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Title: Eternal

Author:Nienna100

Rating: M

Obligatory linkage: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4682545/1/Eternal

Sporkage by: [livejournal.com profile] agenttrojie and [livejournal.com profile] tea_fiend

Sporking rated: R, though we feel we have done a heroic job at removing all the smut from what was essentially a series of loosely connected gratuitous sex scenes.

Sporkers' notes: Trojie and Pads have a romp, or more accurately a killing spree, through Rivendell in pursuit of a nymphomaniacal, alcoholic, underage Aragorn. Beta-d by the wonderful, spiffy [livejournal.com profile] sedri (yes, we still suck at remembering to credit our betas).





November HST



Deep within the bowels of HQ, a bed full of animals and Agents slept peacefully. Agent Trojanhorse rolled over and snuggled down further under the pile of companions - two dogs (one black, one green), a mini-Chimera, and a cat (which had grudgingly chosen warmth over aloofness). It was a peaceful scene, only marred by the various snufflings, snortings, snorings and short bubbling noises made by the occupants of the bed.

Until:

[BEEEEEPBLOODYBUGGERINGBASTARDSMEGGINGCHRISTONABIKEBEEEPBEEPFRAKKINGBEEEEEEEP!]

'Gah!' Trojie shot bolt upright, or tried to. There was a large portion of black fluff over most of her abdomen and a wing in her face. Fighting the panic reflex, she eased herself out from under her slumbering menagerie and wove her way unsteadily to the console. Behind her, a soft, organic noise indicated that her partner had ceased to be black and fluffy and was instead human shaped once more. She wandered over to where Trojie was myopically peering at the console and handed her her glasses.

'Looking for these?' the Animagus asked. Trojie grabbed them and jammed them on her face, not paying attention.

'Mmhmm. Oh, Christ, would you look at th- WHAT are you doing?' She froze, Pads's arm halfway round her shoulder and baby bump contacting her hip.

'I'm being friendly?'

'You can be friendly without being tactile. Shove off.'

'That's not what you said when I was being a fluffy adorable hot water bottle.'

'My judgement was impaired by badfic, and I was asleep.'

'I think you're succumbing to my charms.'

'I may be a dog-lover, but not in that sense. Hands off, and look at this fic. It's dreadful.'

Pads obediently cast her eye over the first few paragraphs.

'It's different, I'll give you that. Normally it's Elves that go for the whoring, not Aragorn.'

'There's nothing normal about it.'

'Could be worse,' Pads said with a shrug. 'At least it's all consensual. And no one gets knocked up.'

'Yes, but it's got far more than its fair share of horribly graphic.'

'This is the DBS. Come on, get the Bag.'

Grumbling, Trojie picked up the Bag and peered inside, making sure that all the usual supplies were in place. 'We're going to need more gaffer tape soon, you know,' she said, 'what with Lux pinching all ours the other day. We have shitloads of canons to neuralyse today, too.'

'Yes, yes, we'll go to the General Store afterwards. Come on.'

Trojie eyed her expanding partner before opening a portal that seemed slightly larger than normal. 'You're getting on the large side, missus,' the veteran said, chivvying her partner through. 'This'll probably be your last mission until Sproglet arrives.'

'Says you. I expect the Console will have other ideas. Anyway, I'm not sitting around doing nothing for the next two months.'

'I'm sure you can find something to do. Like ironing your uniform, or eating spinach, or trying to work out exactly how many Quantum Weather Butterflies we have now. And if the Console brings up more missions, I'll go on my own, or take young Oscar. Or even Lux, if I have to.'

'Bugger that. You can't go haring off into continua without me. Anything could happen!'

'Yes, like you giving birth prematurely with only me to help deliver the son of the two finest tennis players in the Real World. Great plan. My expertise usually only covers male reproductive organs, as I'm sure you're aware. And they very seldom disgorge babies.' Trojie thought about their last few missions and corrected herself. 'I mean, they very seldom disgorge babies in the natural course of things.'

'We can give you some practice with ladybits, you know,' said Pads hopefully, anticipating the half-hearted smack and ducking.

'It is not going to come to that. Come on, there's some sort of flashback occurring.'

Pads turned obediently, just in time for the spatial distortion. She grimaced, and clutched her stomach. 'Urgh.'

They found themselves in an ill-defined Generic Location. All they could really make out were two figures entwined with one another.

