Hey all! Check out this great fan fiction by yours truly, Nuinavariel. If you want to (and you know you do!) submit your LotR fan fiction, pants-related or not, send it to me at [email protected]. As with fan art, you'll get complete credit and a brief bio! Yay!
You Can't Win! on Lord of the Pants
by Nuinavariel
Nuin is a happy little elf-girl who spends her days frolicking in the woods while working on her two websites.
*Lights flash, camera shots of happy audience smiling and clapping, cuts then to shot of host while theme song plays*
A woman with shoulder-length brown hair curled at the bottom smiles broadly at the camera, waving. She�s wearing black and white checkered pants and a lime green shirt with hot pink high heels.
Woman: Hi, I�m Anita Drink, your host. Welcome to this week�s episode of �You Can�t Win!�
*Audience applauds and whistles loudly*
Anita: Thank you very, very much! On today�s super fabulous episode, our contestants have come all the way from Middle-Earth. You guessed it, let�s hear it for the�erm�guys of the Fellowship of the Pants!
*Crowd goes wild; everyone stands up, cheering insanely*
Anita: Contestant Number One, please come on out!
*Audience members jump up and down, squealing in excitement*
A short hobbit jogs onstage, smiling brightly. He has curly brown hair, short pants, blue eyes, and a very nice smile.
*Crowd applauds, some go �Awww�*
Anita: Contestant Number One is Frodo Baggins! He�s the most popular hobbit in the Shire and enjoys journeying to Mount Doom with his friends to destroy the One Pair of power!
Frodo: I don�t ENJOY doing that! I had to!
Merry, Pippin, and Sam (in audience): He�s not the most popular!
*Frodo walks over behind his podium...but he�s too short and can�t be seen*
Anita: That�s right, you have the Pants...
*Anita�s eyes glaze and she looks all power-obsessed, but she shakes out of it*
Frodo: Hey! Could I get some help here?
*Chuckles from audience*
Frodo: It�s not funny! Stop laughing at me!
*Crowd bursts into laughter*
Anita: Now, audience....
*Anita starts laughing, Frodo comes out from behind his podium and starts to cry*
Audience: Awwww!
Anita: It�s okay, Frodo! Aw, can I give you a hug?
Frodo: No! I want my Mommy!
*Armed thugs rush onstage with a pink and purple stool. They place it in front of Frodo�s podium and he climbs on and can be seen! The crowd goes wild*
Frodo (happy again): Yay!
Sam (in audience): It�s Frodo, Frodo, Frodo! Why is it all about him?!?
*Sam is tackled by a group of Frodo-fangirls*
Anita: Now, let�s hear it for Contestant Number Two!
*Crowd forgets Frodo and cheers again*
A tall, dark man with dark shoulder length hair that (always) looks wet, muddy pants, and a beard walks onstage, trying to look cool.
Anita: Contestant Number Two is a Ranger known as Strider, but his real name is Aragorn!
*Wild applause from audience*
Aragorn: Hey there, all you sexy chicks!
Elf Lady in Audience (Arwen): AH-HEM!
Aragorn (meekly): I mean, hi Arwen!
Anita: Aragorn likes to wave his sword around like he knows what he�s doing and clip his toenails!
*Laughs from crowd. Aragorn frowns*
Aragorn: What�s so funny?
Man in Audience: Your pants are inside out!
*Crowd roars with laughter. Frodo and Anita cover their mouths, trying not to laugh. Aragorn�s lip trembles*
Aragorn: I�M SORRY, OKAY?!?!
*Aragorn runs offstage, crying, followed by Armed thugs*
Anita: Oookay then.
*Armed thugs return with a struggling Aragorn. They deposit him in front of his podium*
Anita: Erm...let�s meet Contestant Number Three!
*Everyone cheers madly*
An old guy in grey pants saunters onstage, using his staff as a walking stick*
Anita: Please welcome Gandalf the Grey!
*No applause*
Gandalf: Hey! Don�t I get applause?
Girls in Audience: WE WANT LEGOLAS! WE WANT LEGOLAS!!!
*In audience, an Elf man with a hat, dark glasses, camouflage pants, fake beard, and trench coat looks around nervously*
Anita: I�m sorry, but Legolas will not be on the show today!
*Riot starts in audience; Armed thugs appear and fire warning shots, crowd settles down*
Anita: Gandalf likes to break dance and point his stick at Saurman!
Gandalf: It�s not a stick! And I don�t breakdance!
