Marshmallows – A Drabble
“Bring wood and oil!” Denethor commanded loudly which caused the servants to immediately begin carrying bundles of sticks and a fifty gallon drum of cooking oil out of a nearby storage room.
“And while you’re at it how about a bag of those big white marshmallows!” Faramir suddenly added eagerly while quickly sitting up on his litter. “Father I could use some of those sticks and toast marshmallows for us!”
“Are you crazy?! Your marshmallows always go up in flames and become a burnt mess! Now if only Boromir were here then I would have perfectly golden marshmallows,” Denethor sighed.
- Dinledhwen
"Thus departs Denethor, son of Ecthelion..." intoned Gandalf as the flames lit the darkened street, perhaps the most useful thing Denethor'd done as it gave the tall wizard enough light to not trip over his small companion.
"Hey, two down one to go, right Gandalf?" asked Pippin. "I really do think this family needs a new shot of genetics, seein' as they keep goin' mad."
"For once you show wisdom, young Took. Indeed. We'll have to encourage Faramir to take up with someone elsewhere. Perhaps of Rohan."
"A Rohan lady? Where would you find one o' those around here?" Pippin laughed.
"Hmmm..."
- Primula
The citizens were amazed at the death of their Steward. How could it happen, had enemies broken into the Citadel, past the guards? Had there been some betrayal?
Nay, twas whispered that he had, in a fit of madness, sought to burn himself and the Captain but drowned.
"Drowned?" asked the astonished people, "How?"
"Well, he was standing there carrying on and on about how Mithrandir was undermining his authority and how he really knew what was going on... then he threw down a torch upon the wood..."
"And?"
"The sprinkler heads came on but he wouldn't shut his mouth!"
- Primula
