I don't quite know why I started writing this… it doesn't have much point. Thanks to Jackie, for giving me the inspiration for it in the first place. I don't own 'Lord of the Rings' still, but I'm working on it, believe me.

A Lord of the Rings Fanfiction

Chapter 1

In the beginning there was Middle-earth. And it was good.

And then a book was written about one of the least exciting but technically really quite important adventures, concerning a hobbit and a bunch of dwarves and a dragon. It wasn't the hobbit, the dwarves or the dragon that were important; it was one paragraph in the book, added by the author as an afterthought when he realized that the hobbit wasn't going to last five minutes on his own, and quickly scribbled in something about the hobbit finding a magic ring. And it was good.

Soon afterwards, another book was written about Middle-earth, this time about the magic ring and the original hobbit's heir, the original hobbit having been deemed too fuddy-duddy to attract a younger audience, and basically all the trouble the magic ring caused. Which was a lot, surprisingly. As this was also good.

So good, in fact, that a film was made of it. Oh wait, another book was written about Middle-earth, about the beginning and all the events leading up to when the original hobbit first set off, as a sort of hazing for those trying to become true obsessed fans. This was also, according to everyone who managed to get through it, good. But then no-one's going to check.

Anyway, back to the film. According to pretty much everyone who had access to the internet, this wasn't just good, it was flingin' flangin' fantastic. People who thought that it wasn't just tutted quietly in the corner, aware that if they said so they would probably be attacked by the many leagues of fans the films had created.

And after this, the fanfictions began to pop up. On , the amount of 'Lord of the Rings' fanfictions sprung from below a hundred to one of the highest ranking categories. And so Mary-Sues and other canon disruptions came forth, and this was not good.

This was not good at all.

This, in turn, lead to a girl living in the south-east corner of a relatively titchy country, stuck in the middle of a sea between a relatively small continent and a large ocean, sitting on the sofa in her dressing gown with her laptop on her knee, to decide to write a 'Lord of the Rings' fanfiction.

Problem was, she had no idea what to write about.

Whether this was good or not remains to be seen.

xxx

It began with Middle-earth. Picture it for a second. Pretty, no? I of course assume you are imagining somewhere like the Misty Mountains, or Rivendell, or Lothlorien, or the Shire; or, if you are maybe one of those one-track minded people, Legolas. Very few people when thinking of Middle-earth will immediately think of the state of the lavatories in Barad-dur.

Of course, you'll be thinking of them NOW. Stop it. It's not nice, is it?

Think of the Misty Mountains. Nice and pretty. Aaaah. Take a deep breath and take in the fresh mountain air…

Assuming, of course, you're still not imagining the lavatories, in which case you probably ought to be trying not to breathe in at all until you're over a mile away.

And so there was Middle-earth, ready for this girl's wonderfully amazing fanfiction. She could write about absolutely anything she wanted. An entire world of amazing characters and creatures, histories and futures, all at her beck and call.

And she did realize this, and was slightly overwhelmed, and thought, "Um." And she did consider maybe writing a Matrix fanfiction instead, whose scope was slightly smaller and less detailed, and with which there were less rabid fans waiting to kill you if you made a single mistake.

But then she shrugged, and decided that verily it was better than actually doing her Biology homework, which was the only real alternative.

And so she chose to begin the story at Rivendell, as it was a nice place to begin.

And she chose a few of her favourite characters to be in it. And so Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf, Eowyn, Eomer and Faramir all suddenly appeared in the entrance hall, with a small ping!, and they looked around confusedly.

As an afterthought, she added: Gimli for comic relief; Arwen, because otherwise Aragorn might be sad without her; Elrond, because he seemed to be the organizer; Saruman, because she thought him actually really cool; and also Nalaithwen, an elf of her own invention, because there weren't enough girls. And she did sit back and let the scene run.

It was Aragorn who first put what they were all thinking into words. "Where in Middle-earth are we???"

"I would have thought, you having grown up in Rivendell, that that would be slightly obvious," said Elrond mildly, looking around his familiar home, "I think that the most relevant question is WHY we are all here at the same time. And also, what time it actually is."

The hobbits nodded quietly, thinking this conversation a bit above them. The girl writing suddenly thought of this, and added a bit in the summary of her fanfiction, which in turn was narrated to the group.

"IT WAS AFTER – NO, BEFORE – NO, AFTER – OK, DURING THE DESTRUCTION OF THE RING," boomed the ominous narrator, making the group of characters jump, "AND ALL OF THE CHARACTERS WERE IN RIVENDELL."

