'The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai'



Day seven: Enter the Chickens at Last!


Now, hopefully you all have taken the time to say your prayers for the leader of the Cawona tribe? If not...well it's too late for that.

Dawn arose, bleak and slow. The wire of the Chicken Coop was illuminated brilliantly and the scattered straw on the floor was turned a dull yellow. In the corner, a pot of water, wood, stones, and a few rabbits had been placed (it was assumed that this was to be breakfast, of course). And we can't forget the most important part of the trap: the gaggle of sad-sucks inside.

Gimli was piled atop of poor Legolas, who had a few limbs trapped underneath the Lady Èowyn. Blonde hair was strewn all over the place. Pippin's legs were entangled with Faramir's, who in turn was wrapped in Èomer's arms, and Merry was at the top of the dog pile, sleeping spread-eagle unperturbed.

Ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit

The haunting sound of the Cawona filled the air as a loud screech. Legolas was the first to awake, his sensitive Elf-ears taking the brunt of the sound. He jolted up violently, shoving Èowyn off of him. She let out a shriek muffled by Gimli's beard and toppled out of the pile. Due to the law of force, a chain reaction started.

First, Pippin's legs were removed roughly from the safety of Faramir's and he toppled to the ground, still snoring. Then, Èomer and Faramir fell to the ground, limbs entangling even more. It seems the Rohirrim did not want to let go of the Gondorian any time soon. Merry, well...he hung suspended in the air for a few moments before gravity took over and he fell on top of Legolas harshly, still sleeping.

The Elf, Woman, and Dwarf groaned in annoyance.

Wake up, lazy good-for-nothings.

Legolas was on his feet in an instant, reaching for arrows that were not there. He cursed loudly in Elvish, startling Gimli out of his stupor. He jumped up, looking wildly around for the Elven attack. It would have been humorous, except for the fact that he tripped over Èowyn, making her jump up and start screaming at the nearest person, who happened to be Pippin. Peregrin Took could only sit there rubbing his eyes sleepily, mumbling something about breakfast. Èomer and Faramir and Merry were the only ones spared in this reaction, somehow.

Oh, would you quit your yelling already! Your giving me a headache! I don't want to have to take another spawn bath! Damn!

Startled gasps went up around, save the three still asleep, and all eyes went to the round frog in front of them.

There, that's better. My wife does enough yelling, I don't need Men yelling, too. Now, wake the other three. I have news that might interest you.

Gimli turned and looked at the Men and Hobbit still lying asleep. If he knew anything about Èomer, waking him up before he wanted to get up would be common suicide. Best let the Woman wake them.

"Well, Lady Èowyn, he's your husband and brother. Best you wake them. Pippin, get Merry up. What are you waiting for? Move!"

I said no yelling!

Èowyn looked horrified. Wake her brother? She might as well write her will here and now. Well, there's no time like the present. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to her brother's sleeping form with her head held high. Both his arms were wrapped possessively around Faramir's slim waist; in a way her husband used to hold her. On the other hand, Faramir had one arm looped around Èomer's bicep, and the other around his neck, like he was going to kiss him. Both lips were parted slightly.

Now, how to go about it...? Ah, yes. Acting like a rabid fangirl, Èowyn stalked up to her brother, held a fistful of his tangled hair loosely in her hand, tensed her muscles, yanked and shrieked in his ear loudly, before pulling back, all in one motion.

Èomer yelped and let go of Faramir. He made to go for his sword, missed, stumbled backwards over said man, woke him up, and fell to his backside. Ouch. 'Twas a sight.

Pippin, on the other hand, had it easier. All he had to do was stumble over to his cousin and say: "Merry, Frodo's smoking your share of pipe-weed." The Hobbit was awake in seconds.

Crude, but effective. Hm.

"Oh, shut up." Legolas said rudely.

Bite me, you prissy Elf.

At this point, Gimli turned to the Frog. "Believe me, Master Frog, he will. And he bites hard." Legolas bared his teeth for emphasis.

Oh, shut your face, you short dumbass. You all will be dealt with soon enough, once His Rubberiness gets here. You might not have to wait though, those two over there look unstable enough to run a sword through your guts.

Chancing a look at the two Men and Hobbits seething with sleep and annoyance at being woken up (Faramir and Èomer especially).

Èowyn took authority.

"Oh, stop it, you four! You're acting worse than the twins of Elrond! CUT IT OUT!" she stalked over and forcefully yanked the Hobbits to their feet, slapping them all the way. Next, she walked over to her brother, yanked him up by his blonde hair and glared at him. Faramir's eyes widened at his wife's display, and he got to his feet instantly.

You humans are hopeless. It's nearly mid-day and you are still sleeping! God what an abominable, lazy race.

"Oh, will you shut up already?" Faramir requested, none-too-polite.

The High Cawona stuck his long, slimy tongue out at the Human. Then, it seemed to dawn on them where they were.

