The Famous Five and the Mystery of Moria

Chapter Seven

 

 

Author:  Kinkyhobbit and Kevswitchau 6/02

Genre:  AU, Humour, LOTR/Famous Five crossover

Rating:  M

Warning:  Hard drinking and bad singing.

Disclaimer:  We take no responsibility for the characters, but full responsibility for their circumstances.

Summary:  It’s a musical! “Take that ring back where it came from or so help me! So help me! So help me!”

 

 

Even if they hadn’t been told where the party was, it wouldn’t have been hard to find. They simply had to follow the smell of beer and the sound of dwarves singing. The hall was already filled with dwarves in various states of intoxication, with full tankards of beer lined up on the bar, being replaced as quickly as they were taken. Towards the back of the room a raised area featured a karaoke machine and microphone.

 

As they entered the hall an orc walked behind the bar to their left.

 

“ORCS!” yelled Legolas, reaching for an arrow.

 

“Legolas! It’s allright, remember?” said Gandalf hurriedly, grasping Legolas’ arm.

 

Legolas relaxed and tried not to look too embarrassed as the group made their way to several empty tables.

 

George had arrived well before anyone else and was already drinking with the group of dwarves she’d met at Rivendell. She waved a tankard at Anne who simply scowled at her.

 

“I don’t think she should be allowed to drink all that beer, Julian,” Anne said frowning. I mean, she’s only 13 after all!”

 

“Yes,” said Dick, eyeing the line of filled tankards on the bar. “But…we are in the company of adults…and Mr Gandalf did say these parties sometimes go for days!”

 

“Gosh Dick, you’re right!” said Julian, licking his lips as he glanced at Aragorn. “Besides, if we don’t enjoy ourselves we’ll look suspicious.”

 

“So what should we do, Ju?” asked Anne.

 

“Well-” he gasped as a dwarf slapped him hard on the back and plonked a frothing tankard of beer in front of him.

 

“Get that into ya!” grinned the dwarf, putting tankards in front of the rest of them.

 

Julian picked it up. “I say we enjoy ourselves!” he grinned, toasting them and taking a gulp of beer.

 

Dick and Anne raised their tankards in the air. “Hurrah!”

 

Aragorn, Legolas, Frodo, Sam and Gandalf settled at a table against the wall furthest from the bar. Aragorn motioned them closer and they leant across the table towards him. Sam watched George closely.

 

“I have a plan to get the Ring back,” he whispered. “But we will need Master Gimli’s help.”

 

While Aragorn outlined his plan, Merry and Pippin helped themselves to two tankards of beer each.

 

“I’m going to get twice as drunk,” grinned Pippin.

 

“Twice as drunk as what?” asked Merry.

 

Pippin thought for a moment. “Twice as drunk as I am now,” he said firmly.

 

As he began gulping down his first tankard, Merry stood beside him frowning. He went to say something then stopped, pulling a face and staring up at the ceiling.

 

“Pip, you’re not drunk now,” he said finally.

 

Pippin, oblivious, kept drinking. When he finished, wiping froth from his upper lip, Merry was still frowning at him.

 

“What was that, Merry?” he gasped.

 

“You can’t get twice as drunk as you are now, because you’re not drunk at all.”

 

“Allright,” Pippin nodded. “Twice as drunk as I’ll be when I finish this,” and he began his second tankard.

 

Merry grinned. “That’s better.”

 

When he’d finished his first tankard Pippin was already holding two more full ones. “I think we should sit close to the bar.”

 

Gimli walked past and roared with laughter. “That’s it, young hobbit! You have a lot of catching up to do!”

 

“Gimli!” called Gandalf.

 

Gimli looked towards the sound and Aragorn motioned him over. He took a seat and they all listened closely as Aragorn explained the plan to him. When he finished Gimli nodded and chuckled, patting Aragorn’s shoulder.

 

“Now that’s a challenge I look forward to!”

 

Aragorn smiled. “We thought you’d like that idea.”

 

Several more dwarves entered and Gimli called them over to introduce them. “These are my cousins Grumpy, Sneezy and Bashful!”

