The Amazing Race

“And we are announcing the teams now,” boomed the voice of Elrond. All of Gondor watched with interest and excitement. Gondor and Rivendell were sponsoring an Amazing Race. Everyone was invited to see this TV special that would last for several weeks.

“Come on!” howled Legolas. “Let’s go!” A camera swung his direction and all of Gondor was treated to the sight of Legolas wringing his hands, the very picture of absolute impatience.

“For team number one,” Elrond paused and chuckled at the sight of the people leaning forward eagerly. “Where did my paper go?” He pretended to look for the paper. Legolas was beside himself.

“Don’t do this to me!” he wailed. Elrond ‘found’ the paper and began to read. The stress was incredibly heavy because no one knew what team they were on. Aragorn began to bite his nails.

“Stop it,” hissed Arwen, slapping his hand. Elrond cleared his throat.

“Team number one is Boromir of Gondor and Merry Brandybuck of the Shire.” Boromir cheered and looked around for the little hobbit that would be his sidekick for the next several weeks.

“Team number two is Legolas of Mirkwood…” Legolas shivered with excitement. “…and Arwen of Rivendell!” Legolas looked crestfallen.

“Leggy, I’m so happy I’m on your team!” cheered Arwen.

“Yeah,” grunted Legolas, knowing how out of shape Arwen was.

“Team three is Galadriel of Lothlorien and Gimli the dwarf!” Legolas guffawed loudly. Galadriel gave him an evil glare. Gimli looked ecstatic.

“Team four is Denethor of Gondor and Pippin of the Shire.” Denethor gave Pippin a high-five.

“Losers!” yelled Legolas happily. They may have a chance after all.

“No insulting team mates,” boomed Elrond. Everyone stared at Legolas who turned bright red.

“Team number five is Celeborn of Lothlorien and Sam of the Shire.”

“Go Kelly,” jeered Legolas. Sam stepped on his foot. Legolas yelped.

“Team number six.”

Legolas sighed. “How many darn teams are there?” he growled. He turned around and gulped at the sight of Aragorn on his third one-handed push-up. Some people were in much better shape than him. He sulked and sat down.

“Team six is Faramir of Gondor and Bilbo of the Shire.” Faramir attempted to crack a smile at the thought of having to lug the heavy little hobbit around.

“Team seven is Aragorn High King of Gondor…” the crowd roared. “…and Frodo of the Shire!” Aragorn cheered loudly and high fived Frodo.

“We are so going to win!” yelled Aragorn.

“Yeah!” cheered the crowd.

“Team eight is Haldir of Lothlorien and Eowyn of Rohan.” Overcome with horror, Haldir passed out. The camera quickly zoomed up on his paling face. Legolas hooted with laughter.

“You know who’s coming in dead-last?” he snickered. Eowyn glared at the slowly recovering Haldir.

“There is to be no exchanging of team mates,” blared Elrond. Eowyn looked disappointed.

“Team number nine is Grima Wormtongue of Rohan…” Elrond stumbled here and his brow furrowed. “Uh, I mean Isengard and Rosie of the Shire.”

“I never did like that guy,” said Legolas. Arwen glared at him.

“And the last team is team number ten. Eomer and Gollum!” There was a stunned silence. Eomer swallowed hard and Gollum gurgled in his throat. Legolas looked immensely satisfied.

“Now I am going to explain the rules.” Everyone shut-up.

“There will be no use of powers, special abilities or hypnosis.” Grima, Galadriel, Arwen, Celeborn, Legolas and Aragorn looked disappointed.

“Our judges will be Gandalf,” Gandalf waved his staff. “Gamling of Rohan,” Gamling waved his sword. “Me, of course, and Theoden of Rohan.” Everyone cheered.

“You will be given your first task in Osgiliath.” Legolas began to dash to the door.

“Ahem, when I give you leave. You will then go to the next stop and be told where to go after that and so on so forth.” Then, Elrond’s voice lowered dramatically. “You are about to embark on this mission. May the grace of the Valar be with you for you will need it.” Gandalf nodded gravely. Legolas gulped.

“Go!” screamed Elrond. There was silence and everyone stayed frozen for a full 3 seconds and then everyone rushed out the door. They all found horses waiting for them. To everyone’s dismay, there was one horse for each team. All the teams with hobbits looked happy. The ultra-competitive Boromir lunged himself at his horse and dragging Merry by the arm, was first to be off. Legolas shot to his horse and began to gallop away leaving Arwen behind.

