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*sniffs* OK, updates won't be coming thick and fast cos of school, starting
GCSE's and all that so yeah, this chapters up just for you guys. Be happy!
Quick Stop Clerk- what are mackerals?
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Nothing will ever be mine. I have no money since the last of it is paying for a locker and Behind the Scenes LotR book. Yup. That's it. Now... let's get back to the Fellowship...
On Tour- Wake-Up Call and Pip's Car
Éomer sighed and pulled his fingers through his uncombed blonde hair, and rubbed his unshaven chin. He checked his watch. He scratched his ear. He yawned widely. The phone continued to ring, the dull tone resounding inside his eardrum, echoing through his sleep-fuddled head. Eventually, his patience paid off, and he got an answer.
"'lo?"
"Are you up, Pippin?" What a stupid question, Éomer thought, of course he's not up!
"Whaa? Oh... yeah."
"You need to get a move on. I expect you down here in an HOUR, OK?"
"Whatever, 'omer..."
The same regime was repeated every morning. Éomer rang every member of Fellowship, and found that none of them had made a move. Half an hour later he called again and found them all in a similar state. Comatose.
"Pippin?" Éomer tried his 'no-nonsense' voice, "Are you up?"
"Yeah... sure Iam..."
"Peregrin, I want you down here in THIRTY MINUTES, okay?"
Calls to Merry, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn showed that they had made no progress either. Eventually Éomer was forced to drag Gimli from bed by the ankles.
"Gimli, I mean business now! I know you guys are tired, I'm tired too, but we have WORK TO DO!!" The dwarf blinked at him, looking, as Éomer knew the female fans would put it, stangely adorable as he tried to focus, his hair sticking up in all avaliable directions. Eventually, he understood and then bowed his head sheepishly. With a sigh, Éomer proceeded to rouse the rest of the band. Aragorn refused point-blank to remove his head from beneath his pillow until Éomer soaked a sponge in his bathroom, and dropped it with a satisfying splat onto his chest, at which point he sat up with a surprised yelp, only to have his clothes thrown at him.
There were times when Éomer considered being tour manager to be one of the worst things he'd signed up for. Well.... after that rugby game. He shuddered to remember it.
************************************
"Oh, buggrit..." Éomer swore when he arrived at the studios. A small group of young girls were hanging around outside clutching scraps of paper, pens and cameras, huddled together and whispering excitedly. As Éomer's car drew up, they all hushed, and stared at him. The tour manager then knew what animals in the zoo must feel like. Their secret had leaked out.
"How are ya, girls?" he asked, pushing down his irritation in an attempt to be polite, as he strolled through the throng after parking his car.
He made it inside without too much trouble and proceeded to make himself a coffee. He furrowed around in the fridge before finding what smelt like month-old milk. He poured it into his coffee anyway and soon discovered that it probably was month-old milk. After a while of swilling it around his mouth, he decided that he didn't care and gulped the rest down anyway. An eruption of screams and cries of 'Oh my Eru!' informed Éomer that at least one band member has just arrived. Right on cue, Pippin tumbled through the door, looking terrified and as though he had been pulled through about three hedges backwards. He scrambled up, tripped over his large furry feet, and fell over again.
"Eru!" the Hobbit gasped, "How did they all get here? Can I have a coffee? Has anyone else arrived? Do you have anything to eat? Can you help me up? Is Éowyn coming today?" he said all that in one breath.
"Dunno, sure, no, no, no and maybe." Éomer answered, used to Pippin's reel of questions and practised in the art of remembering them all and answering them all in the right order. "If this keeps up we're gonna have to get security in again."
"Oh, NO!" wailed Pippin, clambering up more carefully, and taking the mug of coffee Éomer gave him. He took a sip, paused and then smiled. "Mm mm!" he said, "What brand IS this?" He finished the rest in one gulp.
"Oh no what?" came another voice. Merry sauntered through the doors looking none-the-worse for wear with a grin on his face and a teddy-bear in his hands. "Oh no, Merry got a bigger cheer that me?" The hobbit pulled back his curly hair in what he thought was a suave manner and placed his latest aquisition (resplendent with a huge heart and 'MB' emblazoned on it) on the counter in the small kitchen.
