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horseshoehate · 10 months

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a/n: Here is part 4 of my Phish/Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings fan fiction

sorry it took so long to release! hope you enjoy!

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The festival was underway and Gandalf watched from the sidelines, his hands steady, but his mind beset with worry. He knew what he had to do, but he also knew it would not be easy.

As the sun began to set and the sky took on a blood orange color, its violent hue seeping into every crevice of the river's valley, Phish finally took the stage, and with them was heard thunderous applause.

The band members took to their instruments and stepped up to their usual positions, pausing for a moment to look out at the massive crowd of elves, dwarves, men, and hobbits. Then the first notes of "Buried Alive" rang out and Phish began their frantic driving melody.

Gandalf knew in his heart that this could mean only one thing: this was another part of Sauron's plan to turn the hearts of every being in Middle Earth. He knew that he must act before Evil Trey used his jams to corrupt the crowd, though he also knew that he must wait for the most pivotal moment of the show in order to undo all of the damage that may have been done to the crowd thus far.

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Flashing his VIP pass, Gandalf was able to make it all the way to the side stage, where a bewictched guitar tech handed him Trey's trusty Blonde No. 1, the original Mar Mar.

As the second set opener, Cities, ended, Gandalf stepped out onto the stage. Seeing him approach, Mike quickly realized what was happening and announced to the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to our friend Gandalf the Grey. He's gonna play a few tunes with us tonight!"

Evil Trey looked furiously at Mike, but allowed it to continue. He knew what Gandalf was up to, but knew that he was a powerful enough guitarist to rebuff any attempts to undo the awesome evil magic that had been bestowed to him by Voldemort and refined by Sauron.

Gandalf smiled to the crowd and took his place between Trey and Mike. Gandalf, known for his mastery of the lute, was only slightly out of his element on this Languedoc.

The band then slipped into an uptempo Tweezer, with Evil Trey and Gandalf take turns keeping the Tweezer main theme, each biding their time.

As the band steered into the jam section, Evil Trey and Gandalf turned to face each other, the other members giving them space as the two begin dueling.

The audience is stunned as the two guitarists trade lick after lick, their fingers moving faster than the eye can see. Gandalf played with a fiery passion, his notes piercing the air like bolts of lightning. Evil Trey responded with a cold, calculated precision, his playing as sharp and deadly as a sword.

The music was unlike anything the crowd had ever heard before. It was powerful and magical, and, for a moment, it seemed to be working. Evil Trey's eyes began to clear, and he stumbled back, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. As he played, the power of music coursed through the air, fueling the forces of good and weakening the grip of evil upon Evil Trey's mind.

But the forces of Sauron were strong and not to be underestimated. Fueled by hatred and armed with Evil Mar Mar, it now seemed as though Evil Trey has the upper hand. His playing was so powerful that it threatened to overwhelm Gandalf, and it was all the wizard could do to keep up. But Gandalf was not one to give up easily, and he redoubled his efforts, pouring his heart and soul into the music.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats as the guitar duel reached its climax. Gandalf and Evil Trey played faster and faster, their fingers a blur as they raced up and down the fretboards. Finally, with a mighty flourish, Gandalf played a thunderous chord that shattered the curse that had been holding Evil Trey in its grip, ending the song in the same motion, shouting "Begone foul spirits, you shall not enter this mortal's mind again!"

Evil Trey stumbled back, falling to the ground. He went completely limp. As the rest of the band ran towards him, he lifted head in a daze, waking up fully from his trance for the first time in a long time.

"Welcome back, my friend." Gandalf said warmly as Page helped Trey to his feet. Fishman helped him backstage, where Elrond produced a magical revilatizing exiler and gave it to Trey.

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30,000 Phish fans stood in utter silence for what felt like years as they waited for their favorite band to come back out. Finally, they saw Trey slowly amble out, pale but smiling at them. He gave a quick wave and picked up his guitar, though opting for the original Mar Mar this time.

As the other members got into place (Gandalf choosing to stand off stage and watch), Trey moved to the microphone and took a deep breath, surveying the eager crowd. He then began singing a moving version The Squirming Coil.

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After the band finished playing, Trey retired to the House of Elrond to seek Elvish medicine. The rest of the band would stay behind with him while he rested for a few weeks.

Approaching the Evil Mar Mar, which had been left lying on the ground next to Trey's rig, Gandalf reached down to pick it up. As he did, a horrid vision took his mind and he saw flashes of the wicked Eye of Sauron. He knew it best not to touch the instrument directly and wrapped it in cloth before carrying it to be inspected by Elrond.

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Looking it over with an apprehensive eye, Elrond concluded his inspection by saying, "Yes, there is dark, powerful magic within this, indeed."

"What are we to do with it? No mortal can wield it, it would corrupt the heart and mind of any who dared try." Gandalf asked worriedly.

"In the fires of Mt. Doom it was crafted and only there can it be uncrafted." Elrond said.

"How can that be?" Asked an elf, "It is but a wooden instrument. It is of the forest!"

"It was made with the expertise of a dark craftsman that even I know not the true making of this instrument. It was embued with such mythic evil, that using any tools that we here possess would never work. Only in the fiery chasm of Mt. Doom can this otherworldly magic be unmade." Elrond said with displeasure. "Though wood it may be, there is powerful magic at hand to protect this instrument."

Gandalf nodded, understanding the weight of the situation. "Then it must be taken to Mount Doom. But who among us can bear this burden?"

A hush fell over the room as the band members and the fellowship exchanged glances. It was clear that this task required someone with strength, resilience, and a deep connection to the music. The presence of the Evil Mar Mar was not to be taken lightly.

Finally, Trey stepped forward, his eyes filled with determination. "I will take the instrument to Mordor," he said, his voice steady, "Though I do not know the way. I have been through the depths of darkness and emerged stronger. I have felt the power of this instrument and I know what it can do. It is my responsibility to see it destroyed."

The fellowship exchanged solemn nods, recognizing the sacrifice Trey was making. Just as they were about to bid Trey farewell on his perilous quest, a voice broke the silence. It was Mike, the band's bassist, stepping forward with unwavering determination.

"Trey, my oldest friend, you shall not bear this burden alone," Mike declared. "We have traveled this musical journey together, and I cannot stand idly by while you face such darkness. I offer what I can to you on this quest, myself and my bass."

Trey's eyes welled with gratitude as he nodded. "Thank you, Mike. Your funky grooves and unwavering spirit give me strength."

Not to be outdone, Page, the band's keyboardist, stepped forward next, his fingers itching to weave smooth melodies into the very fabric of the quest. "Trey, Mike, I can't let you embark on this dangerous journey without me. Together, our harmonies will carry us through the darkest of times. I offer you my keys."

With a smile, Trey embraced Page. "Page, your musical prowess and ability to light up any stage with your melodies will be invaluable."

Just then, Fishman, the band's drummer, took a step forward, his drumsticks twirling in his hands. "If you think I'm going to miss out on an adventure like this, you're mistaken," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Besides, someone has to keep the rhythm of this journey alive."

Trey chuckled and clapped Fishman on the back. "Fish, your beats are the heartbeat of our band. I wouldn't embark on this quest without your infectious energy and impeccable timing."

Gandalf, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and pride, beheld the band members stepping forward, one by one, offering themselves for the daunting task at hand. In their unwavering commitment and the unbreakable bond that bound them together, he glimpsed the true essence of Phish's power. "Truly," Gandalf mused softly, his voice carrying the weight of profound realization, "the might of Phish lies not solely within their captivating music, but within the unspoken harmony that resonates between their souls."

And thus, the Fellowship of the Mar Mar was formed.

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