Acceptance and Concession Speeches 

 

Most Ingenious Sacrifice of Clothing
—the unsubtle Art of the strip tease

Winner:  Wines, Vines, and Veils by Fennelseed

 

I am very honored to receive this award, and must thank you all for following me through so many violations of canon in this story.  Letting the Brandybucks become winemakers, giving the hobbits weird pagan fertility festivals, dressing them in nothing but flimsy scarves and grape leaves, putting eyeliner on Sam, using grapeseed oil in a way that Tolkien (hopefully) never dreamed of--why, I'm positively astonished so many of you forgave me for such changes.  Or, at least, I would be astonished, if this weren't a community where they think up awards like "Best Striptease".  I also wish to say that I'm fairly shocked, given how fabulous all the other writers are in this category, and you should be sure to go read their stories too.  Hey, even Tolkien stripped Frodo naked a time or two; so why shouldn't we?

 

 

Most Ingenious Sacrifice of Clothing
—the unsubtle Art of the strip tease

Runner-up:  Foolish Games by Bill the Pony

 

Accepted by Meriadoc Brandybuck

Thank you for once again stepping forward and honoring me as the runner-up in this most distinguished category!  Yes, "Foolish Games" is my one and only really outstanding story in the author's body of work, so I claim this award as my rightful and lawful property.  I keep telling her that including me as the handsome, irresistible romantic lead is what sets this story apart from her others and guarantees its status as her most popular and rewarded work.  She keeps refusing to listen and thus far, has failed to use me to my best effect in other ventures.

I'm sad to say that after three years of hard labor as a muse in the author's stable, my brilliant ideas are always snubbed and left idle, thoughtlessly and without care, even though it was MY idea to play spin the bottle which set my author on the road to fame.

Ungrateful woman. 

Clearly this is a dreadful and terrible state of affairs, but as I haven't been able to change it, I would like to thank each and every one of you, dear fans and readers, for your love and support.  They make it easier for me to face the endless days of neglect and sorrow and the constant rejection--

What's that, Pip?

More time for us to spend in bed shagging, you say?  She hasn't set us on fire or made us wait for years on end for satisfaction?  You won't reject me if I come to bed right now?

Er.  Thanks for the award, and I've got to be going now.

*runs*

 

 

Best Peep Show
—for those who get off on looking on

Winner:  Too Many Tooks, Part 3 by Mariole

The curtains part, to reveal Frodo standing behind a solid-wood lectern. He has a slightly stunned expression on his face.

Pippin scampers to the front of the stage, all cheek and smirk. He waves gaily.

“Hello, hello! Thank you very much for recognizing my dear cousin Frodo for his stupendous achievement. Frodo wishes to thank you, also—do you not, dear cousin?”

Frodo answers, slightly breathlessly, “Yes.”

Pippin grins. “Well, you can see that he’s quite shy, but I’m sure he feels the honor even more deeply than I do. Don’t you, Cousin Frodo?”

Frodo answers dazedly, “Yes. Oh, yes.”

Pippin shoots him a narrow look. “The fact is, you actually owe this honor to me, if you’ll recall. Had I not insisted upon your visiting Tookland, none of this would have happened.”

Frodo flexes his fingers on the edge of the lectern. “Yes.” *gasp* “Oh, oh yes.”

Pippin frowns at his cousin. “I say, Frodo, are you quite well?”

Frodo closes his eyes. His lips mouth, Yes.

“Well, if you are, will you please try to respond with some word other than `yes?’”

Frodo clutches the lectern harder. He makes a strangled noise that sounds suspiciously like, urgle.

Pippin taps his foot. “Well, I suppose `urgle’ is a variation from `yes,’ but it isn’t really a proper word, now—is it, Frodo?”

Frodo slumps over the lectern, breathing hard. He tenses, rolls back his head—then his face grows slack and his jaw loosens. He holds this pose for several seconds, panting lightly, before drooping against the lectern. His head falls forward with a mild thunk.

Pippin frowns. “Frodo?”

Frodo breathes heavily.

Frodo!

A ragged voice whispers, “Yes?”

“I think I’ve covered everything we wanted to say upon the subject, don’t you?”

Frodo mutters into his arms, “Oh, yes.”

