Think of what happens when you have several, hyper-active elves, humans and hobbit crammed in one RV 🙂
This story was also written by luthien16

Ok, chapter 6 is SUPPOSED to be up. If it isn’t, well, keep checking! And look at chapter 5, it has the rest of the story.

Fellowship road trip.
“I want this!” wailed Legolas, hanging on to a fifty pound bag of sunflower seeds.
“No,” snapped Boromir, yanking the bag from the pouting elf’s hands. “I don’t want to have to smell that stuff and have it in my hair!”
“Fine,” Legolas smirked evilly. “You’ll have a worse smell.” Boromir froze partway to putting the sack on the shelf.
“What?”
“They keep me from being nauseous,” Legolas explained in a patronizing voice.
“You get carsick?!” wailed Boromir.
“I always do,” sighed Legolas. “I have a delicate digestion.”
“Fine,” moaned Boromir, precariously stacking the bag on one of the three bulging carts. He added a pack of Xtra Strength Tums just for good luck.
The Fellowship (plus Arwen, Eowyn , Eomer and others) were going on a grand road trip. They were stocking up on everything thing needed for a road/camping trip at the grand Minas Tirith Mall.
Legolas stuck his tongue out at Boromir and turned to complain to Aragorn that Boromir was being mean to him. To his horror, Aragorn was nowhere to be seen. Legolas gasped and ran down the huge aisle and looked around. Aragorn was gone.
“Boromir!” howled Legolas. “Aragorn’s gone! We’re lost!” Boromir rolled his eyes and hoped the other shoppers wouldn’t know that Legolas was with him.

Hysteria began to take Boromir over as well when, after the eighth time of circling the store, Aragorn was no-where to be found.
“He must be wearing his elf cloak,” he muttered.
“That’s why we can’t see him!” Legolas deduced through sniffles. “There’s only one thing to do!” With determination and a spring in their steps (actually Legolas kept stepping on Boromir’s cloak and jerking him backwards), they marched to the customer service.

Aragorn and Arwen were happily choosing between chocolate or boysenberry flavored Lembas bread, when their peace was shattered by a booming voice over the intercom.
“Would King Elessar, otherwise known as Aragorn, Estel, Strider, or Longshanks please come to Customer Service?” Aragorn turned beet red and hunched his shoulders
“No one is supposed to know that nickname,” he scowled.
“Your distressed friends are waiting for you at the counter,” the voice blared. There was a scuffled sound and the microphone was dropped. Everyone winced at the ear-shattering sound. Then Legolas’ panicky voice screeched out.
“Aragorn! Come now! You’re giving me a nervous breakdown! WHERE ARE YOU?!!” There was another scuffle and the breathless attendant came back on.
“Aisle 5 sir. Now listen you little orc! I don’t care if you are an elf!” Sounds of minor explosions shattered the remaining peace in the store and Aragorn and Arwen rushed to gather their carts and flew to the front of the store. They found Legolas a hysterical, weepy mess and Boromir trying to look like he didn’t know the elf. As soon as Legolas caught sight of Aragorn and Arwen, he let out a banshee screech and launched himself at them.
“Where were you?” he wailed. “I could have died!”
“Leggy, sweetie,” Arwen rushed to him. “I’m so sorry. You could have called us on our cell phones.”
“Yeah,” grunted Aragorn, annoyed that everyone had to hear his nickname. Legolas stopped in mid-howl and he and Boromir looked abashed for not thinking of that.
“Anyway,” Arwen pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it to Legolas. “Are we ready to go?”
“Hold on.” Legolas grabbed a box of PopTarts. “I have to see which one has the least amount of calories.” There was a collective sigh.
“Make it fast,” growled Aragorn. “We still have to pick up everyone and load up the RV by tonight.”
“Where’s Faramir?” scowled Boromir.
“And Denethor,” added Arwen. “He has all the money.”
“I should have never let him budget this trip,” sighed Aragorn, scanning the check-off list. “Worst thing I’ve ever done. Let’s see, toothpaste, breath-mints, Dramamine, ear-plugs, shampoo…”
“Redken?” Legolas interrupted eagerly, hoping Aragorn had bought his favorite brand of hair care.
“Yes,” muttered Aragorn. “Did you get deodorant?”
“Are you kidding?” gasped Legolas. “Double for everyone! Except Boromir and Eomer. They got eight.” He chuckled to himself.
“All right then,” said Aragorn cheerfully. “Let’s pay for this stuff and go!”
“Woo-hoo!” Legolas let off a particularly high screech. Everyone stared. Again.
