The rest of the company stops and looks at him in silence, surprised at the sudden outburst. Samwise – who was leading a patient and resigned Bill the pony – stops walking and is nearly bowled over as Bill continues to walk right into him.

"And when I say bites," Gimli continues. "I sincerely mean it."

"Oh, shut up and trudge," Gandalf says, turning back in their original direction.

"Now you know I never said anything before," says Gimli. "And after this, I'll never say a word of it again, but I think we all know that this sucks in a very serious manner. I'm up to my tits in wicked brown goo, I haven't had a bath in many a day, and I could end up smelling like ARSE for MONTHS just to die once we reach Mordor!"

Gandalf sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a long fingered hand. "This is going to be a long journey," he grumbles.

"But why does there have to be a journey?" says Boromir, taking up the argument. "Honestly, wasn't Rivendell beautiful? Let's forget this and stay there!"

"And just how do you propose to handle the treat of Sauron?" Gandalf says, leaning on his staff and giving the company a skeptical look. "These things don't solve themselves, you know, he's bound to attack if he thinks the ring is in Rivendell."

"There are other ways of getting the ring to Mordor." Aragorn suggests thoughtfully.

"For example?" Gandalf looks around at the Fellowship.

For a moment, there is silence as the company thinks; Aragorn murmurs something about just thinking out loud. Pippin speaks up.

"Fed–Ex."


"Okay, dear... Sauron..." Gandalf dictates as he writes rapidly in his long, spidery script.

The Fellowship watches with excited eyes as Gandalf writes and Sam holds open a stiff Fed–Ex envelope for Frodo to drop the ring into. After a few moments, Gandalf holds the letter up triumphantly.

"Okay, read it to us," Aragorn commands.

"Dear Sauron, please cast ring into Cracks O' Doom as is rather nasty job and would rather chill in Rivendell. Would be super if you can, very grateful. Thanks bunches, love, The Fellowship."

"Sounds good, let's go."

Sticking the letter in the nearest Middle-Earth mailbox, they turn back toward Rivendell.

---

Opening the door to Elrond's castle, loud music pours out of the room and they see Elrond spinning in the middle of the floor, his earthtone robes twirling around him like an autumn tornado.

"I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want..." he sings along with the music. "I wanna really, really, really wanna zig a zig ahhhhh..."

He turns and spots the company standing in the doorway. He stops singing just before he asks if they wanna be his lover and a distinct flush surges into his cheeks. He clears his throat and claps his hands –– the music stops instantly.

"Back so soon?" he says, slightly irritated, with a raised eyebrow.

"We decided to Fed-Ex the ring to Mordor," Gandalf explains.

"Oh, super," says Elrond. "So now what are you gonna do?"

"Uhhh..."

The Fellowship look at each other and shrug, obviously not having planned it.

"Start a band?" Merry suggests.

"Okay Sam, you're totally on drums," Aragorn says, handing him a pair of finely crafted drumsticks.

Sam looks at them dubiously and gives them a preliminary twirl, his face lighting up in an instant.

"Excellent," he grins.

"We found all this kickass stuff in Elrond's basement," Boromir says, lugging the drums onto the wide balcony where the company is standing.

"Can we be backup singers?" Merry and Pippin beseech with eager grins.

A microphone comes flying at Merry who catches it deftly, but the second one pegs Pippin in the head and he falls, shouting, "I'm alright!"

The company laughs as Pippin gets up, microphone in hand, rubbing the side of his head.

"You stupid ass," Merry laughs, overjoyed.

"Fool of a Took..." Gandalf grumbles.

"This," Aragorn smiles, holding an intricate stand-up bass. "Is for you."

Gandalf smiles, taking it and plucking out a few thick, round-sounding notes.

"The electric is yours," Aragorn says, handing Legolas a sleek, cherrywood bass guitar with a neck imperially long.

