If I might, I may regret to inform you that of late an evil ailment known
as artistic block has befallen me. I am neither sure of when this
infirmity will pass nor of the time I shall feel my newest chapters do not
suck glutimus maximus. Please bare with me through this ill moods, until
once again, perversion and chaos may reign the fanfics..
Jan 11 Had a nasty little deletion of my newest chapter. It all came out well, as the original chapter lacked in hilarity and properly conjucated verbs. Artistic block passed and now I have rewritten an amzing sequel to the FOTR. After watching TTT twice now and reading the script, I present you now with my sick renditon, to which I entitle; Eomer Gets Lop-Happy
Two wary hobbits and one freak of nature began a tiresome trek across the Dead Marshes, as the redundant mass of bog was named. It was a unforgiving path; cold, wet and inset in a vile aura of death. Through the murky waters of the marshes, pale dead faces stared out with vacant eyes, to snare those that might watch the lights, into joining them in their water tombs.
It was Frodo, of course, who fell ill to this trap. As always, Frodo was prone to screwing everything up with minute, unintentional effort, and had nearly suceeded in doing so again.
An eerie, but strangly handsome man watched the ringbearer from beneath the waters. And Frodo, prone to admiring masculine figures, found himself enchanted at this beautiful corpse. The hobbit had never considared necrophilia (A/N: Is that how you spell it?) but this exquisite man tempted him beyond normal feeling. A groan escaped the hobbits lips and he let himself fall towards the beauty.
SPLASH!
Mistake. Below the waters, there was no man. Apparations of long dead ghouls extended decaying hands to the hobbit, pawing, and prying, attempting to draw him deeper to their evil purpose.
Gollum watched in mute terror, as his master fell into the depths. Scraping his way across the dank distance between them, the creature came to the pool before a overdramatizing Sam could. Gollum pulled the flailing hobbit from the waters.
"Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo! Are you alright!?" asked Sam.
"GOOD LORD SAM," bellowed Frodo, "every frickkin time something awful happens you feed me the same line! I don't know whats more annoying, you or all this damn shit I keep getting into!"
All in a sudden, a vast, swooping shape blocked the greying sky. A large winged beast, harnessed by a rider in black. The massive wings of the flying thing pushed incredible masses of air below and above it, A high, whooping redneck call broke the silence of the bog;
"GIT ALOOOONNG LIL' DOGIES, FIND ME MASTERS RING SNIFF OUT BAGGINS' STOGIES AND FIND THAT BASTARD THING.."
"Whoa!" declared Frodo, "that's a nazgul! And by the sound of it, his vocabulary has increased! It's about time too, that school-girl squeal was giving me migraines! I think I'll go congratulate him!"
"Mr. Frodo, he'll get the ring! And, and, and...we'll all be doomed!" stuttured Samwise.
"Hey!" barked Gollum, "it was my turn to say the 'doom' line!" Gollum at once began to writhe and paw, and push his peepers at abnormal sizes past his eye-sockets. He flailed about the ground and moaned about 'the precious'.
"This is no time to have an orgasm!" snapped Sam.
Frodo put his thumb out, in guesture for a ride. The nazgul pulled his dragon to a stop.
"Why, 'allo thar, me little feller! How y'all doin'!"
"Ah, pretty good." said Frodo, "listen, you're the dude that impaled me on Weathertop, remember?"
"Oh, yeah! Like I totally forgot about that!" the black rider slapped his forehead. "That reminds me, I still need that damn ring!"
"Well, I can't really give it to you, as I want to get out of the story all hero-like. But, can I interest you in an alumninum washer, forged in the backroom of Brandybuck Laundry Mat?" Frodo presented the nazgul with a dingy washer, a mighty far stretch in comparing to the ring of power, but it was an idea.
"Hmmm, do you think Sauron will fall for it?"
"He will if..." Frodo took out a nail, "we write the inscription on it. Do you remember it?"
"Um....uh-oh, I failed the Lore of the Ring midterm, I can't remember....was it;
One sheet to cover them all One washer to wash them One screw is hard to undo So think before you knock 'em?"
"Erm...nooo. If I recall that was the motto for a Chastity group that visited our high-school."
"Damn, so it was."
"I remember it!" declared Sam, "after all, I was eavesdropping on you and Gandalf the night you discovered the ring was evil and h'all.
One ring to rule them all One ring to find them One ring to bring them all And in the darkness bind them.
"Good enough," muttered Frodo, and continued to scratch the message onto the washer ring. When he was done, he handed the 'ring' proudly to the nazgul. "Here ya go, feller. And good luck with ending the world and all!"
"And good luck with saving it!" replied the departing rider, neither of them considaring the contradictory farewells they had given.
There was one less black rider, when Sauron received his 'ring'.
