The Council of Elrond.

It was an unusually pleasant October morning, and Frodo was trying to walk off his hangover in the gardens of Rivendell. It had been a good evening's fun meeting all those elves the night before, and when Bilbo had suggested they go back to his room, meet his puppies, and share a couple of bottles of Tequila, Frodo had thought it a perfectly innocent suggestion. However, he felt strangely uncomfortable at the memory of it and didn't wish to dwell too deeply on his Uncle's idea of fun.

As he was innocently throwing up into a juniper bush, Gandalf came up behind him. "Boo!" cried Gandalf humorously; "Good night was it?"

"Cripes Gandalf! Don't ever do that to me again, I have had quite enough of people coming up behind me suddenly of late." Frodo pointed out, "Now what the hell do you want with me now?"

"Time for the big council meeting thing my boy, we got to figure out what to do now, otherwise we'll all be left with egg on our faces, and no mistake." Gandalf twitched awkwardly as he said this, as if he had some guilty secret to conceal. "Now come along and we'll put his baby to bed for good."

With that they left the gardens and headed for Elrond's council chamber. An unseen shape wriggled through the undergrowth after them, muttering to itself. Against all probability, they found the council chamber, only to find that the roof had recently caved in and so it was a strange outdoor affair, devoid of both walls and ceilings.

"Bloomin' 'eck Mr G! It's October! What the fuck are we doing outside? Are these Elves totally stupid or something?"

"I shouldn't worry about it too much Frodo, there's bound to be even worse than this to come. See, they don't even have a proper table! Now where am I going to put my notes?"

An official looking Elf in a nice suit came up to them and shook them by the hand. It gave them a badge each, the badges were in a calming yellow colour with the words "Hi there, I'm Frodo/Gandalf (depending on whose badge it was) nice to meet you!" emblazoned on them in a cheery pink colour.

They surveyed the many faces about the room; many of them looked to be Elves. There was Elrond, in his dark glasses and Armani suit as always. And Arwen had decided that she needed to be in on this as well, though nobody could quite work out what she was doing there. Strider was there too, so it soon became apparent why she wanted to be there, as she was giggling and twiddling her hair as he told her a really cheap joke. There were one or two elves that Frodo didn't think he'd met before, a very camp looking young seeming elf with blonde hair, which seemed unnecessarily well groomed. He was preening himself in a mirror.

"Who's that Gandalf?" asked Frodo,

"That is Legolas, son of the King of Mirkwood, Thranduil." Gandalf confirmed, "I'd watch out for him if I were you, I think he's a bit of an arse-bandit."

Other assorted old Elf types were there, including Galdor from the Havens, who everyone was avoiding whenever possible, apparently it was because he smelled of wee. And Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond's insufferably creepy twin sons, who held hands everywhere they went, and always spoke in unison. Glorfindel was hanging about at the back somewhere hoping nobody was going to bring up anything he did earlier too much.

A couple of Dwarfs were there as well, but nobody cares about Dwarfs, right? In case you are one of those rare types, then one of them was Gloin, who went off to hit dragons Godfather stylee with Bilbo a couple of years before. And the other was his son Gimli, who had never ever run a delicatessen on Cable Street, different name you see?

The other short denizen of the room was, of course, dear old Uncle Bilbo, who seemed so harmless when you first met him. He winked knowingly at Frodo as he entered, causing an involuntary shudder from Frodo, who had to run off and be violently sick again quickly. Whilst he was gone, a very big set man came stomping in angrily.

"For fuck's sake! What is wrong with this country? I waited three days for a train up here, and nothing, nada, zip! I had to walk the whole damn way! Can you believe that? And here's me only a few weeks from being steward of Gondor, I should be able to get a train, or at least a bus up to Rivendell you'd think wouldn't you?"

"And this must be Boromir. "Sighed Elrond, "your father called ahead to say you were coming. I must say, he was spot on when he described you as an arrogant twat."

Boromir ignored Elrond's slight, and went to sit down. He looked terribly confused at the outdoorsness and lack of table, but perched on a tree stump instead.