“Why don’t you just wait in the car?’ muttered Aragorn, trying to protect himself from further embarrassment. Trying to protect his remaining honor.
The Next Morning…
“I get shot-gun!” screamed Legolas, flinging himself down the steps to the massive RV that sat in front of the citadel.
“No!” howled Pippin, racing to beat the elf to the front seat.
“Get out of my way, runt,” snarled Legolas, taking a running leap toward the open door. Merry casually tripped him. Legolas bounced twice before landing face-down in the mud.
“MIFFLE GLOB” he squawked, trying to pull his face from the clinging ooze. Arwen calmly stepped over Legolas and pushed past Pippin.
“I get the front seat,” she declared. Legolas wiped off a glob of mud from his face and glared at Merry who calmly waltzed to the protection of Boromir who was arguing with Faramir about who got the window seat. A revving noise caught their attention and they all turned to see Eomer whiz up on a fancy, black and silver motorcycle. He screeched to a stop, 6 inches from Aragorn’s head, who was lying down under the RV, checking the oil.
“Hi,” he said briefly and whipped off narrow sunglasses in a stylish manor and pulling off his horse-tail helmet. Legolas was not impressed and scowled at Eomer’s leather jacket.
“What a ghastly style!” he sniffed. Eomer gave him a dirty look and hopped off the motorcycle, displaying expensive leather boots as he did so. Aragorn crawled from underneath the RV, wiping his greasy hands on Legolas’ cloak.
“Eomer, are you taking that?” he asked.
“Umm-hmm!” said Eomer, his coolness vanishing in his excitement. “See? There are all kinds of little gadgets and I can attach it to the side of the RV!” He revved the engine until it squealed in protest, then he fondly patted the handlebars, muttering words of affection.
“So, are we all here?” Aragorn asked, taking a swift, and not accurate, head count.
“No,” said Arwen, who was busily decorating ‘her’ front seat. “Count again dear.” Aragorn counted again. And again. And again.
“Wait, how many were coming?” he asked. Arwen whipped out a list of people and began to read it aloud.
“You and me, of course, Leggy, Fairy, Bor’mir, ‘mer, Pip, Merry, Sam, Fro, Denny, Gims, Gand…Hey, where’s Gandalf?”
“Late as usual,” scowled Denethor, marking something on his clipboard. Suddenly, theme music for the little moth came from no-where.
“mmmmm mememememe,” whispered the moth.
“The what?” Aragorn unlike Gandalf, was not fluent in moth. “Hey, that’s cool. You got your own theme music now?” The moth nodded proudly.
“Uh oh!” gasped Pippin, nudging Legolas who was staring, stunned, at his greasy cloak. “You know that that means!” There was a mighty rush of wind and the huge eagle swooped to a magnificent stop. Gandalf hopped off along with 15 suitcases.
“Thanks Gwihir,” he beamed.
“Any time,” muttered the exhausted eagle insincerely.
“You’re late,” scowled Frodo.
“A wizard is never late,” Gandalf began dramatically
“Nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to,” everyone chanted dutifully. Monotonously
“O.k. Gandalf’s here,” Arwen marked his name off. “Let’s start reading the guidelines of the trip. When I read your name, say you’re present and then state your duty on the trip. Beginning with…me! I’m Arwen, and I am in charge of the food and snacks along with Eowyn. Eowyn!!”
“I forgot her,” gasped Eomer. Everyone snickered. Faramir looked happy.
“Let’s leave her,” sulked Legolas, still disgruntled about his greasy cloak.
“Gentlemen!” gasped Arwen. “We can’t leave her. She has half of the food!” Everyone’s face fell. SCREECH! A car, driven by a harried looking Rohirrim, whizzed up.
“Eomer, you little…” Eowyn jumped out of the still moving car. Eomer backed away slowly and hopped on his motorcycle.
“I’ll meet you there!” he shouted. Aragorn grabbed the handlebars.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he hissed. “Now get in line.” Faramir was dragged over to the bulging vehicle by Eowyn.
“Unload this,” she commanded. Arwen sighed, looking stressed already.
“Where were we? Oh yes. Here are your rations for today.”
“Rations?” choked Boromir and Gimli.
“Yes, well, Denethor thought it would be very economic of we ration out the food.” Everyone looked upset. “When I call your name, please come up and get your…rations. Me, of course, I get organic nuts, carrots, and an energy bar.” Aragorn gagged. “Ary,” she continued, gesturing to Aragorn. “You get one diet bar, a mocha-frapa-lotte-vente-capuccino, and ½ pound of beef jerky.”
