E-text Book VI, Chapter 6: Parts 5 and 6 of 6
David Salo
(An epickal tragoedy in Syx Partes)
*Parte ye Fyfthe*
They travelled westward, the Elves riding on their horses, the
hobbits on various species of wild deer that Radagast had summoned
(Frodo rode an especially majestic elk with an antler-span of ten
feet). Radagast himself rode bear-back.
They passed by the Gap in Rohan. Radagast had a word with the
manager, and within a week they were selling clothing made from hemp ,
organically-grown cotton, and recycled fibres, while a detachment of
well-drilled mandrills provided security.
They rode through the Gap into the slums of Dunland. There they
found endless chain-link fences, hills of burning tires, vast pavements
of cracked asphalt, collapsing brick tenements, and shantytowns roofed
in corrugated iron. The Dunlendings who loitered on the street-corners
mocked them, calling them _fairies--_; but Radagast had only to
gesture, and waves of green _kudzu_ covered the trash-heaps and
tenements, and the Dunlendings fled, racked by allergies.
Six days after leaving Isengard they journeyed through the
liquor-retailing zone of Dunland. At 6, as the lights began to come
on, they overtook a lady with a superfluity of legs, dashingly clad in
red and black. At her heels slouched a semi-naked man in black
leather, leashed to her by a spiked dog-collar and gazing morosely at
the ground.
'Well Shelob!ą said Radagast. 'Where are you going?'
'Vhot isz zet beink to you?ą she answered. ŚVosz you lookink for a
vogah, or voot you rezser hef a date visz Sztinky?'
'You know the answers,' Radagast said. 'No and no. But in any case
your monopoly on wogah is over. The King controls the red-light
district in Disgiliath now. But if you had waited in Mordor, you would
have seen him, and he might have shown more interest in your offer.'
'Zen all ze more reason to hef left sooner,' said Shelob, 'for I am
not desirink him. Indeed, if you are vishink for en enswer to your
first qvestion, I vosz lookink for a ravine in ze mountainsz in vhich
to be spinnink my veps.'
'Then you are going the wrong way. I know a forest where you might
feel right at home, though. Would you like my help?'
'_You_ helpink _me_?' said Shelob. 'Surely you isz jestink me. I
sink zosz vilt-lants isz not beink so goot for ze nightclups, yes? You
haf gecome to be laughink at Shelop in her vonderinks, visz no clup, no
staich, no Grisettes...' and she began to weep copious tears.
'There, there,' said Radagast, patting her kindly on the shoulder.
'Who is this wench?' said Paragraph.
'And why haven't we been introduced yet?' said Moribund.
'It's Shelob, the decadent and depraved whoremistress of
Disgiliath!' ranted Sam.
'Oh, indeed,' said Morrie. 'Perhaps you should have told us more
about your, er, adventures there. What's she do?'
'Vhot dosz Shelop _doink_?' hissed the madam. 'How isz my fame
gefallen! Alas, zet I kennot show you vhot I coot be doink in ze daysz
of my glory!' And she wept again. Then, suddenly tearless, she
clapped her forelegs. 'Sztinky!' she ordered. 'Be showink zeesz fine
gentlesz vhot it is ve isz _doink_. I em trop fatigué to indulch
myself.' She flicked him the man behind her with a whip she held in
her front claw. He shuddered, but did not move or turn his face from
the ground.
'Poor Sztinky!' Shelob whispered confidentially to the travellers.
'Hisz tower isz gefallen down, end now he kennot to erect it again.
Get up!' she shouted at the slouching man, yanking on his leash. 'Do
zet number from _South Tampalas_.'
The man staggered up and faced his audience. There were dark
circles beneath his reddened eyes, white streaks of dry salt on his
face, and a brown encrustation at one corner of his mouth. His
codpiece was decorated with the Lidless Eye. He began to sing, more
than passably, but without emotion:
'Bloodthirsty Shelob is the
lob I love
Bloodthirsty Shelob is the
lob I love
Bloodthirsty Shelob is the
lob I love
Now ainąt that too damn bad!
'Her kiss is like trinitro-
toluene
Her kiss is like trinitro-
toluene
Her kiss is like trinitro-
toluene
Now ainąt that too damn bad!
