Lord of the Rings, But Aragorn Is Convinced He Can Track Hobbit Poo

A version of J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic tale in which Aragorn insists he can track hobbits by their droppings.

Aragorn woke up in a sweat, clutching his Evenstar necklace tight. He dreamed he was fighting Uruk-hai. It seemed he could have no respite from reality — not even in his dreams.

He felt the wind shifting in the early morning light of their campsite. The Uruk-hai would take notice of that. He feared they would pick up their scent any time now. But there was also a sense of hope within that fear — they were getting closer to finding the hobbits who’d been captured.

He turned when he heard the yawn; Gimli the gruff, bearded dwarf was stretching from a deep and peaceful slumber on a nearby bed of moss. Aragorn envied his friend’s ability to get a good night’s rest. Gimli dusted off his chainmail and rubbed the sleep from his dark eyes.

“Where has the elf gone?” the dwarf asked. Aragorn shrugged; one never could quite keep tabs on the agile elf. “Perhaps he’s gone to find breakfast,” the ranger said, fumbling for his pipe.

“Ha!” Gimli exclaimed. “That elf wouldn’t know a good breakfast if it crawled into his lap and said, ‘Eat me, ser!’”

No sooner had Gimli completed his insult than a rabbit carcass plopped upon his unsuspecting lap. Legolas stood towering over him with a sly grin across his porcelain face.

“Well?” Legolas said.

“Well?” the dwarf replied, retaining his composure best he could. “Where’s the salt?”

Legolas’s smile broadened at his companion’s stubbornness and the two commenced preparing the rabbit for the meal. But Aragorn was impatient. He felt in his ranger blood that they were close to the hobbits, despite not having any clear clues about their whereabouts for days.

He turned and scanned the horizon with the eyes of a tracker. Then, suddenly, like a gift from his ancestors, he spotted it: a pile of hobbit poo.

“What?” asked Legolas after the ranger and heir to the throne of Gondor excitedly explained his discovery and its importance.

“Hobbit poo,” Aragorn repeated. “I have found some.”

There was a pause between the three friends.

“How do you know it is hobbit poo,” Gimli asked.

Aragorn went over to the poo and took a closer look at it.

“The shape, for starters,” he explained. “Like pellets.”

Gimli and Legolas shared a look.

“There is no time to argue,” Aragorn said impatiently. “We are close! We must follow the direction of this poo.”

“Aragorn,” Legolas said, speaking elvish now to converse privately with his human friend. “I am sorry to tell you this. But that is your own poo that you are looking at there.”

Aragorn stood quiet for a moment, trying to process what he’d just been told.

“No,” he said, breaking his long silence, his confidence flushing back into his face. “I have been a ranger and a tracker for many years and I know the difference between my poo and hobbit poo.”

“Laddie,” Gimli interrupted, sympathy in his voice. “We both watched you go right there just last night. Don’t you remember? The elf and I both begged you to go further away from the campsite and not do it so close.”

Once again, Aragorn was taken aback; he could not believe what he was hearing. He wondered if perhaps evil Saruman had cast a spell on Gimli and Legolas to make them say these things and trick him. Aragorn unsheathed Andúril, his sword — its perfect blade shone brightly in the morning light.

“The real Legolas and Gimli would never question my expertise in tracking,” he said. “Who are you? Reveal yourselves!”

“We don’t have time for this, Aragorn,” Legolas said urgently. “We must find the hobbits!”

“And what do you think I am trying to do with the poo?” Aragorn snapped back. “I am trying to find our friends!”

The ranger stepped forward to strike out with his mighty sword — when something suddenly caught his well-trained eye: an even larger pile of poo.

“Ah-ha!” Aragorn explained, relaxing. He sheathed Andúril and let out his breath. “Friends, I owe you an apology. I mistook those animal droppings earlier for authentic hobbit poo. But I believe I have made a discovery that will make it up to both of you.”

Aragorn rushed over to the larger pile of droppings.

“I have found real hobbit poo this time. You can tell by the large size and shape. We must follow the direction of these droppings immediately if we wish to save our hobbit friends!”

There was another long pause among the them. Gimli stroked and twisted his long, red beard. Legolas fiddled with one of his arrows. He cleared his throat.

“Aragorn,” the elf said. “Neither of us doubt your great ability as a tracker. But the large poo you are inspecting now is also your own poo.”

Aragorn stared in disbelief. He looked at Gimli for some sign of affirmation. But the dwarf simply shook his head: “We begged you to use the forest, but you said it was too dark in there.”

Aragorn kicked the pile of poo and fell to his knees, letting out a searing roar of frustration.

After a moment, Legolas approached him and laid a gentle elven hand on his shoulder.

“We will find them, my friend. We must have hope.”

Aragorn nodded solemnly. Legolas was right.

The ranger stood up tall and wiped his face. It was time to save his friends.

“We have a long day of tracking ahead of us,” he said. “Finish your rabbit, you two; you’ll need your strength.”

“That’s OK,” Gimli said.

“Yes,” Legolas replied in a rare moment of agreement with the dwarf. “We are full.”