MiddleEarth Rules Football (to be known as the M.E.F.L.)
Chapter: Pre-season.
Rating: PG-13 for possible scuffles.
Summary: A thought wandered in while I was sitting at the MCG watching the Dees thrash Port. Lotr characters playing Aussie rules? A good chance for those out there who know nothing of how to play this awesome game to learn all about it.
A/N: As the summary says, I've decided that Aussie rules needs a bit more coverage and who better to advertise it than the characters of Lotr? First off, we'll have to get the teams organised, of course.
Manwë was sitting on a chair, holding the memo in his shaking hands. A weary look passed over his face, making him look older than... well... He looked a lot more his age now.
They sat in a circle, the 14 of the Valar. Each had varying expressions evident, ranging from deep-seated anger to amusement of their current predicament. Manwë had a duty to the Maiar who waited outside, and this matter was to be decided with all of the Valar present, though, Manwë noted, not all were required. With enough cajoling some would agree to whatever most of them were agreeing to. The Halls of Manwë reached infinitesimally high, the large columns towered above the company who, excepting three of the more flighty Valar, kept their attention on Manwë as he struggled to say introduce the topic.
"Why this? Why not a game of cricket? Soccer?" he murmured to himself, "Even table tennis would be better. I'd rather not have the elves running around in footy shorts."
"Oh, I don't think I'll mind the footy shorts so much," said Varda from his side, trying to stiffen a giggle.
Manwe let his hand rub at his tired eyes as he let out a sigh.
"They can play in the northern reaches, perhaps."
"Oh but then it would be cold and they'd have to wear tights underneath the shorts..." Varda trailed off as Manwe gave her a look.
"The sea will host the game," offered Ulmo, proudly.
Manwe nearly groaned aloud but quickly reined himself in.
"You forget, Ulmo, that they will have the need to breathe," Ulmo took on a stubborn face, "Don't try that with me, brother. I have enough on my plate. Olórin is really pushing for something to unite the races in some friendly competition. You know they are all on the outbreak of war..."
"Let them," said Mandos gruffly, "My halls are getting empty."
All the Valar turned loudly in their chairs to face towards Mandos.
"Or we could just arrange for something to make them more friendlier..." conceded Mandos, his cheeks revealing a slight flush.
"Can we form our own team?" asked Tulkas eagerly, virtually flexing his muscles in anticipation.
"Now, Tulkas, don't you think that would be a little unfair?" chided Oromë while Tulkas pouted majestically.
"It would've been real fun! I bet Morgoth will cheat and then I'll beat him anyway, like last time! Heh heh."
Yavanna looked up sharply.
"Morgoth is included in this? I thought he was more or less incapable or anything at the moment.""Of course. We can't leave him out. And he claims he is feeling a little better of late," spoke Nienna softly.
"Everyone needs to be included," added Aulë, "I'm going to make the footy itself!" he confided to his nearest neighbour who nodded appreciably.
"So this is going ahead?" asked Irmo eagerly.
"That is going to be decided here and now," said Manwë loudly. Estë, Nessa and Vana looked up suddenly from their own conversation.
"What's happening?" they asked in unison.
"If you would excuse us?" asked Vairë, giving the three discreet stern glances.
Mandos nodded and waved his hand perfunctorily as Vairë herded the giggling women out of the room for a stern talking to and synopsis of the meeting.
Irmo, Mandos and Oromë looked worriedly at the closed door.
"Now," began Mandos again, trying to recapture the attention of his peers, "We need to decide whether we should do this or not. In light of the recent developments, I think a break from these . . ."
Outside the main Halls sat Mithrandir, Radagast and Olórin in the lesser Hall, waiting for the outcome. They were startled by the exit of Vairë with her charges, they all shuffled into another room when Vairë gave them a cautionary glance.
"Wonder what that is all about, hmm?" pondered Gandalf aloud.
Olórin shrugged to himself.
"We should organise the plan for the season... the teams," offered Radagast, "Something to do while we wait, yes?"
Gandalf rummaged around within his robes and drew out a piece of paper, half-throwing it to Radagast who scrambled to open and read it.
"Already done," the wizard told the other.
Radagast's eyes slid over the different teams.
MEFL – Middle-Earth Football LeagueValar are welcome to choose one team each to endorse. Races are appointed to each team, noted in brackets. Team names have been changed to suit our purposes.
West Coast Eagles – Now the Western Wings (Aman dwellers)
Collingwood Magpies – Now the Lorien Larks (Lorien elves)
Port Adelaide Power – Now the Rohirrim Riders (Rohan)
Adelaide Crows – Now the Edoras Stallions (Rohan)
Carlton Blues – Now the Dunedain Blues (Descendants of Numenor)
St Kilda Saints – Now the Isengard White Hands (Uruk-hai)
Melbourne Demons – Now the Mordor Foes (Mordor – Sauron shall be allocated to the Mordor Foes if there are no objections)
Hawthorn Hawks – Now the Mirkwood Spiders (Mirkwood elves)
Western Bulldogs – Now the Lonely Mountain (LM for short) Dragons (Dwarfs)
Sydney Swans – Now the Rivendell Swans (Rivendell elves – Noldor)
Brisbane Lions – Now the Gondor Trees (Gondor)
Geelong Cats – Now the Moria Delvers (Orcs – Morgoth has already been allocated)
Fremantle Dockers – Fangorn Ents (Ents)
North Melbourne Kangaroos – Now the MT Rockers (Gondor)
Essendon Bombers – Now the Misty Mountaineers (Dwarfs)
Richmond Tigers – Now the Brandywine Bucks (Hobbits)
18 players must be selected for each team.
