*** Introduction: The Gaully River is a river in Northern Virginia.
This river has some of the most violent white-water in the world, so
several of its Class 5 rapids are noted in the top 15 most turbulent rapids
in the world. The river is so dangerous in its churning beauty that you
must be sixteen to ride the rapids, and you must be an especially strong
swimmer (well, duh). Despite its danger, an average of only one person dies
a year on the Gaully, mostly of carelessness and stupid mistakes and people
still have tons of fun on a special river rafting adventure a company
called New-Gaully River Expedition runs daily. The company tapes your trip,
edits out and adds in a few things, and you can buy the tape of your
adventure down the river at a special shop, along with T-shirts, hats, and
other souvenirs. After watching a tape our science teacher showed us of him
rafting down the Gaully, Lia and I thought it would be fun to plant a few
of our favorite series' characters in the midst of this chaotic stream. So,
with all due respect, we proudly present, The Gaully River Chronicles. (All
original and essential characters and their names in these stories are
fictional, and any resemblance to real persons whether they are living,
dead, or Ringwraiths is purely coincidental and hey, they got to be in our
stories!)***
The Gaully River Chronicles, Volume 1
Boat 1 - Rafters: Aragorn, Legolas, Arwen, and Gimli
Guide: Gandalf Boat 2 - Rafters: Éowyn, Éomer, Boromir, and Faramir
Guide: Théoden Boat 3 - Rafters: Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin
Guide: Gollum
Roberto Martinez, the clerk on duty at the New-Gaully River Expedition Lodge, was astounded when four of the strangest customers he'd ever met walked into the lobby. It wasn't that he'd never seen that many customers before, but the fact that he'd never seen customers like them.
There was a dark-haired, bearded, grim-faced man of about forty dressed in a gray jacket and black casual pants, and next to him a woman in her late twenties with raven hair, gray eyes, and a sky-blue mock turtleneck. An elderly white-bearded man leaned on an intricately carven walking stick. The next was a short, very short, man with a burgundy sweatshirt and a full red beard. The last and probably the youngest (he couldn't be older than 20, thought Mr. Martinez) had bright blue eyes, a black 'Anime Freak' T-shirt, jeans, and blonde hair that fell to just below his shoulders.
"Four people? That will be $40.00, U.S. currency," said Mr. Martinez. The young blonde man gave him a funny look. Apparently he was the only one who knew exactly how to use money. After the midget insisted that the two fives he was trying to pass as twenties were indeed equal to forty dollars, the exasperated blonde pulled two real twenties from a pocket and looked ready to slap him.
"Names please," inquired Mr. Martinez, expecting normal American names like Sam or John. What he didn't expect was:
"My name is Aragorn."
"Legolas."
"I am Arwen."
"Gimli son of Gloin of the noble race of Durin, lord of all of Khazad- Dûm and the great realm of the dwarven city of Dwarrowdelf, in the elven tongue now called Moria, and the Iron Hills, lord of dwarves, great miners and forgers of stone. Gold and jewels are their toys, and iron their servant, and even the highest emperors prize their noble works and kings-" The midget was cut off by the young man who said his name was Legolas' hand over his mouth.
"This is Gimli. G-I-M-L-I," stated the blonde. Mr. Martinez nodded, scribbling down the four names. After a few spelling errors and a lot of cross-outs, he admitted them into the main lobby to wait for the rest of their party.
The second group wasn't much different from the first, save that there was another blonde man (of maybe 30), a woman who was as like in face to him she had to be a close relative, a proud redheaded man, and a skinny man with dirty-blonde hair and blue almond-shaped eyes. Their leader was a man of maybe forty-nine with golden-gray hair and a greenish beard. They named themselves as Théoden, Éowyn, Éomer, Boromir, and Faramir and paid their forty dollars without much trouble.
"Hey, Legolas!" shouted Éowyn.
"What?" he yelled back from inside the lobby.
"I bet you fifty dollars I'll have a better bullride," she shouted, grinning.
"You're on," came the reply.
The last group had to be the queerest lot Mr. Martinez had ever seen (and considering the odd ducks he'd seen in his lifetime, that was saying something): four boys that appeared as children to his eyes who said their names were Frodo, Spam, Merry, and Pippin, and something that looked like a demented dog that had been run over one too many times. It seemed to not know its own name, clutching its face and saying things like, "No, precious, we are Gollum. No, our name is Sméagol. Gollum!. Sméagol!. aaaargh!" The one called Frodo said to write him down as Precious. The creature's head perked up at the word and he began to dance and sing something that sounded awfully like the Barney song.