Now let our thoughts travel to Rohan, a pathetic little kingdom with the social standing of a present day trailor park. As insult to injury, or laughter in hilarity, they had a king. This king might as well have been a beer drinking constituent of a gravel pit, as he was about as coherent. This king was Theoden, lord of Rohan, and sadly, a passive slave to his scheming servant; Grima Wormtongue. Grima had long spiked his Kings orange juice with potent nectars to keep pink elephants and flying ponies travelling past Theodens' mind.
It was a dreary day the kings nephew, Eomer, came riding back with the renowned Rohirrim bearing a sorrowful burden. In his cousins arms, Theodred, the lone heir to the throne of Rohan, lay. Near point of death, there was little or nothing that could be done in effect to spare his life.
Eomer was mighty pissed with this tragic passing of events, and made no effort to hide it. As an expression of his displeasure, he lopped off a few random heads and trampled a number of children beneath his horse.
"Why'd you do that, m'leige?" questioned one of his fighters, fearfully.
"Gee! Respect for life, dumbarse?" spat Eomer, "I'm sick of carrying this dying lump about!" and he lopped off the soliders head. Needless to say, no one asked any more questions.
The Kings nephew looked about impatiently. Where was his sister, Eowyn? "GET OUT HERE WENCH!" he roared.
Out came his fair-haired sister, Eowyn. She took a single glance at the wound left by an Orc blade upon her cousin, and knew he would not pass the night. "OH BOAH HOO HOOO HOOO!" she wailed. "Who did it, brother?!"
"He ate my last package of Oreos, and Vala knows they are the only half- decent thing in those ration packs!" justified Eomer. "Now I must see our uncle! There are Orcs about!"
Theodred didn't acknowledge his nephews return. Under the watchful stare of Grima, he listened to Eomers relation of the Orc attacks in surrounding areas.
"So we must get out there are get lopping! These new orcs are some breed contrived by Saruman, and must be countered at once with sword to head!" emphasized Eomer.
Grima, who always spoke for the aged king, disagreed. "Saruman has long been our friend and ally! You speak of lies you war-monger! And besides, your random head-lopping has already deprived us of what army we might have had to defend our home!"
While Grimas face was hard enough to take, his voice sent individual needles through Eomers head. "You stupid worm! They are definatly Sarumans handi-work! Look!" Eomer cast the severed head of an Uruk before him, bearing the insignia of the white wizard on the nape of it's neck. Words in Comic Sans MS text read; Made with love in Build-An-Orc TM by Saruman. (An advanced rendering of those personalized computer card programs.)
"What ever happened to good old branding?" sighed Wormtongue. His boss really stepped into it this time. "Eomer, you really have too much intellect for such a moron.."
Eomer went to reach for his sword, in all intention of lopping Grimas head, "How long has it been since Saruman bought you, fiend! What was the promised pay? Me?"
Grimas eyes involentarily swerved to a departing Eowyn. Yes, long had he desired that woman, despite all her over-dramatic weeping. She would warm a nice bed, and all else was really irrelevant.
"Too long have you watched my sister!" roared Eomer. Before he could execute a perfect lop, Grimas weasly guards had taken hold of him.
"I banish you for this outrage, Eomer, son of Eomund, on pain of eating my homemade seafood salad!"
It was no idle threat. Everyone in Rohan knew the potency of Grimas culinary work. Death was a vacation in comparison to the ingestion of Seafood 'a la Grima! On that note, Eomer had no desire to return.
Later that evening, Grima had designated for what he assumed would be 'the seduction of Eowyn'. He was ready, he decided, as he had spent many a day indulging in How To Get With A Chick FOR DUMMIES. He had some great new lines he was itching to relate to his would-be love.
Eowyn was beside the bed of her now departed cousin, Theodred. She was crying at a decibal level of a Metallica mosh pit, lamenting his death. Grima flinched at the unholy noise, it almost made him regret all those times he'd kept that bloodthirty blowhard, Eomer, from lopping her head.
"Oh....he's dead." said Grima with mucho restrained sympathy. "I take it the pills I gave him were to no effect?" He tactfully omitted the fact the 'pills' that had been passed for 'Tylenol' were really arsenic.
"OH BOO HOO HOAAHHOHH HOOOO..." warbled Eowyn in response.
"Ai....." groaned Wormtongue. He unplugged his ears long enough to spill his eloquent pick-up lines. "Eowyn, fair darling.." he began.
"WAAAAHHH, w-what, Gr-gr-G-rima?" she sobbed.
Instantly, Grima feigned a seizure and flopped to the floor. Had it been a game of charades, Eowyn would have yelled 'dying fish!' "Aggh!" he yelled.
"Oh Grima! What's happened!?"
"Call an ambulance baby! Cus you just stole my heart!"
