(no subject)
for hannah: steven colbert LoTR fanfic. oh the things one can find online.
Betwixt Lórien and Rivendell
By: Romulus Fang
Rating: T
Sunlight filtered through the canopy, lending a dappled glow to the forest floor beneath. These were the woods traversed by Elendil as he led the last exiles from Númenor to found the city of Gondor; indeed, it would not have been outlandish to suggest that the very same trees had watched him pass.
The sound of approaching hooves grew louder from the West as a robed figure on horseback drew nearer to a small clearing in the brush. His long, gray beard flowed freely in the wind, and the rider himself carried a concerned expression on his careworn face.
At that same moment, a man in the most curious garb entered the clearing; his dress was dark, though its midnight-blue tint offered no camouflage. Its make was like none in Middle-Earth, the fabric so thin as to offer little protection from an assailant's spear. But this was no warrior of swords; rather, he was a warrior of the mind.
"Hail, Mithrandir!" shouted the stranger.
The grey-robed man reared his horse, staring incredulously at the individual who barred his path. "I beg your pardon, sir?"
"You're Mithrandir. Also known as Stormcrow, Tharkun, and Incanus. Olórin." He paused. "Gandalf."
"But I have never seen you before."
"The name's Stephen Colbert," said the stranger, offering his hand, which Gandalf ignored because it was not a custom with which he had any familiarity. "I've come to help you defeat Sauron."
At this, Gandalf allowed himself a sharp intake of breath. "You must not say his name aloud! You cannot possibly imagine the dangers we face; they are manifold and frightening, the merest mention sufficient to attract the very same dark powers that we seek to eliminate."
Stephen was nonplussed. "Don't hide behind your precious political double-talk, Gandalf. Let's call a spade a spade: I know about the Ringwraiths -- who will soon become the Nazgul - not to mention Gollum, Saruman, and Shelob. Just saying 'dangers' and 'dark powers' doesn't accomplish anything; you can't fight a war against abstract nouns."
"How did you -"
"Let me finish. The story of Isildur, while clearly demonstrative of the One Ring's corruptive power, also bespeaks the Dark Lord's dependence on his prized creation; that is to say, should the ring be eliminated, it would substantially weaken, or I daresay even destroy, the one who we now know as Sauron, though whom in the past has been known by such names as Annatar, The Necromancer, and Gorthaur the Cruel."
Gandalf sat, as if stricken. "I must confess that what you propose had not occurred to me."
Stephen rolled his eyes. "That's because you're a product of an entrenched, stagnant power structure. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the council of the Istari has wielded substantial influence over the doings of this world since they were Maia spirits who assisted the Valar back in the Undying Lands. That kind of power over a few thousand years, your brain starts to get lazy."
"You are correct," sighed Gandalf. "But how did you know --"
"Shut up," Stephen hissed.
"I beg your pardon?" boomed Gandalf, in disbelief.
"Get down! A Ringwraith approaches!"
Indeed, at that moment the trees seemed to shrink back upon themselves, and a sudden chill bit through the air. Woodland creatures scurried to the safety of their subterranean homes, and carrion birds circled ominously above the treeline. In the distance, Stephen and Gandalf saw the black-robed figure approach, its empty hood seeming to sniff the air as it walked.
"I shall handle this," intoned Gandalf, drawing the barrow sword Glamdring from inside its scabbard. The blade glowed with a hungry light, as though sensing the nearness of its prey.
"Don't bother," said Stephen, as he reached inside a much smaller scabbard to pull out a black device no larger than a small dagger, which did not glow in the least and appeared to have no magical properties whatsoever.
"What is-"
"The pen is mightier than the sword!" yelled Stephen as he jumped up to face the Ringwraith, who turned to face him with a vicious snarl.
The dread minion of Sauron charged, its two-handed greatsword arced high and poised for a killing blow. Stephen stood before the onslaught, undaunted, his pen furiously at work on a nondescript sheet of parchment. Just as the Ringwraith closed in on its target, Stephen triumphantly thrust his completed missive into the ghoul's hooded face. Gandalf averted his eyes, to avoid witnessing the carnage that was soon to follow… only to gape in surprise when the ghoul unexpectedly stopped in its tracks.
"Minion of evil!" shouted Stephen. "You have heard of Gandalf the Gray, and Saruman the White, though you may fear them not! Now, tremble in your ethereal shoes, for I am Colbert the Pinstriped! Look upon me and despair!" The Ringwraith-who-was-not-yet-Nazgul shrank back from Stephen's gimlet gaze.
"I have compiled an exhaustive list of your crimes against the people of Middle Earth, and declare you to be under Citizen's Arrest! Surrender your sword, creature."
Head bowed, the undead creature dropped its greatsword with a defiant hiss; upon contacting the hallowed and sacred earth, the fearsome blade dissolved into a thousand wisps of smoke. From his vantage point in the bushes, Gandalf looked incredulously at his useless--and to be frank, obsolete--Sword of Light.
"You're going away for a long time, Witch-King of Angmar," said Stephen, with the merest hint of a superior smirk upon his face. "A long, long, time."
oh man.
