Special Edition:  Breeland News

The floor of the local inn, The Prancing Pony, collapsed last night due to 'extreme structural pressure' according to Bree Building Inspector, Cob Brownlock, brother to Nob, Ostler of the establishment owned by Barliman Butterbur.

When asked what precipitated the collapse, Cob said, "'Twere them twenty-four dancing dwarves! Ya can't have twenty-four of 'em all dancing at the same time, in the same space. Some of 'em were climbing on top of each other. Putting stress on the building."

Barliman Butterbur himself was found under the rubble, having gone to the wine cellar for a patron.

Henneth Annûn

The ground shook. The men watched Faramir to see his response.

"Why doesn't he take them back to the Shire with him?" Damrod queried. Others grumbled, asking the same thing. None had ever taken such advantage of the Steward. Though the war was over, they had not abandoned their Ithilien headquarters.

But, if the trampling continued… If Gimli hadn't taught them to dance… If they would only go somewhere else… But no! Twenty-three obstinate oliphants were making it very difficult to keep the roof from falling down.

Henneth Annun, since Sam had started collecting oliphants, had become a dangerous place.

Pointsettias

It seemed all was quiet. Strider held his breath. "Hollin once was filled with Elves…" he whispered.

"I would just like to have my stomach filled," Pippin sniped. "With warm food and a pint of Butterbur's ale."

"Aye, laddie, my stomach longs for roast meat and good ale," the Dwarf concurred.

Legolas remembered the last time he visited Hollin. Elves were everywhere, dancing, singing, and laughing. Then, covered with poinsettias as useless camouflage, Rangers swept through the crowd. Did they honestly think walking poinsettias would fool the Elves!

Legolas scowled. "Filled with Elves until those twenty-two red Rangerscame along!"

Goblins

"What you doin' here?"

"Yeah! Who invited you?"

"Nobody. Got a problem with that?" He huffed up his chest. "I wants meat. All I've had is this maggety bread."

"That's what it looks like, too," a foolish goblin whispered.

"Hey! Who said that?" Pulling the offending goblin up by his ears, the hideous apparition growled. "Ain't you got no manners? I told you, I wants meat. Either cough it up or I'll eat you."

"There ain't enough meat for twenty-one ornery orcs, let alone one Balrog!" a scared goblin whispered to his companion. "But I heard Hobbits on the steps…."  

Fathers & Fire

They had a right to stare. Never before had such a thing occurred. Never before had anyone done such a thing. There were 'Do Not Pass' signs everywhere. No one was to cross the line. The guards did naught. But he understood why.

Slowly, he walked towards the fountain. 'I cannot chide him,' he thought. "I would do the same.' The smell was atrocious; fumes spiraling skyward, smoke blocking out the sun.

He shuddered. Then he walked forward and shooed the twenty gawking Gondoriansaway. If his father needed to put out the flames this way, what could he do?

Warg Fodder

"Up one hill, down another, lookin' fer halflings. Don't that wizard care that we get tired?"

"Shut yer gob," his rider screamed. "He knows everything. He'll hear ya; then we'll be pickin' yer bones fer supper tonight."

"Sh!" the orc next to him said. "I'm ready for roast warg, with a light cranberry and orange sauce, and some sweet pertaters."

"Some wine and choc'lates. Them kind he brings back when he goes to Gondor. I love them choc'lates." The first orc drooled.

"There could be an accident?" The other wondered.

Nineteen weary wargs, full, came home rider less that night.

Aglarond

"We don't bend," he stated flatly.

"Well, I don't know how else you'll be able to fit in."

"You promised you would take care of everything. We left our home, traveled far, and now we find we cannot get in. Perhaps we were too hasty in accepting your invitation."

"Let me ask the Elf." He turned, mumbling to himself. "I could cut them in half."

"Hroom hum. What was that you said?"

The Elf had heard. Chuckling he suggested, "Shouldn't take you long to make the entrance larger."

"What!" Gimli spluttered. "Deface such beauty for only eighteen earnest ents? Never!"

Gloating

Silent was the night and the ship that sailed down the Anduin.  The plan had been perfected the night before.  Slip up the river under cover of night, hit the little town quickly, despoil it and its women, take new slaves to replace those that had died, and fly before sunrise.  The men rubbed their hands in delight. Gondorians had always been such easy prey and so easy to deceive.

