In Memory of my Grandmother, Margarita Nora Sherriff de Furlong.
Many limes were sacrificed in researching this chapter.
The Ring Keeps on Going, and Going, and Going....
Being the second half of the first third of the latter history of
Frodo woke with a splitting headache which was made worse when he realized
that nothing that painful could be a dream.
"Where am I _ and why is everything so _loud_," he said before changing
to a whisper. Oh, this was a bad one alright.
"You are in the Last Homely House — or the first — or maybe neither, as
many homely houses have been built before and after this one. suffice it to say
that it is the house of El Rond and he's been hard at work up until last night
trying to save your silly mortal hide."
The voice was that of Gandalf's and Frodo never imagined any voice could
be as loud as what he was hearing right now. "Could you show some respect and
keep it down. _Please._ People are busy dying here."
"Oh its not that bad, you could be dead already." Gandalf had turned away
from the sideboard he had been standing at and was approaching Frodo with a
fluted glass with a green concotion in it. "Here. Drink this, it will help
you get over the hang..., I mean, headache that you have. It has been close
these past four days and we had to keep you well sedated while we forced the
blood toward your brain again. Nasty work that was. We didn't finish until
last night. Oh, by the way, don't worry, some women find scars sexy."
I don't know which, Gandalf thought to himself, but I'm sure there must be
at least one somewhere.
"Four days!" cried Frodo. "You mean I haven't _eaten_ in four days?!?!
Get something in here right now! And make sure there are plenty of mushrooms!"
"Well, at least you seem to have you're spirit back. Although you seem to
forget that your on the lamm and are owing your well being to others. Some
gratitude first... and finish that drink."
The wizard smile inwardly. That Frodo's aggresiveness had not been
permanently harmed by all he had been through was good, but still, keeping the
hobbit pliable with these elvish concoctions would still be necessary to
guarantee that he continued to bankroll this quest more or less willingly, at
least until there were no magistrates around who could decide in his favour.
A knock came on the door, and then it opened. A beautiful elven maid came
in carrying a large tray of food. The maiden set the tray before Frodo, and
handed him a second glass of the amazingly good, if salty, green drink that
Gandalf had given him earlier. "I'm Margarita. Here, El Rond and Gandalf say
this will help you to recover from your trauma. And if there is anything else
you need we will surely try to provide it for you."
Frodo smiled at this and thought that this was exactly what the ring was
meant for. His thought flashed to the golden object. "The ..."
"...Ring?" said Gandalf, showing that he knew the hobbit all too well.
"It is safe around your neck, on a new chain. But don't try using it or El
Rond will make sure that something else is around your neck soon enough. It is
much to dangerous to use now that you have started to unwittingly tap into some
of the power of the white gold."
Frodo frowned as his face turned red. He turned his thoughts to the tray
that had cause the girl to come in. Half of it was filled with mushroom
delicacies and the other half was filled with pallette cleansing side dishes to
have between the various preperations of the fungi. He dove in, stuffing
himself as only a starved hobbit could and looked up at the wizard.
"Sam? Oh, yes. Sam and the others are alright. In fact they have all
been enjoying your portions at the table while you've been out of it. Once you
drew the fainted they were quite safe from your advances and had no trouble
getting here. Have another dose of your, um... medication."
Gandalf refilled Frodo's glass. Frodo had to admit it was the best
prescription he had ever tasted. His headache was rapidly diappearing but he
was getting a little light-headedness in return.
"Time for you to rest again. Tomorrow, maybe, you should be able to walk
about a bit. But for now bedrest is the thing. Unfortunately Elvish surgical
practices aren't what they used to be." The wizard left Frodo with enough
curiousity to kill ten cats. He looked under the sheets. He was only able to
count four scars before passing out.
Sam came in the next morning and drew the curtains wide.
"Close them!!!" cried Frodo, as a searing pain came across his eyes.
Sam didn't listen. "Some fresh air and light will do you good, master.
Here, Gandalf said you still might be suffering from some pain beacause of
yours wound. This stuff seems to do wonders." Sam handed Frodo a glass of the
green liquid. "If you want, sir, we might be able to find some fresh fruit for
that to make it more palettable."
"Yes," replied Frodo. "that would be good. Next time. It does seem to
help the pain though."
