Disclaimer: Fortunately for these characters, I do not own them—they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, who is a genius.  They are occasionally borrowed by Princess Eilonwy, who is an idiot.

A/N: First of all, this is not a normal fanmail story, so don't bother including letters in your reviews.  Yes, I do enjoy fanmail very much, but the main problem with the whole idea is that nobody ever gives a thought to the difficulties involved in delivering mail between realities.  I mean, someone has to do it, right?  And knowing the way things work, the people who get stuck with the job are probably some minor characters that would never get fanmail from anyone and so have nothing better to do than run back and forth between universes all day long to deliver approximately 15,738 marriage proposals to assorted Elves, hobbits, Elves, Men, and Elves.  Yes, it is incredibly scary that I'm obsessed enough to even think of a story idea like this, but sadly it's probably been done before.  It would be nice to have an original idea for once…*sigh*  If you know of any other story like this, please tell me.  I will be searching diligently myself in hopes of discovering that I have made up a new story line.

Pony Express

"Well," Damrod sighed wearily, "I guess that's the last load for today."  Gratefully, he heaved the bulging sack of letters into the back of the cart and climbed up on the seat beside Mablung, who was waiting impatiently.  The sky was already darkening as dusk came on, alleviated by the twenty-first century streetlights shining around them.

"Took you long enough," grumbled Mablung, picking up the reins and giving them a peremptory shake.  "Get your rears in gear, you lazy bums," he growled to their two long-suffering ponies Bill and Stybba, who rolled their eyes slightly and got their rears in gear.

Damrod stared bleakly back at the enormous mailbags behind him and wondered, for about the seventy-fifth time that month, just why he had taken this job anyway.  This was a very good question, and Damrod was sorry he had asked it, as it brought back bitter memories he had tried to suppress.  Memories of Faramir calling him aside and saying he had something to tell him...

"I'm awfully sorry about this, Damrod," he had said, laying a hand regretfully on his shoulder.  "But you're just not hot enough to stay here with the rest of us.  I mean, for crying out loud, you and Mablung aren't even in the movie!  So I'm afraid you'll have to go."  Faramir had looked lost for a second, his eyes somewhere far away, then snapped back to the moment.  "Say, I know just the thing!  They have a post open for 21st century fanmail delivery and I bet I could get you guys a route if you want.  Whaddaya say?  It's better than nothing."

And, of course, it was.  After all, the only alternative was to go home in disgrace and spend the rest of his life thinking about that insufferable hobbit Frodo Baggins getting adoring letters from teenage girls begging him to marry them, or at the very least autograph their copies of The Fellowship of the Ring.  So Damrod had agreed to the job and eventually talked Mablung into it as well.  As far as he knew, the only ones who hadn't given informed consent were the ponies, who didn't get much say in events anyway.

Sighing with slight nostalgia for the bygone days when they hadn't been virtual exiles from Middle-earth, Damrod turned back to face the road, mentally cursing himself for being stupid enough to let Mablung drive again.  Honestly, with the coordination the man had he was a menace to anyone within twenty leagues—especially anyone unlucky enough to be in the same cart.

"Yee-HA!" Mablung yelled, steering the cart off the concrete road and toward a treacherous-looking ditch.  Damrod hung on tight and wished carts had those modern things—what did they call them?  Airbags?  They would certainly come in handy often with his partner at the reins.  Why, oh why, hadn't he insisted on driving this time?

Damrod looked up at what lay ahead, not wanting to be surprised by any sudden bumps caused by potholes, ridges, or small rodents.  What he saw caused his jaw to drop in momentary astonishment before his adrenaline rush kicked in.  "Mablung," he yelled, trying to make himself heard over the rattling of the cart over rough ground, "Mablung, you idiot!  What are you doing?"

Mablung the Evil didn't reply, just grinned and shook the reins to urge the ponies to go faster.  This was no easy task, as Bill and Stybba had done their best to come to a complete stop.  No doubt they had seen the same thing that had Damrod gibbering with terror—the enormous two-story house looming directly ahead.  The enormous two-story house that Mablung was on a collision course with...

"Come on!" Mablung cried in exasperation, shaking the reins harder than ever.  As it turned out, he didn't need to—the ponies had worked up too much momentum to simply stop in their tracks.  Instead, they and the cart skidded forward at a considerable speed, eliciting screams from the two hapless Men stuck in the front seat.

Two yards...one yard...[Goodbye, cruel world,] Damrod thought grimly, wishing he could have had just one more drink before he went.  Then thought became impossible as they made contact.

A/N: Cheerful, ain't it?  Don't worry, everyone will survive more or less unscathed, although some falling out between Mablung and Damrod will be only natural after an episode like this.  Don't you just want to kill Mablung already?  I promise I'll actually get to more of the mail delivery part in the second chapter, which is when it'll hopefully get more interesting.  Yes, I suppose technically Mablung and Damrod were in the movie, but I don't think they were named.  While we're criticizing the scenes with Faramir, let me just say that they absolutely twisted the poor man!  I mean, in the books he was one of the best characters, if not the best one, and then they changed him.  I guess they did it to heighten the dramatic tension—wouldn't do much for the excitement of the movie to have him wish Frodo and Sam good luck and send them on their merry way, would it?  But enough ranting and raving about what they did to Faramir.  I hope I'll be able to update soon, but I'm working on many other stories, a number of which are Lord of the Rings.  Once again, if you know of any other story with this plot, let me know.  Not that it'll make me stop writing (most of my stories have already been written a few times), but I'll be sort of disappointed.  I've decided I really need to post more fanfiction for small categories, since that gives me a much better chance of actually coming up with an original plot.  But enough rambling—please review.  It's always depressing to post a new story and get about two reviews on the first chapter.  Coming Soon: Chapter Two.