Part 10: Melancholy Baby, Mine ****************************
Everyone woke up from their stupors the night before. They would be leaving by boat and the Lorien elves had plenty of things for them to take. They would gather at the river ... the wonderful, wonderful ri-i-ver ... Oh! we'll all gather at the ri-ver that flows by the throne of the Lord ... Celeborn.
:-D
Anyway ... cough ... they gathered, all decked out, serenaded by the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders ... I just threw that in there ... uh, they gathered and got all kinds of personal stuff. Here it is, from their customs declarations slips ...
Aragorn: Narsil, one, sword, shards of
green cape and pin, can make you disappear bottle of Chianti and a box of Ritz crackers extra rolls of toilet paper
Celeborn's best wishes, with tongue chaser
Boromir: Johnny Walker Red
lube for his butt
ointment for his rash
a disappearing cape and pin yawn
a handshake from Celeborn and a pinch from Galadriel
Frodo: a supply of tar heroin for his bong
a jewelry polisher
a subscription to Nude Volleyball Magazine four boxes of condoms, fruit flavored
an invisible cloak, overkill considering his Ring Haldir's personal fax number
Galadriel's personal fax number
a full length nude portrait of Celeborn
Merry: a nice selection of vegetables
heroin kit, one
a toothbrush, used only once
an invisible cloak G
Haldir's personal fax number
Celeborn's undying love
Pippin: three colors of Play Doh
Frodo's old heroin kit
a box of salt peter
a cloak that makes him *think* he's invisible an acceptance letter from the Little Fairy Boys Preschool in Lothlorien
Sam: a knife to cut Aragorn's throat with
a small explosive device to kill Aragorn with a rope to strangle Aragorn with
a pillow to smother Aragorn with
a cloak that doesn't make him disappear, it just makes him *look* that way
a fifty pound block of cement to crush Aragorn's head lithium, one month's supply
Gimli: A coffee table book on Gargoyles
a book by Dr. Spock
a hook rug with a stork on it kit
booties, all sizes
a leather strap to beat himself with
a cloak that may be invisible but still shows the front of his gut, its getting so big
the cold shoulder from Celeborn and a wink and a nod from Galadriel, a sexual adventurer if there ever was one
Legolas: Cosmopolitan subscription
British Vogue
Complete Maybelline Make up Kit
three teal camisoles
a good British brush, wire bristle of course a pound of lube, cherry flavored
box of condoms, extra ribbed
butt plug, just in case
a nude group keepsake photo from the Mirkwood Ex-patriots, the Macaroni Boys and Sue
They staggered to the boats and climbed in, Gimli and his gut with Legolas. he won the stone, paper, scissors competition with the others Merry and Pippin hopped in with Boromir, bringing into being the rumor that they were all in a threesome. Aragorn took Frodo and *then* they got into the boat. SNICKER!
Floating along the old Mississippi!
They made it to the Argonaths eventually and when they did, Boromir and Aragorn were very teary-eyed.
"BEHOLD! MY ANCESTORS OF YORE!" -Aragorn
/... sure! ... rub it in! .../ -Boromir, filled with lust and jealousy, a bad combination on a good day...
"Like ... who are they, Boromir?" Merry asked, his face empty of guile and nearly every other thing you can think of.
"Uh ..." Boromir got a sick idea in his head. "They are my ancestors."
"Aragorn said they were his."
"He lied," Boromir lied. "He's a liar. In fact, he really isn't six feet tall. He's four feet eleven."
"My Uncle Fudd is that tall. Tell me, Aragorn is taller," Pippin persisted. "How can he be that small and look so tall?"
"Uh ... because."
"Okay," Pippin replied, a sort of Gilligan look on his face, one that spoke of depravity and bad DNA coupled with a cluelessness only rivaled by sea slugs.
Boromir sighed. He was a total sucker for that look.
**********Back at Rivendell ...
Lord Elrond stood on the tennis court, bouncing a ball against the wall and went over a bad dream that had been persistent in his mind. It had begun about the time he first had sex with that sexy bitch, Legolas.
He had a dream where he walks in all nonchalant and filled with joie de vivre and falls into a sexual interlude that reminded him remarkably of sex with his wife.
That was strange. Legolas was a boy. He had even checked him out in the head the next day. Legolas had a schlong, of that he was sure. What surprised him was that when he bonked him, Elrond couldn't find it. However, by then, he was too far gone to think of anything but coming like an avalanche.
Which he did.
Elrond preened and grinned. /... you still have it and now so does Legolas ... heh-heh-heh .../
He sighed. Why did it feel like boinking a hairy-faced man?