“You must stay with your team mates!” boomed Elrond’s voice.

“Darn,” grumbled Legolas and let Arwen catch up to him. She had barely swung herself up when Legolas frantically kicked the horse and they were off. To everyone’s surprise, Faramir and Bilbo were off next.

“We hates you!” came a screech from Gollum. Eomer looked embarrassed.

“Just get on the horse,” he growled.

“We can’t,” moaned Gollum.

“Why not?” howled Eomer.

“Because we hates them,” said Gollum gesturing to the horses. An evil look spread over Eomer’s face. Aragorn thundered past them with Frodo stuffed under his arm.

“I really detest horses,” sighed Celeborn.

“We are going to lose if you keep this up Mr. Celeborn,” moaned Sam, giving the reluctant elf a leg-up. Wormtongue happened to be a very accomplished rider and tucking Rosie behind him, whizzed off. Pippin was in charge of the reins as Denethor proceeded to smack the horse on the backside, ‘encouraging’ their horse to go faster.

“I don’t wanna,” whined Eowyn.

“Come on, you live in Horse City. You should be used to this stuff,” snarled Haldir, pushing Eowyn on the horse.

Down in Osgiliath, Gandalf and Elrond sipped lemonade and watched the growing cloud of dust from the advancing horsemen. The first people to arrive were Boromir and Merry, the latter appeared to be covered in thick dust and having trouble breathing.

“Your next task…” began Elrond.

“You mean we still have more to do?” whined Boromir. Elrond grinned. “You next task is to swim across the Anduin River.” Boromir grinned confidently.

“You must carry you teammate across the river without getting him wet.” Boromir paled but swallowed and picked up Merry and began the trek. Legolas was horrified when he heard the task and attempted to throw Arwen over his shoulder and slogged through the river. Suddenly, back on land, there was a disturbance. The judges were arguing if it was entirely legal for Eomer to tie Gollum to the tail of the horse.

“Whatever,” thought Legolas, debating whether to make Arwen carry him.

Eowyn kicked Haldir in the ribs as he carried her across. Haldir howled and dropped Eowyn and they had to start over. Faramir ran into considerable trouble when he attempted to lift Bilbo. The hobbit was a dead weight and Faramir had to get permission from the judges to drag Bilbo into the water and then lift him. Celeborn threw a fit when he learned that he had to get wet and it took several minutes to convince him to go. After each team slogged to the shore, they were given a piece of paper. Boromir snatched his and read it eagerly.

“Try and make the Great Eye blink,” it said. While Boromir was recuperating from the shock, Celeborn and Sam appeared and snatched the paper and flew off. (Legolas had dropped Arwen and they had to start over). They all gathered in Mordor and stared in dismay at the Great Eye perched on top of a high tower.

“How in Middle Earth are we going to get him to blink?” wailed Boromir, trudging over to Celeborn and Sam. Celeborn cleared his throat politely.

“Excuse me,” he asked. “Is there anyway we can get you to blink?” The Eye slowly moved from side to side to say no. Sam looked depressed.

“Is there anyway we can bribe him?” wondered Boromir, frantically searching in his pockets for money. Legolas and Arwen arrived and found Celeborn, Sam, Boromir, Merry, Denethor and Pippin yelling at the Eye.

“Blink!” screamed Boromir waving his arms wildly. After Legolas’ fruitless attempt to shoot an arrow through the Eye, he grew sulky, kicked the tower and hurt his foot. He sat pouting off to the side. Wormtongue and Rosie arrived breathless from running. They stared at the Eye for a long moment and then Rosie whispered to Wormtongue, “I don’t see how we can get the Eye to blink because he doesn’t have an eyelid.”

“Congratulations!” Gamling popped out from behind a rock. “This whole this is a riddle! You can’t make a lidless eye blink. You two can move on.” He handed them a paper. Wormtongue took one look at it and flew off.

Several hours later, Legolas and Arwen were on their way to the Dead Marshes.

“I can’t believe it took you so long to figure out the riddle,” grumbled Legolas, limping because of his hurt foot.

“Well, excuuuse me,” growled Arwen applying more sunscreen on her nose and adjusting her sunglasses. “I noticed you didn’t even try.” Legolas refused to reply and took another look at the map.

The next task was to cross the Dead Marshes. Actually, they were supposed to find a way across. Wormtongue and Rosie were stumped. Legolas, Arwen, Celeborn and Sam caught up with them and they all stood staring at the soggy ground. Eomer and Gollum rushed up, panting. Gollum chuckled at the sight of the other teams attempting to cross the soggy wasteland.

