"You know, Argyle," observed Boomer as they made their way along the narrow mountain trail, "The arrangement is not as bad as it seems. So you will be married to a March Warden of Lothlorien. Look at the benefits. You will have a strong warrior and excellent tactician, when he's not busy squeezing out babies, to help you guard your borders."
Argyle's lips pursed together. "I can't wait to see how Arwen reacts to your prowess on your return to Rivendell."
Boomer flushed dangerously. "She chose my prowess over yours."
"Do you think we should stop and let them have it, Grandlaff?" Pip asked nervously.
"No, I do not. We could, however, toss them
off the side of the mountain." The wizard answered. "If you two
little boys are done, we have Gollum to locate."
*
Frito found himself sandwiched between Sam on his left, Stu on his right and
Legless in front. The elf had taken the lead after they separated from the
rest of the company. Frito resented being boxed in by his friends and took
the opportunity to tell them so.
"If I don’t' have the ring, why am I the one being boxed in?" He whined. "I don't need your protection anymore, it's Steward we should all be concerned about."
Every one ignored him as they made the last climb down the mountain and found themselves on a great dusty plain. In the distance, they could see Mount Doom. Wisps of smoke rose from the top and a red glow seemed to surround it.
"I saw Mount Aetna, once," observed Stu. "Somehow, Mount Doom seems a lot worse."
"Is Mount Et-Na in Wrangled Gorge, Master Steward?" Sam paused and his hitched his pack higher on his shoulder and sent his cook pots jangling.
"Nice", " Stu answered.
Frito blinked. "What about your niece?"
Stu sighed. "Nice is a city in Italy."
"It will lay what?" Frito's brow furrowed in confusion and he wondered how they had gone from discussing Mount Et-Na to getting laid.
Stu pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you think we can reach the volcano by nightfall?" He changed the subject.
"Are you in pain, beloved?" Legless rested his hand on Stu's shoulder and stared with deep concern.
Quickly Stu dropped his hand and shook his head. "We have no cover on this plain and I'm getting nervous. We can see for miles and that means we can be seen. These elven cloaks are all well and fine, but I see no reason to press our luck."
"You are right, dear one, I will take the lead and the Half Lings can walk between us." So saying, Legless set a ground eating pace, leaving Frito and Sam to run along behind.
Stu rubbed his wounded ass as he trailed behind. In his mind's eye, he held a mental image of the old Partridge Family opening credits with the cartoon scene of big bird being followed by a gaggle of little birds. His eyes constantly scanned behind him and to the side. He had an itchy feeling between his shoulder blades, as though he was being watched. "In living color," he said to no one in particular.
*
Near nightfall, Argyle paused and cocked his head and listened. Then he dropped
to all fours and pressed his ears to the ground.
"Oh, good, finally, we get to sleep," said Mary. "I'm powerful tired." So saying, he threw himself on the ground and wrapped himself in his cloak. "Wake me in time for breakfast."
"I don’t think the park ranger is taking a nap, Mary," said Pip in a harsh whisper.
"Indeed not, Mary," Argyle straightened and glared in to the distance. "I hear orcs."
"How many?" Grandlaff followed Argyle's line of sight, trying to discern shapes in the gathering gloom.
"I cannot tell. Would that we had Legless' keen eyes."
"They'd be glued to Steward's ass," grumbled Glimmergroin. "No help to us."
Boomer snickered. "We still have not found the Gollum creature. We can fade back on to the mountain or we can keep going and pray the orcs do not see us."
"I vote we go back to the mountains," Mary sat up with a sigh. "At least then we might get some rest."
"No, we must find Gollum. We will have to skirt around the orcs, or at least try to. Argyle, keep your eyes peeled. If Gollum gets to those orcs, all is lost."
They started off again, with Argyle still in the lead. The Half-Lings were tired and lagged behind a bit, with Glimmergroin, whose stout legs were not made for long walks over open plains.