'I spy an Aragorn,' Pads said, rubbing her churning stomach. 'Who's this Elf he's having his way with?'

'Lindir,' Trojie told her. 'So the author's clearly read the books. Which means she's got no excuse for writing a fic set in the Happy AU Where All Elves are Gay.'

The agents watched silently a while, the only sounds the scratching of Trojie's pen on the chargelist, and the whimpers and moans of two canons having extremely graphic sex.

'He's very good at this, isn't he?' Pads ventured eventually.

'Considering it's his first time, yes. Charging for that, and for continually referring to Lindir as a man.'

"Oh oh oh ai Elbereth," Aragorn exclaimed.

'Somehow I don't think Elbereth's going to want her attention calling to this.'

'True. Although Elrond's healing skills may be necessary,' Trojie conceded, noting the "sparks" that "flooded" through Aragorn. 'That looks slightly painful.'

Aragorn appeared to disagree, and so Lindir proceeded to roger him thoroughly. Ejaculation eventually occurred, and Lindir, in a most gentlemanly and chivalrous display, immediately rolled over and fell asleep. And began snoring.

'Well,' Pads said, eyeing the canons. Aragorn didn't appear to be sleeping, and shortly, with a disgruntled sigh, he left the Undefined Space. 'Wasn't that a lovely way to spend an evening?'

'If by lovely you mean tedious, graphic, implausible and badly-lubricated, yes. Come on, get some candles out and let's get this poor chap exorcised.'

Trojie took her bell out and threw the Bag at Pads, who proceeded to extricate candles and lighter from its depths and indulge her fascination with fire.

'Avaunt, bad slash wraith! I banish completely uncanonical nymphomaniacal behaviour!'

As that had been Lindir's wraith's cardinal sin, the thing started to give up its possession of him quite quickly after that. Trojie stretched and held out her hand for the Bag, which Pads had been packing the candles back into.

'I feel that the candles were in fact slightly overkill for this one,' said the Animagus as she handed the Bag over.

'It's all this training of Oscar,' said Trojie. 'It's making us do things properly again. I don't half wonder if the Lace was being deliberate with that.'

'What d'you mean, again? Your attitude to standard procedure's always been on the lackadaisical side.'

'I get the canons exorcised and stitched up, don't I?' Trojie muttered, crossing her arms defensively. 'And I never grope them, unlike certain people I could name.'

'Point,' Pads conceded. 'Shall we go find the Aragorn-whore then?'

Searching of the Undefined Space was undertaken, and Aragorn eventually located. He was snuggled in a bed with Legolas, who was currently trying to offer reassurance about Lindir's post-coital nap.

Listening to the Generic Comforting Twaddle that Legolas was spouting, it became obvious that Legolas was doing the 'patient, comforting friend' act in order to one day be in a position to leap into bed with Aragorn himself.

Pads squinted at the Words. 'Um, charge for paedophilia,' she said after a little while.

Trojie dutifully noted it on the list. 'Why?'

'Apparently Aragorn is fourteen.'

'Argh.'

'My thoughts exactly.'

Aragorn then left Legolas's bed in order to go back to Lindir, apparently, but the complete lack of scene change, cut, or even space between paragraphs meant that he immediately fell back through the door with Glorfindel. As a room change hadn't been specified, they were still in Legolas's bedroom.

As the Agents watched, Legolas popped out of existence, presumably moved to a more suitable, and less traumatic, location, and Glorfindel and Aragorn proceeded to get down to business, completely unaware that they were being watched by two scowling women in black, one of whom was gripping a bell in a disquieting manner.

The canons remained unaware of the agents throughout their implausible and pointless sex scene. Neither appeared to notice Aragorn's penis suddenly stretching and bending to such a degree that it made contact with his own spine. Glorfindel's eyes turning briefly into molten metal was similarly ignored.

'I hope you're noting all these,' Pads said, stroking her belly absently and looking faintly nauseous. 'Because I refuse to believe the actual canons would fail to notice such horrible breaches of the laws of biology.'

'Of course,' Trojie said, jotting down notes. 'Also charging for uncanonical stars going nova right in front of Aragorn's face and yet somehow failing to blind him. Oh, and for creating stars that are so small you can fit quite a few of them in someone's bedroom, which is breaking too many laws of physics for me to count.'

