Lord of the Rings: The Truth Revealed

Froggy, Rilian, & Sulky; 2006

A/N: This story was written back in high school (which was, for me, about six years ago), and I've finally decided to post it, because I think it's a rather entertaining premise. No offense meant to most venerable Tolkien, obviously. I'm well aware the Lord of the Rings events really happened, and were not a cleverly planned reality show.

Chapter I - The Quite Expected Party

Saruman stared sharply down at Gandalf from his stone dais. "I hear you've been gallivanting around the Shire with that Bilbo Baggins and his nephew Frodo when we have more important, higher matters that need tending to."

Gandalf's eyes narrowed angrily at the thought. "You know I can't stand him. Why would I go 'gallivanting' around the Shire with him?"

"Who?"

"Frodo Baggins." The voice dripped with malice.

"What do you have against him?" questioned Saruman, peering at Gandalf strangely. "How could he have offended you so at his age?"

"Well," began Gandalf, "it all started when…"

The incident that started all the trouble ensued long before Bilbo's 111th birthday party. Frodo was, in fact, only nineteen at the time, but Gandalf remembered it like it was only the previous day. You see, Frodo (being then a mischievous lad) liked playing tricks on everyone. He would put eggs in Bilbo's chairs, bugs in Marigold and Rosie's hair, or salt in Sam's drinks. He never meant to hurt anyone; it was just for a bit of fun. However, one day he made the mistake of playing one of his tricks on Gandalf at the Green Dragon. He made the old wizard sit on a tack. That hurt Gandalf's pride. Badly. Ever since, Gandalf had an obvious disliking towards the young hobbit—hatred even.

"And that's why," finished Gandalf, proudly.

Saruman stared, silent and incredulous. Gandalf didn't like the inscrutable look on his fellow wizard's face. "Well?"

"You hate someone because they made you sit on a tack?"

"And why not?"

"Hm…"

"I plan to kill him, actually."

"What? Hatred is one thing, but murder is another. You're not serious."

"I am."

"That's very low, you know."

"I know."

"I can't let you do it."

"I was hoping you would help me."

"I'll help you…right up to the top of my tower, until you come to your senses!"

"Do your worst!"

Their altercation came to blows. Gandalf and Saruman fought staff to staff, but Saruman eventually prevailed, sending his friend-turned-adversary to the top of the tower of Orthanc.

Some time later, it became evident that Gandalf had escaped.

"This won't do at all," growled Saruman. "He has sprouted wings and flown away, had help in flying away, fell off the tower while we weren't looking and somehow survived the fall (or became invisible when he died), or he became invisible and he's still up on the tower, or found a way to vanish and reappear elsewhere."

"Yep, good logic, chief," grunted Lurtz, head of the fourth regiment M.E. peace corps.

"Right you are, my good Lurtz," continued Saruman. "I've definitely had time to think this through. In light of recent events, a new task faces us. You and your elites are to search out and rescue one hobbit, Frodo Baggins, and fetch him back here to Isengard. His life depends upon it."

"Yes, sir!" Lurtz turned to attend to his duty.

"And Lurtz?"

"Yes?"

"Remember the policy: alive and unspoiled."

As Gandalf traveled a deserted back road toward the Shire, he heard the telltale rustling of a paper. He brought his horse to a halt and dismounted, stopping to pick up a crinkled poster that had clearly blown quite a ways from home. It read, in exquisite calligraphy:
"Auditions Thursday for new reality show
"Title: The Lord of the Rings
"See Lord Elrond of Imladris
"Located on 43rd Bywater Lane
"Red tent
"4:00 sharp!
"Actors to be rewarded handsomely!"

Gandalf looked up. "Today's Thursday!" he cried. "And it's 3:00! I can still make it, and then, I'll be rich!"

He remounted and gave the horse rein, then ate up ground towards the auditions. When he finally reached his destination, he saw Elrond and his crew making ready to depart.

"Lord Elrond!" he shouted. "I have come for the auditions!"

"You're late," sneered Elrond. "I'm sorry."

"Nonsense!" countered Gandalf. "A wizard is never late!"

Elrond would have said something rather unsavory in response, I'm sure, if he didn't happen to be in need of an actor that looked somewhat like Gandalf. "Very well," he said, suppressing his urge to snap. "I suppose I can be merciful. We need one more actor anyway."

