The entire party stops to rest in the mines of Moria, not so much rest as to let Gandalf smoke his pipe, and ponder which way in the name of Isildur they should go now. The party watches him, grumbling at this minor setback. PIPPIN: Do you suppose he's gone senile? MERRY, SAM & FRODO: Shhhh!!! PIPPIN: Well, c'mon! How old is he?! Gandalf stares at the young Hobbit with malicious intent, before taking another puff on his pipe. The gang settles down for a bit. Aragorn fiddles with Arwen's pendant, as Boromir stares at Frodo's chest, breathing raggedly. All scoot as far away from him as the rocks will allow. BOROMIR: What? Maybe I'm not looking at the ring, okay?! All scoot even farther away, chancing plummeting to their deaths. BOROMIR: . . . . I hate you guys. Gimli mutters angrily to himself like a crazy old git, while Legolas brushes his silken tresses. LEGOLAS: One hundred one; one hundred two. . . The hobbits on the other hand are playing their favorite game: If I wasn't on this damn quest, what would I be eating right now? Frodo, though, sees something some distance away. He hurries towards Gandalf, and sits beside him. FRODO: There's something down there! GANDALF: It's that fangirl. FRODO: What? GANDALF: She's been following us for three days. She's waiting for us to move so she can grab all of the hairs that Legolas combs out. I assume she's going to make some freakish voodoo doll with them to earn his affections. FRODO: She actually left Rivendell, where there were dozens of OTHER Elves, just so she could grab some hair? GANDALF: Grab his hair. Or grab the Elf himself. She adores and loves Legolas. As other fangirls adore and love him. She will never be rid of her need for him. FRODO: It's a pity we didn't destroy her when we had the chance. GANDALF: Pity? It was pity that stayed Aragorn's hand. Even he loathes the shrieking hoardes that follow him, screeching his name, but he understands the pivotal role that they play. Many that screech overly obsess. Some that obsess screech. And some, they just faint dead away. My heart tells me that this 'Ri' has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before this is over. The fangirls may rule the fate of the Elf. FRODO: (dryly) I get it. They're the ones buying the tickets, huh? GANDALF: Precisely. (gets up slowly) I believe that it's this way. The party collects itself, and starts to head down the passage. Meanwhile, the half crazed fangirl skitters up the path, to where Legolas was sitting. After scrutinizing the rock, she grabs two shiny blonde hairs, and rubs them against her cheek. RI: My preciousssss. . . Below her, a decrepit stinky little creature shakes his fist angrily at her. GOLLUM: Tricksey fangirlses!!!! She stole our lines, she did!!! tbc