[Piratized Fic (We boarded 'er an we took all 'er rum)] Brothaaars in Arms--
Yesterday be Talk Like A Pirate Day, an' I, bein' a sleepy pirate, slept right through the calls t' watch. But what do pirates care fer time an' space, right, me hearties? So in 'onour o' TLAPD, I be fixin' one o' my ol' fics t' read like it were penned on th' decks o' a real pirate ship. Read on, an' be 'orrified at me pseudo-piratical speech patterns (but don't make fun o' th' accent ^_~).
Original, non-piratey fic here.
What be th' name o' the beauty: Brothaaars in Arms
Put yer X here: That's Cap'n Galadriel, me hearties.
Waters we arr sailin': Lord o' the Rings (pretty, sparkly things, they be): The Fellowship o' those selfsame sparklies.
Port o' call: Th' makins o' a grand adventure, 'tho some lubber weighs down th' crew with moanin' to beat th' Devil 'eself.
Should I be packin' a sword: Muthers an' fathers will not be needin' to cover their little 'uns eyes.
Pearls from readers' mouths: Arr like th' treasures o' th' Deep.
Spoilaaaars: If ye be lookin' fer spoilers, ye be better off lookin' in th' depths o' Davy Jones' locker.
Warnin': Ye look at me that way again, ye scurvy dog, and I be takin' those pretty pearly eyes fer me own.
Summaaaary: Brothaaars in arms and blud may still be navigatin' by differin' stars.
Liberatin' Booty, Not Stealin' Anythin': New Line Cinema, th' scurvy knaves, be keepin' th' movie under lock 'un key. Tolkien an' 'is bilge rats arr Admirals o'er Middle Earth, an' I be sailin' those waters as soon as I gets enough booty t' outfit a gud sized ship.
Treasure Map: I scribbled these 'ere marks out by candlelight fer Boromir Day (September 5th, 2002) o'er at th' Fan Club armada. Davy Jones be drowned, me obsession with Boromir ain't goin' away, no matter how long I been out t' sea.
Brothaaars in Arms
By Cap'n Galadriel
"Arrr?" Faramir swung 'is pegleg out o'er th' railin' 'e were perchin' on, watchin' 'is brother stab smartly at th' shadows flittin' across th' deck.
"Aye?" Th' boy that were longer in years paused long enough t' wipe th' worst o' th' sweat from 'is forehead.
"D'yer e'er wish ye were captainin' a differ'nt ship th'n that o' arr father's?"
"Shiver me timbers!" Th' surprise knocked Boromir o'er like a parrot tossed in a storm, so 'e stopped what 'e were doin' an' staggered o'er t' th' railin an' 'is ferst an' best mate Faramir. "I not be divinin' yer meanin'."
"I said that ye might'n be thinkin' that there were better waters th'n th' ones we arr sailin'," Faramir pushed the matter like oarsmen in th' midst o' a calmin' ocean, "that ye might'n like t' serve a differ'n master. Lay down yer arms against arr enemies. Ye cud sail a differ'n sea." 'Is tone were as mournful as a broken hornpipe, "Ye cud be a hoein' landlubber? Or a worker o' th' iron. Or," 'e burned a hole through 'is pegleg what with th' starin', "a protector o' those little 'uns."
"Nay." 'Is voice 'eld all th' iron o' th' strongest cannon barrel. "I be nuthin' but loyal and true. One day Da' will meet wi' Davy Jones fer th' final time an' I will step int' 'is role, take 'is parrot as me own, an' I will keep 'is fleet floatin' just like 'e 'as. I will only keel haul th' bilge rats that truly deserve it. I will keep me mates free from the clap an' th' English." 'E looked beyond Faramir, gazin' out across th' sea, seein' battles t' be fought an booty t' be gathered. "I will keep our backs t' th' wind. I will finally 'member where I left me treasure map. An' I'll do it all," 'e clapped 'is hooked hand on 'is brother's shoulder, "wi' ye by me side."
Faramir grimaced in a friendly manner at 'is Cap'n.
"Besides," 'e guffawed like 'e'd drunk th' last dregs o' th' rum an' were just now feelin' th' effects, "if I weren't around, who would watch yer back?"
