Write Your Own LOTR - TTT - Book III

[Fíriel]

Theoden winced as a stabbing beam of sunlight struck his sleep-filled eyes. Squinting, he tried to find the source of the music wafting through the great hall, and found it seemed to be centered about Eowyn and a tall, blond Elf who seemed to be finishing some sort of dance. Eowyn was gazing up at the elf with a look that rather worried Theoden, even in his befuddled state.

On the whole, he felt quite irate. He was hungry, his arms and legs had passed from numbness to an uncomfortable pins-and-needles state, and why hadn't someone blocked that blasted sunlight that was destroying his eyesight? Searching the room for someone to blame for his discomfort, his eye fell upon the figure of Mithrandir, whom Grima was currently screeching at.

Drat, visitors.

He vaguely remembered something about hospitality supposed to be offered to all travelers, and found it impossible to summon up even a modicum of courtesy.

He reached for his staff, and somehow managed to sway up to his feet, where he leaned heavily on it, hopping about as the feeling returned to his feet.

Then, finding his voice reluctant to obey him (how long had he been asleep??) he croaked,"I greet you, as indeed our customs demand, and maybe you are looking for welcome here. But truth to tell, your welcome here is doubtful, Master Gandalf. You have ever been a herald of woe, and now you show up with another serenading idiot to contribute to the musical plague which has overtaken my court? Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?"

With that, his legs gave out, and he sat down with an awkward thud on his throne.

[Laiquendi]

In a spectcular display of chivalry, etiquette, diplomacy and sheer nonsense, Aragorn thrust out his grimy elbows and unceremoniously squeezed, maneuvered and pushed his way past the grumpy Dwarf, screaming Elf and dithering Wizard. Standing proudly at the front of the increasingly annoyed group, Aragorn dusted down his jacket and plastered his best kingly look across his face.

"Oh great King Théoden" He began to intone in his 'court' voice (which was in the key of E flat minor), "Bestow upon us unworthy mortals a blessed visit to your grand kingdom... of horses... and other such things and stuff...!"

Falling to one mud (and other) soaked knee, he bowed his greasy locks and spread his arms out wide in greeting (and accidentally splashing some of the courtiers with excess debris off his hands).

[Primula]

Gandalf strode forward, flicking bits of 'debris' from his otherwise spotless robes with distaste. "Speaking of unworthy mortals," he said, "What has become of your kingdom? War is brewing, practically bubbling over with extra foam and a sprinkle of nutmeg, and here you sit muttering into your beard! Saruman is running amuck, orcs are opening snack shacks along your borders and your kingdom is threatened!" The wizard waved his arms around for emphasis, the wide sleeves helping to keep the odour-de-Aragorn somewhat at bay.

Grima gaped in horror. Things were going from bad to worse! Not only was his intended still making goo-goo eyes at the strange Elf, now that old troublemaker had come back and was rousing up the King! He quickly scuttled back over to Theoden's side.

"Do not listen to him, my Liege. He's just jealous...what do you have to do with the likes of him when you have someone loyal and true like me?" He frantically tapped his pocket magical walkie-talkie that Saruman had entrusted to him for 'emergencies' and spoke into it, hoping Saruman would be listening. "Code Grey! Code Grey! The duck is in the bush! Bats are needed for the belfry!"

[DoctorGamgee]

Gimli had been picking his ears with the edge of his axe and getting hungrier as first Gandalf then a slimy servant of the king kept going on about the viands to come. Between the wax he finally dislodged and the grumbling of his dwarvish tummy, he had heard something about boiled bat stew with nutmeg and duck and batwing foam.

"These horse folk eat strange vittles, and the aromas from the kitchen smell like what folks grow mushrooms in. But the serving maid is so pretty I won't be able to resist."

As he was about to snap for the oily servant and ask for the wine list, he saw a group of what seemed to be mushroom scrubbers come bustling in and addressing the haggard old king.

"My Leige, I have seen these interlopers in the streets, and they are well armed in your presence, which is against the law. Further, despite his requiring all of us to silence our phones, your ... worm has been using his cellular. I may be dressed as dung, and perhaps I state the obvious, but something STINKS...or so says Eomer!"

"Can't we discuss this over dinner?" Gimli said, as he went after his other ear with his axe...

[Fíriel]

Theoden shrank back in his throne, trying to make himself as small as possible, both to avoid the odoriferous debris the tall, greasy-haired stranger was flinging about, and to try to find some spot not flooded by the stabbing sunlight. The man's words, though presented in an annoying sing-song voice, seemed fair if simple, but the man himself most foul indeed. Theoden disdainfully sniffed in an unconscious imitation of Eowyn.

Then Gandalf stepped up, and started criticizing his kingdom and his hygiene. There was, after all, only so much a man could take before breakfast.

