Aragorn Gets Brainwashed – Chapter 3.9284 : Things Get Pretty Bad

by Mar 14, 2006Stories

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 read and review!

Aragorn Gets Brainwashed
Chapter 3.9284 : Things Get Pretty Bad

“You admit you are one of the traitorous Elf-friends, then?” Stanley demanded.

Aragorn looked extremely uncomfortable. “Ummm… did I say that? Anyway, I think I… have to–go.”

“Yeah,” Siarl pitched in, “Lisa and Jo are going to kill us if we let–uh–if we are late for dinner.”

Stanley was beginning to get an evil look in his eye. “Well, you won’t have to worry about them killing you.”

“I meant that as a figure of speech.”

“I think I will have to speak to the Lord Sauron about you,” Stanley announced. He then disappeared out of the stone door in the wall.

“Now what?” Siarl groaned. Aragorn remained broodingly silent. Siarl sighed and stood, trying to find the door, which was now invisible again. Eventually he tired of that and sat again.

“So, you think this Sauron guy’s going to execute us?” Siarl asked Aragorn after the silence had gotten thick enough to eat with toast.

“Knowing him, he’ll probably try.” Aragorn wished he had toast; toast is always good when you’re going to be executed.

“I guess we should have a plan ready, then,” Siarl offered.

“Yeah. A plan.” Aragorn obviously didn’t have one.

Siarl studied the sky. “How do they perform the sacrifices, exactly?”

Shrugging, Aragorn said, “I’m not sure. I’ve never witnessed one.” He winced. “I hope they don’t set the sacrificial victims on fire.”

“Hmm. You still have your sword, right?”


“And I have mine…”

“You have a sword?” Aragorn interrupted.

Siarl looked at him as if he had just asked an exceedingly dumb question. “Of course.”

“Oh. Right.” Aragorn took his turn studying the clear, blue sky. After a few minutes of this he asked Siarl for the portal and began fiddling with it, trying to get the battery to work.

Footsteps began to resound through the walls (yes, footsteps can do such things if they are inclined to try). Siarl started to draw his sword.

“I wish I had a crystace about now,” Aragorn muttered. Crystace: A super cool lightsaber-like weapon used in the Firebird series by Kathy Tyers.

“Um, right,” Siarl looked confused.

The door opened and Stanley came in. “Hi.”

Siarl was fascinated by the invisible-but-not-invisible door. “Hi.”

Stanley straightened his shirt a little, sure Siarl was staring at something on his uniform. “You will follow me. Don’t try to escape. It’s futile.”

“Alright,” Siarl said in an almost cheerful voice. Stanley looked at him oddly. “…What?”

“Silence,” snapped Stanley.

Siarl rolled his eyes dramatically.

Stanley turned a sort of pale-ish-purple color. “Did you just…”

“Sure did,” he replied happily. “And I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

“Would you enjoy being pulled limb from limb?” Stanley asked evenly.

“No,” Siarl admitted thoughtfully. “But better to speak what I think then let my tongue rot.” (now, how rolling his eyes could be called “speaking”, we don’t really know)

Stanley glared his squinty-glare-of-Doom, which actually wasn’t as impressive as all his friends told him.

Siarl studied him a few minutes. “Well, are you going to stand here all day chit-chatting–which, actually, I would not mind–or are you going to lead us somewhere?”

The Glare of Doom grew heavier and even less Doom-like.

“Perhaps he would like to stand around for a while,” Aragorn said. He had now stood.

“Yes,” Siarl agreed, “I think that’s what that look means.”

“Perhaps we can do something about that.” Aragorn voice-commanded, “Stay there.”

Siarl grinned. Stanley looked slightly puzzled, as he had not yet figured out what had happened.

“Let’s go,” said Aragorn. He then walked past Stanley.

“WAIT!” Stanley shouted, finally realizing he could not move. “YOU CAN’T–“

Siarl ignored him, following Aragorn. “Where can we go? I’m afraid I don’t know the layout of this land.”

“Me neither,” said Aragorn thoughtfully.

“Do you think this guard guy might have a map?” Siarl motioned at the once-again-pale-ish-purple Stanley.

Aragorn looked at the man only briefly. “Maybe. But I don’t think we want to stick around here long enough to check. Someone could get here any moment.”

“True, let’s go.”

“Yes. And we need to find some way to power this thing up.” He patted the portal.

Siarl nodded and passed Stanley. As he did, he gave a friendly wave. “It was nice meeting you. Hope we can chat again soon.

The Glare of Doom was shot at him, but had no effect.

