Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Wow, I'm so excited! This is the first fic I have posted that isn't anime based. (Sad, isn't it?) Yay for expanding horizons! Anyhow, I wrote this quite some time ago, and I have revised the crap out of it since then. I tried to do at least one entry from every important scene in the movie. Here's to hoping you all enjoy.
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all characters and places related to it are the property of Professor Tolkien, and the New Line Cinema people who made them into a really top-notch movie saga. I am indeed honored to spoof it.
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Dear Diary;
I have finally arrived in Rivendell! It was the most wonderful trip, quiet and peaceful. No brothers teasing me, no Daddy yelling at me – wonderful.
Rivendell is just as beautiful as everyone says it is. Lord Elrond was very nice to me. I hope we can be friends. His daughter Arwen is very nice as well. She showed me around and introduced me to the little halfling that lived in Daddy's palace right under his nose for several months. Bilbo is very amusing, and he seems to think quite highly of Daddy. Obviously he does not know Daddy very well.
Anyhow, niceness aside, I am greatly looking forward to the council meeting. Aragorn tells me they have located the One Ring – this should be quite exciting.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
I think I am going on a trip.
A few of the younger Rivendell elves looked me up for a drinking party last night, and I gladly went. It was great fun. But, well, you know I'm not the best at holding my liquor... At one point the topic of the One Ring came up, and I had something to say on the subject. I got up onto the table in my underwear, waving my glass and spilling wine all over the place. I think I said something to the tune of, "I'll go straight to Mordor, climb that tower, and bitch-slap that eye til it spins!"
That was all in fun, of course (at least, I think it was), but apparently Lord Elrond didn't see it that way. He happened by with his camera phone, and made good use of it. I was informed this morning that Daddy would be receiving the pictures if I didn't volunteer to go with Frodo and the others to destroy this ring. I am beginning to like Lord Elrond less and less.
The council is in two hours. I'm going to volunteer. Come on, Diary, I was in my purple pixie briefs! Daddy would toss me to the spiders if he saw those pictures! Personally, I'd rather face Mordor.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
Well, it is done. I have pledged my bow to helping Frodo destroy the ring. My only comfort is that Aragorn will be going too. So will Frodo's little hobbit friends, and Gandalf the wizard. I think we might actually stand a chance if Gandalf comes. The last two members of our "fellowship" I'm not so sure about. Gimli the dwarf – well, Diary, he's a dwarf. I think the stupid little mud-bunny only volunteered because he didn't want to be shown up by an elf. How...stupid. Boromir makes me nervous. He has shifty eyes.
However, just in case we do make it back alive, I think I'll take you with me, Diary. This written record will be my payback for all the history lessons I've had to endure all my long life. What better way to make yourself feel better than to pass on the misery? I will keep that tactic in mind for Gimli.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
We leave in an hour. I just wanted to write and calm myself down a bit. You know how excited I get before long trips.
I have found another book to continue you in, in the unlikely event that you are full of scribbles before I am eaten by orcs. The book is lovely and red, and I look forward to writing in it. I found it out on one of the terraces just after Bilbo left for supper. It wasn't quite empty at the time – it contained a lot of random stuff about dwarves and trolls and a dragon – nothing of real interest or importance. I ripped it all out and gave it to Arwen to line her bird cage with. Arwen keeps the most lovely little birds.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
My respect for Lord Elrond dwindles. We were run out of Rivendell like cattle from a garden, with only one pony between us for the baggage. They were too cheap to give us horses, Diary! I ask you, is that any way to treat people going off to risk their lives for the good of all the free peoples of the world? And that aside, I am a PRINCE. I believe I at least should rank a horse! Don't you agree, Diary? I knew you would.
Something else has been bothering me.
This ring. I am quite sure that I won something just like it out of a Happy Meal in the Mirkwood McDonald's. Just because the Dark Lord made it, and just because it happens to be evil, and just because it happens to possess those who wear it and cast a dark shadow for miles around and draw Ringwraiths like sugar draws ants, why should I have to go on the longest road-trip in history to the least desirable vacation spot on the map to get rid of it? I don't think this is fair. No I don't.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
I would like to tell you a little about my companions. First off I think they are all crazy, as they came on this quest of their own free will. But if you can see past that, most of them are alright.
