1. Elven Horse
Disclaimer: The story "Elven Horse" belongs to Saikagrl, and Lord of the Rings belongs to Tolkien. No offence or plagiarism intended—just a bit of fun, as Bilbo might say!
Explaination: For those who haven't come across it, "Plotholes" is a game where you take the summary of a story and write a ficlet, usually humorous, based on it. I don't do it often, as I am plagued by the ravages of Writer's Block, but when I do, it's fun. (grins)
Elven Horse by Saikagrl
An elven horse is born to a Rohirrim herd.
Snaga was tired, wet and annoyed. He had been ordered to go and get horses from the Rohirrim for Sauron's army, by force if necessary; never mind if the author wasn't even sure if that was how things got done. Snaga was the only all-purpose Mordor name she could think of at the moment, and she was lazy too, so Snaga was the one who had been wrenched out of his cosy post shovelling Olog-Hai dung and dumped just outside a stable which was smaller and more wooden, even if with much the same smell. That was why he was tired and annoyed.
Why was he wet? It was raining.
Snaga decided to stop breaking the fourth wall at that point and get on with the job. He walked through the unlocked door and peered into the nearest stall, standing on tiptoe in the prickly straw.
"Oh... ewww!!"
Yes, orcs DO say "ew".
The Rohirric woman in the stall was good at her job, which is why she made sure the newborn colt was safely born -- cutting the umbilical cord and so on -- before she looked up to see who was there. "If that's Eomer trying to steal oats again, I keep telling you, there's plenty in the--"
She stopped. "You're not Eomer."
"Indeed not," said Snaga. "I am an orc, here to steal horses." It wasn't exactly in-character, but the story was starting to slow down and the author didn't have very long on the computer.
"Golly gosh," said the equine midwife, in a deadpan voice. "And probably lawks as well. Go on, bugger off before I hit you with a saddle."
Snaga gulped and stepped backwards. His quiet life shifting dung had done nothing to prepare him for red-faced midwives, bloody to the elbows and threatening him with riding implements. "Er... all right." He suddenly remembered the title of the fic, and decided he'd better add something. "Er... why does that baby horse have pointy ears?"
"She's an elven horse."
"How does that work?"
"Her father was an elf and her mother was a--"
"Eww! I thought that kind of thing only happened in 'Celebrian'."
The midwife looked thoughtful. "You know, you're right. Besides the fact that there's no chance of their DNA being close enough to actually reproduce."
"Anyway," said Snaga suddenly, for a thought had occurred to him: "Don't all horses have pointy ears anyway?"
"That they do!"
And the elven horse disappeared in a puff of logic. The midwife washed herself and went to bed. And Snaga the orc went on to have a long and illustrious career pointing out illogic in stories, before his untimely death being mobbed by several dozen fangirls for stating that, actually, all things considered, shield-surfing down a giant elephant is actually fairly ridiculous.
-fin-