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Old 04-09-2006, 12:27 PM   #1
Hookbill the Goomba
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Thumbs up The Mount Zoom Challenge - GAME



For days it had been there, on a little signpost just outside the Lonely Mountain. Many Dwarves had pondered it long and wondered what it could be, for the terror of Mount Zoom had lain heavy on their hearts for many years now. What with other places joining in the 'fun' and all, who knew which monument or building would end up driving away next?
As the end of the week approached, the Dwarves looked out at the morning sun and breathed the early air, before work. But something was different... Something was not quite right... There were seven great mounds all covered with some sort of curtain. Six were in a semi-circle around the seventh and all had a different coloured curtain.
The first on the left was yellow and covered a thing that almost looked like a house shape. The next was grey and covered a huge circular thing with a great point at the top. The third was dark green and covered something equally big, yet more spiky and irregular. Forth, there was a dark red curtain covering an immeasurably tall thing that seemed to be glowing at the top. The fifth was much smaller, about the size of a bungalow, yet it was circular and covered by a light green curtain. And the sixth was dark grey and seemed to be another tall thing, not as tall as the other, but still pretty tall.
In the centre was a very strange shape, almost like a mountain, but the top was too flat to be one. Its curtain was red.

Before all these things, on a raised platform, was a young Dwarf . He had a short brown beard and a silver helm. He wore a red tunic with black trousers and huge grey boots. Across his body was a dark green belt and holding his trousers up were two yellow braces.
Then the Dwarves noticed that they were not alone. For hundreds upon thousands of people were gathered around. Elves, men, Orcs and other creatures, all waving flags and eating popcorn.

"Greetings good people!" cried the dwarf, "I am Dwarfy the Dwarf, and I warmly welcome you to the first Mount Zoom Challenge!" the crowd went wild with applause and cheering. Dwarfy raised his arms in a gesture of silence, and the crowd soon died down. "I'm afraid that my associate is not able to join us at this present time, but he will be here soon enough. Now, on with the show!"
There was an aghast silence as Dwarfy pointed towards the large yellow lump.
"I give to you, Medul-zoom!" the curtain was raised off and all beheld the Golden halls, raised upon wheels with a great exhaust pipe at the back. At the doors stood Théoden and Eowyn. Dwarfy then looked towards the grey lump, and the curtain was moved off that also.
"Minas Taxi!" The white City of Gondor stood shimmering in the morning light, the tower pointing straight up, and leaning out of the window of the highest window were Denethor and Faramir. Next the dark green curtain was removed.
"Minas Mor-go!" The city of the Ring wraiths in all its horror was reviled! The unexplained green glow was rampant, and stood upon the top of the gate was the Witch King himself, along with Nazgûl #4.
"Barrad-Dash!" the dark red curtain was removed and there stood the dark tower itself! Tower upon tower, battlement upon battlement! Yet it, like the others, was raised upon a platform and had mighty wheels! Stood by the fake Eye of Sauron at the top, was Gothmog and his faithful servant, Orc #429187943. Yet, this Orc fell from the great height and his ruin was scattered on the floor. So he was replaced swiftly by Orc #429187943b.
"Bag Endless-fuel!" the small green curtain fluttered away to reveal the grand old Hobbit hole, mounted upon wheels of wood and gold! Just outside the door, smoking pipes, were Frodo and Bilbo Baggins.
"Oth-Tank!" the dark grey curtain was taken away and burned, so that Saruman's tower could be seen. Like, and yet unlike to Barad-dash, it was merely an attempt at its majesty and terror. At the foot, checking the wheels were Saruman and Wormtong.
"And finally, ladies and gentlemen," said Dwarfy, "The original-" there was much cheering, "The greatest-" the cheering rose, "You love it! It the one and only...
MOUNT ZOOM!" there was a clamour of fireworks and loud music as the final curtain was stripped away and the great Mount was reviled! Blackened by years of eruptions, its top was a crown and its sides were traitorous. At the Crack of Doom stood Sauron in a black cape, with his huge helm, towering high. He couldn't decide weather to be necromancer or Dark Lord, so he went half and half. Next to him, stood a small man with a serious dental problem. It was the Mouth of Sauron.
"There are cakes over there, by the way." said Dwarfy. Many people dashed over to the buffet tables and scoffed as many as they could. While they did this, the vehicles lined up ready for the beginning.

At about the seventh hour, everyone was gathered together at a great height, observing all the vehicles. Dwarfy the Dwarf stood nigh, holding a great chequered flag. The anticipation was growing and the crowd was about to explode with merriment. So finally, Dwarfy waved the flag and with a loud call, shouted,

"GO!"
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Old 04-09-2006, 12:33 PM   #2
Hookbill the Goomba
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The Eye

Okay, here are the things:

MOUNT ZOOM
= Maeggaladiel (Sauron) + Glirdan (Mouth of Sauron)

Bag-Endless-fule
= The Saucepan Man (Bilbo) + Caranlondien (Frodo)

Orth-Tank
= Sleepy Ranger (Saruman) + Meneltarmacil (Wormtong)

Barad-Dash
= Morsul the Dark (Gothmog) + Gil-Gallad (Orc # 429187943b)

Medel-zoom
= Valier (Eowyn) + Farael ... Replaced by Boromir88 after Spider Challenge (Théoden)

Minas Mor-go

= Alcarillo (Witch King) + Gurthang (Ring Wraith#4)

Minas Taxi
= Formendacil (Denethor) + Spawn (Faramir)
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Last edited by Hookbill the Goomba; 05-08-2006 at 01:38 AM.
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Old 04-09-2006, 01:19 PM   #3
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Denethor:

Minas Tirith cruised smoothly to the starting line. Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord High Steward of Gondor, peered out of the tower, down to the crowd, where a huge section of the crowd, clad in black and gold, had turned out to support the Gondorian team.

"Father," he heard his son and copilot say, "Aragorn's on the palantír. It's something about being a good steward of his city, and making sure to return it with a full tank."

Denethor scowled. Minas Tirith had been his ride! His!

"Yes, yes," he grumbled to Faramir. "While I head over to the podium to speak to the crowd, you go find Húrin, Keeper of the Keys, and get the spare set. I don't want to be stranded somewhere in the middle of Rhovannion just because we misplaced the one set.

"I've never misplaced anything in my life," said Faramir.

"What about that Ring?"

"I didn't misplace it! I sent it on it's way!"

"Whatever. You go get the keys, while I go talk to the crowd. Got to drum up some more fans, you know. I think the Arnorian crowd could be persuaded to root for us instead of that silly Bag-End, if we appeal to their Númenorean side."

Faramir rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He and Denethor descended the long stairwell down to the citadel, then followed the road down the seven circles, weaving back and forth until they reached at last the great, re-wrought gates of the city. It was a quick jump to the ground, and then Faramir was off to find the support team for Minas Tirith, while Denethor headed off to the podium, where Dwarfy the Dwarf was welcoming the Drivers.

"And now," announced the Dwarf grandly, "to introduce to each of you our charming and heroic drivers, who will represent us in this daring race!"

Denethor glared at Saruman (Palantír thief!), at Sauron (eyelidless git!), Gothmog (the waffle-faced!) and the Witchking (imitation city-driver). He spared a glance for Éowyn, barely acknowledging that she was his son (and copilot, he thought with a grimace)'s girlfriend. He looked right over Bilbo (old fuddy-duddy).

When his turn came to be introduced, Denethor stepped up to the mike, raised his arms in greeting to the crowd.

"FOR GONDOR!!" he cried, clicking on a lighter in his right hand. The lighter caught flame, and in the crowd, the Gondorian fans waved their own lighters, torches, and other flaming objects in solidarity with their driver. Except one.

"Uh oh..." muttered Boromir. "Dad + Fire = Not Good!"

Sure enough, a wind arose out of nowhere, and the flame caught on Denethor's cloak, spreading.

"Oops..." said Denethor. "Quick! Something to douse the flames." He caught sight of a barrel just behind the podium, and hurried to extinguish himself.

"No, no, Dad!" cried Faramir. "That's fuel for the engines!"

Denethor paused long enough for the para-healers to catch up to him with a bucket of water. Pretty soon he was soaking, steaming, and scowling.

"I look like a fool," he muttered to Faramir, as Dwarfy continued to introduce the drivers.

"At least the crowd loved it," whispered Faramir.

"Did they now?" grumbled Denethor. "Well, that's one good thing. Was it the Arnorians, do you think?"

"No, I think it was the Balrogs who enjoyed it the most."

"Silly pyromaniacs."
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Last edited by Formendacil; 04-09-2006 at 01:28 PM. Reason: Fixing the car...
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Old 04-09-2006, 02:26 PM   #4
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Ring Wraith #4:

*hiss-hiss* *unearthly screech* *hissy-hiss-hiss*


Translation:

"Wait a minute, Witch-King! We have a problem with Minas Mor-go! I think the Orc-powered engine is revolting! Give me a minute to knock 'em back in line.. If they don't cooperate we can always just resort to using them as fuel for our furnace. Either way, we'll be up and running a double time!"
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Old 04-09-2006, 02:30 PM   #5
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The words of the King.

The moment for the grand unveiling was near at hand. After much positioning and bargaining, he had managed to convince the other racers that his very own Medul-zoom should be the first one to be shown to the expecting crowds.

The beautiful Eowyn was standing next to him, as the sunlight glittered on the golden structures, banners proudly flying and waving on the soft morning breeze…. Now the beautiful Eowyn was glancing at Minas-Taxi that had just been unveiled. Faramir again.

“Better keep an eye out for those two… Faramir might be a good man but I do not trust that Denethor. I’ve never forgiven him for trying to steal my thunder. It was MY tragic death that everyone should weep for, not some crazy pyromaniac’s” Grumbled Theoden.

The unveiling ceremony was done, and Theoden walked proudly out of his racing-structure to give his speech. Sadly, trade-offs had to be made and his turn to talk was right after Denethor. The old man just couldn’t, he couldn’t give a normal speech and be over with it, right? No, he had to do his “oh, look at me, I’m in fire, literally” routine. Well fine, He’d show him. He’d show all of them! Theoden King stepped into the slightly scorched podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Hobbits, Dwarves and Elves and some re-adjusted to society orcs”

“And Balrogs!!” roared the left wing of the stands.

“And Balrogs,” continued Theoden. “I am here to claim yet another victory for the proud people of Rohan. Who else but us has the knowledge and experience necessary to travel great distances at fast speeds? We, the care-takers of the Mearas, fathers of all horses, we the Rohirrim shall once again ride to victory!” Mild cheers arose from most of the crowd, while the Rohan fans blew their horns and tried to explain to some dull witted trolls the concept of “the wave”

Theoden went on,
“Arise!!! Arise!!! Riders of Theoden!!!
Harsh quests await: Rivers and Mountains!
Bridges shall be built, shortcuts shall be found,
An insane-day, a racing day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!... erm I mean To the Grey Heavens!!”

With that last scream, the whole centre of the audience that was mostly occupied by Rohirrim and some Rohan-persuaded men from Dunland rose to their feet on a standing ovation. Signs of “Theoden you are my hero” and “Eowyn we love you… sorry Faramir” were common among them, as were cloaks that said “I went to the unveiling ceremony, cheered for my lord Theoden and all I got was this silly cloak”

It seemed Marketing, and lame marketing at that, has its roots on the ancient days of Middle Earth.

Bowing out of the podium and leaving some space for the Witch King of Angmar, Theoden walked again into Medul-zoom and ordered Hama to warm up the horsengine
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Last edited by Farael; 04-09-2006 at 08:52 PM.
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Old 04-09-2006, 02:51 PM   #6
Alcarillo
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The Witch-king of Angmar

Frodo Baggins had eluded him at every turn . . .

Saruman and Gothmog had usurped his place in Sauron's heart . . .

Eowyn had stabbed him straight through the head, in front of everybody at Pelennor . . .

Those measly Gondorians had defeated his armies battle after battle . . .

And now the Witch-king of Angmar wanted vengeance!

And his time had come! A great race would prove that he, the Witch-king, was superior to all of those fools! When he had caught wind that all of his former rivals were entering the Great Mount Doom Challenge, he could not resist entering his own city into the contest. He attached wheels to Minas Morgul, installed airbags in every wall, and voila! Minas Mor-go was born! He and his sidekick, the fourth Nazgul, had driven their vehicle north to Erebor, where the great race was to begin.

And now, as the dark green curtain was pulled aside, the Witch-king finally felt that he was certain to beat those idiots! The dark green curtain parted, and Minas Mor-go, the city of the Ringwraiths, long ago called Minas Ithil, was revealed! Every sharp and pointy tower and rampart was lit by the eerie green glow of the city. The Witch-king stood at the gate, and as the crowd applauded madly, he raised his hands towards the sky and laughed a deep, frightening, maniacal laugh:

"Mwahahahahahahaha! Mwaha! Ha! Ha! Mwahahahaha! I shall win this race, and all of those pathetic mortal fools will be crushed beneath the wheels of Minas Mor-go! Mwahahahahahaha!"

