Jennifer Jolie: Sorry this took so long; Clarenova, as you may know, is
in Australia right now and I only just caught her on MSN today. After
that, I took an abominably long time correcting her (hint hint) horrible
spelling, grammar, punctuation, tenses, and that sort of thing, as well
as deleting all the so-and-so-says taglines. Enjoy our new chapter,
please. Our efforts (especially MINE) thus will not be wasted. Anyway,
Clarenova has watched the movie four times and I've watched it twice, so…
expect it to be okay-accurate. : )
As the company approached the mountain of Cahandras, Gandalf the Grey, one of the two blue Istari, leads their company over the peak of Cruel Redhorn and promptly fails, before desperation brings then to Moria, Khazah Dum, the old Dwarf ruins of the Khazah Dum. As they meet the doors of Moria, where starlight and moonlight illuminate, they see the door.
Why the hell is this so damn serious? And this place could use a serious makeover, thought Lara disgustedly.
"What on earth is that... THING?" Lara questioned, pointing to the door
"A door," snickered Alex.
"No, is it, Sherlock?" She turned to Gandalf. "What's the elfish word for friend?"
A little insight on our characters…
"Of ALL the people she could have asked how to say an ELVISH word she asks the WIZARD! WHO'S the elf here? Huh? Huh? I AM!" growled Legolas.
"Calm down, Thranduillion, she is simply... uh... Inquiring to the nearest source of... uh... available elvish! That must be it," stammered Aragorn hastily. The metal things scared the shit out of him, obviously.
"She walked over to Gandalf. I was sitting right NEXT to her," insisted Legolas.
Gimli: Drool. Drool, drool, drooool.
Thank you. And now, back to our story.
"What? Friend? Mellon?" blinked Gandalf in mild surprise.
The majestic doors of Durin crack slowly open, and they look into the black darkness, lit only faintly by the doors, which glowed like some annoying ad board.
"Look at all the pretty colours," muttered Lara. "What is this, Popeye? Technicolour?"
"What colours?" asked Alex absently. Then again, he was always that way.
Lara absently threw a punch backwards, hitting Alex squarely between the eyes.
Suddenly, a dark monstrosity crept out from the pitch-black darkness, and slowly crept towards the company.
"STRIDER!" screamed Frodo, and started running around the room in circles like E.T.
A few arrows zipped past and the elf sprang up, whilst Gandalf withdrew Glamrig and the rest withdrew various weapons (swords, daggers, axes, bows, arrows, guns, Uzis, rocket launchers, AK 99s, magnums, 9mms, pistols, Desert Eagles and various other weapons of destruction).
Fine. Maybe kill the rocket launcher. ("That's not bloody fair!" yelled Lara.)
Sam withdrew a frying pan (non-teflon, wooden handle). It made the whole battle sound almost musical, though it's no Mozart, Lara observed clinically.
Frodo had gone into pale, useless, whimpering mode, after his exciting little 100-cm dash, while Aragorn was busy chopping hither and tither, nearly beheading Boromir in the process. He did, however, behead several… other creatures, so maybe the effort and death-threat weren't entirely wasted.
Lara stood back for a moment, taking the scene in, before laughing out loud in a short chuckle. Before withdrawing a sniper rifle out of nowhere, ramming in the cartridge deliberately slowly, and bringing it up to her eye-
"Damn hair!"
After a momentary scrabbling to remove the pesky strands of hair from her eye of the sniper, she took aim.
WHABAM.
Cha-chink.
One eye down, seven or so more to go. She took aim again.
WHABAM.
Cha-chink.
Two down, six or so more to do.
WHAPING.
Uh oh. Lara ducked as the ricocheting of the bullet zipped around the cave before the bullet embedded itself in another eye. Luck or skill? You decide.
Cha-Chink.
As the company approached the mountain of Cahandras, Gandalf the Grey, one of the two blue Istari, leads their company over the peak of Cruel Redhorn and promptly fails, before desperation brings then to Moria, Khazah Dum, the old Dwarf ruins of the Khazah Dum. As they meet the doors of Moria, where starlight and moonlight illuminate, they see the door.
Why the hell is this so damn serious? And this place could use a serious makeover, thought Lara disgustedly.
"What on earth is that... THING?" Lara questioned, pointing to the door
"A door," snickered Alex.
"No, is it, Sherlock?" She turned to Gandalf. "What's the elfish word for friend?"
A little insight on our characters…
"Of ALL the people she could have asked how to say an ELVISH word she asks the WIZARD! WHO'S the elf here? Huh? Huh? I AM!" growled Legolas.
"Calm down, Thranduillion, she is simply... uh... Inquiring to the nearest source of... uh... available elvish! That must be it," stammered Aragorn hastily. The metal things scared the shit out of him, obviously.
"She walked over to Gandalf. I was sitting right NEXT to her," insisted Legolas.
Gimli: Drool. Drool, drool, drooool.
Thank you. And now, back to our story.
"What? Friend? Mellon?" blinked Gandalf in mild surprise.
The majestic doors of Durin crack slowly open, and they look into the black darkness, lit only faintly by the doors, which glowed like some annoying ad board.
"Look at all the pretty colours," muttered Lara. "What is this, Popeye? Technicolour?"
"What colours?" asked Alex absently. Then again, he was always that way.
Lara absently threw a punch backwards, hitting Alex squarely between the eyes.
Suddenly, a dark monstrosity crept out from the pitch-black darkness, and slowly crept towards the company.
"STRIDER!" screamed Frodo, and started running around the room in circles like E.T.
A few arrows zipped past and the elf sprang up, whilst Gandalf withdrew Glamrig and the rest withdrew various weapons (swords, daggers, axes, bows, arrows, guns, Uzis, rocket launchers, AK 99s, magnums, 9mms, pistols, Desert Eagles and various other weapons of destruction).
Fine. Maybe kill the rocket launcher. ("That's not bloody fair!" yelled Lara.)
Sam withdrew a frying pan (non-teflon, wooden handle). It made the whole battle sound almost musical, though it's no Mozart, Lara observed clinically.
Frodo had gone into pale, useless, whimpering mode, after his exciting little 100-cm dash, while Aragorn was busy chopping hither and tither, nearly beheading Boromir in the process. He did, however, behead several… other creatures, so maybe the effort and death-threat weren't entirely wasted.
Lara stood back for a moment, taking the scene in, before laughing out loud in a short chuckle. Before withdrawing a sniper rifle out of nowhere, ramming in the cartridge deliberately slowly, and bringing it up to her eye-
"Damn hair!"
After a momentary scrabbling to remove the pesky strands of hair from her eye of the sniper, she took aim.
WHABAM.
Cha-chink.
One eye down, seven or so more to go. She took aim again.
WHABAM.
Cha-chink.
Two down, six or so more to do.
WHAPING.
Uh oh. Lara ducked as the ricocheting of the bullet zipped around the cave before the bullet embedded itself in another eye. Luck or skill? You decide.
Cha-Chink.