Anita: Yes, it is and you do! Now be quiet.
*Laughs from audience*
Anita: Remember, Contestants, you have three lifelines: 50/50, phone a friend, and YOU LOSE!
Gandalf: I demand to know what that last one does!
Anita: Okay, Gandalf! Audience...?
*Audience members reach under their seats and start throwing bouncy balls at Gandalf*
Gandalf: HEY!!! Stop!
*Gandalf says a spell and raises his stick�er, staff, but the balls keep coming*
Gandalf: What�s wrong with this forsaken thing?
*Looks at it; a green button flashing says LOW BATTERY*
Gandalf: Piece of crap!
*Gandalf chucks his staff angrily at the audience*
Man in Audience: @#$%^&*! That hurt! I�m suing!
Anita: That�s enough.
*Audience stops throwing balls at Gandalf*
Gandalf: You totally messed up my hairdo!
*Gandalf tries frantically to fix his hair, which looks like a dirty mop anyway. Frodo and Aragorn get up from under their podiums*
Anita: All clear, Gandalf?
*Gandalf scowls*
Anita: Okay! Let�s move on. Today�s categories are....
*Waves hand at pink screen behind her, changes to five boxes*
Anita: The rock cycle, Japanese, JABEUKA, rodeo clowns, and the Backstreet Boys!
*Applause from audience*
Anita: Are we ready? Okay! Frodo, please choose a category!
Frodo: Okay...I pick...rodeo clowns?
Anita: Okay! And your question is: If Santa Clause could fly, how many chickens would lay eggs?
Frodo: What? That doesn�t make sense! Stop picking on me!
Audience: Awwww...
Anita: I�m sorry, Frodo, but that�s not right.
*Frodo starts to cry again*
Anita: Don�t cry! It�s okay, as a consolation prize, you get this log!
*Armed thug brings over a log and hands it to Frodo, who stops crying*
Frodo: I�ve never won anything before! I�m so happy.
Anita: Well, actually, Frodo, you didn�t win...
Frodo: I didn�t?
Anita: No...
Frodo: Why not?!?
Audience: YOU CAN�T WIN!
Anita: That�s right! I�m sorry, Frodo, but since you got the question wrong, you have to get your pants cut up by a rabid kangaroo!
*Audience cheers*
Frodo: What�s a kangaroo? Why are you laughing at me?!?
*Armed thugs lead out a pink, rabid kangaroo with sparkly purple scissors*
Frodo: Not my pants! Help me! Help!
*Frodo tries to run away, but Armed thug #2 dives and grabs him*
Frodo: HELP ME! GIMLI! BOROMIR�oh wait, you�re dead. SAM, PIPPIN, LEOGLAS, SOMEONE HELP ME!!!
*The Elf man in disguise from before jumps up in his seat and throws off his beard�it�s� gasp�Legolas!*
Legolas: I�ll help you, Frodo!
Girls in Audience: THERE HE IS! LEGOLAS, WE LOVE YOU!!!
Legolas: Crap.
*Legolas jumps down and runs onstage; he grabs Frodo and takes off, then throws Frodo through a window and runs again; Legolas� fans are in heavy pursuit*
Anita: Legolas! Legolas, I love you too! Wait!
*Anita joins the mob, but is hauled back by the Armed thugs*
Anita: Thank you. I�m quite all right, really.
*Half the audience is missing*
Anita: Contestant Number Two, it�s time for you to pick a category!
Aragorn: Aww, do I have to?
Anita: YES.
Aragorn: Fine. I pick....um....can I use 50/50?
Anita: Sure! Let�s take away half the choices!
*Waves her hand; JABEUKA and Japanese have disappeared from the choices*
Aragorn: What? Don�t I at least get to PICK what�s taken away?
Anita: What?
Aragorn: SHEESH.
*Audience laughs*
Aragorn: STOP LAUGHING AT ME, OKAY?!? I HAVE �ISSUES,� SO WHAT?
*Armed thugs glare menacingly at him, he shuts up*
Aragorn: I pick the Backstreet Boys!
*Audience cheers*
Anita: Excellent choice! And your question is: who is Boromir�s favorite Backstreet Boy, and what is his favorite kind of soup?
Aragorn: Soup? I�m hungry....
Anita: Unfortunately, that is not the correct answer!
Aragorn: But how do you know? Boromir�s dead!
*Studio doors open, a wet Boromir enters; crowd gasps*
Boromir: I�m not dead! I was alive when you shipped me over that waterfall!