Even though she was blonde to the core, Eowyn had her dignities. That was the single most worst line she had ever received. It was so bad, that the previous mornings delicacies made a comeback. "BLAUGGGGHHHHHH!" she spewed foul barf all over her potential lover. "I'm sorry Grima," she apologized, wiping her mouth of the vomit, "but that is all I will ever have within me for you!"
"Eeeny, meeny, miney, moe....old--black--joe--says--this--is--the--way--to-- go!" Aragorn put his stupendous rangers skills to work, to track the insidiuos Uruks that had captured their two friends Merry and Pippin. "Alright! This way!" the ranger directed his two friends, Legolas and Gimli.
Legolas took off at once, all in effort to show his amazing legs in his new spandex. "Come on Gimli!" he called back to the dwarf for the nine millionth time that day.
"Dwarves are wasted on cross-country!" grumbled the slow Gimli, while pumping his short legs with all the strength he could muster.
The three companions had travelled awhile when they stopped to make sure they were on the proper track.
"Legolas," said Aragorn, "what do your elf eyes see?"
Legolas climbed on top of a rock to get a good view. It was hardly needed as an obvious cloud of dust had risen sky-high from the Uruks rampage. "The Orcs have turned east," announced the elf. "Boy, it's a fortunate thing you have me along, else you might never have seen that!"
Aragorn sniffed the air. "Well, melannin, a mere ranger can tell you that is no rising dust. Our orcish friends are taking a narcotics break." He inhaled deeply, "hmmm, that's actually some half-good shit! And it'll buy us some time too! Quickly everyone!"
"Haha, dumb elf!" laughed Gimli.
Legolas took off at superman speed once again. "Come on Gimli!" he mocked. "Don't slow us down!"
The smoking kingsfoil had not only attracted Aragorns attention, but the attention of a passing group of Rohirrim. A group containing our previously met hero, Eomer.
As it turned out, the Orcs were actually smoking fir trees. They had discovered the unnatural joy of tree weed and were revelling in it's full pleasure.
**insert excerpt from previous draft*
Still a little hazy from the excessive drug-smoke of the Uruks, the Rohirrim did not notice three very obvious standing figures. Aragorn had to jump in front of a horse and risk severe trampling to gain their attention. "Hey! YO WASSUP MY HOMIES!?" he bellowed.
In moments, the three travellers were encircled by a group of sullen looking men, all with spears pointed towards them. The leader, Eomer, came forward. Too tired to lop any heads, he merely resorted to being rude. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded impatiently.
"Uh, whats on the go..I mean, what news of the mark?" replied the ranger.
"Oh, Theodred kicked the bucket, Theodens on an acid trip, and a weasel named Wormtongue dictates the lives of our trailer park kingdom. Not to mention, we just slaughtered a pack of Uruk-hai and Orcs a mile back. It was freaky, they were all wacked, and dancing in pink bunny slippers--argh, damn, that shit really got to me. Now why the heck are you three here? Rather suspicious lot! One elf, a dwarf and an unwashed wigger. Hmmm, very interesting. Mind if I lop your heads?"
"We'rrrrre in no mood, faggot!" roared Gimli.
"I'd lop yours now, but it's no higher than my bag!" retorted Eomer.
"Touch my friend and you will have no bag!" snapped Legolas. Hmmm, possible love interest?
"Shut-up you raving homosexuals," groaned Aragorn. "Listen, Eomer. I am Aragorn son of...er...some important dude, this is Legolas, Prince of Whats- his-fuck in Mirkwood, and this is Gimli, heir of Gloin, heh, heh that sounds like "hair of groin!"" snickered Aragorn.
Gimli was not amused. He was hairy as it was, and wanted no attention drawn to certain unmentionables.
"Anyways, dude, did you kill two hobbits along with the Uruks? It's a pretty tempting thing to do, so don't be ashamed in admitting it....though we would like to find them," finished Aragorn.
"What the sweet fuck...? 'Hobbits'?" Eomer clearly had no clue.
"Uh, they would be small, only children in your eyes. They were captured by the Orcs days back."
Eomer shook his head. "Well, I saw no Habits, or Hobbits, whatever the hell you call them. Everything we killed was damn ugly and that's all I know. Here have a brace of horses for your troubles. Their riders were annoying, and deserved the lopping I gave them. I just hope you don't deserve the lopping I didn't give you!" With that the banished fighter left, all his men behind him.
"Killed everrrrrrrrrything damn ugly? Noooooo!" wailed Gimli, "they arrrrrrrrrre dead! Dead!"
Legolas bowed his head in sadness. Aragorn threw a tantrum. Their two friends were dead. Nonetheless, the elven brooches and short swords worn by the hobbits would fetch a nice price at the local pawn shop, so off they headed towards the smoking corpses of the Orc slaughter.
Once there, the companions were met with disappointment. There were no elven brooches or swords amongst the smoking pile.
