First of the Place goes to lotr_qlan!

Another Day in the Life of Gondorian Agents

Faramir turned to his agent and said, “What do you think it is, One-one-three-eight? Is it some kind of animal freak, or a member of the SIA?”

“SIA?” Sam asked, confused.

The man that Faramir called 1138 turned to Sam with an annoyed look. “Don’t ya Halflings know anything? SIA is Sauron’s Intelligence Agency. ‘Course I don’t know what he needs with a spynet when he himself’s a search light-telescope… thingy.”

“You mean the Red Eye?” Frodo helped.

Faramir cleared his throat. “Back to the business at hand…”

“Oh yeah – right, boss,” said 1138, snapping to attention. “Ah… well… I… um…”

“If I don’t get a straight answer in the next ten seconds, you’re fired,” Faramir told him impatiently.

“Yes, sir – I mean, no, sir! I mean – I think it’s SIA!” the other man blurted.

Faramir smacked his forehead with his palm. “I’ve gotta get my dad to start replacing my field agents.” He looked at Frodo and asked, “Should the snipes shoot?”

Frodo said “No!” while Sam said “Yes!” at the same time.

Frodo glared at Sam. “Sam, Gollum’s like the only person who’s been in and outta Mordor who isn’t on Sauron’s side.”

“Two-timin’, two-bit hood,” Sam muttered.

Frodo gave Faramir a sympathetic look. “Maybe we BOTH need to start replacing our agents.”

“So this Gollum’s your guide?” Faramir asked him.

“Yeah,” Frodo admitted. “But he isn’t here for us, otherwise he woulda come straight up to HQ.” He pointed down to Gollum, sitting on a wet stone by the Forbidden Pool.

Faramir took out his night-vision binoculars and saw what exactly Frodo was pointing to. He frowned, and said, “Whoever let an outsider come in and set up a tent and a contingent of camping equipment is DEAD. He even has a portable stereo!”

Faramir took another look through the binoculars and added, “Man, that’s a nice one, too – I wish I had it!”

Down below, Gollum DID have a full campsite set up on the rocks beside the pool. He had grabbed a fish, and seemed to be pretending that it was a microphone to sing a song to the tune of the music that the stereo was playing:

“What a joy to meet!
We only wish
To catch a fish,
So juicy-sweet!”

His hissing voice carried up to the men and Hobbits on the cliffs above, and Frodo thought that it sounded a bit a like a rap song.

“Can I shoot the guy that let him in?” 1138 asked eagerly.

“No, you’re not shooting the guy that let him in!” Faramir shouted.

“Aw, c’mon, Cap’n,” 1138 complained. “I ain’t shot nobody in a long time, and we just got those new sniper babies!”

Faramir stamped his foot and declared, “That does it! You ARE fired!”

“But, boss!”

“No buts, buster! You’re lucky I’m even letting you outta here ALIVE! Now move it, move it, MOVE IT!”

“Aw, shoot!” the other man grumbled as he left. “I have to file in at unemployment again – that’s the fourth time in a year! I can’t believe it…” His voice faded as the distance grew.

Faramir turned once more to Frodo and Sam. “Well, what are we gonna do? We can’t just let that Gollum-person-thing… go.”

“Shoot ‘im,” said Sam with finality.

Frodo rolled his eyes and tapped his furry foot. “Can’t you just let me take him outta there and up? We’re leaving in the morning, anyway.”

“Or we’ll be late for an important date,” Sam muttered. “A month’s all-expense-paid trip to Mordor – don’t I wish!”

Faramir chewed the inside of his cheek. “I guess that COULD work,” he said slowly. “But you gotta let me come with you – this Gollum’s still gotta be arrested.”

“Why not just send one of your men?” Frodo asked.

“Are you kidding? One-one-three-eight was stereotypical of the dodos I have to work with everyday,” Faramir complained. “No way I’m sending one of THOSE guys down without me there, too.”

“How you gonna get down there?” Sam asked skeptically.

“Repelling rope,” Faramir told him.

“Now why didn’t them Elves give us that instead of their ‘real Elvish rope 100% guarantee with one-month warranty’?” Sam asked Frodo. “Real Elvish rope my eye!”

