14.) Election Interviews - written by Corli and Kel

.

Journalists Merry and Eowyn interview the candidates for Student Council.

.

"What's the rush?" Merry asked as Pippin snarfed down more potatoes. "I thought you said you had Tuesday afternoons free."

"Free-ER," Pippin corrected, slamming down his apple juice. "But I've gotta get to folk ensemble at 12:30, and then I have my voice lesson at 2:30."

Merry laughed. "The life of a music major. You should switch to journalism - then you wouldn't have any classes all afternoon," he said smugly, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back lazily.

Pippin crinkled his forehead in confusion. "But I thought you said you were BUSY all afternoon."

"Actually I am. Radagast said that since I don't have any afternoon classes, I need to go interview all the Student Council candidates. We're putting out a special election edition of The Palantir on Thursday so that everyone can be an 'educated voter'."

"ALL the candidates? Wow. That's a big assignment." Pippin was impressed. "Professor Brown must really trust you."

Merry nodded, smiling with pride. "He actually said that he was giving ME the assignment because of my 'Journalistic V's'." When Pippin looked lost, Merry explained, "Veracity and Voracity." When Pippin's expression remained blank, Merry added, "I have a good B.S. detector, and I'm not afraid to print the truth, even when it might be controversial."

"Yeah, like your piece on the rugby team last year - I'm surprised you didn't get jumped after that article came out."

Merry laughed. "You know, Radagast nicknamed me 'Fearless' after that."

"Well, 'Fearless', I've gotta get to folk ensemble," Pippin said, standing up. "Could you-"

"-dump your tray?" Merry finished for him. "Of course."

"Thanks!" Pippin said, grabbing his violin case and rushing off.

Merry stacked all the empty dishes high upon the trays and went to dump them. He then pulled the folded list of candidates from his back pocket, trying to decide where to start.

...

"Sophomore class president, huh?" Merry said, scribbling it down in his little spiral notepad. "And what qualifies you for such a position?"

"Well, I'm a Poli Sci - Political Science - major," Boromir explained, "so I understand the workings of student government. Also, I was president of my entire student body back in high school, and I'm currently a steward for my fraternity."

"Let me guess - MEN?" Boromir nodded, and Merry scribbled it down. Figures - snotty frat boy as our president. Just what we need.

When Merry glanced up, he noticed that the human was staring at him.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Boromir asked. "You look really familiar."

Merry shrugged. He's probably just trying to suck up so that I'll be nice in my write-up, but I'm not gonna fall for it. "Maybe we have a class together," he suggested vaguely.

"Yes, that's it!" Boromir said. "You're one of the noisy hobbits who came in late to Chem class yesterday."

Merry smiled, thinking of WHY he'd been late. "Yep. That was me."

"That's gonna be a fun class, I think," Boromir continued. "Professor Gray seems really fun."

"Yes, WE know Gandalf from when he used to visit our friend's uncle in the Shire," Merry said snottily, enjoying the chance to name-drop in front of his interviewee. "He's an expert in fireworks, you know."

"You don't say? I wonder if we'll end up doing any fireworks for our labs - think how fun that would be."

Merry nodded, not wanting to stray too far from the topic at hand. "Veracity and Voracity," he reminded himself. "So, Boromir, what do you think are the biggest issues facing MEU students today? And how do you intend to address those issues as Sophomore Class President?"

...

"Junior class secretary," Merry mumbled to himself as he scribbled down the information. "So, Holly, why did you-"

"Actually, I don't go by Holly anymore," the thin hobbit interrupted. "I go by Hydrangea. Don't you think that's a pretty name? Almost elf-like, you know."

Merry rolled his eyes. He had never understood the helves. Don't they realize that starving themselves and straightening their hair doesn't make them elves? It just makes them ugly hobbits. And the elves all think they're weird anyway and won't hang out with the helves, so what's the point?

"Okay, HYDRANGEA, why did you decide to run for Student Council?"

"Well, Professor Elrond is the faculty advisor, and, like all elves, he has a true commitment to uniting all members of the student body through the work done on the council."