"You don't suppose Eomer took them for his own?" mused Legolas.
"No...." said Aragorn very slowly. "As a matter of fact, I don't think he even saw them...Look." The ranger pointed to a particular area in the ground. "A hobbit slept here!"
"How do you know that, Arrragorrrn?" asked Gimli.
"Nasals snore tabs," replied the ranger, "Pippin was notorious for his snoring, and also there's a night cap......and look! He crawled over here, hands bound, found an axe and cut his bonds!" He lifted a severed rope.
"Well....!" exclaimed Legolas.
"Now over here!" said Aragorn, rising in excitement with each passing minute, "He was nearly trampled by a horse!"
"Now how do you gatherrrr that?" questioned Gimli.
"Easy," answered Aragorn, "there are very deep hoof prints here and a pile of crap. The trauma of almost being flattened caused him to shit himself!"
"You are simply amazing, Sherlock!" complimented Legolas, with fluttering eyelids.
"Junior High, dear Watson."
"That's 'elementarrry', Aragorrrrn.." corrected Gimli.
"Whatever. Now, observe this. A hobbit shuffled over here and cut another hobbits bonds. More rope! And now, they both ran straight into Fangorn forest!"
"Fangorrrrn!" rolled Gimli. "What madness drrrove them therrrre?"
"What do you think dumarse? They were escaping Orcs and head-lopping maniacs!"
"Oh. Rrrright."
"Do we have to go in there?" whined Legolas, "those brambles look like they might nick my new slacks.."
"Well then, think of all the men that will see your sexy legs!" declared Aragorn in a pathetic attempt to sway the elf's complaint. It worked, as Legolas was a blonde. (A/N: No offense to you blondies, your hair is beautiful and by no way a hinderance to your intellect!)
The three searched throughout the woodland of Fangorn. Well they 'kind of' searched. Aragorn found a new patch of daisies in which to continue his "she loves me, she loves me lots," activity. Gimli found an unfortunate Ent in which to bore with ramblings of Moria, and Legolas sat around gossiping with the trees. In mid-expose of a juicy tidbit, the trees interupted Legolas to inform him that the "White Wizard" was coming.
"How rude!" pouted the elf.
"What, Legolas?" asked Aragorn.
"The trees cut off my paraphrase of last weeks Days of Our Lives to tell me some damn White Wizard was coming!" he answered broodily.
"White Wizard!" declared the ranger. "Quick to your swords! Do not listen to his words, he will bewitch you!"
"Any man can bewitch me," winked Legolas at the man.
"Legolas, please, how many times to I have to tell you, I'm NOT gay! I'm with Arwen, alright?!"
"You arrrre always welcome to join a thrrrreesome with me and Galadrrrriel, frrriend," comforted Gimli.
They were taken by suprise, as the 'White Wizard' stepped into the clearing, blinding them all with an angelic white light.
"Are you Monica from Touched by an Angel?" asked Legolas, "I like, soooo love that show! I watch it every sunday and the reruns on thursday!"
"Man, downgrade to some forty-watt bulbs!" Aragorn sheilded himself from the light, "It's hard on the cataracts!"
"You wouldn't know anything about Morrrria, would you?"
The White Wizard sighed and stepped out of the brilliant lumeniscence. "I should have known better than to expect a hero's welcome from you lot!"
All three were astonished to discover the White Wizard was their old home- boy Gandalf the Grey! They had completely forgotten he meant to return after slipping off the bridge of Khazad-dum. Gimli and Legolas bowed in reverance, (though they were not sure why, afterwords).
"How the heck did you......????!!!!" asked Aragorn, who considared himself too much of a handsome, rugged dude to bow to a decrepit old man.
"--Escape the Balrog?" offered Gandalf.
"Nooo, get white hair?" said Aragorn.
"Oh, that. I picked up some "Just for Wizards" at the local 7-11. Sexy, huh? Anyways, I've come to save all you pathetic people out of a huge mess. Don't worry about Merry and Pippin. I disemboweled them for alerting the Orcs in Khazad-dum."
There was a very awkward silence.
"HA HA HA HA!" laughed Gandalf, "April fools! Had you there for a second! I merely beat them within an inch of their lives. They are currently now safely with Treebeard the Ent, marching to an Entmoot."
"Ahhhh, that's great. Heh heh. Funny joke..." wheezed Aragorn.
"Well now, get those two idiots to stop bowing, and we'll go save the world!" delcared Gandalf.
Gimli had fallen asleep while bowing, and Legolas had taken the time to get intimate with mother nature--a rabbit burrow to be exact.
As the four friends came to the clearing, Gandalf took note of their Rohirrim steeds. "I see you have horses! Great! Well I don't just have a horse, I have the KING of horses. So HAH!and nyah nyah nah boo boo!" Gandalf stuck his tongue out at them in a childish manner.
