Yo ho ho ma reader homies!
Not that you're my homies.
Not that I even call people homies.
Oh well.
Before I start my rant and explanation I'd like to give shoutouts to Sophy, a loverly girl who read the fic, and was nice enough to msn me to tell me so (and to tell Khay so, too!)! Therefore, this chapter is dedicated to her, and her praise for Clique of the ring (which I will never get sick of, by the way, just so you all know- LOVE ME * does a Galadriel-esque morph *).
If you haven't read chapter two (Khay's chapter) do so before reading this one. This one is gonna be funnn folks! Oh jyeah! Oh if only I could shake off my terrible terrible writers block…
That's about it really! Take care all!
Love
Author #1 (who is not the #1 author. Author #2, is infact, #1 Author. Are you confused? Good)
(5)
Tolkien had been having a grand old time. He'd floated around Middle- earth, when the young 'earthlings' had dropped in (quite literally) and had been enjoying their reactions immensely. He especially loved Sophie's reaction. Quite, quite classic.
However, on returning to the dimly lit movie theater, which was now dark and quiet, except for the discordant sounds of what could only be elevator music, he was not amused. Surveying the damage he had done to his beloved Fellowship, he felt bad. Very bad! Bad, bad Tolkien! He had never meant to cause poor Frodo so much anguish. He hadn't meant to confuse Gandalf's gender role identity. Tolkien chewed on his pipe in deep thought. Whilst the Fellowship being in the bodies of the modern-day-teenagers certainly made them less conspicuous, and easier to hide, the other side of the coin was, it was distressing them greatly.
On the other hand, the 'clique' in the bodies of the Fellowship was highly amusing, especially rather tall blondes, becoming rather short (male) brunettes. In the end though, he had to concede something must be done to rectify the situation. Every time he glanced over at Frodo, who was conversing with a fairly short dark-haired girl, he felt his heart sink. Frodo just looked too pathetic. Eventually, his mind was made up. They would stay where they were, but receive their original bodies. May as well let them keep each others clothes though. Rugged, bearded Aragorn as a homie was just too enticing to avoid. And besides, Tolkien had never much liked Aragorn personally, anyway – (sorry Khay).
(6)
"Right…nice stunt you er…guys, girls, things- but I am not about to believe your insane tale. Britney, why don't you just take yourself and your little friends- or should I say wigs-on-legs, and go back to the asylum where you bel-"
But Ant's slightly irate speech was cut off by a squeal from Frodo. Before Ant's very eyes, the body of Britney began to fade and dissolve, and with an odd sort of popping sound, in her place stood a small and decidedly furry little creature. Amusingly enough, it still wore Britney's tight lacy boob-tube, and short white skirt (although owing to the creatures height, what should have been a short white skirt was in fact more like a wedding dress).
"That's better!" The creature turned and grinned happily at Ant. "See! I TOLD you we were hobbits…."
Ant blinked. She rubbed her eyes, and blinked again. When that still didn't seem to clear the apparition of Frodo Baggins that stood in front of her, she began to freak out.
Gandalf (resplendent in plaid and a cotton blouse) escorted her to a empty seat.
"Here. Sit."
Dumbly, Ant obeyed. Good grief. This morning she'd just wanted to come and see Queen of the Damned so she could perve a little on Stuart Townsend (can we smell a similar fic whereby Anne Rice turns Ant into Lestat? Of course not! She doesn't like fan fic!) and now she was being 'escorted' by a old man dressed in preppy clothes. She took several deep breaths.
They were still there when she opened her eyes. However, at least they weren't hovering around her anymore. They had retreated to another corner, apparently to discuss things.
"This is GHASTLY!" Boromir complained "Where in the world are we? And who is that peculiar child over there? And to further question our current predicament, WHAT am I wearing?"
"We aren't in the world, that child is a girl named Ant, and you are wearing a fubu shirt, cargo pants and a large gold medallion." Replied Gandalf, who seemed to have found a pipe amongst the clothes he wore, the contents of which appeared to be making him a good deal more cocky.
"I agree with Boromir!" Piped up Pippin, who as yet had remained rather quiet. "This place is scary! I don't like it! It's dark, and this grass feels funny…" he shuffled at the plum red theater carpet with his furry feet.
"Fool of a Took!" Retorted Gandalf, whacking Pippin upside the head, causing him to howl like a three year old "It isn't grass!"
"Oh yes?" Scowled Merry, coming to Pippin's defense immediately "Then just what IS it Mr. Gandalf smarty-pants-guy hmm?" After the words left his mouth he blinked "…What did I just say? Did I say 'smarty-pants-guy'?"
The company nodded. Gandalf sighed, seating himself on another nearby chair. "I know these things, master Brandybuck, because I have the power to know. And what it is that I know, what I can gather from the mixed aura this place gives off, is that we are a long way from our home…"
Pippin's eyes filled with tears.
"Do you think it's possible to return?" Aragorn walked over to Gandalf, narrowly avoiding tripping over his pant legs, which were far longer and baggier than what he was used to.
