Hoist the Anchor

Pippin was starting to think that letting Legolas and Sam into his home was a bad idea. After Faramir left to go have dinner with his brother's best friend's sister, Pippin was stuck listening to Legolas talk about his Treehugger's Club while Sam lay passed out on the floor. "You really ought to join, Pippin," Legolas was saying after he drank down his second six-pack of the night (and yet he was only slightly buzzed). "Trees deserve equal rights too, you know, like the right to vote and get married to trees of the same gender."

Pippin was a bit intoxicated, but he wasn't nearly drunk enough to buy into this. "Trees don't vote, Legolas. And they don't get married."

"Everyone is always so judgmental!" Legolas sobbed. "If you took the time to look past the leaves and the bark and the roots you would see individuals who just want to be understood and treated equally!"

"Maybe you should go home," said Pippin. "You can drop Sam off at Frodo's place if we can't wake him up." He prodded Sam, who groaned and rolled over. It took several more tries to get the semi-unconscious hobbit to sit up, but once Sam was awake he started babbling apologies.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Pippin, I shouldn't have had all them beers and no mistake. It's just that I never get any ale at home, living with Mr. Frodo and all. The poor thing only drinks tea to calm his nerves as I'm sure you know. I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Pippin, it won't happen again. I swear on my garden rake!"

Pippin suddenly wished that Sam was still passed out. His two friends had certainly overstayed their welcome.

After reassuring Legolas that he would consider the inner feelings of the trees around him, Pippin led Sam and the elf downstairs so he could send them on their way home. This turned out to be a disaster because his oldest sister Pearl had just arrived with her husband and two daughters ("There are too many girls in this family," Pippin always complained) with the intention of having dinner with her parents. The sight of her younger brother coming downstairs rather unsteadily, accompanied by an obviously drunk hobbit and an elf who was ranting about tree rights, had a very bad effect upon Pearl.

"Peregrin Took!" she yelled at Pippin, sounding remarkably like their mother in one of her worst moods. "Are you ever going to learn to behave? I thought getting expelled from college would have taught you something."

"Hi, sis," Pippin said with false cheerfulness. "I'm happy to see you too."

Being charming never worked with Pearl and she scolded him for being a Terrible Uncle and a Disgrace to the Took Family, and how he would be a bad influence on his precious little nieces if he didn't clean up his act. Legolas and Sam stood and listened, somewhat awestruck, while the "precious little nieces" giggled and wondered why Uncle Pip couldn't walk in a straight line.

"You'll never be a respectable member of society," Pearl sighed. "Dad should have disowned you."

Pippin somehow managed to get away after listening to another ten minutes worth of lectures, and Sam was relieved that all his sisters had moved far away while Legolas was glad he didn't have siblings. Pippin was horribly jealous of them both.

"You're a WHAT?" Denethor cried. He gaped at his youngest son, who had calmly informed him that he was a vegetarian, as if he was merely discussing the weather.

"I'm sorry, Dad, but I can't eat meat anymore," said Faramir. He noticed Eowyn looking at him like he was an alien from outer space and felt his heart sink.

"I ought to disown you," Denethor grumbled.

"You say that every night, Dad," said Boromir.

Denethor took a seat at the table and continued muttering darkly to himself as he accepted a helping of the despicable pasta. "Good thing your poor mother didn't live to see you like this. It would break her heart…"

Faramir ignored his father's mutterings and tried to listen to Boromir and Eomer discuss some football game that had been on television last night, but he quickly grew bored with this and turned his attention to Eowyn, who was doing her best to enjoy the organic tomato sauce. It looked like he had failed once more to impress a woman in front of his father, though Faramir wasn't quite ready to give up yet. As soon as the meal was over and their guests were getting ready to leave, Faramir volunteered to "show the lady to the door" and took Eowyn aside.

"You're like a beautiful yellow rose on a cool spring day," he told her passionately. "Your eyes are brightly shining stars that form the constellation of my heart! Your lips are a delicate bud in the garden of loveliness!"

"You say the funniest things," said Eowyn, laughing.

Faramir wasn't trying to be funny, but he didn't bother explaining this. At least he had made her laugh without falling flat on his face at a bus stop.

Not only was Haldir bored at work, he was also on edge and kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure Galadriel wasn't ready to bash his head in with a spatula. He hadn't spoken a word to his boss all day but he knew she hadn't forgotten about their encounter the night before. It was times like these when Haldir wondered why he hadn't gone to college and considered finding employment at another fast-food restaurant. He had heard rumors that Mushroom King (very popular among the hobbits) was currently hiring.

He was distracted from his thoughts by the tinkling of a bell and braced himself for his next customer. A dwarf walked up to the counter and ordered some lembas bread with honey mustard dipping sauce, then stepped aside to patiently wait for his meal. Celeborn, who was busy with kitchen duty, poked his head out for a moment and caught sight of the dwarf, then immediately grabbed Haldir so he could pull him into the kitchen.

"Celeborn, what are you doing?" Haldir demanded with his Condescending Glare in place.

"You know that dwarf out there? That's Gimli!" Celeborn hissed into his ear.

"The one who's having the affair with your wife?"

"Yes!"

"Well what do you want me to do?"

"Keep him away from Galadriel at all costs. I don't trust that hairy little midget."

Haldir thought about telling Celeborn he was being paranoid, except he had seen Galadriel get dressed up and go to Gimli's house with his own eyes. He returned to the front counter and started to count the ceiling tiles, even though he had just counted them an hour ago, but only got to count nine of them when Gimli stepped up to the counter again.

"Your order isn't ready yet, sir," Haldir droned into his microphone.

