Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings or the characters, but I do enjoy torturing and tormenting their minds. Evil cackle Also, some of these things will not only send J. R. R. Tolkien rolling, but spinning in his grave. I'm sorry Professor T!
Just to put your minds at ease, I love the books and movies and above all, I love the Professor himself, but I appreciate a little but of spoof now and then as well. Very healthy, if you ask me. This is based on both the books and the movies. Also, anything mentioned in this fic that is copyrighted is not mine either.
Another note: Alethia dwelling excessively on past events (In Gandalf's case, going so far as reenactment)
Glorindiel
At the end of the War of the Ring, the world was about as close to being back to normal as ever it was going to be. The fellowship had gone their separate ways and the Ring was destroyed. But some bonds are meant to endure through time...
The Valar sat around a glowing TV screen, holding glasses of wine and laughing until they cried. The chairs and floor were stained with wine splatters from the unsteady Elves.
Varda gasped and finally stopped laughing, although her speech was penetrated by short giggling fits. "This is too good of an opportunity for a laugh to be missed!"
Yavanna held up her now very empty glass, "Hear! Hear! I agree! We haven't had this much fun for four ages! Men are fun enough to mess with their minds, but this is priceless!"
"Then we are agreed?" Aulë asked.
"Agreed!" they all chorused, trying to be solemn, but failing miserably.
Ulmo pointed at the screen and uttered a few Elvish words and a light shot from his finger and the screen glowed even brighter...
Chapter 1: Modern vs. Middle-Earth
The door opened and Aragorn immediately heard the unmistakable sounds of video games being played by four...let's just say very enthusiastic Hobbits. Legolas knew as well. "There is a strong smell of wiring."
"Oh no, they've already blown up one TV and three game consoles in the last month and a half! The people at the appliance center are probably really beginning to like us."
"Die evil Balrog! Die!", "Come on! Kill the fin' thing!", "You pansy wizard! Let me do it!", and similar calls floated down from the TV room. Aragorn looked at Legolas in utter terror.
They were about to run out of the house and go back to work and beg for overtime, but Gandalf walked by looking like he was armed for another "War of the Ring" episode. He had his staff out and ready, covered in cobwebs, and Glamdring was held out menacingly, although it wouldn't even cut butter. He stomped up to the TV room and Legolas buried his head in his hands, whimpering.
Aragorn grabbed Legolas' $150.00 Express sweater and dragged him upstairs and into the room behind Gandalf. Neither could watch, so they took cover behind the couch that the Hobbits were seated on...and waited.
"YOOOOOOOU SHALL NOT PAAAAAAAAASSS!!!!!!!!" There was an explosion like 50 cherry bombs (And trust me, with the Hobbits, Legolas and Aragorn knew what a cherry bomb sounded like) and a flash of light. The Hobbits screeched and then started throwing curse words in every dead language of the world in Gandalf's direction. The wizard was hanging through the floor of the room, acting like he couldn't get a hold on the edge of the carpet (Although there were some quite suitable Hobbit legs within his reach). "Fly you fools. Fly!" he said over-dramatically, and he slipped out of sight and hit the stone entrance way with a sickly thud.
Another whimper from Legolas.
"No. No. No. No. NO." Aragorn started repeatedly hitting his head on the back of the sofa. "I told them that that game was off limits because it aggravates Gandalf's alethia."
Legolas shuddered. "Alethia. Not good."
"No, not good at all."
"It's good one of us became a psychologist so we can get him calmed down."
"That's not always easy. Remember when he thought he was being carried by Gwihire and hung from the plane wheels?"
"Oh, don't remind me." Legolas started twitching compulsively.
"That's we're never taking a plane again. Anywhere." Aragorn immediately put Legolas – or as much of the tall Elf as he could – into a body lock. "And that's also why I took up wrestling," he said to himself.
Frodo stopped screeching insults at Gandalf and listened. Whispering. He looked over the back of the couch and Aragorn and Legolas and his eyebrows lifted suspiciously. Aragorn looked up and quickly let go of Legolas, who was still twitching.
"What's going on?" Frodo asked with a little panic in his voice.
"Nothing." Aragorn answered quickly.
"Nothing?"
"Oh come on! Legolas," he pointed to the convulsing Elf. "Me." He pointed to himself. "No way."
"Suure." Frodo shook his head.
Aragorn rolled his eyes. "I'd better go check on Gandalf to make sure he hasn't hurt himself," he said upon hearing some very loud and vulgar battle calls and the sounds of metal on stone. "He is about 3,000 times older than us, you know." Deliberately avoiding looking down through the hole in the floor, Aragorn left the room and went downstairs.
