Title: A Rather Long Sequel
Rating: T (violence, comic violence, gratuitous thwacking of the backs of heads, and some scary moments...maybe)
Disclaimer: If it were mine I'd be the late J.R.R. Tolkien. But I'm just Yuggster.
Summary: Sequel to A Short Parody in which the remaining members of the Fellowship try to continue after Gandalf and Gimli leave. Um...probably safe to say this is AU.
Author's Note: Remember A Short Parody? This is the continuation...the rather long sequel, if you will. I honestly don't know how often I'll be able to update this...maybe once a week, and I have another couple of things I'm working on. But I figured after my last rather angst-ridden story (Goodbye My Friend) a little humor may be in order.
I must also note that this is decidedly movieverse (mostly because A Short Parody was created due to two things I found annoying in the movie trilogy). And thus some of the things you find here are will not keep with the books (such as certain events of The Two Towers and Boromir and Faramir's appearances).
Can you spot the point in this chapter where I mock my own writing?
In which Frodo tries desperately to be the center of attention, Aragorn comes to a decision, and the hobbits refuse to run
Wizard and Dwarf were just disappearing over the hill as two men, one elf, and four hobbits watched them go with mouths agape.
One of the hobbits was the first to react, throwing himself onto the ground and clutching at his shoulder, moaning and carefully looking out of the corner of his eye to see if anyone was paying attention to him.
A second hobbit sighed and knelt down beside the "suffering" hobbit, gently patting his shoulder and whispering soothing words.
One of the men twitched noticeably, running his fingers through his reddish hair. A round shield was slung across his shoulders and he, seeing that the other man was not likely to move any time soon, dropped this to the ground and sat on one of many convenient rocks that littered the area.
The two other hobbits noticed this and immediately came to join him, each peppering him with inane questions about his home and family. The man finally smiled and ruffled their hair, ignoring the piteous moans from the first hobbit.
The other man shook his head, dropping to his knees with a grieved look on his face. "I have failed them," he whispered.
The elf blinked, a puzzled look on his face. "What?" he asked.
"I failed the Quest," the man sighed.
The elf glanced over to the five members of the company—the two hobbits pestering the man and trying to make him their new best friend and the man going along with them, the first hobbit acting pitiful and pained and the second comforting him. They were all acting normally, doing almost exactly what they had done every day of the journey up to this point.
He was concerned for his friend for only a moment until he realized that he, too, was acting normally.
Blaming himself for something...anything...which he had been doing since they first left Rivendell (honestly, was it really Aragorn's fault that Frodo hadn't know to turn right or left?).
Huffing out a sigh Legolas plopped down next to Aragorn to cheer the ranger up, as he had done every day since the journey began. "It's not so bad," he said. "You did protect Frodo."
Aragorn brightened (as he usually did after Legolas tried to cheer him up). "I did!" he beamed, turning to look at the hobbit in question (who was writhing on the ground and saying something about a wound that would never heal).
Suddenly happy, Aragorn jumped to his feet. "Come on, let's go!" he said cheerfully.
The other man, Boromir, borrowed Aragorn's patented 'are you mad' expression. "Are you mad?" he asked.
"Certainly not!" Aragorn replied.
"Where are we going?" Pippin asked, looking up from where he was (futilely) trying to wrestle Boromir to the ground by one muscular arm.
"To Minas Tirith!"
Aragorn suddenly found himself the target of six pairs of incredulous eyes (well, five...Frodo was too busy looking pained to work up any real incredulity).
"Isn't the city in deadly peril?" he asked.
Boromir nodded wryly. "I figured my father could handle it," he mumbled.
"Isn't he insane?" Merry asked, tugging (futilely) on the man's head in an attempt to help Pippin in his quest to get the son of the Steward into a wrestling match.
"He's a bit mad," Boromir conceded, reaching over his shoulder to grab Merry by the tunic and plop him onto the ground. "But my brother can temper him."
Mentioning family was the wrong thing to do, for Merry and Pippin immediately began plying him with questions about his brother while Sam looked on with a hint of interest (having finally convinced Frodo that the other members of the Fellowship still thought he was important), and a suddenly-calm Frodo was watching with a bemused expression.
Aragorn yelled for attention a few times but nobody noticed. So he turned to the one being he knew he could count on: Legolas.
"Legolas!" he called, and the elf jumped up to attention. "Get everyone to listen to me, please?" he said, remembering to ask nicely (his father had always told him that asking nicely got a better response than ordering anyone around—though with Legolas it didn't seem to matter).
The elf obeyed immediately. "QUIET!" he shouted, jumping up onto a rather convenient rock to glare down at the rest of the Fellowship.
Merry and Pippin stopped pestering, Boromir stopped answering, and Frodo turned his bemused expression back to the elf. Sam just shook his head—he had been paying attention to Aragorn.
Nonplussed, Legolas pointed to Aragorn and took a seat on the rocky ground.
"We," Aragorn said decisively, "are going to Minas Tirith."
Four hobbits and one man groaned.
"Denethor needs our help!"
