Come Compete In The Annual Fellowship Games!

[Pyroclastic]

"Ladies and gentelmen, Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, and Pukel Men! Welcome to the First Annual Fellowship Games! In tribute to the great deeds done in The War of The Ring, we gather here and compete in the re-enactment of the Fellowship's most beloved stunts! Please stand for the ceremonial lighting of our replica of Mt Doom, which will remain lit for the duration of the games."

The crowd stands and many hats are removed as an Orc rushes through the masses carrying a lit torch. The orc makes a dramatic lunge at a six foot high scale replica of Mt. Doom, blasting a large crater in it. On a platform above the miniature volcano, a scrawny, creepy figure appears. "It's mine!" It shrieks as it leaps weirdly about the platform, "My precious!" The creature leaps for joy, and falls into the crater of Mt. Doom. The volcano explodes, and the crowd ooohs and ahhas.

"Thank you all for coming, and enjoy the games!"

The Winter X Games gave me an idea, how about some annual Middle Earth X Games? Thus derived The Fellowship Games. I'm thinking, what sort of extreme sports could be invented from the stunts of the Fellowship? Shieldboarding down stairs, troll spear dodging, perhaps a Caradharas Iron Man? I think this would be even more fun if we posted in scenes RPG style in addition to comments and suggestions, rather than just saying; "Yeah, I can see Legolas being banned from competition because he always wins everything!" Besides that, Gimli's obviously going to kick Legolas's Elven butt.

Let the Games Begin!
~Pyro~

[The Saucepan Man]

Anyone for Dwarf tossing? [img]smilies/tongue.gif[/img] [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Kransha]

Well, despite the fact that some of these are not in the book, I suggest.

-Horse Mounting Stunt (ala Legolas)
-Dwarf Tossing
-Shield Surfing
-Oliphaunt Riding
-Balrog Horn Dancing
-Magically-Assisted Break-dancing (with the help of our good friend Saruman)

[zb]

"I hear that they're branching out into some new sports this year," says the voice on Zoe's radio. She turns the volume up a bit. She's not much into sports, but hearing about new extreme sports can be interesting.
"Yes, indeed they are," says the other announcer. "I've got a list here with me now."
"And what are they, Bill?"
"Well, the headline new sport is Balrog-winging."
"Balrog winging?"
"Let's cross to our Fellowship Games correspondant, Sarah, for the full details. Sarah?"
"Well, you see, Bill and John, the reason why this new sport is so unusual is that in terms of physical strength and skill, it's more like chess than surfing or snowboarding. Basically, the athletes try to generate ridiculously long discussions of small Tolkein-related details. Points are awarded for both length of disertation and originality of argument. Bonus points are awarded for any competitor who can bring an original slant to the question of "do Balrogs have wings?" - thus the name Balrog-winging."
"Sounds... interesting. Wait, we've got a caller on the line. Hello; James, is it?"
"Yep. Hi Bill. I've got a question for Sarah, or one of you guys if you know the answer."
"Yes?"
"How is Balrog-winging an extreme sport? There doesn't seem to be any danger involved."
"Yes, I see what you're saying," says Sarah. "But according to the Games organisers, competitors face a significant risk of death by starvation and a fatal reduction in social life. There's also a severe risk of RSI, caused both by typing extensively and lifting heavy volumes of Tolkien's works constantly--"
John interrupts: "And this is enough for extreme status?"
"Seems so," says Sarah. "Does that answer your question, James?"
"Yes, thanks."
"Thanks for calling."
"I've got a question," says John. "Where will this contest be held?"
"Venues are yet to be confirmed, but so far, rumours indicate the Barrow Downs, most likely in the Books Arena."

