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Thread: Please, please READ my LOTR SPOOF!!!!

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Hey plastic squirrel:
... I was actually going to ask if maybe I could post it on the fan writings section. Do you know how I could do that, or if I'm allowed?
LoL you're the first person that's ever read it and thought it was short. It's over 50 typed pages on my Word program.. and not done... oh well. I hope you like it and that you can get back to me about putting it up under the fan writings. Thanks.
-L
Umm... okay I don't know why it's doing that weird 8#%&%*0 thing... I tried to edit it, but there was no problem when it went back to the posting window... Sorry guys. Anyway. here's the rest of it, such as it is.



“Well… Sam and I were playing tick-tack-toe! See?” Frodo held up his hand, covered in tic-tac-toe boards made by pens.
No one responded. They had started walking. Sam and Frodo ran to keep up and they all walked in silence through the semi-darkness. Besides Gandalf’s staff-light, the entire place was a dark velvety black. The faint light threw shadows at every corner, and soon they could see that the tunnel had opened into a vast chamber in which lurked their darkest imaginations.
They continued walking, staying close together. “Hey- do you think the dead people at the entrance means that the stores are all closed?” asked Gimli fervently. No one answered- they were concentrating on not stepping on the bones.
Suddenly they realized they had walked into the central hall of the dwarf kings. Great stone pillars stood in rows and the Umbrellaship stood in awe. Then, Frodo noticed a little room off to the side. He went in, picking his way through the remains of fallen dwarves, and climbed up on the large stone table in the middle. “Heehee!!” he laughed. “Look, Gandalf, I’m taller than you now!” He giggled and started jumping up and down on top of it. The rest of them came in the room and Gandalf knocked Frodo off the table with his staff. Frodo started crying, only to be kicked in the chin, then knocked senseless with the butt end of Boromir’s sword.
“This isn’t a table!” said Legolas suddenly. “It’s a tomb, a coffin!” They all crowded around it. Only Gandalf could understand the writing on the top, as it was in Pig Latin. “These are the last words of Balin, Lord of Moria,” He read. “ ‘I’m not dead yet! I’m getting better! I think I’ll go for a walk!’ “ Gandalf shook his head, then continued, “Then, he died.”
“Well that’s why he didn’t come back!” said Gimli. “The old fart croaked! Well, I never liked him anyway! Hahahahahahahaa!!” the dwarf laughed quite loudly.
Just then, they all heard a distant rumbling. Sam clung to Gandalf’s robe sleeve, whispering, “W-what’s that, Gandalf?”
The wizard shook him off and replied, “A big scary monster that will devour you if you don’t shut up!”
“Ack!” squeaked the hobbit.
“Be on your guard,” the wizard warned the others.
They walked out of the room and saw that the other end of the hall had an eerie glow to it, which was spreading. *cue scary drum music and foreboding chants* The rumbling grew louder. A couple of them looked at Gandalf apprehensively; his jaw was set and he wasn’t moving.
The rumbling grew until they could not hear themselves think. They were trembling with fear, and Gimli soiled his armor. Then, as they watched, a huge smoky figure came out from behind one of the pillars. A massive darkness, wreathed in flames, wearing an apron, was waving a towel at what appeared to be a smoke detector on the high ceiling. They realized then that that was where the noise had been coming from. Then, the creature turned and saw them, and they saw that it was horned and its eyes were flaming gaps in its head.
As one, they shrieked, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” and ran. They ran, and ran, and ran, across the floor, as far as they could. “Wait!” the monster cried after them, and started to chase them. Then Gandalf remembered Frodo, who was still unconscious in Balin’s tomb room. (Hehe! More words that sound nifty together! Tomb Room!)
A little cricket, dressed in a suit and top hat, carrying a *gasp!* umbrella, appeared on Gandalf’s shoulder. “You need to go back and get him, you know!” it said.
“Who in Middle Earth are you, telling me what to do?” Gandalf replied, swatting him as he ran. Then he stopped. “Oh! You are (were, since you’re now dead) my CONSCIENCE! But wait… if you’re dead, I don’t have to listen to you, right? Hahahaaa!!” And he continued to run.
Iluvatar, God of Middle Earth, not really liking this, decided to smite Gandalf down as he was running across the bridge. “AAAAAaaaah!” cried the wizard.
“Gandalf! Nooooooo!!!” screamed Aragorn as the Grey Wanderer disappeared from sight. *cue emotional crying music*
Blindly, they ran up the stairs and out into the sun. They sat there and cried, then realized that none of them had ever liked Gandalf anyway- he was really bossy and a bit of a snot. *cue music change to Zippedy Doo Da*
“So, where to now?” asked Pippin.
“Does anyone know where we are or where we’re supposed to go?” asked Boromir.
“I suggest we go to Lothlorien,” said Legolas.
“Yes! I hear the Lady has GREAT fashion sense!” agreed Gimli. He and Legolas gave each other high-fives, and were wonderful companions and friends from then on.
Aragorn, weary and confused, ate a pancake to calm his nerves. “What do you think, Merry?” he said.
“Lothlorien sounds good,” the hobbit answered. “Let’s go for it.”
“Wait a second!” said Sam. “Where’s Frodo?”
They all realized in a second that Frodo was still in the mines.
“Hip hip…” said Boromir.
“HOOOORAYY!!” cried the rest, except for Sam who was now quite downcast. For who else would agree to play Tic-Tac-Toe with him, now that Frodo was gone? He soon had other things to think about, though; they had started moving again, so he had to concentrate on his feet.

