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Frodo Milligan stood up. Even standing he was shorter
than the seated elves. He looked about at the men, dwrves,
elves, and wizard desparately.
"Look, I would love to take the ring to Mordor. From
the waist up I am keen to go. Only, I got these coward's
legs. See?". He pulled up the legs of his trousers to
reveal two thin, hairy legs like used pipecleaners.
"Aaargh! What are they?"
Your legs.
"And, who are you, mister?"
The author, Prof JRR Milligan.
"Did you write my legs? Well, you can't be a professor
in leg writing, 'cause these are crappy legs, mister.
They are too short and they even got hairy toes. I got
to walk to Mordor in these legs. I have got two more
volumes of dis crappy book to wlk through on these legs.
That must be five hundred pages of walking at least,
even if you take off appendix A to F in the last volume.
They won't stand that. What about Boromir: he's got
noble legs. Or Strider, eh? With a name like Strider,
he's bound to have thighs like tree-trunks."
Aragorn stepped back as Frodo made a grab for Aragorn's
right trouser legs. Recovering his balance, Frodo turned
the grab into a theatrical gesture. A slow look of low
cunning crept into his eyes...
"Look. You authors got power over us see? If you can
write my legs too short, you can write the journey too
short too. You could just type 'With one bound he was
at Mount Doom'. Save me a lot of walking and you a lot
of typing. Sound good to you, mister?".
I am afraid I cannot do that. The dramatic imperative
of the tale is entriely based on the hopeless journey
into darkness.
"Well, to hell wid youse, mister, I'm not goin', an'
dat's final."
Suddenly Frodo screamed and bent double, cross-eyed
with pain as his testicles swelled and turned black.
They surely would burst any second...
"Aaaagh, aaghh, no, not me cobblers, no, call it off,
call it off, I'll go, I'm going now, see?". Still bent
double, sweating and panting, Frodo Milligan gave a
few agonized hops in the general directon of the door
and the general direction of Mordor.
With one bound Frodo's testicles went back to their
normal size. Elrond stood up. "Well, that seems to wrap
everything up nicely. If there is no other business?..".
He glanced down at his watch. "Meeting ajourned at 3.42:
just in time for Popeye", and he turned on the TV.