"Oh, good. Who do I get to be?"

"You can just be yourself. I had in mind the part of a pompous, clownish, inept, aged imbecile. You'll be great for the part. No acting required, I hope."

"Wha—? A – clownish – imbecile? I—"

"Do you want the part or not? Do you want the money?"

"Oh, all right," said Gandalf with ₤ signs in his eyes. "With whom will I be working?"

"Do you know the hobbit, Frodo?"

Gandalf's eyes widened. "Frodo Baggins?"

"Yes, you know him, then."

"Um…yes…I do."

"Ah, excellent. This is a great opportunity." Elrond noticed that Gandalf looked perfectly displeased. "What? Is there something wrong with Frodo?"

"To say that would be the understatement of the age."

"You don't like him very well, I take it. Does he know you don't like him?"

"No. I think not."

"Then there shouldn't be a problem, but in order to make the show work, you're going to have to cooperate."

"How?" questioned Gandalf irately.

"Well… try doing the opposite of what you want to do. If you are annoyed, just smile. If you want to yell, sing or laugh instead. And if you can't bring yourself to do even that, just smoke your pipe and attempt to alleviate the tension in your mind. Think of the money you're going to make! One more thing, wizard. You must also remember that my crew could be filming you at any given time. You must not fail. You must stay in character! Understood?"

To this, Gandalf reluctantly agreed. Elrond's crew provided a sturdy wagon for Gandalf, stocked with assorted fireworks. They decided that making him a fireworks expert would make his character more interesting, in an eccentric sort of way. They also gave him another staff to replace the one that he had lost at Orthanc. Gandalf soon departed for Bag End. As he traveled, he was feeling immensely downcast, so he began to sing: "The road goes ever on and on…."

"You're late!" came a familiar voice. Gandalf was so shaken that his pipe fell out of his mouth. The wagon subsequently came to a stop as the wizard looked up and saw Frodo.

"A wizard is never late," he said irritably, "nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to." Gandalf would have exploded with anger at that point had he not remembered what Elrond had told him to do. He instead broke into a laugh, followed by Frodo.

"It's so wonderful to see you, Gandalf!" the hobbit exulted, jumping into the wagon and hugging the wizard. Gandalf's laugh grew ever louder…. Presently, the wizard managed to return to the task at hand. "Frodo, I…"

"Sorry, Gandalf, I have to go. Party business, you know."

"Wait…I. GRRRRRRR." Gandalf huffed at his primary failure, but continued to Bilbo's as planned. He hadn't even had a chance to say most of his lines.

He hoped his next encounter would be more productive. He knocked on Bilbo's door with his staff. It promptly cracked in half.

"Stupid prop," muttered Gandalf, tossing the broken staff aside.

"Go away!" a voice said. "We don't want any visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!"

"And what about very old fiends?" responded Gandalf, misreading his line.

"Psst! Very old friends! Friends!" hissed a voice from a nearby bush. "And don't throw things. You just knocked out my chief cameraman with your staff, you neophyte!"

Bilbo suddenly opened the door. "Gandalf!" he said, giving him a hug. "Oh, Gandalf! I didn't know you were coming."

"I oft come and go unexpectedly," replied the wizard (with a rich laugh.) "I wouldn't be myself if I didn't."

"Very true," agreed Bilbo. "Oh, I was just about to have tea. Why don't you join me?"

"I'm not hungry. By the way, is Frodo around anywhere?"

"I don't know where that boy is!" replied Bilbo, feigning impatience. "He's always running off these days. Probably off on party business. He'll be along shortly. Please, Gandalf! Do come in!"

"I'll come in, but only for a short while. I have some other business I should like to attend to before the festivities."

"Would you like tea?" asked Bilbo. "Or maybe something a little stronger? I've got a few bottles of the old—"

"Just tea, thank-you," said Gandalf impatiently, but you wouldn't have known it, for he was smiling all the while. However, he began laughing uproariously when he hit his head on the ceiling chandelier, the overhead arch, and the window curtain rod.

"I think there's someone at the door!" called Bilbo, from his kitchen.