 

“Sleepy’s here,” said Grumpy. “But he’s asleep, if you can believe that.”

 

The three dwarves nodded in greeting, indicating they would return once they had beer.

 

“Unusual names,” remarked Gandalf. “For dwarves.”

 

“They live in the forests not far from here,” said Gimli. “I wonder if they brought that strange girl with them.”

 

“What girl?” asked Legolas.

 

“Some girl who showed up at their house one day. A woman, not a dwarf or elf. In the middle of the forest! It’s not like she could be passing by!”

 

“Sounds intriguing,” muttered Gandalf, lighting his pipe.

 

“Claims she was being pursued,” said Gimli, eyebrows raised. “Some kind of family feud or something.”

 

“Really?” asked Aragorn with a frown. “Is she from Gondor?”

 

Gimli shook his head just as his three cousins returned with their beer. As they sat down Aragorn leant over the table, tapping the nearest dwarf on the arm.

 

“Gimli says a girl showed up at your house?”

 

“Oh yes!” nodded Bashful, looking up quickly and then back to his beer. “She’s very pretty.”

 

“Pretty,” sneered Grumpy. “Oh sure, she’s pretty, but she has a horde of animals that follow her everywhere. Deer, rabbits, birds, you name it! They follow her all over the house. The kitchen is full of deer droppings. It’s disgusting, I wish she would leave.”

 

Sneezy nodded, leaning back as he sneezed. “She’s been there for months now.”

 

“I swear if she doesn’t leave, I’ll find out who she’s hiding from and hand her over.”

 

“Oh, you wouldn’t!” said Bashful, shocked. “She does the cooking, after all.”

 

“Well I just wish she’d cook more deer and rabbit,” muttered Grumpy, gulping down his beer. “Then maybe the place wouldn’t smell so much.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” replied Sneezy, sneezing again. “I can’t smell anything.”

 

“Gimli said it’s some kind of family dispute?” asked Aragorn.

 

Bashful nodded. “But we don’t know all the details. Something to do with her mother.”

 

“No no, it’s her stepmother,” interrupted Sneezy.

 

They bickered over which relative it was as the doors opened and more than a dozen orcs entered bearing platters and bowls of hot curry.

 

“ORCS!” yelled Legolas again, reaching for an arrow but stopping himself just in time.

 

“Ah!” said Gimli grinning. “The curry of Moria!”

 

“Gimli…” said Gandalf with a scowl.

 

“You’ll be humming a different tune, wizard, when get some of this into you!”

 

“Hmmm, yes, probably,” Gandalf murmured.

 

No sooner had they finished than more curry was served, followed closely by more beer.

Then the serious partying began. Orc waiters ensured a steady supply of beer for those seated at tables, as well as continuing to line up tankards on the bar. The dwarves began taking turns at the microphone to sing appallingly, bravely withstanding the heckling and thrown tankards from the crowd.

 

Dick had joined Merry and Pippin and the three of them were engaged in what appeared to be a very serious drinking competition. George was still drinking with the dwarves, headed by Gimli, who frequently exchanged glances with Gandalf and Aragorn.

 

Meanwhile, a rather forlorn-looking Gollum had snuck into the room and was perched on a seat at the far end of the bar.

 

“Nobody loves ussss,” he hissed to the orc behind the bar.

 

“Really?” nodded the orc. “Could be worse. You could be a tortured, mutated elf.”

 

Gollum gurgled and scowled, shaking his head. “And Preciousss is lost!”

 

“Who’s Precious?” asked the orc.

 

“Myyyy Precioussssss!” replied Gollum miserably. “Now we are all alone!”

 

“Here,” said the orc, putting a tankard in front of him. “Have a drink, you’ll feel much better.”

 

Gollum scowled again. “No! Hates beer, we do! It is nasssty! Nasssty beer!” He slumped forward sadly. “Nobody loves ussss! We wants to eat wormsssss!”

 

“Ah, well…” mused the orc, reaching behind him. “I don’t have any worms, but I do have a drink with worms in it.”

 

He placed a bottle of liquid on the bar with a fat, ugly worm sitting at the bottom. Gollum stared at it. The orc smiled and put a shot glass in front of him.