"Hey, look there!" Boomer's long arm shot out and pointed directly at a small shadow darting over the plain. "Gollum."
Gollum turned with wide eyes and stared for a moment then bolted.
"After him, lads!" The wizard waved his staff as if ordering a charge.
Boomer and Argyle immediately broke in to a run, chasing after a fleeing Gollum. Grandlaff hiked up his robes and flew after the men. The Half-Lings and the dwarf followed more slowly. They rushed across the plain in pell mell pursuit of Gollum, paying little attention to where they were going, only intent to reach their goal.
*
Legless called a short halt at the boulder strewn base of Mount Doom. He dug
around in his pack and pulled out lembas and passed around pieces of the wafer.
The Half-Lings collapsed with their lembas while Stu scouted around. His nerves
thrummed and he couldn't sit still. The itchy feeling hadn't left him and
he knew something bad was about to happen, though he'd avoided sharing his
feelings with the rest of the troops.
Legless watched his beloved pace and he, too, began to feel some of the anxiety. He scanned the horizon, seeking the source of his unease. With a start, he realized that the rest of the party was racing towards them in pursuit of a small creature that could only be Gollum. Directly behind them was a large troop of orcs.
"Look!" He instantly drew his bow and took careful aim at Gollum.
Stu flinched when Legless pulled out the bow and his hand instinctively went to his injured rear. "Wait," he said. He had no idea what impulse made him say that, but he felt that to shoot the scrawny thing running towards them was wrong. All it wanted, after all, was what everyone else in Middle Earth wanted: the damn ring. Stu's biggest concern was the orcs following behind his friends.
Legless' bow lowered a fraction and his eyebrow rose.
In a split second, Stu reached a decision. He ripped the mithril chain over his head and draped over Frito's. "Take the ring and throw it in the fire. Hurry." He spun the Half-Ling around and gave him a light swat. "Go. Sam, go with him."
"What about you?" Frito staggered as Stu pushed him forward.
"Don't worry about us. Just destroy that ring." Spinning back around, Stu snatched Legless' bone handled knives from the sheath on his back.
Legless dropped his bow in surprise as Stu ran forward brandishing the knives that he'd never allowed any hands besides his own touch. He turned his head and watched at the Half-Lings sprinted up the mountain. He reached down and retrieved his bow and arrow and then took off after Stu.
Glimmergroin trudged along with his head down, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. In front of him Mary and Pip stumbled over sharp rocks. His breath wheezed in his throat with each painful step. Dwarves, he mused, were not made to run.
Stu, knives waving wildly in front of him, ran past Gollum, then Argyle and Boomer. He brushed past Grandlaff and squeezed between the Half-Lings. Startled, Glimmergroin came to a halt and the first orc behind him plowed in to him with a growl and a snarl.
"Hold on, there!" Glimmergroin slammed the butt of his ax down on top of the orc's foot and the creature howled. Oblivious to the orc dancing around on one foot behind him, the dwarf tried to bar Stu's way. "Gollum is that way, lad."
Stu gave the dwarf a look that suggested Glimmergroin had lost his mind. "The orcs are behind you."
"Orcs?" Glimmergroin turned and saw the large party of orcs for the first time. "Orcs!" He hefted his axe and swung it in broad circle over his head, forcing Stu to duck or be decapitated.
As the orcs streamed around them, Argyle and Boomer found themselves back to back fending off dozens of the creatures. Grandlaff drew his sword and laid about him while Mary and Pip did their best with the small weapons at their disposal.
On the mountainside, Frito turned and looked down at the plain. His blue eyes were large with concern and fear. "Oh, Sam, look at them. Did you think they'll make it?"
"Of course they will, Mr. Frito, as long as we do our part." Sam tugged on Frito's arm.
"It's heavier than I expected it to be," Frito stumbled along beside his friend. "It did not seem so heavy when I carried it out of the Shire. I suppose it knows."
"If the tales that Grandlaff tells are true, then I guess it does at that."
