By Camilla Sandman
Summary: New movie, new students, new lust objects, new mini-Balrogs and a whole new curriculum. That’s right, children. OFUM is back. But wait… It’s no longer the only University in town. MUSM? What the…?
Disclaimer: Tolkien is God of Middle-earth. His creation, his work,
his characters. His world. I’ve merely rewritten and added some characters and creations of my own. You better stay away from those, though. They bite.
No disrespect intended, no money made, no fatal injuries incurred. Just a bit of fun and pain. Wheeeee!
Chapter Two: Ro-Hans and Other Preparations
There were nine knocks on her door, and Lina lifted her head with a groan.
“Yes, Lord Elrond?” she muttered, trying to adjust to the much too bright light. Damn her room having an eastward view.
“Are you and your stout companion decent in there?”
“Just a second,” Lina muttered, before remembering that elves took that sort of thing literally.
“I meant thirty seconds!” she added hurriedly just as the door was about to open. Not that it would matter much; Elrond had once not even noticed that a fangirl had flashed him. Or perhaps he had merely pretended not to notice for sanity's sake.
She found herself briefly wondering if there would be any Elrond fangirls this year. Poor things.
“Decent!” she called out, and Elrond entered.
“Gimli's not here,” she added when she saw his questioning look. “The dungeon construction over at MUSM takes all his time”
“Ah yes, of course. How is the Abyssal Pit of Gravity Testing coming along?”
“Swell. They had a bit of trouble with the Orcish Inquisition torture chamber though. Apparently the orcs wanted comfy cushions and Morgoth was outraged. Finally, they reached a compromise - black comfy cushions.”
Elrond gave a rare, genuine smile and showed a bunch of papers at her. “Miss Cam agreed you would be best suited to do the paperwork.”
“Of course,” Lina muttered. “Paperwork for what, exactly?”
“The Middle-earth Court For Canon Grievances,” Elrond said proudly. He smiled again. “I am the judge. All those who misbehave during their stay here or after they have received their licence must answer to me.”
“The courtroom is up. It will be deep within the staff section of course, would not want to deprive staff members of the entertainment.”
“Of course not,” Lina replied as she followed him into the hall and through the hallways. The staff section was under a large expansion – room for the new mini-Balrogs was desperately needed, as well soundproof rooms. It was Boromir who had driven that suggestion through, and had since that cheered up so much he was nearly a new man.
Amazing what enough sleep and no fear of fanfic can do. Although Lina wasn't quite sure how to break to him that he would most likely appear in flashbacks and still be remembered. She just couldn't ruin his cheerful mood. He had even given her sword-classes to fend off Gimli-fangirls (you never knew).
Saurman the mini-Balrog gave her a grumpy glare as they passed by, clutching his bacon-staff. The mini-Balrogs were growing rather restless without students to play with. They'd invented a new form of cricket that made even less sense than the original. Lina suspected it actually had no rules except to have as many ruckuses as possible. Woe was the umpire (usually students appointed by Miss Cam. Aranel was due to judge the first match in the Mini-Balrog Flaming Cricket League. Punishment for some SNAOL activities of the lusting kind).
“Here we are,” Elrond declared proudly, pushing open a large door. “After you.”
The room was large and windowless, but the two trees making an arch by the entrance had enough light from one of the Silmarils placed proudly over the judge's bench.
“Wow,” Lina whispered, almost tiptoeing in. A few mini-Balrogs were playing soccer with a life-like doll (probably practicing until the new students arrived) and gave her a bored look.
The walls had the Fellowship mantra cut into the stone, as well as Elrond's newest mantra:
'Lord Elrond is wise. I will listen to Lord Elrond. I will not ignore Lord Elrond's judgements. Lord Elrond rules all. And if I ever annoy Lord Elrond, I will become Mini-Balrog soccer mascot.'
“Celebrían wrote that,” Elrond said proudly.
“What kind of punishment will you be handing out exactly?”
“Poetic justice.” The Elf grinned. “It is such a wonderful concept. Write an unauthorised 10th member fanfic…”
He paused to hiss for a few seconds. “… while at University here and I will assemble a Fellowship of mini-Balrogs and have the student actually re-enact the trip.”
“With Nuzguls chasing them?” Lina asked, trying very hard not to pity the poor students.
“Wonderful idea! I knew Miss Cam hired you for a reason,” Elrond replied enthusiastically. “Perhaps Radagast will be helpful in having mosquitoes follow the student as well. Though perhaps there will not be that much of such atrocities anymore.”
“It is our turn to suffer, it seems,” Éomer replied, entering. He clutched his helmet slightly, but otherwise looked much better than at the strategy meeting the other day. “I would like to subpoena all students who use the term 'Rohans' in unauthorised fanfics in advance, Lord Elrond.”
“Of course. Do you have a punishment in mind?”
“Yes.” The Rohirrim King smiled grimly. “Meet Ro-Hans.”
The giant and very fluffy hamster came scurrying in, making the mini-Balrogs pause.