 

“There you go! Enjoy!”

 

He turned and continued pulling beers as Gollum poured some of the liquid into the glass and drank it. He coughed and spluttered.

 

“Aaah! It burns! It burns ussss….we likes it!” He filled the glass and drank again.

 

Sam had stuck by Frodo’s side “in case he needed protecting”, which had brought a smile to Gandalf’s face. However, he had continued to drink just as much beer as Merry and Pippin and had taken to staring at the ceiling and following imaginary flying objects around the room.

 

“What’s that?” he shouted to no-one in particular.

 

Gandalf followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything. “What’s what, Sam?”

 

Suddenly Legolas leaned across the table and grabbed Gandalf by his cloak.

“Orcs!” he hissed fiercely. “Everywhere!”

 

“Yes,” nodded Gandalf, trying to ooze calm. “They work here.”

 

Legolas sat back looking paranoid, still clutching Gandalf and pulling him half across the table. Aragorn went to intervene but Gandalf held up a hand.

 

“Work?” Legolas asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“That’s allright, then,” he said firmly, looking around the room wide-eyed.

 

“Legolas,” said Gandalf sternly after a moment. “Let go of me.”

 

Legolas let go like he’d been stung. “Sorry.”

 

Gandalf adjusted his clothes and gave him a quick smile. Suddenly his hat was pinched from his head by a dwarf who leapt onto a nearby table, waving it triumphantly. He was cheered on by most of the dwarves in the room as they began chanting.

 

“POINTY HAT TRICK!  POINTY HAT TRICK!  POINTY HAT TRICK!”

 

“Oh dear,” muttered Gandalf.

 

“POINTY HAT TRICK!  POINTY HAT TRICK!  POINTY HAT TRICK!”

 

“What do they want?” frowned Frodo.

 

“It sounds like…pointy hat trick?” said Sam incredulously.

 

Gandalf nodded and sighed heavily. “Yes, it does.”

 

“What’s the pointy hat trick?” asked Sam.

 

Gandalf shook his head, but before he could respond a terrified orc charged into the room, leapt onto the table the dwarf was on and knocked him off it. As Julian rescued Gandalf’s hat the dwarves began booing.

 

“What’s going on?” asked Sam.

 

“I have no idea,” replied Frodo. “But it doesn’t look good.”

 

The orc waved for them all to be quiet. He looked plaintively at Balin who joined him on the table to silence the room.

 

“What is it?” he asked the orc.

 

“I have a message from the Balrog, Mr Dwarf.”

 

The dwarves booed and hissed again. The orc’s eyes darted nervously around the room.

 

Balin waved a hand for them to be quiet again. “Er, well, what is it?”

 

“He says, ‘Don’t make me come up there’.”

 

“Ah. Does he.”

 

“Yes, Mr Dwarf.”

 

“Right, well…we’ll try to keep it down a bit, won’t we everybody?”

 

The dwarves all nodded vigorously.

 

“Allright then,” said the orc nervously, glancing from Balin to the dwarves and back again. “I’ll tell him.”

 

“Excellent,” nodded Balin with a smile.

 

The orc left. Once the door was closed, the entire crowd of dwarves fell about laughing.

 

Balin clapped his hands together gleefully and called to the bartender. “Line ‘em up!”

 

As the partying continued in earnest Julian approached Aragorn and squeezed onto the chair next to him. His face was flushed and his eyes sparkled with alcohol.

 

“I say,” he gasped. “This…beer…”

 

Gandalf and Aragorn exchanged a glance and a smile.

 

“Yes?” said Aragorn, looking at Julian.

 

Julian stared at him as if trying to work out what to say. “Um…” he licked his lips, leaning closer. “I’ve got something to show you,” he whispered, sliding down under the table.

 

Aragorn gasped just as a worried-looking Boromir also approached. Gandalf sat back chuckling.

 

“Aragorn,” asked Boromir sternly.

 

Aragorn looked at him, trying to appear calm. “Yes?”

 

Boromir looked around then leant closer. “Gollum is here. When are we getting the ring back?” he whispered.

 

“What?” asked Aragorn distractedly.

