Disclaimer- I don't own LOTR. I own Puffy, that's it

A/N: Again, another late night I-am-really-tired-so-its-time-to-write-a- humor-story fanfic. This has actually been in my head for awhile, based on the fact that everyone keeps having 'white flames on their brows'. It never failed to crack me up. Enjoy!



Legolas sighed. //I can't believe I am stuck hunting orcs with *them*.// He, Aragorn, and Gimli had entered Rohan searching for Merry and Pippin, but they had yet to catch up. Now Aragorn was caught up in conversation with the Third Marshal of the Riddermark, Éomer son of Éomund. Éomer was asking Aragorn his true name and Aragorn was being pretty evasive about it. With growing trepidation, Legolas realized that Aragorn was going for the big intro, sword and all, and the elf groaned. //Not again.//

"I serve no man," Aragorn was proclaiming. "but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go." As he continued along that thread, Legolas began looking around for a bucket of water, a puddle, anything.

Finally, Aragorn got to the part that Legolas was dreading. The Ranger threw back his cloak and drew Andúril from its sheath. "Elendil!" he cried. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!"

Aragorn seemed to grow in stature and one could see the power and majesty of the kings of old in his face. A white flame flickered on Aragorn's brow like a shining crown. It was all very noble and regal, until Aragorn's eyebrow's caught on fire.

"OWWWWW!! OWCHIE OWCHIE!!!! Legolas help me!!! OWWWWWW!!" The great King of Men began hopping around, clutching his forehead. "I'm blind, I'm blind! Help!"

Sighing, Legolas glanced an apology to Éomer who was looking quite startled . . . and amused. "I hate it when this happens," Legolas muttered to himself. Turning to Aragorn, the elf tackled him to the ground. "Stop. Drop. And Roll!" Legolas began banging Aragorn's head against the ground repeatedly, raising a large cloud of dust. The white fire still wasn't going out. //This calls for drastic measures.// "Gimli!" the dwarf looked at him. "Start spitting!"

Pleased to be able to do something, Gimli gladly helped Legolas spit on Aragorn's head. The combined effort proved effective and soon the fire was out. Aragorn stood up, looking surprisingly like Grima Wormtongue. "Thank you, now Éomer. . . " The Riders of Rohan were gone.

"Well that's just great," complained Gimli. "How are we supposed to save the hobbits now if we don't have permission to be in this country?"

Legolas heard something and turned around. "Look!" he exclaimed. There were two horses, obviously left by the Riders. One was a proud gray stallion, the other a furry, brown pony who had obviously seen better days. "There's even a note."

To the strange people we encountered.

Thank you for such an amusing display. We have not laughed this much since the time Councilor Grima got his head stuck in a horse manure pile. Since you have given us much mirth, we give you these two horses, Arod for the elf and dwarf, and Puffy for the other guy. We were going to give him Hasufel, but Puffy is flame resistant and we thought he would be the best choice. Please take them with our great thanks.

Éomer, Third Marshall

P.S. Aragorn guy- You look at my sister the wrong way and you're a dead man. Besides, she hates guys with no eyebrows.



Yes, I know, I know. Stupid story, no plot. But hey, it was fun to write! And besides, humor isn't supposed to make sense.