Article: 293881 of rec.arts.books.tolkien Path: news.uchicago.edu!newsfeed.stanford.edu!news-spur1.maxwell.syr.edu!news.maxwell.syr.edu!diablo.theplanet.net!news.theplanet.net!not-for-mail From: Sir Confused-a-lot <<>> Newsgroups: alt.fan.tolkien,rec.arts.books.tolkien Subject: eText Book Six Cahpter V Date: Tue, 18 Jun 2002 21:47:32 +0100 Lines: 123 Message-ID: <3D0F9C64.90508@porthleven77.freeserve.co.uk> Reply-To: sirconfused-a-lot -aaatt- porthleven77.freeserve.co -daht- uk NNTP-Posting-Host: modem-38.pearl-scale-butterfly.dialup.pol.co.uk Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=windows-1252; format=flowed Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-Trace: news8.svr.pol.co.uk 1024433238 1120 62.137.48.38 (18 Jun 2002 20:47:18 GMT) NNTP-Posting-Date: 18 Jun 2002 20:47:18 GMT X-Complaints-To: abuse -aaatt- theplanet -daht- net User-Agent: Mozilla/5.0 (Windows; U; Windows NT 5.1; en-US; rv:1.1a) Gecko/20020611 X-Accept-Language: en-gb, en Xref: news.uchicago.edu alt.fan.tolkien:156891 rec.arts.books.tolkien:293881 The Queen, or The King? Gondor™ had been experiencing a downturn in business of late. In the weeks since the Rohirrim had left, the gradual flow of cash into the coffers of Ariëlle's merchandising empire had shrunk dramatically. The Rohirrim had parted rather grumpily, some mourning the death of HeyHoDen, others off to help Eowynn prepare her paternity suit, and the remainder simply happy to get back to whatever it was they did with their horses in peacetime (Pipsqueak hoped it was showjumping, but Morrie had told him not to be so naive). The flood of customers from Mordor had also subsided a little, due mostly to their growing awareness of just how extortionate Ariëlle's new pricing policy was, even for a family orientated theme park. However, the CEO of Gondor™ Entertainment Inc still had a trick up her sleeve to drag in the punters. Along with Acting Deputy Executive Vice Presidents Morrie and Pipsqueak, she had concocted a plan to alter the face of the entertainment industry for years to come. She had planned a pageant to end all pageants - The Crowning of The New Queen of Gondor™! Thorough many long nights of deep thought - although Pipsqueak's mind was often elsewhere (I would go into more detail but this is purportedly a family eText and, well...) - they concocted the plans for the most spectacular spectacle ever spectated. Two days of non-stop feasting, parades, fireworks and toon-based entertainment were to climax in the Crowning ceremony, of which Ariëlle herself would be the star. However, much work was needed to iron out a few minor problems, such as parking arrangements and the particularly unusual sanitary requirements of the Southrons. The Crowning was to involve the now much slimmer Aragon, the increasingly reclusive Sam (representing the still-slightly-delirious Frodo as ringbearer) and Spiegel, who was rapidly becoming something of a minor star in her own right and whose first movie was already being planned. Nobody had been able to find Boromir, but then again, nobody seemed to care. The festival was a great triumph for manufactured entertainment. People flocked in from hundreds of miles around to eat drink and be merry in the streets of the citadel. Eric the small cat was a huge success, as were Spiegel and Her Elvish Dancing Girls - a suggestion of Giggly - albeit with a slightly different section of the crowd. Strangely, though, Sam was nowhere to be seen during Spiegel's act, or for a good while afterwards - the two of them hadn't been talking too much of late. It was only after a thorough search had been organised that he was found, much to Morrie's relief, wandering aimlessly around the streets and occasionally being pelted with fruit by Orcish children. Ariëlle sat atop a tall throne at the centre of the stage, smiling sweetly, the focus for the attention of thousands of eagerly watching eyes. To her left stood Aragon, more than an hint of jealousy in his eye, and a slightly ruffled Sam, hastily rushed through make-up, and to her right Spiegel, the two hobbits having been carefully placed on different sides of the throne to avoid any ‘complications.' A lively, badly dressed MC was leaping around, yelling seemingly random phrases and still managing to evoke a cheer from the audience. In the wings, between Morrie and Pipsqueak, waited the old and rather befuddled High Priest in Charge of Crowning and the Official Whopping Big Crown of Gondor™. "So, how are all you happy little people?