Aragorn: Um, sorry? Oh hey, what�s your favorite kind of soup?
Boromir: Soup? I�m hungry...
Anita: I thought you were Boromir! Get it?
*Anita starts to laugh, audience joins in*
Aragorn: STOP LAUGHING! I CAN�T TAKE IT ANYMORE!
Anita: I�m sorry, Aragorn, but that is not the correct answer, so you have to....
Audience: BE EATEN BY GIANT, RADIOACTIVE, DERANGED RUBBER PANTS OF EVIL!
Aragorn: What?
*Armed thugs bring out the pants�they�re pink with yellow and orange daisies and green stripes*
Anita: Now, Aragorn, you need to put these on!
Aragorn: But, like, they�re not fashionable! They�d clash with my outfit!
Boromir: Oh, I know! I just hate it when my pants don�t match!
*Armed thugs grab Aragorn and attempt to put him in the pants*
Aragorn: NO! NO! ARWEN, SAVE ME!
*Arwen is not in the audience, having chased Legolas with the other fangirls*
Aragorn: BOROMIR!
Boromir: What?
Aragorn (halfway in the pants): HELP ME, YOU FOOL!
Boromir: Excuse me? You pushed me down a waterfall and left me for dead and you expect me to HELP?
Aragorn: Um, yeah!
Boromir: Too bad! Forget the Fellowship! I�ve followed my dream and become a ballet dancer! Nutcracker, here I come!
*Boromir puts on pink toe shoes and dances offstage*
Aragorn: No! Wait! Help me! AAAGGGHHHH!
*Aragorn gropes for his sword, but it�s not there, having been confiscated by the author; Aragorn is stuffed in the pants and dragged away by the Armed thugs*
Aragorn: No! Fashion...sense....draining.....
*Audience laughs*
Anita: Let�s move on! Contestant Number Three, it�s your turn now! Please choose a category!
*Gandalf has fallen asleep; he leans against the podium with his head on top, snoring and drooling*
Gandalf: Zzzzzzzzzz......
Anita: I�m sorry, Gandalf, but that�s not a category!
Gandalf (talking in his sleep): But I wanted...to lick the bowl, mommy....Tommy always gets the bowl....I don�t wanna lick the pants....not fair....
Anita: Ooooookay then. Gandalf, your question is: Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Gandalf (waking up): *snorts* Wha? Huh?
Anita: I�m sorry, Gandalf, but that is not the correct answer!
Gandalf: Huh? I was asleep!
Anita: I�m afraid that since you didn�t get the question right, you will be...
Audience: THROWN TO THE WEREPANTS!!
Gandalf: NO! ANYTHING BUT THAT! NOT THE WEREPANTS!!!!!!
*Armed thugs approach*
Gandalf: What kind of show is this? THIS IS INSANE AND UNFAIR!!!
Anita: Of COURSE it isn�t fair, Gandalf! And why?
Pippin (in audience): Ooh! I know, I know! It�s because of second breakfast!
Anita: Um...other humans in the audience?
Audience: YOU CAN�T WIN!
Merry: That�s discrimination! We�re not humans, we�re hobbits!
Sam: Yeah! Let�s get her!!
Pippin: Let�s get her what? Why should we get her a present?
*The hobbits attack Anita; she shrieks and runs offstage, they follow*
Gandalf: Ha! Take that, you awful woman! No werepants for me!
*Audience cheers*
Gandalf: That�s right! I�m tired of being the supporting actor! I wanna be the star! Move over, Ricky Martin!
*Armed thugs tackle Gandalf and pull him away*
Gandalf: No! No! I�m the only one left and I�m the winner!
Man in Audience: No, you�re not!
Gandalf: Yes! YES I AM!
*Gandalf is dragged offstage and Anita runs on, panting*
Anita: The winner...*puff*....of today�s show....*puff*....is....me!
*Audience boos*
Anita: YOU can�t win...but I can! Ha ha ha�AAAGGGHHH!!!
*Audience starts to throw bouncy balls at Anita*
Anita: NO MORE! Fine, the big evil eye thing wins!
Big Evil Eye Thing (a.k.a. Sauron): WOOHOO!
Anita: He wins $40,000,000,000,000,000,000,000, a mansion in Beverly Hills, Mongolia, sixteen thousand candles, and the Pants of power!
Lady in Audience: Let�s get him!
Audience: YEAH!