I am getting very fond of the hobbits. Besides Frodo, there is Sam and Merry and Pippin. I think Sam was Frodo's gardener. Poor thing, he is in WAY over his curly little head, but I think Frodo needs him. You know, for moral support.
Merry and Pippin are somehow related to Frodo, or at least one of them is. They tried to explain it to me the other day, but I was lost in seven seconds. Hobbits have some very complicated family trees. Not unlike elves, I suppose. Pippin has a seemingly insatiable appetite, and both of them are apparently unable to stop talking. But they are cute, in the way small, furry, overly energetic, slightly destructive puppies are cute.
Aragorn. Now here's a keeper. Aragorn is a dear friend of mine, but it is painfully obvious that this long-lost heir to the throne of men has no idea what he is doing. I don't think he could find a port-a-potty in a ten by ten campsite. We have been wandering the wilds since day one, and I still don't think he knows where we are. Yesterday Gandalf finally stepped in and took over as navigator. Aragorn spent the night pouting. This morning we found the path. Enough said.
Gandalf is proving invaluable. He is easily the most likable old man I have ever met. He is very good at keeping the rest of us in good spirits and Aragorn and Boromir from killing each other. Which they will sooner or later, Gandalf or not, but I digress.
Boromir is very surly. I think he thinks that he should lead, and he should carry the ring, and he should divide the cookies at snack time. He is the son of the Chief Steward of Gondor. From his appearance I have concluded that they do not promote good hygiene in Gondor. The grease just oozes from his face and hair. It's enough to make me cry. I offered to let him use my herbal shampoo. He offered to give me flying lessons off the mountain. I was only trying to help.
Gimli just scares me. In the time since we left Rivendell he has shown no signs of having a brain. He has all the manners and politeness of a rock. And not the pretty, shiny rocks, but the dirty, muddy ones. Blegh. Gandalf says we should try to get along, but I just don't see it. I'll try being nice when the mud-bunny tries not being so stupid.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. Most of my time has been occupied continuing to get to know my companions and giving myself foot massages when we stop for the evening. I am so sick of walking I could...well, be sick!
I'm just glad that I walk faster than Gimli, so he is the one staring at the back of my head instead of me looking at his. I just want to knock him senseless and attack his head with a razor. His hair is awful, Diary! It makes me shudder every time I think about it too much.
Anyhow. We are now quite far up in the mountains, heading towards a pass Gandalf knows of. With any luck we'll be able to get to it before the weather gets too bad. I myself am counting on this. It's already so cold up here that when we stop walking I can't feel my legs. I am beginning to question the wisdom of wearing tights all the time.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
The news is not good.
Today we were stopped for lunch on a nice little peak. Sam was making the lunch, as usual. Boromir, in a rare display of non-surly-ness, was teaching the hobbits the finer points of swordsmanship. He's gotten very fond of Merry and Pippin. They brighten my day, too. But I pity any orc that runs into those two. Just from mishandling their daggers alone they nearly gutted Boromir six times.
They had just jointly tackled him into submission when we noticed a big black cloud coming toward us. In a few seconds I realized that they were those nasty little spy birds of Saruman's, and we all dove for cover. I ended up laying on a thistle. Boo. After they had gone, it was decided that we would haul tail to the pass, "with all reasonable haste," which here means that we each grabbed a hobbit and ran like cheap stockings. Too late, though. Saruman took notice, and the big cheat is using his magic to turn the top of the mountain into what amounts to a giant, shaken snow globe.
Right now I am huddled in next to Aragorn under this pathetic little overhang on the cliff face, trying to distract myself from the horrible cold by writing. It is so cold that the pony is turning blue. I can't feel anything below my armpits. Aragorn is drooling in his sleep – how he can sleep through this cold is beyond me. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the big lug is hogging the blanket that we are SUPPOSED to be sharing... Oh well, at least he'll wake up with his beard frozen solid. One must take heart in the small comforts.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
Today was no better. It is still snowing like nobody's business. Gandalf nearly went tumbling over the side of the mountain, but I managed to catch him by the cloak and pull him back. I wish he wouldn't do things like that.