'How many are there, anyway?' asked Pads. 'Is this the stuff about every action having an equal and opposite reaction? Like, a Sue punches Jack Sparrow and so an Assassin kills her?'

'Something like that,' said Trojie distractedly, paying more attention to Aragorn, who had suddenly floated up into the air, physically and onto a plane above the earth. Glorfindel was still intimately attached to him at this point, making the sight ... interesting.

'Laws of physics again?' asked Pads sympathetically as Trojie started writing even more furiously.

'That or the canons have been replaced with Stretch Armstrong dolls. Also, planes in Middle Earth?'

'Not entirely canonical,' Pads conceded, watching the miniature aircraft zooming about over their heads, before it suddenly disappeared. 'And speaking of Canon, it's taking things rather literally today, isn't it?' she added, as Glorfindel ceased his violation of the juvenile heir of Elendil briefly in order to pass wind into his bottom. A moment later the Elf screamed.

'Um?'

'An orgasmic scream, apparently. Which seems a little unlikely, what with the Elves' total lack of sex drive.'

After a moment, the canons fell asleep, and Trojie advanced on Glorfindel, bell raised high.

***

'These scene breaks are not doing my stomach any good,' Pads complained, picking herself up from the undefined floor and clutching at herself.

'Hence my reasoning that this'll be your last mission for a while,' said Trojie. 'Unless we only get Mpregs until you deliver, of course. What with Mpregs magically looking after any and all sprogs therein.'

'Glod save me, I don't want two month's worth of Mpreg missions,' said Pads prayerfully. 'It'd drive me starkers.'

'Yes, and you might traumatise little Oscar,' said Trojie sagely.

'Nah, Kermit's tough, he can take it.'

'No-one can take you ripping throats out constantly,' said Trojie.

'You can.'

'I'm a special case,' Trojie admitted. 'And anyway, there is something strangely- buggeration!' This last was directed at the fic, which had once again thrown them without warning into another scene. 'What did we miss?'

'Aragorn limping,' Pads complained. 'Because Glorfindel's been giving him a good seeing-to on a regular basis.'

'Smashing,' Trojie spat. 'Remember what Doc Fitz said?'

'About us being tough as old boots and not at all squeamish and incidentally also taking that course on fixing up dube-lube jobs?'

'I suspect the multiverse has a crash course planned for us.' Trojie glowered at the canons momentarily, then frowned. 'Who's this naked Elven lady, and why the hell is Aragorn violating her?'

'She looks like she's enjoying it,' said Pads judiciously. 'So I dunno if 'violating' is the right word ...'

'Well, he's doing something, very vigorously,' said Trojie. 'And it's het. Am I allowed to complain?'

'Why?'

'It throws me off,' said Trojie. 'Het does, I mean. Haven't actually dealt with any non-Sue het smut for ...' She squinted at the ceiling and counted silently. 'A ... long time?' she hazarded.

'Well, you're going to have to deal with it. What are we going to do with 'Tamair', by the way? Kill or recruit?'

'If we recruit then I have to recognise her existence, which means recognising the existence of het, which means sitting through this scene and actually paying attention. So kill, I'm thinking. Keep an eye on the Words, there's a dear.'

Pads raised an eyebrow at the endearment, but Trojie was no longer paying attention. She turned her back to Legolas and the OC, closed her eyes, inserted a finger into each ear, and began humming Jerusalem softly.

'Bloody great wuss,' Pads muttered, and leaned back against the wall, hands folded over Spencer, watching the scene unfold with her lip curled in a sneer of distaste.

Gratuitous pornography ensued.

After a while, Pads reached over and smacked Trojie upside the head until the humming ceased and the fingers were removed.

'What? Is it over? Are we back to inappropriate m/m Elven lusts?' Trojie turned around. She scowled. 'It's not done.'

'No, I just thought you'd appreciate a piece of unequivocal evidence that the Author was typing one-handed,' said Pads, as the POV shifted from third-person to first, as someone noted that 'Her moaning had my blood racing', and back again.

Trojie glared. 'Just tell me when it's over.' The off-key rendition of Jerusalem continued until the obligatory clichéd almost-simultaneous orgasm.

'Okay, it's done,' said Pads, yanking Trojie's fingers out of her ears. 'Now there's just a bit of mindless angst as Legolas walks in on the aftermath.'

Sure enough, Legolas chose that moment to open the door and peer in horror at the entangled forms on the bed. A moment later the door shut.

