Chapter III
The next morning, Gimli and Legolas were still recovering from the day before's exhausting events. Legolas/Gimli reclined on a soft patch of grass, while Gimli/Legolas found a slab of gray stone sufficient for the purpose. After several hours of shameless loafing, the two finally pulled themselves together enough to speak civilly.
"What are we doing?" demanded Legolas, absently smudging one side of the drawn-on mustache on his (or rather, Gimli's) face.
Gimli was initially unforthcoming. "I don't know," he finally grunted, simply.
Legolas smudged the other side of the mustache. "Well," he said softly, "it seems to me that the only way we'll ever have this change reversed is if we get along—for now. Once we are back to normal, we can resume our exclusive war. Agreed?"
Gimli found this idea to his liking. "All right."
"Great!" said Legolas, relieved. "Now will you please take all those unsightly piercings out of my face, shave off the beard, and otherwise fix the mess you've made of me?"
The dwarven elf was reluctant to acquiesce, but if he could use it as a bargaining chip, it might be worth it. "Only if you'll use my dwarf hair tonic to regrow my beard and fix all the stuff you've done to me."
"Fine." Legolas gave in. "But don't expect me to start behaving like a dwarf!"
"And don't expect me to behave like an elf."
Of course I wouldn't! Legolas thought. Elf is several steps up from dwarf – that would be too much of a challenge. Ordinarily, he would have said something like this aloud, but he didn't want Gimli to rescind his side of their mutual agreement, especially since the elven dwarf was desperate to see himself looking semi-normal again.
---
Meanwhile, Pippin/Aragorn and Celeborn/monkey were getting along quite nicely now, as Pippin had grown accustomed to conversing with a primate (maybe he hit his head a little too hard). They began to conspire as to how they could switch themselves back.
"I've got it!" declared Pippin. "Why don't we sneak up behind Galadriel and jump on her! Then we can tie her to a chair and tickle her until she agrees to change us back!"
"Young hobbit," Celeborn chuckled, not unkindly, "while it is certainly a clever proposal, I do not believe that it would succeed."
"Why not?" The quixotic Pippin was unconvinced.
"Unfortunately," the monkey explained slowly, "my wife has superlative telepathic capabilities, and is impossible to 'sneak up behind,' as you put it."
Pippin sighed, remembering Galadriel's uncanny powers. "Oh, yeah. I forgot."
---
Frodo had recently begun losing sleep over the fate of the Ring that he had formerly carried. He felt that it should be restored to him, since he still had a suspicion that Boromir/Frodo was not trustworthy, but the others' preoccupation with their current troubles had apparently superseded their commitment to prioritize the quest. Who knew what the overbearing man of Gondor might do with it? He had claimed to have no interest in it, but Frodo knew far better than that. He knew that Boromir would use it, given the chance. Something had to be done, and since he didn't see anyone else volunteering, he figured he was the one to do it. Spotting Boromir/Frodo sitting on a stone bench in the Fellowship's glade, he waited until he was sure no one else was around to witness, then approached himself. "Hello, Boromir!" he exulted, endeavoring futilely to veil his less-than-friendly intentions.
Boromir looked up to see himself walking toward him, his face plastered with a wicked grin. Apparently missing the obvious clue in the hobbitish Gondorian's expression, Boromir/Frodo was about to respond equally cordially, but was abruptly cut short when his former self suddenly tackled him.
"The Ring is mine!" Frodo shouted, grappling at Boromir/Frodo's neck. "It should be mine. Give it to me!"
"No!" Boromir roared, struggling to put on the Ring.
"Give me the Ring!" Frodo hadn't meant to make such a commotion, but it seemed that as he strove to acquire forcibly the accursed piece of jewelry, a madness took him.
Boromir's attempt to escape failed, since Frodo made good use of his superior height and weight, pinned his adversary's hands with one of his hands, and broke the chain upon which the Ring dangled. Then, he snatched the accursed Thing he sought and shoved it in his pocket, racing away as fast as his legs could carry him. Boromir/Frodo gave up pursuit after half a mile.
---
Merry/Sam was stirring some of his new stew when Boromir/Frodo came rushing in. "Hello, Fro—uh, Boromir!" exulted Merry. "What are you about?"
"I've been robbed," was the indignant reply.
"Robbed? What happened?" asked Merry, somewhat concerned, but equally wary.