On the plain, Gollum sped ahead of the party chasing him; intent on reaching the ones he instinctively knew were going to destroy his precious. He could hear the ring calling to him. He needed to save his precious.
Stu twirled his borrowed knives with deadly precision. His feet and hands worked in perfect harmony as he methodically took on orc after orc. But as good as he was and as many orcs as he killed, they just kept coming. At one point, he found his back pressed against familiar warmth and realized he was shoulder to shoulder with Legless. The elf had run out of arrows and was using his bow as a weapon. Stu passed him back one of his knives and they continued fighting back to back.
Arrows whistled through the air and Boomer staggered as several of the barbed weapons penetrated his armor and flesh. Still, he kept on fighting, refusing to fall and leave Argyle alone to fend off the hoard.
Grandlaff's cry rent the air. "Saw Ron!"
Boomer's head swiveled and through the red mist clouding his vision, he saw a short bald man in white leggings and tunic running towards the slopes of Mount Doom. He was approximately the same height as Glimmergroin and he ran with his head down and his arms pumping furiously.
"That's Saw Ron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?" His voice took on a note of incredulity. "This is the enemy of Middle Earth?"
Argyle slapped a way an orc blade and glanced at Saw Ron. "Fuck." He felt a hand grasp his shoulder and turned, blade raised defensively. That was when he realized his friend, sometime rival and nemesis, was slipping away from him. "Boomer?"
Boomer quietly sank to his knees and his eyes grew vacant. The sword of his father slipped from his nerveless fingers. Rage overcame Argyle and he laid about him with a renewed strength that was heightened by grief.
Grandlaff began running after the Dark Lord, brandishing his sword in one hand and his staff in the other and yelling at the top of his lungs. "Saw Ron."
Sam looked over his shoulder. "Look here, Master Frito, it's the Dark Lord himself come out of his hole."
"Why, Sam, he's not much bigger than we are."
"Maybe not, but I'd say he was a sight meaner. And I'm guessing he isn't coming to invite us to supper. We'd better hurry. Where's that Gollum creature?"
"I don't know, I can't see him anywhere. We've only a little further. Around this bend, I think." Frito panted heavily and his shoulders had begun to slump.
"Da Ring! Da Ring!" Saw Ron jumped up and down in his frustration.
Legless and Stu edged around so that they were hovering near Mary and Pip, with their backs to Argyle. Glimmergroin's axe swung up and down in a never-ending rhythm as he lopped off any orc part that game within in his reach. The orcs were constantly caught off guard by the Steward's strange slow motion moves that seemed to leave him hanging in space for several seconds at a time. And he used that as much to his advantage as possible.
Orcs heard their master's cry and raced towards the slope with humans, Half-Lings and elves all over their flanks. Despite the sheer volume of orcs, the party refused to give up. And Boomer's death seemed to give them resolve and energy beyond mortal endurance.
There was a loud clamor of horses and running feet that caused a general pause in the melee. Argyle gave a shout as he recognized the Riders of Rohan followed closely by the armies of Gondor, led by none other than Fairy-man.
Grandlaff reached Saw Ron and used his long staff to clonk the shorter wizard over the head. "You are too late, Saw Ron."
"Who is this Saw Ron?" The wizard demanded while rubbing the top of bald pate.
"The ring will be destroyed," continued Grandlaff.
Saw Ron lowered his head and rammed in to Grandlaff's midsection. The wizard fell over with a whoof and his staff fell just out of his reach.
Frito and Sam rounded the bend. The intense heat of the mountain made breathing painful. They staggered through the crack in the side of the mountain and were nearly overwhelmed by the sheer force of heat and smoke. Frito coughed and gasped as he tried to catch his breath. Struggling, he pulled both rings over his head and held them by their chains.
"Well, Sam, we've made it."
A loud scream rent the air and Frito went flying forward. He landed face first in the thick ash with Gollum sitting on his back. "Mine. My Precious."
