Chapter IV—The Foo Fangirls Go To Pot

A/N: This chapter is rated T for mild innuendo. It marks the end of the touching, tragic, meaningful journey of Legolas, and his courage in facing a fearsome pink foe. I hope no one is overly traumatized. ;)

The company chaotically armed itself, mounted up, and galloped over the hill with a great amount of superfluous shouting and waving of weapons. Legolas rode at the head of the column, fully planning to "disappear" once the ill-equipped, ragtag bunch had engaged the enemy. He wasn't about to face the piercing pink evil of the Foo Fangirls.

Gimli, Merry, and Pippin's distinctive grunts and shrieks were easily discerned amidst the other battle cries, and it was quite a comical thing, Legolas internally noted. This was going to be good. These green "soldiers" didn't have the faintest clue about what they would shortly encounter, and he couldn't wait to see their faces when the enemy showed itself. It was sure to be a rout. Not that the concept gladdened Legolas to any large degree, but he figured the Mirkwood Elves could come clean up the mess later. That's what they lived to do: cleanse the land of other races' filth.

Suddenly, the bright pink drawbridge shot open in a blast of swirling pink smoke, bridging the gap over the wide, pink sludge-filled mote.

The Foo Fangirls had seen them at once! Clad in masses of evil pink pompoms glued to evil pink tank tops, evil pink poufy tulle tutus, and sheets of flaking evil pink glitter, hair frightening explosions of evil, hot pink, frizzy curls, eyes glazed with evilly clouded pink contacts, skin tainted evilly pink, the Fangirls tittered something of a high-pitched battle cry and daintily tiptoed over the drawbridge. They were armed with pink plastic buckets brimming with potently carcinogenic pink glitter, nail files sharpened to deadly points, and were towing, with a striped pink jump rope, a large pink plastic teeter-totter converted to an intimidating glitter/pompom catapult. (They also had a sparkly pink pony with a purple mane. Its name was Muffin.)

Legolas quickly released an arrow and missed, cleanly. He tried another, and it hit their pink magnetic force field, vanishing in an impressive flash of pink lightning, wood splinters, and yellow feathers.

"Not fair!" Legolas whined. "How'd they get a force field? I want a force field!"

Gimli, Merry, and Pippin shrieked in terror, which was quite disturbing to hear, especially coming from Gimli.

Legolas lost yet another arrow in the pink force field. "Curses," he muttered. "They cheat. They totally cheat."

The lines had almost met when a shockwave in the color of pink and brown permeated towards the Gondorians. It knocked the first line of soldiers off their horses and threw them backwards. Legolas picked himself up, noting that the soldiers who had been dismounted were all crying hysterically. All of their clothing and armor had been dyed a hideous shade of pink. The horses were mad with terror; they had also been tainted pink.

Legolas, undeterred by the horrid shade of pink on and all around him, jumped astride Astaldo once more. "Come on, ya nag!" he pleaded, thumping the horse's hot pink sides with his hot pink boots. "Get me outta here." The "valiant steed" of Gondor merely gave a strange, constricted whinny and collapsed.

A few of the horsemen were able to remount, but most remained on their knees on the ground, wailing and looking down at their pink clothes and weapons.

"Fine!" said Legolas, having had enough of this nonsense. "Come at me, you Bearers of Foo! Come at me! I fear no Foo." He snatched up a pink sword from the ground and started waving it at the advancing lines.

The Foo Fangirls then released a volley of glitter and pompoms with their catapults. The soldiers quaked in absolute terror as they were coated in shiny glitter and pink pompoms.

"Oh. My. Gosh," said a voice. Legolas turned to see one of the Fangirls totally creeping on him.

"No, no, no," he yelped, eyes wide. "This is not happening. Not happening. Oh Valar, no. My cover is blown. NOOOOOOOOO!" Legolas turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him away from the pink-blotched battlefield.

"You guys, come quick! It's like, totally, like Legolas! Hottie!" the fangirl shrilled, giving chase.

"Tubular!" screamed another, also taking up the pursuit. "He's, like, totally, mine! Let's, like, grab him, k?"

"Worst. Plan. Ever," said another, joining them. She was clearly the evilest of the three because when she talked, glitter shot out of her mouth. "We have to, like, hunt him down with the grodie Flying Pony of Doom. Like, quick, girls. We totally need Muffin." At this last spray of glitter, the other two stopped running.

"Like, okay, Glitzygirl!" they said in unison.

Meanwhile, Aragorn had finally come to his senses. Having mounted in the forward-facing position now, he rode forth from the trees to the battle. He felt very dramatic and epic as he did so. Then he saw the explosions of pink and the glitter and the pompoms and the pink soldiers cowering on the ground in fetal positions. He pulled his horse up short, eyes wide as doughnuts with sprinkles.

Finally, he drew his sword. "I'll save you, men! I won't let them emasculate you!" He charged into the fight, and was very shortly turned pink and covered in glitter and pompoms. Oh, the pathos of it all! Surely this would be a tale to be told again and again in the days following this great battle, how mighty Aragorn swung a sword in one hand and the headstock of a broken ukulele in the other, shouting manically over and over again that he was a man, as if to reassure himself of that fact. How, after about thirteen seconds of this, he plunged from the saddle and was tackled by the Foo Fangirls, who relieved him of his pink shirt and assaulted him in ways that do not bear repeating. How Legolas fled from the scene of the battle screaming, pursued by the selfsame It from which he had fled some days before—a flying pink pony driven on and on by three persons of hideously pink aspect, who eventually caught him and also proceeded to assault him.

Eventually, of course, Thranduil and his army came and took out the rubbish, as it were, driving the Foo Fangirls and their ilk back to the fiery chasm from whence they'd come, but the damage had already been done. At the end of the day, when Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Pippin, Merry, and Sam were reunited, there was silence. Utter silence. They mounted their pink horses and rode back toward Gondor.

"So," said Gimi, finally, who had NOT been assaulted, and was therefore not quite as traumatized as the others were. "That was quite a brawl, wasn't it?"

The others leered at him murderously.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Legolas, eyes vacant.

"I'm done for," moaned Aragorn. "No one will ever take me seriously again."

"No one took you seriously before this happened either," Legolas muttered.

Pippin and Sam cried softly on each other's shoulders.

"So, uh," said Gimli, still not taking a clue that no one was really in the mood to discuss the matter, "what's wrong with you all? It was bad, yes, but not THAT bad."

He received another set of murderous glares.

"Oh, it was THAT bad, Gimli," wailed Aragorn. "I don't feel like a man anymore. The glitter, the pink, the pompoms…" He broke down sobbing, head in hands.

"Arwen was pretty much running the kingdom single-handedly anyway," put in Legolas helpfully. "And you were no one's bastion of manliness, so don't even start."

He couldn't wait to get home and lock himself in his room forever. Served him right for wanting an adventure. He should've taken his dad up on that offer of a ninja escort. It was a hard lesson to learn, but learn it he had.

So there, you have it, kids. Don't ever, ever, ever leave home without an adequate squadron of ninjas. You will end up like poor, pitiful Legolas and Aragorn, mentally scarred, traumatized, and riding pink horses of shame all the way home.

THE END