Meanwhile, the shape that had been following through the undergrowth had run into a problem, a wall. Seeing as it was trying to be surreptitious in its pursuit; it had to stick to the undergrowth, and so could not travel openly. The wall was going to be a problem, it considered grappling hooks, and it considered just climbing, and then it realised it didn't have any rope with it (any ideas yet kids?). You could just make out that it was calling itself a "ninnyhammer" if you listened carefully enough.

"Okay then people, are we all here then?" Elrond asked.

"Yes, we think so" the assembly chorused back to him.

"Then who wants to go first, as we've got a whole shit load of stuff to get through you know? I think everyone knows who everyone else is now, and if you don't then tough, I can't be arsed to introduce you all now. Just read your helpful badges that you should have received on entering." The room turned to staring at each other's chests very hard. "Actually, I think you know Arwen's name by now Aragorn." Elrond added, noticing the direction of Strider's gaze.

"I shall tell of my errand first then" said Boromir, "seeing as I've come such a bloody long way and everything."

"Get on then, you've got five minutes, and I'll be timing you." Elrond cautioned, flicking a button on his stopwatch.

"I won't need that long Master Elrond, all I need to say, is that I've been sent here by my father because Gondor is up shit creek without a paddle, and my stupid brother reckons that this old poem might be able to save it. Ahem" he coughed, and began to recite.

Seek for some rusty old metal

It's up north with some elves or something

There'll be lots of pointless arguments

And eventually we'll get it all sorted out

Isildur's bane shall waken

And a midget will spew forth

"I mean what the hell is that all about?"

"I do believe I can help you out there" Elrond said, "You are indeed up north where we keep the rusty old metal, that refers to my very lucrative scrap metal business I believe. The pointless arguments are what we are about to have, and I think the midget refers to those two Hobbits down there. Frodo has been very unwell this morning I believe. And he seems unable to sit still either, something wrong with your arse Frodo?"

"No, why would you think that? Certainly not at all, honestly the ideas you people get." Frodo shifted uncomfortably in his seat again.

"Anyway," Boromir interjected, "that doesn't help us in the slightest. We've got Orcs and god knows what else breathing down our necks down there. I can't see how arguing with a sick Hobbit about an old Vauxhall Viva is going to help us much?"

"Patience my young friend," Gandalf reassured, "all will be revealed to you in time, we still have much to learn, and there is more to these Hobbits than meets the eye."

"Yeah," Boromir muttered to himself, "I can smell that for myself."

"I think it's time we revealed what Isildur's bane was Frodo, could you stand up and show us?" requested Gandalf.

Frodo stood up and politely said "If I had any idea what you were talking about I would Gandalf, but frankly you're talking gonads again, and you're starting to get a little too Obi-wan Kenobi for me."

"Oh for god's sake, the ring you gimp!"

"Oh, okay, gotcha, why didn't you just say so?" Frodo pulled the chain out from under his shirt to reveal the ring to the assembled masses. "By the way, what the hell is this 'god' thing you're talking about?"

Frodo was suitably ignored for making such a cheap religious joke, while a little voice at the back somewhere was heard to say "Nice necklace pretty boy, did your mummy buy it for you?"

"This is no ordinary necklace Elrohir! It has the one ring on it you fool. This here is the original one ring that has caused so much fuss of late, and ruined the public transport infrastructure of Gondor and it's surrounding areas." Gandalf explained, fidgeting a little still, "and perhaps I should hand over to Elrond again at this point to update you all on the origins of this ring, and begin the tale of how it came to be in the hands of this lowly Hobbit."

"Hey! Less of the lowly you old git!" Frodo exclaimed, putting the ring down on a small sundially thing in the middle of the not-quite-room for everyone to gawp at. It would have looked much more impressive on, oh, I don't know, let's say, a table.

Elrond looked up suddenly, realising his name had been mentioned, and quickly clipped Strider round the ear for hitting on his daughter.

Meanwhile, just underneath the balcony edge, a small figure was slowly and painstakingly clambering to the top, he was obviously not much of a climber as the bushes below the wall were looking rather the worse for wear, as if they had been repeatedly fallen into and clambered out of. Just as he got near the top, a bird hit him in the back of the head.

"SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" came a little voice, as, in the best traditions of Wile E. Coyote, Sam plummeted once more.

"What was that?" Elrond asked, pricking up his pointy ears like a Labrador who has just heard a biscuit wrapper opening, "oh well, I'm sure it doesn't matter anyway. Now as I was about to say..."

"Excuse me Master Elrond?" piped up some young elf or another, "why are we outdoors in October? It's bloody freezing, and you've got big halls with fires in inside. Is it so you can still wear your Raybans without looking daft?"

"Enough of your insolence! I will not tolerate it, this is the council chamber, so we'll bloody well do our counselling in here, even if the roof and walls have been rather compromised of late."

"But we haven't even got a table! I mean, I've got to leave my coffee down here on the floor, and the ashtrays keep getting blown everywhere."

"Oh alright then! Glorfindel, go and get a nice big table for these girls who seem to need it." Elrond succumbed. A not very big at all table was duly brought in, and Frodo, Gandalf and Bilbo sat at it, as nobody else would fit round it. So nothing was really gained, except that Gandalf had somewhere to keep his notes, and Bilbo could get back to secretly molesting his Nephew under the table.

"Now, do you want to hear this story or not?" Elrond asked, tapping his foot impatiently, and fiddling with his earpiece.

"Yes please!" All chorused together.

"Well, a long time ago, Sauron, or the dark lord, if you prefer, sounds kind of scary I suppose, made loads of rings. He did nine for men, seven for dwarfs, three for the elves, and this one here. Though, of course us elves being so damn clever and all made ours ourselves, so he can't touch us. This one here can control all the others to its will though, and generally cause a whole rain of shit to come down on middle earth again, if he gets it back.

"Last time he was on the loose with it, it took us all running down to Mordor and kicking his arse to get it off him. Now let me think, there was me, Isildur, Gil-Galad, Elendil and that lot, and I stood bravely at Isildur's side as he cut the ring from Sauron's hand, holding my own." There was a little chuckle at this point from more than one person.

"Anyway," continued Elrond, unperturbed by childish jokes, "me and he went on down to the cracks of doom," more laughter, "but the twat wouldn't throw it in, despite my brave attempts to make him,"

"As I remember, you were hiding behind a rock for the whole battle, crying for your mum weren't you?" came a voice from one of the older Elves at the back, "always trying to look cool aren't you, and all you ever do is hide here in your posh house, with your fancy gadgets..."

"And as far as I know, that was the last anyone saw of it." Elrond said overly loudly, in a failed attempt to overpower the ancient's wisdom, which was undoubtedly the truth. "I heard he got done in and fell in a river not long after that and I assumed that was the end of it."

"However, it appears that you were very wrong, again, doesn't it?" Gandalf intoned deeply. "For it is very much here, and we must decide what we can do with the bloody thing this time."

"Well, where the hell have you been anyway?" Elrond asked, "You were supposed to be doing something useful for once weren't you? As in going to find stuff out from Saruman the White?"

"Alas, he is now Saruman the vaguely pinkish," Gandalf replied, "Somebody put a red sock in his washing. Oh, and he's gone over to the dark side as well."

"Careful now!" Piped up a dwarf in the corner who looked just like that bloke out of Willow who seems to get a part in all these fantasy movies. "You don't want to go pissing off George Lucas, that guy really knows how to sue people."

"Okay, he's gone bad then, is that better?" sighed Gandalf. "I got there, had a bit of a chat, and the guy just went for me, like totally. I could have had him, but he took me totally unawares and unprepared you know? Anyhow, as I was going down for the last time..." another chuckle came from the back of the room, "I was just thinking, 'Where's Yoda when you need him?' and all of a sudden I found myself stuck on the roof, which seemed odd. Right up until I realised I'd obviously been knocked unconscious by the git."

"Careful with the Star Wars references there Gandalf, we must heed the words of the little guy who played Wicket, and was seen in the podracing arena." Elrond warned, "and what of Saruman? What has become of him?"

