DISCLAIMER-- It's pretty obvious that I don't own any of Tolkien or J.K. Rowling's creations, and I'm not making any money off of this as evident by the holes in my floor and lack of food in the cupboard. VERY IMPORTANT to know that this fic contains some spoilers from Return of the King-- so if you haven't read the books, don't say I didn't warn you... Fic was completed at 4am in the morning under the influence of Dr Pepper and smutfics.

Part Two coming up! The folks from Harry Potter are up next.... MUWAHAHAHAA!

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"Which one do you think will chicken out first, Potter?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

The two Hogwarts students stood together with their arms crossed, waiting just outside of a body art/beauty parlor.

"I don't know," continued Draco, "I'm pretty sure the blonde bloke with donkey ears won't last a minute."

Harry snorted. "Are you kidding? Elves are fearless, Malfoy. Something you know nothing about."

Draco rolled his eyes, then shifted his weight from one impatiently tapping foot to another. "I wish they'd get on with it, already. It's our turn."

Harry sighed tiredly. "Malfoy, if anyone chickens out it's going to be you."

"Potter," Draco snarled without bothering to face The Prat Who Lived, "just because you have a scar on your forehead that slightly resembles a lightning bolt does NOT make you king of the House of Pain."

Harry grit his teeth. "I wonder where Hermione is," he said neutrally.

"Probably out shagging that flea-infested guerrilla you always hang around with," muttered Draco.

Harry twitched.

"What's he going to get a tattoo of, Potter? 'Will Work For Food' on his hairy red chest?" Draco sniggered.

Harry twitched again.

Then he replied saucily, "Funny that you should be thinking about Ron's chest and sexual habits, eh Malfoy?"

Draco bit his tongue so hard it no longer required a piercing.

"Where's Crabs and Goober?" asked Harry indifferently.

"Crabbe and Goyle," hissed Draco, "are in the back alley fighting with each other."

"Why is that?"

"Because I told them to."

The boys sat in dead silence for quite some time. A tumbleweed occasionally blew in front of them in the cool night breeze, once or twice stopping to ask them if they had a cigarette.

"Bollocks!" blurted Draco. "What are they doing in there? Trying to revive the Disco era?"

Harry rolled his eyes and said nothing, pondering what sort of ring he should get pierced into his eyebrow. It would be a nice accent to his very masculine spectacles. A spike? A bar? A loop? Maybe a piercing in the shape of a broomstick... perhaps a tattoo of a phoenix with--Draco interrupted his thoughts with an irritable sneer.

"So, Potter," he spat, "what do you plan on getting done? Piercing? Tattoo? Bikini wax?"

"Even if I had made up my mind--which I have not--I would not tell YOU, Malfoy," grumbled Harry.

"Ha! Right, sure thing Potter. I for one plan on having the Slytherin crest inked onto my neck. The ladies won't be able to keep their hands off of me."

Harry let out something of a strangled cough. "The neck? That's quite a sensitive area."

Draco glared. "You think I can't take pain?'

Harry whistled.

"I've been through more pain than you can fathom, Potter! My father put tacks under my bedcovers when I was five years old to stop me from bed- wetting. You want to know how he taught me about the birds and bees? He took me to Azkaban and let the inmates have their way with me for three days straight. I walked with a limp until I was ten years old!"

Harry lifted a brow.

"Do you even WANT to know how I was taught to ride a broomstick?"

"Please, no."

Just then a loud commotion ensued from inside the parlor. Draco and Harry watched the tightly sealed doors rattle. The curtains yanked around a bit in the windows. They saw a flash of hairy toes, one or two arrows whizzing by, and what appeared to be a fifteen-inch syringe walking on its own feet.

Harry fidgeted with his glasses and gulped nervously.

Draco pulled out a mini-flask of Buttervodka and took a hearty swig.

After a long torturous silence, the doors finally burst open and several Lord of the Rings favorites wobbled out.

