The Elven hall in Rivendell, normally a place of ancient wisdom and solemn council, was now disrupted by the presence of someone entirely out of place. The grand company gathered—elves, dwarves, humans, hobbits, and one irritable wizard—stared in disbelief at the figure standing before them. A modern-day teenager, her phone still clutched in one hand, waved the One Ring around with the ease of someone holding a keychain.
Dressed in her trendy sneakers, ripped jeans, and an ironic “Froyo Queen” hoodie, Tiffany (yes, her name was Tiffany) sighed dramatically.
“I mean, like, seriously? All this fuss over a stupid ring?” she groaned.
Aragorn’s hand gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white. “This is no mere trinket, child!” he growled. “It is the One Ring—Sauron’s ring!”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Tiffany interrupted, flipping her hair. “Big scary Dark Lord, ultimate power, yadda yadda.” She slipped the ring into her back pocket like it was spare change. “But like, don’t worry. I totally got this.”
Gimli the dwarf practically choked on his beard. “You?! A child? You can barely lift a hammer, let alone destroy the Dark Lord!”
“Um, excuse me? I have, like, killer arm strength from all my pilates classes,” Tiffany shot back, flexing her non-existent muscles.
Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin stood together in sullen silence, feeling the sting of irrelevance. They had once been the heart of this story, but now they were just background characters in Tiffany’s Instagram-worthy journey. Merry nudged Pippin, who grumbled, “I hate her already.”
“I was supposed to be the one to carry the ring,” Frodo muttered darkly.
“And look at her, wavin’ it around like it’s a prop in a reality show!” Sam added, glaring.
Elrond stood up, his brows furrowed with ancient authority. “The task of destroying the Ring is perilous beyond imagining! Only with great wisdom and strength—”
Tiffany cut him off with a bored yawn. “Ugh, so many speeches! Why don’t we just, like, call the giant Eagles? I bet I could totally convince them to fly me over Mount Doom. Easy-peasy.”
A shocked silence followed.
Gandalf, however, raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “The Eagles do not simply serve us when called,” he explained. “Their aid is not to be given lightly.”
“Hold up,” Tiffany said, pulling out her phone. “Let me text them.”
Within moments, the unmistakable sound of wings filled the air, and the giant Eagles descended upon Rivendell. Everyone gasped, but Tiffany casually walked up to one of the great birds, grinning.
“Heyyy, what’s up?” she said, giving it a friendly pat. “Would you, like, mind giving me a lift to Mount Doom? I know it’s super far, but it’d save so much time.”
The largest Eagle dipped its head. “For you, Chosen One,” it intoned gravely, “we shall make an exception. No one else is quite as… unique.”
Legolas stared in disbelief. “She… she can talk to Eagles?”
“She can summon them,” Boromir hissed, his face flushed with outrage. “This is an affront to everything we stand for!”
“And what does she have that we do not?” Gimli growled.
“A social media following,” Tiffany replied without missing a beat. “And amazing vibes.”
Elrond clutched his forehead, visibly regretting ever hosting this council. “This is… this is not how things are done…”
“Honestly, Elrond,” Gandalf interjected with a twinkle in his eye, “you underestimate her. Tiffany here has power even the Istari lack. She has… the power of confidence!”
Tiffany winked. “Yeah, Gandy gets it.”
The Eagles, growing impatient, flapped their enormous wings. “Shall we depart, oh greatest of all mortals?”
“Finally!” Tiffany hopped aboard. “Byeee, losers! Wish me luck!”
As the Eagles flew her swiftly toward Mount Doom, the remaining members of the Fellowship looked on in barely-contained fury.
“I should’ve stayed in the Shire,” Frodo muttered.
“Are we just gonna let this happen?” Merry asked, disbelief in his voice.
Aragorn drew his sword dramatically, only to put it away again, defeated. “I am the heir of Isildur, a Ranger, a warrior… and I feel like an NPC in my own story.”
But Tiffany was already soaring high above Middle-earth, her selfie stick held out to capture the epic moment. Below, the Nazgûl spotted her, shrieking as they circled in the air, ready to strike her down—until they saw her sparkling grin.
“You guys are, like, so cool,” she shouted down to them. “But I’ve got, like, a thing to do. Maybe we can hang out later?”
The Nazgûl exchanged confused looks before nodding in respect. “Her pluck is admirable,” the Witch-King admitted. “Shall we distract the Dark Lord while she does… whatever she’s doing?”
“Yeah, sure,” another Nazgûl agreed. “I was getting tired of just chasing hobbits anyway.”
Sauron’s Great Eye blazed atop Barad-dûr, searching desperately for the One Ring. But the Nazgûl, feeling suddenly inspired, began flying in loops around it, causing massive distractions and confusion. Sauron’s irritation grew, but no one bothered to tell him what was happening.
Within an hour, Tiffany was standing over the fiery chasm of Mount Doom, ring in hand.
“Time to wrap this up,” she said casually, tossing the One Ring into the fire like it was an afterthought. “That was easier than, like, getting concert tickets.”
The earth shook, Barad-dûr collapsed, and Sauron was obliterated. But all Tiffany cared about was getting a good angle for her victory post.
#RingGone #SavingMiddleEarth #SorryNotSorry
Back in Rivendell, the members of the Fellowship sat in bitter silence.
“I hate her,” Gimli grunted.
“We all hate her,” Boromir agreed.
“She’s… special,” Gandalf mused, puffing on his pipe with a wistful smile. “More powerful than any of us.”
The hobbits, united in their misery, nodded in unison.
And thus, Middle-earth was saved—not by courage, nor by valor, nor by the will of those who fought for it—but by the sheer, inexplicable might of a modern teenage girl with impeccable confidence and a killer Instagram feed.
The end.
Prompt was: Please write a parody of the meeting of the fellowship scene from LotR where this new contemporary teenager has been pulled from our modern world and is just better at everything than anyone else there. And she finds she can talk to the giant Eagles and they wouldn’t normally help, but since she is so special, they agree to just fly her to Mount Doom. And on the way all the Nazgul want to kill her but instead admire her pluck and distract Sauron as the makes her way there. This is a parody, so have all the other characters in the scene absolutely hate her for interfering — all except Gandalf, who praises her for being even more powerful than the Istari.