“That’s it?” whimpered Aragorn.
“Yes dear, you need to go on a diet,” she whispered. “Next is Leggy. You get, soy-lembas, a chocolate bar, some Veg-All and non-fat potato chips. Plus extra sunflower seeds.” Legolas looked happy at his healthy snack. “Fairy,” Faramir blushed. “Two cheese sticks, dehydrated stew of Eowyn…”
“AHHH!” howled Faramir.
“You just have to add water,” beamed Eowyn. Faramir turned a sickly green.
“…and MuscleBuilder bars.”
“Good luck,” snorted Boromir, poking his brother’s spindly arm.
“Ahem, Bor’mir. You get TotalWorkout energy bars, FlexMore pills, and venison strips. Ewww. ‘mer?” Eomer stood at attention. “Beef jerky, 3 RedBulls, and marshmallows…marshmallows?” Eomer proudly took his pack and lashed it to his motorcycle. “Pip, ale, lembas (banana flavored), 2 quart tub of ice cream, fruit snacks, BigBag of cookies, brownies, and 5 sandwiches.”
“That’s more than me!” Aragorn protested.
“The same diet for the rest of the hobbits, except Merry who substituted his lembas for apples, and fruit snacks for wild boar. Gims, malt beer, red meat jerky and hard tack.” Everyone laughed and while Arwen finished the list, Aragorn packed up the rest of Gandalf’s luggage.
“Now your committees.” Arwen looked pleased with herself. “I’ve assigned everyone a duty. Me, I’m on the snacks and food, along with Eowyn.”
“You already said that,” grumbled Boromir, impatient to get moving.
“Aragorn is first driver, oil changer and route manager. Leggy and Gims are in charge of the restaurants and rest stops. Fairy, you’re taking role each time we enter the vehicle. Bor’mir, you’re in charge of excursions along the way. Denny, you’re in charge of the finances.” Gandalf groaned. Denethor stood up.
“Each of you gets an allowance of $10 per week. And there is to be no saving up. If you have extra money at the end of the week, give it back to me!” Everyone was horrified. “And if you feel compelled to borrow money, there will be an interest rate.”
“This sure won’t be an expensive trip,” Aragorn commented snidly.
“‘mer, you’re in charge of games through-out the car ride. Hobbits, you are all in charge of entertainment, such as singing etc. Gandalf, you are to keep the chaos to bare minimum.” Gandalf gave a positively evil smirk. “Eowyn, you are also in charge of lights-out and making sure everyone keeps the RV clean. Aragorn, you are to lead us in morning exercises.” Aragorn grinned evilly. “With all that said and done, let’s go!” Arwen was exhausted.
“Grab a ½ quart of water on your way in!” called Denethor. “That’s your day ration.” There was mild chaos as everyone squeezed through the narrow door. Boromir took possession of the couch and would not move until Arwen made him. The hobbits settled themselves under the table and began playing cards. Everyone scurried for ground room.
“This is so exciting!” giggled Legolas, bouncing up and down on his loft that was over the driver’s seat.
“Don’t make that fall on me,” warned Aragorn, hunting the right key. “Arwen, did you have the RV keys last?”
“I saw Pippin playing with them,” offered Legolas, hoping to get the hobbit in trouble. Pippin pleaded innocent and Aragorn finally found the keys in his own pocket.
“We are finally ready!” he cried. “Seats everyone?”
“Can I ride on the motorcycle?” asked Eomer.
“No,” snapped Arwen, not anxious to loose him in the great, empty plains that lay between Gondor and Rohon.
“Where are we going again?” asked Faramir, trying to not to get clubbed with Gandalf’s staff, which was being swung precariously over the wizard’s head. The four hobbits looked up simultaneously and glared at him.
“The Shire,” snapped Sam, offended that anyone could forget the lovely land.
“Well excuuuse me,” Faramir snapped back. Sensing a near fight, Gandalf separated the two and made Faramir sit in the front. Eowyn gathered all the pillows she could find and made a kind of lounge on the floor near the door.
“You can’t use my pillow,” argued Eomer, peeling off his leather jacket and dumping it untidily on the floor.
“PICK THAT UP!!” shouted Eowyn, furious that anyone dared get her RV messy. Eomer rolled his eyes, and made a show of hanging the jacket up. A mild fight broke out in the back between Boromir and Gimli, so Gandalf moved from the table at the center of the RV, and went to sit between them, knocking several heads with his staff on the way. Denethor sat regally at the table and doubled-checked the money bag.
“Legolas, I really don’t think that you should sit up there while we’re e moving,” Aragorn called up to the elf, who was happily making his domain as comfortable as he possibly could.
