Burn Up Your Dead

[malakhai.livejournal.com]

Title: Burn Up Your Dead
Author: mallorn_gamgee
Word Count: 200
Characters: Pippin, Denethor, Faramir, Beregond and Gandalf
Rating: G
Author's Note: Written for the "Monty Python" challenge at toilanddrouble. Because every time I see that scene I think of this Python scene.



Faramir’s limp body was laid on the courtyard, where Pippin and Denethor rushed to his side.

Denethor cried,“My son…is dead! The last of the Stewards of Gondor.”

Pippin peered intently at Faramir. “He’s not dead.”

“Well he will be soon. He’s very ill. Bring wood and oil!”

Soldiers carried Faramir to the halls of Gondor.

“Lay him out on the pyre,” commanded the Steward.

“I don’t want to go on the pyre!” Faramir faintly protested.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.”

“I feel fine. I’m getting better,” Faramir whispered, fluttering his eyelids.

“No, you aren’t. You’ll be pushing up the Simbelmyne soon enough,” Denethor said, pouring oil over them both.

“I feel fine, I feel like going for a walk. It’s only a flesh wound!”

“You’re fooling yourself. The family line ends here,” Denethor said, before asking Beregond, “Do you think I should keep the fur coat on? Or is that a bit too-too?”

“The wet look works for you,” the soldier observed.

Gandalf stormed in on Shadowfax, bellowing, “Belay this madness!”

Denethor stood in the center of the pyre with a lit match. “Can’t you just give us a few minutes then?”

Gandalf struck Denethor with his staff.

“No.”

Comments

[malakhai.livejournal.com]

It's a match made in heaven, or er, somewhere other than Earth anyways.

Thanks dear, I'm so so so happy you liked it!