Title: just a thought
Theme: august challenge
Elements: seven, oblong, grey
Author's Notes: well,...
JUST A THOUGHT
Trudge up seven, dreary flights of cold grey stone steps, stretch to reach the handle of the tomb-like oblong door, and the whole way all you can whisper is that my master is dead. You are a lying chunk of cheap gold. Bet your not even ten carats. I’m going to get him back.
Saruman called for a meeting of his captains. He had received his newest challenge. Going into the conference room he wrote on the white board:”Seven-grey-oblong.”
S: Alright now what do I do with these choices?
Minion #1: What is choices, boss? Do we get choices?
S: I’ll let you know when you get choices. Now sit down and shut up.
Minion #2 walks in carrying a tray with a carafe and one water glass. He sits it in front to Saruman.: cook said to tell you he was running low on fingers for sandwiches for tea today; says you forgot to order them last week.
S: I FORGOT!!!!! Well, did you kill him for that?
Minion #3: No, he let me throw him to the wargs: alive. What a treat.
Minion #5, 6, &7 come in a quietly sit at the table.
S: Where’s #4?
#6: You killed him last week for eating the last washerwoman.
S: Oh, yes, I remember… did we replace her yet?
#7: Not yet. No one has gone foraging since then.
S: Well on to business. We need seven some things, something grey, and something oblong.
Minion #8 walks in as Saruman is speaking. He pulls his machete out and starts hacking off sides for the table: Look, seven of us. An oblong table and you.
S: might I remind you I am Saruman the white.
#8: Not any more. The orcs decided to do your laundry.
I slide deeper into the shadows; I hope he continues to forget poor ole Wormtongue.
Conference room, no table—just chairs, chalk board with writing:
#of dwarfen forefathers therefore the
#of tribes of dwarfs therefore
#of dwarfen gift rings [one per tribe}
#of layers in M.T. therefore the
#of gates in M.T. therefore the
#of towers on around seventh tier of M.T. [tower of Ecthelion must remain independent]
Reclining on the couch under a grey army blanket, a man; looking more like an oblong package left by the giant spiders of Mirkwood: Now, what else can I make seven of?
I listened as carefully as I could when the story started but I must admit I lost the thread sometime ago.
“… and there on the seventh level of Moria-- the Chamber of Mazarbul … I knocked a tiny little pebble into the well …we found this oblong dell where we could catch our breath…and now they gave us these nice grey cloaks in memory of Gandalf…”
And I thought de-bunking the Mirror was hard.