Concerning Haremites
Chapter 2 - Limericks in the
Dark
When Frodo opened his
eyes, he wondered if he had; for it was as if he had dreamt the arrival of the
Harem at BEWTE. No one was anywhere near him. Just imagine his shock! He could
hear no Haremites, see none of them in his bedroom, and he could feel nothing
except the mattress under him.
Very slowly he got up and walked about, till he touched the wall of the smial,
but neither up nor down it could he find anything; nothing at all, no sign of
Haremites, no sign of Gorbag. His head was swimming, and he was far from certain
even of whether they had been there at all (apart from the lingering smell of
post-coital cigarettes).
He did not get much further but sat down on the cold floor and gave himself up
to complete miserableness, for a long while. He thought of himself frying bacon
and eggs in his kitchen without his Haremites around him; and that only made him
miserabler.
He could not think what to do; nor could he think what had happened; or why he
had been left alone; or why, if he had been left alone, the Haremites had not
left a message.
After some time he felt for his pipe. It was not broken, and that was something.
Then he felt for his pouch, and there was some tobacco in it, and that was
something more. Then he felt for matches and he could not find any at all, and
that shattered his hopes completely. Just as well for him, as he agreed much
later when he came to his senses. Goodness know what the striking of matches
would have brought out on him - a horde of Haremites delighted to find him
awake. Still at that moment he felt very crushed. It seemed that he had been
quite forgotten; and this was surprising about the Haremites, considering how
much time they spent inside his breeches.
Suddenly without any warning he stepped splash into water. It was surprisingly
warm. That pulled him up sharp and short. He stopped, and he could hear, when he
listened hard, drops drip-drip-dripping from an unseen tap, but there seemed no
other sort of sound.
‘So it is from the bathroom,’ he thought, and went cautiously in.
He could see someone watching him from a giant copper and timber bath, with eyes
gleaming in the dark. Suddenly up came a Haremite and whispered,
‘Bless us, it’s the Squire!’ And when she said ‘Squire’ she made a
delectable purring noise in her throat. The hobbit jumped nearly out of his
skin, and suddenly saw the other Haremites in a mountain of bubbles.
‘Perhaps you should sit here and chat with us a bit. We’ve all been waiting
for you. You like limericks, don’t you, Frodo?’
‘That must be quite a large bath,’ Frodo stammered, undoing his clothes. He
was anxious to get in, at any rate for the moment, because he thought the
bubbles might hide the condition he was in.
‘Yes, now get in and we’ll tell each other limericks. You don’t get any
cuddles until you’ve guessed the answers.’
‘You go first,’ said Frodo, because he had not had time to think of one.
So one of the Haremites chanted:
Who’s in the Harem that everyone sees,
Is greener than trees
and a cookie guts,
if they have no nuts?
‘Easy!’ said Frodo. ‘Gorbag, I suppose.’
‘Yes, that was easy,’ said the Haremite, and reached over and kissed him
smack on the lips. ‘Your turn.’
‘All right!’ said Frodo, and nearly bursting his brain to think of limericks
or riddles that could help him along.
Thirty sweet Haremites love to give these licks -
at a camp,
chew and clamp,
and nibble them off sticks.
That was all he could think of to ask - the idea was rather on his mind.
‘Chestnuts!’ cooed one of the Haremites.
‘Pardon?’ said Frodo.
‘Your innuendo is getting smuttier every day,’ said one of her sisters, and
flicked bubbles at her.
‘Marshmallows!’ said another lass, and did a swan dive into the bath, coming
up in Frodo’s lap. Frodo was still trying to regain his breathing when another
lass, eager for her turn, asked the next riddle.
Fanfic she writes,
makes the heart flutter,
sometimes she bites,
can be found in the gutter.
‘Half a moment!’ cried Frodo, who was still thinking uncomfortably about
marshmallows. Fortunately he had once heard something rather like this before,
and getting his wits back he thought of the answer. ‘Well, that could be a lot
of you, but - Ariel?’
‘Damn, he’s good,’ said Ariel. ‘Must have been the hickey I gave him on
his - ‘
‘Good guess!’ said the rest of the Harem, and proceeded to give Frodo
cuddles. Steam rose from the bath. He was so pleased that he made one up on the
spot.
A blue eye in Fro’s face
Saw an eye in a star’s face
‘That eye is like to this eye’
Said the first eye,
‘But in low place,
Not in high place.’