Radagast blinked at the paper in his hands then looked to his fellows.
"What are the rules?"
Gandalf looked down guiltily.
"You don't KNOW?"
Olórin glanced up.
"We can find out eventually. The main thing is that they have to kick a strange shaped ball through a couple of tall posts, which constitutes as 6 points, or a goal. Or if it misses – hitting the posts or going between one of the tall posts and a shorter one (which is situated one on each side of the taller posts), constitutes as only one point, or a behind as is the proper name for it, I believe. The object is to have the most points at the end."
"What?"
Olórin sighed theatrically but demonstrated with the following diagram:
1 pt 6 pts 1 pt
"There are these posts on each side of the field. Each team has it's own and swaps on each quarter."
Radagast cringed and grappled with the notions that were being fired rapidly.
"Hang on, hang on. Leave off the explanations for a few more paragraphs, ok? We need to go slowly."
Olórin just shrugged and went back to his intricate study of the carvings on the pillar he was leaning on.
The silence deepened and Radagast shuffled uncomfortably.
"A question?" he offered Olórin.
Olórin nodded carefully.
"Hw do they know which side they begin on?"
"Toss a coin."
"Isn't that a little, well, primitive?"
Olórin gave Radagast an eyebrow.
"Oh, right."
The silence deepened... but was broken by the slam of the door heralding the Valar.
Olórin immediately stood to attention and moved forward to intercept Manwë, flanked by his peers. Olórin stopped several feet before them and put on his best hopeful expression.
Manwë pulled a look of disgust.
"Don't do that Olórin, you knew you'd get it your way in any case."
"So it's on?" he asked politely.
Manwë rolled his eyes before nodding and left Olórin with the other two Maiar watching the Valar leave their presence.
Olórin's face broke into a grin as soon as they had left, he punched the air and gave a little whoop of happiness. Clapping his hands together, he turned to Gandalf and Radagast.
"It's set," he told them.
"A question?"
Olórin's grin fell from his face as he sighed inwardly.
"Yes?"
"When do we start?"
Olórin's grin was back.
"Since it is a winter sport... only a few months. They'll be needing that time to train and what not as well as to be notified and have their teams picked... Coaches! I nearly forgot..." Olorin began to pick his mind apart to solve this new problem.
"Coaches, Olórin?" asked Gandalf
Footsteps resounded, forestalling Olórin's reply, they turned to see Tulkas hurrying towards them.
"The Valar have decided on their supporting teams," he announced broadly. Olórin only needed a few moments to make the connection.
"And we have our coaches!" Tulkas blinked in surprise.
"Umm... the teams the Valar will join with are..." he fumbled inside his clothing and pulled out a crumpled looking piece of parchment.
"The Western Wings will be taken by Manwë! The Lorien Larks will be joined by Irmo! The Rohirrim Riders will be led by Oromë! The Edoras Stallions shall be graced by Vardä! The Dunedain Blues shall be guided by Nienna! The Isengard White Hands will be controlled by Vana (I don't know what she was thinking, so don't ask me about it)! The Mirkwood Spiders will be fighting alongside Tulkas, (otherwise known as All Mighty And Powerful Me)! The Lonely Mountain (LM for short) Dragons shall be honoured by Yavanna! The Rivendell Swans will be managed by Ulmo! The Gondor Trees will be blessed by Mandos' presence! The Fangorn Ents shall be nourished by Estë! The MT Rockers will be favoured by Vairë! The Misty Mountaineers shall be prepared by Aulë and..." at this Tulkas took a well deserved breath, "The Brandywine Bucks shall be led by Nessa."
Olórin smiled at Tulkas.
"Well, if that's it then, Manwë says you're to send us an invite for the first game later on when everything's organised."
Olórin shook his head and Tulkas gave him a look of polite confusion.
"Dear Tulkas," Olórin began, taking the Valar's arm, "I'm afraid that officials and referees aren't allowed to take any interaction with the teams..."
Tulkas' expression did not falter.
"We, the Maiar, have decided that the only ones that could possibly organise this before the season starts are the Valar. You."
Olórin's efforts seemed to be taking effect.
"And so, you will need to inform the Valar to travel to the outreaches of their choice's home ground to help train, organise, prepare, and so on for the season."
"Ho no! No, no, no... not possible! No, the Valar will remain in Aman to do their duty and..."
"Tulkas, you forget that their will be Manwë here in Aman to take care of things, of which I am sure he is more than capable of doing and you do need to get out a bit. I mean, when was the last time you had a bit of fun?"
Tulkas thought for a moment and then grinned.
"All right! Fun, you said, right?"
Olórin nodded.
"Now go and tell the other Valar the good news."
"Sure will!" Tulkas grinned madly and literally ran out of the lesser Hall.
Mithrandir looked at Olórin.
"You are either extremely stupid or a genius to get us out of that much work."
"No," sighed Olórin happily, thanking the Valar for sending Tulkas, "Just lucky."
They waited a few moments to hear the screeches of protests from their Lords and Ladies before turning away quickly to get away from their wrath.
A/N: I don't know if anyone else has done something like this as I haven't been doing any fanfiction for at least five months now, let alone reading it! Apologies to those who are waiting on updates for my other fics – they're up and coming. Shaitan, my muse, has been stubborn of late. Thanks for reading and don't forget, that unless you want to die a horrible death, you need to press the Go! Button down their to make someone else a little happy. GO now! And commit your good deed for the day.