“Then, come along.” Pippin shares an aggrieved look with the audience. “Really, I don’t know what gets into him at times. Thank you for listening, anyway.” Pippin makes a wry face at Frodo. “Say goodbye, Frodo.”

Frodo mumbles against the lectern, “Yes.”

Pippin rolls his eyes.

The curtains close.

 

 

Best Peep Show
—for those who get off on looking on

Runner-up:  A Strange Ghost Indeed by Fennelseed

 

(Sam and Frodo are accepting this award via satellite transmission. Let's turn to the monitor.)

Frodo:  Hello, is the microphone on?

Sam:  Testing, one, two--yes sir, it's on.  Go ahead.

Frodo:  Thank you, love.  Well, Samwise and I would just like to express our appreci--

Mariella:  Out of the way, both of you!  This is MY award!  *I* was the one looking on!  I, an original character--a caricature of a slasher--very nearly a Mary Sue--all the things the readers should hate--*I* saved this story, and earned it this award!

Frodo:  Well, it's only runner-up; it's not as if you were the absolute best onlooker ever.

Mariella:  Quiet, runt, or I'll throw another Sindarin grammar at your adorable head.  As I was saying, the art of the peep-show is one that requires great passion, great talent, great--

Sam:  Excuse me!  We were the ones performing, if you care to remember!

Mariella:  Oh, do YOU want to be flung at Frodo's head too?

Sam:  You do your worst, Miss!  I stood firm against a dirty great spider and I'll stand firm against a flimsy ghost like you!

Frodo:  Sam--look out--

Mariella:  Grrrrr!

*satellite transmission ends and monitor goes to static*
(Congrats to the winner!!)

 

 

Best Tongue-Twister
—need we explain?

Winner:  Truth Serum by Fennelseed

 

Ah, I like to think you guys are playing with words here.  For there is, as we all know, more than one way to use tongues and lips in an erotic manner; and I've always found speech to be one of the most effective.  So, though I still blush to read this story over again, I'm deeply grateful you appreciated the "dirty talk" enough to vote for it.  Or perhaps you were just thinking of the actual oral sex. Hey, whichever; I'm not picky.  Once again I stand in the company of incredible talents in my fellow nominees--as is the case with all the nominations--and I offer this trophy out to them to share in the triumph, for they all deserve it.

 

 

Best Tongue-Twister
—need we explain?

Runner-up:  An Unexpected Party by Bill the Pony

 

Accepted by Sam Gamgee

Well now, I reckon the best tongue twister I ever run across was "Theodore Oswaldtwistle, the thistle sifter, sifting a sack of thistles, thrust three thorns through the thick of his thumb."  But since that ain't hardly what you mean nohow, I reckon I'm more'n honored to accept this here runner-up award award.

I've got to say, though, it wasn't no hardship earnin' it.  Mr. Frodo, now, he's the most mouthwatering morsel I ever seen, and curlin' my tongue about it's one o' my favorite occupations.

Now that I think o' it, Mr. Bilbo always did say practice makes perfect.  So mayhap sayin' them other tongue-twisters made me a bit more nimble, like, so that I could do him a sight better justice for next year.  I reckon if that's true, I'd best be off, for as they say, lesser leather never weathered wetter weather better.  And me Gaffer wants me, for the boot black brought the black boot back.

*goes off, muttering 'What a shame such a shapely sash should such shabby stitches show.'*

 

 

Best Hobbitpile
—the more, the Merryer!

Winner:  It Was a Dark and Stormy Night... by Daffodil Bolger

 

See, now – where else can a person get an award for tangling up various sweaty limbs and making them contort to her whim?  Again, I must thank Lobelia Sackville-Baggins for bringing the concept of a hobbitpile to my attention in the first place and for encouraging me in my smutty enterprise. 

I thank the readers for continuing to read, I thank the voters for voting and I thank WOTM for enabling my addiction to smut and for giving us all such a hoot with these awards.  And, as with every fic I write, I thank Shadow for her dead-eye beta and her ever-present support.

