Disclaimer: I donÂ’t own a reality show, yacht, or llama. I also donÂ’t own the characters.

“Hello there, TV viewers!” Loslote said into the camera. “Welcome back to Double Take! Today the contestants will face their first challenges.”

Loslote turned to the yawning contestants. “First team: Haldir and Butterbur!”

Loslote led the two contestants to the first of six curtained windows. The curtain opened, revealing the woods of Lothlorien.

“Haldir, in the Lord of the Rings, you guided the Fellowship, blindfolded, through the woods of Lothlorien. Butterbur, you delivered Bree beer to them. Today, Haldir will guide Butterbur, blindfolded, through the woods to Caras Galadon to deliver a pint of Bree’s best!”

Ellen blindfolded Butterbur.

“You have thirty seconds,” Loslote said. “And… go!”

“What?” Haldir yelped.

“Where is it?” Butterbur asked.

“Left!” Haldir said.

Butterbur turned and hit a tree.

“My left, not yours!” Haldir said.

“Now where?”

“Just walk toward my voice.”

“There’s an echo!”

“Ten seconds…”

“GO FORWARD!”

Butterbur took a few steps.

“Faster! RUN!”

“And… time,” Loslote said.

“Arg!” Haldir moaned.

“…arg?” Ellen asked.

“What, is Legolas the only one allowed to be a pirate?”

“Haldir and Butterbur, you did not accomplish your task within the time limit,” Loslote said. “You may go sit down.”

Butterbur looked around. “Is that it?”

“Eowyn and Faramir: in the Lord of the Rings, you both rushed to the defense of Minas Tirith. Faramir, you battled the Black Breath, and Eowyn, you disguised yourself as the opposite sex and thus foiled the Ringwraith. Today, your roles will be switched. Bartholomew, please help Faramir get ready.”

“Now, Eowyn, your task is to reach Minas Tirith in thirty seconds. You will be provided a steed.”

“Is that all? I am of the House of Eorl. Though I am a woman, I can ride and wield blade. I do not fear your silly task.”

Eowyn mounted and spurred the horse into a canter, heading for a large, handwritten sign in shrinking letters: ‘Osgilly-ath.’

“I am not wearing this,” Faramir said, reappearing on stage. “These petticoats are ridiculous!”

“Was I unclear?” Loslote asked. “Eowyn stood up to the Ringwraith as the opposite sex. Surely you can do the same?”

“Nice brassiere, Faramira!” called Gandalf.

Faramir turned a cold eye on the wizard.

“Never mind, Faramir.” Loslote turned and called across the stage. “Eowyn, are you ready? Good. Then you both have thirty seconds. Go.” Quickly, she and Ellen pulled on gas masks.

Eowyn kicked her horse, urging it forward, but almost immediately, she stopped. “Ack! What is that?!” The horse, too, seemed disconcerted.

“The Black Breath.”

“It reeks!”

“Well, we couldnÂ’t get real black breath. We had to have Bartholomew eat a great deal of garlic…”

Eowyn’s horse collapsed. Eowyn was holding her nose as she spoke in a nasal voice. “I think it’s dead!”

Across the stage, Faramir gaped. “What in Eru’s name is that?”

“That’s the winged creature that we got to play the Nazgúl.”

“It’s yellow. And fluffy.”

“But big.”

The bird, for it was a bird, was six feet tall, with a mighty wingspan and striped legs. Faramir shook his head and charged, but the bird laughed at him and began to sing:

“Sunny day. Keeping the
clouds away. On my way
to where the air is sweet!”

Faramir screamed. “MAKE IT STOP!!” He crumpled into a ball.

“Can you tell me how to get
how to get to Sesame Street?”

“Ten seconds…”

“I’m a celebrity!” Faramir yelled. “Get me out of here!”

Eowyn, on the far side of the stage, was attempting to pull the horse through the stink.

