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Vuelve · 10-29-2003, 06:36 PM

MadLib #13
29 September 2002

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the coolest gardener of old Gondor, nor the most savage warg entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set frying pan to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing fingers beneath her and swam backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's nose, his senses reeling in the big stench, his 5 ears still gripping the handle of the hammer. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's arm and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to jog himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her leg drabbling a spittle of venom, and a brown water trickling from below her wounded toe. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to run and jump to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to swim and then to walk.

Even as Sam himself looked, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his pouch with his left hand, and found what he sought: bad and stinky and dirty it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the hat of Zorro.

'Zorro! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the elves as they jumped under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Panama City, and the music of elves as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Captain Barbosa.
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The eyes of Saruman

'kites and dogs!' he hissed, and they shuddered at the hideous change. 'flying Balrog! What is the house of Eorl but a tiny shed where brigands ran in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the cats? Too long have they escaped the can themselves. But the crayon comes, slow in the drawing, tight and hard in the end. hop if you will!' Now his voice changed, as he slowly mastered himself. 'I know not why I have had the patience to speak to you. For I need you not, nor your little band of trees, as swift to swim as to drown, Théoden Horsemaster. Long ago I offered you a boot beyond your merit and your wit. I have offered it again, so that those whom you mislead may clearly see the choice of roads. You give me clouds and rocks. So be it. Go back to your garages!
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Black, Green, and a Computer Screen,
Vuelve

[ October 29, 2003: Message edited by: Vuelve ]

10-29-2003, 06:36 PM	#191
Vuelve Wight Join Date: Mar 2003 Location: A portal to an alternate dimension at your local Wal-Mart store. Posts: 161	MadLib #13 29 September 2002 The Choices of Master Samwise No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the coolest gardener of old Gondor, nor the most savage warg entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set frying pan to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing fingers beneath her and swam backwards in a convulsive leap. Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's nose, his senses reeling in the big stench, his 5 ears still gripping the handle of the hammer. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's arm and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to jog himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her leg drabbling a spittle of venom, and a brown water trickling from below her wounded toe. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to run and jump to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to swim and then to walk. Even as Sam himself looked, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his pouch with his left hand, and found what he sought: bad and stinky and dirty it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the hat of Zorro. 'Zorro! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the elves as they jumped under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Panama City, and the music of elves as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Captain Barbosa. `````````` The eyes of Saruman 'kites and dogs!' he hissed, and they shuddered at the hideous change. 'flying Balrog! What is the house of Eorl but a tiny shed where brigands ran in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the cats? Too long have they escaped the can themselves. But the crayon comes, slow in the drawing, tight and hard in the end. hop if you will!' Now his voice changed, as he slowly mastered himself. 'I know not why I have had the patience to speak to you. For I need you not, nor your little band of trees, as swift to swim as to drown, Théoden Horsemaster. Long ago I offered you a boot beyond your merit and your wit. I have offered it again, so that those whom you mislead may clearly see the choice of roads. You give me clouds and rocks. So be it. Go back to your garages! ```````` Black, Green, and a Computer Screen, Vuelve [ October 29, 2003: Message edited by: Vuelve ] __________________ Now, what do you own the world? How do you own disorder? Disorder! - Toxicity-System of A Down