Mainly movie-verse. Inspired by Cassandra Claire's "The Very Secret Diaries" and a lasting bout of sleep deprivation. Denethor II provides his two-cents on the events during the War of the Ring. You have been warned.
Day One: Wife died. Must be careful what I wish for.
Day Two: Visited by ghost of wife. Must be careful what I wish for.
Day Three: Have decided that five-year-old son is responsible for death of wife. Should probably stop leaving weapons around the house.
Day Four: Have taken to reading the palantír atop the toilet. Subjects now complaining of full bladders.
Day Five: Noticed that ten-year-old son has gained proficiency with swords. Still need to stop leaving weapons around the house.
Day Six: Discovered some guilty pleasures, including palantír-eavesdropping, arson, and spanking my youngest son.
Day Seven, Year T.A. 3018: Have not written in a while. Several of the above statements still ring true, specifically the palantír-eavesdropping and the spanking.
Day Eight: Youngest son has begun having nightmares. Don't particularly care.
Day Nine: Eldest son has begun having same nightmares. Sought help of a psychoanalyst and sedatives.
Day Ten: Osgiliath attacked thanks to pathetic youngest son. Consequently, he shall be going without dessert tonight.
Day Eleven: Have sent capable eldest son on quest to Rivendell. I hope he remembers to bring home a gallon of milk.
Day Twelve: Heard loud noise that belonged to either an atrocious trumpeter or the Horn of Gondor. Being deaf in one ear, I am not sure which.
Day Thirteen: Have sent annoying youngest son on errand to Ithilien. Regrettably, I am now bereft of any spanking action. Still curious about loud noise from the other day.
Day Thirteen: Received news that eldest son is dead. I guess that explains the noise. Proceeded to blame conniving youngest son. Guess who's moving into the basement?
Day Fourteen: After another spectacular military failure at Osgiliath, youngest son has returned. Honestly, if you can't hold down a fort against a couple of battalions of orcs and some Nazgûl, then you can't hold down anything.
Oh, but that's not all. In Ithilien, he met the halfling.
The halfling.
As in, the halfling with the One Ring.
And he didn't even take it.
Somebody is soooooooooooo grounded.
Day Fifteen: Am now officially fed up with smart-alecky remaining son. Sent him to the naughty chair, and then to Osgiliath and the laundromat. On the bright side, he's dead now. But of course, he neglected to pick up my laundry before he died. I must now wear swim trunks to account for my missing clothes.
Moral of the story: Sleep is good for you.
Peace out.