Ode on Aragorn's Dimple, An: 1. Evening, Outside the Tent of Aragorn

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1. Evening, Outside the Tent of Aragorn

To the demented denizens of Verse-and-Adversity: you know who you are. And, yes, it is your fault.

Part I – The Scene

Encamped upon the Pelennor,
the armies of the West prepare
a desperate force against the door
of Mordor dread to dare.
At dawn they leave on this last journey dire.
‘Tis evening; many sit beside a flickering fire.

Outside the tent of Aragorn,
Elessar and promised king,
he sits and broods on hope forlorn
and all the evils of the Ring.
His heart lifts as he sees, approaching, friends:
the dwarf and elf have surely come his mood to mend.

Part II - Legolas’ Complaint

“Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
Confusion on thy banners wait;
I really cannot stand that thing!”
So Legolas the fair did state.
“Your problem, elf?” Lord Aragorn replied.
“The battle’s starting soon; I need you by my side.”

“Forget it,” said the elf, “I’m mad
and take it more I will not do.
Allegiance once that I was glad
to give, no more. I’ll leave this crew!”
“My patience thin doth wear,” quothe brave Estel,
“Just state your beef. I’m sure that any doubts I’ll quell.”

“Well, it’s that dimple, Aragorn.
That cleft upon your manly chin?
Your manly height I could have born,
And felt no jealousy within.
But that depression on your manly face,
Unfairly casts into the shade the elven race.”

Part III - Gimli Explains

“What’s up with him?!” the Dunedan
appealed to Gimli, standing near.
“We march to Mordor. Every man
(or elf or dwarf) has duty clear.
My dimple, or his lack of one, seems moot.
The battle looms, no time to train a new recruit.”

When thus appealed to, Gimli spoke
and said, “It is a little thing,
‘tis true, but jealousy awoke
in Legolas’ heart, my King,
when tidings came that you more fan-girls had
than he, despite those fetching elven-braids, poor lad.”

“Fan-girls?!” did Aragorn exclaim,
a furrow deep upon his brow.
“What can you mean? You must explain,
and meaning with this phrase endow.”
The son of Glóin hastened to enlighten.
“They’re ladies fair whose days our exploits often brighten.”

“They live in far-off lands, and pore
o’er all our doings and our faces.
Each contemplates on all our lore
and fondly in imagination traces
each feature of their hero ‘mongst the nine.”
“E’en Boromir? He’s dead, I curse those Uruk swine.”

“To ladies matters not, it seems.
But be that as it may, that dimple…
Lo! I have hit upon a means
to pacify the elf. It’s simple.
Just grow that scraggly stubble on your face
into a proper beard like mine; his ire erase!"

Part IV – Merry and Pippin’s Two Cents

Just then upon the scene there came
The halfling Pip. “So what’s the buzz?”
he asked. And, eager to explain,
Lord Aragorn replied, “It does
appear the cleft upon my chin hath raised
unseemly envy in the heart of elf, now crazed.”

“Ah,” said Pip, “the dimple. Funny
you should mention that, my lord.
Merry, whose temper’s often sunny,
is cooped up in the House and bored.
When we were playing Cup today we spoke
about that very thing. His hobbit heart it broke.”

“Of course his spirits were laid low
a bit. He’s under Ioreth’s care
(that Nazgûl thing, you know).
Her endless talk does often flow
upon the fabled beauties of your chin,
which she has heard about from Lady Éowyn.”

“So he is brooding on the shame
of having fewer fans than you.
And come to think of it, the same
applies to me. Sedition brew
in all our hearts against injustice dire
when ladies flock to you and to your bed aspire.”

“But Pippin,” gamely Gimli tried
to calm his anger. “Lo, a dimple
on your chin I just espied!”
“You fool,” hissed Legolas, “a pimple
isn’t quite the same.” Thus Pippin turned
and left in quite a huff, his hobbit wrath it burned.

Part V – Letters Arrive

Anon, a messenger arrives,
his horse’s neck with lather pearled.
“Respects, my Lord. We’ve risked our lives
to bring this mail. And so he hurled
it to Estel, who caught the pouch and said,
“The mail! I fear it may contain more tidings dread.”

But no! Within the bag there lay
two folded notes on parchment pages;
the first, from Arwen, far away!
He hadn’t heard from her in ages.
A blush descending, put it next his heart,
until he could pore over it in place apart.

The other letter then he took
and, op’ning it, he did exclaim,
“It is from Sam and Frodo! Look!
I’ve wondered what of them became,
how fared they since they left in elven boat,
but now we know at least they lived when this they wrote.”

“This cheers my heart, before cast down;
of them we may be justly proud.
But soon his smile changed to a frown.
“Dear Aragorn,” he read aloud,
“We’ve had a lot of time to think out here
while on the way to Mordor, and it’s finally clear.”

“Emyn Muil was not a lot
of fun and neither was that marsh.
A least you have a [expletive deleted] cot
to sleep on, not to be too harsh.
And dragging Smeagol/Gollum all this way
(Sam here now!) has been no picnic, let me say.”

“Frodo here…Without a doubt,
we think we got the stick’s short end.
Estel, you get to swan about
in Gondor; while it’s us you send
to do the sticky bit. We’ve seen the scam;
is this quite fair? Love, Frodo, (Gollum – his mark), and Sam.”

“P.S. Just to say, before we croak,
about that dimple on your chin.
That really was the straw that broke
the camel’s back, ‘cause men
have an edge in height (no need to gloat!).
While tall is one thing, it’s the dimple gets our goat.”

“For fan-girls how can we compete?
You’re bigger, sure, then there’s that thing
you do with swords, (then there’s our feet,
a minus); add to that, you’re king.
All this we grant, but still we had our hopes.
But throw the dimple in, for sure we’re on the ropes.”

He crushed the letter in his hand,
His shoulders slumped, his head was bowed.
“I simply do not understand;
of this, my dimple, I’m not proud.
I beg you all to sleep on it tonight.
I’m sure you’ll see your duty in the morning’s light.”

“Fat chance,” quothe they with one accord,
and grumbling still they turned away.
“We owe no fealty to a lord
who over all the fan-girls holds his sway.”
So saying, they depart away, and Aragorn
into his tent repairs, to sleep and wait the morn.

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: flick

Status: Reviewed

Completion: Complete

Era: 3rd Age - Ring War

Genre: Humor

Rating: General

Last Updated: 07/14/03

Original Post: 06/05/03

Go to Ode on Aragorn's Dimple, An overview


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