"Frodo took the Ring from me!" Boromir retorted irately. "First he takes my body, now he takes my Ring. He is a thief, I tell you, a thief!"
"That's too bad, Boromir," Merry feigned genuine commiseration. He knew that if Frodo had reclaimed the Ring, it was with good reason. However, he did not want to upset Boromir unduly, especially since the former Gondorian was clearly not in a pleasant mood. Merry decided to offer him something that (he felt) would more than compensate for the loss of the silly little Ring. "How about some stew?"
Boromir sneered at him, again creating an expression that looked simply dreadful on Frodo, and stormed away.
---
Sam/Merry had been concerned about Frodo lately. He didn't seem to be well rested in the mornings and often muttered unintelligibly to himself. Sam had even caught the hobbitish Gondorian carrying on a silent, but heated rant! When questioned, he always dismissed Sam's fears and accused him of paranoia. This hurt Sam's pride, but he told himself that it was worth it to endure a little scolding if it would help his poor, troubled master in any way. However, on this particular morning, when Sam woke up, Frodo was nowhere to be found. Well, to be honest, "Frodo" was there, but Boromir, who embodied the real Frodo, was absent. Sam had searched for hours, but to no avail. He had hunted through all the city, even knocking on doors in his desperation. At one point, he spotted Pippin heading up the seemingly endless curving steps of the Royal Mallorn, doubtless to importune Galadriel, and thought this odd, until he remembered that it wasn't Pippin, but Aragorn. Frodo, however, was nowhere to be found. At last, Sam grew too hungry and weary to lengthen the search and started back to home base – the Fellowship's glade.
---
Meanwhile, Merry/Sam, having finished cooking for the day, was out searching for the absent Pippin/Aragorn. "Pippin! Pip? Where are you?" he called, pulling apart hedges and upending stones in his hunt. "Come on! You had better not be hiding from me!" Suddenly, a monkey swung down from a tree limb, immensely startling him.
"No need to fear," said the monkey, who was, of course, Celeborn.
Merry had shut his (or Sam's) eyes and was swatting blindly at the monkey, as if it were a pesky insect. His face was contorted in what appeared to be a silent scream.
Celeborn sighed at Merry's entertaining reaction and forged ahead. "I'm not really a monkey. I am actually Celeborn. My body has been exchanged with that of an ape by my wife, who, as I'm certain you're aware, has gone mad. Your friend, Pippin, and I had been conversing for the last several hours, but he grew hungry and returned to camp. As should you."
Merry at last managed to pry Sam's eyes open. "Oh. So you're really Lord Celeborn? Things are getting very strange around here, I must say. Well, I guess I'll be heading back then. What are you going to do?"
Celeborn shrugged. "I suppose I will stay here in the trees until my wife comes to her senses. If I return and confront her, who knows what she'll switch me with then? Besides, the life of a monkey is, in some respects, more amusing than the life of an elf-lord."
---
In the interim, Frodo/Boromir, who had reclaimed the Ring and gone off the deep end, was holed up in an isolated cave he had discovered near the Anduin. "My precious!" he said fondly, as he caressed the Ring. "My own! My love! It's mine! My own! My precious!" He concealed himself inside his secluded grotto for several days, and in this relatively short amount of time, his clothes became rags, his teeth began to rot, and some of his hair fell out, leaving him almost bald. He forgot the taste of bread, the sound of trees, and the softness of the wind. He even forgot his own name. He now ate only bugs, worms, and bats and took to constantly stroking the Ring and hissing about his "Precious."
---
On Galadriel's orders, Haldir and the rest of the guards were busy trying to capture Legolas and Gimli, who were cooperatively running rampant across Lothlórien, holding picket signs that displayed such memorable phrases as "Give me back my body!", "Galadriel is evil!", and "Don't make me live in a dwarf/elf body!". Those who did not know what had happened to them thought that Legolas had gone completely batty and resolved to stay away from him thereafter. Assuming that most of the denizens of Lórien did not have a clue about the Fellowship's plight, it is easy to understand why they were puzzled as to the travelers' recent behavior. Galadriel wouldn't have cared about their antics, but she did not want all of Lothlórien discovering the truth about her private "experiment," and was thus forced to take action.
