Enemy out of it. Won´t you come?" Frodo felt tempted to surrender himself completely to the skilful hands of this grave young doctor, whose words seemed so wise and fair. But he was held back, by his dreams of the great catfishes, which he had heard living in the muddy banks of the lake Nurnenshire - wogah, wogah! He lifted his head and noticed how the others were looking at him strangely, and realised that he had spoken his inner monologue out loud. There was no need for more words. Frodo was again blindfolded and Dr. Faramir took them to the edge of the forest. He bid farewell to Sam and Spiegel, after the manner of his people, and then disappeared into the woods with winged speed, leaving the two hobbits spitting and wiping their mouths. Frodo removed his blindfold with haste, and stood blinking his eyes in the morning sun, gazing around and looking a bit silly. "Is it secret? Is it safe?" he screamed out. "What on Arda are you talking about?" asked Sam. "The Ring sure as Udun isn´t a secret, cause you spilled your guts about it the first chance you got!" "No I didn´t!" said Frodo. "You *so* did too!" said Sam. "Lucky thing you didn´t get a chance to reveal that you also have the Isildur´s Shame in your possessions. Now let´s move on!" Then there was lot of marching... Presently, they came to a crowded intersection, which had been closed off from traffic. An enormous sign said "Google Junction"; for they were come to a strip that Google (also called The Evil One) had seized from Sauron in exchange for paying off his debts. He had proceeded to develop it in record time, until it resembled Rockville Pike, without the local colour. Most of the inhabitants were tourists who gave a new meaning to the phrase, "Ugly Gondorian(tm)." A small, decrepit figure was making a vain attempt to proposition all the females. On noticing the hobbits, he gave a start of recognition. "Spiegel, my preciousssss!" he hissed. "Are you still with the nasty mean hobbits?" "Yes, though my heart yearns to once again see the familiar pillars on the doors of Tara, where my roots are. After all, tomorrow is another day!" replied Spiegel and quickly took a zip from medicine-bottle given by Dr. Faramir. "Have no fear! Don Giovanni´ll protect you, yes he will," promised Gulible (for he it was). "And where have you been all this time?" interrupted Sam. "Plotting some nasty and unnecessary sub-plots, no doubt!" Sam took a quick look at Frodo to see what he thought about the obviously guilty face Gulible was making, but Frodo seemed to be deep in thoughts. Now that they had reached the crossroads, Frodo felt that he had came to the point of no return. Once again he felt a strong urge to drop everything and head straight to Gondor(tm). He thought about long hours alone with Dr. Faramir, being examined by his strong, yet tender hands, and felt his excitement arousing. Then he thought of the slimy fishes of lake Nurnenshire and felt even more aroused. "You´re tearing me apart!" he cried in his despair. "I need a drink!" said Sam. The hobbits went into a bar and ordered some expensive lutefizz (a local beverage -- don´t ask) and proceeded to get roaring drunk. Sam had rarely made such an impassioned revolutionary speech in his life. Unfortunately, no one could remember any of it thereafter. The next thing they knew, they were handcuffed and were being held by Google´s private security guards. "We´re gonna take you to Gondor(tm) to stand trial," said one. "But first ya gotta come with us to the concert, cuz that´s where we´re going so you are too." "Its a fair cop," said Sam. They crossed the street and found themselves in a kind of outdoor concert hall thingy. However annoyed at being stuck with these scuzzy security guards, they could at least take consolation at being in the FIRST ROW. /First row/, imagine that! But when the musicians came out, Sam and Frodo were shocked to their /cohones/. "Holy Plutocracy, its the Nazdaq!" whispered Frodo, lifting his cuffed hands to cover his face. "This is the end of the road, the end of the road!" The crowd roared its enthusiasm as the nine caballeros sang an eldritch chant: /Hey, hey, we´re the Nazdaq; people say we nazdaq around, but we´re too busy huntin´ and chasiin´ all the gals in Khand./ /We´re just tryin´ to be deadly, come and watch us ambuscade; we´re the wraith generation, and we can´t wait to get laid./ They missed the rest, because one of the security guards was munching doritos rather loudly and sloppily, and the crumbs were getting all over Spiegel. At last, she could stand no more and slapped the bastard in the /mazoolah/. In the ensuing confusion, the hobbits slipped away, running as if the horror that impelled their being were indeed the west wind made visible -- or something along those lines. Presently(sigh), they found themselves in a plaza, at the centre of which there stood a statue, redolent of ye olde Gondor(tm). Tall was he, and he wore a yellow shirt and a black vest, and long, pointed shoes. His head had been knocked off and replaced by an Orkish head with wacky hair; but his bearing was still regal. Beneath his feet was carven the name "Wupdidu", which was crossed out and replaced with "Moe Zart". Nearby lay his head, which was long-nosed with a black round thingy at the end; half-closed were his eyes, long his ears, and tall his blue black-banded hat, adorned with two lumps on top. Sam muttered something about oppressors; but his heart misgave him, for he felt some strange bond with the droopy-eared king. Frodo was disdainful: "Good riddance to bad rubbish! Those kings were overrated anyway". Spiegel saw in the king´s long snout a symbol of phallic oppression, and Gulible kept his political opinions to himself, if he had any. If only had there been a suitable beam of sunlight shining on the decapitated head, Frodo could have possibly found encouragement from the sight, but there was no such luck. That was it. The next chapter then belongs to our very own Öjevind, who BTW has promised to deliver it in the record time of 48 hours! (or was it 4-8 days...)