Pipsqueak woke up from a deep sleep, thinking he had heard somebody call
his name. As he lay there in the darkness, he heard it again: Paragraph Took,
hear my voice! At first he thought it was Gandalf, but this voice was
different; it was full of warmth, love, and sympathy, so much unlike
Gandalf's nervous babbling. This voice spoke the truth and Pipsqueak would
listen to it and obey what it would command.
  Beware! Gandalf has betrayed you all. Frodo must not be allowed to
complete his mission, and you are the only one who can stop him. Find an
Eagle whose heart is pure, and fly to Mount Doom. You must stop Frodo at all
cost; for if you don't, all of Muddle-Earth will fall into darkness!
  "Sss... uh, Aruman??" whispered Pipsqueak with trembling voice. He sprang
up, but there was nobody at the room, but as an echo he still could hear:
Even the smelliest personnnnn...

  Hand in hand, like lovers do, giggling Giggly and leggy Lego-Lass waltzed
into the City, after morning came; for she wanted to do some shopping, and
folk that saw them pass marvelled to see such an open display of inter-
racial affection; for long had Minas Tirith™ been yoked by a strict
moral code of the Stewards.
  "There are endless lines of toy-stores here," said Giggly looking around.
"But none for the adults, if you know what I mean. When Aragon takes over, I
will talk to him about opening a chain of erotic-shops, selling finest
handmade Dwarvish instruments of pleasure."
  "They need more strip-clubs and escort-services too," said Lego-Lass.
"When Aragon liberates the City, the people of the Wood will send to him
their best exotic dancers, and courtesans who won't hesitate in performing
any act."
  Their casual conversation was interrupted by Arwen, who came running after
them. "Where the hell is my beloved Aragon?!" she said. "He's nowhere in the
camp, and his bed hasn't been slept on whole night! That bastard better have
a good explanation for this." The warrior maiden was unconsciously squeezing
her sabre-hilt with her knuckles white.
  "Hard to say," said Lego-Lass with false sincerity. "Is there an
all-you-can-eat buffet anywhere nearby?" Giggly giggled uncontrollably, and
Arwen gave a menacing glance to the grinning Elven-maid. "Ok, ok. Just
kidding," she continued. "I think he's with Gandalf. They seemed to have
planned to hold some kind of meeting at the conference-room on the top-floor
of the Tower. Gandalf specifically warned everybody not to tell you..."
  "That treacherous Wizard is up to no good again!" Arwen bit her lip. Then
the expression in her face brightened. "If I stop his evil plans, I can
still be the hero of the third movie!" With this she leaped up and rushed
away, pushing surprised guards aside.
  "She's such a bitch!" said Lego-Lass. "I hate her, I really do."
  "Never mind that," said Giggly. "Come over here and tell me who you
like!"
  They were standing outside the ancient citadel where once great 
film-moguls had dwelled, and the morning-sun shone upon them. The air of
this sacred place seemed to be filled with history and memories of the
glorious days of yore, which seemed to demand respect and quiet awe.
  "Take me, Giggly," cried Lego-Lass. "Right here at the heart of the old
Magic Kingdom!"
  And he took her, and he cared not that they were on an open place in the
sight of many. And many indeed saw them, and even more heard the noises they
were making as they plighted their troth and were glad until the guards came
and arrested them for Public Naughtiness.

  The Dwarf and the She-Elf were taken to the guardhouse, where they were
given their one errand-call and then locked in the Cell of Poor Hygiene™.
When Lego-Lass looked out of the small window of their cell, she could see
strange things flocking around the empty marketplace, pecking a toscan
salami.
  "Look!" she cried. "Goons! They are far from Studio 5. A wonder they are
to me, and an annoyment such as I never have felt. Alas! For the goons and
their yin-tong cries. No peace shall I have again in mortal lands."
  She sighed, and sitting down on a bench covered with filthy hay, began to
sing softly:

    There's a song that I recall, my Mother sang to me
    She sang it as she tucked me in, when I was ninety-three...

