Reviews (153)

The Karenator · 11 November 2003 · Chapter 9: Leverage

Johnny Halbarad, PI, could track with one eye on the road and the other glued to 'War and Peace'. It couldn't have been any easier than if Strider had left bread crumbs and Gretel's bloomers by the road on the way to the wicked witch's house. However, following the trail was nothing compared to riding shotgun with a miniature mouth piece that rapid fired questions faster than a Gatling could send pantywaists home to mama. Loose Lips was getting so personal that Halbarad expected him to ask his underwear size soon. And that doddering old doorknob, Gandalf, was about as much help in steering the gabfest into safer waters as Jaws would be as a bikini clad swimming instructor. Karma was a ray of dusty sunlight for the chafing PI when the little Dudo dude turned his sights on the old man and started picking at his issue. The gumshoe waited as patiently as grandma at the bus stop for the old goat to get out of this one. For years, there had been a pool down in the Triangle about which way his gate hinged. Just as Halbarad suspected, Oily Olorin sidestepped like the leading man in a tango and danced on off to try and slip the spotlight back on him. Before the batlight could wing out over the gumshoe's bleary eyes like a pair of sunglasses on markdown, he spotted paydirt as rich as Donald Trump after taxes. It didn't take Mulder or Scully to see that Strider had coped a squat under a thicket of trees that looked like they were left over set decoration from The Twilight Zone. Even the wizard was wanked out to find a note forged in his own handwriting that would make any parent-signature-falsifying junior high kid proud. From the looks of the sacked site, Strider was in more trouble than when Elrond had caught his boney butt dangling off Arwen's balcony, an empty bottle of wine in his back pocket and the Undomiel's undies around his neck. Gandalf's idea of helping find his friend was to click his heels three times and to believe. No operation ever went down easy and when the mangy flea bitten hounds of hell showed up, Halbarad figured he might just put in for a transfer to the islands. Unfortunately, the wizard got his pointy head into the spirit of the Baskervilles and turned the whole field into Dante's Inferno, but not before one of the cankerous canines snacked down on his calf like it was a chicken bone thrown out behind the Colonel's coop. The horses high tailed it off to look for Flicka; Tillfield The Terrible was up a tree and Gandalf of OZ was fresh out of ruby red slippers. Things hadn't looked this bad since Mordor went Gothic. If Halbarad was stuck with two squirrely primates on his back, Strider was chained to the floor of the cage. Not only was the post still stuck tighter than a dwarf's purse-string, but the Rolly kid was slapping his sanity upside the head with enough questions to make the Pope suspicious. The kid had a cherub look plastered on his face like one of Michaelangelo's chubby little critters had just dropped off the Chapel's ceiling. Strider could appreciate innocence, but if this kid was pure as driven snow, then he was Queen for a Day. When Tubby T stopped back by for a curtain call, he was belting the same tune, second verse. When his worn out beat did pop the top ten, Tubby added the kid to the band. He put on a show that would be center stage at the Apollo, but Strider didn't just ride in on the hay wagon. He was expecting this duo when they broke into their rendition of 'My Way'. What they didn't figure on was that Strider knew all the words to 'That's Life'. Gee..this one got a little long winded. Now for the real thing...I loved the question and answer period between Halbarad and Dudo. He has grandchildren! He's looking mighty fine for a grandpa. There was a lot of good action. The wolves were a nice touch. However, now our heros are horse-less. I keep waiting for Rolly to slip up. He's pretty darn good at asking those sly little questions. Fortunately, Strider is well trained. I hope Strider calls Teburic's bluff.....I want to see what happens. An excellent chapter. I'm looking forward to more. :>) Karen

Nilmandra · 11 November 2003 · Chapter 9: Leverage

I am sitting here trying to figure out how to get to ME with a gun to stop this, and wishing that Rolly would scream, drawing Halbarad and Gandalf closer. Oh, I don't think I could stand to watch someone die, and yet there is more at stake than one life! Arggghhhhhh Going to somehow send help. Don't know how, but somehow must send help....

