Discliamer: Again, I don't own Lord of the Rings, or "Survivor." That's a fact of life that will never change.

(blah) – Announcer talking

(Announcer: Welcome back! Now that our contestants have teamed up, let's see how they cope with being stranded on an island without any food, water, shelter, or… TV! (a group of people gasp).We will be checking in on all of the alliances and see how they interact with one another. Also, who will be kicked off first? How will he go? And more importantly, why am I still talking?)

The King of the Island (Aragorn)

Aragorn proudly surveyed his newly built shelter. It was a small, shabby little thing made out of sticks and palm tree leaves. It looked as if it would only cover a small amount of Aragorn's body if he were to curl up inside.

"I dub thee 'The King's Palace'." Aragorn said to the shelter. A cocky smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm glad I still remember how to do this!" He said proudly. A gentle breeze tugged at his hair, adding to the dramatic effect.

As the breeze blew, the twigs supporting the leaf roof collapsed in on each other and the leaves blew away. Aragorn's face fell in despair as the leaves blew off into the horizon. He crossed his arms and grumbled, "Now back to square one."

Aragorn walked back into the forest to collect more items he could use to make a shelter.

… … …

"Viola! It is done!" Aragorn exclaimed, stepping away from his new 'masterpiece'. "I shall call you 'The King's Palace II'."

'The King's Palace II' was definitely an improvement over 'The King's Palace I'. For starters, it was bigger and sturdier. It could now probably fit all of Aragorn, even if he stretched out.

Aragorn's stomach rumbled with complaint. "I should probably find some food." He said to himself. "Maybe I can find some fruit or something."

Aragorn strode over to the nearest tree and kicked it. He saw fruits shake in the higher branches. Too lazy to actually climb the tree, for such work did not suit the King of Gondor, Aragorn shook and kicked the tree. The fruit refused to fall off.

Aragorn gave a frustrated yell and punched the tree-trunk. Not a very smart move. He yelled in pain as soon as his knuckles made contact with the hard bark, adding a pain in his left hand to his short list of woes. While Aragorn nursed his injured hand and yelled oaths so terrible that they cannot be repeated in this story without changing the rating to 'M', for mature, the fruit fell loose from the tree and bonked Aragorn on the head, causing him to look up to see what hit him. He then looked down and saw the bushel of bananas on the ground.

He smiled. "That wasn't too bad. And tonight, I shall feast like the King that I am!"

While Aragorn was busy praising his glorious self, a monkey walked out of the jungle and spotted the bananas. He rubbed his hands together. Jackpot, if he just took the bananas off of the sandy ground he could eat comfortably for a week. So much for not being able to take care of himself and not being able to get his own food. He'd show his clan.

The monkey ran across the beach sands and took the bananas right out from under Aragorn's nose.

Aragorn, of course, noticed the vexing simian scampering off with his dinner. "Hey! You! Get back here with my dinner!" Aragorn yelled, chasing after the monkey on the beach. Eventually, both disappeared from view.

The Food-seekers (Merry, Pippin, and Gimli)

"Merry, I'm hungry!" Pippin whined.

"I know, Pip! We're all hungry!" Merry irritably replied.

The Food-seekers had been aimlessly wandering around in the jungle for several hours, trying to find something to eat. So far, they had found nothing.

"I think we're lost, young Hobbits!" Gimli said.

"Lost?!" Merry, the one who was leading the group through the jungle, said with a twitch, "We're not lost! What would make you think we're lost!"

"This is the second time we've passed that exact tree!" Gimli said. "Face it; we're going around in circles!"

Merry frowned. "Stop being so ridiculous, Gimli. I know exactly where we are."

"Really? Then, Merry, what's the direction we need to go to get out?" Pippin asked.

"I… uh…"

"Well?"

"Okay, fine! We're lost!"

All of the Food-seeker's stomachs growled in a reminder to their owners that they were in need of food.

"Merry, do you think trees are edible?" Pippin asked.

"I dunno, Pip. Never tried one."

"Maybe just a bite…" Pippin eyed one of the trees with hungry intent.

"Wait! Pip! I don't think you want to be doing that." Merry said.