“Heads-up, boys,” Faramir radioed his men. “Lower yourselves down there in a perimeter as soon as I’m down.”
Faramir set up the rope system and harnessed himself and Frodo in. Sam tried to let them down slowly, but the rope started to fray.

Seeing what was about to happen, Faramir turned to Frodo. “You know, I think I would have preferred that real Elvish rope stuff.”

Frodo’s face was resigned. “Going – dowwwn!” His sentence ended in a yell as the rope gave out, and he and Faramir plummeted to the rocks.

Gollum was singing, “Doo-dee-doo-dee-doo-detoo –” He looked UP and saw Faramir and Frodo coming DOWN. He screamed as they yelled –
Just before Faramir and Frodo landed on Gollum. Then all around them, other men landed with perfectly-fine ropes on the rocks in a complete perimeter.

As one man helped Faramir up and another helped Frodo, a third man helped Gollum up. “I’m agent Three-Dee-O, and you are under arrest,” he told Gollum. “You have the right to remain silent.”

Gollum began to shriek and wail and blather on. “If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” 3DO continued as he and another man hauled Gollum away.

As all three left, Gollum continued to moan and complain, and 3DO continued to his monologue on prisoner’s rights. Frodo blew at his curly bangs and turned to Faramir. “Another day in the life?” he asked wearily.

Faramir nodded just as wearily. “Another day in the life.”

Sam had scurried down to the Forbidden Pool as quickly as he could, and now he ran up to Frodo. “I guess you got him.”

“Mm-hmm,” Frodo confirmed. “I hope this’ll turn out okay.”

“Yeah,” sighed Sam, “but nothing will ever be okay where that character is.” He jammed his thumb in the direction that the men had taken Gollum, then sighed again and shook his head. “Another day in the life?” he asked Frodo.

“Yes,” both Frodo and Faramir replied.

Second Place goes to Celedë_Anthaas of the Realm of Varda

’OY! Hobbit!’ Faramir stuck his head around the corner, and when there was no movement from within, he yelled again, louder this time.

‘’Sup?’ said a sleepy voice, when the Captain of Gondor finally paused to draw breath.

‘No, not you! The other one!’ Faramir rolled his eyes exasperatedly. Hobbits! Of all the creatures in Middle-earth he had to stumble upon them. Not only did they eat more than three men and drink more than six, they were also incredibly dimwitted. And, apparently, not light sleepers. He decided that water was what he needed. One full bucket of very cold water – courtesy of the famous streams of Ithilien – later, and his two short visitors stood in front of him, grumbling and shaking water out of their hair.

‘Awake?’ Faramir asked grumpily.

‘Yes,’ they muttered.

‘Yes, sir!’ Faramir threw another bucket of water over them. ‘And don’t you be forgetting the “sir”. Bloody useless creatures. Not an ounce of discipline. Now drop down and give me twenty!’

With looks of purest loathing – and slightly cross-eyed after drinking Faramir’s last bottle of Scotch – the hobbits started the impossible task of twenty push-ups.

‘Begging your pardon, mister Frodo,’ muttered Sam, ‘but I think coming here wasn’t such a good idea. My old Gaffer always said-’

‘I–don’t-care-what-your-Gaffer-said,’ Frodo hissed through clenched teeth.

He had never managed more than five push-ups in his life and was wondering what Faramir would do if he just dropped down and played dead. He was saved by a deus ex machina named Anborn, who appeared behind Faramir and tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Oh Most Noble and Most Excellent Captain Whose Fame Will Last Forever,’ he said. ‘It pains me to interrupt thy lessons of discipline, but the subjects of the lesson in question are to help thee untangle a problem that has arisen.’

Faramir stared at him. ‘English, dammit, Anborn! You sound like you swallowed a bloody dictionary.’

‘Oh, right.’ Anborn shook himself. ‘You came here to ask the hobbits for help, not to murder them with exercise.’

‘I did?’ Faramir looked puzzled. ‘What sort of help?’

‘The erm… thing in the Pool.’

‘The rubber duck?’

‘No,’ Anborn groaned. ‘Not the rubber duck. We sorted that one out yesterday, remember? It was Mablung’s. I’m talking about the thing in the Pool. The Forbidden Pool!’

‘Oooooh.’ Understanding dawned on Faramir’s face. ‘The thing in the Pool!’ He turned to the hobbits. ‘You have to help me solve the mystery of the thing in the Pool.’