"Chicken coop!" Pippin cried out ecstatically. "How clever!"

Thanks, it was my idea.

"No problem."

The other six glared around at each other in stark terror. No one bothered to disguise the horror that they felt inside. What was to become of them once "his Rubberness" arrived?

"Ahhmmm... Can you tell us... what the Chickens will do to us?" Èomer asked carefully, as if not wanting to know the answer. It was like looking at something creepy but fairly interesting that you just had the urge to touch.

If you do not find your soul mate you will go insane.

"Then how come Èomer and Faramir aren't crazy?" Gimli complained.

Eowyn frowned at this, saying, "Are we so sure about that?"

Well... maybe... they have already found their soul mates.

"No!" Èowyn now screamed. "I'm Faramir's soul mate?! This wasn't supposed to happen!"

"What!" Faramir screamed back, not because she didn't think they were soul mates, but because of the disgust that was so obviously in her voice.

"You actually think we're soul mates?" she moaned.

"Hell no! What I do think is that you're regretting being with me in the first place!"

"Well maybe I am!"

"Well... well maybe I am too!"

"Okay then!"

"Okay!"

"It's over!"

"Okay!" he yelled back at her and turned around.

Heh heh heh heh...

"You shut up, fatty," he snipped.

If frogs could look indignant, this one would be pulling one of the best impressions ever. Felligrhan huffed and blew a big raspberry at Faramir.

The ex-husband and wife stomped over to opposites sides of the Chicken Coop and sat down heavily, arms crossed, glaring at one another. Èomer looked torn.

"Augh! Can you two not get along?" Legolas practically yelled, switching his vision from Èowyn, to Faramir. He looked to Gimli for help. The dwarf sighed in defeat. Nothing was going their way. Damn Aragorn to Hell and back! What was he thinking when he sent them out on this mission!

"Let them be, Elf. There's nothing we can do without getting ourselves brutally murdered."

Well, in that Gimli was right. But, did Hobbits ever take not-so-subtle hints? No, I don't think so.

Pippin walked over to the storming Èowyn. She glared venomously in his direction, but that did not daunt the brave and idiotic Hobbit. He poked a finger in her shoulder.

"What is your problem?"

Now, that was the Nazi to the Bomb.

SHUT-UP! Felligrhan roared, before Èowyn could say anything. His Rubberiness approaches. Try to smarten yourselves up.

Looking at one another, they saw that they were indeed, covered in a manner of filth.

BRAWWWWWWWWK!!!

Startled, the seven jumped to their feet and looked around for the source of the noise.

"Felligrhan, treat our guests with more respect. Do not hasten yourselves, warriors. You look fine."

Pippin bowed low to the ground. Merry looked at him and kicked him slightly. "Get up, Pip!" he whispered harshly.

"Yes, Peregrin. Get up, no need for properness here, we're all quite daft."

"Now see here, you Rubber Chicken! I am not daft! I am Gimli son of Gloin! The only things crazy here are that damnable hygiene loving Elf, that crazy Rohirrim woman, and that damn Hobbit," said Dwarf drew himself up to his proud height of three foot seven, displaying his handsome beard.

"If you were not crazy, you would have been severely affected by the spells placed here by the Elves of old. Do not deny your insanity."

"He's right, you know. The Chastfire Snails told me so." Pippin proclaimed proudly. Èomer looked at him like an Orc. Roughly, he grabbed the Irish Hobbit and jerked him around roughly.

"You knew! You knew all along this entire plan and you did not tell us! Traitor!" he threw Peregrin to the ground. Faramir put a hand on the Rohirrim's shoulder to calm him.

Pippin was terrified. The seething King of Rohan looked ready to kill him. But, the soothing hand of the Gondorian calmed his primal instincts. He took a deep breath...and apologized to the Hobbit (see, quite mad, the lot).

"Yes, yes. Now, stand in awe as I come before you."

A terrific fanfare went up around them in the forest as the seven moved toward the wire of the Chicken Coop, trying to get a better look. The sea of Frogs in front of them parted and the giant heads were lowered.

Dark and massive was the shadow that walked toward them. It walked with a grace unmatched by the fairest Elf (Legolas tried strangling me at this point), it's darkness was worse than Sauron himself (at this point, Sauron tried frying me alive), but the beauty of the thing was holy in itself.

But, as it came toward the dying light, everyone saw a yellowish chicken standing before them, carrying a jeweled cane. It had a long white beared to match Gandalf's (I was almost turned into a newt), a purple, furred cape was dragging on the ground behind it. It's skin gave off a rubbery reflection when turned into the light. This was the fabled Rubber Chicken of Mikhai?

"Welcome, guests."

Three of the four seven fainted.


//

Author's Notes: Blah, blah, blah. Somewhat longer chapter, probably as crappy as the rest. Leave a review, please.