A/N: This is just a piece of humor. If the characters are close to canon, it’s probably just coincidence. We do not own any of them, except Siarl, Jo and Lisa. Laugh, then review!
Aragorn Gets Brainwashed
Chapter 2.3431 : From Tethel To Numbers–erm, Númenor
Siarl was eager and excited as he approach Jo’s house. He still was surprised that they had actually given him the portal, especially after the last adventure. But he was determined he would get Aragorn and bring him back to the bleeding-guy-on-the-floor.
There was a man smoking with a boll of purple-ish mush beside him (Eowyn had been at him again for not eating enough) outside of the house. Siarl approached him.
“Hey, do you know where I might find Aragorn?”
The man looked at him oddly. “That would be me…” He wasn’t sure he really wanted to be identified with Siarl again, so he added, “I think…”
“Oh, helkith!” Siarl said happily, using his country’s term of hello. “I’m Siarl Finish, a soldier.”
“Uh… hi.” Aragorn sounded anything but enthusiastic.
“Jo and Lisa want you,” Siarl went on. “There’s a guy bleeding to death in Lisa’s living room.”
Aragorn dropped his pipe. “WHAT?”
Siarl thought hard. “`Faramir’, I think it was… Or maybe just `Far’?”
“WHAT?” Aragorn exclaimed again.
“I think some Denny guy punished him ’cause he was hurting rugs or something…”
“Oh NO,” Aragorn groaned. “Take me there, quick.”
Siarl complied. He told the portal to take them back and pushed the GO button.
But he forgot the chocolate.
There was a huge flash, and Siarl found himself standing in the middle of a city, Aragorn beside him.
“Ow, that was bright,” muttered Aragorn, rubbing his eyes and blinking repeatedly.
This isn’t Lisa’s house, thought Siarl, puzzled. Then he saw the sign they were standing in front of and almost jumped out of his skin. “Oh dear!”
“What?” asked the ranger.
“We’re in Tethel.” He pointed to the sign, which read: WELCOME TO THE NAMELESS CAPITOL OF TETHEL. (Siarl’s enemy country, which would just love to kill some nice Midenian soldier.)
“We’re WHERE?” Aragorn demanded.
Siarl started yelling at the portal and commanding it to take them back to Lisa’s house. Enemy soldiers were running at them with shouts of: “STOP THERE!” and “THAT ONE’S MIDENIAN!” and “GET ‘EM!” All of which are not good things to say about our main characters.
Siarl jabbed the GO button again, hoping that it would work. There was another blinding flash…
“That was close,” panted Aragorn.
Siarl heaved a sigh and leaned against the stone wall at his back. “Yeah.”
“Now, where are we?” Aragorn began to look around. His face suddenly paled. “Wait…”
“What is it?” Siarl asked, seeing nothing familiar about the circle-shaped, roofless room they were in.
“Armenelos?” Aragorn whispered.
“What? Where?” asked Siarl, lost and confused.
“The capital of Númenor,” Aragorn informed him, still looking worried. “But what’s this…building we’re in?”
Siarl looked back up at the open sky above them. “Don’t ask me, I’ve never heard of it.” A seagull flew overhead and he instinctively ducked, just in case it might drop something on his head.
“OH NO!” Aragorn suddenly cried–though not at the seagull.
“What?” Siarl turned on him. “What is it?”
Aragorn looked as if he was going to be sick, or paralyzed, or maybe like he thought he’d just seen Isildur as an undead pirate. “This is Sauron’s temple to Melkor.” Seeing Siarl’s uncomprehending expression he tried to elaborate. “They, uh…” he swallowed. “They sacrifice the Faithful here.”
Gulping, Siarl looked around again. “How do we get out?”
“Uh…run?” Aragorn suggested hopelessly.
“But there are wall on all sides, and no door–least, not that I can see,” Siarl informed him.
“Oh darn. Then we… wait until someone comes in?”
“I guessss,” Siarl agreed uncertainly.
Aragorn rethought his advice. “Except… I don’t know if we’d want to be here when they come in.”
“I was just thinking that,” Siarl added quickly, in order to sound smarter than he felt. “…And the portal’s not working,” he added.
“It isn’t?” Aragorn sounded dismayed.
“Well…” Siarl inspected it. “It says, `New Battery Needed’.”
“OH NO!” Aragorn cried again.
Siarl tried to sound optimistic. “There wouldn’t be any “360 Hist” batteries here? Right?”
Ominous footsteps echoed outside the wall. Siarl looked toward the sound. “Someone’s coming.”
An interestingly dressed man came in. He had a McDonalds hat on, and a dead bird slung over his soldier. His uniform consisted of gold and Navy-blue colors. We can only assume this was one of Sauron’s guards or priests.
Siarl had never seen such an outfit. He stared openly. “Woah, weird clothes…”
The man saw them and dropped his bird. “Excuse me!” he snapped at Siarl. “What are you DOING? WHO ARE YOU?” The man’s voice rose to a squeak. “Defiling the Holy Place!”
“Well…” Siarl fumbled for words. The squeaky, oddly-dress man was quite a sight. “We, uh… It was an accident…?”
“I’m sure it was,” the man said evenly.
“Really,” Aragorn put in quickly. “We’ll be, uh, going now…”
“Yeah,” added Siarl. “We’d be happy to leave.”
The man–his name was Stanley, so that’s what we’ll call him from now on–frowned and picked up his bird. “I don’t think you will be.” Stanley glanced at Aragorn for the first time. Then he seemed to jump a little and looked closer. Siarl looked from one man to the other, not sure what was going on.
Stanley’s eyes narrowed. “Are you any relation to the traitor Elendil of Andunnie?”
“Umm,” said Aragorn nervously. “Heh.”
Siarl was quick to help his new friend. “Actually, he’s related to this guy–Elvish? No, no, Elvis!”
Aragorn telepathed Siarl: SIARL! SHUT UP!
Stanley’s eyes now looked Asian, they were narrowed so much.
Oops, thought Siarl, sure he’d just made a big mistake. And he was right, he had.