What's it going to be then, eh?

That was Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli and that strange pointy-eared veck whose name I'd forgotten, making up their rassodocks what to eat for supper. They were sitting all huddled round the fire, since it was a nasty chill evening in that grazhny old forest we'd been tramping through for days and days. Beside them, those malenky vecks they called hobbits were seated looking pale and poogly like they were about to snuff it from sheer fright.

As for me, O my brothers, your old droog Alex was all chained up, bound to a tree all on my oddy knocky in the dark and damp, away from the warmth of the fire. No one asked what I wanted for supper. No one viddied me at all except Gimli, who'd shoot me a real grazhny glare every so often and sharpen his nosh.

I was getting quite fashed with the whole business, as I only came along on this bezoomny trip as a favour to them all. It was a deal my probation officer arranged after my last bit of trouble, to save me from spending twenty-five years in the barry place (prison, that is). And I did my best - I was the nicest and politest malchick you ever did see, O my brothers, even though this so-called Fellowship trusted me not at all and would not allow me even a weapon to defend myself. And then one day I got a wee bit razdraz with that gloopy hobbit they called Pippin, and tried to give him a bit of a tolchock. Not to kill him, mind - only to knock out one or two of his zoobies or teeth to teach him a bit of a lesson after he nearly got us all killed in the mines of Moria. But old Aragorn snatched me up by the neck, creeching like bezoomny and looked fit to plunge his great shiny nosh right into the old ticktocker, when Gandalf stopped him.

Gandalf govoreeted for a long time about forgiveness and mercy and all that cal, and then he said: "Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?" That sounded like a bolshy great load of yarbles to me, but I wasn't about to argue. In any case, Aragorn was convinced, and he conceded that I might live provided that I was chained up like a common grazhny prestoopnick and kept under guard.

So that was that and there I was, hungry and cold and trussed up like a chicken on that damp chill nochy in that horrible grazhny forest in the middle of nowhere.

They finally settled on kartoffels for supper, and Samwise boiled them and mashed them into a stew. The kartoffels were awful malenky and there weren't much to go round. I thought they'd let me go hungry, but Gimli shoved a chasha at me, glared and said "I hope you choke."

When they finished munchiwunching, they got to singing. The dwarf, Gimli, sang first. Such a horrible goloss he had, O my brothers! Soon I was praying to Bog or God that my ookos would shrivel up like raisins and fall off so I wouldn't have to slooshy anymore, but as always he was deaf to my pleas.

When Gimli stopped, the hobbits creeched out "Encore!" and I wanted to cry boohoohoo from dismay. But old Bog smiled upon me, and Gimli turned to the pointy-eared elfy chelloveck and said, "Why don't you give us a song, Legolas?"

Legolas smiled and began to sing, and O my brothers I had never heard such a goloss in all my jeezny. He sang and the stars fell from the sky in trails of silverblue and I viddied the moon reflected in silent pools and I walked between slender trees with boughs of silver and leaves of gold. I felt a peculiar sensation deep in my ticktocker and my glazzies commenced to grow misty. Soon I was weeping like a little devotchka, tears streaming down my litso, and I was not ashamed for only an animal could slooshy such a thing and be unmoved.

When he stopped singing, I wiped my glazzies and clapped like bezoomny, only I forgot about the oozies (chains, that is) on my wrists so I mostly made clanking shooms.

"Bravo!" I creeched out, full of emotion. "Bravo. In all my jeezny I have never had the pleasure of slooshying a goloss such as yours. Utterly magnificent it was. However I must humbly confess that I did not pony one solitary slovo, being only an ignorant Man and not conversant in the yahzick of elfs."

The Fellowship stared. Aragorn's mouth was hanging open. The gloopy hobbit Pippin turned to Samwise and whispered, "What did he say?" Samwise shrugged and glared at me.

I could viddy Legolas was surprised, but he smiled at me very nice and polite-like. "I am glad that you enjoyed it," he said. "Shall I translate it for you?"

