I don't own anything or anyone, but Kelly's my invention.
Chapter Ten: We Like Pudding
Upon reaching Lothlorien, the weary travelers saw it fit to express their all-consuming awe verbally.
"Fruity again," Kelly bad-temperedly diagnosed. "Fruity as all things elven are."
"You do remember that YOU'RE AN ELF, right?" grumbled Legolas. "And it's not a good idea to insult your hosts."
"I think it's pretty,' chirped Pippin, pouring gasoline onto the base of one great tree. "It's so serene." He gave a happy little sigh and tossed a lit match onto the tree. It promptly burst into billowing flames. "I should like to retire here,' he continued as a mass of elves moved frantically to put the inferno out. "And write my poetry." The fire climbed higher up the tree, setting alight a few graceful homes.
"Er, that might not be such a good idea," said Aragorn, looking beyond Pippin at the continuing destruction.
"Why ever not?"
"No reason. I just had this feeling."
The Fellowship quietly slipped away from the crime scene and continued on their way to see the Lady of the Wood. Luckily the elves escorting them decided not to comment on the blatant arson. Eventually they got to one of the biggest trees around, a gilded stair winding up its notable height, seeming to have sprouted from the silver-lit bark itself. The escorts gestured for them to climb the gleaming steps, and so they did.
"Still fruity?" asked Legolas smugly, a small but sure smile on his face.
"It's cool, but still fruity," grunted Kelly. Legolas sighed and threw his hands up in the air, exasperated.
Eventually the lot of them got to the beautiful building that was he center of Lothlorien, that house of pearly arches. Right off the bat they spattered mud on the pure white wood floors and left greasy fingerprints on the pristine walls as they examined every inch of it. Kelly busied herself stuffing anything that wasn't bolted down too strongly into her pack.
After a few minutes of waiting, a pair of figures arm in arm shrouded in light approached them. They instinctively clumped together and squinted at the mysterious beings.
"Greeting," said Galadriel, her voice suddenly austere and seriously melodious. "I am Galdriel, the Lady of the Wood."
"And I am Celeborn," added Celeborn. "Pet of—I mean, husband of Galadriel and Lord of Lothlorien." He peered through their filthy ranks. "Nine of you there were, yet now there are but---wait, hang on, there are still nine of you. What the heck?!"
"Oh, yeah," said Galdriel. "I forgot to tell you that another one joined last minute."
"I'm new," clarified Kelly.
Galadriel came a little closer, then suddenly hopped back. "Eeeeew. You people really stink."
"Ah, c'mon," said Kelly. "Surely we can't be that bad." She raised her arm and sniffed. And retched, "Oh god!" And choked. Boromir thumped her on the back to get her breathing again. "Okay, so that was pretty bad," she conceded once she could breathe again.
"And I was wondering why all the plants we came near seemed to be dead," added Gimli.
Galadriel, now wisely pinching her nose, came forward again. "But I see Gandalf has fallen into shadow." The music of her voice has muddled somewhat in the nasally sound produced when on pinches one's nose.
"Lothlorien is grieved for your loss," Celeborn tried to sooth. "Even now they sing songs of mourning to him."
"Did you even know the guy?" Boromir asked skeptically, not believing that anyone could truly be sorry for the loss of Gandalf. But Celeborn ignored him.
A concerned look crossed Celeborn's face. His brow furrowed. "Have you seen my spine?" he asked them suddenly. "I think I've lost it."
Kelly, staring at him, said, "I think you've lost it, too."
"I'm hungry," interrupted Sam.
"Congratulations," everyone else said in unison.
"So weary, pathetic, stinking, foolish, disheveled, dirty travelers, I take it you are in desperate need of food, baths, and rest. And as your hostess I gotta give you lot all that crap, God dammit," Galadriel offered as her welcoming speech.
"We thank your magnificent Ladyship for your gracious words and kind actions," a grumpy Kelly said, with not a little sarcasm in her voice.
Aragorn elbowed her in the ribs and hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "Insulting hideously powerful divinely descended sorceress with army of loyal elven warriors at her call is not good idea."
"Ah," Kelly bit her bottom lip and gave a pitiful attempt at a smile.
