Aragorn's Diary
Aranel Carnilino; 2010
A/N: Forget the noble, well-spoken, and knowledgable Aragorn you think you know. Recently, top scholars and linguists have begun translating a long-forgotten, dusty, leather-bound book from ancient Westron. They believe it is nothing less than Aragorn's personal diary, and it's a shocker! It begins with his participation in the events of The Two Towers; upon further study, it seems Aragorn often spoke aloud the contents of his diary while writing, and had a habit of journaling on the go. It also seems he (erroneously) fancied himself a dashing man of great wit, and possessed a martyr's complex. More will be released as it is translated.
Jan. 31 - I've been running for four days now with no luck; I haven't even found a track. That blasted elf and dwarf are probably fifteen leagues ahead of me by now. Dagnabit! This makes me mad! Hey, what's this? It's a tacky metal leaf! Hmmm… that's interesting. Oh well, I have to keep going. Who's that? It's a bunch of longhaired dudes on horses. They're right by me now. One of them is dismounting. He looks very strange. His helmet is old looking: probably came off a heap of moldy, discarded armor and has a rotten looking horsehair plume trailing off the top. Hey, what are you do— ~
Feb. 1 - I have just woken up. I am tied to a tree. It is very hard to write. My arms are tired from struggling to write. I wish I had paid more attention in my seventh grade "How to write while holding a writing utensil in your mouth" class. Oh! Here comes that one mean horse dude who so rudely knocked me upside the head. Ow! That hurt! From a short distance away, I see a short fat guy and a pretty boy talking with crazy horse guy. They are looking at me strangely. They are coming closer. Oh, I see them better now. It is that abusive elf, Legolas, and his hairy sidekick, Gimli. They now look angry. Ow! They punched me. Hard. In the nose. My journal says they're fired. More later. ~
Feb. 2 - I'm still tied to the tree. It is morning and I am hungry. The dwarf is over by the fire, eating my food. He is a pig. Ow! He just threw a bone at my head.
The crazy horse dudes have left. I didn't like them anyway. Abusive! Everyone's abusive! The elf is now telling me to shut up, but I haven't even said anything mean about him. They are so mean… mean, fat, and… and mean! Not my fault. All I do is try to help the world and the world disowns me! It's so miserably unfair! Woe is me! I demand justice! I demand a lawyer! I... I... I'm done ranting. Legolas appears ready to attack. Hey, wait! Uh… now, I have to figure out how to untie myself so I can catch up with a certain running elf and dwarf. ~
Feb. 3 - I FINALLY figured out how to untie myself. After coming to the realization that struggling wouldn't avail me, I decided that I would chew through it. But anyways, I soon got onto the impertinent elf and dwarf's tracks. It appears that they were here yesterday morning, which puts me only a day behind them; to top it off, I'm already dead tired. Hey, look! Orcs!
"Hi, guys, have you seen— ~
Feb. 4 - How do you spell "ARGHHHHHHHHH"? Okay, that's close enough. I told the Orcs, after they nearly killed me, that I'm not at all good to eat and that there was money it in for them if they'd ransom me. They didn't buy it. Instead, they decided to torture me to find out my business. Tell you the truth, I'm not sure myself. I'll just blame it on all the obnoxious people that have abused me for damaging so many of my brain cells. So, what the Orcs are doing is… well… very serious. They have strapped me to a chair and are forcing me to drink something awful. Awww… yuck… ptooey! I told them I hate tea! Gross…. The barbarians! ~
Feb. 5 - The Orcs have apparently decided that I will make a good slave. After they tortured me for hours (It was horrible. They slapped me with fishes [I have no idea where those came from], made me eat grass and banana peels, and forced me to sing "I'm a Little Teapot"!), I finally remembered why I was out there in the middle of nowhere. Mostly because I noticed Perry and Mippin, the two least-abusive Hobbits, were hanging around. I then told the Orcs that I was on a quest to destroy a certain One Ring and that I was trying to catch up with my escaping, abusive companions. Perry and Mippin told me to shut my face, but the Orcs got real interested at that point. They then literally wrung all the rest of the little information I knew out of me and then made me serve them tea. Yuck! How can they drink that? Maybe they want me to be their slave now, huh? That's fine with me as long as they don't expect me to give them foot massages. ~
Feb. 18 - Wow, it's been a while. My journal was starting to miss me. I managed to escape from the Orcs, but the other two midgets, Perry and Mippin or whatever, were nowhere to be found. This may have something to do with the fact that the Orcs were slaughtered by horse-guys, and in the chaos, it was hard to keep track of stuff. I was sliced in the rear by a sword or knife or a sharp rock or something and I blacked out. When I woke up, I was alone on a vast, grassy prairie, so I ran into the nearby forest and promptly tripped over a tree-root and blacked out again. When I woke up, a tree had grabbed me and was carrying me away, probably to squash and eat me. So I yelled, "Hey, lemme go! Lemme go!" and bit its hand. Er, branch. It roared and dropped me, so I scrambled aside, rather stunned, and fell off a conveniently placed cliff. When I hit the bottom, I woke up from my third bout of unconsciousness for the day and started writing this entry. I think I'll try to find my way back out of this forest. It's a little too creepy for my taste. ~
Feb. 19 - Today is not looking to be a good day. I hate to be a herald of doom, but it's true. I woke up this morning to find a large spider crawling on my face, and when I went to swat it away, I fell right out of my hammock! I fell right into a large, vile bag of garbage that Gimli placed under me for a joke! In case you were wondering how I met up with the others again, it is indeed a strange tale. To start, I should probably mention that, after I finally found my way out of those sinister and creepy woods, barely managing to escape from talking, walking trees, I happened upon the sissy, prissy elf and scary, hairy dwarf's camp. They did not look too happy to see me, however. Legolas mumbled something about an "annoying, filthy beast" as Gimli scraped the last bit of food on his plate. The swine! I would have saved him at least a bite… maybe. Anyway, they must have felt some remorse at leaving me earlier and were eager for news of Perry and Mippin, so they decided to let me stay. Thus ends my account of the end of the previous day, which was, against all odds, a success.
