Fanfic Recs by coprime

Above the Dead City (Frodo-Sam | G | 1,584 words): A missing scene between Frodo and Sam about Frodo being drawn towards Minas Morgul. It's lovely and angsty and a good look at what being the Ringbearer was like for Frodo.

Excerpt:
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam's rough voice cut through the night air like a whistle, or so it seemed to Frodo. The ringwraith and its winged beast had already vanished from sight, but the footsteps of orcs thundered beneath the hiding place where the hobbits huddled on the first steps of the Stair.

Frodo remained hunched with his back pressed to cold stone as the wound on his shoulder throbbed. He kept his head bowed and his eyes squeezed shut. The weight of the Ring hung heavy around his neck—heavier, somehow, than it had been before.

Arkenrocks (Bilbo, Thorin and Company ensemble | G | 5,456 words): It would be easier for Bilbo to find the Arkenstone if the fancy, white rocks in the mountain didn't all look the same to him. This is a hilarious fix-it for The Hobbit. Thorin can't be overcome by gold-madness if he never enters the mountain and Bilbo brings out every shiny rock that's not the Arkenstone!

Excerpt:
"What do you mean that's not it!" Bilbo exclaimed, looking at what was apparently not the Arken-heart of the mountain.

"I mean, it's not the Arkenstone." Arkenstone; Bilbo’d been so close.

"It fits your description." Bilbo pointed out, for it was white, and he'd known it when he'd seen it. He's not really sure how to classify 'heart of the mountain,' but that was Dwarrow territory, not Hobbit.

"It's white londonite." Bilbo peered down at it curiously.

"Is it really? Well, I suppose you'd know better than me." Bilbo shrugged, turned towards the gaping maw of the secret doorway, which still terrified him. There was a dragon, somewhere in its depths, and if Bilbo wasn't careful they'd all get burnt to a crisp. But, he had a job to do, and it hadn't been so bad, the first time.

Beautiful (Legolas/Gimli | G | 285 words): Legolas expands his definition of beautiful. This is sweet and refreshing.

Excerpt:
You defined beauty as you had been taught. The rush of water over stone; the grace of an arrow's flight; jewels shining in sunlight or moonlight, and the Elven maidens who wore them.

The Very Secret Diary of Captain Jack Sparrow (Jack Sparrow | PG13 | 1,706 words) is Jack's diary when he ends up in Middle Earth shortly before the battle at Minas Tirith. Oh my, it is very funny.

Excerpt:
Interesting. This fleet hails from somewhere called Umbar. Never heard of it, and can't find it in Mercator's New Atlas of World Conquest, or A-Z of Caribbean, so is obviously local name for some perfectly ordinary place. Key West, perhaps. Or Morecambe (see Very Badly Lost possibility above).

Anyway, pirate armada call themselves corsairs, but am not fooled; they have black ships with black sails, crewed by ugly, overweight disfigured men with exotic accents. Perhaps 'Umbar' is actually Gateshead. Anyway, 'corsair' is only nancy-boy word for 'pirate'.

Opening Doors (Narvi-Celebrimbor, Narvi/Galadriel | R | 6,109 words) is a look at Narvi and Celebrimbor building the gates of Moria. It's an engaging story and an easy read.

Excerpt:
I lit the fire for Celebrimbor when we arrived at his camp, but when he started preparing the food I went to sit by the stream out of his way. I had eaten at the elf's fireside often enough to learn that I was happier not knowing what went into the food. It was all good, but fungus and dead leaves and what looked like tree roots made me nervous.

The Gate Stream chuckled slowly in its bed, the water well below the rock on which I sat. It had been a dry couple of years, a mercy when your work was too big to bring inside, but the guards on the old gate were complaining about rising food prices. The guards were nearly the only dwarves I talked to any more, stuck out in the West Tunnels as I was, and even they never stayed long. The duty was considered punishment, so far from the life of the rest of the city, and a month here covered most infractions. My own presence here was not punishment, though sometimes I wondered if I had earned someone's disfavor.

Engastrimyth (Frodo/Sam | G | 947 words) is about what might have happened if Frodo had kept the one ring. This is creepy in just the right way to give me shivers. And Sam's voice as he narrates is just right as well.

