I'm dreadfully sorry about the one-month delay. I've been distracted- March is always a busy month for me, and I've been working on a multichap fic.

Part two of my parody of the FotR chapter 'The Ring Goes South'- Caradhras and Hollin!

Thank you for your reviews, follows, favorites, and your time!

Thanks to Catching Fireflies for Beta-ing this chapter!

I'm going to apologize beforehand to anybody who ships LotR slash. In this chapter, I make fun of it a bit. I don't mean offense to any of you. This is a parody, and it's not meant to be taken seriously.


While walking through Hollin, Pippin realized some things.

Life was a lot better in the Shire. The wind was gentle on your face, and there was always plenty of liquor to go around. Not to mention how much fun it was to annoy the Sackville-Bagginses!

He had also discovered that Wizards were grumpy. Undeniably so. Damn, were they grumpy. Especially Gandalf, it seemed. The Wizard wouldn't even let Pippin run ahead of the Fellowship, chasing random objects floating in the wind. Gandalf didn't even smile when Aragorn drew his sword and Boromir nearly fell of a cliff in an unexpected bout of laughter. All right, maybe it wasn't so funny when Aragorn immediately challenged Boromir to a duel to the death afterward. But, still! It was funny while it lasted... but not to Gandalf. Stupid Wizards.

Pippin had learned one more thing, also: height differences were a pain in the ass if you were a short person walking behind a tall person.


"Come along, now!" said Aragorn, striding on funkily at the front of the group. He turned back when he didn't hear footsteps behind him. "Frodo, what on Middle-earth is taking you so long?"

"Nothing, precious," Frodo said cheerfully.

"All right- wait, what did you just call me? Elendil's rotten wisdom teeth, what the hell, Frodo?" Aragorn bellowed, quite fed up with the Fellowship in entirety. Frodo was walking along slowly, stroking the Ring with an insane smile on his face. "Put the Valardamn Ring down!" Frodo was scared out of his insanity, and burst into tears.

"Fine," sniffed Frodo, and the Ring's chain went slack around his neck again. He kept walking.

Not long later, Aragorn noticed that Frodo was walking oddly. Even more oddly than he himself was! "Frodo, why are you looking to the side while trying to walk straight?"

"No reason at all," said Frodo, while looking to the side. He stumbled away from the Fellowship and walked into a muddy puddle of water.

"Frodo!" Gandalf snapped, halting the Fellowship in their tracks. "Get over here!"

"Huh?" said Frodo, who now had his eyes shut, for some peculiar reason.

"What in the names of the Valar are you doing?" the old Wizard asked, raising his bushy eyebrows as Frodo pulled himself out of the mucky water. "One could swear you're trying to run away from the Fellowship."

"And why would anybody want to do that?" asked Boromir with a grin on his face. Frodo saw him sharpening his sword on a rock, screamed, burst into tears, and fell back into the puddle.

Gandalf was thoroughly fed up. "Frodo, if you do that again, you'll lose the Ring! And then we'll have to go on a quest just to get all the muck off it!" All the various members of the Fellowship were watching the exchange, amused.

"But...!" Frodo said, hoisting himself out of the puddle. "But..." And he leaned forward, whispering into Gandalf's ear. The poor Wizard turned bright red. Then he glared at Aragorn. "All Men, walk behind the hobbits, now!" Gandalf commanded. Boromir and Aragorn, quite confused as to why they were being shouted at, obediently made their way to the end of the line.

They began to walk again. The two Men of the Fellowship were having a hushed sword-fight at the back of the line for a while (in which Boromir had to stifle maniacal laughs about the engravings on Anduril), but when they got bored of that, they began to talk.

"So, Boromir," Aragorn said.

The Gondorian was instantly on guard. "So, what?" he said suspiciously, unsheathing his sword a bit. He didn't trust Aragorn. Not at all.

"What did Frodo say to Gandalf?" the heir of Isildur asked. "You were standing close to them, and Gandalf glared at me after Frodo was done talking."

Boromir shrugged. "Nothing impor- aw, come on, Bill! Really? Now? These were my favorite boots, too! You can talk- ask Gandalf for a fucking restroom break!" He glared down at his tall leather boots that were now rather... soiled.