The group continued to look at the ceiling expectantly. "NO OTHER INFORMATION AVAILABLE AT THIS TIME," added the narrator quickly.

"Well, that's helpful," observed Eomer, "What are we supposed to do?"

"I'd suggest sitting down would be a good start," said Pippin hopefully.

And Pippin's suggestion was well received, and there were many sighs of contentment as the characters put their feet up.

It was several minutes before Faramir had the heart to say, "Now what?"

"I'd say we need to lay down a few ground rules, plot-wise," said Gandalf, "For example, am I Gandalf the Grey, or Gandalf the White?"

"Well, what colour robes are you wearing?" asked Sam.

Gandalf squinted down at his cloak. "Bright pink, actually."

And the girl writing the fanfiction did giggle, as she thought pink to be the best colour ever created.

"Well, I obviously can't be Gandalf the Pink," said Gandalf.

"I don't see why not," said Saruman.

"AND GANDALF WAS WEARING PINK," said the narrator, the writer eager to keep this turn of events.

Saruman laughed at Gandalf, who sat back in his chair and folded his pink-clad arms in a huff.

"Are we in love yet?" asked Faramir, looking at Eowyn.

"You're really so unsure about your feelings that you have to ask?" said Eowyn, glaring.

"Well, what do you think?"

Eowyn thought for a second. "I can't tell, actually. I think I do, but I'm still finding Aragorn devilishly attractive."

Aragorn looked up with a start. Arwen hit him round the head.

"Do you still have the Ring?" Sam asked Frodo. Frodo fished down the front of his shirt and pulled out a fine chain. Hanging from it was the Ring. "Damn."

"So I think we may assume the Plot will have something to do with Sauron," said Elrond.

"Then what's Saruman doing here?" asked Gandalf. All of the characters turned to look at the white wizard, who was sitting, forgotten, next to Gandalf still.

"No idea," shrugged Saruman.

"Oh dear," said Elrond, "Well, let's just leave him out of the conversation, and hope that his purpose becomes apparent. At least while he's here he's not planning to conquer Rohan or anything."

"Oh no, I have my 'Conquering countries for dummies' guide here," said Saruman, pulling it out of his bag, and settling back with it and a notebook.

"Another question," said Legolas, "Who is this strange elf sitting next to me, clinging onto my arm and gazing into my face with adoring eyes?"

"NALAITHWEN," said the narrator helpfully.

"Hiiii," sighed Nalaithwen.

"Hello," said Legolas, rolling his eyes.

Nalaithwen continued to stare at him adoringly. "I love you," she added fervently.

"Really," said Legolas.

And then the writer did think that Nalaithwen was being too girly, and quickly switched her for Nurvilyawen! an elf with a bit of spunk. So much, in fact, that you couldn't say Nurvilyawen! without adding an exclamation mark afterwards.

"Hey, get AWAY from me, you clingy nancy-boy!" said Nurvilyawen! assertively. Legolas sprung away, slightly alarmed. "I don't need no-one to protect from orcs!" she added fiercely, turning away and seeing Aragorn. Her eyes glazed over. "Hiii…"

Frodo breathed a quick sigh of relief.

"So," said Gandalf, putting on his thinking face, "We're all here… the Ring is here… I am assuming we must try and destroy the Ring?"

"I believe that does seem the most likely thing, yes," said Elrond.

The girl suddenly sat up, realizing that this would be boring. She needed some new, exciting plot that hadn't been done before. So she quickly scribbled that a messenger suddenly rode up through the doors.

A messenger suddenly rode up through the doors.

Enjoying this idea, she made the messenger an elf. From Lothlorien, what's more.

Legolas recognized the elf as one of his kin from Lothlorien.

As an afterthought, and with a gasp, carried away by her own inventiveness, she added that he'd been shot.

The elf fell from his horse, an arrow protruding from his shoulder, so deep in that only a few inches was left sticking out of his back. Crying out, Legolas leapt to his feet and ran to the stricken elf's side, and muttered under his breath, "Crying out, why do I always blimmin' cry out??"

Aragorn and Elrond quickly joined him, examining the wound as the hobbits hoisted the elf into the air (the author realized too late that there was no-one else around to carry him to a room, but found the idea of hobbits carrying an elf funny) and began to carry him gently down the corridor to a room.

"This is quite a serious wound," said Elrond gravely, "But it should heal, with my care."

"It is the arrow that concerns me," said Aragorn, "It is not of any make that I recognize. We will need to remove it soon so that I may examine it."

Faramir, Eowyn, Arwen, Gimli, Gandalf, Saruman and Eomer, realizing that the narrative had moved on without them, scuttled out of the doors in a bid for freedom.