Disclaimer : all the characters and places are the entire property of J.R.R. Tolkien. I confess having taken the Lia Fail from the Irish mythology. But the nonsense is mine! Thanks to CKlovesme2040 ( I'm glad you enjoyed the tale of Legolas! ) and Amélie ( hé toi, t'as pas fini avec tes menaces à la noix ? Quand on s'appelle Nubuckskin on se tient à carreaux ! Et en plus je te signale que Beowulf c'est un gentil, alors tagoulafandelost ! mdr :D ). RAR pleaaaaaaaaaase pleaaaaaaaaaase pleaaaaaaaaaase! ( keep RARing ! lol )

The Tale of the Salacious Sacred Stone

The whole company waited a long time,

Until they could hear the Host's chime,

Which meant that the fiery elf was gone,

And ran through the trembling woods alone.

All the fellowship was sweating like a pig,

And many members had still a fear big.

Gandalf said: "Cheer up! The threat is away,

Now you can display your stories' array."

A young woman, fair-haired and queenly bearing,

Took a step onwards: "Let me begin,

I am Eowyn of the Rohirrim, proud,

Noble-hearted, strong-minded and I love aloud,

The king of the Gondor, Aragorn son of Arathorn."

A fierce growl made her start as if stung by a thorn.

The elf princess Arwen had jumped on his feet,

A hateful light in her look, her face all heat.

But Eowyn insolently turned her back to her:

"The man is well-built, loves women not blur,

That's why he prefers me rather than some elvish girl,

Who, apart from making a gem from a dew pearl,

Is nothing but a poor thing unable to fight,

As women of my rank do. Instead, in light

She plays and with fellow elves she wanders

Across green lawns, greeting strangers

Or polishing her long and fragile nails..."

Arwen stood up again, had she scales,

One might have mistaken her with a dragon.

"You blond witch! Will you stop your jargon?"

The princess elf exclaimed, as red as lava.

"Go rambling on in a weak women's drama!"

"How dare you interrupt me, frivolous fairy!"

Lady Eowyn retorted. "It's not your turn, hairy,

Tiny, silly elf girl! Shut your nasty mouth,

Or I will have you taken away to the South!"

"Hum...hum...errrr...'scuse me m'am",

The greasy-haired Grima said, "I am

A good substitute to that fake king you think you love.

I have always loved you, but your heart is deceived like a dove,

That would find a cuckoo's egg in its nest,

For this Aragorn is a charlatan at his best..."

Like two Furies, Arwen and Eowyn pounced on Grima.

"But...but..." he stuttered, terrified "oooooooh maaaa"

The two women, united in adversity, knocked him down,

With so much energy that his flesh went brown.

Arwen had smacked his face with her pale hand,

But so brutally that her nails had torn his skin and,

The marks on Grima's cheek were savagely printed.

As for Eowyn, she had a punch on his chin adjusted.

The two rivals exchanged a mutual look of respect.

Arwen sat back and Eowyn went on with her subject:

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, hear the story of the Stone.

And for sure by a wind of surprise you will be blown."

The lady Eowyn paused, scrutinised her audience and said:

"Once upon a time, in a remote land by a lone king led,

There was a terrible event: King Boralas the Onliwone,

Who had ruled his kingdom from Stone Day on,

Died. His people was in deep sorrow and mourned.

For fear of attacks, to keep peace from being abandoned,

A brand new sovereign had to be elected quickly.

However, King Boralas had no child, for he had been sickly.

But one day, a powerful wizard, with thick red hair,

Came to the kingless land and claimed, as if in a fair:

"To choose the right sovereign, use the Sacred Stone".

He had said that in a slow and solemn tone.

"What is it?" asked the folk. "Is it an ancient spell?"

The wizard sighed, he looked sorry. "To you I will tell.

It is a stone which shouts when the right king

Is near its rock surface. Always did it the truth bring,

Was the chosen one a villain, burgher, beggar or prince.

From the dark ages to the bright ages, and ever since,

The Sacred Stone has never, never ever failed.

Use it, and Borolas's successor's name will be unveiled."

So orders were given to find the Sacred Stone.

The kingdom began dreaming about a possible throne

For each person, whatever the social rank.

But their enthusiasm quickly shrank.

Indeed, the Stone was nowhere to be found.

