An Unexpected Journey as seen by Petty Tyrant

I'm watching you like the NSA watches Germans!!  

Elrond and Gandalf continued their stroll as Bilbo turned and left in despair shaking his head.

“I don't think Thorin Oakenshield feels he is answerable to anyone, especially not elves of whom he has an irrational dislike,” Gandalf stated firmly.

“Its not irrational,” Elrond replied, “have you not seen the extended scenes? Apparently Thorin's father summoned Thranduil to pay him tribute, and Thror offered a chest of treasure to Thranduil but then snapped it closed in front of Thranduil's face and obviously he was furious,” Elrond explained.

“Hang on,” Gandalf said, “I thought you said Thranduil was the one paying the tribute? And anyway that only explains why elves should dislike dwarves not why dwarves dislike elves.”

“I had not thought of that,” Elrond replied with a frown, “but however it is, Thorin cannot do as he pleases.”

“He is not answerable to anyone,” Gandalf replied, “ and nor for that matter am I,” and right on time they entered a room where he could be instantly proved wrong.

“It is not me you must answer too,” Elrond announced and nodded to an area right in front of Gandalf and which should have been within his line of sight the entire time.

There was a balcony before them and on it, so she could be bathed in the light of the moon (as was the fashion for all important characters at least once in this story) was the Lady Galadriel in a long flowing robe that curved around her body.

And as was also the fashion for every major character in this story, she had her back to them so she could dramatically be revealed at the right moment, which was now.

Slowly she began to spin on the spot as if she had an invisible turn table hidden beneath her dress, which she did, her dress wound more tightly around her as she spun until she came to a halt before them.

“Lady Galadriel!” Gandalf said stepping forward just as Galadriel's turntable turned again and she slowly began to turn away from him again, “Mithrandir,” she said, trying to turn her head to face him as she was taken round again.

“Age....may...have..” Gandalf said trying to time the words to when Galadriel was facing the front, like addressing the beam of light from a lighthouse, “changed … me..... but.... not... the... Lady... Galadriel,” he finished with an intake of breath.

The turn table finally began to slow and Galadriel staggered off it, almost unable to walk so tightly now was her dress wound about her.

“I had no idea the Lord Elrond had sent for you,” Gandalf said helping her to steady herself and get over her dizziness.

“He didn't,” said an unnecessarily grave and sinister voice, “I did.”

Gandalf shut his eyes in dread and annoyance and muttered under his breath, “Oh for fuck sake!”

Elrond tapped him on the shoulder, “Aren't you two supposed to be friends at this point?” he gently reminded in a whisper.

Gandalf turned to face the owner of the voice, it was Saruman, who was doing all he could to not peer evilly over steepled fingers at Gandalf.

“Saruman,” Gandalf said bowing stiffly and with no warmth.

“You have been busy of late,” Saruman replied equally without warmth and added in even icier tones, “my old friend,” only remembering at the last moment to tie this dialogue with the one in the film that shall not be named but rules them all in this one.

“Shall we cut to just before dawn?” Saruman suggested, “when this meeting is nearly over but we won't yet have discussed anything of importance yet?”

“Yes,” Gandalf said wearily, “the less of this there is the better for all I believe.”


The vibrant pink light of an artificial dawn filled the air.

“Did you think these schemes of yours would go unnoticed?” Saruman asked Gandalf from his seat across the table.

“Noticed, by who? Its not like we are the UN, the White Council only meets about once every thousand years, we've only ever had two meetings before now. And there appears to be only four of us on it. Where is Celeborn Lord of Lothlorien, known for his wisdom? Where is Glorfindel? Or the many others whose Council we should be seeking,” he lamented, “Anyway, you know the deal, we all do what we can to help the people without directly interfering by power ourselves.”

“We are not using that rule in this,” Saruman replied evilly.

Galadriel, who had changed dress for no reason, perhaps she spilled barbecue-q sauce down it, had foolishly stood back on her balcony turn table, and she choose this moment to spin around to dramatically address them, unfortunately she spun several times before managing to get off it and her dress was wound so tightly around her by the end of it her face was going red.

“Ttthhhheeeee draggggoooonnnn,” Galadriel said incredibly slowly, “hhhaaasss llloonnnnggg bbbeeenn ooonnnn yyyoouuurrr mmmiinnnddd,” she finally managed.

“Are you ok?” Gandalf asked concerned, “you sound like you are talking as if in a dream or something, very very slowly.”

“Maybe she has had a stroke?” Saruman suggested evilly.

“Hhhhaaaaarrrrddddd ttooo bbrrreeeaaaatthhhh, Galadriel managed to explain, her face going blue as two attendants hurried over and helped remove her first from the room and then from the dress.

She returned a short time later in yet another dress, this one white.

