The Valar Must Be Crazy
By DorisTheYounger and MMCat
The Fellowship of the Ring had already walked for forty hard days to reach the frozen Pass of Caradhras. So far their climb up the mountain had not been too difficult, but above them was a sky heavy with impending snow, a range of jagged peaks covered with treacherous ice, and an ever narrower, steeper trail that they would all have to ascend.
In comparison to the dangers awaiting them on the mountain, the little red object that was hurtling toward them was of almost no consequence. It did manage, however, to smack Frodo rather painfully on the forehead.
"Ouch!" yelled poor Frodo (and not for the last time on this quest, by any means).
Sharp-eyed Legolas wheeled around to discover what had befallen the Ringbearer. By then the missile that had walloped Frodo was caroming off to spin out over the side of the mountain. At the very last minute, Pippin Took snatched it out of the air, although not without considerable effort.
Wondering if he'd done the wrong thing (once again, not for the last time on this quest), the impulsive young hobbit, still clutching the peculiar object, looked up nervously at the rest of the company. His catch was a stiff roll of gllistening red paper not much longer than the hand of a man. It was inscribed all over with strange images and multi-colored sigils.
"This is very curious," Legolas said. "I got just a glimpse of that thing as it fell. It appeared out of nowhere, as if from thin air. Let me take a closer look at it, Pippin."
Obediently, Pippin tossed the canister over to him. Legolas, of course, caught the object with no difficulty at all.
At this point, Gandalf glanced up from his examination of the bruise on Frodo's head, which fortunately was nothing to worry about. "Beware, Legolas. The Enemy's eyes are everywhere, and that fell cylinder could easily be a trap."
Legolas peered cautiously at the aforesaid "fell cylinder". "I think it's a message tube of some kind."
By this time Aragorn and Boromir had muscled past Bill the Pony to join the rest of the group. Legolas flipped the canister in the direction of his ranger friend. "Here, Aragorn, it's for you."
"What?!" exclaimed the nonplussed ranger. But as soon as he caught hold of the tube, he understood what Legolas meant. On one side of the strange canister was imprinted the picture of a warrior brandishing a sword in the midst of a shadowy army. But the face of the warrior was not shadowy; it was unquestionably the face of Aragorn.
"Do not open it!" Gandalf said. "Give it to me instead."
Aragorn deferred as usual to the mighty wizard.
Turning the enigmatic canister over in his hands, Gandalf examined it from every angle, then proclaimed, "The background of this picture is surely Mount Doom, but I cannot be certain what army this is at your back. Nor do I recognize the other face depicted at the top of the cylinder."
"Well, it can't be an elf," Legolas said, scrutinizing the stylized face. "It has a mustache."
"It can't be a hobbit then, either," Merry interjected. He was attempting, with little success, to view the canister, which Gandalf was holding far above his head.
"Can't be a dwarf," added Gimli. "No beard."
"Oh, I don't know," Legolas said with a laugh. "It has no chin, either-- perhaps the artist simply had nowhere to place a beard."
Ignoring the elf's sniping, Gimli demanded gruffly, "Let me have a look at that thing."
Gandalf had been allowing Frodo to examine the canister more closely, inspiring fierce hobbit jealousy. He now handed it over so that Gimli could get a better look at it. "Be careful, Gimli. Who knows what peril lies within?"
After shaking the canister back and forth and rattling its contents, Gimli perused the end seal of the tube. "Now this is a bloody marvel. I can't give you a name for the metal that this cylinder's bottom is made of. It's not pewter, not silver, certainly not mithril, and I think it's too light to be steel."
Shaking his head, the dwarf announced, "I'd love to have a talk with the craftsmaster who made this thing. The metal is completely unknown to me. What does the writing say, Gandalf?"
The wizard looked somewhat uncomfortable. "I can't recognize a letter of it, not even the big yellow letters under the round face. And I know every alphabet invented in the last three thousand years."
"Let me examine it once more," Aragorn said. "I have travelled to many uncouth, primitive lands over the years and become acquainted with a number of strange languages. Hmmm, the top is cunningly made. A waxy lid protects the paper seal, so it is still intact despite its fall."
In the end, however, Aragorn too was unable to read a single word. "It is not written in a language that I know," he was forced to admit.
"But surely it is in two languages, not one," Frodo pointed out, surprising everyone. Fascinated, the Ringbearer traced one finger along certain groups of letters. "This resembles the pattern of some of Bilbo's translations from the Elvish--see the parallel phrases here, and here. They both use the same alphabet but the words are different. Why, it's a puzzle! If we can read one of the languages, we'll be able to understand the other!"
"Well, that's a big fat help, Frodo," Merry muttered, indulging in a little hobbit-to-hobbit sarcasm. "None of us can read a scrap of either of them!"
