Lord of the Rings: Gone Rum—Théoden's Bad Day

Saraman

Legolas knew that the Southrons were so retarded it was funny. They would ride proudly around on their oliphaunts that resembled radiated burritos and then fall off, they were so clumsy and inept. He laughed for an hour as Aragorn came in the tent like an overpaid clown, dancing and glomping and hopping around in Gimli's oversized boots.

"Aha!" said Aragorn. "I see you in there! Come out." He ripped the green boot off his foot and stared inside the great cavernous mouth yawning darkly before him.

"Ah!" he cried. "The foot!" He threw the boot down and raced out of the tent. Gimli was furious. His face turned a thousand shades of red and his eyes went crazy.

"Ar, ha, ha, ha!" he cried, scrambling out of the tent after Aragorn. Legolas was left standing there alone, a smile across his face.

"They are far stupider than Southrons," he decided, laughing quietly to himself. He went back to making his bed. After he tossed the plaid-covered pillow up into the air several times, he hurled it onto the bed with the force of a meteor behind it. It left a crater fifty-thousand feet deep in the bed and old feathers and fluff came flying out all over the room.

"Ah, ah, ah…CHOOOOO!" sneezed Legolas, taking out the east wall of the tent. King Théoden peeked in through the hole.

"Uh, are you OK in there?" he asked, concern written on his face.

"I'm B-E-A-utiful," answered Legolas, wafting the foul, dirty, dusty, contemptibly pitiful, feathers outside the tent with his hands. Legolas thought he could hear someone shrieking outside and resolved that Gimli must have caught Aragorn and given him a swirly in the camp john.

"Yep," he said, noting the telltale flushing sound, "I was right."

At length, Legolas decided his bed was totaled.

"I'll get a new one," he sighed decisively to himself. "I know just the place!" He clambered out of the tent. Spotting Théoden King eating bits of feathers that had fallen to the mud-encrusted earth, he bent down and said, "Ah, your highness. I come on a matter of urgent business. You see, my bed is busted. I need a new one. Perhaps you would donate yours?" A look of utter shock and terror as if the world had ended at that very moment flashed into Théoden's face, and he lost all color in his body. Paralyzed with the horror, he knelt stock-still near the feather-covered ground.

"Uh, Théoden," said Legolas, waving a hand in front of the king's face. "Hello…uh, may I recommend seeing a doctor? Oh, well, he probably is taking a little nap because of not getting enough sleep last night at the party. He may need a little help waking up."

He rose to his feet and looked about.

"Aragorn! Aragorn?" he called into the bullhorn that he always carried at his side. "Aragorn of the Dunedain, please report to the back of your tent."

Presently, Aragorn arrived, his hair soaking wet with toilet paper hanging off one ear. Gimli trailed close behind.

"That's how we Dwarves deal with boot-snatching minions!" said the dwarf.

"You called, Your Highness?" Aragorn sneered, shaking the water off himself like a wet dog.

"Ugh!" said Legolas, preferring to back away from the rather unpleasant odor emanating from the man.

"Don't get smart with me! I'll tell on you. I'll tell Elrond, I will. I'll tell your daddy!"

Aragorn dropped to his knees in shock, horror etched across his face. He reached for one of the elf's legs and wrapped his arms around it like a man begging for his life.

"Please," he begged. "Oh, please, please don't tell my daddy. I'll do anything, anything, I swear. I'm sorry. I'll be your slave for life! Just don't tell him anything! He'll make me clean latrines and showers in Rivendell like he did the day I dyed his hair pink while he was sleeping! Please, Legolas, I'll do anything!" Legolas smiled, expressing his satisfaction at pressing the right button. It was a low blow he knew but he didn't care.

"All right, all right," he said, shaking himself free of the groveling man. "I won't tell him anything if you will do but one simple task for me."

Aragorn looked up, hopefully. "You name it, I'll do it.

"Good," continued Legolas. "Then we shouldn't have any problems. As you know, you are well known for the awful scent that is legendary for following you around. Therefore, I have selected you for a special task. You are to breath in Théoden King's face. If that doesn't wake him, I don't know what will."

Aragorn nodded happily. "Right away, Your Excellency." He shot a quick glance behind him to see if Legolas was watching. He was. Aragorn crawled over to Théoden and worked up a vile, disgusting, breath from way down in the garbage dump that was the pit of his stomach. Legolas waited patiently for several years.

At length, Aragorn was ready. He released his horrible, terrifying Breath of Doom, as it was called by the peoples of Middle-earth. The thick, humid, rotten carrot/broccoli/coleslaw wind poured from his mouth straight into the frozen king's face. A grimace of absolute torture came to Théoden and he snapped awake, screaming at the top of his lungs, worse than the brownie girls at summer camp going down a forty-thousand foot high waterfall in a rickety canoe. Aragorn and Gimli leapt back, the noise of the shriek reverberating off the surrounding cliff walls and sending Legolas sprinting back inside his tent to hide in the hole under his destroyed bed.

After the shockwaves and echoes of screaming faded away, they came out slowly, one by one. Théoden had frightened himself so badly he had dived through his royal tent, creating a gaping hole in the canvas that resembled him in shape. He at last emerged from the tattered ruins of his tent and slinked back to where he had seen Legolas last. Ever afterward, he made it a point to keep Aragorn at least several miles distant from himself at all times.

"Hello, again," said Legolas pleasantly. "Glad to see you're up and about. Very glad to see you moving."

Théoden nodded, confused.

"Oh, hey," said Legolas as he remembered. "Have you had time to consider my request for a donation?" The same look of shock came to Théoden again and he said nothing for several minutes, but stood staring into space.

"Yoo-hoo," said Legolas. "About the bed. Oh, I see, you've already decided to give it to me. How generous! Isn't he generous?" The men who had just emerged from their tents at hearing the terrible yell nodded their heads.

"Thanks, Théoden," laughed Legolas, sprinting away from the terror-stricken king. "You're the best!" He raced into Théoden's tent, picked up the bed, and lobbed it forcefully into the air through the door of his own tent.

"Whoops," he said, ruefully. "Guess I'll have to borrow his door too."

Finis