Breakout

Aragorn felt on top of the world.

Mr. Gandalf, the most awesome therapist in all of awesomeness, had sat down and talked with Aragorn about all of his multiple personalities, and then he went and prescribed some medical pipe-weed, the most awesome medicine in all of, well… in all of awesomeness. The only downside was that Aragorn was now extremely hungry, especially for some lembas bread drizzled in chocolate sauce, so he got into the fancy Mercedes he used while he was Elessar the doctor ("Hahaha, I'm a doctor," Aragorn giggled, finding that hilarious) and drove to Elf-in-the-Box.

What kind of name for a restaurant was Elf-in-the-Box though? Didn't elves live in trees? Aragorn would really love to take an elf and put him in a box, and maybe take him to the post office and ship him off to Mordor City or some crazy place like that.

"Ha! Mordor City!" said Aragorn, laughing out loud as he swerved off the road, ran over a fallen tree, and narrowly avoided crashing right into a fire hydrant. "Hahaha. Fire hydrant, oh my Valar!"

It was a miracle that Aragorn made it to Elf-in-the-Box in one piece.

He strode into the restaurant, highly amused when a bell tinkled overhead as he opened the door, and he was even more amused when he saw Haldir standing behind the counter looking irritable as usual. "Aragorn, what have I told you?" said Haldir, giving Aragorn his trademark Condescending Glare. "You still haven't taken a bath."

"Hey, you need to relax, man," said Aragorn, casually leaning his elbows on the counter. "Just relax and go with the flow."

"What are you talking out?"

"You need to chill, brother. And get me some chocolate covered lembas bread, because man, I feel like I could eat a herd of oliphaunts for real, bro."

"Are you feeling all right?" asked Haldir, raising a haughty eyebrow at Aragorn. "You haven't developed another strange personality, have you?"

"I'm Aragorn the Totally Cool," said Aragorn.

"And I'm calling security," said Haldir. "You're going to frighten the hobbit children and run us out of business, you fool."

Aragorn just shrugged his shoulders, not caring in the least bit, and proceeded to lie down on the floor of the restaurant so he could gaze up at the ceiling. "Those lights up there look just like stars," he murmured in awe. "They're so beautiful."

Haldir sighed and picked up the phone so he could call Galadriel, who continued to fail at making an appearance so she could perform her manager duties. They didn't really have security since their budget went towards importing high-quality lembas bread from Lorien Farms, but surely Galadriel could hire a dwarf or two to escort Aragorn from the premises. Just as Haldir was about to dial Galadriel's number, the door opened and Legolas came striding in, looking unusually dangerous.

"Aragorn!" he cried. "You have committed a direct violation against everything the Treehugger's Club has been working towards!"

"Oh, hey Lego my eggo," Aragorn said from his position on the floor. "Come over here and relax with me, man. Just kick back and forget about everything."

"Aragorn, I am appalled at your behavior," said Legolas, putting his hands on his hips. "You ran over a helpless fallen tree! How would you like it if you had fallen down and some jerk decided to run right over you? Do you have any idea what the therapy bills for that poor little tree's family are going to be like?"

"Duuuude," said Aragorn. "How did you even know about that? Are you stalking my every move or something?"

"Whenever there is a tree in pain, I always find out about it," Legolas said with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Always. Now I'd like you to get up off your lazy rear and apologize to that poor tree right now."

Haldir watched Legolas hoist Aragorn to his feet and lead him out the door, and supposed that dwarf security was the wrong way to go. Perhaps Legolas would be willing to take on a job at Elf-in-the-Box, if Haldir offered him a high enough bribe and promised not to harm any trees, of course.

Denethor sat huddled on the living room couch, his knees drawn up to his chest as he muttered to himself and watched Palantir News Network. Some crackpot reporter was telling everyone that the world was bound to end in approximately three weeks and Denethor reminded himself to start digging an underground shelter for himself and Boromir. Faramir could fend for himself. He would probably end up building himself a sissy fort made out of carrot sticks anyway.

The news report cut to a commercial break and Sam's newest Wal-Mart commercial appeared on the TV screen.

Samwise Gamgee strolled down a Wal-Mart aisle with a bottle in his hand and smiled at the camera. "Gettin' older is hard and no mistake. Just ask my old Gaffer! But I've got a solution for all you folks out there who'd like to take off a few years."

The camera zoomed in on the bottle Sam held. "One Ring's Age-Away!" Sam declared proudly. "Only at Wal-Mart!"

