Author's note: Just for all yall's knowledge, enlightenment, and beauty, I'm going to permanently change my pen name from ArcticWolf489 to ArcticWolfe. I think ff . net does everything automatically, but if there's anything you need to change, I'll turn back to ArcticWolfe next Wednesday or so and you can change it then.
THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES – THE E-COMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER THREE – THE RING, THE PLOT, AND THE LEVEL OF INTEREST GO SOUTH
The next morning, Elrond gave the newly-formed Fellowship two Hondas and two radios.
"Hey, look; we're all in one Accord!" Merry observed over the radio.
Speeder, in the other car and in control of the other radio, made the rimshot noise.
"Two Accords, actually," he added after some prodding by his companions.
"Take the radio away from the hobbit," Speeder returned.
Boromir, who was driving the car that included the hobbits, quickly obeyed.
"Head count," Speeder added.
Boromir counted heads. "Five—including me."
"Four here," Speeder said. "Let's go."
Shortly after leaving Rivendell, the two Accords found themselves wandering through a seemingly-endless farmland. The bales of hay wrapped in white plastic in protection from the rain particularly confused Pippin.
"What are those?" he asked incredulously.
Boromir, unaware that innumerable similar comments would spill out of the hobbit as the trip wore on, decided to answer. "It's a marshmallow farm," he stated.
"A marshmallow farm?"
"Yes. See all of those big marshmallows growing in that field? Once they're fully grown, they'll cut them up into smaller marshmallows and sell them in stores."
"Really?" Pippin gasped in amazement.
Boromir just snickered and let it go at that.
There was a lot of long, boring driving that was frequently punctuated by restroom requests by Pippin coupled with food and gas stops. Even with warm cars and heat in the cars, the fellowship was unusually cold, possibly from the weight they carried. It seemed to cast a chill over them, causing them to feel as though they were stuck inside The Day After Tomorrow.
"Look, Merry!" Pippin lunged across the seat and excitedly pointed to a horned animal that was grazing lazily thankfully on the other side of the window from Pippin. "It's a cantaloupe!"
"Pip, I think you mean antelope," Merry corrected patiently.
"Oy vey," Boromir muttered.
Pippin had so many more insightful sentiments that eventually he got Boromir aggravated enough that he got on the radio and begged Aragorn to trade places with him. Aragorn obliged, as he was used to the hobbit's bizarre statements.
They had been traveling for two weeks when the weather changed. It had been overcast, rainy, and generally skucky, but now the sun came out. It was a welcome change.
That morning they lit a fire and cooked breakfast. They discussed politics, philosophy, religion, sports, and other insignificant topics.
"The Vertically Enhanced are going all the way this year," Boromir proclaimed.
"Mmm-hmm," Aragorn shook his head. "My money's on the Indigenous Peoples. You know how long it's been since the Vertically Enhanced won anything? Eighty-six years."
"No one in Gondor doesn't." Boromir picked up a piece of bacon. "I still remember the last time they even got to the Superbowl. They were about to win when Bucknerond scored a touchdown in the wrong end zone."
Sam tugged Boromir's sleeve. "Not to interrupt, Mr. Boromir sir, but what's that?"
Boromir squinted at the horizon.
"It's nothing," Gimli announced dismissivly. "Just a wisp of cloud."
"But it's moving against the wind," Legolas countered.
Aragorn stood up, all talk of football forgotten. "Hide!" He ushered everyone into a crevice in the rock. Sam watched the flock of crows swoop down, eat what remained of the Fellowship's breakfast, and leave. Once they had left, Aragorn rose.
"The Enemy has many spies," he said quietly. "We must put out the fire and move on."
Move on they did. They took backroads Aragorn said would hide them from the Enemy's spies. None of them had any clue how he knew which roads to take, but he hadn't been wrong yet, so they (with an unnamed exception) said nothing.
There were few other happenings of interest for that day. The air got colder and there was more wind. When the company stopped for dinner at a Lembas King, Aragorn, Boromir, and Gandalf sat together to discuss plans, huddling over the Mapquest on Gandalf's PDA for guidance.
"Redhorn Gate is watched, I believe," Gandalf said, pointing it out with his stylus. "We must seek an alternate route."
"Weatherchannel . com says that snow is coming our way," Aragorn added.
"We will need to take the top of the pass," Gandalf sighed. "The danger will be great, but not as great as being spotted by the Enemy."
"I know something of the Mountains," Boromir volunteered. "It is quite cold up there. I saw a Foggy Mountain Sports store on this road. It might do us good to get some cold weather gear."
The Fellowship did so before setting out. They found that Boromir was right. The pass, called Cardahras, was frigid. Indeed, the Accords' heating systems could not keep up. All were bundled in their FMS gear.
"I wish the snow would go to Hobbiton, where it would be appreciated," Sam grumbled.
In the other car, Gandalf speculated as to whether the wretched weather was a tool of the Enemy.
"If it is, his arm has grown long," Boromir muttered.
"It has grown long indeed." Legolas stated.
Gimli snorted. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."
Just then, the engine in their Accord sputtered, coughed, wheezed, panted, rasped, and breathed with difficulty until it finally in the frostbitten car on the frostbitten road traversing the frostbitten terrain.
"Now what?" Gimli complained.
"If this engine is dead, the other car's must be close. We won't make it anywhere," Legolas observed. Gimli just grunted.
Gandalf pulled his PDA. "This map says that there's an autobody shop—Sun's Auto Repairs—a few miles away, but not by way of the road. One would have to go through deep snow for a long time if he was to get there."
Legolas's face brightened. "I can go. I bought snowshoes along with winter clothes at FMS, so I should be able to make it." Without further ado, he hopped out, grabbed his snowshoes out of the trunk. "Farewell!" he called to Gandalf through the glass windows. "I go to find the Sun!" And with his new snowshoes firmly attached to his slender feet, he tromped through the snow in the general direction of the repair shop.
Within a few hours, he had returned. The mechanic had listened to Legolas's story as to what had happened and he knew what was wrong. He gave Legolas several intricate-looking parts to replace their dead corresponding parts in the engine. Fortunately, Boromir had some experience with auto repair and Merry knew a sick amount of information about cars in general, so with the trio's collaboration, they replaced the faulty parts in both engines.
"The mechanic said that these repairs would only bring us about one hundred miles in this weather, and after that the cars would be unable to restart." the Elf reported.
"That would get us less than halfway to where we need to get," Gandalf observed with great sadness. "It looks as though our only way is back."
"Good!" Gimli and Boromir exclaimed in unison. Yet, somehow, it did not seem like a good omen. The Fellowship turned around and drove back, reaching relatively decent weather by that evening.