Merry stifled a laugh. She can't think I'll actually print this propaganda, he thought as he dutifully copied down her statement in his notepad.

"Also," Holly continued, "as an art history major, I feel I have a lot to contribute to student government."

Merry rolled his eyes. This is gonna be a LONG afternoon.

...

THIS is who Holly idolizes? Merry thought with disdain as he looked at the elf in front of him. Sure, she's pretty, if you LIKE that sort of thing. But she's so snooty, like she thinks she's better than everyone.

"So...class treasurer," Merry said, not even attempting to hide his sarcasm. "And wearing 'triple-x' across your chest makes you qualified to do math because..."

Arwen laughed, the sarcasm obviously lost on her. "Being treasurer isn't about doing math- it's about IDEAS. And let me tell you - I am FULL of ideas."

You're full of SOMEthing.

"Last year I raised hundreds for our TriChi Winter Formal, and I was only a freshman. I mean, I could totally help this Student Council be the best council EVER. Even Daddy thinks so."

Merry still found it hard to believe that this Elven princess was the daughter of Professor Halfelven. The two were about as different as they could be. And whereas Arwen had laughed good-naturedly throughout her entire interview, Merry didn't remember the professor smiling ONCE during an entire semester of Freshman Elvish. Of course, the fact that Pippin and I only memorized the Elvish swear words and little else might've had something to do with that.

That class was so fun. Just me and Pippin, sitting in the back in the big seats, whispering and being silly.

Of course, if we were taking it now, we might be doing more than just whispering in the back row.

"...and lembas sales and...are you getting ANY of this down?" Arwen asked.

Merry realized that he wasn't, so he quickly said, "I...uh...I think I have everything I need from you. Thank you for your time."

As he stood up, preparing to leave, Arwen asked, "Are you planning to interview Aragorn?"

Merry dug the folded list of candidates from his back pocket and scanned it. "Aragorn? I don't see his name on my list. Is he a candidate?"

"Well...not officially. But I'm getting all my Sisters to vote for him as a write-in candidate for class president."

"Can you do that? I mean, doesn't the winner have to follow the same rules as all the other nominees?"

Arwen nodded. "It's okay - I checked the by-laws." She then started to laugh, adding, "Actually I just asked Daddy. But he said that, as long as a write-in candidate gets at least 50 votes, then that's the equivalent of a petition and therefore it's no problem if they win. And there are 85 TriChis, so that'll be plenty."

Merry was flabbergasted. "But...but WHY?" he sputtered.

"Because he's my boyfriend," she said, as if it were obvious. "It'll be so much fun when we're both on council because it'll give us more time to hang out together. And Daddy will be around, too, so he'll get to see how cool and committed Aragorn really is."

"If he were really cool and committed, wouldn't he follow the same rules as everyone else and actually RUN for office?"

Arwen laughed, shrugging off his comment. "You're so silly," she said, ruffling his curly hair.

...

Merry closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air, grateful to be free of the pink, flower-scented nightmare known as the TriChi House. Thank goodness I'm done interviewing all the TriChi nominees, he thought, taking a moment to enjoy the stillness. And hopefully I won't have to go back in there until next year's elections.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for his next set of interviews, and opened his eyes again. Much to his surprise, the sight that greeted him was not pink but green.

"Pippin!" Merry said, staring into his friend's sparkling eyes as he approached. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Sore eyes? Is that why you're standing on the lawn of the TriChi House with your eyes shut?" Pippin teased.

Merry laughed. "After all that pink inside, I think my eyes might be scarred for life. But what are you doing here? I thought you had folk ensemble or something."

"I did. And it's over. LONG over. It took me nearly half an hour to find you."

"What time is it?" Merry asked, looking at his watch, having completely lost track of time. "Two o'clock!" He frantically pulled his folded list of candidates out again as he mumbled, "Oh, man, I'm gonna be so screwed."

"Promise?" Pippin said suggestively.

"Huh?" Merry asked, obviously to Pippin's wiles as the panic started to sink in. "Do you see this list? Do you see how only six names are crossed off?"

Pippin nodded. "Is that how many people you have left to interview?"

