Disclaimer: If LOTR belonged to me, there would be no movies.
Author's Note: Any mating/courtship rituals of the Haradrim/Easterlings are inventions of my own design.
Chapter Ten: In Which We Discuss the Mating Rituals of Uncivilized Men
Frodo was bored. He had never had any idea about awful it was to be tied to a tree for even ten minutes with Sam and Merry and Pippin next to him. Merry and Pippin were both immature and mischievous, and Sam was getting annoying with all his mothering of Frodo. He tried to ignore them, and thought about the orc attack and the abduction of Jeannette. That orcs had attacked had been expected. The only thing that puzzled him was the fact that they had left him, the Ringbearer, behind, and taken only Jeannette. Why, when he had the Ring?
Suddenly, Legolas was screaming at his mirror, having used useful Elven magic to untie himself. "Beauty!" he wailed. "Are you ravaged for life? Are you well?" He sniffed, and dabbed a non-existent tear from his cheek. "Will you survive?" He burst into tears, and continued to do so until Frodo cleared his throat loudly.
"Excuse me," he called, trying to be polite. "Could you stop crying for a moment and untie us please?"
Legolas sniffed loudly, gazing mournfully at the tied-up Hobbit. "Can't you see I'm busy?" he asked, gesturing wildly with the mirror. He noticed that his reflection was gone, and dropped it, bawling. "MY LOVE!" he screamed.
Frodo snorted. He had suspected that Legolas was slowly, but surely, swinging in that direction. But to fall in love with his own reflection? That was beyond any swinging that the Elf could possibly do. "I don't care about your reflection," Frodo said. "Please untie us. I can't feel my feet." And it was true. The orcs had done a poor job of fastening the Hobbits to the tree, tying Frodo upside down and Pippin across Merry and Sam's stomachs. "I think we're all getting a little comfortable.
PHFFFFT! The noise came from Pippin making disgusting noises using the fat of Sam's bulging stomach. "That's fun," he giggled, and promptly made another.
"Stop it, Pip," Sam said, trying to control his hysterical laughter. He was obviously quite ticklish. "That tickles." And he burst into gales of helpless giggles.
"He's serious, Pip," Merry added. "This is no time to be doing that." He licked his lips, obviously quite hungry. "What time is it, Legolas?"
That distracted Legolas from his moans. The Elf was very proud of his internal clock, however often it was wrong. "It's just past eleven," he called.
"What?" Frodo asked, pretending not to be able to hear. He tried to wriggle his toes, but he couldn't. Either he had lost feeling in them or the hair was sticking. It didn't matter. They still needed a good washing. Maybe Legolas would do it for him.
"Just past eleven," Legolas repeated, coming closer. "Are you deaf or something?"
"What?" Frodo asked again, louder.
"Just past eleven," Legolas squealed into his ear.
Frodo tried not to wince. The Elf's voice was annoyingly high pitched. "All the blood is rushing to my head, Legolas," he said loudly. "I can't hear you. I need to be untied, or else I can't hear you."
Legolas tried screaming, whining, moaning, crying, and a whole list of other unpleasant verbs, but Frodo still pretended to be deaf. *The things I do for my cousins and my gardener,* he thought sadly. Finally, the Elf was forced to use his magic to untie the Hobbits, as he did not want to risk chipping a fingernail doing it himself.
Aragorn and Boromir slept on. *Idiots,* Frodo thought, shaking his head. *They slept through the best part of the show.*
***To Mordor! Cue the evil music! ***
The orcs, being orcs in a Mary-Sue story, had reached Mordor in an impossible time: .0003729 seconds. "Wow," Jeannette said from the back of a particularly stinking, nameless, random orc. "You guys are fast."
The orc merely grunted in reply, and Jeannette frowned. "Answer me when I compliment you!" she snapped. "Be thankful that I'm taking my time compliment a stupid, smelly orc like you!"
The orc didn't answer, and she began to pound its chest with her high- heeled shoes. "This is the worst day of my life!" she yelled. "I'm in the middle of a snog-fest and you kidnap me!"
The orc stopped dead in his tracks. "Snog-fest?" he asked, confused. Jeannette's glare quickly explained, and he continued hurriedly. "I apologize profusely, but the orders of Lord Sauron overrule your, er, interesting human mating rituals. I do not understand the need for mouth-to- mouth before the initial conception, but, since it is a ritual, I will not insult it."