Slipping the strap across a shoulder, Legolas looks at the guitar with reverence, laying his fingers on the strings and frets and rolling out a gyrating sound, long, white fingers flying over the fretboard in twisting, turning rhythm, eliciting fat raindrops of diaphony.

He finishes, the sounds quavering in the still air.

"Yeah, it'll do," he says, smiling.

"What about me?" Gimli asks with zealous hands beckoning.

Boromir holds out a deep brown, Flying V electric guitar and Gimli's eyes widen.

"Here's your axe, man," Boromir grins broadly and Gimli takes it with a glad smile.

"Yes!"

"What about you two, then?" Pippin asks, looking with wide eyes on Boromir and Aragorn.

Boromir flashes a lion-like smile and pulls from behind him a sleek, glimmering saxophone.

"The new horn of Gondor," he says. "And I've got more brass than anyone else I know, so..."

"And this is mine to look after," Aragorn says, revealing a black Gibson Les Paul guitar.

"What about Mister Frodo?" Sam calls over his substantial drumset.

"Yes, what about Frodo?" Merry and Pippin chorus.

Aragorn kneels down in front of Frodo looking at him intensely.

"Little one, can you sing?" he asks.

"Well sure, anyone can," he says with a humble shrug.

Boromir scoffs. "You should hear me in the shower," he says. "Bruce Springsteen never sounded so bad."

Aragorn holds a microphone out to Frodo, its black sheen glinting innocently in the warm sunshine.

"This is your burden to bear," he says. "Keep it well."

With care, Frodo takes the microphone from Aragorn. "I will take the band to funk," he says gravely. "Though... though I do not know the way."

"You will not be alone," Aragorn smiles, standing. "You shall have my guitar."

"And you shall have my bass," Legolas agrees, stepping forward.

"And my axe!" Gimli roars, quite pleased.

With this, Legolas launches into the deep, bouncing bass notes of "Play That Funky Music", joined quickly by Aragorn and Gimli.

"May as well," Boromir sighs, jumping in and before long, an entire nine-piece band is in full funk.

---

Sitting alone that evening and staring a the Guitar of Narsil –– the only heirloom left of Isildur's rock days ––Aragorn sighs, strumming a Def Leppard song on his Les Paul. Arwen enters in her slow and silent pace, watching Aragorn play. Sensing her light footfalls, Aragorn turns to see her.

"I feel like I shall never live up to the greatness of my ancestors," he says, turning back to his guitar and changing to a distinctly dirty Allman Brothers riff (always delightfully nasty in his opinion), then stops with a sigh.

"Well, Isildur was pretty bodacious in the old days," Arwen says. "Dad says he rocked the Gladden Fields gig. The place was packed, even Sauron was there and you know how anti-social he is."

"Do you think I'll ever be that good?"

"Yeah right," she laughs. "You're Isildur's heir, not Isildur himself."

And off she went, giggling derisively and muttering "What a numbnuts..."

---

Later that night, Frodo walks around on his own and is startled by the sight of a dark figure standing on the bridge, leaning his arms over the edge on the cool stone and gazing into the water. Frodo approaches slowly and realizes that it's Aragorn he's looking at, with a forlorn expression.

"What's your trouble, Aragorn?" he asks, speaking softly.

Aragorn starts, then looks at Frodo with a slightly nervous smile.

"Little one... I didn't hear you coming," he says. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

"I don't believe you," the hobbit says, moving closer and touching Aragorn's arm, who jumps lightly at the sudden contact. "I can see it plainly."

Aragorn sighs, resigned.

"I... I think I suck at guitar."

"What? Aragorn, of course you don't!" Frodo bursts passionately. "What would make you think that?"

"Then... you have faith in me?" he asks with bright eyes.

Frodo smiles, stroking the Ranger's hand.

"Absolutely."

"For real?"

"Yes sir."

"So... I don't suck?"

"Oh, shut up and shag me," Frodo growls, grabbing a fistful of Aragorn's collar and pulling him down to the hobbit's level, kissing him roughly.