As the ship approached, Rangers slid into the cold chill of the great river.  A skiff, filled with the enemy, pushed off from the boat.  Faramir gave the call of the limpkin and the men slowly wended their way towards the dinghy, holding bamboo reeds to breath through.  

Swiftly, men were pulled from the craft at one fell swoop so that not a cry for help could pass their lips.

"Thought they were seventeen cunning corsairs, didn't they?" gloated Faramir.

Bilbo’s Misfortune

"Which way did they go? Which way did they go?" the befuddled eagle wondered aloud. "I can't keep up this pace much longer. Why on earth did that little one latch onto the fat ones legs? I can hardly fly high enough. Couldn't that Hobbit have waited a moment? Till another of us offered her services?" Turning to the Hobbit and the Dwarf below her, she asked, "Are you comfortable?" while gritting her teeth the entire time.

Suddenly, in the distance, she heard it – the sweet call of sixteen singing eagles – and she knew where they were headed!

Evil Remains

The sandstorm choked even the mûmak, a gift from Prince Angamaite to Gondor upon the sealing of the peace agreement.  Nine days of blowing sand and blistering heat had passed since they set out to find the rebel camp.  Their Captain called a halt. 

"Is it always like this?" his men asked. 

"According to Elessar King, this is what the land gives.  The sting of the desert mimics the sting of the snows of the White Mountains, does it not?"

Elessar walked forward.  "'Tis those fifteen hot Haradrim I see ahead who will feel our sting, King Éomer."

Praises FlowAs Water

Manwë, the wind rushing and whirling his robe about him in splendor, held in his left hand a goblet filled with nectar from the vines of Taniquetil.  Turning, he extended his right to his mate, and Varda, clothed in raiment bedecked with her beloved stars, rose to stand beside him. 

Ulmo, not used to being in Valinor and greatly missing the sound of the sea, looked towards his friend.   Manwë had to laugh – never would the Lord of Waters come to his table without some distinctive garment.  This time he wore a dark helm, foam-crested, and his raiment of mail shimmered from silver down to shadows of green.

Aulë, in deference to the occasion, had shaken the dust of the earth from his own robes, laid his axe and pick aside and stood holding Yavanna's hand in his.  Robed in green herself, she smiled and the air was filled with the sweet smell of flowers and wild berries.

Námo and Vairë had entered the room late, bowed to their Lord, and stood by the places allotted to them.  Varda shook her head.  As always, Vairë had woven their attire and, as always, the weave was perfect and stunning.  Nienna stood close by, holding her arms about her, stifling the moan of supplication that was ever on her lips. 

Irmo and Estë waited in silence, hearts turned inwards towards Irmo's dreams and visions, which wrapped around them in the deep rest offered by Estë.  A gentle clearing of his throat caused the two to turn towards Manwë.  They bowed and raised their own cups.

Tulkas, proud, brave, golden-haired Tulkas and Nessa, wind-whipped themselves from their sudden entrance, stood with goblets raised.

Oromë, his hound ever at his side, laid his great horn on the table in front of him, and extended his hand.  Vána, birds perched on her shoulders, stood and took it.  Her smile caused his somber face to light in joy.

Some called them fickle, these Valar of Ilúvatar, but today, they stood as one.  Today they would not be called the fourteen fickle Valar.  Today they would be called constant.

"To Eru!  May He be praised now and forever!"

Old Samwise Gamgee Had a Farm

Sam and Rosie had thirteen kids.
Ai, Ai, Ooooh
Thirteen kids meant twenty-nine pets.
Ai, Ai, Ooooh.

With a bah bah here
And a neigh neigh there
Here a woof,
There a hoof,
Everywhere a squeel, squeel,

Samwise and Rosie had thirteen kids,
Ai, Ai, Ooooh.

Sometimes they'd cry
Sometimes they'd giggle
Ai, Ai, Ooooh
But most times they'd just sit and wiggle
Ai, Ai, Ooooh

Is it ready yet?
And I'm hungry still
Will you please be quiet?
Will you please sit still?

Samwise and Rosie had thirteen kids
Ai, Ai, Ooooh

One fine spring day, they ran away
Ai, Ai, Ooooh
The kids looked under rock and hay
Ai, Ai, Ooooh

Where could be Sam?
Rosie's disappeared?
They went and hid
And left us here.

