Disclaimer: I own everything in Lord of the Rings! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! NOT!
If you look at the sign over the doorway it will read, "Snodgrass, Winkle and Co." in faded white letters.
Inside the building up the seventeen stairs to the second floor you will find a small cramped office which makes up the firm of "Snodgrass and Winkle." It is a small publishing firm in existence for the publishing of Fan fiction. The fan fiction is chosen by the proprietor, Mr. Snodgrass, using the fail proof system of whether he likes it, or not.
Apparently this chapter made the IN list, so get a coke or a coffee or whatever suits your fancy and begin now.
qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpq
Chapter One
Welcome to Rivendell Mr. Anderson
Barbie's POV
"This sucks! This so, so sucks! And my orange juice has floaty things in it" I said to the wall. It made no response, surprise, surprise. I grabbed my journal and a pen, and began writing furiously.
Dear Journal,
This is so NOT funny. OK, remember that two week long trip to New York I've been ranting about? Of course you do, you're probably sick to death of the subject. Speaking of sick, I am. With the flu that is. Anyhow, the whole family is chugging away to New York, with the exception of Emily, who is roaming Europe. Darn her. Barb.
I tossed my journal aside, and took a gulp of the afore-mentioned juice, choked, and slammed it onto the tray table next to the couch. Here I was, sick with the flu, and all alone. All alone. All al-wait! All Alone. With nobody to stop me from doing anything I wanted?
15 minutes later.
Carrying the worlds most imaginative sundae, I slid "Pride & Prejudice" into the VCR. These two weeks might actually not be so bad. Not bad at all. P&P is a really long movie, so I hit the sack about eleven something. I sort of regretted polishing off the rest of that ice cream, and slept a somewhat queasy hour.
At exact midnight- my digital clock cannot tell a lie- I woke up. My whole body was tensed, and I listened intently. Listened-for what? Then I heard it. A faint clinking noise and a the sound of someone scolding someone else. I thought" Burglars!" I could imagine them, in black and white striped jerseys, with a bag marked "Swag". Probably carrying a knife-or an axe! Then I mentally shook myself. That was ridiculous, and I was being a coward.
I had heard somewhere that burglars will leave if you make a lot of noise, so I jumped out of bed, and rummaged around in my little sisters toy box. After making enough noise to wake the dead, I listened. Nothing. I guess I had scared them off. I slunk down the hallway, and switched on the living room light.
And suddenly, and very quietly, I was surrounded by Sharp, Pointy Objects. Six swords, one staff, one bow, and one axe to be exact. Vaguely, my sleep ridden mind remembered that someone had to be wielding them. So I looked up one of the really big swords. Really far up.
Then I felt the hysterical urge to laugh. Because there, in MY living room, in the 20th century, were the Nine Companions. Then I looked down one of the smallest swords. Really far down. I was met with a pair of accusatory blue eyes. And said the first, insane thing that came to mind. "Welcome to Rivendell. Mr. Anderson."
qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpq
Author's Note: Hello, this is H.F. Winkle. I am actually the only one who does any work around here. All Snodgrass does is lounge around the office, preening himself about how good-looking he thinks he is.
Snodgrass. "That is not true!"
Winkle. "What isn't true?"
Snodgrass. "I am really am that good looking!"
Oh lord…anyway, this story is simply a carefully edited, and carefully arranged account of something that actually happened. Yes, Barbara did exist, and so will Emily-she's coming in the next chapter-
Snodgrass. "It's kewl to be late."
All right, I'm giving up. Cheers, and lots of love, until the next chapter."
Snodgrass. "Next chapters are kewl!"