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Old 02-21-2006, 10:37 AM   #298
Eidolon of a Took
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Join Date: Sep 2002
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"Did you hear something?" Pimpi asked.

"Hear what?" Vogonwë replied.

"I'm not sure, it sounded like a little voice, far off, saying something."

"I didn't hear anything. Look, the Ent is coming to life."

"Yes, but--"

"Love, if you don't mind, I'm trying to pay attention."

"Well, fine, I just thought it might be Mogul coming back to life."

"Don't be absurd. Like that's ever going to happen."

"It might."

"Not in our lifetime. Now be quiet, the Ent is about to speak." They both fell silent, waiting expectantly.

For a very long time.

At length, Vogonwë added, "Or not."

Pimpi took that opportunity to speak upon the matter she had been stewing over; "You're telling me to be quiet? Oh, that's rich!"


"Oh, look, a biscuit in my pocket...."

With that, she fell to munching quietly, and Vogonwë returned his attention to the fascinating thing that was happening. Or was about to happen. Or may happen somewhere in the near future. Okay, distant future. It might not happen at all, but in case it did, he returned his attention to it. Soon he fell asleep, and Pimpi finished her biscuit. Growing bored, she cut his hair with Hush and wove the shorn locks into a vest-coat the size of which could fit a small dog.


The night was sultry. An old gringo sat nursing a cup of hot chocolate spiked with cinnamon rum and a slice of lemon. A little dog, no heavier than a bread box, came scampering up and piddled on his shin -- he just grunted and took a sip of sweet, chocolaty lemon goodness.

"Oy," said the little dog. "Can I 'ave some o' that?"

"Get lost," grunted the gringo. "Can’t ye see I’m old and grumpy, wee little pooch?"

The little dog whined and pranced till the old man relented and poured a little puddle of chocolate out on the patio. The little dog lapped it up with its quick pink tongue. It looked up and said, "'At was right good, it 'twas. Now I only wish I 'ad a vest-coat of Elvish hair."

"What would ye want that for?" the gringo asked.

"Why, it's lucky, they say. If ye wear a vest-coat of Elvish hair, ye can fly."

At that moment, the finest vest-coat of soft brown Elvish hair fell from the sky and landed in the old gringo's cup of hot chocolate spiced with cinnamon rum (and a silce of lemon).

"Oy," said the little dog. "Can I 'ave that?"

"What makes ye think ye can 'ave it?" the gringo retorted. "Maybe I want to fly!"

"It won't fit ye! It's exactly the size of a small dog," the dog pointed its paw impatiently.

The gringo nodded, reluctance in his old eyes. "So it 'tis, so it 'tis. 'Ere ye go then, little one." He slipped it over the dog's wee little head, and buttoned the vest up good and proper. Before his wondering eyes, the little dog levitated from the ground, spun around three times, and spat up some pea soup, hot chocolate, two granola bars, a banana, and a twist of lime. Then it flew off into the night, never to be seen in those parts again.


Pimpi awoke with a start and wiped drool from the corner of her mouth. "I had the strangest dream," she remarked, but it fell on deaf ears, for Vogonwë had progressed to snoring.

The Ent was still blinking (as it takes a terribly long time to blink in old Entish) and there was no sign of a certain incredibly hard to kill big baddy anywhere, so she cut off more of Vogonwë's hair and with it made macramé potholders for her trousseau.

Last edited by Diamond18; 03-01-2006 at 11:25 PM. Reason: I got bored
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