The Never-ENTing Story

For Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it.
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Loremaster of the Herd
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"No more rhyming now, I mean it. Anybody want a peanut?" (The Princess Bride)

For those of us who are not poets, I proudly present the never-ENTing story! Ok, ok, its never-ending... Please humor me. (Seriously, though, if you do like a good rhyme, please do check out the Neverending Poetry Story)

The basic idea is to thread together a cohesive story where each of us tells the next portion in our post.

Simple example starting with a quote from The Hobbit:
Post 1: In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means...

Post 2: it smells of old pipeweed and stale ale from last night's party in which a group of loud, boisterous uninvited dwarves showed up and ate all the cake. But they very next day...

Post 3: at this stage the next person would fill in the next part of the story and so on.

No rules other than The Plaza rules.

I'm starting it in Fangorn (cause that's where we are), but please feel free to have the story migrate elsewhere in Middle-earth and please feel free to be very silly! (In fact, the sillier the better.)
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The Story Begins
In his house at Wellinghall, Treebeard awoke with the sun and felt rather content. All was as it should be in Fangorn; nothing much was happening and only the squirrels were scurrying from tree to tree with their usual haste, chittering all the way.
But as he looked upon the rippling and gurgling waters of the Entwash, he saw the most unexpected thing floating there in the water...

Istari Sage
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This is a fun thread idea, thanks for starting it up here! I like poetry but 1) I am, as you gently put it, not a poet, and 2) I like posting in Fangorn. Are you thinking our posts should be all roughly your example length, e.g. two or three sentences?

My contribution:
Treebeard had to peer twice, and for an Ent to do a double-take is a long-winded affair. But his eyes made out, floating in the Entwash, what appeared to be a little orc. The orc had fair, mousy hair, big green eyes, and very hairy feet. It looked up at him and squeaked: "...

Storyteller
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"...what's for breakfast?"

Of course, this was an orc from the Shire, more commonly known as a hobbit. His skin was not rough, his breath was not bad, and he was not prone to violence. But hobbits were not in the list, and Treebeard had again forgotten that orcs looked different from the Shirefolk. Yet the Ent could see that this creature was having a rough morning, and had clearly been having a tough time of it to wash up on the river like that. So he bent over, scooped up the poor, exhausted fellow, and decided he would indeed have to prepare something for him to eat. "But what do orcs like to eat for breakfast?" he thought to himself.

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Being most surprised to be picked up by a huge tree-like being, the little hobbit completely froze, rigid as a plank, and tried not to breath or make a sound. It was rather difficult, as rivulets of Entwash water were running down from his hair into his ears, which tickled, and from his clothing into his foot hair, which also tickled but in a different way. Both tickles were hard to ignore, and in his attempt not to startle the tree-thing, which might make it drop him (and it was a fair old distance to the ground), he ended up giving off a rather high pitched continuous squeak.
Starbreeze ~ Lily Knotwise ~ Itarildë Tinehtelë ~ Peachleaf ~ Isiliyan ~ Aelflaed Goldhawk ~ Dagnead

New Soul
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Treebeard looked down at the little hungry orc. He hoped it was merely hungry and not hurt, but the squeaking was worrying him. The last time he had run into little orcs like this one--and nice creatures they had been, too--what did they call themselves again? He would think of it in a minute, he had added a line to the old list. In the meantime, a nice breakfast of light and water would be good, he decided after thinking for some time. "Hoom, how does some lovely water sound for breakfast?" he offered generously. The hobbit stared back and said...

Elven Enchanter
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"Water for breakfast? I am drenched and water and that is not breakfast!" He shook his wet head as droplets went flying, several of them hitting Treebeard. "No, what I need for breakfast is a cup of hot tea and some toast and perhaps a bit of fruit." The little hobbit shook his head in annoyance and glared up at the giant creature saying, "…
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Galadhrim Weaver
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"... and that's just for first breakfast. For my second breakfast I want...."
"STOOPPP..." shouted Treebeard, "Little Orcs don't get to chose... they eats what's served!"
Treebeard shook his canopy... "Second breakfast... Hrmm... I'll give it a second breakfast it'll never forget."
He started to gather the ingredients for the second breakfast...