"I know," said Gimli. "I just wanted to know if your manager was around. She and I are old friends."

"She's busy right now," Haldir told him as haughtily as he could. "She doesn't have time for the likes of you."

"Oh, come on, can't I see her for just a minute?"

"Look, mister, I know what you're up to," said Haldir. "You're not getting past me."

Gimli gasped, eyes going wide. "You're one of them, aren't you? By Durin's beard, you guys are everywhere, trying to ruin everything!"

Haldir blinked, too startled to be haughty. "One of them? What do you mean?"

"Don't pretend innocence with me, elf boy. I won't have you thwarting my plans. You can keep that lembas bread of yours and shove it." And Gimli stalked out of the restaurant, leaving Haldir completely bewildered.

Gondorian Motors was quite busy and Pippin had successfully sold more cars than Boromir that day, thanks to his almighty hobbit charm. "Oh please, please buy this car from me, sir," he told a man who entered the lot, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. "If I don't bring home any earnings my family will starve and my father will beat me with a leather strap." He worked up a few tears for good measure.

"You poor little thing," said the customer, ready to start crying himself at the sight of Pippin's pathetic face. "Of course I'll buy this car from you."

Score, Pippin thought triumphantly. Perhaps he wasn't meant to finish college, because it sure felt like telling sob stories and selling vehicles to unsuspecting strangers was his true calling. If only his sister Pearl could see him right now. At this rate he would turn into an excellent role model for those nieces of his, because surely this was every little hobbit girl's dream!

"You've done well, Peregrin," Denethor said after observing Pippin's success. "You've already boosted my sales considerably, though we still haven't surpassed our rival dealership, Isengard Imports. I am determined to outsell that old fool Saruman. Determined!"

Pippin was rather frightened by the murderous gleam in Denethor's eyes. "I guess I'll go out and sell more cars then."

"Of course you will, Peregrin Took. I don't pay you to watch the clouds go by! But I have an extra job for you." Denethor sidled closer to Pippin and leaned down so he could whisper to him. "I want you to sneak over to Isengard Imports in the middle of the night and take out some of the competition. You know, throw rocks through the windshields, slash the tires, do whatever you have to."

"Can't I just work overtime?" Pippin pleaded, making his eyes bigger as he gazed up at Denethor.

"Of course not," said Denethor. "Now get back to work!"

Pippin was thoroughly miserable by the end of the workday and declined Boromir's offer to buy him an ice cream cone. Instead he went to Wal-Mart, entering through the garden section so he could say hello to Sam, and tried to ignore Gollum hissing and spitting near the front door.

"Welcome to Wal-Mart, Mr. Pippin, sir!" Sam greeted.

"Gollum still trying to run you out of here?" asked Pippin.

"Yep, the old villain is still at it," said Sam, sighing. "I'm starting to think that taking the job he wanted was a bad idea."

Pippin moved on and purchased a black mask, a pair of black gloves, and a flashlight so he could perform his extra job for Denethor, while Sam scooped a clod of dirt from out of a flowerpot and hurled it at Gollum, who was currently trying to eat one of the prized daffodils.

"Smeagol hates the fat hobbit!" Gollum hissed, wiping dirt off his face. "Stoled our job opportunity, he did! He stoled it from us and we wants it back!"

Just then an elf wearing a flashy checkered suit walked through the doors and Sam immediately stood at attention. "Welcome to Wal-Mart, Mr. Customer, sir! We've got all manners of fine growin' things for sale. Only at Wal-Mart, the grandest place in all of Middle-earth!"

The elf in the checkered suit grinned down at Sam and withdrew a business card from his pocket, then handed it to the hobbit greeter. "My name is Glorfindel. Have you ever thought about being in commercials?"

Sam nearly fainted dead away.

As soon as Celeborn finished his shift at Elf-in-the-Box he told his wife he needed to go shopping, then headed down to the docks where Cirdan, the notorious sailor elf, usually roamed about. Surely Cirdan, the only elf in Middle-earth with facial hair, could help Celeborn grow a beard finer than Gimli's. Cirdan was wandering about the docks with a bottle of rum in his hand, covered in tattoos and piercings with various trinkets braided into his long beard.

"Arr, matey," he said when Celeborn approached. "What brings ye to see ol' Cirdan, eh?"

"My wife seems to have developed a taste for bearded men," said Celeborn. "The only way I can keep her is to grow a beard myself."

"Some bearded scallywag has gone and charmed yer woman, matey?"

"Don't rub it in, man. Can you help me grow a beard like yours?"

Cirdan took a swig of rum and started pacing in circles around Celeborn, studying his face. "I'm just a humble seafarin' elf, not a magician, but I'll do me best. Step onto me ship, laddie, and I'll see what I can do."

An hour later Celeborn came out of Cirdan's ship with a jar full of ointment and a false beard, just in case the ointment didn't work. "Galadriel will love me again for sure," Celeborn said smugly.

"Aye, that she will, matey," Cirdan said in agreement. "Ye'll be puttin' the wind in her sails in no time."

"Do you really think so?"

"Aye, ye'll be swabbin' her deck fer sure."

"So the beard will do the trick then?"

"Arr, lad," said Cirdan. "She'll be hoistin' yer anchor."

"I like the sound of that."

"And ye'll be mannin' her rigging."

"What else?"

"Ye'll be battonin' down her hatches!"

"And?"

"Ye'll be findin' her buried treasure!"

"Go on."

Cirdan shook his head and took another swig of rum. "I've run out of euphemisms, lad. Be on with ye!"

And so Celeborn left the docks in high spirits and headed home. There was no way Gimli or any other dwarf would be able to compete with him once he had his beard.