Send For Help

"Aragorn, is that you?" Gimli exclaimed as he approached the counter at Elf-in-the-Box. "Since when are you clean? And since when do you work here?"

"Since a couple of days ago," Aragorn said glumly, looking uncomfortable in his perfectly starched uniform. He glanced about with shifty eyes, then crouched down to Gimli's height and lowered his voice. "Hey, do you happen to have any rocks and soil you don't need? It's been over forty-eight hours since I last felt any dirt and it's driving me crazy."

"I'll see what I can do," Gimli whispered back. "I must say, it's very unsettling to see you like this. I had no idea your hair was actually so light, and you look so pale! I'd like to order a bite-sized lembas bread meal with extra ketchup, by the way."

Aragorn rang up Gimli's order on the cash register and nearly jumped out of his skin when Haldir appeared, clutching a book in his hand. "How goes your first day on the job?" asked Haldir, raising a cool eyebrow at Aragorn. "Have you been bored to tears yet?"

"No, but that shampoo your brothers forced me to use is irritating my scalp. I told you, I'm pretty sure Strider has an allergy."

"Now, now, Aragorn. What have I told you about your alter egos?"

Aragorn sighed. "They don't exist."

"Exactly. Now be a good employee and continue your shift. Now that you're working here I've got lots of time to catch up on my reading."

Gimli's eyes fell upon the book in Haldir's hand and he emitted a small gasp of excitement. "Is that A Party of Special Magnificence by Frodo Baggins? I haven't gotten a chance to read that one yet!"

"It will be well worth it, my good dwarf," Haldir replied. "It's much more uplifting than Mr. Baggins' usual work."

"Indeed it is," said Galadriel, appearing out of nowhere. She cast a condescending little smile upon Aragorn, who felt left out of all this book talk. "It's nice being in the same room with you without wanting to stick my head in a vat full of air freshener, Aragorn. Though I still don't understand what my granddaughter sees in you."

Aragorn remained silent and decided that cleanliness was not all it was cracked up to be. All those soap and shampoo commercials he saw on television were clearly full of lies.

Frodo nearly had a heart attack the moment he set foot in Elrond's home. An elf wearing a dark suit and a matching fedora hat appeared in the entrance hall and patted Frodo down, checking him for weapons. "Boss's orders," he said when Frodo protested. "I'm Erestor, by the way. How'd a little shrimp like you get to know the Boss's daughter?"

"I... I don't know her, actually," Frodo stammered. "My cousin bumped into her and found out she wanted my autograph."

Erestor peered down into Frodo's face, giving Frodo a clear view of all the weapons concealed within his suit jacket. "Say, you'se the lousy little punk who's givin' the Boss all that trouble over a book or somethin', aren't you? Boy, you'se lucky you ain't full of bullet holes right now."

"Can I, uh, please see Arwen now?" Frodo begged. "This really isn't good for my nerves."

"Your nerves, eh? You oughtta see the Boss when he's in a mood. That will give you somethin' to be nervous about."

Frodo was pretty sure he would need fifty kinds of medication, along with a solid day of therapy sessions, as soon as he made it out of this house alive. If he made it out alive. Why oh why did he have to become the New-and-Improved Frodo and find enough bravery to leave his apartment? Erestor led him up a flight of stairs, through a hallway filled with paintings of stern looking elves, all dressed in suits, until he arrived at the only door in the house that didn't fill Frodo with a sense of dread. He could see light coming out from under the door, for one thing.

"You get ten minutes with the Boss's daughter," said Erestor, pushing Frodo towards the door. "I'm settin' my watch, so if you go a minute over it ain't gonna be pretty, I can tell you that." He motioned his finger across his throat, miming a decapitation, and Frodo shuddered.

"Right," said Frodo. "Ten minutes." He pushed open the door to Arwen's room and quickly shut it behind him, eager to block out Erestor.

"Frodo Baggins?" said the dark-haired elf woman who stood in the room. "Is it really you?"

"Yes," said Frodo. He realized that the room contained a whole shelf full of novels he had written, and there were not one, but three posters of himself on the walls. It was very unsettling. "Um, I believe you wanted my autograph."

Arwen took the autograph that was scribbled on a napkin and gazed at him with wide eyes. "I'm your biggest fan. I've read every single one of your books at least twice, I'm a faithful member of your fan club, and I'm already on the mail-order waiting list for your next book that's coming out in a few months! Can I take your picture?"