The first to emerge was Éowyn, the shieldmaiden of Rohan herself, a fair and cold vixen on whom Draco Malfoy had a maddening crush. She walked toward them in a flourish of golden dredlocks, and a flash of shiney new piercings.

"Does she remind you of Cameron Diaz, or is it just me?" squeaked Harry.

Draco hissed. "Shhh!"

She had a few celtic hoops lined in order from smallest to largest in her right eyebrow; about ten silvery miniscule links in each ear; a glittering stud in her nose; a spiked labret piercing; and a bright dangling belly button ring, which was chain-linked to some unidentified place underneath her skirts.

Draco gawked and adjusted his robes so that they covered his protruding lower half.

Harry snickered at Malfoy, but found himself squirming just the same. "Cameron.." he muttered lustfully to himself.

"Hello, young mastersh," she said with an obvious slur. "Omhm." Then she blushed slightly and stuck out her tongue, which had a barbell through the middle of it nearly the size of the tongue itself.

Harry flinched. "Pardon me, but... didn't that hurt?"

Éowyn smiled brightly and shook her head. "Noph."

He then looked toward her skirts, or more importantly, toward the strange contraption that was underneath the skirts.

He stuttered. "Um.. didn't.. THAT... hurt?"

Éowyn laughed and shook her head, the dredlocks of her formerly long and flowing hair whipping around. She took a few steps toward him and squeaked in bliss.

"Oh! Ohh! OOOOoOOooohhh!"

Harry gulped. "Oh. I see," he whispered meekly and didn't even think to hide the sudden queer fold in his pants.

Draco, who had been busy attempting to scoop his jaw from the floor, merely dropped it again. The cement cracked.

Éowyn winked and sidled up to him... well, not "sidle" so much as walking in such a way that prevented her from screaming wildly with every step.

Then Draco finally managed to speak, albeit with his voice dropped a few octaves that he presumed sounded sexier.

He said: "Éowyn, is... doesn't... wouldn't... tongue?....hurt...hard to kiss..?" He even finished with a gurgling sound, which he knew wasn't sexy, but with his tongue on the ground he was already producing a river of drool.

Éowyn smiled and leaned forward to lick the entire left side of Draco's face with her tongue--piercing and all--flat against his cheek, as if to demonstrate one of its many uses.

"Mmmm." She pulled away. Then she winked again and joined Faramir who was just walking out, scratching irritably at his chest.

Draco and Harry stared with dazzled eyes as she walked--very slowly--to meet her Gondorian husband. Well, Harry at least stared. Draco had managed to invent a whole new form of the word. His eyes popped out inches from their sockets, and his pants gave Éowyn a standing ovation.

"Explain to me, my love," Faramir was saying gruffly, "why there has to be a chain attached?"

Éowyn gestured toward the chain in her belly button, then pulled his shirt gently aside to reveal both his nipples were pierced and connected by, of course, a long delicate chain that matched Éowyn's. Ooo, viva la kink!

Faramir lifted his brow in understanding, scooped her into his arms, and they walked off giggling and smooching merrily, with the occasional blissful squeal accompanied by the tinkling of chains.

Draco's bodily functions continued to defy gravity, and Harry scuffled away from Malfoy's enthusiastic...eh... wand-waving.

Next out was Merry and Pippin, who had matching tattoos--each had the other's name across the upper arm, the letters decorated with stylishly inked leaves of Lórien. The hobbits were completely inebriated. They bobbed their heads to an old folksong which they'd been singing rather gargly and off-key. They swung their pints around in celebration, splashing Harry a bit (and Draco too, but he was totally unaware).

"Fellas! Watch it!" Harry yelled, wringing out his robes.

Pippin and Merry bombarded Harry with sloppy hugs and smelly apologies. Harry tried to fend them off, but they only resumed the infectiously happy folksong, this time bouncing Harry around on their shoulders. Harry gave in and began to sing along, getting quite drunk off of the fumes of his hobbit- surfing.

Next out was Gimli, who was by far on the bigget buzz anyone in the history of Everyone had ever experienced. Whatever else is rumored of dwarves, they can sure hold their liquor, and jazz. He spun around a few times before running into Draco's middle.