“Come on, precious,” hissed Gollum tugging Eomer’s sleeve. ‘I know the way across.” Eomer brightened up considerably and they hurried off. A few minutes later, Eomer was straggling behind Gollum, who was happily loping ahead. Legolas stared in disgust at the rapidly disappearing figures.

“Maybe we should follow them?” he wondered.

“I wouldn’t,” growled Aragorn who had just arrived, dragging Frodo who was breathless. A strange glazed look came over Frodo’s eyes.

“The faces in the water!” he gasped out.

“Would you be quiet?” snapped Legolas. “We’re trying to do something here.” Frodo paid no attention to him and began to sway.

“That’s really weird,” frowned Legolas.

Back at the Great Eye, Boromir was nearly in tears trying to get the Eye to blink.

“Boromir.” Merry tugged on Boromir’s sleeve.

“Not now,” scowled Boromir, gathering himself up to jump and see if he could reach the Eye. Haldir and Eowyn had just rushed up and Eowyn was also fruitlessly trying. When she had lost her voice from screaming, Haldir gave her an infuriating grin and said, “Eowyn, this is a riddle. Lidless eyes don’t blink!” Eowyn looked totally confused, but before she could say anything, Gamling popped up from behind the rock and waved them on.

Faramir and Bilbo were just ahead of them on the way to the marshes.

“Run!” croaked Eowyn. “Come on Haldir, we can’t let them get ahead of us. We’re winning!” Haldir stopped suddenly.

“Eowyn, if you think we are going to win, you need a serious brush with reality!” He screamed the last words.

Denethor and Pippin were still at the river because Denethor was fighting with Elrond about something. All hope seemed lost for these two.

“Boromir,” persisted Merry. Boromir glared at him. “Unless you are dying, don’t bother me,” he growled.

“Here’s a crossing!” called Gimli, pointing to an opening in the tangle of weeds at the edge of the marshes.

“We can’t fit through that,” scowled Galadriel. “I think we should take this way.”

“We better hurry,” sighed Gimli. “It’s getting dark.”

“I can’t see!’ wailed Legolas. Night had leaped upon them and by now, seven teams were camping out in the marshes. Appalled that he hadn’t brought any matches and after a failed attempt to start a fire by rubbing his bow and arrow together, Legolas crept over to Faramir and Bilbo’s campfire and asked if they could share.

“Sure,” said Faramir amiably, feeling generous because he had got this far. Legolas and Arwen wrapped themselves in blankets and huddled next to the meager blaze.

Further down, Celeborn and Sam were sharing a roaring bonfire with Aragorn and Frodo, whom the latter was still swaying and occasionally moaning. Aragorn had tied Frodo’s leg to log to keep him from leaping in the water.

Much further ahead, was team number ten; Eomer and Gollum. Eomer was pleading with Gollum to let him stop and rest.

“No time to lose precious,” hissed Gollum “We be almost there”.

“You said that an hour ago.” whined Eomer leaping from a decrepit log and collapsing on a clump of moss.

Denethor and Pippin finally got past the river, flew past the Eye and plunged into the marshes. They were very lucky because they crossed at the thinnest part in the marshes while everyone else had slogged across the thickest part and were all roughly in the middle of the marshes.

Haldir and Eowyn were having a terrible time trying to light their fire.

“Let me do it, you dumb elf,” hissed Eowyn snatching the 5th pack of matches. As she was leaning over to light the tiny pile of sticks, Haldir had a wicked idea. Striking a match, he held it to Eowyn’s hair. The flame was crackling merrily before she realized it. Eowyn screamed. Haldir giggled with delight as the flame carefully chose its path up a strand of hair. Eowyn began to frantically whack her hair to quench the flames. A horrid stench of burnt hair rose like a cloud of doom over the marshes. Haldir was suddenly sorry he had done this. After Eowyn had dumped several handfuls of scummy marsh water over her head, she announced that she was hungry.

“I’ll make my famous stew,” she announced. Haldir gagged.

“No, anything but the stew,” he sobbed. The stress was really getting to him. Eowyn gave him a dark look and began gathering weeds, moss and little dead fish floated on top of the slimy water. Haldir crept to Aragorn’s fire and gave everyone a pleading look.

“Can I have some food?” he asked, sticking his lower lip out in a pathetic attempt to look pitiful. Aragorn was just about to refuse him, when he suddenly sniffed the air.

