The Fellowship, a Minivan, a Leaf Blower, and a Few Doughnuts

A Lord of the Rings humorous short story by Inara Sautter

The Fellowship, a Minivan, a Leaf Blower, and a Few Doughnuts 

by Inara Sautter

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Aragorn walked with superiority and confidence across the lobby to the entrance of the apartment building, then dramatically threw the two doors to either side—aiming to relive the glory of that day in the Hornburg.

“Aragorn,” Legolas whispered slowly from behind him. “They were automatic doors.”

Strider looked at them with a start—finding that they were lodged in an awkward half-open, half-closed state.

“Indeed,” he mused. “Well... they were taking too long.”

He marched out into the sunlight, and the rest of the Fellowship followed cautiously. Of course, Pippin managed to get his jacket caught when the doors shut again, and it took him and the three other hobbits pulling their absolute hardest to free it.

Aragorn opened the passenger door of the minivan that was parked patiently in front of the apartment, and then turned to find that the four Shirelings had fallen in a pile on the pavement, and Legolas and Boromir were now desperately trying to untie them.

Strider groaned, and put his hand to his forehead. “We do not have any time to spare for matters such as this. The mall will close within the day! We must make haste!”

“Yes,” Boromir grumbled. “May you hasten away from here.”

Legolas gave him a look that made him shut his mouth, and they finally stood each of the hobbits right side up.

“Come, Legolas!” Gimli called with a sparkle of excitement in his eyes. “Riding a van is much easier than riding a horse!”

Legolas stared up at his friend who sat high above them on the roof of the car. “Hold tight, my friend. You are not skilled in this way.”

“Oh, stop your worrying, princeling!” Gimli laughed. “I have tamed many a beast!”

“And yet, many a beast has tamed you,” Legolas answered worriedly.

Boromir laughed, and clapped the elf on the back. “Worry not, my good elf! Gimli is stout of heart; despite being more stout of stature.”

“I heard that!” Gimli yelled down with a frown.

Legolas still looked concerned, but Boromir and Aragorn ushered them all quickly into the car, so he didn’t have a chance to do anything about his friend’s precarious mount.

Boromir got in the passenger side, while Aragorn took the wheel. The hobbits all sat unsurely, with two on each middle seat, and Legolas kneeling in the empty space between them.

“Legolas,” Frodo said worriedly, “aren’t we supposed to wear seatbelts?”

The elf prince opened his mouth to reply, but the deafening sound of acceleration drowned out his words. The passengers cowered and braced themselves, but when they opened their eyes a few moments later, they found that they hadn’t moved an inch.

“You’re meant to put the car in drive!” Boromir said crossly, and reached for the gearshift.

Aragorn swatted his hand away. “No, stop. This is my minivan!”

He yanked the gearshift into drive, and stomped on the gas.

The hobbits were all thrown back in their seats, and Legolas sat completely still and calm as if nothing had happened—but his hair did manage to catch a nonexistent breeze, and flow behind and about his face like a majestic lion’s mane.

As they pulled a 180°, Boromir dramatically whipped out his phone, and held it through the window to try and videotape Gimli on the roof.

The dwarf was cackling and looking as if he had had too much coffee that morning. But after a few minutes and a couple of blown red lights, his face started to twist, and he moaned.

“Ohhh . . . this makes me more sick than riding a horse!”

Boromir then tossed his phone back to Legolas. “Go sit by the rear windshield,” he instructed. “And be sure to catch him when he falls.”

Legolas frowned down at the cellphone. “How am I to catch him if I am holding your device?”

“No, catch him on camera.”

Before he could reply, there was a concerning thud from the roof, and quick as a flash, Legolas dropped the phone in Pippin’s lap, and thrust his top half through the window that Sam had opened to ease his carsickness. Clinging to the window sill, he grabbed Gimli by the beard (which was unfortunately the only part of him within reach since he was in the process of flying off the back of the car) and yanked him down into the minivan.

Unluckily, the dwarf became stuck in the window, and it took some tugging from the passengers—and a long speech from the indisposed individual about how this was “hurting all Dwarfish pride and dignity”—to get him through it.

After they had all settled down from the excitement, Boromir realized Pippin had somehow guessed his password, and was now poking around on his smartphone.

“What are you doing?!” he demanded, snatching it back.

Pippin held up his hands innocently. “Mmmm . . . nothing.”

“Wait . . . ” Pippin cringed at his tone—waiting for the outburst. “Where is the video of the dwarf on the roof?!”

The young Took looked very guilty. “I wasn’t—”

“You deleted it?!” Boromir cried. “That video was going to make me famous! It could have easily received over a thousand likes on Instagram!”