At this point, Boromir broke in exasperatedly, "Are we going to argue forever about the scribblings on this blasted canister? Why not simply open it up and have done with the whole thing?"
"Have you listened to nothing that Gandalf has said?" Aragorn snapped back. "We do not know what danger the message tube may hold. We dare not be so hasty!"
"I do not know whether this container is perilous," Boromir replied with princely hauteur. "But I do know that while we waste our time nattering, the hobbits' toes are getting frostbitten."
Aragorn directed a troubled gaze at the four hobbits, who had been shuffling their feet in the snow.
"We're all right, Aragorn," Merry volunteered stoutly. "It's not so bad as long as we don't get our feet wet. Then we get icicles in our toe hair."
"Give the canister to me, unless you distrust me with this thing as well," Boromir demanded. "I will open it apart from the rest of you, and take the risk upon myself. Let us be done with this, once and for all!"
Eventually Gandalf and Aragorn agreed, although it was hard to say whether they were more affected by Boromir's bravery or by the way that his face was purpling with rage. As Gandalf put it, "Whatever!"
Canister firmly in hand, the Steward's son stomped a few stone's throws distance back down the path. Then, holding the tube away from his body at the utmost reach of his brawny arm, he ripped off the paper seal with his free hand and waited, warily.
For rather a long while, nothing happened.
Finally Boromir turned the mouth of the tube toward his face and squinted one eye into it, as if he was using a spyglass. As far as the Fellowship could tell at that distance, he was extremely surprised--but he said nothing.
"What do you suppose is in the canister, Sam?" Frodo asked plaintively. "Can you make out anything of what's inside?"
Thus inspired to heroic action, his loyal servant scampered into the danger zone to gaze up questioningly at Boromir.
"So what's in there, Boromir?" Sam asked. "Don't keep it all to yourself-- give us a bit of a look-see!"
Wordlessly, Boromir tilted down the cylinder so that the intrepid hobbit could peek in. "You must figure out this riddle for us all, little one."
At first, just like Boromir, Sam Gamgee seemed struck speechless. Had both man and hobbit been confronted with an unspeakable terror too dreadful to describe?
In fact, no. The Fellowship would have to confront many horrors in the future, but this was not one of them.
As the salted, vegetable contents of the tube tumbled toward the icy rocks, Sam quickly cupped both hands to catch them and shouted, "It's CRISPS!!!"
The End
By DorisTheYounger and MMCat
The Fellowship of the Ring had already walked for forty hard days to reach the frozen Pass of Caradhras. So far their climb up the mountain had not been too difficult, but above them was a sky heavy with impending snow, a range of jagged peaks covered with treacherous ice, and an ever narrower, steeper trail that they would all have to ascend.
In comparison to the dangers awaiting them on the mountain, the little red object that was hurtling toward them was of almost no consequence. It did manage, however, to smack Frodo rather painfully on the forehead.
"Ouch!" yelled poor Frodo (and not for the last time on this quest, by any means).
Sharp-eyed Legolas wheeled around to discover what had befallen the Ringbearer. By then the missile that had walloped Frodo was caroming off to spin out over the side of the mountain. At the very last minute, Pippin Took snatched it out of the air, although not without considerable effort.
Wondering if he'd done the wrong thing (once again, not for the last time on this quest), the impulsive young hobbit, still clutching the peculiar object, looked up nervously at the rest of the company. His catch was a stiff roll of gllistening red paper not much longer than the hand of a man. It was inscribed all over with strange images and multi-colored sigils.
"This is very curious," Legolas said. "I got just a glimpse of that thing as it fell. It appeared out of nowhere, as if from thin air. Let me take a closer look at it, Pippin."
Obediently, Pippin tossed the canister over to him. Legolas, of course, caught the object with no difficulty at all.
At this point, Gandalf glanced up from his examination of the bruise on Frodo's head, which fortunately was nothing to worry about. "Beware, Legolas. The Enemy's eyes are everywhere, and that fell cylinder could easily be a trap."
Legolas peered cautiously at the aforesaid "fell cylinder". "I think it's a message tube of some kind."
By this time Aragorn and Boromir had muscled past Bill the Pony to join the rest of the group. Legolas flipped the canister in the direction of his ranger friend. "Here, Aragorn, it's for you."
"What?!" exclaimed the nonplussed ranger. But as soon as he caught hold of the tube, he understood what Legolas meant. On one side of the strange canister was imprinted the picture of a warrior brandishing a sword in the midst of a shadowy army. But the face of the warrior was not shadowy; it was unquestionably the face of Aragorn.
"Do not open it!" Gandalf said. "Give it to me instead."
Aragorn deferred as usual to the mighty wizard.