“I don’t care,” said Legolas happily, as he dragged yet another blanket up to his perch. Aragorn shrugged and started the RV.
“Watch your rear view mirror!” warned Arwen.
“My what?” asked Aragorn as he maneuvered the huge vehicle down the driveway.
“YOUR REAR VIEW…!” *CRUNCH* “mirror!” Instant panic filled the RV as Legolas began to scream.
“You killed it!!!” he howled.
“I…killed…kkkiled WHAT?” gasped Aragorn. Legolas giggled slightly.
“The trashcans!” Legolas gurgled with laughter. “Heh, heh, heh. You should have seen your face! Heh, heh, heh!”
“Legolas!” thundered Aragorn, his nerves on edge already. “Go pick them up!”
“No,” complained Legolas. “I’m getting comfortable.”
“NOW!” Muttering to himself, Legolas bounced out of the loft, stepping on Aragorn’s shoulder and Faramir’s head on the way.
Ten minutes later…
Legolas stomped back into the RV covered with garbage. Boromir opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it. With an injured air about him, the elf crawled up to his lofty abode and sat pouting.
“Ready?” yelled Aragorn. An unenthusiastic reply met his ears. “All right, here we go.” There was a cheer as Aragorn revved the engine and exploded out of the driveway. With a scream, Legolas was propelled by this sudden motion out of the loft and shot to the floor.
“Nooooo!” cried Arwen, whipping out the first aid kit. “Aragorn, pull over!”
“No way!” shouted Aragorn, refusing to stop once they were started. Arwen passed the kit to Gandalf who doctored Legolas’ skinned knee and Denethor gave him an extra stick of gum to stop his seemingly-endless weeping. With much difficulty, due to the fast moving vehicle, Gandalf and Faramir hoisted the elf onto the loft where he sat pouting for several miles.

“I’m board!” whined the hobbits immediately.
“Well it’s your job to keep up entertained,” snapped Eowyn, trying to steal another pillow.
“Yeah, what’s our first game,” demanded Eomer. “I’m only on entertainment duty part time.”
“Let’s see,” Pippin dug around in an oddly shaped bag. “We could play…Kick the Can!”
“Yes!!!” screamed Boromir, sitting up so fast that he whacked his head on the cabinet over him.
“Boromir has always loved that game,” sighed Denethor, rubbing his temples.
“No,” objected Aragorn. “Too noisy.” There was immediately an uproar and Aragorn was out-voted. Pippin dug out a fresh can for the occasion and pillows were moved out of the way and the table was folded up into the wall. Arwen leaned from the passenger’s seat and hissed, “Included everyone!” She gestured up to the loft. Merry sighed but called up anyway,
“Legolas! Do you want to play?”
“No,” came the tear-filled voice.
“Aww, c’mon,” begged Boromir, who was feeling competitive.
“No.”
“Please,” asked Arwen, knowing how sulky the elf would get if he did not play.
“No,” Legolas paused for a second. “Well, O.k.” He hopped down from the loft and stepped on Aragorn’s shoulder for support. Aragorn gritted his teeth, but maintained self-control. Boromir yanked off his jacket and cracked his knuckles.
“Legolas!” he bellowed. “You’re going down!” Legolas bared his teeth, attempting to look fierce, but succeeding in resembling a chipmunk.
“Ready?” said Gandalf who was hovered around the edges to keep order and peace. Pippin rushed to place the can in the center and then scurry back to the back corner.
“On your mark.” Everyone tensed. “Get set.” There was a false start by Faramir and they had to start over. “GO!!!” There was a mild explosion and the can was momentarily lost. Sam found it kicked way under the couch and bumped it into the fray.
Eowyn saw the can as it came into the crowd first and screamed. Aragorn swerved and everyone went flying.
“The can, THE CAN, THE CAN!” screeched Legolas getting shakily to his feet and making a dive for the smashed can.
“NOOO!” howled Boromir, making a football tackle and squashing Legolas. Eomer stepped on them as he rushed toward the flattened tin. Frodo used his size as an advantage and flung himself between Eomer and the wall. He kicked the can out of the way toward Sam who sent it flying. Gimli squashed Faramir’s ribs as he plowed his way through the fighting mass of Eomer, Boromir and Legolas.
“Gimmie can!” croaked Legolas, flailing his arms.
“Stoplight coming up!” shouted Aragorn over the hubbub. Nobody heard and Gandalf and Denethor were too busy cheering the hobbits on. Another car cut suddenly in front of them and Aragorn was forced to stomp on the brakes. There was an immediate pile-up in the middle of the RV and the can went flying out of the open window. Legolas screamed and followed it.