Ringwraith #4, standing beside the Witch-king, tugged on his sleeve. "What is it? Can't you see that I'm busy?"

Ringwraith #4 backed away a good couple of feet, trying not to anger the Witch-king. "Yes, sir, but the other drivers are going to make their speeches right now." The Witch-king, disappointed to be interrupted, crossed his arms and pouted.

The first driver to make his speech was Denethor, the driver of Minas Taxi. He came up to the podium, and lit himself on fire. "Typical," said the Witch-king to Ringwraith #4. "He's always showing off to the crowds like that. Fool." But the Witch-king could not help but be amused by Denethor's third-degree burns.

Then it was King Theoden's turn. "Ha! Remember how I killed that mortal fool?" said the Witch-king, "He was, and still is, a weak old man." And after Theoden's speech was done, the Witch-king said "That cheap old coot. He took that speech straight from Pelennor, I swear it!"

Soon it was the Witch-king's turn to make a speech. He whistled once, and his great flying steed swooped down from where he was perched on a black, spiky tower. It landed on the gates and howled for the crowds, who went wild with applause.

"Wait a minute, Witch-King! We have a problem with Minas Mor-go!" said Ringwraith #4, receiving a message from an orc slave, "I think the Orc-powered engine is revolting! Give me a minute to knock 'em back in line. If they don't cooperate we can always just resort to using them as fuel for our furnace. Either way, we'll be up and running a double time."

"Just threaten to throw them under the wheels if they don't cooperate," snarled the Witch-king. Stupid orcs. They can never just do as you tell them.

As Ringwraith #4 hurried to the dungeons and basements where over a thousand orcs turned Minas Mor-go's axles day and night, the Witch-king mounted his steed, and glided to the podium with an inhuman shriek. He leapt off of his steed, and unsheathed his Morgul blade with a brilliant shhhinnng! He searched the crowd for the wraiths and wights, waving deep green banners, and waved his sword around his head and gave one last shriek. His fell beast bellowed, too, raising its head toward the sky, which seemed to darken though there was not a cloud anywhere near the sun. The crowd applauded and the green banners waved more madly than before. The Witch-king, satisfied, leapt back upon his steed and swooped back up to the gate of Minas Mor-go.

"Ha! They loved me! But now I should go see if Ringwraith #4 has gotten those stupid orcs to work right."

Note: All speech between Ringwraiths is in the screechy, shrieky language of Minas Mor-go, but has been translated into Westron for the ease of the reader.

Last edited by Alcarillo; 04-09-2006 at 09:17 PM.
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Old 04-09-2006, 03:29 PM   #7
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Denethor:

The introductions may have been going on yet (Denethor wasn't sure), but already those who had been introduced were beginning to confer with their copilots regarding the direction they should take.

"East would be utter and complete lhunacy, as it takes us away from the end goal," said Denethor.

"Well, it would probably keep the others from following us," said Faramir. "We could double back to southern Rhovannion, jump the Anduin at the Undeeps, cruise through Rohan to the Gap, and then shoot north-west to the Haves."

"Are you saying you want to go East!" said Denethor. "What kind of a hobbit-loving fool are you? It's all very well to pass up the One Ring of Power, saving grace of all hope of defeating Sauron, but it's quite another thing to give them an unfair advantage in this race!"

"Calm down, father!" said Faramir, painfully aware that the last time he had disagreed with Denethor, he had been sent (ironically enough) East to Osgiliath- a rather nasty episode that had resulted in Black Breath illness, being saved by Gandalf (possibly Uncloaked... Faramir was grateful he had be unconscious) and, apparently, a near-death episode by fire, from which Gandalf had saved him- again.

"I was just saying," he continued, "that it may not be the worst tactic ever to head East. Maybe South-South-East or North-North-East or something wouldn't be such a bad idea. There's merit to it, you know."

"The Valar started out the sun and moon going East," muttered Denethor, "and they all agreed it was a foolish idea..."

"It doesn't have to be east at all!" said Faramir. "We can go straight west if you want- smack into the Mountains of Mirkwood!"

"Are you saying that going west- towards the finish line- is foolish?"

"Not at all!"

"Then why all this insistence on going east?" Denethor demanded to know.

Faramir gave a long-suffering sigh.

"I don't WANT to go East. I'm just keeping our options open."

"Then which way DO you want to go?"

Okay, Spawn, here's your cue to come in. If you don't get on (I'm fairly sure you're abed right now, assuming I read my timezones aright), then I'll pick us a direction if I have time before the Cut-Off.

Hookbill: If neither Spawn or myself have time to post before you make the Cutoff, Minas Taxi will be going NORTH-WEST.
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Old 04-09-2006, 04:13 PM   #8
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Pipe

Orth-Tank Not quite the Mach 5

It was a rather annoyed Saruman that was behind the wheel of the Orth-Tank. He could indistinctly be heard mumbling something about Grima not installing the turbo as he was supposed. "That good for nothing free loader. When I was merrily on my way to get my turbo powered engines that fool of a Wormtongue said he'd get it for me but did he? No he very well didn't. Why that no good Grima." though Saruman to himself. "Oh, seems they're about to start soon!" exclaimed the wizard. "Better find that good for nothing Grima and go over the maps for a final time before we set off." with that the wise one retreated to the interior of his vehicle to seek his assistant.

After a few minutes of searching Saruman found Grima asleep on the navigation table. Not seated on a chair with his head between folded arms on the table but asleep on the table, why that good for nothing man. Saruman roused him with a quick bonk on the head from his staff. "Keep awake, we've much work to do." Saruman bonked his assistant on the head again before the fool dozed off again. "Have you built the profiles on our foes and their potential risk yet?" The man nodded and hit the play button on the projector. Two midget orcs pulled themselves out of the rather large machine along with a few large screens. They placed the first one on the wall.

Vehicle: Mount Zoom; A wonderful vehicle.
Driver: Sauron; Dark Lord, owe him tribute.
Passenger: Mouth of Sauron; Arrogant and talks too much.
Potential Risk: Yes.

Saruman grunted angrily, what sort of profiles were this? They told him nothing of his enemies. Owing to Grima this may actually end up being a hard race to win but they would cheat anyway. Saruman walked over to Grima and smiled at him. "Well, lad, have you at least hidden the Uruk-Hai in the crates as I asked you to?" He asked to which Grima nodded, "Yes, sire!" Saruman's smile widened, seemed the fool had done something right, "Excellent! Maybe you aren't as big an idiot as you look. Do you know what we are to do with them?" To this Grima shook his head, "No, sire." Saruman let out a cackle and said, "We shall deploy them along our course so that they hinder our opponents!" Grima was shocked at what he had heard, "But sire, wouldn't that be cheating?"

Saruman gave him a blank look, what sort of idiot had he picked as an assistant? "...Yes..." "But sir, isn't that what the villains would do?" Saruman sighed and shook his head causing his beard to move from side to side rather violently, "We are the villains you idiot." Grima smiled, "Well at least now our motto makes sense, 'Win or lose always cheat.' Only one problem." Saruman frowned, "What is it now Grima?" "I forgot to pack the crates." Jolly good Grima, you've done the deed but forgotten to carry it along for the results. Saruman sighed and shook his head but what had been done had been done, it seemed the Mach 5 had been left tool-less. But enough of that, it was now time to check the maps.

"Grima, what way do you think we should go?" Saruman asked his assistant, studying the maps. "How about we go East sir?" "East? Yes, I've been east before but we shall eventually run into the sea." "Nonsense sir, by moving east we shall move off the edge and end up on the other side." Grima said, beaming proudly. "No more 2-D side scrollers for you, you're enough of an idiot as it is. Now hush, let me think." So Grima let his master be and went back to his little nap.

Saruman though for a while, he thought as he stroked his long white beard.

Those wretched hobbits were in this race. They had beaten him in the Finest Pipe-Weed Battle. Damn them.
And that Sauron and his Mouth? Hmph, they had won the Villain's Baking Contest, Saruman's cookies weren't pretty enough. Damn them.
And oh look, if it wasn't dear Eowyn and Theoden. They had beaten him at Helms' Deep somehow. Damn them.
Denethor and Faramir. They had been beating him in the Garden Variety Show for three years now. Damn them.
And the Witch-King and that other guy with him. They had been on the cover page of 'Evil Glorified' over him. Damn them.
And then there was Gothmog and his orc. They were probably filler. Damn them.

And that about summed up what Saruman thought about his foes. Now, back to thinking about where to go. He continued to stroke his great white beard, where should they go? Which way would lead to victory? Perhaps the ought to move South-West till they arrived at the Gap of Rohan or they could always cut West and head for Rivendell. Choices, choices... it was time to awaken Grima once more. Saruman hobbled over to Grima and the staff did the rest. "Listen Grima, we must decide which way to head. It seems the time to set off has arrived. Come I shall speak to you as we drive."

Saruman walked to the large balcony of the Orth-Tank and on the mark, he set off. "Now Grima we could head South-West and make for the Gap of Rohan but I hear we're not liked there, I wonder why... or we could cut West for Rivendell. What say you?"

---
Menel, I'm not sure if you're still here or not (kinda forgot when you're going and too lazy to check) but if you are then reply to this if you can. I'll check back every now and then and post again with the final direction before the deadline.
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Old 04-09-2006, 04:49 PM   #9
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An Unexpected Corporate Event

Bilbo Baggins peered nervously out from the curtains of Bag-Endless-Fuel and then fell back into a chair and put his head in his hands.

"Goodness gracious," he thought to himself. "All those people! And if I know these Middle-earth types, they'll all be wanting to come in for tea. I really do not know if there is enough in the pantry for all of them. I was rather hoping to save that large seed-cake, the pork pies and cheese, the carrot cakes and a few bottles of that porter that we picked up from Eryn Lasgalen on the way for the celebration of our victory."

He peeked out again, but the crowds were still there.

"Confusticate and bebother those Dwarves," he said aloud, his thoughts drifting back to the occasion which had prompted his participation in this race ...


Quote:
One quiet, sunny morning some months previously, just after second breakfast, as Bilbo had been sitting outside his front door smoking his pipe, Gandalf had come by.

"Good morning, Gandalf!" Bilbo had said innocently.

And Gandalf had peered at him from underneath his great bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat. It was a look that Bilbo knew only too well.

"No!" he had said immediately. "No, Gandalf. I'm not interested in any more of your adventures. And, before you ask, I wish you good morning and mean that it is a good morning whether you want it or not and that I feel good this morning and that it is a morning to be good on. All of them at one and the same time."

"Calm down, Bilbo," Gandalf had replied. "It's not breaking and entering this time. Or dealing with Dragons. Or even extended Ring Quests. It's just ... er ..." And at this Gandalf had cast his eyes to the ground in a rather embarassed manner. "It's just that I met this Dwarf and we got talking. And he told me about a little race that he was organising. And, well we had a few ales together, and one thing led to another as it does, and ... well ..."

"And ...?" Bilbo had enquired impatiently, and not a little fearfully.

"And ... er ... well, I ended up entering you in the race."

"Well, you can just go back and un-enter me."

"It's not quite as simple as that, Bilbo," Gandalf had continued rather uncomfortably. "I .. er ... well ... I placed rather a large wager on you."

"Sorry! I don't want any races, thank you. Not today. Good morning! But please come to tea any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Come tomorrow! Good-bye!"

And with that, Bilbo had turned and scuttled inside his round green door, shutting it as quickly as he dared, not to seem rude. Gandalf in the meantime was still standing outside the door, feeling rather abashed. After a while he had stepped up, and with the spike of his staff scratched a queer sign on the hobbit's beautiful green front-door.

The next day, Bilbo had almost forgotten their conversation, when a knock had come at his door.

"Bah! That pesky Wizard!" He had thought to himself. "Wager or no wager, he can count me out of this silly old race. I'm too old to be driving helter-skelter all round Middle-earth."

But it was not Gandalf. It was a Dwarf all nicely doled up in a corporate suit. And it was not long before another arrived, and then another, and then yet another. Before long, there were thirteen Dwarves and one arm-chancing Wizard sitting in his living room eating him out of burrow and home. The most important of the Dwarves seemed to be a grand old fellow with a long, grey beard, called (rather appropriately) Dwarfy Dwarf. It seemed that they represented a company called Mount Zoom Challenge Enterprises and that they were keen on Bilbo entering the race. Before long, they had brought in a whole range of instruments. Dwarfy Dwarf himself played a great, green and black kazzoo marked Barrow-Downs™. And, as their voices struck up in song, Bilbo was transported to pit-lanes lined with gold, running with rivers of axle-grease and high octane fuel.