"No, that's how many people I HAVE interviewed. And there must be..." Merry did a quick count, "...almost forty candidates on this list. I'm NEVER gonna get it done."

"You'll get it done," Pippin said, taking Merry's hand and surreptitiously starting to lead him in the direction of the Four Farthings. "You just need to relax."

"Relax? How am I supposed to relax?"

"Well," Pippin said, grinning, "I know what usually works for me."

Merry suddenly realized that he was being led and abruptly stopped, yanking his hand free. "Pippin, I love you dearly, but I simply don't have time for you right now. Don't you understand? I have a major assignment that HAS to get done, and it's more important than spending the afternoon messing about with you."

Merry returned to staring at the list of candidates, oblivious to Pippin's puppydog eyes and pouty expression.

"Let's see," Merry mumbled to himself, trying to create a strategy in his head, "I guess I could go interview the rest of the MEN candidates at their House now, then talk to some of the hobbits at afternoon tea, and then maybe start systematically going through the dorms."

His plan settled, Merry started heading off towards the Mu Epsilon Nu House.

"Can I come with you?" a small pathetic voice called after him.

Merry was so focused on his assignment that he had, in all truthfulness, completely forgotten Pippin had been standing there. He turned back around to see Pippin still where he'd been, watching Merry with his big beseeching eyes.

Merry sighed. "Yes, Pip - you can come with me." Pippin grinned and skipped quickly up to Merry's side. "But you have to promise to stay out of trouble."

Pippin nodded eagerly, but Merry was too busy scanning his list again to notice.

...

Pippin sighed.

Blah, blah, blah...student council...blah, blah, blah...qualifications. How can Merry LIKE this stuff? It's even more boring than debate.

Last year Merry has asked Pippin to come watch his first debate tournament. Assuming it would be fun to watch his argumentative friend compete against others, Pippin willingly gave up us Saturday.

Not surprisingly, Pippin had conveniently "been in music rehearsals" for the entire rest of debate season.

I guess I won't be doing that THIS year, Pippin suddenly realized. Now that we're together, I'll HAVE to go watch him.

Pippin sighed. He and Merry were still trying to adjust to their new situation. They had been friends forever, and that wasn't going to change just because they were sleeping together.

But in reality, EVERYTHING has changed. Because it wasn't just that they were sleeping together - if that were the case, then debate tournaments be damned. But Pippin felt something for Merry that he'd never felt for anyone before. It was more than just friendship; more than merely lust - it was actually love. Pippin had felt it long before he could put a name to it. In fact, it was his sister that had helped him come to the realization that this was no mere summer fling but something deeper and more lasting.

I'm so glad I have Vinca to talk to, he thought, sighing. Maybe that's Merry's problem - he doesn't have anyone to talk to.

Pippin suddenly felt Merry's hand cover his. Looking up at Merry, surprised at such a public display, he saw his friend frowning and shaking his head. Pippin glanced down at their hands and suddenly realized he'd been mindlessly flicking the clasp on his violin case over and over.

"Sorry," Pippin mumbled as Merry removed his hand and continued with his interview: "C'mon, Jason, do you really think they'll ALLOW a Student Council-sponsored kegger?"

Pippin stared at his lover as he continued to interrogate the tall frat boy. Watching him, his face intense as he grilled the boy, Pippin began to observe certain things.

I never noticed before that Merry sticks his tongue out when he concentrates. Has he always done that?

And what's with the way he holds his pen in his fist like it's a crayon? How can he even write like that?

And his nails are all short and ratty - he must've started biting them again.

And suddenly, for the first time, Pippin consciously realized that Merry hadn't bitten his nails all summer. Merry's ALWAYS bitten his nails, especially when he's stressed or worried. So I guess it's a good sign he stopped this summer. He never once bit them when we were out on the river together working.

And doing OTHER things.

Pippin smiled. Could it be that, in some small way, he'd actually helped Merry? Clearly there was no denying that Merry was a good influence on him - just ask anyone who'd heard the music Pippin had written.

But maybe I'M a good influence on HIM as well. The thought filled Pippin with warmth. Merry had made him happier than he ever thought possible, and maybe, just maybe, he'd done the same to Merry in return.