"HA HA HA!" a thunderous voice suddenly boomed from the heavens, rolling like thunder through the house. "FOOOOOOLISH MORTALS, PLAY YOUR SILLY LITTLE GAMES FOR MY ENTERTAINMENT! YOU ARE AT MY EVERY WHIM! HA HA HA HA!
"Yeah, yeah!" Kelly yelled back. "We get it! You're the Author! Shut up!"
The Author broodingly sank back into silence.
"Anyway," said Galadriel. "Ignoring the Almighty-My-Arse Author, I've got some stuff for you. Maybe." She frowned. "Let's see… Celeborn hasn't gone to the grocery store this week yet, and I'm still waiting on that pizza, but…" She thought it over for a moment. "I think I got some instant pudding in the cupboard. You in?"
"We like pudding," said Kelly weakly, rather humbled by Aragorn's arguements.
"You're hot," said Gimli to Galadriel. Everyone turned to him.
"Boy that gives me the creeps," muttered Galadriel, sincerely unnerved.
So they feasted upon instant pudding (chocolate and vanilla) and selected nice hard bits of ground to rest upon, for goodness forbid they sleep on anything quite so uncomfortable as a bed. Gimli wasn't sleeping though.
"Gimli," snarled Kelly, "Lose the binoculars or I'm going to whap you over the head with them sixty times in rapid succession."
"No way," replied Gimli. He peered through the binoculars and swished them over to settle his gaze on Galadriel's bedroom window. He giggled all the while. The Fellowship shuddered.
"Okay," growled Kelly. "That's it. Hand 'em over, Short Hairy Stalker." She reached for them, but Gimli pulled them out of her reach at the last second. As he moved, Aragorn cleverly stuck his leg between Gimli's feet and tripped him. Kelly lunged for the binoculars the second Gimli hit the ground, snagged them out of the dwarf's grasp. As promise, she began bludgeoning Gimli with them.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Gimli yelped, running away with his hands over his head. Kelly took up the pursuit. The Fellowship smiled happily as they watched the pair rush off into the darkness, the dwarf uttering exclamations of pain every ten feet of the way.
Gimli feared that the imprint of an eyepiece would remain forever on his forehead, but he was more dismayed to have lost his binoculars when Kelly finally broke them over his head.
"Aw, man," she whined, looking at the shattered contraption. "Why does everything have to come at the cheap, cheap price of $19.99?"
With that, she turned back, Gimli in tow.
Frodo was asleep, dreaming pleasant, soothing dreams in the healing world of sweet, deep rest. But not for long.
A cold, pale white hand suddenly clamped over his mouth. His scream was efficiently stifled when he woke with a start.
"Hey," came a hoarse whisper. "I got something to show you."
"Galadriel?" Frodo asked weakly, his voice muffled.
"Yeah. Who'd ya think it was, the boogey man?"
"Is that a cigarette?"
"Uh, no," said Galadriel hastily, flicking away the cigarette away. "Of course not. Cigarettes are foul, dangerous things, not fit for the forest."
"I can see that," said Frodo as the cigarette ignited a bush. A small family of woodland mice ran out from beneath the plant, to stand frightened and shivering in the cold.
"Anyway," continued Galadriel, ignoring the burning foliage. "Come with me"
"Why?" asked Frodo suspiciously. He gasped suddenly. "Ah! I know! You've come to take the ring and clam it as your own! You're trying to kill me! Aaah!" He gave another muffled scream and thrashed wildly.
"Uh, no, not really," replied Galadriel.
"Oh."
So Frodo got up and followed Galadriel to a small silver glade. At its center was a basin raised upon a graceful white stand.
'What is it?"
"A mirror." Galadriel took something out from the folds of her gown. A can of beer. She poured the alcoholic beverage in.
"Beer?" said Frodo in utter confusion. "Wasn't it supposed to be water or something?"
"Beer!" cried Celeborn, suddenly appearing from thin air. He turned to face the camera and gave the thumbs-up. "A man's beverage!"
"Scram," snarled Galadriel.
"Yes, dear." He made a hasty exit.
"Anyway," continued Galadriel. "Yup. Beer. Look into it."
"Why?" asked Frodo. "What will I see?"