'Bloodthirsty Shelobąs suckin'
Uruk blood
She is always suckiną
Uruk blood
Bloodthirsty Shelobąs suckiną
Uruk blood
An' she donąt use Aqua-fresh!
Shelob laughed, clapped and blew kisses at the audience. They did
not applaud. The sight of Shelob's slave, wretched and degraded beyond
imagination, stirred even Morrie with, if not pity, then at least an
utter revulsion that afforded no amusement.
Shelob's face turned sour. 'Be goink!' she said. 'You hef doomt
yourselfs, end you isz knowink it. It vill be comfortink me in my
vonderinks to sink zet you hef geburnt down your own house vhen you hef
destroyt Sztinky'sz.'
Shelob yanked on her slave's leash, and he crouched down on all
fours. She turned back the way they had come, and he followed. But as
he passed them, he whimpered 'Poor old Stinky! Poor old Stinky!
Always beaten, never a wogah. How I hate her! How I wish I could
leave her!'
'Then leave her!' said Radagast.
But "Stinky" only glanced with one red eye full of terror at
Radagast, and then shuffled quickly past behind Shelob. At length the
pair came to the hobbits, and Shelob stopped and stared at them; but
they looked at her with indifference.
'So you isz gloatink over Shelob too, my ducks?' she said. 'Not
even a little kiss for her?' and she turned a heavily rouged cheek
toward them. No one stepped forward. Shelob sighed. 'I hef only von
vord of advice for you, chickies. Bevare ze Roglinks! Zet isz all.
_Au revoir, mes petits amis. Au revoir!_ ' and she and Stinky
vanished down the path.
_Lovely limbs, eh, sonny boy?_ said the voice in Frodo's mind.
Frodo slumped over and had the dry heaves.
*Parte ye Syxthe*
The next day they rode through suburban Dunland, where no men now
dwelt, though it was a green and pleasant neighborhood, due to
skyrocketing property taxes. Radagast now rode some way ahead,
murmuring to himself, scattered phrases in which the word 'Rogling'
could often be heard.
'What's a Rogling, and why did Shelob warn us against them?'
Pipsqueak asked Frodo after a while.
'I don't know,' Frodo answered. 'I have trouble thinking these
days. Tell me, Pip, did you ever... I don't know... think you heard,
well, someone talking, like a voice, only there was no one there?'
'Oh, yes, quite a lot,' Pipsqueak responded brightly. He was having
a good day.
'And, um... did this voice ever, well, criticize you or tell you
what to do?'
'Oh, all the time.'
'And... did your voice have a name?'
'Sure! It was Aruman, chief of the wizards. He came back from the
dead to warn me against Gandalf.'
'Do you still hear him?'
'Nah. He went away after Gandalf died. I guess he was finished
with me.'
'Well, Pip... you're not going to believe this... but I'm hearing a
voice, too.'
'No!' Pipsqueak was visibly and sincerely flabbergasted with utter
amazement. Even on a good day, he had his limits.
'I think it's trying to tell me something... but I don't know what.
And I think... I think I know who it is, but I daren't believe it...'
'Who?' asked Pipsqueak excitedly.
'Bilbo. It sounds like Bilbo. But it can't be, can it? Bilbo's
not dead.'
'I dunno. Why don't you ask El Rond?'
So Frodo rode ahead after El Rond's party, who in typical elvish
fashion had ridden along with the hobbits while having absolutely
nothing to do with them. It took Frodo quite some time to get El Rond
to notice him. Had he still been only three feet tall, he never would
have managed it; but he finally succeeded in physically squeezing
between El Rond and Al Ladan, with whom El Rond was conversing.
'I hate mortals,' El Rond was saying. 'I can't stand them any
longer. It's the _smell_. I feel saturated by it. I can taste their
stink and every time I do, I fear that I've somehow been... _infected_
by it. I must get out of here. I must get free. Oh, it's you,
Mister _Baggins_.'
'El Rond,' Frodo said, 'do you know what happened to my fa... to
Bilbo? He's safe at Rivendell, isn't he?'