Only right now Merry doesn't look very happy.

"Pippin, stop," Merry murmured to him.

"Stop what?" Pippin asked before realizing he was drumming his fingers loudly upon his violin case. Pippin instantly lifted his hands away from the case, reaching for his scarf which wasn't there.

Pippin sighed. I don't understand why Merry made me take off my pledge scarf just because we're in the MEN house. It's not like the fraternities have THAT big a rivalry. And what could they possibly do to me with so many people around? Merry's being too overprotective. He always seems to be worrying about me, ever since we got back to school.

So maybe I'M the reason he's started biting his nails again.

Or maybe the problem isn't me but US. I mean, he seemed really worried about that whole "cohabitation" thing last night. He seems to think that other people will be bothered about us being together. But what business is it of theirs? As long as we're happy, and not getting into trouble, then it shouldn't matter.

Well, trouble of THAT sort, anyway.

Pippin grinned at the "sort of trouble" they'd gotten up to the night before. And Merry was right - they weren't very good about "keeping things quiet". And blaring the Sod Pistols probably wasn't they best way to cover it up - Grishnakh had already made a complaint about it this morning. It's definitely something we'll have to work on some more, Pippin thought, smiling about how much practice it might require.

"Pip!"

"Hmm?" Pippin asked, looking up at Merry.

"You're humming."

"I am?" Pippin suddenly realized "Anarchy in the Shire" was still running through his head. "Oh, sorry."

"Why don't you go, Pip?" Merry asked.

"Go?"

Merry sighed frustratedly. "Don't you have a music lesson or something?"

"Oh, yes," Pippin said, suddenly remembering his voice lesson. "I should probably go."

Pippin stood up, grabbing his violin case and nodding toward Jason. "It was nice to meet you," he said. Then, turning back to Merry, he said hopefully, "Will I see you in the room later?"

Merry shook his head. "I doubt it. But maybe I'll catch up with you later."

Pippin nodded. "See you." And he hurried off, mindlessly humming "Anarchy in the Shire" to himself.

...

Merry sighed, checking his list again. He'd managed to interview four men in the MEN house, but he still wasn't even halfway done.

This is ridiculous. Radagast should've known this was too big an assignment for one person to do in an afternoon.

Merry started walking briskly towards the cafeteria. He figured he could get most, if not all, of the hobbit candidates at afternoon tea, and then he could take stock again after that. He began marking checks by the hobbits' names on his list so he'd know whom to look for.

Let's see. I can get Sancho and Daisy and Otto and Lily and...

Not looking where he was going, it wasn't until he was rubbing his forehead that he realized who he had collided with.

"Eowyn! Fancing 'running into you'," he teased, still rubbing his throbbing temple. "Are you okay?"

Eowyn nodded, picking her books up off the ground. "I was just coming to find you. I was wondering if...you know...you thought maybe Radagast had cooled down yet?"

"Radagast?" Merry repeated, his mind still on the interviews.

Eowyn nodded. "You know - the whole 'pig-headed chauvinist' fiasco? You said it would take a couple days for him to cool down, and I know it's only been ONE day, but I was wondering if maybe..."

But Merry was just figuring out the solution to all his problems. And she was standing directly in front of him.

"YOU can save me!" he said excitedly, taking ahold of her hand.

Eowyn blushed. "Wh-what?" she stammered.

He let go of her hand and held up the list. "See this list? These are all the candidates for the upcoming Student Council elections, and Radagast wants me to interview them all this afternoon."

"That's a lot of names," Eowyn agreed. "How does Radagast expect you to finish all of them in one afternoon?"

"By delegating."

"Huh?" Eowyn still wasn't following.

"YOU can interview some of them for me," Merry said, starting to rip the list along one of the worn folded edges.

"ME? But...but I'm not even ON the paper yet. And...and Radagast doesn't even LIKE me."

"Who cares," Merry said, handing her part of the torn list. "Radagast is all about results. He wants ALL the candidates interviewed. And he probably doesn't care by WHOM. Journalism is all about seizing opportunities when they happen, and YOU happened. So I'm electing you as my saviour."

