Disclaimer: Aragorn son of Arathorn of the house of Valandil Isildur's son, Strider, Wingfoot, Longshanks, Elessar, the Elfstone, Envinyatar, the Renewer, Estel, Thorongil, the Dúnadan, and Isildur's Heir all belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.
(Arwen appears out of nowhere)
Arwen: What do you mean J.R.R. Tolkien? You do mean ME, riiiiiggghhht? *extends claws menacingly*
(Éowyn appears out of nowhere)
Éowyn: No way, elf-girl! Let's see if your all-powerful daddy can help you now!
Arwen: Bring it on, shield-moron. (After a bit of snarling, catfight commences)
A/N: As you may have guessed, this story is mainly about Aragorn. I got the idea for this while reading the last part of The Fellowship of the Ring when Aragorn is leading the Fellowship past the Gates of Argonath and he starts out by calling their attention to the statues and then explains about the Hills of Hearing and Sight. When I read that, I couldn't help getting this hilarious picture of Aragorn as a tour guide pointing out the sights of Númenor, so here is the product of my seriously diseased imagination. Enjoy as best you can! Heh heh heh...
Middle-earth Tours
"So, are you interested?" Aragorn son of Arathorn, one of the mysterious and elusive Tour Guides left over from the Númenorean kings, leaned back expectantly in his armchair by the fire. The hobbits blinked at him and at one another in indecision. All except Mr. Samwise Gamgee, that is. He scowled belligerently at Aragorn before turning to his friend Frodo Baggins.
"Don't you trust him, Mr. Frodo!" he warned hotly. "He'll strangle us all in our beds!" Casting a darkly suspicious look at Aragorn, Sam moved his chair between the two the better to protect Frodo from sudden attack.
Frodo himself seemed uncertain of the best course, frowning slightly and staring at something a little above Aragorn's right ear. The experienced Tour Guide immediately pounced on this weakness as a chance to close the bargain and said smoothly, "Perhaps a shrewd customer like you would rather have my prices before you accept?" The hobbit nodded thankfully and he continued, "Now usually my rate is three gold bars per person per month, but I think in your case the special group rate would be applicable. That's twenty gold bars a month for all four of you. So what do you say? Is it a deal?" He held his breath in anticipation, for now was the moment that would make or break the deal.
One of the other hobbits—was it Perry or Mippin?—appeared to be counting on his fingers, instinctively aware that something didn't add up here. However, before he had a chance to calculate it properly, much less expose Aragorn as the con Man he was, Mr. Gamgee opened his big mouth again.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" he demanded indignantly, shaking a finger under Aragorn's nose. "Nobody talks that way to the Ringbearer and lives to tell the tale!" Aragorn trembled with fear and changed his mind very quickly indeed.
"...Or since you're the Ringbearer I could do it for free just this once," he amended hastily. Sam was still scowling, but Frodo smiled slowly and nodded in agreement. Letting out his breath in relief at his narrow escape, Aragorn held out his hand and said genially, "So it's a deal then!"
Meppy and Pirrin grinned and clapped their little hands in excitement. "Goody! We're going to Riven-dale!" they sang, springing up and dancing in a circle around Aragorn's chair.
"Riven-dell," he muttered, suddenly feeling a strong urge to strangle both hobbits. Restraining himself with an effort, he put on his best patient face and wondered suddenly whether or not he would survive this trip, Tour Guide or no. "Now, the first thing we need to do, and which you would have done if you had any sense whatsoever, is to find a safe place to stay for the night."
Frodo looked confused. "Why?" Aragorn clenched his teeth and tried to smile.
"Because there are Ringwraiths out to kill you, you dolt!" he explained patiently. Frodo seemed somewhat surprised by this news, but quickly adjusted.
"Oh, yeah!" the hobbit exclaimed. "I remember now...those evil guys in black cloaks? But why would they want to—"
The Tour Guide cut him off with a gesture. "Later. For now, grab some blankets and find a comfy section of floor. We're staying here tonight." Sam opened his mouth as if to say, "We?" but Aragorn glared him into an uneasy silence.
"But...but..." Peppy's lower lip trembled slightly. "I DON'T WANNA SLEEP ON THE FLOOR!" he bellowed so loudly that Aragorn was afraid it would attract unwelcome attention. He moved to stifle the outburst, but before he could reach the hobbit, Mirrin started bawling as well. Uncertain which to muffle first, Aragorn stared wildly from one to the other. This could wreck all their plans!
Fortunately, Sam knew exactly what to do. Crossing the room more quickly than Aragorn would have thought possible, he firmly took his friends' shoulders and drew them in close. "Now listen here," he said fiercely. "You stop this crying an' complaining or you'll get no mushrooms for breakfast tomorrow. Do you hear me? NO MUSHROOMS!"
The two stared at him, momentarily shocked into silence. "No…no…mushrooms?" Pippy asked at last in a very small voice. His eyes were wide with horror. "No mushrooms for breakfast?"
"No, nor any for second breakfast either, I daresay," Sam growled threateningly. "Now you two just keep your mouths shut and…" With an effort, he forced out the words. "Do what this here Strider says."
Merrin glanced at Aragorn apprehensively, then nodded. "It's the only way," he whispered brokenly to his companion. Aragorn smiled with satisfaction and rubbed his hands together.
"Good. Now that we've gotten that sorted out, where was I? Oh yes—find a nice bit of floor for the night. Stay below the level of the windows whenever possible. And above all, do not leave this room!" He glared at the hobbits to make sure this last point was understood. As he had expected, it was. Perfectly.
Ten minutes later, the five had finally distributed the five blankets fairly among themselves—"fairly" meaning that Aragorn got two—and they lay down to try to get some sleep. With his special Tour Guide wilderness survival skills, he could not only sleep with his eyes open, he could also hear in detail every conversation going on within twenty feet. As he began breathing deeply to prepare himself for sleep, Aragorn heard Frodo say sleepily, "G'night, everybody."
"G'night," three voices replied. The Tour Guide shook his head slightly, smiling to himself. Then the smile was wiped right off his face at what he heard next.
From the corner, Mippy piped up, "Hey, let's tell ghost stories! I know a good one…" Aragorn groaned and burrowed under his blankets as best he could, but it was no use. His acute hearing picked up clearly the beginning of the tale of old Bengo Proudfoot, the ghost who supposedly haunted Perrin's favorite tavern.
It was going to be a long, long night.
A/N: Well, what did you think? Don't worry, there's going to be plenty more. If that makes you worry even more, I'm sorry. I just couldn't pass up this opportunity! Basically, I will be rewriting the events of most of The Fellowship of the Ring to fit with the Tour Guide theme. As you may have noticed, I get a lot of mileage out of mixing up Merry and Pippin (yes, I do know their names!) because they might as well have done what I did for all the difference there is in the movie. That kind of annoyed me. But I'm not here to rant and rave about characterizations. I'm here to try to justify this story. It was really amazing once I started thinking about this plot how well everything fits with the theme I'm going with. Really, just think about it! From Bree to Númenor, it fits amazingly well. Anyway, enough of that. Hopefully Coming Soon: Chapter Two.