Excerpt:
The first time he said, "I love you, Frodo," with my mouth, it stopped being true.

The Condensed Parody Version of the FotR Script (ensemble | PG13 | 3,957 words) is really, really, really funny. So much of it is quotablely hilarious.

Excerpt:
RIVENDELL, DIFFERENT ROOM

GANDALF: So, Elrond, you're going to take the Ring and hide it behind one of these candle sconces, and nobody will ever know. Sound good?

ELROND: No way. I was there, Gandalf. I was there when Men ran out of strength. And conditioner.


FLASHBACK: MT. DOOM

ELROND watches as fuzzy-headed ISILDUR stands with the RING in the special Place to Throw Stuff Into Lava Room.

RING: (sniffle) You wouldn't destroy poor, sweet, little ol' me, would you, Isildur? You handsome... strong... powerful man?

ISILDUR: Mmm...'scuse me, Elrond, the Ring and I need some privacy.

ISILDUR walks out, cuddling the RING.

ELROND: Noooo!

Revenge of the Fan Fiction Husbands (ensemble | ? | ?) is a delightful parody fic. The husbands of a bunch of Lord of the Rings fic authors decide to visit Middle Earth to get their wives back in time for Valentine's Day. This is very, very clever and a lot of fun.

Excerpt:
Russell pinched the bridge of his nose, realising even as he did so that the fact that he was pinching the bridge of his nose should have told him that he was in Theresa territory; her characters were always pinching the bridges of their noses when they were exasperated. And there was another one of those sodding semi-colons! I mean, how pretentious can you get? He must stay on his guard -- if he were not careful, he would find himself in the midst of one of those sentences -- convoluted in the extreme, pointless and over-elaborate -- that littered the work of Ms Green -- the result no doubt of reading too much Henry James at college, and he would find that the narratorial viewpoint had been shifted, with no subtlety whatsoever, mind you, into an internal monologue, probably in italics. I must stay alert! These men are depending on me! Jeff is depending on me. . . Jeff has such nice eyes. . . never noticed that before.

Russell suddenly jerked to attention. Nice eyes? My god, the slash level in this universe was overwhelming even his cast-iron heterosexuality. He must get a grip on himself! Oh no! Innuendo! Aaaaaargh! We have to get out of here!

Aware that the men were starting at him with puzzled expressions, Russell gathered his composure.

Blood and Warm Blankets (Eomer/Faramir | PG13 | 1,516 words) is a parody of slash cliches. Faramir and Eomer are stuck in a cave. This means that there is going to be sex before the dawn, according to Faramir. The image of these two men swapping gossip is mind-bogglingly funny.

Excerpt:
Eomer lost his grip on Faramir's arm for the third time and sighed in exasperation. "Would you stop wriggling? I'm doing my best, and I'm sure you've borne worse in a scrap with your brother."

Faramir muttered something incomprehensible but flinched away a fourth time. With a resounding clatter of wood on stone, Eomer slammed the bowl down. "For Bema's sake, I am *not* going to rip off that blanket and jump you like a randy stallion! You do read far too much, that's for certain. Besides, my sister would wring my neck." His grey eyes twinkled with merriment. "Or Elessar would have me gelded."

No Other Hands (Legolas/Gimli | PG | 1,208 words) has Gimli caring for his axe after Helm's Deep. This story has dwarven culture done well and shows how much Legolas and Gimli mean to each other. Whether you prefer them to be close friends or lovers, their relationship is deep. This story shows that, and it can be gen or slash depending on preference.

Excerpt:
The nick in the blade was no wider and no deeper than the thickness of his thumbnail, easily fixed even with the limited equipment in his possession. He would not have to beg the loan of tools from the smiths of Helm's Deep, nor tolerate the discomfort of working in another's shop. Still, he frowned at the axe; the blow was careless that dealt this damage. Even in the heat of battle he should have seen and avoided the orc's iron collar.

He was pleasantly conscious of Legolas's eyes on him as he selected the oil and his coarsest whetstone from his kit. The elf had not left his company since they had been reunited after the battle, as if he feared orcs would snatch him away in a moment's inattention. Or perhaps he though Gimli's trifling head-wound was more serious than it was. Either way, his attention was comforting, like a warm cloak on a cold winter's day.