"A red sun rises," said Faramir in a gloomy and doomy voice. "Blood has been spilled this night."
"Uh…" said Glorfindel, staring at him. "Right. Anyway."
"Hey," Faramir said. "Would you mind if we stopped by somewhere? I just wanted to ask someone something about somewhere."
"That's rather vague," mused Glorfindel. "Okay, I don't mind!" He smiled cheerily and Faramir smiled happily, both cheery and happy now.
"This will just be a slight detour," Faramir said and turned a very tiny little bit and led Glorfindel toward the tall black tower in the distance.
"Oh, look, it's Saruman's tower," said Glorfindel. "I've always wanted to visit him and see how he was doing, but I never got the time."
Suddenly they both heard a clear voice ringing over the hills, "Gimli! He's taking the slayer to Isengard!"
"Shut up, Legolas," said a deep voice.
"So you don't think that could be my new hit single?" said the first person, sounding disappointed.
Glorfindel looked around excitedly, hoping that there was someone close by that he could hug, but there was no one. He settled for hugging Faramir again, who smiled happily and cheerily and then they kept walking.
Soon they were at the open gate of Isengard. Smoke rose from giant holes in the ground, trees toppled, and orcs milled in gossiping groups all over the place.
"HOLY CHAMELEON!" cried Glorfindel in utter excitement, seeing the hundreds – and maybe even thousands – of orcs. "THIS WAS A GREAT IDEA, FARAMIR!" He hugged Faramir once more and then dashed away, heading for the nearest group of orcs.
Faramir stared for a long moment, then shrugged and walked over to the huge giant massive towering colossal gigantic immense vast enormous tall lofty mammoth gargantuan black tower and knocked on the door.
A white-faced person answered the door. He looked at Faramir and then turned around and scurried into the tower, leaving the door open. Taking that as an invitation, Faramir went inside.
"Master!" the white-faced person squeaked, running up a staircase and vanishing. "That person you said was coming has come! He has come and now he's down in the lobby."
Faramir looked around the lobby. It all seemed very glum and depressing.
"Oh, excellent," a strange voice boomed, and then a tall bearded white-haired, white-clothed figure appeared at the top of the steps. He descended regally most of the way, then suddenly tripped over his robes on the last step.
"Curse it," snapped the tall bearded white-haired, white-clothed figure. He shook out his robes and then walked regally toward Faramir.
"Hey, buddy," said Faramir.
Saruman scowled threateningly yet regally. "What have I told you about calling me buddy?"
Faramir shrugged.
"I said, DON'T CALL ME BUDDY! IT REMINDS ME OF A HORRIBLE HOLIDAY MOVIE WITH FAKE ELVES IN IT!" Saruman took a deep breath and tapped the floor regally with his stick. "Gríma, get down here!"
The white-faced person suddenly appeared next to him. He was staring at Faramir's muddy brown boots. "I really like your muddy brown boots," he said.
Faramir stared at him. "Uh…okay." He looked back at Saruman. "All right, buddy, I just wanted to ask you if –"
Saruman threw his staff on the floor angrily and regally. "I SAID, DON'T CALL ME –" He stopped suddenly and froze, staring at the open door of his tower. "You…" he whispered in something that sounded like terror.
Faramir looked at the door. "Oh, that's just Glorfindel," he said.
Glorfindel was staring at Saruman too. Saruman stared at him.
They both stared at each other.
Suddenly Glorfindel screamed in happiness and shot across the room, heading straight for Saruman. The white-haired wizard screamed in terror and turned to run, but was tackled by Glorfindel. Glorfindel gave him a very, very long hug.
Faramir and Gríma stared.
Finally Glorfindel stopped hugging him and set him upright, since Saruman seemed to be in shock. He stared at the wall opposite him with glazed eyes and a goofy grin on his face.
"I am the happiest Sadness-slayer ever!" Glorfindel exclaimed, turning to Faramir and Gríma. "There were all of the orcs outside, and then I hugged them and now they're happy!"