“Ahhhh!” howled Arwen. “Aragorn! Go get him!”
“What?!” sputtered Aragorn, not eager to get out and dodge fast moving cars that were threatening to run over Legolas.
The RV doors burst open and everyone piled out, screaming and horribly hyper. Legolas, who was feeling totally insane, lunged under a car and almost had his arm run over,
“Hey!” bellowed the furious Gondorian who had had to break hard. “Watch it pal!” Legolas ignored the sarcasm and retrieving the can, waltzed back to the cheering group. Aragorn sank down in his seat, hoping no one would notice the sticker that labeled him ‘king’ on the bumper. Gandalf met them at the door, absolutely furious.
“Give me that,” he snapped, seizing the can. “Game over!” Everyone sulked back to their seat/couch/floor/loft.
30 seconds later…
“I’m bored,” whined Legolas, twisting and turning in an irritating manor up in the loft.
“Stop it,” snapped Aragorn, clenching his teeth.
“Are we there yet?” the hobbits began to chant.
“When do we eat?” asked Gimli, eyeing his food rations.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” complained Pippin.
“When do we get out?” sighed Eomer, shoving Faramir’s feet away from his pillow that he had confiscated from Eowyn.
“Will you all PLEASE be QUIET?!” thundered Aragorn, flipping the RV radio as loud as it could go. Gondorian classical music poured out of the speakers, deafening everyone. Arwen reached over and gently lowered it a notch.
“Why can’t we listen to cool music,” sulked Eomer, covering his ears with his pillow to block out the strains of violins.
“Yeah,” agreed Boromir, who despised classical music. Eomer began singing under his breath a popular rap song. Boromir sat up.
“What are you singing?” he asked.
“Morgul Scream, by WhiteWraiths,” answered Eomer.
“Niiiiice!” grinned Borormir. “I love WhiteWraiths.”
“I have all their CD’s,” said Eomer. He dug around in his suitcase and pulled out a bulging CD case. “Aragorn!” he shouted. Aragorn dug out an earplug.
“What?”
“Can we listen to this CD?”
“What is it,” Aragorn asked suspiciously.
“Nothing, just some music me and Boromir like,” Eomer replied innocently. Aragorn was not fooled.
“No,” he replied.
“Puuleez? Boromir pleaded.
“Shh!” hissed Arwen. “It’s Aniron.” Aragorn and Arwen unanimously took a deep breath and began to sing the first lines of the song. “O mor henion i dhu: ely siriar, el sila. Ai! Aniron Undomiel” Everyone in the R.V. moaned. Eowyn was eyeing the open window hopefully, while all the hobbits were attempting to stuff their clocks in their ears. Denethor gagged. Only Gandalf seemed to like it. He happily hummed along, off key. Arwen commanded silence from everyone as long as the classical music station came in clear.
Despite Legolas’ whining about never being able to rest, due to the ‘terrifying music’, he twisted and turned himself sleep. Eomer glazed off into space, wondering if there was any way he could hook up a CD player to his motorcycle. Boromir amused himself by drawing pictures on Faramir’s face while he was sleeping, with a heavy, black marker.
“Where are we going now?” muttered Eowyn’s sleepy voice from where she was reclining in a sea of pillows.
“Doom Springs,” replied Arwen, glancing at the schedule.
“YES!!!” screamed Eowyn, jarring everyone’s nerves. “The mud and lava are so good for your skin!”
“Doom Springs?” complained Eomer. “Why not Barad-dur’s Rock House?”
“We are not going to some orc-infested, music blasting, dark resort,” said Arwen firmly.
“After we soak for a while, you can drive,” Aragorn tried to console the sulking Rohirirm. Eomer’s face lit up and he spent the rest of the trip to Mordor planning everything he was going to do while he was the designated driver.

It was late afternoon before Aragorn wheeled up to the Black Gate. A sign that read, “Welcome to the Orc-Maggot Community.”
“Is this the right place?” asked Denethor, peering cautiously at the menacing gate.
“Yeah,” muttered Frodo, his eyes glazing over. Aragorn carefully pressed the horn, emitting a blast that sounded strangely like the Fellowship theme music. There was silence for a moment and then the gate slowly creaked open. Eomer, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Merry and Pippin felt sudden déjà vu. A huge Uruk-hai stomped up to the RV.
“Whaddya want?” he snarled. Arwen paled, the hobbits shrank under the table and Gandalf gripped his staff. Aragorn felt for his sword that had inconveniently been placed in the back of the RV and then cleared his throat.