How the dwarf and elf team managed to elude the elves assigned with their capture for as long as they did is a mystery, indeed. However, eventually, Haldir and his guard taskforce cornered the picketers back at their glade, along with the rest of the crazed Fellowship (except Frodo/Boromir).
"Oh dear!" cried Pippin, fumbling at Aragorn's sword, clumsily drawing it and promptly dropping it.
"What did you guys do?" Aragorn asked, glaring accusingly up at Legolas and Gimli, who quickly tossed their signs off into the bushes and offered cheesy grins.
Gimli/Legolas gulped. "We're doomed." They all had just noticed Galadriel's well-timed arrival. She smiled triumphantly. For all the trouble the whacked-up Fellowship had been causing, the entertainment was still better than most of what she got here in Lórien anyway (usually a stupid, mushy soap opera or Celeborn trying to sing and play a lyre…) However, behind the pleased countenance, Legolas/Gimli perceived that she was slightly vexed. Probably because her beauty supplies have been confiscated, he thought.
That was true, but she likely missed Celeborn as well. She had learned that someone that resembled Celeborn but hooted like an ape had been seen near Mirkwood running around insanely, swinging from trees. This was personally degrading to her, as he was her husband, and it gave her a bad reputation. It perturbed her because she was always trying to impress King Thranduil with her illustrious position, powers, and husband and this was not impressive. She resolved to remedy the situation by sending her guards to capture the primate-minded Celeborn, bring him back, and keep him locked up until she deemed it appropriate to return his right mind. Maybe the Mirkwood Elves would think they had been hallucinating…she hoped. "Haldir."
Haldir sheathed his sword and knelt before his Lady.
Galadriel continued. "I have a task for you. Assemble a squad of your most capable warriors and order them to hasten to the fringes of Mirkwood. They are to seek out my husband Celeborn and return him to me. They may encounter these difficulties: he will have uncommon prowess in swinging from trees, he will probably resist capture, and he may try to argue. They are to disregard anything he says… assuming they can understand him. Get to it!"
Haldir showed obeisance and lightly touched his fingers to his chest. Then he arose and went immediately to his task.
Galadriel smirked, then turned on the amused Fellowship members. "What are you looking at? Been having a lovely time, I imagine?" She smiled in her elusive way. "As it is, I am growing weary of this whole affair and the reasons for instigating it now seem rather imprudent. I am aware that one of you is holding my beauty supplies for ransom."
Everyone pointed at each other.
"That's what I thought." Galadriel's equanimity shattered. "You give them back to me now, OR ELSE!"
"Or else what?" Pippin/Aragorn just had to ask. Perhaps inhabiting a large, filthy ranger's body made him feel overconfident.
"You dare to ask me of the consequences, you grimy, hideous human?!" Galadriel had apparently forgotten that it was Pippin. "You appalling, revolting thief of my granddaughter! You accomplished hypnotist!" (She figured that was the only way he could have convinced Arwen to marry him.) "Why I ought to…ought to…" Galadriel had all but put on boxing gloves.
"Now, now," said Legolas/Gimli, stepping in front of her, "it was just a simple question."
"Then he shall get a simple answer," replied Galadriel, feathers decidedly ruffled. "Give them back to me or else…DOOM!"
"Yikes!" said everyone in unison, taking the hint early.
Legolas took charge. "Alright everyone! Two choices: flee for your lives or…PLAN B!"
"Flee for my life!" said Pippin/Aragorn, turning to run, his arms out in front of him.
Legolas turned, grabbed the hobbitish ranger by the back of his cloak, and pulled him back. "What did you say?"
"I meant Plan B," said Pippin, laughing nervously.
"Right!" said Legolas. "Plan B!"
While Galadriel stood there wondering what Plan B could possibly be, she made a big mistake. She was curious. She should have run while she had the chance.
Suddenly, with fearsome battle cries, the demented Fellowship surrounded and tackled her!
"Aaahhh! You can't do this to me! I'm a queen!"
"Switch us back! Switch us back! Switch us back! Switch us back! Switch us back!" the attackers chanted psychotically.
"Stop!" protested Galadriel. "You know I can't stand psychotic chanting! Guards! Guards!"
From somewhere up in the trees (probably in guard telain), fifteen guards leapt down and came to Galadriel's aid.
One was Orophin, Haldir's brother. "All right, all right, desist from assailing the queen, you creeps!"