"Possible, yes, probably…not for a while. I can only hazard a guess to why this has happened, but I would say it is all for the best. Destiny, if you will. I am sure the ring is in…good hands…"
Frodo cast a skeptical look around the theater. "Yeah…totally…"
(7)
Gimli stared open mouthed at Legolas. Or rather, what had been Legolas up to about three seconds ago. Now it was not half so good looking, possessed a rather squashed looking nose, and was hugging Gandalf, or what was FORMERLY Gandalf, possessively.
"Just…just…BEGONE foul bearded…thing! Leave my woman alone!"
Gandalf cuddled up to Legolas and smiled sweetly "Awww you are SO sweet Robbieee!"
"I know, I know hon!" He grinned widely, displaying slightly yellowed teeth.
Whilst Gimli was not one to preach on the sanitation and personal hygiene of others (lets face it, he had little himself), this….boy was certainly a poor replacement for the spic-and-span Legolas he was accustomed to. He growled.
"I don't know where you come from, but I suggest you return! Just as soon, that is, as you have told me WHAT you have done with Gandalf and Legolas!"
He was about to turn and accost the hobbits and men, asking if they'd seen where Gandalf and Legolas had gone, when he realised something.
They weren't there.
In their place stood four young girls- pretty little things actually, resembling a more youthful Galadriel, perhaps, though less queenly- and in place of the men, Aragorn and Boromir, two dirty, scruffy young men standing there in their clothes. Actually, on closer inspection perhaps they were still Boromir and Aragorn after all. No, no, they weren't. Just a little hard to tell. But these two actually looked marginally cleaner than Gimli's Fellowship friends.
"What is this!" He raged, tossing his dwarven locks about his slightly purplish face "What have you done with my…!"
But at that moment, he was cut off.
From out of her pocket, Britney had drawn a small golden ring on a chain, and was in the process of slipping it on her tanned, long finger…
Gimli dived, attempting to stop her before it was too late…
But, c'est la vie, the opportunity had passed.
Britney disappeared.
And far in the distance, and peal of high-pitched, gut-wrenching screams could be heard.
"…They will find the ring…and kill the one who carries it."
Oh god! Look! Black riders after our precious clique! Quel domage and gee whiz! What will they do? Meanwhile, Tolkien should be happy now that Frodo is no longer suffering in silence…or in loudness as the case may be, and perhaps Ant will rabidly attack Frodo, assuming he is Elijah Wood, and demand an autograph. Or perhaps she will quietly remain in the cinema, eat popcorn, and drool over Stuart Townsend.
Who knows
Who cares?
Hopefully you!
Till neck time, stay tuned for part four of Clique of the Ring, where maybe the plot will actually start to move!
Not that you're my homies.
Not that I even call people homies.
Oh well.
Before I start my rant and explanation I'd like to give shoutouts to Sophy, a loverly girl who read the fic, and was nice enough to msn me to tell me so (and to tell Khay so, too!)! Therefore, this chapter is dedicated to her, and her praise for Clique of the ring (which I will never get sick of, by the way, just so you all know- LOVE ME * does a Galadriel-esque morph *).
If you haven't read chapter two (Khay's chapter) do so before reading this one. This one is gonna be funnn folks! Oh jyeah! Oh if only I could shake off my terrible terrible writers block…
That's about it really! Take care all!
Love
Author #1 (who is not the #1 author. Author #2, is infact, #1 Author. Are you confused? Good)
(5)
Tolkien had been having a grand old time. He'd floated around Middle- earth, when the young 'earthlings' had dropped in (quite literally) and had been enjoying their reactions immensely. He especially loved Sophie's reaction. Quite, quite classic.
However, on returning to the dimly lit movie theater, which was now dark and quiet, except for the discordant sounds of what could only be elevator music, he was not amused. Surveying the damage he had done to his beloved Fellowship, he felt bad. Very bad! Bad, bad Tolkien! He had never meant to cause poor Frodo so much anguish. He hadn't meant to confuse Gandalf's gender role identity. Tolkien chewed on his pipe in deep thought. Whilst the Fellowship being in the bodies of the modern-day-teenagers certainly made them less conspicuous, and easier to hide, the other side of the coin was, it was distressing them greatly.
On the other hand, the 'clique' in the bodies of the Fellowship was highly amusing, especially rather tall blondes, becoming rather short (male) brunettes. In the end though, he had to concede something must be done to rectify the situation. Every time he glanced over at Frodo, who was conversing with a fairly short dark-haired girl, he felt his heart sink. Frodo just looked too pathetic. Eventually, his mind was made up. They would stay where they were, but receive their original bodies. May as well let them keep each others clothes though. Rugged, bearded Aragorn as a homie was just too enticing to avoid. And besides, Tolkien had never much liked Aragorn personally, anyway – (sorry Khay).
(6)
"Right…nice stunt you er…guys, girls, things- but I am not about to believe your insane tale. Britney, why don't you just take yourself and your little friends- or should I say wigs-on-legs, and go back to the asylum where you bel-"
But Ant's slightly irate speech was cut off by a squeal from Frodo. Before Ant's very eyes, the body of Britney began to fade and dissolve, and with an odd sort of popping sound, in her place stood a small and decidedly furry little creature. Amusingly enough, it still wore Britney's tight lacy boob-tube, and short white skirt (although owing to the creatures height, what should have been a short white skirt was in fact more like a wedding dress).