Gollum leapt off Frito and danced around holding the identical rings in his greedy fingers. "My Precious." He crowed again. "Nassstyyyy filthyyyy—"
There was a loud gonging sound and Gollum staggered and stumbled. As he tried to regain his footing, he slipped and with arms pin wheeling, fell backwards in to the heart of Mount Doom.
Sam stood still for a moment with his favorite cook pot raised high, and breathed deeply. His hands shook with aftershock. "Are you alright, Master Frito?"
"Oh, Sam." Frito launched himself at Sam and locked his arms tight around his friend's shoulders.
The ground shook and rumbled and dark smoke spewed from Mount Doom. Sparks and cinders drifted over the scene, scorching and setting small fires. Grandlaff's beard caught fire and he frantically beat at it. Stu, on his way up the mountain to help Sam and Frito, paused by the wizard. He snatched his water skin from his waist and dashed the contents on Grandlaff. Some of the water splattered on Saw Ron.
Saw Ron screeched in rage and waved his tiny fists. "No!" He cried as his diminutive body began to sizzle and fold in on itself until all that remained was a small puddle of steaming goop.
"Well done, Steward. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't put out my beard." Grandlaff hauled himself to his feet and retrieved his staff. "I suppose we should go check on the Half-Lings." He fastidiously stepped over Saw Ron's remains.
Looking up, they saw Sam and Frito, arm in arm fleeing down the mountain as if being chased by a hoard of giggling teen-aged females. Grandlaff along with the rest of the reassembled party waited patiently for the two Half-Lings to reach them.
*
Below on the plains, the combined armies of Rohan and Gondor routed the last of Gondor's army. One of the riders flung themselves off their horse and removed their helm, revealing a wealth of strawberry blond hair.
She rushed among the nine walkers, hugging and kissing each one in her excitement. "You made it!" She cried in delight. When she got to Stu, she came up short as she stared in to the cold blue eyes of a very jealous elf. "I am glad to see you alive and well, Steward of Wrangled Gorge."
Stu grinned. "You ain't kidding, sister." He threw his arm around Legless' shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
The dead were gathered and Fairy-man was part of the honor detail that escorted Boomer's body from the field. The rest of his companions walked slowly behind, their shoulders slumped even though they had accomplished the dangerous mission set upon them by El Ron.
The timely arrival of the armies had saved them and they knew it. Even with the destruction of the ring, they would never have stood a chance against the orcs on their own.
"Now, Steward of Wrangled Gorge, we go home at last." Legless wrapped his arm tightly around Stu's waist.
"Home?" Stu suddenly realized he had his arm around the elf and tried to pull away.
"Mirkwood."
"About that.." Stu began.
"Do not worry, Steward, your lack of gaiety will eventually fade and you will come to love and accept the ways of the elves. In time, we will make you gay and happy again." Legless allowed his hand to slip down to Stu's butt and he gave the firm muscles a playful pinch.
"Oh, God."
*~*~*~*~*~*
INTERMISSION
I'm stealing a page from Kharessa Bloodrose's book and doing a little explanation and all around thanks for those who made this story work.
First off, the title, Wake Me When It's Over is an expression that is very much a part of Americana, but actually comes from a 1969 film staring the late Bob Hope. Mr. Hope was without a doubt one of my favorite comedians of all time and has been a great source of inspiration for this story. He passed away earlier this month and the world is a lot less funny as a result. Therefore, I dedicate this series to his memory.
There are a few people who deserve some thanks and credit for this. Firstly, all of you who emailed me or posted feedback complaining about keyboards and monitors sticky from Mountain Dew, coffee, and Kool-aid, and nearly choking to death on your Fruit Loops, or being stared at by fellow commuters on the train and passing motorists, and by your aggrieved pets, I would like to thank you for letting me know your sense of humor is as warped as mine. And a special thanks to Zee who publicly declared the problems created by my story with certain biological functions: really, darling, thanks for sharing!
