41. A Body-Slam, a Head-Knock and a Fellowship Jingle
Dwimordene came up with the GrammarBootCamp-Special all by herself, and since I'm amused by evilness, I wrote it in.
Jay, being equally evil, came up with the jingle. The tune is “Jesus Loves Me”.
Panting, Lina collapsed down on her bed.
“Ohgodohgodohgod,” she muttered, staring up at the ceiling. That woman was EVIL! And this punishment just because someone had tried to drill a hole into the staff sauna so they could ogle lust-objects naked (Lina suspected Cenire had been one of them, having muttered something about the horror of Radagast naked).
Dot came stumbling in as well, dropping down on the chair.
“Could she be the ultimate evil, you reckon? What a punishment.”
Lina barely had the strength to shrug. “I could put her on my list of possibilities.”
“What are the other possibilities?”
“Miss Cam, Urple, bad grammar, hobbit aaaw-ness…”
“Well, remember how it had us all studying so very, very hard? And how many times have someone nicked mushrooms for any of the hobbits? Remember how Elrond is pissy to anyone, but he chuckles at the hobbits? Clearly, hobbit aaaw-ness has awesome power.”
Silence reigned for a while, while they both panted and tried to feel their legs.
“Is it just me, or is the ceiling spinning?”
“It's just you, Lina. It's the floor that is spinning.”
Lina just groaned and closed her eyes. Somewhere in the distance she heard a new group being led to the GrammarBootCamp-Hour, and consequently, to their doom.
She really ought to ask Elrond how to get that pronunciation of doom properly doom-y. Although perhaps not this week, he was fairly busy. The elf had hired Meir Brin to spread the Fellowship mantra – she was planning a flyer campaign. Elrond himself was considering making a jingle on the Fellowship number – he had heard jingles stuck in people's minds. (Perhaps jingles were the Ultimate Evil?)
“I should get going,” Lina finally said, although her feet were insisting she really shouldn't. “Meeting Gimli for dinner.”
“Mmmm,” Dot replied and lifted a hand to wave weakly.
Despite her body protesting that she really ought to take a nap for a century or so, she managed to crawl out the door. The hallways was empty – those not at the GarmmarBootCamp were probably all in bed, wishing they were dead.
She passed Miss Thundera Tiger and Miss Cam in the main hallway, who were looking through the window down at the lawn.
“Ah, look at the Mini-Balrogs,” Thundera Tiger said affectionately.
“I feel so proud,” Miss Cam replied. “Look at them, body-slamming using the students. Ah, my mini-Balrogs. But who could have foreseen it would be so many of them?”
“Never underestimate bad spelling and laziness.”
“True, true. But really, Threnadil? Glofindell? Glion? Or Yowyn?”
“Don't forget Laeglass.”
”Thank you, I almost had.”
The two returned their attention to spectacle outside. Lina could see Miss Dwimordene down there, looking even fiercer, with Shadow in eagle shape circling over.
“See, what the mini-Balrogs are doing is *laying* you (see how 'you' is a direct object, i.e., the one being acted upon, kiddies?) flat on your back. And what you do after your spinal column fractures is *lie* there (notice how you're the subject this time, and there's no object to be found?) and whimper,” Dwimordene said, cracking her knuckles.
“Incidentally, the person *whose* (possessive, folks!) poetry we heard this morning beneath Legolas's window is also she who's (subject-verb contraction) been trapped in the mini-abyss since Grimli and Legoals came to elf boy's rescue. I hope you are all taking notes.”
A chorus of groans was her only reply.
“The wonder duo of Grimli and Legoals,” Thundera Tiger smiled. “They will win this semester's Fiery Whip reward for stopping most break-in attempts for sure.”
“I dunno, Borimir and Farimir have been fairly good lately.”
Lina left them to the mini-Balrog discussion, making her slow way towards the staff section. The mini-Balrogs could body-slam, that was for sure.
She nearly tripped over one of the Nuzgul on the way into the staff section (the Nazgûl bunnies – no one was sure yet what to do with those), who were having a jumping contest to decide who was Nuzgul One (the Hutch King of Abetmart), who was Nuzgul Two, and of course, who would be loser Nuzgul Nine.
The staff section was fairly quiet, although Invisi-Legolas could be heard singing softly somewhere. Gandalf still hadn't managed to fix it, but had promised it would last a week, tops. Not that Legolas minded. He had a class to teach tomorrow, and being invisible certainly reduced the chances of a stampede.
“Hello Lina,” a voice said by her ear, or actually, somewhere near her bellybutton. Hobbits didn't reach very high, after all.
“Pippin… You invisible too?”
“We stole Gandalf's tea,” Merry said somewhere near. “The Invisible Urple Bandits – we already managed to sneak Ragna into Saruman's bed, and Pippin stole the palantir from Gandalf.”
“I 'borrowed' it, Merry. Best to see Saruman's reaction from a safe distance after all,” Pippin replied. “Shall we go raid the kitchen?”
“Excellent idea, cousin.”
“Do you think Wormtongue would notice if we put creepy crawlies in his underwear drawer?”
“I don't think he has any underwear, Pippin.”
The two hobbit voices drifted off into the distance, leaving Lina to shake her head. As if Frodo having the Ring and therefore the possibility to turn invisible wasn't bad enough (although technically, he was just stepping into the shadow world, and wasn't really invisible, as Elrond had knocked into them – more or less literally), now you had Merry and Pippin.
“Greetings Lina Holling,” a strong dwarven voice said, and she turned to face Glòin, Gimli's father.
A lot of things flashed through her mind, and mainly – 'I could outrun a dwarf, couldn't I?'
“As is our tradition, I offer the tradition head-knock as a welcome into our family,” he went on, and the next thing Lina remembered was being hit by a tractor. Well, a dwarf head rally, but it felt like a tractor.
“My son is a very stubborn dwarf,” Glòin said, and Lina tried to focus on his face. “And since he beat me in arm-wrestling, I must give my approval.”
Dazed, Lina stared after him as he trotted off, leaving her to rub her head. Could her body hurt anymore? Wait – not a good question to ask.
“I have it!” Elrond declared, walking triumphantly into the hall. “By Valar, I have it! The Fellowship Jingle!”
He coughed discreetly as other staffers peeked out of their room (and Saruman shrieking “RAGNA! Out of my bed NOW!”).
Coughing again, Elrond held out a paper, and began singing.
"9's a number that is fun
Not an O next to a 1:
Never shalt thou count thee ten
There were 9, they all were men.
9 is the number
9 is the number
9 is the number
Lord Elrond tells me so."
'Ah, great,' Lina thought miserably. 'Now my ears will bleed too.'
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.