'The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai'
Day one: Enter the Snails of Hell
For the gazillionth time today, Faramir of Gondor groaned. The King must be getting senile, he thought vehemently. He and six others were camping out on the fields of Rohan, on their way to the land of Mikhai, in search of (he shuddered) the fabled Rubber Chickens of old.
What are the 'Rubber Chickens of old', you ask? (At this point there was a collective shudder amongst the seven people).
Before the age of Men, and even Elves, there was a race long forgotten: the Mikhai Rubber Chickens. Sure, they looked like chickens at first, but with a closer inspection, you would see that they indeed, were not. In addition to being made of rubber, these chickens had mysterious healing abilities in their bodies, which made them virtually immortal. (Only a quick death would ensure a dead Chicken, otherwise they can regenerate). Along with this, they had the ability to help a person find his or her soul mate. With their healing abilities, the Chickens lived long into the age of Men. Then they died out.
The Elves had long taken care of these legendary Chickens, for the revered them; and used them for healing the sick or wounded. But the men were much more greedy than that. They enslaved the Chickens, and used their powers to gain power themselves: thus eventually killing the race of the Rubber Chickens. But all was not lost.
Two young Chickens, (a hen and rooster, obviously) had hid from the Men with the help of the Elves, and lived on, producing many young. They were protected in the forest of Mikhai by dozens upon dozens of intricate spells that could make an expert navigator lose his trail; a swordsman lose the remembrance of his techniques, and a wise man lose his sanity. The present day elves dared not enter the forest at this point; these spells were too ancient to be tampered with. It is here that the story really begins.
But Aragorn, son of Arathorn did not think so. "Just use your magic stuff," he instructed a petrified Legolas who stood with his hands crossed behind his back at Aragorn's throne.
"Aragorn, my dear..." Arwen started to say, but then her voice faded to nothing. She and Legolas both knew that the Chickens could inspire a mad resolve even in such a sensible King as he.
"The Rubber Chickens would lead Gondor into a glorious new age," he said, staring at her. "You see it, do you not?"
"Yes I do. But you remember what happened to our witness? The one who saw the Chickens in the first place? He now has some chronic genital disease, and he fancies that wretched armadillo."
"Who knew that one could have an armadillo soul mate," Legolas claimed reverently.
Aragorn cocked his head to the side. "I don't see any problem with that."
"What I'm trying to say is," Arwen tried desperately, "you could be sending these people into certain insanity."
"Then let's go! Send our most strong-willed soldiers out there."
Faramir, who was standing to the side with his jaw agape, next to a considerably sick looking Èomer, caught Legolas's eye. At the time he recalled thinking, this is not good. This is NOT good.
Damn right it wasn't good. Now, even Pippin, who would by nature not be changed much by the effects of the forest and the Chickens within it, seemed a little tense. But Merry lent him some of what he was smoking though and soon both of the hobbits were having fun somewhere in the stratosphere.
He wished he were a hobbit. He wished that he had no problems with having a smoke only hours before they started their journey again. He wished... oh, he didn't know what he wished for anymore.
And so, here they were, in the middle of Rohan with nothing but each other for company. Surprisingly enough, the King himself had opted not to come, causing a surge of anger through the men.
Well, it wasn't right to say 'Men', because there was a woman, Elf, Dwarf and two Hobbits as well. Yes, Èowyn, Èomer, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli, Merry and Pippin had been chosen for this quest. Not something they wanted to do in their spare time.
But back to their predicament.
Èomer looked at the sulking Gondorian.
"Oh, cheer up, you pansy. It's not like there's a chance of us actually seeing these damn Chickens. All we have to do is stay here for a bit, then go back to Gondor pretending like we've been there!" he declared proudly, slapping Faramir so hard on the back that he choked on his water as he thrust forward. "Right?" no response. "Right?" he asked in a meeker voice.
Èowyn glowered. She stood up gracefully and slapped her dear brother upside his head. "Wrong! You know good and well Lord Aragorn will known whether we have been to Mikhai or not. Act like a man for God's Sake!"
"He'll be able to tell if we've been to Mikhai or not judging by the number of tentacles growing on our backs," Èomer said playfully, but then frowned, considering the believability in the sentence. All of them slumped into a worried silence for a few minutes.
"Well," mumbled Gimli, stroking his beard, "we'd best get started early. Who knows how long we'll be in that place."
"Who knows if we'll come out," replied Faramir tragically. Èowyn put her arm over his shoulders stiffly, as if she figured it was the proper thing to do but wasn't able to feel the emotion in it.