El Rond made a dismissive shrug. 'And this concerns me how...
Mister Baggins?'
'Well, I'm afraid... I think something terrible may have happened to
him, Sir.'
El Rond sighed and looked angry. 'What happens to Mr. Bilbo Baggins
is none of my concern. I am in no way... responsible for his welfare.'
'But... was he safe, was he all right the last you saw him.'
El Rond rolled his eyes backward in their sockets. 'Yes,' he said
at last. 'He was thinking of you, if you must know.' Frodo breathed a
sigh of relief. 'Actually I think he left you a note, though none of
us could read it. Do we have it, Al Rokar?' Al Rokar produced an
envelope from his saddle-bags and handed it to El Rond, who passed it
to Frodo, taking good care to avoid touching his fingers.
Frodo fell back and opened the envelope. It was indeed in Bilbo's
inimitably illegible script, and it took him several minutes before he
could puzzle part of it out; but intercepting Bilbo's letters to his
"nieces" and reading them had been one of his favorite childhood
amusements.
"El Rond you bas...d", it read, "Why didn't you include me in the
Company? I'm going whether you like it or not. Frodo can't be trusted
with the Ring. He'll spoil Gandalf's plan for sure. So what if
they're days ahead. I'll just follow A...n's cute ..s. I'll get that
Ring back, sure as my name's Don Gi..anni! BB."
Frodo felt ill, but that was nothing new. Then all of a sudden the
voice came back into his mind, louder and clearer than ever before.
_How dare you read my mail, boy!_ followed by _ It's ours, precious,
and we wants it!_ Frodo suddenly found that, without noticing it, he
had folded the letter and put in inside his waistcoat-pocket.
At last one evening they came over the high moors, suddenly to the
brink of the deep valley of Rivendell, and saw emanating from the cleft
a red light shining, lighting the whole valley like a dark flame.
Radagast caught his breath. At the descent into the valley there
had stood for many years a tall birch tree. But though it was only
September, it seemed to stand leafless, and yet glowed with a ruddy
light. As they drew nearer to the tree, they saw that from the end of
every twig there seemed to leap a tiny flickering flame, barely an inch
tall; and within each flame moved an almost microscopic black creature.
Radagast reached up into the branches, and scooped one off onto his
palm. It burned there for a few moments, then crawled to the tip of
his outstretched index finger, spread minute diaphanous wings like a
mayfly's, and flew back into the tree.
'It is as I feared,' said Radagast. 'The 'Rogs have hatched west of
the mountains.'
'I remember who murdered Ariellë,' Frodo mumbled in return.
Banazir the Jedi Hobbit
> _Make Way for Roglings_
> (An epickal tragoedy in Syx Partes)
Well well well!
This is pretty durned goond.
1> There are eight thousand stories in the Magic Kingdom. This has
1> been one of them.
Ba-dump-ump.
2> 'Cos I--Iąm the Duke of Nu-urn!'
2> _What a loser_, came a mocking voice inside his head as he lost consciousness.
How... Gondorian (tm).
3> Out of dark, out of death, to the dead's rising
3> He clambered out of the clay still clinging
3> To his bloody fingers, with filth blackened
3> That sought the throats of thrall and servant,
3> Or of sister-son his throne usurping...
Bwahahahah!
4> 'What about the weed trade?' exclaimed Morrie.
4> 'What about the Revolution?' expostulated Sam.
4> '_Cassiopeia_!' screamed Frodo, apropos of nothing.
LOL...
5> 'Well Shelob!ą said Radagast. 'Where are you going?'
5> 'Vhot isz zet beink to you?ą she answered. 'Vosz you lookink for a
5> vogah, or voot you rezser hef a date visz Sztinky?'
5> Her kiss is like trinitrotoluene...
Welp, she went out with a bang, at least.
5> 'Poor old Stinky! Poor old Stinky! Always beaten, never a wogah.
5> How I hate her! How I wish I could leave her!'
5> 'Then leave her!' said Radagast.
But, um... tell me: what does "Sharku" mean in the Black Speech?
5> But "Stinky" only glanced with one red eye full of terror at
5> Radagast, and then shuffled quickly past behind Shelob.
