So, here we are again. It's raining outside. However, tramping up and down a hill on horses that are not our own and are far too big for us is great stimulus for story writing ideas. Who knew?
Disclaimer: As before. And this time some of the script belongs to Dreamworks for the magnificent film The Road to El Dorado.
The Twisting of Tales- Chapter Two"What a load of sh-" smack.
"Éomer, no swearing in Minas Tirith!"
"You swear all the time!"
"I'm the King. I'm allowed."
"And you say we argue constantly." Gimli and Legolas exchanged looks. Then they glared at each other.
"I WAS GOING TO SAY THAT!" they exclaimed. At the same time.
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
Both promptly folded their arms and scowled in opposite directions.
"Anyway," Éomer said, staring pointedly at his companions, "I was going to say that it happened in a totally different way…"
This was one of those times when Éomer could forget all his worries and troubles, and just enjoy the thrill of galloping across the expanse of land stretching out before him. He could barely remember why he had gotten so angry with Wormtongue and thus sealed his banishment from Edoras, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the here and now.
The hooves of his beloved Firefoot pounded tirelessly against the dusty ground as he led his men over the hill. All he could hear was the wind whistling past him, stirring his hair and whipping against the crest of his helmet, along with the snorts of the horses and the thunder of their hooves.
And something else.
"Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark!" The strange voice drifting seemingly from the ground, and Éomer risked a quick glance behind him to see whether this assumption was true. He then wished it was. Standing on top of the hill as though he owned it was a tall, scruffily clad man that he could smell from where he was. He raised his spear, signalling to his Riders to turn left.
With military precision, the Riders galloped towards the man and his two strange companions and circled around them, hemming them in together. At exactly the right moment, they made a path for Éomer to trot through and confront the trespassers.
The tall, Elvish looking creature looked slightly worried. "Sorry!" he exclaimed, a quiver in his voice. "Sorry, is this your field? Sorry, we were just looking!"
The short creature Éomer had to assume was a Dwarf spoke up: "We're tourists! Tour-ists. We, er, we lost our group! May we… go now?"
Both of them smiled convincingly up at him. Éomer nodded almost imperceptibly at the men, and they raised their weapons.
"Heh… spears." The Dwarf commented weakly.
"Oh shut up, you two." The smelly man broke in.
Legolas: Well, that was rather cool. Making the Riders out to be wonderful isn't as hard as it is to make Aragorn out to be wonderful. But it's still hard.
Gimli: Whee! Another excuse for adjective overload! Legolas' trousers just broke. A bit of insider knowledge for you there.