I'd like to thank Alex for encouraging me to write Stu and enjoying him as much as I do. Also, for having the wherewithal to tell me that a particular chapter wasn't working, thus ultimately delaying the story, but worth the wait, I think. (And yes, dear, that pinch was for you.)
Nauta Aragorn on Lord of Imladris deserves honorable mention for allowing me to post my very un-Elrond related story on her list. I did so originally by accident. Fortunately she liked it enough to let it continue being posted there. Thanks so much, dear.
Lastly, I need to mention the one person who helped me the most. In truth, this is almost a co-authored story that is as much the responsibility and brainchild of Larian Elensar as it is mine. She allowed me to bounce ideas off her, work out puns and generally stayed up late and kept me giggling. She allowed me to poke fun and offered her own unique perspective to the body of this story. She has given us such wonderful characters as Dildo Backins (Yeah, that was her) and helped to rewrite White Rabbit the Middle Earth version. She's made suggestions and put on her thinking cap time and time again during the course of this series and I thank her heartily for all her help.
There is one last little piece of unfinished business with Steward. I will leave you now and let you return to your regularly scheduled program.
Pax,
Hawk.
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Barefoot In The Park" staring Jane Fonda and Robert Redford; 1967. Based on the original play by Neil Simon.*
*~*
Thranduil stood in the center of his hall, tapping his foot impatiently, as his son entered the keep. News about his son's bonding had already reached him through the elven grape vine and he awaited the arrival of his new son-in-law with some trepidation. His jaw slowly dropped and his deep blue eyes grew positively round when at last his son and his son's consort entered the hall.
Legless staggered in supporting a rather wild looking creature in his arms and was aided in his endeavors by a stout dwarf. Between them they carried a large man covered from head to toe in yellowish, sticky slime and spider bits still clinging to him. The slime coated the man's hair making it stand nearly straight up in a stiffening mass and his eyes were glazed and panic-stricken. He trembled from head to foot and clenched Legless' bone handled knives in a white knuckled grip.
Had Stu been able to see himself, and been coherent enough to pass judgment on his appearance, he would have said he looked like an aging punk rocker trying to act young and hip. He would have also said that he needed to get a grip, get, a life, and a clue. Though not necessarily in that precise order.
Behind them, looking every bit as road stained and disheveled walked the Peredhil Twins. They each bore an identical smirk, as if amused by something.
"This is the Prince Consort," Thranduil managed at last.
"Oh, Father, is he not wonderful?" Legless' eyes gleamed with pride and love.
"He's…" Thranduil struggled for words.
Legless patted Stu's cheek. "Darling, say hello to my father, the King of Mirkwood."
Stu jerked and flinched at the touch. "Sp..Ssp…Hairy legs..Big."
One of the twins snickered.
"Come, darling, it's all over now. We are safe." The elf cooed.
"Ssspiderrr!" Stu suddenly screeched in a loud, piercing voice as he began doing a strange dancing jig just in front of Thranduil.
The king leapt back in alarm and his mouth worked furiously without sound. Stu's long legs pumped up and down and his hands flailed the air. "Kill it! Kill!" He shrieked.
Legless rushed to his love's side and tried to soothe him while glowering at the twins. "Stop that this instant."
Elly lowered his hands sheepishly and the shadow spider disappeared.
Stu gingerly lifted one foot at a time and inspected the soles of his shoes. "Did..is..gone..spider?"
"Yes, my darling, you killed the nasty old spider."
Thranduil's eyebrows shot up. "He's afraid of spiders?"
"Terribly so, it would seem, your highness." Glimmergroin stepped forward and took Stu's other arm. "Odd how the lad can face death and a hoard of orcs without flinching, but the sight of a little bitty spider sends him screaming." He tsked.
"Come, a hot bath and some food will make you feel better," Legless tugged Stu's arm and began leading him from the chamber. "I won't let any of those nasty old spiders get you."