The entire side of the mountain nearly came tumbling down on us. As it was, everyone was buried, including me. Yes, Diary, apparently even graceful creatures that can walk effortlessly on top of snow can still be overcome by avalanches. And it MESSED UP MY HAIR! I was shocked. It's never been messy before, Diary! I was quite upset.
Then Gimli, dearest Gimli, who was covered in snow and looked remarkably like a stumpy little Santa Claus, brought up the Mines of Moria. Now everyone wants to go that way but me and Gandalf. (And Boromir, who wants us to go to HIS city. It's all about him.) I suppose that's where we're bound to go, to Moria, since Frodo the Ring Bearer votes for the mines.
Still, I guess we had better get off this mountain soon. I'm scared that we'll look away for a moment and the hobbits will freeze solid. Poor little bunnies don't even have shoes. I do wish I had some proper pants, though...
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
Next stop on our sightseeing tour, bright and cheerful Moria. We are currently parked outside the entrance gate, and we have no idea how to get inside. Even Gandalf is stumped. The dwarf has once again proven himself worthless, as he can't even remember how to get into his own cousin's cave. Stupid mud-bunny.
Sam is upset that we have to send the pony back. I'm not sure what he planned to do with it inside the mines, but he's taking this awfully hard. Bill (the pony) doesn't seem to share his sentiments, as I can see it running away from here rather quickly. I don't blame you, Bill.
This place gives me the creeps. The lake is really making me nervous. It's deep and dark and cold, and the water looks and smells nasty, so we can't even drink out of it. Not that I want to go that close to it, anyway. I can't quit imagining what may live down there. I keep darting glances at the water, and it keeps rippling back in response. I wish Pippin would quit tossing things into it. I really hope they get that door open soon.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
Yikes. For once my imagination was not running away with me; there really WAS something icky in that lake.
We are now trapped inside Moria. Which would be quite bad enough if it really were full of dwarves, but no, I couldn't get that lucky. We have discovered that the only dwarves in here are, for lack of a better word, dead. Gimli is distraught. This place reeks of orc. A slime-covered something has been following us very tenaciously. I wish it wouldn't.
I want to go home. I miss the sun. I am ashamed of myself, but I must say it: the sight of numerous dwarf corpses cheers one somewhat. So does the fragrance of the weed that the entire company, to a man, smokes. I like it. It makes me feel all floaty, like the time Daddy got me my first pony. Maybe I'll make myself a pipe.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
Put on the kettle, I have stories.
Early yesterday (or close enough to that time) we stumbled onto the tomb of Balin, Gimli's cousin. Gimli was very upset, and ran to see the tomb with blubber swaying, but I at least knew that then was not the time to grieve too much. "We cannot linger," I said, but did they listen, Diary? You tell me.
That silly little Pippin called what amounts to the entire population of the mountain's orcs down on us through one of his little "accidents." I'm starting to wonder if he isn't deliberately trying to kill us all.
Anyway, we had to fight off the first wave of them in the tomb, and they had a cave troll. This I took care of with a nifty little chain climbing trick after the others had slowed it down somewhat. But it was me who killed it in the end. I'm now almost out of arrows. I feel indecent.
After the first round we fled the tomb and ran for it, but we didn't get far before we were surrounded. I tell you, Diary, these orcs are like termites! There's no end to them! And they're all hideous, each one more so than the last. I thought it was the end for sure, but then the nasty little things backed off. We had two seconds to wonder why before Gandalf was screaming at us to run. Which we did, like a loose spigot, towards the bridge of Kazhad Dum with a balrog hot on our heels.
The hobbits were too small to jump, so they had to be tossed across the breaking stone bridges. That should be a new sport, I think, the Hobbit Toss'N'Catch. I'd take first place. Gimli almost took a spill, and happy it would have made me, but at the last moment I caught the little mud-bunny by the beard. He was most upset.
Now is where my entry gets upsetting. Gandalf stayed behind to hold the bridge, and that overgrown snapping turtle/bat/campfire hybrid pulled him down into the abyss. It was horrifying. But I refuse to believe he is dead. That old man is tougher than the jerky we've been gnawing since Rivendell, and I tell you he'll be back! Don't laugh at me, Diary.
We escaped through one of their back doors, out onto the mountainside. Aragorn was for shoving off immediately. I think he was happy to have his navigator/guide job back. The hobbits are still horribly upset, especially Pippin. He cried the whole time we were escaping. I think Gandalf owed him some money.