"Why not?"

"What if it's an ent? Or worse, imagine if Treebeard found out that you tried to eat a tree."

Pippin shuddered. "Okay, so I won't eat the tree, but can I at least try a leaf?"

"Sure, fine."

Pippin cheered with happiness and scampered up the tree. A few seconds later, he came down with a handful of leaves. He put one in his mouth. He chewed it, savoring it as the only source of nutrition he could find. He swallowed and then ate another one.

"Well, how is it?" Gimli asked.

"It's good enough. Not as good as apple cinnamon muffins, though." Pippin responded.

"Give me some of those!" Gimli said, grabbing a bunch of leaves from Pippin's arms and greedily stuffed them into his mouth and chewed. He made a disgusted face and immediately spat the leaves out. "You're crazy, Peregrin Took, if you think that those… abominations come relatively close to being 'good'."

"When you've been deprived of food for a good… gee, how long has it been now since we ate, Merry?"

"About seven hours, fifteen minutes, nine seconds, and fifteen milliseconds… give or take." Merry responded.

"Right… for a good… what Merry said, anything comestible tastes good." Pippin said.

"Whatever, we should probably get back to looking for real food now." Merry commented.

The other Food-seekers agreed and continued to wander through the forest, hopelessly lost.

The Nitwit (Gandalf)

Gandalf sat down on the beach, cluelessly. He had never been in the wilderness before, all by himself. That's why he always randomly dragged people off to go on adventures with him, so he wouldn't get bored or lonely, both of which described his current state of being.

He sighed. Even if he was experienced with the whole 'camping out in the wilderness' thing, he wouldn't have wanted to anyway. The back-breaking labor could cause him to somehow get a stain on his perfectly white garments, thereby tainting them. If he had been Gandalf the Grey, or Gandalf the Black, or even Gandalf the Military-Camouflage Colors, he would gladly have done such tasks as tramping around to gather wood or to get food.

But, alas, he was Gandalf the White, and he would never do such hazardous tasks without a washing-machine and bleach on hand, or a spare change of perfectly white garments, neither of which were available in his current predicament.

He saw Faramir passing by, carrying some wood for some obscure purpose. "Faramir!" He yelled.

Faramir paused and looked at Gandalf. "What?"

"I don't suppose you'd like to help an old man set up his shelter, gather wood, make a fire, and get some food, would you?"

Faramir rolled his eyes. "Do you really expect me to fall for the 'old man' gag, Gandalf? I know better than that."

"But, Faramir, I wasn't asking for much…"

"Yes you were, Nitwit." With that, Faramir walked off to where his team had decided to settle, leaving Gandalf alone, sitting meditatively on the beach.

The Dysfunctional Dorks (Faramir, Boromir, and Denethor)

"I got the wood you wanted, Boromir." Faramir said, handing his brother the long and skinny sticks. Denethor had been sent off by Boromir to find more leaves for the roofs of the shelters, or 'anti-squirrel forts' or 'squirrel shelters' as Faramir called them, which Faramir was building. "They're long and skinny, just like you wanted."

"Thanks." Boromir said appreciatively. He was currently trying to sharpen a rock to make a good, pointy weapon.

"Now, if you don't mind me asking, to what anti-squirrel purposes will these sticks be put to use? I must know." Faramir asked, anxiously.

"They'll be used for hunting."

"Hunting the squirrels?"

"No. Hunting for food."

"Oh."

Boromir held up the rock he was sharpening for Faramir's inspection. "Does this look sharp enough to be a weapon to you?"

Faramir shrugged. "I guess so."

"Good!" Boromir picked out a long, skinny stick and fastened the sharp rock to it with what appeared to be gray rope.

"Where'd you get rope in the middle of a deserted island?" Faramir asked.

"Rope?" Boromir cocked his head in confusion. Then, he looked at what fastened the spearhead to his home-made spear. "Oh, you mean that? That's not rope."

"Then, what is it?"

"Human hair."

"Human hair." Faramir re-iterated in disbelief. "Where'd you get that?"

"From Father's head. He was willing enough when I asked."

"That's gross."