Newborn of Imladris
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several pine cones, some rowan berries and a large handful of comfrey.

He had reckoned without the ingenuity of the little creature, however, for by the time he had gotten back, it had caught, skinned and was roasting a rabbit over a small fire, next to which were a number of root vegetables on a skewer. Clearly he had been gone for a while.

"Curse my unhastiness," he thought, "I'll never ...
The Wood-elves lingered in the twilight of our Sun and Moon, but loved best the stars.

Wise Ent
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Be able to make a proper Second Breakfast now!

This Little Orc was quite the creature. Eating meat? How hasty an idea was that? The root vegetables were well and good, even slightly Entish. But killing another creature just for nourishment? That was hasty in the extreme! He would have to investigate further....if the Orc could kill a defenceless creature like that, what else was it capable of?

Treebeard came up behind the Little Orc, and bent down. He said:
Do not Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons, for You are Crunchy and Good with Ketchup.

Istari Sage
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"Hoom, hom, little orc, already at cursed work, are we? Gnawing, biting? Soon you'll be hacking and burning aye? Destroyers and usurpers curse you!" Treebeard was slowly working himself up into a rage. The hobbit, whose name, by the way, was Tom Hornblower, jumped quickly to his feet.

"Now calm down there sir, there's a good, uh...what are you?" Treebeard responded...

Loremaster of the Herd
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"I don't believe I should answer to you, Little Orc, when you are in my forest." Though he was feeling quite angry, he never turned down an opportunity to do a little orc re-education. "Don't they teach you orcs anything anymore?" He shook his head. "Nobody cares for the woods anymore," he mused to himself with a sigh. "I am an Ent, of course, a Shepherd of the Trees. And who might you be?"

Tom Hornblower stood tall, all three foot five inches of him and replied, "well I am..."

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(@KingODuckingham - feel free to write as much or as little as you like! :smile: )

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"A hobbit, of course! What did you think? Why do you keep calling me an orc? I'm decidedly not an orc!" Tom said shrilly. "And I'm most definitely not little, I'm all of three foot five, I'll have you know," he said squaring his shoulders and stamping his foot on the forest floor.

Treebeard looked surprised, or at least, as surprised as he could. "A hobbit, say you," he rumbled. "I remember some hobbits, who were quite hasty. As a matter of fact..."

Storyteller
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"...they also waded about in water, but they managed it a little better than you did. They were there when we flooded Isengard." He paused for a long while, reminiscing on the details of that story in his mind. "Hoom, what caused you to be floating down the Entwash, small hobbit?" he asked, while Tom began to chew on his rabbit breakfast.

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With food at hand and Treebeard less looming, Tom began to think that this impromptu picnic didn't make for such a bad day after all.

"This could have used a few herbs. Rosemary and sage, do you have any? Could do a proper cook-up! But oh, nevermind, of course you don't," he rambled as he took an experimental bite of a parsnip. "A tree eating leaves would be an odd sight, to boot! But as for meself, my dear Ent, it is quite the tale! if I dare say so. I was at The Golden Perch with some of the lads. Do you know it? It's quite famous, anyways. And we..."

Newborn of Imladris
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and at that he stopped, for the golden eyes of the tall living tree were quite hypnotically liquid and he realised he'd been rude.

"It doesn't matter," he said, "or I'll tell you later, at any rate. To be honest with you, I am on a Quest. It is very Important and Noble, and I was just having a small setback after my curricle went through the rapids, and then the rapids went through my curricle! You saved me, so you must therefore join me on my Quest, so that I can repay the favour somehow!"

He beamed, then whispered conspiratorially, "I am going South to ...
The Wood-elves lingered in the twilight of our Sun and Moon, but loved best the stars.