Aragorn glared at him and shook his gulliver no no no but Legolas ignored him and I had to try hard not to smeck at the look on his litso. Legolas said that he was singing about some devotchka named Elbereth. She was so lovely that old Bog himself was in love with her and made her his zheena and she lived with him in his bolshy domy in the sky. The song, Legolas explained, was like a hymn to Elbereth telling her she was like beautiful and lovely and magnificent and all that cal.

It sounds a bit gloopy when you put it like that, but you had to be there to hear him sing. I said I'd rather like to viddy this Elbereth one day if she was as horrorshow as all that. I thought Aragorn was fit to have a stroke, he looked so razdraz, but Legolas just smiled a little and said that she was 'lovely beyond all reckoning.'

I asked Legolas if he might sing again and he did, something called the Song of Galadriel. Once again it was magnificent, and I lost myself in it. But soon my enjoyment was interrupted by strange rustling shooms, and I got real fashed with whatever nazz was doing it. I looked at the others, but they were all quiet. I realized that there was something in the forest. I could just viddy a bolshy dark shape, moving really skorry towards us. And then a nasty von like something rotten reached my nose, and I ponied what it was. Orcs.

At that moment I got real poogly, for I was chained up like a goose with no way of fighting those grazhny bloodthirsty bratchnies. Orc orc orc orc! I creeched out like a doggie, and rolled myself into a malenky ball hoping they wouldn't see me.

Legolas snapped to attention and skorry as lightning he was up and shooting off arrows at the orc as it burst out behind me. And a real horrorshow shot he was, for the grazhny bratchy fell down dead, shlaga in his hand. One second later and he'd have smashed little Alex's tender skull like an eggiwegg.

More orcs leaped out at us creeching fit to rend our ookos. The others drew out noshes and britvas and shlagas and lunged at them. Even the hobbits were in on it, with malenky little noshes like for malchicks.

As for your humble narrator, I was sitting there tied to a tree in the midst of this bolshy great bitva, with orcs stomping and roaring all about me. I thought this was the end. And so I hid my gulliver in my rookers, just waiting to snuff it. My sole consolation in my like misery was that maybe this heavenly Elbereth ptitsa would be so moved with pity for the poor murdered malchick that she might show me her -

Something moved real skorry and then Legolas was there staring me in the litso. My glazzies near popped out of my gulliver when he pulled out a klootch and unlocked my chains. I was so stunned I couldn't even move.

"Run," he said quietly. "Hide yourself, and wait until I come for you. If you attempt to flee, things will go ill with you."

I stared at him and even in the midst of all the terror I wanted to smeck ha ha ha. For what these vecks did not kopat, my brothers, was that back when I was a wee malchick dratsing with other gangs, my old droog Georgie had taught me to fight with the oozies. And if they tried to catch me again, I would give it to them right in the glazzies. O my brothers I was free!

So I poised myself to run, smecking all the while, when a bolshy great orc loomed up behind us with a shlaga raised, ready to bring it down on Legolas' gulliver. And O my brothers I cannot explain what happened next. In that minoota, it was as if the great spinning wheel of Time ground to a halt. I ponied right then that if Legolas snuffed it his voice would snuff it as well, and it was like I had downed a chasha of milk-plus and all the knives were stabbing me all at once and driving me bezoomny. I could not allow the loss of such a talent, I could not!

I creeched out eeeeeeaaaaaah and lunged at the orc. I whipped my oozy right in his glazzies to blind him and he doubled over in agony, with a gromky yell. So I kicked him real horrorshow, right in the litso and all his rotten yellow zoobies popped out and the krovvy began to flow red red red. Then another orc sprang at me from nowhere, his nasty evil nozh aimed at the old ticktocker. And slash there was a flash of silver and that orc's head popped right off like a bottlecap and a fountain of red krovvy sprang up and spattered down on me like rain.