"Yeah, I know. He never even washes it, too."

Faramir shuddered. "For as long as we'll be here, I'm converting to vegetarianism."

"Smart move."

At this point in time, Denethor returned to the camp. He held a bunch of palm tree leaves in his arms. As he came to their, for lack of a better word, campsite, he deposited the leaves on the ground. "Is that enough?" He asked.

"Dunno." Boromir said with a shrug. "Faramir's the Ranger, so he's the one in charge of the… uh… anti-squirrel forts."

"Oh… so that explains why they're so terrible." Denethor said, gesturing to the three perfectly fine shelters.

"Well, then you can just sleep out in the open and face being mauled by squirrels you ungrateful, no-good, contentious, ba-" Faramir started to mutter before Boromir sharply stepped on Faramir's foot, causing him to grimace in pain.

"Did you say something?" Denethor asked Faramir, oblivious to what his son had just muttered.

Faramir scowled and began to open his mouth before Boromir, wishing to maintain the uneasy peace, quickly interjected, saying, "No, he didn't."

Faramir sighed and kept his silence.

"So, son, are you going hunting?" Denethor asked Boromir, indicating to the spear that Boromir was holding.

"Not tonight, Father. I'm too tired to do anything that strenuous. You know, all this coming back to life stuff really takes it out of a person."

"I know what you mean, son."

Faramir opened his mouth to make a scalding remark towards Denethor, but Boromir interjected again, firmly putting a hand over his little brother's mouth.

"I think you know me too well." Faramir muttered so that only his brother could hear.

Boromir smiled and nodded.

The Ringbearers (Frodo, Sam, and Bilbo)

"Well, now that we've teamed up, what do you think we should do first, Sam?" Frodo asked.

"Well, Mr. Frodo, while all these pansies here are making their shelters, we could skip that and get right to gathering our food." Sam replied.

"And how do you figure that?"

"Well, on our journey to Mount Doom, we never once built shelters."

"Hmm… good point… so we'll gather food first. But, if we have some extra time, I would like to make shelters for us."

"Sounds good, Mr. Frodo. Ordinarily, I would say to look for taters or rabbits, but the odds that this island has either of those things are slim to none, so, for food, let's search all nearby trees for some fruit."

"Okay, Sam."

"What!" Bilbo yelled.

"But, who's taking Bilbo?" Frodo asked.

"What d' you mean by that?" Sam queried.

"Well, we can't just leave him here." Frodo gestured to Bilbo, who was currently teetering along the beach away from them. "He's as blind as a bat and as deaf as…"

"… a doorknob?" Sam supplied, helpfully.

"No, that would be if he were dead."

"Pity he's not." Sam muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing!" Sam innocently said.

"Okay. Well, you get my point about Bilbo, then. So, who's taking him along while gathering fruits?"

"Well, he's your Uncle! That means he's your responsibility."

"Well, you're my servant. That means that you have to take care of my responsibilities." Frodo retorted.

"Oh, taters, you got me there."

"We'll meet back here in an hour." Frodo said. "Try to get as much food as you can."

"Okay."

"What!" Bilbo yelled.

Sam went to one part of the island with Bilbo and collected all of the fruits he could find there. Frodo also gathered as much as he could carry. That night, they ate well and slept under the stars. Actually, only Sam and Bilbo slept. Sam's snoring kept Frodo awake for the whole night and Bilbo, being hard of hearing, couldn't hear Sam's snores.

The Hobbit-Haters (Sauron and Bob)

Bob and Saruon sat on the beach intently watching the other teams work. Since they were evil and malevolent spirits, they had no need for food, water, or shelter, so they did not bother setting up camp or gathering food.

"So, who are you gonna kill first?" Bob asked sarcastically as he and his Lord watched the Ringbearers sleep (with the exception of Frodo, who was trying to get Sam to stop snoring like a oliphaunt with a head cold).

Sauron held up his hand. "Patience my slave."

"Do you have to rub it in?" Bob muttered to himself, crossing his arms.

Sauron was oblivious to this comment. "We shall strike with morning, fear not."

"I'm so anxious." Bob said sarcastically.

