Well, here it is – my longest chapter yet ^^ I had a lot of fun writing this, although I was disturbing myself with the amount of sexual innuendos I managed to slip in there…

And I'm afraid there's no Pirate!Legolas, but there is something in a future chapter that will honour the elf's alter ego, I promise XD

XXX

The next morning there was quite a commotion in Rivendell. Word had spread that there were free milk and cookies outside in the courtyard, and so every elf, man and dwarf had flocked to the vicinity to sample some of the aforementioned chocolatey goodness. Only when they reached the place, there were no cookies to be seen.

"What is going on?" demanded Gimli, a short stocky dwarf with a braided beard. "I want my cookies, dammit!"

And then Elrond appeared, and calmly took a seat in his conveniently placed throne. Everyone yelled at him, demanding their snacks. He smiled, and took his shades out of an inside pocket of his robes, slipping them on really slowly in that really cool way that he does.

"I am afraid, gentleman, that there are no cookies."

"What?"

"I knew it!"

"Not even any oatmeal ones?"

"No, gentlemen," he said again, smirking. "You are not here to sample my moist, crumbly, succulent… em, I mean, you're not here to eat cookies. I had a much more sinister motive in bringing you here."

And then the gate leading into the courtyard suddenly clanged shut.

"We're trapped!"

"Arghhh!"

"Don't panic!"

But everybody did.

"Gentlemen!" yelled Elrond, waving his arms about. But it was no use. People were running to and fro, throwing themselves at the gates, getting into fights and whacking each other with steel chairs.

The elf lord was forced to use the power of Vilya to summon the Bruinen to drench them all into submission.

"Now," he said, taking his seat with a sigh. Everyone just stood there, gaping at him, dripping wet. Gimli coughed up a fish. "I have brought you all here for one reason and one reason only, and that is to discuss the plot."

A collective shudder ran through the group.

"Yes, I know this part of the book is frightfully long and overcomplicated but we can get through this if we work together!"

"Can I use flashcards?"

"No, Mr. Baggins, you cannot use flashcards."

The hobbit scowled.

"Well then, why are you allowed to use them?"

"Because," said Elrond, putting aside his latest flashcard, "I'm older. And taller."

The hobbit sulked. Elrond just glared around at everyone. They all promptly shuffled off and climbed back into their seats, unwilling to suffer the wrath of the patented wandering eyebrow.

"Strangers from distant lands," he began. "Friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor-"

"Actually, I'm just here for the cooking seminar."

He sighed, and pointed towards the Last Homely House.

"Second door on the left, opposite the laundry room."

The dwarf scampered off, and Elrond continued his important-sounding speech.

"Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom." He grinned. "But, y'know, no pressure or anything."

They all just sat there, glaring at him.

"Tough crowd, huh?" He shrugged, and stood up, gesturing towards the stone pedestal set in the centre of the courtyard with his neat oversized sleeves. "Bring forth the Ring, Neo."

Gandalf coughed.

"Actually Elrond, it's Frodo."

He looked embarrassed.

"Oops, yes. Sorry Frodo."

The hobbit was nervous as he stepped forward and placed the Ring on the pedestal before him. He returned to his seat, exhausted, since placing a band of gold on top of a table can be pretty darned strenuous at the best of times.

Everyone started whispering at once.

"Have you seen the way Boromir is looking at Aragorn?" an extra asked the man beside him. "Wowee, I think something is going on there."

Boromir, the man he was whispering to, raised an eyebrow.

"I am Boromir, you dolt. And I'm pretty sure we're meant to be discussing the Ring."

"Oh."

After a bit more whispered conversing, Boromir made up his mind, and rose from his seat, beginning a rant that absolutely nobody was interested in.

"It is a gift! A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring?" He paced a bit, and his furry cape swished behind him. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

Aragorn spoke up. He was sick to death of this guy stealing all of the limelight. He was young and handsome and valiant, and dammit, if he didn't do something soon his admirers – who were not so subtly hiding in the surrounding bushes – would throw him off and chase after Boromir faster than you could say 'Smeagol'!

"You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

Boromir turned and glared at him.

"And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

Legolas - who had been busy studying his reflection in Gimli's axe - stood up and puffed out his chest. He was a pretty elf, with long blonde hair and sparkling eyes.