“Is that Eowyn’s stew I smell?” he shuddered. Haldir nodded weakly. Everyone felt sorry and pitched in for Haldir’s meal.

“Haldir!” yelled a voice. “It’s ready!” Haldir paled.

“Not hungry!” he shouted back quickly.

“Of course you are. I heard your stomach growling,” Eowyn said. Haldir moaned.

“Told you we would get across, precious,” chuckled Gollum. Eomer collapsed, wheezing.

“Will you stop calling me ‘Precious’?” he groaned. He was tired. All he wanted was a nice comfortable bed, some yummy food and…and…. Tears came into his eyes.

“How was I swindled into doing this stupid race?” he wailed. He wound his tin foil blanket around him tighter.

“Congratulations!” boomed Theoden’s voice. “Here is your next task.” He handed Gollum an envelope.

“Oooh, what does it readsss?” he asked, handing it to Eomer. Eomer moaned and read,

” ‘Go to Helm’s Deep and find a peasant who will recite the ‘Helm Hammerhand’ poem.’ Oh good, I know where that is,” said Eomer, snuggling down into his blanket.

“What are you waiting for, stupid. Let’s leave now!” gurgled Gollum, bouncing around. Eomer sat up.

“We are staying the night here!” shrieked Eomer. Gollum spat but curled up into a ball and muttered himself to sleep.

Late that night, Legolas came up with a brilliant plan. He crept to Aragorn’s smoldering fire and saw that everyone was sound asleep. Chuckling, he tied the two teams’ legs together in a hard knot. Then he hurried over to the other teams and did the same thing. He giggled and curled up next to the remains of his fire and went to sleep.

Boromir trudged toward the Dead Marshes, weary of the world. His throat ached from screaming, “Blink!” Merry trotted beside him, feeling most pleased with himself because it was he who had solved the riddle. Boromir had been astounded at the simplicity of the task and was feeling very depressed.

“Cross the Dead Marshes,” he sulked. “How could this race get any worse?”

Morning rose slowly over the slumbering racers. Aragorn awoke first, stretched and yawned.

“Wake up Frodo,” he muttered and stood to gather some firewood. The rope tied cleverly to his ankle and Celeborn’s ankle yanked him down. Aragorn gasped and succeeded in slamming Celeborn in the ribs as he fell. Celeborn awoke with a yell and nearly hit Aragorn. Then he saw the rope.

“Legolas!” he gasped.

“Where?” panted Aragorn as he struggled to free himself from an entangling branch.

“No, Legolas did this!” scowled Celeborn, wondering why Aragorn was so slow. By this time, everyone was awake and screaming. Eowyn nearly crushed Haldir’s ribs as she bounced around trying to pull the rope off.

“Will you get off me?” wheezed Haldir as Eowyn’s elbow slammed into his stomach. Theoden heard the commotion and hurried over. To Legolas’ dismay, he realized that he hadn’t tied him and Arwen’s legs together. Theoden saw this immediately. Unfortunately, so did everyone else.

“Legolas!!” screamed Haldir. “Read my lips! You are dead!” He tripped and went flying, bringing Eowyn along.

“Three legged race,” chuckled Legolas feebly. When nobody smiled, he gulped.

“I’m afraid I am going to have to set you back,” frowned Theoden. Legolas paled.

“No,” he wailed. “Can’t you guys take a joke?” Theoden took out a silver whistle and blew. A screech replied. To Legolas and Arwen’s utter dismay, a Nazgul came flying up. A Ringwraith hopped off the back of the mount and hurried over.

“Who is the victim?” he asked, briskly. Theoden gestured to Legolas and Arwen who were shivering in fear. The Wraith nodded.

“Follow me please,” he strode back to the mount. Legolas and Arwen shuffled over. The Wraith tossed Legolas and Arwen on the mount’s back and flew off. They landed and the beginning of the Marshes.

“What?!” screamed Legolas.

“I’m sorry sir,” replied the Wraith. “You are getting set back.” He nodded and flew off. Legolas went weak-kneed and slowly crumpled to the ground.

“Legolas,” said Arwen. “You are so dead.”

A shout awoke them from their pity party. It was Boromir and Merry, running across the plain.

“Great,” scowled Legolas, crossing his arms and pouting. Boromir trudged over and collapsed on the ground next to them.

“What are you doing here?” rasped Boromir.

“Why are you talking so weird?” asked Legolas. Boromir did not answer but stared moodily at the huge stretch of Marshes.