"No," answered Gandalf (with a furious laugh). "That was just my head hitting your impiously low ceiling."

Some time later, after the evening had set in, and the time of the long-awaited party drew nigh, Gandalf and Bilbo still sat sipping their tea.

"Bilbo," said Gandalf slowly, "I think you had best leave the Shire."

"Why?" questioned Bilbo. "I'm happy here."

"Bilbo," said Gandalf again, holding up a shiny object and dangling it back and forth, "I think you had best leave the Shire." His voice had sunk to a low monotone.

"But…but…," squeaked Bilbo, looking like a hobbit in great turmoil of mind.

"Bilbo," said Gandalf, watching the hobbit's glassy, transfixed eyes, "I think you had best leave the Shire."

This time, Bilbo said nothing.

"Now we're getting somewhere," said Gandalf. "You will not remember that I told you anything. You will think you thought of it yourself. You will bring it up as if I had never told you." Gandalf hid the medallion away somewhere, and Bilbo snapped out of his hypnosis.

"Oh, dear me!" he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes. "I am growing old! I very nearly fell asleep, just now!"

Gandalf raised an eyebrow.

"There was something I meant to talk to you about," continued Bilbo. "Ah, yes! I'm going away—to Rivendell. I want to see mountains again—mountains, Gandalf! And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book."

"I don't know," said Gandalf, feigning hesitation. "Do you really want to?"

"Yes, of course! It's the only way."

"Very well," sighed the wizard. "Leave all the arrangements to me."

After tea, Gandalf sought out one Meriadoc Brandybuck, a well-known young hobbit, and had many words with him. After a brief discussion, there was a good deal of bargaining, and a price was set. Merry Brandybuck departed Gandalf with a sinister task.

That night, at Bilbo's party, everyone was having a good time laughing, eating and dancing. Gandalf lit off a few fireworks, but he seemed overall to be rather disinterested in the whole affair. What one might have noticed had one been paying any amount of attention is that Gandalf appeared almost edgy, as if some great plan of his was soon to be in effect and he wanted it to go off perfectly. However, no one (for everyone was actually quite occupied with the celebration) really noticed anything was amiss, except Frodo. First, he saw Merry slipping off to talk to Pippin. Soon afterwards, the devious duo stole off to Gandalf's firework cart. Frodo thought little of this, however, and went to watch the other Hobbits dancing.

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched shriek, and Frodo turned to see one of the closer pavilions fly about ten feet up in the air. A burst of flame followed, after which a red streak shot upwards into the night sky.

All faces filled with shock and surprise.

The red streak turned about, seemed to expand into the shape of a great red dragon, and swooped down upon the crowd. Oddly enough, it was heading directly for Frodo! The young hobbit whirled around and sped away to locate cover, which he soon found manifested in the form of a toppled table. The dragon flew over in the nick of time, just missing him. Frodo saw it streak away into the night, followed by a large explosion and the telltale shrieking of fireworks—a brilliant display! The dragon had burst into an incredible profusion of dazzling reddish colors all across the dark sky.

Frodo would have been impressed had his life not just been imperiled. He was actually rather upset. While the other Hobbits gaped at the firework's fading remnants, Frodo approached Gandalf.

"Excuse me," he said crossly, "but can't you keep your fireworks in hand? You almost killed me!"

Gandalf was laughing, pleased with Frodo's annoyance AND the opportunity to use one of the lines of which Frodo had deprived him that morning. "If you're referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved!"

After Bilbo's infamous disappearing trick, which Frodo figured was a hoax, especially since Gandalf didn't seem at all surprised, Frodo found the sagacious wizard inside Bag End, examining with scrutiny a golden ring.

"Where's Bilbo?" he asked hesitantly, ascertaining that something wasn't right here.

"He's gone to stay with the Elves; he has left you Bag End, along with all his possessions. The Ring is yours now."

"Is that all?"

"Uh…," said Gandalf, looking very hard at a few charred-looking sheets of paper he held in his other hand.

"What's that?" Frodo inquired.

"What?"

"The papers."

"Oh—uh—nothing, nothing," stuttered Gandalf. "Just some—uh—notes I took when Bilbo was talking with me."

"About what? And why do they look burnt?"