"Well, he really wants the ring, like totally, I reckon all his clothes going pinkish like that must have really got to him. Either he's well in with Sauron, or he reckons he's better than him. Probably depends on whether you read the book or saw the movie, I think."

A silence fell over the room at the thought of the great Saruman turning into a dark wizard. Well, right up until Warwick Davies (yes, the little guy from all the fantasy movies) farted and everybody had a bit of a chuckle.

"Anyhow, let me tell you of my miraculous escape." Gandalf began again, "I was stuck up on that roof in all weathers and terrible storms."

"It was summer though!" piped up another helpful voice.

"TERRIBLE STORMS! Trust me," Gandalf continued, "until I thought of a terribly clever idea. I caught a Moth and had a bit of a natter with it, until it went off to get me an Eagle." Gandalf was really hoping that they would buy this. The rest of the room was looking decidedly sceptical about it, and muttering phrases such as "pull the other one, it's got bells on" and "but your common moth isn't even capable of intelligent thought and reasoning, let alone speech, he's making it up!"

"Of course then, the Eagle came sweeping down majestically in the evening twilight, just as I was telling Saruman that he could shove it all where the sun no longer shines. There was no way he was going to persuade me with a load of cash and a few cigars and other perks. No way did I go over to his side, never, no, nor did he decide that I wasn't actually going to do him any good and push me over the side of Orthanc. No, that didn't happen at all." D'you get the feeling that Gandalf was protesting a little too much?

"Anyway, I leaped off the pinnacle, and my beard glinted in the moonlight at the exact perfect cinematic moment as I landed astride the great Eagle, who either brought me straight here or took me down to Rohan, depending on which version we're using here. If I went to Rohan first, then obviously I got here by nicking that dirty great white horse outside. If there's no horse outside then obviously we're doing the crappy version.

"Anyhow young Legolas, what the hell are you doing here at such an opportune moment?"

The terribly pretty little blond elf stood up sheepishly and stared at his shoes for a bit before opening his mouth, "Well, you see Gandalf, the thing is..."

"Spit it out lad, what have you done now?"

"Well, you know how you asked us to look after that awful Gollum fellow? And we said yeah, no worries, leave it with us?"

"Yes."

"Well, he's really, really annoying. He kept pulling our hair, and calling us a "bunch of Pansiesesssssss" and he hogged the bathroom in the mornings, and left slime all over the floors. So we told him to fuck off and leave us alone, and he did. Sorry, he's out, and we're very happy about it in Mirkwood."

"Well, once again you bloody useless elves have ballsed things up for us, thanks a lot." Gandalf retorted, "we really needed him to tell us what else has happened to the ring before it got to us."

"Ahem!" came a dwarfish voice, probably Gimli, "it occurs to me, that it doesn't matter a sod what else happened to the ring. The fact is we've got it now, so what the hell are we going to do with it? I say we put it somewhere safe, that way nobody will ever find it, not even us, you know what it's like with your passport and important documents."

"Not the best of ideas master dwarf," replied Gandalf, "it's not very heroic, the plot would be too short, and it wouldn't be a very good book at all. Let's chuck it in the sea."

"But that would make for a terrible movie. And anyway, would you replace the Dark Lord Sauron with a dark lord Salmon? For it would undoubtedly be found by something or another." Interjected Aragorn.

"But surely the Salmon is a freshwater fish?" came a small voice from the back, "you wouldn't get a Salmon in the sea, so it's not going to happen, you daft git."

"Let's destroy it in some terribly dramatic and difficult way that is fraught with danger and monsters and big pointy things that'll scare the bejesus out of anybody. At least, anybody under eight apparently." Aragorn continued loudly, over the pedant.

"Okay, then we're decided." Elrond concluded, "somebody will take the ring to Mordor, and throw it in the cracks of doom. I suggest anybody but me, I've got to wash my hair tonight." Many faces turned and looked at him sceptically at this.