"Indeed it does, sir. In fact, many of the elves like to have a dose or
two at the end of a days work, but what work it is they do I couldn't tell you
sir. They seem to have perfected the art of taking it easy, if you know what I
Frodo saw an elven maid pass by the open door. "I know exactly what you
mean, Sam. I'd like to learn that art from them myself."
"Do you feel up for a stroll, sir? Everyone has been quite excited since
you came out of the shed that El Rond and Gandalf took you when you got here.
It was a long time they spent workin' on you and there were at least two
barrels of this here green stuff that went in there. _Annie-stay-tick_ they
called it but most people seem to call it margarita."
"That's what the girl who brought me my supper yesterday said her name
was," said Frodo.
"Anniestaytick?" Sam put his nuckle in his eye, trying to make some sense
"No, you ninny-hammer! Margarita."
"Oh..... Well, they do seem to like the stuff, so I'm not suprised
they've named some of the younger ones after it. That's meaning younger to
them, I mean, seeing as most of the lassies around here are at least a couple
thousand years old."
Frodo had another vision af the elf from the day before and his stomach
turned slightly. He took another sip of his drink. Yes, that's better, he
After Frodo had risen and gotten dressed in the fresh clothes that had
been provide for him, he and Sam started out to explore the house of El Rond.
Many halls it had as Bilbo had recounted over and over again when anyone gave
him the opportunity. Halls for eating, halls for thinking, halls for reading
quietly and even halls for..... "Oh, YES," thought Frodo, "I'll have to visit
_that_ hall," but just then he heard a ascream of "midget pig!" and Morrie and
Pipsqueak were flying out with the closing door barely missing them as they
"Hi there, Frodo!" said Morrie. Pipsqueak only grinned and he wiped his
mouth with his forearm. Morrie elbowed him in the side.
"Yes. Hi there, Frodo. Glad to have you back. We were having such an
awful time worrying about you."
Frodo just glareed at the two and they shut up quickly, although Morrie
did not like being talked to like that on any occasion.
"Why don't we take Frodo over to the Hall of the Fire," said Pipsqeak,
breaking the silence.
"That sounds like a splendid idea," agreed Sam and the two were off down
the hall. Frodo and Morrie gave a final glare at each other, smiled, and
The hall they entered was as large as a large as a the largest hobbit
banquet halls, which can be very large when you think of all the relatives and
friends that hobbits feel obligated to invite because of social niceties.
Bilbo's had been so large a party that it had to be moved outdoors, with the
party quonset being constructed to entertain the more favoured guests while
keeping away the less desireable yet obligatory invitees . In the middle of
the hall but toward the far end from where the four had entered, was a large
circular fire, free standing with the flu just above it. It was about twenty
feet in diameter and a fire raged it , keeping even those at the other end of
the room warm.
An elven waitress came over to offer Frodo and his friends some
_margaritas_. Each of them gratefully took one, Frodo going so far as to take
a second as well. "These headaches, y'know. This seems to be the best thing
for them." The others nodded while smiling knowingly each to the other two.
To the right was a bent old dwarf, who motioned for Frodo to come closer.
"It is a pleasure to meet the heir to Bilbo," said the dwarf. "I already
see signs that his cunning and guile, when used to save his own skin, has been
passed on to you. Having made the journey you did shows that both his luck
and skill were passed on to his, uh, _nephew_."
"Am I correct in presuming that I am talking to one of Bilbo's companions
from his oft told journey?"
"That you are Mr. Baggins." Here the dwarf bowed low as he intoned
"Gloin, at your service." Gloin held his bow for a moment, until Frodo
directed Sam to help unbend him.
"Ah, Bilbo," said Frodo wistfully. "He did have a habit of going on, but
"You miss him dearly, do you not, Frodo?" asked Gloin.
"Yes, I do. Sometimes I wonder where he is and if he still has that
Out of the corner of his eye Frodo noticed El Rond entering the hall.
Rather than coming over to Frodo's group, he strode quickly to the opposite end
of the hall where he greeted the most beautiful Elven woman that Frodo had
ever seen, and he had been keeping his eyes open so as not to miss one since he
had awakened. In fact, he was distracted for a moment as a wiatress came up to
offer more _margaritas_ to the party, which they all gladly accepted, Frodo
saying "here, (hic) why don't I take two so you don't feel rushed to get back."