Eowyn stared at the tattered list. Merry's handwriting was barely legible, but she could make out what looked like dorms and room numbers scrawled next to the names of the candidates.

"I don't know," Eowyn said warily. "I'd hate for Radagast to get more..."

"PLEASE, Eowyn?" Merry begged, taking her hand again. "I really need your help."

Eowyn blushed, stammering, "I...I guess so."

"Great," Merry said, letting go of her hand, glad to have succeeded at lightening his workload. "We'll meet in the cafeteria at dinner to compare notes."

"But...but what do I ask?" Eowyn asked, unclear on the assignment.

Merry shrugged as he started off for the cafeteria. "Anything you want," he called back. "Anything you think the voters should know. It doesn't have to be in-depth - we just need brief statements from everyone."

Merry glanced down at his torn list, which now looked much more manageable. What a stroke of luck, running into Eowyn. Now we can get this done by working together. Radagast will get his article, Eowyn will get her position on the paper, and I might even have time to meet up with Pippin later in our room. It's a win-win-win situation.

So now I can go eat and actually concentrate on my hobbit interviews and...

"Oh, Eowyn," Merry called back. "Don't bother to do the ones with checks by them - I've got the hobbits covered." And Merry continued on, not noticing that she hadn't moved an inch since he'd left.

...

Eowyn checked the list for the umpteenth time. This is it, she thought, gulping nervously. At least, I HOPE it's it - I'm not quite sure whether that's a three or an eight. She looked up at the room number again and took a deep breath. Let's just do it, she thought, quickly knocking on the door before she could change her mind.

"Just a minute," a deep voice called from inside. "Who is it?"

"It's...uh...Eowyn." He doesn't know who 'Eowyn' IS, dummy. "Uh...from the paper - The Palantir? I'm...uh...here to interview you. About the elections..."

Eowyn trailed off as the door opened to reveal a very hairy, very greasy dwarf. It was the first time she'd ever actually seen a dwarf close up, and she couldn't help but stare.

"What about the elections?" the dwarf asked.

"Uh..." Eowyn said, peeling her eyes away from the dwarf so she could check her list again, "Jimli?"

The dwarf smiled. Or is that a growl - it's hard to tell. "GIMli. It's Gimli."

"GIMli...okay. So...elections...you're running..." Stop being such an idiot and just explain yourself. "We're interviewing all the candidates," she said much more forcefully.

"Oh, I see. Well, c'mon in, little lady."

The absurdity of that remark, coming from someone who barely came to her shoulders, was lost on Eowyn, for instead she could only hear her brother's voice echoing in her head: "Don't ever go into a male's bedroom alone. At least not unarmed." Eowyn suddenly gripped her pen tighter, imagining how it could be used as a weapon, as she slowly made her way into the small dorm room, made much smaller by the huge pile of electronics and engine parts that took up the middle of the floor. There was barely any place to walk, and certainly no available place to sit. Looking around, she could see a small clean area in the far corner, with a desk with neat piles of books upon it and a chair with an "MEU Music Dept" sweatshirt neatly draped over the back, but she saw no way of getting there through the mess on the floor.

"There ain't much in the way of sitting space," the dwarf said apologetically, "but you're welcome to sit up on the bed if you'd like. I'm sure my roommate wouldn't mind."

Not seeing that she had any choice, Eowyn climbed up the end of the bunkbed and crawled onto the top bunk.

Eomer would KILL me if he knew I'd accepted this strange dwarf's invitation to get on his bed, she thought as she sat down, pulling out her notebook where she'd scribbled a list of short interview questions. But sometimes being a reporter means having to take risks.

Eowyn gulped nervously, screwing up her courage to ask, "So, uh, Gimli, what office are you running for?"

...

Merry pulled the folded list from his pocket and double-checked his information.

South Farthing 148. This is Fatty's room, all right.

He knocked again, listening for sounds of activity within. He could hear muffled music.

"Fatty?" he called. "It's Merry Brandybuck."

The door opened in a cloud of fragrant smoke and bouncy guitar music.

