THE VERY SECRET DIARY OF THEODEN

By Cassie Claire



Day One:

Desperately in need of new personal assistant. Have contacted Ninety Minute Minion Services in Isengard. Seems best bet as if minion does not arrive in ninety minutes you get free Orc. Do not actually know what would do with Orc if had one, so do hope minion arrives on time.

Day Two:

New minion arrived. Not best looking bloke I’ve ever clapped eyes on, but then again, not everyone can be brainless pretty boy with big show-off ponytail like Eomer. Little does Eomer know Wormtongue has promised me new makeover with Saruman’s personal line of beauty products. Has promised me I will look fresh and youthful.

Day Three:

Is that a grey hair?

Day Four:

New makeover gone horribly awry. Do not look fresh and youthful, instead resemble albino dwarf after two years pickling in the Dead Marshes.

Suspect Wormtongue has crush on Eowyn. Cannot blame him as Eowyn quite smoking. Don’t know where she gets off being so high and mighty. Have told her – pose for Shield Maidens Gone Wild you must expect some male attention.

Day Six:

Why has no one noticed I now resemble a weevil? Not has Eomer commented on my new mascara. Eomer so spoiled. “I want a party. I want a pony.” Have banished him from Rohan for whining.

Day Seven:

Have reversed opinion on makeover. Am now quite taken with new look, as is so alarming no one bothers me. Can sit on throne all day in peace. Much needed vacation. Citizens of Edoras so tiresome and unhygenic.

Day Eight:

Vacation over. Gandalf arrived sporting alarming new makeover of his own. Gandalf no fun. Cannot abide anyone else having new and daring look. Prima Donna!

Brought along three boy toys of varying sizes. My squadron of hand picked bodyguards totally whupped by tiny hairy newt, pretty boy elf and unshaven tramp. Obviously, need better screening process.

Day Ten:

Attacked by Orcs. Aragorn “No Skillz 2 Pay Da Billz” Son of Arathorn fell over cliff, thus avoiding sticking around for battle. So much for Hero King of Men.

Day Eleven:

Have arrived at Helms Deep. Time for a nice long nap.

Day Eleven, Later:

Nap disturbed by return of Aragorn, who is not so dead after all. Apparently, absolutely ridiculous number of Orcs headed this way. Morale of men not improved by Aragorn’s craven attempts to sneak away through side door. Have misdirected him to wine cellar three times now. If I am not getting away from this, neither is he. Is all his fault anyway.

Am not sure how, but it is.

Day Thirteen:

Where is the horse and the rider? No, seriously, where are they? That was my favorite horse.

Day Thirteen, Later:

Losing battle spectacularly. Who is surprised? Not me.

Day Sixteen:

Heroic self-sacrificing death scene ruined by arrival of Gandalf and still-insufferable Eomer. Why did Gandalf wait until dawn to arrive? Suspect is so he would be most attractively backlit while riding down hill. Drama Queen. Have gotten revenge on him by telling all my men Gandalf is wearing fishnets under white robe. First one who snaps his garter gets to snog Legolas.

Who wields the flame of Arnor now, you poncy tosser?