The Dwarves of yore made mighty races
With drivers skilled like flying aces
In circuits wide, where crowds went wild
And testing tracks put them through their paces

Then Dragons came with blazing fires
And turned the tracks to burning pyres
No more did drivers come from Arda-wide
No more did crowds thrill to spinning tyres

The time has come to race once more
To fill the stadia with crowds that roar
With punters willing to pay in gold
For tickets priced at twenty score

Far over the misty mountains cold
To hospitality corporate and circuits old
We must away, ere break of day
To claim our audience ratings gold.


And, as the night drew in, Dwarfy Dwarf had unfurled a great map of the race course and begun to explain the rules. And, of course, it had not been long before Bilbo's Tookish side had kicked in, with some rather self-interested encouragement from Gandalf it must be said, and he had started asking all kinds of questions.

"But what shall I drive?" he had eventually asked.

And Gandalf had raised his hands to indicate the burrow in which they sat.

"Behold Bag-Endless-fuel," the Wizard had solemnly intoned.
"Confusticate and bebother those Dwarves," Bilbo repeated, surveying the various cogs, wheels, pipes and gears that now ran throughout his beloved Hobbit hole. He was rather regretting having employed Ted Sandyman as Chief Mechanic. Not to mention Gandalf's wizadry in the engine room. Bilbo wondered how long a vehicle could run on fireworks alone. Of course, he was now rather regretting the entire enterprise and his mind was racing for a way out. And before long, a sly smile crossed his face, just as his nephew and co-pilot entered the room.

"Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said. "They're waiting for you to make your driver's speech."

"Are they indeed, my boy. Well, I shall not keep them waiting."

And so Bilbo Baggins was soon standing on the podium, his tiny figure dwarfed by the huge crowd.

"My dear Gondorians and Rohirrim,", he began. "And my dear Rivendellians and Galadhrim, and Hobbits, and Dwarves, and Arnorians, and Isengarders, and Orcs, Trolls, Ringwraiths, Easterlings and Southrons. I hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am."

Deafening cheers. Cries of Yes (and No). Bilbo was thankful that the ale tent had been open for some hours already and that the hordes before him would therefore have cheered anything that walked and talked, and some things that do neither, by this stage.

"Well, I don't know half of you as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. But I must say that I am most honoured to have been invited to participate in this race. Bag-Endless-Fuel is a wonderous machine, crafted and honed to perfection by the greatest craftsmen of the Shire. And not a little wizadry to boot. I have no doubt whatsoever that it shall be taking the chequered flag first, when eventually it arrives at the Grey Havens."

More cheering. Noises of trumpets and horns, pipes and flutes, and other musical instruments.

"But I must, alas, tell you, that I shall not be accompanying the vehicle myself. It is high time that my nephew and heir cut his teeth, and I shall be handing the enterpise over to him. Elrond of Rivendell has offered me a nice cushy little number transcribing old tales in the Last Homely House. It was an offer that I could not refuse. And so this, my friends is goodbye. I give you the driver of Bag-Endless-Fuel, Frodo Baggins."

And with that, Bilbo, who had been fingering a rather familiar band of gold in his pocket during the speech, vanished!

The crowd went suddenly quiet and all eyes turned to a rather shell-shocked Frodo.

*******************

Edit: Caranlondien, Bilbo will be preparing for his journey to Rivendell in Bag-Endless-Fuel if you want to discuss tactics and direction before he sets off.

He shall of course be kicked out of Rivendell by Elrond before long and return to resume his role in about a week's time.

Sorry to lump you with the first few legs ...
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Old 04-09-2006, 05:02 PM   #10
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VROOOOOOM!

"I say we head through Moria, my lord," Grima replied.

"WHAT?!" Saruman practically exploded. "You want to get us tossed into Khazad-Dum by that Balrog? You must be crazy!"

"Let me explain," said Grima. "If I install some of these rocket-hovercraft things on the tower, we can float over the depths and not have to worry about anything happening. As for that Balrog, if he tries to fly after us, you can easily trick him into thinking he doesn't actually have wings so he crashes."

Saruman just stared at his underling.

"Ummm, but the final decision's yours," Wormtongue hastily added, then dashed off to one of the other levels of the wheeled tower.
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Old 04-09-2006, 08:38 PM   #11
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The Problem with the Orcs

The Witch-king of Angmar, having swooped back to the gates of Minas Mor-go, withdrew a hunk of fetid meat from his tattered robes and fed it to his steed as a reward for its good work. It gobbled down the meat and swooped back to its perch on the spiky towers of the city. "Let's see what Ringwraith #4 has been doing down in the dungeons, and if he's got those orcs in line yet," he said to himself. He descended from the gate by steep, winding staircases lit by the eerie green glow that permeated the entire city. Down and down he walked, through windowless towers and down onto the desolate city streets. He now walked through the empty streets, where the buildings lay abandoned for thousands of years. He soon came to the great tower, which he entered, and descended more steps straight down into the gloomy innards of Minas Mor-go. The groans and shouts of a thousand orcs reached soon reached his ears, and in no time at all, the Witch-king of Angmar had arrived in the dungeons of Minas Mor-go, where over a thousand orcs toiled day and night to spin the huge axles of the city, propelling Minas Mor-go across the land.

He now entered the main dungeon, one gigantic hall, with a great beam of ent-wood crossing the entire space, a beam as wide as a man is tall, and suspended three feet off the ground. This was the great front axle, extending all the way from one shadowy end of the hall to the other, the entire length on Minas Mor-go, and along with the back axle supporting the entire city. All along one side were hundreds of orcs, chained in place to the floor, and all howling like madmen. Right at the middle of the axle was a horrible stain of blood, and dead orcs were piled all around it. Ringwraith #4 stood nearby, flogging an orc to death.

"Did you kill that orc, the one whose arm is missing?! Did you!? I swear, if you did, I'll feed you to the furnaces! Bad orc, bad orc!" He continued flogging the orc mercilessly. The orcs continued to howl.

"SILENCE!" shouted the Witch-king. "What happened here? Why are some of the orcs dead? Why aren't they rolling the axles?"

Ringwraith #4 stopped flogging for a moment. "Well, sir, it seems that those orcs on the left end of the axle were taunting those on the right end of the axle. One of them spat at another, and pretty soon a fight started. Some of the ones in the middle got killed. I think we need to shorten their chains."

"I see that," the Witch-king said. He now addressed the orcs in his best orc-speech, "Any one of you seen fighting will be thrown under the wheels and crushed like a worm! That means you get killed! Do you understand me!? Killed, and your guts will splurt out!" The orcs fell silent. Now he addressed Ringwraith #4, "Start chaining the left-axlers to the axle. Let's show them what happens to disobedient orcs. Make sure to space out the right-axlers to even out the spacing. Bring some back-axlers up here to the front axle if you have to."

"Yes, sir!" said Ringwraith #4, and began his duty diligently. "So, sir, where will we be headed to once we've got the orcs started pushing again?"

"I've been thinking that we should head due west, into Mirkwood. We've lost precious time with this orc problem and I think the quickest route possible will be best. What do you think?"

"I think that's a fine idea sir," said Ringwraith #4, "But don’t you think heading south could be better? Mirkwood won’t be in the way, after all."

"And let Gothmog and Saruman get ahead!? No way. We've lost precious time and we need a direct route straight to those Havens. My old realm of Angmar also is in the west. I've still got some buddies there. West it is."

"West it is then."

"I'll be up at the steering wheel on the gates. Join me when you've finished chaining those orcs and we can get started."

"Yes, sir."

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Old 04-09-2006, 11:27 PM   #12
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The Dark Lord stood atop the mighty Mount Zoom, surveiling all that would soon be his. This race was just the beginning. Today, the Mount Zoom Challenge. Tomorrow, THE WORLD!

Sauron sipped at his peppermint tea as Dwarfy the Dwarf unveiled his glorious Racing Machine of Doom. (Sauron never started the day without his peppermint tea; it helped settle his stomach. Being evil could wreak havoc on one's digestive system.) Fireworks exploded in the background as his servants violently persuaded the onlookers to cheer for him.

His all-seeing eyes swiveled downwards, to cast a dirty glance at the other racers. Those pathetic RIP-OFFS! No vehicle could come close to the awesome power that was Mount Zoom!

"YOU ARE ALL FOOLING YOURSELVES!" Sauron boomed down at the other racers, the Good Guys in particular. "YOU MUST KNOW BY NOW THAT NO-ONE CAN DEFEAT ME! UNLESS OF COURSE YOU PLAN ON SLICING OFF A FINGER. OR, YOU KNOW, LIKE, SENDING A HOBBIT TO MOUNT DOOM OR SOMETHING." Deciding to abandon this train of thought, the Dark Lord pointed an incriminating finger at Saruman.

"YOU!" he yelled. "ONE WHO SECRETLY SERVES ME! ARE YOU READY TO SUFFER ANOTHER HORRIBLE DEFEAT? MUST I BRING UP LAST YEAR'S VILLAIN'S BAKING CONTEST??" He held a gigantic gold trophy over his head; a great cup with a golden cookie on top. The words: "Sauron, First Place!" was engraved on the front. "HOPE YOU CAN DRIVE BETTER THAN YOU CAN DECORATE SUGAR COOKIES, OLD MAN!"

As the mighty Dark Lord touched his thumb to his nose and wiggled his fingers in mockery of Orth-Tank and Minas More-Go, a figure appeared behind him. Sauron stopped, hearing the Mouth approach.

"My Lord, you're supposed to make a speech to the Audience," the Mouth reminded him. Sauron stopped his chant of "NYA NYA NYA NYAAA-NYAAA!!" and regarded him with as much confusion as an expressionless mask could muster.

"ISN'T THAT YOUR JOB?" he asked. "I THOUGHT THAT WAS OUR AGREEMENT, MOUTH. I HANDLE WORLD DOMINATION, YOU HANDLE PUBLIC RELATIONS." He scratched his helmet, making a horrible nails-on-chalkboard sound. "WELL... I SUPPOSE I COULD GIVE IT A TRY, JUST THIS ONCE..."

He strode to the edge of Mount Zoom. With a snap of his fingers, the spotlights hit him and his theme music began. The Dark Lord cleared his throat politely.

"PEOPLE OF MIDDLE EARTH!" he boomed. "PREPARE TO BE CONQUERED! I, SAURON, WITH MY MIGHTY MOUNT ZOOM (WITH ITS LEATHER SEATS, EXTRA-LARGE CUPHOLDERS, AND TOTALLY SWEET STEREO SYSTEM), SHALL WIN THIS RACE IN THE NAME OF EVIL! YOU WILL CHEER FOR ME, OR BE DESTROYED BY MY MINIONS, WHOM I HAVE SECRETLY HIDDEN AMONGST YOU." A wraith in a hobbit costume giggled happily and waved to his master. "I WISH MY FELLOW RACERS THE BEST OF LUCK *COUGHCOUGHLOSERSCOUGHCOUGH* AND MAY THE BEST EVIL OVERLORD WIN!"

Those audience members seated closest to the Wraiths started cheering wildly, fearing for their lives. Sauron, pleased, turned around and walked back to the Mouth.

"HOW WAS THAT, MOUTH?" Sauron asked. Without wating for a reply, the Dark Lord pulled out a map. "I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT OUR ROUTE FOR THIS RACE. I SAY WE JUST FOLLOW BAG ENDLESS-FULE, SO WE CAN RUN 'EM OVER AND TAKE THE RING WHEN NOBODY'S LOOKING. WHADDAYA THINK?"
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Old 04-09-2006, 11:49 PM   #13
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Frodo:

Inside Bag-Endless-Fuel, Samwise Gamgee was sitting across the kitchen table from a glum Frodo.

"I know Mr. Bilbo's running off leaves you in a spot, Mr. Frodo, but you've still got us as wants to help you." He motioned to indicate the other hobbits standing about the kitchen. Merry gave a sympathetic nod as he consulted one of Bilbo's old maps, and Pippin looked up from his plate, atop which rested one of Bilbo's seed-cakes, to grin widely at his host.

"I don't see what all this fuss is about," said the Took. "Without Bilbo about we can all eat a proper meal in peace!" His companions looked at him incredulously.

"Pippin, you started eating that cake before Bilbo left," said Sam. "In fact, didn't he offer it to you?"

"Yes, but this is hardly a full meal!" Pippin responded indignantly. "I mean to say, we were all so busy earlier, following all Bilbo's instructions, we full well missed second breakfast."

"I'm just glad he hasn't set off any fireworks yet," Merry whispered to Sam.

Sam shook his head disapprovingly and turned back to Frodo. "So, Mr. Frodo, which direction do you think we ought to start off in?"

Frodo looked at Merry, who took his cue and laid a map out on the table. Pippin picked up his plate and joined the others in peering at a dot marked "Lonely Mountain".

"If we go due West, we'll pass near the Elvenking's Halls," Merry explained. Sam glanced at Frodo nervously.

"Isn't that where Mr. Bilbo was taken prisoner by the elves?"