However, as I mentioned at the beginning of this entry, today is not looking so bright. Right now, I'm writing while riding one of the worthless steeds that that mean, ill-mannered horse person gave Legolas and Gimli. I was told that we are going to where the evil horse dude lives, called "Rohog," or something of the sort. But yeah, I am so glad that I get my own horse! I'd hate to have to ride with the pointy-eared, neat freak or the fat and hairy dwarf! Legolas is riding closer to me for some reason. He is poking me repeatedly in the butt with an arrow, shouting something about being offended by my "neat freak" comment. Although I'm not sure how he knows about that. Has he seen my journal?! Oh no! I'm slipping off the horse! I'm slipping… almost got my balance… almost… whoops— ~
Feb. 20 - Well, needless to say, things are not exactly going swimmingly. That wizard dude is back and he is even crankier than usual. I guess dying does that to you. Although I never would have guessed that you come back as a walking bleach commercial. Don't tell him I wrote that. He seems very sensitive about people ribbing his new "style," or lack thereof.
Anyway, to make a long story short, we had a kind of showdown with the guards in King Theoworm's hall. (I guess that's what his name is. As you've probably noticed, remembering names is not my strongest suit.) It pains me to admit it, but I got knocked around quite a bit. The dwarf and elf were showing off, as usual, and I was doing my all to hold my own. I got a real smack-down from one of the guards. Even worse, he was a midget. Several of my limbs are on ice, as I write in the solace of my makeshift room in Edor—. Whatever it was. Now, more than ever, I wish I'd have stayed HOME. At least I received a bit less mistreatment there. Although the abuse comparison might be slightly negligible. ~
Feb. 25 – Whew, glad I can write again. Five days of abstention from journaling is killer. Anyhow, I found out that King Theoworm has a niece named Éowyn – I'm telling you, she is CUTE. Thinks she's a warrior and keeps going on and on about nobility and stuff, but it's actually rather adorable (well, technically, she DID school me when I tried to engage her in a duel while she was in sword-practice, but that doesn't mean anything). So, I'm detecting a bit of scorn from the others, who are all sitting in council deciding whether to vacate this dump or not. Personally, I'd just as soon keep my opinions to myself. This has nothing to do with the fact that the wizard tells me to shut up every time I open my mouth. Nothing whatsoever. Well, this meeting is boring and time-consuming. The dwarf's stuffing his face, the elf is posing, and the wizard's droning on and on in Theoworm's ear. I'm gonna go stalk Éowyn some more. ~
Feb. 26 – Today is not looking to be a very good day. To elaborate, I can't stop daydreaming about Éowyn, and the dwarf and elf, noticing the far-off look in my eyes, tease me about it mercilessly. They refuse to attempt to understand how I feel. Legolas, the narcissist, probably dreams about himself, and Gimli… well, we won't go there.
In addition, these daydreams have caused me to have difficulties with running into people. For example, this morning, while I was strolling absentmindedly down the street, daydreaming again, I walked directly into an elderly woman who was getting out of a wagon, knocking her into the mud. Of course, jolted from my pleasant fancies, I immediately took it upon myself to apologize profusely whilst I attempted to hoist her from the ground. She, however, took no interest whatsoever in the proffered help, instead springing to her feet and assaulting me with a handbag.
"Get away from me, you smelly, inobservant fiend!" she shrieked loudly, so that all other passerby could hear. She then proceeded to rattle off a string of obscenities that do not bear repeating. I had no idea that Rohan's women – especially elderly women – could be quite so fierce. My nose is still on ice as I write, but my injuries weren't the worst part. Legolas and Gimli, it turned out, had witnessed the whole thing. They've been laughing hysterically about the incident for hours now. It is beginning to wear on my mental health.
Other than that, I hear tell that we're all going to clear out tomorrow morning, so the townspeople are all scrambling to pack their few meager possessions. Éowyn's taking her prized rock collection. I suggested we bring candy to help placate the marauding Uruks, but the others merely rolled their eyes. Clearly, they don't understand the amazingly endearing powers of sweets. ~
Feb. 27 – Okay, so I am on the road again. What a surprise! I get my own horse, which is nice, as usual, for the trip through the mountains toward some ramshackle castle. We have quite a motley crew here, what with all the shabby village people, ill-equipped soldiers, and a select few nobility on horseback. On that note, Éowyn is totally crushing on me – I can sense it. Naturally, I have to play hard to get. You know, pretend to daydream about Arwen, caress the Evenstar, and mutter, "Arwen, oh, Arwen, my love," at random intervals. That should do the trick. She'll be so jealous, I'll practically have her begging for my affections. She is staring at me with a look that strikes me as somewhere between mystified and… murderous. I can only assume it's a sign of her rabid, undying fondness for me. She is now offering me some stew – her own "secret family recipe," she says. I am choking on said stew. Éowyn seems more pleased with my asphyxiation than concerned, but that's nothing to go by, is it? When we're married, I'm thinking we might have to hire a household cook, though. ~