One fine spring day, they ran away.
Ai, Ai, Ooooh!

Beorn's Beasts

"Where do I start? How in the world do I tell of the things that I have seen? " Merry loved a captive audience.

"The beginning is always best, Merry," Pippin stated matter-of-factly.

The older Hobbit looked at his cousin in annoyance.

"They were huge," he began, "and we were frightened."

"I was not frightened, if I remember correctly," Pip's voice chirped.

Merry scowled.

"They came towards us with swords drawn. One even had a crossbow. It was pointed at my head."

" 'Course, yours is bigger than mine. Though I am the taller."

Merry gave him a withering glance and continued. "The air was filled with the buzz of bees, Beorn's beasts. They united in their attack on the poor Uruk-hai."

"Never did I think to hear you say 'poor' when it came to Uruk-hai," Pippin said angrily.

" 'Twas before Boromir."

"Ah," Pippin sighed.

"Their helms, armour, and weapons were covered in the honey they had tried to filch. They ran, but the bees were merciless. The Urak climbed higher up the mountain. The bees followed. The Urak tripped into the eagle's nest. Feathers flew everywhere."

"Twelve tickly urak-hairan away, howling at the top of their lungs."

Hunger

Silently they crept forward. They were such dolts. Did they think she was blind, with the great array of eyes she had been given? Sword-slashed smile bent as they neared. She would wait. Though hungry, nothing would keep her from teaching these little ones a lesson – and then she would feast upon them.

Ungoliant's Spawn she had been called. But Ungoliant had never eaten as she did. Her daughter knew Sauron had betrayed her mother; somewhere, in the deep of Angband, he had slain her. No one would slay her daughter. Not even these eleven stupid spiders, her own offspring!

Appointed rounds

They had lost their transport at the Ford of Bruinen. Did the Elves think that would stop them? Did they think they were now helpless? No! Nothing would stop them from their appointed rounds.

They helped each other out of the icy, enchanted waters. Wringing water from their clothes, they sat on the river's edge. Some slumped in discouragement; others held their heads low.

They knew what He would say to them… "You are ten wicked walkers, losing those gifts, and you are no longer in my employ. I will find others to deliver the presents!" Santa said. "You're fired!"

Eru Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

In Gondor there are gentlemen
Arrayed as Knights in glory
In the Shire there are Halflings
Who love a good night story.
In Rohan there are Rohirrim
Who love their horses more – y
And – all come to Crickhollow for a bath, for a bath
And – all come to Crickhollow for a bath.
(‘bout time some would say of a certain Ranger)

In Lothlorien the Elves lay low
They never pass their borders.
In Rivendell Lord Elrond’s folks
Tell tales of Mordor’s
Fell beasts, ringwraiths, and wraiths on wings
All kinds of foul, stinking Lord – ors
And – Galadriel she brings her pitcher full, pitcher full
And – Galadriel she brings her pitcher full.

In the Barrow-downs the barrow wights
Have all conspired to kill us.
And Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth
Is not above a bit of fuss
He wants the throne, he needs the throne
Though Denethor his name will cuss
And – fire and water do not mix, do not mix
And – fire and water do not mix

So - Eru rest ye merry gentlemen
And all the Elves together
And Hobbits too – must not forget
That through all kinds of weather
Nine nervous Nazgûldo what they can
To make the Dark Lord happy.
Including taking baths with anything nasty, anything nasty.
Including taking baths with anything nasty.

(Left out a character Or two or three or four – forgive me!
Ents – walking tall - I’ve missed the lot
Oh and Dwarves – I’m very sorry - Beornings, Maier, Wild Men,
Orcs – spiders – Urak-hai –
But I’ll drop down dead before I say anything about that Gollum-y creature, Gollum-y creature)
Yes, I’ll drop down dead before I say anything about that Gollum.)

The Rivendell Filmfest

They stood quietly in line, as quietly as Elves can when the fever consumes them. No jostling, no speech, just reserved waiting. Frodo and Sam looked at each other in consternation. They had long watched Elves spend time in quiet thought, but not for this long. They had been here two hours; yet not one Elf had moved.