"Yes," said Frodo. "But he was held captive by Thranduil, father of our old friend Legolas. He will surely help us in this task. I think that a western path is our safest bet."

"Speaking of safety," said Sam, "what do you think of Mount Zoom?"

"What about it?" asked Pippin as he opened one of Bilbo's cupboards.

"Well, we all heard the Dark Lord say he planned to follow us."

"Yes, he does talk in quite a, er, booming voice," said Pippin. "Do you suppose he really thinks we couldn't hear him?"

"I don't know," replied Frodo. "But if they do try to run us over, they'll just go over us. I mean, we're a hill."
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Old 04-10-2006, 12:05 AM   #14
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Eowyn:
Eowyn blushed at all the attention from the crowds,she was well aware of the signs regarding a certain captain being held aloft. She gazed for a moment with a dreamy look towards the Taxi unable to pry her eyes.

Theoden gave her a nudge"....ummm dear...the race remember...."

"Oh yes, Ummmm We shall go South-West, that way looks the nicest" She pointed out gracefully. "Uncle you go make one of your rousing speeches, while I go look for something to wear! I cannot possible be seen beating the heck out of Minas Taxi wearing this old rag!"

And with a whistle she was off towards the Medel Zoom.
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Old 04-10-2006, 06:46 AM   #15
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A Shadow of the Fast (Lane)

Frodo was studying the race map when there was a sudden commotion next door. Cautiously, he crept into the hallway, only to find it empty. Suddenly, a tall, cloaked figure jumped out at him. Frodo leapt halfway out of his skin.

“Is it secret? Is it safe?” the figure hissed.

“Gandalf! What on earth are you doing frightening me like that. It’s totally out of character,” admonished Frodo, once he had recovered his composure. “And what are you talking about?”

“The Ring …!”

“Bilbo’s Ring? I assume that he took it with him.”

“No. he didn’t. With a little … er … encouragement, I was able to persuade him to leave it behind.”

“Gandalf! You threatened to uncloak, didn’t you.”

At this, the old Wizard cast his eyes to the floor, somewhat abashed. Then he looked up and over to the mantlepiece. Frodo’s eyes followed his gaze and there, behind the carriage clock, he spotted an envelope addressed to him. Quickly, he grabbed it and tore it open.

“Bilbo’s Ring! But why has he left it for me?”

“It is a Ring of great power, Frodo. Indeed, if my suspicions are correct, it is the One Ring itself.”

And with this, Gandalf took the Ring and threw it into the fire blazing in the hearth. Recovering it with a pair of tongs, he dropped it into Frodo’s hands.

“It’s cold!”

“Look at the inscription, Frodo.”

“There’s nothing there … wait a minute. Some writing is appearing. But I cannot read it.”

“The inscription is in the Black Speech. In the Common Tongue it reads as follows:

One Ring to fuel them all
One Ring to prime them
One Ring to spin them all
And in the chamber fire them.


It is as I feared, Frodo. This is the One Ring of Zoom, forged by Sauron in the fiery engine room of Mount Zoom. Through it, one may harness the power of the other great Rings of Power. The three Elven Rings of Power-Assisted Steering. The Seven Rings of Fuel Injection. And the Nine Rings of Traction Control. It also comes with complimentary Sat Nav, a handy Cloaking Device system and a one year limited warranty.”

“So this is the Ring that Sauron spoke of in his speech?”

“Indeed it is, Frodo. He wants it. With it, he would have limitless engine power and none could prevent his ultimate victory in this race. He must not have it.”

“But Sauron already knows that we have the Ring. He plans on following us in Mount Zoom. What shall we do?”

“You must stay ahead of him at all costs. And you must harness its power to win the race yourself. Otherwise, I shall be undone. Those Dwarven debt collectors are not known for their pleasantries.”

“Well, we should leave immediately. But Mount Zoom is going to be hot on our tail.”

“Hmm, perhaps I could create a slight diversion to give you a head start. A mild uncloaking episode may suffice …”

Meanwhile, unseen by all, a small, wizened figure sporting great racing-goggles over his goggle-eyes and ill-fitting mechanics’ overalls surreptitiously slipped over the fence of Bag-Endless-Fuel and silently concealed himself in its bushy bodywork.
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Old 04-10-2006, 07:36 AM   #16
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The Gore Begins

Gothmog looked at the scattered remains of his loyal servant and grunted "oh well free meat." He quickly ate a leg and arm and looked back to Barad-Dash everything looked to be in order except he was short a co-pilot...

Gothmog searched the Halls looking for a suitable replacement and found
orc #429187943b his loyal friend, Goblash's, little brother although Gothmog had dealt more with Goblash than this orc there had been some serious run-ins. But Gothmog knew in his now filled gut that he would be an excellent co-pilot.

Gothmog looked about at his opponents Sauron was making some ridiculous speech. Always his way, long-winded. Gothmog looked about and had just one thing to say to these future losers.

"Greetings to you fellow participants pay close attention for this is the only civility I pay you, you shall all perish ere the night is out and I will destroy you all and feast upon upon your flesh!"

Gothmog turned to his copilot "Now you grunt what is your name and which way do you think we should go, personally I think West-Southwest"

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Old 04-10-2006, 10:06 AM   #17
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Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.
The Eyrie copter

With the vehicles nearly out of sight, Dwarfy the Dwarf turned to the crowd and pointed towards the giant Palantir that he had had shipped over from Valinor via his 'underground' connections. He had given each of the drivers a small palantir, not powerful enough to transmit images, but good for a chat.
"Here we can watch the race," he said, "follow your favourite, and keep buying pop-corn!" the crowd laughed as Dwarfy bowed and left the podium. He made his way over towards five Eagles who were guarding a large construction. It seemed to be a giant nest, yet with a great pole sticking out of the top, and a thing that seemed to be a tale. Out of the top of the pole, were four great strips of iron that pointed in different directions.
Dwarfy bowed to the Eagles and said, "Thank you most kindly sirs, for bringing me this at such short notice." he placed ten silver coins in the largest Eagle's coin bag which hung about his neck.
"Not at all," replied the Eagle, "The pleasure was all ours. Please take care of our Eyrie copter!" Dwarfy bowed again and leaped into the nest. He went to the front and took hold of a large staff that was sticking out of the nest floor; he then pulled a smaller staff back and forth. As he did this, the pole on which the four iron strips were on, began to rotate, they got faster and faster until the four strips looked like a transparent circle above the eyrie. All of a sudden, the contraption took off into the air and soared above the clouds.

Dwarfy smiled and hummed a little dwarven tune to himself as he sailed above Mirkwood. He took out a small palantir and spoke to it;

"Attention all drivers!" and they all listened, "Looking out over the land and at your locations, I see you are all pretty much neck and neck. But there appears to be a challenge coming your way!"
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Old 04-10-2006, 10:06 AM   #18
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The First challenge: Troll Toll

There is a Troll in the road. He demands that all Vehicles pay the toll.
You do not have any money, by the way. I just gave it to the Lord of Eagles. Sorry.
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Old 04-10-2006, 11:33 AM   #19
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"TOLL?!?" Roared the Dark Lord, little flames burning in the eye sockets of his great black helmet. "YOU DARE DEMAND A TOLL, YOU WORTHLESS EXCUSE FOR A TROLL??" Sauron stopped; the flames extinguished and his gloved hand went to his mouth.

"Hee hee." he sniggered. "DID YOU HEAR THAT, MOUTH? I MADE A RHYME. DAMN, I AM CLEVER."

"Must you always speak so loudly, my Lord? I'm right here." the Mouth said crossly, covering his ears. "And anyway, everyone within a five-mile radius will be able to hear your evil plots if you yell like that all the time."

"THIS IS MY EVIL VOICE," Sauron explained. "IT MAKES ME MORE INTIMIDATING. LOOK, IT'S A DARK LORD THING. YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND."

"Whatever you say, my Lord."

Sauron turned his attention back to the troll, who was still waiting with an opened palm in front of Mount Zoom.

"I DO NOT HAVE ANY POCKET CHANGE, MOUTH," Sauron said. "I SPENT IT ON CHEETOS AND MOUNTAIN DEW FOR THE TRIP. I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU'D HAVE ANY...?"

The Mouth gave him a hard glare.

"VERY WELL. IT APPEARS WE SHALL HAVE TO USE MORE EVIL MEANS TO BYPASS THIS BEAST. I BELIEVE AN EVIL THINK-TANK IS IN ORDER, MOUTH. COME, LET US PLOT!!"

(OK Glirdan, come on in!)
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Old 04-10-2006, 01:04 PM   #20
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Pipe

Orth-Tank Tired of being second best

After a while of steady movement Saruman had left the Orth-Tank under control of Grima and had headed indoors to re-check his maps. Yes, they would travel through Moria. It would be a dangerous way but what did that matter, were they not notorious villains with the exclusion of Grima? Saruman chuckled lightly and headed towards a peadestel, yes, he had something that none else (with the possible exception of Mount Zoom and Dwarfy) possessed. He swept the sheet off the pedestal revealing a fine palantir. Sauman let out an evil laugh as the scene darkened to acknowledge the evil foreshadowing. All of a sudden, much to Saruman's surprise Grima stuck his head inside. "Sir!" He exclaimed. "How many times must I tell you not to interrupt during foreshadowing?" Snarled Saruman angrily, covering the palantir again.

"Sir is that a palantir?" asked the underling prodingly. "No... well everyone has one." replied Saruman sulkily. "Sir, I'm not sure a thing of such power is allowed." "Oh hush now! What did I tell you earlier? We're villains, we cheat. C-H-E-A-T; cheat!" Saruman shot at Grima angrily. "But hang on, if you're here who is driving? Are we even moving?" He added, strokig his great white beard. Grima hesitated and then began to speak, "Well sir thats why I'm here, you see theres a great big troll blocking the road and hes asking us to pay the toll." "Well, pay him and give him something extra... tell him we don't want anyone else moving forward." Saruman said sneering at Grima. "Perfect sir, just one worry." "What is it Grima?" Saruman asked watching his nails lazily. "Dwarfy the Dwarf took all our money." Grima said shuffling his feet. "What?!?" Shouted Saruman. "Dwarfy the Dwarf took all..." Grima was interrupted by Saruman, "Not that kind of what you fool. Now come, we must think of something to do."

So Saruman and Grima sat and they thought and thought and munched on some of Saruman's not-so-pretty cookies. "I know!" Shout up Grima all of a sudden. "What is it lad?" inquired Saruman, voice bursting with excitement. "Perhaps we could offer it some cookies!" Said Grima. "No, thats no good. That stupid Sauron will probably offer him his pretty cookies and then we'll be in trouble." Saruman shook his head. Grima asked him worriedly, "What do you propose my lord?" "Hush, let me think." Saruman sits there, thinking and stroking his beard. "I know!" Grima sprang up again. "Now what?" asked Saruman dryly. "Your voice, sire!" He said bubblily. "Somehow I don't think my singing will put the beast to sleep." Said Saruman impatiently. "No sir! Your voice, you could talk it into letting us past!" Said Grima suggestively.

"Oh now don't be an idiot you know that would never work but I've just had a brilliant plan. I shall talk our way past that no good troll! Lets see it resist the will turning power of my voice! I am a genius!" Saruman said raising up at full height and doing a few Boromir the Disco-King imitations. "But I had that idea first." Grima began to complain but a quick bonk on the head from Saruman's staff was enough to shut him up. "Are you saying you have a better idea Grima?" Saruman asked him raising an eyebrow as Grima squealed. "Well out with it."

---
Alright Menel, your thoughts and suggestions now.
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Old 04-10-2006, 01:29 PM   #21
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OCC - Sorry, I've been at school all day...

The Mouth was feeling quite defeaned. His Master had quite a booming voice when he was talking normally, but add to the fact that he was being totally evil as well as talking over the Moutain's engine, it was quite deafening...

"VERY WELL. IT APPEARS WE SHALL HAVE TO USE MORE EVIL MEANS TO BYPASS THIS BEAST. I BELIEVE AN EVIL THINK-TANK IS IN ORDER, MOUTH. COME, LET US PLOT!!"

"Yes my lord... but please, try and keep your voice down. It's making me go deaf in my..."

"NEVER MIND YOUR HEARING MOUTH!! WE NEED TO PLOT!! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

"Of course my liege, it's just that... Ah never mind. Let us plot indeed. I was thinking..."
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Old 04-10-2006, 02:35 PM   #22
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"What I'd suggest, my lord, is we use one of our little surprises on it," Grima said.

He opened a door. Inside were numerous cages in which about a thousand little rodents were frothing at the mouth and gnawing at the bars.

"WHAT?! THAT's where all that incessant squealing was coming from? Who put those hamsters in here? I'll kill him!" the White Wizard bellowed at a needlessly loud volume.

"Um, well, uh, I... kind of brought them along," Grima admitted.

He suddenly found himself being thrown to the ceiling and back.