He concentrated his thoughts and by the stoke of midnight, he had a clearer idea of what had happened. When it hit him, he fell over into a faint.
**********On the trail...
Gimli felt the bile coming up and hung it out over the edge of the boat. He had been barfing for two days. He hated barfing. It was so non-conducive to romance. With the father of his child paddling the boat and making retching noises of his own every time he blew chunks, Gimli knew he had his work cut out for him.
/... sigh ... the course of true love never runs smooth ... UPCHUCK! ... gah ... I'm glad his old man is loaded ... BELCH! .../
**********Mordor ...
The eye hovered over to the window and sighed. It was so damned hard to do things when you didn't have hands. He could hover and he could look at stuff but that was about it. He had to ESP his thoughts. He liked scaring that little hobbit twit that had *HIS RING* (tm) but that was about all he could do. If he was here, all Frodo had to do was put the Ring on his finger and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Frodo could put the Ring on the floor and how could he pick it up?
He couldn't. He also couldn't trust an orc to do it for him. After all, those guys weren't exactly first class citizens themselves. The punks. He would have sighed if he had a mouth. Another reason he wanted to get the Ring. If he had the Ring, he would have a finger and then he could give it to the whole world.
The finger, that is.
Sigh.
Must have the Ring. Must have the Ring. Must have it. Must have it. MUST!MUST!MUST!MUST!
**********That night ...
Frodo tossed his bong aside, memories of home flooding in. He missed the old man, of all things, and he wondered how he would tell his mother, Bilbo. Sighing, he conjured up pictures of old Mom fussing around the kitchen, talking out loud to imaginary creatures only he could see. He remembered how his father/mother struggled to put spuds on the table while Dad was out circuit riding and taking confessions.
For years Bilbo thought his father was a bookie. He didn't know that he wasn't a hobbit. He figured his old man had a thyroid problem. Instead he was an Istari and maiar and all kinds of weird crap like that.
Frodo just got by, trying not to listen when his folks had sex. He could hear it through the walls when they did. The bed would bound and he could hear all kinds of awful pig noises. It made him homesick for a boy or girl friend. He wanted someone to make pig noises of his own with.
Sam had come close. Sam *was* close. However, he wanted to have a girl friend because as nice as they were, Sam's boobs weren't as big as girl boobies. He made the mistake of saying that to his father, when they had their bi-annual sex talk.
He still cringed.
"Frodo, boobs only have to be big enough to fill an honest man's hand. And every other aural cavity that he has. Now I remember a stripper in Minas Tirith ..."
He went on for hours describing women with seventy inch bust sizes. The mere thought of it scared but didn't daunt him. If only Sam would get implants he considered. He'd be perfect.
It was about that time that Frodo noticed a latent homicidal streak rising in Sam.
It made him hard.
Sam was his personal pit bull and he felt nothing but contentment at having the beady-eyed little baboon with him at all times. Except when he was having sex with other people. It was at moments like that, when Sam would stab them in the butt cheeks with a fork that his limitations would show.
Sigh. Such was life.
He tamped more tar into his pipe and smoked his brains out, waiting for Aragorn to drag him into the bushes for a good hard shag.
**********Nearby ...
He stared at the sky, considering his own parents and their hopes and dreams for his future. Thranduil wanted him married off before he 'gets knocked up, Minuial'. That was when his mom, Elbereth bless her, would remind him that Legolas was a boy.
It reeked havoc with your confidence.
Of course, he *was* the prettiest thing ever seen in Middle Earth. That was unchanging. That counted in the superficial world within which he existed. Of course, *he* knew that he was a deeper person. He read books and played chess. He could talk about philosophy and stuff.
/... ask me! ... I can tell you about things ... I know my multiplication tables up to nine. Seven times nine is .../ fingers move in the dark /... sixty-three ... see! .../
He sighed and thought about Aragorn. He would marry that man, that big strong man and have his kids. Of course, he would have to beg some woman to do *that* part but hey! He was good on his knees.
With a happy sigh, he opened his arms and sent a prayer up to Elbereth.
**********In heaven ...
"What do you think? Do we take pity on him or bong boy?"
"I think they look cute together. Maybe they need to shag each other and then Aragorn will know what he has."
"Manwe ... you are a hopeless romantic."
He smiled. "I am." /... I also like pervie hobbit porn .../ "Pass me the popcorn, baby."
"No problem," she said, snuggling up to him.
Nearby, planning hell of their own, the grounded daughters of Manwe and Elbereth, Venus and Athena Zeus-Jones made up plans of their own.
C2010 TBC