If Smaug should side with the Enemy,” Gandalf continued.

“What enemy?” Saruman interrupted.

Gandalf hesitated, “You know? The one our order was sent here to fight, the one of whom Sauron was but an emissary?”

“We aren't using that enemy,” Saruman replied.

“What?” We are not?” Gandalf asked in confusion.

“No, when we say the enemy, no capital you will note, we just mean Sauron, nothing else.”

“But that would undermine the morality underpinning all these tales?” Gandalf replied in shocked tones.

“Yes,” Saruman replied with an evil glint in his eye, “it would, my old friend. But Sauron is vanquished, he could never again regain his old strength, and you will note I was very careful there not to say what I said in the other one, that he cant retake physical form, this way we can change stuff and have him in a big fight in the next film or two. Not that he could come back, of course.”

“Yeah, he won;t come back in exactly the same way Thorin is convinced Azog is dead,” Gandalf muttered under his beard.

“Gandalf,” Elrond put in, “we have had 400 hundred years of peace,” he hesitated “if you exclude the bloody long battle between the dwarves and the orcs and the collapse of the North kingdom and the wars with the Witchking, and the fall of Osgiliath and the occupying of the forts that watched on Mordor by orcs and its rumoured worse, and to that we apparently have to now add the war between Azog and his orcs and all the Beornings.” he took a deep breath, “but apart from those its been four hundred years of uninterrupted peace.”

“Yes,” Gandalf replied, “I am surprised Thorin had not heard of that, sort of thing would make Aozog rather well known you might think.”

“Why must you always meddle?” Saruman demanded of Gandalf.

“I tell you this is not peace,” Gandalf insisted.

“Llleeett hhhiiimm sspeeeaakk,” Galadriel said as she slowly wafted by the table.

“Why are you still speaking so slowly?” Gandalf asked with an arched bristling eyebrow.

“II tthhiinnk II mmaaayyy hhhaaavveeee ccrrrussshhheddd soomeethhhiingggg,” she said even slower.

“There is something at work here,” Gandalf went on deciding to just take a stab at this and get through it as quickly as possible, “a sickness lies over Mirkwwod, I mean Greenwod, hell do I? Curse these changing time lines,” Gandalf grumbled, “but they say in Greenwood there is,” he paused.

“Go on,” Saruman said mockingly, “what do they say?”

“They speak of a Necromancer, a sorcerer who lives in Dol Guldur and can summon the dead,” Gandalf revealed.

“You do talk a lot of pish Gandalf,” Saruman retorted, “that’s absurd, that’s only in the appendices.”

“Ah!” said Gandalf, “it is now my turn to know something you do not, its in the main story now overshadowing Bilbo's.”

“That is evil indeed,” Saruman mused as if as one professional to another,”what proof do you have?”

“Radagast,” Gandalf began.

“Radagast!” Saruman interrupted with a sneer, “do not speak to me of Radagast, I had a really good speech about him in the film that should not be named and they cut it! Do not speak to me of Radagast the Brown! With his excessive consumption of mushrooms!” Saruman said angrily, then paused, “really,” he said with a shake of his head, then turned to look at someone off of to the side no one else could see, “I am a Tolkien scholar you know, and this pile of shit is what you have me say? You do realise this might be the last thing I ever do at my age, this, this excreted drivel. What? Well I wouldn’t have signed the bloody thing had I seen the script first, but I only got it five minutes ago, and it sbeen changed ten times since then. I didn't know about this bit till I read it just now. No don't rewrite it again! I will be dead before I finish at this rate, fine I'll read it,” he turned, braced himself and ploughed on, “The mushrooms have addled his brain, and yellowed his teeth,” he paused again, “really, my teeth are as yellow rotten as a graveyard full of lung cancer victims, “I've warned him,” Saruman went on, “it is unbefitting of one of the Istari to be wondering the woods, even if I do know that Yavanna sent him and she loves all growing things and sang them into being.”

Fortunately Gandalf was saved from having to listen to any more of this by Galadriel suddenly interrupting his thought in telepathic communication, unfortunately it had not sped her up any.

“Iii mmuussstt rreemmiiinndd yyoouu off aa ppllooott pppooinntt ffrroomm eaaarrliiieer,” she droned.

Gandalf looked puzzled.

“Tthhaatt Rraaddaaggaasst ggaavee yyoou,” she slowly nudged.

“Oh yes,” Gandalf thought back at her, feeling foolish for having forgotten it when it was tangible proof that could have been presented much earlier, never mind the hours earlier, given how long this meeting had supposedly taken.

“Ssshhoowww mmeeee,” Galadriel whispered at him as if he were a young strapping elf in her boudoir. It brought Gandalf out in a sweat.

The telepathy ended and Gandalf drew out the wrapped sword that Radagast had given him, taken from Dol Guldur.