‘He’s mad,’ whispered Sam in an undertone. Frodo nodded in agreement.

‘Right,’ said Faramir cheerfully. ‘So you’re going to help me with the thing in the Pool. Which one of you is Odo again?’

‘It’s FRODO!’ yelled Frodo.

‘That’s what I said, Odo.’ Faramir grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him out of the back door, where there was a little balcony overlooking the Pool below. It was just like any other swimming pool. It was of rectangular shape and its sides were clad with white and black tiles.

The reason why it was forbidden was the Slide of Doom at one end, which had killed more Gondorians than Sauron. Though the Pool was very nice in all other aspects, this murderous slide had caused the entire thing to be closed down and become Forbidden. Once the water was no longer cleaned regularly, weeds and water plants had begun to grow there, and in later years it had become infested with everything from goldfish to vicious sharks.

Frodo stared down, and was amazed to see a dark shape crawling along the edge of the Pool. Faramir squinted at it, too.

‘Anborn,’ he said, ‘are you sure that’s not a rubber duck?’

‘Two hundred per cent sure. And when was the last time you got new contacts?’ Anborn put his rifle to his shoulder. ‘Can I shoot it?’

Faramir turned to the hobbit beside him. ‘Well, Odo, can he?’
‘It’s Frodo. And no, he can’t shoot it. That’s our guide. We paid good money for him.’

‘I’ll pay you back, Odo, I swear I will. Full refund.’

‘No thanks. And my name is Frodo.’

‘Good, solid cash. Mastercard. Visa. Checks. Pure gold! Anything!’

‘No,’ said Frodo firmly. ‘Good guides are difficult to come by. This one speaks eight languages fluently and he knows all the good hotels and restaurants. And stop shouting please, my head hurts.’

‘Serves you right,’ muttered Faramir. ‘That was my last single malt from Lebennin. Do you know how difficult those are to come by? Well, do you, Odo?’

‘It’s Frodo! And I don’t care. Just don’t shoot that thing down there.’

‘But, but!’ Faramir jumped up and down and pointed at a set of rules hanging on the wall behind them. ‘It’s against the rules – against the law – to go swimming in the Forbidden Pool.’

‘That’s why it’s called the Forbidden Pool,’ said Anborn wisely.

Frodo glared at him. ‘That thing is our guide. We need him,’ he said. ‘And besides, he’s not really swimming. He’s fishing. Look!’

He pointed, and they all looked down to see the black thing drag a hammerhead shark out of the water and begin carving it.

‘Wow,’ said Faramir. ‘BIG fish!’

‘It’s a shark, sir,’ said Anborn.

‘Can I go down to him, please?’ said Frodo. ‘I’ll tell him not to go swimming, and then bring him back up.’

‘If you bring a piece of shark as well,’ said Faramir. ‘I love shark. Anborn, give me the rifle. You lead Odo down.’

‘It’s FRODO!’

Anborn handed the rifle to Faramir and then pushed Frodo into the elevator. They went down seventeen floors and stepped out beside the pool.

‘You can go on alone from here,’ said Anborn with a nervous shudder. ‘I don’t like that Pool.’

‘Are you afraid of sharks?’

‘’Course not. It’s the goldfish that give me the creeps.’

Frodo rolled his eyes and hurried along the side of the Pool. The Slide of Doom loomed dark and forbidding and he gave it a wide berth.

The dark shape, which was of course none other than Gollum, was now taking out a small portable stove and slicing up bits of shark fin, which he put into a large pot. And he was singing: ‘Yorn desh born, der ritt de gitt der gue, orn desh, dee born desh, de umn børk! børk! børk!’

Frodo ducked as Gollum threw all his kitchen utensils over his shoulder.

‘Er, Sméagol?’ he asked tentatively. ‘Did you just speak Swedish?’

‘We make-a ze shark fin soup-a!’ came Gollum’s voice from the darkness. And the portable stove exploded, or perhaps he had shot it.

‘Right,’ said Frodo. ‘I’m sure it’s lovely, but we have to go.’

‘But ze soup-a needs to boil-a for two hours-a!’

‘No time, fish-freak,’ said Frodo. ‘There’s a trigger-happy Gondorian up there and he’s pointing a rifle at you right now.’

‘But-’

‘NOW!’ yelled Frodo. ‘Or the Precious will be angry.’