daw the minstrel · 11 November 2003 · Chapter 9: Leverage

Sweet Eru! This is terrible. What can Aragorn do? I don't see how he can give in and yet can he just let Rolly be beaten to death? The Halbarad part was wonderful, as usual. I have been trying to put my finger on what I think is so well done in this story, and I have concluded that it's the way you describe these little scenes and people's reactions to them moment by moment so that it all comes alive. I continue to be so impressed.

fliewatuet · 10 November 2003 · Chapter 8: A Battle of Wills

Now I don't know who's meaner! Teburic is frighteningly aware of what he is doing. And I am not so sure as to whether Aragorn is fit enough to dig out that pole. But I loved Aragorn's reflections on his relationship to Gandalf, of not being given orders by the Wizzard, but ending up doing what Gandalf wants to be done. A very apt characterization of Gandalf's ways. And I am not yet willing to relinquish my suspicions about Rolly. I fear that Aragorn's dream (if that was a dream) at the beginning of the chapter was a foreshadowing of what he might face. fliewatuet (glad that her wish for a new chapter to be found on Monday had been granted) P.S.: Yes, I had a lovely, if somewhat cold, weekend. Flying a kite in the stiff eastern wind at the Baltic Sea was much fun but let me wonder how the poor Rangers survived winter in Eriador without such nice inventions as fleeze- and goretex-jackets;)

Eledhwen · 9 November 2003 · Chapter 8: A Battle of Wills

Owch, I felt that. But it's right that Aragorn should not give up, where a lesser man might. Teburic is a nasty piece of work. (Well, a good piece of writing but you get what I mean!)

Strider's Girl · 9 November 2003 · Chapter 8: A Battle of Wills

Wow! Great characterisation once again. It's amazing how Aragorn is resistant to anything and that he won't give in to anything. Hopefully. Besides if he does I will always be there to help him recover - because I am his girl!

Caro;ine · 9 November 2003 · Chapter 8: A Battle of Wills

Wow! I just love this story more and more wth each passing chapter. I was sorry that there was no Halbarad in this chapter, I shudder to think what he is going to have to say to Aragorn when he finally catches up with him though! I'm afraid that I have a bad cold and so can not think of any appropriately eloquent wordsto sum up just how amazing this story is, and how much I love all the characters and what you have done with them....though I do feel so sorry for poor Aragorn I can only hope that Halbarad turns up to save he daysooner rather than later!! Take care.....

grumpy · 8 November 2003 · Chapter 8: A Battle of Wills

great chapter 9, I love it every time i see another chapter pop up. sure do hope Strider can dig his way out of there, or Gandalf and Halbarad show up before there is nothing left of him to rescue. very interesting about Gandalf, him not really telling one what to do, but you end up doing things his way. Like keeping watch on the Shire Also think it was a very interesting dream that Strider had at the beginning, with the rangers only knowing Gandalf by that name. I think I shall have to go back and check something out. As always love this story and can not wait for more