"Of course you are. After all, your whole purpose is to serve me!" Sauron said.

Bob silently swore to himself and suddenly thought of a good idea for his wish, if he were to win that is.

When the sun rose the next morning, the alliances decided to intermingle with each other. All of the alliances, that is, except for the Food-seekers, who were still hopelessly lost in the jungle.

Aragorn was the first to emerge from his shelter, The King's Palace II, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Sometime during the night, he had returned to his shelter after taking care of that pesky monkey.

Gandalf, who had been sitting in an abject state on the beach, praying that the sand would not taint his perfectly white clothing, perked up and smiled at Aragorn.

"Good morning, Aragorn." He said cheerfully. "How was your night?"

Aragorn smiled in remembrance of it. "Excellent. Except for the beginning. A monkey stole my dinner and I had to chase after it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I managed to catch him, though. He ate all of my bananas that were originally going to be my dinner."

"Really? What happened then?"

"Well," a mischievous, yet satisfied smile crossed Aragorn's mouth, "let's just say that the monkey ended up making up for my missing meal."

Gandalf's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise. "Surely you didn't eat the monkey, you savage!"

Aragorn looked shocked. "Of course not! Why would you think that? No, no, the monkey ended up giving me a bunch of mangos. See?" Aragorn produced a mango from his pocket and took a bite out of it, allowing the juices to run down his face, dripping down and staining his already filthy clothes. This made Gandalf appalled and yet it also made him salivate for a mango at the same time.

"I don't suppose you would want to team up? It's never too late." Gandalf asked Aragorn.

Aragorn scoffed. "Nice try, Nitwit. You haven't done anything but sit on the beach in abject hopelessness since you couldn't happen to find a lackey who would be stupid enough to team up with you."

Gandalf sighed. Well, he'd tried, hadn't he?

Frodo, now realizing that he wasn't the only one up anymore, got up and trudged over to them. His eyes were bloodshot, and he kept on throwing murderous glances at Sam, who had just gotten up and had begun to make breakfast. Bilbo was eagerly waiting for his fried apricots.

"Morning, Gandalf." Frodo muttered. "Morning, Aragorn."

"What's wrong with you?" Aragorn queried.

"I couldn't get a wink of sleep last night. Sam snored like an oliphaunt with a head cold for the whole night. I'm surprised that you guys didn't hear it too."

"Now that you mention it, I did hear something." Aragorn commented. "But it sounded more like one of those annoying flies buzzing in your ear that you can't seem to get rid of than an oliphaunt."

Sam, now finished cooking breakfast, came over to the trio. He was in the process of eating a fried apricot on a stick, which made Gandalf groan in agony and salivate, being careful not to get any saliva on his precious white clothes.

"Morning all!" Sam said, cheerily, spraying pieces of scalding chewed apricot on Aragorn and Frodo. Fortunately, Gandalf was not in the line of fire.

Frodo painfully wiped the chewed apricot off of his face, while Aragorn screamed and yelled, "Gah! It burns!" He ran around in circles, trying to get the disgusting apricots off of his face and out of his hair.

At this point, the racket wakened all of the Dysfunctional Dorks. They walked over to see what all of the fuss was about.

Boromir looked terrible. His hair was messy and stuck all over the place, making it look very much like a poodle with a bad hair-day. A really bad hair-day. He stood in-between Faramir and Denethor, acting as a barrier between them. Denethor shot Faramir death-glares over Boromir and Faramir looked like he would have loved nothing more than to stick molten hot barbed metal into his father's eyes.

"What's going on here?" Boromir groaned. "And why have you disturbed my slumber? Well, actually, why did you disturb these two, who then disturbed me, which means that indirectly, you disturbed me…? Whoa…" He rubbed his head. "That made my head hurt."

"Oh? Your head hurts?" Faramir said. "Then allow me to get something for it." Faramir started for the camp.

Denethor shoved Faramir out of the way. "No, allow me. After all, I am your father."

"But I'm your brother!"

"But I raised you!"

"But I'm actually still alive!"

"That can be changed." Denethor growled.

