A/N: ..........?
Disclaimer: ........
Pinkish-Blue Items
Part IV
Aragorn came to the top of a hill, in a ring of trees. He was near the Brandywine River, which he was quite certain Legloas would follow. He set his things down and rested.
Aragorn made a small fire for himself; it took much longer to make the fire without Gimli or Legolas' help. No. That was wrong. Aragorn didn't NEED the Elf's help. He hated the elf. He would have his head. He violently tore open a box of Hot Pockets-
"Ow!" the box exclaimed.
"?!" Aragorn managed to say. He quickly snapped out of his confusion and drew Anduril. "Phantom box! Prepare for your doom!" He raised the blade to the sky: "Elendil! Elendil!" ---
"No! No!" said a voice. "Do not cause harm upon this package. For it was I, Boromir, who made phantom noises. Just having a spot-o-sport."
"Boromir? Oh yes... Boromir the ghost. What do you want?" said Aragorn sheathing Anduril.
"Well," he said, "I told you to speak to me once you hath defeated Legolas. I have important matters to speak with you." The ghost sat down on a large, sharp rock. Any Man, Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit, Wizzard, even Orc would have been painfully impaled by the rock. But that silly nonsense called pain is of nothing to ghosts.
"Yes? ....?" Aragorn was busy chewing his Ham n' Cheese Hot Pocket, which cheese was dripping down his chin and unto his mail armor. Boromir made strange, ghostly signals to Aragorn, wiping his chin as if telling the Ranger/King something.
Aragorn stared.
"Nevermind. Now. For important matters," said the ghost, rising from the stone. "I believe that Orcs are about. Hunting for the..."-he looked left, then right- "Pinkish-Blue Item."
"Why would they want.." -Aragorn looked left and then right, only in a more mockingly manner- "the Pinkish-Blue Item? I don't even know what it is. Besides," he paused, drawing Anduril again, "I will have their heads for lawn orniments before they get near myself or Frodo!"
"Well. You should be cautious. The 'item' can ensnare your mind and soul, forcing you to commit all sorts of devilry such as: entering the woman's facilities, or eating very much without exercise forcing you to gain weight! The item might even make you..." -dramaticaly long and drawn out pause- "wash your hair."
Aragorn jumped, and placed his hands apon his flakey, maggot-infested hair. "NEVER!" he cried. "These Orcs shall perish, and the Pinkish-Blue item will be destroyed!!" He raised Anduril "ELENDIL! ELENDIL!"
The ghost shifted nervously. "... Stop saying that, please. Orcs are about... like I said before."
Aragorn "cooked" ( if one can call holding a cheesey, hammie pastrey over a flame by the tip of a sword cooking ) two more Hot Pockets for his dinner. He found that he could not eat the second; unless, of course, he wanted to vomit.
"Boromir, would you like this Hot Pocket?" asked Aragorn politely.
"Sure. I haven't had a Hot Pocket since before I came to Rivendell and we began our journey."
"Hold on. Need to get some herbs for my famous 'Herbal Tea'," said Aragorn. He turned to his pack and pulled out random things. He dropped the Hot Pocket over Boromir's extended hand.... The Hot Pocket fell right through his hand and rolled down the hill. It splashed into the Brandywine River and was lost for ever.
"...Boromir........MY HOT POCKET, BOROMIR!!! YOUR HAVE LOST IT!!" He screamed and cursed. Aragorn swung Anduril around wildly, clanging the steel against the rock Boromir had been sitting on earlier. Aragorn stopped and muffled crying.
"...I-I'm.... sorry, Aragorn. I hope seeking revenge apon Legolas will relieve you of your tremendous anger," Boromir said fading into a mist, then completely vanshing.
After mourning over his lost companion (no! not Boromir!), Aragorn ground his herbs and such into a paste and he poured it into a cup of hot water. He mixed it for a moment, then drank it. Aragorn jumped up: he felt rejuvinated, revived, sadness had left him. He swung his blade around. "Elendil! Elendil!"
Aragorn ran into the woods to seek his prey, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, prince of Mirkwood. Heading deep into the Old Forest, he noticed that the trees seemed to be directing him towards the South. He used Anduril to cut through branches and even small trees, for his plans would not be foiled by plants. After marching for an hour or so, he heard a noise.
Legolas, he thought, I shall defeat you.
He crept along around a large boulder in deep grass that reached up to his knees. He heard the noise again. This time it souned more like a snarl than anything else.
...Orcs, Aragorn thought.
Suddenly! (!!!!) an Orc jumped from behind the rock. It had nasty-looking face. It showed its fangs, and hissed at the Ranger. He held a scimitar above his head, screaming in the Orc tongue. His name was... well I don't know because no one bothered to ask him. The Orc swung at Aragorn.
"THE ITEM," he hissed, "THE ITEM! GIVE IT!!" The Orc swung again. Aragorn easily evaded it... again.
"Elendil! Elendil!" Aragorn cried. With a quick flick of his wrist, Anduril had peirced through the Orc's throat, and breaking through the bone. The head fell to the floor. "Victory is mine! I am on your tail, Elf!"