“What is that?” Elrond demanded.

Elrond leant over the bundle on the table and threw back the wrapping revealing a a long cruel dark dagger and ominous string music with a few low sinister horns in there.

Galadriel glided up to the table without the apparent use of her legs and hovered there, “Aaa Mmmoorrgguull Bbllaaaddee,” she eventually said.

“Another tie in to the film that cannot be named,” Elrond declared with shock on his face, “made for the Witchking and used by him, but in the future of course,” he added realising his error.

“Aannnddd bbbuuurrrriieeedd wwwiitthhh hhiiimm,” Galadriel announced, they all stared at her.

“Was it?” Gandalf eventually said, “I mean buried with him, so he is dead then, not a Ring Wraith after all?”

“No,” Elrond stepped in, keen to explain as it would be a lot faster than letting Galadriel do it, “he is still a Ring-wraith, but he was also actually dead and buried.”

“But the whole point of a Ring-wraith is that they are not dead,” Gandalf pointed out, “they are wraiths, the clue is in the name, their life force has been stretched so far beyond their nature; they have become thin and stretched and faded from mortal sight, they are undead, not actual dead.”

“Be that as it may Gandalf,” Elrond said, “they were dead, they were buried and that was buried with the Witch-King,” he said pointing at the blade.

“What do you mean 'they' were buried? Are you now saying all the Nine are dead, and they were all buried together at once?” Gandalf asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Elrond said firmly.

“But what about the prophesy that no man shall kill the Witch-King?” Gandalf asked.

“Either we just aren’t going to mention that,” Elrond replied awkwardly, “or it hasn't been said yet and we will give to Galadriel in the next film or two to say, you know, girl power, girl to girl, feminine energy synergising over the two sets of films.”

Gandalf shook his head in despair, “So how did they die?”

“The men of the north defeated them,” Elrond informed him.

“You mean the North Kingdoms?” Gandalf asked for clarity, “The Dunedain?”

“We are not committing ourselves beyond men of the north,” Elrond responded stiffly, “they it were who buried them in a tomb so dark it would never come to light.”

“So how did they build it then?” Gandalf asked puzzled, “if it was so dark?”

“A powerful spell lies on those tombs,” Elrond put in, “they cannot be opened.”


“Hold on,” Gandalf interrupted again, “what spell? Who put a spell on it if it wasn't one of us? Was that these mystery men of the north as well?”

“Again,” Elrond said stiffly, “we are not committing on that point at this time.”

“You are making this up as you go along,” Gandalf accused angrily.

“How do we know this sword came from his tomb?” Saruman objected, despite the last few minutes being all about establishing whose weapon it was and where it was buried, “Gandalf is clearly talking pish,” he concluded and went on in a slow and measured tone,” let us summarise what we know- Gandalf is talking pish. End of summary.”

Saruman paused to look sinister and then went on, “But I am concerned about these dwarves for no apparent reason and certainly not one I am going to explain, but I will not condone such a quest. If they had come to me I could have saved them raising their hopes, although exactly what influence I would have had over them or why they would have decided not to do it just because I said they couldn’t is, admittedly, completely unclear and without any explanation of any kind in this mess of a script,” he continued to ramble on but Gandalf had tuned out again to chat with Galadriel in telepathic commune.

“Ttthhheeeyyy aaarrreee llleeeaaavviiinnnggg,” Galadriel said, meaning the dwarves.

“Yes,” Gandalf confirmed, despite there not having been any point in events for Gandalf to have made such an arrangement with the dwarves.

“Yyooouuu kknneeewww, yyyooouu ssslllyyy ooolllddd bbbaasstttaaarrrddd,” Galadriel said in slow-mo thought, “III aammm sssoo hhoootttt fffoorr yyyooouu rrriigghhhtt nnnooowww.”

Gandalf blushed under his beard.

Just then Lindir entered, “My Lord Elrond,” he said brazenly interrupting Saruman, Head of the White Council in full flow of oration without so much as a by or leave, “the dwarves. They are gone.”

High on the mountainside above Rivendell the dwarves trooped in a line with Bilbo at the rear.

“Balin,” Thorin called, “you take the lead. You know these paths.”

Bilbo turned at and stopped and looked back down towards Rivendell.

“You know,” he thought to himself, “I feel like I should have a great sense of sorrow leaving here, as if it should have been a place that would imprint itself upon me, and have a lasting profound effect so that one day, when I'm old, I'd want to come here to retire and live out the rest of my days,” he gazed down at the Hidden Valley and the roofs of the houses of Rivendell below, “Shame its was a bit shit really,” he shrugged.

“Master Baggins,” Thorin called to him, “ I suggest you keep up.”