“He spawned yesterday,” Éomer explained. “One too many 'Rohans' must have disturbed the canon continuity. He's German. Very fond of beer.”
“Is he… umm… friendly?” Lina asked nervously. There was something rather unsettling about a hamster being as tall as you and giving you a look that could either mean 'I want to lick you' or 'I want to eat you.'
“Very,” Éomer replied. “We keep him in the stable with our horses. However, he likes to lawn bowl of sorts with human pins and I thought maybe…”
“Say no more,” Elrond interrupted. “It will be done. Your people shall have the support of my court. Lina, could you look at those papers and get them through administration?”
“Yes, Lord Elrond.”
“That reminds me, my sister had a request concerning all the sisters she suspects will suddenly appear…” Éomer began.
Lina let the two talk on, leading Ro-Hans out of the courtroom. He seemed rather harmless, but then, so did bunnies.
As she entered the hall, she saw Gimli by the fireplace, looking exhausted and covered in dust.
“Hello, my starlight,” he greeted her. “What is *that*?”
“I'll tell you later,” she promised, sinking into the chair next to him and leaving the papers on the table. They could wait. Ro-Hans curled down nearby, looking like a giant furball.
“Boromir is teaching me how to scare off fangirls with a sword.”
“Sword?” Gimli let out a snort. “You were made to wield an axe. I will commence your training again tomorrow, if you like. MUSM is finished. As is the new OFUM lecture building.”
“Oh, only a day after schedule and on double the original budget.”
“Not bad at all,” Gimli agreed, and nestled into her neck. “We're ready for the new students.”
'Yes,' she thought lazily, 'but are they ready for us?'
She glanced down at the napping Ro-Hans and smirked. Somehow - she thought not.
Chapter Three: Poetic Justice of the Poetry Kind
“Wakey, wakey now!”
“Huh?” Kat muttered, cracking an eyelid open to see a fierce-looking woman staring down at her, patting a paddle. Above, there seemed to be a stone ceiling, slightly darkened by ash. Since when had the ceiling been stony? “What, when, where?”
“Court appearance, very soon, Middle-earth,” the woman replied. “Honestly, they're so slow when they're fresh.”
“We'll change that soon enough,” a man replied, entering Kat's field of vision. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head and she bolted upwards to find herself in a hallway and on a hard wooden bench. What the…?
“Oh swell,” Boromir replied. “She recognised me. I'm so honoured. Isn't she after my little brother?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Yep. Faramir Fangirl. One of very many to come, I fear.”
“I… What… BOROMIR??” Kat muttered, wondering exactly how hard she had hit her head when stumbling in drunk the night before.
“We have established that,” Boromir said dryly. “I should get inside. My father saved me a good seat. May your defence fail spectacularly.”
“Thanks, Boromir. I hope so too,” the woman replied, and then turned to look at Kat. “Well, well, well. I am Miss Cam. You will not call me Cam, Cammy, 'that scary chick' or anything else but Miss Cam. I am your course co-ordinator at OFUM, but today I am your defence lawyer.”
“My what?” Kat began to have a sinking feeling this was not a pleasant hallucination, but rather the kind where you ended up naked and the President of the United States walked in on you.
“Defence lawyer. You're charged with writing an unauthorised fic.”
“But… but… I didn't know you needed authorisation!”
“They never actually read their papers,” Miss Cam sighed up at the ceiling. “You remember, your enrolment papers? To OFUM, where you are now? Delivered by One and Gondalf the mini-Balrog?”
“But that was an alcohol-induced hallucination!” Kat protested, as a horrible sensation began to crawl up on her. Oh shit. No, no, no. This couldn't be real.
“Tsk. Sometimes weird men appearing in your bedroom are actually weird men and not your weird brain,” Miss Cam said gently, like she was addressing a child. “Now, because you posted more of your fic after you enrolled, we had to bring you in a bit early. You're lucky however, Lord Elrond is only mildly grumpy today.”
Kat took a long, deep breath and closed her eyes.
“I'm screwed, aren't I?”
“Hopefully,” Miss Cam answered brightly. “However, I will naturally do my very best to defend you on the charges laid against you, just as I did with your sister. I'll claim you're mentally incompetent and that you are very, very, very sorry for writing that fic.”
“Jess is here too?”
“Yes. She too, posted unauthorised. Sadly, however, hers was a 10th member fanfic involving the daughter of Galadriel. Elrond was not happy.”
“What… What did she get?”
“Oh, she should be trotting through the pass of Caradhras around now. Should be nice and snowy and cold. But still, nice change from the hundred hours of community service working in Lava-Tubs she got. The mini-Balrogs so love their lava skinny-dipping. Now, let's get moving, shall we? Lord Elrond gets testy when having to wait, and when testy, his judgements become somewhat… creative.”
“Right…” Kat replied, dazed. She was in Middle-earth, about to be on trial for writing a fanfic… What had she been drinking last night?