"You did did not!"
"I did to!"
"Did not!"
"Did to!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
Their arguement was suddenly completely drowned out by the largest scream of noise that has ever hit the Earth. There were cries of, 'Oh Manwe! He's SO FIT!!!" and, "I GOT HIS AUTOGRAPH!! I don't believe it!!" Both hobbit's heads whipped around in unision, and Éomer dropped a coffee mug, swearing as his hand got burnt, and rushed to the cold tap.
All three rolled their eyes as Legolas strode casually through the studio door with a smugger than smug expression on his face, a floury bacon roll with crisp bacon sticking out on either side in his hand. Pippin's mouth dropped open.
"Good morning." Legolas smiled breezily, "Still waiting for our dear Dwarf and Man are we?" "Where did you get that!?" exclaimed Pippin, making a dive for Legolas's roll. The Elf, however, had anticipated such a reaction, and held it out of harm's way, so the hobbit crashed, for the third time, into the floor. "Ah ah, shortie!" Legolas teased, taking a huge bite, "Bacon rolls are for those who take the time to buy them!" he held out his spare hand, and pulled Pippin to his feet. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed around the studio as both doors were flung wide in a show of exaggerated drama.
"The King has arrived!" came a loud pronouncement as the door shut, drowning out yet more screams. Aragorn stood with arms spread wide and a broad grin over his face, his trademark stubble perfectly shaved halfway between 'beard' and 'clean shaven', his hair crammed under a baseball cap.
"Oh joy." muttered Merry sarcastically.
Two minutes after Aragorn, Gimli scrambled through the door, tripped up the step, and was saved from falling by Legolas. "Thankyou!" the Dwarf gasped, pulling himself upright and re-adjusting his red shirt. "How in Middle-earth did all those girls know we were here?" "Ilúvatar knows," Éomer sighed, rubbing his eyes as he came over to the group with a bunch of microphone stands under his arm. "You okay, Gimli?"
"A Dwarf is always okay!" exclaimed Gimli in mock indignance, "What a preposterous question!"
****************************************
"Calm down, Pip!" Gimli exclaimed, wondering if he were going to have to physically restrain the hobbit from tearing his hair out.
"I only got it last week! This is JUST typical!" Pippin and Gimli were standing in the carpark alone. Pippin was horrified, to say the least. His brand spanking new car had been scratched. The BMW was Pippin's pride and joy and would need re-spraying to repair the damage. He was devastated.
"Merry said something about seeing some Men hanging around during lunch- break," Gimli offered, giving up on calming the distraught hobbit, "He told them to stay away from the cars. They must've scratched yours when they meant to scratch Merry's."
Pippin's angry look vanished slowly. He pulled a sleeve across his face before looking at the car again with a steely glint in his eye and a fixed expression. "We'll have to get Faramir and Boromir to set a security around the cars tomorrow, I guess. It's worse luck, I thought we'd make it too the tour without need for the security." He looked doleful, but opened the door and climbed into the drivers seat. He paused as he slotted the key into the ignition, before leaning out of the window and calling after the Dwarf's retreating back, "You want a lift the hotel?"
Gimli looked back at him gratefully, "Cheers."
He got into the car beside Pippin, and they began the fifteen minute journey to the hotel in the middle of town. It was quite late, and the hobbit drove slowly, keeping his lights on and checking carefully for pedestrians. It was dark and there was a blind corner ahead. Suddenly, out of the blue, a car came skidding round the corner in a screech of brakes.
"Idiot!" exclaimed Gimli, instinctively bracing himself as the car managed to maneuver back onto the road without changing speed, and coming speeding straight towards them.
"He won't stop!" Pippin cried. He and Gimli both dived forward, Pippin wrenched the steering wheel round to avoid a collision as he did so. Both were propelled forward, and Gimli's head cracked against the dashboard. Pippin was jerked forward then back like a rag-doll, a sharp pain shooting up his neck from the whip-lash movement. With a sickening crash, metal and metal connected, and the car ground to a halt. The other swerved away, preventing any further damage, and sped off into the night.
