Good day, good day to you all! Guess what, I still own nothing! The weather forecast is predicting that this chapter contains swears. But most sad of all, NOBODY WANTED THE STRING, PRECIOUS!
Meepalicious- I fully agree with Merry and yourself and apologies for the mental pictures of Gollum's fashion sense. XD
android- Poor Aragorn indeed. And I love Gollum, poor lamb. With his suit and briefcase.
Olliphaunt- Watch yourself with that knife, precious! And you are going to love this chapter! :D
asymmetrical- I like some of them, and I've got a great idea for one of them in particular, so thanks!
trollalalala- Thank you, precious. We tries, we tries. Gollum is one of our favourite characters so we is glad we sound like him!
Scylla's Revenge- They will be making fools of themselves, have no fear!
M.H.T- NOES, do tell, do tell! My worst Sue was a Narnian one and I told!
Warning, you are about to experience the madness of my father. It will be explained at the end.
The Four Hunters and Gandalf, now garbed in a grey poncho, emerged from the trees of Fangorn, squinting against the sunlight.
"Hang on a mo, lemme summon the old mount," Gandalf muttered and then threw his head back and gave a wild screech.
The answer was not the whinny Aragorn was expecting but a... a... a squelch. Yes, squelch was probably the best onomatopoetic term.
A shadowy lump galloped over the hill and reared impressively in the sunlight.
"That is one of the lembas, or my eyes deceive me," Leggy breathed.
"Don't you mean mearas?" Aragorn began to ask and then the thing cantered closer. It was two giant slices of white bread, each roughly the size of a carpet, stuck together with a sticky brown substance and balanced on four stumpy legs.
"Peanut-Butter-Sandwich," Gandalf announced, reaching out a hand to stroke the top slice of bread. "He's the King of all Carbohydrates."
PBS squelched happily under Gandalf's touch. Gandalf climbed on and arranged himself cross-legged on PBS's back.
"Onwards!" he trilled, pointing into the distance, and PBS galloped off obediently.
"Gandalf, we have no horses!" Galabríawenúthien shouted. "We never met Éomer!"
"Not my problem, bitch!" came the reply. "You got legs, use 'em!"
They looked at each other in horror and then broke out into a slow job so as not to lose the sandwich and its rider.
Eventually, after much clanking and wheezing from Gimli, Edoras loomed in the distance.
"I should probably warn you that Théoden is completely batty. In his senility, he has taken advice from Saruman of all people. I want you to all stay out of it while I'm trying to reason with him," Gandalf said with a sidelong glare at Galabríawenúthien. She narrowed her eyes but nodded in acceptance.
Aragorn's hopes grew slightly as they rode through the city of the Horselords. It seemed to be no different than when he was last in Rohan. A lot more ginger hair than he remembered but that only seemed a small detail.
All hopes were dashed as they approached Meduseld and were met by the doorward, Háma.
"Ah'mafraid ye cannae see the Big Yin wi' aw them chibs, ya ken?" the doorward barked at them. The five cowered back and form a tight circle.
"What did he say?" Leggy whispered.
"Was it even the Common Tongue?" Galabríawenúthien asked. "I say we kill them all for treachery, they have clearly joined Sauron!"
"Now, now, mass genocide seems a bit of a rash option. I think he merely requested that we leave our weapons at the door..." Gandalf said. Aragorn edged slowly out of the circle and carefully placed Andúril on the table next to the door.
"Aye, geez aw!" Háma leered. The other three Hunters quickly threw their weapons in the rough direction of the table leaving Gandalf still clutching his cane.
"And the staffie, ya ken?" Háma asked. Gandalf hit him round the head with it.
"Fools! Never separate an old man from his walking stick!" he declared and then strutted straight past and through the doors.
"Hola, Théoden! I'm back!" he sang. The old man in the throne grimaced and tried to burrow further down into his furs.
"Nobody's home!" he called in a doddering old voice. Gandalf tutted.
"Now, now Théoden! I realise you are cut up about the death of what's-his-face but you can't mope in here forever! Get your glad-rags on, we're hitting the bright lights of Minas Tirith! You, me and Denethor, just like the old days!"
"Noooo, don't want to," Théoden moaned and pulled a fur cloak over his head. "Gríma, deal with the Wizard, would you?"
"At once," a slippery voice called. A snake wound its way up the throne and stared at Gandalf. "Ahh, the Stormcrow. Nice poncho, what back street of Bree did you buy it in?"
"Gríma! You look a little different than when I last saw you! Last time you had legs! And arms!" Gandalf said happily. He glared over his shoulder at the others, who took the hint and shuffled into the hall behind him.
"I felt restricted with appendages, this new form is so much more, ah-hm-hm, flexible," Gríma said, sliding down the throne and across the floor.
"Eeww," Leggy moaned, dancing backwards so the snake didn't cross his boots.
"Fore!" Gandalf cried and swung his staff. It connected with Gríma, lifting the snake and sending it flying through the air.
"You morons! I told you to take the Wizard's staff!" it screamed before it slammed into the wall. Thugs appeared from no-where and advanced menacingly on the Hunters and Gandalf. Galabríawenúthien charged straight at them, limbs flailing madly; Gimli used his beard as a lasso to trip them; Leggy screamed a war cry and then promptly missed the thug he was aiming for and Aragorn? Aragorn fixed the thug coming at him with a glare so terrifying that the thug decided that thuggery wasn't for him after all. His sweetheart's family owned a bakery in Dol Amroth. It was a good time to go into the bread-making business.
