Title art by Esme
TITLE: The Princess on the Plain
RATING: verbal snark.
DISCLAIMER: A parody of an Angel the Series and the Fellowship of the Ring: the Two Towers crossover. I own no one and no profit is made from this exercise in avoiding the boredom of conference meetings.
SERIES: Princess Parodies I
SUMMARY: Coming back from Pylea things go awry for our fearless AI team, and they meet heroes from another time and place.
DEDICATION: PSUBrat, for her ongoing quest to find some humor in humorous fics. I’m delighted to find that she likes this one. This is also in a small way due to my husband who believes it is an anathema to crossover anything with the Lord of the Rings. Here’s to you both.
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Aragorn held his hand up, waving at his companions to slow down. Gimli was delighted; running just wasn’t a dwarf thing. Sprinting, no problem, but the long haul? Forget it. It was taking all his willpower not to kneecap the elf with his axe to even the score. The elf in question just perked up those perky ears and tilted his head. A bright flash could be seen not far away followed by a metallic clanking noise and… yelling?
“Arguing? Who’d be making this much noise in the middle of the Riddemark with such evil afoot?” The man-who-would-be-king-if-he-could-get-his-act-together shrugged and the trio stealthily crept around the edge of the boulder. It was a handsome large grey boulder, very similar to all the other large grey boulders. It seemed the boulder store was having a sale the day they put together this part of Middle Earth. On the other side was a large metal beast, disgorging what looked to be several of the race of men, and one large green… something. There were women amongst them, one clad in nothing but a sparkly gold metal bikini. The elf gasped and covered his eyes but the dwarf broke out in smiles. As soon as the woman was out of the contraption, she began beating a tall, thin, dark haired man about the head.
“Wesley! What did you do! You said it was just a few words and we’d be home! We are not home! And this is not Pylea! I bet I’m not even a princess here! And look- there’s nothing here! What do I want with rocks and grass and a whole buncha nothing!!!” The Wesley fellow tried to cover his ears and put a comforting arm around her shoulder while evading even more blows.
“Cordy, I’m sure I can fix this, I just have to look at the books –“
“You mean the books that disappeared, English?” A dark skinned man opened up the trunk of the car and grabbed several weapons, tossing them to the tall broody looking fellow with a prominent brow who was looking up at the sky. “Do you even have any idea where we are? Cause it’s looking to me like nowhere. I hate nowhere.”
“Don’t Gunn, me, Wesley. We’re screwed.” The broody one accepted a large axe and swung it around a few times, before shrugging and laying down to sunbathe. “At least Angel ain’t dust. That, and the total and complete lack of Universal Studios parking lot or Caritas means this ain’t home. Here, Cordy.” He draped a blanket over her shoulders, and Aragorn elbowed his friend.
“Perhaps we should offer assistance,” he whispered. The elf nodded and the three stepped out from behind the rock. At which point the tall thin man, the spangly woman, the green skinned gentleman with horns, and another young lady shrieked. The latter hid underneath the black metal beast, which thankfully seemed to have no interest in vomiting up more people. The broody fellow and the Gunn gripped their weapons tighter and took a few menacing steps forward.
Aragorn held his hands up in peace, and Gimli tried to get a better look at the beauty in the lack-of-reasonable-clothes. “Peace, we mean you no harm. Perhaps we could be of assistance. I am Strider and these are my friends, Legolas the elf and Gimli the dwarf.”
The Princess, for it was obvious from her regal manner, commanding tone and extra-sparkly white teeth that she must indeed be royalty, stepped forward. “You want to help? Tell us where we are and how we can get out of here?”
Wesley added a sheepish, “And if you’ve seen some lovely leather bound books with a deer, a sheep and a wolf on them, it would be most helpful...”
“Can it Wes. I’m Cordelia. The guy that screwed up and landed us where ever this is that has to be a days drive from a Lord and Taylor is Wesley, tall, dark and handsome over there is Angel, the guy with the serious axe love is Gunn, the green guy with horns is Lorne, and the chick who’s hiding under the car is Fred. We want to go home.” She crossed her arms and glared at them. “So fix it.”
Angel gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Ah, Cordy, I don’t think they know how.” She turned to glare at him instead. He backed down immediately.
Legolas gallantly met Cordelia’s eyes, and spoke, “My lady, you are in the Riddemark, the land of the people of Rohan in Middle Earth.”
She arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “The Ridde-which? And the Roh-who? That’s a fat lot of help. What’re you doing anyway? We’re lost, what’s your excuse?”
Aragorn stood tall and proud before responding, “We are pursuing a band of Orcs that have taken friends of ours. Perhaps you’ve seen them?”
“What’s an Orc?” She looked at her friends for answers. Wesley opened his mouth to give a no doubt fascinating, yet incredibly detailed and overwhelming, response but Gunn thrust his hand in the air.
