Article: 225817 of rec.arts.books.tolkien From: Kueikutzu@notforemail.com Newsgroups: alt.fan.tolkien,rec.arts.books.tolkien Subject: e-text Book 3, Chapter 11: "The Palantarium" Date: Mon, 18 Dec 2000 18:52:05 GMT Organization: cryptic Message-ID: <3a3e517d.8214262@news2.starnetinc.com> X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 1.5/32.452 MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Host: 64.24.44.171 X-Original-NNTP-Posting-Host: 64.24.44.171 X-Trace: 18 Dec 2000 12:52:18 -0600, 64.24.44.171 Lines: 235 X-Complaints-To: abuse -aaatt- megapop -daht- net Path: uchinews!logbridge.uoregon.edu!news.maxwell.syr.edu!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!chicago-news-feed1.bbnplanet.com!news.gtei.net!news.starnetinc.com Xref: uchinews alt.fan.tolkien:51136 rec.arts.books.tolkien:225817 Well, here it is, Steuard threatened to try to explain String Theory to me unless I finished it, so rather than have THAT happen, I did it. It was started during a hospital visit so the presence of mood altering drugs explains any incoherency. Each time I look at the bloody thing I notice little typos and mis-steps in usage. If any notice any that are current, please advise me before the text is sent for HTML. I have, to a certain degree disregarded Mr. Jensen's advice about waiting to write until I have seen the previous works. I read a few of the other chapters and the three proceeding in the last few weeks, but the body of the work was completed before that and cosmetic modifications made with reference to the previous texts. Why? Because this is a Parody of the LOTR and I feel that hewing to the Ur-text is preferable. I understand the reasons for Steuard's point and hope that I have complied sufficiently to not do damage to the concept. My gratitude to the Prof for writing his work and my apologies for my Tomfoolery regarding it. Every time I copy this thing the formatting changes. I hope it remains intact now. Respectfully submitted ************************************************************************************** "The Palantarium" The sun was sinking behind the long western arm of the mountains when Gandalf and companions, and the king with his riders, and the local levies, and the Levis from the shul down the mountain Mishigäs, and Uncle Tom Cobley and all rode off. Ments in a solemn row stood like statues at the gate, with their long arms uplifted with flickering lights at their ends, but they made no sound, unlike the statues in their hometown, which were quite garrulous, and kept common folk awake all night. They came to the Pillar of the White Hand. The pillar was still standing but most of the graven hand had been thrown down except for one long finger, which was still standing, but had been stained with some dark substance. "Truly it is said that when the Ments turn to proctology the world trembles!" remarked Gandalf with a shudder. They rode on, clenching their sphincter muscles. This clenching had its usual effect on horseback riders and Morrie finally whined "Are we riding far tonight, Gandalf?" "No," replied Gandalf. "I want to put some distance between us and those insidious works of Aruman. Every time I think of the terrible things that he did to so many people, well it frays my temper and I feel like going back and spitting on where he fell one more time. Why, every time I think of what he said about you, Morrie, it just makes me boil!" "Huh," said Morrie, his usual sinister look of malicious stupidity turning to one of baffled malicious stupidity, "What things? I don't remember him saying anything about us, although," he added shaking his head slowly as if it hurt, "everything about that seems kinda fuzzy." "Why, yes," said Gandalf quickly. "Better for you not to dwell on it, how he called you a pimple-faced goon who displays all the characteristics of a reverse Darwinism, a walking advertisement for the sterilization of the morally unfit and someone who he was not surprised was running a brisk trade in pipe weed to loose girls at the local high school." "He said that, the Schmööck!" snarled Morrie. "Hey, wait a minute, how did he know about the pipe weed thing?" "Well," said Gandalf, picking up the pace a little, "Erh, I fear that we may find that Aruman's appendages have reached further than we thought! Indeed, I fear we may find the Shire in the hands of a extremely strong but fair criminal organization dedicated to enslaving young Hobbit lasses into lives of prostitution and support for the United Nations, and producing a vile crop of pipe weed." "WaitaErudamnminute," bellowed Morrie as he galloped after, "that was *my* plan!" Soon after they stopped and got off their horses with many a grimace and groan and soon dispersed themselves, several of the older Rohan troopers pairing off with others beneath the hanging branches of nearby trees, humming airs of old Rohan operas and show tunes as they spread single blankets out for both men. Several of the other troopers chuckled as Morrie and Pipsqueak spread their blankets , with many comments about Hobbit Holes not being dirty places, heh, heh. Morrie was sleepy, particularly after sampling more of the weed he had salvaged from the wrack of Eyesore. Pipsqueak was more restless, and the conversation kept coming back to the white ball he had glimpsed. "That glass ball now. Gandalf seemed mighty pleased with it I reckon, sho nuff. He knows some'at 'bout it, but do he tell us, I reckon not. Nawsuh, he doesn't tell us in nowt in a coon's age. Din't I pick it up and I sure enough saved it dat der ball from rolling into a pool. It felt right heavy as I live and breathe." Morrie glowered at him from under sleepy brows, "If you don't stop talking in politically incorrect dialect, I'm going to kick your sorry butt into that there briar patch. Shaddap, I haven't had a nocturnal emission in the longest time and you're keeping me from it!" And murmuring the name of "Rambling" Rosie, he fell asleep. Pipsqueak said no more and rubbed his groin where Morrie had kicked him. At last he could stand it no longer. He crept down to where Gandalf was sleeping. Driven by some impulse that he could not