 

 

Best Slip 'n Slide
—creative use and style of lubricant

Winner:  Before Breakfast by Elanor Gardner

 

Samwise Gamgee here for Miz Elanorelle and Mister Frodo, and, uh, well, I would really be deeply grateful and all if you folks would keep this whole lovely award thing a bit quiet, because, you see, Mister Frodo got quite, uh, fond of using that elvish healing oil of Mister Bilbo's for things aside from healing, if you get my meaning.  And it got to where it was downright embarrassing.  I mean Mister Bilbo brought it out to the garden once to put some on my Gaffer's fingers, which was paining him something fierce, and me standing there next to them holding the trellis with both hands whilst Mister Bilbo rubbed it on the Gaffer's hands, and me not able to move or, well, adjust my breeches or nothing!  And that smell--   Well, never you mind that I got a cramp in my leg and had to lay the trellis down and limp off to the privy and, well, take care of things.  And then there was that time that I was bringing some firewood into the kitchen and saw Mister Bilbo holding Frodo's arm where Frodo'd scalded himself good and proper, and Mister Bilbo slathering that oil on.  Well, the whole kitchen smelled of it, and me standing there, and Frodo looked up at me, and I nearly, well, there I was holding on to all that wood, and there he was all flushed and sweaty, and there was that smell in the kitchen, and the table, and--   Well, I finally just had to tell Mister Frodo the oil was starting to make me itch in some places where's it's just plain hard to scratch in decent company.  So now it's juniper-smelling oil and no mistake!  I'd be real thankful if you didn't mention this to Mister Frodo or we'll be back to that exotic stuff again and I'll be in an awful fix.  Oh, yes, and Elanorelle sends her humble thanks for this wonderful honor!
 

 

Best Chick!Frodo
—does Frodo buy his lavender water from Crabtree & Evelyn?

Winner:  Hare and Hounds by Bill the Pony

 

Accepted by Rosie Cotton

I've got t'say I don't think so much of this author lass, as she calls 'erself, sendin' me up 'ere to take this here award sayin' *I'm* the real chick Frodo, when it comes down to it in the end.  She's fair got a smart mouth on 'er, she does, and there ain't no love lost between us, I'm telling ye plain.  Ye done right not to say she put down the best of me in that other prize-giving, and I thank ye for it.

Chick Frodo?  I ain't ashamed to tell ye, I wish he had been a lass, for ain't there a wise fellow off in them foreign parts o' yers as once said all cats is grey in the dark?  That is to say, I reckon I could've catfought another lass an' laid her low an' kept the better part o' my Sam's heart, but Mr. Frodo being the master and all, there wasn't no fighting him nohow.

So there 'twas.  Sixty years o' bein' sloppy seconds ain't quite what I had a notion for when I set out, though it ain't exactly worth spittin' on, neither.  After all, nobody can say I ain't had the better share o' Sam's bed, an no amount of slashin' will see me turned out o' it in canon, neither.

I reckon this here author lass deserves a bit o' tart remindin' from time to time that it's me as was Sam's sweetheart in canon; I don't aim to let her rest easy and leave me out o' nothin', and that's a fact.  An' if she thinks to make Frodo Sam's lass, well then, I'll just see about that.

So thank'ee fair for this award, seein' as how it puts me on a bit more square footin' with the master.  An' may I say nightshirt be damned-- ain't a soul among ye as doesn't know that nightshirt got stole from a lad name of Huckleberry Finn and throwed into Middle Earth all improper-like. When it comes down to push and shove we'll see if that Frodo can carry a bodice an' petticoats half so good as a proper lass, and I'll warrant he can't.

Good day to ye!

 

 

Most Frustrating Fade to Black
—but I’ve been waiting the whole fic just to SEE this part! WAH!!!

Winner:  The Baker's Wife by Polecat

Most Intriguing Foot Fetish—mmm…feet...

Winner:  The Baker's Wife by Polecat

Honourable Marlin Perkins Award
--Wild Kingdom

Winner:  The Baker's Wife by Polecat

 

[Fatty sidles up to the microphone. He seems a little nervous.]

Frodo and Sam are not able to come tonight, being otherwise engaged at the moment, but I can tell you that they are as Fascinated with Feet and Frustrating as ever. Even singing obviously-worded songs very loudly outside Frodo's bedroom did not give them the hint.

[He glances off stage.]

Where was I - um, yes. We'd all like to thank the organisers of the Golden Mushrooms for their huge effort in staging these awards and the indulgent Readers who voted for us. Also, without the influence of Mira, none of us would be abused - er, used in this way, and Polecat would not even be on the starting blocks for a race such as this.

