Overcompensation
by Shauna
An attempt at Parody.
***
Gimli son of Gloin could not, for all the orcs in Mordor, figure out exactly what had gone wrong with the Fellowship. It had started out fine enough, what with the pretty elf-maidens bidding him goodbye as he waited for his companions to arrive. But soon his sense of unease began to grow.
Gandalf, ever punctual, was the first to join him. He tipped his hat in greeting, then settled down with great complacency to watch the grass grow. When Gimli tried to strike up a conversation, Gandalf said that while he'd like to share in every detail what he was doing, he in fact did not *know* what he was doing.
Gimli shrugged it off.
Aragorn wandered in next, but there was something funny in the way he walked. It wasn't his usual Stride, but rather he seemed to have something tied around his nose, jerking it up into the air...
"Hello, Aragorn," Gimli greeted him.
"Your Highness," Aragorn snapped.
"What?"
"You will address me as Your Highness. And you will not speak until spoken to, as is the way of the," and here he shuddered, "common people."
"Ara- Your Highness, are you feeling okay?"
"It is not any of your business how I am feeling, serf! Get you gone!"
Gimli went to ask Gandalf what to do, but the wizard just stared at him, confused. "I don't know," he said.
"I do," interposed Boromir, who had appeared beside them. "His repressed desires have been until now manifesting themselves in a subtle but nonetheless obvious savior complex, whereas the expression of them now is through domination and haughtiness. I suggest anger management courses."
"I... didn't know you were so analytical, Boromir," Gimli murmured.
"I didn't know." Gandalf echoed. Gimli looked at him curiously, he was about to ask the wizard something, when there was a great noise behind them.
"Ooompf!" came a strangled elf cry, and Legolas crashed into the clearing.
Feeling a strange compulsion to go help him - after all, he was a dwarf, and dwarves had great love for elves - and not the least surprise at his untowardly entrance, he hurried over to where Legolas lay.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," the elf moaned, clutching his ankle. "I, erm, I sort of tripped."
Gimli asked, disbelieving, "What happened to you?"
Legolas was, indeed, a mess. His hair was a tangled knot of leaves and burrs, his face scarred by prickers and slightly puffy, his knees skinned from where he had fallen. He was most unattractive.
"Gandalf?" Gimli questioned the wizard, but then stopped himself. "Yeah, yeah, you don't know."
The hobbits were the last to show up, and you could hear them before you could see them. Their sharp, bickering voices rose over the trees of Rivendell.
"You know, Frodo, the fellowship has probably already left without us! What were you doing with Bilbo?"
"I was *practicing* the fine art of ringbearing, Sam."
"What do you mean, practicing?" Merry interjected.
"One has to suffer with dignity, bravery and a good amount of wit. One has to learn the most attractive sort of brood for their features. One has to - oh, well, you wouldn't understand!"
"Just because I'm a simple gardener, you mean?" Sam replied, even more angry now. "Well, I have a right to be treated like a hobbit, just like all of you! I'm going to form a gardeners union when I get home, which should be quite soon, because we've without doubt missed the trip!"
"I think that they're there, or else their quest would be useless," Pippin extrapolated, trying to calm everyone down.
"What, Pip?"
"You're worrying, but your worry is without cause."
"Emmm..." by now the hobbits had appeared in the clearing.
"It's obvious that the Fellowship could not begin its journey without Frodo."
"Would you just shut up, Pippin? Just shut up!"
Gimli looked at the hobbits warily, who stared back at him with wide, innocent eyes. He felt they should have been cute, but they were just creeping him out. He said, to all the bobbits, but Pippin in particular, "Are you okay?"
"We are!" crowed Pippin. "We're glad to be here, which is better then where we were."
Which did nothing to alleviate Gimli's worries. He turned to Gandalf and questioned, "Isn't there anything you can do?"
"I don't know," said Gandalf.
Somewhere on the other side of the clearing, Legolas fell down. Again.