 

Boromir frowned. “Are you allright?”

 

Aragorn nodded. “It’s just…” he gasped again, tensing. Boromir peered under the table to see Julian hard at it between Aragorn’s legs.

 

“Oh.”

 

“He’s…very good…” muttered Aragorn.

 

A muffled voice came from under the table. “It’s all thanks to compulsory sports and a decent public school education.”

 

“I see,” mused Boromir.

 

“Did I say you could stop?” said Aragorn sharply. The smile returned to his face as Julian resumed his work.

 

“Well,” said Boromir thoughtfully. “Let me know when he’s finished…I mean…yes…”

 

Aragorn nodded with a smile, then caught Boromir’s sleeve as he turned away.

 

“Tell Gimli, ‘now’.”

 

“Now?”

 

Aragorn nodded. “Now. Oh, and Gollum…”

 

“Don’t worry,” said Boromir with a smile. “I’ll take care of him.”

 

They watched as Boromir went over and whispered in Gimli’s ear. Gimli thumped him on the back, waved to Aragorn, then grabbed George and headed to the bar.

 

“Barkeep!” he bellowed, pointing at George. “I declare Shenanigans on her!”

 

A roar went up from the assembled dwarves.

 

George looked around warily. “What does that mean?” she asked.

 

“It means you have to answer a challenge!” said the orc behind the bar. “Do you accept?”

 

“Well, what happens if I do?”

 

The orc reached down behind the bar and came up with two small kegs of beer with taps attached. “You each lie on stools with your heads near the edge of the bar, and drink from these kegs until they are empty. The first to finish wins.”

 

Several dwarves hugged George and cheered their encouragement. She was too busy laughing to notice the keen look in Gimli’s eye.

 

“Okay, I accept!”

 

There were more roars, but Gimli hushed them quickly. “If you win, you have my axe! How does that sound?”

 

George grinned. “Sure!”

 

“But if I win,” said Gimli sternly. “You must give me something of value.”

 

“But…I don’t have anything,” said George thoughtfully.

 

“Nothing at all? No…jewellery?”

 

George’s eyes lit up. “Well, there is the ring I found…”

 

“Excellent! If I win, I get your ring!”

 

“But…” George looked apprehensive and her hand slipped into her pocket, absentmindedly fondling the ring.

 

Gimli leaned close. “You aren’t backing out of a challenge are you?” he asked menacingly.

 

“No, no, not at all!”

 

Gimli nodded. “Very well. Let’s begin!”

 

The crowd roared louder, many standing on tables to watch and cheer. Boromir saw that Gollum was just about to move closer to watch the contest and hurried over, putting a friendly arm around his shoulders and steering him back to his seat at the bar.

 

“What do you have there?” he asked, looking at the nearly empty bottle.

 

“Tequila!” gurgled Gollum drunkenly, waving the bottle at him.

 

“Share?”

 

Gollum scowled. “No, it’s mine!”

 

“Barkeep! Another bottle!” yelled Boromir.

 

The orc put a bottle of tequila and a glass in front of Boromir, who smiled at Gollum as he poured tequila for them both. He handed Gollum’s glass back to him.

 

“Drink up, friend!”

 

George and Gimli were in position, the taps on the kegs over the edge of the bar directly above their open mouths.

 

“Ready?” asked a dwarf, his hand raised. “Go!”

 

He dropped his hand and the orc turned on the taps on the kegs. Beer poured into their mouths faster than George could swallow, but Gimli had done this before and reached up to turn his tap on faster.

 

Boromir glanced at the contest, then back to Gollum who had his head resting on the bar. Boromir peered at him and found to his surprise that Gollum had passed out. He nodded approvingly at Gollum’s unconscious form, then turned and continued watching the drinking contest.

 

Gimli finished with seconds to spare, standing up and waving his arms triumphantly as George finished and staggered to her feet.

 

“Care to go again?” asked Gimli with a grin.

 

George held up a hand and shook her head as she reached into her pocket and took out the ring on its chain, handing it to him.

 

“Well done, George!” he said, patting her back and making her cough.

 

As George was surrounded by cheering dwarves, Gimli ran to Frodo and handed him the ring.