Slowly, Pippin pushed himself into a sitting position. His left hand gripped the steering wheel, and he had to use his other hand to prise it off. He gritted his teeth as he steeled himself from crying out in pain. His left arm freed, it hung limply at his side, obviously broken, Gingerly, he checked his head, and winced when he felt a large tender bruise already formed. "Gimli? Gimli, are you okay?" He asked, his voice seeming croaky and far-away.
"Urgh... ye-ah..." the Dwarf groaned, "What... what happened? Pippin? Are- are you okay?"
"A few bumps and bruises and my arm's a bit knackered. You?"
"I don't know... I feel like Balin tried to screw my head off." In the dim light, Pippin saw Gimli slowly force himself into a sitting position, and both hands go to his chest as he gasped in pain.
"Ribs?" The hobbit queried, fearing the worst.
"I... I think so. What happened?"
"I'll explain in a moment," Pippin told his friend, unsure of what exactly had happened himself. "C'mon, we need to get out." Pippin, carefully because of his arm, climbed out of the car and moved as quickly as he was able to help Gimli. He supported the Dwarf with his good arm until they were both free of the vehicle.
Their legs hardly able to support them, they both stood trembling with the shock of the crash. Gimli's concussion appeared to have knocked out his pride for the time being and he allowed Pippin to support him as best he could. As luck would have it, a police car was driving toward them with lights flashing. The familiar black figure of the Nazgul Police Service was visible getting out and coming towards them.
"You two okay?"
"A bit beaten, same as my poor car." Pippin sighed, swaying slightly as he surveyed the wreck of metal that just that morning had been a beautiful week-old BMW.
"And you were worried about a scratch." Gimli muttered darkly, trying to ignore the fact that the world was finding it amusing to swim in and out of focus, and all sound was imitating a badly tuned radio, going louder, then softer, then louder again.
He vaguely remember being supported to a taxi, and a Nazgul-Officer telling the driver to go with all speed to the hospital, and Pippin calling his name, before darkness took over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tada! You like? Unfortunately, this is not meant to be a humour fic. It's light-hearted yes, but not mindless humour. I'm trying to make this into quite an original piece of work. Please review! Pleeeease!!! And for all of you waiting for updates to 'Stranger' it will be along soon. I promise. I felt the need to tidy some stuff up with my other stories. I like everything in order here! -Damn the Torpedoes
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Nothing will ever be mine. I have no money since the last of it is paying for a locker and Behind the Scenes LotR book. Yup. That's it. Now... let's get back to the Fellowship...
On Tour- Wake-Up Call and Pip's Car
Éomer sighed and pulled his fingers through his uncombed blonde hair, and rubbed his unshaven chin. He checked his watch. He scratched his ear. He yawned widely. The phone continued to ring, the dull tone resounding inside his eardrum, echoing through his sleep-fuddled head. Eventually, his patience paid off, and he got an answer.
"'lo?"
"Are you up, Pippin?" What a stupid question, Éomer thought, of course he's not up!
"Whaa? Oh... yeah."
"You need to get a move on. I expect you down here in an HOUR, OK?"
"Whatever, 'omer..."
The same regime was repeated every morning. Éomer rang every member of Fellowship, and found that none of them had made a move. Half an hour later he called again and found them all in a similar state. Comatose.
"Pippin?" Éomer tried his 'no-nonsense' voice, "Are you up?"
"Yeah... sure Iam..."
"Peregrin, I want you down here in THIRTY MINUTES, okay?"
Calls to Merry, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn showed that they had made no progress either. Eventually Éomer was forced to drag Gimli from bed by the ankles.
"Gimli, I mean business now! I know you guys are tired, I'm tired too, but we have WORK TO DO!!" The dwarf blinked at him, looking, as Éomer knew the female fans would put it, stangely adorable as he tried to focus, his hair sticking up in all avaliable directions. Eventually, he understood and then bowed his head sheepishly. With a sigh, Éomer proceeded to rouse the rest of the band. Aragorn refused point-blank to remove his head from beneath his pillow until Éomer soaked a sponge in his bathroom, and dropped it with a satisfying splat onto his chest, at which point he sat up with a surprised yelp, only to have his clothes thrown at him.
There were times when Éomer considered being tour manager to be one of the worst things he'd signed up for. Well.... after that rugby game. He shuddered to remember it.