"Excuse me, but you must be 16 to ride this river, and you have to be a strong swimmer, Mr., uh, Spam," he said matter-of-factly, eying one that seemed a little pudgy to be rafting the Gaully.
"Well I'll have you know that my name is Sam, not Spam, and that I took lessons on swimming just to come with Mister Frodo here," he retorted so vehemently Mr. Martinez swore he had said something awful to the little man and not remembered doing so.
"But you must be sixteen to-" Mr. Martinez was interrupted by Aragorn.
"They're sixteen, just trust me," he said.
With that, a cameraman and two attendants geared them up and the strange party began their expedition down the Upper Gaully River.
The Gaully River Chronicles, Volume 1
Boat 1 - Rafters: Aragorn, Legolas, Arwen, and Gimli
Guide: Gandalf Boat 2 - Rafters: Éowyn, Éomer, Boromir, and Faramir
Guide: Théoden Boat 3 - Rafters: Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin
Guide: Gollum
Roberto Martinez, the clerk on duty at the New-Gaully River Expedition Lodge, was astounded when four of the strangest customers he'd ever met walked into the lobby. It wasn't that he'd never seen that many customers before, but the fact that he'd never seen customers like them.
There was a dark-haired, bearded, grim-faced man of about forty dressed in a gray jacket and black casual pants, and next to him a woman in her late twenties with raven hair, gray eyes, and a sky-blue mock turtleneck. An elderly white-bearded man leaned on an intricately carven walking stick. The next was a short, very short, man with a burgundy sweatshirt and a full red beard. The last and probably the youngest (he couldn't be older than 20, thought Mr. Martinez) had bright blue eyes, a black 'Anime Freak' T-shirt, jeans, and blonde hair that fell to just below his shoulders.
"Four people? That will be $40.00, U.S. currency," said Mr. Martinez. The young blonde man gave him a funny look. Apparently he was the only one who knew exactly how to use money. After the midget insisted that the two fives he was trying to pass as twenties were indeed equal to forty dollars, the exasperated blonde pulled two real twenties from a pocket and looked ready to slap him.
"Names please," inquired Mr. Martinez, expecting normal American names like Sam or John. What he didn't expect was:
"My name is Aragorn."
"Legolas."
"I am Arwen."
"Gimli son of Gloin of the noble race of Durin, lord of all of Khazad- Dûm and the great realm of the dwarven city of Dwarrowdelf, in the elven tongue now called Moria, and the Iron Hills, lord of dwarves, great miners and forgers of stone. Gold and jewels are their toys, and iron their servant, and even the highest emperors prize their noble works and kings-" The midget was cut off by the young man who said his name was Legolas' hand over his mouth.
"This is Gimli. G-I-M-L-I," stated the blonde. Mr. Martinez nodded, scribbling down the four names. After a few spelling errors and a lot of cross-outs, he admitted them into the main lobby to wait for the rest of their party.
The second group wasn't much different from the first, save that there was another blonde man (of maybe 30), a woman who was as like in face to him she had to be a close relative, a proud redheaded man, and a skinny man with dirty-blonde hair and blue almond-shaped eyes. Their leader was a man of maybe forty-nine with golden-gray hair and a greenish beard. They named themselves as Théoden, Éowyn, Éomer, Boromir, and Faramir and paid their forty dollars without much trouble.
"Hey, Legolas!" shouted Éowyn.
"What?" he yelled back from inside the lobby.
"I bet you fifty dollars I'll have a better bullride," she shouted, grinning.
"You're on," came the reply.
The last group had to be the queerest lot Mr. Martinez had ever seen (and considering the odd ducks he'd seen in his lifetime, that was saying something): four boys that appeared as children to his eyes who said their names were Frodo, Spam, Merry, and Pippin, and something that looked like a demented dog that had been run over one too many times. It seemed to not know its own name, clutching its face and saying things like, "No, precious, we are Gollum. No, our name is Sméagol. Gollum!. Sméagol!. aaaargh!" The one called Frodo said to write him down as Precious. The creature's head perked up at the word and he began to dance and sing something that sounded awfully like the Barney song.
"Excuse me, but you must be 16 to ride this river, and you have to be a strong swimmer, Mr., uh, Spam," he said matter-of-factly, eying one that seemed a little pudgy to be rafting the Gaully.
"Well I'll have you know that my name is Sam, not Spam, and that I took lessons on swimming just to come with Mister Frodo here," he retorted so vehemently Mr. Martinez swore he had said something awful to the little man and not remembered doing so.
"But you must be sixteen to-" Mr. Martinez was interrupted by Aragorn.
"They're sixteen, just trust me," he said.
With that, a cameraman and two attendants geared them up and the strange party began their expedition down the Upper Gaully River.