The Karenator · 8 November 2003 · Chapter 8: A Battle of Wills

Well, the shop-worn ranger figured he'd finally bought the farm...and it had a view...the bright shiny face of a dead kid that he felt as responsible for him biting the bullet as if he had plugged one slug into a six shooter and showed him how to play a game of red chance. Being a learned man, he knew how to swear in all the known languages of the land, but you never knew how those fluttery beings in charge of these kinds of places would take to such colorful expressions so he let it go as reluctantly as he did Arwen in a night gown and went on to the next problem. There was nothing that stuck in his craw worse than finding himself at the end of the last tunnel and then having to tell some other shade that he's as dead as a doornail, too. The kid didn't seem too surprised that he was now share-cropping on the paid-in-full fairey farm, but he did seem to be stuck in the long rows on the subject of the Shire. Not that Srider had any real objection to talking about the flat footed hole moles, but it didn't exactly seem like headline news when one just found out that they've gone down the yellow brick road. And what's with the name dropping? Nobody had called Gandalf Mithrandir since he got busted years ago for running a scam on the squatters at Dol Guldur. Strider might be dead, but he brought along his tackle box for the boat ride. Something was fishy here and he didn't think they served Arthur Treacher's in the aferlife. The kid had the nerve to laugh when he called him on it and then things turned so black that he thought he was trying to follow Halbarad's directions to the bathroom after a night that would make Hugh Hefner blush. Disappointment hung on him like smoke on the barbie when he woke to find that he hurt in more places than AOL was on cable. It would have been nice to find out he wasn't any deader than the dollar bill, except for the fact that he was chained up tighter than the Righteous Brothers. This bad scene made him figure he might have been better off as a celestial dirt digger than a live caged hamster. Not only was he staked out like bait for a hungry warg, he was in Freddy Kruger's guest room. Dead was definitely looking like a trip to Fantasy Island while life looked no better than being the irritating skinny guy on Survivor. There was little he could do to get himself out of this pickle so he took stock and decided to take his mother's advice and use 'elbow grease.' Deep down inside he had always suspected his mother was one doughnut shy of a dozen and Elrond had covered it up so the gossip would be kept to a low buzz, but now it was as obvious as the hang nail on his big toe. It was going to take a F-350 with a 15,000 pound Warn Winch to pull this headboard out of the wall to wall dirt. If all this wasn't enough, Strider found that the weird Rolly kid was hanging around in the shadows like Christmas Past. He turned out to be about as useful as a lightswitch before Edison. Since the kid looked like Tubby Teburic had used him for punching practice, Strider sent the kid off to find help in the way of rangers with swords, Elves with Uzis or wizards with Love Potion Number Nine. By this time, it didn't matter who showed up. Anybody with half a brain and a battalion of wits would do. Of course, the dim bulb got himself caught and hauled back to the Bates Motel and offered no help when Tubby T held batting practice on the ranger's back. Sure, the kid looked like Rocky Balboa after taking on Apollo Creed and Strider couldn't help but feel a sloshing in his gut, but he was beginning to wonder if the kid and Tubby were playing a sick game of good-cop/bad-cop. It wouldn't work on him. He and Halbarad had invented the game, set the rules and changed them whenever the reluctant slob with information got to thinking he was actually a player. But the kid knew his role well and Strider, far smarter than the average flatfoot, set him out on a quest. Now with a sad little horse hoof pick in his hands, Strider would do the work of a two ton pick up and then run down Tubby T before he could rap out anymore street tunes on his back. Okay...I admit it...I felt a little guilty twisting your wonderful chapter this time. Poor Strider. But you did throw down the gauntlet. Now I'm wondering will I get a single cheeseburger from Mickey D's or a ten course-er at a four star? As for the worshipping....none of this one knee kneeling thing that one does before Thranduil....being a Valar and all..I want both knees and...you may kiss my ring. How'd I do? Well, while you're thinking this over, I'll tell you how you did. This chapter was so good! I hated to poke fun at Aragorn's dream when you did such a wonderful job of tugging at the heart strings. He's such a good guy, but he, also, carries such a huge burden. Carrying the weight of the dead....oh, Boromir...you were so right. Teburic is such a slug and you write him so well. (I'm sure it's just insight and not experience.) And Rolly, the orphan...you have given him such a distinct personality, but one that's quite an enigma. Each chapter just gets better. I find myself looking for your updates on the assigned days....several times, as a matter of fact. Carry on, my wayward friend. I love your writing....I love the story...and I love that you let me be your nemesis. You have done me more good than you will ever know. Thanks, my lady. You and your story are special. :>) Karen

AM · 8 November 2003 · Chapter 8: A Battle of Wills

I checked in on the off chance that there would be a new chapter ... and there was. YEAH!!! I absolutetly love this story.

daw the minstrel · 8 November 2003 · Chapter 8: A Battle of Wills

Oh, oh, don't be fooled, Aragorn! It's a trick. This is a great line: "To know Gandalf was ever to wander paths of one's own choosing, only to find oneself arriving at destinations of Gandalf's." The beating was really horrific to read about. I too thought about whether Rolly would be beaten instead to get Aragorn to talk. But then I also wondered if Rolly was a plant to get information from him. How can he know??

Nilmandra · 8 November 2003 · Chapter 8: A Battle of Wills

They are beating my ranger! Oh, Teburic is a little too skilled in how to inflict pain without mortal injury. I am afraid he will start beating on the boy to get Aragorn to talk, and Aragorn will have to watch a second child die. Aragorn remains pretty much fearless, though. Even after a beating like that, he still keeps working towards his escape. Ok, Halabarad can show up any time now. But I like how Aragorn doesn't even consider that help might come....he knows he has to do this alone, if need be.