************************************
"Oh, buggrit..." Éomer swore when he arrived at the studios. A small group of young girls were hanging around outside clutching scraps of paper, pens and cameras, huddled together and whispering excitedly. As Éomer's car drew up, they all hushed, and stared at him. The tour manager then knew what animals in the zoo must feel like. Their secret had leaked out.
"How are ya, girls?" he asked, pushing down his irritation in an attempt to be polite, as he strolled through the throng after parking his car.
He made it inside without too much trouble and proceeded to make himself a coffee. He furrowed around in the fridge before finding what smelt like month-old milk. He poured it into his coffee anyway and soon discovered that it probably was month-old milk. After a while of swilling it around his mouth, he decided that he didn't care and gulped the rest down anyway. An eruption of screams and cries of 'Oh my Eru!' informed Éomer that at least one band member has just arrived. Right on cue, Pippin tumbled through the door, looking terrified and as though he had been pulled through about three hedges backwards. He scrambled up, tripped over his large furry feet, and fell over again.
"Eru!" the Hobbit gasped, "How did they all get here? Can I have a coffee? Has anyone else arrived? Do you have anything to eat? Can you help me up? Is Éowyn coming today?" he said all that in one breath.
"Dunno, sure, no, no, no and maybe." Éomer answered, used to Pippin's reel of questions and practised in the art of remembering them all and answering them all in the right order. "If this keeps up we're gonna have to get security in again."
"Oh, NO!" wailed Pippin, clambering up more carefully, and taking the mug of coffee Éomer gave him. He took a sip, paused and then smiled. "Mm mm!" he said, "What brand IS this?" He finished the rest in one gulp.
"Oh no what?" came another voice. Merry sauntered through the doors looking none-the-worse for wear with a grin on his face and a teddy-bear in his hands. "Oh no, Merry got a bigger cheer that me?" The hobbit pulled back his curly hair in what he thought was a suave manner and placed his latest aquisition (resplendent with a huge heart and 'MB' emblazoned on it) on the counter in the small kitchen.
"You did did not!"
"I did to!"
"Did not!"
"Did to!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
Their arguement was suddenly completely drowned out by the largest scream of noise that has ever hit the Earth. There were cries of, 'Oh Manwe! He's SO FIT!!!" and, "I GOT HIS AUTOGRAPH!! I don't believe it!!" Both hobbit's heads whipped around in unision, and Éomer dropped a coffee mug, swearing as his hand got burnt, and rushed to the cold tap.
All three rolled their eyes as Legolas strode casually through the studio door with a smugger than smug expression on his face, a floury bacon roll with crisp bacon sticking out on either side in his hand. Pippin's mouth dropped open.
"Good morning." Legolas smiled breezily, "Still waiting for our dear Dwarf and Man are we?" "Where did you get that!?" exclaimed Pippin, making a dive for Legolas's roll. The Elf, however, had anticipated such a reaction, and held it out of harm's way, so the hobbit crashed, for the third time, into the floor. "Ah ah, shortie!" Legolas teased, taking a huge bite, "Bacon rolls are for those who take the time to buy them!" he held out his spare hand, and pulled Pippin to his feet. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed around the studio as both doors were flung wide in a show of exaggerated drama.
"The King has arrived!" came a loud pronouncement as the door shut, drowning out yet more screams. Aragorn stood with arms spread wide and a broad grin over his face, his trademark stubble perfectly shaved halfway between 'beard' and 'clean shaven', his hair crammed under a baseball cap.
"Oh joy." muttered Merry sarcastically.
Two minutes after Aragorn, Gimli scrambled through the door, tripped up the step, and was saved from falling by Legolas. "Thankyou!" the Dwarf gasped, pulling himself upright and re-adjusting his red shirt. "How in Middle-earth did all those girls know we were here?" "Ilúvatar knows," Éomer sighed, rubbing his eyes as he came over to the group with a bunch of microphone stands under his arm. "You okay, Gimli?"
"A Dwarf is always okay!" exclaimed Gimli in mock indignance, "What a preposterous question!"
****************************************
"Calm down, Pip!" Gimli exclaimed, wondering if he were going to have to physically restrain the hobbit from tearing his hair out.
