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Humorfic - Of the Tribulations of Radagast
This seems to be the only thing I've actually...er, "written"...in a while. I wrote it at least a week ago to boot and then simply forgot about it. WTF is wrong with my brain lately?
I think this was my attempt to process my love-hate sentiments toward movie!Radagast.
Of the Tribulations of Radagast, by Huinárë
Word count: ~1300
Warnings: I can't think of any, but feel free to scream at me if something offends.
The warg-riders in pursuit hadn’t been expecting Radagast’s sledge to jump the six-yard gorge, but the wizard had lightened the hare steeds’ load by leaping off the sledge an instant before it careered off the edge. He’d already communicated telepathically to the hares that they should continue to lead the foe on toward the mountains; without Radagast’s own added weight, they would easily outrun their pursuers. He would make his own inexplicably quick way back over the mountains later.
After plummeting down, Radagast felt his frame compress itself awkwardly and painfully against the stony streambed. By the time he rose to the surface, trying not to splutter, fluffy warg-bellies could be seen above lunging across the gorge after the now-empty sledge, unaware that the wizard himself had turned aside. Evidently, as he’d hoped, Radagast was indistinguishable from lumpy brown parcels strapped to the sledge.
Radagast the Brown waded on toward the Hidden Valley, the water becoming ever shallower and swifter. Night fell. He knew that he ought to find his way out of the narrow gully soon, but before he knew it the waterfall was nigh and the stream was pushing him along with playful violence. Over the edge he toppled, shrieking in an enviable soprano and flailing all his limbs.
When he came to, it was on a stony riverbank, and Elves were lifting him from the rocks and carrying him ever up toward the calendar-worthy architecture of Imladris. “I hope I’ll meet Gandalf again, and maybe I’ll learn something about those peculiar friends of his,” mumbled Radagast before passing out again.
But when next he came round, on a futon in an airy room with broad windows, it was daylight and there was no sign of Gandalf, nor of Gandalf’s fourteen companions. Radagast the Brown sat up, looking round in wary bewilderment, and perceived only the austere form of Saruman the Wise in a nearby armchair. Saruman was ever very pale except for that incongruously dark beard, and usually carried a vaguely disgusted expression just as he was doing now.
“Hello, Saruman!” suggested Radagast, who didn’t really know (nor care to know) any fancier response than that.
“Good morrow, Radgast,” the White Wizard answered, aloof, yet strangely intent. “Mithrandir has told me of your courage, and of your invaluable service to his company.”
“Well, he’d had done the same for me, I’m sure…” Radagast trailed off, noting how the other eyed him rather unnervingly. “Um, yes, where is Gandalf, anyway?”
“Oh, he left an hour ago. But you, I’m afraid, are in no condition to pursue him. You’ve sprained both ankles and fractured three ribs.”
“Oh, bother.” Radagast scowled but rallied presently, grinning at his colleague. “So, how are you doing, Saruman? Have you been putting those crebain I gave you to good use?”
“Indeed.” Saruman nodded once, slowly, then turned matters to Radagast’s own health. He spoke with utmost courtesy. “And yourself? I must confess I was concerned for you when I heard first from Gandalf how you’d led off the foul pursuit, and then when the Elves informed me they’d found you senseless by the riverbank. I am surprised you managed to evade the enemy.”
“Well, I do what I can. You know, my sledge and my trusty hare steeds and all…”
“Yes, but I am surprised still that you escaped detection and harm. I mean, one must consider your…your state of shame-–”
“I’m sorry?” blurted Radagast, who had begun to prop himself up importantly before hearing Saruman’s last phrase.
“Well, you know, you are aware of course–-The blaring white banner that flares from the side of your head and all but announces your presence to any foe, by day or night.”
The Brown Wizard paused to consider Saruman, who sat collectedly across from him garbed as ever in nought but white. “Come again?”
“Well, Radagast, I’m loathe to be blunt, but–-” The White Wizard frowned, profoundly. “That dried, stiffened clod of avian number two in your hair. Aside from being alarmingly unsanitary, embarrassingly ugly, and, frankly, unrepentantly discourteous-–it’s simply unsafe when dealing with foes in unguarded lands. People can see you from miles away with that thing.”
Radagast paused, half grimacing. He attempted to remain on his dignity. “Now, now see here, Saruman! I know you’ve always disapproved of my close bond with living and growing things. But I have other priorities than yours, I care about those things and I devote my time and my efforts to them; and if a couple of them happen to coat my hair in feces that’s just an occupational hazard I’m willing and able incur.”
Saruman’s dark eyes blazed for a moment before he subdued them. “I see. And if you choose to endanger your person or your health, who am I to protest? Who indeed? However,” and here a smirking light came again into his gaze, “I daresay it becomes my concern when your unsanitary person makes its way into a densely populated settlement and one of the last havens of the First-born upon Middle-earth. Do you believe it is either healthful or courteous for you to walk among the Eldar with a great, unsightly, filthy clod of bird dookie in your hair, Radagast?”
