Mark My Words
Cirdan the infamous sailor elf strolled upon the docks, headed towards his ship with a bottle of rum in his hand. "Yo ho, yo ho, an Elvish life for me," he sang under his breath. "We're pretty, immortal, and really wise chaps, drink up me Elfies, yo ho!"
Suddenly he spotted something that made him gasp aloud and drop his bottle of rum. "Shiver me lembas bread! I can't believe me eyes!"
The person Cirdan was staring at was none other than Bilbo Baggins, recently escaped from Rivendell Acres Retirement Facility. Cirdan didn't have television on his ship, otherwise he would have known that elves all over the city were frantically searching for the elderly hobbit.
One of Bilbo's eyes began to twitch as he looked up at Cirdan. "Frodo, my lad, are we off to see the dragons? The wonderful dragons of Oz?"
"Nay, matey!" Cirdan growled, brandishing his cutlass. "What brings the likes of ye to me humble docks, eh?"
"Silly lad. Strawberries aren't in season yet!"
"Arr, yer one cannonball short of a full blast, laddie. Yer missing a few gold pieces from yer treasure chest, ye are."
Bilbo's eye continued to twitch and he didn't seem to hear a word Cirdan said to him.
Cirdan tugged thoughtfully at his magnificent beard. "But come to think of it, I could use me a first mate. I know naught of yer magic dragons, but there shall be swashbuckling adventures ahoy. What say ye?"
Bilbo raised one feeble hand in the air, his ears perking up at the mention of adventures. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire!" he cried.
"Aye, matey!" said Cirdan. "Welcome aboard!"
Faramir knew that his plan to hold an epic fruits and veggies party was a brilliant one. He would simultaneously irritate his father, get another chance to impress Eowyn, and partake in a nutritious meal without harming any animals.
There was just one problem: Faramir didn't have enough money to hold such an event.
He didn't have a job since his father refused to employ him at Gondorian Motors, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Denethor had spread terrible rumors about him to possible employers. Faramir had always intended to become a writer and earn his living that way, but he had yet to find inspiration for the perfect novel. Besides, how could he compete with a genius like Frodo Baggins?
Faramir only saw one realistic option if he wanted to raise enough money to throw a fruits and veggies party. He would have to go next door and offer to babysit his neighbor Beregond's son Bergil, a task that would surely leave him embarrassed for weeks on end. Everyone knew that baby-sitting was for thirteen-year-old girls, but what other choice did he have?
Making sure he was carefully hidden by his brother's oversized hooded sweatshirt so the neighbors wouldn't see him, Faramir walked next door and dearly hoped that Beregond's cat wasn't around to make rude hissing noises at him. Faramir was pretty sure that the cat was some long-lost relative of his father's, trapped in animal form forever, which explained why it always purred at Boromir and terrorized the living daylights out of Faramir.
Yep, that animal was definitely related to his father.
"Faramir, is that you?" a voice said just as he was about to cross over to the lawn next door.
It was Legolas, who clutched his usual stack of pamphlets with a determined gleam in his eyes. Out of all the people who could have discovered Faramir on his current mission, Faramir supposed that Legolas wasn't the absolute worst. The crazy elf ran around ranting about trees all day long, after all.
"What is it this time, Legolas?" Faramir asked wearily. "I'm kind of busy."
"Busy?" Legolas echoed. "You can never be too busy when nature itself is in peril! That's why I've arranged a nature hike in order to raise awareness about tree rights and encourage people to appreciate the beauty of the forest."
"That's... nice," said Faramir. "Hope you have fun with that."
"Well of course you're coming along! I wouldn't dream of having a nature hike without my favorite vegetarian."
"What does that have to do with anything? People don't eat trees."
The gleam in Legolas' eye turned dangerous. "But we eat the fruit that grows on trees, Faramir! Did you ever stop and consider all the trouble trees go through in order to provide food for the general populace? And does anyone ever thank these hard-working trees? No, of course not."
"I'm, uh, very sorry about that."
"I'm thinking about starting a worker's union for fruit-bearing trees. The poor things don't even get paid! Mark my words, Faramir. There just might be a strike if this appalling behavior continues. Mark my words."
"Right," said Faramir. "I'll keep that in mind."
"I knew I could count on you, Faramir." Legolas brightened up immediately and handed Faramir a few of his fliers, which proudly advertised the nature hike. "Pass these out to your friends, okay? And next time you see a fruit tree, make sure you thank it for the nourishment it kindly provides without wages or health insurance."
Legolas apparently thought he had done his duty and skipped away, most likely bent on shoving his views down more people's throats. Sighing, Faramir folded up the fliers (for he respected written words too much to crumple them) and stuffed them into the pocket of Boromir's hoodie as he approached Beregond's doorstep.
He had a baby-sitting mission to embark on.
"I hereby call this meeting of the Frodo Baggins Admirers Club to order," said Galadriel, banging a mallet on Gimli's coffee table.
Haldir raised a perfect eyebrow. "I don't remember electing you as the club president."