Silence. Then Gollum’s voice again, somewhat puzzled this time. ‘What Precious-a?’

‘The Precious,’ said Frodo. ‘The One Ring to rule them all.’

Silence.

‘That shiny golden thing.’ Frodo was becoming desperate. ‘The one you murdered your best friend over five hundred years ago.’

‘Oh, zat Precious-a,’ said Gollum. ‘We no need it, we has ze soup-a now.’

‘Come now, or I’ll make the Precious burn your soup!’

Muttering curses, Gollum appeared out of the darkness. He was wearing a white chef’s hat and dragging the pot of soup with him. In his other hand he had what remained of the shark.

‘Good Gollum,’ coaxed Frodo. ‘Niiiice Sméagol, come with master. Yes, nice master. Will not hurt Sméagol. Shark fin soup really nice.’

Gollum stopped dead in his tracks, staring into the darkness. ‘Sumzing there!’ he said. ‘Not a hobbit-a, is- AAAAAH!’

The reason for this sudden outburst was Anborn, who appeared out of nowhere.

‘Nnnnnooooooo,’ screamed Gollum. ‘Is ze rival chef! Is ze one who took my third Michelin star-a! He bribed ze judges, master-a! He trickse and falsed and wicksy!’

‘Shut up, you!’ growled Anborn. ‘I deserved that star more than you! My crème brûlée-’

‘Look,’ said Frodo. ‘I don’t care about your cooking skills. Can we get on with this, please?’

Anborn nodded and put a hood over Gollum’s head. Then the creature was carried off. Somehow he managed to keep his hold on the pan of soup without spilling a single drop. Frodo followed behind, and once he was back on the seventeenth floor he bumped into Sam.

‘So you got him then?’ Sam asked, pointing at the bundle with the pan of soup. A string of Swedish curses was coming from somewhere inside the bundle.

‘Almost,’ said Frodo. ‘He trusted me, but then that Anborn messed it all up. Something about a Michelin star. I wish he hadn’t. Gollum will never trust us again. He might even stop cooking!’

‘Not a great loss,’ muttered Sam. ‘All those fancy foreign dishes of his…’

Faramir came running towards them, tossing the rifle away. ‘Frodo!’ he yelled. ‘Did you get any shark?’

Frodo stared at him. ‘You called me Frodo!’

‘Sorry. I meant Odo.’

Third Place belongs to Melde_Baggins of the Realm of Manwë

Melde_Baggins brings her expertise in writing song parodies to the Inter-Realm Parody Contest stage!

Title: ‘The Forbidden Pool’
Parody of: Do the Moo Shoo
Original Artist: Veggietales

(Setting: Forbidden Pool; Last week, as you recall, we left Faramir and his men threatening to kill Gollum from their pearch above the Forbidden Pool as the toad-like creature dove for food, unaware that his life may be at stake…)

Gollum/Smeagol: Fishes!

Gollum: Nice, raw–
Smeagol: Fishes!
Gollum: Wriggling–
Smeagol: Fishes!
Gollum: Young and tender–Smeagol: Fishes!
Gollum: Juicy–
Smeagol: Fishes!
Gollum/Smeagol: Do the robot!
*Beep beep bloop!
Ba- bop, whistle shriek bloop!
Beep bop bloop!
Ba- bop, whistle shriek bloop!*

(What’s a robot?)

*Faramir and men look at each other, confused*

Gollum/Smeagol: Wishes!

Smeagol: The rock and–
Gollum: Pool!
Smeagol: Is nice and–

Gollum: Cool!
Smeagol: Our only–

Gollum: Wish!
Smeagol: To catch a–

Gollum: Fish!
(Fish)
Gollum/Smeagol: Sweet and Juicy!
Juicy sweet! Sweet, sweet, and juicy!
Juicy sweet! Juicy and so sweet!
Gollum: STOP!
Break a fortune cookie:

*Smeagol breaks said fortune cookie*

Smeagol: ‘Beware of Master with scary, creepy men holding nasty ropes and big, mean-looking swords and hiding in the shadows behind him.’

*Scary, creepy men holding nasty ropes and big, mean-looking swords and hiding in the shadows behind Frodo pause, foiled in their sneak attack*

Gollum: Ain’t that the truth…

*They catch him anyway*