"What I was going to suggest was that you could release these rabid killer hamsters against the troll. I mean, no offense, Master, but that voice of yours, well, it's, um, kind of horri-"

"YES?" Saruman glared at Womtongue, staff pointed at his face.

"Never mind," Wormtongue whimpered. "Though we could just run over the troll or feed him to the Wargs. Perhaps you could use that staff of yours to perform some kind of mind trick on him so he does something ridiculous, too."
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Old 04-10-2006, 02:59 PM   #23
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The Witch-king and the Troll

Minas Mor-go rolled happily through the woods of Mirkwood, snapping apart any trees unlucky enough to get in its way. They had already rolled past the elves, who shrieked and shot arrows at Minas Mor-go's impenetrable walls. The Witch-king, to amuse himself, dropped a few orcs onto them, and was very pleased to hear the elves scream. He watched with fascination, and called Ringwraith #4 over to the wall to watch.

"I don't think we should be doing that, sir," Ringwraith #4 said. "We don't want to lose many more orcs. Already we've lost ten from the riot, and now you've dropped seven more onto the elves!"

"Aw, come on, just listen to the screams. We can always grab more orcs when we reach the Misty Mountains. I'm headed back to the steering wheel."

"You mean no one's steering!?"

"Relax, I used duct tape to keep it straight."

And so the Witch-king of Angmar and Ringwraith #4 returned to the steering wheel. The Witch-king untaped it and began steering through the forest. Trees and branches snapped and Minas Mor-go dipped up and down through the little valleys. They followed a little path for a bit through the forest, though it was too narrow for even one wheel to rest upon, and Minas Mor-go straddled it. The good thing was that Mount Zoom and Bag Endless-fuel were nowhere in sight, and they did not come upon their tracks through the forests. We could be ahead, thought the Witch-king. But it was not long before the Witch-king slammed the brakes, sending Ringwraith #4 stumbling across the top of the gate.

"What? Why have we stopped?"

"There's a troll in our way," said the Witch-king, "And he's just sitting there, in the middle of the path."

"Why don't we just run over him?"

The Witch-king glared at him. "Are you always so simple-minded? We can't just run over him. Let's hear what he has to say."

So the Witch-king and Ringwraith #4 leaned over the ramparts and saw the troll sitting in the middle of the path. He was a fat troll, and pretty ugly, too, with tiny squinty eyes and a gigantic nose. The Witch-king said in his best Troll-speech, "You there! You, the ugly troll! Get out of the road!"

The troll shouted up at them, "Pay toll!"

"We don't have any cash! Let us through!"

"Pay toll!"

"Let us through!"

"Pay toll!"

The Witch-king retreated from the wall's edge and wandered back to the steering wheel. "Stupid troll. Too stupid to do anything. Can't even move out of the way. Dammit. We need to get past this troll! Ringwraith #4, what do you say we do?"

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Old 04-10-2006, 03:57 PM   #24
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Denethor:

Possibly to get the idea that he wanted to go East totally and completely out of his father's mind, Faramir had advocated going North-West.

"We can skirt the edges of the Grey Mountains, avoid Mirkwood altogether, and hopefully avoid the other racers, who will probably opt for a more direct course- right over the Elvenking's halls."

"Skirt the mountains, eh?" mused Denethor. "You seem to have a powerful attraction to anything in skirts."

"It's a natural term of the Westron language," retorted Faramir. "It's your dirty mind that's hearing what it wants to hear."

"I can hear things perfectly well," said Denethor. "And you said 'skirt'."

Faramir rolled his eyes.

So North-West it was, Denethor clicking Minas Taxi into overdrive, and away they went, passing over the Desolation of Smaug, and ever nearer to Mirkwood and the to-be-skirted Grey Mountains. Occasionally, Faramir descended down, down, from the Tower of Ecthelion to confer with Húrin of the Keys and the rest of the support staff of the city about a minor detail regarding the city's performance, but by and large the nuclear-powered city ran like a charm.

"Ha! I told you all those millions of castar spent on developing a nuclear bomb wouldn't be wasted! Pity the War of the Ring ended so soon," Denethor chuckled to himself.

"I'm half of the opinion that the ancient Númenoreans must have had nuclear technology, and that we just rediscovered it. The radiation could account for the decline of the Númenorean lifespan. Since the lifespan began to decline about the time of Tar-Atanamir, then I think we can possibly assume that nuclear technology was first developed in the aftermath of the War of Eregion, nearly employed by Ar-Pharazôn in his invasion (the real reason Sauron surrendered), and then lost in the aftermath of Númenor."

"Did you get that crackpot theory from Mithrandir?" scowled Denethor. "That sounds like the sort weed-induced nonsense he'd come up with."

"Actually, it's my own theory," said Faramir.

The control room fell silent.

"Well, at least she has a reliable fuel source," said Denethor. "That's the important part. Besides, if Saruman didn't spend all those millions of castar on developing us nuclear technology, then what DID he spend it on."

"Scuba gear and genetic research," replied Faramir.

"Scuba gear?" said Denethor. "What kind of a nonsensical theory is that?"

"Well, to find Morgoth's notes on the creation of the orks, he'd have needed scuba gear," replied Faramir.

"Only a weed-deluded old reprobate like Mithrandir would try a plan as foolish as that. It's almost as bad as the "let's send the One Ring to Mt. Zoom" theory."

"Well, Saruman is a smoker, and he's rather old, and reprobate does fit," said Faramir.

"Thorongil fits all of those qualities too," mused Denethor. "Any chance we could have him impeached on those grounds?"

"Arwen would kill you."

"What would she do?" demanded Denethor. "She's a seamstress, not a swordsman! She's admitted herself that the whole Ford of Bruinen sword-thingy business never happened."

"Of course not," agreed Faramir. "That was actually her size 88 embroidery needle."

"Why'd she only make Aragorn a flag!" said Denethor. "She could have knitted him a whole sail for those *CENSORED* black ships of his! That would have saved me a lot of anguish!"

"I'm sure she did it for the sole purpose of antagonizing you, father," said Faramir sarcastically.

"It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest," muttered Denethor.

To himself, Faramir muttered. "It's a good thing the Númenorean lifespan declined. I'm not sure I could take another 300 years of this."

Minas Taxi cruised on...

To the Reader: Yes, that's right, we haven't even made it to the Troll yet. What's your hurry? We've got in the neighbourhood of 40 hours left...
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Old 04-10-2006, 04:28 PM   #25
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A shameless ripoff
The race had barely begun when Medul-zoom began to slow down. Concerned, Theoden made his way to the horsengine room, where Hama had a big STOP sign up for the horses.

“Hama, you fool, what is this? We need to make it to the Gray Heavens faster than the other towers!! I guaranteed a win, it’s my word what’s on stake…. And quite a few gold coins”

“My liege! It is not allowed for those who are involved to bet on themselves, you cou…”

“Oh, faithful Hama, do you think that I am still the old, weak man who was poisoned by the words of Wormtounge? Have you forgotten that Gandalf has restored not only my striking good looks but also my sharp mind? Of course I did not bet on ourselves, it was Eomer. Now pray tell, why are we stopping?”

“There is a troll on the way, My Lord”

“A troll on our way?”

“Yes, Sir. A troll on our way”

“Why is there a troll on our way?”

“I know not”

“Then go and ask him!”

And so, the brave Hama escorted by a chosen group of riders approached the Orc. After what seemed like a short deliberation, Hama came back into Medul-zoom.

“He is asking for a toll, my King”

“But we have no money!”

“I know, I offered him a horse, but he said he was not hungry. Not hungry. These trolls are as uncivilized as they get. What are your orders now, my Lord?”

“Muster the Rohirrim, we will charge against it. He will run away or perish under our lances.”

[Start= Sound of a horn of Rohan] Time=5*Seconds Pitch= Rather High and whiny [/End= Sound of a horn of Rohan]

“Riders of Rohan” *cheers* “I call on you once more to defend all that is beautiful in this middle earth. A troll, spawn of the Dark Lord whom we defeated yet somehow appeared again (not that I’m complaining because I died in the battle and yet I’m here as well so it’s kind of a good deal… besides he does make some good cookies) is blocking our way, but we need to get through” *A few isolated claps, many confused looks*

“oh, ahem well… what I mean is…. [Start= Sound of horn] Forth Eorlingas!!!! [continue horn sounding dramatically as Theoden King quickly gets ahead of his column] “What the…” [/End=Sound of horn in a rather abrupt fashion]

“Hama, what is this? Why are you all just standing in place, making bubbles with your mouth? What kind of dark treachery is this?”

“My liege, we follow your orders”

It was only then that Theoden realized what had happened. “I should have never abolished the law of compulsory bathing, things are getting out of hand here” he grumbled

“Riders of Rohan!” he began, “I must ask that you listen to me, and listen well. My order was FORTH Eorlingas, not FROTH. See? Forth, as in forward, attack.”

Riding back into Medul-zoom, Theoden ordered all his riders to go take a bath while he plotted another way to get around this rather large Troll.

“I know!! we could catapult ourselves over the troll.”

“Theoden, have you been hanging out with Boromir again?” Interrupted Eowyn, who had just walked into the room.

“Well, daughter of my sister, I might have been. He is a very nice fellow. I know he would have helped me find a better way rather than criticize my ideas”

“Now, who do you think yo…”

“I do not meant to interrupt, my m’lady…” interrupted Erkenbrand “There is one way… but it is very dangerous”

“Well, speak up good man”

“Before we left, I trapped this beast… it used to terrorize the folk of the Westfold. I thought it might be useful in a situation like this. I could… I could bring it here if that is what you wish”

With Theoden’s approval, Erkenbrand stalked off the room and came back shortly with a small cage covered by a blanket. He placed it on top of a table and waiting a few seconds for the proper dramatic effect, he removed the blanket.

“Here it is, my Lord, the great beast of Westemnet.”

“Where, behind the rabbit?”

“It is the rabbit”

“But it is only a cute little rabbit!.... cruelly trapped on a cage” said Eowyn

“No, m’lady, he is a ruthless murderer, we lost ten men trying to trap it”

“You should have used the Holly Grenade” said Theoden, which drew many an odd look.

“Uncle, copyright….”

“Oh, yes Eowyn, you are right. I meant the…. Eh…. Well, nevermind that, tell us Erkenbrand what can we do with this…. Rabbit?”
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Old 04-10-2006, 04:36 PM   #26
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A Tall Toll Troll

Quote:
Originally Posted by Alcarillo
The Witch-king retreated from the wall's edge and wandered back to the steering wheel. "Stupid troll. Too stupid to do anything. Can't even move out of the way. Dammit. We need to get past this troll! Ringwraith #4, what do you say we do?"
Still slightly hurt from being called simple-minded, Ring Wraith #4 looked down at the Tall Toll Troll in disgust. The nerve of such a creature! To stand in the middle of a mirky wood and demand that a toll be paid. Why would he pick such a place for his Trolling and Tolling? Surely somewhere far away from the race (or closer to the other racers at least) would have been a much better place.

Looking at the troll bought him shorter time then he had hoped, for before long the Witch King demanded: "Well! What say you!"

Making a face at the Witch King (which he couldn't see, fortunately *), he searched his mind for an answer. He was startled to realize how simple his mind actually was to search through, and quickly came back with the first thought he could find.

"Well, all we have to do is wait 'til morning and he'll turn to stone!"

The Witch-King sighed deeply. In his most exasperated tone he said, "First off, it's so dark here in Mirkwood that the sun will never touch him. We'll wait here forever and he'll never turn to stone, and we'll have surely lost the race then! Seriously, think of something worthwhile!"

"Maybe we could use mirrors to reflect the light on him!"

"No, indirect lighting never works right, you Dolt! You better think of something quick or I'll chain you to the axle!"

Horrified at the thought, Ring Wraith #4 wracked his simple-mind for anything. But all he could think of was that horrible possibility of being chained down in the dungeon. He was not horrified of being chained to the axle... pain was something he enjoyed, actually. He was more horiffied of being stuck down there with all those dirty, writhing orcs! Ooohh, disgusting. Wait! That was it!

"Sir, Witch-King, maybe we can do something with the orcs? I'm not sure what we'd do, but I think we can spare just a few more for something."



*I know this is technically wrong because, although the Ringwraiths were invisible to mortals, they all lived together in the Shadow Realm, and so plausibly could have seen each other there. Still, I liked it so much that I put it in.
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Old 04-10-2006, 05:02 PM   #27
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A WONDERFULLY AWFUL IDEA

Mouth of Sauron sat in his seat, wracking his brain for an idea. "Wait! What if...no, that's no good. How about...no, that won't work either...." he thought to himself.

"MOUTH!! WOULD YOU STOP SAYING YOUR THOUGHTS OUT LOUD!? IT'S QUITE ANNOYING!!!" Mouth flinched at the sound of his masters voice piercing through his thoughts.