Suddenly, a shout was heard. “He is coming,” they shouted, “He is coming!”

Cameras were held up, large banners unfurled, and eight eager Elvespushed themselves forward while at least another hundred raised their voices in fevered screams. In walked Orlando Bloom.

Avalanche

The snow fell hard about them in great cascades. Some were crushed under its weight; others were missed in the fall and flew as quickly as possible back to Orthanc.

“Where are the others?” he screamed his rage. “How do you not return with news?”

He was stopped by the whoosh of another pack of his minions, flying fast and furious into the caverns. Scowling, he turned to face them.

“We was caught, master, by your own avalanche. But we found them,” their leader chortled.

Seven soggy crebain warmed themselves by the pit as their brethren roasted on the spit.

A Quarter Drabble -

Scurrying ‘round the cook, flinching from the wielded broom, six sexy Rohirrim of the rodent variety grabbed the King’s cheese and ran for their hole.

Calendars

Every time Théodred had visited the White City, they would sit with glee in the ‘Three Fishermen’ pub and look at the drawings that he brought with him. Boromir had heard stories. Everyone in Gondor had heard stories, but no one had ever actually seen one. Though it was a Rohirric tradition, Boromir had not seen a compilation such as this before. They were called shieldmaidens – one for each month of the year. Of the twelve, there were six sexy Rohirrimthat caught Boromir’s eye. Next time he visited, he assured himself, he would make sure to look them up.

Banished

Being sent from the Undying Lands felt like banishment. Radagast even wondered aloud if that was the case. Gandalf was quick to assure him they would be able to return once they had accomplished the tasks appointed them by the Valar.

Saruman, as usual, muttered fiercely. He had no love for men nor for their land. He would do his duty and return as quickly as possible. No long lingering on this foreign soil. The ground bit his feet, used as they were to the lush grasses of Valinor. “Five wily wizards indeed,” he harrumphed loudly, “five stupid, trusting Maiar.”

Bereft of Solace

He had never seen them as such, though Gandalf had told him they were once such creatures. But not now. Not with what they had just come through. It should have been a time of triumph. How many could say they had journeyed through Moria and lived?

His heart ached for them, yet there was naught he could do. Two lay on the rocks; two had walked away. All were clothed in sorrow and despair. Gimli accepted his comfort, but these four comforted each other.

Four frolicking Hobbits of the Shire, Gandalf had once called them. ‘No more,’ thought Boromir.

The Muse

‘Hey, ho to the bottle I go,’ “Oh no,” Sam groaned aloud, “wrong song, but kind of appropriate when writing about three tipsy trolls.”

Frodo laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“Bilbo’s trolls. I got to thinking about them this morning, while weeding the garden. Some of those weeds needed a troll to pull them up. Even with the new mining tools Gimli gave me, I still had trouble doing it.”

“What! What about the soil Galadriel gave you? Wouldn’t it help keep the weeds away?”

“No. Weeds seem to love the stuff. Everything seems to love the stuff. I’m doomed.”

“Then why aren’t you out in the garden?”

“I told you. I got thinking about the trolls and I had to write. Something called a Muse keeps yelling at me. Won’t leave me alone, so I came in here and I intend to write until I’m finished. But I’ve lost my thought and can’t find it.”

“Trolls. Well, you could write about when we found the stone ones.”

“No. I wanted to write about live ones. Ah!” he shrieked (most unusual for Sam), “I remember now. ‘Troll sat alone on a seat of stone..’ He smiled broadly. “That’s better!”

Blessings

She looked down in love.  Her hopes had all been centered upon this day.  His sleeping form lay in her lap.  She brushed his cheek with her hand, holding her breath for the joy of it.  His own handless limb lay still. 

Though her entire race looked askance at their bond, she would not deny it.  They had suffered terribly.  Now, the Valar had blessed them.  He woke, saw her gentle smile and laughed.  How infectious was it!  She joined him in his laughter.  As she had joined him in everything.

Eru looked down, smiling at the two laughing lovers.

All That Glitters

“All that glitters is not gold,’ the saying goes,” said Faramir.  “Yet our King shines with a light that is not of this world.  Greater is the treasure that is this one man than the One golden ring.  All Middle-earth rejoices in his birth.”  Éowyn whispered, “May the Valar ever protect Him.”