"Use sparingly," said a male voiceover. "If you start to feel like butter scraped over too much bread, immediately contact your doctor."

Denethor glared at the television. "Wal-Mart does not have the authority to tell me what I can and can't buy. I will not listen to your clever marketing strategies!"

Suddenly the front door opened and Denethor tried to come up with a clever insult in case Faramir had come home, but he soon relaxed when Boromir, The Best Son in the Whole Wide World, came striding into the living room with a box in his hands. "Hey, dad. How was work?"

"Isengard Imports is still selling more cars than me," Denethor muttered. "It's probably Faramir's fault."

"Faramir doesn't even work for Gondorian Motors," Boromir pointed out. "He doesn't even have a job."

"Exactly. His lack of employment is a disgrace to this family!"

"Well cheer up, dad. Pippin and I went out and bought you a cake!" Boromir opened up the box, proudly displaying a vanilla frosted cake with an assortment of candles decorating its surface. "This is actually Cake #2. Pippin tried to eat the first one and got kicked out of Wal-Mart."

Denethor sat on the couch and gazed at the cake for a long moment. At last a vein began to throb on the side of his forehead. "What is this? It's not my birthday."

"Uh, yeah. I know it's not your birthday. I just thought it would be nice to get a cake since you seem stressed out lately."

"How could you have been fooled into thinking it is my birthday, Boromir? It is most certainly not my birthday. This is all Faramir's fault!"

"Dad, Faramir isn't even here right now. Are you feeling okay?"

"I can't stop watching the news," Denethor muttered, rocking back and forth on the couch. "All day, every day, it tells me things and I can't break free."

"Well maybe I should turn the TV off," Boromir suggested.

"No!" Denethor cried. "You don't understand, favorite son of mine. I need the regular news reports like I need air."

Suddenly the commercial break on television ended and a frantic looking news reporter showed up on television. "Breaking news!" she announced. "Bilbo Baggins, long-time retirement center inmate, has escaped from Rivendell Acres Retirement Facility. A search for Mr. Baggins has begun at once."

"This is all Faramir's fault!" Denethor shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the television.

Boromir shook his head sadly and went off to cut himself a piece of cake.

Faramir was tired of getting treated like a second-class citizen in his own home. He was tired of always coming in second place no matter what he did. Most importantly, he was sick and tired of being told to eat meat when he clearly preferred vegetables over animal carcasses that may or may not belong to the neighbors' pets.

For as long as Faramir could remember, his life had been ridiculously hard…

The bleachers on the local high school football field were filled up with spectators who watched the football game eagerly, all except for one young man who was absorbed in some papers in his lap.

"Faramir!" Denethor nudged his son sharply in the side, taking pleasure in the pained gasp his youngest boy emitted. "Pay attention and watch your brother play!"

"But dad, I have to study for my history test." Faramir didn't take his eyes off the notes in his lap.

"Who in their right mind studies during a football game? In fact, who in their right mind studies at all? You'll never amount to anything, Faramir!"

Faramir ignored his father, which earned him a smack on the side of his head. "Ow!" Those rings Denethor wore sure hurt a lot. "I hope you know that you're abusing me on school grounds, Dad."

"I help keep the school funded," his father replied with an evil gleam in his eyes. "Now watch the game before Daddy burns you with his cigarette."

Poor Faramir never understood his father's odd fetish for fire, but it was best to get Denethor off that train of thought. Sighing, he looked up to see his older brother Boromir, prized captain of Minas Tirith High's football team, score yet another goal. "See that, Faramir?" said Denethor. "This is why I love Boromir so much more than you. I'm thinking about disowning you as soon as you graduate."

Faramir said nothing, though a tear welled up in each of his eyes. In the end Minas Tirith High defeated Osgilioth High thanks to Boromir's superb playing and Denethor cheered louder than everyone else. "THAT'S MY SON, EVERYBODY! MINE! MINE AND NOT YOURS!" He cackled madly at the other parents. "That Osgilioth High is full of weaklings. Perhaps I'll have you transferred there, Faramir."

"Thanks, Dad," Faramir muttered. He sighed and tried to reabsorb himself in his history notes.

Faramir shuddered at the memory of his high school days. He had been such an awkward teenager.

But everything was going to change from now on. Faramir would no longer allow his pyromaniac father to rule his life with an iron fist of tyranny. Faramir was going to break out! Faramir was going to rebel!

Faramir was going to have a fruits and veggies party and invite the whole neighborhood!