"That's better!" The creature turned and grinned happily at Ant. "See! I TOLD you we were hobbits…."
Ant blinked. She rubbed her eyes, and blinked again. When that still didn't seem to clear the apparition of Frodo Baggins that stood in front of her, she began to freak out.
Gandalf (resplendent in plaid and a cotton blouse) escorted her to a empty seat.
"Here. Sit."
Dumbly, Ant obeyed. Good grief. This morning she'd just wanted to come and see Queen of the Damned so she could perve a little on Stuart Townsend (can we smell a similar fic whereby Anne Rice turns Ant into Lestat? Of course not! She doesn't like fan fic!) and now she was being 'escorted' by a old man dressed in preppy clothes. She took several deep breaths.
They were still there when she opened her eyes. However, at least they weren't hovering around her anymore. They had retreated to another corner, apparently to discuss things.
"This is GHASTLY!" Boromir complained "Where in the world are we? And who is that peculiar child over there? And to further question our current predicament, WHAT am I wearing?"
"We aren't in the world, that child is a girl named Ant, and you are wearing a fubu shirt, cargo pants and a large gold medallion." Replied Gandalf, who seemed to have found a pipe amongst the clothes he wore, the contents of which appeared to be making him a good deal more cocky.
"I agree with Boromir!" Piped up Pippin, who as yet had remained rather quiet. "This place is scary! I don't like it! It's dark, and this grass feels funny…" he shuffled at the plum red theater carpet with his furry feet.
"Fool of a Took!" Retorted Gandalf, whacking Pippin upside the head, causing him to howl like a three year old "It isn't grass!"
"Oh yes?" Scowled Merry, coming to Pippin's defense immediately "Then just what IS it Mr. Gandalf smarty-pants-guy hmm?" After the words left his mouth he blinked "…What did I just say? Did I say 'smarty-pants-guy'?"
The company nodded. Gandalf sighed, seating himself on another nearby chair. "I know these things, master Brandybuck, because I have the power to know. And what it is that I know, what I can gather from the mixed aura this place gives off, is that we are a long way from our home…"
Pippin's eyes filled with tears.
"Do you think it's possible to return?" Aragorn walked over to Gandalf, narrowly avoiding tripping over his pant legs, which were far longer and baggier than what he was used to.
"Possible, yes, probably…not for a while. I can only hazard a guess to why this has happened, but I would say it is all for the best. Destiny, if you will. I am sure the ring is in…good hands…"
Frodo cast a skeptical look around the theater. "Yeah…totally…"
(7)
Gimli stared open mouthed at Legolas. Or rather, what had been Legolas up to about three seconds ago. Now it was not half so good looking, possessed a rather squashed looking nose, and was hugging Gandalf, or what was FORMERLY Gandalf, possessively.
"Just…just…BEGONE foul bearded…thing! Leave my woman alone!"
Gandalf cuddled up to Legolas and smiled sweetly "Awww you are SO sweet Robbieee!"
"I know, I know hon!" He grinned widely, displaying slightly yellowed teeth.
Whilst Gimli was not one to preach on the sanitation and personal hygiene of others (lets face it, he had little himself), this….boy was certainly a poor replacement for the spic-and-span Legolas he was accustomed to. He growled.
"I don't know where you come from, but I suggest you return! Just as soon, that is, as you have told me WHAT you have done with Gandalf and Legolas!"
He was about to turn and accost the hobbits and men, asking if they'd seen where Gandalf and Legolas had gone, when he realised something.
They weren't there.
In their place stood four young girls- pretty little things actually, resembling a more youthful Galadriel, perhaps, though less queenly- and in place of the men, Aragorn and Boromir, two dirty, scruffy young men standing there in their clothes. Actually, on closer inspection perhaps they were still Boromir and Aragorn after all. No, no, they weren't. Just a little hard to tell. But these two actually looked marginally cleaner than Gimli's Fellowship friends.
"What is this!" He raged, tossing his dwarven locks about his slightly purplish face "What have you done with my…!"
But at that moment, he was cut off.
From out of her pocket, Britney had drawn a small golden ring on a chain, and was in the process of slipping it on her tanned, long finger…
Gimli dived, attempting to stop her before it was too late…
But, c'est la vie, the opportunity had passed.
Britney disappeared.
And far in the distance, and peal of high-pitched, gut-wrenching screams could be heard.
"…They will find the ring…and kill the one who carries it."
Oh god! Look! Black riders after our precious clique! Quel domage and gee whiz! What will they do? Meanwhile, Tolkien should be happy now that Frodo is no longer suffering in silence…or in loudness as the case may be, and perhaps Ant will rabidly attack Frodo, assuming he is Elijah Wood, and demand an autograph. Or perhaps she will quietly remain in the cinema, eat popcorn, and drool over Stuart Townsend.
Who knows
Who cares?
Hopefully you!
Till neck time, stay tuned for part four of Clique of the Ring, where maybe the plot will actually start to move!