"What?" said Gríma. He went over to the door and looked out, and suddenly gasped in horror. There wasn't an Orc in sight. Instead, hundreds of various elves walked around outside, chatting and giggling. Hair was flipped not-so-fabulously, nails were painted, eyelashes were fluttered, cheeks were pinched, and more hair was flipped.
"Master is going to be so angry!" cried Gríma, clutching at his hair.
Suddenly, Saruman recovered from his hug-shock. He still had a goofy grin on his face, though. "I will be angry?" he said.
Gríma looked at him, terrified. "Yes," he said in a quivering whisper. He pointed outside. "See?"
Saruman sashayed over to the door, then looked out. "Oh!" he exclaimed upon seeing the elves all over the place. "How wonderful!"
"What?" said Gríma.
"You are so weird," said Faramir.
"Isn't it marvelous!" said Glorfindel.
"IT'S NOT MARVELOUS!" roared Saruman. Gríma cowered. Then Saruman beamed happily. "IT'S FANTABULOUS!"
"What?" said Gríma.
"My thoughts exactly," said Faramir.
"I love that new word!" said Glorfindel.
Saruman clasped his hands together excitedly and then spun back to face the three in the room with him. He gasped suddenly when he saw Faramir. "Faramir! You're here?"
"What?" said Gríma.
"Yes, I am," said Faramir.
"You need to stop saying 'what,' Gríma," said Glorfindel.
"I have a great idea!" Saruman cried, scooping up his staff from the floor where he had thrown it earlier. "Faramir, you are far too depressed!"
"I am?" said Faramir.
"Yes, you are. Anyways, I have a plan to un-depress you! Glorfindel, you told me about the blonde-haired lady over in Edoras!"
"I did?" said Glorfindel.
"Yes, you did! I have the plan, then!" Saruman smiled cheerfully. "This blonde-haired lady is a wonderful match for you, Faramir!"
"She is?" said Faramir.
"Yes, she is! Therefore…" Saruman smiled again. "I shall let you go visit her, and then you shall decide to get married!"
"I will?" said Faramir.
"Yes, you will!" Saruman waved his staff in the air. "Make sure you send me an invitation to the wedding. Banana split!" he declared, and Faramir vanished in a puff of white smoke.
"Oh, no!" Glorfindel exclaimed. He dashed over to Gríma and hugged him, then stood back happily. "Whew," he said, wiping his brow. "I'd forgotten to hug you. I'm sorry."
Gríma had passed out from the sheer amazingness of the hug. Glorfindel stared at him for a moment, then shrugged.
"So," said Saruman, still deliriously happy. "Do you have love in your life?"
"Who, me?" asked Glorfindel.
"Yes, you!"
"Oh, of course! Everyone loves me!" said Glorfindel.
A scowling elf dressed in black suddenly appeared next to Glorfindel. He scowled scowlingly at Glorfindel. "Everyone does not love you," he said angrily, and scowled even more.
"Erestor!" Glorfindel exclaimed. "How did you get here? Come here, you need a hug!" He dashed at the adviser, only to smack into the wall of the tower when Erestor vanished again.
"Ooh, that had to hurt," said Saruman sympathetically. "Hey, have you heard about my new song? It's a big hit!"
"Uh…" said Glorfindel.
"It goes like this!" Saruman spread his arms wide and prepared to demonstrate. "TrolololololLOOOOOO –"
"Yes, actually," Glorfindel interrupted hastily. "I have heard it. It's wonderful." He looked at Saruman's outstretched arms, then shrugged and hugged him again.
"Oh, look, Gríma passed out," Saruman said happily, pointing at the unconscious white-faced human.
"Yes!" said Glorfindel, proud of himself. "My hugs are amazing!"
"I'll say," Saruman said.
Glorfindel didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything.
Saruman didn't say anything either.
An awkward silence descended.
The two stared at each other.
A cricket chirped.
Glorfindel hurried over to the cricket and scooped it up, giving it a hug. He set the crushed insect back down carefully and looked around. "Oh, Faramir's gone," he said.
"Yes, he is," Saruman said. "I sent him to go get married because I haven't been invited to a wedding in literally Ages. Do you remember that elf who was king of some random wood place?"
"Thranduil?"