"I'm sure Lord Aragorn would be able to do this quest without a doubt in his mind. You can measure up to the same, certainly?"
A stroke of pain coursed through his body, and suddenly Faramir was overwhelmed with the feeling of deja vu. This same thing had happened before. It had happened over and over before during the time that Denethor showed favoritism to Boromir. You must try to measure up to him. Can't you measure up to him? You're impossible, boy, you can never measure up to him.
That ice in his eyes struck Èowyn with startling coldness. Pride took over the urge to say sorry though, and she turned her head away. Èomer watched this exchange with careful observance.
Then the sun rose above the fields of Gondor with warmth and promise, casting the entire realm into a fresh new gold. It took place in only a matter of minutes and the travelers felt somewhat renewed.
"Ah," Legolas sighed. "Let's get packed up."
Gimli cast a glance at the assortment of tents around them. "Now where are those damn hobbits?"
The others looked around as well. Neither of the two were anywhere to be seen.
"Merry? Pippin?" Èowyn yelled, looking about the fields of Rohan for any moving bodies. None came. Ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of the Hobbits.
"I swear when we find those two I am going to slit both of their throats!" Gimli grumbled, looking downcast.
"Wait a minute," Legolas said, ears perking up visibly. "I know exactly where they are!" he stated, triumph visible in his tone.
"Then lead us to them so that we may get on with this blasted mission, dammit!" Èomer snapped. Elven pride hurt, Legolas walked the few steps to one of the tents and pulled back the flap, revealing the two 'missing' Hobbits sound asleep. Pippin was snoring.
Gimli was enraged. He barreled into the tent and pulled the Hobbit's out by their toes, swinging them around.
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up, damn you!" and he let them fly. The landed a good five feet away with a considerable amount of 'oomph!'.
"Aww, Gimli, pity what those Chickens gone and done to you," Pippin mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "You're starting to get hair around your nose, see Merry, hasn't he got a bunch of fur around his nose?"
Merry blinked. "That is just nose hair, Pippin."
Gimli, who was usually quite proud of his outrageous amount of hair now had a look of rage about him that was more suitable for a fire dragon. Èomer had to grab hold of the dwarf before he set after the two hobbits with sure means of murder.
"You know they've been smoking the herb," Èomer consoled him, although it did little in that regard. Gimli turned and stomped out of the tent, shouting something about them having to be ready to leave in five minutes or else.
"Well look who's decided to take authority," Èowyn said, smiling gently at her husband, who still did not have the heart to look at her.
What kind of relationship was this? He kept wondering. How could it work if she still loved another man, and a more worthy man at that? Although as he continued thinking about it, he wasn't sure how greatly he was in love with her either.
Èomer sensed his struggle and clasped Faramir's shoulder briefly as he stepped out of the tent to follow the determined dwarf. The warmth of his hand sent electricity down Faramir's cold spine, igniting a spark within him. A spark of energy, he figured. He was energized enough to move forward.
A few minutes later (much to the relief of everyone; Gimli was still bitching to himself), they were saddled on the horses and riding to the East; to Mikhai (or at least the rumored location).
Legolas and the horse lord rode up front, with the two Hobbits behind, Èowyn and Gimli behind them and Faramir bringing up rear guard.
Of course, he thought bitterly, glancing up at the procession before him. I'm always dead last.
Up front, Merry and Pippin had started one of the songs from the Shire.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
"A choice song for this journey, young Hobbits." Èomer complimented, glancing back for a moment. Then he looked back at Faramir who rode with his head down. He spoke a word to Legolas before turning his horse and walking it to the back with Faramir.
"I see how it ails you whenever you look upon my sister as of late," he spoke as casually as the sentence could be uttered, with his head facing forward.
"Èowyn is not the root of any of my problems," Faramir replied automatically. "She is a blessing for any man to know as you and I do. I am grateful to have her in my life."
"Stop with the bullshit," said Eomer amiably.
"..."
"She is still after Aragorn and we both know it."
"Ok fine," Faramir said haughtily. This man saw way too much.
"Normally I would support my sister in this matter, or just leave it alone, but I can sense how it hurts you. It is not fair to her or to you to have the relationship this way, and I just wanted to let you know that if the time comes for you to break it off with her, I will not kill you."
"Gee, thanks buddy."
"It's no problem."
Faramir felt Elmer's gaze upon him and had the irresistible urge to look back at him, to look back at the sunshine that reflected in his eyes. When he did though there was almost a physical feeling of heat between them, so intense that they both had to turn away. Both pretended that nothing had happened, but somehow Faramir knew that Èomer was blushing.