“Uh, we are here to visit Doom Springs.”
“Where are you from?” growled the Uruk-Hai, spitting.
“Uhhh, *cough* Gondor *cough*,” mumbled Aragorn.
“Eh? Gorgoroth? Garn, I have nasty in-laws there,” grumbled the Uruk-Hai.
Hmm,” muttered Aragorn, trying to hide his face. He knew that he was not liked very much in Mordor.
“He’s married?!!” gasped Legolas, hanging over the loft. Aragorn winced, hoping the Uruk had not heard.
“Shush!” hissed Arwen, pushing him away.
“Ah, well, come in.” The Uruk-Hai waved them in.
“YES!” everyone cheered. Aragorn carefully maneuvered the RV down the dirt paths toward Mount Doom and began the long drive to the top.
“Can we please stop?” wailed Legolas after only a few minutes.
“Of course, if you want to walk the rest of the way,” scowled Aragorn, waving to the incredibly steep path to Mount Doom.
“Frodo wants to walk the rest of the way, doesn’t he,” Eomer poked the pale hobbit in the ribs.
“Ughhh,” moaned Frodo, curling himself into a ball.
‘While you’re walking, can you carry my ring?” Faramir joked. They all laughed.
“Stop,” warned Arwen. Aragorn hit a pothole that sent them flying.
“The Springs had better be good,” snarled Eomer, untangling himself from a mess of pillows and soda cans (Faramir had smuggled them in the RV).
“Whoa!” Legolas cried from where he was peering out the top window. “Aragorn, look! It’s your picture!” Aragorn turned him head sharply and the RV swerved violently. Stuck onto a statue of Sauron, with what appeared to be chewing gum, was a massive poster of Aragorn. Legolas’ smile faded as he slowly read the words on the poster allowed.
“Wanted, dead or alive: Aragorn King of Gondor. Goes by Strider, Estel, Elessar, Longshankes, or Wingfoot.”
“Do not,” scowled Aragorn at the mention of the last name.
“Will pay big money if caught.”
“Really?” gasped Denethor, leaned forward to study the sign. “I could use extra money on this trip.” Gandalf glared at him and Denethor shrank back in his seat.
“Why don’t you stay in the RV?” asked Arwen.
“Or shave,” Legolas put in as he riffled in his suitcase for his swim trunks. Aragorn glared at him.
“They won’t recognize me,” he argued. “The picture shows me with armor and battle grime all over my face.” Arwen relented and the rest scurried to get ready while Aragorn pulled into the parking lot. They all tumbled out of the door and ran toward the entrance, screeching and waving towels. Aragorn sighed.
“Just what we need, attention.” He and Arwen started up the steep path to the entrance.
“Aragorn,” said Arwen. “I’d really feel better if you put this on.”
“What?” Arwen handed him a fake, black mustache. Aragorn choked. “But…what…? How?…fine!” Aragorn stuck the huge mustache on and to his dismay, it covered most of his face. Arwen took out little scissors and trimmed it to the style she wanted.
“I look terrible,” he complained.
“Since when did you care about your looks, dear?” said Arwen, busily snipping away. They waltzed into the steaming entrance and ducked past the huge Uruk guard. The long hallway to the Springs was littered with violent arcade games. Aragorn and Arwen found Faramir and Boromir wasting their allowance.
“What are you doing?” gasped Denethor. Faramir and Boromir glanced up for a second.
“Just playing.” They quickly answered.
“Get off of those this instant!” Denethor commanded. “You know you are not allowed to play on those contraptions!” The brothers sulked off toward the Springs while the paranoid Denethor wiped the arcade to remove fingerprints. He turned to Aragorn and Arwen. “We have to get going. If we aren’t in there in five minutes they will charge extra…” He stopped abruptly. “What happened to your face? He asked in horror. Aragorn mumbled an explanation, and then they hurried to join the rest.

Legolas waltzed down the hall, hiccupping with excitement.
“This is going to be great!” he beamed to Eomer, who was hoping no one would notice him. “We can bury Denethor in the mud and catapult the hobbits! We can throw lava at Gandalf and…” He stopped abruptly. “Eomer, look!” Eomer looked to where Legolas was pointing and gasped. There was a video game that had a massive line of orcs waiting to play it. Legolas slowly read the title,
“Blow Aragorn’s head off of Middle Earth and win 7,000 tickets.”
“I want tickets!” said Legolas. Eomer dragged Legolas away.
“We have to warn Aragorn!” Eomer gasped. “These orcs are definitely hostile!”