"Oww!? Get yer sword out of my face!" the dwarf spat, squinting furiously, but still unable to see less than five blurry versions of the lean, pale boy in front of him.

Draco finally snapped out of his Shieldmaiden Fantasies and tucked his "wand" back into his robes.

"Well," he grumbled, "YOU'RE the one who ran into ME!"

Gimli snorted, spun around a few times with surprisingly balletic grace, then withdrew his axe and waved it in what he thought would be a threatening manner (looked more like he was conducting an orchestra).

"Alllllright! We'll fight to the death! HUZZAH!" And he brought his axe down on one of the fifteen Draco clones he was seeing through his Drunk-O- Vision.

Draco rolled his eyes and pushed Gimli down with a mere pinky.

Gimli fell right smack into Harry, Merry, and Pippin and a loud noise that resembled the sound of a bowling ball hitting the pins played from airborne speakers as they all four crashed to the ground in a giggling heap.

"Oi! Gimli! What did you have done?" asked Pippin, who was furiously licking the inside of his empty pint.

"Ahahahahhaa!" cackled Gimli. "I got my lips pierced! Ahahahhaah!"

Everyone studied Gimli for a while in silence, but not so much as a chin could be found underneath those tufts of red fur. Everyone shrugged and went back to business.

Next out were Aragorn and Arwen, probably the only two sober ones present. They were dangling off of each other in that disgusting lovey-dovey fashion you see boys and girls doing. Like at The Mall where they think they look cool, but really everyone they pass thinks they're goddamn morons who should get a room. They had quaint matching tattoos on their arms: a pair of hearts, each with an "A" in the center, obviously for Aragorn and Arwen-- the hearts themselves had a king and queen's crown on top. Aww.

Draco lifted a brow when he saw the sexy little Elf-queen emerge, and he walked up behind them. Stealthily, but with Malfoyesque grace, he whacked Arwen on the arse so hard she had a flashblack of shagging Haldir in her teens.

"WAHH!" she gasped.

Aragorn spun around and drew his knife, holding it under Draco's neck.

"YOU DARE SPANK MY WIFE BEFORE ME!?"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," said Draco suavely, ignoring the blade at his throat. "I didn't know you wanted to go first."

Arwen cleared her throat, blushing. Aragorn coughed and put his knife away.

"You're just a child," he said with superiority. "So be gone, you pheromone- driven pastry!"

Draco glared and was about to say something, but Arwen intervened and leaned prettily against Aragorn while saying: "Aww, honeynugget..Let it go! He's just a boy, after all." She wrapped one of her long, slender fingers around a lock of his hair, curling it playfully.

Aragorn simmered down like the elf-whipped King he was. He shrugged Draco off, and stalked away with Arwen's armed linked into his.

Draco intently watched Arwen walk (with some satisfaction), and just as he was about to turn his attentions elsewhere, a slip of paper dropped out of her dress. She turned her head to wink at him before she and the King disappeared into the night.

Draco picked up the note when Aragorn was out of kniving range, and found her phone number and address written neatly on it. He grinned, tucking it away into his robe, briefly wondering if the Hogwarts Express would take him to Middle-earth--wherever the hell THAT is.

Next out was Gandalf the White, who had his hair done neatly in slick cornrows, a la Snoop Dogg.

Draco, Harry, Merry, Pippin, Gimli, and a couple of mosquitoes in the air stopped breathing at the mere sight of it.

"CORNROWS?!" they all howled with laughter. The mosquitoes clutched their sides to keep from bursting.

Gandalf huffed. "Well, the beautician told me it was the 'hip' and 'modern' thing to do."

Suffice to say that hoots and hollars and snickering and cackling followed Gandalf to the rest of his days.

Draco gave him a catcall.

Gandalf walked off in a hurry, yelling, "Wanky whippersnappers!" as he lovingly smoothed out his new hairdo. "Don't listen to them," he murmered comfortingly.