Frodo didn't get a chance to respond, because Arwen pulled out her camera and began snapping pictures anyway. The poor hobbit was starting to think that Erestor wasn't so bad.

"I'm planning to get your name tattooed on my back," Arwen said once she had taken enough photographs. "What's the name of your next book, by the way?"

"It's called Where the Shadows Lie: a dark tale by Frodo Baggins. But I'm afraid it may be a while until you get to read it, if you get to read it at all."

"Why? Do you have to switch publishers or something?"

"Well, no," Frodo confessed. "It's a little more complicated than that. I've decided to stop writing in order to improve my health."

Arwen stood frozen and appeared not to have heard Frodo properly. "I'm sorry. I could have sworn you said something, but I didn't quite catch it."

"I stopped writing," Frodo said a little louder.

"I beg your pardon? I don't believe you're speaking a language that I can understand."

"I... stopped... writing," Frodo said slowly.

"I still didn't quite hear you. I think you're mumbling."

Frodo was one step away from running out to Erestor and demanding him to do his worst. "I quit!" he exclaimed. "I'm done. Finished. My writing career has helped ruin my health and I just can't do it anymore!"

Arwen appeared to be on the verge of fainting. "You're joking. Please say that this is an elaborate joke in order to distract me from tying you to a chair and demanding you to give me spoilers from your next book!"

Frodo dearly hoped that Arwen herself was joking. "I'm afraid there won't be any new books. But I'm willing to sign all of your copies free of charge—"

Arwen sank to her knees and burst into tears, sobbing loudly enough for Erestor to hear from his spot outside the door. "Uh oh," said Frodo. He immediately dove out the open window and crash-landed into a clump of bushes, then sprinted for dear life and found a convenient hobbit-sized gap in the fence that allowed him to escape.

For the time being, at least.

"I'm going on a nature hike with Legolas tomorrow," Faramir was telling Boromir as they sat at the kitchen table. His father and brother had come home on their lunch break and Faramir ate his usual salad, while Boromir munched on a burger. "Actually, it's more like Legolas is forcing me to go, but Eowyn will be there. Once she sees how sensitive I am towards nature she'll love me for sure, won't she?"

"Of course, bro," Boromir said with no confidence whatsoever. "You'll woo her without a doubt."

"I sure hope so," said Faramir, sighing as he thought of his elusive lady.

"Faramir, quit talking," Denethor snarled from across the table. "I've got a text message I'm trying to focus on and your voice gives me a headache."

Boromir eyed his father's cell phone curiously. "Who do you keep texting with anyway?"

"No one. Just somebody I met over the internet."

"You really need to stop trying to replace Mom and give up on online dating, Dad."

"It's not online dating, favorite son of mine," said Denethor. "Where would you get such a preposterous idea? Did Faramir put it into your head?"

"No, of course not," said Faramir.

Denethor looked up from his cell phone long enough to glare at him. "Didn't I tell you to stop talking, Faramir? Why can't you be more like your brother and stay silent when I want you to?" He returned to his phone and tried replying to the latest text message Sauron had sent him, but he found he was unable to. "Curses, I ran out of minutes. I hate Rohan Wireless. Faramir, you worthless son, why didn't you persuade me to get Elf-Mobile?"

"You never consulted me about it, Dad."

"Well of course I didn't. Your opinions are more useless than a dwarf without a beard."

"That doesn't make any sense."

Denethor ignored Faramir and tried to eat his burger, but his fingers soon grew restless and longed for the mindless rhythm of texting. "Boromir, my wonderful son, will you let me use your phone for a while? I have some business I need to finish."

Boromir shrugged and handed over his phone, and Denethor immediately neglected his burger in favor of talking with his favorite new friend.

hey man i think all ur neighbors are out 2 get u, Sauron texted.

rly? Denethor replied. no way!

tru fax, dude. you shud kill em all.

Denethor decided that was wise advice and left the kitchen table so he could terrorize the neighbors. Those evil looking lawn gnomes next-door were surely part of a plan to take over the whole neighborhood! "They shall be vanquished!" Denethor cackled to himself. "This street shall be mine!"

Faramir and Boromir exchanged worried looks. "Do you think it's time to send for help?"

