Write Your Own LOTR - Lorien to end of FotR

[Primula]

Frodo looked at the Men who were examining the two signs that pointed in two different directions and thought about Legolas' wise Elven words.

"i ceven?" he asked, puzzled. If he recalled right, this meant 'that dirt' in Elvish. "Why do you want a dirt outlet? None of it ever sticks to you anyway."

[Laiquendi]

"No, no," Aragorn interrupted. "It's not i ceven, which as everyone knows is the Elvish for the particularly sticky kind of mud that won't wash out, but Eykeå Øttlat. Which of course is the Rohirric phrase for that unpleasant squishy feeling you get when you sit on unrippened bananas."

"And anyway... where did Boromir get off to?" He said, suddenly realising his Gondorian rival had been misplaced.

[Silivren Ithildin]

Pointing off into the distance, Pippin told Aragorn that Boromir went "That-a-way".

[Linaewen]

Boromir slipped quickly away as soon as he heard the discussion turn to foreign languages. They'd be here all day if they started quibbling over Elvish verb conjugation. He'd wanted to reassure Legolas about the fine outlet shopping to be had in Minas Tirith, and thus perhaps win him over to the wisdom of heading there first, but Aragorn had cut him off -- as soon as the conversation had turned to squishy bananas, Boromir knew it was time to make himself scarce. He hated ripe bananas.

"Time to gather some wood, and day dream about how I shall convince the Ringbearer to go with me to Minas Tirith," muttered Boromir. "Should be simple enough, he's a sensible little fellow. I ought to be able to come up with a plan..."

[Primula]

Frodo sighed, ruminating.

"You know, that city with the clean shirts and restaurants and snack vendors and green-grocers and cheesemakers and flour mills and...." He had to pause to wipe his mouth. "It sounds really, really good... I suppose we could stop by it, as soon as we get back from dropping off this Ring. It won't take long, will it, just getting over across this lake and all? But then again, it would be nice to go there first and warm our feet a while in front of a nice fire at an inn before we have to get them all wet again..."

He scratched his head. "I'm going to go up that-a-way and see if I can see Mordor from the top of the hill. Maybe there's a shortcut. Call me when dinner's ready. See ya!"

[Captain-Peregrine]

Lurtz sniffed the air.

"Hmm." he grunted. "I smelleth unwashed feet...eth marching up that-a-way. Come, my brethern. We art after halflings tonight...ith."

Knowing his idiot comrades could do nothing but follow, Lurtz started up the hill towards that-a-way... wherever "that-a-way" was.

[Primula]

Frodo breathed a little easier once he was away from the odorous company of his companions, though he was soon slightly breathless again as the hill turned out to be steeper than he had thought.

He wended his way upward musing with wonderment upon the large stone body parts that seemed to be scattered around the forest floor under the trees. He paused to admire a gigantic mossy left elbow, a huge stone belly-button that would have been more than big enough for a party punch-bowl and a very large toe.

He was nearly out of breath by the time he neared the top and had to pause by a towering stone rendition of a nose to sit down and blow in one of the nostrils.

[Linaewen]

As he wandered about the hill picking up wood for the fire and likely sticks for the roasting of marshmallows, Boromir observed with pride the stone remains of Gondorian body parts strewn about the forest.

"Ah, they don't build statues like they used to," he said aloud. "These are amazing samples of ancient Gondorian art! Why, the stuff they have on display in the City square is positively miniscule compared to this. Bigger is better. Take a look at that elbow now -- very impressive! And that big toe, whew! When I get to be king... I mean, steward, I'll have a statue made like one of these -- tall, impressive, and enduring."

As he picked up a twiggy branch and put it on top of the stack already in his arms, the sharp end snagged his shirt and ripped a hole in it.

"That does it!" Boromir cried in disgust. "Now my shirt is totally ruined, and no spare to change into. Elven ink stains, water marks from balloons, and now this! I MUST get back to Minas Tirith before I end up dressed in rags. I really must speak to Frodo and see if I can persuade him..."