*By now, the hobbits have caught up with Anita and begin the chase again*
Armed thug #3: Be sure to tune in next week for another great episode of...
Audience: YOU CAN�T WIN!
And so it was that Sauron was not defeated by the Fellowship, but by a mob of angry game show fans......
THE END
Problem Solving With Aragorn
The fair Lord Aragorn rode swiftly across the barren plains on his way to Rivendell. He urged his horse on, hoping to make it to the Elven haven as soon as possible. His horse�s pants pounded the dry earth, and Aragorn was restless as he sped closer and closer to Eriador.
He had a problem.
He finally reached Rivendell early the next morning. Quickly dismounting from his tired horse, he threw his pants at an innocent elf who had come over to help him.
Elf *falls over with loud, painful sound*: Hey!
Horse: Tell me about it, I have marks in my sides from where he�s kicked me since we were at Isengard!
Aragorn paid no heed, but flew up the stairs and into the main building, where he found Lord Elrond seated at the window, quietly reading. He looked up when he saw Aragorn enter and a puzzled look crossed his face.
�What is it, Aragorn? For what reason have you flown so swiftly to Rivendell?� he questioned.
Aragorn paused to regain his breath, then managed to get out, �I have a problem.�
Elrond smiled slightly. �Then by all means, let me help.�
Aragorn grinned. �Great! Okay, wise Lord Elrond, I can�t decide if I should marry Arwen or Eowyn. Can you help me?�
A frown soon replaced the smile and Elrond�s eyes darkened.
Aragorn, being stupid as he was, didn�t notice, and just leaned forward with an expectant look on his face.
The wise Elven ruler Lord Elrond bent forward as well. �Aragorn,� he said seriously, �RACK OFF!�
Aragorn slowly trudged down a hill. He just couldn�t understand why Elrond had told him to rack off, whatever that meant, and had beaten him up with his book and thrown him out of Rivendell (literally!). He hadn�t even gotten his pants back. �Well, same to you!� he shouted, turning around and shaking his fist before he remembered that he was now many miles from Rivendell. (It took a while for his brain to process things.)
Continuing onward, an idea came to Aragorn�s slow and sluggish mind. �Hey,� he said slowly, �I�ll go ask Theoden! I�m sure he�ll have the answer!� He immediately brightened up. Even better, he came across a lone horse grazing in the field where he walked. He mounted it and set off toward Edoras.
Aragorn reached Edoras the next morning. He rode his new horse up the hill to the palace, and quickly ran up the steps into Theoden�s hall. Theoden was reading something and he was unfolding something from his reading material and looking at it attentively when Aragorn entered the hall. He quickly stuffed it behind him and held open his arms.
�Welcome, Aragorn!� he cried, gesturing for him to come in. Aragorn knelt before Theoden before hugging him. �It is good to see you!� announced Theoden, patting him on the back. �What can I do for you?�
�Well,� Aragorn started, �I have a problem.�
Theoden�s brow furrowed and he put his hand to his chin. �Well, just sit yourself down and tell me all about it, I�ll be glad to help!�
Aragorn brightened. �Okay!� He plopped down on Theoden�s lap.
Theoden: Ouch! When was the last time you saw a treadmill?
Aragorn: What?
�So, what�s your problem?� Theoden asked. �Shoot.�
Aragorn was confused. �Shoot? Shoot what?�
�Just tell me your problem,� Theoden growled.
�Okay, I can�t decide if I should marry Arwen or Eowyn. Can you help?�
Theoden paused in thought. Anyone could tell by looking at his face that he was thinking very, very hard. Aragorn sat patiently for several minutes before Theoden finally spoke. �I�m afraid I don�t understand, Aragorn. Is this a riddle? It seems very complicated.�
Aragorn sighed. �I know. It is.�
Theoden patted his back. �I�m sorry I can�t help you, but I think I know someone who can.� He reached into his tunic and removed a slip of paper. �Just call these guys, they�re sure to help.�
Aragorn slowly read the slip. �1-800-PANTS?� he questioned.
Theoden turned bright red and snatched the paper back, again stuffing it in his pants. He pulled out another slip, read it first, then handed it to Aragorn, smiling. �Here you go!�
Aragorn read this one. �1-800-PROBLEM,� he said. �Okay, great! Thanks a lot!�
�Sure, sure. Knock yourself out, kid,� said Theoden, reaching behind his seat for his �reading material� again.