"It's—uh—well—a secret," said Gandalf. "He didn't want you to know. I accidentally lit them on fire when I was... uh... smoking earlier. Yeah."

"Um… I guess he can have his secrets," Frodo replied doubtfully. "And you really ought to be more careful."

"Well," continued Gandalf, "there is something Bilbo wanted you to know."

"There is?"

"Yes…it's about the Ring," Gandalf glanced at the papers and went on. "The Ring is evil, Frodo! You cannot lose—" a quick glance at the paper, "um—use it."

"Why would I even want to use it? What can it do?"

"It can—um…" Gandalf peeked at the paper once more. "It can make you invisible."

"Invisible?"

"Uh, yes, it can make you invisible."

"And why can't I use it?"

"Because…um…it…um…is evil!"

Frodo took the Ring from Gandalf and inspected it carefully. Without warning, there came from it a faint whisper—"Ash nazg…"

Frodo cried out in alarm.

"You see?" said Gandalf, who knew of the tiny two-way microphone hidden in the ring. "It is evil!"

"I know!"

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I just wanted to annoy you," laughed Frodo.

Gandalf appeared immensely perturbed at this comment, forgetting that he was supposed to smile when he was angry, and examined the paper for a very long time afterward.

"Oh…," he said. "I see I have to exeunt out the front—uh—never mind."

"WHAT?"

"I said—um—I see…. Uh, I have to practice in the—um—hunt?"

"'Exeunt' and 'practice' don't rhyme," snapped Frodo, unconvinced.

"Fine, you want the truth?"

"No, I want you to tell me a lie," Frodo said sarcastically. "Of course I want the truth!"

"Well…" said Gandalf cautiously. "I… oh, what's this?" He surreptitiously snatched a piece of paper that had fallen down the chimney (almost unnoticeably attached to a fishhook) and furtively began to read it.

There was a sharp rap at the window.

"What?" cried Gandalf, staring intently at the paper. "It doesn't say anything about that in the—oh…" He ran over to the window. "Confounded old Samwise Gamgee!" (Very obviously reading off the paper.) "Have you been eavesdropping?" He grabbed Sam and pulled him in through the window.

"I haven't been dropping no eaves, sir, honest!" pleaded Sam. "I was just cuttin' the grass under the window there! You follow me?" He brandished his clippers convincingly.

Gandalf decided to skip to the point. "Anyway…." He turned to the last page of his papers. "The Ring is evil, and I want you to take it to the Preening—uh—Prancing Pony, where I will meet you. I have some other jobs to attend to while you journey there… Oh yes, do not travel by road. And Sam can go with you."

Frodo glanced down at the Ring dubiously.

"Oh, um, Frodo," Gandalf continued, turning around towards the two Hobbits, "go to Farmer Maggot's. There, I have some help for you. They will take you to the Preen… Prancing Pony." Gandalf opened the door and walked out, slamming it behind him.

Frodo opened the envelope and took the Ring from inside. "Something strange is going on," he said, holding it up in the candlelight, "and I plan to find out what it is."

"Well, we best start packin' if we're going to be leavin' in the mornin'."

"Yes, that would probably be best."

"Elrond! Elrond!" cried Gandalf, rushing into the elven lord's makeshift study, held in a large red pavilion outside the Shire.

"What?" mumbled the elf, trying to appear terribly bothered. "What do you want, you old bum?" He dipped his quill pen in some ink and Gandalf heard the subtle scritch-scratch of writing.

"Uh… I, um… what I mean to say is that I… well—!"

"Out with it!" barked Elrond, looking up briefly, his eyes darker than usual.

"I burnt my script!" Gandalf blurted.

"You. Burnt. Your. Script." The voice was that of quiet restrained anger that might become rather unrestrained at any moment.

Gandalf took the hint early and fell to his knees to grovel.

"YOU BURNT YOUR SCRIPT!" The elf-lord entirely flew off the handle. "NO WONDER YOU COMPLETELY RUINED—!"

"I'm sorry—please don't fire me! I'm only a lowly wizard with no other way to make a—"

"Number one: NEVER interrupt me again!" roared Elrond. "Number two: don't waste my valuable time with your petty excuses! You have fifteen seconds to convince me not to fire you."

To be continued...