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There had to be a faster way that to tramp across hundreds of miles of hostile land, dodging ring wraiths and orcs every step of the way!

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The Ring of the Jedi

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Sauron's war room, Mordor Dreadnought.

"Ping! Ping! Ping!"

Swirling black cloak. Rasping breath.

"REPORT!"

A clearly petrified goblin turns around.

"The long-range sensor seems to be malfunctioning, Lord. He says a thousand elf lords are approaching at 20,000 feet altitude. That clearly can't be."

Indrawn sucking rasping breath.

"SHOW ME."

On a wall carved from badly melted styrofoam, painted black, is a huge stone disk. Evil looking runes ("Made in Mordor") surround the edge of the disk. A goblin on a step ladder, wearing a colander with two aluminum foil covered wires on his head and a roll of gaffer tape over one wrist, is moving yellow glowing push-pins from the upper edge of the disk towards the center, where a group of red glowing push-pins wait. With each pin he moves he calls out "Ping! Ping! Ping!"

Close-up of mummified skull, ravaged by time, a desire to do evil, and the make-up artist's love for flourescent green paint. Indrawn sucking rasping breath.

"IT'S THEM! THEY ARE HERE. READY MY NAZGUL STEED!"

Swirling cloak. Black gloved finger stabs at two ring wraiths standing at the Dark Lord's back.

"YOU. YOU. COME WITH ME!"

Sound of rushing air, flapping of huge wings. Elrond on his giant eagle steed speaks into his magic Ring.

"Blue Leader to Red Leader."

"Red Leader."

"Approaching Mordor. Lock your eagle claws into attack position."

The camera pans back to show a flock of giant eagles. One after another they stick out their claws.

"Blue Leader to Green Leader."

Frodo is adjusting his hold on the badly fitted giant eagle harness. Behind him Sam is clutching at his waist, his eyes tightly shut.

"If hobbits were meant to fly, we'd have wings, sir, and no disrespect," he squawks. "We could have walked. I don't mind walking. A bit of pipe-weed and a brisk walk will do you good, my gaffer used to say."

"We'll be OK," Frodo tries to reassure Sam. Sam just shakes his head, eyes tightly shut.

"Blue Leader to squadron. Enemy Nazgul steeds spotted at two o'clock, and closing fast!"

"Hold on, Sam. This is going to get rough."

Black leathery wings close with feathered wings. Eagles dodge. Nazgul strike. An elf-lord screams as his eagle's wing is lopped off and the eagle spirals towards the ground. It crashes into a Mordor watchtower, which explodes in eldritch flames.

More eagles die. Back in Lothlorien, Lady Arwen is peering into her magic well, listening to the screams of dying elf-lords.

Frodo's eagle is looping, twisting, diving.

"I can't shake him!" Frodo gasps. Behind him, Sam is emptying the contents of his stomach into an air-sickness bag.

"I'm on it," comes Strider's reassuring voice. His eagle, the giant Gwaihir, dives onto the Nazgul steed, its claws tearing off the Nazgul's wing. It plummets soundlessly into the depths.

In Lothlorien, Lady Arwen breaths a sigh of relief.

Frodo's eagle lines up with two other eagles. The elf-lords on the other two eagles are wearing red tunics, the universal indicator of doomed minor roles. Ahead looms a giant volcano, smoke plume curling from its crater, and flows of lava glowing on its flanks.

"Approaching target," says expendable elf-lord #1. The air is filled with whistling arrows and bolts as ground forces of goblins and Southron mercenaries try to pick off the eagles. Suddenly they stop shooting.

"Hey, they stopped shooting," says expendable elf-lord #2.

"Pick up your visual scanning," says EEL1. "Look for Nazgul steeds."

Sure enough, a particularly large Nazgul steed, preceeded by a couple of regular sized ones, dives in on our trio. Sauron is riding the large one, with Gollum riding in the rumble seat.

"TAKE CARE OF THE EXPENDABLE ELF-LORDS. I'M GOING TO DEAL WITH THE RING-BEARER PERSONALLY," he hisses, barely remembering to suck his rasping breath. The other two Nazgul dive on the red tunics.

"I can't shake him!" gasps EEL2.

"Stay on target!" growls EEL1.

"He's onto me!" sqeals EEL2.

"Stay on target!" growls EEL1.

"Aaaah!" screams EEL2 as his eagle plunges to its death.

A black shadow zooms by EEL1's eagle. Feathers fly, and the eagle is suddenly desperately flapping to stay aloft.

"Get out of here!" shouts Frodo. "You can't help me." EEL1 salutes, and his eagle spirals away.

Frodo gets the Ring ready to throw as the Crack of Doom approaches. Soon his eagle is floating over the bubbling cauldron of the crater. But then he puts the Ring on, and disappears. In Lothlorien Lady Arwen peers into her magic well. She speaks into her Ring.

"Frodo, you've put on the Ring. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," says Frodo. "Everything is fine." Then he grabs the shivering Sam and pitches him off the eagle. Sam plunges screaming into the bubbling lava. "Hah! If you thought I was going to destroy the Ring, you are nuts!" he cackles wildly.

At that moment, Sauron grabs the slavering Gollum and tosses him at Frodo's eagle. The creature bawls with fear as it arcs through the air, and manages to just grab the invisible Frodo.

"Leggo!" shouts Frodo. Gollum is hanging from his arm, and fighting for his life.

"My precious! Don't drop us into the bubbling lava!" Gollum wails. Then he feels the Ring on Frodo's hand. "What have we here, my precious," he gobbles to himself. "Give it to us!" He closes his mouth on the ring finger, and bites. Frodo screams and shakes his hand. Gollum has bitten off the finger, but is shaken loose and plunging into the lava, cackling to himself. "My precious. We have you back, my precious!"

Frodo is visible again, clutching his hand under his arm-pit. Strider swoops above his eagle.

"You did it, kid! Let's get out of here!"

Behind Lady Arwen the elves in Lothlorien break out in cheers and songs.

Frodo pulls his eagle into a wide turn, as below him the volcano erupts in fury. Gobs of lava spurt into the sky, and one glowing chunk pegs Sauron's Nazgul steed. It spirals into the ground, Sauron desperately tugging at its reins and sucking his breath, but we don't get to see him hit, because that would spoil the chances for a sequel.

Back at Minas Tirith, the gang is assembled in front of Lady Arwen. Everyone gets a golden medal hung around their necks by Lady Arwen while the elf-lords look on and cheer. As the gang turns to be admired, a couple of wizards bring in a freshly healed Sam. He waddles up to Frodo.

"Can we go home to the Shire, now?" he asks. "I've had enough adventures."

Everyone laughs.

More Information

I wrote this when someone in a Usenet discussion wondered why Frodo and his Fellowship of the Ring didn't just fly into Mordor on the eagles, and someone else commented that "Gandalf clearly said that elven lords would be detected from a long way off." I don't know if Gandalf ever said such a thing, but the rest followed by itself.

I don't know if it matters that I wrote this before I saw the first installment of Jackson's famous trilogy. At the time I had some very worried ideas about Jackson's version of Sauron. As it happens, Jackson did a fine job.

And, yes, I know it wasn't Lady Arwen's well in Lothlorien. But Lady Arwen was a better choice for this satire. I also know that Nazgul steeds don't have rumble seats.