Eomer rubbed his aching temples but the headache refused to leave. They were at Helm’s Deep, looking for someone who could recite the Helm Hammerhand poem. Apparently, not a soul knew.

“Excuse me,” Eomer waved down yet another person. “Could you possibly recite the Helm Hammerhand poem for me?” The peasant beamed and nodded.

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I know that poem forward and backward, in Elvish, Orcish, the Black Speech…”

“Why?” questioned Gollum in amazement to himself.

Eomer gritted his teeth. “Could you please recite it?” He interrupted the peasant as he babbled about whom he had learned all the languages from. The peasant took a deep breath and began to chant:

“From the ashes a fire

Shall waken, a light

From the shadows shall spring…”

“Stop!” screamed Eomer going red in the face. The peasant stopped in surprise.

“Did you want me to recite it in a different language?” he asked.

Eomer clenched his fists. “You are reciting the wrong poem,” he growled. The peasant frowned.

“What poem are you talking about?” he asked, confused.

“The one that starts out with,

“Where is the horse and Rider?

Where is the horn that

Was blowing?”

The peasant scowled.

‘I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said and marched away. Eomer wilted.

Celeborn, with much difficulty, tugged his leg from the swamps and stomped off the drier ground. Him and Sam had taken a wrong turn and Celeborn had succeeded into plunging into the marshes. As was to be expected, the elf was thoroughly disgusted and in a very bad mood.

“Helm Hammerhand poem indeed,” he growled. “Who cares anyway?” Sam said nothing but adjusted his knapsack higher.

Wormtongue and Rosie were having a streak of very good luck. As soon as they reached Helm’s Deep, they immediately found a peasant who recited the poem flawlessly and now, they were on their way to the Gap of Rohan to buy a Polaroid camera.

“Please?” begged Eowyn.

“No,” scowled the peasant. “I won’t recite the poem.”

“Why not?” howled Haldir, chewing his nails. The peasant gave him an evil smile.

“Because,” was all he would say. Haldir and Eowyn sulked off. Denethor rushed over to the peasant.

“Great job,” he grinned, handing the peasant several coins.

“No problem,” chuckled the peasant strutting away.

“Let’s get this camera,” suggested Wormtongue.

“No, I like this one better,” argued Rosie. Wormtongue scowled and they began bickering. Just then, Aragorn flew dragging Frodo. He rushed up to the check stand.

“I need a Polaroid camera right now,” he gasped. The attendant frowned and shuffled over to the camera display. He scratched his head and slowly dug through the cameras.

“Please hurry!” Aragorn gritted his teeth with impatience.

Faramir was having a terrible time trying to keep Bilbo from being stepped on and also find a peasant who would recite the poem. As luck holds, nobody seemed to know the poem. Faramir was ready to throw himself over the wall of Helm’s Deep, when Bilbo trotted up with a bewildered looking peasant in the tow.

“I said we’d pay him if he recited the poem for us,” grinned Bilbo. Faramir paled.

‘Bilbo,” he hissed. “We don’t have any money with us except the money we need for the Polaroid camera.” Bilbo looked sheepish. He turned to the peasant. “Could you say the poem for free?” he asked. Fortunately, the peasant did so and the two were on their way to the Gap of Rohan, Faramir telling Bilbo about their current financial status.

Galadriel glared angrily at the attendant.

“What do you mean there is no more cameras?” she growled.

The attendant sighed. “A customer came in a while ago and bought all the cameras,” he explained. Galadriel paled and Gimli clenched his fists.

“What did this customer look like?” she asked, furious.

“Oh, he had this long blonde hair and had a little guy in the tow,” replied the attendant.

“Celeborn,” hissed Galadriel. “Oooh, he is so dead.” She stalked around the store in a rage. Just then, Gimli saw a customer with about 4 Polaroid cameras. He rushed over.

“Excuse me, but could we possibly buy one of those cameras off of you?” he asked. The customer agreed and sold him the camera for twice the amount. Galadriel shot him a malevolent glare before stomping out of the store. They met Gandalf at the door. He handed them an envelope and left.

Legolas trudged through Helm’s Deep wondering why life was so hard. Every time someone saw him, they would laugh and walk away. Boromir was walking with them whistling. Legolas suspected something evil. Suddenly, Arwen gasped and yanked a piece of paper off Legolas’ back. It big letters, it read: “Don’t talk to me because I’m crazy.” Boromir guffawed loudly and Legolas lunged at him.

