Disclaimer: Currently I am tracing my family history back to see if I am
related in any way to J. R. R. Tolkien. So far I am not, but I will let you
know if I have found anything. Oh yes! Frodo's broom belongs to me. It is
mine, mine, my own, my precious. (Embarrassed cough)
* * * * * * * *
It was an ordinary day in Middle Earth. Frodo was staring at a broom,
caressing its handle murmuring under his breath, "Pretty Girl, yes, yes,
Pretty Girl."
Over in Mirkwood Legolas Greenleaf was frantically shaking his mascara bottle.
"What!" He yelled out raged, "There's none left! But! But! I haven't finished using it yet!" The mascara bottle brushed his hair and made several strands come out of place. It was just at this moment when he looked into the mirror.
"Ahhhhhh! My hair! My perfect beautiful long blond hair!" He looked at his dresser in search of a hairbrush. "My hair brush! Where is it? I must have it! My perfect hair is out of place! He ran over to his desk and frantically pulled out all of the drawers. Not finding what he was looking for he ran out of his room screaming at the top of his lungs. He ran everywhere, looking for his lost hairbrush. Finally, exhausted, he walked back to his room and collapsed onto his bed. He sprang up suddenly.
"My hairbrush," He said solemnly. Now untroubled by thoughts of his hair he decided to turn his thoughts to other important matters; like his nails.
Back over in Bag End, there was a knock on the door.
"Mister Frodo," A voice called, "I have some lunch!" Frodo took a last loving look at the broom he was holding.
"Hold on my Sam," He called running over to open the door.
"I have brought you some lunch." Sam set the basket on the table.
"Yes, I will make some tea to go along with it," Frodo answered grabbing some plates and setting the table.
"Three plates?" Sam asked. "But there are only two of us."
"That, my friend, is where you're wrong. I have found myself," Frodo slipped off into a daze, "Pretty Girl." He ran out from the kitchen and over to the fireplace where his broom (A.N: Pretty Girl) was leaned against the wall. He picked it up gently and brought it back to the kitchen.
"This," He said proudly. "Is my Pretty Girl." He put the broom against the wall in front of one of the plates.
But Frodo, that is a broom! That's not a girl!" Sam protested.
"Yes it is!" Frodo picked it up and found himself lost caressing in the handle.
Legolas looked down at his fingernails trying to figure out what color he should paint them.
"Blue, purple, green, silver, maroon, or gold," He murmured under his breath.
Over in Mirkwood Legolas Greenleaf was frantically shaking his mascara bottle.
"What!" He yelled out raged, "There's none left! But! But! I haven't finished using it yet!" The mascara bottle brushed his hair and made several strands come out of place. It was just at this moment when he looked into the mirror.
"Ahhhhhh! My hair! My perfect beautiful long blond hair!" He looked at his dresser in search of a hairbrush. "My hair brush! Where is it? I must have it! My perfect hair is out of place! He ran over to his desk and frantically pulled out all of the drawers. Not finding what he was looking for he ran out of his room screaming at the top of his lungs. He ran everywhere, looking for his lost hairbrush. Finally, exhausted, he walked back to his room and collapsed onto his bed. He sprang up suddenly.
"My hairbrush," He said solemnly. Now untroubled by thoughts of his hair he decided to turn his thoughts to other important matters; like his nails.
Back over in Bag End, there was a knock on the door.
"Mister Frodo," A voice called, "I have some lunch!" Frodo took a last loving look at the broom he was holding.
"Hold on my Sam," He called running over to open the door.
"I have brought you some lunch." Sam set the basket on the table.
"Yes, I will make some tea to go along with it," Frodo answered grabbing some plates and setting the table.
"Three plates?" Sam asked. "But there are only two of us."
"That, my friend, is where you're wrong. I have found myself," Frodo slipped off into a daze, "Pretty Girl." He ran out from the kitchen and over to the fireplace where his broom (A.N: Pretty Girl) was leaned against the wall. He picked it up gently and brought it back to the kitchen.
"This," He said proudly. "Is my Pretty Girl." He put the broom against the wall in front of one of the plates.
But Frodo, that is a broom! That's not a girl!" Sam protested.
"Yes it is!" Frodo picked it up and found himself lost caressing in the handle.
Legolas looked down at his fingernails trying to figure out what color he should paint them.
"Blue, purple, green, silver, maroon, or gold," He murmured under his breath.