I've been banned from the library at Minas Tirith. It seems the head librarian there lacks a sense of humor so when I joked about letting Jack the Avian Paper Shredder loose in the archives he took me seriously and banned me for life. He forgets I'm friends with the King and the Steward so I think the ban will be lifted in short order.
The few friendly Corsairs who travel through have taken a liking to Cap'n Jack and enjoy teaching him all manner of highly objectionable and offensive phrases such as the one which loosely translates to 'Want to raise some sunken treasure?'. Thank Eru none of them speak English. Ellandan and Elrohir are training my cats in the fine art of Pounce on the Corsair with Claws Out.
The elves have discovered the joys of going to the spa. It's mostly the female elves who love to go each week but there are a few males who join them. The Men view this with suspicion and distrust and believe that a layer of dirt and sweat protects you from germs and illness. I've tried to tell them that the only thing a layer of dirt and sweat protects you from is a social life and any success with the opposite sex but my words seem to fall on deaf ears. Aragorn was thought to be taking his life in his hands when he began bathing weekly (at Arwen's insistence) and as he hasn't yet perished his men seem to believe it's his Elven blood keeping him from being infected with all manner of illness now that his layer of protection is regularly stripped away.
Gamling was accosted by two fangirls, Marge and Molly, earlier in the week. Actually, I don't know if 'fangirl' is the right term as the ladies looked to be in their forties. Whatever the correct term is, they obviously ascribe to 'aging is mandatory, maturity is optional', with emphasis on the second part. They also obviously need glasses as they mistook him for Bruce Hopkins. What on Eru's green earth would Bruce be doing here, of all places? But whatever. They mistook Gamling for Bruce and I don't think I've ever seen the man so frightened, even when some orcs made the mistake of coming into the Gaffer's Rest one night. Maybe it's how they were dressed that frightened him. I should mention both were rather obese. One was wearing a broomstick skirt and a belly-baring top, allowing one and all an unrestricted view of the belly ring which was just barely poking out from her flab. The other was wearing…oh, I forget. The sight of a forty-something obese woman in a broomstick skirt and belly-baring top was enough to drive all else from my mind and require an emergency chugging of Bleeprin.
The truly scary part came the next day when a friend of mine in Florida who knows about the Gaffer's Rest contacted me to let me know that two twits from Northern New York (which is how I learned their names) were going on and on about how they'd run into Bruce Hopkins in Syracuse and how he'd been happy to see them and, according to Marge, how Bruce had been sniffing around her sister "like a dog in heat". Molly was saying Bruce kissed her and pinched her arsre. That's all my friend in Florida passed on, but she mentioned the sisters had said far, far more about the whole thing. I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh, cry, vomit, or all three. I opted for printing out the email and reading it everyone in the Gaffer's Rest. Let's just say if anyone ever sees those two nutjobs again, they only thing they'll be posting about is how they had to flee before an angry mob. Or maybe they'll post that stars were overcome with lust for their beautiful selves and they had to run lest they be caught and have their clothes ripped off and be ravaged by lust-crazed men then and there on the street. Oye. And I thought the crap they dreamed up for romance novels was bad. I don't think that would even make it past Harlequin's editorial team on grounds of being too cheesy and sappy and the prose too purple.
Elfhelm's acting strange lately. I have my suspicions but I can't prove anything and his men won't tell me anything when I ask. I asked Eowyn if she knew anything and she got this funny look on her face and told me to talk to her brother. Okay, fine. When Eomer King came around I asked him what was going on with Elfhelm and that Eowyn had told me to talk to him. He just looked at me over his mug of ale, raised an eyebrow, and said it was probably Pippin's cooking giving him gas. Right, then. As bad as Pip's cooking is, it doesn't cause a person to have gas for more than a day or two and Elfhelm's been acting strange longer than that. I guess I'll keep watching and see what's going on. Maybe there are problems with his eodred.
A/N: Gamling's fangirls actually exist. Names and locations changed but the comments are taken from actual posts to a Yahoogroup formerly run by one of the nutjobs in regards to Bruce Hopkins' behavior at cons toward 'Molly'. They're also psychobitches from Hell who've tampered with postmarks and stated a friend of mine has an incestuous relationship with her son (among many, many other libelious accusations and remarks), but that's a whole other discussion.
