The company spent many days in the good House of Elrond, for Elrond’s house was perfect, whether you like singing, or reading, or eating, or detailing your new vehicle in preparation for a major road trip.
The party took their leave of Elrond, and began their long journey, their mission: revehent the One Ring. They packed their supplies in the back of the bus, and made Pippin go before they left, because the next rest stop was several hours away. They took a full iPod, loaded with audio recordings of all the great poetry, The Tale of Beren and Lúthien, The Children of Húrin, and of the Valar.
The vehicle rumbled down the road toward unimaginable dangers, and the darkness of Mount Doom. As the bus cleared the outer border of Rivendale, Sam called out: “Wait! I forgot the rope! We’ve got to go back!”
And return they did.
A few hours later, already weary of the landscape rushing past them, Merry called out, “Hey, everyone, it’s a Flying J! Can we stop? We’re totally out of Cool Ranch Doritos, and Pippin ate all the Sun Chips, and I don’t feel so good. I think I’m car sick.”
“I did not! That was, um, that was Strider! Have you ever seen how much he can eat?” Pippin’s case would’ve likely been more credible without the empty bags littering the floor under his seat.
“HOBBITS! Don’t make me have to pull this vehicle over! We can’t stop yet, we need to make The Misty Mountains before dark! You know what they’re like. I want to make sure we have shoulder room to put the chains on the bus if the roads are icy!” Gandalf looked dangerous when he yelled like that, and the bus grew silent.
The next day, the journey over the mountain pass was treacherous, but, Aragorn deftly navigated the hairpin turns, and brought them to into the land beyond. “The next rest stop is in Lothlórien, and they don’t have bus parking close to the restrooms. We’ll have to park and hike in to sleep for the night. Also, Galadriel hates buses. She finds then tacky and obscene gas-guzzlers. She won’t go near anything with four-wheels, unless it gets 50 miles to the gallon, and has satellite radio and a GPS. You know how the elves are. Pretentious lot.”
Legolas glowered, but, his face, still puffy from the Botox, did not change.
The party continued to grow restless, getting touchy at the slightest provocation.
“Gandalf! Merry is sitting on my side of the seat! And he’s smelling my air, and sniffing it back on me!” Pippin whined a mere day out of Lorien. Eventually, everyone took to sitting on their own bench seat, spread out through the vehicle. Boromir kept twitching his head toward Frodo.
“Keep your eyes off, you pervy Hobbit fancier!” yelled Sam. The group lapsed into silence.
One day, as they got to the mouth of the great river, they stopped for a picnic. They watched the motorcycling Riders of Rohan knocking some Orc heads, but, they encountered no opposition, and sped past armies of Orcs.
Finding the delivery entrance to Mordor, they drove in, sauntered up Mount Doom, dropped the Ring, and toured a few sights. Merely a week after they started on their quest, they were done. All that was left, was to take a few snapshots, buy some postcards, and head home.
All agreed that this was probably the most boring quest in the history of Middle Earth.
revehent ( REV – eh – hint ) verb. Latin carrying back.
A straight-forward word origin, from the Latin "re" plus "veho," which means "carry, bear or convey back."
And, before you ask, no, I didn't. When I had the idea of giving the heroes cars, it never occurred to me that the villains might have cars, too. I simply always imagined they trucked the thing to Mordor, and dropped it off after a few days driving, no muss, no fuss.