"Well, that was pointless," Gandalf said eventually. The thugs all lay on the floor in a daze. The Wizard turned his attention back to the King. "Come on Théoden, stop your moping!"
"He is mine, Gandalf the Grey! You shall never have him! Rohan is mine!" the King giggled in an unnatural voice.
"Och, crivens! The Big Yin is gie'in me the heebie-jeebies!" a voice cried. Gandalf stalked menacingly towards the throne.
"I am no longer Gandalf the Grey!" he declared and threw off the poncho. The effect was ruined slightly by the poncho becoming tangled about his head but eventually he threw it on the floor and faced the King triumphantly in his white shirt and trousers. "Shazam!" he yelled.
Théoden's eyes glazed over and then he slumped forward. His hair shifted from white to a bright ginger and he raised his head, a strange fire burning in his eyes.
"Aye, ah'm feelin' braw noo!" he cried, getting to his feet.
"That's nice," Gandalf said encouragingly.
Merry and Pippin sat on tree roots in the depths of Fangorn.
"Sooooo, you are an Ent, you say," Merry said politely to the being in front of them.
"Ent?! I am no Ent! I am a tree!" it bellowed. Pippin snorted and covered his mouth with a hand. "I am Treebeard!" it continued. It appeared to be a giant who had chosen to wear a toga comprised entirely of leaves, in addition to the expression of the completely ape-shit.
"And what are you?" it shouted, prodding Pippin suspiciously. Pippin batted the finger away quickly.
"We are Hobbits," he said hastily. "We live in cosy holes, we like good food, we like to sing-"
"SING!" Treebeard yelled. "Orcs! Orcs like to sing!"
"Oh, well done Pip!" Merry said disparagingly. "We're not Orcs!"
Treebeard's eyes narrowed. "I must consult the brethren! Come little Orcs, the Most Worshipful Brethren of the Tree-Huggers awaits us!"
Aragorn slipped out the door of Meduseld and walked around the side of the building to where the figure in white waited. They stood together for a while, enjoying the evening.
"That was quite a little show you put on in there, my old friend," he said eventually. Gandalf grumbled to himself.
"When I passed through Lórien, Galadriel encouraged me to wear this disguise to throw off Galabríawenúthien."
Aragorn looked the ensemble up and down critically.
"She had downed a few in the Lonely Mallorn at the time," the Wizard admitted. He wriggled. "These trousers are criminally tight. They chafe somewhat."
"What are we going to do about the Rohirrim?" Aragorn asked, not particularly wanting to know about Gandalf's chafing.
"I'm not sure. Hope that Éomer is himself, I guess. Have you seen Éowyn yet?"
Aragorn shuddered in horror. He had been introduced to a lovely young man with one of the finest moustaches he had ever seen. Upon discovering that it was actually a women, specifically Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan and niece of Théoden, he had been forced to refrain from screaming. Galabríawenúthien was an evil creature indeed if she turned one so fair into one so twisted.
Oh and speak of the she-devil and she shall make her presence known. They could see her below with Leggy. Her love for Haldir was clearly completely forgotten because what she and Leggy were doing together could in no way be classed as platonic. Aragorn felt like gagging.
From where they stood, they could also see all the way across the Plains of Rohan and Gondor to Mordor. The red light of Orodruin still burned in the night, telling them that the true evil of Arda was still waiting for them.
The bunny legged it through the gate of Barad-dûr and sped towards the Fuchsia Gates.
SO LONG, SUCKERS, I'M OFF TO FIND SOMEONE WHO CAN MAKE SENSE OF ALL OF THIS! it howled.
From behind it, a forlorn cry rose from the orc quarters of the citadel.
"George, noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
"ELF-LORD!" the Keeper screeched. Glorfindel dropped the scroll he was holding and sprinted through the aisles of the Archives.
They were researching the many defences and back-ways of Minas Tirith.
The Keeper didn't tell him why they had to do this but she insisted they had to. He wanted to go to Lord Denethor and warn him of the perilous situation of the Sue but she had hit him around the head with A Complete and Thorough Analysis of the Comfort Factor of Gondorian Armchairs. It hurt an awful lot; the Gondorians had a surprising amount to say about armchairs. When his ears stopped ringing, he decided he would do as she said.
The Keeper was sitting cross-legged atop a pile of books, her eyes shut and her fingers pressed to her temples.
"There is a disturbance in the Force," she said ominously.
"What does that mean?" he asked. She often spoke cryptically like this.
"It means: what the fuck has she done to Rohan?!"
Soooo, about PBS. Picture the scene. Myself, aged eightish, sitting watching The Two Towers for the first time with my Dad. When Shadowfax appears onscreen, my Dad languidly points in the direction of the television and says quite calmly, "It's not a horse, it's a Peanut-Butter-Sandwich." In the decade or so that has passed since then, I have never heard him refer to Shadowfax by name. He always cals him Peanut-Butter-Sandwich. And you wondered where I get my madness from... :D
The author pauses in her writing and turns to see her half-decent OC, Ailith, dressed in full Shieldmaiden battle armour and glaring at her. "Can I kill her?" she asks. "Sorry, Ailith sweetheart. I think she's too strong for you," the author replies sadly. Ailith's eyes shift skyward. "Are you aware that the words SHAMELESS PLUG FOR OTHER STORIES are flashing above your head?" she asks.
Rohan is one of my favourite countries in LOTR so it was quite difficult to write this, even if I did have fun looking up the Scots.
So question, what do you want on your lembas? :D I'd like cheese and coleslaw. Can't go wrong with cheese and coleslaw.