The 24 Days of Christmas Challenge
Day 19: Six Sexy Rohirrim
The Rivendell Film Festival Revisited (A Drabble)
More than an hour after the arrival of Orlando Bloom, the crowd was
finally starting to quiet down (mostly because at least half of the
elven fan girls had fainted from shortness of breath). The volume,
however, was turned up again by the arrival of Karl Urban. He was
escorted up the red carpet by six sexy Rohirrim in full
dress regalia. Amid the screams, one voice was heard to ask, “Karl, who
are those gorgeous men with you?” His escort, as one, reached up and
removed their helms, shook out shimmering blonde tresses and chorused,
“I am no man!”
- Daughter of Kings
Grun’chack Wumplepossie starred suspiciously at
the gathered crowd. From the edgy shuffles of the Nazgûl to the loud
clucking of the Orcs, everyone seemed to have something to hide.
It was of course only fair that he had brought them all together
into the Dying Room, the scene of the dastardly crime. Biding his time
and waiting to see which one of the nefarious villains would crack
first. He had good bets on the Nazgûl, although Shawoooooo’tish the
Lesser, the Great Goblin from the North looked like he was almost ready
to explode. He was unsure if this was because of his lying, black heart
or the sharp pins being poked in his backside.
After an almost untenable wait, Grun’chack called for silence and leant against the torture rack.
“My honourable guests, you are gathered here on this most ghastly of nights to finally hear who stole the six sexy Rohirrim girls and ate them without permission!”
Sharp cries of astonishment broke from the guest’s mouths and/or facial appertures.
“I direct your attention to exhibit A,” And at this point Grun’chack snapped his fingers, signalling four orcs to begin wheeling in a plate of bones. “This is all that remains of the fine delicacies.”
Voxiloxil the Spider watched transfixed as the bones passed in
front of her, only to be interrupted as she was splattered by Fub the
“Please, some decorum!” Grun’chack shouted out loudly, bring their attention back to him. “Thank
you, now as you can see in this succulent thigh bone, the tibia has got
a distinctive dental impression left in it. Most likely left by the
“Whose is it?” Hissed the Nazgûl.
“Must be someone with teeth” Whispered Voxiloxil, turning several eyes to Fob.
“Well it wasn’t a Goblin, not big enough!” Quickly responded Shawoooooo’tish.
“We ‘ere Orcs dunt like ‘em bonies.” Rashníp shouted.
“What’s a fibbier?” Stammered Fob, still several sentences behind everyone else.
“Quiet! I have determined that this mark was left after the time of consumption. And I am 97% certain the DNA matches…. Fob!” Grun’chack broke in. “However, I am also now certain he did not kill the fine meats. It required more skill than a simply Cave Troll can muster.”
Many grumbles rushed around the room, many of them coming from
Voxiloxil, who had positioned herself under the stretching rack to
escape the drool.
“Kill him anyway!” She whispered, to which there were a few nods of agreements.
“As much as we may like to, he is not the midnight snacker.” Grun’chack interrupted, provoking more groans and hisses from the suspects.
“I have deduced that this vicious act
was a result of a vendicitive smear campaign.. against the Orcs! As
witnessed by the crudely carved words ‘Blame the Cowardly Half-Breedy
Scum’. Now everyone knows it’s not nice to call them cowardly, measily
perhaps, slimy maybe, but not cowardly.”
“That’s for the spiders” Shawoooooooo’tish chuckled in the corner. Followed immediately by a sticky ball of web being thrown in his face.
“So who was it then?” The Nazgûl hissed over the racket caused by his clinking armour.
“I shall reveal all now, my black-attired compatriot, for it was….” Grun’chack paused, letting the drama and mystery hang in the air amid the bats. “You, Darphezalbobquagmiritlydumdoodle!”
Astounded cries rocked the room as Grun’chack pointed a boney finger at the Nazgûl.
“But he’s got no mouth!” Rashníp shouted.
“How’d he eat them?” Voxiloxil whipsered.
“How can he talk if he hasn’t got a mouth, stupid!” Shawooooooo’tish retorted quickly.
“I never thought Orcs were cowardly.” Fob muttered in the corner.
“What would he do with six sexy Rohirrim anyway?” Shawooooooo’tish added.
“But he’s got no mouth!” Rashníp kept crying, as if to make a point.
“Maybe he turned them into slugs, slugs are nice and crunchy.” Voxiloxil continued.
All the time they were arguing, Darphezalbobquagmiritlydumdoodle the
Nazgûl sat quietly in his chair, not moving or making any attempt to
“What have you to say, Darphezalbobquagmiritlydumdoodle?”
Probed Grun’chack after the baying crowds had died down and Rashníp had
been gagged. When he made no reply, Voxiloxil scurried forward and
gently tapped the Nazgûl’s armour. It suddenly collapsed and crashed to
ground in a heap of black cloak and knee-joints.
“Well I’ve never seen them do that before.” Shawooooooooo’tish
exclaimed, turning to his silent cousin. To which the gagged Rashníp
just mumbled incoherantly with emphatic hand gesturing.
“What about our revenge?” Voxiloxil asked, poking Grun’chack several times.
“It was the Nazgûl?” Fob managed to get out, before accidently stamping on Voxiloxil.
“Well that’s my part done.” Grun’chack
Wumplepossie the Chief Inquisitor of the Evil Minions said, reaching
into his pockets and removing a pale severed finger, which he began to
cheerily nibble on as the guests started attacking each other.
Shadowfax pounded over the turf, delighting in
the feel of the thick, soft earth beneath his hooves, the wind
streaming through his mane. His good friend sat close upon his back,
the grey-white robes pressed back by the speed of their passing.
"Haste!" said his friend. "Haste...! Wait! Where are you going? No, no - Shadowfax, Meduseld is that way. That way! Oh drat it!"
Shadowfax heeded him not as he turned sharply to the left in pursuit of the six sexy Rohirrim mares that ran ahead of him, their coy brown eyes batting at him through their dark bay forelocks.
Scurrying ‘round the cook, flinching from the wielded broom, six sexy Rohirrim of the rodent variety grabbed the King’s cheese and ran for their hole.
Beauty being in the eye of the beholder,
Six sexy Rohirrim soon grew bolder,
Strutted their best, high lifted their feet,
And brushed out their tails, so long and sweet.
Who could say that their beauty wasn't best?
Certainly that Shadowfax put them to the test!
Every time Théodred had visited the White City, they would sit with
glee in the ‘Three Fishermen’ pub and look at the drawings that he
brought with him. Boromir had heard stories. Everyone in Gondor had
heard stories, but no one had ever actually seen one. Though it was a
Rohirric tradition, Boromir had not seen a compilation such as this
before. They were called shieldmaidens – one for each month of the
year. Of the twelve, there were six sexy Rohirrim that caught Boromir’s eye. Next time he visited, he assured himself, he would make sure to look them up.
(sorry - so trite - I don't know where my mind is!)
Hmmm - I thnk I would have preferred six sexy Gondorians!