"I don't remember being under your authority, Haldir," Galadriel shot back. "Are you forgetting who controls your meager salary?"
Haldir fell silent and reminded himself for the hundredth time that he should find a new job. He heard rumors that Edoras Fried Chicken treated its employees decently, though it seemed an awful lot like the type of place someone like Aragorn would eat at.
They were all gathered in Gimli's living room—Haldir, Galadriel, and Gimli, along with Gimli's father Gloin and his grandfather Groin—and Haldir was too bored to care about the uneven dwarf-to-elf ratio, though the incredibly loud breathing of the dwarves was starting to grate on his nerves. Gimli eagerly raised his glass of elf wine (courtesy of Galadriel), indicating his desire to speak.
"Have you heard the rumors about Frodo's new novel? It's supposed to come out in bookstores in just a few short months!"
"I certainly hope this new one is more uplifting than Sailing Away," Groin remarked. "That was the most depressing book I've ever read. The ending was hopeless!"
"I'm sure the new novel will meet everyone's tastes," said Galadriel. "Personally I'm more concerned about that horrid Fan Club. They'll probably throw a party at Barnes & Noble to celebrate the release and create more nauseating T-shirts and posters."
"Well obviously we have to thwart this party!" said Gloin. "Gatecrash their nonsense!"
Haldir was about to contribute with a condescendingly clever suggestion when the doorbell rang, interrupting the meeting. "I'll get it," he volunteered, eager to get a break from the dwarves and their heavy breathing.
He opened up the front door and gaped at the long-bearded person who stood before him. "Saruman?"
"Indeed," said Saruman.
Faramir was starting to regret baby-sitting young Bergil. How was he supposed to keep a ten-year-old entertained for two hours without both of them going mad? After the two of them stared awkwardly at each other for five whole minutes, Faramir cleared his throat and hoped the money would be worth it in the end.
"Um... what do you want to do, Bergil?"
"What do you want to do?" said Bergil.
"Well, I like to read."
"Your dad says that reading is for sissies. I hear him say it all the time."
Faramir grimaced. "My father is not an expert on sissiness. How about I tell you a story?"
"One that you made up?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Whatever you want."
"This oughtta be good," said Bergil, wearing an evil ten-year-old grin that struck fear into Faramir's heart. "You're gonna fail!"
Determined to prove the kid wrong, Faramir situated himself on the living room couch with Bergil beside him and cleared his throat again. "This is the story of Little Red Strider Hood. Now Little Red Strider Hood was walking through the forest with a basket of purple frosted cupcakes for his adopted father Elrond. Elrond wasn't feeling very well because all the frowning he did was bad for his health.
"Little Red Strider Hood, or Strider for short, had heard that the woods were filled with all sorts of terrifying creatures, but he was confidant that he could scare them away with his lack of hygiene. You see, Strider hadn't bathed in several years, and so every time he approached a bird or a squirrel on the forest path, the poor creature took off running so it could dunk its poor nose into a pond or a stream.
" 'If by my life or death I can protect you, I will, Elrond,' Aragorn declared heroically. 'You have my cupcakes! And you have my purple frosting! And my basket!'
"Tom Bombadil, the most terrifying creature in the entire forest, took this as a personal challenge. He popped out from behind a bush wearing a bright blue jacket and yellow boots, the most dastardly clothing combination imaginable, and sung to Aragorn in rhyme.
" 'My, what purple cupcakes you've got! Let me taste one or I'll steal the whole lot!'
" 'But they're for my irritable adoptive father," said Strider, clutching the basket protectively to his chest. 'And why are you singing?'
" 'It's what I do, you fool in the hood! Hand over those cupcakes or I'll end you for good!'
" 'That is seriously annoying. Even more annoying than my allergies to soap and shampoo.'
" 'Well that's too bad, my unfortunate friend! I'll sing night and day, all the way to the end!'
"Luckily for Strider, brave and courageous Faramir Hood the Forest Outlaw was out hunting with his band of men, and he heard the commotion. 'Never fear!' Faramir Hood cried bravely. 'I shall save you!'
"He heroically strung his mighty bow and shot a magic arrow at Tom Bombadil, thus robbing him of his singing power forever. Strider was so grateful that he allowed Faramir Hood to have one of his purple frosted cupcakes, then hurried off through the forest to Elrond's house.
"But that wasn't all! Maid Eowyn, who had spent years admiring Faramir Hood from afar, stepped forward wearing a disguise so she would look like one of Faramir Hood's men. 'Faramir Hood, it is time for me to admit how I truly feel about your rugged, heroic self!' She pulled back her hood, allowing her long blonde hair to cascade down her back in a beautiful waterfall, and looked deeply into Faramir Hood's eyes.
"Faramir Hood was so overjoyed that he shared his purple frosted cupcake with Maid Eowyn.
"And everyone lived happily ever after. The end."
Having finished his story, Faramir looked at Bergil and expected to see him bright-eyed and eager, begging him for another brilliant tale. Instead Bergil sat with his head lolled against the couch, fast asleep.
Faramir sighed. "At least I'm getting paid for this."