So proceeded another reunition, all in convient time frame. And four of the original fellowship members rode into the sunset with all intention of saving the day--and many others to come.
Jan 11 Had a nasty little deletion of my newest chapter. It all came out well, as the original chapter lacked in hilarity and properly conjucated verbs. Artistic block passed and now I have rewritten an amzing sequel to the FOTR. After watching TTT twice now and reading the script, I present you now with my sick renditon, to which I entitle; Eomer Gets Lop-Happy
Two wary hobbits and one freak of nature began a tiresome trek across the Dead Marshes, as the redundant mass of bog was named. It was a unforgiving path; cold, wet and inset in a vile aura of death. Through the murky waters of the marshes, pale dead faces stared out with vacant eyes, to snare those that might watch the lights, into joining them in their water tombs.
It was Frodo, of course, who fell ill to this trap. As always, Frodo was prone to screwing everything up with minute, unintentional effort, and had nearly suceeded in doing so again.
An eerie, but strangly handsome man watched the ringbearer from beneath the waters. And Frodo, prone to admiring masculine figures, found himself enchanted at this beautiful corpse. The hobbit had never considared necrophilia (A/N: Is that how you spell it?) but this exquisite man tempted him beyond normal feeling. A groan escaped the hobbits lips and he let himself fall towards the beauty.
SPLASH!
Mistake. Below the waters, there was no man. Apparations of long dead ghouls extended decaying hands to the hobbit, pawing, and prying, attempting to draw him deeper to their evil purpose.
Gollum watched in mute terror, as his master fell into the depths. Scraping his way across the dank distance between them, the creature came to the pool before a overdramatizing Sam could. Gollum pulled the flailing hobbit from the waters.
"Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo! Are you alright!?" asked Sam.
"GOOD LORD SAM," bellowed Frodo, "every frickkin time something awful happens you feed me the same line! I don't know whats more annoying, you or all this damn shit I keep getting into!"
All in a sudden, a vast, swooping shape blocked the greying sky. A large winged beast, harnessed by a rider in black. The massive wings of the flying thing pushed incredible masses of air below and above it, A high, whooping redneck call broke the silence of the bog;
"GIT ALOOOONNG LIL' DOGIES, FIND ME MASTERS RING SNIFF OUT BAGGINS' STOGIES AND FIND THAT BASTARD THING.."
"Whoa!" declared Frodo, "that's a nazgul! And by the sound of it, his vocabulary has increased! It's about time too, that school-girl squeal was giving me migraines! I think I'll go congratulate him!"
"Mr. Frodo, he'll get the ring! And, and, and...we'll all be doomed!" stuttured Samwise.
"Hey!" barked Gollum, "it was my turn to say the 'doom' line!" Gollum at once began to writhe and paw, and push his peepers at abnormal sizes past his eye-sockets. He flailed about the ground and moaned about 'the precious'.
"This is no time to have an orgasm!" snapped Sam.
Frodo put his thumb out, in guesture for a ride. The nazgul pulled his dragon to a stop.
"Why, 'allo thar, me little feller! How y'all doin'!"
"Ah, pretty good." said Frodo, "listen, you're the dude that impaled me on Weathertop, remember?"
"Oh, yeah! Like I totally forgot about that!" the black rider slapped his forehead. "That reminds me, I still need that damn ring!"
"Well, I can't really give it to you, as I want to get out of the story all hero-like. But, can I interest you in an alumninum washer, forged in the backroom of Brandybuck Laundry Mat?" Frodo presented the nazgul with a dingy washer, a mighty far stretch in comparing to the ring of power, but it was an idea.
"Hmmm, do you think Sauron will fall for it?"
"He will if..." Frodo took out a nail, "we write the inscription on it. Do you remember it?"
"Um....uh-oh, I failed the Lore of the Ring midterm, I can't remember....was it;
One sheet to cover them all One washer to wash them One screw is hard to undo So think before you knock 'em?"
"Erm...nooo. If I recall that was the motto for a Chastity group that visited our high-school."
"Damn, so it was."
"I remember it!" declared Sam, "after all, I was eavesdropping on you and Gandalf the night you discovered the ring was evil and h'all.
One ring to rule them all One ring to find them One ring to bring them all And in the darkness bind them.
"Good enough," muttered Frodo, and continued to scratch the message onto the washer ring. When he was done, he handed the 'ring' proudly to the nazgul. "Here ya go, feller. And good luck with ending the world and all!"
"And good luck with saving it!" replied the departing rider, neither of them considaring the contradictory farewells they had given.
There was one less black rider, when Sauron received his 'ring'.