"Merry!" Fatty Bolger grinned broadly at his friend. "Welcome to my humble abode! Please, come in, make yourself at home." He ushered Merry inside, glanced quickly down the hallway in both directions, and shut the door.

Merry coughed and waved at the thick smoke that hung heavy in the air of the small dorm room. Several sticks of strong Elven incense burned in a ceramic dish on Fatty's desk but did nothing to hide the distinctly spicy tang of pipeweed in the air.

Fatty can't possibly think that will fool his RA. The only people who ever burn that smelly elf stuff are the leaf-heads.

The room was dim, save for the glow of a black light fixture on the wall. Fatty had decorated his room in colorful posters that glowed brightly under the violet light. It gave the room a garish, otherworldly quality.

This place reminds me of that nightmare I had when I was a kid - with the dancing mushrooms and the gigantic bumblebees, Merry thought with a shudder, eyeing a poster depicting a smiling flower.

"Please, please, have a seat, Merry my man," Fatty giggled, gesturing to a pair of beanbag chairs on the floor.

Merry sank down into one of the chairs with a grunt, nearly losing his balance in the process. Fatty did lose his balance as he crouched down, missing the chair entirely and landing on the floor with a loud chuckle.

"So, Merry," Fatty said cheerfully as he carefully climbed onto the beanbag chair, "how was your summer, man? I haven't seen you since school let out last year!"

"Pretty good," Merry said distractedly, still eying Fatty's unusual room decor. "I was stuck in Buckland for most of the summer, but I managed a few trips out to Tuckborough. How about you?"

"Oh man, it was wicked!" Fatty laughed. "I spent the entire summer traveling around the countryside!"

"Wow," Merry said, genuinely impressed, "and here I never made it farther than Hobbiton. Where did you go? What did you see?"

Fatty giggled. "The Hole Dwellers, man! Me and a couple of buds followed them on tour all summer. I saw every show," he beamed proudly, "Saw the beautiful sights of Middle-Earth, and met a lot of cool people, of ALL races. I really felt like I got in touch with myself and all of Middle-Earth. It was, like, a spiritual experience. Like I was connected to the world and all its people. You know what I mean, brah?"

Merry blinked in disbelief. "Uh...yes?"

Fatty continued, "Yeah, I sold mushroom burritos and did a little dealing to make some cash, if you know what I mean," he elbowed Merry and winked knowingly. "Camped out under the stars every night, played my guitar, did a little smokin'..." he giggled.

Merry smiled uncomfortably. "Sounds fun."

"It was, man. The best!" Fatty enthused. "Dude, you should come with us next summer! You'd love it!"

Merry chuckled. "I don't know about that."

"Well, at least come with us to see the Hole Dwellers this winter! They'll be in town right after Yule." He grinned crookedly. "Dude, we should get the old gang together and see the show as a group! You, me, Frodo, Pippin... Hey, are you and Pip still roommates?"

Here it comes. Interrogation time. Merry sighed. I bet Estella told Fatty all about our conversation. He is her brother, after all.

"Uh...yeah, we're roomies this year, too."

"Excellent. Does he still play fiddle? I could use a good bowman," Fatty giggled.

Merry frowned, not really understanding. "Yeah, he still plays."

"Sweet! I'll have to look him up."

What the hell does THAT mean? Merry scrutinized Fatty, searching his face for signs of malice or ill intention, but Fatty only grinned beatifically.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, feeling the tension in his shoulders relax as he exhaled. RELAX, Merry! He doesn't mean any harm. This is Fatty. Stel's big brother. Your friend. Candidate for junior class representative and ohbuggerisitreallythatlate? Merry panicked as he glanced at the clock.

"So...uh...look, Fatty," Merry began impatiently, "it's been great catching up and all, but actually, I'm here to interview you about running for Student Council." He turned to a fresh page in his little spiral notebook, and clicked his ballpoint pen.

Fatty shrugged. "I don't follow," he said lamely.

"For The Palantir," Merry replied.

Fatty stared at Merry blankly.

"The student newspaper?" Merry offered.

"OH! Right, right, the paper," Fatty grinned. "That's right, you're Mister Reporter Man, aren't you? Well then, here's a scoop for you!" He handed Merry a folded piece of paper.