[Thorongil]

Next up: The waterfall drop! Can you be the first to survive this challenge? [img]smilies/evil.gif[/img]

[Kransha]

Contestants:
-Original Nine Fellowship Members
-Eowyn, Eomer, Theoden
-Faramir, Denethor
-Gollum, Bilbo (for good measure)
-Arwen, Haldir

Assistants:
-Ugluk
-Grishnakh
-Saruman
-Grima Wormtongue
-Mr. Balrog
-Mr. Mumakil
-Mr. Warg
-Elrond, Galadriel, Celeborn

Physical Events: (many movie-verse)
-Magically-Assisted Breakdancing (ala Gandalf)
-Mumak Riding (ala Legolas)
-Balrog Horn-Dancing
-Shield Surfing (ala Legolas)
-Dwarf Tossing (ala Gimli)
-Horse-Mounting Stunts (ala Legolas)
-Fake Death-ing (ala Aragorn)
-Pyro-Plummeting (ala Denethor)
-Caradharas Climbing (ala Fellowship)

Mental Events:
-Balrog Winging: Described above
-Character Cutting: Competitors must argue about the characters cut from the movie and each support one. Whoevers argument is most convincing wins.
-Scene Re-writing: Re-write an innacurate scene in the movie to book-verse.
-Most Underrated Character-ing: Competitors must argue who the most underrated character is in the book. Same as above.
-Pointless Adding: Competitors must argue over PJ's most pointless addition and why it is so.

FIRST EVENT - *drumroll* MAGICALLY-ASSISTED BREAKDANCING!

[Lady Snickerdoodle]

kehehe. I myself am extremely talented at sworddrops, a popular sport in my hometown in which momentum, body weight and balrog slipstreams are used to defy the ordinary laws of physics to catch swords while falling down a hole. See, the judges award points based on how many we can catch before we hit the bottom.

[zb]

Zoe and her friend Linda* have a physics lab this afternoon. Or, they would if they weren't catching a shuttle-eagle to Orthanc, to watch today's magic-assisted breakdance competition. Linda's being a bit conventional and supporting the bookies' favourite, Gandalf, but Zoe's going out on a limb an suggesting that the up 'n' coming Legolas may well have the natural talent to capture the judges' imagination.

On their way to their pre-booked seats, they pass a cluster of die-hard Gimli supporters. "How come you're barracking for him?" she asks one.
"You haven't seen his axe-moves, have you?" he replies. "He's got real originality."

Who will win? Find out in next week's exciting Middle Earth Games installment! :P

* not her real name [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

---
2 things:

1. Is anyone else going to write up sports?
2. How about speed-hair-stylin'? The aim being to turn a messy, "I just woke up, and I was sleeping on the ground" hairdo into a beautiful elven 'do, as fast as possible. One false move, and you'll have an angry elf clobbering you to death with the hairbrush.

[Pyroclastic]

“Peoples of Middle Earth, lets hear it for the brave competitors of The Dwarf Toss! Two commentators stand on a platform above the green competition field, shouting into bullhorns at the crowd bellow. “Will the competitors please step forward?” Six strong warriors step forward onto the edgecliff along the gully. The crowd cheers. “In this, the first annual Dwarf Toss, the aim of the game and of the the tossers, is to throw the Dwarf from one edge of the gully to the opposite cliff, approximately thirty feet. Points will be awarded based upon the smoothness of the toss and landing, as well as for the size of the Dwarf tossed.”

“Not if we have anything to say about it, they won’t!” A deep voice shouts. All heads turn to observe a lone Dwarf standing on the opposing gully cliff. The Dwarf waves his arm, and thirty more Dwarves step up behind him. “Dwarf toss indeed!” He bellows, “Why are we tossing Dwarves, eh? Why not Elves, or Men? The both of them are in much greater need of tossing, are they not?”

The commentators stand silent, dumbfounded. The Hobbit holding the cue cards has no script for this outburst. The first commentator turns to his companion and attempts to make light of the situation. “Well, Ted, I don’t know. Why are we tossing Dwarves here today?”
“Well Bob, as we all know, Dwarf tossing was featured in both the Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers. Our aim with the Fellowship Games is to re-crate stunts such as these in tribute…” His voice trails off as he watches the events unfolding on the far bluff.

The Dwarves formed into groups, six of them spacing themselves along the edge of the cliff. The chief Dwarf steppes forward and raises a bullhorn of his own. “Peoples of Middle Earth,” the Dwarf’s voice boomed across the field to the crowd, magnified by the horn. “Welcome to the Dwarf Toss!” The crowd titterers. “Please give it up for our competitors!” A few weak cheers escape the crowd. “Each of our contestants will toss one Elf, one Man, and one Orc across the gully! Points will be awarded for height and distance of the throw, smoothness of the landing, should there be a landing, and size of the being tossed! We’ll begin with the Orcs. Competitors ready?” Each Dwarf grabbed one of the Orcs, which were being hustled along by the collection of Dwarves. The competing Dwarves raised one arm to signify that they were ready. “Fire in turn!”