"Nnnooo…spiders…big…" Stu mumbled plaintively.
"No more spiders, that's right. They are all gone." Legless continued to soothe and cajole his mate as they left the room.
Snarling, Thranduil turned on a woman standing against the wall. He jabbed a long, bony finger in her direction. "This sort of thing never happens on MY side of the family."
Hours later, Stu wandered through the corridors of Mirkwood's great fortress. A hot bath, a delicious meal, and two glasses of potent elven brew later and he almost felt human again. He'd been scrubbed and rubbed and oiled to within an inch of his life and was, once again, smelling rather like a girl. He supposed it beat the hell out of smelling like orc blood and spider ganglia. After several wrong turns, lots of miscommunication, and some rather colorful explicatives, Stu managed to find his rooms. Relieved, he opened the door and walked in to the quarters the guards had told him were his and paused.
Legless sat on a chair combing out his long blond hair. He'd removed his braids and washed away the travel stains. Gone, too, were the leggings and tunic he'd worn for over a year to be replaced by a gossamer silk robe.
Stu's heart sank. "Um..Hi, Legless. What are you doing here?"
Legless smiled. "Getting ready for bed, of course. How do you feel?"
"Oh, I'm good. Yeah, much..well, not exactly much better. Maybe not good, either. I'm clean and fed. That's something." Stu paced nervously.
Legless rose gracefully from his chair and walked towards Stu. His long blond hair swung over his hips and his smile grew more mischievous, more seductive. "Remember how I told you that once we returned to Mirkwood you would find that I am not as placid as I seem?" His long arms snaked around Stu's neck and he pushed the man backwards.
Stu felt the edge of the bed behind his knees and he struggled to stand upright. "Hold on. No. Wait, Legless…"
When the grandfather of Durin had helped Thranduil build his hall, they had designed it so that the living quarters of the family and visiting guests overlooked a central open cavern. The cavern had then been filled with fanciful carvings and statues and phosphorescent fungus. The rooms all had small balconies that opened on to the garden so that one could enjoy the breath taking scenery.
Thranduil had spent the better part of the evening wandering the rock garden with Glimmergroin the Dwarf-From-Hell. The Son of Gloin had his axe tossed casually over his shoulder as he ruminated about the wondrous workings of his kinsmen. The dwarf had paused, once again, by a particularly striking carving of a nude female dwarf and stared with longing eyes. "Such a beauteous wonder."
"Uh," said Thranduil. He'd longed for centuries to take a large hammer to the carving, but feared that if the dwarves ever learned of the desecration, they would invade Mirkwood en masse.
"LEGLESS!" Thranduil jumped at the wailing sound of his son's name and turned towards the balcony of his son's room.
"Ah," sighed the dwarf as he planted the handle of his axe squarely in the middle of Thranduil's foot and rested his crossed arms on the axe head. "Such a passionate man."
Thranduil clasped his injured foot nearly to his chest and hopped around on one foot. He started to offer a sarcastic comment, when more sound drifted from the above.
"Oh…"
"…God…"
*~*~*~*~*~*~
White Rabbit / Middle Earth Remix
Music by Jefferson Airplane
Proudly warped by ladyhawksshadow & larian_elensar
One ring makes you larger and one ring makes
you small,
and the ones the dwarves give you
don’t do anything at all…
Go ask Boomer when he swallows.
If you go off chasing ring-bearers,
and you know you're going to fail…
You might have to shit in a pail.
Go Ask Argyle when he’s shaved.
When El Ron of Rivendell gets up
Tells you where to go…
And you've just had Maggot's Mushrooms..
So your mind is moving slow…
Go ask Grandlaff,
I think he'll know.
When logic and proportion have fallen
And the Steward is talking backward..
And Arwen's off her head…
Remember what the Loth'orien Witch said…
Frito…
Comb your head!
~*~ End ~*~
Go to the Sequel: This Is The Story That Doesn't End
If you liked the story, please let Hawk know: Hawk's email