We are now in Lothlorien, and I am doing my best not to ask Lady Galadriel what she has been smoking. Whatever it is, it must be pretty strong to make her so pale, and then make her flare up blue and terrifying like that.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
I have seen something wonderful!
Last night I happened to overhear Frodo and Lady Galadriel quietly poring over what at first I thought was a birdbath. But apparently Frodo saw a possible end to the war of the ring. I was very excited to see what my own version was like, even if Frodo didn't like his. After Frodo went back to bed and Galadriel disappeared, I ran in and gave the mystic bath a shot.
It was amazing, Diary! All the orcs turned into squirrels and ran away into Mirkwood to bother Daddy. The hobbits went home, safe and happy, while Aragorn and I did karaoke on the tabletop surrounded by beautiful girls. Their dresses were so very short! There was food and wine and a big screen tv.
But then Galadriel came back and found me drooling into her pool. She was not pleased. I can still hear her shrill voice screaming, see her giant blue face glowing, and feel her luminescing blue foot connecting with the seat of my tights. I hope I am not related to her in any way.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
Today we left Lorien. I am sorry to leave it, but not the Lady who lives there. I think she is still sore at me for the pool thing; she gave away presents this morning and all they gave me was another bow. Pfft. Ooh, how nice. Couldn't have been a Game Cube or something to pass the time, oh, no. I'd kill to challenge Aragorn to Mortal Kombat. At least I had the pleasure of making faces at her ugly swan boat.
We are now proceeding down the river towards the falls. If all goes well we will soon come to the edge of the nasty part of this adventure. I can hardly wait. (Dripping with sarcasm today, aren't I, Diary?) I do hope that those gargantuan statues don't decide to fall today...
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
We are out of the boats and are now trying to decide whether or not to cross a very unsettling lake. Some want to go on, some do not. The story of this fellowship so far.
I get a very bad feeling about this place. It sends chills up my fair elven spine. I have confided to Aragorn that I think we should cross the lake with all speed, but he just got pissy and said that if I wanted to be the leader why didn't I just say so. Now he is giving me the cold shoulder. I still don't like it.
Boromir is acting strange, as well. I have no idea where he is; he disappeared after Frodo left for some alone time. Just because the other children never let Boromir be the one to hold the button, doesn't mean he has to go and try to steal the ring from Frodo. I'm sure Frodo would let him hold it if he just asked nicely. I wonder when he plans to tell Frodo how he feels. Keeping things like that inside is not healthy.
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
Mother told me there would be days like this.
Boromir has died, shot full of arrows like a giant greasy pincushion, trying to protect Merry and Pippin from the orcs. That's right, we were ambushed. Did I not tell you we should cross the lake, Diary? Aragorn and I got into a shouting match over Boromir's lifeless body, yelling "I told you so!" and "Shut up, tree hugger!" at one another until Gimli broke us up. I am now not speaking to Aragorn.
Frodo and Sam are missing, as is one of the boats. We are about to give Boromir a decent send off in another boat, before we decide what to do. The fellowship didn't have that much use after all. I feel the need to pop a Prozac. The sight of the Horn of Gondor, the only thing Boromir loved, laying on the ground in two pieces isn't helping either. I wish I had some super glue...
O.O.O.O.O
Dear Diary;
My psychic abilities tell me that there is much running in my immediate future. We have decided to go after Merry and Pippin. I have my misgivings about leaving Frodo and Sam to their own devices, but in one respect Aragorn is right; we can't let the orcs hurt our other two little bunnies. If they haven't already. I hope Pippin bites them right in the arm. He did that to me once, for touching his lembas. I thought he was asleep, and I had planned to wrap it back up for him. Never assume when dealing with hungry, grouchy hobbits.
Wish me luck, Diary, and I don't know when I'll be able to write again. It may be never. But as long as I can, I'll keep writing, and maybe we'll all come out of this nightmare alright one day.
...yeah, right.
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(2nd)AN: If anyone likes it and reviews to say they like it, I might do a diary from Two Towers and Return of the King. Key word being "might." After all, we are watching the whole (extended) trilogy in senior English. What assignment could be better, I ask you?