Coughing slightly, Eomer returned to the head of the troop, leaving a puzzled Gondorian behind. Faramir sighed.
The seven friends continued on heading through Rohan, pausing only twice to give the horses a rest and to make camp. Then they turned northeast, heading to the Chastfire forest. They made camp for the third time just outside the woods.
Legolas stood for a moment and look up at the trees. He cocked his head to one side and appeared to be listening to something.
"What is it?" Èowyn asked quietly, coming up beside the Elf. He shook his head.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He replied sourly. "These trees seem dead. I can hear nothing, not the call of a bird or the whisper of the wind. It's creepy." He shuddered and walked back to the Dwarf who was looking for scattered wood to light a fire with (he had learned his lesson at Fangorn, obviously).
Eomer and the Hobbits were scouting around a bit, looking for signs that they were in danger. No one really felt like setting up a watch that night. Boromir's brother sat staring into space, oblivious to everything.
When they bedded down that night, only Legolas was awake, unnerved by the silence of Chastfire. The rest were lulled to sleep by his Elvish song; which he sang not only to comfort the others, but himself as well.
I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone.
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
There the long golden leaves have grown upon the branching year,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lòrien! The Winter comes, the care and leafless day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O Lòrien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?
Pippin, who had been wide awake, closed his eyelids and went right asleep, his head falling into Merry's lap.
"This is why he never was able to read a full book," Merry grumbled, wondering who would be generous enough to help carry the hobbit back to their tent. Then his eyes started to close as well.
Faramir blatantly pondered the relationship between those two. Their love for each other almost surrounded them both like a rosy aura; more than just friendship, certainly. Hobbits were such queer folk. He loved them.
Unfortunately such relationships weren't as accepted in the world of men. It was such a shame, and not very logical either because if a man can love an armadillo, can't he love another man? What was less logical was the fact that as soon as he thought of this, an image of Eomer flashed through his mind.
Maybe the forest was working on him already.
"That was a lovely song," Eomer piped up, catching Faramir's attention.
"It's a very old song too," said Legolas.
Then suddenly there was a gust of wind that shocked them with its coldness. It had the velocity of a wind, which would be felt at the peaks of Caradhras, and the damp, stale odor of Moria's lightless depths. It came very strongly from the forest with the feeling of change and doom.
"Ok," said Gimli, "I'm going to bed. Sweet dreams!"
"I'll be right after you," Eomer stated.
Faramir looked around him. "And I with you."
"But what about the hobbits?" Legolas cried as the three jogged away.
"They'll take lookout," Gimli shouted back at him.
Legolas sighed and said a silent prayer as he went to bed for the two hobbits that were sleeping at the entrance of the forest. That night for all of them brought strange dreams and very little sleep. So it was no wonder, the next day that they weren't able to prevent what was coming before it happened.
Faramir supposed that when it first started happening, they were at the rim of the woods, just barely entering the thick of the forest. It was damp and there were lots of insects and little creatures scurrying around, enjoying the energy that day brought to them. None of the crew paid any attention to the increasing amount of slime over the forest floor.
"Funny, this place doesn't feel enchanted at all," Legolas, said with apparent relief. "Maybe the Chickens are feeling generous."
Èowyn nodded. "God bless the Chickens."
"You're beginning to sound more like What's-his-Face everyday," Faramir snapped at her.
"Whom are you talking about?" she questioned with forceful disbelief and innocence.
"Aargh, the King."
"Thank you," was the response, with a pleased smile. She must have thought her inner feelings for the man did not show through.
Faramir sighed and ran his hands through his hair. This emotional default was driving him crazy! ...not to mention the itch on his neck.
"Hey…Faramir…you got something on the back of your neck…" was all the warning he got before something was tugged painfully –not to mention slimily) from the back of his neck. He visibly winced and grimaced at the sick sound the creature made. The Captain of Gondor turned around to face Eomer, who was holding what looked like a rainbow snail in his hands. Slime was oozing from the bottom of it.
"Yech!" Pippin yelled, pulling one off of his chest. The disgusted sounds coming from the others was all the proof needed to see that they were covered in snails, too.
Èowyn, losing all pride, was dancing around in circles beating at her dress and wailing. Looking at her ankles, Gimli could see that some of the snails had decided to make themselves known…right up her dress.