"It's not our fault we're creeps!" countered Legolas/Gimli from the bottom of the pile. "It's all her fault!"
"Oh, I see," said Orophin unbelievingly. "Very well. Elves, protect the queen!" He and his guards leapt upon the queen's assailers and hauled them off, but not without several bruises, black eyes, and sprained limbs.
Legolas wrenched away. "You'll never take me alive!"
Though Orophin wondered at Gimli's exceptional talent at imitating Legolas' voice, he had no choice. He aimed his bow at the elvish dwarf.
"Uh…" said Legolas. "Of course, if you want to take me alive, we could work it that way, too."
"Take them away," said Galadriel, refusing the hands that tried to help her up. She attempted to regain her dignified image, but the dirt and grass stains all over her formerly sparkling white dress didn't help. "Throw these would-be assassins in the dungeon until I can decide on a fitting fate…"
"Would saying 'I'm sorry' help?" Legolas hoped.
"I'm afraid not," said Orophin. "You are all in serious trouble."
"Hey, I wanted to say that!" yelled Rumil, Haldir's other brother. "How come you get all the good lines? I always have to say stupid captain obvious stuff!"
"Oh, shut it!" snarled Galadriel.
---
"Well, I'm afraid this is the end," sighed Legolas, looking out through the cast iron prison bars. "Friends, I harbor no ill will toward you at all – okay, maybe a little toward Gimli, but still – I do not wish to go out looking like this."
"Such low self-respect, Gimli!" a strangely familiar, elder male voice intoned.
"Huh?" grunted Gimli, searching around for the speaker.
"Gandalf?" questioned Legolas, withdrawing his stubby dwarvish hands from the bars and shrinking back. "You're…you're…a ghost!"
The newly arrived wizard's eyes widened. "Gimli? Your voice…. Are you all right? I could have sworn that Legolas said that! Legolas, have you been dabbling in ventriloquism?"
"But, Gandalf!" Legolas cried, still trembling at the sight of the "ghostly" Gandalf. "You fell! How could you possibly have survived? And you're all white and shining – you must be a ghost."
"What?" said Gandalf. "Oh yes, that. No, no, I'm very much alive. I would tell you the story in its entirety, were it not insipid and overlong. Here you are, my good dwarf. Have a file."
Before Legolas could get it, Gimli snatched it through the bars and began to file fervently away at the metal, cackling evilly.
"Yeesh, Gimli, don't you know anything?" Legolas rolled his (or rather Gimli's) eyes. "You should file away at the hinge! If you try to file the bars it'll take way too long!"
"Oh…okay." Gimli moved to the hinges.
Gandalf, again taken aback at Legolas and Gimli's apparent voice switch, asked, "Now will someone be so kind as to explain how you are doing these voice… stunts?"
Legolas all but began bawling as he melodramatically recounted the entire ghastly switcheroo saga to the flabbergasted wizard. "And now we're stuck in this cell," the elven dwarf finished, wiping at tears, "awaiting our cruel fate at the hands of Lórien's insane, sadistic queen."
Gandalf shook his head in incredulity. "I never would have expected such behavior of a venerated and powerful member of the elder race, but perhaps Sauron has finally gotten to her. In any case, we must escape from this prison and find somewhere to regroup until we can decide on a course of action."
Aragorn finally spoke, startling the wizard, who still wasn't quite used to the switch. "That sounds like a feasible strategy. If only the sentinels do not return for a while longer."
"Not to worry, my good ranger… er, hobbit," faltered Gandalf. "I took care of them on my way in. They'll not wake until well into tomorrow, I think."
"Um…Gandalf," said Legolas. "No offense, but, why are you wearing a pink, fur-trimmed bathrobe?"
"It's Galadriel's," admitted Gandalf sheepishly. "I somehow misplaced my clothes in the fight with the Balrog so, naturally, I was rather desperate."
"This is going pretty slowly," commented Pippin. "Can't you just blast the bars away with your magic, Gandalf?"
"No!" Gandalf barked gruffly. He hated it when others treated his magical powers as if they were a standard solution for common, petty problems. Moreover, he thought Pippin was, as a rule, a nuisance. "I only use my powers in situations of utmost need, not because you are too impatient to wait while someone files through metal hinges!"
"This new Gandalf is grumpier than the old one…" murmured Gimli, continuing with the filing.