Merry unfolded the brightly-colored page. On it was a cartoon drawing of an anthropomorphic toadstool with a malevolent grin. Curling letters proclaimed "Thee Todestewls, Saturdays, 9 pm, student union basement."

"'Thee Todestewls?'" Merry asked. "What's this?"

"Dude, it's my band! We've got a regular gig now. Pretty sweet, huh? You HAVE to come check us out!"

Merry re-folded the flier and shoved it into his back pocket. "Yeah, that sounds fun, Fatty," he grinned.

Fatty giggled merrily. "I'm so stoked."

"Yeah. So, Fatty, um, what do you hope to achieve as junior class representative?"

"Huh?" Fatty scratched at his sloppy dreadlocks.

"You're running for student council, right?" Merry asked desperately.

"OH. Yeah, that," Fatty chuckled, "Sorry, man, my mind is like, all OVER the place today."

Merry nodded impatiently.

"Hey, tell you what, brah. Let's go get something to eat. I'm STARVING. We can talk in the cafeteria." Fatty stood and pocketed his keys.

Merry sighed in exasperation. I am NEVER going to finish these interviews.

...

"I haven't seen any dwarf girls around campus," Eowyn commented, her legs dangling down as she sat upon the top bunk.

Sweet kid, Gimli thought. Sheltered, but sweet. And at least she's more relaxed now. I guess it's kinda good that Legolas made me take down some of my centerfold posters because I think they would've scared her off.

"It's true you don't see many dwarf girls. And, in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance," Gimli said, chuckling, "that they're often mistaken for dwarf guys."

Eowyn smiled.

Such a pretty smile. I'm definitely glad I didn't scare her off.

"And this in turn," Gimli continued, "has given rise to the belief that there ARE no dwarf women. And that dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground."

Eowyn laughed, a bright infectious laugh that soon had Gimli laughing as well.

"Which of course is ridiculous. Although dwarves do love their holes in the ground."

"I don't understand that," Eowyn said, shaking her head. "Why would you want to be stuck in a cave when you could be out enjoying the sunshine?"

"Dwarf homes aren't CAVES - they're underground cities, as vast and beautiful as any above ground." Gimli tried to think of a way to explain it to her. "Do you have mountains where you're from?"

Eowyn nodded, smiling. "My brother and I used to ride our horses all over the hillsides when I was younger, before..." Eowyn trailed off, a melancholy look on her face.

So much sadness for such a young thing.

"Well, the beauty you see on the outside of those mountains is the beauty we see inside." He dug through the drawers in his desk until he found a stack of mail. "Here," he said, handing a postcard up to her, "this is Dwarrowdelf."

She gasped, "It's beautiful," her smile returning as she looked at the picture.

Gimli smiled back, eager to keep her happy. "So...horses, huh? I myself have never been one for horses - in fact, they terrify me, such big unwielding things. But do tell me about yours."

Eowyn's face lit up, and Gimli was glad to have asked.

...

Merry scribbled a quick note, and looked back up to the Elf seated across from him.

"So, Haldir, what are your qualifications for senior class president?"

"My qualifications?" the Elf questioned, arching an eyebrow. "You will find all my qualifications listed in my campaign statement." He slid a piece of paper across the desk. "You will, of course, note that my election bid has been endorsed by Professor Galadriel."

Give me a break, Merry thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He quickly scanned the neatly typed statement. Captain of the archery team...sophomore class treasurer...junior class vice president...co-chair of the Elf Student Union...he certainly seems qualified.

"What made you decide to run for student council, Haldir?"

"An alliance once existed between Elves and Men at this university," Haldir said solemnly. "Long ago, we struggled and succeeded together. I run to honor that allegiance."

Merry gazed at the elf quizzically, his pen poised over a blank page. "Could you please elaborate?"

"I am proud to represent my class alongside Men once more."

Oooooo-kay. Merry copied Haldir's enigmatic statement into his notebook.

...

"My cousin Balin was president of his class when he went here," Gimli said proudly. "He and my dad were good friends with Professor Gandalf and Professor Baggins back then. Do you have either of the professors for any classes?"