"You wanna go at it?" Faramir said, holding up his fists and getting in a fighting stance.

"Let's settle this like men." Denethor growled and then slapped Faramir, who gasped in shock and slapped his father back. Soon, they got in a slapfight, which led to them tussling on the ground near Boromir's feet, trying to yank each other's hair out.

"Look, Boromir!" Faramir cried, holding up a fistful of gray hair. "I got some more rope!"

Denethor growled and aimed a punch at Faramir's head. Faramir ducked, which caused Denethor's fist to nail Boromir right in an uncomfortable place between his legs.

All of the on-lookers hissed in empathy, closing their eyes and looking away as Boromir groaned and collapsed on the ground. Immediately, the fighting between Denethor and Faramir suspended as Denethor began to profusely apologize and Faramir looked at his brother in empathy as well, feeling sorry that he had ducked.

"I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry!" Denethor quickly said.

"Allow me to get you something, brother!" Faramir said and started for the camp.

Denethor shoved Faramir out of the way. "No, allow me. After all, I am your father."

"But I'm-"

Boromir put up a hand to silence the two of them before they could get into another fight.

"That's… fine…" He hissed between the pain. "I'll… take… care… of… it… myself…" He forced himself to get up and walk to the campsite where he re-entered his squirrel-shelter. An awkward silence ensued in which everyone could hear strangled crying from Boromir's squirrel-shelter as well as cries of "Why me!"

It was then that Sauron and Bob casually meandered over to what remained of the group.

Sauron pointed a finger directly at Frodo. "You! You're the one who destroyed my Ring!" He folded his arms and pouted. "That wasn't very nice!"

"But you're a villain!" Frodo exclaimed. "I don't have to be nice to you!"

Sauron put his hands to the area where he would've had a heart. "That's reformed villain to you! I'm a changed man now. You see, when I died, I did a lot of thinking and I realized how much of a waste my life was when I was pursuing the ultimate destruction of the world, specifically the race of men, and the enslavement of all free living creatures, especially the race of men. No sir, the ex-Dark Lord has gone straight."

"You're referring to yourself in the third-person." Faramir commented.

"Insolent boy, stop interrupting people when they're talking!" Denethor snapped.

Faramir shot Denethor a death-glare, which was reciprocated by Denethor.

"Anyway…" Sauron continued his long-winded lie. "I joined this little group they had on my death island. It was…"

"Adults who force-fed children asparagus Anonymous?" Gandalf interjected.

"No… I never did that! Okay… so I may have done it once… but it wasn't to a child! I only did it to torture Gollum into telling me where the Ring was!" Sauron exclaimed.

"So that explains why Stinker was screaming so bad when I threw some asparagus into my rabbit stew. Remember that, Mr. Frodo?" Sam said.

"I do." Frodo said.

"As do I." Interjected Faramir. "Didn't you guys ever wonder why I found you so easily? For one, Smeagol screaming like a little girl could have attracted the Dark, I'm sorry, ex-Dark Lord to him. And the other thing was the smell of that stew!"

"Oh, it smelled that good?" Sam asked.

"No, it was awful." Faramir said, bluntly. "It reminded me of the smell of Boromir's old boots that he accidentally forgot in the training ground changing facilities for several months so that mold and fungus could cultivate on them."

Sam's mouth was agape in shock. "Now don't you be goin' around insulting a good Hobbit's cooking!"

"But it was awful! My horse smelled better than it did!"

In an aside to Faramir, Frodo said, "And I'm sure your horse would've tasted a whole lot better, too." Faramir snorted.

Sam, hearing the snort, said, "Oi, mate, if you be dissin' my cookin', let's have at it and settle this like men!"

"Well, I would, except you're not a man." Faramir replied.

"YEARGH!" Sam lunged at Faramir and took him down. They then proceeded to fight, rolling on the ground.

"Come on…" Denethor paused and whispered to Frodo, "What's his name, again?"

"Faramir. He's your son, for crying out loud!"

"No, no! Your short, fat friend."

"Sam."

"Thanks." Denethor replied. "COME ON, SAM! YOU CAN TAKE HIM!"