“Keep up?” Bilbo replied “with who? There are four dwarves still behind me,” he said jerking his thumb over his shoulder where four of the dwarves were still marching up the path behind him.

“Don’t give me any bloody cheek,” Thorin replied, “save your strength, we have a strenuous walking montage coming up next featuring beautiful New Zealand scenery a rising score by Shore and which will be reminiscent and nostalgia inducing of the same sort of scenes in the film we cannot name but will continually reference in every way imaginable, so get your arse in gear.”

Bilbo sighed as the scenery became expansive all of a sudden and the music soared and he entered the walking montage hoping that things would get better sooner than later, which was foolish of him.

“Yyooouuu kknneeewww, yyyooouu ssslllyyy ooolllddd bbbaasstttaaarrrddd,” Galadriel said in slow-mo thought, “III aammm sssoo hhoootttt fffoorr yyyooouu rrriigghhhtt nnnooowww.”

  I CAN'T HANDLE YOU PETTY!!!!!!!!!!

    

This is getting better and better! (Or more and more depressing depending on your point of view).

Thanks for reminding me how shite they treated Sir Christopher.

Thanks everyone, more to come, if I ever get my connection sorted out

your compuder has a crabbit attack?

Ordinary personal computers cannot handle the depths of Petty's crabbit for the movies.

There are few that can.

The hardware is that of HP, which I shall not speak of here.

 

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{So I guess I should start thinking about getting a new computer pretty soon...}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

Pettytyrant wrote:
If Smaug should side with the Enemy,” Gandalf continued.

“What enemy?” Saruman interrupted.

Gandalf hesitated, “You know? The one our order was sent here to fight, the one of whom Sauron was but an emissary?”

“We aren't using that enemy,” Saruman replied.

 

A strange gangrel tale - and yet closer to the Original than a Certain Other rendition.

A not quite natural looking yellow dawn glow bathed the balcony on Rivendell where, when she was there, Galadriel always stood, all day, every day.

She was there now and Gandalf was with her.

“Yoouu aarree ggooiing too folloow tthheeemm,” she said very slowly.

“That's a stupid question,” Gandalf muttered, “of course I am, I came this far with them, I've encouraged them to do it what did you think I was going to do, stay here and smoke my pipe until the end credits?” He paused and mused on that last bit,”Actually that doesn't sound at all bad.”

“Nnoo,” Galadriel drragged out, “yyoouu muusstt goo. Iitt haass seet iin moottioonn thhiinngs wee ddoo noott unndeersstaand.”

“Is any of this actually understandable? None of the bits I've been in seem to make any sense at all,” Gandalf retorted.

“Tthhee ffuutturee pploot ddevviccee muustt bee soolvved,” she droned on, “tthhee Mmoorrggull Blladdee,” she added just in case he had suddenly become incredibly stupid and would be unable to make the connection himself.

“Yes,” Gandalf said thoughtfully, “I strongly suspect we will need that in a later film, yes I had better go after them, as I obviously planed to all along anyway.”

“Ssoommetthiing moovees iinn tthhhe shhadowws, uunnseen,” Galadriel warned very slowly.

Gandalf leant wearily on his staff, “Yet more foreshadowing?” he asked with a bristle of his eyebrows.

“Iitt wwiill nott shhooww itt'ss sselllf,” she foreshadowed slowly, “Nnoott yyeet, nnott unnttill at lleasst fiilm ttwwo.”

“Good, then I don’t have to worry about just now then,” Gandalf replied with a satisfied nod.

“Bbuutt eevvvrry ddaayy itt grroowwss iin sttreengggth,” she slowly warned.

“Bollocks, I thought you had finished,” Gandalf lamented.

“Yyoouu mmuussttt bee ccaarreffulll,” she intoned in continued foreshadowing mode.

“Bugger this!” muttered Gandalf and turned and stalked away from her.

“Mmiiitthhraannddiir?” Galadriel called painfully slowly after him.

Gandalf paused, “Is this going to be more foreshadowing?”

“Aa qquuessstiioon,” she said in reply.

“To what purpose?” Gandalf asked suspiciously.

“Bbeccaausee wee havee tto eennd thhsiss sccneenee oon ssoome soorrt offf emmottionall noote oottherrrwiissee itts alll juustt foorreshhaddoowing,” she explained, very slowly.

“Fine,” Gandalf snorted, “ask your question? And try to do it quickly.”

“Wwhhyy thhe hhallfflllinng?” she asked and an emotional heart tugging music involving a large string session welled up in the air around them.

Gandalf turned to face Galadriel, “I don't know,” he said thoughtfully, “Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check. Although you only know that now because I am telling you that, or if you have already seen the film that cannot be named but must be referenced throughout. I mean its not like there was anything at all in the entire White Council meeting that would have given you this impression of Saruman, just a load of old cobblers about mushrooms and yellow teeth,” he stopped feeling annoyed now.