The wizard was about to be down,

When a minstrel discovered the treasure,

Overgrown with thick bushed and moisture.

Soon the folk had it cleaned up and brushed,

And the wizard looked at it and blushed.

"Is there a problem, master wizard?"

"Err, no...oh no, now let's see the award.

Please, all those who want to try, queue up.

One by one, you will walk over the stone and...yup,

We will know who the next king is!

Simple, isn't it? No need to worry...wiz!"

The peaceful folk seemed suspicious.

"Of your verbal twitches "yup!wiz!" are you conscious?"

The wizard bit his lips and remained silent.

"Are you alright? Will we begin before the crescent?"

The wizard gave a slight smile and said:

"Err, yes, err... all right then, walk! Walk, I said."

A young self-important lord dressed in silk and velvet

Pushed the ordered line of people and the stone met.

With a sigh, he stepped over it and smiled.

But the stone did not cry. Instead, it yawned.

Loudly. Impudently. Disinterestedly.

"Bad rock, a fissure I will give you deadly!"

Choked the offended nobleman, unsheathing his sword.

"I won't let a peasant become king, upon my word!"

And, with all his strength, he hit the culprit.

Bright sparks sprung from the stone,

But of the slightest fissure there was none.

The folk laughed heartily and the wizard cried:

"Go away, you blasphemous failed knight, you tried,

Offended the Sacred Stone and made a fool of yourself,

Now shove off before I call you an elf!"

There, Eowyn paused in her tale, confused, and blushed.

But Arwen did not take umbrage and was not flushed.

"So the candidates one by one they tried,

But either the Sacred Stone snored, coughed,

Sneezed or simply remained as still as a...rock.

"Is there no means its dumbness to unlock?",

A trader asked impatiently, "Is it the right stone?"

The wizard almost choked. "Err arr it is the One!"

"So why is there no king designated yet?"

The wizard's brow was covered with sweat,

But calmly he said: "Women did not do it."

A sudden wave of indignation raised a summit.

"You must let them try, they deserve a chance."

With joy, a young maid on the stone did dance.

"Hihihi hahaha huhuhuh ohohoh" the stone laughed.

"How delightful for my old body are those feet, how soft!

And what pretty young, long and firm legs I can see!

Am I in the Paradise of Weary Stones? Great!"

The wizard patently coughed and stamped on. "I bet

That young lady is the chosen sovereign for our kingdom?"

He said very loudly. "The Sacred Stone will, in its wisdom,

Tell us LOUDLY if I am right or wrong."

The stone stopped laughing and said in a voice strong:

"That attractive young lass is the new queen!

With such a beautiful body she can be serene!"

The wizard frowned and stamped on once more:

"Enough, Stone. Now gentle folk, cherish the queen or,

Pack your clothes, furniture and leave.

She will be surrounded by respect and in elation live."

Thus, the young girl was given a castle, throne and crown,

And ruled over the kingdom until her skin turned brown.

But what no one, except the wizard, never knew,

Is that the Sacred Stone used was not the true.

It was just a stone in which a salacious spirit was kept.

But it did not really matter, for the throne the lass did accept."

Eowyn looked around her. The audience stood aback.

Aragorn, faster than a weasel, came with a sack.

"Are you willing to steal my throne, lass?

Is your tale made to corrupt the assembled mass?"

He accusingly pointed a finger to her, then to the sack.

He growled: "Go inside or your love you will lack!"

Eowyn yelped with fear and grew pale.

Arwen intervened: "Can't you drink your ale,

Instead of persecuting that poor woman?

What are you? A king or a tyrannical man?"

Now the elvish princess seemed ready to tear his flesh,

Her eyes flashed, she could his poor mind thresh.

Aragorn receded, as a trapped crab would.

"Arwen, I was wicked, for sure I should

With all feeble creatures be nice,

But you see male chauvinism is my vice."

His beloved elf had grasped his throat.

"You had better take your coat,

And go back to my tree-house!

Otherwise I will be worse than a louse!"

Shocked, Aragorn left the room.

Arwen fumed: "Burn in the Mount Doom!"

Eowyn hiccuped with surprise, Arwen said:

"Don't let yourself be by such a man led.

If you are too nice with them,

They think they are powerful...ahem..."

Eowyn winked, then smiled happily:

"Well, I think I do not love him finally!"