[Kransha]

Bill and John, the two slightly addled announcers, have recovered from the suprise of the dwarves take on dwarf-tossing.

"Well, John, it looks like it's time for one of our more flashy events." Says John with an elegant flourish through a singular bullhorn.
"And what, pray tell, is that, Bob?" Bob asks pleasantly.
"Magic-Assisted Breakdancing, of course."

A thin but prominent looking figure dressed in a multicolored tie-die robe steps onto the arena, leaning on an ominously carved staff.

"We would like to extend our thanks to Saruman the Many-Colored for assisting us with this particular event. We couldn't do it without ya, Sharkey."

On a small obsidian platform where Saruman has readied himself, the Istari grumbles quietly and raises his staff ceremoniously as the contestants line up in front of him, looking a little nervous about the whole endeavor. Saruman's beard-shrouded lips curve into a very discouraging grin.

"Who's first?" cackles the wizard (who looks uncanilly like the guy who played the original Dracula in those morning serials).

An elf steps forward confidently. The crowd stares for several long moments at his hair...which, by the way, is not blonde. He throws back his head proudly and awaits the beginning of the event, even though his bowels happen to be twisting themselves out of shape within him as he watches the Istari's staff.

"Alrighty then." comments Bill through the bullhorn.

The elf hits the floor of the platform spinning wildly, twirling nimbly back and forth in breakdance fashion. Saruman's grin widens as he lowers his staff towards the hapless pointy-eared dancer. The elf, still spinning crazily up and down, realizes in horror that he is spinning faster and slowly rising into the air. The crowd watches wordlessly as the contestant's rate of rise increases and he flies at break-neck speed towards the clouds above....

Two minutes, and a lot of fiendish cackling later, the elf plummets out of the sky and lands headfirst on the platform beside Saruman.

"Ouch....Who's gonna clean that up?"

Several spiders materialize from beneath Saruman's flowing robe and make off what's left of the brave elf.

"Next?" Saruman's cold voice echoes eerily.

Everyone remains conspicuously stiff as a log.

"Well, that didn't work." mutters Bill under his breath.