Snails of all colors seemed to be dropping from the sky onto the seven friends. Soon, they were adept to running, screaming, and pulling snails off of one another for a few minutes. They stopped when they reached a slime-free clearing, and immediately began plucking the disgusting creatures off. After each one was pulled off, it was thrown deep into the forest from whence they came. Eomer and Faramir had the worst of it, however as two snails managed to find their way into the men's mouths. The slime tasted like shit.
"My hair is covered in slime! UGH!" Legolas yelled, running his hands through his beautiful hair. Èowyn was running her hands over her body, checking for more snails, Merry and Pippin were shuddering visibly as far away from the forest as could possibly be, Eomer and Faramir were retching and Gimli was chuckling lightly.
"Well! That's something to get the blood pumping! Let's move on!"
"Not before I rinse my hair!" Legolas declared imperially.
"And exactly where do we expect to wash all of this off?" Èowyn said in a half cry, half moan. "There hasn't been any water in sight!"
"The snails are talking to me!"
"We better go find it somewhere, because I am NOT taking on more of this until my hair's had a good wash!" Legolas shouted back.
"You're more of a girl than me!"
"It's called hygiene, you twisted, cross-dressing heifer!"
"Oh my," Faramir murmured, but pretended to be heavily involved in pulling a slug out of his pants so it would not be his duty to stand up for his wife. He could tell that Eomer was doing the same.
"The snails are talking to me guys!"
"Ooooh, you're gonna get it, she-man."
Just as Èowyn lunged at Legolas, Peregrin Took jumped between them, slugs wriggling all over his body.
Èowyn looked down at him. "Pippin dear, sit down and please take those slugs off while I make a mess of Legolas's baby blue eyes, will you?"
"I said they're talking to me!" he exclaimed proudly.
"Of course. Just sit down for a minute."
"I say he's finally, really, lost it," Merry said sadly.
"No! The slugs are attendants to the Chickens!"
"Come on Pippin," said Merry, dragging his friend by a slime-covered elbow, "let's talk some sanity into you, and get those slugs off."
"Really! I'm dead serious!"
"That's what scares me."
"Actually," came Eomer's voice, feigning ignorance to the fact that Èowyn and Legolas were fighting, "it wouldn't surprise me that he could talk to animals in this place. What are they saying, Pippin?"
"The Chickens of Mikhai do not want to be taken from their home, and wish us to leave before the ancient spells take hold of us." He motioned with an oozy finger to the variety of slug colors on his shoulder and neck. "The slugs have not only come to warn us of this, but also wanted to give us a little taste of it for extra measure."
Faramir and Eomer still literally had that taste in their mouths, and both mumbled something about the slimy little assholes. Pippin heard it.
"They're actually good guys," he said defensively.
"Yeah, and I sleep with Eomer." Faramir had to blink at that statement along with everyone else. Where in all of Gondor had that statement come from?
"You do?" Pippin squeaked.
"Of course not, you fool!" (of a Took)
"Then why did you say it?"
"To prove you are lying."
"But I'm not. So that means…"
"You really DO sleep with Eomer!" Merry declared. Said man looked at the Hobbits with a death glare. Faramir slapped his forehead in exasperation.
"You god damned fools!" Gimli roared stomping over to them. He grabbed them both by their ears and dragged them over to a corner and yelled at them a bit more. Legolas and Èowyn continued their argument while Faramir and Eomer sat side by side on the grass, wishing they had never taken this quest. Suddenly, a little snail made itself known by crawling up the Stewards leg.
"Augh!" he scrambled backwards until he hit a solid mass of human body. Eomer scowled and looked at what startled Faramir. The snail turned its antennae towards them and spoke:
Ah, it seems you have ingested some of the mucus left behind by my brothers. You know you are both cursed now, right?
"How did you know?" Faramir asked, clueless.
There is some on your chin.
Something clicked in Eomer's head. "Cursed? What do you mean cursed?" he demanded, grabbing the snail off of Faramir's inner thigh with an audible 'POP'.
Ah, so you don't know. Well, by ingesting a Mikhai Snail's mucus, you are doomed to a life of insanity unless…
(At this point, both Eomer and Faramir panicked, causing Eomer to squeeze our poor snail buddy to death. We had to spend ten minutes finding a replacement.)
"Unless what!" Faramir yelled, bringing his youthful face close to the slimy creatures'.
Unless, you find your soul mate.
//
Author's Notes: Good? Bad? Do you honestly care? Please leave a review so I know whether to continue. Oh, just one thing. Don't take this story seriously. It's meant to be humorous and out of place. It will contain lovely slash…betcha can't guess who.