Samwise glared from under Bill. "You think you're bad off? Well, I have to be right under him!" the hobbit shouted, too frustrated and weary to even attempt at politeness. "And Mister Boromir, your damn shield's only making my back hurt worse!" He had Boromir's shield over his back, which the Man swore would make Bill's weight not so painful. Apparently, it wasn't working so well.

"So, what were you going to say, Boromir?" asked Aragorn before Boromir could run off and take his anger out on Sam.

Boromir shrugged again. "Frodo didn't really say anything important. Just something about, since he's half the size of a Man, your ass is always in his face when he's walking behind you."

A loud, embarrassed splutter of words erupted from poor Aragorn: "Halfling- my ass-" and then a loud "Ugh!" signaled Aragorn's rapid descent into temporary madness.

Boromir whistled innocently.


In front of the two Men, Bill, and Sam, Gimli was not in the best of moods. First he had been walking behind Boromir. Yes, it was awkward, considering the height situation. Very awkward. When Gandalf had told Boromir and Aragorn to move to the back of the group, Gimli had nearly thrown his axe in the air with joy. But suddenly, he had found himself walking right behind Legolas.

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire!" the bad-lucked Dwarf had muttered under his breath. As if he wasn't having enough of a rotten time, Frodo had heard him and began to rant about his cousin Bilbo's book.

Gimli great-great grandson of Groin was officially pissed. Was he the only one with some sense in his brain?

Legolas turned around then and began to rant about Mirkwood cheerfully.

Gimli lost it. "Legolas!" he screamed, tossing down his axe in frustration.

Legolas looked down at Gimli with a rather plastered-on smile. "Yes, Gimli?"

"Your fucking genitals are in my face!" the Dwarf hollered.

A very black, bird-looking cloud halted in shock for a second.

"Strange," Aragorn said, scratching his beard in the pose of one who is thinking. He was actually trying to de-lice himself, but hey, the thinking thing would work, too. "Why did that cloud just stop?"

The crebain -er, the cloud- quickly began to fly -er, float- again.

"Did you hear that? Or was that just me?" asked one of the birds. "Did one of those short things really just yell what I think it yelled?"

"I thought this was supposed to be a mighty, strong Fellowship," said another crebain, quite scandalized.

"This'll be interesting to tell Saruman," said another bird.


"Redhorn Gate may be watched," said Gandalf solemnly some time later. "And the weather there is bad." His face brightened. "But we're going there, anyway!"

"Right!" said Boromir merrily. "I was born by the White Mountains."

"Who the eff cares?" asked Aragorn, who was too tired to cuss. Walking as Aragorn does (like you're in a never-ending conga line!) can really tire a person out.

"No one asked you," Boromir snapped. "Anyway. We should take lots of wood, so we can build a fire."

"That sounds like a good-" Gandalf started.

But Boromir wasn't done talking. "I love fire," he said with a wild grin. "Maybe we should play a good game of burn-up-whoever-loses-the-sword-fight!" Aragorn looked at him quite strangely. "What?" Boromir asked. "I play that game with all of the soldiers and various innocent townspeople. My father and I love being arsonists- I mean, being of the line of Stewards."

"Fire or death!" Gandalf bellowed suddenly.

"How about both?" Boromir suggested. "We could all join hands, step into the fire, and have an honorable-" Gandalf knocked out the Man with his staff and picked him up off the ground.

"I've got fuel here, Aragorn!" he said cheerfully.


All ended up fairly well, despite Boromir nearly being used as fuel for the Fellowship's hypothetical bonfire. The Fellowship was still walking, and all the short beings were in front of the taller beings (thank goodness for them).

Oh yes, and it was snowing, windy, freezing cold, and nearly half the beings of the Fellowship weren't wearing shoes, even though they were walking on a freezing mountain.

Frodo had laid down in a mound of snow to admire the Ring and take a bit of a nap, but apparently Boromir looked down on this sort of thing. He scooped the hobbit off the ground and shouted, "Frodo is going to get frostbite, and all his toes and fingers will fall off in this cold! We're all going to die!" Frodo burst into tears. They froze on his face.

"Well," Aragorn said, "if that's the case, I brought some miruvor. Before we all die, we should all get as drunk as hell." He brought a large leather flask from his pack. "Behold! Miruvor! The most lovely thing to ever be crafted by Elves, including the Elven-Rings! Wonder of the Northern World!" And he took a gulp of the liquor. Then he gave some to Bill. Soon, everyone in the Fellowship, even the Talking Horse, had partaken in the miruvor.

