THE GRAY HAS-BEENS

[by David Salo, with help from Menelvagor]
[written on or before 10 Oct 2002]

 Without a word, Morrie began to drag himself off westward.  Frodo
followed listlessly.  Neither of them had the energy for the
inevitable round of backbiting that would certainly follow if either
of them opened their mouths.  Frodo, moreover, was entirely
preoccupied with his internal dialogue.

 Stay with me, boy, and I'll get you out of this, it chuckled drily.
But Frodo was not so sure; it is hard to trust someone who has torn
one's entrails open.  The sun reached its peak, and without the shade
of the trees to shelter them it soon became swelteringly hot.  Every
time the wind picked up ashes blew into their faces and choked them.
Frodo tried closing his eyes, but every time he did so he saw, against
the red and purple of his inner eyelids, a vision of Gullible
silhouetted against the Crack of Doom.

 Hours before the shadows grew long, both Morrie and Frodo had
finished their bottles of Tang, only to find that they were even
thirstier.  Their sandwiches were dry and salty.  By evening, they
were both exhausted; the road before and behind looked exactly the
same, an ash-strewn path surrounded by burnt and fallen tree-trunks on
both sides.  The Roglings had done their work well.

 As the sun set west beyond Unter Den Lindon, Frodo collapsed, lying
face down in the dust like a dead man.  Morrie turned back and knelt
down by the body, his one remaining hand checking Frodo's pockets
almost by instinct.  His hand closed around a letter.  But even as he
drew it back, he found himself unable to rise, and slumped helplessly
over Frodo's fallen body.  The darkness took them both.

 It was the song of a bird that woke Frodo.  He lay still for a while,
eyes closed, only gradually feeling the uncomfortable weight of Morrie
on his back.  His memories fluttered in a cloud without connection or
meaning, and for a while at least the Voices were mercifully silent.
A bird, he thought.  Where am I then? Hobbiton?  Rivendell?

 Frodo's eyes opened to see grey ashes once again.  He tilted his head
back a little, and saw -- a green leaf.  This startled him out of his
reverie.  He jerked his body sharply, and Morrie tumbled off his back
with a muffled curse.  Frodo raised himself on all fours.   As far as
the eye could see, the forest floor was awash in a cascade of green
leaves.  The black pillars of the dead trees stood up stark amidst the
greenness, but there too leafy vines were crawling up their sides.
Frodo almost thought he could see them growing and extending
themselves as he watched.

 Frodo tried to stand, only to find himself jerked back by one leg.  A
creeper had coiled itself around his calf.  Grimly, he set himelf to
uncoil it.  He was not mistaken; it *was* putting out leaves even as
he did so.

 Morrie had put the letter inside his jacket as soon as he had come
awake again.  The vast greenness, and the piping of the birds,
however, dumbfounded him.  He sat on the ground and looked about, for
once at a loss for words.  "Where the hell are we?" he asked.

 As if in answer, the warbling of birds broke out from all quarters.
And a mellifluous, cello-like baritone followed:

Il core vi dono,
Bell'idolo mio;
Ma il vostro vo' anch'io, 
Via, datelo a me.

 And in response came a beautiful, rich mezzo-soprano: 

Mel date, lo prendo,
Ma il mio non vi rendo;
Invan mel chiedete,
Più meco ei non è.

 And again the baritone:

Se teco non l'hai, perché batte qui?

 And the mezzo replied:

Se a me tu lo dai, perché batte qui?

 And at last their voices joined in one:

È il mio coricino 
Che più non è meco,
Che più non è meco;
Ei venne a star teco,
Ei batte così, ei batte così,
Ei batte così, ei batte così.


 With that there was an immense clap of thunder, and a flash of
lightning from the clear sky.  When the dazzlement left Frodo and
Morrie's eyes, they saw striding toward them across the greenery two
tall and beautiful figures, hand in hand: one kilted but bare-chested,
with a frog-mask; the other likewise topless, with a skirt  of
shimmering red ornamented with black web-designs and a fish-mask.
Obviously this was yet another one of those avant-garde Mordortrash
productions.

 "Shelob!  Sauron!" gasped Frodo.  "But I thought you were... I
thought she had enslaved you?"