Aragorn and Siarl went down the stairs. It was noted by Siarl that there would be a nasty fight if they were caught in the stairwell with nowhere to go, so they resolved to get down as quickly as possible. As they neared the bottom, it was possible to hear a drunken soldier singing something about the song that never ends. Another soldier was trying to rouse his friend to go look for their captain, who apparently had disappeared upstairs.

“I don’t drink on duty, and I don’t want to loose my skin,” the second, non-drunk guard said. “I’m going up, are you comin’ or not?”

LET’S GET OUT OF HERE NOW, Aragorn shouted mentally at Siarl. Siarl was extremely lucky, for once, and happened to bump into one of those invisible doors at this exact moment. The door creaked open and both men ran into the room it revealed.

THANK ERU! Aragorn thought, very relieved. He leaned back against the wall and tried not to pant. Siarl stayed by the door, watching the hallway through a small crack he’d kept open.

“Fine, FINE!” the drunk soldier mumbled. “I’ll come. Let’s just make it quick.” He talked with surprisingly good English for being so drunk.

Footsteps came toward the two hiding main characters. Siarl closed the door a little more.

“Hmm,” said a muffled voice. “Did you hear something?”

“Nope. I think you’re over reacting.”

“SHHH! Listen, will ya?”

Aragorn stopped breathing.

“…Did you hear that?”

“I heard rats.”

Aragorn began sweating.

“FOOL! Your drinking has dulled your senses! Listen.

“Ohhh… Do you mean that squeaking we heard a second ago?”


Yeah, the squeaking, Aragorn tried to influence their thoughts.

“I think it was rats.”

It was rats. Definitely rats.

There was the sound of someone slapping someone.

“OUCH! What was that for!”



“…Maybe it was just the captain…?”

Yeah. The captain. Definitely the captain.

“Nono! If it was we would be hearing footsteps and commands right now instead of silence.”

Maybe he fell asleep.

“Maybe he fell asleep…?”

Cool! Aragorn thought of just how far he could take his new-found power.


Aragorn wondered why today was particularly important.

“AND WHILE HE WAS LEADING CRIMINALS, TOO! DON’T YOU HAVE A BRAIN MAN–” The man stopped. Then he cursed. “The prisoners! They must have escaped!”

Aragorn went back to holding his breath.

The other guard muttered, “That’s not good. Maybe we should…look around?”

The first guard ran past Siarl and Aragorn’s room, not bothering to answer. According to the noise it was assumed that he was going to find the captain.

However, the drunk soldier went slower. He stopped right outside their room. “Hmm,” he mused. “there’s a crack in the wall.”

Aragorn shut his eyes tight.

The man touched the door. Siarl bit his lip, holding it partly shut still. Suddenly the man gave the door a shove.


Siarl tried to hold it firmly, but it quaked at the resistance.

“Hmm.” The drunk man studied it a moment. Then he drew a deep breath. “HEY, TIMMY, I THINK I FOUND THEM!”

It seemed like the other soldier–apparently Timmy–was back down the stars in less than a minute. “Where!”

“In there.”

Oh no! NOW WHAT?
Aragorn wracked his brain for an idea.

Timmy shoved against the door. Siarl put all his weight against it, trying to hold it shut. Aragorn ran to help, while at the same time the drunk guard started helping his friend. A war over the door ensued. Then suddenly the guards stopped pushing. Aragorn and Siarl both got where thrown off balance, and were thus unstable when the guards threw themselves against the door and the door opened.

Aragorn whipped out Anduril.

“Hold it!” Timmy shouted. He had his sword already drawn and pressed against Siarl’s chest.

“Release him, or I’ll cut your throat,” Aragorn growled.

Frodo suddenly appeared with them. “HEY! PLAGIARIST!”

“Oops…” Aragorn blinked twice.

Frodo snarled. Aragorn told him to get lost. Frodo disappeared again.

Timmy quickly regained himself. “I’ll not release him until you have surrendered.”

“And what do you plan to do with us once we’ve surrendered?” Aragorn asked. “Something tells me I don’t want to face that.”

“You’ve been summoned to see and be judged by Lord Sauron.”

“Hmm. Guessed as much.”

Timmy pressed his sword against Siarl’s chest. “Lower your sword.”

Reluctantly Aragorn let Anduril’s tip drop, but he kept a tight grip on it.

“Drop it.”


The sword was starting to pierce through Siarl’s shirt. “You’re killing him.”

Aragorn swallowed nervously. Despite the fact that he and Siarl were loose friends, he also knew that Lisa would have his head if he allowed her character to die.

“Drop it. Now.”

Aragorn hesitated.

Blood began to form on Siarl’s shirt. He closed his eyes and gulped.

Anduril clattered to the floor. Aragorn was unarmed.


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