The Lord of the Deodorant
Chapter one
it has fallen from the hands of the most likely person imaginable and into the hands of anyone the discovers it. It must be found.
"For that is how it all began. A simple girl from the world above, or the Future as our people have come to call it, found a portal to our Middle Earth through a broken pad on a treadmill. The second she found it she had decided to apply some of her anti-perspirant deodorant; yet as she gazed into the small reflection of our world, the device slipped through her sweat slicked fingers (she had been working out) and into our world. We soon pulled her in after – asking her of where she found this portal and what happened to the deodorant. She only broke into tears and told us she had nothing to say, for she knew nothing.
'We believed her, and allowed her some time alone in some chambers of her own. Galadriel alone knew the devastating power of this deodorant, and she relayed the message to Lord Elrond, and he to myself. You see, Aragorn son of Bob, it may seem a simple device of self-hygiene, but to one Saruman, it is the key to all his dreams come true.
'Saruman lives far in the mountains of Merlainia – in a tall tower where he breeds Orcs and tries to invent new TV dinners and slushy flavors and fails pitifully in his attempts. You see, unlike most creatures in the land of Middle Earth, Saruman reeks. He has two large opposing powers within himself – his magic and deceiving words can bring even the strongest-willed Elf under his control, but his unimaginable stench can quickly change the mind of anyone and have the will of the people repelling him so far from society that not even his magic could bring him back.
'Should he get hold of this he will certainly use it in the most treacherous of ways, such as under his arms. Then what is to become of us?" Gandalf had paused to glance out the window of Aragorn's current residence – a small one-roomed apartment in the under floors of Bree.
Aragorn blinked at the wizard, then stood firmly. "Worry not, Gandalf! For I alone, Aragorn son of Bob will hunt this menace down and destroy it! For I am the Lone Ranger and I will not let evil prevail in this beautiful…land…and…" Aragorn trailed off, ripped his sword from it's sheath and dove through his window, whooping and hollering. Gandalf shook his head and brought a hand to his brow, and moved to the broken window, shards of glass catching on his grey cloak.
"Are you alright, Aragorn son of Bob?"
There was a faint groan, a grunt, and then Gandalf saw Aragorn get to his feet once again. He turned and held a hand up. "Quite, Gandalf." he whistled shrilly and a horse was instantly at his side. The old wizard watched as his friend straddled it's back, and the horse reared, neighing faithfully. As Aragorn road off into the setting sun, Gandalf thought he heard the Human yell, "Heigh Hoe, Silver! Away!"
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It was not long before Aragorn realized he had no idea where he was going, but decided that eventually he would circle the globe and come to something somewhere. Silver was trotting along softly when suddenly there was a sharp twang and something whizzed past his head.
Aragorn fell from his horse and onto the ground when the second arrow shot past him. Silver moved to the side and shook his head, but did not seem afraid. It was already late, and the sun had long gone behind the horizon, so it was a little difficult for Aragorn to see his attacker. His fear had drained, however, since it seemed the attacker was hitting everything but him.
"Who goes there?" he demanded, but another arrow, this one way off, was his only reply. After a minute he heard the soft twang of a guitar and some slurred but musical words to follow that seemed to come from inside the grove of trees. He quickly lit a torch up went to investigate. "Hello?"
The musical words turned to sobbing – directly behind him, and he swiveled around. His light betrayed a figure sprawled against the base of a tree, a guitar in one of his green clad arms and a bow at his side. A bottle was tucked under his arm and his hand covered his brow. When the light struck his ivory skin he removed his hand from his face and quickly looked at Aragorn with wide eyes with tears at their brims, then he let out a cry.
"Good Lord, where did you come from?" he demanded, words slurred and his long blond hair disheveled. Almost immediately after his question, "Oh it doesn't matter I suppose. It doesn't matter at all, nothing matters – I'm ugly, I'm weak, all I have is my music.."
Aragorn's eyebrow raised high on his forehead and he suddenly felt very aware of his own masculinity. "Emm…Are you drunk, my good….Elf?"