“Wwhhaatt iiss yyoourr ppooinnt?” she slowly asked.


“That Saruman is wrong. I have found it is the small things in life, the every day deeds of ordinary folk, like rich bachelors who live in a palatial mansion hole and have gardens so expansive they need to hire gardeners and have never done a days honest work in their lives, that keeps the darkness at bay,” Gandalf sighed for effect, “Simple acts of kindness and love, like giving your poor neighbours a couple of sacks of potatoes once a year that cost you nothing but they probably planted, grew and harvested for you in the first place”

“Wwhhyyy Bbiilllbboo Bbaagggggiinnsss?”

“Well, he fits all the criteria,” Gandalf said with a shrug.


“Tthhattt'ss nnot eemootionnall ennouugghh,” she chastised.

“Oh, well then,”Gandalf thought a moment, “he gives me courage, yes that will do, of course the real reason is recounted in Unfinshed Tales but we have already skirted pretty close to the wind in this already a few times in regards to getting sued, so yes, courage, that's it.”

Galadriel took Gandalf's hands gently in her own, without having to move through the space between balcony and him it seemed as she was simply instantly there before him.

“Ddoo nnoott beee aaffrraaiddd,” she purred slowly and reached up a tender hand and gently caressed his face, letting her long slender fingers slide down into his beard which she stroked affectionately.

Gandalf went red and then very slowly he reached up, removed his hat from his head and very carefully positioned it in front of himself just below his waist.

She smiled into his face, “Iiiff yyyouu sshhooouulldd eeveerr nnneeed mmmy heelllpp,” she said, “I wwiilll ccooommmme.”

Gandalf bowed is head before her to stop her from seeing the look on his face, then a thought occurred to him, “Hold on,” he said, “was that just more foreshadowing?”

But when he looked up she had been transported away into thin air and all that was left was a faint hint of laughter and the fading words, “Call me.”

Gandalf grabbed his hat and put it back on his head, “Elven Cock-tease,” he muttered under his breath and stalked out.


Bilbo was tired, he was still in a walking montage that was very reminiscent indeed of a certain unnameable film. And just when it had finally ended and he thought he might get a chance for a rest he found he was high up on a mountain path, in a wild storm.

Thunder rolled and lightening flashed, and a bitter rain hammered down on them.

The path they were on, which was the only and main route over the mountains was so narrow that it only just held them going single file, making the whole notion that Radagast had crossed them on his bunny sled even more preposterous than it already had been.

“Hey! Cried Thorin back down the line from the head of it, and for no apparent reason, “Hold on!” he cried, then continued to walk on and everyone continued to follow him.

Bilbo tugged at Fili, or maybe Kili's sleeve and shouted at him over the storm, “Did he mean 'hold on' as in stop? Or just a general hold on to something so you don’t fall off?” he queried, “because there is bugger here to hold onto, its just a cliff face, a tiny crumbling ledge, and a sheer drop,” he looked down and his stomach spun, “are you sure this is the mountain path, and not say, a goat path?”

He edged further along the narrow path the rain lashing against his face and plastering his hair to his forehead, he glance down again his stomach flipped and then went berserk as he felt a part of the ledge crumbling under his feet, he swayed wildly out over the drop trying to get his balance, “Oh no, I knew it, someone is gong to end up hanging off something, and its going to be me!” he wailed.

But just then the strong arms of Dwalin grabbed him and pulled him back towards safety.

“Oh thank fuck for that,” Bilbo sighed gratefully, “its not going to be me after all.”

“We must find shelter” Thorin bellowed over the wind, stating the bloody obvious.

“Look out!” Dwalin suddenly roared and stared upwards.

Everyone stared up but all they could see was grey clouds and rain and the occasional flash of thunder, a few seconds past and then out of the clouds a huge rounded chunk of rock appeared.

It was the size of a small house and shaped like an American football, which was the wrong bloody type of football.

It smashed with great force into the cliff face above them and they all threw themselves back against the cliff as it shattered into millions of fragments from the size of a carriage down to small shard splinters, and the whole thing came crashing down from above around them.

Dazed and shocked Bilbo clung to the cliff face for his dear life, and when the terrible noise and dust had passed into the dark depths far below them with a fading rumbling he looked about himself fearfully, knowing that at least some of their number must have been swept to their deaths.

But everyone was absolutely fine, “That was lucky!” Bilbo proclaimed, “what were the chances of all that rubble coming down and not a single piece even getting even a glancing blow on a single one of us.”

But he had no time for further reflection as just then Balin cried, “This is no thunderstorm!”

“No shit” Bilbo shouted out from further down the line.

“Its a thunder-battle!” Balin said pointing into the cloudy distance.