"Yes my lord. Sorry my lord." he said distractedly, still wracking his brain. "I wish he would stop yelling!! Man, I'm going to be deaf and I won't be able to do any more public relations for him. Then I'd be fired!! Oh no!! I can't be fired!! I haven't even gotten my benefits yet and boy do I need to see a dentist!!" he thought to himself. As the Mount Zoom approached the troll, an idea hit. It was a wonderful idea. It was an awfull idea. It was a wonderfully awfull idea. "Sir! I think I have come up with a plan!!"

"YOU HAVE!? TELL ME QUICK!!"
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Old 04-10-2006, 06:31 PM   #28
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Bag-Endless-Fuel

Queer Customs

As the crowds (and other drivers) gazed in horror at Gandalf's little diversion, Frodo ignited the rocket boosters and Bag-Endless-Fuel was away, gaining a much needed head start. Batteries of rockets shot out of its multiple exhaust outlets and swung skywards to burst over the Lonely Mountain in bright flashes of red, blue and green, drawing the eyes of the thankful onlookers away from the distasteful sight of the old Wizard uncloaking.

Once underway, Frodo switched to the Roman Candle jet propulsion. Colourful balls of fire popped out from the exhausts in rapid succession, as the motorised Hobbit hole sped south to the Long Lake. Then, turning west where the Forest River met the lake, it swiftly headed off towards Mirkwood.

And so it was not long before the mobile hill-and-burrow combo was picking its way through the mirky, woody blackness of the great forest of Rhovanion. Feeling rather pleased with himself for stealing a march on his rivals, Frodo was just beginning to relax when a cry rang out from above. It was Samwise Gamgee, who was perched in the bird's nest which some passing Thrushes (old friends of Bilbo) had kindly built on the chimney-top to serve as a look-out post. Frodo quickly cut the engine and doused the fire in the hearth so that Sam could make his way down the chimney-stack.

"Begging your pardon, Mister Frodo, sir," said Sam as he gingerly extricated himself from the fireplace. "But there's a mighty great Troll blocking our path. And he's demanding a toll to let us pass."

"A Troll-gate, eh?" mused Frodo. "Well they certainly have strange customs in these parts. He's only doing his duty, I suppose, but it's a taxing problem at any rate. What's your assessment?"

"Simple," said Merry appearing in the living room with Pippin and a crowd of mechanics. "Let's just give him some of Bilbo's dragon gold and we'll be on our way."

"Unfortunately, it's not quite as simple as that," said Frodo glumly. "All of Bilbo's gold was spent souping up Bag End for this race. We're out of funds."

"If we may makes a sssugesstion," hissed one of the mechanics, a queer looking fellow with large racing goggles and ill-fitting overalls. "Throw out one of the Hobbitses. Trollss like Hobbitses to eat. Yesss they do. And while the nasssty Troll is eating the little Hobbitses, we can ssslip passst him."

"No! I could never do such a thing," cried Frodo aghast. "Unless ... Pippin?"

"Me?" exclaimed Pippin in some distress. "But ...!"

"I was thinking that we could perhaps tempt the Troll with that mutton that you have been hiding away. Trolls like mutton too, I hear."

"But I was saving that for elevenses! With a nice mushroom pie and onion gravy. And a side dish of game pie with cranberry jelly. Oh, and some corn relish. And ..."

"Well, if you'd prefer to take its place ..."

And so, in no time at all, Frodo had disembarked and was offering the great haunch of meat to the Troll.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don't look like mutton again!" bellowed the Troll angrily. "Besides, I ain't hungry. I just ate. It's twenty pieces of gold or you ain't passing."

"Any more bright ideas?" enquired Frodo as he climbed back into Bag-Endless-Fuel. "The Troll ain't - ahem - isn't hungry."

"Well, didn't Bilbo once escape from some Trolls when they turned to stone?" piped up Pippin. "We could keep him talking until the sun rises."

"Isn't that rather obvious, Master Pippin, if you get my meaning?" said Sam. "Old Mister Troll won't be falling for a trick like that, I'll wager."

"And it only works when you have more than one Troll," observed Frodo. "You need to get them arguing. Otherwise it doesn't work."

"Besides, the sun is high in the sky," pointed out Merry. "We just can't see it for all these confounded trees. There's a clue in the name. Mirkwood, get it?"

"Oh!" said Pippin, unwrapping the game pie to help him think.

"What about the Ring of Zoom, Master Frodo?" suggested Sam.

"No. We cannot risk it, Sam," replied Frodo. "Mount Zoom is too close, most likely. We would be laid open to its Wheels of Fire. If only Gandalf were here. He would know what to do."

But that comforting thought was quickly dispelled by the distressing image of Gandalf uncloaking before a Troll.
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Old 04-10-2006, 06:57 PM   #29
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Hint, hint

"QUICKLY, MOUTH OF ME!" Sauron bellowed. "I DESIRE TO KNOW THIS IDEA OF YOURS! AS I DESIRE TO KNOW WHY YOU HAVE BROUGHT OUT ALL OF OUR CRAYONS AND LINED THEM UP ON THE CARPET! BE CAREFUL WITH THOSE! THEY MELT, YOU KNOW, AND RUG DOCTORS DON'T COME CHEAP!!"

Thus saying, the Dark Lord took a quick peek out the window, hoping that the troll had gotten bored and left. It hadn't. It had seated itself on a nearby uprooted tree and was staring balefully up at Mount Zoom.

"HEY YOU! TROLL!" Sauron yelled. "YOU STILL HERE?!" The troll looked down at himself, then up at the tower, then down at the tree, then at the tower again.

"Me think so," he yelled back. "But me need dees moneys now!"

It smacked its giant club against its open palm menacingly. Sauron withdrew back into the mountain.

"WE NEED MONEYS, MY MOUTH," Sauron said. "I DON'T THINK WE CAN RUN THE TROLL OVER; IT'LL SCRATCH THE PAINT JOB. WHAT IS YOUR PLAN?"
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Old 04-10-2006, 09:05 PM   #30
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The Witch-king has an Idea

"Sir, Witch-King, maybe we can do something with the orcs? I'm not sure what we'd do, but I think we can spare just a few more for something," said Ringwraith #4.

"You think we should send orcs at him? You, who was just an hour ago telling me to stop dropping orcs onto the elves?" the Witch-king said. This was why he hated working with others. Everybody was too stupid and forgetful to get anything done. "Typical hypocrisy, I swear. Go get me an Ád'vîl while I think about this. You're giving me a headache"

Ringwraith #4 rushed off to the Witch-king's medicine cabinet and the Witch-king rested in his comfortable, black leather armchair which he drove in, head in hand. He better come back soon, the Witch-king thought, he gives me the most horrible migraines. And that troll, how on earth can I kill that troll? Can I swoop down with my brilliant sword and thwack off his head with one great swing? No, their necks are too thick. Can we smash him under the wheels? No, I don't want any more stains on them. The Witch-king's rest was soon disturbed by the howling of orcs in the distance, and the twang of bows. Don't tell me those orcs I dropped have followed us!

The Witch-king rose from his seat and wandered over to the rear walls, where down the forest path he could see his seven orcs bellowing and scampering through the bushes, pursued by a hunting party of elven bowmen.

"Ringwraith #4! Get out here!"

Ringwraith #4 ran out of the great central tower with a glass of water in one hand and a pill in the other. "Here is your Ád'vîl, sir," he said. The Witch-king took the pill and swallowed it with a swig of water, then pointed at the orcs and elves. "See those orcs? Those are the orcs I dropped on the elves back at the halls of the elven-king. They've followed us and are being chased by elf hunters. I think we may have found our solution to our little troll problem. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That we can convince the elves to give us their pocket change to pay the toll?"

"Now, you idiot!" said the Witch-king, and slapped Ringwraith #4 across the forehead, "As the elves hunt the orcs, we can drop more orcs and give them instructions to lead the elves straight to the troll. The elves will kill the troll, and we can be on our way!"

"Sounds like a plan, boss. I'll get on it right away."

(Take it away, Ringwraith #4, I might not get a post in tomorrow)

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Old 04-10-2006, 11:13 PM   #31
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The Troll and the Hare

Erkenbrand: "Well my lord this is the plan I have devised. You M'Lady take this cage outside and place it in front of the Troll."

Eowyn: *Blanches*

Erkenbrand: "Don't worry you will be safe....I think...I mean yeah..Then you place the cage in front of him and run like Mordor."

Eowyn: *hands on hips* "I still don't see how this cute little bunny is supposed to get us by that very large Troll."

Erkenbrand: "That is no ordinary Bunny I tell you! It is the foulest, cruelest and bad temperedest rodent you will ever lay eyes on! It has huge sharp... It can leap about....Oh you must just take my word Miss Eowyn, this rabbit will make short work of that there Troll!

After a bit more convincing from Erenbrand and a good many pouts from Eowyn, she agreed to the plan as long as someone promised to brush her hair for her(at least a hundred strokes) later when she was ready for bed.
The door of Medul-Zoom creaked open, and Eowyn stepped out into the sun with the caged rabbit in tow. She walks fearlessly forward and placed the cage down in front of the Troll.

Eowyn: "I heed you one warning and one warning only! Step aside and let us pass for free!"

Troll: "Gimme money!" The Troll replied as he held out his hand.

Eowyn: "I heeded you fair warning! *Whips the towel off the cage*

Troll: "Wadda ya got there you mouthy little twirp?"

Eowyn: "A beast so fierce you will soil yourself!"

Troll: *With a gargled roar he lets out a laugh*

The Troll looks at the "Beast" in the cage and buckles over in a howling laugh.

Troll: "Aaaawwww what a cute little bunny wabbit,I will hug him,and squeeze him,and call him......

Eowyn: *Whips cage door open and backs up*

The seemingly harmless Bunny came suddenly flying out of it's confined like an arrow, before the Troll could finish with his statement. The rabbit visiously shears the Trolls leg off below the knee.

Troll: *Looks down* "Ha! meerly a flesh wound! Now give me my money!"

Eowyn: *Stares at Troll in amazement* "Meerly a flesh wound? It took your leg right off!"

Troll: "No it didn't."

Eowyn: "What? Your bleeding profusely and your stump of a leg is lying on the ground!"

Troll: " Like I said, meerly a flesh....."

Before the Troll again could finish his statement, the rabbit rebounded off a nearby tree and impaled itself into the Troll's chest.
With a shocked expression the Troll teeters and falls to the ground, stone dead with a mighty earth shaking thwomp.

Eorlingas: *Cheer* "Horray!"

The chest of the Troll begins to move as the blood soaked rabbit begins to emerge from within.

Eowyn: *Looks back at the Eorlingas* "With the Troll dead we may continue on our quest...errm...race..thing..." *Turns back to the Troll*

The rabbit now sat crimson in colour, nose twitching in the air, staring at them with an intenful glare.

Eowyn: *screams* "Run away!

Eorlingas: *echoing Eowyn's command frightfully* "Run away! Run away!"

They all run for the safety of the great Medul-Zoom. They rush inside and slam the door.

Eowyn: *out of breath* "Well dear uncle, I have done it when no other Man could! And I dare say I have the answer to that age old riddle....Yes when a Troll falls in the woods...it does make a sound, even if no one is around to hear it!"

With a flip of her golden locks she was off to change into something more fashionable at the moment....Varda knows you can only wear one dress for so long...

we shall continue on to the Southwest

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Old 04-11-2006, 02:43 AM   #32
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Faramir:

The day had passed smoothly. The unique aerodynamic features of Minas Taxi, including a magnificent rocky wall that cut the air like a knife through butter (although with 70% less fat), made the vehicle roll gracefully over the lands, and not long after Denethor and Faramir had finally agreed on the course they should take, the two saw the Grey Mountains rising tall in front of them.


HERE THER BE TOLLS!


A huge sign with eccentric handwriting had been thrust on the edge of the road. Denethor hit the brakes, but forgot to switch the gear, and with a loud bang the city leaped forward and turned off its engine belching so thick a volume of smoke that even Mt. Zoom would have been proud of it.

"Tolls! What do they mean tolls!" Denethor wheezed behind a cloud of radiating exhaust fumes.

"I think they want money, father", Faramir said.

"Well then, son. Hand me your wallet so we can continue our journey."


But it turned out that neither Faramir or Denethor had any money. They would have to try to speed past the tollkeeper although they were in the wild now, and rumours told about fierce tollkeepers who had done most imaginative things to people who had tried to avoid paying the fee.

"There will be hard battering and squealing tyres nigh at hand ere the day is full. Then death, or a swift flight to a pit stop", Faramir predicted glumly while gazing down from their birthday cake-esque vehicle. Its seven white layers glimmered and a tall spike projected pompously towards the skies like a candle.


"Unless... we give him something else that is as valuable as money", Denethor said sneakily.

"I'm not giving up my stamp collection!" Faramir cried clutching a thick book in his hands.

