Disclaimer: If I owned LOTR, PJ wouldn't have gone out of his way to make a
movie about it.
Author's Note: I know that Legolas is all serious and "cute" in this scene, but I have Jeannette and Aragorn dragging them into the Council, so both Legolas and Aragorn don't know what's happened so far. That's why there's not the famous "Havo dad, Legolas" quote from Aragorn.
Chapter Eight: In Which Jeannette's Evil Plan Begins
Mithrandir arose from his chair in fury. The fool Elf would not do anything about the One, save to say that "It must be destroyed". By the Valar who were his masters, everybody at the Council knew that. Everybody, at least, except Boromir. He decided to take the meeting into his own hands. "Ash nazg durbatûluk, ash nazg gimbatûl. Ash nazg thrakatûluk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatûl." By the Valar, he loved doing that!
Elrond did his eyebrow thing, and damn it, he looked as pissed as Morgoth had the day Iluvatar had decided to chuck him into the Void. "That language has never been spoken here before."
*That's because you don't know it,* Mithrandir thought. "It may yet be, Elrond," he said. "It may be spoken in every land in Middle Earth if Sauron retakes the Ring." *But he won't, cause I'm too cool for him to beat!* In his mind, he did a little celebration boogey. *Damn, I'm good.*
"Give Gondor the weapon of the Enemy," Boromir was saying for the millionth time. "Let us use it against him!" He was a zealot, that young man, and it would bring him no good. As Manwe used to say back home in Valinor, "The young are restless, but the old are stupid". As he gave that idea a second thought, Mithrandir realized that it had nothing to do with Boromir. He shrugged mentally. It was a cool saying, anyways.
Elrond had buried his face in his hands, and Mithrandir expected him to give in any moment. He would have saved himself a lot of trouble if he had just sent Isildur into the Cracks of Doom with a flying tackle all those years ago, but, of course, this story wouldn't exist, and then millions of Tolkien fans would have no purpose in their lives, and they'd wander around doing drugs and searching for a reason to survive, but there wouldn't be one, then they'd commit suicide, and- his thoughts were interrupted by that a sudden squall of noise entering the Council area.
"DADDY!" Mithrandir sighed. It was Elrond's brat, Arwen Evenstar. "DADDY! SAVE MEEEEEE!"
Boromir stopped in his ranting and stared at the pair dragging behind them Arwen Evenstar and Legolas Greenleaf. "The idiot," Mithrandir whispered under his breath to a random Elf sitting next to him. "He's gotten himself ensnared by a Ring of Power!"
"Which one?" the Elf asked, staring at the Lady dragging the pair along with Aragorn. "If I were one of them, I'd gladly lick that Lady's boots clean for a living."
It was clear that the spell of Vilya was affecting all the Elves, Men, and even Dwarves in the Council, even the young Hobbits. Samwise, Peregrin, and Meriadoc had even emerged from the pathetic hiding places that made it a miracle they hadn't been discovered and bodily thrown from the Council. At least, it was affecting everyone except the Elf Mithrandir suspected the Lady most wanted it to affect: the young Prince Legolas.
The Lady unceremoniously deposited the two Elves in the middle of the ring. "I am Jeannette Rivera," she announced, in a voice that sounded like song. "I am the future Princess of Mirkwood." Legolas made a strangled noise, but remained silent. She gave him the Look that all women of Middle Earth were feared for, and continued. "As part of my duty to the safety of Middle Earth, I will be leaving Rivendell with the Fellowship of the Ring to destroy the Ring in Mordor."
*Damn,* Mithrandir thought appreciatively. *She says 'Mordor' as well as Elrond does!*
She sighed, and one Dwarf even burst into tears. "I am sorry," Jeannette Rivera said. "But I am a Princess of Mirkwood, and I can not be taken from my fate." Another Dwarf began to cry, and another, and another, until the whole envoy was in tears. An Elf joined them, and soon all the Elves, except for Elrond and Legolas, were crying.
Suddenly, Boromir was in her face and shouting, "You want to destroy it, Lady? Then to Udûn with you, all of you!" Before he could move, a sword, Ranger made, was at his throat.
"Do not insult the Lady Jeannette," Aragorn said softly. Behind him, Arwen began to wail, but he paid her no mind. "I will be going with them," he announced, turning from Boromir. "To protect my Lady's honor." Arwen's cries grew even louder, but they were drowned out by a hearty cry from the assembled Council.
"I will now choose the Fellowship of the Ring," Jeannette said proudly. Elrond's mouth opened and closed like a fishes, and he appeared ready to pull his eyebrow trick again. Obviously, Jeannette saw it. "Don't go all 'Agent Smith' on me, Elrond," she said, smirking. "If Keanu Reeves can beat a hundred of you, then I can kick one of your many asses."