Next out of the beauty/body art parlor were Frodo and Sam. Frodo was bare- chested and fanning his burning nipples, which each had The One Ring tattooed around them in neat golden circles, Elvish inscription and all. Sam was puffy-eyed and tear-stained.

"What happened to him?" asked Harry, peeking out from the drunken pile of Dwarf and Hobbit he was buried beneath.

Frodo chuckled. "Well, Sam had a bit of an accident."

There was a collective eyebrow-lifting from all present.

"An accident?" echoed Harry.

"Yes, turn around Sam. Show them."

And Sam grumbled to himself, then turned around. Three little letters could be discerned on the back of his neck: "F R O."

"Fro?" Harry asked.

"Yes, he was trying to get my name done on his neck, you see," explained Frodo with stifled amusement, "but... he couldn't handle that last O, so..."

"I told you Mister Frodo," globbered Sam, "I hate needles! HATE THEM!" And he burst into a fresh crop of Sob and Whimper. "Besides, the neck? that's a sensitive area, y'know?"

Draco twitched, rubbing unconsciously at his.

Frodo nodded apologetically to the others and began to walk Samwise calmly away.

"There, there Sam... perhaps in a couple of more pints we can go back and finish it, hm?"

"Perhaps so, Mr. Frodo," sniffed Sam. "Perhaps so."

Draco coughed. "So he has the word 'Fro' tattooed on his neck, eh?"

Harry glared up at his archenemy and said, "How observant of you, Malfoy. Would you like a cookie for good behavior?"

Draco was not to be outdone. "Sure, Potter. Just feed it to my snake."

Harry blanched for a minute. "What? Where?"

Draco responded coolly, "You speak parseltongue, right?"

Harry lifted a brow suspiciously. "Well, duh."

"Tell me.... do you speak to Trouser Snakes as well?"

Merry and Pippin fell over themselves with giggles, tossing Gimli back and forth to each other.

Harry blinked dumbly. "What kind of snakes...are.. trouser..sn..akes.." He eyed everyone mysteriously as they proceeded to snicker and sputter.

Draco shrugged. "Don't know, Potter. Just curious if you can speak to Trouser Snakes."

Harry replied uncertainly, "Well, if it's a type of snake MALFOY, of course I can."

"This snake is very hard to find," continued Draco, "it inhabits the most secret and dark of places, hiding from its predator.."

"What, like in the Forbidden Forest?"

Merry and Pippin choked.

"...waiting behind a bush," continued Draco, "or large rocks, watching its predator with a keen eye... when it attacks, it emits this sticky white venom--"

"No, no, wait!" interrupted Gimli with a sudden revelation. "What color is this snake?"

Draco grinned. "Well, that depends on the..hiding place. Sometimes dark, sometimes light, depending on the climate, usually how... HOT it is."

Merry and Pippin bit their lips, eyes tearing up.

"Hmm," said Gimli in a thoughtful drunken stupor, "I believe I have wrestled this beast once."

Merry and Pippin howled into their empty pints.

Draco bit his quivering lips. "Oh? Have you?"

Gimli's eyes twinkled with the sport of battle fresh on his mind. "Ah, yes. I remember this monster. This thief! Tried to stow away with my jewels once, when I was digging with my father in the mines of my homeland.."

Draco could hardly stand it. "Tried to... run away.. with your jewels?"

"Aye," replied Gimli with a fiesty look as he reflected, "but I caught him! I caught the filthy thief!"

"And what did ya do to 'im?" blurted Pippin, while Merry buried his giggles in his hands.

"I strangled him!" Gimli stood up, triumphantly waving his axe. "Nobody runs off with my jewels!"

"So, you strangled your Trouser Snake because it made off with your jewels, Gimli?" recapped Draco.

Merry and Pippin could stand it no longer and bursted into peals of insane laughter; Draco followed.

Harry Potter stood around dumbly.

"A *trouser* snake? Hmm," he mused aloud.

"What? Where?" said Legolas, walking out of the shop with Haldir at his side--not a single hair was out of place on either of them.

