Hello, Flower!
Aranel; 2005
Aragorn, wounded grievously as he was from his fall into the river, urged his faithful mount on up over the hill. Abruptly, a large crowd of people over a great expanse of plain caught his eye. Irrational and afraid, he weighed a few possibilities and deduced that they must be Wild Men on the march to maraud Rohan and pilfer all their food. Brego (his horse) snorted in fear. Aragorn snorted in fear. He decided to make himself scarce, since he felt that the ravenous Wild Men would certainly eat him if they caught him. He would make for Helm's Deep.
Aragorn pulled the horse sharply left and gave him reign. Brego eased into a trot and then a crisp gallop.
"They're gaining on us! They're gaining on us! Faster! Faster!" cried Aragorn desperately. The crisp gallop transformed into a mad gallop. Then—
"Whoa, Brego!"
"What?" asked the horse, not slowing. "Why?" (Aragorn's delusions made it perfectly logical to talk to his horse—and hear an answer)
"Flower!" insisted Aragorn. "Turn around!" Reluctantly, the horse conceded. Aragorn leapt eagerly off and approached the flower.
"Hello, flower!" said Aragorn. "You're my friend!" He bent down, picked the flower, and took an immense whiff.
"Achoo!" sneezed Aragorn. "I forgot I was allergic to you." Brego nudged Aragorn sharply with his nose and pointed out: "Aragorn, the flower is not your friend anymore. It's time to go."
"Yes," sighed the deranged ranger. "Good-bye, flower!" He remounted and off they rode once more, towards Helm's Deep.
"I know a short-cut!" announced Aragorn. "Let's go through that meadow over there and, after we say hello to those flowers, we'll—"
"Aragorn," said Brego sternly, "there will be no more 'hello-ing' of flowers!"
"Fine."
"And furthermore," continued the horse, "I wish to inform you that you have gotten us hopelessly lost."
"Oh," laughed Aragorn dismissively, "that's no problem! We'll just go and ask that crowd of people back there for directions!"
(I trust you understand how disturbed Aragorn was at this point. Not exactly by the fact that he wished to go back and ask a savage army of Uruk-hai for directions to Helm's Deep, but by the fact that he wished to ask for directions at all.)
After Brego set him straight, they proceeded in more or less the right direction. When Helm's Deep was in sight, Aragorn said something to Brego in elvish—something so unimportant and irrelevant to the story that it wasn't even subtitled! He then proceeded to pat the horse on the neck.
"Thank-you," said Brego, "it's about time I received some recognition!"
After that, Aragorn and Brego went up the causeway. Unfortunately, the gate was shut. Aragorn began searching for a doorbell.
"Just knock!" advised Brego. "They'll let you in."
"Yes, mom!" said Aragorn in contempt. Brego nickered in offence and swatted Aragorn's left leg with his tail.
"Ow!" cried Aragorn. "Something bit me."
Presently, Théoden peered over the wall. "Uh!" he said angrily. "After all my pains to get rid of him—sicking the guards on him, telling Éowyn to give him some of her stew, staging a Warg attack even! Why can I never get rid of him? I am king! KING!"
So worked up was he that he pushed a large boulder off the top of the wall and knocked Aragorn on the head. (The rock shattered into a million pieces, I might add.)
"Something REALLY big bit me!" yelled Aragorn.
"We're under attack!" neighed Brego in fright.
"We are?"
"We have to get inside!"
Aragorn leapt off Brego and knocked. Suddenly, the door swung open, smashed him in the nose, and then shut once more.
"Hmm…" mused Aragorn, rubbing his wounded nose. "Was it supposed to do that?"
"No."
"Naughty!" yelled Aragorn. He kicked the gate. Hard.
"Ow," he said, hopping up and down holding his toe. "Was that supposed to happen?"
"Yes!"
"Well, I've a better idea!" announced the ranger. He knocked at the door (stepping quickly out of the way this time), and bellowed: "Pizza delivery!"
Now Théoden wasn't, in fact, a very intelligent person, so he excitedly ordered the guards to open the gate.
Aragorn and Brego, quite a beleaguered duo, stepped wearily, but triumphantly inside.
However, Théoden did not notice. He was already in the Grand Hall of the keep, preparing for dinner. The servants had set the table and lit some candles. Théoden expectantly tied a napkin around his neck and said, "Háma, the moment the pizza arrives, have it brought in!"
Meanwhile, Aragorn was surrounded by a crowd of confused Rohirrim. Gimli pushed his way through the multitude, angrily yelling: "Where is he? Where is he? I'm gonna kill him! And where's my pizza?"
"You too, Gimli?" questioned Aragorn. "Okay, people! I don't have any pizza—so? What do you want me to do about it…hmm?"
The mob grew wildly angry and Aragorn was forced to flee for his life.
Legolas stopped him. "You're late," he said. "You look terrible, as usual."
He then handed a necklace to Aragorn that somewhat resembled the Evenstar necklace. What the ranger didn't notice was that it was a cheap imitation of the necklace that Legolas had purchased through mail order. Apparently, he felt that the original was too valuable to be in the possession of someone like Aragorn.
"Oooo…pretty!" said Aragorn, his eyes going swirly.
"Uh…it's been lovely talking to you," said Legolas, backing away in alarm, "but I'm officially freaked out now. Bye!" He ran away.
Aragorn then did his classic "Honey, I'm home" thing and opened the door to the Great Hall. Unfortunately, his "moment" was ruined when he realized that he had ripped the handle off the door.
"Where's my PIZZA?" roared Théoden, banging his knife and fork impatiently on the table.
"PIZZA!" cried Aragorn. "Where? Where?"
"MY PIZZA!" thundered Théoden.
"I don't know," said Aragorn.
"You mean there isn't any pizza?" lamented Théoden.
"There, there," consoled Háma, patting the king on the shoulder.
"Captain, don't coddle me!" ordered Théoden. "Aragorn, you're fired!"
"Fine, then you don't get to hear the bad news," said Aragorn.
"What bad news?"
"Oh, nothing. Just the fact that about ten thousand Wild Men (with pitchforks) are marching here right now to attack you!"
"Ten thousand?"
"It is an army bred for a single purpose: to steal the food of men," informed Aragorn. However, he was soon disinterested—he was leaning over, smiling, saying hello to a little yellow petunia in a flowerpot.
"Hello, flower!"
Finis