Chapter Thirteen: Frodo Forges a Friendship!
Moria

Waking up, Frodo blinked his eyes. He was in a dark room, all alone. Then he realized where he was. He saw a faint, flickering light coming from the doorway, so he got up and walked out. He heard the sound of someone sobbing loudly. He looked around and saw a huge shadowy creature sitting in the corner. Despite its rather frightening appearance and the flames dancing around its figure, it had its head on its arms and its knees drawn up to its chest; it was, without a doubt, crying.
“Hello!” said Frodo loudly. The creature raised its horned head and sniffed. Frodo walked over to it and sat down. “What’s wrong? He asked, leaning back on his hands.
“A-aren’t you afraid of me?” sniffled the creature.
“Not really,” replied Frodo. “Do you want to be friends?”
“I’ve never had any friends. Everyone always runs away when they see me, because I look scary; well, what am I supposed to look like? I’m a Balrog! They don’t even want to get to know me… and even worse, I burned my scones!” Bursting into a fresh round of tears, the Balrog put his head down again.
“What’s your name?” asked Frodo.
“Bartholomew,” replied the Balrog, “but I think that if I had friends, I’d want them to call me Barty.”
“Can I call you Barty?” Frodo said.
Brightening, Bartholomew said, “Sure!” Then, “Do you want to have tea? I… My scones are burned, but I have some cookies!”
“Great!” said Frodo with a grin.
After they had gone through the first three batches of cookies and first three rounds of tea, Frodo complimented Barty on his cooking skills.
“Well, it’s kind of hard, being a Balrog!” Barty said. “Sometimes I take them out of the oven, and they just light on fire! It’s horrible. It really turns away my guests, not to mention the fact that I used to work for Morgoth.”
“Who?” asked Frodo, taking another cookie.
“You don’t know who Morgoth is?” exclaimed Bart. Frodo shook his head. “Well, he was a really bad guy who is basically gone now- but he was the founder of all evil and it’s all been turned over to Mister Who.”
“Oh! I know who Mister Who is! I think…” said Frodo.
“Yeah. Well, anyway. I just got fed up with trying to be mean to people, you know? It just wasn’t my cup of tea.” They laughed at his joke. “Besides, I didn’t get fire insurance paid for. You know how many flames I had to conjure up? I had to keep a fire extinguisher on hand at all times! Anyway, I turned in my notice long ago. Still, people have this illusion that all Balrogs are bad. It’s not true! Yeah, I have some cousins that think it’s a great joke to charbroil people every now and then, but I haven’t seen any truly nasty Shadow Creatures in a long time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Frodo, “and I’ve really enjoyed having tea with you, but I have to get going. My friends are missing and we’re supposed to be going to see Mister Who, actually.”
“Really? Wow. That might be kind of dangerous, you know!” said Barty.
“Well, maybe, but there’s some pretty good fighters in the Umbrellaship!”
“If they’re the same people I saw a few hours ago, you could be wrong about that!” laughed the Balrog. Then he burst into tears again at the memory of their frightened faces as they fled from him.
“Look, Barty, how about this? Let’s be pen pals! I want to be your friend! *cue music from “Don’t Eat the Pictures”, I Want to Be Your Friend, as sung by Super Grover* Then we can write to each other! Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Through his tears, Barty smiled. “Okay!” he said. “Just let me get a piece of paper.” He left. In a few moments he returned, giving Frodo his address.
“Great!” said the hobbit. “If we come back this way, I’ll be sure to drop in, okay? Cheer up, Barty!” He got up. “Oh… by the way… you wouldn’t happen to know the way out, would you?”
“Straight down this corridor, turn left, across the bridge, up the stairs, and you’re out! Good luck!” said the Balrog, getting up to clear the dishes.
“Thanks a bunch! See you later!” said Frodo cheerfully. He whistled as he walked down the hall and out of the mines.
“What a happy (if dimwitted) little fellow!” Barty said to himself. He wiped his eyes and sighed. He had a friend.
“What a nice Balrog! And I had always heard they were bloodthirsty, murdering monsters!” said Frodo to himself. He smiled. He had a friend in the mines!
