"Trouser snake?" chuckled Haldir. "Haven't seen one of those since the Third Age."

Legolas turned to his companion. "You haven't shagged since the Third Age?"

Haldir shrugged. "I've got an eternity to catch up."

"True," replied Legolas.

"Shagged? What would Trouser Snakes have to do with shagging...." Harry continued to sort things out in his own lightning-bolt-scarred head.

"Aha!" yelled Draco at the sight of Haldir and Legolas. "I see you two "fearless" elves haven't had a thing done! What, did you wimp out? Didn't want to ruin your precious, perfect skin?"

Haldir and Legolas stared blankly at Draco. "What's that, Master Malfoy?"

Draco continued. "No tattoos? No piercings? No funky modern hairdos?"

Haldir and Legolas looked at each other, then together looked dryly back at Draco.

"Legolove!" squealed Gimli, who just noticed his Best Buddy in the Whole Wide World walking out. He ran up to Legolas and hugged him round the waist.

Legolas squirmed. "Careful there, Gimlikins."

"Gimlikins?" repeated Draco. "GIMLIKINS? AHAHAHA!"

Legolas, Gimli, and Haldir stared spitefully at him.

"Well, time to go home," said Haldir, but before he could finish or do anything else, Draco snickered and said:

"Elves are wussies! Harry is a bloody fool. Haha! Yes, time to go you big WANKERS!"

And then Legolas and Haldir began to walk away.

Strange tinkling noises could suddenly be heard. Draco peered around him, at a loss.

"Wait," he said, "stop."

Legolas and Haldir stopped. The tinkling noises stopped.

"Does anyone else hear.. tinkling?"

Legolas and Haldir shrugged.

Draco checked himself for lack of sleep and/or iron and possible hallucinations, then said, "Huh. Okay. Continue."

Legolas and Haldir continued walking; the tinkling resumed.

"Okay, STOP!" Draco stared wildly around him. "Where is that coming from!?"

Gimli pointed to a street lamp some distance from Haldir and Legolas. "I think it's comin' from those two."

"Oh!" said Haldir casually. "I almost forgot. We did have something done, after all."

"Oh?" said Draco suspiciously.

"Yes, Master Malfoy," continued Legolas. "Nothing, really."

"Well, let's see it then," said Draco irritably.

Legolas and Haldir gave each other knowing looks, then slipped their pants off faster than anyone could say "elfsmut!"

A bright, mystical light radiated from the groins of Haldir and Legolas.

Gimli's eyes were wide, and he whispered, awe-struck, "Mithril...."

Draco gaped at the Elves' radiant crotches. He was speechless.

"What's that, Master Malfoy?" said Haldir. "You act as though you've never seen a mithril Prince Albert before."

"Maybe he hasn't seen one with all the bells and whistles," said Legolas smugly. "Literally."

Draco's own Trouser Snake bowed its head and slinked away miserably. "How did.. what.. who.. ooooooooow." He continued to stare, his mind racing with a whole new realm of possibilities.

"Well what are ya waiting for," sputtered Pippin from somewhere behind Draco, "to see if they do tricks?!"

"Kind of gives new meaning to the phrase 'The Golden Wood,' eh Pip?" said Merry.

Legolas and Haldir grinned and pulled their pants back up.

They continued to walk off into the distance, Gimli between them and swinging merrily from their conjoined hands, the sound of gentle tinkling following their delicate Elvish footsteps.

Draco's mouth hung open in stunned silence, and he squirmed as if in a tremendous amount of pain. "How did.. what.. who..huh."

Merry and Pippin finally passed out in a hungover heap of hollow pint glasses and half-chewed mushrooms.

Draco stared after Legolas and Haldir, shaking himself out of it.

"Get a grip," he muttered. "They're just elves. Not.. wanton sex gods..."

Then out of the blue nowhere, Harry's indignant voice broke the pensive silence.

"TROUSER SNAKE?!" he hollared. "MALFOY! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"