“Well, um, I hadn’t thought of it like-–”
“No, of course not, you don’t think, do you? I am surprised that going over a waterfall wasn’t enough to dislodge the fecal matter in question, but that only attests to its quantity and tenure I suppose,” Saruman mused, rising and pacing silently toward Radagast.
“Oh dear, to be quite honest I’d not even thought upon it for at least ten years, but I live on my own, you know, and my standards are those that nature gave us.”
“Nature? Indeed? When was the last time you saw any animal walking around with such an accretion of bird potty on it?”
“Well, when you put it that way, never. Unless it be weak unto death, or rabid, or-–” Sensing that he wasn’t helping his case, Radagast closed his mouth and tried painfully to sit up. Fear, of a sudden, clutched at him. He glanced round the room and noted his staff in the far corner, out of reach. “Say, Saruman, would you mind not looming ominously like that, it’s really quite-–Oh good heavens, what is that? Is that–-Oh no, sweet Valar, no!”
“It is necessary.” Saruman, impassive, continued to advance.
“Now please, Saruman, I know we’ve had our differences, but it can’t have come to-–”
“Oh, but it has.”
Radagast dragged himself off the couch and tried to limp away. His brow furrowed and his chin quivered despairingly. “You really ought to reconsider. It won’t look good on your record, you know, getting past customs if you ever care to return to the old country, it will look terrible to have-–”
The White Wizard laughed unpleasantly. “To have done a good turn for a colleague? No, believe me, Radagast, all that I do now is but for your own benefit.” With a lazy flick of his staff, he sent the Brown Wizard slamming heavily into the wall.
Radagast stared helplessly, unable to move, as the other wizard advanced upon him wielding an ominous object the sight of which made his blood run cold. Yet, he tried to remain bold, defiant to the last. “I hadn’t realized it had gone so far, Saruman, that you turn aside from our greater cause in favor of petty and superficial matters.”
“If that is what you call it, then so be it,” answered Saruman, softly.
Radagast tried to think of Gandalf, who had always been wiser than he and in many ways wiser than Saruman, pressing onward in his mysterious and somehow relevant business with his Dwarven company. It was somehow more important than anything that Gandalf’s business not be impeded. In this at least Radagast could render him aide, whatever might be the cost, draw off Saruman’s attention as he’d tried to draw off the warg-riders. Turning his face aside, Radagast braced himself as Saruman, meticulously-combed hair gleaming in the sunset, raised the bottle of shampoo.
_______*_______
ETA - right, and this drawing actually came first.
I think this was my attempt to process my love-hate sentiments toward movie!Radagast.
Of the Tribulations of Radagast, by Huinárë
Word count: ~1300
Warnings: I can't think of any, but feel free to scream at me if something offends.
The warg-riders in pursuit hadn’t been expecting Radagast’s sledge to jump the six-yard gorge, but the wizard had lightened the hare steeds’ load by leaping off the sledge an instant before it careered off the edge. He’d already communicated telepathically to the hares that they should continue to lead the foe on toward the mountains; without Radagast’s own added weight, they would easily outrun their pursuers. He would make his own inexplicably quick way back over the mountains later.
After plummeting down, Radagast felt his frame compress itself awkwardly and painfully against the stony streambed. By the time he rose to the surface, trying not to splutter, fluffy warg-bellies could be seen above lunging across the gorge after the now-empty sledge, unaware that the wizard himself had turned aside. Evidently, as he’d hoped, Radagast was indistinguishable from lumpy brown parcels strapped to the sledge.
Radagast the Brown waded on toward the Hidden Valley, the water becoming ever shallower and swifter. Night fell. He knew that he ought to find his way out of the narrow gully soon, but before he knew it the waterfall was nigh and the stream was pushing him along with playful violence. Over the edge he toppled, shrieking in an enviable soprano and flailing all his limbs.
When he came to, it was on a stony riverbank, and Elves were lifting him from the rocks and carrying him ever up toward the calendar-worthy architecture of Imladris. “I hope I’ll meet Gandalf again, and maybe I’ll learn something about those peculiar friends of his,” mumbled Radagast before passing out again.
But when next he came round, on a futon in an airy room with broad windows, it was daylight and there was no sign of Gandalf, nor of Gandalf’s fourteen companions. Radagast the Brown sat up, looking round in wary bewilderment, and perceived only the austere form of Saruman the Wise in a nearby armchair. Saruman was ever very pale except for that incongruously dark beard, and usually carried a vaguely disgusted expression just as he was doing now.
“Hello, Saruman!” suggested Radagast, who didn’t really know (nor care to know) any fancier response than that.
“Good morrow, Radgast,” the White Wizard answered, aloof, yet strangely intent. “Mithrandir has told me of your courage, and of your invaluable service to his company.”
“Well, he’d had done the same for me, I’m sure…” Radagast trailed off, noting how the other eyed him rather unnervingly. “Um, yes, where is Gandalf, anyway?”