"Well, I don't remember anybody deciding that we would do that at all, I was going to suggest we just melted it down here, or crushed it inside a couple of old Volvos where nobody could get into it, but if that's what you think Elrond. Then I suppose it's what we have to do. But who will take it, after all, if Lord Elrond is too girly to do it, then surely it is a piece of piss, after all, he did wet himself at the Battle of the Dagorlad." Gandalf pointed out.

Many faces suddenly stopped making eye contact with his and there were mutterings of "Well I would, but I'm allergic to gold you see, it chafes horribly" and "I'm sure Elves are excluded on grounds of hygiene aren't they, no beauty salons in Mordor are there?"

"We'll need somebody of good heart, who has a vested interest in all this, and is small, and difficult to see, and has hairy feet, preferably somebody whose surname begins with a B as well." Gandalf said, feigning ignorance of the numerous excuses being bandied around.

"I suppose I will have to take it then, seeing as I started all this." Bilbo piped up, "only to be expected really, was all my fault." At this, the entire room erupted with laughter, and many very rude comments about geriatric Hobbits, and the onward march of senility.

"Well, Bilbo, I don't think your zimmer frame will make it through the Emyn Muil, but thanks for the offer. Also, I reckon your Alzheimer's will kick in and you'll forget what you're meant to be doing." Said Gandalf, stifling his guffaws.

At this point Frodo felt a hand on each of his legs, slowly sliding up to the top, in a blind panic he stood up, kicking Sam in the face under the table as he did so, and thus exposing the eavesdropper who had finally made it to the meeting.

"Oh well volunteered Frodo" Elrond said, relieved that he had a victim. But I don't expect you know the way do you?" This was later recorded slightly differently. "And Sam, you have broken in to our secret meeting, how delightfully quirky of you. Mordor for you too then I suppose, once your face stops bleeding anyway." Frodo stood, a little confused at what had just happened, and pondered. He pulled Bilbo's fingers free of his flies, and accepted it.

"Oh well, what the fuck, I've got nothing better to do for the next year or so, who's coming with me?" He affirmed.

"Well now," said Elrond, "I suggest we have nine companions to match each of the ringwraiths. And get shot of all the people in here that are getting on my tits." He added under his breath. "We must choose them fairly, right, everyone line up."

So everybody stood in a line in front of Elrond, and he began his choosing process.

"Ip, Dip, Dog Shit..." he began.

When all was done, there were indeed nine companions, and Elrond had rigged it so he got rid of all of the most annoying guests. Gandalf would go with them, and stop telling him what he should be doing, as would Aragorn (who should have thought twice before hitting on Arwen so often. Legolas would go with them as well, for being prettier then Elrond, and Gimli for just being a git. Boromir had to go because it was near enough on his way home. And obviously Frodo and Sam had to go, as they were the first ones picked. But then Elrond thought to himself "In for a penny, in for a pound, I'll get shot of all the hobbits" and bunged in Merry and Pippin as well. All adventures need a little cannon fodder after all.

When the Choosing was all over, a voice from the back of the room was heard to say "But you're all blokes! Isn't that a bit gay? Don't you think we need some more chicks in this?"

"Not if you're anything to go by love!" came the riposte from some ribald fellow or another.

"But I want to go, it's not fair!" Arwen (for it was she) screamed and stormed out in a huff, as girlies are wont to do.

"I suppose it's alright for her then, we're not even meant to be in this scene Pippin." Merry said.

"Yeah, but we'd have got lumbered with it anyway mate, maybe someone will carry us some of the way?" Pippin replied.

"Hmm... that would be nice." Merry concluded.

"And you will be called..." Elrond began, dramatically, as if there were a drum roll, " the blokes who got sent off to chuck a bit of crappy jewellery into a volcano. No wait, how about the Fellows who got sent off to, no erm, the Fellowship of Elrond."

"Bloody won't!" said Legolas; still rather hurt at being made to go.

"Alright, the Nine riders of the anti-apocalypse then?" Gandalf suggested.

"What about ME9?" said Boromir, "you know kind of like the MC5? It's very cool"

And the argument went on into the night, about what they should call themselves, honestly, some people.

END ACT ?????