Coming around the corner of a very large stone nose, Boromir saw Frodo before him, gazing with interest into the cavernous nostril.

"Ah, Frodo my lad. Just the hobbit I was looking for. I was wondering iif we could have a wee chat..."

[Primula]

Frodo jumped as a deep booming voice echoed around in the nostril, distorting into "Ahbolad, Jus thobbit ahszookin foh...." He stumbled back away from it fearing some ancient Magic was at work and it might snort him to who knows where.

He bounced off of a set of large legs - well, sort of large, not large as in large enough to belong to the nose. Not that a nose was normally attached directly to a set of legs anyway, or everyone would have to wear shorts in order to smell anything. All these observations and more passed in a blink as he collided with the moderately large by comparison to his own legs behind him, sending some firewood flying about his ears. He gaped up at Boromir.

"Awp!" he said with great eloquence, startled to find he was not alone.

[Laiquendi]

Aragorn, now getting quite chilly in his damp leathers after waiting for what seemed like 33 days for someone to light a fire, absentmindedly kicked a large stone off into the woods.

It was quite unexpected, although in hindsight not that surprising he thought, that the darkening woods suddenly let out a high-pitched yell of pain. Peering deeper into the green and brown foliage, he could swear he saw that big black mass hiding behind a branch shuffle forward slowly.

"Mmmm... Legolas, my good friend. Did you see that twig move?"

[Lothithil]

Legolas did not hear the Ranger speak, as he was busy attending to his daily ablutions. Having finished sharpening his knives and arrowheads, it was time to sharpen himself!

Taking out his mearas-bristle brush, he began to apply it to his shining hair, counting under his breath:

"One... two... three... four... five..."

Only 9,995 brushes to go!

[Primula]

Frodo looked up soulfully at the Man of Gondor. He was tall. His nose did look rather like the granite one, though not quite as big of course...involuntarily he imagined what it would be like to be standing in one of those nostrils instead and recoiled in horror, hoping Boromir would not be able to guess what was in his mind...

[Linaewen]

Boromir realized he must have startled the hobbit -- the eloquent "awwp!" was a word universally understood to mean "Don't sneak up on me like that!" Still, Frodo had had sufficient time to recover by now, Boromir would have thought, and yet the Ringbearer kept staring at him in a rather dazed way.

Do I have something in my teeth? Boromir wondered. Why is he staring so? Wait! It must be he has noticed the disheveled and torn condition of my clothing which I have been so careful to conceal from the public eye. Yet perhaps that can work to my advantage...

Frodo, eyes fixed fixedly on Boromir's nose, suddenly recoiled and stumbled backwards.

Boromir, still clutching what was left of the wood he had gathered in one arm, stepped forward and held out his free hand in a friendly and comforting gesture.

"Such a little tear, to cause so much fear and doubt! But fear not, Frodo! It can be repaired easily -- or better yet, replaced with a clean shirt, unstained by strange Elven inkspots, perhaps with a bit of embroidery at the cuff.... But not here, not in this wilderness where it is impossible to get any service for the well-dressed Man of Gondor. And certainly not in Mordor, where they actually put holes in their shirts on purpose! Come with me to Minas Tirith, where I can be reclothed in Gondorian finery -- and where there are snacks of all description to satisfy even the hungriest of hobbits. Once we are well-clothed and fed we can discuss the Mordor situation with greater clarity. What say you?"

[Dínelleth]

Meanwhile Merry who was still feeling rather deflated after his eating of the wild mushrooms so he simple sat and watched in fascination while Legolas brushed his shining hair. Now this made the hobbit wonder what he would look like with such hair instead of the curly brown mop that he wore on top. However his fantasy was interrupted by the sickening smell of a soggy doggy coming towards him on the breeze from somewhere nearby. Eventually he realized that it was coming from Aragorn who apparently was still on the damp side. So after Merry had moved up wind from the ranger he returned to watching Legolas and soon he was counting along with the elf.

[Lothithil]

"...twenty... twenty-one... twenty-two... twenty-three..."