A/N: 'Oly mudder of Smurfs and tomatoes!!! I beg forgiveness for not
updating for a lo~ng (stretches arms out to show) time. Now that high
school is over, hopefully it'll be easier to update with a degree of
regularity (not that kind of regularity!!)
For the next month, the whole palace of Gondor was bustling about trying to get ready for the party. Fine wines were brought in from Mirkwood, silk tablecloths were woven especially for the event, and to be auctioned off later for the Pipeweed-Induced Comatose Hobbits Charity Foundation. The best quality foods were brought in from all over Middle Earth, and the storage houses were packed. Arwen wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Seeing as how the palace chefs had their work cut out for them, the author magically supplied them with nine microwaves as they will become essential to the plot later on. Aragorn was getting really strung out between ruling his kingdom and helping out his now-very-pregnant wife plan the party.
"My lord, what vintage would you like, the 1296 or the 1402?" "My lord, where would you like the guest rooms, east or west wing?" "My lord, should I let Prince Legolas know that this is a BYOB event? (Bring Your Own Binoculars) "My lord." "My lord." "My lord."
This continued for about 4 weeks. Aragorn swore that if he ever heard the words "My lord" again, he would institute a new religion where it would become inappropriate to call him that (King Henry VIII he's not.). The dark circles under Aragorn's eyes were becoming more pronounced by the day. He was constantly falling asleep while his advisors droned on and on about affairs of the state, unimportant things like that, and he was getting very moody for he had drained his entire supply of Pipeweed the week before. Of course, all account of this had been wiped out of the lorebooks, because who wants to hear about Elessar Telcontar, the Chain-Smoking King of Gondor? Seriously.
"Legolas better get here quick with that dwarvish ale, or Valar help me, I'll die before this is over." Aragorn sighed and slumped into his throne.
"Your highness!" Another nameless lackey approached him.
'You are SO lucky,' Aragorn thought with an evil glare towards No Name Runner Boy. "The queen would like your opinion on a theme for the party."
".Wha?" Aragorn's expression changed from shooting daggers to a look of "Where the hell did this come from?"
"Yes, the queen says she's narrowed it down to two options, but she needs your opinion to make a decision."
".What are my choices?" Aragorn shifted in his chair, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.
"Well, there's the Lorien Disco idea, or the Shire Rave."
Aragorn stared dumbfounded for a moment until the wheels started to turn. 'Wait a minute, Party in the Shire=fun, Rave=weed, alcohol, and hallucinogenics,"
"Why did Arwen pick Shire Rave?"
"She said that the Shire seemed like such a calm, happy place that it might be a nice theme for the party."
'Of course it's a happy place,' thought Aragorn. 'Everyone's so drugged up on pipeweed, how could they be anything but happy?' "Does Arwen know what a rave is?"
"I don't believe so, Majesty."
'Second time you're lucky.' "Do you?"
"No sir."
'At least the kid has some creativity,' thought Aragorn. "Tell Arwen I would go with the Shire Rave," Aragorn said, smiling his first genuine smile in a long time.
"Very well my lord."
"AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" For the next two days, the King of Gondor sat in back corner of his chambers, rocking back and forth in a catatonic state. The general consensus was that he was just excited for the party.
A/N: I hope this chapter tickles everyone's funny bones. It was particularly enjoyable for me to write. Please R&R!! Everybody has been great about reviewing!! I would ask for your good graces once again!! Danke! Merci! Gracias! Arigatou! Hannon Le! Taing! Tak! Ringraziato! Agradecimento! Asante!
For the next month, the whole palace of Gondor was bustling about trying to get ready for the party. Fine wines were brought in from Mirkwood, silk tablecloths were woven especially for the event, and to be auctioned off later for the Pipeweed-Induced Comatose Hobbits Charity Foundation. The best quality foods were brought in from all over Middle Earth, and the storage houses were packed. Arwen wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Seeing as how the palace chefs had their work cut out for them, the author magically supplied them with nine microwaves as they will become essential to the plot later on. Aragorn was getting really strung out between ruling his kingdom and helping out his now-very-pregnant wife plan the party.
"My lord, what vintage would you like, the 1296 or the 1402?" "My lord, where would you like the guest rooms, east or west wing?" "My lord, should I let Prince Legolas know that this is a BYOB event? (Bring Your Own Binoculars) "My lord." "My lord." "My lord."
This continued for about 4 weeks. Aragorn swore that if he ever heard the words "My lord" again, he would institute a new religion where it would become inappropriate to call him that (King Henry VIII he's not.). The dark circles under Aragorn's eyes were becoming more pronounced by the day. He was constantly falling asleep while his advisors droned on and on about affairs of the state, unimportant things like that, and he was getting very moody for he had drained his entire supply of Pipeweed the week before. Of course, all account of this had been wiped out of the lorebooks, because who wants to hear about Elessar Telcontar, the Chain-Smoking King of Gondor? Seriously.
"Legolas better get here quick with that dwarvish ale, or Valar help me, I'll die before this is over." Aragorn sighed and slumped into his throne.
"Your highness!" Another nameless lackey approached him.
'You are SO lucky,' Aragorn thought with an evil glare towards No Name Runner Boy. "The queen would like your opinion on a theme for the party."
".Wha?" Aragorn's expression changed from shooting daggers to a look of "Where the hell did this come from?"
"Yes, the queen says she's narrowed it down to two options, but she needs your opinion to make a decision."
".What are my choices?" Aragorn shifted in his chair, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.
"Well, there's the Lorien Disco idea, or the Shire Rave."
Aragorn stared dumbfounded for a moment until the wheels started to turn. 'Wait a minute, Party in the Shire=fun, Rave=weed, alcohol, and hallucinogenics,"
"Why did Arwen pick Shire Rave?"
"She said that the Shire seemed like such a calm, happy place that it might be a nice theme for the party."
'Of course it's a happy place,' thought Aragorn. 'Everyone's so drugged up on pipeweed, how could they be anything but happy?' "Does Arwen know what a rave is?"
"I don't believe so, Majesty."
'Second time you're lucky.' "Do you?"
"No sir."
'At least the kid has some creativity,' thought Aragorn. "Tell Arwen I would go with the Shire Rave," Aragorn said, smiling his first genuine smile in a long time.
"Very well my lord."
"AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" For the next two days, the King of Gondor sat in back corner of his chambers, rocking back and forth in a catatonic state. The general consensus was that he was just excited for the party.
A/N: I hope this chapter tickles everyone's funny bones. It was particularly enjoyable for me to write. Please R&R!! Everybody has been great about reviewing!! I would ask for your good graces once again!! Danke! Merci! Gracias! Arigatou! Hannon Le! Taing! Tak! Ringraziato! Agradecimento! Asante!