Disclaimer: Diss-the-claimer!
A/N: No more cutouts, we progress! (to JJ and Constance: I will not do the horse part right now. My sanity has kind of left me and I wish not to kill the fic.) Onwards, ficlings!
*
Aragorn knelt on a stone, ear pressed to the hard rock.
'What are you doing?'
Gimli asked innocently. Wrong move. Aragorn roared back at him, face still plastered to the stone.
'Fool! Be silent! I am listening for the orcs' footsteps'
'I can hear them without my head on the stupid stone,' scolded Lara, who, to her great chagrin, was still with them.
'They have picked up the pace.'
'What pace?' asked Gimli stupidly.
'Hurry!' cried Aragorn, a tad more astute.
They hurried.
*
Legolas, being the elf, was a fast runner. Lara, being Lara, was a fast
runner. Aragorn, being a mere mortal, was not such a fast runner, but Gimli,
having more or less no legs, was not a runner at all. Needless to say,
he was at the end of the four, puffing, panting and drooling at... Someone
in the front.
*
Aragorn and Gimli glumly stood at the top of a big cliff, too big, and peered all the way down. Two dust blurs in the distance indicated that Lara and Legolas were having yet another race (and neither was winning).
'For two days,' puffed Gimli, 'with no food or rest or any sign of our (puff) quarry in sight (puff) while (puff) one (pant) bare (puff) rock (puff puff) can tell.'
'I hate elves,' growled Aragorn, 'and humans.' Neither realized his mistake.
'Toss me.'
'What?!'
'I said, toss me! I can't run so far.'
Aragorn stared disbelievingly at Gimli, then shrugged.
'One thing. Don't tell Lara,' added Gimli quickly.
Aragorn grimaced, (or rather, smiled) and got behind Gimli. Cocking his leg, he gave Gimli a good hard kick in the pants.
*
Frodo looked dolefully at Sam. It's after supperises, Sam, and we've missed
second breakfast, pre-lunch, third tea-'
Same joined in.
'And first dinner, and supper, and elevensies.'
Sam sniffled. Frodo, being the hero, fished for Sam's pack. He rummaged and produced ten more packets of lembas (Lembus, not Lembas, sorry. Lothlorien produced a new brand while Lara had been there to corrupt their kitchens. So LEMBUS.) Sam unwrapped the first piece of Lembus bread, frowning. Lembas bread, the kind he knew, was a light tan. Lembus, the kind he was holding, was brown. Gingerly, he snapped a piece and chewed on it.
'Fwodo, thish ishn't 'Emmas bread.'
He swallowed/
'It's... chocolate lembus bread.'
Frodo opened another pack.
'Vanilla lembus bread...
'Raspberry...'
'Fruity-tooty...'
'Tropical pineapple...'
'Caramel...'
'This is Coke flavoured... What's coke?'
'Cheese.'
'Lembas bread Lembus bread...'
'Same, what's this?'
Sam took a bite.
'A bit like tomatoes.'
Today's modern world will know and love it as ketchup.
'So, what were we eating just now?'
'I think that was school-dinner lembus bread.'
*
The two front-runners were now legging it about four hundred metres in front of Aragorn, who was about six hundred metres in front of Gimli. The One Kilometre Team of hunters thus forged their way across the plains of Rohan. Gimli tumbled down yet another small mound as they went, puffing and panting like a radioactive snap-dragon with a severe case of constipation while repeating his unending mantra of 'breathe, just keep breathing' over and over to himself. Aragorn was... further up, mumbling about the stupidity of Lara and the stubbornness of Legolas as the two pelted across the plain in front of hem at a nearly break-neck speed ahead of him.
'Slow down, please slow down, or we'll be at Isengard in less than four hours!'
Lara and Legolas ignored him, and were now proceeding to yell at one another.
'Stop!'
'You stop!'
'We *both* stop!'
'Then you stop first!'
'You stop first!'
So on, so forth. Suddenly, Lara stopped, so Legolas stopped, so Aragorn stopped and so Gimli, more or less dropped. The loud thuds of many hooves beating the ground could be heard. Legolas threw Lara into the nearest cover, in this case a thornberry bush. She was followed by Aragorn, then a disgruntled and tossed Gimli, then finally Legolas himself.
Inside the bush...
'Why, of all places, did you have to choose a thornberry bush?'
Aragorn peeped up after the horses had passed by, noticing the raised standard as one of Rohirric design.
'R I D E R S O F R-----------------------O H A ---------------------- N! W-H-A-T-N-E-W-S-O-F-T-H-E-R-I-D-D-E-R-M-A-R-K-?'
The head rider turned his spear, nearly impaling the one nearest to him in the process, then the entire regiment turned a full three-sixty and thus surrounded them.
'What business does a man, and elf, a dwarf and a woman have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!'
Gimli, the ever ignorant one, went on to say...
'Give me your name, horse-master, and I'll give you mine.'
Eomer dismounted and walked up to Gimli, staring down the considerable distance at him.
'I would cut off your head, dwarf if it stood a little higher off the ground.'
This caused Legolas to draw bow.
'You would die before your sword fell!'
Aragorn sighed, pressing down the bow and whispering.
'U-dago hon, mellon, saes.' [Don't kill him, friend, please.]
Turning back, he said,
'I am Aragorn II, son of Arathorn II, son of Arador, son of Argonui, son or Arathorn, son of Arassuil, son of Arahad II, son of Aravorn, son of Aragost, son of Arahad, son of Araglas, son of Aragorn, son of Aravir, son of Aranuir, son of Arahael, son of Aranarth, son of Arvedui, son of Araphant, son of Araval, son of Arveleg II, son of Arvegil, son or Argeleb II, son of Araphor, son of Arveleg, son of Argeleb, son of Malvegil, son of Celebrindor, son of Celepharn, son of Mallor, son of Beleg, son of Amlaith, son of Earendur, son of Elendur, son of Valandur, son of Tarondor, son of Tarcil, son of Arantar, son of Eldacar, of of Valandil who was son of Isildur, son of Elendil. My companions are Legolas of the Mirkwood realm, son of Thranduil who was son of Oropher... son of... Somebody, Gimli, son of Gloin, son of Groin, son of Farin, son of Borin, son of Nain II, son of Oin, son of Gloin, son of Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Nain, son of Durin VI who was of direct decent of Durin the Deathless of the first age. Lara Croft is our last compainion in our quest. We track a band of Uruk-Hai westward across the plains, they have captured two of our friends. We come from Lothlorien, also known as Laurelindorenan, where Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin son of-'
Legolas whacked Aragorn on the head as he smoothly intercepted his friend before he could say "Finwe" and begin reciting more than half of the entire existing Elven lineage lines and stepped in.
'I apologize for my rather long winded friend. He is rather... elaborative on his history. We-'
Eomer cut him off.
'You come from Laurelindorenan? Therein lies a witch!'
This really, really pissed Gimli off.
'You do not insult the Lady Galadriel!'
This caused an axe to be attracted to Eomer, which caused Eomer's sword to lie on Gimli's head, which caused Legolas' bow to point to Eomer's head. Lara sighed.
'Will you, horse-idiot, not diss Galadriel so that Gimli will not diss you for dissing Galadriel and so that Legolas will not diss you for dissing Gimli who dissed you for dissing Galadriel who was dissed by you so now results in Gimli dissing you for dissing her?'
Oh boy. Aragorn was going to be answerable for a lot.