'Should we follow him?'

'He's only going to wangst. And make it clear that he's waiting around and being a brilliant mate while Aragorn whores his way round the entirety of the Free Peoples, so that Aragorn will eventually notice how wonderfully loyal and dedicated he is, and thus, presumably, what a worthy shag he'll be.'

'That'd be a no then?'

'Yep. Anyway, we've got killing to do.'

'You've got killing to do,' Trojie corrected, as Pads went dog and leapt for the OC's throat. 'And it's a bloody good thing this Aragorn's got less observational powers than a headless chicken in a box.'

The only response from Pads was a muffled snuffling, and then a sickening crunch of bone.

***

'I sincerely hope that Elrond's gardeners don't dig too deep under that cypress,' said Trojie a little while later, as the Agents strolled out towards some undefined shrubby wasteland with tents pitched on it. 'You have got to get better at burying bodies.'

'You could have helped, you know,' said Pads, rearranging her maternity uniform and wiping her mouth. 'I don't believe you for a second that there's no shovel in that Bag.'

'Oh, look, Aragorn's getting a blowjob,' said Trojie innocently as they approached the copse. 'From some kid who doesn't want to be touched in return and refuses to display any affection or interest in anything other than practicing his l337 oral skillz, apparently.'

'Not just some kid,' Pads observed. 'One of the Dúnedain, apparently. Were they canonically in favour of gratuitous man-love?'

'If they were, Tolkien certainly never mentioned it. And I'm willing to bet he wouldn't have been in favour of the Middle-Earth Man/Boy Love Association.'

'Has Aragorn grown then?' Pads asked, peering suspiciously at him. 'He still looks a bit fourteen to me. Which is worrying, since this poor half-choked lad is described as the younger man.'

'He's also described as the young Dúnedan,' Trojie pointed out. 'Which I am sure is not a word.'

'Well, they appear to be finishing up now, at least,' said Pads, squinting at the pair judiciously. 'Aragorn's going to try and reciprocate, and then hold hands, and be rebuffed both times, I suspect so that the Author doesn't have to try and rationalise why a random kid would want to get all keen on his cock-flavoured lollipop, and then he's going to walk away. At which point I suspect I'm getting another mouthful of larynx, right?'

'Right. And you can dig a deeper hole this time,' said Trojie, watching Aragorn walk away and hearing the quiet and yet disturbingly organic noise of her partner shape-shifting. And then the louder and quite a bit more disturbing and organic noise of the latest OC losing his Adam's apple.

While Pads buried the latest victim of her killing spree, Trojie followed Aragorn into a tent containing an angsty Legolas, just in time for a scene shift, a time-shift and a location-shift all at once.

Pads made a series of noises indicative of a severe stomach upset. Trojie, meanwhile, slumped to the floor, head in hands.

'What is it?' Pads asked, when her stomach had stopped playing up. Trojie merely pointed, to where Aragorn was hanging naked, by his wrists, and being whipped, by Erestor.

Fortunately, it wasn't long before Aragorn, after some internal angsting about the horribly abusive relationship he'd managed to find himself in, begged for mercy. Despite his total lack of using a safe word, Erestor desisted his assault, and went to hug Aragorn. Trojie whimpered.

'This is not how d/s relationships work!' she complained.

'Look on the bright side,' Pads said. 'Aragorn's dumping him.'

As soon as the breaking up was completed, Aragorn once more took his leave. This time, when Trojie whipped out her bell and aimed for the canon's head, it was with a look of malevolent glee on her face. Erestor went down after just one hearty thwack to the back of the head.

'Avaunt, inaccurate dom/sub! Avaunt, woobiefication!' As the wraith oozed out of the poor Elf, Trojie turned to Pads and said, 'Is it just me, or is a woobiefied dom a really weird idea?'

'Yep,' said Pads as Trojie waved her hand through the minor wraith and turned to the door. 'Are we moving on again?'

'He angsts a bit and then moves on to the Twins,' said Trojie. 'And that's the last one before he finally turns to Ol' Yeller- I mean, Legolas.' She coughed. 'So, nearly done!'

They followed Aragorn out, past Legolas's door, where he hesitated and angsted for a bit about how unnatural he was to want to snuggle with an Elf in public at the age of fourteen, before heading to the great outdoors, where, apparently, Erestor would never even think to look for him, and where he would definitely find somewhere warm and comfy to sleep.