Chapter Fourteen: Why Even Elves Should Stop for Directions
On the Road to Lothlorien

“Hey Leggy, man!” cried Aragorn. “Er… I think… that is to say… I mean… are we lost?”
Legolas turned around with a sulky face. “Of course not, you stupid… guy!” he retorted. It’s just across those mountains over there!”
“Gandalf didn’t say anything about crossing anymore mountains! I though it was just on the other side!” piped Pippin. (nifty word time! Pippin Pipes! Hehehe!)
“Yeah, well, you know, he’s DEAD!” said Legolas.
“I’m sure Legolas knows where he’s going,” said Gimli uncomfortably.
“How would he? He’s a Mirkwood elf, remember?” replied Aragorn. He was feeling a bit testy because his pancake supply was running low.
“Okay, okay. You all just need to calm down.” Boromir held up his hands and stepped between the conflicting parties. He pulled a map out of his bag, saying, “The motto of the Gondor Guys: ‘Always Be Prepared, or at Least Look Like You Are!’ See?” he said, waving the map in Aragorn’s face.
“What? Are you saying Rangers aren’t prepared? Look at this!” Aragorn pulled out his tin of pancake batter… or what would have been pancake batter, except that it was all gone. Boromir smirked. “Like I was saying,” he continued, “as far as my map goes, Lothlorien is…” He stopped and stared at the map. “… Right here! We’re in the outskirts!” Just then, a dozen elves stood up out of the bushes with slingshots aimed at the Company. “Don’t move!” cried the tallest.
“Oh, yeah, we’re REALLY scared of your slingshots,” mocked Merry. He was rewarded with a bump on his head from a lethal pebble. His eyes became wet but he didn’t say anything.
“Who are you guys?” asked another elf.
“Um… We’re… the Umbrellaship!” said Legolas, trying to sound regal and dignified. It didn’t work. The elves burst out in laughter, then the first who had spoken, who seemed to be the leader, said, “C’mon, you can entertain our Lord and Lady. There’s another one we caught today, about the size of these three down here,” he motioned to Merry, Pippin, and Sam,”who has nearly made the Lady die with laughter at his dim-wittedness.”
“Frodo!” cried Sam joyfully. The rest groaned.
“Yes, that was his name, I believe,” said the elf. “Do you know him?”
“Do I know him?” repeated Sam. “Of course I do! I’m his gardener!”
“Oh, good, you’re the one. He said you were ‘just as smart’ as him. This should be an entertaining evening. Let’s go- there’s a feast waiting and I missed lunch.”
“Us too!!” cried Merry and Pippin in chorus. Having found something in common with the elf, whose name was Haldir, they were much happier from then on; the others, however, minus Sam, were wary and suspicious. “I bet they don’t even serve pancakes anymore,” muttered Aragorn.
* * * *

