[Pyroclastic]

“Peoples of Middle Earth, lets hear it for the brave competitors of The Dwarf Toss! Two commentators stand on a platform above the green competition field, shouting into bullhorns at the crowd bellow. “Will the competitors please step forward?” Six strong warriors step forward onto the edgecliff along the gully. The crowd cheers. “In this, the first annual Dwarf Toss, the aim of the game and of the the tossers, is to throw the Dwarf from one edge of the gully to the opposite cliff, approximately thirty feet. Points will be awarded based upon the smoothness of the toss and landing, as well as for the size of the Dwarf tossed.”

“Not if we have anything to say about it, they won’t!” A deep voice shouts. All heads turn to observe a lone Dwarf standing on the opposing gully cliff. The Dwarf waves his arm, and thirty more Dwarves step up behind him. “Dwarf toss indeed!” He bellows, “Why are we tossing Dwarves, eh? Why not Elves, or Men? The both of them are in much greater need of tossing, are they not?”

The commentators stand silent, dumbfounded. The Hobbit holding the cue cards has no script for this outburst. The first commentator turns to his companion and attempts to make light of the situation. “Well, Ted, I don’t know. Why are we tossing Dwarves here today?”
“Well Bob, as we all know, Dwarf tossing was featured in both the Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers. Our aim with the Fellowship Games is to re-crate stunts such as these in tribute…” His voice trails off as he watches the events unfolding on the far bluff.

The Dwarves formed into groups, six of them spacing themselves along the edge of the cliff. The chief Dwarf steppes forward and raises a bullhorn of his own. “Peoples of Middle Earth,” the Dwarf’s voice boomed across the field to the crowd, magnified by the horn. “Welcome to the Dwarf Toss!” The crowd titterers. “Please give it up for our competitors!” A few weak cheers escape the crowd. “Each of our contestants will toss one Elf, one Man, and one Orc across the gully! Points will be awarded for height and distance of the throw, smoothness of the landing, should there be a landing, and size of the being tossed! We’ll begin with the Orcs. Competitors ready?” Each Dwarf grabbed one of the Orcs, which were being hustled along by the collection of Dwarves. The competing Dwarves raised one arm to signify that they were ready. “Fire in turn!”

The first Dwarf grabbed his Orc, took a running start, and launched his Orc up into the air. The Orc sails through the sky in a high arc, landing with a “pwhump!” On the opposite cliff. “Excellent job, Noin!” The announcer Dwarf shouts. Each Orc tossed successfully lands on the opposing cliff. The competition moved on to the Elf toss. The first Elf steppes up to Noin, the very image of confidence, his long golden hair shimmering in the sunlight. The crowd cheers. Noin picks up the Elf, takes a running start, and heaves the Elf over the cliff. “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeek!” The Elf shrieks as he plummets to the gully floor. “Oh, too bad,” the announcer calls. “Points will be lost for that one.” The second Dwarf seizes his Elf, and grunts with effort as he hurls the Elf across the gap. “Thwack! Uggg! Schlurp!” the Elf smashes into the side of the cliff. The crowd looks n in horror as the Elf oozes down the cliff face.

The original announcers scramble to regain control. “That’s all the time we have right now folks! Be sure to return for our next event-“

We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties. Thank You For Your Patience.

So much for the Dwarf toss.
~Pyro~