With a surprised groan, Aragorn closes his eyes and slides his hands down to Frodo's waist, lifting him onto the edge of the bridge. He kisses the little hobbit with more boldness, his hands falling unconsciously onto Frodo's thighs.

A curtain of charity falls over the scene.

"Whoa," Frodo says, breaking lip contact. "Where'd this curtain of charity come from?"

"Oh, shut up and shag me." says Aragorn.

---

The next day dawns fair and bright (especially refreshing for Our Couple, who spend the morning giggling and blushing whenever the other is in sight) and after a decadent Italian breakfast ("Last night's pizza and second day spaghetti! Alright!") the Company sits outdoors in the sun and plots.

"Okay, so what's the name of this band?" Gandalf asks.

The men pause and look around at one another.

"Fellowship of the Funk?" Merry suggests.

"The Middle Earth Mojo?" says Boromir.

"The Fellowship Underground!" Gimli growls happily. "I like that one . .."

"How about The Mellowship?" Pippin grins.

"Frodo and Those Other Guys," Sam mumbles shyly, twirling a drumstick.

"We could be The Rolling Stones," Gandalf says.

"It's been done dude," Legolas smiles, picking at a bass string. "Tolkien's Heroes?"

"Who's Tolkien?" Merry asks.

"Some cool old guy," Legolas shrugs.

"We could call it 'Sounds Good To Me'," Frodo suggests.

The company stops tooling on their various instruments and looks at Frodo. After a moment, they all burst into laughter.

"'Sounds Good To Me'?" Pippin laughs, hands circling his sides. "I love you, Frodo, but that's a stupid name for anything!"

"You're right, Pip," Frodo laughs. "What goon would call anything 'Sounds Good To Me'?"

"So what are we gonna be?" mutters Boromir thoughtfully.

Gimli snorts.

"How about Gimli and His Bitches?!" he roars in his thick voice.

"I think that was an 80's band..." Aragorn says.

"Aw will ya'all quit carping?" Gimli rolls his eyes. "Let's just call ourselves... The Fellowship Funk Rock Explosion and have done with it!"

There is a contemplative silence and they begin to nod.

"Yeah, okay."

---

After a discussion with Elrond, flyers are happily distributed throughout Rivendell and by mid-afternoon, a magnificent stage is erected on the balcony.

By evening, the lawn in front has become a crowded, shifting mass of elves, all buzzing, all anxiously waiting for the band. They don't have long to wait before the curtain is lifted and the backlit silhouettes of nine characters step onto the stage.

"Good evening," Frodo's voice calls, magnified by the amplifiers surrounding the stage. There is an answering eruption of noise from the crowd. "You are seeing the first ever performance of The Fellowship Funk Rock Explosion," another roar of approval from the crowd. "We've journeyed a long way to get here, and faced quite a few adventures –"

"Some of which we can't discuss in front of children," Merry says, tipping a wink at Pippin, whose fingers are barely touching his.

"– but we've gotten back here to give you the best damn concert ever!"

And then they rock. Their cool funk and amazing rhythms bring the crowd to their knees, especially when Frodo puts on an attitude and sings, "What you want, well baby I got it, what you need, do you know I got it, all I'm askin' is for a little respect..."

Elven lighters are held aloft and the crowd sways in unison as the Fellowship get sweet and lowdown, singing "Let's Get It On".

Finally, all are blown away when Lord Elrond himself steps out in a full length shimmery purple ball gown and tiara. The elves in the audience stare at first in complete disbelief as their Lord begins, "First I was afraid..." then with comically dramatic motion, laying the back of his hand on his forehead, "I was petrified ..." But very soon they cheer and catcall and all love is passed around.

From then on the concert of Funk Deep is told of (and sung about) throughout all Middle Earth, and the Fellowship stays together, performing for all their happy days.

And then they shag each other.