"Unworthy Mortals, Gandalf? Really?! Have you looked at your companions lately?" He brushed a bit of dirt from his lap. Turning to where Grima was muttering into a handheld box of some sort, he was about to order him to pipe down, when he noticed a group of -men?- evidently even more dedicated than Gandalf's friend when it came to camouflage, and smelling of horse dung. When one of the lumps began speaking, and declared himself Eomer, Theoden groaned.

"Truly, something does stink," he replied. "Grima! I thought we banished Eomer. We can't have people about who spill coffee on the script. Seriously, can't you do anything right? Get him out of here, and see if a bath is not punishment enough for his insolence in returning unbidden! And get me an aspirin for this dratted headache! What was in that Anti-Disney potion, anyways?"

He wondered for a moment if Grima was really worth the trouble. After all, what good was a right hand man, if he just stood there babbling instead of helping organize the disorder that had overwhelmed his Hall?

[Laiquendi]

Noticing his Ranger-sense(TM) starting to tingle, Aragorn began to suspect faint vibes of evil were present in the vast throne room. Either that, or someone, somewhere, was tuning in a radio.

Inconspiciously scooting his way back towards (one) of the senile old men in the room, Aragorn lean towards Gandalf's ear and whispered, "You know, old boy, now might be a good time for you to, like, "flash-bang" the proceedings? After all, having a Wizard with you has got to be useful for something..."

[Primula]

Grima smacked his walkie-talkie and shook it, but there was no little buzzing noise. Why wasn't Saruman answering? It looked like it might be up to him to keep the old King under the spell. Poking around in his pockets, he pulled out a small bottle of snake oil and anointed himself with it to look his best.

"My Leige..." he crooned, oozing up beside the throne. "Do not listen... he hummed persuasively. "Trussst in meee, jussst in meee....shut your eyes and trust in meee.....you can sleeeep safe and souuund, knowing I am arouuunnd..."

--

"Flash-bang?" Gandalf said thoughtfully. "Hmmm." As smelly as the man might be, he was theoretically supposed to be King someday so it was worth consideration. He examined his staff more closely and twiddled a knob up near the top. There was a satisfying little zot sound and a crackle of blue electricity. "You may have something there," he muttered back.

[daughter_of_kings]

Saruman stared sullenly at the pieces of his broken radio laying in the dirt below the wall that surrounded Isengard, where he had thrown it upon hearing Wormtongue's last transmission. It was too much. His Uruk-hai were late, the halflings not in his grasp, Sauron was angry at him, the horse king was waking up and Gandalf was in Meduseld, he had broken his radio and couldn't contact Wormtongue, his robes were sooo last year's fashion (according to the latest issue of Wiz World), and he had broken a nail. It was just too much.

Saruman the Rainbow-coloured stood at the gate of Isengard and threw a tantrum.

[DoctorGamgee]

"Aim that thing, Wizard!"cried the dwarf, as the rings in his newly braided nosehairs sizzled from the electric charge and filled his schnozz with the smell of Ozone.

He groped in his pockets for a pipe, hoping that the lovely maiden would not notice the real reason for the smoke...

[Primula]

Wormtongue paused in his hypnotic slithering as the walkie talkie by the throne hissed, the faint transmission of something that sounded like a very old and bearded toddler having a tantrum. Had Saruman been attacked by a nursery school run amuck? Was his secret ally in danger from power-crazed preschoolers?
--

Gandalf twiddled yet another knob and thumped his staff on the floor emphatically, causing another little jot of blue electricity to snap along the edges of it.

"Ow!" he complained and stuck a finger in his mouth then remembered everyone was looking at him and pulled it back out. He shifted his stance to Impressive and stepped forward, carefully aiming the end of the staff at the center of Theoden's crazed and somewhat overgrown face. "This is obviously the result of sorcery!" he announced, without explaining he'd spotted the telltale walkie-talkie and made some rapid deductions of his own. Better that his audience presumed he was simply Inscrutably Wise.

He pushed the button on his staff, releasing a zot of electrical Magic-b-Gon straight at the old King. "Yaaah!" he added for dramatic effect as Theoden flailed in the zot, tossing in a "Hai!" and "Geronimo!" as well.

[DoctorGamgee]

Treebeard sighed as he stood on the hill, tapping his roots on the edge of the cliff and waited...

"Hoom-Hooooom! Come along, my hobytla friends. We wouldn't need to stop constantly if every 15 minutes you weren't trying to sneak off to the Crafts table for some Take-a-way. How hasty folk can take so much time is a paradox to this old ent. Hoorooom..."

Off in the distance, he could see the top of Orthanc's spire looming against the base of the mountains which stood between them. A flash like a spark being lit glinted off the spire, but the distance was too great to distinguish what had caused it.

"Come along, lads. Something's going on at Saruman's and I want to know what it is...."