There is one thing I would like to clarify, however. Decorating us with the Runner-up for the Honourable Marlin Perkins Award - for which, I hasten to add, we are most grateful - seems to imply that readers believe there might be more to the purely platonic relationship enjoyed by Beryl and myself -

[There is a kerfuffle offstage - cries, grunts and things being knocked over.]

- and I would like to protest in the strongest terms this extreme distortion of the tru- Aaaaaaaahh!

[Exit pursued by a pig.]

 

 

 

Most Creative Use of Vegetables
—I didn't think you could DO that with a carrot!

Runner-up:  Whortleberries by Semyaza

 

Frodo: Go on, Sam.   You were the one who started all of this, with your whortleberry syrup, and the purple stains on your....

Sam (blushing):  It wasn't me at all.  It was--

Frodo: Never mind who it was.  Apparently I wasn't the only one to find the idea of a berry-stained hobbit rather enticing.  In fact, I think it's fair to say that you were achingly sexy tending that pot of syrup, and if you don't step forward and thank the voters and our gracious hosts immediately, I'm not going to be able to restrain myself.   I'm a creature of impulse where you're concerned.  The sooner we finish here the sooner we can--you know. 

Sam:  Oh.  Oh!   [steps forward]  Well, first off, whortleberries aren't a vegetable.  I don't know what my Gaffer would think if he knew we'd come runner-up in a Most Creative Use of a Vegetable award.  He'd have a few words to say on the subject of parsnips and carrots and the like, if I know my old Dad.  Those are proper vegetables, roots you can really get your hand around.  We Gamgees are known for our skill with roots and--

Frodo: Sam! 

Sam (blushing again): Sorry, Mr. Frodo.  I get carried away at the thought of a fine parsnip--well-buttered, or maybe glazed with honey and orange peel and served next to a fine Shire ham.  Tender and juicy....

Frodo (whispering): Get.  On.  With.  It.  They didn't mean vegetable literally

Sam (bridling):  I can't help it, sir.   It wouldn't be proper for a fruit to win such an award, even so fine a fruit as the whortleberry.  That's all I'm saying.  So, thank you kindly, and we'll put our award where it'll come in handy, next to that bit of rope I've been saving for a special occasion, if you take my meaning.

Frodo (smiling triumphantly): This is a special occasion, Sam, in case you hadn't noticed.  I think it's time we left for our post-awards party for two.  A heartfelt thank you to everyone who voted for us, our compliments to the winner, and even though we don't know half of you half as well as we should like....

Sam: Oh, snakes and adders, not that again.  Good night everyone.

[Grabs Frodo by the hand and drags him away].

 

 

Best Wet 'n Wild
—hobbits are slippery when wet and it’s better so…

Winner:  Rites of Passage, Bag End, Chapter 10 by Willow-wode

The "I'm in the Mood for Love" Award
you want to do that WHERE!?

Runner-up:  Rites of Passage, Bag End, Chapter 10 by Willow-wode

 

(FRODO comes onstage, very well-dressed but looking a bit sleepy and, truth be told, a little stoned.)

FRODO:  You know, from the awards I've stood up for, you'd think I spend all my time shagging, drinking and smoking.  (brightens)  Well, why not?  I ask you!  (leans on podium and looks appropriately serious)  I'm here for Willow-wode, who's a little tied up at present…

MERIMAC:  (comes running onstage, panting)  She's taken care of.  Merry's getting her tea, and Pippin's applying the last of the duct tape to keep her in her chair… am I late?

FRODO:  (sighs and rolls his eyes, points to audience)

MERIMAC:  (self-conciously straightens his frock coat)  Oh.  Right.

FRODO:  (continues)  Seeing as how Willow is (coughs) tied up at present and unable to accept these awards, she asked us to do it for her.

MERIMAC:  Which is only right, seeing as how we were the one's getting all wet—and I seem to remember you got splinters in your ars—

FRODO:  (too brightly)  RIGHT, then.  We would like to thank all of you for appreciating our efforts against that mill wall not just once, but twice.  (grins)  We certainly appreciated it.

MERIMAC:  I seem to remember it was a lot more than two times… we wanted to get it just right, you know.

FRODO:  I meant two awards.