"No…the other one…" Saruman waved vaguely.
"Oropher?"
"Um…no…"
"Amroth?"
"No, he was…the lady he was marrying wasn't an elf – she was…erm…"
"Ah!" said Glorfindel. "Thingol!"
"Yes! That was Ages ago!" complained Saruman. "Anyways, that was the last time I got invited to a wedding. It may or may not have had anything to do with the fact that I accidentally decimated the table with the wedding cake."
"Ooh."
"Yeah. They kicked me out."
"Oh well," said Glorfindel, randomly changing the subject. "But Faramir was my guide to Lothlórien! I need someone to take me there!"
Saruman scratched his beard. "That's where that silver-haired Lord lives, right? What's-his-face?"
"Celeborn," Glorfindel offered.
"Yeah, him." Saruman's eyes glinted. "I remember him. He's one of the guys who threw me out of the wedding."
Glorfindel eyed him warily for a moment, then dashed over and hugged him quickly. Saruman immediately was happier, straightening up and smiling.
"I have a FANTABULOUS idea!" exclaimed Saruman suddenly, clasping his hands together excitedly.
"Oh?" said Glorfindel.
"Yes! Gríma can take you to Lothlórien!" Saruman looked at Glorfindel expectantly, grinning.
"Uh…" said Glorfindel. He didn't know if that was such a good idea.
Taking Glorfindel's uh-ness as agreement, Saruman smiled happily. "It's settled then!" he said, and waved his staff at the still-unconscious Gríma. Immediately, Gríma regained consciousness and scrambled to his feet.
"Oh, look, he's awake," said Glorfindel.
"Uh…yeah," said Saruman in a 'duh' voice. "Anyways. Gríma! You shall guide Glorfindel to Lothlórien."
"But I don't know where –"
"YES YOU DO," Saruman interrupted loudly. "YES. YOU DO."
"Uh…I mean, yes, I do!" Gríma giggled nervously and looked at Glorfindel.
Glorfindel stared at Gríma, then at Saruman. "Are you trying to trick me?" he said in a suspicious voice.
Saruman stared back at him. "Why would I try to trick you?"
"Because you don't like Celeborn?"
"Celeborn? I like Celeborn! We're best buds!" said Saruman.
"Sure," said Glorfindel. "Fine. I accept Gríma as my new guide. Come, Gríma!" He turned toward the door and started to leave, but then suddenly stopped and whirled. He dashed over to Saruman and hugged him swiftly, then ran out the door.
Gríma followed him, looking pitiful.
[Ten minutes later a mysterious package appears on the front door of the tower. One of the elves kindly fetches it and throws it six hundred feet up through the window where Saruman was taking a nap. It hits him on the head and wakes him, and after blasting that kind elf with silver glitter from his staff, he reads the label to find that it's a very craftily crafted wedding invitation…]
HAHAHAHAHA THE INSANITY HAS CONTINUED. IF YOUR MIND SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTS, IT IS NOT MY FAULT, IT'S CRESCENT MOON DANCER'S FAULT, BECAUSE SHE TOLD ME TO GO AHEAD AND POST THIS, WHEN I WAS GOING TO INNOCENTLY DO IT EITHER TOMORROW OR MONDAY. SO FEEL FREE TO BLAME ANYONE BUT ME.
(All right, my caps lock just died on me, which is depressing).
Now. Who wants to bet that Gríma really doesn't know where Lothlórien is? Who wants to bet that once again, Glorfindel isn't going to end up where he wanted?!
Actually, no. I'm not allowed to gamble - but please, hand over your money! I'd love some! *smiled innocently and evilly, which should be theoretically impossible, but no, it's not*
(Aha, my caps lock has mysteriously revived!)
NOW REVIEW OR GRÍMA WILL STEAL ALL OF YOUR SHOES, AND THEN SARUMAN WILL START TROLOLOLOLO-ING RIGHT WHEN YOU THINK YOU'RE SAFE! ALSO, FARAMIR WILL SEND YOU AN INVITATION TO HIS WEDDING PARTY IF YOU REVIEW! THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE A BAD THING!