Frodo had to be carried by Boromir because he was overcome by all the orcs. It took Arwen about 15 minutes to convince him that he did not have the ring around his neck and he was not going up Mount Doom for the second time. They all gathered by the mud pit except for Eomer and Legolas who were wandering around Doom Springs looking for Aragorn.
“I can’t wait!” gurgled Eowyn in excitement. “Mud is sooo good for my skin!” Aragorn cautiously slipped in the mud while keeping one eye on a group of fighting Uruks. There was a unanimous “Ahhh” from everyone except for Faramir who was grossed out at the whole thing. Peace and quiet was just settling, when a panicky Legolas barreled in screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Aragorn!” he howled. “Aragorn!!!” A hush fell over Doom Spings as all the orcs and Uruks stopped fighting and turned slowly to look at the group. Aragorn sunk slowly into the mud. “Where’s Aragorn?” Legolas continued shouting. “The video game! It blows…” He stopped. “Oh…” An Uruk climbed out of the mud and began walking toward them.
“Time to go!” gasped Gandalf, gathering all the hobbits.
“I can’t get out!” squeaked Boromir in a patch of sticky mud.
“But we paid for a whole hour,” complained Denethor. “We can’t leave now!”
“Oh yes we can!” Gandalf said, prodding Denethor out. The wizard began frantically counting. “Ahh, we’re missing one! Who?”
“Gimli!!” screamed Legolas, hysterical. A head popped out from the middle of the Springs. It was Gimli.
“I was making mud tunnels,” he grinned.
“Get out!” bellowed Legolas. “The orcs have spotted Aragorn!”
“Shut up!” hissed Gandalf. Eomer came flying around the corner, knocking the Uruk over.
“Oh, I’m sorry sir,” he said politely.
“It’s ma’am!” thundered the Uruk.
“Agh!” squeaked Eomer and rushed to the group.
“Did you hear about Aragorn?” choked Legolas. “He’s been discovered!” Eomer whipped off his cloak and stuffed it in Legolas’ mouth.
“Shut. Up,” he snarled. Gandalf counted again.
“Five, six, seven, eight…”
“Five, six, seven, eight,” Denthor was re-checking his wallet.
“Would you be quiet?’ snapped Gandalf. “This is very important.”
“I know,” said Denethor still checking his wallet. They were interrupted by a snarl. Coming toward them, with clubs and knives, was what looked like an entire army of orcs and Uruk-hai.
“Time to go!” gasped Gandalf, throwing Gimli over his shoulder and running for the side exit. Boromir lunged out of the mud and slogged after the hysterical Legolas and the near-hysterical Eomer. The RV screeched up to the exit just as they ran out. A panicking Faramir was driving with one hand and trying to unlock the door with the other. Legolas hurled himself at the door and pulled on the handle.
“Faramir!” he screamed. “Open the door! We’re going to die!” Legolas frantically yanked the door-handle. Suddenly the handle snapped off with a crack. Legolas collapsed in horror. Arwen flung herself at the door and fumbling frantically with the lock, she shoved it open. They all jammed their way in. Eomer, not wanting to be depraved of his privilege to drive, tossed Faramir out of the driver’s seat and stomped on the gas pedal. The RV shot forward, sending Boromir, who was just climbing in, hurtling to the ground.
“Put it in reverse!” shouted Denethor, panicking for his oldest son.
“Where’s reverse?” howled Eomer, frantically pushing random buttons. The windshield wipers went on, the horn began to blare and the radio snapped on with a screech of static. Now, there was complete pandemonium. Aragorn crawled over the hysterical, weeping Legolas and collapsed next to the driver’s seat.
“Why don’t you know where the reverse is?” he shouted, turning a handle.
“I don’t have my Class B license!” screeched Eomer as they hurtled backwards. He glanced quickly at the review mirror. To his horror, someone had bumped it and it was out of place. “Fix this!” he yelled and he spun the steering wheel to the left. Legolas, not completely sane now, leaped up and lunged at the review mirror. In his haste to straighten it, he bent too hard and it cracked off in his hand.
“Agh!” gasped Aragorn. “Gandalf! Look out the back window and make sure we don’t run over Boromir!” After a wild ride back to the entrance, Eomer spun the wheel and the RV nearly tipped over. Somehow, he managed to spin it so that it was roughly facing the right way and screeched down the street. They found Boromir facedown in the dust, stunned from the fall. Gandalf and Faramir hopped out and dragged him back into the RV.
Just then, the exit door burst open and an incredible number of infuriated Uruk-hai burst out. Boromir looked over his shoulder as he was being shoved into the RV and groaned.