MERIMAC:  Oh.  Right.  Shutting up now.  (whistles innocently)

FRODO:  (clears his throat)  And Willow told me in particular to thank all of you, the readers, and to give particular congratulations to Bill the Pony for coming up with an even more original shagging place.  More fun for all!

 

 

The "I'm in the Mood for Love" Award
you want to do that WHERE!?

Winner:  Magic and Mischief by Bill the Pony

 

Accepted by Gaffer Gamgee

Now see here!  I don't hold with this confounded smut and foolishness.  'Ee lasses go about workin' up my Sam so as he forgets his place an' his pretty lass an' goes off and lets the master's heir dally him right under my very nose, an' half of Hobbiton, Buckland, and Tuckborough besides?  An' 'ee expect me to get up here and speechify summat thankful about it?

Well, if that ain't the most cheek I ever heard, I don't know what is!  I ought to tan all yer hides, seemingly, starting with that Samwise.  A finer lot of ninnyhammers I never did see.  I never heared o' such carryings-on.  Didn't yer mothers teach ye proper?  If ye were lasses o' mine, there'd be naught of this foolishness.  I've got half a mind to take that lass as calls herself the author of this embarrassin' piece o' filth an' turn her over my knee.

What?

What do 'ee mean, 'she'd like it?'

No; don't go explainin'.  I can't stomach such.  Just give me that
award so as I'll have summat to clout that brazen lad o' mine with
when I see him next.

 

 

The Tie-Me-Up Tie-Me-Down Award
—excellence in light hobbit bondage

Winner:  Be Careful What You Wish For... by Daffodil Bolger

 

Okay, well, what does one say to this particular award, except *snicker snort giggle*?  I couldn’t believe myself when I was writing it, I couldn’t believe I worked up the brass to post it and I couldn’t believe it had been nominated.  (I used to be a good Catholic girl, you know.  No, really.  Stop laughing.) 

I thank the readers for continuing to read, I thank the voters for voting and I thank WOTM for enabling my addiction to smut and for giving us all such a hoot with these awards.  And, as with every fic I write, I thank Shadow for her dead-eye beta and her ever-present support.

*ponders who to tie up next*

 

 

The Honorary Frodo Award: Damn, he really IS a screamer, isn't he?

Runner-up:  Interlude by Daffodil Bolger

 

I am pleased and honored to, not only have had my fic chosen to be a runner-up in this category, but for it to be runner-up to ‘Divarications’ by Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, who, along with Willow-wode, created Loud!Frodo and so is partly to blame responsible for all of the noise he makes in my fics.  In fact, Daffodil Bolger would not exist, if not for Willow.  Thank you to Willow and Lobelia, with greatest respect.

I thank the readers for continuing to read, I thank the voters for voting and I thank WOTM for enabling my addiction to smut and for giving us all such a hoot with these awards.  And, as with every fic I write, I thank Shadow for her dead-eye beta and her ever-present support.

 

 

The Honorary Sam Award: Coming, Sir!

Winner:  Supply and Demand by Fennelseed

 

Holy canon-violating rentboys, Batman!  All right, I know (I know, I know, okay?) several people were squicked, damaged, disturbed, or otherwise put off by this story, so I'm not sure how this even got nominated; and I sure as hell don't know how it won.  But I guess it proves the old maxim:  you write 12 or 13 orgasms in one fic, you're bound to hit upon a really great one somewhere in there.  What?...That isn't an old maxim?... Well, anyway--in all honesty, I liked writing this fic waaaay too much, so I am immensely relieved that a good handful of you enjoyed reading it, too.  And remember, these awards can only capture a small fraction of the fabulous orgasms being written out there; so the bottom line is:  if it was good for YOU, then it was good, that's all that matters.  (Somewhere behind me I just heard Frodo say in a sultry voice, "So, tell me, Sam...was it good for you?")

 

 

The Honorary Sam Award: Coming, Sir!

Runner-up:  Too Many Tooks by Mariole

 

Frodo writhes, mouth open, head back, the sound of his straining breaths bouncing back from the ceiling to fill the cavern.

“More oil!” Pearl cries. “Vinca, pour it on! Nel, both hands! Use both hands!

Frodo arches, tightens, his toes begin to curl…

“That’s it, girls. Keep it coming. Altogether, now!”

