Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters, or any giant theme parks, but I am still getting their mail. Aragorn get advertisements from L.L. Bean, Gimli owes money to the Sharper Image, and Legolas keeps getting catalogs from Fredricks of Hollywood.
Chapter 23
There's A Great, Big Beautiful Tomorrow
"Wake up, Laddies!" Gimli shouted, pulling back the covers and shaking Merry and Pippin's shoulders. "'Tis a glorious morning! WAKE UP!"
The two hobbits were curled up in their beds, faces buried in the pillows.
"Nooo, go away!" Pippin groaned, reaching one hand down in search of the covers.
Merry opened his eyes a crack to see Gimli peering down at him.
"Egads! Gimli, yours is not a face to wake to! What do you want? We just went to bed!" he moaned, burying his face in the pillows again.
"'Tis morning, Lad...we be going to breakfast and then to work. Come on, now, everyone else is up and dressed!"
Merry sat up on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. "Ooooh...I have a terrible pain in my head! There must have been something wrong with that ale I was drinking last night..."
"The only thing wrong with the ale was that you drank too much of it, you glutton!" laughed Gimli.
"Oi! Must you two shout? I have a headache," Pippin muttered, sitting up in bed holding up the bra he had been swinging at the party last night. "What IS this thing?" He asked. "Oh, wait...I remember," he said, blushing and tossing it to the side.
Legolas poked his head in their bedroom. "Are they ready, yet?"
"So, ye decided to come out of the closet, Elf?" Gimli asked, giving Legolas a sour look.
"Give me all the evil looks you wish, Master Dwarf. I do not believe there will be any more hiding in closets for me during this journey," Legolas replied, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Besides, Boromir told me about the exquisite beauty you are to meet with today!"
"Bah! You think I'm afraid of some Boromir-loving-gorgon?"
"No, I think the Boromir-loving-gorgon will be the one afraid!" Legolas laughed.
"Elf, I beginning to remember why Dwarves and Elves dislike each other," Gimli sputtered, taking a few steps toward Legolas.
Legolas laughed again, and ducked back out the door.
"There's nothing worse than an Elf in good mood," Gimli muttered, turning back to the Hobbits, who had both dived back under the covers.
Eventually, after much prodding and not-so-gentle nudging from Gimli, Merry and Pippin dressed and the three joined the other Walkers waiting in the lobby.
"Tell me, Boromir, was the wargwoman everything you had hoped for?" Aragorn could not help poking fun at the big man walking beside him.
Boromir frowned, eyeing the former ranger, "At least she is a satisfied wargwoman this morn. You may find a bowlegged 'Arwen' awaiting you at Minas Tirith!"
"Come now, Boromir...I have heard tell of the woman's loveliness and how eager you were to service her!" Frodo laughed, joining in the banter as they walked next door to the Golden Buffet.
"Oh, really, Hobbit? Speaking of servicing, I have heard tell of YOUR little problem last night...though I suppose that would come under the title of self-service!" Boromir snorted, looking down at the top of Frodo's head.
Frodo flushed red, turning on Sam. "I thought I swore you to secrecy last night, Sam? How could you betray my trust?"
Sam shook his head, holding his hands out to hold off Frodo. "'Twas not me, Frodo!" Sam chuckled, looking up at Gandalf, who pretended to be looking anywhere else but at Frodo.
Breakfast at the Golden Buffet was a similar event to dinner the evening before, except that Sam and Frodo discovered the strawberries on the fruit station. They succeeded in filling seventeen plates full, emptying the large bowl. By the end of breakfast, their faces, tongues and hands were stained bright red.
"You look like you've been on the losing side of a battle," Aragorn said, shaking his head at the Hobbit's gluttony. Sam was still shoveling strawberries into his mouth when the Walkers left the restaurant for the bus to the park.
Arriving at the park without incident, they changed into their costumes. Legolas had had to get his replaced, since the old one was in shreds from the day before. They all trouped out to meet the guide to find out their stations for the day.
"Hi! It's great to see you all again!" the toothy guide beamed, as sickeningly cheerful as ever. "I have wonderful news for you! We have booked you as entertainment for a private party today! Isn't that SPECIAL?" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
The Walkers looked at her blankly.
"Come on, people! This is a great gig for you, being it's only your second day here!" the guide informed them, putting her hands on her hips and allowing a very tiny frown to crease her brow.
"Oi! Remember how she gets...smile and nod, smile and nod," Aragorn whispered to the rest.
The Walkers looked at her smiling and nodding.
"That's better! Okay, it's a private birthday party for a very lucky little boy who just LOVES all things Middle Earth! His parents are very wealthy, and have paid to have all of his favorite characters there - that would be you! The only thing to remember is to stay in character at all times and do WHATEVER the guests want! Are we clear?" she asked, beaming that high voltage smile again.
The Walkers looked at her smiling and nodding.
"Great! The party is being held at the Rivendell Pavilion. It begins at 10:00 a.m., so you don't have much time! Run along, now!" she said, making shooing motions at the Walkers.
Still smiling and nodding the Walkers edged away from the guide, and walked onstage toward Rivendell.
"Do ye have ANY idea what she was talking about?" Gimli asked as they walked.
"We have birthdays in the Shire...it's a party!" Sam explained.
"Oi! I've had enough of parties to last me a while..." Merry said blearily, holding his hand on top of his head. Pippin silently agreed with his friend.