“Two… one… and time. Neither member completed the task. Thank you, Big Bird. Tell Elmo hug, hug, kiss kiss.”

“I sure will!”

“Moving on, Team Three. Glorfindel and Arwen — please come up here.”

Glorfindel dejectedly followed Arwen, who grinned at the live studio audience.

“Glorfindel, in Book One of the Fellowship of the Ring, you discovered Aragorn and the hobbits and rescued Frodo by putting him on Asfaloth. So doing, you sent him ahead to Rivendell. But in the movie version, Arwen rescued Frodo and rode with him.”

Loslote pulled back the curtain to reveal the road to the Ford through the woods of Trollshaw. The white horse Asfaloth stood waiting.

“Glorfindel, you must try to stop Arwen from riding off with Frodo and send him alone to the Ford. Arwen, you must try to get on the horse and ride with Frodo to the Ford. Where’s Frodo? We need him.” Loslote, frowning, looked around. “Props!”

“Can I use my sword?” Glorfindel asked.

“No.”

“Arrow?”

“No. Put down that big stick.”

Ellen dropped Frodo onto Asfaloth. Frodo said, “I’m in this challenge? You didn’t say anything about –”

“Oh, it’s so on, dude,” Arwen said, rolling up her sleeves.

“Hey, what’s this I have in my pocket?” Glorfindel pulled out something small and round. “Blistex!” He doctored his chapped lips.

“You have thirty seconds. And go.”

“I’ve got it!” Glorfindel said as he lunged for Frodo, shoving Arwen back.

“What are you doing?” Frodo said. “Get off me!”

“I’m rubbing Blistex on you so Arwen can’t hold on,” Glorfindel said.

Arwen made another attempt but fell back, sucking a finger. “Oh, no! I broke a nail.”

“Give me the halfling, she-elf!”

“I need athelas!” Frodo moaned. “Someone get Eric!”

“Oh yeah?” Arwen said, forgetting her finger. “Come and claim him!”

But Glorfindel only laughed and slapped Asfaloth. “Noro lim, Asfaloth! Noro lim!”

Arwen made a terrific leap for the horse’s flank and somehow held on as Frodo fell off. Arwen, laughing, yelled, “Take that Glor—” Then she, too, bounced off the back. She landed on her stomach. “Oof.”

“And… time.”

Pippin looked up. “I think Frodo’s dead.”

“He was on when I dispatched Asfaloth!” Glorfindel said, panting. “That counts.”

Loslote shook her head. “I’m afraid neither contestant got Frodo past the Ford. Take a seat. Oh, shut up, Arwen! At least you’re conscious.” She made a circling motion with a finger. “Next task – Gandalf and Legolas.”

Legolas and Gandalf walked to the fourth curtained window, which opened to reveal the top of Caradhras.

“Gandalf, while attempting to lead the Fellowship over Caradhras, you started a fire using only your staff. Legolas, you walked on snow all the way down the mountain. In this task, your roles will be switched. Gandalf, you must make it down the mountain wearing these.”

“These snowshoes are made of lead,” Gandalf protested.

“Legolas, you must start a fire using this stick. You have thirty seconds. And… go!”

Gandalf started hopping down the mountain.

“Try lifting your feet,” Legolas suggested.

“I can’t,” Gandalf said. “They sink!”

“Then don’t put them down,” Legolas said, rolling his eyes. “Ooh, and try not to fall.”

“Ya don’t say!”

“You’re not going to make it at this rate.”

“You’re a fine one to talk! You haven’t even started on your fire!”

“The stick is still wet,” Legolas said, licking the popsicle. “Interesting technique. Is that supposed to be sledding, or did you fall again?”

A protest came out of the snowbank.

“I think he fell. Is this cherry or strawberry? It’s very good.”

“Actually,” Loslote said, “It’s watermelon. And time.”

“I think I burst my spleen,” Gandalf moaned.

“Sadly, neither contestant finished his task, though Gandalf only had three feet to go. Time for Team Five – Frodo and Pippin.”

