AN: well, as I was surveying my stories, I found this. It had been screwed up, not to mention I had not beta-ed it (the sin of sins!) So here it is, revised and ready for action!

Cast of Characters

Maestro ~ Faramir
Flute ~ Aragorn
Clarinet ~ Boromir
Oboe ~ Butterbur
Bass Clarinet ~ Gandalf

Contralto Clarinet ~ Elrohir

Alto Sax ~ Legolas, Thranduil

Tenor Sax ~ Elladan
Bassoon ~ Eowyn
Trumpet ~ Glorfindel
Trombone ~ Elrond, Gil-Galad, Fingon
Tuba ~ Arwen and all the Mary Sues of the World!!!
Percussion ~ Frodo on quads, Pippin and Merry on snares, and Sam on bass.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I speak, therefore I am speech."

*I think, therefore I am thought.*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Elrond was at the end of his rope. What was left of it. Big time. Why in Manwe's name did he agree to let Faramir put him in a "symphonic band", as he so called it. Not only that, but he was being forced to play the trombone, the most ridiculous instrument he could think of.

He smiled grimly. At least he didn't have to play tuba like Arwen and that repulsively perfect Mary Sue, or play bassoon like Eowyn.

And, if worst came to worst, he could always whack them over the head with his trombone slide. *Mwuah…*

However, it would have been halfway bearable if Mary S. hadn't been so perky.

"I swear, if she says one more word I'm going to ram her down the bell of my instrument and play that way," he muttered direly, half to himself.

Aragorn overheard, and said, "Amen, Brother."

Aragorn had been press-ganged into playing the flute. Elrond pitied him.

~

Boromir was ready for heads to roll. He preferred orc heads, but as of that moment he was too incensed to care whom the heads belonged to.

He was the B flat clarinet, which was about 16 inches long. It was wood. That was his first problem.

*Can't even use it was a weapon. One whack and BAM! the clarinet is smashed and the orc is still heading right at you.*

Boromir really didn't like orcs. Even though the Author had resurrected him from death, he still hated orcs.

Besides orcs, he really didn't like the clarinet. Not only because it was made out of wood, but because it was high pitched.

But that wasn't that bad. At least he wasn't Aragorn. *Mwuah…*

Butterbur, who played the oboe, was staring idly off into space. Boromir had made some conversational effort, but it appeared that he was deep in La-la Land.

~

Legolas was emotionally detached from the whole farce. Did he care that his dignity was about 20 feet above him? No. He did not. He was just waiting for this…symphonic band practice…to end. *Symphonic band practice from Angband…* he thought, mournfully.

His father, Thranduil, was in much the same condition. However, he was talking with Elladan and Elrohir, who sat near them

"This is madness. I don't care if he is the Steward of Gondor, this can be construed as cruel and unusual punishment!"

"Yes, yes, I know, Elladan. But we are immortal: we must humor these misguided mortals."

"Misguided is the understatement of the yen, Thranduil."

"Indeed, Elrohir, indeed…"

~

Eowyn was beyond all sane levels of comprehension. Or, at least, she would have been if anyone other than Faramir was conducting.

~

"This is ridiculous."

"Yes, Fingon, I know."

"I mean, what sort of idiot would put together a symphonic band of these imbeciles?"

"Fingon, Gil-Galad has already said he knows what you mean."

"And to try to get these …mortals… to play a decent piece of music…it's pure madness. Simply madness. MADNESS! ALL MADNESS!"

"Gil-Galad, is Fingon hallucinating?"

"No, Elrond, he's merely hysterical."

~

Glorfindel was so beyond caring about the entire ordeal he didn't even notice that he had stepped on his trumpet. It looked rather…flattened…

~

"Some help over here, please!! ARGH! *OOF!*" Crashes and large, conspicuous booms filled the room.

Merry and Pippin were struggling to put the snare drums on, as was Frodo with the quads.

Elrond looked for Sam. He was lying on the ground, unconscious. Cause of unconsciousness: head trauma by bass.

"AH HA!!" Pippin exclaimed, having successfully put on the snare. He immediately collapsed under the weight. "Pain!!"

"Oh no, Pippin!!" Mary S. said shrilly. She rushed to his side.

"You poor dear, are you okay? Do you want me to heal you with my magical tears?" She didn't even wait for a cue: she started bawling (gracefully, of course). Her eyes didn't turn the slightest bit red. She is Mary Sue, of course.

However, Sue though she may be, Aragorn, Boromir, Elrond, and the rest of the band had had it with her perkiness.

"Oh no, please, someone help me!! Ah!!" She screamed as Boromir, Fingon, and Gil-Galad took the liberty of picking her up and ramming her down Elrond's trombone. It was a rather tight fit, but almost no one was complaining. Everybody cheered. That is, all except Mary Sue, who still maintained her death-defying perkiness.

"Like, will someone please let me out, like, now???!!!!"

Faramir took advantage of the momentary unperkiness.

"Okay, everyone! Rehearsal time!!"

~joint moan~

He ignored it and proceeded to "rehearse" the band.

"One two three four! One two three four!"

Again and again and again...

The chanting of the "maestro", as Faramir called himself, coincided with the throbbing of Aragorn's headache. "One two three four!" *ouch ouch throb ouch…*

"This cannot go on," he thought to himself.

Faramir reached a pause when the song was over (or at least when the dissidence ended...).

"Okay everyone great-great-great job today!!!"

Everybody stared in horror. Could it be that the perkiness disease had affected Faramir too? Then came another thought: Who would be next to succumb? Would the madness that was PERKY never stop?!

"Kill the disease now!!" Gandalf bellowed, grabbing Faramir and jamming him into the bell of Arwen's tuba.

Everybody cheered.


FIN(?)
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**



Go trombones! It's yo' birfday! We gonna party 'cause it's yo' birfday! WHOO!


And here is a public service announcement from your sponsor:

Every day, people give their heart and soul into fanfiction works. They often work late into the night (and morning) to bring you quality Lord of the Rings fanfic.

However, lack of reviews leads to Writer's Block, a fatal writing disorder. So remember, next time you read a story, save a writer. Review.

This has been a public service announcement from your sponsor.