New Soul
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"Find an unlimited source of pipeweed!" he said, glancing around to be sure he wasn't overheard. "There was a traveler from a distant land, who came to the Golden Perch, and was selling a map leading directly to the biggest source of pipeweed you can imagine!" he said, trembling with excitement. "I can bring it back to the Shire! You can help me, and I will repay you as soon as we sell our first delivery!" he said, eyes shining.

"Can you imagine? He sold me the map for only 10 silver coins!" Tom continued, excitedly. Treebeard listened to the story with astonishment. This was, truly, a hasty hobbit. Treebeard thought for a moment (or two), before replying...

Craftsman of Gondor
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....with a deep sigh: "Pipeweed is a plant, is it not? A living thing, hoomharum. Growing, blooming and enjoying the sun on its leaves like every being, with roots, stem and flower. And you cut it and shred it in small pieces to then burn it in a pipe, just for your own delight? Is it so?.......burn with fire," Treebeard frowned and shook his leafy head. "Help you?...I do not know why", he muttered.
Now the hobbit looked astonished and a little bit scared, too. "But. but, pipeweed is just the best and the taste is heavenly, and ..." he stuttered.
Treebeard lifted one barky brow and stooped to look deep into the hobbits nervously blinking eyes.
Then he said, still very close to the hobbits face: "......

Storyteller
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"...you watch your words, young hobbit. You are beginning to sound very orcish."

Tom blinked, fear beginning to rise inside him.

"Why, I have a mind to pick you up and smoke YOU."

And with that, Treebeard bent down, quite quickly for an ent, and grabbed at Tom to pick him up. But hobbits were fleet-footed when presented with danger, and Tom jumped up to escape, not forgetting to grab the rest of his rabbit. "Yeep!" he exclaimed as he jumped for the river again, as that was the only way to safety that he could see.

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Tom tripped on an outstretched root as he headed for the river, which meant that his head went into the river. Bubbles made their way to the surface, then floated toward the shore of the Entwash, marking their maker's course downstream.

Treebeard was befuddled. "Now where did that little orc go, I wonder? Hoom, perhaps I shall have to call on my friend the wizard for help." He turned and lurched off into the trees, but soon returned with...

New Soul
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Radagast the Brown. Treebeard knew if anyone knew how to deal with this pipeweed fiasco, it would be Radagast. "Hoom, now, young Master Radagast," Treebeard said politely, "I seem to have lost either a little orc, or a young hobbit. He jumped in the river," Treebeard turned slowly to gesture at said river, "And I haven't seen him since. This seems more a job for a wizard, hoom, than an Ent!" Treebeard explained. Radagast looked surprised, but replied...

Loremaster of the Herd
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"Have you asked the birds? Have you asked the beasts? What about the bees? They're everywhere and they all have eyes. Eyes for watching and if there's an orc or a hobbit around here, I'm sure they will have seen him!" Radagast proclaimed.

He rolled up his sleeves, which promptly fell back down to his wrists, then waved his staff about in front of him. That didn't actually do anything, but he rather liked the dramatic effect. He was of the opinion that Gandalf was not the only wizard who could do dramatic things with his staff.

Radagast pressed his lips together and whistled a long and complicated tune until out of the trees, there came...

Newborn of Imladris
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an angry squirrel. It chattered something obscene and disappeared again.

Radagast glanced everywhere but at Treebeard. "Wrong tune," he clarified, sotto voce.

"Do not be hasty, little wizard!" cautioned the Ent.

Radagast had another go, whistling a bright, piercing tone with three short trills at the end of it. "That might be better," he said hopefully.

It certainly was. Help came in the form of ...

Istari Sage
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a gaggle of geese! Radagast looked them over and spoke to the one that seemed to be their leader. He told them that there was a young hobbit who had slid into the river and disappeared.

"Find him and report back to me, please, so that I can find him for my friend Treebeard here." he said.

When the geese took off, Radagast and Treebeard were left standing around awkwardly.