Unsheathin' 'is weapon (but nay th' one in 'is pantaloons), Boromir returned t' 'is solitary sword practise. Faramir, silent again, watched an' wondered at th' vagaries o' th' navigation o' th' gods.
END
(05/09/2002, piratized 20/09/2004)
Original, non-piratey fic here.
What be th' name o' the beauty: Brothaaars in Arms
Put yer X here: That's Cap'n Galadriel, me hearties.
Waters we arr sailin': Lord o' the Rings (pretty, sparkly things, they be): The Fellowship o' those selfsame sparklies.
Port o' call: Th' makins o' a grand adventure, 'tho some lubber weighs down th' crew with moanin' to beat th' Devil 'eself.
Should I be packin' a sword: Muthers an' fathers will not be needin' to cover their little 'uns eyes.
Pearls from readers' mouths: Arr like th' treasures o' th' Deep.
Spoilaaaars: If ye be lookin' fer spoilers, ye be better off lookin' in th' depths o' Davy Jones' locker.
Warnin': Ye look at me that way again, ye scurvy dog, and I be takin' those pretty pearly eyes fer me own.
Summaaaary: Brothaaars in arms and blud may still be navigatin' by differin' stars.
Liberatin' Booty, Not Stealin' Anythin': New Line Cinema, th' scurvy knaves, be keepin' th' movie under lock 'un key. Tolkien an' 'is bilge rats arr Admirals o'er Middle Earth, an' I be sailin' those waters as soon as I gets enough booty t' outfit a gud sized ship.
Treasure Map: I scribbled these 'ere marks out by candlelight fer Boromir Day (September 5th, 2002) o'er at th' Fan Club armada. Davy Jones be drowned, me obsession with Boromir ain't goin' away, no matter how long I been out t' sea.
Brothaaars in Arms
By Cap'n Galadriel
"Arrr?" Faramir swung 'is pegleg out o'er th' railin' 'e were perchin' on, watchin' 'is brother stab smartly at th' shadows flittin' across th' deck.
"Aye?" Th' boy that were longer in years paused long enough t' wipe th' worst o' th' sweat from 'is forehead.
"D'yer e'er wish ye were captainin' a differ'nt ship th'n that o' arr father's?"
"Shiver me timbers!" Th' surprise knocked Boromir o'er like a parrot tossed in a storm, so 'e stopped what 'e were doin' an' staggered o'er t' th' railin an' 'is ferst an' best mate Faramir. "I not be divinin' yer meanin'."
"I said that ye might'n be thinkin' that there were better waters th'n th' ones we arr sailin'," Faramir pushed the matter like oarsmen in th' midst o' a calmin' ocean, "that ye might'n like t' serve a differ'n master. Lay down yer arms against arr enemies. Ye cud sail a differ'n sea." 'Is tone were as mournful as a broken hornpipe, "Ye cud be a hoein' landlubber? Or a worker o' th' iron. Or," 'e burned a hole through 'is pegleg what with th' starin', "a protector o' those little 'uns."
"Nay." 'Is voice 'eld all th' iron o' th' strongest cannon barrel. "I be nuthin' but loyal and true. One day Da' will meet wi' Davy Jones fer th' final time an' I will step int' 'is role, take 'is parrot as me own, an' I will keep 'is fleet floatin' just like 'e 'as. I will only keel haul th' bilge rats that truly deserve it. I will keep me mates free from the clap an' th' English." 'E looked beyond Faramir, gazin' out across th' sea, seein' battles t' be fought an booty t' be gathered. "I will keep our backs t' th' wind. I will finally 'member where I left me treasure map. An' I'll do it all," 'e clapped 'is hooked hand on 'is brother's shoulder, "wi' ye by me side."
Faramir grimaced in a friendly manner at 'is Cap'n.
"Besides," 'e guffawed like 'e'd drunk th' last dregs o' th' rum an' were just now feelin' th' effects, "if I weren't around, who would watch yer back?"
Unsheathin' 'is weapon (but nay th' one in 'is pantaloons), Boromir returned t' 'is solitary sword practise. Faramir, silent again, watched an' wondered at th' vagaries o' th' navigation o' th' gods.
END
(05/09/2002, piratized 20/09/2004)