 

“There you go, young hobbit,” he grinned. “All safe and sound.”

 

“Thank you Gimli,” smiled Frodo.

 

Gimli nodded, smiling, then frowned. “What, you’re not drinking?”

 

“Oh, just not feeling well,” lied Frodo. “I’m taking it slow.”

 

“Very well then,” replied Gimli, momentarily distracted by a hand stroking his beard. It was Anne, perched drunkenly in Legolas’ lap and playing with his hair.

 

“Are you doing his hair, too?” asked Gimli.

 

Anne nodded. “He is a very pretty elf.”

 

“Still the prettiest,” mumbled Legolas, burping loudly.

 

Gimli roared with laughter and returned to the bar, pausing to check on Dick, Merry and Pippin as he passed them. They were slumped forward on their table, Dick between the two hobbits, cuddling them both.

 

“Everything allright here?” Gimli asked.

 

“Wizard!” nodded Dick dreamily.

 

“Good.”

 

“Pippin,” said Merry, resting his chin on the edge of his tankard.

 

Pippin’s eyes began the slow trek from his beer to Merry’s face. When they finally arrived, he couldn’t remember why they’d made the trip.

 

“You say somethin’?” he slurred.

 

“Pippin,” mumbled Dick.

 

“Pippin,” repeated Pippin. “Oh, that’s me.”

 

“Yes. What did Gandalf say this stuff was called?” asked Merry.

 

“What stuff?”

 

Merry sighed and tried to bang his tankard on the table but only succeeded in making it wobble.

 

“Beer!” yelled Dick suddenly.

 

“Stout,” Pippin said firmly.

 

“I don’t know if I like it,” mumbled Merry, trying to stand up. “I think I should have some more.”

 

“Me too…” muttered Pippin, also trying to stand but slipping under the table instead. He lay there and groaned softly.

 

“You stay there,” said Dick as Merry headed to the bar. “We’ll get the beer.”

 

The dwarves turned their attention back to the karaoke machine, taking turns at the microphone. Four dwarves teamed up and performed a bizarre dance as they sang.

 

“Oh yeah! You can dance! You can smile! Having the time of your life! Ooooh…”

 

Sam gave Gandalf a horrified look. Gandalf nodded.

 

“I told you it gets worse.”

 

As they finished, Boromir, who couldn’t really think of a reason not to have a go, stood and walked to the stage. He grasped the microphone and the crowd cheered.

 

A slow guitar line began and Boromir began.

 

“Are you lonesome tonight...are you feeling, like me-e-e-e…”

 

“Oooh,” whimpered Pippin from under the table. “Make the bad man stop.”

 

A dwarf chuckled and reached down to ruffle his hair.

 

“Ow,” said Pippin. “Ow ow ow. Ow.”

 

“Somebody’s forgetting somebodyyyyyyy! Somebody’s letting somebody down!”

 

A group of dwarves joined the chorus, swaying from side to side, waving their arms. When Boromir finished they applauded loudly, and the next dwarf went up to take his turn. Boromir staggered down to join Merry and Dick.

 

“Where’s Pippin,” he asked with a smile. They gestured and he looked under the table. “Pippin!”

 

Boromir grabbed at the table as the tequila almost got the better of him. He slid underneath it to join Pippin, sitting beside him and pulling him up into his arms before passing out.

 

The partying continued. An orc arrived with another request from the Balrog to “keep the noise down or else”, but the dwarves ignored it, saying he was all bark and no bite. More food was brought, more beer was drunk, and those who passed out were shoved under tables or into corners out of the way. They would wake to eat and drink some more before passing out again. The karaoke machine broke down around dawn, however nobody noticed at first and the singing continued for several more hours.

 

A haze hung low to the floor: the unfortunate and very smelly result of far too much curry and beer consumed by far too many people in far too confined a space. Gandalf had long ago put his pipe away for safety’s sake, and persuaded Sam to do the same.

 

By lunchtime the following day almost everyone else had had enough except for the dwarves - and George. She and Gimli were standing on a table with their arms around each other’s shoulders, tankards raised high, singing.