“Oh, he left an hour ago. But you, I’m afraid, are in no condition to pursue him. You’ve sprained both ankles and fractured three ribs.”
“Oh, bother.” Radagast scowled but rallied presently, grinning at his colleague. “So, how are you doing, Saruman? Have you been putting those crebain I gave you to good use?”
“Indeed.” Saruman nodded once, slowly, then turned matters to Radagast’s own health. He spoke with utmost courtesy. “And yourself? I must confess I was concerned for you when I heard first from Gandalf how you’d led off the foul pursuit, and then when the Elves informed me they’d found you senseless by the riverbank. I am surprised you managed to evade the enemy.”
“Well, I do what I can. You know, my sledge and my trusty hare steeds and all…”
“Yes, but I am surprised still that you escaped detection and harm. I mean, one must consider your…your state of shame-–”
“I’m sorry?” blurted Radagast, who had begun to prop himself up importantly before hearing Saruman’s last phrase.
“Well, you know, you are aware of course–-The blaring white banner that flares from the side of your head and all but announces your presence to any foe, by day or night.”
The Brown Wizard paused to consider Saruman, who sat collectedly across from him garbed as ever in nought but white. “Come again?”
“Well, Radagast, I’m loathe to be blunt, but–-” The White Wizard frowned, profoundly. “That dried, stiffened clod of avian number two in your hair. Aside from being alarmingly unsanitary, embarrassingly ugly, and, frankly, unrepentantly discourteous-–it’s simply unsafe when dealing with foes in unguarded lands. People can see you from miles away with that thing.”
Radagast paused, half grimacing. He attempted to remain on his dignity. “Now, now see here, Saruman! I know you’ve always disapproved of my close bond with living and growing things. But I have other priorities than yours, I care about those things and I devote my time and my efforts to them; and if a couple of them happen to coat my hair in feces that’s just an occupational hazard I’m willing and able incur.”
Saruman’s dark eyes blazed for a moment before he subdued them. “I see. And if you choose to endanger your person or your health, who am I to protest? Who indeed? However,” and here a smirking light came again into his gaze, “I daresay it becomes my concern when your unsanitary person makes its way into a densely populated settlement and one of the last havens of the First-born upon Middle-earth. Do you believe it is either healthful or courteous for you to walk among the Eldar with a great, unsightly, filthy clod of bird dookie in your hair, Radagast?”
“Well, um, I hadn’t thought of it like-–”
“No, of course not, you don’t think, do you? I am surprised that going over a waterfall wasn’t enough to dislodge the fecal matter in question, but that only attests to its quantity and tenure I suppose,” Saruman mused, rising and pacing silently toward Radagast.
“Oh dear, to be quite honest I’d not even thought upon it for at least ten years, but I live on my own, you know, and my standards are those that nature gave us.”
“Nature? Indeed? When was the last time you saw any animal walking around with such an accretion of bird potty on it?”
“Well, when you put it that way, never. Unless it be weak unto death, or rabid, or-–” Sensing that he wasn’t helping his case, Radagast closed his mouth and tried painfully to sit up. Fear, of a sudden, clutched at him. He glanced round the room and noted his staff in the far corner, out of reach. “Say, Saruman, would you mind not looming ominously like that, it’s really quite-–Oh good heavens, what is that? Is that–-Oh no, sweet Valar, no!”
“It is necessary.” Saruman, impassive, continued to advance.
“Now please, Saruman, I know we’ve had our differences, but it can’t have come to-–”
“Oh, but it has.”
Radagast dragged himself off the couch and tried to limp away. His brow furrowed and his chin quivered despairingly. “You really ought to reconsider. It won’t look good on your record, you know, getting past customs if you ever care to return to the old country, it will look terrible to have-–”
The White Wizard laughed unpleasantly. “To have done a good turn for a colleague? No, believe me, Radagast, all that I do now is but for your own benefit.” With a lazy flick of his staff, he sent the Brown Wizard slamming heavily into the wall.
Radagast stared helplessly, unable to move, as the other wizard advanced upon him wielding an ominous object the sight of which made his blood run cold. Yet, he tried to remain bold, defiant to the last. “I hadn’t realized it had gone so far, Saruman, that you turn aside from our greater cause in favor of petty and superficial matters.”
“If that is what you call it, then so be it,” answered Saruman, softly.
Radagast tried to think of Gandalf, who had always been wiser than he and in many ways wiser than Saruman, pressing onward in his mysterious and somehow relevant business with his Dwarven company. It was somehow more important than anything that Gandalf’s business not be impeded. In this at least Radagast could render him aide, whatever might be the cost, draw off Saruman’s attention as he’d tried to draw off the warg-riders. Turning his face aside, Radagast braced himself as Saruman, meticulously-combed hair gleaming in the sunset, raised the bottle of shampoo.
_______*_______
ETA - right, and this drawing actually came first.