The Karenator · 8 November 2003 · Chapter 7: An Ill-fated Rendezvous

Johnny Halbarad, P.I. hasn't lost his touch. He could track a spider through his own web as easily as he can find the bathroom in a pitch black bordello after two jugs of wine too many. Experience has been his teacher. With his nose to the ground, he followed the ranger's trail like a bloodhound on the path of a ripe porterhouse. At the scene of a scuffle where his friend had obviously carved up his opponents as easily as a summo wrestler tosses The Rock out of the ring, he pointed out a blood stained wall. It looked like a Rorschach rock blot done in hemoglobin. Yes, Strider had passed this way, lopping off heads, surgically removing useless appendages that the enemy obviously didn't need. And from the looks of the small crusty prints in mud so blood stained it looked like Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory on a Saturday night, his old buddy had picked up a kid or a woman. Had to a be a kid. Strider had been all over that Elven fluff like glue on a stamp for so long he wouldn't have even entertained the idea of setting out with anybody who wore slippers instead of boots. Strider would have turned some purse carrier's perky little nose around and sent her back to Bree. The last thing he'd want to get back to a bunch of elves with shiny swords and over protective reflexes was that he was dancing in the moon light with some other broad. Halbarad figured that the two brothers of this heart trob and who happened to, also, be the adopted brother of his mangy-ranger-self would fill Strider so full of holes that the only work he would be able to get would be as a fountain in the White City. Yeah, it was a kid. Still, his buddy and pal was carting around some serious pig sticks from the looks of the blood and a trail that looked like it had been made by a drunk looking for a place to take a whiz. In his gut, Halbarad knew Srider was in more trouble than a president who didn't know the definition of "is". And his gut was never wrong...unless it was after eating old man Chang's Chinese pizza...then everything was wrong. Old Gandalf was taking his job as the kindly gent to such levels that Dr. Phil will be consulting with him on head picking. He wiles away the trip offering a few well chosen words of pop psych comfort to the miniature kitchen weasel who spends his time trying to convince the normal sized folks that he's truly sorry for going on such an un-Hobbit-like adventure of snitching and peddling rangers when he should have been stocking the pickled eggs at Butterbur's buffet. Halbarad might be a crotchety old gumshoe, but his antenna's not off the wavelength in working up a static-fest about Strider. The mangy ranger's still guzzling a tea that's looking like it has more mickey in it than aspirin. Somewhere between enough blood loss to drain a canal and a funked out toddy, he's taking trips down nightmare alley only to be awaken to a 300 pound gorilla that hasn't brush his teeth since the last time a politician told the truth, sitting on his chest. He might be looking up, but Strider's never liked the idea of being on bottom and he's firmly stuck in the bottom feeder's territory at the moment. Once again, our author had dropped us off with nobody to keep an eye out but a whining half pint, an Oliver wannabe and a rotund lackey. Another fine chapter, Madam. This is of course 'my' favorite line..."This is a beautiful stroke - elegant as Elbereth's best ball gown and lethal as my mother's home-brew..." By Job, I think you're beginning to get it! I have just fallen in love with Halbarad! Gandalf is terrific and poor little Dudo...what can I say?...he's such a Hobbit. I can't wait to see what happens next. I love it! :>) Karen

Eledhwen · 7 November 2003 · Chapter 7: An Ill-fated Rendezvous

Aaaargh, you can't leave it there - I'm dying to know what happens to Aragorn (though I hope it's safe to assume he survives!) Another excellent episode of CSI Middle-earth style, indeed!

grumpy · 7 November 2003 · Chapter 7: An Ill-fated Rendezvous

can this possible get any better, chapter after chapter has been great reading, I so look forward to your updates! As for Halbarad's dicription of what happened on the trail, I will now be able to look at (as if if see that many) a beheading and know if it was decent or not. Love the pairing of Halbarad and Gandalf. As for my favorite ranger he is getting more bruised and hurt by the hour. Plus nightmares too. When (and I do hope when and not if) he is every found he is going to need a lot a care, hopefully tender loving care. My god you went and broke his sword hand. more please, the sooner the better