“- and this one time, my Uncle Bilbo and I went fishing, and…”
“Frodo!”
“Sam!”
*cue slow-motion running, missed-hug, and emotional music*
The rest rolled their eyes and pushed the hobbits over. They bowed before the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien, who were tall and fair, clothed in purple. Purple? “But… you aren’t royalty! I thought purple was the color of royalty!” protested Boromir.
“Well, we feel like it! White’s kinda boring sometimes. Yesterday I had the coolest red dress- it was a halter top knee-length…”
“Wow! I saw that dress in one of the catalogues! It’s one-of-a-kind!” said Gimli. “I bought the red armor, though.”
“Which was a very good fashion choice,” approved the Lady, smiling at the dwarf.
“Who does your hair?” asked Legolas.
“Actually, I have someone from Mirkwood come up and do it,” she answered.
“Reallllly?” exclaimed Legolas. The three went off to talk fashion, while the others talked about power tools. Aragorn, however, found pancakes. Crying with joy, he went from table to table, tasting the best pancakes he had ever had in his life. These pancakes left one feeling very happy and calm.
“Eh, Aragorn, you don’t want to eat too many of those, ya know? They’re, er… magic pancakes!” warned Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlorien.
“Sweet!” shouted Boromir, and went over to take his fill. Frodo and Sam were telling a group of elves about goings-on in the Shire, and about their days at Hobbiton High. The elves never stopped laughing. Wisest of all beings, they were bent double with the thought that these hobbits were really as stupid as they seemed.
After a few hours of mingling and goofing off, they all decided to talk about something worthwhile. First, though, Galadriel insisted on trying her telepathy skills. “Ahmm…” she hummed, and gazed into the eyes of the Company.
First she looked at Frodo. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She waited and listened, but as Frodo grinned dopily, she perceived nothing in his mind. Sighing, she moved on to Sam. Same thing.
Merry and Pippin, however, were both busily working out calculus problems in their heads.
Boromir was hatching a plan to take over Gondor and become a dictator… unconsciously. Well, I’ll put an end to that, she thought to herself.
Aragorn was thinking of… well. Need I say it? Pancakes. His thoughts were a bit fuzzy, though; a symptom of the “magic” pancakes.
Gimli was planning out his outfit for the next day, systematically thinking of each article in his wardrobe and working out the color combinations in his head.
Legolas was disgruntled; there were no reflective objects in sight and he didn’t have his hand mirror handy.
“Wait a sec,” she said aloud. “Where’s Gandalf? I just noticed that he was gone…”
“Oh,” said Frodo, “where is Gandalf? I don’t seem to remember!”
“That’s ‘cause you’re a dim-witted hobbit who was unconscious at the time,” said Boromir. “He fell into a big crack in the mines, my Lady.”
“Ack! He owes me money!” she shrieked. “That jerk!” She growled to herself.
“Well… what are they thinking of?” Celeborn asked to the side.
She looked at him and shook her head. “They’re doomed,” she whispered, as they both looked over at the Company. “Doomed!” she repeated, in a low foreboding voice.
“That was a very masculine pitch, my dear,” said Celeborn, looking at her. “Have you been practicing?”
She glared at him. He knew she hated it when he made fun of her voice. “Shut up!” she snapped, then pushed him down their silver stairs. She turned back to the Company. “Well,” she sighed,”if you don’t have Gandalf with you, I’m afraid your quest is hopeless. You’ll be lost within the next day. Luthielien, get them some elven cloaks. It’s publicity,” she added to the Fellowship, and they saw that on the back of the cloaks were embroidered ads for Lothlorien hotels and restaurants. ‘Come to the Lembas Lounge!’ said one. They accepted them politely.
“Now I would advise you each to take an inner tube and go into the river. Mordor is that way if I’m correct.” With a dismissive wave, the Lady started to leave. “Wait!” Pippin called after her. “Aren’t we supposed to talk about something important now?”
Yawning, Galadriel said, “I was only kidding. Just go straight down the river and you’ll find Mordor. Trust me, you can smell it from miles away. Cya.”
Confused, they nevertheless picked up their inner tubes and stepped into the river.
“But it’s so COLD!” cried Frodo.
“Shut up, Frodo,” said the rest, excepting Samwise. They all clutched their inner tubes and were quickly swept away by the current, never to be seen in Lothlorien again.