¡!¿" yelled the MC to nobody in particular, and at once became the recipient of a huge, incoherent roar. "Glad to hear it!¡! Well, floks, it's the moment we're all here to see - the once in a lifetime event that is... Ttttthhhhhhheeeeee Ccccccrrrrooooowwwwnniiinnngggg!!!!!!" Once again, a mighty cheer went up, loud enough to make everyone onstage (including the MC) cringe, but yet seemed to have very little effect on, Ariëlle who sat smiling away to herself, apparently unaware of the tumult. The MC bounded away into the wings, and in his place appeared the frail, rather less hip figure of the High Priest. He had been persuaded, by means unknown to all except Morrie, to shorten the traditionally seven hour ceremony to a single line, and seemed a little too eager to get it all over with. He was followed by the two Executive hobbits, carrying between them the extravagant, vastly oversized, and really rather gaudy Crown of Gondor™, which apparently been made for ancient kings who were more of Aragon's original proportions than Ariëlle's. From somewhere backstage came the blast of a hundred mighty trumpets. "All rise for Queen Ariëlle" shouted Morrie and Pipsqueak in unison, and a deadly silence fell across the onlookers. Ariëlle, however, seemed unmoved by all of this, and sat quietly grinning at nothing in particular. "People of this city," muttered the priest regretfully to himself, before loudening up a little at a glance from Morrie. "Friends from distant lands and purchasers of kitsch merchandise, I present to you Ariëlle, the New Queen of The Magic Kingdom Gondor™!" With one disgruntled gesture he snatched the crown from Morrie and placed it on top of her head to great cheers from the crowd. However, Ariëlle herself did not seem very impressed at all with the performance. She sat in stony silence, her grin now appearing to take on almost manic enthusiasm. The High Priest looked shocked, and hurried down to Morrie. "We could have a bit of a problem here," he whispered. "She appears be dead." "Dead? What do you mean, dead?" "Dead. She's kicked the bucket. Gone. Popped her clogs. Vamoosh." "If this is some kind of joke, you'll be tomorrows FairyBurger™ meat." Morrie hurried up to the throne, felt Ariëlle's neck, and then lent down and whispered to Pipsqueak, "You know what? She's dead!" "Dead? DEAD! How can she be dead! It's so... so sad..." He fell to the floor, wailing. A loud murmur swept through the crowd. Spiegel looked stunned and Aragon uncertain. Sam, however, seemed impassive, and didn't seem particularly shocked. "I know, I know. She was the start attraction. But there's no need to make all that fuss... we always have Plan B to fall back on." "Plan B! You made a Plan B in case Ariëlle died?" "Of curse... my past employment has taught me to prepare for everything. Watch." Morrie hurried to one side of the stage, gesturing for Aragon and the Priest to follow him. They went into a huddle briefly, and then emerged, Aragon looking surprisingly pleased and the Priest looking bewildered. Morrie strode to the font of the stage. "My good friends, we are sorry to disappoint those of you who came to see Queen Ariëlle crowned today. However, we are sad to announce that this will not be possible, due to technical difficulties." He raised his voice above the sobbing Pipsqueak. "However, it is my pleasure to announce that in her place, we are all privileged to be able to watch the crowning of our new monarch... so can I have a big hand please for King Aragon!" The crowd cheered. They had come to see a crowning, and weren't overly bothered *who* got crowned. The High Priest retrieved the Official Whopping Big Crown, and started again with his Ceremony. "Friends from.." "STOP! Stop the ceremony!" The crowd emitted a collective gasp, for there, emerging onto the stage, was Frodo. He was tall and skeleton thin, but the crazed look in his eyes was enough to strike fear into the heart of any grown man (or hobbit). "You must stop the ceremony! Ariëlle was murdered! She was murdered, assassinated by..." He began to raise his hand, to point as someone on the stage, but his screams were curtailed, as an arrow thudded into his back, and he fell to the ground, silenced.