*That might have gone a little too far,* Mithrandir thought, but the Lady was already speaking again.
"Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry, Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir, Gimli, and." Her gaze dropped to the Elf who was still sprawled on the ground. "And. and Leggy, my future husband, the Prince of Mirkwood." The suddenly bright sunlight caught the ring on her fourth finger, and Mithrandir assumed it to be a wedding ring from Legolas. *All the more fool he is,* he thought angrily. But a closer inspection revealed it to be none other than Vilya, the Elven Ring of Air. "Melkor, Morgoth, and Gorthaur the Cruel," he said loudly. Many gasped at his foul language. "Elrond," he cried, rising again from his seat. "That is your." The bright sunlight caught his eye one too many times, and he rubbed them hard. When he removed his hands, he was under the spell of Vilya. He saw Jeannette smirking at him, but to him, it was the loveliest of smiles. Arwen Evenstar dulled compared to her brilliance. "That is your decision, Elrond," he repeated. "Thus we are the Fellowship of the Ring!"
***Somewhere, wherever the Nazgûl are currently hanging out***
The stables sounded too empty without the sound of the psycho-rabid horses banging against the walls. "Shit," Number Six sighed. "Now we have to walk."
Number One glared. "It was your fault!" he snapped. "You wouldn't jump that fence, and we missed getting the Halfling before he met the stupid Ranger."
"It was hand-carved mahogany!" Number Six answered. "I'm not going to screw that fence. It's probably been there for a thousand years!"
"1417, to be precise," Number Three said. "In 1601 Third Age, the Periannath migrated."
"Shut up!" a new voice suddenly hissed. "I don't care about your ramblings, Number Four!"
"But, I'm Number Three-"
"No you are not! I am Number One, and that makes you Number Four." The voice sounded vaguely female, and Number One decided to confront the usurper.
"Who are you?" he demanded, looming above the new voice. "Where are you from?"
"I am the Queen of the Nazgûl," she said, throwing her hood back. Number One's jaw dropped. The new Queen was stunningly beautiful, not old and ugly like the rest of her new followers. "Come," she said, smiling. "The Great Lord has new mounts for us. I'm sure you will be pleased."
From somewhere in the background noise, the small voice of the newly demoted Number Ten was heard. "Shit," he said. "A new person joins, and I'm still at the bottom. Why me?"
Author's Note: I know that Legolas is all serious and "cute" in this scene, but I have Jeannette and Aragorn dragging them into the Council, so both Legolas and Aragorn don't know what's happened so far. That's why there's not the famous "Havo dad, Legolas" quote from Aragorn.
Chapter Eight: In Which Jeannette's Evil Plan Begins
Mithrandir arose from his chair in fury. The fool Elf would not do anything about the One, save to say that "It must be destroyed". By the Valar who were his masters, everybody at the Council knew that. Everybody, at least, except Boromir. He decided to take the meeting into his own hands. "Ash nazg durbatûluk, ash nazg gimbatûl. Ash nazg thrakatûluk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatûl." By the Valar, he loved doing that!
Elrond did his eyebrow thing, and damn it, he looked as pissed as Morgoth had the day Iluvatar had decided to chuck him into the Void. "That language has never been spoken here before."
*That's because you don't know it,* Mithrandir thought. "It may yet be, Elrond," he said. "It may be spoken in every land in Middle Earth if Sauron retakes the Ring." *But he won't, cause I'm too cool for him to beat!* In his mind, he did a little celebration boogey. *Damn, I'm good.*
"Give Gondor the weapon of the Enemy," Boromir was saying for the millionth time. "Let us use it against him!" He was a zealot, that young man, and it would bring him no good. As Manwe used to say back home in Valinor, "The young are restless, but the old are stupid". As he gave that idea a second thought, Mithrandir realized that it had nothing to do with Boromir. He shrugged mentally. It was a cool saying, anyways.
Elrond had buried his face in his hands, and Mithrandir expected him to give in any moment. He would have saved himself a lot of trouble if he had just sent Isildur into the Cracks of Doom with a flying tackle all those years ago, but, of course, this story wouldn't exist, and then millions of Tolkien fans would have no purpose in their lives, and they'd wander around doing drugs and searching for a reason to survive, but there wouldn't be one, then they'd commit suicide, and- his thoughts were interrupted by that a sudden squall of noise entering the Council area.
"DADDY!" Mithrandir sighed. It was Elrond's brat, Arwen Evenstar. "DADDY! SAVE MEEEEEE!"