“A what?” Bilbo called.

“A thunder-battle!” Balin repeated annoyed.

“What, thunder fighting each other? How does that work then?” Bilbo asked.

“No!” Balin shouted back, “Stone-giants!”

“Then why didn’t you call it a stone giant battle?” Bilbo said.

Just then through the mist a shape appeared, almost as tall as the mountain itself, a figure of dark sharp stone.

“The legends are true!” Bofur sad pointing at the stone giant.

“What legends?” Bilbo demanded to know, “nobody mentioned any legend sor anything about them until right now.”

But the had no time to wait for an answer as the stone giant held a second massive boulder, this one flew by overhead and as they turned to watch its trajectory it struck a second stone giant who was just lumbering round the corner of the mountain.

Bilbo stared dumbfounded at it, “we're fucked,” he thought miserably.

And then the ground beneath him began to lurch in an unbelievable, very unbelievable manner.

The path they were on and which wound around the mountain was part of the knee of a colossal stone giant, and it was standing up.

As it stood its knees parted and the ground split almost at Bilbo feet, leaving him and one half of the dwarven party on the left knee of the giant and the rest of the dwarves including Throin on its right knee.

“This is fucking ridiculous ,” Bilbo cried as the world swung sickeningly by as the giant lumbered upwards to its feet,”We are all definitely going to die.”

The first stone giant now lumbered into view and head-butted the giant they were stranded on and their ridiculous host crashed backwards into the mountain side.

Bilbo clung on as boulders of all sizes rained down everywhere and stone crumbled and roared, and not a single piece struck anyone.


Their giant stumbled backwards, staggered, and then swung side ways.

Its left knee connected neatly back exactly with the original path they were on and half the dwarves, including Thorin rolled safely off from one to the other.

But those on the right knee which included a terrified Bilbo were not so lucky, as it fell sideways the giant also twisted, turning round so their whole world spun as it did, and then they were facing the cliff face again and the path, but they were also falling towards it at tremendous speed and with a great weight of rock behind them and before them.

Bilbo winced as he saw, directly ahead of him as he hurtled towards it was a large protruding slice of rock like the keel of a ship, and he was going to go right into it face first.

The knees of the giant connected with the cliff face in a huge crash of stone and fragments and shattered pieces hurtled off in all directions, but luckily struck no-one at all.

“NO!” cried Thorin rushing up, and quite rightly expecting to see little more than an indistinguishable pile of red wobbly bits smeared across the side of the mountain.

But as he leapt around the out-jut of rock much to his surprise and indeed everyone everywhere's general surprise, every last dwarf was lying deposited safely back upon the path, which was handily enough now at this point easy wide enough to accommodate them all comfortably, and they were all unharmed in any way beyond looking a bit tired and some scratches.

Bofur sat up and looked about, “Where's Bilbo?” he asked.

They all looked about and then with a sinking feeling they peered over the edge of the cliff and there was Bilbo hanging on by his fingertips.

“I fucking said so, didn't I?” he shouted up crossly, “I said someone would end up dangling over the drop, and I said it would me, and it is. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.”

He swung precariously, “I mean after all that juat happened what really is the point in this?” he demanded crossly.

“This,” Thorin replied, and he swung himself down over the ledge and hauled risking his own life pulled Bilbo back onto the path.

But just then Thorin's grip slipped and he began to fall back into the chasm but Dwalin reached out to him and at the last minute seized him in an iron grip.

Thorin stared down into the dark, “Really, me now?” he said incredulously before Dwalin with a grunt of little effort managed to drag him back up to safety.

When he was back to his feet he grabbed Balin, “I thought you said you knew these paths?” he demanded, “You didn’t mention that they were part of the knees of a fucking giant!”

“Ah well,” Balin replied hesitantly, “my mistake?”

“This is all a big mistake,” Bilbo grumbled.

He got back to his feet and began to lead them along the path.

“But no, wait, “Bilbo said, “what was that all about, really?” he demanded.

“It was so I could save you at the risk of my own life,” Thorin replied hotly, “I would have thought that was obvious.”

“But you, don't even like me,” Bilbo pointed out.

Thorin considered this a moment, “Actually, you are right. You should never have come on this quest,” he said gruffly and stalked away in a mood.


“Dwalin,” he said “We must find a cave,” he looked to his right, “like this one right here next to where we all luckily landed without a bruise.”

And he led them through the cave entrance and into the darkness beyond.

The cave should by rights have been some stone giant's arse-hole.

''But when he looked up she had been transported away into thin air and all that was left was a faint hint of laughter and the fading words, “Call me.”

he he! If I was an Elven Queen I would so say that.

The cave should by rights have been some stone giant's arse-hole.- Halfy

Wish I'd thought of that  

If I was an Elven Queen I would so say that.- Mrs Figg

 

  wot?