“They have a cave troll,” he announced grimly. Suddenly, Eomer did not want to drive.
“Go!” shouted Aragorn to the faltering Rohirrim. “Once we get to the Black gate, we’ll be O.K.”
“Come on Eomer!” squealed Legolas. “Get us out of here!”
“You can do it!” thundered Gandalf. A sudden change came over Eomer’s face. Of course, he could do this. He was, after all, Eomer. He squared his shoulders, flipped on his sunglass and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. The RV lunged forward, then screeched to the left, then the right, throwing everyone painfully around.
“We’re being followed!” howled Arwen, pointing outside. Orcs and Uruk-hai were pouring out of every nook and cranny, all of them screaming and waving horrible looking weapons.
“Nobody follows us,” growled Eomer, his sniper side taking over. With a flip of his wrist, the RV exploded down Mount Doom toward the Black Gate.
“Do we have everyone?” shouted Gandalf. Faramir frantically counted.
“Agh! We’re missing Eowyn!” Arwen fainted.
“Don’t worry, they’ll give her back,” said Eomer carelessly.
“You turn around NOW!” screamed Gandalf, going red in the face.
“No,” whined Eomer. SLAM! The RV bathroom door closed suddenly. Everyone turned and stared. A freshly made-over Eowyn stepped out with a hairbrush in her hand. She snapped her compact shut.
“Did someone call my name?’ she asked with a yawn. Gandalf collapsed. Faramir wilted against the RV door with relief. BAM! The door snapped open under his weight.
Aragorn raced to the scream of panic just in time. Faramir was clutching onto the doorposts, his feet bouncing along the ground outside of the speeding RV.
“HEEEEELLLLLPPPPPPP!” he bawled. Aragorn snatched his hand.
“Hooldd ooonn!” Aragorn boomed as if in slow motion. Faramir stopped screaming.
“Why are you talking so slow?” he asked. Aragorn cleared his throat.
“Umm…” Faramir let go. Ahhh! Faramir let go!
“Noooooooooooo!” shrieked Denethor. “My son!” He dramatically collapsed on the floor. Gandalf smacked him with his staff.
“Pull yourself together man!” he growled. Fortunately, for Faramir, Aragorn had re-grabbed his retreating hand just in time to send Faramir spinning against the RV’s outside wall. Aragorn quickly reeled him in and slammed the door.
Faramir lay twitching on the ground for some time. Eowyn rushed up.
“Ohmigosh!” she screamed. “Help!! Aragorn, heal him!” Aragorn, who was still recovering from the strenuous rescue, glared up at Eowyn.
“He. Is. Fine!” he gasped out. “He’s just tired.”
“I better get him some soup.” Eowyn rushed off. Faramir was instantly revived and weakly sat up.
“I’m fine!” he squeaked after her, and began picking RV paint from his teeth.

Meanwhile, Eomer was dodging orcs and boulders to get to the Gate. Legolas was made to hold the review mirror up until they left Mordor. Two seconds later, he began to whine.
“I don’t wanna hold this. My arm’s tired.”
“Shut up,” snapped Eomer meanly. He whipped around a tight curve and there was the Black Gate, looming far ahead of them. He opened his mouth to cheer, but then the yell died from his lips with a choke. Barring the road with massive blades and axes, was an entire line of Uruk-hai. And a cave troll. Eomer began to hyperventilate. Legolas dropped the mirror and sank to the floor.
“What’re we going to do?” squeaked Eomer. “We’re gonna die! That’s it for me!” Gimli glanced out the window and growled when he saw the line of doom.
“Let them come!” he snarled. “There’s still one dwarf in Mordor who still draws blood!”
“Technically, you are the only dwarf in Mordor,” Sam pointed out.
“ShutupSam,” everyone hissed in unison as they neared the line of orcs. Then the RV screeched to a stop. An evil look came into Eomer’ eyes.
“What are you doing?” wailed Legolas, peeking over the dashboard. Eomer did not answer, but flung the RV in reverse. The vehicle whizzed up the slope from which it had just came and paused at the top. Aragorn marched over to the driver’s seat and was just about to bawl Eomer out, when the Rohirrim stomped on the gas pedal. With a burst of amazing speed, the RV burst down the hill toward the orcs.
“Hang on!” screamed Eomer, closing his eyes and clutching the steering wheel.

“WHY ARE YOU CLOSING YOUR EYES?!!!” howled Eowyn.
“Be quiet!!” Eomer screeched back. The RV hurtled closer and closer.