Well, scour me with /athelas/ and call me a healer!
6> "I'll get that Ring back, sure as my name's Don Gi..anni! BB."
Another mystery solved!
So Spiegel was Schmiegel, fater lal, but Gullible is as Gullible does.
6> _How dare you read my mail, boy!_ followed by _ It's ours, precious,
6> and we wants it!_
This would seem to be building up to something out of
Stephen King's _Precious_, putetaru.
6> It burned there for a few moments, then crawled to the tip of
6> his outstretched index finger, spread minute diaphanous wings like a
6> mayfly's, and flew back into the tree.
6> 'It is as I feared,' said Radagast. 'The 'Rogs have hatched west of
6> the mountains.'
Does this mean that those miniature Uruloki that Horus Engels
eats are acksherly 'rog larvae?
6> 'I remember who murdered Ariellë,' Frodo mumbled in return.
I walays gnu it would end in horror.
--
Banazir
(goond show, Duke)
Count Menelvagor
> David Salo <ds...@usa.net> wrote in message news:<300620021259282284%ds...@usa.net>...
> > _Make Way for Roglings_
> > (An epickal tragoedy in Syx Partes)
>
> Well well well!
> This is pretty durned goond.
>
Indeend.
"Choklit": we note that the teuncificiation of the e-text continues.
> 2> 'Cos I--Iąm the Duke of Nu-urn!'
Amuzzling ...
> 2> _What a loser_, came a mocking voice inside his head as he lost consciousness.
>
> How... Gondorian (tm).
Bilbo was a mean old guy even after death.
Aragon's terms to the "_Injuns_" was actually fairly generous, by
Merkian standards. And he didn't even turn them into an attraction.
>
> 3> Out of dark, out of death, to the dead's rising
> 3> He clambered out of the clay still clinging
> 3> To his bloody fingers, with filth blackened
> 3> That sought the throats of thrall and servant,
> 3> Or of sister-son his throne usurping...
>
> Bwahahahah!
Gore! Gore! Gore!
>
> 4> 'What about the weed trade?' exclaimed Morrie.
> 4> 'What about the Revolution?' expostulated Sam.
> 4> '_Cassiopeia_!' screamed Frodo, apropos of nothing.
>
> LOL...
Seconded.
"UNhappy about the peace": Boromir(tm)? Forlong? Tom Bombadildo the
narcoterrorist?
Poor Dunlendings ...
>
> 5> 'Well Shelob!ą said Radagast. 'Where are you going?'
> 5> 'Vhot isz zet beink to you?ą she answered. 'Vosz you lookink for a
> 5> vogah, or voot you rezser hef a date visz Sztinky?'
> 5> Her kiss is like trinitrotoluene...
>
> Welp, she went out with a bang, at least.
>
> 5> 'Poor old Stinky! Poor old Stinky! Always beaten, never a wogah.
> 5> How I hate her! How I wish I could leave her!'
> 5> 'Then leave her!' said Radagast.
Sad; we were hoping that Sauron adn Shelob had lived ahppily ever
fater. This part very well-done, however.
> 6> "I'll get that Ring back, sure as my name's Don Gi..anni! BB."
>
> Another mystery solved!
> So Spiegel was Schmiegel, fater lal, but Gullible is as Gullible does.
Yes, this part very amuzzling ... Still wonder how he got to be
called Gullible, but suspect soem sexual misadventure had soemthing to
do with it.
Also the snobby Elves and their "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew! mortals!"
attitude ...
> 6> It burned there for a few moments, then crawled to the tip of
> 6> his outstretched index finger, spread minute diaphanous wings like a
> 6> mayfly's, and flew back into the tree.
> 6> 'It is as I feared,' said Radagast. 'The 'Rogs have hatched west of
> 6> the mountains.'
>
> Does this mean that those miniature Uruloki that Horus Engels
> eats are acksherly 'rog larvae?
>
No one eats a Rog and lives. (Wonder what the Roglings will do ...)
> 6> 'I remember who murdered Ariellë,' Frodo mumbled in return.
>
> I walays gnu it would end in horror.
And another cliffhanger!
The tolp continues to twist in amuzzling wazs ...