The first Dwarf grabbed his Orc, took a running start, and launched his Orc up into the air. The Orc sails through the sky in a high arc, landing with a “pwhump!” On the opposite cliff. “Excellent job, Noin!” The announcer Dwarf shouts. Each Orc tossed successfully lands on the opposing cliff. The competition moved on to the Elf toss. The first Elf steppes up to Noin, the very image of confidence, his long golden hair shimmering in the sunlight. The crowd cheers. Noin picks up the Elf, takes a running start, and heaves the Elf over the cliff. “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeek!” The Elf shrieks as he plummets to the gully floor. “Oh, too bad,” the announcer calls. “Points will be lost for that one.” The second Dwarf seizes his Elf, and grunts with effort as he hurls the Elf across the gap. “Thwack! Uggg! Schlurp!” the Elf smashes into the side of the cliff. The crowd looks n in horror as the Elf oozes down the cliff face.

The original announcers scramble to regain control. “That’s all the time we have right now folks! Be sure to return for our next event-“

We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties. Thank You For Your Patience.

So much for the Dwarf toss.
~Pyro~

[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.

[Beanamir of Gondor]

"The Equestrian Challenge follows next!" shouts the announcer, Ludo Bagman.
"Fly, you fool!" cries Gandalf. [exit Bagman]

Out into the arena ride the challengers: Arwen Undomiel on Asfaloth [Glorfindel is on injured leave]; Aragorn Elessar on Brego; countless thousands of Rohirrim Riders; and finally, to the edifice and shouting joy of the crowd, a tiny figure riding on a small pony. "Sam! Sam! Sam!" chants the audience. The tiny hobbit greets them, to their delight, raising a hand holding a trowel.

"To your marks!" booms Saruman. The countless thousands of Rohirrim Riders rush to take the first line, but somehow the slender figures of Arwen and Asfaloth slip to the very front. Elessar, knowing that no man would dare challenge his kingship, stays towards the back, smiling confidently and soothingly patting Brego. Sam and Bill are nowhere to be seen; they are underneath the horse of Hama.

"And... GO!" screams Gandalf, inadvertantly setting the announcer's box on fire; the blaze is put out by a smirking Saruman.
The racers sprint towards the first quarter turn; Asfaloth is in the lead, calmly galloping just so as to wave the Queen's hair. "Awwww..." sighs the crowd. Brego and his rider have moved up to second place, strongly running. Elessar's mighty presence has caused an uproar in the stands; Merry and Pippin start the wave.
Suddenly, Rohirrim Riders begin to fall, their cries of anguish audible in every corner of the stadium. Something from near the ground is tripping their horses, causing them to fall. Frodo jumps up and screams "It's my Sam!" and the hobbit section of the stadium screams along with him, beginning once again their gardener's chant. A tiny hand is all that can be seen, whacking the knees of the Rohirrim horses with the trowel.

The horses left thunder around the second curve; Brego and Asfaloth are neck and neck; their riders are necking over the gap. "Ewwww..." sighs the crowd.
Oh no! What is wrong with Brego?! He stamps suddenly, neighing in fear of the tiny figure throwing flowers at him. Asfaloth breaks off, as the trowel of Sam digs into his leg. Abruptly the lead is Sam's! "Run, Bill, Run! Run, Bill, Run!" is now the chant roaring from the Shire section of the stadium.

King Elessar, thrown from his horse, has stood up from the mud and is mildly and smilingly shaking a fist at the speeding-away hobbit. Arwen runs to him, looks at him, then runs out of the arena, wailing "Daddy!" [one hobbit near the door observes Elrond running in to meet his baby girl].

The Rohirrim riders try desperately to force their horses to catch up, but Bill is hopelessly far ahead. Sam raises the trowel in the air as Bill's forelegs cross the finish line. Thousands of hobbits run out onto the track [more than a few gleefully trampled by the Rohirrim] and lift Sam onto their shoulders. The race is over.