  She was interrupted by a guard banging the door. "Shut up in there, you
bum!" he shouted. "Your lawyer is here to see you."
  "Ai-ai!" said Lego-Lass.
  The guard opened the door, and in walked a small, hooded figure. Dwarf and
Elf looked at the hooded stranger with amazement. "Leave us!" he told the
guard, with a voice that for some reason sent shivers through their
intestines. The Guard grumbled but snatched the silver coin the stranger
tossed to him, and closed the door behind him. The stranger turned to the
two friends and removed his hood dramatically.
  "Oh, it's you, Morrie," said Giggly. "What brings you here?"
  "Don't mention that name here!" said Morrie, and a shadow of nervousness
passed by his face as he glanced at the door. "The name of Brandybuck is
feared and loathed widely in these lands, and someone might recognise me.
While we are here, my name is Mr. Moriarty, a local solicitor."
  "Sure, whatever," said Lego-Lass. "Say... weren't you supposed to be a
foot taller then before and have a beard? Just something I overheard at the
campfire."
  "Naah. That's just some guy I suckered to come over here as a decoy, so
that my disappearance wouldn't arouse too much attention. As he is now
safely locked away, I have free hands to carry out my masterplan without any
interruptions. And you can help me with that. You like money, don't you?"
  Lego-Lass and Giggly looked at each other. In their dreams they could
already picture themselves sharing a luxurious dream-house on one of the
paradise-islands of the Tampalas Bay, all paid up with dirty drug-money...
  "We're in!" they said in unison.
  "Great," said Morrie, or Mr. Moriarty as he was now called. "Just wait a
bit, and I'll get you out of here." He knocked on the door, and the guard
opened it.
  "Aww, now I didn't get to tell about our journey through the Paths of
Living, and the tragic misfortune that came over Boromir™," sighed
Lego-Lass.
  "Good thing too," said Giggly. "For upon that road I was put to shame:
Giggly Groin's son, who had deemed himself having a stronger bladder then
any Men or Elf..."
  "I admit, the Ancient Toons™ were hilarious to look upon," said
Lego-Lass. "And with Boromir™ walking ahead of them with his new face,
there was no friend nor enemy who would not fall to the ground convulsed
with laughter, save Lord Droopdawg of Lamedog, who remained in serious
melancholy. Perhaps the stories are true, and he is partly a toon himself.
But the Pirates of Tampalas would have gotten away, had it not been for
Boromir™, who got hold of their ship and formed a living bridge, allowing
the rest of us to charge over his back and into the ship. But alas! Aragon
and his Mumak were too much for him to bear. I hope he's getting better
now."
  "I see no reason why not," replied Giggly.

  Presently the Captains were starting their debate, high above the common
riff-raff, at the Tower of Ethel. All the remaining nobles of Gondor™
were present, as were the twin-sons of El-Rond; and Aragon who presented
himself as an already crowned King even though presently that was not yet
accepted in any way by many of those who were present. But it was Gandalf
who presented the first presenting.
  "My lords," said Gandalf to those who were present, "listen to the words
of the Steward of Gondor™ before he died, in which I had no part:
Gandalf is a great guy. He's so wise and so noble, and wants only good
things for Gondor™. If should it happen that I lose my mind and kill
myself, in which he will have no part, he should be put in charge and
everyone should just do whatever he says. I would like you all to know that
with heavy heart I accept this gravest duty."
  This aroused some angry murmur from the side of the nobles of Gondor™.
Dr. Imrahil and his twin brother Prince Armadillo® (of whom nobody could
remember which one was evil) both sprang up ready to object when Aragon
slammed down Endurit, cleaving the table in half. The nobles went quiet,
and Gandalf continued. "Good. That is settled then. I shall rule you all in
the days that follow and in our dealings with the Enemy. Now! Despite
whatever others may have told you, it is obvious that we have no hope to stand
against Sauron with arms. Sooner or later his overwhelming armies would
crush us no matter what we do. Resistance is futile, you know..."
  "Then you wish we would just give in to Sauron??" said Hurly the Keymaster
and his twin-brother Curly the Backdoor-Master simultaneously.
  "Uh, basically yes," said Gandalf. "The only way for us to proceed is
unconditional surrender™. And as a token of our good will, all the nobles
of Gondor™ shall be given to Sauron as hostages who will be executed if
we don't agree to whatever he demands."
  "Don't worry," he continued, grinning evilly at their shocked faces. "King
Aragon and myself will see that everything goes well while you're away. Have
no fear. This is only a cunning ploy to buy time for the Ringbearer to
finish his task. When Sauron is destroyed, you all shall be heroes!
Posthumous Heroes, with any luck... Whoops, did I say that out loud?"
  So powerful was the effect of Gandalf's voice that the nobles actually
started leaning toward his suggestions, when suddenly the door was slammed
open, and in walked three incredibly sexy females followed by a hooded man.
Gandalf gazed in terror at Ariellë, but before he could say anything Eowynn
spoke up, directing her words at Aragon.
  "All these years, father!" she said. "Why didn't you tell me? Why??"
  "Oh, I don't think he knows about it," explained Arwen, as if the
expression in Aragon's face would not make this painfully obvious. "El Rond
managed to hide it from everybody. Except me of course. But it is true.
Eowynn is your daughter, Aragon. Perhaps you remember the days you spent
boozing in Edoras some twenty years ago? The one night you ended up passing
out next to your drinking-buddy Eomondo's horny young wife, and woke up next
morning feeling dirty? Eowynn got started that night, although you are not
to blame.
  "But there is more," continued Arwen. "Ariellë is your twin sister. You
were separated when young, for your own protection. Ariellë was placed in
Steward's family so that she could get the best possible Gondorian
upbringing. You, on the other hand, ended up on that pig-farm of Butterball's
half-brother where Dad found you... And since Ariellë is a few minutes
older then you, it is she who is the rightful Heir of Isildur and the new
ruler of Gondor™."
  "Do something!" whispered Gandalf to Aragon, but all he could do was to
stare from Ariellë to Eowynn and back while mumbling "She's my sister,
she's my daughter. She's my sister, she's my daughter..." over and over
again.
  "This is ridiculous!" cried Gandalf himself. "Where's your proof?"
  "Right here!" said Arwen and pointed to the cloaked figure. The man
removed his hood, and lol! it was Boromir™. Boromir™ as he should be;
alive and well, more goofy-faced then ever.
  "Hands of the King are hands of the healer," said Arwen. "Ariellë
resurrected him in the presence of many witnesses. She is the rightful Queen
of Gondor™!"
  The nobles cheered and looked relieved.
  "What commands the Queen?" asked Arwen smiling and touched Ariellë's arm
gently.
  "As Aragon has begun, so I will go on," said Ariellë. "Let none now
reject the counsels of Gandalf, whose long labours come at last to test. We
will make a peace with Sauron - a honest and fair, mutually satisfactory
peace, with no hidden agenda. We will find a way for Culture and
Entertainment to co-exist, and Capitalism to flourish alongside social
welfare and respect for the nature: what Aruman called the Third Path. Now
prepare yourself, for tomorrow we shall all march to the great Peace
Conference at the Black Gate!"
  The nobles cheered again, and Gandalf looked on with sour face as they
followed Ariellë out of the room. Eonard lead the still-weeping Eowynn by
the hand, and he gave Aragon a nasty look as they went by him. And it seemed
that even the sons of El Rond were abandoning him. At least Arwen still
loves me, thought Aragon to himself as she stopped at the door and turned
to speak to him.
  "Did I mention that I am breaking off our engagement?" she said. "Alas,
you have somewhat lost your charm lately, and now you have lost your Kingdom
too. It would seem that Ariellë is the most powerful lesbian in town now, so
I guess I'll be taking my chances with her. Toodle-oo!"