Aragorn skipped out of the palace and down the steps happily. He pulled out his cell phone and carefully dialed 1-800-PROBLEM. He walked as he listened to the ring. On the third ring, someone picked up.
�Hello, you have reached 1-800-PROBLEM, this is Sarah, how may I help you?� the receptionist asked.
Unfortunately, due to the static on the hilltop, Aragorn couldn�t hear her very well, and mistook what she said. (Or maybe he�s just naturally dumb. Makes you think, doesn�t it?)
�Hello? This is Satan?� he asked, confused.
�No, Sar-ah,� she said irritably. �How may I help you?�
�Okay, so you�re Satan?� Aragorn asked, now very confused.
�No, my name is SAR-AH,� she said angrily. �SARAH!�
�Look, pal, I don�t want anything to do with 1-800-PROBLEM if you�re Satan, okay?� Aragorn said. �I mean, what kind of sick person are you? Hello? Hello? Huh, weird people,� said Aragorn, stuffing his cell phone back in his pants when he heard the dial tone.
Aragorn sighed and trudged along the streets. He passed two peasants, a mule, a goat, and a strange man in a long black jacket.
Woman peasant: I told you to get some wool for a coat, not some pants and a goat!
Man peasant: But�
Man in long coat: Excuse me. It�s the cellular static, ma�am. But with Sprint PCS�
Aragorn didn�t really pay attention, he was too dejected. Nobody seemed to be able to help him, and he still as lost as ever. Suddenly getting an idea, he pulled two objects from his pants and held them in front of him. �Okay, this one�s Arwen, and this one�s Eowyn,� he told himself. �Eenie-meanie-mynie�mynie�mynie�aw, shucks! I can never remember that one,� he said, defeated. He continued down the hill.
Suddenly, Aragorn�s foot landed on a loose pair of pants, and he almost tripped, but caught himself just in time. Glaring at the pants that had almost sent him rolling down the hill, he prepared to kick then. He pulled his foot back and got into position when�they spoke!
�Don�t kick me,� the pants said.
Aragorn gasped and whirled around, drawing his sword. �Who said that?� he demanded. �Who was it?� He circled round and round.
�It was me,� said the pants. Aragorn finally looked downward and saw the pants.
�That�s right,� Aragorn said, �I was about to kick you.� He pulled his foot back into position again.
�If you don�t kick me,� said the pants, thinking quickly, �then I�ll answer any one question for you!�
�Really?� asked Aragorn excitedly. �Okay great!� But now Aragorn couldn�t remember his problem. He stood thinking for a moment when a peasant with a wheelbarrow full of hay passed.
�Hey,� the peasant said, �do you know what time it is?�
Aragorn thought for a moment and looked at the sky. �What time IS it?� he asked aloud.
�Oh, it�s 3:15,� said the pants.
�Oh, it�s 3:15,� said Aragorn to the peasant.
�Great. Thanks a lot, pal,� said the peasant, who continued to push the wheelbarrow up the hill.
�Sure, no prob,� Aragorn called after the peasant, then turned to the pants. �Okay, here�s my question: should I marry Arwen or Eowyn?�
The pants didn�t say anything. �Hey, pal,� Aragorn threatened, �we had a deal, remember? I don�t kick you, you answer any one question? What about my one question? Hey, stupid pants!� Aragorn picked up the pants and shook them vigorously. �Stupid pants!� He angrily threw themn as far and hard as he could and continued to march down the hill when, suddenly, a landslide occurred and he was buried in rocks up to his neck!
Suddenly, the pants that he had thrown came sailing down and hit him on the head with a loud smack (they were stone pants). Ouch.
The next day, Aragorn managed to climb out from under the rocks. (How? He doesn�t need to explain, he�s ARAGORN!) He whistled, and his new horse came flying down the hill. Aragorn mounted and started off across the plains. He soon decided to head over to Gondor and ask Denethor what he thought he should do.
Aragorn finally reached Gondor, and quickly headed inside the walled city. As he entered the gates, a sign in a corner caught his eye. Gasping and turning to see what he had had noticed, Aragorn noticed a common market stall with the words �PROBLEM SOLVING� plainly printed on top. He quickly dismounted and ran over to it.
An elderly man leaned against the inside of the stall. He saw Aragorn coming and stood up straight. �Ah, how may I help you?� he asked as Aragorn approached.
�I have a problem,� Aragorn stated.
The old man smiled. �Well, most people who come here do,� he said. �What�s the matter?�
Aragorn took a deep breath as the man took out a clipboard. �Okay. I can�t decide if I should marry Arwen or Eowyn,� he said.