"I only got it last week! This is JUST typical!" Pippin and Gimli were standing in the carpark alone. Pippin was horrified, to say the least. His brand spanking new car had been scratched. The BMW was Pippin's pride and joy and would need re-spraying to repair the damage. He was devastated.
"Merry said something about seeing some Men hanging around during lunch- break," Gimli offered, giving up on calming the distraught hobbit, "He told them to stay away from the cars. They must've scratched yours when they meant to scratch Merry's."
Pippin's angry look vanished slowly. He pulled a sleeve across his face before looking at the car again with a steely glint in his eye and a fixed expression. "We'll have to get Faramir and Boromir to set a security around the cars tomorrow, I guess. It's worse luck, I thought we'd make it too the tour without need for the security." He looked doleful, but opened the door and climbed into the drivers seat. He paused as he slotted the key into the ignition, before leaning out of the window and calling after the Dwarf's retreating back, "You want a lift the hotel?"
Gimli looked back at him gratefully, "Cheers."
He got into the car beside Pippin, and they began the fifteen minute journey to the hotel in the middle of town. It was quite late, and the hobbit drove slowly, keeping his lights on and checking carefully for pedestrians. It was dark and there was a blind corner ahead. Suddenly, out of the blue, a car came skidding round the corner in a screech of brakes.
"Idiot!" exclaimed Gimli, instinctively bracing himself as the car managed to maneuver back onto the road without changing speed, and coming speeding straight towards them.
"He won't stop!" Pippin cried. He and Gimli both dived forward, Pippin wrenched the steering wheel round to avoid a collision as he did so. Both were propelled forward, and Gimli's head cracked against the dashboard. Pippin was jerked forward then back like a rag-doll, a sharp pain shooting up his neck from the whip-lash movement. With a sickening crash, metal and metal connected, and the car ground to a halt. The other swerved away, preventing any further damage, and sped off into the night.
Slowly, Pippin pushed himself into a sitting position. His left hand gripped the steering wheel, and he had to use his other hand to prise it off. He gritted his teeth as he steeled himself from crying out in pain. His left arm freed, it hung limply at his side, obviously broken, Gingerly, he checked his head, and winced when he felt a large tender bruise already formed. "Gimli? Gimli, are you okay?" He asked, his voice seeming croaky and far-away.
"Urgh... ye-ah..." the Dwarf groaned, "What... what happened? Pippin? Are- are you okay?"
"A few bumps and bruises and my arm's a bit knackered. You?"
"I don't know... I feel like Balin tried to screw my head off." In the dim light, Pippin saw Gimli slowly force himself into a sitting position, and both hands go to his chest as he gasped in pain.
"Ribs?" The hobbit queried, fearing the worst.
"I... I think so. What happened?"
"I'll explain in a moment," Pippin told his friend, unsure of what exactly had happened himself. "C'mon, we need to get out." Pippin, carefully because of his arm, climbed out of the car and moved as quickly as he was able to help Gimli. He supported the Dwarf with his good arm until they were both free of the vehicle.
Their legs hardly able to support them, they both stood trembling with the shock of the crash. Gimli's concussion appeared to have knocked out his pride for the time being and he allowed Pippin to support him as best he could. As luck would have it, a police car was driving toward them with lights flashing. The familiar black figure of the Nazgul Police Service was visible getting out and coming towards them.
"You two okay?"
"A bit beaten, same as my poor car." Pippin sighed, swaying slightly as he surveyed the wreck of metal that just that morning had been a beautiful week-old BMW.
"And you were worried about a scratch." Gimli muttered darkly, trying to ignore the fact that the world was finding it amusing to swim in and out of focus, and all sound was imitating a badly tuned radio, going louder, then softer, then louder again.
He vaguely remember being supported to a taxi, and a Nazgul-Officer telling the driver to go with all speed to the hospital, and Pippin calling his name, before darkness took over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tada! You like? Unfortunately, this is not meant to be a humour fic. It's light-hearted yes, but not mindless humour. I'm trying to make this into quite an original piece of work. Please review! Pleeeease!!! And for all of you waiting for updates to 'Stranger' it will be along soon. I promise. I felt the need to tidy some stuff up with my other stories. I like everything in order here! -Damn the Torpedoes
