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Lindolirian · 10-04-2002, 02:33 PM

The Choices of Master Samwise

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the funkiest Taco Bell burger flipper of old Gondor, nor the most savage wombat entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set sun tan lotion to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing nose hairs beneath her and worked backwards in a convulsive leap.

Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's simple squamous epithelium, his senses reeling in the creamy stench, his 2 belly buttons still gripping the ringer of the cow bell. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's lil toe and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to hoodle himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her snout drabbling a spittle of venom, and a orange Barq's French Vanilla Cream Soda trickling from below her wounded leg. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to lick and wiggle to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to punch and then to scream.

Even as Sam himself drank, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his bottle with his left hand, and found what he sought: long and kooky and farlish it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the nose-hair-trimmer of Ceorl.

'Ceorl! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the Oliphaunts as they ate under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Bay of Eldarmar, and the music of Oliphaunts as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Gundabald Bolger.

10-04-2002, 02:33 PM	#132
Lindolirian World's Tallest Hobbit Join Date: Nov 2001 Location: Where the view is long Posts: 2,117	The Choices of Master Samwise No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the funkiest Taco Bell burger flipper of old Gondor, nor the most savage wombat entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set sun tan lotion to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing nose hairs beneath her and worked backwards in a convulsive leap. Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's simple squamous epithelium, his senses reeling in the creamy stench, his 2 belly buttons still gripping the ringer of the cow bell. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's lil toe and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to hoodle himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her snout drabbling a spittle of venom, and a orange Barq's French Vanilla Cream Soda trickling from below her wounded leg. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to lick and wiggle to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to punch and then to scream. Even as Sam himself drank, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his bottle with his left hand, and found what he sought: long and kooky and farlish it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the nose-hair-trimmer of Ceorl. 'Ceorl! ' he said faintly, and then he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the Oliphaunts as they ate under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Bay of Eldarmar, and the music of Oliphaunts as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Gundabald Bolger. __________________ 'They say that the One will himself enter into Arda, and heal Men and all the Marring from the beginning to the end."