I turned to see Legolas holding a couple of white nozhes dripping with krovvy.

"A valiant effort, mellon nin," he called out over the noise. "But you would do well to be more attentive."

And the fight went on. I blinded the orcs with my oozies and stomped them with my boots, and Legolas sliced them up like turkeys all in showers of red red krovvy. In all the chaos I caught glimpses of the others - the hobbits terrified, Gandalf intent, and Aragorn looking all grim and noble and kingly. None of them really wanted to fight. But Legolas was slicing up the orcs with his hair flying and a look of like wild abandon on his litso and singing a real horrorshow battle song that made the orcs quail in terror.

And then it happened that I tolchocked an orc in the keeshkas and he doubled over with his breath coming all razrez before I snapped his neck with my oozy. I spun all round looking for the next one and I realized that the clearing was littered with dead orcs and the Fellowship was standing around me and staring.

I looked down at myself and was a bit fashed to viddy that my nice neat platties were all grazzy with orcish krovvy and other things. But I meant to keep my dignity, and I smiled at them all nice and polite. "That was a nice horrorshow bit of the old ultraviolence," I said. "Those bratchnies will think twice before coming after us again."

Gimli looked like he wanted to crack me over the gulliver with his shlaga. "How did you get loose?" he growled.

"I released him," Legolas said. Everyone turned to stare like he'd gone bezoomny. "I could not leave him to die bound and defenseless. I meant for him to hide until the danger had passed, but he turned and fought beside us though he had no weapon." He turned to me. "You fought bravely, and I thank you."

For a moment my goloss quite deserted me. I will confess that for a malenky minoota I was filled with very gloopy warm and happy feelings such that I had never felt before. My old gang would smeck ha ha ha for all eternity if they knew, so I must implore you to keep my secret should you ever come across them.

"I wish to apologize for misjudging you," I said to him. "At first I thought you were a bit soft in the gulliver, if you kopat my meaning, on account of all the govoreeting with trees and singing to birds and like prancing about. But now I see that you are not only a real horrorshow musician but one of the bolshiest fighters I have ever viddied in all my jeezny."

"I still can't understand a word he says," whispered the gloopy Pippin. But Legolas seemed to pony quite well, and inclined his head politely.

"The only vesch I don't quite kopat," I said, "is what you were calling me a melon for."

Legolas looked at me a bit funny and then his expression cleared. "Mellon nin is an Elvish expression," he explained, smiling. "It means - I believe it is what you would call a droog."

And so it was that I came to join all these hero-type vecks on their bezoomny quest to destroy a ring. It's not so bad. I suppose the Fellowship is a bit like having a shaika, or gang, again, even if they are always govoreeting on about duty and loyalty and honour and all that cal. Even that gloopy Pippin reminds me a bit of old Dim - though he is dimmer than poor Dim ever was. And of course there is Legolas with his hundreds and hundreds of lovely songs, so I don't miss old Ludwig Van quite so much. That starry old dedoochka Gandalf is always beaming at me and twinkling like he planned the whole thing, but I do my best to ignore him.

I can just see my old probation officer P.R. Deltoid smiling all over his fat litso and saying that I have reformed, but it seems to me that i am just doing the same sort of vesches as before, only I am doing the old ultraviolence on orcs instead of normal vecks and ptitsas. Before I was just a grazhny prestoopnick but now I am some sort of like noble hero which makes me smeck a bit. Little Alex, a hero!

It seems to me that if you are on the side of Justice and Truth you can do more or less whatever you like as long as you only tolchock vecks that everyone hates. When I was a wee malchick I was happy to be bad and evil, because it was fun - but now I wonder if there are such things as Good or Evil, or if they are merely a matter of convenience. Whose convenience, I wonder? And why?

But these questions do not disturb me in the nochy, O my brothers, and I cannot tarry here philosophizing. There are orcs to kill.