“Eh, Aragorn, you don’t want to eat too many of those, ya know? They’re, er… magic pancakes!” warned Celeborn, the Lord of Lothlorien.
“Sweet!” shouted Boromir, and went over to take his fill. Frodo and Sam were telling a group of elves about goings-on in the Shire, and about their days at Hobbiton High. The elves never stopped laughing. Wisest of all beings, they were bent double with the thought that these hobbits were really as stupid as they seemed.
After a few hours of mingling and goofing off, they all decided to talk about something worthwhile. First, though, Galadriel insisted on trying her telepathy skills. “Ahmm…” she hummed, and gazed into the eyes of the Company.
First she looked at Frodo. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She waited and listened, but as Frodo grinned dopily, she perceived nothing in his mind. Sighing, she moved on to Sam. Same thing.
Merry and Pippin, however, were both busily working out calculus problems in their heads.
Boromir was hatching a plan to take over Gondor and become a dictator… unconsciously. Well, I’ll put an end to that, she thought to herself.
Aragorn was thinking of… well. Need I say it? Pancakes. His thoughts were a bit fuzzy, though; a symptom of the “magic” pancakes.
Gimli was planning out his outfit for the next day, systematically thinking of each article in his wardrobe and working out the color combinations in his head.
Legolas was disgruntled; there were no reflective objects in sight and he didn’t have his hand mirror handy.
“Wait a sec,” she said aloud. “Where’s Gandalf? I just noticed that he was gone…”
“Oh,” said Frodo, “where is Gandalf? I don’t seem to remember!”
“That’s ‘cause you’re a dim-witted hobbit who was unconscious at the time,” said Boromir. “He fell into a big crack in the mines, my Lady.”
“Ack! He owes me money!” she shrieked. “That jerk!” She growled to herself.
“Well… what are they thinking of?” Celeborn asked to the side.
She looked at him and shook her head. “They’re doomed,” she whispered, as they both looked over at the Company. “Doomed!” she repeated, in a low foreboding voice.
“That was a very masculine pitch, my dear,” said Celeborn, looking at her. “Have you been practicing?”

She glared at him. He knew she hated it when he made fun of her voice. “Shut up!” she snapped, then pushed him down their silver stairs. She turned back to the Company. “Well,” she sighed,”if you don’t have Gandalf with you, I’m afraid your quest is hopeless. You’ll be lost within the next day. Luthielien, get them some elven cloaks. It’s publicity,” she added to the Fellowship, and they saw that on the back of the cloaks were embroidered ads for Lothlorien hotels and restaurants. ‘Come to the Lembas Lounge!’ said one. They accepted them politely.
“Now I would advise you each to take an inner tube and go into the river. Mordor is that way if I’m correct.” With a dismissive wave, the Lady started to leave. “Wait!” Pippin called after her. “Aren’t we supposed to talk about something important now?”
Yawning, Galadriel said, “I was only kidding. Just go straight down the river and you’ll find Mordor. Trust me, you can smell it from miles away. See-ya.”
Confused, they nevertheless picked up their inner tubes and stepped into the river.
“But it’s so COLD!” cried Frodo.
“Shut up, Frodo,” said the rest, excepting Samwise. They all clutched their inner tubes and were quickly swept away by the current, never to be seen in Lothlorien again.



















Chapter Fifteen: Bye Bye Boromir!