The beautiful man before him shot him a glare through dulled blue eyes. He held his wine close to his chest and shook his head violently at Aragorn. "Do I look drunk, my good man? I am an Elf! Elves do not…get…drunk.." he began sobbing again, tears streaming down his fair cheeks and he curled up into a little ball, chin to his chest. He took a long swig of whatever he had in the bottle and picked up his guitar, singing brokenly and clumsily strumming. After a minute he just cried, face in hands, and he rambled about all that he hated of himself. "I'm weak…and…and…I can no longer hit my targets…"
Aragorn found out in the ramblings of the Elf that his name was Legolas. He was at one point in his life the finest, bravest archer in all the land, a valiant warrior, and an expert poker player but one day he fell in love and lost his knack for anything masculine.
"Who was this fair damsel that has broken your heart into cold shards, my good Legolas?" Aragorn asked him, now crouched in front of his and watching him thoughtfully. He didn't particularly care of this man's crushed love life, but the fact that this Elf had once been a great warrior had piqued his curiosity. Perhaps if he had a reason to live, he could be of some use.
Legolas shook his head and was about to take another swig, but Aragorn pulled the bottle from him. "It was not a fair damsel, foolish man, it was the most dangerous temptation imaginable…the music of the night. I heard a guitar strumming quietly in the breeze, so I went to see what the beautiful sound was.." he choked on a sob, but continued on. "The lad playing the guitar offered it to me and I took it, but as soon as I put my hands on it he stole my self-esteem."
Aragorn's eyebrow was at his hairline now. That explained much of this poor creature's sorrows.
"Now I have nothing but this guitar and my dear wine. I am ruined!" Legolas cried, new tears taking their paths down his face.
Aragorn shook his head and reached out, fingers on Legolas' chin and pulling his head to face him. "Do stop crying, Elf friend." Aragorn said, patting him on the shoulder. "We'll find your self esteem. It is still out there and waits to be found." He thought a minute, then turned to Legolas again. Legolas was looking up at him from under light brows and teary blue eyes. "Why do you not join my quest? I could use your archery skills, and on the way we may perhaps find your self-esteem!"
Legolas sniffled a little, and Aragorn handed him a hankerchief. "You would let me join you?"
Aragorn smiled. "What are Lone Rangers for?"
Legolas' eyebrow quirked a little in puzzlement. "For being alone?"
Aragorn's own eyebrow hit his hairline this time, but he ignored it and held out a hand. "I am Aragorn son of Bob. I am on a quest for the lost deoderant."
"Deoderant?"
"Yes." Aragorn looked keenly to the side, as though seeing something of some great distance away, his hand on the hilt of his sword and the wind slightly picking up the ends of his hair. Legolas wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not but he swore he heard some kind of cliché hero music in the air. "I have sworn to find this deoderant and destroy it, and all who use it for evil purposes. Death itself would have to pull me from this valiant quest, my dear Elf."
"What about a pierogi?"
Aragorn looked down at Legolas, then back to the sky (the music had paused, but continued). "Should we encounter a pierogi, my good Elf, we must do our best to resist it's…meaty goodness."
Aragorn turned to Legolas and extended a hand. The Elf looked about him, sniffled and wiped his eyes, then gathered his bottle, guitar and bow up. Aragorn helped him to his feet, and Legolas looked at his bottle of wine with a heartbroken expression, then cast it into the woods.
"Let us go, Legolas the Archer." Aragorn lead his way to Silver, and both men mounted it. Aragorn had feared that it would be too heavy for Silver to carry the both of them, but as it turned out, Legolas was like most Elves and weighed less than a tic-tac.
"What is your horses name, Aragorn son of Bob?" Legolas asked him, a little brighter maybe, but his voice still sounded dull and disappointed.
"His name is Heigh Ho Silver. He is quite the steed." Aragorn said with a proud grin, feeling his spine elongate as he sat straighter. "A proud carrier of the Lone Ranger."
"I'll bet his pride has dropped considerably since he has become the carrier of myself." Came Legolas' voice from behind him. Aragorn began to worry.
"Nonsense, Elf friend Legolas."
"Where are we going?"
Aragorn decided that the alcohol was having an influence on the Elf so he simply did not answer. Minutes later he felt the Elf slump against him drunkenly. The ranger could only keep his patience and keep riding on valiantly.