Frodo’s bellow echoes throughout the chamber, intermixed with the appreciative squees of his facilitators.

Slowly, their victim relaxes. His limbs tremble; his belly rises and falls with his rapid breathing.

“Well!” Pearl pushes back her damp hair. “How’d we do that time?” *checks the final score, frowns* “All right, we obviously need a little more practice. Five minute rest break, everyone, and then we do it again.”

Frodo stifles a groan.

“Don’t fret, darling.” Pearl gives him a pat. “Look on the bright side: you’ll be very clean!”

Frodo whimpers.

 

 

The Identity Crisis Award for OCs
Am I just here to screw Frodo, or do I have a life of my own?

Winner:  Rites of Passage by Willow-wode

 

FRODO:  (walks onstage to podium and addresses audience gravely)  I'm here to thank you all and accept this award for my cousin, Merimac Brandybuck who is, at present, questioning his creator.  I realise that some hobbits have crises of personality at some points in their life, but ever since he was nominated for this particular award, he's been a bit thoughtful.  And while my cousin is a certainly very unique hobbit, when he gets too thoughtful it makes his stomach hurt.  So, while he—

(Merimac arrives onstage, whistling cheerfully.  FRODO is, understandably, confused.)

FRODO:  I thought you said that you couldn't—

MERIMAC: (airily)  Oh, it's done.  Had a nice talk with Herself, she reassured me that she had indeed not created me just to shag you, that it was all your idea, actually, and that she finally just had to go along with it. 

FRODO:  Well, that is true enough.  At least she knows when to listen, I'll give her that.

MERIMAC:  Honestly?  Sometimes I worry about her, because then she started laughing at the idea that I would have an identity crisis in the first place, and for all I know the wench is still laughing.  (shakes head, then turns to and grins at audience)  Anyway, before she started laughing, she told me that this award signifies that I mean something to all of you people out there, too.  (preens)  That is WAY COOL.

FRODO:  (shaking his head)  It must be this perverse itch in all of us, this need to do the anachronism thing.  (smiling a bit wickedly)  For instance.  I have this real wish to see you, in leather, on a motorcycle…

MERIMAC:  Later, darling.  (waves at audience)  Thanks awfully!  I love you, man!

FRODO:  (notes audience reaction a bit worriedly)  Um, I'm thinking that they'd like to see you in leather on a motorcycle, too.
 

 

The Identity Crisis Award for OCs
Am I just here to screw Frodo, or do I have a life of my own?

Runner-up:  Making of Samwise by Bill the Pony

 

Accepted by Jolly Cotton

Well now, I must say I'm flattered to be in such fine company as the winner of this award, that handsome Mr. Merimac Brandybuck.  Never mind nobody muttering about "them river folk."  He's a fine figure of a hobbit, and any OC, which is what the lass as writes this stuff says I am, ought to be proud to come in seconds to such as him and have the chance to stand at his side and hold up my head.

Not to say that I ain't sneaked a peek at him here and there, for all he's twice my age... he's a fine one, and no mistake, what with that brawny chest and its nice thatch, and them riverman's stout thighs, and a scar or two, I'll warrant, just right for licking-- though he wouldn't never look at the likes o' me, not seeing how his tastes run along the same lines as Sam's, more's the pity.

It's a pity too that he ain't in my author's keeping, for she says she's been looking for me a nice bit o' somethin' to settle on, seeing as how I can't have Sam.  I ain't quite certain about the look she gets when she says it, though; it makes a hobbit right nervous to see a growed lady look like such a mischief.

Well, at any rate, I thank you kind folk for thinkin' o' me, an I'll be treasurin' the rewards o' your kindness for many a year to come.

*puts cap against chest and takes a bow*

 

 

Most Unusual Pairing
Don’t put that in your mouth, you don’t know where it’s been!

Winner:  Cold Be Hand by Nickey

 

The curtains twitch and after a moment Merry appears and makes his way to the podium.  He appears to be rather nervous and keeps looking over his shoulder.  He takes out a small piece of paper and begins to scrutinise it carefully, silently mouthing phrases to himself, while helplessly eyeing the audience.  After a few seconds of this his eyes widen and he looks away, then looks back again in fascinated horror, then finally seems to come to some sort of decision.  He screws up the paper and tosses it with rather more vehemence than might seem appropriate for an innocent paper ball.