Before she turned away, Frodo grabbed the waitresses arm. "Who is that to
whom El Rond is speaking?" he asked.
"That is the Daughter of the Msster of this house. Arwen, daughter of
Celebrian who has gone to the halls of Mandos."
And so Frodo set eyes once more on the beauty which few mortals had yet
seen, the vision of which had so recently given a temporary cure to his malady
and his first access to the awsome full power of the ring, Arwen, who by the
elves was called _Indomitable_, the Morningstar of her people, for with that
heavy piece of weaponry as well as other small handheld throwing weapons she
was as proficient as all but the greatest of the Rangers of the North. He had
not recognized her in her black leather regalia, which she found useful both in
battle and in other places where persuasive tactics might be enjoyed. Indeed,
as Frodo looked more closely, he could see that what he had first taken to be
baubles and jewlrey were indeed many stars and knives placed within easy reach
of her hands, and El Rond, who loved her dearly, still kept a space between
them as they hugged in greeting so as not to be pricked by a well sharpened
blade injudiciously placed. Her brothers, Al Ladan and Al Rokar, who had long
since stopped worrying about their sisters safety, were off hunting down traces
of those who had pursued Frodo and his companions.
Frodo thought to himself that it did not matter if she was older than
dirt, she was still the best looking woman; Elf, Mortal or Hobbit; he had ever
seen, and if ever he got the chance... But his reverie was broken and his
attention turned away as a voice came out of the fire.
There once was a man named Elysium
Who ran a smuggling consortium
To the Undying Lands
He led all his hands
In the hopes of scoring some opium.
Many a battle was fought
Over jewels some elf had wrought
The poppies had withered
while the elvish folk dithered
Over lessons the Valar had taught.
To them did Elysium sail
Through many a monstrous gail
A Silmaril in hand
He thought to demand
All the poppies Aman had for sale.
El Wing, his wife, came along
For she looked mighty good in a thong
If the jewels held no interest
Opinies this satirist
With his wife he couldn't go wrong.
The Valar, their interest did pique
When the light of the jewel it did leak
Eonwe did say
As they stood at the quay
"The Powers to you they would speak."
To the high point they both did walk
For Elysium wanted to talk
A jewel he would sell
for the chance for to smell
Of poppies, but the Valar did balk.
"Nay," said their spokesman, Gal-Dós
"For the fate of the world you would toss
Away for a pittance.
Has worked out to your own loss."
At this did Elysium quake
For the jewel he thought they would take
And he without tuppence
Would get his come-uppence
Of a jones he ne'er could slake.
"In Middle-earth now you are done
We now send you forth with one
Of the Silmarili
In the sky for to fly
Until the Last Battle's begun.
"To your sons we will give this choice
For each of them you will rejoice
To chose Man or Elf
To live both himself
and his children, for they have no voice."
Mannish strain Earohed chose
And why? Nobody knows.
El Rond, he still lives
while his brother, he gives
His flesh over to decompose.
Elysium stands on his deck
With an Silmaril hung 'round his neck
With his wife by his side
In the sky he does ride
keeping darkness forever in check.
Now the voice was recognizable, it was Bilbo's and a smile came across Frodo's
face as the old hobbit who was being dragged around the hearth by two of El
"Hullo, Frodo, my lad," Bilbo said. "I hear you had a bit of trouble getting
here." Frodo gave the tottering old hobbit an embrace and then drew up a chair
They were joined by El Rond and Gandalf as well, for Frodo had missed him
entering as the poetry was being recited. "A bit cheeky of you to be writting
poems about your hosts parents, do you think Bilbo?" said Gandalf.
Bilbo shrugged him off and continued, "Do you still have it? The ring that is.
I must say there are many reasons to use it around here and at my age I could
use all the help I can get."
Gandalf, seening a frown coming across El Rond's face, interjected. "Your time
of possesing the ring has past, Bilbo. It is time for others to carry the
burden, but maybe not for to much longer." He handed Frodo another drink.
"But of course. Master El Rond, you must know that I was only jesting."
El Rond was about to reply when Frodo downed his drink in one gulp. He
looked fine and then his eyes became wide and he started to lose his balance.
"Frodo, Can you here me?" asked Gandalf.
"Yesshh," replied the sodden hobbit. "Boy-o-boy, when these things
finally hit they hit hard, don't they Gandy-poo?"