Nilmandra · 7 November 2003 · Chapter 7: An Ill-fated Rendezvous

Oh, that was an unpleasant meeting! Poor Strider. We can't tell yet if Rolly is neutral, if he betrayed Strider or if he led him right into the trap! Actually, it seems as if it could be all three. Regardless, Teburic seems he will take out his fury on the boy regardless. So, hurry up Halbarad and Gandalf! Strider isn't often in need of rescuing, and even injured he might just find a way out....but I think the calvary cannot arrive too soon. Another great chapter....

Lady Jaina · 7 November 2003 · Chapter 7: An Ill-fated Rendezvous

Excellent chapter, I enjoyed it very much! Keep up the great work!

daw the minstrel · 7 November 2003 · Chapter 7: An Ill-fated Rendezvous

“Whoa,” he said, partly to the horse, and partly just as a general commentary." "But practically nobody else in these parts does decent beheadings"--this kind of thing just cracks me up! CSI indeed! But what a heartbreaking dream Aragorn has about Baranuir. The kid admired him and begged him not to let him die. How horrible. Teburic's arrival was terrifying. Now he sounds like a nightmare! I liked Gandalf's understanding explanation of to Tillfield that everyone makes mistakes, some of them with unbearable consequences. But you have to go on anyway.

fliewatuet · 7 November 2003 · Chapter 7: An Ill-fated Rendezvous

*fliewatuet does a littly happy dance at the posting of latest chapter* With every new chapter, I enjoy your story even more. Halbarad's abilities as a detective don't cease to amaze me. And his little lecture about beheading a foe in battle and his explanation that Aragorn was the only Ranger to actually use such a stroke in battle was wonderful! And Gandalf's insight that Halbarad had a bit of a touchy side. Hehehe. But now I must ask you who is mean when it comes to Aragorn? Being roused from well-deserved sleep by Teburic, having his shoulder nearly dislocated and his sword-hand crushed by that blow ... poor Ranger (*fliewatuet briefly ponders what she has still in store for him ... * yep, I don't envy him, not in the least). And than that nightmare. Since there seems to be no great difference between his dream and what happened in the aftermath of that battle, I no longer wonder why Aragorn has such a bad mood. That is an event he will not forgive himself easily, and it seems as if he pushes himself the more harder for it. And the way the boy's scream lead the way back from the nightmare to a reality that was no less of a nightmare was marvellous. At least, Rolly's fear of Teburic seems real enough and given the way Teburic reacted at the absence of Kergelen and Dergren, things had not been going according to plan. So that is a little hope. Though I still have my doubts as to whether there was only starwort in Aragorn's tea (call me paranoid ...). The end of the chapter, inspite of poor Aragorn's earlier sufferings, was wonderful. Halbarad has a big heart, after all. The gift of the dagger and the story telling by the campfire worked wonderful to ease the poor Hobbit's heart. fliewatuet (who will be gone over the weekend and hopes to find more chapter(s) by Monday;-))

Strider's Girl · 7 November 2003 · Chapter 7: An Ill-fated Rendezvous

Oh this is wonderful. I love the characterisation of the characters once again. Description and character development are the best stories that I like. Keep up the good work!

Lady Jaina · 5 November 2003 · Chapter 6: A Clandestine Raid

This is excellent! I am enjoying it!