“Since when have you had Instagram?” Aragorn asked, eyebrows raised.

“Since as long as you have been driving a mother’s car.” Boromir shot back.

“Oooooooooooh!” The four hobbits crowed.

Aragorn turned to him with a look that your parents might give you—one that could be read as, “behave yourself young man, or you will quickly find your phone privileges nonexistent.”

“Keep your hands on the wheel!” Boromir shrieked as he reached for the abandoned steering system.

Aragorn suddenly remembered that the driver is meant to watch the road, and quickly turned back to the windshield. Not a moment too soon either, because the second that he again grasped the wheel, his eyes focused on a hunched figure covered in a gray cloak who was in the process of taking the crosswalk.

Aragorn swerved dangerously around the man, and the rest of the Fellowship clung for dear life to whatever stationary object they could find. Narrowly they avoided him, but as they returned to their original lane, the man straightened up and stared after them.

“FOOL of a mom!” he bellowed—his words would have reached their ears loud and clear with or without the open window.

Boromir crossed his arms and frowned. “That’s it, we’re hiring a chauffeur.”

“Gondor has no chauffeur,” Aragorn replied distractedly—attempting to turn on the blinker. “Gondor needs no chauffeur. Now, where lies the turn signal...”

Boromir sighed and turned on the hazards.

“Thank you,” Aragorn nodded, and swerved into the right turn lane.

Sam stuck his head far out the window and grinned.

“What are you doing?” Frodo asked—frowning at the slightly concerning position of his friend.

“I’m watching the lights, master,” Sam answered—tapping his finger in time with the hazards.

“Please don’t,” Frodo’s brow furrowed. “Remember how Gollum said not to follow the lights? Better not to look at them at all.”

Sam gave a heavy sigh and obediently plopped back down onto the seat.

At that moment the car jerked to a stop, and the Shirelings and dwarf were thrown roughly onto the floor, while Legolas squatted—unmoving and cool.

“Alright!” Aragorn announced, pressing the buttons that opened the side doors. “Everybody out! We only have around seven hours before the mall retires for the night, so we must hurry!”

Everyone scrambled out of the vehicle, and entered the mall with awe and wonder. Aragorn soon disappeared to wander the halls, while the rest of the Fellowship found themselves being led to the large gardening section.

“Master, look!” Sam’s face was all alight as he stared at the fertilizer. “Oh, glory!”

Boromir was uninterested in the working of the earth, and stalked off to be depressed about his shattered dreams somewhere else.

Merry and Pippin were also less concerned with gardening than Samwise, and the two cousins looked around for something else to do—since it was obvious that the Gamgee would keep them there a long time if they dared set foot inside.

Their eyes widened and faces lit up when they spied a large colorful sign that read “Doughnut Land.” Without hesitation, they scurried to the end of the hall, and disappeared inside the store.

Frodo had noticed this, and frowned in concern. “I do believe it is unwise to leave them alone—they could eat the poor shop out of business.”

But no one else paid him any heed, and Sam eagerly called for his master to follow him inside. Frodo sighed, and turned back towards the gardening store—hoping nothing would go awry while they were gone. “I’m coming, Sam.”

Samwise was thrilled at everything in the large store, and Frodo smiled at his joy.

Legolas studied a tree sapling very thoughtfully. “If this tree had been planted in our realm in Mirkwood instead of in this bag,” he murmured to himself pensively. “My fair people would have been able to bless it.”

Gimli groaned, and wandered off. He found a large collection of shovels and spades, and scoffed loudly. “These are puny!”

But then to his delight and the world’s dismay, he caught sight of the power tools. The dwarf began cackling and rubbing his hands together excitedly.

It all went downhill from there.

Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin were now the only ones left in the doughnut shop.

The daughter of the store owner had been in charge of the cash register when they had first come in, but she had quickly run off in fear and bewilderment when two apparent “furry-footed boys” arrived, and immediately ate two dozen doughnuts each without even chewing! This had been too much for her. Now the store was empty; but for two hobbits, and 2,000 delicious pastries.

Meriadoc and Peregrin left alone in a full doughnut shop are not a good thing.

Well, unless you are attempting to become popular on Instagram, that is.

Boromir was wandering sadly—mumbling about how he had given his life for Pippin, and this was what he got in return—when he noticed the two cousins happily sitting on the checkout counter—swinging their large hobbit feet, and humming loudly between mouthfuls of doughnut.

“You know, Merry,” Pippin said dreamily. “I do think I could eat a hundred of these rainbow Rings of Doom.”

“Oh no, Pippin. I could eat three hundred!” Merry replied, and grinned at his best friend. “Especially the brown Rings of Doom.”