“Oh! Oh! I know this one! They’re goblins. What? Sometimes I read the boring dusty books when no one’s looking.” He sent Wes a superior look as the older man shot daggers in his direction with a glare, a murmured “Princess’s pet” under his breath.
“Great. Goblins, elves, dwarfs and someone who obviously missed the memo about shaving regularly. We’re Angel Investigations, and we seem to be having a bit of a portal problem. Usually we help the hopeless, and occasionally the wealthy and very unlucky. Except we’re not supposed to be the helpless or hopeless ones.” She pouted a magnificent pout and sat on the hood of the car. Angel frowned as the sharp edges of her heels threatened the paint on his precious Plymouth, but valuing his manhood and sanity; he wisely refrained from saying anything.
“My lady, you mentioned helping people? How, may I ask?” Legolas was a bit confounded. These people didn’t look capable of doing much, other than being lost and incredibly impractical. Imagine running around the countryside in metal underwear, unthinkable. Much better to go with the ever-stylish braids and most practical gray-green woolens.
Cordelia scrunched her eyebrows as the rest of the team groaned and Gunn went back to swinging his axe at shadows. “I have visions. The powers that be tell us who to save and we go save them.”
“A seer! Truly rare indeed!” Strider was most impressed. Then again, he was easily impressed these days, what with the world falling down around his much-older-than-they-looked ears.
“Not really. Lorne over there is too. Except you have to sing to get him to read you. I just get brain splitting headaches and scratch and sniff visions.” All eyes turned to Lorne who smiled sheepishly.
“It’s a gift, really. Excellent for Karaoke.”
Suddenly Gimli burst into song, a particularly raucous and off key song in Dwarfish about drinking and money, or money and drinking, anyway there was gold in there somewhere. And maybe silver. But definitely gold. Lots of gold. Perhaps a dragon. The entire company covered their ears with pained looks on their faces. Lorne jumped up and ran over to Gimli, smashing one green hand over his mouth.
“We get it, my love struck little man; you’ve got it bad for the blonde elf.” All eyes snapped to Legolas who looked as if Gimli had gone through with his kneecapping maneuver when no one was looking. Gimli himself resembled a large, hairy catfish, opening and closing his mouth several times. Lorne rolled his red eyes. “Not that elf, cupcake. Though, give him an Armani suit or even a pair of Angelus’s leather pants and you’d have a winner.” Legolas blushed at the compliment, though he’d never met an Armani, or an Angelus, but he liked the idea of leather pants. Everyone looked good in leather, and elves were all about looking good, the previous sentiment about woolens aside. “He’s got it bad for that Elf-lady, the Galahad one. You know, all-powerful, big with the cryptic? Anyway, don’t you worry, you’ll see her again.” Gimli broke out into a huge smile and sat down, dreamily.
Amusement passed, and the company regarded each other drearily for a moment. Out of the blue, Wesley thrust his finger in the air. “Eureka!” All eyes turned his way, and he hurried to elaborate. “We need an evil priest. Where can we find the closest evil priest?”
Aragorn’s eyebrows shot up, and he coughed. “An evil priest? Um… there’s an evil sorcerer about a days ride that way.” He vaguely gestured over the hill. “Would that do?”
Cordelia flashed him a beaming smile that almost matched the wattage reflecting from her attire and chirped, “Evil sorcerer here we come! So, what’s his name?”
His companions were still speechless, so Aragorn continued. “Saruman. There’s another evil demi-god named Saruon, but he’s not so much a sorcerer anymore, more like a disembodied eye of flame.”
Wesley frowned. “Hmm, does the eye have an extensive library, or would the flames annihilate the paper? I wonder…”
Legolas found his voice again. “Saruman is famous for his library at Isengard. But why would you wish to seek him out? He’s building an army.”
Cordelia ushered everyone back to the car like a glittery mother hen. “Cause evil dudes have books to get us home. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We do this sort of thing all the time. You say a day’s ride this way? Good. Thanks for all the help.” She waved once everyone stowed inside the black metal beast, and the strange group of strangers headed off, rumbling loudly over the rocky hill in their smelly clanking carriage.
The three remaining warriors of the Fellowship exchanged incredulous glances. Legolas spoke first, seeing as how Gimli was still mooning over his impossible lady elf love. “What do you think will happen with Saruman?”
Aragorn shook his head. “He’ll never know what hit him.” He grinned and gestured to his friends. “Come, we still have Hobbits to find and the day is growing short.” A few grumbles from the Dwarf aside, they set out towards fates unknown. Well, except Gimli of course, lucky Dwarf.
To read the next story in the series, go here:The Princess and The Tower
To see the title art for the story, go here:Esme's Princess Parody Art