Now let our thoughts travel to Rohan, a pathetic little kingdom with the social standing of a present day trailor park. As insult to injury, or laughter in hilarity, they had a king. This king might as well have been a beer drinking constituent of a gravel pit, as he was about as coherent. This king was Theoden, lord of Rohan, and sadly, a passive slave to his scheming servant; Grima Wormtongue. Grima had long spiked his Kings orange juice with potent nectars to keep pink elephants and flying ponies travelling past Theodens' mind.
It was a dreary day the kings nephew, Eomer, came riding back with the renowned Rohirrim bearing a sorrowful burden. In his cousins arms, Theodred, the lone heir to the throne of Rohan, lay. Near point of death, there was little or nothing that could be done in effect to spare his life.
Eomer was mighty pissed with this tragic passing of events, and made no effort to hide it. As an expression of his displeasure, he lopped off a few random heads and trampled a number of children beneath his horse.
"Why'd you do that, m'leige?" questioned one of his fighters, fearfully.
"Gee! Respect for life, dumbarse?" spat Eomer, "I'm sick of carrying this dying lump about!" and he lopped off the soliders head. Needless to say, no one asked any more questions.
The Kings nephew looked about impatiently. Where was his sister, Eowyn? "GET OUT HERE WENCH!" he roared.
Out came his fair-haired sister, Eowyn. She took a single glance at the wound left by an Orc blade upon her cousin, and knew he would not pass the night. "OH BOAH HOO HOOO HOOO!" she wailed. "Who did it, brother?!"
"He ate my last package of Oreos, and Vala knows they are the only half- decent thing in those ration packs!" justified Eomer. "Now I must see our uncle! There are Orcs about!"
Theodred didn't acknowledge his nephews return. Under the watchful stare of Grima, he listened to Eomers relation of the Orc attacks in surrounding areas.
"So we must get out there are get lopping! These new orcs are some breed contrived by Saruman, and must be countered at once with sword to head!" emphasized Eomer.
Grima, who always spoke for the aged king, disagreed. "Saruman has long been our friend and ally! You speak of lies you war-monger! And besides, your random head-lopping has already deprived us of what army we might have had to defend our home!"
While Grimas face was hard enough to take, his voice sent individual needles through Eomers head. "You stupid worm! They are definatly Sarumans handi-work! Look!" Eomer cast the severed head of an Uruk before him, bearing the insignia of the white wizard on the nape of it's neck. Words in Comic Sans MS text read; Made with love in Build-An-Orc TM by Saruman. (An advanced rendering of those personalized computer card programs.)
"What ever happened to good old branding?" sighed Wormtongue. His boss really stepped into it this time. "Eomer, you really have too much intellect for such a moron.."
Eomer went to reach for his sword, in all intention of lopping Grimas head, "How long has it been since Saruman bought you, fiend! What was the promised pay? Me?"
Grimas eyes involentarily swerved to a departing Eowyn. Yes, long had he desired that woman, despite all her over-dramatic weeping. She would warm a nice bed, and all else was really irrelevant.
"Too long have you watched my sister!" roared Eomer. Before he could execute a perfect lop, Grimas weasly guards had taken hold of him.
"I banish you for this outrage, Eomer, son of Eomund, on pain of eating my homemade seafood salad!"
It was no idle threat. Everyone in Rohan knew the potency of Grimas culinary work. Death was a vacation in comparison to the ingestion of Seafood 'a la Grima! On that note, Eomer had no desire to return.
Later that evening, Grima had designated for what he assumed would be 'the seduction of Eowyn'. He was ready, he decided, as he had spent many a day indulging in How To Get With A Chick FOR DUMMIES. He had some great new lines he was itching to relate to his would-be love.
Eowyn was beside the bed of her now departed cousin, Theodred. She was crying at a decibal level of a Metallica mosh pit, lamenting his death. Grima flinched at the unholy noise, it almost made him regret all those times he'd kept that bloodthirty blowhard, Eomer, from lopping her head.
"Oh....he's dead." said Grima with mucho restrained sympathy. "I take it the pills I gave him were to no effect?" He tactfully omitted the fact the 'pills' that had been passed for 'Tylenol' were really arsenic.
"OH BOO HOO HOAAHHOHH HOOOO..." warbled Eowyn in response.
"Ai....." groaned Wormtongue. He unplugged his ears long enough to spill his eloquent pick-up lines. "Eowyn, fair darling.." he began.
"WAAAAHHH, w-what, Gr-gr-G-rima?" she sobbed.
Instantly, Grima feigned a seizure and flopped to the floor. Had it been a game of charades, Eowyn would have yelled 'dying fish!' "Aggh!" he yelled.
"Oh Grima! What's happened!?"
"Call an ambulance baby! Cus you just stole my heart!"
Even though she was blonde to the core, Eowyn had her dignities. That was the single most worst line she had ever received. It was so bad, that the previous mornings delicacies made a comeback. "BLAUGGGGHHHHHH!" she spewed foul barf all over her potential lover. "I'm sorry Grima," she apologized, wiping her mouth of the vomit, "but that is all I will ever have within me for you!"