  Gandalf and Aragon were left alone in the room. Aragon was sobbing quietly
and munching his comfort-choklit. "No need to worry," said Gandalf biting
his lip. "There will be no peace after Frodo destroys the Ring." Aragon
looked at him, surprised.
  "You see, the Ring contains Sauron's Mojo," explained Gandalf, "and with
his Mojo out of the way he will lose any interest in music, arts and
lovemaking; and then he'll be able to concentrate on being the Evil Dark
Lord as he is supposed to! When that happens, Ariellë will look like a fool
or a traitor. And who then will the people turn to? They will turn to us!"
  Gandalf laughed diabolically, and the look on his face was so evil that
Aragon begun to move away from him. But Gandalf grasped him by the shirt.
  "It's too late to back off now," he said. "You're in this too deep already.
Besides, you shall see that Arwen will come crawling back, when you are made
the King. You better just stick with me..."
  Suddenly he let go and turned around. Boromir™ had appeared to the
doorway. "So that's your plan, eh?" he said. "You would use the threat of
Sauron to keep the West under your control, and use all of us as your
sockpuppets! Well I will be no Wizard's tool! I'm telling everyone about
you!"
  "Sure. Go ahead, I won't stop you," said Gandalf. "I know when the game is
lost... Oh, one thing. Before you go, how about you take a look out of the
window?"
  "I don't mind if I do," said Boromir™.
  From his hideout, Pipsqueak watched in terror as Gandalf casually pushed
Boromir™ out of the window. As Boromir™'s cry broke down to a loud
thump, Gandalf turned to Aragon and said: "Let us hurry! If we get to him
first, you can try resurrecting him one more time!"
  As they left the room, Pipsqueak crawled out of his hiding place and stood
trembling in the middle of the room. "Aruman was right all along!" he
thought to himself. "And now I'm the only one who knows the truth. But what
can I do? Where will I find courage? I can't go on alone..."
  And again he heard, like a whisper in the wind, a voice from another place
and another time.
  Yogurt will always be with you...

This chapter of this epic work is presented through the courtesy of Morgil Blackhope <Morestelx@Hotmail.com>. Copyright © 2002 by the author. All rights reserved. Some variance between this e-text and the original printed material by Professor Tolkien is inevitable. Using this as an electronic resource for scholarly or research purposes may lead to a certain degree of academic embarassment. All agree that the printed version of the text, available from respectable publishers such as Houghton Mifflin and Ballantine Books, is to be preferred. Boromir™, Minas Tirith™ and Gondor™ are trademarks of Saul Zaentz and Tolkien Enterprises, who hold all merchandising rights to Gondor™ and its subsidiaries. Want to be related to Aragon? Sign up now to be a charter member of the Lord Of The... whatever Fan Club! Not only will you receive our bimonthly magazine, a special limited-edition lithograph of Giggly and Lego-lass, and a 10% discount on all our exclusive Lord Of The... whatever merchandise, but you will also have your name added to the official Geneaology Chart for the Line of Isildur! You can be Aragon's son, grandson, great-aunt, niece, stepbrother, whatever you wish! Your name will be made legendary in the appendices of the official Lord Of The... whatever special release DVD in really fine print with about a million other people at the very end of the credits which nobody watches anyway. Hurry and get in on this extraordinary offer! We swear Peter Jackson didn't inspire the idea. Oh, no. Noooo. Not at all.