The Karenator · 4 November 2003 · Chapter 6: A Clandestine Raid

Ah..again we find our sleuths slinking around a dark misnamed street that would make Rand McNally burn maps for roasting mashmallows. It's a trio that's an odd a gathering of unlikely companions as Thomas Magnum would be with Houdini and Mickey Rooney. But, Halbarad is not the kind of man to let a few mismatched tag-a-longs keep him from ferreting out secrets no better hidden than a teenage girl's diary. The empty house seems a bit too easy for a man used to the dirty job of just staying alive and keeps his caution up like a blinking light at a busy four-way. He's no fool, but he's not sure about the bumbling Gandalf and the duplicitous three-foot-tall chicken-gutter. Still, there's little he can do about his back-up, a rear guard as likely to be ready when the time comes as a shoe model on a first date. He can do little but forge ahead, sighing with an exasperation that eats him up like a bad taco bought in China Town. The old boy, Gandalf, turns out to be of use, (even if he does swing a sword so big it rattles like a sling blade in a confessional), when he set his steely baby blues on the menagerie of equipment found in an attic that looks like it was lifted from a sleezy B horror movie. Science is his bag and he immediately hones in on the purposes of everything from fine papers to an ink that not even a king would use except to send his condolences to the widow of his latest political assination victim. Gandalf more that shocks his partners in felony breaking and entering when he saves them by busting out a light that would give Time Square an inferiority complex. He might prove useful afterall. Then we've got the gumshoe's friend and fellow ranger still roaming about the wilderness like a sailor on shore leave. He's saddled with a oddball kid that more than likely would just as soon cut his throat as give him the time of day. But the kid is good at pulling fast ones and does it with the ease of boiling water! Rolly, the poor misunderstood orphan, gives a searing performance as Oliver, all but bursting into song as he fingers Terburic as Fagan. The ranger may even be starting to fall for the song and dance, but there's something about the tune that reminds him of West Side Story and he's not quite ready to open the show on Broadway. The adventure continues.... You, Madam Meckinock, are weaving a fine tale here. You style is great. My renditions come to my mind because you use such wonderfully classical elements of story telling. Mickey Spillane and Charles Dickens would be green. I'm just loving this story and not one of the chapters disappoints your readers. I hope you will accept my slaughtering your tale as a silly tribute to what a fine job you are doing in crafting these chapters. I plainly see your extraordinary talent and command of story telling. And writing my version does keep me off misnamed streets after dark....:>) Karen

Eledhwen · 4 November 2003 · Chapter 6: A Clandestine Raid

I do like your Halbarad! His exasperated devotion to Aragorn is wonderful. Excellent writing.

Nilmandra · 4 November 2003 · Chapter 6: A Clandestine Raid

I like that Gandalf got to surprise Halbarad! Use a little wizardly powers.... Now Tillfield's motives are known, I think, and not of particularly evil motive. I am not overly concerned with him in the hands of Gandalf and Halbarad. But Rolly on the other hand....his story was told a bit too concisely for one not used to speaking of his past. He seems to know more than one might expect and I am urging Strider here and now NOT to trust him! Something just doesn't seem right and I am glad that Aragorn even seems to see it, despite his injuries and fatigue. Perhaps Rolly will surprise me yet....

fliewatuet · 4 November 2003 · Chapter 6: A Clandestine Raid

Another wonderful chapter (not that I had any doubts;-)) I loved Halbarad's unease at not having a ranger to guard his back but a Hobbit and a Wizard instead. Though I think his opinion of Gandalf's abilities has changed somewhat. But his disrespect of enchanted locks was priceless! And then, he cannot withstand Tillfield's tears. There lies a soft heart beneath that gruff demeanor after all. All in all, Halbarad and Gandalf make for an interesting pair in your story. They are not that familiar with each other to trust one another blindly, but they cannot afford to doubt the other's abilities in their current situation. Their concern for Aragorn is what unites them in the end. And, by the way, I am glad that Halbarad agreed to take Tillfield with him. He may be a burden, but I doubt that the poor Hobbit would have been safe in Bree as long as Teburic and his men are about. As far as Aragorn's new companion is concerned, I am still unsure whether to trust him or not. Aragorn himself seems still reluctant, but his wariness falters and he has little chance but accept Rolly's aid. But then, Rolly is such a pitiable boy, with his parents dead, sold into slavery, being forced to work for someone like Teburic, that his sad story must stir Aragorn's protective instincts. I think that Rolly has a fair chance to worm his way beneath Aragorn's defences, especially since the poor Ranger is not in his best condition. And if there were some substance, enchanted or not, that might help in the endeavor (Gandalf did find some strange substances at Teburic's hiding place, after all) ... was there only starwort in Aragorn's tea? Yes, I know, I am just speculating. But I am still more than curious to see the rest of the story. greetings, fliewatuet