This was too much. "Don't you know *anything*, Gandalf?" Gimli cried.
All of a sudden Gandalf stood up straight and began speaking rapidly. "This is a plot island. We must hurry."
"A plot island?" the rest of the fellowship asked in unison, except Legolas who was sucking a bruised finger and whimpering.
"Yes," replied Gandalf, "as opposed to a plot hole? Oh, never mind. In any case, I will try to explain to you as much as I can, without losing my aura of mystery."
"Well?" Gimli prodded him.
"Oh, right. The island seems to be coming to an end. I can't - it seems that we're all acting the opposite of our stereotypes -- I can't quite remember -- we're -- trapped in a world -- backlash for bad fanfiction -- overcompensation -- " he fell silent. Then he said, "I don't know." He sat back down.
"What do you think he meant?" asked Legolas, who then sneezed. "Ugh, allergies. Must be why I feel so bloated." He patted his elven-wine belly.
Gimli was too busy trying to decide how this all fit together to be disgusted. Okay, so Legolas was now ugly. That made sense. And Gandalf was useless. That, too, made sense. But what about Frodo and Aragorn, who were off in the corner forming a mutual admiration society, which of course His Highness was the President of? And what was with Pippin?
"I see the sea, the sea sees me," the hobbit was singing.
And hey, what about himself?
Oh, that's right. He didn't have stereotypes. His mere existence in this story was the opposite of them.
"If we two might intrude," Pippin said, walking up with Sam. "We seem to be too few."
"What?" Gimli asked, counting. There were, indeed, only eight of them. Who was missing, was it Merry?
Gandalf jumped up behind them. "Another plot island! Small one this time. In payback for every tenth member of the fellowship story, we seem to be losing members. Gimli, you must - " he paused, then looked blank. "I don't know."
Gimli groaned.
***
End Part 1
Do you like so far? Flames, crits, and gushing all welcome! Also, did you notice that I let myself get into the game, too?
***
by Shauna
An attempt at Parody.
***
Gimli son of Gloin could not, for all the orcs in Mordor, figure out exactly what had gone wrong with the Fellowship. It had started out fine enough, what with the pretty elf-maidens bidding him goodbye as he waited for his companions to arrive. But soon his sense of unease began to grow.
Gandalf, ever punctual, was the first to join him. He tipped his hat in greeting, then settled down with great complacency to watch the grass grow. When Gimli tried to strike up a conversation, Gandalf said that while he'd like to share in every detail what he was doing, he in fact did not *know* what he was doing.
Gimli shrugged it off.
Aragorn wandered in next, but there was something funny in the way he walked. It wasn't his usual Stride, but rather he seemed to have something tied around his nose, jerking it up into the air...
"Hello, Aragorn," Gimli greeted him.
"Your Highness," Aragorn snapped.
"What?"
"You will address me as Your Highness. And you will not speak until spoken to, as is the way of the," and here he shuddered, "common people."
"Ara- Your Highness, are you feeling okay?"
"It is not any of your business how I am feeling, serf! Get you gone!"
Gimli went to ask Gandalf what to do, but the wizard just stared at him, confused. "I don't know," he said.
"I do," interposed Boromir, who had appeared beside them. "His repressed desires have been until now manifesting themselves in a subtle but nonetheless obvious savior complex, whereas the expression of them now is through domination and haughtiness. I suggest anger management courses."
"I... didn't know you were so analytical, Boromir," Gimli murmured.
"I didn't know." Gandalf echoed. Gimli looked at him curiously, he was about to ask the wizard something, when there was a great noise behind them.
"Ooompf!" came a strangled elf cry, and Legolas crashed into the clearing.
Feeling a strange compulsion to go help him - after all, he was a dwarf, and dwarves had great love for elves - and not the least surprise at his untowardly entrance, he hurried over to where Legolas lay.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," the elf moaned, clutching his ankle. "I, erm, I sort of tripped."
