Of Mirth And Folly.
Chapter Two: The
Sorcerer's Mallet.
Samwise Gamgee pondered thoughtfully to himself as he sat atop a lonely garden bench. A curtain of hanging vines encircled the terrace in which he occupied, and he welcomed the subtle touch as the veil of solitude he had sought since first he had left the Shire. Beside him lay the green in which the Elves partook in croquet every so often. Gimli, Elrond, and an aged Bilbo Baggins waited impatiently for Gandalf to return from punishing the Hobbit stoners Merry and Pippin.
The stout and timid Sam ran a podgy hand through his tangled locks and sighed. He had long dreamt of communing with the Elves in such an environment as this, and it made him……….sleepy. But not out of tediousness, no; out of inner calm. Rivendell was the embodiment of serenity, and he relished the rustic flavour of this magical town like no other Hobbit before him. Few of his friends and associates knew this about him, but he frequently dwelt upon his poetic aspirations. And in the tranquil isolation he experienced at that moment, Sam felt it necessary to compose a ballad right then and there………
Thoughts On Rivendell.
A Whimsical Medley by Samwise Gamgee.
I like Rivendell,
it's a right jolly hoot,
The food's fit fer
munchin' and the wenches are cute.
The moon is full
and the grass is wet,
Mr. Frodo'll score
with an Elf, I bet.
Brandybuck and
Took are as high as a kite,
They've been
smokin' the reefer fer 'arf the night.
Though the
Fellowship's journey is drawin' near,
I say "Screw the
Ring, I'm stayin' here!"
He set his feather pen to one side and waited for the ink to dry on the page, all the while marvelling at his own exceptional style as a poet. He would keep the writings to himself, however, as he felt such artistic leanings would be frowned upon by his peers. As he contemplated this, he heard Gandalf return from the main hall. The croquet match was about to begin, and the Hobbit lackey scurried to witness it.
~(*)~
"About bloody time, Gandalf!" huffed Gimli, impatiently.
"Well, excuse me for favouring the Fellowship's wellbeing over our little tournament, Master Dwarf," grunted the wizard, equally haughty.
"Now-now, gentlemen," sighed Elrond, "It's rather early for separatism, wouldn't you agree? Mr. Baggins, would you care to begin?"
"Oh!" the wilted Hobbit exclaimed, tiredly, "Very well."
Dragging his sizeable croquet mallet behind him, Bilbo hobbled toward the small white sphere and lined his shot with unsteadiness. He tapped the ball, and it rolled a small distance, stopping short of the first arch.
Gimli snickered.
"You next, Son of Gloin."
"Stand aside, emaciated Hobbit!" thundered the Dwarf, challengingly, "Now it's Gimli's turn to shine!"
His pronounced lower lip protruded humorously beyond the orange tangles of his unkempt beard as he raised an eyebrow and judged distance in accordance with power. The shot was commendable, passing through three consecutive arches following its removal of Bilbo's lone ball.
The Dwarf gloated triumphantly to himself as he paraded to the end of the line. Gandalf exhibited disinterest as he strolled nonchalantly to his ball, swiped at it with his enchanted staff, and nodded approvingly as his ball passed through a majority of its targets.
Gimli set his teeth on edge. There was something decidedly fishy about Gandalf's technique.
Finally, Lord Elrond stood in position and struck at his ball accordingly. It arced and undulated about the green, surpassing Bilbo and Gimli's with ease, before colliding with Gandalf's, a pronounced clack piercing the silence.
"Hear that, Mister Anderson?" murmured Elrond, "That is the sound of inevitability."
"Beg pardon?" enquired Gandalf, confused.
"Hm? Oh………nothing………"
"If you ask me," growled Gimli, "I'd say you conjurers are cheating!"
~(*)~
"Zeppelin rooooooooooooooooles!" crowed Pippin in the darkness.
Both Hobbits, still utterly stoned, giggled contentedly for an extended period of time.
"This be one poxy dungeon!" snorted Merry.
"Aye, can't see a bloody thing," agreed his companion.
"Oh………oh, wait a pickle! I think I can see jus' a little bit of moonlight!"
"Eh? 'Ere, now! So can I! Meriadoc!"
"Peregrin! Let us escape this foul prison! Hee-hee!"
The stoners stumbled blindly about in the pitch blackness of Elrond's small dungeon, and only in their intoxicated state could they have formulated their plan of escape. Still whooping in hysterics, they balanced the solitary bedding atop a stool, and used the seesaw apparatus as one would a lever. Pippin propelled his comrade out of the opening, and Merry, riotous with glee at the sensation of flight, staggered back to open the door, effectively freeing his comrade. The two giggling lunatics darted into the shadows for a pint of havoc-wreaking.
~(*)~
"Cheating?" huffed Gandalf, indignantly. "Take that back right now, dear Master Dwarf!"
"Oh, you jest?" demanded the angry warrior, "Well, then, I suppose you wouldn't mind taking a shot without your staff, hm?"
Gandalf appeared flustered.
"That's enough, Son of Gloin," groaned a weary Elrond.
"And you!" retorted Gimli, facing the one who spoke, "I suppose you think you can get away with using your black Elf magic in a rrrrrround of croquet?! Never trust an Elf!!!"
"Alright, that's enough," seethed the Elven healer. He cast his mallet aside and aligned himself in a challenging stance. "Right here, right now."
"Please, gents!" came the meek whimper of Bilbo Baggins from below, "You're obviously under the dire influence of my Ring! Wonderful……….wonderful little thing that it is. How I wish………how I wish I could hold it once more………"
"Oh, shut up, Bilbo!" thundered Gandalf. "All of you! You're a mockery to your respective races! This match shall be postponed until the Fellowship's quest is finished, understand?"
"Hm. Very well, Gandalf," mumbled Elrond, composing himself. "Let us retire to our chambers, irrespective of the restlessness we are currently experiencing."
"Ach," spat Gimli as he disbanded with the taller gentlemen, "Cheating sorcerers………"
The three of them bade a begrudging farewell to one another, before retreating into the evening, leaving poor Bilbo Baggins standing wide-eyed and open-mouthed, completely petrified at Gandalf's outburst.
~(*)~
"'Ere, now," whispered Pippin through his incessant giggling, "Whar's the weed?"
"We could'nav smoked all of it," assured Merry as he snooped about the far corner of Aragorn's quarters, as the Ranger had thankfully decided to pursue his humiliated other half into the night.
Unbeknownst to the two, a tall and ominous shadow had fallen upon their moonlight-illuminated selves, and they turned with great alarm to face the intimidating visage of a man they vaguely recognised. The figure held a bloated pouch of the herbs they sought after, like an apple of utmost temptation he dangled it before their pleading eyes.
"Looking for this, boys?" he sneered in a rough, Shakespearian accent.