Betwixt Lórien and Rivendell
By: Romulus Fang
Rating: T
Sunlight filtered through the canopy, lending a dappled glow to the forest floor beneath. These were the woods traversed by Elendil as he led the last exiles from Númenor to found the city of Gondor; indeed, it would not have been outlandish to suggest that the very same trees had watched him pass.
The sound of approaching hooves grew louder from the West as a robed figure on horseback drew nearer to a small clearing in the brush. His long, gray beard flowed freely in the wind, and the rider himself carried a concerned expression on his careworn face.
At that same moment, a man in the most curious garb entered the clearing; his dress was dark, though its midnight-blue tint offered no camouflage. Its make was like none in Middle-Earth, the fabric so thin as to offer little protection from an assailant's spear. But this was no warrior of swords; rather, he was a warrior of the mind.
"Hail, Mithrandir!" shouted the stranger.
The grey-robed man reared his horse, staring incredulously at the individual who barred his path. "I beg your pardon, sir?"
"You're Mithrandir. Also known as Stormcrow, Tharkun, and Incanus. Olórin." He paused. "Gandalf."
"But I have never seen you before."
"The name's Stephen Colbert," said the stranger, offering his hand, which Gandalf ignored because it was not a custom with which he had any familiarity. "I've come to help you defeat Sauron."
At this, Gandalf allowed himself a sharp intake of breath. "You must not say his name aloud! You cannot possibly imagine the dangers we face; they are manifold and frightening, the merest mention sufficient to attract the very same dark powers that we seek to eliminate."
Stephen was nonplussed. "Don't hide behind your precious political double-talk, Gandalf. Let's call a spade a spade: I know about the Ringwraiths -- who will soon become the Nazgul - not to mention Gollum, Saruman, and Shelob. Just saying 'dangers' and 'dark powers' doesn't accomplish anything; you can't fight a war against abstract nouns."
"How did you -"
"Let me finish. The story of Isildur, while clearly demonstrative of the One Ring's corruptive power, also bespeaks the Dark Lord's dependence on his prized creation; that is to say, should the ring be eliminated, it would substantially weaken, or I daresay even destroy, the one who we now know as Sauron, though whom in the past has been known by such names as Annatar, The Necromancer, and Gorthaur the Cruel."
Gandalf sat, as if stricken. "I must confess that what you propose had not occurred to me."
Stephen rolled his eyes. "That's because you're a product of an entrenched, stagnant power structure. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the council of the Istari has wielded substantial influence over the doings of this world since they were Maia spirits who assisted the Valar back in the Undying Lands. That kind of power over a few thousand years, your brain starts to get lazy."
"You are correct," sighed Gandalf. "But how did you know --"
"Shut up," Stephen hissed.
"I beg your pardon?" boomed Gandalf, in disbelief.
"Get down! A Ringwraith approaches!"
Indeed, at that moment the trees seemed to shrink back upon themselves, and a sudden chill bit through the air. Woodland creatures scurried to the safety of their subterranean homes, and carrion birds circled ominously above the treeline. In the distance, Stephen and Gandalf saw the black-robed figure approach, its empty hood seeming to sniff the air as it walked.
"I shall handle this," intoned Gandalf, drawing the barrow sword Glamdring from inside its scabbard. The blade glowed with a hungry light, as though sensing the nearness of its prey.
"Don't bother," said Stephen, as he reached inside a much smaller scabbard to pull out a black device no larger than a small dagger, which did not glow in the least and appeared to have no magical properties whatsoever.
"What is-"
"The pen is mightier than the sword!" yelled Stephen as he jumped up to face the Ringwraith, who turned to face him with a vicious snarl.
The dread minion of Sauron charged, its two-handed greatsword arced high and poised for a killing blow. Stephen stood before the onslaught, undaunted, his pen furiously at work on a nondescript sheet of parchment. Just as the Ringwraith closed in on its target, Stephen triumphantly thrust his completed missive into the ghoul's hooded face. Gandalf averted his eyes, to avoid witnessing the carnage that was soon to follow… only to gape in surprise when the ghoul unexpectedly stopped in its tracks.
"Minion of evil!" shouted Stephen. "You have heard of Gandalf the Gray, and Saruman the White, though you may fear them not! Now, tremble in your ethereal shoes, for I am Colbert the Pinstriped! Look upon me and despair!" The Ringwraith-who-was-not-yet-Nazgul shrank back from Stephen's gimlet gaze.
"I have compiled an exhaustive list of your crimes against the people of Middle Earth, and declare you to be under Citizen's Arrest! Surrender your sword, creature."
Head bowed, the undead creature dropped its greatsword with a defiant hiss; upon contacting the hallowed and sacred earth, the fearsome blade dissolved into a thousand wisps of smoke. From his vantage point in the bushes, Gandalf looked incredulously at his useless--and to be frank, obsolete--Sword of Light.
"You're going away for a long time, Witch-King of Angmar," said Stephen, with the merest hint of a superior smirk upon his face. "A long, long, time."
oh man.