The man nodded, but the hobbits groaned again.
"We must do what we can to aid Gimli in his Quest by distracting the Enemy!"
One of the hobbits collapsed dramatically to the ground, and another discreetly whispered that he was overreacting.
"We must leave now!"
Legolas jumped to his feet and took off running.
"No! Come back!"
The elf ran back, a confused expression on his face. "But you said..."
"I didn't mean now now," the ranger interrupted sharply. "I meant now."
Still confused, Legolas turned to Boromir in hopes that the other man could cast some light on this.
"He means sit back down," Boromir said quietly.
Legolas took a seat next to Boromir. "Why?" he whispered.
"Who can say?" Boromir whispered back. "He's probably waiting for us to disagree so we can get into a nice, long discussion."
Aragorn stared at the six companions, waiting for a protest. "Well?" he asked when none was forthcoming.
"Well what?" Pippin asked brightly.
"Aren't you going to argue?"
"Why would we argue?" Merry asked. "You're the leader, aren't you?"
The ranger blinked with a hint of confusion. He slowly regarded the faces of the Company. Legolas, he knew, was loyal to a fault (literally; his particular brand of loyalty was a fault that most tried to cure him of, but that Aragorn found unendingly amusing). Boromir was from Minas Tirith and was going back anyway. And as for the hobbits...well, Merry and Pippin had been looking for adventure (and were liable to go anywhere their new best friend was going), and Frodo would probably be too ashamed to face anyone back home any time this century (and Sam went where Frodo went—loyal to a fault but not the same fault as Legolas).
"All right," Aragorn said slowly, not quite sure of what to do when no one argued against his ideas. "Let's go to Minas Tirith."
"But we're not running all the way!" Pippin declared stoutly.
"Indeed not!" Merry agreed. "Unless you'd care to carry us, Strider."
"Our legs are too short to keep up!"
"And if we run we'll need to eat more, and there's not that much left!"
"We could ride Bill, but there isn't room for all four of us."
"How would we run with a pony, anyway?"
Helplessly, Aragorn looked at Legolas who was trying to conceal a smile. He briefly thought of ordering the elf not to smile, but realized that would be cruel.
"But we need to run," Aragorn tried to reason. "How else will we make it there before the war is over?"
"We could go back to Rivendell and get horses," Sam suggested.
"No," Aragorn shook his head emphatically. "I refuse to return until the Quest is completed!"
"Doesn't seem to be in his hands, Pip," Merry muttered to his friend, who nodded in agreement.
"We could send Legolas to Rohan to borrow some horses from Théoden," Boromir suggested.
Aragorn brightened at this thought, but then he caught sight of Legolas' rather wary face. He knew the elf would do so if he asked, but also that it would make his friend terribly miserable to have to run all the way to Edoras all alone. "Why don't we all go?" he said brightly.
Merry and Pippin groaned again. "We're not running that far!" Pippin declared.
"You might not have to run the entire way," Boromir suggested. "Just down to the Gap of Rohan, and perhaps some wandering band of Rohirrim will find us and take us to Edoras."
The hobbits seemed pleased by this, and readily agreed. After all, the gap wasn't too far away, especially when compared to Edoras itself or Minas Tirith.
"Let's be off then!" Aragorn shouted grandly, sweeping his arm vaguely southward as Legolas jumped to his feet.
"Can't we wait until tomorrow?" Pippin begged. "It's almost nighttime!"
Aragorn frowned. "But we have to get a good start...we must run to the Gap of Rohan!"
"Strider," Merry put on his reasonable voice, standing up as tall as he could and looking the ranger squarely in the belly button. "If we rest tonight we can have a fresh start in the morning and we'll be able to run much longer than if we go right now."
The man sighed, seeing that it was no use getting the remains of the Fellowship to leave tonight. "We'll rest here, then," he finally grumbled, sitting down with slumped shoulders.
Merry and Pippin immediately returned to trying to wrestle with Boromir, who promptly decided to humor them by pretending that their combined hobbit strength was an actual threat.
Legolas, a smile on his face, sat next to Aragorn. "At least we'll be able to start fresh tomorrow," he offered encouragingly.
Aragorn glared, but his face suddenly twisted into a grin. "Just be quiet, Legolas," he said, his grin broadening at the look of shock on his friend's face. "Not another word until morning."
With that, the ranger leaned back for a peaceful evening followed by a restful night's sleep. Finally: a night without the elf's obsessive singing.
Aragorn closed his eyes, completely oblivious to the bewilderment and hurt on his friend's face. Had he known how much those words would endanger them all, he would have held his tongue.
After all, there was still the vaguely foreshadowed danger to come.
Reviews? Flames? Whatever?
AN: Weird enough for ya? I reverted to the old version...I had a different one posted earlier. This one makes Aragorn look more like an idiot...that was not intentional, and he won't look that way in the rest of the story (well, only as much as everyone else does). The only character I might make outright fun of would be Frodo, and only because it's so much fun to make him overly melodramatic.
Coming next: more angst than one would expect in the average parody.