“Legolas!” gasped Arwen. “Calm down. And don’t hit Boromir!”

“Why not?” squabbled Legolas. The two elves began fighting in Elvish. People stared and steered clear around them.

Eomer and Gollum had to walk for a long time to find a store that had Polaroid cameras. Eomer made Gollum wait outside the door because Gollum was scaring people by hissing and muttering.

“I don’t believe it!” gasped Faramir. “We have to take a picture with the Dead? Why me?” he wailed. Bilbo sighed and patiently waited for Faramir to stop. Faramir trudged over to the nearest carriage stop and waved the carriage down.

“Road to the Dimholt,” he muttered, handing the driver a bill. The driver gave him a strange look but nudged the horses to go.

Celeborn chuckled evilly as he clutched the enormous sack of cameras. The cost had nearly killed him but now all the other teams would be behind.

“Let’s see,” muttered Sam. “Road to the Dimholt. Do you know where that is, Mr. Celeborn?” Celeborn shrugged and vaguely waved a hand. “Over there somewhere. Let’s take a carriage.” They hailed the carriage and gave the directions and were off.

Pippin swallowed hard at the menacing doorway to the Dimholt. Denethor squared his shoulders and prepared to enter. Suddenly, a figure with something tiny under his arm, rushed by. It was Boromir and Merry.

“Move!” he yelled. Tossing the poor hobbit down, Boromir proceeded to dig everything from his bag to find the camera.

“Who enters my domain?’ boomed an evil voice. Boromir gulped. But before he could answer, Aragorn hurled himself in, dragging Frodo.

“One who will have your picture!” he yelled. The King of the Dead materialized and saw the crowd of people and frowned.

“What are you all doing here?” he scowled. Denethor swallowed hard.

“We have to pay for the carriage ride?!” screamed Celeborn, growing red in the face. The carriage driver gave him a bland look.

“Yes, sir,” he sighed. Celeborn frantically dug in his pockets for anything that could pay off his debt. He pulled a paper and pencil from his pocket and scribbled down an address.

“This is my address,” he said hurriedly. “Write me soon and I’ll pay the debt.”

“No sir,” said the driver adamantly.

“Please?” begged Celeborn. “I am, after all, an elf.”

“See here sir,” scowled the driver. “Elf or no elf, you ain’t leaving here without paying the bill.” Celeborn was near tears. Sam rummaged in his pocket and came up with nothing. Suddenly, Celeborn brightened up. He dug frantically around until he came up with a little velvet box.

“Nenya!” he hissed. “The ring of Adamant! I was supposed to be getting it cleaned for Galadriel, but forgot.” He chuckled evilly. “Here,” he handed the ring to the driver. “You take this and I’ll come back and pay you the original sum. O.k.?” The driver clutched the ring in his hands and gurgled happily. He hoped Celeborn would forget to come back.

“Remind me Gimli,” said Galadriel as they bumped along in a wooden cart filled with vegetables. “To ask Celeborn to give me my ring when we meet up. I really hope he didn’t loose it.”

“This is the life,” chuckled Legolas as him and Arwen whizzed smoothly in a spacious, red velvet covered seated carriage. TV’s were perched on either side of the roof. Legolas reached up and turned one on. He was absolutely horrified to see him and Arwen tackle a peasant and scream for the Helm Hammerhand poem.

“Legolas!” gasped Arwen, covering her eyes.

“And there’s one clip from the TV show, ‘The Amazing Race’. Let’s show other.” The screen flipped to Wormtongue and Rosie. Legolas and Arwen’s jaw dropped at the sight of the two flying on the back of a Nazgul.

“Looks like these two hitched the lucky ride,” boomed Elrond’s voice. Rosie leaned down and waved at the camera. Legolas lip trembled. “Some people have all the luck,” he sniffled.

Haldir tried not to scream. Eowyn was completely getting on his nerves during the incredibly long trudge to the Dead. They had managed to hire a couple of run-down horses because Eowyn, for some ludicrous reason, refused to ride in a carriage. Haldir had decided that she thought it would look more heroic on horseback than in a carriage. She also had not ceased to prattle about how gallant she looked riding tall and proud and how they (mainly her) were going to win and she hoped that the photographers would give her some time to clean up before they took the winning photo. Haldir stuffed his cloak in his ears and looked for the road sign that said “Door to the Dimholt, this way”.