“Aragorn,” whined Boromir, for whom the effect of the magic brownies had worn off, and who had a horrible headache, “I think we should go to Gondor! It’s a great place! We could, you know, hang out there for a while and wait for Mister Who to take a move… or something like that,” he finished lamely, trying to sound cunning and diabolical.
“Hmm…” said, or hummed, rather, Aragorn. He looked sideways at Frodo, as if trying to read something on the hobbit’s face. All that could be read was the usual naïve cheeriness. Aragorn didn’t really want to go to Gondor. The last time he was seen around there people kept giving him strange looks, and he had a feeling that Denethor, the Steward, wouldn’t like his presence. However, Boromir had a point, whether he knew it or not. They really didn’t know where to go from here.
They all floated down the river, their legs dragging behind them, while Aragorn thought.
Frodo and Sam were playing I Spy. “I spy something… blackish. It’s kind of a blob. It’s sort of… crawling along the riverbank…” said Sam. “Uhh… a rabbit?” guessed Frodo.
“Wait!” cried Legolas. “Where is it, Sam?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Just tell me, stupid hobbit!”
“But that would be cheating!”
“SAM!” yelled the rest of the Company.
“Oh, fine,” Sam grumbled. “See?” he whispered, so Frodo wouldn’t hear. “Over there!” He pointed straight at the river bank.
They all (well, except Tweedle Dee and Dummer) gasped, for Sam was pointing directly at an Umbrella Wraith of Death! “Shoot him, Legolas!” cried Aragorn. WIZZ went one arrow. TWANG went another, but the Wraith pulled out his Black Umbrella of Death and hid behind it. Legolas’ arrows bounced off it like cherries, or at least they would bounce like cherries if cherries bounced. They don’t.
“Ack!” cried the elf. He was very upset at having failed, and this greatly shook his faith in himself. “It’s okay, Legs! No arrow could get through THAT Umbrella!” comforted Gimli. “Here… look in this for a while. It’ll make you feel better. It always does!” He handed Legolas a mirror, which made the latter brighten up noticeably.
You may be thinking, Okay, why did the Wraith just suddenly show up, just happen to know exactly where they were? Well, the answer, my dear friends, is that after pursuing Aragorn to Rivendell, the Wraiths were feeling pretty bad. Hey- you would be too, after failing to catch two of the dumbest creatures in Middle Earth, then loosing a race to a donkey. So, they went back to Mordor to take their beatings, their yoga classes, and to meet with their support group, Wraiths Are Wonderful! After boosting their self-esteem a bit, they had a meeting with Mister Who. They discussed the year’s budget, their goals for the organization, and possible employee cuts. Then Mister Who showed them his really spiffy map that had little flags and tents on it and showed how Gondor would be next to suffer an Obliviously Joyful attack. Bill, Biff, and Bimbo sniggered along with Mister Who until their cackling had reached colossal volume and all the windows in the tower were shattered. The servants kept smiling.
Anyway.
So, the Company was still floating down the river. Boromir had found a small wad of pipeweed in his pocket, so was less testy. Legolas and Gimli were still talking about Galadriel’s hairdresser, whom Legolas knew. Frodo was still trying to guess what Sam had “spied”- he hadn’t caught on when Legolas shot arrows at it, or anything. Even Sam was beginning to be a little frustrated with Frodo’s slothlike way of thinking- or lack thereof. Pippin and Merry were wondering how long they would be floating and how wrinkled their poor hobbit feet would be when they finally got out of this water when suddenly they reached the Falls of Rauros- they had been going faster than Aragorn thought. Aragorn was in front and when he saw the falls he screamed for everyone to grab hold of his tube, or a branch, or something. Six of them listened to him and grabbed hold of brush, branches, anything. The seventh, Boromir, was still in the land of bright, bright, colors and carefree happiness. He didn’t listen. He went over the falls, and the best that can be hoped for him is that he was still in one piece when he finally floated down to his city to be caught a fishing net by a poor fisherman named Pete.
Aragorn closed his eyes. “Well,” said Gimli, “there’s one less mouth to feed!” They all stared at him for a second, then realized he was right. “Bye, Boromir, nice knowing you, rest in peace,” they all called. Then they got out and stretched their legs, and decided to have lunch. They arranged their tubes in a circle and sat, chatting and eating Triscuits, totally unaware that an army of Orcs was marching towards them every minute.







Maybe you should submit this to Plastic Squirrel for his "Lord of the Rings" spoof, Laetetur. Big Smile Smilie

Umbrellas instead of rings is a good idea, Big Smile Smilie but I think Gandalf would be funnier as a loving but bumbling character. Just my opinion.

Heh! I haven't read all of it just yet, but when I'm less busy I will, promise. With your permission however, I'd definitely like to nab some of your songs for the TFN Lotr spoof as they're really very funny. Go on, do the other two as well, you have the gift of keeping it short which I lack, making my task an awful lot longer than yours. Keep on going, and make me laugh some more.
Hopefully anyday now we of the Council will be able to put up the fan writings, however, as the Council is still a very new thing and we're all kind of finding our way around things at the moment, your best bet for getting up on the fan writings is to mail it to Taz@tolkienfan.net and asking him nicely.
And your story is by no means short, it's just that the project I've envisioned is set to be the same length as the original. Check out the thread "little help from the community please?" in this forum for my vision of spoofery.
ROFL! There are some great ideas here. Big Laugh Smilie
Okay, I'm going to get this spoof put up in the fan writings as soon as I can change all the punctuation back to normal and format it nicely etc. etc. so please bear with me, hopefully I'll get it done this week, but don't hold your breath. Smile Smilie
Okay, Laetetur, could you possibly mail me the original word file, as I'm going mad doing the punctuation manually. I will try to mail you about it if you have an e-mail address registered with us. If not, then I hope you read this. There should be an e-mail link below this post, but if it's knackered, then mail it to plasticsquirrel@tolkienfan.net cheers. Smile Smilie
With your permission Laetetur, can we delete the above post, now that your story is in the Fan Writings? no sense in having it in two places.

Big Smile Smilie Big Smile Smilie

Sorry, meant to post this on friday, but I've put the first installment of this up in the fan writings section. It's taking a while to put in all the

s and
s but I have got the rest ready to go up now as well, but I've got to go now, busy busy busy. And all after another nightmare of a weekend as well....

Okay, got it all up, you're right, it is long, I had to put it up in two seperate sections, but it's there now, and very funny.