"Well, then," said Gandalf, "let's keep moving! I feel quite energetic all of a sudden, and not so cold, either." And the Fellowship began to walk again.

Out of nowhere, a strange thing happened. Samwise suddenly halted his crawling, and looked, wide-eyed, up at Legolas. Or rather, Legolas's ass, because he couldn't look any further up. And damn, was he staring, too!

"Mister Legolas," he said huskily, suddenly very turned on. "Did you know that you have a chunk of snow on your bum?"

Legolas, startled, twisted around, trying to see the aforementioned chunk of snow (which was a fabrication of Sam's mind purely for the purpose of an introductory statement of lust). "I do not!" he said. "And why were you looking at my bum, anyway? We need to keep moving!"

"That we do, Mister Legolas," said Sam. "That we do." And he sprang out from under Bill and tackled the poor Elf to the ground.

Suddenly, a change came over Legolas. "Oh, Sam, you lovely little hobbit," he cried, "I could just kiss you." And he did so.

Gandalf looked upon this, horrified. "Aragorn! Did you not know that miruvor is Elrond's special male/male-lust-inducing liquor?"

"No," said Aragorn with an odd smile. "All I know is that I want you. Badly. Would you like to unsheathe Anduril?"

Chaos was erupting on Caradhras. Boromir had Bill pinned to the ground and was groping the Talking Horse. Sam and Legolas were thrashing around in the snow. Aragorn and Gandalf looked as if they were attempting to eat each other's faces. Merry and Pippin had suddenly thought that incest really wasn't such a bad thing. Gimli and Frodo were stripping.

All of them were on top of a cold, windy, snowy mountain, mind you.

"I don't like walking, but I sure like you..."

"I am a Maia!"

"And I'm a Ranger. There is absolutely no reason why we shouldn't be fucking right now."

"I've always had this thing for Elves..."

"Gimli, I dare you to put your tongue through this Ring while it's in my mouth..."

"I'll build a fire, and we can make love by it."

"Oh Bill, you sensitive thing. You know I love fires. Here, I'll help you make it. I've got fingers and thumbs, after all. Might as well put them to work."

"I know other ways you could put them to work..."

After a grueling few hours, (in which Caradhras was so disgusted that it vomited a bunch of sleet on the five strange couples, a sexy fire was built, and the crebains' eyes were burnt by the sheer terribleness of it all) the miruvor lost its male/male-lust-inducing hold on the Fellowship.

"Oh, holy Valar," Aragorn groaned. "Why is Gandalf straddling me?"

"Perhaps for the same reason why Bill has his mouth on-"

"Perhaps for the same reason why Frodo and Gimli fell asleep kiss-"

"Perhaps for the same reason why Pippin is lying on top of-"

"Perhaps for the same reason why I have a peculiar mark on my neck-"

"It must've been the miruvor!" Gandalf groaned, rolling off Aragorn. "Oh, Valar. What have we done?" He was met with expressions that all said the same thing: 'You know what we did.'

And so the very mortified Fellowship of the Ring swore never to again speak of that fateful night on Caradhras.


Aragorn son of Arathorn and Boromir son of Denethor were plowing their way through the snow in a rather ridiculous, unendurable manner that made Aragorn question such: "Why did I ever join this Fellowshit?"

"Fellowshit?" asked Boromir, a bit offended.

"Ship!" Aragorn said. "I meant ship!" But Boromir could not be sure, so thus a fight started between the two (in which they both nearly got buried by the snow and Aragorn had to create an air bubble to prevent his suffocation).

Legolas pranced by on top of the snow. "Hello, gentlemen!" he said cheerfully, skipping right along.

Boromir and Aragorn glared up at him and snarled out one word in unison: "Bitch."


Not long later, the Fellowshit (or rather, the Fellowship) finally stumbled off Caradhras. They looked quite a bit like snowpeople, and the Hobbits' feet had turned interesting shades of frostbitten gray.

"Never again," groaned Aragorn, summing up the thoughts of all the Fellowship.

"They better have some liquor in Moria," agreed Gimli. "And not miruvor."


To be continued, as the Fellowship has a Journey in the Dark, Warg noises abound, and a puzzling Dwarf gate is revealed!