Gandalf was thrashing on the ground beating the masonry with his blunt blade. Aragorn couldn't help giggling at the thought that Gandalf looked like a downed buffalo. He pulled out a small pocket watch and suspended it in front of the wizard's face. It swung back and forth with Gandalf's eyes following it.
The four Hobbits watched through the hole and their heads swung back and forth slightly with the watch.
Aragorn talked softly to Gandalf, "There is nothing to be attacking. You killed the Balrog long ago and he's never coming back, now put away your sword and staff and I'll get you something to drink."
Neither of the two noticed as, one by one, the Hobbits fell through the hole and landed in a pile on the floor, entranced.
"Dinner!" Sam bellowed. He was ringing a triangle, so precariously stationed above the sleeping Aragorn's head.
Aragorn woke with a start and sat up; slamming his head right into the triangle and making it ring again. He held his aching head and waited – long after the triangle stopped ringing – for it to stop ringing. He had another migraine. Aragorn was famous for his 'Migraine-overs', as the Hobbits called them; they were pounding headaches resulting from drinking himself into a coma after getting Gandalf manageable again after his 'episodes'.
The other three Hobbits pounded into the kitchen. They were followed by Legolas, who still twitched now and again. Gimli came in, covered in stone dust, "The stonework has to be completely redone! If he had only had a sharp sword, it would be easier to fix with what little resources I have to work with!"
"Gandalf and a sharp sword?!" Legolas looked in horror at Gimli. His twitches got a little more frequent.
Boromir came in next, and plopped down without a word. The ancient chair creaked in protestation to the sudden weight. Everyone looked at everyone else. This could only mean one thing – Boromir had gotten dumped...again.
Last, Gandalf flounced into the room, unlike everyone else, looking fresh as a daisy. He parked himself at the head of the table – his spot – and sat there, grinning stupidly.
"What do we have?"
Merry looked over Sam's shoulder and into the pot he was carrying. "Tomatoes, sausage, nice crispy bacon."
Everyone's eyes got big and they all as one looked at Gandalf in fear. He was blissfully unaware of the conversation, playing with his fork and spoon as if they were people. Simultaneously, everyone sighed in relief.
Aragorn, only now partially aware of his surroundings, asked groggily, "Where am I? What time is it?"
"You are in the house of the Fellowship and it is ten o' clock at night on October the 24th, if you wish to know." Pippin and Merry chorused, ginning mischievously.
Sam turned around and 'accidentally' hit both in the back of the heads. "Who wants dinner?" he asked, smiling falsely. There were some groans, but Sam pretended not to hear them and dished everyone up a heaping spoonful of what looked like something the cat had swallowed, and when its stomach found it lethal, gagged back up.
Dinners at the Fellowship house that were some resemblance of normal dinners were rare. After a long silence, Legolas tried to start conversation by talking about work. "...and look what I bought with my employee discount!" He held out his hand. It displayed a golden plasticey-looking ring with Elvish script on it. Frodo's eyes went wide and he buried his head into Sam's shoulder. "I destroyed it..." he whimpered every few seconds. Gimli smacked Legolas on the hand with his axe hilt.
Aragorn, trying to ignore the pandemonium that was mounting, looked sternly at Gimli, "What did I tell you about your axe at the table? Now, eat."
Gimli put his axe away with a grunt and looked at his full plate with disgust.
Boromir stirred his food around with his fork, then looked up and announced that he was done. Sam told him to eat it for strength and Boromir got up, slamming the table with his hand. "I'm not hungry!" He stormed off to his room.
Sam smiled falsely again, "Cheerful, isn't he?"
Dinner finished, it was TV time for the Fellowship – only the television was blown up and still smoking from that afternoon. The Hobbits were getting restless and Boromir was getting violent and Aragorn made one of the hardest decisions of the day – partially because of the effects of that Dwarvish rum he had drank, partially because of his fear of what would happen if he didn't decide the right thing. He went into his room and got his 30 inch plasma screen TV and plugged it in the socket where the other had been plugged. The Hobbits cheered like small children and jumped up and down on the sofa.
Frodo stole the remote and started flipping channels as Aragorn left the room. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the beginning strains of 'May It Be'. "No," he sighed to himself. "Not that. Anything but that. Not now."
Frodo's shout of, "That's me!!!!!!!" confirmed it.
Aragorn would be spending the night with Haldir tonight.