 "Oh, zhoost for a leetle vile," Shelob answered with a smile.  "Von
gets szo bored."

 "The fall of Barad-dûr trasked her psyche somewhat," said Sauron with
a sardonic smile.

 "And did you do this?" Morrie asked, gesturing at the greenery with
his one good arm.


 "No," came a voice from behind them.  "That was my doing."  They
turned and saw Radagast, together with a strange little man in blue
and yellow, who began to sing before anyone could stop him:

 Ho!  Little hobbit-folk, traipsing through the woods-oo,
 Lost amid the burnt trees, hair all full of kudzu!
 Where be you a-going now, all your viands eaten?
 Tell old Bombadil, or you'll soon be beaten!

 And with that he produced a stout cudgel and waved it threateningly
at the hobbits.

 "We've been expelled from the Shire!" Frodo blabbed, before Morrie
could stop him.  "We're going to wander and suffer until we finally
die!  And until I heard Bombadil singing, I had no idea of just how
bad this suffering would be!"

 "Is that so?" said Radagast with a faint smile.  "Well, you have only
yourselves to blame.  You know that Shelob tried to warn you about it:
you burned down your own house when you destroyed Stinky's, she said,
if I recall correctly."  Shelob beamed.

 "You louse!" screamed Morrie.  "You knew that all this would happen,
and you let us go ahead without telling us!"

 "It was a test," Radagast answered with true Maiarin conviction.  "To
see how much you have grown up.  And indeed you have grown very great;
you see, Morrie, you're a little taller than the other hobbits" (and
indeed he was, as he was still floating two inches off the ground)
"and Frodo's a little taller than you..." (and indeed he was, being
six feet tall).
 
 "What about Sam and Pipsqueak?" Frodo asked.

 "They failed.  Their progeny will be destroyed when the jungle is let
in upon Shire, and the elephants trample down their dwellings, and the
tiger and the wolf roam in the streets, and the bitter karela shall
cover all."

 "Sounds good to me," said Morrie.  "But what about us?  We've got no
food, no drink, and last I heard you couldn't eat kudzu."

 "You shall come with us!" said Sauron.

 "Indeed," nodded Bombadil; for we have:

 Pepsi and Sierra Mist, potato chips, burritos,
 Nachos fit for salsa dip, cheezos and tostitos,
 Roasted peanuts too we have, of any beer shall drink ye,
 Junk food brought from Bree-way, from Rivendell a twinkie.

 With that Frodo and Morrie surged forward, and the two hobbits sat
down with the Maiar and had themselves a woodland feast.

 "I'm going as well," said Bombadil.  The end of the war has really
eaten into my illicit activities, and besides, Goldberry threw away
the key."

 For two days thereafter the six of them pushed onward to the east,
and at last entered wooded lands where the fire had not spread.  One
nightfall they saw a strange glow coming from behind a hill, like the
light of the moon on the horizon when it rises.  Sauron and Morrie
slipped off towards it.  When they came to the crest of the hill, they
saw many flashlights lighting the ground or the leaves on the trees.
Elvish voices, filled with melodies as of many songs, were speaking to
each other.

 "No, you idiot, it's back that way!"
 "If we go in that direction we could be going in circles for days."
 "This is what we get for following Dullborn the Wise: 'I used to hold
this area of Gil-gallamine', says he.  'I know a short-cut to the
Havens,' says he..."
 "Quit complaining!  It's probably just beyond the next hill!"
 "That's what you said six hills ago!"

 "Peace!" said Sauron in a great voice.  Six flashlight-beams focused
on him at once. "If you seek the path to the west, it is just over the
next rise.  Follow me!"  So they returned to the path, and one by one
the Elves straggled in.  There were El Rond, Al Ladan and Al Rokar,
Dullborn and Galadriel, and much to their surprise, Arwen, Queen of
Gondor.

 "What are *you* doing here?" Frodo and Morrie asked, but they were
ignored until Shelob repeated the question for them.

 "If you must know," El Rond said impatiently, "We are seeking a way
out of Muddle-earth.  Time was when this was a pleasant-scented
environment, with lavender bath-water and attar of roses... but now
these smelly mortals have made it impossible to breathe freely, so we
are going westward, where we remember a land of fresh-scented soap
still lingers."