 

“MORE BEER MORE BEER, MORE BEER MORE BEER, MORE BEER MORE BEER MORE BEER!!”

Gimli leant down, grabbing Merry by the front of his shirt and yanking him to his feet. “SING, MASTER HOBBIT!” he bellowed.

“I don’t know the words,” whimpered Merry, feeling ill.

 "MORE BEER MORE BEER, MORE BEER MORE BEER, MORE BEER MORE BEER MORE BEER!!”

Suddenly the door was thrown open and an orc ran in, stumbling over the bodies on the floor. Legolas leapt drunkenly to his feet.

“Orcsh!” he yelled, reaching for an arrow, spinning around wildly and falling flat on his rear.

 

The Orc ran to Gimli and George, pleading with them to be quiet. Gimli leant down and grabbed him and lifted him off the floor.

“Aaah, master Orc! You have more beer for us?”

“Firstly, we have no more beer...you greedy bastards drank it all! How are we going to celebrate Saruman’s birthday now? You really are awful!”

 

“If you have no beer,” snarled Gimli menacingly. “What do you want?”

“You’ve woken the Balrog!” whimpered the orc fearfully. “He says ‘Don’t make me come up there’ and just between you and I, you’d better listen! You know how grumpy he gets if he doesn’t get a solid three month’s sleep!”

Gimli dropped the orc to the floor and swung his axe drunkenly, almost decapitating one of his fellows. “Let him come...there’s still one dwarf in Moria that draws breath....”

 

He collapsed snoring to on the table.

“No!” yelled Balin, staring in horror at the curry haze around their legs. “If he comes up here…”

 

“I think we should all leave at once,” said Gandalf, getting to his feet. “Whether we are ready to, or not.”

 

The remaining dwarves looked at each other and began hauling their unconscious fellows out of the room. Gandalf, Aragorn, Frodo and Julian set about waking everyone else up, ushering them out of the hall and down a long, dark tunnel.

 

It was a slow-moving procession that made its way to the Bridge of Certain Doom, despite Gandalf’s gentle but firm persuading. He kept a firm hold of Merry and Pippin’s shirt collars to make sure they didn’t fall. Julian and Aragorn carried Boromir between them, who was still singing softly to himself. Frodo took care of Sam, Gimli took care of Legolas, Anne helped Dick and George skipped along happily. She had grabbed a full tankard of beer from the bar before they left.

 

They reached the Bridge and Merry came to an abrupt halt, staring at it.

 

“Allright, Meriadoc?” said Gandalf firmly. “We have to cross the Bridge now. Come on.”

 

“The Bridge of what?” asked Merry, staring.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Everything has a name,” he said, still staring in fear. “What is it? The Bridge of what?”

 

Aragorn looked up at Gandalf, who sighed and shook his head as he replied “It’s called the Bridge of Certain Doom.”

 

Merry’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Oh no, no no no!”

 

“What’s the matter?” asked Aragorn.

 

“NO!” said Merry waving a finger at the Bridge. “We...we had the Watch-Tower of Ambushing Nazgul and we got ambushed, and then we had the Pass of Cannot Pass which we couldn’t get through, so…so no!”

 

“You’ll go if I have to carry you!” said Aragorn sternly.

 

“I’ll do that,” said Boromir, reaching drunkenly for Merry.

 

“No!”

 

“It’s Elvish!” yelled Frodo suddenly, a hint of panic in his voice.

 

Everyone stopped and looked at him.

 

“Elvish?” said Merry suspiciously, taking a step towards Frodo and doing his best to look stern, but failing as he staggered slightly.

 

“Yes, it means…’The Bridge…of the…Back Door’,” Frodo said uncertainly.

 

“Yes, that’s right,” said Gandalf, stifling a smile. “It simply means the other way out. Nothing to worry about. Come along.”

 

He ushered Merry and Pippin in front of him, then suddenly stopped and turned to face the rest of them.

 

“Now,” he said sternly. “To pass, you must answer me these questions three.”

 

Frodo looked startled. “What?”

 

Gandalf laughed. “Oh, never get tired of that one…”

 

He turned and resumed his walk across the bridge. A roar came from behind them.