Eomer crashed through a thicket feeling a surge of energy. They had just seen a sign that said “Door to the Dimholt, ½ mile.” Of course they were thrilled and Gollum had cackled and bounced around in a little circle. Eomer stopped suddenly causing Gollum to smash into his knees.

“What does it see precious?’ hissed Gollum peering around Eomer’s legs. Just ahead of them was a menacing looking opening in the side of a cliff. Mist whirled out of it and strange voices muttered unintelligible things.

“I don’t like the dark,” whined Eomer.

“We lovess the dark!” cheered Gollum and loped forward. Eomer groaned and reluctantly followed.

Faramir crept in the evil entrance hauling an extremely reluctant Bilbo. All was dark and silent. He inched forward and suddenly had the feeling that someone was behind him. The hairs on his neck prickled and he heard Bilbo shudder. Suddenly something grabbed his shoulders and yelled, “Boo!!” Faramir screamed louder than he had ever screamed before. He tumbled to the ground still howling and threw his cloak around him. Suddenly, someone lit a lantern and Faramir pulled aside part of the cloak to see Boromir screaming with laughter. Faramir pouted. “That’s not funny,” he gripped.

“My brother is such a baby,” chuckled Boromir to Aragorn, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Aragorn attempted to hide a guffaw behind his hand. Faramir pulled himself from the floor feeling incredibly sorry for himself. He took two steps with before his weak and shaky legs gave out.

“You did that on purpose,” he whined. “I’m tellimg Dad.” Suddenly, he was aware of someone else. A tall, faintly glowing, oddly decaying figure stood talking to Celeborn. Faramir choked.

“That cheater!” gasped Aragorn. “He was in line behind us! Make way for the king!” he yelled dragging Frodo over to the King of the Dead. He shoved Celeborn out of the way.

Wormtongue dismounted and helped Rosie down from the Nazgul.

“Thank you,” said Rosie sweetly, slipping on her pack.

“Oh it was nothing,” said the Nazgul with an embarrassed shrug of his massive shoulders. Grima scowled. “I thought she was talking to me,” he snarled under his breath. Plastering on a smile, he politely thanked the Nazgul and waited as Rosie exchanged phone numbers with the Wraith.

“You’ll love the Shire,” she was saying. “It’s very family friendly.”

“That’s just what I’ve been looking for,” beamed the Wraith. “I’ll tell the wife and kids about it.” He shook Grima’s hand (or at least Grima thought he shook his hand. He couldn’t really tell) and mounted the Fell beast. With a wave of his gloved hand, he was off. Rosie was so busy talking to Grima about the Wraith that she marched into the Dead without batting an eye.

Eomer wiped sweat off his brow as the mist swirled around him. Gollum chuckled and gurgled and led the way down a very dark hallway. Eomer wished he had brought a candle or something. He was surprised to see seven other teams there already. Haldir, Eowyn, Legolas and Arwen were the only ones missing. Gollum tugged on his leg.

“What is it we does precious?” he asked.

“Take a picture with that green guy over there,” gulped Eomer. Gollum shuddered.

“We don’t likes him and we don’t want to take a picture with him,” he sniffed.

“I don’t think you have that choice buddy,” growled Eomer, hauling Gollum over to stand in line.

Eowyn dismounted smartly and wound the reins around a tree in a very complicated knot. Haldir frowned and looked at the simple knot in his own hand.

“You gonna be able to untie that?” he asked warily. Eowyn scowled.

“Of course,” she sniffed. “This knot is used by the woodland Rangers. I don’t use simple knots like that because they’ll come free far too easily.” Haldir shrugged and rummaged in his bag to find the camera.

Legolas and Arwen found the major disadvantage to plush carriages: leisurely paces. The horses crept through the streets so that someone walking at a comfortable pace could easily outdistance them in a moment. Legolas finally leaned his head out of the window.

“Hey you!” he yelled at the driver. The driver started as if he had been asleep.

“W…what?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Speed up a bit, will you?” growled Legolas. The driver frowned.

“That’s not what these carriages were built for,” he sniffed. Arwen glared at Legolas. “That’s what you get for wanting the prettiest carriage!” she snarled. Legolas scowled right back.

“Don’t blame it on me!” he yelled. “You wanted it too!”

“Forget it,” sighed Arwen. “Stop the carriage!” she called out to the driver. Hopping briskly down, she explained the predicament to the driver and then hauling a protesting Legolas out, she tossed some money to the driver and went directly to the stables.

Aragorn was first in line. He squared his shoulders and nodded to the King of the Dead.