"What did she mean 'do whatever the guests want?'" asked Legolas
"Just that, I suppose...do whatever they ask us to do," Gandalf shrugged.
"Suppose they ask us to kill someone? I don't think we should do that..." Frodo said, avoiding Gandalf's eye. He was still extremely embarrassed by the previous night's events, especially since Gandalf had spilled the beans.
"She said ANYTHING," Gimli contributed, carrying his plastic axe over his shoulder. "Although how we could kill anything but time with these stupid excuses for weapons is beyond me ken!"
They arrived at the Rivendell Pavilion shortly thereafter. The pavilion was festooned with crepe paper and balloons. Long tables had been set with place settings, party hats, and noisemakers. A beautifully decorated, multi-tiered cake sat in the center of one of the tables. A colorful banner that read "Happy Birthday Timmy" was suspended from two of the four poles that supported the roof of the open-air pavilion.
A young woman holding a clipboard beckoned for them to approach. "Good, you're all here together!" she said, nodding and checking their names off on her clipboard. "The guests have arrived, and are being brought to the pavilion as we speak. They should be here any minute. The birthday boy's name is Timmy, and he will be wearing a 'birthday boy' pin. Make sure you pay extra attention to him...his parents are the ones who are footing the bill. Do you have any questions?" Taking the blank looks on the Walker's faces as a negative, the young woman walked away, leaving them alone on the pavilion.
They heard them long before they saw them. Shrieking, screaming, and shouting voices carried up through the archway at Minas Tirith, and across the square of Rivendell to the pavilion. Looking in that direction, the Walkers saw a herd of at least thirty small children running full out toward them. The Walkers exchanged a quick glance, fear evident in their eyes.
Within moments, the Walkers were covered in little bodies...pulling their hair, yanking their ears, hugging their knees, stepping on their feet, and all the while screaming.
Legolas was being pulled by a dozen little girls toward one of the tables where heaps of beauty supplies lay in boxes. "Make over!" they cried, gleefully pulling him along.
Gimli was staggering around the pavilion, arms outstretched with a child hanging from each, several youngsters clinging to his back, and another hanging from his beard.
Gandalf was doing an odd dance, trying to keep a number of children from lifting his robes and exposing his knobby knees, while one chubby little girl incessantly pulled on his beard.
Boromir and Aragorn were being backed into a corner by a tribe of young boys who were stabbing at them with plastic swords.
The Hobbits had dove under the tables as the horde of children approached. Having been spotted by a few, however, the Hobbits were now busily scurrying up and down under the tables trying to keep away from the grasping little hands.
Legolas found himself seated at the table, little girls pulling at his hair, doing something odd and colorful to his hands, and smearing some vile smelling concoctions on his face.
Aragorn and Boromir were trying, unsuccessfully, to ward off the boys' attack without hurting the children. Unfortunately, since it seemed none of the boys were over six years old, the attacks were mostly centered south of the men's belt buckles. The boys scored more often than not, and Aragorn and Boromir's eyes were crossing as they felt the effects of the repeated jabs.
Dragged out from under the tables by their ankles, the Hobbits had been divested of their big plastic feet. Four children now stomped about the pavilion in them. The Hobbits themselves were literally covered in small bodies, all bent on tickling the Hobbits to death.
Gimli managed to fling off the child clinging to his beard. Still off balance from the others hanging on his back and arms, he teetered closer and closer to the table that held the cake. Running out of room as his belly hit the table, the weight of the children sent Gimli flying over the table's edge, headfirst into the cake.
"CHILDREN! CHILDREN!" a voice cried over the din, "Play time is over! We are all going to go ride the carousel in along please!"
Several attendants dressed as Elves herded the children away from the Pavilion toward the impaled horses of the Rivendell merry-go-round. Not a few children had to be pried off of the Walkers, but eventually the attendants got them all moving. The Walkers were left standing on the pavilion, out of breath and out of patience.
"THIS IS THE FINAL STRAW!" Gimli cried. The others turned to look at him. He was covered head to chest in white, creamy frosting. "I CANNOT TOLERATE ANOTHER MOMENT OF THIS!"
He shouted, wiping at his face with his sleeve.
"I must agree with the Dwarf, Aragorn," Legolas put in, walking over from the "make over" table. Legolas' appearance was much worse than Gimli's. His hair nearly stood on end, teased into a huge puffball threaded with silk ribbons, while his face was covered in multi colored streaks, and his nails polished a bright red. "Exactly how much more gold must we earn? I do not think we can survive any more of this."
"Aye, Aragorn!" Boromir agreed in a high, falsetto voice, still bent over and cupping his nether regions. "I would gladly fight the Urak Hai unarmed and blindfolded, rather than put up with any more of this foolishness. If I have to spend any more time here, I really WILL be dead!"
Gandalf nodded his head in agreement. "It does appear we have met with the limits of our endurance, Aragorn."
Pippin climbed on top of the table nearest Aragorn, gripped him by the lapels, and drew Aragorn's face in nose to nose with his own. "By all that is holy, Aragorn," Pippin whispered in a deadly serious voice, 'I will visit upon you such pain the likes of which you have never imagined unless you get me OUT OF HERE!" Screaming the last three words, Pippin flung Aragorn away from him, and stood on the table panting, and clenching his fists.
"Aye, aye!" Aragorn cried, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I think this was a bad idea from the start! Gold or no gold, I vote that we return home, and forget that we ever heard of Middle Earth World!"
The Walkers slowly walked back to the dressing room, leaving the devastated Pavilion behind.
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