'I know Aragorn has mad Ranger skillz,' said Pads, carefully enunciating the z, 'but surely even to him, it's cold outside at night? Rivendell's hardly tropical.'

'Noted,' said Trojie, adding it to the charge list. 'Oh, flashforward coming up,' she added.

'Are we charging for those?'

'Yes, because they're really not making a great deal of sense. For example: They were not bad memories, indeed, if Aragorn remembered correctly they were very pleasurable memories and had enabled him to have the optimum pleasure with Legolas each time..'

'...So it's possible that they're actually horrible memories of horrible experiences, but he's just really good at repression.'

'And repression doesn't tend to lend to amazing sex. So I'm calling it a charge.'

'Can we also please charge for the diversity of his fourteen year old shags with people hundreds of years his senior being described as surprising?'

'I suppose,' Trojie said, as they were jerked without warning into the next scene, in which the walls of the Generic Space appeared to be drunk. 'It's not even terribly diverse, really. One human boy, one Elven woman, lots of Elven blokes. Where's the Orcs? The Istari? What about, Glod forbid, Gollum?'

'Revolting as the thought is, I think I'd prefer it to this twincestuous paedophilia,' Pads sniffed, indicating the scene before them.

'Why,' said Trojie sadly, 'do I never get to see the Twins even vaguely close to in character? They're always just minor bit players in someone's orgytastic wet dream.'

'Because you're in Bad Slash,' said Pads, rolling her eyes. 'How many times do I have to say it?'

Trojie poked her tongue out at her partner and turned back to Aragorn in the arms of his foster-brothers. All of a sudden, clouds gathered and there was a sharp CRACK! as a bolt of lightning rent the air. Aragorn sagged.

'I really hate the storm metaphor orgasms,' said Pads, wringing out her hair as Trojie scrabbled in the Bag for a raincoat or an umbrella or, at a pinch, a tarpaulin. 'Shall we just step outside until he leaves?'

'Can you think of something to pass the time? Apparently they keep doing this for a while.'

'I can think of plenty of things, but past experience had led me to believe they'll all result in a smack.'

'Not that kind of thing,' said Trojie, without rancour. 'I was thinking more like chess?'

'Have you got a chess set?'

'Somewhere.' The veteran held up the Bag. 'At least, I had one three years ago.'

'In that case, do you have a pick and a miner's lamp? You're going to need it, to get through three years of junk.'

'It's not that bad!'

Twenty minutes passed. Trojie tugged three times on the rope she'd tied around her waist, and Pads hauled her back towards the distant circle of light that was the mouth of the Bag, past the strata of debris accumulated during an eventful working life in the PPC.

'Any luck?'

Trojie emptied her pockets. 'Well, I found this badger skull, and a rather interesting set of Suvian panpipes - look, they've got glitter on - and some guitar strings I didn't know I had, and these...' A handful of rocks joined the pile. 'But no chess set. They still at it?'

Pads put her hand to her ear and leaned melodramatically towards the door. Loud noises of debauchery assailed their ears. 'In a word, yes.'

Trojie looked at Pads. Pads looked at Trojie. Trojie was the first to break. 'Portal?' she asked weakly.

'I thought you'd never ask.'

***

'Well, this is different,' Trojie said, when they appeared in the final scene. 'Look, everyone's wearing clothes.'

'And Aragorn's sober.'

'Still fourteen though, I note.'

'And yet Legolas is quite used to him having horrible hangovers. Who's letting him get rat-arsed at fourteen? And where's he getting the booze from? It's not like he can go down the all-night garage with some fake ID and then spend the night drinking cheap cider on a street corner.'

'It's remotely possible the Elves let him indulge his alcoholism, I suppose,' Trojie said, but she didn't sound convinced.

'Bollocks. They're wise, remember? Wise means not letting children get slaughtered on a regular basis.'

Trojie frowned. 'You might want to watch it with the metaphors. You know what the canon's being like today.'

Pads shrugged. 'If the canon kills him it means I don't have to?'

'Don't tell me you're finally tiring of the taste of blood?'

'Oh, no, just getting tired. And the constant temporal/spatial distortions are making me nauseous.'

'That's it. This really is the last one for you. And I'm taking you to Medical when we get back, it's been yonks since you had a checkup.'

'Nooo!'