Hearing this, Boromir emerged from his shelter. "What's going on out here?" He asked while walking towards the fight.

At this point, Faramir and Sam had gotten to their feet and were squaring off. Faramir had his back to his brother, so that Boromir could not get between them and shake them to their senses or see what Sam was doing.

Sam let out another battle-cry of, "YEARGH!" and launched himself in a karate-kick at Faramir, who threw himself to the ground, yelling, "Hit the deck!"

"What?" Boromir said in confusion.

Sam could not stop himself and his foot made contact with the wrong son of Denethor in the place that had been punched not too long ago.

All of spectators, with the exception of Sauron and Bob, gasped in empathy. Faramir rolled over from his awkward position in time to see Boromir collapse on the beach for the second time that day in pain.

It was obvious by his expression that Boromir wanted to rip Sam's arms off and throw him clear across the circumference of Middle Earth. His expression also portrayed a great deal of pain for tears were streaking down his face. However, he tried to remain calm as he said, "Now… if you'll excuse me… I'm going back to my shelter… to have a nice… long… cry…"

Everyone watched, speechless, as Boromir inched along the ground and into his shelter, again. They then heard a great deal of screaming and rather creative oaths, which then subsided into muffled sobs and shouts of "Why me!".

"Anyway, back to my rant!" Sauron said, breaking the awkward silence. "I joined this little group they had on my death island. It was called Evil Villains Anonymous. Bob joined too, right Bob?"

"Sure, I did." Bob said with a subtle hint of sarcasm.

"And that's when we began to change into the wonderful, caring people that we are right now. So, Frodo," Sauron said, "I just wanted to thank you for doing what you did, because it made me see the error in my ways."

"Er… you're welcome?" Frodo replied.

"It's amazing how you can just lie through your teeth like that." Bob whispered to Sauron.

"Shut it!" Sauron snapped at Bob. Then, to Frodo, he said, "And now, I will pat you on the back," Sauron patted Frodo on the back, "shake your hand," Sauron shook Frodo's hand, "and then…"

Before Sauron could say what he was going to say, the monkey that had previously stolen Aragorn's bananas threw a mango at Sauron's head. It hit its target with a splatter.

"…I will kill you." Sauron finished and then started to chase after Frodo, who squealed like a child and ran away.

Sauron yelled, "KILL! KILL! KILL!" He was gaining on Frodo.

(Announcer: Oh man! The situation is out of control! We need intervention!)

All of a sudden, tons of elves sprang out of nowhere with bows and arrows. They fired the arrows at Sauron and took him down.

As Sauron fell to the ground and Frodo stopped running around and screaming, one of the elves said, "Night, night, Crazy Guy!"

"But Crazy's over here." Faramir said, indicating Denethor. "Don't you wanna make him go Night-night?"

"No!" Denethor screamed. "The Steward of Gondor goes Night-night when the Steward of Gondor pleases!"

"But you're not the Steward of Gondor anymore!" Faramir pointed out. "I am! Wow! That felt good to say!" Denethor growled lowly like a rabid dog, which fueled Faramir's spite even more. "I'm Steward of Gondor!" He yelled in a sing-song voice. "I'm Steward of Gondor! And you're not, so, neener, neener, neener!" Faramir began doing a gloating dance.

"I hate you, Faramir." Denethor said.

"I know." He said, his mood suddenly falling and he stopped his gloating dance. For having your father's hatred is nothing to do a gloating dance about.

Frodo went over to Sauron and poked him. "Is he dead?" He asked an elf.

"Naw, he's just sleeping." The elf said. "We used our knock-out arrows."

At this point, Arwen spontaneously appeared. "We have our first elimination!" She said. "Sauron, you are banished from this island for attempted murder of a fellow contestant. Goodbye."

Sauron disappeared with a poof. Then, Arwen and the elves disappeared, leaving everyone in stunned silence, only broken by Boromir's continued sobs of pain.

Nari: So what did you think? Good, bad? So terribly horrible that you wanted to smash your computer screen to oblivion? Tell me! I would like to thank everyone who reviewed for my previous chapters! You guys are awesome! Anyways, please leave lots of reviews!