Miss Cam pushed open a large blackened door, and briskly entered the hall. It was crammed; Kat noticed Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn, Théoden, Denethor, Galadriel… Ye Gods. She really was in Middle-earth, being stared at by Lord of the Rings characters and a lot of other weird people.
“Frodo!” she exclaimed quietly, staring at the hobbit, who was devouring what appeared to be dried mushrooms. He smiled merrily at her.
And then her knees nearly buckled under her as she saw Faramir. Oh God, the hair, the face, the body…
“Here,” a girl whispered, leaning over from one of the benches and handing her a handkerchief. “You're drooling.”
“Um, thanks...” Kat replied hesitantly.
“I'm Nodalec,” the girl offered, and then gestured to the Elven girl next to her. “This is Mytsie. Good luck. You'll need it.”
“Will she ever,” another girl snorted from the bench behind. “I'm Aralanthiriel, and this is Inannle. Are you OFUM or MUSM?”
“Umm… OFUM…” Kat said hesitantly.
“You'll be with us then,” Mytsie said cheerfully. “You're lucky. Those two are stuck with Morgoth and Sauron.”
“At last we had the guts to… Oh look, there's Fëanor!” Inannle exclaimed, and Aralanthiriel's eyes went glassy.
“Hear ye, hear ye! All rise for the honourable Lord Elrond presiding!”
The crowd bolted up to attention from their gallery, while Miss Cam edged Kat towards the forward bench and tables. Lord Elrond came striding out in all his regal-ness (and dressed in the traditional black robes of a judge), giving her a hard look as he took his seat.
“Thank you, Drew,” he said to the court official. “What's on today, Meir Brin?”
“Faramir and Éowyn against Kathryn Fint,” Meir Brin replied, standing up from her seat by the huge pile of files. “The defendant stands accused of character mangling, mental torture by clichéd romance, ignorance of canon, creation of mini-Balrogs and lack of taste.”
“How do you plead?” Elrond asked.
“Not guilty due to mental incompetence,” Miss Cam replied. “Kat Fint was clearly delusional when writing this fic – 'The sweetest sweet man of Gondor finding the truest true love' – we ask she be acquitted on all charges.”
“What say the prosecution?”
Faramir rose. “Your honour, this girl made me quote a Mariah Carey song.”
The crowd gasped. The mini-Balrogs hissed. Lord Elrond raised an eyebrow.
“This merely strengthens our case,” Miss Cam replied. “Who in their right mind would have a man of Middle-earth quote Mariah Carey? I ask, your Honour, that you consider how mentally competent someone naming a character 'Eowyalae' would be.”
“She created Teodred,” Éowyn said forcefully, getting up and taking Faramir's hand. “She had me marry Aragorn to lay her claim on Faramir, your Honour!”
Kat could feel Arwen's eyes on her back and whimpered.
“Miss Fint,” Elrond leaned forward. “Did you not read the book?”
“I did! Once! I just… He's so… so gorgeous! And it's a very long book,” she finished lamely.
“In her defence, your Honour, she did know that the Rohirrim are not Rohans, and that there should be only Nine in the Fellowship,” Miss Cam said smoothly. “And this is her first offence.”
“Nevertheless, this is a serious offence,” Elrond replied. “I see here from the evidence that she invented a winged horse whom she shared a 'bond' with and that she defeated two Nazgûl with her baby-pink staff to show off. Not to mention her characterisation of Merry and Pippin as mushroom-addicted stand-up comics and Faramir as a weepy wimp she needed to rescue.”
“I'm really, really, really sorry?” Kat offered helplessly. She was never ever going to write a fic again. Ever. And never drink again. At least not when the computer was on so she may be tempted to write. Perhaps there should be a breath-testing of fanfic writers…
“Poetic justice will be done,” Elrond declared (to much cheering). “Kathryn Fint, I hereby find you guilty on all charges and sentence you to a hundred hours of community service in the stables and lice-duty for Ro-Hans. Furthermore, since you obviously know how to deal with the Nazgûls, I declare you their new counsellor for two weeks.”
“That's it?” Kat asked surprised, feeling a smile sneak on. She didn't mind horses, and how bad problems could the Nazgûls have?
“I'll lead her to the Witch-Wall, you Honour,” Miss Cam replied. “May I also compliment you on your judgement? It is always a pleasure to lose in your courtroom.”
“The… Witch-Wall…?” Kat asked, being nudged out of the courtroom as most of the crowd cheered (not the students. They merely looked sympathetic). She had the strangest feeling of impending doom.
“Yes. He's just next door and has been very troubled of late. Broken heart and well, it's hard being a wall when your friends are wraiths. Here we are…” Miss Cam declared and opened the door. “Cheer him up.”
“You're a sight for a sore wall! Why go for a human when you can have something rock-hard all the time?” the voice greeted Kat as Miss Cam slammed the door locked behind her. “Hug me! I need love!”
'Oh, drat. Dooooom…' Kat thought, staring at the Witch-Wall in all its brick-y glory. Elrond knew his poetic justice. She was doomed.
And then the poetry began.