TCOTWAME
The Chronicle of the War Against Central-dirt
Lord of the Rings Parody Fiction
Written by DJ Hadoken Exlamparaaghis
Edited by The Funk Mistress
An Unexpected Party
Chapter 1 (Part 5 of 5)
In the distance, DJ Benvenuto the Raccoon could already hear the sounds of Kewl Kat’s artillery roaring and the sound of thousands of horses and knights being massacred.
DJ Benvenuto cautioned his brave warriors, “We are almost there, don’t let your guard down! We didn’t face any opposition on the way here. Which means that Gombor has probably joined with Rodan near Hard’n Deep to face Kewl Kat’s army. Ready your potato cannons! We will barrage them from Eldorados!”
As DJ Benvenuto’s army emerged from the mountains, all they could see was a vast ocean of men on horses and the heavily armored men of Gombor marching towards the West.
In the distance, the flashes of cannons and explosions erupted through the ranks of Central-dirt men. Further away, within the clouds of smoke, were the remains of a large fortress.
“Hard’n Deep,” Guy the Manager whispered.
“What’s that?” DJ Benvenuto pointed towards the fortress, at the top of which flew what appeared to be a Confederate flag.
Guy the Manager observed excitedly, “Kewl Kat must have flushed everyone out of Hard’n Deep!”
The tireless men of Gombor took notice of the new army perched upon the hills of Eldorados. They turned and began advancing towards them.
DJ Benvenuto knew that the time had come to engage the enemy. “Alright, they’ve spotted us. Begin the potato cannon barrage! Meta-Guy, fire your lasers!”
The men of Gombor were vaporized underneath the relentless pummeling of potatoes and lasers by the RIA army. However, the men of Gombor had fashioned their own catapults and the RIA army was not without its own casualties.
DJ Benvenuto implored, “Guy, get Meta-Guy to take out those catapults!”
The catapult fire suddenly ceased, and the RIA Zealots advanced upon the men of Gombor, firing deadly potatoes at them at point blank range.
DJ Benvenuto shouted, “Thanks, Meta-Guy!”
Guy the Manager responded, “It wasn’t Meta-Guy. I didn’t even have a chance to send him the orders!”
A line had been cleared through armies of Rodan and Gombor. A great machine lurched forward over the broken and shattered bodies of the enemy. The great machine appeared to be a submarine on wheels with gatling guns attached to the top.
“It must be one of Kewl Kat’s machines!” DJ Benvenuto was excited.
Guy the Manager pointed, “Look, it’s cleared a line through Rodan and Gombor’s armies! Nobody else seems to be coming after us. I think they are all too focused on taking back Hard’n Deep. Kewl Kat might be outnumbered. He might not be able to last without our help.”
DJ Benvenuto peered ahead, “You have a point, but we need to take care of the rear of this army before we move through the opening. If not, we may all be trapped at Hard’n Deep.”
It was then that a ray of light shot through the sky and the winds howled with fury. “What in the name of The Ancients was that?!” shouted Guy the Manager.
DJ Benvenuto looked towards the sky, “I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound good. Quickly, flaming potato divisions! Immolate the enemy!”
But then, arrows sang through the sky and impaled Guy the Manager. DJ Benvenuto screeched, “Guy!” The only words that came out of Guy’s mouth were those of his doom.
There was a great confusion among the ranks, as the enemy had taken notice of the threat to their rear. The opening was closed. Now, the enemy surrounded DJ Benvenuto’s army on all sides.
DJ Benvenuto protested this unfortunate fate, “How did this happen? We’re trapped!” He raised his fist and shouted, “ORAL COMMUNICATION!” hoping that his Ring of Vices would incapacitate at least some of the enemies and their horses, forcing them to communicate orally in every way imaginable with each other.
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They carried with them the banners of Gombor. This army was led none other than by Foramimi, son of the former steward of Gombor, Doinhor Junior. The new king of Gombor, Adabone, son of Adamone, the heir of Isadbor, had sent him.
DJ Benvenuto continued protesting, now angered, “How can this be? They must not have been poisoned yet by DJ Wang’s army!” He shouted as he used his Ring of Vices, “ORAL COMMUNICATION!”
The flaming potato cannon divisions fought bravely, but their efforts were in vain. The mounted infantry of Gombor quickly hewed them down. Those that were not slain were burned to death by the volley of fire arrows raining down from the sky.
And behold!
Through the horizon, as the last of the brake-fluid bomb division’s eyes were blinded by their own blood, they could see the faint outline of a giant heroic statue of Gombor. It had traveled with Foramimi, and now (with its cold, blank eyes) stared down upon the RIA army as an ominous symbol of death.
As their forces dwindled, there were now too many enemies for Meta-Guy to disintegrate with lasers. Turning on his jet-powered booster rockets located on the soles of his shoes, he fled in terror. His head literally spinning around with steam coming out his ears and spirals in his eyes.
Now only a handful of RIA warriors remained, fighting bravely despite the fact that the armies of Rodan and Gombor had already begun to cheer and celebrate their triumph. For they knew now that this portion of the foreign army was outnumbered, with no chance of victory.
A volley of flaming arrows fell upon the remaining warriors. One of the arrows pierced fiercely through DJ Benvenuto’s trash can shield, “Argh!”
“ORAAAL!” DJ Benvenuto shouted as he attempted to use his Ring of Vices one last time before another arrow pierced his trash can armor, and blood spewed onto the ground.
“The blood of a Chosen One has been spilled! Ancients have mercy upon us!” a distant voice cried. The name of the one who made this last desperate cry shall never be known, for they too were quickly struck down by the might of Gombor.
Crawling on the ground, gasping for life, DJ Benvenuto looked up and saw the heroic statue of Gombor, now being moved past him to Hard’n Deep. And not a moment later, two flaming arrows pierced each of his earholes.
And as he convulsed in pain and utter misery in the mud (not formed by rain, but by his own blood and the blood of his comrades), ten more arrows pierced his legs and torso.
Finally, another arrow pierced cleanly through the back of his head, his brain, and his forehead, pinning him face down into the bloodied mud.
He gasped for life, but only swallowed dirt and rocks. And as the pain of the mud in his lungs began to register, all sense was finally halted as a marching line of ten horses (that took no notice of the feeble, writhing body of a Chosen One) trampled over him.
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