Denethor sighed exasperated. "Switch on the autopilot. We have business on other levels."
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Old 04-11-2006, 03:19 AM   #33
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Denethor:

"Confounded Dwarf!" growled Denethor, as they descended down to citadel to confer with Húrin and his mechanics. "Not a tharni between us. What else have we got of value- other than your precious stamp collection?"

"Well, the treasury's been sacked as well," said Faramir, "in addition to the private purses of us and the crew."

"This is a city of proud Númenorean heritage!" stated Denethor. "We must have many treasures!"

"Quite frankly, I doubt that this tollmaster- whoever he is- really cares for art," said Faramir. "That sign of his didn't look very cultured."

"Sirs," Beregond called down to them. "Another sign ahead. It reads: 'WARNIN: SLO 2 50 Kill-o-meeters Per Hour four toll-boothe'."

"Ignore it!" said Denethor. "I've made up my mind. If Thorongil gets to be Overlord of the West, then his city is exempt from paying tolls."

"There's another sign," Beregond called again. "It reads: 'STOP OR DYE, STOOPIDS!"

"Only someone who could actually back up their claim would make a claim like that," said Faramir, looking a bit apprehensive.

"Er... better slow down to 50," Denethor told Beregond, before turning to Faramir. "Dwarfy didn't rob the tombs, did he?"

"No..." said Fararmir, hesitantly, "why?"

"Because I'm about to do a little grave-robbing," said Denethor. "The Crown of Atanatar Alcarin is still in Eärnil II's tomb, right?"

"But, Father!" protested Faramir. "That's Aragorn's crown!"

"Wrong," replied Denethor. "It's the tollmaster's now!"

"But... but... you could be sacked!"

"The Stewardship is a heriditary office!" replied Denethor grandly. "Besides, I've got too much popular support. Thorongil would face civil war."

"You have popular support?" said Faramir. "Wow... when did this happen?"

"Another sign!" called Beregond. " 'Proseed to Gully Five 2 pay Trol the tol."

"A troll!" said Denethor. "So that is the fiendish tollmaster. Scratch the crown idea... what food have we got in the city?"

"Some dried apples, a bunch of Fritos, and several sacks of yam cubes in Targon's cellar," replied Faramir. "Nothing fit for trollish consumption."

"What DO trolls eat?"

"Sheep, cattle, goats, and other creatures of the same sort such as Dwarves or Hobbits," replied Faramir.

"Pity we didn't have Dwarfy handy," muttered Denethor. "What else do trolls like?"

"I've heard they have an affinity for talking accessories," said Faramir. "But I gave our last talking purse to Eowyn."

"And I'm too cheap..." said Denethor. "Well, if worst comes to worst, we can always huck you overboard. You must be worth one city's toll, I'd think."

"Father! You can't be serious!"

"You're right," agreed Denethor. "I always do these sorts of things to Boromir first. Where is that boy, anyway..."

"He took a boating cruise down the Anduin from Rauros," explained Faramir.

"Hmm... pity. Maybe I will have to toss you out."

Meanwhile, they were rounding the last foothill of the Grey Mountains, and tall, dark, shadowy figure stood stark against the setting western sun.

"The troll!" cried Faramir.

"Stop the city!" cried Denethor. Beregond hit the brakes abruptly, and Minas Tirith ground to a halt.

"OH GREAT TROLL!" Denethor called out from the city walls. "WE WISH TO PAY THE TOLL! TELL US WHAT THE FEE IS, THAT WE MAY SEE IF WE HAVE IT!"

There was no answer. The toll-troll did not move.

"OH GREAT TOLLMASTER!" Denethor tried again. "WHAT MUST WE PAY TO PASS YOU?"

Still, there was silence.

"Maybe he doesn't want the toll!" moaned Faramir. "Maybe he just wants to kill us!"

"Why on earth would he want that?" asked Denethor. "We've never met him before in our lives."

"Actually, I think I saw him once in a bar in Anorien..." said Faramir. "He looks like a guy I bummed twenty tharni off of."

"What was a troll doing in Anorien?" asked Denethor. "And what were YOU doing in a bar?"

"Sirs," interjected Beregond, "the troll still isn't replying."

Timidly, Denethor and Faramir descended out the city gates to speak to the troll face to face. They walked right up to the troll, and Denethor again began to speak.

"Hail, Lord of the Olog-hai! We are but poor travellers in a country far from home. This pitiful city is all we have to our names. Please give us safe passage through your realm, that we may find ourselves in better fortune!"

The troll said nothing.

"Father..." said Faramir. "I'm beginning to wonder if maybe the troll can't hear us."

"Of course he can hear us," said Denethor feverishly. "We just haven't said the right thing. Maybe if we swore an Oath, calling on Eru, with Manwë and Varda as our witnesses..."

"No, Father, I think there's something wrong with this troll," persisted Faramir. "It's not moving."

"It's biding its time," said Denethor, squinting his eyes in the late evening sun. "Just watch! As soon as the sun goes down, he'll pounce on us like kittens on a ball of yarn!"

"But wait!" cried Faramir. "Trolls turn to stone in the sunlight! This is a stone troll!"

"Of course it's a stone troll," said Denethor. "All trolls are stone trolls. Did you think it was an Ent?"

"No, I meant that it's turned to stone! It's harmless! Apparently, going North-West did us some good. There's no thick Mirkwood to shield him from the daylight!"

"Spare me the denouement!" said Denethor. "Tell Húrin to get the engine going. And send Beregond and a team down here to haul the troll back into the city. Looks like we've got ourselves a new hood ornament."

And so, Minas Taxi cruised on past its terrible, horrifying, but completely stone-frozen toll troll.

It continued on a course Due West of its current position.
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Old 04-11-2006, 08:15 AM   #34
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Pipe

Orth-Tank Sweet, sweet hamstermania!

Hamsters, unusual, nobody would expect anyone to pull such a trick. Yes, it would be perfect but perhaps they could be saved for later. Yes, maybe Saruman's voice would be all they required. After some thought, and beard stroking, Saruman called for Grima. "Come!" he said, "It is time to bring the troll to justice!" "But sir, we're the villains." Squealed Grima. "Yes... of course... we shall bring him to a justice of evil proportions. Follow me Grimey." "Thats Grima, sir." Grima cut in snivelling. "Right, same difference now shut your trap and come."

So Saruman walked out to the balcony of Orth-Tank with Grima behind him, holding a crate of rabid Troll eating hamsters. The troll that stood before them was huge and stupid of course. Saruman raised his staff and spoke, "Hello you fine troll!" The troll grunted and looked up at him, it grunted again and spoke. "Well ah'll be siah, would yah happen tah have any monah? I couldn't let you go thrah heah without any monah. Ah wahnah have yoh monah!" "What the hell did he say your sire?" Grima asked, peeping at it. "I believe he wants a waffle, get the man... troll... cow... troll... yes, troll a waffle Grima." Saruman instructed. Grima nodded and headed inside to get the troll a waffle.

"Now Mr. Troll we have no money. You do not care, you will happily accept the waffles and let us pass on our way." Saruman told the troll coaxingly. The troll however just looked at him stupidly. "Onlah Gondahriahn credits ahsepted yer lahdship." Said the Troll. "Yes, yes, as I said your waffles are on the way." Saruman smiled at the troll re-assuringly as Grima ran out with some waffles. "Here you are, sire." "Excellent!" Exclaimed Saruman taking the plate from Grima and sending it down to the troll who examined them, flipping them here and there. "Sir, we have given you your waffles I demand that you move from our path."

The troll grunted and just stood there, checking the waffles for money. "Grima?" Saruman inquired. "Yes, sir?" replied Grima hastily. "Whatever did you do to those hamsters?" Asked Saruman. "They're right over there, in that corner, I'll get them." But as Grima ran to get them he slipped on a conveniently placed banana peel, as he fell his leg connected with the crate of hamsetrs and knocked them off of Orth-Tank. The crate fell and splintered into a million pieces on the ground below, one of the splinters impaled the troll's eye. The troll groaned and dropped the plate of waffles, the hamsters (frothing at the mouth) looked at each other and then charged at the troll. In a few moments the troll was buried under a wave of hamsters, Saruman pulled Grima inside by the hand. "We're too young to see this." He said as he did.

After a few minutes they returned outside, Saruman winced when he saw the carcass of the troll. "Well... thats one way of doing things." He said re-starting the engine of Orth-Tank and such is how Saruman and Grima of Orth-Tank got past the challenge of the troll, they drove on south-west towards Dimrill Dale.
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Old 04-11-2006, 11:20 AM   #35
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Squish him into jelly

Gothmog had an excellent idea, an idea that would lighten his load and get rid of the Troll at the same time. Peering up the tower the fake eye of Sauron loomed, Gothmog peered at his copilot and began snarling in orcish "go loosen those bolts and let the eye crush this troll if we're lucky it may even roll into the paths of the others!"

As Orcky(for Gothmog still didn't know his name) Climbed the tower gothmog looked ahead at the Troll. "Friend you are about to be destroyed and Im hungry you look like you have a bit of meat on ya'"

The troll just laughed "You little pipsqueak just pay the toll or go back because as I always say a Toll is a toll and a roll is a roll we don't get no toll we don't eat no--" as the troll began to finish his sentence A giant red eye came as a meteorite from the sky landed on the troll the following shockwave was intense but not to bad. the eye slowly rolled into the surrounding trees.

"Well then," Gothmog looked ahead, "To bad the meats all destroyed at any rate we shall stay the course head for the Old road! SouthWest Barad-Dash rumbled slowly forward..."I feel the need the need for speed!" with that Gothmog grabbed his whip, "Time to 'encourage' the slaves"

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Old 04-11-2006, 01:13 PM   #36
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Bag-Endless-Fuel

(Barrels) On the Doorstep

Still recovering from the thought of Gandalf's most likely uncloaking-related 'solution' to their problem, Frodo sat with the other hobbits to consider their options. At long last he stood and turned to his friends.

"I suppose there's nothing for it but to send word to the Elvenking's halls, asking for aid," he said. "A single arrow let loose from Legolas's bow would speed us on our way."

"But Frodo," said Merry doubtfully, "Who can we send with the message? We need all the mechanics we've got to keep the fireworks under control. Sam's needed to keep watch, should Mount Zoom approach, and I still haven't planned as much of our journey as I should like to have done. That's every-"

"Ahem," Pippin interrupted. "I think, Merry, that you've forgotten the important contributions of a certain member of this team."

"Are you volunteering, then, Pip?" asked Merry of a rather chagrinned Pippin.

"Of course he's not!" Sam broke in quickly. "Mister Frodo, you can't send him."

Pippin looked about indignantly. "And why not?" he demanded. "I can manage it. I did fetch Gandalf, you know, when Denethor wanted to set Farimir and himself on fire!"

"Besides, Sam, he's the only one who could go," said Frodo. "Very well, Pippin. You must make haste, though! We don't want to lose our lead - Gandalf might feel the need to uncloak again!"

It was settled, and Pippin embarked on his journey after packing "a few necessities," as he called the basket of mushrooms, tarts, jams, and pies that was now strapped to his back. It wasn't long before the mushrooms were gone, and then the tarts and jams, and at last the pies. As he made his way towards Thranduil's kingdom, he likewise ate his way through the basket, and by the time he was nearing the Elvenking's halls, he realized he was quite thirsty.

At last he could see ahead of him the great stone gates that marked the entrance to Thranduil's halls. And standing before them was the most welcome sight he could have seen - an elf sitting atop a barrel, and drinking the contents of another. Pippin ran up eagerly.

*******

"So, you say Galion's your name?" asked the Took some time later, contentedly slumping back against the barrel his newfound friend was sitting upon.

"Yes," hiccupped the butler. "And your name is Pele-, Pere-, Peregli-"

"You can call me Pippin," the hobbit interjected. "And, I've come all this way to plead with your king to" (here he paused to hiccup) "to help my kinsfolk. We're friends of Legolas, you see, and there's this troll..."

"Well," replied Galion, animatedly moving his arms as he spoke. "Legolas is away at the moment, and you'll not find Lord Thranduil in good spirits. This wine, you see, was to have been brought here yesterday for a great feast, but due to delays... Well, the king blames me, and said the wine is worthless now, and told me to get rid of it." He took another swig of the stuff, clearly trying his best to obey his master's orders.

"Oh, I've a grand idea!" cried Pippin, eyeing the crates of mead.

*******

Several hours later, back at the Bag-Endless-Fuel, Sam waited impatiently in his perch for Pippin's return. When he finally did see the hobbit, he jumped up and stared unbelievingly. "Master Frodo..." he called down the chimney.

Frodo emerged from the door of Bag End to see Pippin sitting on the shoulders of a Mirkwood elf, who was rolling a barrel ahead of him. Both were singing:

Roll--roll--roll--roll,
roll-roll-rolling to the troll,
Heave ho! Heavy load!
Down it rolls, down the road!


As the song ended, the pair reached the base of Bag-Endless-Fuel. Pippin lurched off his companion's shoulders when he saw Frodo, and made an exaggerated bow.