"Eeeny, meeny, miney, moe....old--black--joe--says--this--is--the--way--to-- go!" Aragorn put his stupendous rangers skills to work, to track the insidiuos Uruks that had captured their two friends Merry and Pippin. "Alright! This way!" the ranger directed his two friends, Legolas and Gimli.
Legolas took off at once, all in effort to show his amazing legs in his new spandex. "Come on Gimli!" he called back to the dwarf for the nine millionth time that day.
"Dwarves are wasted on cross-country!" grumbled the slow Gimli, while pumping his short legs with all the strength he could muster.
The three companions had travelled awhile when they stopped to make sure they were on the proper track.
"Legolas," said Aragorn, "what do your elf eyes see?"
Legolas climbed on top of a rock to get a good view. It was hardly needed as an obvious cloud of dust had risen sky-high from the Uruks rampage. "The Orcs have turned east," announced the elf. "Boy, it's a fortunate thing you have me along, else you might never have seen that!"
Aragorn sniffed the air. "Well, melannin, a mere ranger can tell you that is no rising dust. Our orcish friends are taking a narcotics break." He inhaled deeply, "hmmm, that's actually some half-good shit! And it'll buy us some time too! Quickly everyone!"
"Haha, dumb elf!" laughed Gimli.
Legolas took off at superman speed once again. "Come on Gimli!" he mocked. "Don't slow us down!"
The smoking kingsfoil had not only attracted Aragorns attention, but the attention of a passing group of Rohirrim. A group containing our previously met hero, Eomer.
As it turned out, the Orcs were actually smoking fir trees. They had discovered the unnatural joy of tree weed and were revelling in it's full pleasure.
**insert excerpt from previous draft*
Still a little hazy from the excessive drug-smoke of the Uruks, the Rohirrim did not notice three very obvious standing figures. Aragorn had to jump in front of a horse and risk severe trampling to gain their attention. "Hey! YO WASSUP MY HOMIES!?" he bellowed.
In moments, the three travellers were encircled by a group of sullen looking men, all with spears pointed towards them. The leader, Eomer, came forward. Too tired to lop any heads, he merely resorted to being rude. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded impatiently.
"Uh, whats on the go..I mean, what news of the mark?" replied the ranger.
"Oh, Theodred kicked the bucket, Theodens on an acid trip, and a weasel named Wormtongue dictates the lives of our trailer park kingdom. Not to mention, we just slaughtered a pack of Uruk-hai and Orcs a mile back. It was freaky, they were all wacked, and dancing in pink bunny slippers--argh, damn, that shit really got to me. Now why the heck are you three here? Rather suspicious lot! One elf, a dwarf and an unwashed wigger. Hmmm, very interesting. Mind if I lop your heads?"
"We'rrrrre in no mood, faggot!" roared Gimli.
"I'd lop yours now, but it's no higher than my bag!" retorted Eomer.
"Touch my friend and you will have no bag!" snapped Legolas. Hmmm, possible love interest?
"Shut-up you raving homosexuals," groaned Aragorn. "Listen, Eomer. I am Aragorn son of...er...some important dude, this is Legolas, Prince of Whats- his-fuck in Mirkwood, and this is Gimli, heir of Gloin, heh, heh that sounds like "hair of groin!"" snickered Aragorn.
Gimli was not amused. He was hairy as it was, and wanted no attention drawn to certain unmentionables.
"Anyways, dude, did you kill two hobbits along with the Uruks? It's a pretty tempting thing to do, so don't be ashamed in admitting it....though we would like to find them," finished Aragorn.
"What the sweet fuck...? 'Hobbits'?" Eomer clearly had no clue.
"Uh, they would be small, only children in your eyes. They were captured by the Orcs days back."
Eomer shook his head. "Well, I saw no Habits, or Hobbits, whatever the hell you call them. Everything we killed was damn ugly and that's all I know. Here have a brace of horses for your troubles. Their riders were annoying, and deserved the lopping I gave them. I just hope you don't deserve the lopping I didn't give you!" With that the banished fighter left, all his men behind him.
"Killed everrrrrrrrrything damn ugly? Noooooo!" wailed Gimli, "they arrrrrrrrrre dead! Dead!"
Legolas bowed his head in sadness. Aragorn threw a tantrum. Their two friends were dead. Nonetheless, the elven brooches and short swords worn by the hobbits would fetch a nice price at the local pawn shop, so off they headed towards the smoking corpses of the Orc slaughter.
Once there, the companions were met with disappointment. There were no elven brooches or swords amongst the smoking pile.
"You don't suppose Eomer took them for his own?" mused Legolas.
"No...." said Aragorn very slowly. "As a matter of fact, I don't think he even saw them...Look." The ranger pointed to a particular area in the ground. "A hobbit slept here!"