"This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance. And yes, I am defending him fiercely, spawning countless fanfics about our adventures together, although Tolkien never mentioned we knew each other before this Council. Damn it, I'll shut up now!"

He sat back down, frowning over his pointless rant.

At that moment Tom Bombadil burst in.

"Cut!" he shouted. "Where is Peter Jackson? I never got a call about a Lord of the Rings movie! Where the hell am I in all this? I want Brad Pitt to play me!"

Everyone ignored him. He burst into tears, and ran to seek comfort in the bosom of Goldberry.

"Aragorn?" Boromir answered, uncomprehending. "This... is Isildur's heir?"

"An heir to the throne of Gondor."

"Yes, Legolas," said Boromir. "Welcome to the conversation."

Neo – I mean Frodo - looked at Aragorn in wonder.

Aragorn waved a hand.

"Havo dad Legolas. Sit down Legolas."

The elf sat down.

Aragorn grinned.

"Good boy." And he gave the elf a cookie.

Boromir went all broody and glared at Aragorn.

"Gondor has no pants. Gondor needs no pants."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me."

He went and sat back down, whilst Aragorn sat and pondered these words.

Gandalf spoke up: "Aragorn is right. We cannot use it."

"You have only one choice," purred Elrond. "The Ring must be destroyed."

Gandalf rolled his eyes.

"Well duh."

Gimli was getting impatient.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?"

And he grabbed his axe away from Legolas and walked up to the pedestal.

"ARGH!"

And with Hulk-like strength, the dwarf brought his shaft (yes, his shaft) down upon the Ring. It shattered in his hands (yes, in his hands) and sent him crashing back onto his rather broad backside. The Ring remained untouched on the pedestal, surrounded by the broken shards of his shaft (yes, his – ah, screw it, you get the idea).

The Eye of Sauron flashed before Frodo's eyes and he winced. Whispers of a black tongue could be heard on the wind.

Elrond shifted in his seat.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess."

The dwarf's eyes widened.

"Whatchoo talking 'bout Elrond?"

"The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came."

Boromir turned to the extra sitting beside him.

"Who the heck says 'whence' anymore?"

"Ash Nazg," whispered the Ring.

Boromir glanced up.

"Shut up you."

Elrond's face was stern:"One of you must do this."

Everyone became deadly silent. So deadly silent in fact, that one of the dwarves collapsed there and then and died on the spot.

Boromir broke the silence: "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland. Riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly!"

Someone in the ring of seats coughed, with said cough sounding suspiciously like 'The Last Alliance.'

Legolas got to his feet, annoyed that Boromir had opted to lean forwards in his chair and block his light, dulling the reflection he was gazing at in one of his knives, since Gimli had went and smashed his axe so selfishly.

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" It was Gimli.

Boromir rose.

"Why in the hell are we arguing about who gets to go on a suicide mission to go throw the root of all evils into a huge friggin' volcano?"

They all paused.

"Cause…" said Gimli, groping around for a reason. "Your hair is stupid!"

Boromir's eyebrow began to twitch.

"What?"

"Your hair," said Gimli, folding his arms with a grunt. "It's meant to be black, not brown."

Boromir growled.

"Hey, I dyed it myself! It looks fine!"

Gimli shrugged.

"Whatever."

"Hey," snarled Boromir, "do you really think I am going to take beauty tips from a dwarf?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means!"

"How dare you insult the legendary beauty of the dwarves!"

Boromir stuck out his tongue.

"It definitely is legendary."

"Gentlemen!" cried Legolas, jumping in between the two as mediator. "Stop this pointless fighting!"

"Oh, go marry Gimli you stupid, shallow elf!"

Legolas' eyes narrowed.

"I am not stupid."

And then all hell broke loose. Legolas rugby tackled Boromir. Gimli whacked Aragorn with a chair. Gandalf sucker punched Frodo. Figwit performed a dazzling roundhouse kick upon a fellow extra.

The rest of the Council started chanting: "Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!"

Elrond began to bash his head against the wall.

Somehow, Frodo had managed to crawl out of the worst of the carnage, and now he slid into his seat, dazed, with a trickle of blood running from his nose. He looked over at the Ring with a growing sense of fear. The Council members had appeared in its surface, and suddenly they were being engulfed in a ring of fire.

Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg gimbatul.

Frodo set his resolve, and stood up to face the Council.

"I will take it! I will take it!" When no-one paid attention, he screamed: "I WILL TAKE THE BLOODY THING!"

They all turned and looked at him.

"You don't have to shout!" said Gandalf.

The hobbit grinned. "Sorry. I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though… I do not know the way."

"Well duh." Gandalf rolled his eyes. "You got lost on your way to the bathroom. You think we'd trust you with something like a Ring of Power? I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, so long as it is yours to bear." He walked over, and put a hand on Frodo's shoulder.

Aragorn rose from his seat.

"If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will." He knelt down before Frodo. "Will you marry me?"

"What?"

"I-I mean, you have my sword."

Gandalf caught Elrond's eye and winked.

"Why do you keep winking at everyone?" asked the elf.

Legolas stepped forward.

"And you have my bow."

He handed Frodo his bow, and then went back and sat down.

"Umm, Legolas?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know how to use a bow."

The elf shrugged.

"Neither do I, but it drives the fangirls crazy."

Aragorn growled, and went and took the elf by the ear, dragging him back towards the group.

"But I'm not a good traveler!" sobbed the elf. "You try packing six hundred pounds worth of cosmetics into a single piece of hand luggage!"

Frodo frowned.

"Don't you want to come on a super special awesome trip to Eru-knows-where?"

"Ooh, ooh, I do!" And Gimli joined the group.

Frodo shook his head.

"No, we don't need any dwarves on this trip, thank you very much."

Gimli frowned.

"Why not?"

"Well…" said Frodo, looking about. "Gandalf serves as plot exposition, Aragorn as shameless eye candy… Legolas is the unintentional comic relief, and, of course, I'm the lovable hero of the piece who gets everyone else to do his dirty work and moans and bitches about carrying around a piece of extremely pricey gold." He stuck his nose up in the air. "What are you going to contribute, huh?"

The dwarf was lost for words.

"I… uh…"

Frodo waved a hand.

"You've got ten seconds to come up with a reason."

"I…er…"

"Five seconds."

"I… I serve as the butt of a hilarious joke involving dwarf tossing!"

Frodo frowned.

"Damn it, I see your point." He sighed. "Fine, get over here. But just shut up and be quiet until then."

Gimli sauntered over to the group, feeling proud of his relative uselessness in regards to the entirety of the plot.

Frodo looked around.

"Anyone else?"

Boromir stood up next.

"You carry the fates of us all little one," he said. "If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

Frodo frowned.

"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed."

"Hey!" Sam jumped from out of the bushes, and ran up and skidded to a halt beside Frodo. "Mr. Frodo is not going anywhere without me! Not least with this bunch!"

Frodo frowned.

"Sam, you really need to stop following me everywhere. Seriously, it's getting border-line stalkerish now."

Sam grinned.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but someone told me there were cookies out here."

Elrond was amused.

"It is hardly possible to separate you two, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Sam pouted.

"Shut up, Hugo."

The next moment a pair of hobbits named Merry and Pippin came dashing into the courtyard.

"I'm telling you!" yelled Merry over his shoulder. "You can't tig on a tog!"

They both came screeching to a halt in front of the partly assembled Fellowship.

"Ooh," said Pippin. "Are we picking teams for the football tournament already?"

"No," said Elrond, scowling. "We're actually assembling a Fellowship for an extremely doom-laden mission, and you're not allowed to come."

Merry frowned.

"But what about the female members of the audience? We're trying to think of them too, y'know."

Aragorn raised a hand.

"Yeah, I got that covered."

Elrond shrugged.

"Just let 'em come, I can't be bothered to work out the logic behind this quest anymore anyways."

Pippin nodded: "And you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission… quest... thing."

"Well," said Merry, "that rules you out Pip"

Pippin burst into tears.

"Nine companions..." said Elrond, secretly pleased that he had managed to count without using his fingers. "So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!" He grinned, and punched the air in triumph. "Oh yeah, I got to say the tagline of the movie! Booyah!"

"Great!" said Pippin, who had stopped crying. "Where are we going?"

Sam shrugged.

"Beats me. As long as it's got cable, I'm not complaining."