Disclaimer: ........
Pinkish-Blue Items
Part IV
Aragorn came to the top of a hill, in a ring of trees. He was near the Brandywine River, which he was quite certain Legloas would follow. He set his things down and rested.
Aragorn made a small fire for himself; it took much longer to make the fire without Gimli or Legolas' help. No. That was wrong. Aragorn didn't NEED the Elf's help. He hated the elf. He would have his head. He violently tore open a box of Hot Pockets-
"Ow!" the box exclaimed.
"?!" Aragorn managed to say. He quickly snapped out of his confusion and drew Anduril. "Phantom box! Prepare for your doom!" He raised the blade to the sky: "Elendil! Elendil!" ---
"No! No!" said a voice. "Do not cause harm upon this package. For it was I, Boromir, who made phantom noises. Just having a spot-o-sport."
"Boromir? Oh yes... Boromir the ghost. What do you want?" said Aragorn sheathing Anduril.
"Well," he said, "I told you to speak to me once you hath defeated Legolas. I have important matters to speak with you." The ghost sat down on a large, sharp rock. Any Man, Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit, Wizzard, even Orc would have been painfully impaled by the rock. But that silly nonsense called pain is of nothing to ghosts.
"Yes? ....?" Aragorn was busy chewing his Ham n' Cheese Hot Pocket, which cheese was dripping down his chin and unto his mail armor. Boromir made strange, ghostly signals to Aragorn, wiping his chin as if telling the Ranger/King something.
Aragorn stared.
"Nevermind. Now. For important matters," said the ghost, rising from the stone. "I believe that Orcs are about. Hunting for the..."-he looked left, then right- "Pinkish-Blue Item."
"Why would they want.." -Aragorn looked left and then right, only in a more mockingly manner- "the Pinkish-Blue Item? I don't even know what it is. Besides," he paused, drawing Anduril again, "I will have their heads for lawn orniments before they get near myself or Frodo!"
"Well. You should be cautious. The 'item' can ensnare your mind and soul, forcing you to commit all sorts of devilry such as: entering the woman's facilities, or eating very much without exercise forcing you to gain weight! The item might even make you..." -dramaticaly long and drawn out pause- "wash your hair."
Aragorn jumped, and placed his hands apon his flakey, maggot-infested hair. "NEVER!" he cried. "These Orcs shall perish, and the Pinkish-Blue item will be destroyed!!" He raised Anduril "ELENDIL! ELENDIL!"
The ghost shifted nervously. "... Stop saying that, please. Orcs are about... like I said before."
Aragorn "cooked" ( if one can call holding a cheesey, hammie pastrey over a flame by the tip of a sword cooking ) two more Hot Pockets for his dinner. He found that he could not eat the second; unless, of course, he wanted to vomit.
"Boromir, would you like this Hot Pocket?" asked Aragorn politely.
"Sure. I haven't had a Hot Pocket since before I came to Rivendell and we began our journey."
"Hold on. Need to get some herbs for my famous 'Herbal Tea'," said Aragorn. He turned to his pack and pulled out random things. He dropped the Hot Pocket over Boromir's extended hand.... The Hot Pocket fell right through his hand and rolled down the hill. It splashed into the Brandywine River and was lost for ever.
"...Boromir........MY HOT POCKET, BOROMIR!!! YOUR HAVE LOST IT!!" He screamed and cursed. Aragorn swung Anduril around wildly, clanging the steel against the rock Boromir had been sitting on earlier. Aragorn stopped and muffled crying.
"...I-I'm.... sorry, Aragorn. I hope seeking revenge apon Legolas will relieve you of your tremendous anger," Boromir said fading into a mist, then completely vanshing.
After mourning over his lost companion (no! not Boromir!), Aragorn ground his herbs and such into a paste and he poured it into a cup of hot water. He mixed it for a moment, then drank it. Aragorn jumped up: he felt rejuvinated, revived, sadness had left him. He swung his blade around. "Elendil! Elendil!"
Aragorn ran into the woods to seek his prey, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, prince of Mirkwood. Heading deep into the Old Forest, he noticed that the trees seemed to be directing him towards the South. He used Anduril to cut through branches and even small trees, for his plans would not be foiled by plants. After marching for an hour or so, he heard a noise.
Legolas, he thought, I shall defeat you.
He crept along around a large boulder in deep grass that reached up to his knees. He heard the noise again. This time it souned more like a snarl than anything else.
...Orcs, Aragorn thought.
Suddenly! (!!!!) an Orc jumped from behind the rock. It had nasty-looking face. It showed its fangs, and hissed at the Ranger. He held a scimitar above his head, screaming in the Orc tongue. His name was... well I don't know because no one bothered to ask him. The Orc swung at Aragorn.
"THE ITEM," he hissed, "THE ITEM! GIVE IT!!" The Orc swung again. Aragorn easily evaded it... again.
"Elendil! Elendil!" Aragorn cried. With a quick flick of his wrist, Anduril had peirced through the Orc's throat, and breaking through the bone. The head fell to the floor. "Victory is mine! I am on your tail, Elf!"