Frodo and Pippin stepped forward.

“Are you okay?” Loslote asked Frodo. “You look a little sick.”

“Him?” Pippin waved his hand. “He’s fine. He always looks like that.”

“Alright then.” The fifth curtain was swept aside to reveal the cavern inside Orodruin and the chasm into which Gollum fell. “The two of you have a very simple task — one that will be familiar to you, Frodo.” Loslote held up a ring. “All you need to do is remove this ring from Frodo’s finger and throw it into the chasm.” She shoved it on Frodo’s finger. Frodo looked sicker.

“That’s it?” Pippin asked, scratching his head.

“That’s it. And go.”

“Toss it in, then,” Pippin said.

“It’s stuck.”

“What? Let me see.”

“There’s some kind of adhesive on it.”

“Huh.” Pippin scratched his head. “Pull harder.”

“I can’t get a grip.”

“Try sweating less. You’re all shiny.”

“That’s not sweat, it’s Blistex.”

“You should try using that on your lips. They’re chapped.”

“Never mind. I can’t get it off.” Frodo was balancing on his tailbone, trying to pry the ring off with his feet.

“I see that.”

“Ten seconds,” Loslote said.

“Help me!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Bite it off.”

“Your finger?”

“The ring!”

Pippin made a face. “What have you touched with that finger lately?”

Loslote said, “Time.”

Frodo looked up. “How am I supposed to get this off?”

“Here.” Loslote pulled out a container of Blistex and rubbed it on his finger. “You were on the right track the first time. See how it slides off?”

“Yes, I see,” Frodo said grimly.

“Now, go take a seat while we bring out our final contestant: Tom Bombadil, in the Fellowship of the Ring, you serenaded Old Man Willow. Today, you must serenade the judges of America’s Got Talent.”

Loslote pulled back the sixth curtain. “And… go!”

Tom Bombadil stepped on stage with a hop and a bound.

“Hello,” Sharon said, clearly surprised. “And how old are you?”

“Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first acorn. He knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless, before the Dark Lord came from Outside.”

“Interesting,” Sharon said. “And where are you from?”

“I live in the Old Forest.”

Piers leaned across Sharon. “Is that in America?”

“Near Tennessee,” David replied.

“And what are you going to be doing for us today?” Sharon asked Tom.

“I’ll be singing.”

“The stage is yours,” Sharon said.

Tom started to sing.

Hey dol! merrry dol! ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong!
Rolling his eyes, Piers buzzed in.
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!

With a sarcastic look, David hit his buzzer.

Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!
Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.
Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight—

Sharon, looking sad, pressed her button.

“What was that?” Piers asked. “Hey dol, merry dol? What language was that in?”

“And the blue coat, yellow boots thing — it’s not working for me,” Sharon said. “Maybe black leather pants? I don’t know. You’re such a big fellow.”

“Let’s vote,” David said. “No.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Tom,” Sharon said sadly. “It’s a no from me as well.”

“And that’s bad news for you, Tom,” Loslote said, “because your challenge had a catch. Not only have you failed your audition for America’s Got Talent, you’ve been executed from Double Take, as well.”

“It’s no trouble to Tom — he hates to leave his country. Tom has his house to mind, and Goldberry is waiting.”

“Poor fellow,” Sharon was commenting. “No talent at all.”

Loslote smiled into the camera. “Join us next week for the eliminations and the final challenge! Don’t forget to vote for your favorite from each team.
Team 1: Haldir or Butterbur
Team 2: Eowyn or Faramir
Team 3: Glorfindel or Arwen
Team 4: Legolas or Gandalf
Team 5: Frodo or Pippin
The contestant with the most votes moves on to the final challenge. Don’t let your favorites down!”

A/N: Seriously, VOTE! Submit a review and vote for your favorite five. If you vote by August 15th, I will take your votes into consideration in the final chapter. THANKS!