Pippin smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, would you now! Care to prove it?”

“I would be delighted!” Merry laughed. “What? Do you think you could eat more?”

“Oh, Merry, you know I can!”

Boromir started grinning from where he watched in the doorway, and slowly raised his camera. This would be something he didn’t want to miss.

In the meantime, Frodo, Sam, Legolas, and Gimli had been kicked out of the gardening store because of an adventure that included a dwarf, a goldfish pond, a purple garden hose, and a weed whacker that shall remain untold. But despite being frisked on the way out, Gimli had somehow managed to keep one of his many claimed leaf blowers.

“Ha HA!” he laughed. “What a beauty she is! Aye, Legolas?”

He turned towards the elf prince, but at the same moment, as if it wanted to be killed, the leaf blower turned on, and blasted the tall elf in the face. It blew Legolas’ flawless hair chaotically, and—though he looked gorgeous through it all—Legolas for once lost his composure.

That was the last straw.

In a flash he unsheathed his twin blades, and sliced clean through the plastic blower tube afore the machine.

The hollow sound of it falling lifeless to the ground smote Gimli’s heart.

“Sheilaaaaaa!” he cried in devastation. “You’ve murdered her, Legolas!”

“I am sorry, Gimli,” Legolas said—regaining his composure and whipping a comb (which he apparently always carried with him) through his distressingly tousled hair. “But it had to happen sooner or later.”

The party walked down the hall—silent, except for Gimli, who was bemoaning his leaf blower. Soon they found a place where the already large passage widened, and they saw in its center a wishing well, with six benches placed in a circle around it. Aragorn sat hunched upon one of them. His cloak hid his face but not his voice—which was mumbling something about espressos and throwing someone into the Cracks of Doom.

Legolas sat down lightly on one of the benches as well, while Sam leaned over the water in the fountain, curiously.

“Look, Mister Frodo!” he gasped. “There’s shining things down there!”

He reached down to pluck one from beneath the water, but Strider leapt up (with shocking speed for his age) and grabbed the hobbit’s arm.

“You mustn’t disturb the water,” he warned gravely.

At that moment, Gimli realized that his leaf blower could still function even without the plastic tube, but unfortunately, it was pointing down at the fountain.

In seconds a wave of water had completely drenched Aragorn and Sam, who were still leaning over the fount, as well as an old grey-clad man in a pointy hat who sat upon a bench behind them.

He looked up and his eyes flamed from behind his soggy eyebrows. “FOOL of a Gloin-son!” he bellowed, then stormed off, dripping.

They all froze, silent and stunned, until Aragorn sighed and began attempting to dry himself off. “See, this is why we don’t disturb the water!”

Just then Boromir ran up—beaming like he had beaten Strider in a duel. “I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he cried.

“Done what, Boromir?” Frodo asked, furrowing his brow. “And where are Merry and Pippin?”

“They’re on Instagram!” Boromir laughed joyfully. “They made me a star! Pippin ate two hundred forty-one doughnuts—which is apparently a world record—and I got it all on tape!”

He began to dance the floss, but his companions’ eyes were drawn away when they saw Merry and Pippin crawling down the hall towards them—moaning and laughing at the same time.

Boromir beamed at them. “Pippin, my lad. You have officially redeemed yourself from your earlier actions. Just look at how many likes I got!”

But before he could show them, a very grave-faced man who appeared to be the manager of something or other approached them. “I am afraid I must ask you lot to leave. At once. You are disruptors of the peace.”

They hesitated in pure astonishment at his words, because who could possibly be more peaceful than them? Surely he had confused them with a different Fellowship.

But since he would not stop glaring at them and didn’t seem interested in listening to their explanations of how they had never caused trouble in their entire lives, they decided to humor him. This was likely just a man who had failed to prove himself in battle, so out of necessity his ego was built upon bossing people around and throwing innocents out of his mall.

If so, they pitied him, and decided to comply.

They each stood up quietly, and were escorted through the shopping center by the man himself and a few security guards until they found themselves outside again.

As the men turned to go back now that their task was complete, Merry and Pippin grinned at them and waved.

“Thank you! Goodbye! We are sure to come back tomorrow!”

Gimli laughed. “Yes indeed!” He then stroked his leaf blower gently, and a dreamy sparkle shone in his eyes. “Ahhh, Sheila! If you thought this was fun, wait till you ride on the roof of Aragorn’s minivan!”

The End.

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Inara Sautter is the oldest of Ambre’s children, would live as an elf full time if possible, and has the dry wit of a Brit but the blood of a Highlander in her veins. She loves to write and dance in her spare time.