Merry's life had definitely taken a turn for the better. Thanks to his recent promotion he finally got to arrest people, and now that Pippin was living in his apartment there was an endless supply of beer and pipe-weed. Of course, Pippin tended to drink and smoke most of it, but Merry supposed his poor cousin deserved it when he had to work for a psychopath like Denethor. Speaking of Denethor, Theoden and his squad had been called to detain a man who sounded an awful lot like a certain car dealership owner; the lunatic was supposedly bent on burning down all the houses on his street and Merry was relieved he had been called on a Wal-Mart case instead. As much as he liked protecting the citizens and serving justice and all that, Denethor was not something he wanted to deal with.

Besides, busting criminals at Wal-Mart meant he could stock up on more beer. Though he would probably have to hide it if he wanted his twelve-pack to remain a twelve-pack in the morning.

He had been summoned to Wal-Mart to take a dwarf (gender unknown) into custody for assaulting an elf who insulted dwarf-made products, and approached the superstore with his gun at the ready. Pippin had recently joked that Merry's attachment to his gun meant he was compensating for something, but Merry retaliated by reminding him that nearly a week had passed and he still hadn't gotten a date with Diamond.

Eomer stood guard at the entrance to Wal-Mart, arms folded across his chest in a menacing manner. "I demand to see your ID!" he barked. "Wait, never mind. Hey, bro. How's my uncle treating you now that you've got my old job?"

Merry prided himself on being one of the few people who could hold a civil conversation with Eomer. "He stopped referring to my height ever since I stopped that orc bank robbery last week. What about you?"

"The people around here are idiots," said Eomer. "Nobody seems to understand how unbelievably serious my job is."

"Tell me about it. Nobody takes me seriously until I've got a gun pointed at their face!"

"People in this line of work just don't get the respect they deserve. What is the world coming to?"

Merry agreed and was about to storm into Wal-Mart, ready to take custody of the violent dwarf (gender still unknown), when Eomer tensed up and went into Super Serious Security Guard Mode. "My shoplifter senses are tingling!" he hissed.

A hobbit girl walked out of the store and Eomer immediately pointed his taser at her. "Halt right there. I know you've stolen something!"

The hobbit stopped in her tracks and gazed up at Eomer. "Um, no I haven't."

"Are you calling me a liar? My instincts have been proven to be fifteen percent greater than a police dog's, so hand over the goods if you value your life!"

"You might want to listen to him," Merry told the hobbit girl. "I've seen him tackle a dozen orcs. The orcs were crying afterwards."

The hobbit grudgingly pulled out the iPod she had concealed inside her clothes and handed it to Eomer, then started to walk off.

"Hey!" Eomer growled. "Don't let that thief escape!"

Merry acted quickly, knowing that an ambulance might have to be called if Eomer did any of his infamous tackling, and grabbed the hobbit so he could put handcuffs on her wrists. There was nothing he hated more than arresting his fellow hobbits, since most hobbits who got arrested were either a.) drunk, b.) not bright enough to know what they were doing, or c.) drunk, but he had to do his job.

"Take that, you lousy shoplifter!" Eomer cried, pumping a triumphant fist into the air.

"Come on." Merry guided the now-handcuffed hobbit in the direction of his police car, knowing that Eomer would gladly take care of the angry dwarf (gender infinitely undeterminable), and gently pushed her into the passenger seat.

"Is that security guard always such a psychopath?" she asked as Merry started up the car.

"You get used to him," said Merry.

"Would you mind taking these handcuffs off me?"

"I'm trying to drive."

"Take the handcuffs off and I'll drive for you."

Merry was strongly reminded of Pippin and his endless chatter. "You'll get them off when we get to the police station. If you're lucky. What's your name anyway?"

"Estella," she replied, not-so-subtly trying to slip out of the silver handcuffs that circled her wrists. "If you let me go, I promise I won't tell anyone. After all, it was only an iPod, and it wasn't even the Touch version!"

Merry ignored her and drove up to the police station. It was only after he put Estella into the custody of his fellow officers that he realized she had somehow stolen his wallet.

"Son of a mushroom!"

Author's Note: Extra fast update this time around. Happy holidays, everyone!

I got multiple requests for some Merry/Estella, so there it is. I had quite a lot of fun writing that part.