![]() |
![]() |
Visit The *EVEN NEWER* Barrow-Downs Photo Page |
|
![]() |
#1 |
Riveting Ribbiter
Join Date: May 2005
Location: Assigned to Mordor
Posts: 1,767
![]() |
In all of her 50 years, Panakeia of Harad had never imagined that the sight of Mount Doom would bring her relief and joy. But at the moment she espied the mountain belching black smoke over the Heave-ho Airport, her heart went pitter-patter. The van rolled onto the mountain's foot, and Panakeia, not even waiting for the driver to turn the ignition to off, bounded out, ignoring the kamura crew that followed hard upon her trail.
She burst through the palace gates, calling Anakron's name. No answer. Panakeia pushed on undaunted. "Anakron. Oh, Anakron. It's me! I'm back. Where are you?" "Not 'ere, miss." Panakeia whirled, startled by the voice. It eminated from an Orc who stood lounging against a wall, blowing puffs of smoke from a cigarette. Choking on the fumes, Panakeia asked what was meant by that answer. "Not 'ere. Gone clear off to Lost Angles lookin' for 'is lady-love." The Orc chuckled. No! Not to Lost Angles! She must have passed Anakron on her frantic and unpleasant journey with the news crew. Like a flash, Panakeia thought of the limo - who else could it have been but Anakron? He loves me. Panakeia's face positively glowed. Back, back to Lost Angles! Panakeia, still known to the official bureaucracy of Mordor, soon succeeding in borrowing a lavender Jeep Cherokee and a driver. A Mordor moment later - meaning as quickly as the multitudinous and mushrooming paperwork required for the transaction could be completed and an official staff driver located - Panakeia was seated in the Jeep, northbound for Lost Angles. Halfway back to the City of Smog, Panakeia spotted a black limousine headed for Lûndûn at full speed. Staring closely at the driver, she thought she recognized Lûgnût. "Stop that limo!" she shouted. Her driver didn't comply and Panakeia, frantic over the idea of missing Anakron again, seized the wheel and swerved into the limousine’s path. Both cars veered off the road, and Panakeia screamed, both in fear of the impending crash and because she realized that she would now have her reunion with Anakron in Orcish form. Last edited by Celuien; 08-15-2006 at 09:59 AM. |
![]() |
![]() |
#2 |
Alive without breath
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: On A Cold Wind To Valhalla
Posts: 5,912
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |
A slight argument had broken out amongst the diplomats, Smilog had forgotten what it was about and had fallen asleep half way through. He awoke to see many of the Gondorians standing up; one raised up and shouted, "Well, you're so stupid that you can't even see how stupid you are!"
"Wait a moment," said Tollin, leaping to his feet, "it's stopped!" everyone turned to look at the Minotaur, some for the first time. "The mountain has stopped, I'm sure of it." "Oh, that's nice," grunted Smilog, "but we're no closer to an agreement." he was then knocked off his chair by a flying table. The Barrow Wight blew smoke rings over the heads of the diplomats; he then took a large empty bottle of wine from his cloaks inside pocket. Disappointed at the lack of drink, The Barrow Wight walked out of the room in search of more. No one seemed to mind. All along the corridor, the Wight saw nothing but hallucinations of snakes all over the ceiling. "I say," he drooled, "those bally, jolly, molly bollys had better... do something... sharp ish! Or they'll have to answer to the sergeant major! And you don't want that!" he laughed to himself and began recounting an absurd story of himself and another Wight being 'behind enemy lines', ‘shootign jerry out of the sky’ and ‘chasing the blosh' yet the story made little sense and had no continuity. Eventually, the Barrow Wight came to a window looking out of the Mountain; he used it to be sick out of. "Blasted things," he muttered, "strung them all up! The whole bally lot of them!" He peered over the landscape of Lûndûn and mused on his old wartime adventures. Yet, something was staring him in the face and he couldn't work out what it was until it pecked him in the eye. "Blasted seagulls," he mumbled, "what about the piranhas? I've got a family to support! I can't be worrying about starving children!" A towering... erm... tower seemed to dominate the skyline. A huge clock face shone forth from it, its hands almost both vertical. The Barrow Wight sung a little song to comfort himself as he watched the last hand slowly tick onto the huge "XII" at the top. There was a deafening 'DONG' and the mountain shook, as did the rest of Lûndûn. This was followed by eleven further 'DONG's. Suddenly, The Barrow Wight found himself sober and full of fear. He ran back to the conference chamber as fast as he could. |
![]() |
Thread Tools | |
Display Modes | |
|
|
![]() |