 

“What’s that?” asked Anne, wide eyed.

 

“That would be the Balrog,” replied Gandalf with a sigh. “Quick, over the bridge. I’ll go and talk to him and make sure he doesn’t do any fire breathing. Hurry!”

 

They hurried across the bridge as Gandalf turned and headed towards the ominous roaring behind them.

 

Outside, the morning sun hung bright in a clear blue sky.

 

“My eyes!” yelped Pippin, falling to the ground.

 

“Pick him up, please, someone,” sighed Aragorn wearily. “Again.”

 

Merry pointed at the prone form in front of him. “Pippin,” he said simply. “Pippin.”

 

He fell on top of Pippin. There was a muffled groan.

 

“’s allright, Pippin,” he mumbled. “I love you.”

 

Frodo sat down, his back against a rock, shaking his head and smiling. A pale Sam staggered over and collapsed onto his knees, slumping into Frodo’s lap.

 

“I’m going to die, Mr Frodo,” he moaned pitifully.

 

Frodo gently stroked Sam’s hair, laughing softly. “You’re not going to die, Sam.”

 

Sam looked up hopefully before groaning again. “I’m going to DIE, Mr Frodo!”

 

Aragorn and Julian, who were both fairly sober, had helped a barely conscious Boromir outside and now laid him gently on the rocks. He lay there, eyes closed, singing softly.

 

Aragorn sighed. “Right, is everyone here?”

 

He surveyed the wreckage before him and shook his head. Merry and Pippin still lay in a heap and Sam was still in Frodo’s lap. Dick, Legolas and Boromir lay on the ground in various states of consciousness. Anne and Julian were both very tired and emotional but still capable of standing. Just. Gimli and George sat on a rock singing and laughing.

 

Gandalf was nowhere to be seen. They waited. After several hours an orc came out to tell them Gandalf would be staying a little longer.

 

Everyone was awake now. George and Gimli had gotten quieter as the sobered up.

 

“Should we wait for him?” asked Julian. 

 

Aragorn shook his head. “We must get moving. He knows where we are going, he will catch up with us. You, on the other hand, should be heading home.”

 

Boromir sat up, holding his head and grimacing. “Give us a moment, for pity’s sake!” he groaned, falling back onto the rocks.

 

“I think Aragorn’s right,” said Julian, turning to Dick and Anne. “It’s time we got home or Aunt Fanny will be very worried.”

 

“I’ll say!” nodded Anne. “I think I’ve had enough adventure for these holidays!”

 

Aragorn stood. “Well it’s been...interesting. But we must get moving.”

 

Between them, Aragorn and Julian hustled everyone to their feet and they made their way down the mountainside. At the bottom, the two parties said their farewells. Aragorn gave the children directions for the quickest route back to Bree.

 

As they went their separate ways, the last thing the children heard was Aragorn teasing the hobbits.

 

“I’ll never drink again,” Pippin groaned. “I feel…terrible.”

 

“So you’ll not be wanting breakfast, then?” asked Aragorn with a smile.

 

The hobbits shook their heads.

 

“What about second breakfast?”

 

Merry and Pippin both groaned and shook their heads again.

 

“Elevenses?”

 

“Nooo….”

 

“Lunch?”

 

“Oh please, stop…”

 

“Aragorn,” said Boromir with a grin.

 

“Well we can’t have them going hungry, Boromir,” he said with a smile. “Afternoon tea?”

 

“Oh please…” moaned Sam. “No more, please…”

 

“Supper?”

 

“Noo!”

 

“Not even a snack?”

 

“Aragorn, leave them alone, you’re merciless.”

 

“Where are we going?” moaned Pippin.

 

“Onward to Lothlorien,” mumbled Legolas. “Where the stuck-up cult elves live.”

 

“Oh,” said Merry with a scowl.

 

“More elves,” said Sam wistfully. “I feel better already.”

 

The End.

 

 

Kinkyhobbit/Kevswitchau 2002

 

Sign My Guestbook

 

Home / Five Go Mad in Middle-Earth / Elijah Fiction  / RPS Fiction / LOTR Fiction