Boromir stopped in his ranting and stared at the pair dragging behind them Arwen Evenstar and Legolas Greenleaf. "The idiot," Mithrandir whispered under his breath to a random Elf sitting next to him. "He's gotten himself ensnared by a Ring of Power!"
"Which one?" the Elf asked, staring at the Lady dragging the pair along with Aragorn. "If I were one of them, I'd gladly lick that Lady's boots clean for a living."
It was clear that the spell of Vilya was affecting all the Elves, Men, and even Dwarves in the Council, even the young Hobbits. Samwise, Peregrin, and Meriadoc had even emerged from the pathetic hiding places that made it a miracle they hadn't been discovered and bodily thrown from the Council. At least, it was affecting everyone except the Elf Mithrandir suspected the Lady most wanted it to affect: the young Prince Legolas.
The Lady unceremoniously deposited the two Elves in the middle of the ring. "I am Jeannette Rivera," she announced, in a voice that sounded like song. "I am the future Princess of Mirkwood." Legolas made a strangled noise, but remained silent. She gave him the Look that all women of Middle Earth were feared for, and continued. "As part of my duty to the safety of Middle Earth, I will be leaving Rivendell with the Fellowship of the Ring to destroy the Ring in Mordor."
*Damn,* Mithrandir thought appreciatively. *She says 'Mordor' as well as Elrond does!*
She sighed, and one Dwarf even burst into tears. "I am sorry," Jeannette Rivera said. "But I am a Princess of Mirkwood, and I can not be taken from my fate." Another Dwarf began to cry, and another, and another, until the whole envoy was in tears. An Elf joined them, and soon all the Elves, except for Elrond and Legolas, were crying.
Suddenly, Boromir was in her face and shouting, "You want to destroy it, Lady? Then to Udûn with you, all of you!" Before he could move, a sword, Ranger made, was at his throat.
"Do not insult the Lady Jeannette," Aragorn said softly. Behind him, Arwen began to wail, but he paid her no mind. "I will be going with them," he announced, turning from Boromir. "To protect my Lady's honor." Arwen's cries grew even louder, but they were drowned out by a hearty cry from the assembled Council.
"I will now choose the Fellowship of the Ring," Jeannette said proudly. Elrond's mouth opened and closed like a fishes, and he appeared ready to pull his eyebrow trick again. Obviously, Jeannette saw it. "Don't go all 'Agent Smith' on me, Elrond," she said, smirking. "If Keanu Reeves can beat a hundred of you, then I can kick one of your many asses."
*That might have gone a little too far,* Mithrandir thought, but the Lady was already speaking again.
"Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry, Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir, Gimli, and." Her gaze dropped to the Elf who was still sprawled on the ground. "And. and Leggy, my future husband, the Prince of Mirkwood." The suddenly bright sunlight caught the ring on her fourth finger, and Mithrandir assumed it to be a wedding ring from Legolas. *All the more fool he is,* he thought angrily. But a closer inspection revealed it to be none other than Vilya, the Elven Ring of Air. "Melkor, Morgoth, and Gorthaur the Cruel," he said loudly. Many gasped at his foul language. "Elrond," he cried, rising again from his seat. "That is your." The bright sunlight caught his eye one too many times, and he rubbed them hard. When he removed his hands, he was under the spell of Vilya. He saw Jeannette smirking at him, but to him, it was the loveliest of smiles. Arwen Evenstar dulled compared to her brilliance. "That is your decision, Elrond," he repeated. "Thus we are the Fellowship of the Ring!"
***Somewhere, wherever the Nazgûl are currently hanging out***
The stables sounded too empty without the sound of the psycho-rabid horses banging against the walls. "Shit," Number Six sighed. "Now we have to walk."
Number One glared. "It was your fault!" he snapped. "You wouldn't jump that fence, and we missed getting the Halfling before he met the stupid Ranger."
"It was hand-carved mahogany!" Number Six answered. "I'm not going to screw that fence. It's probably been there for a thousand years!"
"1417, to be precise," Number Three said. "In 1601 Third Age, the Periannath migrated."
"Shut up!" a new voice suddenly hissed. "I don't care about your ramblings, Number Four!"
"But, I'm Number Three-"
"No you are not! I am Number One, and that makes you Number Four." The voice sounded vaguely female, and Number One decided to confront the usurper.
"Who are you?" he demanded, looming above the new voice. "Where are you from?"
"I am the Queen of the Nazgûl," she said, throwing her hood back. Number One's jaw dropped. The new Queen was stunningly beautiful, not old and ugly like the rest of her new followers. "Come," she said, smiling. "The Great Lord has new mounts for us. I'm sure you will be pleased."
From somewhere in the background noise, the small voice of the newly demoted Number Ten was heard. "Shit," he said. "A new person joins, and I'm still at the bottom. Why me?"