'It's no good fighting me, missus.'

'It never is,' said Pads, sighing. 'Fine. Shall we get this over with?'

'We've got to go back and get the Twins before we go for Aragorn and Legolas,' said Trojie. 'So it's once more unto the portal, etc etc, I'm afraid.'

Not quite girding their loins, but with a certain amount of long-suffering sighing, the two Agents went back and exorcised the Twins. It progressed much the same way as the earlier exorcisms - two charges (paedophilia and incest), and the wraith evacuated in a pissy manner. They then portalled back to where they'd left the action.

They hadn't missed much, just some smushy internal dialogue, an admission of incestuous debauchery on Aragorn's part, and declarations of undying love all round.

'You know, I'm sure fourteen's a little young to know you're going to be with someone for the rest of your life,' Trojie complained. 'Unless the Author is actually JKR, of course.'

'Can't be,' Pads said. 'Fourteen year old boys in HP aren't nearly so damned smushy. I should know, I used to be one.'

'When you were fourteen you were a boy?'

'Sometimes. Oh, no.'

'What?' Trojie asked. 'They're only snogging. It could be an awful lot worse.'

'And it very probably will be soon enough, what with that hangover Aragorn's sporting. Vomiting mid-snog is never recommended. And I can't help noticing he hasn't brushed his teeth since throwing up repeatedly.'

'Shall we prevent that from happening, then?' asked Trojie, pulling her bell out with relish.

'This is your favourite bit, isn't it?' said Pads, reaching for candles.

'Indubitably,' said Trojie, grinning and flourishing the bell. The pealing this produced alerted the canons to the presence of the Agents nicely. Trojie threw Pads a copy of The Return of the King and began her chanting as the Animagus smacked both characters soundly with the book.

'Avaunt, spirit of Bad Slash! I banish paedophilia! I banish nymphomania! In the name of TOLKIEN and the true nature of Canon I do conjure and bind correct characterisation to this 'verse! For what little good it might do, at least! By the power vested in me by the PPC and the Queen Anne's Lace, and in the gracious name of TOLKIEN, AVAUNT!'

The Wraith began to swirl upwards out of the confused canons. 'But it's a fun journey through their true love!' it wailed.

'Paedophilia is not true love. Whipping fourteen year olds is not true love. Nor is getting fourteen year olds stinking drunk before shagging them. Where I come from we call that statutory rape,' Pads muttered.

'Not that this travesty would have been much improved by Aragorn being of legal age,' Trojie pointed out, wafting her bell through the Wraith. It clanged in a very satisfying way. 'Avaunt, dammit!'

While Trojie persuaded the recalcitrant Wraith to let go its evil hold on the canons, Pads fished around in the Bag for the neuralyser. She found it and flourished it, and threw a pair of sunglasses to Trojie.

'I'd swear I felt something alive in there, by the way. Possibly your little mining expedition wasn't such a good idea.'

'Did it feel like a butterfly?' Trojie asked, shoving the sunglasses on.

'Not really. It was more sort of hairy. With legs.'

'How many?'

'I didn't stop to count!'

'Hmm. Could be that Niffler. I never worked out where that'd gone.'

'It's probably in hog's heaven in there, what with all the shiny stuff you've picked up. Anyway, let's get this over with,' said Pads, waving at the now very bemused canon characters, who were staring at the agents.

'Fine, fine,' muttered Trojie, removing her hand from the Bag, where it had been groping for the suspected Niffler.

FLASH.

'Aragorn son of Arathorn, otherwise known as Estel, and in fact not known as anything else right now because you're in hiding, you are fourteen. And thus not either a nymphomaniac or an alcoholic.'

'I... know?' the boy ventured, confused.

'Smashing.' Trojie turned her attention to Legolas. 'And as for you, you're not gay, you're not a paedophile, and you don't live in Rivendell-'

With a quiet pop, Legolas disappeared as the canon reverted.

While Aragorn quietly reassembled the last year or so of his life, Trojie and Pads wandered out into the corridor to open a portal.

'That was eventful,' said Pads.

'That was hectic,' corrected Trojie. 'It feels like we either exorcised or killed the entire population of Rivendell.'

They stepped back into... Medical.

'This isn't the RC!' said Pads, attempting to get back through the closing portal. Trojie grabbed her partner.

'No, it's not. Come on, time for a checkup.'

'Noooo!'
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