‘Oooh,’ said the Harem. They had been at Tol Eressea a long time, but not so
long they had forgotten about ‘stars’ on earth. Especially not -
‘Elwood!’ said a lass triumphantly. ‘Well done, Frodo, you remembered!’
And there were further cuddles, to the extent a lot of water and bubbles slopped
over onto the floor. What is more they made Frodo very hot, so to prolong the
fun the lasses tried to think of something a bit more difficult.
It can be used to make knees melt,
it cheekily aims below the belt.
It’s often blamed for Harem thills
and many love its naughty skills.
It ignites knickers fore and after,
here is rife, causes laughter.
Unfortunately for the Harem Frodo had heard that sort of thing before; and the
answer was all around him any way.
‘Smut!’ he said, without even scratching his head or putting on his thinking
cap.
A thing without a key is hid,
And sometimes to the bedroom bid,
he asked to gain time, until he could think of a really hard one.
(All right, stop tittering.)
This he thought dreadfully easy, though he had not asked it in the usual words.
But the Haremites argued long about this one, and giggled a great deal. After
some while Frodo became bemused. ‘Well, what is it?’ he said. ‘The
answer’s not a kettle boiling over, although that is what I am starting to
feel like.’
But suddenly one lass yelped, ‘Oh, it has to be those manacles of
Pearl’s!’
‘Oh blimey,’ said Pearl. ‘It’s always me who’s picked on as the
resident sadomasochist.’ Then she asked:
They are warm as breath,
get tickled to death;
always furry, never stinking,
help to show the thoughts you’re thinking.
She also in her turn thought this was a dreadfully easy one, because she was
always thinking of the answer. All the same it was a poser for Frodo, who was
having difficulty concentrating at all by this stage. I imagine you know the
answer, of course, since you are sitting comfortably at home and have not the
potential of being ravished to disturb your thinking. Frodo sat and cleared his
throat once or twice, but no answer came.
After a while the Harem because to giggle with pleasure to themselves:
‘Isn’t he beautiful? Isn’t he scrumptiously shaggable?’
‘Half a moment,’ said the hobbit, stammering. ‘I can’t think straight
just now.’
‘You must make haste, haste!’ said the lasses, beginning to move over to get
at Frodo. But one lass jumped forward in her eagerness and fell on Frodo’s
toes.
‘Oh!’ he said. ‘They are warm and ticklish!’ - and so he guessed.
‘Feet! feet!’ he cried. ‘It is feet!’
The Harem was not at all disappointed, and Frodo asked another riddle as quick
as ever he could, so the lasses did not accidentally drown him in their
excitement.
Two-legs lay on four-legs, two-legs jumped from three-legs, two-legs got some.
It was not really the right time for this riddle, but Frodo was in a hurry. As
it was, talking of feet, ‘two-legs’ was not so very difficult, and after
that the rest was easy. ‘Me on a bed, a Haremite jumps from a stool and lands
on me,’ that of course is the answer, and the Harem soon gave it. Then he
thought the time had come to ask something easy - he really wasn’t in the mood
to play with riddles much longer. This is what he said:
This thing has astounding powers:
lovers all of trees and flowers:
True to Frodo as to steel:
There to cook his every meal:
Shows love of great renown
And tangles in his eiderdown.
The Haremites sat in the dark thinking of all the lovely lasses they could name
individually, but all of them had done these things. They began to get hot, and
that is bad for thinking. Frodo began to move towards them. Their tongues seemed
to stick in their mouths, and they all wanted to shout out ‘Shag me! Shag
me!’ But all that came out with a sudden squeal was ‘Me! Me!’
The Harem was saved by pure luck. For ‘me’ - well, The Harem - was the
answer.
Frodo was not disappointed any more. He was getting flustered, and forgetful of
the game. It had made him very hot indeed. The Harem was swarming towards him in
the dark. This made him dreadfully hot, and he fell back with the bath behind
him.
In a moment the Harem was on him. Whistles blew, angels wept, swords rattled,
Haremites swore and thrashed hither and thither, falling over one another and
getting very excited. There was a fabulous outcry, to-do, and disturbance.
‘Yes, yes, yes! Frodo! We love you, we love you, we love you for ever!’
Then there was a silence. Frodo lay back in the bath with a sigh of pleasure.
‘You know, none of those riddles were really limericks,’ said one of the
lasses at last, emerging from under Frodo’s elbow. ‘We’ll have to do this
again.’
‘Oh good,’ said Frodo. When it came to the lasses’ desires, Frodo had
never escaped.
Nor did he ever want to.
(On to chapter 3...)