Disclaimer: I do not own LOTRs or its characters, places, plots, etc. I credit and thank Professor Tolkien greatly for his works which have inspired me to write this little tale. I only own the troublesome doors.

~The Password Doors Saga~

It was nighttime at Rivendell, and all the elves, humans, dwarves, and other guests and residents were retiring for bed after the most spectacular feast of the year.

Suddenly, a shout shattered the peace. “Elrond, what’ve you done to my door?! It won’t open!!”

Before Elrond could answer the bewildered Celeborn, another voice, quieter, arrogant sounding, but creaky like the moving of tree branches in the wind, muttered in disdainful undertone, “You have to say the password, dufus!”

Celeborn looked around, visibly spooked. “Who said that?” he asked, to no-one in particular. The other elves in the corridor were stifling grins. A door had insulted their Lord!

Galadriel called out from across the corridor. “Celeborn, just say the password, and we can go to bed, instead of standing out here all night!”

Celeborn looked dumbfounded. “What is the password?”

Galadriel shrugging her shoulders muttered a dismissive “I don’t know.”

Meanwhile, opposite them, a cheesed off Erestor was pushing against his door as hard as he could, to no avail. The door stayed glued shut.

“Blasted… thing!” he grunted, while giving his door another sharp shove, dropping his paperwork in the process. He was so preoccupied that he never saw the door next to his one spout a hand and pull the papers under it. When he finally stopped to rethink his strategy, and bent down to pick up his paperwork, it was gone. “Glorfindel! If this is one of your tricks-”

Glorfindel’s golden head peeped up from where he was sheltering from the splinters his door was throwing at him. “‘Restor, I’m having the same problem! All I did was misspell the password!” He ducked rapidly behind a vase as a fresh wave of splinters nearly pierced him. The vase shattered beyond repair on contact with the splinters. Elrond heard the crash, and seeing his favorite vase in pieces, shot a deadly look at Glorfindel. The elf lord whimpered under the intensity of the glare, and ducked behind a pot-plant.

Meanwhile, the Marchwarden of Lothlorien was furiously sword-fighting with his door. How it had sprouted hands, and stolen a sword and shield from a nearby suite of armor, Haldir couldn’t tell. All the unfortunate guardian could do was duck and stab, and make vain attempts at securing a parley.

Eomer, across the hallway, was having similar problems, except his door had swiped his spear from right out of his hand. “Now this just isn’t fair!” the Rohirrim Lord moaned as the door jabbed at him with renewed fury, while saying that “No living man can beat me!” At that, a fully armored figure behind Eomer jumped in front of him, and in a deadly voice, answered, “I am no man!” and started sword fighting with the now somewhat slightly more subdued door.

Faramir of Ithilien wasn’t remotely happy at the door shutting on the back of his cloak, and making him stuck.

Elladan and Elrohir were yelling some unmentionable and very decorative words at their doors while Arwen was crying to her father and Legolas was shrieking something about “If that darn door doesn’t open in five seconds…”

And even Aragorn was curled up dejectedly on his step, half asleep, utterly exhausted, reading from a dictionary words which hopefully would be the password that he had forgotten, while the door in question started tapping a suddenly spouted foot in impatience. Finally, with a shout of “Eureka!” Aragorn found the correct password, and said it to the door. When the door didn’t open, he asked “Aren’t you going to let me in, then?” and it replied, “Buddy, you made me wait an hour, so I’ll make YOU wait an hour.”

Aragorn murmured an “Oh for the love of Varda…” which the door heard, and said, “Alright then, mister impatient, you can stay outside all night for that. Sleep well!” At which Aragorn started banging on the door with renewed energy.

Haldir finally beat the door’s sword from its hand. He gave the door a shove when it still remained shut. “I’ll tell you one… more… time! LET ME-” The door happily swung open, sending the sleepy Marchwarden in with a crash. “-in… ouch…” The door whistled innocently through unseen lips.

“My pleasure,” it said.

Outside, all were dropping down to sleep outside of their doors. Finally, Elrond stormed off down the corridor, in search of a carpenter with a cry of “That’s it! I’m getting new doors TONIGHT!” The doors screeched like broken kettles, and swung open to let the occupants in, who, one by one, rubbed their eyes and raised themselves from the ground, and stepped into their rooms.

When Elrond returned, he found his door open, sound asleep, sucking a sprouted thumb in comfort.