The Lord of the Rings: - The Next Generation
This is the beginning if the actual story. We hope it turns out to be as funny as we think it will. Enjoy!
The sun rose lazily over the white tower of Minas Tirith, shining on the paved streets and reflecting off the magnificent walls. There was a pleasantly peaceful atmosphere everywhere. Everywhere, that is, except for inside the citadel. In here there was a frenzied feeling coming from everyone there, all of whom were rushing around, frantically trying to get everything ready for Aragorn's new 'project'.
The idea was that he, and a group of well-versed friends, were going to set up a school within the city to educate the bright young citizens of Gondor. But Aragorn, being the scruffy, unorganised man he is, had not thought of exactly WHERE it would be held. So at the last minute a classroom was being set up in front of his throne.
Another aspect that he had failed to consider was that Legolas and Gimli had been asked to teach, and then been sent off on their merry way. This action was to cause him grief for weeks to come.
Éomer knew of course, he was a teacher of horsemanship (taken twice a week on the Pelenor Fields), but he was on an oath of secrecy. In fact, all the teachers were under an oath of secrecy, but the terrible two-some had never been restrained by such petty restrictions.
That is the reason that, on this fine sunny morning, a large party of people from various races was en-route to the great white city.
Aragorn stood proudly before his throne, gazing pompously across the hall at the rows of tables and chairs that had been set up. This, he had decided, was to be the assembly hall/gymnasium, where the students would meet and be told important notices for the day, and where armed combat lessons would take place (provided that the students did NOT scratch the perfectly smooth marble floors). He was very impressed.
"Sire!" shouted a tower guard as he ran loudly through the door. [1]
Aragorn sighed. "Oh, what is it now?"
"Sire! A large party of people from various races are en-route to Minas Tirith sire!"
Aragorn looked perplexed. "Are you sure? Has there been a famine of some other disaster?"
"Come and see, sire!"
Puzzled, The king of Gondor followed his guard out into the courtyard, where the White Tree stood, gleaming in the sun. The King wandered over to the battlement, and gazed out across the Pelennor Fields. He blinked. Then looked again. There was no doubt about it; there was a large crowd making their way towards the White City. There was also no mistaking that twinkle of gold in front of the party. Aragorn thought it very impractical to have beautiful glowing hair at times like these. [2]
Aragorn saw red. He wheeled about and strode in his Angry King Stride towards the stairs (which, by the way, took rather a long time, so the effect of the Stride was rather diminished), and set off down to the sixth level, trying to appear kingly as well as menacing.
Aragorn was on a mission. And when Aragorn was on a mission, it would take a constipated Oliphaunt to deter him. That, and market day on the Fourth Level of Minas Tirith.
He stepped through the gates from the Fifth Level onto the Fourth, and found, not an empty street as he had expected, but a wall of people, completely blocking the ominous passage he had intended to make.
Aragorn stopped for a moment, considering his options. He could either make his way through the crowd, but that would interrupt his Striding. He could simply wait for the approaching party to make its way up to him, but that would certainly devalue his Angry King appearance. Or, he could try and make the crowd move.
"Ahem," Aragorn cleared his throat. Nothing happened. He coughed suggestively. Still, there was no reaction. He tried a convenient hacking fit, but he was, of course, not acknowledged. Slightly peeved that his citizens were blatantly ignoring him, Aragorn threw back his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and strode into the crowd. This reminded him vividly of what Boromir did on Caradhras in order to get them back the way they had originally come. He was immediately sandwiched between several human bodies, none of them realising that it was their King they were treading on.
How Boromir made this look so easy, Aragorn would ever after puzzle over. Striving with the will of Sauron through the palantìr was far easier than this. The crowd were a vicious mob (especially the old ladies wielding walking sticks), with only one purpose in mind: to get to their designated stall. After several minutes of helpless struggling, Aragorn decided to take action against his current predicament. He straightened up to his full height, cleared his throat, and spoke in his most commanding manner: "Excuse me!" His only response was a rather bony elbow being thrust with no small amount of force right into his nose. Aragorn yelped in a rather undignified manner, and clutched at his now considerably squashed nose, as a blinding white light flashed before his eyes. [3]
There was a loud gasp, followed by an urgent whispering of 'it's the King!' 'What?' 'It's the King! You just elbowed him in the nose!' The poor man whose elbow had made such unfortunate contact with Aragorn's face cried out in alarm, and sank to his knees. "My apologies, Sire! I did not see you, Sire. Please, do not punish me, Sire!"
Aragorn stood up straight, and looked down at the man, feeling offended. The crowd immediately parted, leaving a broad, empty path for him to walk down. Giving the frightened man a nod of acknowledgment, Aragorn resumed his Angry King Striding.
He continued until the Gate was in sight, the sun sparkling on the mithril inlay. By now, Aragorn was feeling rather tired. This Striding was no small feat, and he was rather out of practice after resuming the Throne of Gondor. As he reached the Gate, it swung open to reveal the golden hair he had spied from the courtyard, accompanied by the rest of Legolas, and his shadow (hereafter known as Gimli). Behind them, was a milling throng of people.
"Morning, Aragorn!" Legolas said brightly.
"Mornin'" Gimli added cheerfully.
Seeing with some alarm the curious shade of magenta Aragorn's face was becoming, Legolas turned to their followers. "Would you, er, mind just waiting outside for a few moments, please? Gimli and I just need a quick chat with our old friend here."
Agreeably, the crowd left Elf, Dwarf and Man in peace, in the shadow of the large statue of Elendil. Aragorn was quivering, and breathing rather heavily. Legolas and Gimli looked at him with some concern. Legolas glanced down at the Dwarf, then back at the King. He smiled weakly.
"You don't happen to have any free spaces in your school, by any chance?"
[1] Due to our overactive imaginations, we have decided that Gondorians pronounce 'Sire' as 'Soya' as in Soya Sauce. Don't ask why.
[2] We are actually of the opinion that Legolas has dark hair (which we won't get into now- don't bug us about it) but the rather unnaturally bright blonde of Movie!Legolas's hair is to good a parodying opportunity to pass up.
[3] Thanks to Orlando Bloom for this o so amusing quote: "WHITE LIGHT! WHITE LIGHT!"
Ah, Aragorn is such fun. Seriously, I want an Aragorn voodoo doll just for entertainment. ~Gimli~
Yes, everyone, Gimli helped me write this chapter, rather than just correcting my grammar. Hopefully, we will be writing together more often in the future. Cheers! ~Legolas~