Title: The (Not-So) Amazing Race

Author: Callis.iirse (Callis.star and purple.iirse)

Rating: PG/K+ (to be safe)

Genre: Humour

Summary: Characters gather for an Amazing Race directed by PJ assisted by yours trulys, and Sméagol.

Disclaimer: Original LOTR names, characters and places all belong to Tolkien. We don't own anything except the general ridiculous plot-less plot. And ourselves, of course.

Chapter 1: The Introduction

Arwen was clinging to the lovesick Aragorn, glaring at her brothers and the forlorn Glorfindel. Legolas and Gimli were yabbering in gibberish while their fathers glared at each other and their sons. Elrond looked tired and kept casting fearful looks at the collaborating Ellandan, Elrohir, Merry and Pippin. Eowyn was PDA-ing with Faramir while Grima looked on in jealousy beside Saruman. Théoden and Eomer glared viciously at the duo, the latter pointedly ignoring his sister. Boromir and Ulguk eyed each other suspiciously while Denethor hid behind his elder son, ranting and raving as Sauron fixed his eye on him. Gandalf and the Balrog were restrained by Frodo and Bilbo (assisting in this little game) to opposite sides of the clearing while Gollum dogged Pyjamas' heels… Speaking of Pyjamas…

"Silence!" Pyjamas - I PJ - yelled over the racket. "And freeze!" Remarkably, he was obeyed. "We are gathered here today to play the (Not-So) Amazing Race (With some alterations)! The Almighty Hat shall dictate the pairs. These pairs will be grouped to 2 groups. You will compete in your groups then the winners within each group will go against each other in the Final Test."

To his great surprise, there was silence. "Very well, we shall begin.

"The hat dictates the first pair be… Aragorn and Arwen."

That set Elrohir muttering "That was terribly original and unexpected." This earned him a glare, once more, from his sister. He pitied Glorfindel. The Balrog Slayer looked even more miserable than usual.

"Next pair!" Pyjamas yelled. "Gimli and..." He noticed both Gloin and Legolas holding their breaths – Elf-boy obviously didn't want to be stuck with daddy – then looked at the paper and wanted to burn the hat. "Legolas. Also." He drew a breath, hoping it won't be his last. "Gloin and Thranduil."

"WHAT?!" The latter pair screamed as their sons high-fived; perhaps low-fived in consideration to Gimli's height. Hearing the unholy racket, they sighed and set to watch their fathers' yelling match of 'facts'.

"That's the stuck-up who can't tell the truth."

"That's the prissy sissy fussy elf that locked me up!"

And on it went...

1 hour...

2 hours...

5 hours...

Midday...

Midnight…

Dawn the next day…

"Will you just shut up?!" PJ yelled, giving up. His exasperation showed: it was a mixture of dwarfish and elvish.

"AND THAT'S YOUR SON WITH MINE!" They yelled in unison.

Replying before someone could stop them, aforementioned sons stated. "As a matter of fact, Father/Ada, we are very satisfied with that."

"ARGH!" PJ, and the elder elf and dwarf screamed.

"Shut up." The former continued more calmly. "Yet another lovesick pair the Almighty Hat demands I state: Eo and Fari."

"WHAT?!" PJ sighed. Not again. (PJ: Whose idea was it to organize this stupid game anyway? Callis&iirse: Ours. PJ: Drat you two. Callis&iirse: Shut up.) This time, the scream came from Théoden, looking like he was dying... again...

"I did NOT appoint my heir in hopes that he will be a gay! When in the world did Eomer marry Faramir? How could it even be allowed? I demand an explanation and..."

"Excuse me?" A very tired PJ interrupted his rant. "I meant Eowyn."

Théoden shut up at once. "Oh. Phew."

While PJ glared at the hat, the aforementioned pair was having a crisis. Eowyn had noticed Wormtongue slinking to her and grabbed Faramir, sinking her (extremely sharp) nails into his skin. "Um, my lady? Could you lessen that grip…? Ouch!" Faramir yelped

"Marry me, my dear; I want you with all my soul!" Grima Wormtongue pleaded. (iirse: I know it's corny, but callis loves corn and this is her fault…) Eowyn, desperate, shot a beseeching look to her brother who pounced on Wormtongue hissing.

"If you are awaiting your reward, I'll gladly spare you of your pained wait." Satisfied that Eomer had dealt with the problem, Eowyn turned to Farmair, glaring and sulking and he attempted to placate her.

PJ finally finished his glaring match with the hat and retrieved the next piece of paper. "Eomer put that dagger away." The King of Rohan was about to slit Wormtongue's throat. "And don't take out Guthwine either." PJ went on, noticing where his hand had strayed upon the order. "You have to learn to work with Wormtongue here as…" he paused impressively as Eomer gulped. "You two are the next pair."

"WHAT IN THE WORLD?!" Eomer raged. The still pouting Eowyn glared at her brother, effectively shutting him up.

"Thank you." PJ continued, frowning at the 3 strips the hat had procured. "The Almighty Hat apparently does not like our grudge-holding. It has paired enemies up in, I deduce, a hope that they would work together: Théoden and Saruman; Sauron and Denethor; Boromir and Ulguk."