"I can help you through this Frodo my friend, but you'll have to do what I
say and it may take a while. OK?"
"I'll do anything you say, Gand-meister."
To El Rond and the others Gandalf spoke softly. "We're halfway there.
With him loaded like this we're sure to get the rest of his accounts from him."
In a louder voice Gandalf spoke to the general gathering of people. "Alright
everyone, he's primed. It's time to have our Council." There was a muted
cheer as Morrie, Pipsqueak and Sam, carrying Frodo between them, followed after
Gandalf and El Rond to the Meeting Hall. Bilbo tottered slowly after them.
"... the essence of myth [is] that it have no taint of allegory to the maker
and yet should suggest incipient allegories to the reader..."
C. S. Lewis, having read "The Lay of Leithian"
I *loved* having the tale of Earendil rendered in limerick
stanzas. Were you drinking margaritas when you thought of it?
..who can't stand margaritas, but respects the rights of people
with differing aesthetic preferences to enjoy them without fear
God was my co-pilot, but our plane crashed in the mountains
and I had to eat him.
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>I *loved* having the tale of Earendil rendered in limerick
>stanzas. Were you drinking margaritas when you thought of it?
Well, someone had to highlight Tolkiens Celtic influences. ¦;¬)
> My poetry's not very good.
> (Thank God I don't do it for food)
Well, it's a hell of a lot better than mine! And damn fine in its own
right, if you ask me!!
Great job, Paul!!!
Oh, yeh! Arwen, warrior princess is back! Oh, yeh! Excellent save,
So to Ojevind all I can say is.....
But only in the nicest possible way, of course <heh>
I agree. I particularly loved the Eärendil limerick. A superb chapter!
>Oh, yeh! Arwen, warrior princess is back! Oh, yeh! Excellent save,
>So to Ojevind all I can say is.....
>But only in the nicest possible way, of course <heh>
I think we can both be happy. I really enjoyed the description of Arwen
dressed to kill here, and Paul has shown himself a veritable Solomon by
accommodating both your chapter and mine. :-)
> Mannish strain Earohed chose
> And why? Nobody knows.
I know that everyone must have gotten sick and tired of my whining.
Hell, even *I* have gotten sick and tired of my whining. I therefore
promise that this is my very last post on the subject *ever*.
But it's just that of all the name-changes "Earohed" is the one I least
understand. Whenever I read the name, my brain shortcircuits trying
to discover a joke that isn't there.
So how do the two guys who've mentioned it in their chapter feel
about changing it to something which I feel is both better and closer
to the original? I have three suggestions:
The last two of which have been mentioned by others... Any one of those
I feel would be infinitely better than Earohed.... Personally I think I
either of the first two.
So, what does everyone (and most importantly O.Sharp and PaulB) think?
>I know that everyone must have gotten sick and tired of my whining.
>Hell, even *I* have gotten sick and tired of my whining. I therefore
>promise that this is my very last post on the subject *ever*.
>But it's just that of all the name-changes "Earohed" is the one I least
>understand. Whenever I read the name, my brain shortcircuits trying
>to discover a joke that isn't there.
>So how do the two guys who've mentioned it in their chapter feel
>about changing it to something which I feel is both better and closer
>to the original? I have three suggestions:
>The last two of which have been mentioned by others... Any one of those
>I feel would be infinitely better than Earohed.... Personally I think I
>either of the first two.
>So, what does everyone (and most importantly O.Sharp and PaulB) think?
Well I was just working with what came to me, although I do like the
Earohed/Airhead word play. All I ask at this point is that any new name still
meets the demands of my rhyme scheme. None of your suggestions fit the bill.
A friendly rejoinder though:
You might want to loosen up a bit on your need to control this particular
aspect of the text, and the way the text is going in general as well. Part of
the fun is trying to meld a personal interpretation of what might be a
humourous parody with the expanding plot that is handed to each succesive
writer. If those constraints imposed by other, different, visions continue to
trouble you, then you must think about re-evaluating your approach to the
project, because your missing half of the challenge/fun. Ś;Ź/
>I really enjoyed the description of Arwen
>dressed to kill here
Yup, I said that my whining is annoying even me. I just made a final big
on the subject to loosen my frustration... As I said, it was my last post on