[ElanorGamgee]

Here's the mad lib with pants:

The pants of Fëanor

Then Fëanor tore a terrible pants. His 456 third cousins twice removed leapt straightway to his side and tore the selfsame pants together, and red as blood shone their drawn shorts in the glare of the torches. They tore a pants which none shall rip, and none should sew, by the name even of Ilúvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; and Wormtongue they named in witness, and Pippin's mother, and the hallowed mountain of eggs, vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World tall Ent, chubby Hobbit, pretty Elf or angry Dwarf as yet unborn, or any creature, plaid or polka dotted, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should smite or scourge or keep a Oliphaunt from their possession.

[ June 03, 2002: Message edited by: ElanorGamgee ]