Théoden stood with Eomer, STILL glaring at Saruman and Wormtongue.

Sauron, in the meantime, hissed at Denethor. "I will kill you!"

Denethor ran to Boromir, who had shed past hatred and was discussing the art of warfare with Ulguk, saying. "My son will protect me!"

"Yes but we require less upkeep than armies of Men…" Ulguk was saying.

An exasperated Boromir turned on the father hiding behind him. "Quit being such a coward, Father! Sauron is just… Sauron!"

"Sauron will rule Gondor, my son, not you!" A stricken, shocked, Denethor ranted. "We must be polite to him or he'll banish us from the face of Middle-Earth!"

Boromir rolled his eyes, going back to his conversation as Aragorn yelled, "Sauron is defeated! I am the King of Gondor and Arnor! Boromier's my steward's dead brother!"

"And he didn't want to claim his titles and birthrights." PJ muttered. Raising his voice, he went on. "Next pair: Gandalf and the Balrog." A glance at the pair had him sighing: they were fighting. Frodo and Bilbo having exhausted themselves in the attempt to restrain them.

"HELP!" A shrill devastated cry came from Legolas. "There goes all my magazines, jewellery, make-up and pretty clothes!" (callis: Pansy!)

"Serves you right!" Thranduil sneered, still pissed off with his son. "I feel sorry for Arwen though. The twins' "gifts" were her things." Arwen glared at the infamous Trio.

Ellandan only smirked, trading winks with his co-conspirators and all three had identical smirks plastered over their smug faces (save Legolas, whose look seemed rather artificial… And are those tears…?)

"Why you annoying, betraying and… and…" Arwen snarled, at a loss for suitable insults.

Elrohir simply couldn't resist adding fuel to the fire. "And what, sister dearest?"

That knowing annoying smirk just set her off. "Lle… Lle n'vanima nadorhuanrim! Feuya utinuea en lokirim! Lle naa quel yrch, carn'wethrin!" She screamed (translation: You… You ugly cowardly dogs! Disgusting sons of snakes! You are as good as an orc, thief!"

"Arwen! A princess elf of your lineage should behave with…" A shocked Elrond attempted to reprimand his long grown daughter.

"Attempted" being the operative word. Arwen merely interrupted him furiously. "No, Ada, I know precisely what I'm doing. I'm sick and tried of being less as I'm a hundred and eleven years younger than those idiots there. And damn lineage. I chose mortality!"

Elrond winced. The Trio exchanged nervous looks, Legolas already sniffling. A tired grumpy Elrond was scary and he might be turning on them next… Thankfully, PJ cut in. "Enough. I announce the conspirators as the next pair: Ellandan and Elrohir." He was chuckling as he finished.

"Oh, doesn't Pyjamas have a brain! Now my horrible sons will drive me to my grave. They'll probably blow me up. Why didn't I go to Valinor earlier?!" Elrond bemoaned his fate as his sons high-fived. His emotions had finally caved in and he was part ranting.

"Hey 'Ro, let's blow up Ada with Gandalf's fireworks." Ellandan suggested.

"No a big prank involving all would be best." Elrohir contradicted him, earning supporting nods from Merry and Pippin – who were surprisingly sober and lucid.

The hobbit pranksters grinned at everyone's groans of dread. "We need more jokes, less doom and gloom… And lovesickness!" The four looked pointedly at Arwen, Aragorn, Eowyn and Faramir before looking equally pointedly away, grimacing.

"The Hat agrees." PJ announced. "It has a warped sense of humour though. Merry and Pippin. And… Elrond and Glorfindel."

The pranksters grinned at each other, somehow managed a four-way high-five.

Elrond screamed: "ARGH!!"

"Pig brain stew, anyone?" An oblivious Glorfindel asked.

"ARGH!!" Everyone screamed. (Callis&iirse: Poor Elrond. Yes, we feel your ahem pain…)

"Glorfindel! Stop driving people crazy with your stupid insipid pig brain stew! For the millionth time!" PJ yelled.

"Pig brain stew stupid?" Glorfindel looked about to cry like the currently-now-mourning-wailing-weeping Legolas (much to the annoyance of everyone within earshot for it was extremely high-pitched)

"no, No, NO, NO, NO!" A fully exasperated Elrond cried. "Why the sithspit bantha poodoo did you NOT keep him out of this, PJ??" (iirse: have you been reading my stuff again? Elrond: gulps no… iirse: looks at callis callis: what are you waiting for? Go get him! Elrond: runsss… callis: sits back to enjoy the show with popcorn)

PJ looked about to jump off a cliff, poor guy, when the Balrog screamed (very girly-ly) and dropped dead. Silence ensued as everyone turned to stared at Gandalf.

The guilty Istari raised his hands and went "Oops" with a sheepish grin.

At the end of this tether, PJ attempted from calm. "Gandalf. You are disqualified; Bilbo, Frodo, take their places."

Then he turned to glare at the infernal hat (PJ: Confusicate it!) with its horrible sense of humour. Eru knew what grouping it would sort these people into…

To be continued.

A/N: We beg pardon for any mistakes in the Elvish. We aren't Elves!! Please review! :D