Gimli asked, disbelieving, "What happened to you?"
Legolas was, indeed, a mess. His hair was a tangled knot of leaves and burrs, his face scarred by prickers and slightly puffy, his knees skinned from where he had fallen. He was most unattractive.
"Gandalf?" Gimli questioned the wizard, but then stopped himself. "Yeah, yeah, you don't know."
The hobbits were the last to show up, and you could hear them before you could see them. Their sharp, bickering voices rose over the trees of Rivendell.
"You know, Frodo, the fellowship has probably already left without us! What were you doing with Bilbo?"
"I was *practicing* the fine art of ringbearing, Sam."
"What do you mean, practicing?" Merry interjected.
"One has to suffer with dignity, bravery and a good amount of wit. One has to learn the most attractive sort of brood for their features. One has to - oh, well, you wouldn't understand!"
"Just because I'm a simple gardener, you mean?" Sam replied, even more angry now. "Well, I have a right to be treated like a hobbit, just like all of you! I'm going to form a gardeners union when I get home, which should be quite soon, because we've without doubt missed the trip!"
"I think that they're there, or else their quest would be useless," Pippin extrapolated, trying to calm everyone down.
"What, Pip?"
"You're worrying, but your worry is without cause."
"Emmm..." by now the hobbits had appeared in the clearing.
"It's obvious that the Fellowship could not begin its journey without Frodo."
"Would you just shut up, Pippin? Just shut up!"
Gimli looked at the hobbits warily, who stared back at him with wide, innocent eyes. He felt they should have been cute, but they were just creeping him out. He said, to all the bobbits, but Pippin in particular, "Are you okay?"
"We are!" crowed Pippin. "We're glad to be here, which is better then where we were."
Which did nothing to alleviate Gimli's worries. He turned to Gandalf and questioned, "Isn't there anything you can do?"
"I don't know," said Gandalf.
Somewhere on the other side of the clearing, Legolas fell down. Again.
This was too much. "Don't you know *anything*, Gandalf?" Gimli cried.
All of a sudden Gandalf stood up straight and began speaking rapidly. "This is a plot island. We must hurry."
"A plot island?" the rest of the fellowship asked in unison, except Legolas who was sucking a bruised finger and whimpering.
"Yes," replied Gandalf, "as opposed to a plot hole? Oh, never mind. In any case, I will try to explain to you as much as I can, without losing my aura of mystery."
"Well?" Gimli prodded him.
"Oh, right. The island seems to be coming to an end. I can't - it seems that we're all acting the opposite of our stereotypes -- I can't quite remember -- we're -- trapped in a world -- backlash for bad fanfiction -- overcompensation -- " he fell silent. Then he said, "I don't know." He sat back down.
"What do you think he meant?" asked Legolas, who then sneezed. "Ugh, allergies. Must be why I feel so bloated." He patted his elven-wine belly.
Gimli was too busy trying to decide how this all fit together to be disgusted. Okay, so Legolas was now ugly. That made sense. And Gandalf was useless. That, too, made sense. But what about Frodo and Aragorn, who were off in the corner forming a mutual admiration society, which of course His Highness was the President of? And what was with Pippin?
"I see the sea, the sea sees me," the hobbit was singing.
And hey, what about himself?
Oh, that's right. He didn't have stereotypes. His mere existence in this story was the opposite of them.
"If we two might intrude," Pippin said, walking up with Sam. "We seem to be too few."
"What?" Gimli asked, counting. There were, indeed, only eight of them. Who was missing, was it Merry?
Gandalf jumped up behind them. "Another plot island! Small one this time. In payback for every tenth member of the fellowship story, we seem to be losing members. Gimli, you must - " he paused, then looked blank. "I don't know."
Gimli groaned.
***
End Part 1
Do you like so far? Flames, crits, and gushing all welcome! Also, did you notice that I let myself get into the game, too?
***