I am an elven queen, except when I say that to anyone that particular person usually gets paid an unpleasant visit from Huan and Beren  

  oh shit

halfwise wrote:The cave should by rights have been some stone giant's arse-hole.

That would have been perfect.

And the Gandalf/Galadriel scenes continue to be great, Petty.

I just found this thread and read the whole thing through, well done Petty!
Satire is a pleasantly cathartic method to deal with frustrating disappointment, especially when it comes to movies... and especially when those movies are based off of Tolkien.

I will offer that sometimes it doesn't feel necessary to modify the characters' speech with adverbs. I mean to say, instead of putting in "I fucking said so, didn't I?” he [Bilbo] shouted up crossly..." you could simply cut out the "crossly" and let the situation and his choice of words speak for his mood. Here and there those modifiers would speed-bump the flow of dialogue in a way that, while it makes clear the mood of those involved, kept the flow of emotions from smoothly developing in my mind.

Anyway, can't wait for Goblin-Town!

I shall keep an eye on the adverbs Forest, my general style is to be rather descriptive, probably too much sometimes, and of course there is always the excuse of drunken sloppiness  and as it just for fun I am not to harsh on myself about scrutinising it too closely or with all the stuff I put up on here I'd drive myself crazy (er).

Glad you are enjoying it though.

Thorin led them into the cave, “Dwalin, check to the back,” he ordered, “caves in mountains are seldom unoccupied.”

“Lets hope it is a cave,” Ori piped up,”and not a stone giants arsehole,” he grinned.

“Did you steal that from somewhere laddie?” Balin queried with a frown.

“There's nothing here,” Dwalin shouted from the back of the cave.

“Good,” said Gloin as he deposited a large bundle of dry wood onto the cave floor from out of nowhere, “lets get a fire going.”

“No,” said Thorin, “we are all cold and wet but I'm feeling grumpy and I'm a miserable bastard so you can all be cold and grumpy and miserable too. Get some sleep in your wet clothes, we start at first light.”

“We were to wait in the mountains for Gandalf,” Balin protested, “that was the plan.”

“When did we get a chance to make a plan?” Thorin asked with a growl, “We haven't even seen Gandalf since the day before we left Rivendell, and besides the only path to here is gone.”

“Fair point,” Balin conceded and prepared himself for sleep.

“Bofur, take the first watch,” Thorin said with a nod at Bofur.



Far below and many, many miles away at the mountains foot a huge white warg that had taken hundreds of attempts to breed just so it would match the colour of its pale skinned rider sniffed the ground.

As it was mainly rock and short scrubby grasses here and there was still a storm which had been going on all night, and it was pouring with rain and howling with wind so there could be no scent, but that did not seem to matter as Azog, who sat astride the warg, pretended he could understand his steed and announced to the other warg riders behind him, “They have taken the Mountain Path, which is hardly surprising as there is no other way over the mountains.”

And the pack sprang off in pursuit unaware there had been a big storm giant championship that night and the path was obliterated. Not that such a small detail was likely to hinder them in this débâcle.

The cave in the mountains was full of the sound of snoring dwarves set against the accompanying background rumbling of the continuing storm outside.

In what should have been the darkness of the cave, but wasn't, as for some odd reason the interior of this mountain cave was surprisingly well lit, Bilbo opened his eyes.

Cautiously he arose, and then gathered his few possessions and made for the cave entrance sneaking passed the recumbent dwarves, who occasionally stirred in their sleep as he passed for dramatic purposes.

Just as he reached the entrance the voice of Bofur who was on watch near the entrance called out to him,”Where the hell do you think you are going? “ he asked, “are you fucking mad?”

“I'm going back to Rivendell,” Bilbo said turning round.

“What for?” Bofur asked puzzled, “You didn’t seem that enamoured with the place when you were there.”

“Yes I know, it is a bit odd,” Bilbo admitted, “but there you have it, I want to go back to Rivendell.”

“But wouldn’t you be terrified trying to make your way back down the mountainside in the dark in in a storm, on your own, when most of the path has crumbled away or been smashed to bits and there are stone giants everywhere? And even assuming you do somehow find a way back down in the dark what then? We must have walked a good few days through that montage do you even know the way back?” he asked, “I'd be shitting bricks if it was me,” he added, “you must be off your fucking head.”

Bilbo hesitated, “You know,” he said slowly, “I am not sure I've really thought this through. But Thorin keeps saying how I should never have come and he is right.”

“No he's not,” Bofur reassured him.

“No he is,” Bilbo insisted, “this is supposed to be my story and I'm barely in it. I may as well as go home. Gandalf's off doing another whole different plot line somewhere that I'm not in, this plot is all about you dwarves reclaiming your homeland and Thorin's irrational hatred of elves,” he shrugged, “I'm hardly in it.”