“Look, I’ve got to hurry, she’ll be back to hear that speech she wrote for me soon, so I haven’t got much time.  First of all, Nickey’s thrilled to have won the Most Unusual Pairing category, here at the Golden Mushroom Awards.  In fact she squeeed so hard, she nearly broke all the glassware in the house…”  Merry winces at the memory, “And she’s very grateful to all you lovely people who voted for ‘Cold Be Hand’, and…  Well, that’s my point.”

He looks over his shoulder again, and then leans closer to the microphone.

“For goodness sake, people, could you please think through the consequences of your actions next time!  The reason she’s late was that she got so excited she immediately started coming up with new and even more unusual ideas, and do I really have to spell out what that means..?”

Merry closes his eyes for just a second and then shudders delicately.

“And who do you think will be on the receiving end?  I don’t care that I’m versatile and photogenic and competent enough to get myself out of anything she gets me into, that’s really beside the point!  Can’t you think about my feelings occasionally?  Do you actually think I enjoy this sort of thing?  Well?  Hands up if you really think I’m interested in tumbling with anyone or anything she can get me in the right position for!  So to speak.”

He glares at the audience.  There are a number of coughs, and some titters, and then Merry sighs, like he’s been defeated.

“All right.  You can put your hands down now.  I can see we’re going to have words about this.”

Off-stage, there’s the sound of a door slamming and footsteps coming towards the podium. Merry suddenly looks terrified.

“But maybe not right now.  Umm.  Well, thank you very much everyone, and I’ll see you all later.  Apparently.”

He shuffles off muttering, “Well, I suppose it could be worse.  Maybe I can persuade her to write more scenes with Pippin instead.  At least he’s the same species.  Or Freddy.  She’s fond of Freddy, right?”

There’s a squeeing noise off-stage, of ear-drum splitting proportions, and Merry swallows hard, gives one last sickly smile to the audience, and breaks into a run…

 

 

Most Unusual Pairing
Don’t put that in your mouth, you don’t know where it’s been!

Runner-up:  Wild Apples by Peachy

 

As Peachy is bouncing up and down at the moment, I think I should step in as a Took of sense and quality and say thank you, hugs, and snogs to those who voted for this story.  Personally I don't know what got into her, making me have it off with a tree.  Smutty wench.  I've done far worse, I can tell you.   So has Merry, and then there's Sam, you know how he's always had a thing for the garden?  It was like this.. oh, *hello* there Sam!  You can put those shears down.  Any time.  Any time at all...

 

 

The Pucker Up Award—Hey there, handsome, wanna suck face?
(Best Kiss.)

Winner:  Cloves and Kisses by Bill the Pony

 

Accepted by Marigold Gamgee

Sam'd be here to accept this 'ere award for 'imself, but he ain't darin' to come up here what for hidin' from the Gaffer, so he sent me up to say I was sorry for all the trouble I caused folk with my kissin' games.  It weren't right or fair o' me to lie to Sam, nor to trick him with my skirts, neither, an' it hurt my friend Rosie's feelings something terrible when I done it, an' I'm sorry.

That said, I'd like to thank all of you who think 'twas a good idea, for I can't say 'twas all bad.  The lasses all say they never saw such a sight as Mr. Frodo kissing our Sam before in all their days, and they reckon they want a sight more of that sort of goings-on.  So we've been minding all these writins ever sense, such of us as can read sayin' the words out loud for all the others to hear, if you follow.

Now me, I don't hold with watchin' my brother get all sweaty wrestlin' about, but I've got to say I've an eye for that Mr. Meriadoc an' his cousin Mr. Peregrin, an' I can't get enough.

I reckon I'd best be off, come to think, an' watch for their speeches, for I reckon they won't be able to keep their hands off one another long, randy young rascals that they are!  So thank ye kindly, on behalf of Mr. Frodo an' our Sam.

Fare ye well!


 

 

The Pucker Up Award—Hey there, handsome, wanna suck face?
(Best Kiss.)