Frodo took a moment to try to contain himself. "Pippin," he said through clenched teeth. "Where... are... the elves?"

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Old 04-11-2006, 01:53 PM   #37
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The Troll is Slain

The Witch-king rested in his armchair, feeling his migraine disappear, while Ringwraith #4 climbed his way down to the eerie dungeons. These dungeons give me the creeps, he thought, it's all the orcs, I can't stand them! He arrived in the dungeons and found himself in the great hall of the front axle. The orcs were having a fun time spinning the right axlers who were chained onto the axle, but now they sat, bored and disappointed to have stopped.

"What's the deal?" shouted one orc, the chief orc, whose name was Ôsh-gosh, "Why aren't we moving?"

"There's an orc in the road," said Ringwraith #4, "And he wants us to pay a toll, but we have no cash at the moment."

"You mean we're just gonna stay here!" said Ôsh-gosh. All the other orcs groaned.

"No, no. We've made a plan. Behind us we are followed by those orccs we dropped over the elves, and they in turn are being chased by elf hunters. I'm here to select those of you who will guide the elves to the troll. Once the elves have killed the troll, we'll be back on the road."

Several more cheerful orcs clapped. "Yay!" they said.

"And what about those who will lead the elves to the troll?" said Ôsh-gosh, "What's in it for us? Are you just going to leave us stranded in Mirkwood?"

"Pretty mu- I mean, uh, um," Ringwraith #4 searched his mind for a good reward. What would the Witch-king say? "You will earn undying power and glory."

"Hooray!" said those more cheerful orcs who had before said yay.

"Good enough for me!" said Ôsh-gosh. He started picking his best orcs for the task. He soon had four others, including his brother Bigôsh.

"I've picked Bigôsh, Hâsh-brâwn, Snûpi, and Grupí. Lead us to the troll!"

Ringwraith #4, keeping his distance from the slimy, filthy orcs, led the five orcs to the hatch through the bottom of Minas Mor-go. He opened it, and with a reminder to lead the elves to the troll, the orcs dropped through one by one. Ringwraith #4 shut the hatch, and made his way back up to the Witch-king on the gates. (though with a short stop at a restroom to wash his hands. Those grimy, germ-ridden orcs!)

He returned to the gates, where he found the Witch-king waiting.

"Sir, I've sent the orcs below into Mirkwood. I've sent five of them!"

"Excellent! Come see them run! Come over to the side here!"

Ringwraith #4 came to the Witch-king's side and peered down into the forest, where he could see the five orcs running to the troll, with the elves in hot pursuit. First Ôsh-gosh was killed as a flashing arrow stabbed into the back of his heart, and next Bigôsh was beheaded by an elf who had came close enough to use his sword. Then Hâsh-brâwn and Snûpi were killed by the same arrow. It went straight through one and right into the other. Grupí was now the only one left. He ran and ran, more scared now than at any point in his life, caught between nasty elves and an ugly troll. And all the while the elves could be heard singing:

"Tra-la-la-lally! We will hunt down all orcs and slaughter them and the paths of Mirkwood will run black with their blood! Ha ha!"

Grupí had now ran into the troll. "Pay toll!" the troll shouted as it smashed Grupí into a pulp with its club. But now the elves were unleashing a volley of flashing arrows onto the troll, and in seconds it was reduced to a bloody pincushion. The elves dragged away the troll's body, still singing.

"Tra-la-la-lally! He will make a good sofa! Ha ha!"

The Witch-king turned to Ringwraith #4. "That was fun to watch! They should turn that into a reality show. I'd watch it all the time on the Ithil stone." He returned to his comfortable armchair. "Well, Ringwraith #4, I say we continue due west. What do you think?"
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Old 04-11-2006, 02:33 PM   #38
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Bag-Endless-Fuel



Pippin sat miserably in a stool in the corner, wishing the others wouldn't talk quite so loud as they discussed what to do about his folly. Galion lay asleep on the floor next to him.

"We've lost enough time as it is!" said Frodo. "We can't go back to ask Thranduil for help."

"I can't think what else we could do, though," replied Merry.

"Master Frodo, could we offer the wine to the Troll?" suggested Sam.

"No, the wine is strong to us, but to the troll it would have little effect. He's already said he's not hungry, and I suspect he's not thirsty either."

"But can't he be reasoned with, then? Would it do any harm, to try talking with him? We may have none too much in our money-purses, but we must have something we could offer him!" Sam said in frustration. Frodo looked up suddenly.

"Talking... purses..." he muttered. Sam shot an uncertain glance at Merry, who shrugged in bewilderment.

Frodo looked at Merry and Sam in turn.

"It will be tricky," he said, "but I think I have a plan."

*******

The Troll stood in front of Bag-Endless-Fuel, looking blankly at a nearby tree. If only these hobbits would just leave, he thought to himself. He hadn't lied when he said he was not hungry, and having just eaten a big meal, he rather wanted to rest. But instead he had to stand there, blocking the path, until the little folk paid the toll or went away. Ah, he thought. Here they come now to pay up.

Frodo, Merry, and Sam approached the Troll. Sam rolled the barrel of wine ahead of him.

"We've come to offer you this wine," Frodo called.

The Troll scratched his head. "I already told you, I ain't hungry, and nothing but 20 gold pieces is going ter get you past me."

Frodo motioned to Sam, who pulled the crate off to the right-hand side of the path, and began to pry it open. "Just try some, at least," Frodo begged. "It's quite good, from the halls of the Elvenking!" Merry nodded in encouragement.

The Troll shook his head slowly. "That stuff ain't strong enough for a Troll, anyways" he said, sitting down heavily.

"But how else can we get by?" asked Frodo.

"I told yer," said the Troll, slightly confused. "20 gold pieces. That's the toll." He wondered if perhaps the hobbits didn't understand how tolls worked.

"Yes," said Frodo patiently. "But you see, we don't have 20 gold pieces. If we did, we'd gladly pay you. But as we don't have any gold, and we need to get by, we thought perhaps you see your way to letting us pass."

The Troll paused for a moment. "Nooooo," he said slowly. "I need 20 gold pieces. It's a toll, you see." He shifted his club from one shoulder to other.

This movement frightened Master Samwise, as the club came rather close to striking him on the head. During the preceding exchange, he had snuck as quietly as only a hobbit could, behind the Troll, dragging the barrel of wine with him. As the Troll moved the club to settle it on his shoulder, Sam ducked. He recovered his footing, took a deep breath, and plunged his hand into the Troll's pocket.

"Weren't there more of you?" asked the Troll, sure he had counted three hobbits. He tried to remember what they had been talking about. They had offered him wine - disgusting stuff, from the elves - and, yes, there had a been a third little creature, with a barrel of wine. "Where'd your little friend go?" he demanded.

"Don't you remember?" replied Frodo. "You said you didn't want the wine, so I sent him back inside." He waved his hand in the direction of Bag-Endless-Fuel.

"Oh..." said the Troll.

Samwise, his hand still in the Troll's pocket, used his free hand to pull a cup out of his cloak. Within the pocket, he closed his fingers around something and pulled it out - and, in his hand, was a purse.

"So, you're quite certain there's no way we could just pass by, you know, without paying the toll?" Frodo asked the Troll.

Quickly, Sam dipped his cup into the barrel of wine and, forcing the pouch's drawstring open, poured the liquid inside the purse. The purse, which looked quite ordinary, bunched up at the top, so it seemed almost to be furrowing its brow (although Sam knew it didn't have one). The drawstring pulled tight, then loosened, and emitted an enormous burp.

The Troll looked about in bewilderment. Frodo nudged Merry. "Oh, erm, Excuse me!" the hobbit called.

Sam quickly poured another cupful of wine into the purse, and then another. The purse's drawstring closed and began to open again, this time to hiccup.

"Shh," he whispered to the purse. "We need to borrow some money, but it'll be given right back!"

The purse seemed to consider this for a moment, and then agreed. "O' course, my fine friend. Just give me another (hiccup) sip of that, would you?" Sam hurriedly poured another cupful into the purse's open mouth. The purse sighed contentedly.

"Er, do you mind?" asked Sam in a whisper. The purse's drawstring loosened entirely, and Sam hesitantly reached his hand inside. He pulled out what they needed, then whispered a hurried "thanks," and dropped the bag back into the Troll's pocket.

Meanwhile, the Troll was attempting to explain the toll system to Frodo. "Fascinating stuff," said the hobbit when Sam signalled to him from behind the Troll. But don't you think we ought to close this transaction. Here, give this fine Troll the 20 gold pieces, Merry."

The Troll turned to Merry, and Sam took this opportunity to scurry back over near Frodo, gold in hand.

"Oh, er, Sam has it!" said Merry. The Troll turned back to Sam, utterly confused.

"Here you go, sir," said Sam, stepping forward. The Troll took the money and counted it.

"I thought you took that wine back inside your hill there," the Troll said.

"Yes, I meant to," said Sam, "But I got lost."

The Troll nodded. That, at least, he could understand. He moved aside, and soon Bag-Endless-Fuel was back on its way.

"Well done, Sam," said Frodo. "Now, which way, Merry?"

"I think we'd do best to head South-West. We can try to pick up the Old Forest Road, and head for Rhosgobel, and then to Beorn's house."

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Old 04-11-2006, 03:39 PM   #39
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"And that my liege is my plot."

"WHAT PLOT!? ALL YOU SAID IS I HAVE A PLOT AND THEN YOU SAID 'AND THAT MY LIEGE IS MY PLOT.' WHAT RUBBISH IS THIS?"

"Oh, I'm sorry my lord" Mouth winced. "Here is what I was thinking. How about we take a piece of paper, cut out a piece in the shape of a dollar, paint it green and add the currencey number to it. Then, we coax him into believing it's a real dollar!!"

"THAT'S AN EXCELLENT IDEA MY MOUTH!!! LET'S DO IT!!"

******

"OHH MISTER TROLL!! WE HAVE OUR PAYMENT FOR YOU!!" Sauron yelled. "COME AND CLAIM IT!" The troll yellped as he saw the fake dollar bill being tossed out of the Mountain's driver side window. "Oooo! Money, money money!!" he cried as he chased the bill. "Money!! Come to daddy! I promise I won't hurt you!! Come back!! Please come bacK!" Sauron and Mouth stared at the Troll until he faded into the distance.

"That was far to easy my lord."

"YES!! AND IT WAS ALL THANKS TO ME!! MWHAHAHA!"

"Yes, whatever you say my lord," Mouth rolled his eyes as he said it. "So, which way do we go from here??"

"I THINK WE SHOULD GO NORTH-WEST!! NO ONE INHABITS THOSE AREAS! NOT TO MENTION I HIGHLY DOUBT ANYONE ELSE WILL THINK OF GOING THAT WAY!!" Sauron yelled.

"I really wish you would stop yelling..."
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Old 04-11-2006, 05:25 PM   #40
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"Well, Ringwraith #4, I say we continue due west. What do you say?" asked the Witch-King from his comfy chair.

"Well, sir," started Ringwraith #4, trying his best to sound complex-minded, "heading due west will not take us directly towards our goal. We will be hundreds of miles to the north if we stay on that path. I think a path that is more west south-west would be a much more direct route, and will result in a faster race time and a more likely victory." He smiled with satisfaction at his own smartness.

The Witch-King just looked at him. Or rather through him. "Uhm... Sir?"

"Huh... Oh, what?" The Witch-King shook himself. "Sorry, I wasn't listening. There's just something about you trying to sound smart that puts me in a daze. Did you say you want to go south? What a stupid plan."

"Sir, I said west south-west. Not south. I know we don't want to go south." retorted #4, a little unhappy at being called stupid again.

"Oh. Well then, don't be so picky. West is just as good as west south-west. Now you're just trying to complicate things."

"But, sir..."

"No but's about it. We're going WEST, and that's final. Now, go get those orcs pushing and this massive mover moving!" finished the Witch-King, lounging back in his chair to wait for Minas Mor-go to start up again.

Ringwraith #4 trudged back towards the dungeon stair. He was not really upset about heading west, except where west took them. He had never liked visiting the other Ringwraiths realms of old, and he had doubts that the Witch-King would be able to pass up a visit to his begotten hold of Angmar. He personally would have loved to visit his own realm, which had been on the far side of the Sea of Rhûn, but that was out of the question. He could only hope to dissuade the Witch-King from heading west for too long, or else there'd be no avoiding the stop. It was unlikely to happen; he was the leader of the Ringwraiths after all, so he'd probably get his way. With that thought, he stepped through the last doorway into the dungeon.

*Ugh!* he though, *orcs again.* He pulled out his whip. "Alright, the troll's gone, get back to work! Push you mangy rats!"

"Where's Ôsh-gosh and the others?" one orc questioned.

"They're... enjoying their reward." said #4 with an evil smile on his invisible face. (<--- like that, only invisible. )
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