“We have met before, you may remember,” he said. “This is my friend Frodo. We are here to take a picture with you. That is, if you don’t mind.” The king shrugged and then nodded.

“Where do you want me?’ he asked. Relieved, Aragorn centered the king around him and Frodo. He handed the camera to the trustiest person: Sam. The little hobbit had to climb on a rock to see. Just as he was about to push the button, Boromir stuck his hand right in front of the camera.

“Boromir!” yelled Aragorn, furiously. “I’m sorry, please take the picture again.” He shot a malevolent look at Boromir. As soon as the picture was taken, Aragorn hurled himself and Frodo away to find Gamling. Unfortunately, Gamling was still hurrying from the Gap of Rohan so Aragorn had to wait.

“Go!!” screamed Legolas, digging his feet into his horse’s sides. The horse responded by slowing down. Frustrated beyond all reason, Legolas flung himself from his horse wailing. Arwen rode up and with a sigh, leaned down and hauled him to his feet.

“Don’t pull back on the reins, that only slows the horse down,” scowled Arwen. Just then, Legolas gasped.

“Look!” There in front of them was a sign that said “Road to the Dimholt: left”. Legolas lunged to his feet and leaped on his horse.

“Go!!” he screamed as his startled horse took off.

Faramir brushed some dirt from his face and beamed broadly. Pippin focused the camera and took the picture. But just then, Boromir flung his hand out on front of the camera. Faramir screamed furiously just as Sam took the next picture. Horrified, Faramir grabbed the picture and saw himself screaming while standing next to the king of the Dead.

“Boromir!” he howled, flinging himself at his brother. Boromir was laughing so hard that he could only feebly ward off Faramir’s blows. Denethor head the yells and flew over.

“What do you think you are doing?” he gasped. Seizing Faramir and Boromir by their shoulders, he gave them both evil glares.

“You know what this means,” growled Denethor.

“Dad, go,” said Boromir embarrassed at the reprimand.

“Yeah,” sulked Faramir looking ashamedly at the growling crowd of laughing teammates.

“You both should know better,” continued Denethor, ignoring their protests.

Eomer smoothed his hair and hauled Gollum over the king. He clutched Gollum’s arm so that the creature wouldn’t do anything rash.

“Let’s go!’ he beamed at Merry who was taking the picture. Eomer pinched Gollum’s arm.

“Smile!” he hissed. Gollum grumbled and slouched lower.

“Does my hair look alright?” asked Eowyn for the fiftieth time, tucking a lock behind her ear.

“Yes,” growled Haldir without looking at her.

“I have a big feeling that they are going to put this picture in the newspaper on the front page.” Haldir just grunted in reply.

Gamling hurried up to the Dimholt hoping that he wasn’t too late. He was surprised to hear yells coming from the cave. Fearing foul play, he rushed in. He found Boromir backed against a wall and Wormtongue, Rosie, Galadriel and Gimli screaming at him and waving pictures.

“What’s wrong?” gasped Gamling throwing himself into the fray. A burst of voices hit him.

“One at a time,” he scowled. Galadriel elbowed her way forward.

“This thug here keeps ruining pictures,” she snarled, waving a picture in Gamling’s face.

“Yeah!” echoed everyone else. Gamling shook his head.

“Boromir,” he said. “You just got yourself a set-back.” Merry hurled himself at Boromir in a tizzy. “WHAT DID YOU HAVE TO GO AND DO THAT FOR?” he screamed. Boromir glared at him. Gamling waved everyone to gather around.

“I understand Boromir ruined several of your pictures,’ he said. Nods and growls came from around the room. “Boromir, you and you companions are going to have to go back a mile and then come here again and take another picture.” Boromir’s jaw dropped. “The rest of you,” continued Gamling. “I am going to give you your envelopes right now.” A cheer went up. Boromir sulked out, dragging Merry. Gambling dug the envelopes from his pocket and began handing them out. Eowyn and Haldir were lucky and got the first envelope. Haldir ripped it open and read in one quick breath: “GotoFangornForestandlearnhowtosay’GoodMorning’inEntish.” He and Eowyn took off. Haldir yanked at the rope that was tied to his horse easily from the tree and flung himself over the horse. He turned to find Eowyn struggling with her complicated knot. Haldir chuckled loudly and pulled a knife from his belt and cut the rope. Eowyn glared at him. “I could have done that,” she growled. Haldir laughed loudly and rode away.

continued on chapter 2