�Mmm hmm. Now let�s do something about this problem of yours,� the man said, quickly scribbling down some notes. He laid the clipboard down and bent to get something. Aragorn managed to sneak a peek at the clipboard to see that it read �Grocery List: eggs, pants, toilet paper� before the old man grabbed his clipboard and held out something for Aragorn.
Aragorn looked at what the old man offered him. �No thanks,� he said, �I don�t really like those cookies.�
The old man frowned. �This is the only way your problem will be solved,� he said, holding out the fortune cookie.
�No, it�s okay, I really don�t want it,� said Aragorn.
�Take the fortune cookie,� the old man insisted.
�No, I don�t want the cookie.� �TAKE THE COOKIE!�
�I DON�T WANT THE COOKIE!!�
�TAKE THE *@#%&$! COOKIE!!�
�I DON�T WANT THE *&@%#$! COOKIE!!!�
By now, quite a crowd had gathered. Aragorn�s horse pushed forward and laid his head on Aragorn�s shoulder.
Horse: Aragorn. I think you should take the cookie.
Aragorn: Horse. I don�t want the cookie.
Horse: Just take it, I�ll eat it.
Aragorn snatched the cookie away from the old man and stalked off. He could hear the old man laughing in the distance. He headed over to some steps and plopped down on them. Breaking the cookie in half, he pulled out the slip of paper and tossed the cookie pieces to his horse. He slowly read his �fortune.�
�Marry the girl whose name is five letters long and has a w, an e, and an n in it.�
It took a moment for Aragorn to understand that his problem had finally been given a solution. �YES!� he cried, pumping his fist in the air. �IT�S MY PANTS� BIRTHDAY!� The other people on the steps quickly ran away. �Now all I have to do is figure out which girl�s name fits the description!� he said happily. He sat down, pulled a pencil from his pants, and started figuring.
ONE YEAR LATER...
�I�ve done it!� cried Aragorn, standing up (with some difficulty). �I finally know who I should marry!� He hobbled down the steps, his sore legs in great pain, and mounted a strange horse, mistaking it for his own. He quickly rode through the gates of Gondor, chased by an angry peasant shouting, �HEY! MY PANTS! AND MY HORSE!!�
It took some time to reach Rivendell, but when he finally got there, he found it completely deserted. After searching everywhere, he returned to the main building, where he found a note attached to the door.
�To Whom It May Concern,� the note read, �The Elves formerly of Rivendell have relocated to the Grey Havens Las Vegas. Will be back never. Ta ta! � Elrond.�
Aragorn gasped. �Oh no!� he cried. �Arwen has already left Middle-Earth. I can�t marry her now.� His shoulders sagged, but he suddenly brightened. �But that�s okay, because I can always marry Eowyn!� He leaped back on his stolen horse and rode quickly to Gondor, where he remembered she had been when he had first gone to Elrond with his problem.
Entering the city of Gondor, Aragorn rode his horse up to the main palace of Gondor, where he expected Eowyn to be. He dismounted and ran inside and immediately saw Eowyn sitting in an ornate chair. He ran over and yelled, �Hi Eowyn!�
Eowyn looked up, shocked. �Aragorn!� she cried. �What a surprise!�
Aragorn wasted no time. He got down on one knee. �Will you marry me?�
At that exact moment, Faramir entered the room and put his arm around Eowyn. �Aragorn!� he cried. �What a wonderful surprise for our first anniversary! We were so worried when you didn�t make it to the wedding.� He looked at Eowyn, who looked surprised, and at Aragorn, who looked dejected. �What is it?� he asked. �Did I interrupt something? Aragorn?�
Aragorn got off his knee and trudged from the room, ignoring Eowyn and Faramir. He left the palace and trudged over to the steps where his horse stood, patiently waiting.
�Well,� Aragorn said sadly to the horse, �I guess it�s just you and me now, eh?�
�Hey!� he heard a peasant�s voice cry out, and he turned around to see a huge mob of angry town folk armed with pitchforks and torches. �That�s the guy that stole my pants! I mean, horse!�
�He�s come back for more!� cried another peasant.
"Let�s get him!� cried another, and the mob roared in agreement and chased Aragorn from the city.
THE END
The moral of this story, as you are probably well aware of, is that you should never, ever, take cookies, pants, or any other foodstuffs from strangers. I mean, jeez. Duh.
<< Back To Main