Runner-up:  Falling into the Sky, Chapter 4 by Elanor Gardner

 

Samwise Gamgee here for Miz Elanorelle and Mister Frodo and, I have to tell all you nice gentlefolk that I am a trifle embarrassed at all this attention to sommat like that, well, what this award is for and all.  I mean what would you have done, given that face gazing at you there in that pale gold light just afore dawn, and those eyes looking like the sky itself all midnight and full of stars, and that hand all warm and velvet-feeling against your face, like the petals on Mister Bilbo's favorite ivory roses--   I mean, I just can't see how anyone could just stand there, if you get my meaning.  It was just the most natural thing in the world to turn my head just a trifle, and kiss that velvet--  Uh, Mister Frodo, he says to tell you all that--  Just a minute, he wrote this down and made me practice it.  Here it is.  Ahem I am deeply gratified that this moment, which is quite understandably locked in my memory forever, has resonated somehow with all of you.  But I must say that, knowing dear Sam, you have likely received a slightly skewed version of events.  As I recall, the hill was redolent with the gorgeous smell of flowers planted by Sam's own dear hands, and there was gold light dancing in the air, but nothing could possibly compare to the glow of Sam's face or the gold in his eyes as he stood there before me.  It is a treasure that I will always hold in my heart.  Ahem.  Well, I suppose that about says it all.  'Cept Miz Elanorelle, she says thank you very, very much!

 

 

The Honorary Pippin Award: Are we there YET?!

Winner:  Making of Samwise by Bill the Pony

 

Accepted by the Author

I have come before you tonight to make this speech, the Honorary Pippin Award Speech, this speech which it gratifies me to my soul to have the chance to make, for it means that you cherish Making of Samwise in all its radiant UST, just as I do.

This speech has been a long time in the making; I have made careful and detailed notes for the speech and thought of it devotedly every day.  I have savored every poignant and evocative word of its potential, each delicate nuance that it ghosted as a promise across lip and tongue, each whispered endearment and each sun-gilded curl that it described. Like Sam dreaming of his Frodo, I have dreamed of this speech forever.  I have gently touched the speech to my lips, feathered kisses along its alabaster collarbone, and stroked its pale, flat belly as it arched and thrust to be heard, with begging cries that filled my soul.  It has sighed softly in my ear as I whispered love to it and teased my palm across it, promising it the ultimate fulfillment of its climax with every brush of fingertip, lip, and tongue along the length of its words.

But when the moment came -- when my heart was filled and ready to be bound by eternal union to the speech in all its glory -- alas!  The damned thing said it had a headache, gave me a quick peck on the cheek, went inside, and closed the door.  So I don't have it.  Sorry....

 

 

The Honorary Pippin Award: Are we there YET?!

Runner-up:  Wines, Vines, and Veils by Fennelseed

 

Aw, shucks.  This foreplay was nothin' compared to the long, tantalizing build-up of the fics written by my fellow nominees, but it has been very instructive and interesting to learn how much you folks appreciate hobbits tied up in veils.  A simple formula, really, but one that never goes out of style.  Thank you again!

 

 

The Honorary Merry Award:  We’re coming too!!

Winner:  Too Many Tooks by Mariole

 

“Vinca…”

“Frodo…”

“Vinca.”

“Frodo.”

Vinca!

Frodo!

“Vinca… ah… AHHH!!!

“Oh, Frodo, oooohhh….”

*sound of heavy breathing*

“Frodo..?”

*gasp* “Yes, love?”

*breathlessly* “We’re not alone.”

A shaggy head lifts, looks about. “Merry!

Merry grins from the opposite side of the bed. “Hello!”

Frodo scrambles to cover his and Vinca’s… parts. “What are you doing here?”

Merry points at the title. “It’s the `Honorable Merry’ award. The Merry award, see?” He smirks. “I must say, it’s been quite a treat having something like this named after me. You can’t believe all the hours I’ve put in, watching, assessing, comparing different approaches, clocking climaxes—”

“Well, you can assess yourself right out of this room, or climaxes won’t be the only thing getting clocked around here.”

“All right, all right!” Merry, still smirking, slides off the bed. He leans forward to whisper confidentially in Frodo’s ear, “I think Vinca went about 2 seconds before you did that time, in case you want to work on your technique.”

Frodo points at the door. “Out!

Merry backs away, grinning. “I’m going, I’m going!” He heads for the door. “And going, and going, and going…”

 

 

 




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