#ringposting

*at the bridge of Khazad-Dûm:*

Gandalf: Illuvatar’s ass on a stick, I wish we had a Balrog-slayer right about now.

Frodo: Why, do you know one? There can’t possibly be that many left—

Gandalf: Glorfindel of Gondolin.

Frodo: Ok, but where could we find—

Gandalf: Back in Rivendell. He was the rocking elven twink with perfect hair next to me and Elrond. Picked you morons up when you had a bad spice trip using the ring. Uppity prick was the one who suggested we just chuck that ring into the ocean like it isn’t just going to pop back up in a few centuries down the line. That’s what happened last time, you know when Isildur—

Aragorn: When Isildur hocked the ring like it was a bag of gummies at Tesco?

Gandalf: Pretty much, yeah.

Frodo: Well, why isn’t the noble Glorfindel here anyway?

Gandalf: Cuz Elrond thought we wouldn’t need him on a stealth mission. Well, surprise, we kinda f****** need him! But noooooo, you guys tooootallyy don’t need a Balrog-slayer. Now it’s my ass on the line, and I didn’t put up with the the idiocies of men and half-wit hobbits for centuries just to go down like this in an abandoned dwarven realm haunted by orcs and cave trolls! Saruman’s out there smoking pot reenacting the first act of The Lorax, Radaghast is talking to the woodland beings like a Disney Princess, and I’m pretty sure the Two Blues are either dead or ghosting me, and I’m here left dealing with a f******* Balrog! Bollocks!

*Silence as the ominous footfalls of certain death approaches*

Gimli: I didn’t understand a word he just said right now.