"How do you know that, Arrragorrrn?" asked Gimli.
"Nasals snore tabs," replied the ranger, "Pippin was notorious for his snoring, and also there's a night cap......and look! He crawled over here, hands bound, found an axe and cut his bonds!" He lifted a severed rope.
"Well....!" exclaimed Legolas.
"Now over here!" said Aragorn, rising in excitement with each passing minute, "He was nearly trampled by a horse!"
"Now how do you gatherrrr that?" questioned Gimli.
"Easy," answered Aragorn, "there are very deep hoof prints here and a pile of crap. The trauma of almost being flattened caused him to shit himself!"
"You are simply amazing, Sherlock!" complimented Legolas, with fluttering eyelids.
"Junior High, dear Watson."
"That's 'elementarrry', Aragorrrrn.." corrected Gimli.
"Whatever. Now, observe this. A hobbit shuffled over here and cut another hobbits bonds. More rope! And now, they both ran straight into Fangorn forest!"
"Fangorrrrn!" rolled Gimli. "What madness drrrove them therrrre?"
"What do you think dumarse? They were escaping Orcs and head-lopping maniacs!"
"Oh. Rrrright."
"Do we have to go in there?" whined Legolas, "those brambles look like they might nick my new slacks.."
"Well then, think of all the men that will see your sexy legs!" declared Aragorn in a pathetic attempt to sway the elf's complaint. It worked, as Legolas was a blonde. (A/N: No offense to you blondies, your hair is beautiful and by no way a hinderance to your intellect!)
The three searched throughout the woodland of Fangorn. Well they 'kind of' searched. Aragorn found a new patch of daisies in which to continue his "she loves me, she loves me lots," activity. Gimli found an unfortunate Ent in which to bore with ramblings of Moria, and Legolas sat around gossiping with the trees. In mid-expose of a juicy tidbit, the trees interupted Legolas to inform him that the "White Wizard" was coming.
"How rude!" pouted the elf.
"What, Legolas?" asked Aragorn.
"The trees cut off my paraphrase of last weeks Days of Our Lives to tell me some damn White Wizard was coming!" he answered broodily.
"White Wizard!" declared the ranger. "Quick to your swords! Do not listen to his words, he will bewitch you!"
"Any man can bewitch me," winked Legolas at the man.
"Legolas, please, how many times to I have to tell you, I'm NOT gay! I'm with Arwen, alright?!"
"You arrrre always welcome to join a thrrrreesome with me and Galadrrrriel, frrriend," comforted Gimli.
They were taken by suprise, as the 'White Wizard' stepped into the clearing, blinding them all with an angelic white light.
"Are you Monica from Touched by an Angel?" asked Legolas, "I like, soooo love that show! I watch it every sunday and the reruns on thursday!"
"Man, downgrade to some forty-watt bulbs!" Aragorn sheilded himself from the light, "It's hard on the cataracts!"
"You wouldn't know anything about Morrrria, would you?"
The White Wizard sighed and stepped out of the brilliant lumeniscence. "I should have known better than to expect a hero's welcome from you lot!"
All three were astonished to discover the White Wizard was their old home- boy Gandalf the Grey! They had completely forgotten he meant to return after slipping off the bridge of Khazad-dum. Gimli and Legolas bowed in reverance, (though they were not sure why, afterwords).
"How the heck did you......????!!!!" asked Aragorn, who considared himself too much of a handsome, rugged dude to bow to a decrepit old man.
"--Escape the Balrog?" offered Gandalf.
"Nooo, get white hair?" said Aragorn.
"Oh, that. I picked up some "Just for Wizards" at the local 7-11. Sexy, huh? Anyways, I've come to save all you pathetic people out of a huge mess. Don't worry about Merry and Pippin. I disemboweled them for alerting the Orcs in Khazad-dum."
There was a very awkward silence.
"HA HA HA HA!" laughed Gandalf, "April fools! Had you there for a second! I merely beat them within an inch of their lives. They are currently now safely with Treebeard the Ent, marching to an Entmoot."
"Ahhhh, that's great. Heh heh. Funny joke..." wheezed Aragorn.
"Well now, get those two idiots to stop bowing, and we'll go save the world!" delcared Gandalf.
Gimli had fallen asleep while bowing, and Legolas had taken the time to get intimate with mother nature--a rabbit burrow to be exact.
As the four friends came to the clearing, Gandalf took note of their Rohirrim steeds. "I see you have horses! Great! Well I don't just have a horse, I have the KING of horses. So HAH!and nyah nyah nah boo boo!" Gandalf stuck his tongue out at them in a childish manner.
So proceeded another reunition, all in convient time frame. And four of the original fellowship members rode into the sunset with all intention of saving the day--and many others to come.