 "And there too are many golf courses," added Galadriel, "where the
trees do not grow.  Cursed be he who spoiled Lothlorien with his
wanton use of Tree Essence!  No golf has been played on the overgrown
links for many a day, alas alas."

 "But Arven?" Shelob asked.  "I szought you vos to merry ze fat man,
votzisnehm..."

 Arwen pouted.  "*I* said I was going to wed the King of Gondor (TM)
and Arnor.  And what happens?  No sooner do we get on the throne, then
there's a rebellion in favor of Orkish Rights or some such nonsense,
and a movement for union with Mordor, and before long somebody's
proclaiming a Republic and forcing us to leave.  We didn't even get to
take our palantariums!  He had broken our pre-nup, so I got an instant
divorce, natch..."

 "So who's in charge of Gondor (TM)?"  Morrie said, calculating
furiously the political ramifications.  Arwen condescended to notice
him.  "They had an election," she said.  "Can you believe it!  An
election!  Why, they haven't done such a thing for over 3000 years!
They have a President now: someone named Spiegel, who ran on a
platform of Orc-human reconciliation.  Nothing about Elves, of
course."  Morrie wondered briefly whether Spiegel was corruptible .

 "Let us go on," Sauron said.  "There are miles yet to go before we
reach the Havens, and we may discuss many things upon the way."

 Long was the way they travelled, and bitter was the discussion (for
the Elves even got on each other's nerves), but as they had nowhere
else to go they must perforce remain in each others' company until the
end of the Road.  And they came at last to an Elvish city, and entered
the gates, and walked down the long tree-lined boulevard that is named
Unter Den Lindon, where Sauron sang many an operetta medlody, and so
at last came to the quays of the havens.

 There Captain Cirdan greeted them, and showed them a White Star Liner
waiting to sail over Sea.  Crowds of people thronged the wharves, some
to board the ship, others just to see it, for it was the biggest of
its kind ever built, and was deemed unsinkable.  And there upon the
gangplank stood two clothed in turquoise robes; and one had a staff in
his hand and was as ugly as a macaque, with a golden circle about his
head, and the other was fat as a hog and held a sharp-tined muckrake.
Then Radagast was glad, for he knew that Morenaughtie and Rumpustum,
the Turquoise Wizards, were leaving Muddle-earth, and he should be the
only Maia left to rule the whole.

 "Now you shall set sail for the Blissed-Out Lands," said Radagast,
"and going there your hurts shall be healed forever.  Frodo, Morrie; I
take my leave of you.  May your journey be safe and may your end be
what you desire!"

 "What!" exclaimed El Rond.  "I never agreed to sail with mortals!"
And to this all of the Elvish company, for once, agreed.

 Radagast shrugged.  "Well, I guess you're off the boat," he said to
Frodo and Morrie.  "Too bad, but you know Elves are better than other
folk."

 Then Shelob blew kisses to the hobbits, and she and Sauron and
Bombadil and the Elves climbed aboard; and the siren sounded, and the
ship was tugged out of the haven, and slowly slipped out through the
dank murky waters of Mithlond harbor.

 Frodo stood, dumbstruck for a minute or two.  Then he howled into the
deepening dusk: "Nooo!"  But it was not Frodo's voice.  "El Rond!  You
bastard! You promised me a ticket!  I'll get you if it's the last
thing I do!  My ticket!  I've got a ticket!  My precious..."  And with
that he dived into the ocean and began to swim out through the greasy
water after the ship, until he too passed from sight.  And the ship
went out into the High Sea and passed into the West, until at last on
a night of fog it struck a gigantic iceberg, and went down; no tale is
told in Muddle-earth of who might have survived.

 But to Morrie the evening deepened into darkness as he stood at the
haven, seeing only a glitter on the waters that was lost in the West.
He stood there far into the night, until the noise of the waters
repeated endlessly in his ears became loathsome to him, and he never
again went to the seashore.

 He turned around.  Radagast was gone.  The quays were silent and
deserted.  He drew the letter from his pocket and read it by the light
of a standing lamp, then balled it up and threw it into the
sea. "Birds and trees?" he murmured to himself.  "We'll see about
that."