Jeannette could only gape.
"Lord Sauron has brought us up to be understanding of other's cultures, even those of Men," the orc said. "I find the mating rituals of the Haradrim particularly interesting. First, the female will make her interest known to the male of her choice, who will then try and pursue her. If he can perform enough tasks to her liking, she will weave a wedding wreath of symbolic flowers, indicating what she would like from their relationship. If the female takes the wreath, they are married on the spot, and then commence to fulfill the desires of the female. If it is children she has requested, they will not perform the human mouth-to-mouth ritual. They immediately..."
"Shut up!" Jeannette shrieked, drawing the attention of every orc nearby. Some, upon seeing who carried her, smirked openly.
"Don't bore her to death," one of them said. "I doubt she wants to hear about the mating rituals of the Haradrim, however interesting they are."
"Yes," added another. "I find it most queer that the female is in charge of the mating, rather then the men. They rule the rest of the society, but the females are professionals in the Haradrim mating rituals."
"Even more perplexing are the courtship rituals of the Easterlings," said a third orc. "Especially with the father of the bride meeting the mother of the intended groom, and they will hold a mock nuptial the entire period of the engagement."
"I know," said the orc carrying Jeannette. She decided to call him 'Mating', just for the purpose of identifying him. The second orc would be called 'Smirk', the third orc 'Queer', and the fourth 'Ritual'. That way, the reader of this most wonderful and perfect story would not suffer any confusion over which orc was speaking. "Many Easterling couples have begun eloping for the fear of fighting between the mock bride and groom."
"Have any Easterling couples ever cancelled the nuptial?" asked Ritual.
"Not that I have ever heard of," replied Smirk. "However, the percentage of recent elopements compared to those of the past has drastically risen."
Jeannette sighed. When in hell would they ever get to Barad-dûr? "Are we almost there?" she asked.
"No," said Mating. "We'll be there in about." He checked his very convenient pocket watch. "Oh, say, about five minutes."
"Thank God," she said.
"No," Queer said. "Thank Sauron. He's the one who bred us to run quickly. Speaking of breeding." The orcs launched into another long, boring discussion of disgusting, primitive mating rituals. It was going to be a long ride.
Author's Note: Any mating/courtship rituals of the Haradrim/Easterlings are inventions of my own design.
Chapter Ten: In Which We Discuss the Mating Rituals of Uncivilized Men
Frodo was bored. He had never had any idea about awful it was to be tied to a tree for even ten minutes with Sam and Merry and Pippin next to him. Merry and Pippin were both immature and mischievous, and Sam was getting annoying with all his mothering of Frodo. He tried to ignore them, and thought about the orc attack and the abduction of Jeannette. That orcs had attacked had been expected. The only thing that puzzled him was the fact that they had left him, the Ringbearer, behind, and taken only Jeannette. Why, when he had the Ring?
Suddenly, Legolas was screaming at his mirror, having used useful Elven magic to untie himself. "Beauty!" he wailed. "Are you ravaged for life? Are you well?" He sniffed, and dabbed a non-existent tear from his cheek. "Will you survive?" He burst into tears, and continued to do so until Frodo cleared his throat loudly.
"Excuse me," he called, trying to be polite. "Could you stop crying for a moment and untie us please?"
Legolas sniffed loudly, gazing mournfully at the tied-up Hobbit. "Can't you see I'm busy?" he asked, gesturing wildly with the mirror. He noticed that his reflection was gone, and dropped it, bawling. "MY LOVE!" he screamed.
Frodo snorted. He had suspected that Legolas was slowly, but surely, swinging in that direction. But to fall in love with his own reflection? That was beyond any swinging that the Elf could possibly do. "I don't care about your reflection," Frodo said. "Please untie us. I can't feel my feet." And it was true. The orcs had done a poor job of fastening the Hobbits to the tree, tying Frodo upside down and Pippin across Merry and Sam's stomachs. "I think we're all getting a little comfortable.
PHFFFFT! The noise came from Pippin making disgusting noises using the fat of Sam's bulging stomach. "That's fun," he giggled, and promptly made another.
"Stop it, Pip," Sam said, trying to control his hysterical laughter. He was obviously quite ticklish. "That tickles." And he burst into gales of helpless giggles.
"He's serious, Pip," Merry added. "This is no time to be doing that." He licked his lips, obviously quite hungry. "What time is it, Legolas?"