Turning the enigmatic canister over in his hands, Gandalf examined it from every angle, then proclaimed, "The background of this picture is surely Mount Doom, but I cannot be certain what army this is at your back. Nor do I recognize the other face depicted at the top of the cylinder."
"Well, it can't be an elf," Legolas said, scrutinizing the stylized face. "It has a mustache."
"It can't be a hobbit then, either," Merry interjected. He was attempting, with little success, to view the canister, which Gandalf was holding far above his head.
"Can't be a dwarf," added Gimli. "No beard."
"Oh, I don't know," Legolas said with a laugh. "It has no chin, either-- perhaps the artist simply had nowhere to place a beard."
Ignoring the elf's sniping, Gimli demanded gruffly, "Let me have a look at that thing."
Gandalf had been allowing Frodo to examine the canister more closely, inspiring fierce hobbit jealousy. He now handed it over so that Gimli could get a better look at it. "Be careful, Gimli. Who knows what peril lies within?"
After shaking the canister back and forth and rattling its contents, Gimli perused the end seal of the tube. "Now this is a bloody marvel. I can't give you a name for the metal that this cylinder's bottom is made of. It's not pewter, not silver, certainly not mithril, and I think it's too light to be steel."
Shaking his head, the dwarf announced, "I'd love to have a talk with the craftsmaster who made this thing. The metal is completely unknown to me. What does the writing say, Gandalf?"
The wizard looked somewhat uncomfortable. "I can't recognize a letter of it, not even the big yellow letters under the round face. And I know every alphabet invented in the last three thousand years."
"Let me examine it once more," Aragorn said. "I have travelled to many uncouth, primitive lands over the years and become acquainted with a number of strange languages. Hmmm, the top is cunningly made. A waxy lid protects the paper seal, so it is still intact despite its fall."
In the end, however, Aragorn too was unable to read a single word. "It is not written in a language that I know," he was forced to admit.
"But surely it is in two languages, not one," Frodo pointed out, surprising everyone. Fascinated, the Ringbearer traced one finger along certain groups of letters. "This resembles the pattern of some of Bilbo's translations from the Elvish--see the parallel phrases here, and here. They both use the same alphabet but the words are different. Why, it's a puzzle! If we can read one of the languages, we'll be able to understand the other!"
"Well, that's a big fat help, Frodo," Merry muttered, indulging in a little hobbit-to-hobbit sarcasm. "None of us can read a scrap of either of them!"
At this point, Boromir broke in exasperatedly, "Are we going to argue forever about the scribblings on this blasted canister? Why not simply open it up and have done with the whole thing?"
"Have you listened to nothing that Gandalf has said?" Aragorn snapped back. "We do not know what danger the message tube may hold. We dare not be so hasty!"
"I do not know whether this container is perilous," Boromir replied with princely hauteur. "But I do know that while we waste our time nattering, the hobbits' toes are getting frostbitten."
Aragorn directed a troubled gaze at the four hobbits, who had been shuffling their feet in the snow.
"We're all right, Aragorn," Merry volunteered stoutly. "It's not so bad as long as we don't get our feet wet. Then we get icicles in our toe hair."
"Give the canister to me, unless you distrust me with this thing as well," Boromir demanded. "I will open it apart from the rest of you, and take the risk upon myself. Let us be done with this, once and for all!"
Eventually Gandalf and Aragorn agreed, although it was hard to say whether they were more affected by Boromir's bravery or by the way that his face was purpling with rage. As Gandalf put it, "Whatever!"
Canister firmly in hand, the Steward's son stomped a few stone's throws distance back down the path. Then, holding the tube away from his body at the utmost reach of his brawny arm, he ripped off the paper seal with his free hand and waited, warily.
For rather a long while, nothing happened.
Finally Boromir turned the mouth of the tube toward his face and squinted one eye into it, as if he was using a spyglass. As far as the Fellowship could tell at that distance, he was extremely surprised--but he said nothing.
"What do you suppose is in the canister, Sam?" Frodo asked plaintively. "Can you make out anything of what's inside?"
Thus inspired to heroic action, his loyal servant scampered into the danger zone to gaze up questioningly at Boromir.
"So what's in there, Boromir?" Sam asked. "Don't keep it all to yourself-- give us a bit of a look-see!"
Wordlessly, Boromir tilted down the cylinder so that the intrepid hobbit could peek in. "You must figure out this riddle for us all, little one."
At first, just like Boromir, Sam Gamgee seemed struck speechless. Had both man and hobbit been confronted with an unspeakable terror too dreadful to describe?
In fact, no. The Fellowship would have to confront many horrors in the future, but this was not one of them.
As the salted, vegetable contents of the tube tumbled toward the icy rocks, Sam quickly cupped both hands to catch them and shouted, "It's CRISPS!!!"
The End