understand, but which was probably rooted in an early childhood glimpse of his mother in the bath, he moved closer until he could spy something bulging in a fold of the cloth. Pipsqueak reached down and put his hands on it and as he did Gandalf stirred in his sleep and murmured "Arwen, my nymphette, humbert, humbert, hummmmm...." Pipsqueak hastily let go and grabbed the other bundle and ran off. Much Later, there was a loud noise, sending the camp into a tizzy. Gandalf ran up, buttoning himself and wiping away at something. "So this is the thief" said Gandalf. He booted Pipsqueak where he lay, explaining that this would help him revive. It took several more such attempts and several blows to the head before Pipsqueak revived. As he lay blinking, he was showered with questions until finally... "Wait!" Cried Gandalf, "let him tell it in his own way." Pipsqueak shuddered as he remembered when he had unwrapped the stone from his cloak, wiping of the grease and egg stains it had picked up from his cloak with an equally grotty pocket handkerchief embroidered with the initials TB. He remembered peering into it intently for a few moments until it began to glow. Gradually arcane words began to appear, words that seemed to have a certain malignity in their form and content. Gradually he began to make them out, his lips sounding them out (usually with highly unorthodox pronunciations) and as he did so, he began a counterpoint of cursing under his breath as the words read "I'm sorry, we are unable to complete your Palantarium connection at this time, please try again later." After a long interval the words changed as he began to curse again as they read "Your Palantarium is not configured correctly/is not set up to work with Atlantis on Line. Please check your settings and try again later." Muttering about the curse of the Aölhëllïïm, he tried several more times before he finally was connected. At first, all seemed blackness. Then he saw the outline of a stark and severe hooded and cloaked figure. To his horror (overtaxing under utilized sphincter muscles) it moved closer and closer until all he could see were the figure's red-rimmed eyes in a gaunt and sinister face. "Tell me!" it demanded, "Your puny powers are of no concern to me! Have you found the one I seek? And what of the short creatures? Oh, and by the way, I am afraid that your friends will find the force field fully operational and the Death Star as well!!!" It was at this point that Pipsqueak realized that he had not the slightest idea what was going on (this was not a new occurrence to him, having occurred to him frequently in the half semester he had attended school and frequently thereafter when he was asked to explain the presence of other people's property in his possession). As his usual expression of mulish stupor deepened into total bafflement, the figure in the stone realized it and said "Hmm, you're not an Ewok, you're not one of mine." The figure turned his head and called off Pipsqueak's line of sight of the image in the stone, "Sorry, Saury Honey, the call's for you." Pipsqueak could almost he the sound of water dripping from, as it were, a shower head of antique and unfathomable evil; he heard the sound of two floppy shower slippers coming closer and closer. Finally a face was revealed to him, a face that seemed to have supped on bowels of incalculable depravity and unspeakable practices, a face that fairly reeked with a gelid scorn and disdain, a face wrapped in a pink, fluffy bath towel a face that resembled most that of... Well, you know who. "Mercifully," Pipsqueak said, "at that moment I slipped into oblivion or my own poop after I cut loose with a dump. The shriek you heard was a fart. A damn good one too!" He said with much contentment as they bystanders proceeded to mutter and to move upwind of him as he shook a pants leg. Gandalf looked down at him. Then he sighed and carried Pipsqueak back to his bed. "He will take no hurt from this, I do swear, he is much too dense to comprehend most of what goes on around him, let alone this." And as he turned away, he lit slip his exasperation sufficiently to flick out with a swift kick to the posterior of the unconscious form that had slipped instantly into sleep after Gandalf had whacked the Palantarium against the back of his head. Others passed by silently and also similarly saluted the form of the cause of the interruption of their slumber or other activities until his bed place was moved several spans down the hillside from their kicks. [And where was Arwen when all of this was going on? Well, might you wonder, dear reader. In fact, as will be made clear in the next edition of "History of Muddle Earth, More fag-end Rejects that I can sucker people into buying" You will see how Arwen, Giggly and Legolass made a side trip to beat up Dunlendings (and getting paid very well by the Pinkuton Agency I might add). You'll thrill to her feats of prowess, her stark blood lust and carving of new entrances into the anatomy of Dunlendings, all to be featured in the new movie "Arwen: Warrior Princess!" I hope this explains the lacunae in this chapter (not that I mind lacunae, of course(actually, there's nothing better than a nice hot lacunae, with whipped cream on it of course(the whipped cream is optional (don't you love parenthesis (I do)?)))(<><><><>~~~ (look, a rattlesnake!) Ahem. As Gandalf turned away Aragon confronted him, a look of peevish arrogornance mixed with a certain cunning on his face. "Here is one who can claim this by right. I believe this is the Palantarium that my second cousin Poindexteran had from his uncle. I will take it." Gandalf looked at Aragon, then to the surprise of others he passed it to him, murmuring under his breath "just wait until he finds out that the parental controls are activated." Gandalf said, "Receive it Lard, but ware! Oft things may glister but not be gold." Aragon replied "Yet, a stitch in time may save nine." Gandalf replied, "Yes, but for want of a nail." Aragon returned, more shortly, "A gherkin may be wrinkled but it's not old." Gandalf, annoyed, said "Enough of this proverbial badinage!" "We must away to the next chapter!"