"Depends. You might see what is, what has been, what might be but has not come to pass, or, alternatively, a reflection of a fat little twit who asks too many questions and beer."
"Ah." So Frodo cautiously bent over, staring into the amber depths. A scene materialized before him. "Sam?" he gasped, for there the gardener was in chains, along with a mass of dejected-looking hobbits dragging themselves across a barren yet hauntingly familiar landscape. A cruel Orcish man stood with a whip, cackling dangerously. Abruptly the man cut off his laughter and tossed the whip aside in disgust. "Screw this!" he snapped, hands on hips. "These tiny suckers can't do squat? Why did we choose Hobbits as our labor force? Why not dwarves or humans or even men? Sure, they're harder to break, but…" He continued on ranting as the scene slowly faded. After a quick commercial break starring pizza and cell phone companies, yet another scene appeared.
"Hang on," said Frodo, squinting. "Is that Kelly?" indeed, Kelly was walking cautiously down what looked like a web-filled tunnel, axe cautiously in hand. "They said it would be somewhere around here…They said it would be somewhere around here…They said it would be somewhere around here," she chanted, almost like a prayer. Still muttering, she stumbled nervously through the gloom. The quiet and darkness of the place raised he hairs on the back of Frodo's neck. Then Kelly came around a bend and stopped, stunned, mouth hanging open. Before her lay a gigantic, dead spider. She clutched at her heart.
"Dios mio!" she gasped. "The rumors were true!" A divine smile spread across her face, and she raised her eyes to the heavens. "My prayers have been answered!" Then she approached the spider, a vial in hand. "I'm rich!" she squealed happily. "I'm rich! I'm rich! I'm rich! Ha ha ha ha mwah hah ha ha! NO MORE HITCHHIKING! I'M IN THE EASY LANE NOW!"
The scene then faded out, then faded in again. It was still Kelly, this time beside a wagon rut, pack of poison on her shoulder and trying to hitchhike. "Goddammit," she groused as a wagon went past, spurting mud in her general direction. "Wagons can't even go that fast."
A gnome then popped in at the corner of the screen—erm, basin—and exclaimed, "That's all, folks!"
The scene faded in and out yet again. The surface of the beer flashed red, and a great fiery eye swam across its glassy face. "YO," it said in a wrathful voice. "I SEE YOU, DUDE. GIVE ME BACK MY BLING. MWA HA HA."
"Uhhh…" Frodo said, not really having a reasonable response to that. Even as he stuttered, he found to his horror that the ring around his neck was being drawn to the surface of the beer.
"YOU HAVE MY RING, BAGGINS, AND THAT I CANNOT ALLOW," continued Sauron the Terrible more seriously. "I AM COMING FOR IT...AND YOU. BE AFRAID, FRODO BAGGINS, BE VERY—" The hobble was abruptly cut off and the great eye was replaced by a cheerfully smiling family eating to the light-hearted jingle of Pepe's Perfect Pizza, a large for only $7.99. The ring, too, stopped forcing him near the beer.
The commercials stop for no one.
"Wow," said Frodo.
"I know what you are thinking of," said Galadriel quietly. "It too has long lingered in my mind."
"Really?" said Frodo. "You like Pepe's Perfect Pizza too?"
"What?" balked Galadriel. "No, no, you idiot, I was talking about the dumb ring!" She stopped to consider her own words. "Though I have been waiting on their delivery guy for a while…" She brushed it aside for the moment. "Anyway, I've been obsessing over the ring almost as much as you have."
A grim light of understanding suddenly swept into Frodo's eyes, turning his normally stupid gaze to venom. "Yous wantsing Preciousssss…" he hissed, falling into a crouch.
"Yes… Long has my heart desired it…" she whispered. "Yes!" she cried then, towering over him and looking fair and terrible all at once. He shrank back in horror. "In the place of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, more beautiful and terrible than the sea! All would love me—except for your creepy dwarf friend—and despair!"
"Hah!" snorted the Author disdainfully. "You wish. I can zap you with a lightening bolt with just a thought. Just a snap of my fingers, and the life's snuffed out of you."
"NO ONE CARES!" bellowed Frodo. "Honestly, the people you encounter these days," he huffed under his breath.