“I understand,” Bofur said, “you want to be the star.”

“Yes, yes I do,” Bilbo replied, “But I am serving no purpose here so yes, I would rather be home. Its ok for you dwarves, you are used to playing the supporting roles,” he said and then stopped when he saw the crestfallen look on Bofur's face, “see!” Bilbo exclaimed, “even I am doing it now, turning the story back to being about you bloody dwarves.”

“No you are right,” Bofur said quietly, “we are in this more than you, Gandalf too. Off you go then and I wish you all the luck in the world in whatever else you decide to do,” and he turned and went and sat back down.

“Oh,” said Bilbo slightly deflated, “right then.”

He turned to leave but as he did so Bofur asked, “What's that?” and pointed at Bilbo's side.

Very slowly Bilbo drew his sword from its sheath, it was glowing blue in signal of the presence of orcs.

He and Bofur stared at the sword for several moment in silence that would have been much better used raising the alarm because as they stared a crack appeared along the length of the cave floor and then suddenly the floor fell away.

The entire cave floor was in reality a huge hinged lid that now split down the middle and swung downward taking Bilbo and all the dwarves down with it.

“Oh shit!” Bilbo cried as he fell through the gaping hole. He tumbled head over heels through the air for what he was certain was enough time to mean absolute death on impact, but somehow he bounced luckily of a wall and was absolutely fine, and found himself hurtling down a huge chute of rock with the dwarves likewise tumbling haphazardly, but extremely luckily around him.

The tube they were in ended and they shot out the end, fell through another empty space of air and landed in a second rock tube down which they all rolled and fell before exiting it to and finally out into open air high in a huge cavern.

They plummeted down and landed in a large wooden pen, dwarf tumbling down on dwarf in a way that was certain to cause many severe injuries.

But before injuries from the fatally high fall could be counted goblins came pouring towards them on mass from all sides bearing torches, even though it was perfectly light enough in the cavern to see just fine by.

The goblins grabbed at the company and hauled the dwarves to their feet, and amazingly it turned out every one of them and Bilbo was absolutely fine still.

Then the goblins began driving them from the pen and into the caverns.

As they were dragged off Bilbo ducked down out of sight amid the confusion in the perfectly bright tunnel and amazingly all the goblins missed him, but Nori saw him sneak away, but decided he wouldn’t bother telling anyone.

Bilbo watched as the dwarves and the goblins disappeared into a tunnel and the sound of them began to fade away.

Cautiously he edged his way back out from his hiding place, which was in plain view, and drew his sword. It still glowed brightly.

He crept further down the tunnel. Suddenly with a snarl a goblin leapt out at him.

Bilbo panicked, this felt far too soon, he was not prepared for this yet.

Fortunately for him the goblin seemed obsessed with attacking his sword, so that all he actually had to do was hold his sword up in front of himself and instead of trying to kill him the goblin seemed quite content to just repeatedly hack at the static blade.

Bilbo backed off holding the sword up in front of himself as the goblin hacked at it and wondered what to do as the goblin continued to try to outwit an non moving sword blade and continued to lose.

But just then the goblin seemed to have a new idea for how to defeat the cunning still sword by simply bypassing it and leaping straight onto Bilbo.

Bilbo spun round the goblin clinging to his back where it seemed to have run out of ideas, and then both of them teetered on the edge of the ledge and fell.

The goblin slipped from Bilbo as he tumbled through the air. He saw a wooden bridge fast approaching and smashed right into with his back, fearing he would paralysed, but as he grabbed hold of a length of rope that dangled from the ruins of the bridge it seemed he was absolutely fine.

He slid down the length of the rope at speed unable to hold on and thinking, “well that's my hands fucked with rope burn for weeks to come,” but amazingly as he lost his grip and ran out of rope his hands were absolutely fine too.

He was just wondering about this and the amazing series of lucky breaks everyone seemed to have had when he thumped of the rocky side of the chasm and slid straight down the side of the cliff at a steep angle and disappeared down into the darkness where he thankfully passed out.

Ha, nice. That attacking the sword thing goes straight back to my childhood. When mock-fencing with sticks I rarely tried to hit the other person, only their own stick, to get that nice clack-clack.

I hope you raise the question of how the hell Gandalf managed to traverse the mountain path as well, considering he probably wasn't equipped with rope and crampons.  

And don't mind me and my grammar complaints. The majority of writing I've ever done has been for crotchety english teachers who insisted upon their earned titlea of Doctor and went into conniptions over word counts. (Ok only one of my english teachers, but she left an impression. Doctor Kore, was originally East German I believe, and fit my stereotypes quite well).



No offense to any East Germans out there.