That distracted Legolas from his moans. The Elf was very proud of his internal clock, however often it was wrong. "It's just past eleven," he called.
"What?" Frodo asked, pretending not to be able to hear. He tried to wriggle his toes, but he couldn't. Either he had lost feeling in them or the hair was sticking. It didn't matter. They still needed a good washing. Maybe Legolas would do it for him.
"Just past eleven," Legolas repeated, coming closer. "Are you deaf or something?"
"What?" Frodo asked again, louder.
"Just past eleven," Legolas squealed into his ear.
Frodo tried not to wince. The Elf's voice was annoyingly high pitched. "All the blood is rushing to my head, Legolas," he said loudly. "I can't hear you. I need to be untied, or else I can't hear you."
Legolas tried screaming, whining, moaning, crying, and a whole list of other unpleasant verbs, but Frodo still pretended to be deaf. *The things I do for my cousins and my gardener,* he thought sadly. Finally, the Elf was forced to use his magic to untie the Hobbits, as he did not want to risk chipping a fingernail doing it himself.
Aragorn and Boromir slept on. *Idiots,* Frodo thought, shaking his head. *They slept through the best part of the show.*
***To Mordor! Cue the evil music! ***
The orcs, being orcs in a Mary-Sue story, had reached Mordor in an impossible time: .0003729 seconds. "Wow," Jeannette said from the back of a particularly stinking, nameless, random orc. "You guys are fast."
The orc merely grunted in reply, and Jeannette frowned. "Answer me when I compliment you!" she snapped. "Be thankful that I'm taking my time compliment a stupid, smelly orc like you!"
The orc didn't answer, and she began to pound its chest with her high- heeled shoes. "This is the worst day of my life!" she yelled. "I'm in the middle of a snog-fest and you kidnap me!"
The orc stopped dead in his tracks. "Snog-fest?" he asked, confused. Jeannette's glare quickly explained, and he continued hurriedly. "I apologize profusely, but the orders of Lord Sauron overrule your, er, interesting human mating rituals. I do not understand the need for mouth-to- mouth before the initial conception, but, since it is a ritual, I will not insult it."
Jeannette could only gape.
"Lord Sauron has brought us up to be understanding of other's cultures, even those of Men," the orc said. "I find the mating rituals of the Haradrim particularly interesting. First, the female will make her interest known to the male of her choice, who will then try and pursue her. If he can perform enough tasks to her liking, she will weave a wedding wreath of symbolic flowers, indicating what she would like from their relationship. If the female takes the wreath, they are married on the spot, and then commence to fulfill the desires of the female. If it is children she has requested, they will not perform the human mouth-to-mouth ritual. They immediately..."
"Shut up!" Jeannette shrieked, drawing the attention of every orc nearby. Some, upon seeing who carried her, smirked openly.
"Don't bore her to death," one of them said. "I doubt she wants to hear about the mating rituals of the Haradrim, however interesting they are."
"Yes," added another. "I find it most queer that the female is in charge of the mating, rather then the men. They rule the rest of the society, but the females are professionals in the Haradrim mating rituals."
"Even more perplexing are the courtship rituals of the Easterlings," said a third orc. "Especially with the father of the bride meeting the mother of the intended groom, and they will hold a mock nuptial the entire period of the engagement."
"I know," said the orc carrying Jeannette. She decided to call him 'Mating', just for the purpose of identifying him. The second orc would be called 'Smirk', the third orc 'Queer', and the fourth 'Ritual'. That way, the reader of this most wonderful and perfect story would not suffer any confusion over which orc was speaking. "Many Easterling couples have begun eloping for the fear of fighting between the mock bride and groom."
"Have any Easterling couples ever cancelled the nuptial?" asked Ritual.
"Not that I have ever heard of," replied Smirk. "However, the percentage of recent elopements compared to those of the past has drastically risen."
Jeannette sighed. When in hell would they ever get to Barad-dûr? "Are we almost there?" she asked.
"No," said Mating. "We'll be there in about." He checked his very convenient pocket watch. "Oh, say, about five minutes."
"Thank God," she said.
"No," Queer said. "Thank Sauron. He's the one who bred us to run quickly. Speaking of breeding." The orcs launched into another long, boring discussion of disgusting, primitive mating rituals. It was going to be a long ride.