Eowyn nodded. "I had Professor Baggins this afternoon - for Mythology of Middle Earth. He seems like a brilliant scholar and teacher, although a bit on the moody side. But he was friends with dwarves, you say?"

Gimli nodded. "And a trouble-maker from the word go, if you listen to my cousin Balin's stories. Apparently Bilbo - that's Professor Baggins's first name - led a group of dwarves on an expedition to steal the team mascot from M.I.T. one year."

"M.I.T.?"

"Mountain Institute of Technology," Gimli explained. "After that, he was known around campus as 'the Burglar'."

Eowyn smiled. It was hard to believe that the serious, intense lit professor could've ever done something so wild. But I guess he was young once, too, she realized.

"Actually," Gimli continued, "Professor Baggins's birthday should be coming up here soon. Every September he and Gandalf hold a big fireworks display on campus in honour of it. And I think his nephew Frodo's birthday is the same day."

"I know Frodo," Eowyn said excitedly. She hadn't made the connection before that he and her professor had the same last name.

"Friends with hobbits already?" Gimli teased, and Eowyn blushed.

"Yeah, my brother says I'm turning into a hobbit hag."

Gimli laughed. "Well, I'm sure my friends and I wouldn't mind if you became a dwarf hag as well."

Eowyn smiled embarrassedly and quickly tried to change the subject. "Fireworks, huh? I've never really SEEN fireworks before."

...

"What do YOU want, Hobbit?" the orc spat.

"Um...uh...are you Lugburtz?" Merry stammered.

"I am. What of it?"

Merry steeled himself. "I'm Meriadoc Brandybuck, from The Palantir. I'm conducting interviews of all the student council candidates for a special pre-election-"

"Get to the point! As you can see, I'm VERY busy here!" Lugburtz's friends grunted agreement as they attacked their meals with ferocity.

"I'm very sorry to disturb your meal, but if I could just get a quick statement about your plans for student council-"

Merry flinched as the orcs simultaneously spat out mouthfuls of half-chewed meat.

"What is this SWILL?" one of the other orcs demanded loudly. "Even a Hobbit wouldn't eat this miserable excuse for a meal!"

Merry frowned in confusion as he watched the noisy display. He had thought the meatloaf was quite tasty, actually.

"You!" Lugburtz hissed, jabbing a bony finger at Merry, "Hobbit! Here's your bloody statement. If I am elected vice-president of the junior class, I promise to improve the quality of the meals provided to the resident students. From now on, only FRESH meat." He leered at Merry predatorially.

The other orcs roared their approval. Merry swallowed hard.

"That's right," Lugburtz shouted, "meat's back on the menu, boys!"

Merry scribbled the statement hastily in his notebook, and scurried away as fast as his feet could take him.

...

"You really shouldn't walk across campus by yourself late at night," Gimli said, suddenly worried for the stubbornly independent girl. "It's not safe."

Eowyn sighed frustratedly. "You sound like my brother."

"Then your brother is right," Gimli said. "A pretty thing like you shouldn't be alone in the dark."

Gimli saw anger well up in the girl's eyes. "I'm not helpless, you know. I can fight. I even intend to go out for the fencing team."

"Matching blades is one thing, being jumped from behind is another. I would hate for something to happen to you, and I'm sure your brother would as well. You really should call the Redhorn Riders." Gimli sorted through the pile of papers on his desk until he found a flyer. "A group of bikers here on campus started it a few years ago," he said, handing the flyer up to her. "You can call that number at any time - it doesn't matter how late - and one of us will come escort you across campus to your dorm."

Gimli saw a shadow pass over the girl's eyes, as if the dorm itself was frightening to her. He reached up to where she was sitting on the top bunk and took her hand. "PROMISE me you'll call for us. Especially if you're going to be staying late working on the paper. I mean, that's what we're here for."

Eowyn nodded reluctantly. "I suppose," she said poutily.

But Gimli still had ahold of her hand and he squeezed it. "Don't suppose - promise."

Eowyn rolled her eyes, but he could see a smile starting to spread across her face. "I promise."

...