"So, uh...taken any good walks lately?" Radagast asked, trying to fill the silence with conversation. Meanwhile, the geese found the hobbit, who was...

New Soul
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...tangled up in blackberry bushes on the side of the river about a hundred yards downstream. The geese found him, tangled, trying to wriggle free, but only succeeding in getting stuck by the blackberry thorns.

Tom looked at the gaggle of geese that approached him, nervous, and wondered why they were staring at him like that.

"Get out of here!" he shouted, struggling more in the bushes, and immediately regretting it as he only kept getting more poked by the blackberry vines. The leader of the geese decided to...

Afird Splitax
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...flap its wide wings and caused the bushes to move faster to and fro, blackberries flying about. Tom finally struggled out and lay on the ground literally black and blue, stained by the blackberries. The head goose made a nasally, one-syllable honk, 'HONK", and lead his gaggle of geese towards the spattered hobbit.

Tom cried out......
'I would not have you go without seeing Kheled-zâram.'

Istari Sage
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"Help me, anyone!" And just like that, in the nick of time, here came a detachment of the Riders of Rohan, who scattered the geese to the four winds. The poor birds could not face down the swords and spears of the Rohirrim. They flew away to report back to Radagast what had happened. In the meantime, the leader of the platoon approached Tom cautiously.

"What happened to you, little child? Where are your parents?" the Rider asked. Tom looked up impudently with a frown and said, "I'm no child! Why, I'm not a day under thirty years old! Haven't you ever seen a hobbit before?"

The Rider, even more confused, turned to his men and asked...

Ent Ancient
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"Did he say cob-bit? Well, the child doesn't look like a kernel to me. Though perhaps that's why the Geese were...?"

Turning back to Tom, the Rider asked: "Do you mean you have corn in your pockets, perhaps? Is that what the birds were after? Though I've never seen corn with black juice before. Or any juice, for that matter."

Tom snapped back...
In the deeps of Time, amidst the Innumerable Stars

Healer of Imladris
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"Corn in my pockets? Your ears are stuffed with corn and your head with cobs!" Tom scrambled to his feet and stomped his foot, but the affect was rather lost as he began an odd squirming jig to avoid the blackberry thorns now lodged in his clothes.

"I'm a--yack! a hobbit, I say! Ow! A halfling! From the Shire, you oversized - - gah! horsethief!"

"HORSETHIEF!?" roared the Rider...

Afird Splitax
Afird Splitax
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"HORSE THIEF?" the Rider roared once again. The second roar made the hobbit's hair stand up on end in fright. Aye, the fact that the man did not know what a Hobbit was caused Tom to be bewildered or perplexed (how could he not know?), but he knew enough not to enrage the man further. Attempting not to stick himself with thorns, he wiped some juice from his eye and said.

"My pardon good sir. You see, I don't meet many big folk on my journeys. Last one was a fellow named Bill Ferny, and he was a horse-thief of the fourth hoof. Now the only other person I knew who rode a horse was"....
Last edited by Afird Splitax on Mon Aug 31, 2020 4:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
'I would not have you go without seeing Kheled-zâram.'

Istari Sage
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"a bit of a queer fellow, lived down in Buckland you see, odd folk down there. They even taken to," he paused for mysterious effect, "boat riding. Now it's one thing to ride a horse, but a boat?" He shivered.

"You could have used a boat yourself to avoid getting all wet." one of the other Riders pointed out astutely.

Tom bristled. "If you think I'm going to ride in a boat instead of getting wet like a regular lad you have another think coming!" He paused and waited for the other think to come, but instead heard...

Doorwarden of The Mark
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… a distant voice wending its way on a weird wind:

"Juuuust a moooomeeeeent… !"

The Riders looked at each other warily, then upriver, whence the wail seemed to hail.

"I'm ooooon my waaaaaay… !"

Tom had frozen at the noise (which wasn't hard, he was cold enough) and replied to the Riders' questioning glances with:

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