Dizzy Land

Aragorn was growing weary of lembas. Of course, the elvish way-bread provided all the nutrients and energy the body needed, but a man could not subsist upon it indefinitely the way an elf could, and as the only other item of food in his ever-renewing supplies was some dried beef he began to desire fresh meat. Of course, he could have obtained some from the various restaurants, but he was somewhat suspicious of the cleaned and prepared raw meat and of the storage system which kept it fresh. Besides, he had not had the opportunity to shoot at a target that was not a tree branch or a split sapling in a great while.

On the busier part of the ‘river’ in Frontierland, not far from the ship named the Columbia, he found a small flock of ducks chattering contentedly and lazing about the river. He stood upon the bank for a long moment, watching them, and selected for his target an especially large and plump drake. Then, with a shout he tossed a stick into the water and the birds, with loud exclamations of alarm, rose into the sky and took off in the direction of the center of the park.

Aragorn watched them, an arrow already on the string. He waited a moment, then pulled back his arm and let the shaft fly.

Its path was true.

((Somebody please come laugh at Aragorn; XD))

Aragorn had made a habit of daily traversing the park, less troubled by dark thoughts when his body was not idle and finding comfort in the pretense of familiar action. He was drawn from his usual path, however, by the unexpected sound of a dog’s voice, a playful and happy sound somehow out of place in the uncomfortable stillness of the park. In all his days there Aragorn had yet to encounter any animals, birds, or even insects, save the ducks which populated the small ponds. He found the stillness of the place perhaps more unnerving than any other aspect of the strange and unfamiliar circumstances, so when the alien voice broke the stillness he could not but turn and follow it to its source.

In the center circle of the park he found Starbuck playing with a handsome and almost wolf-like looking creature, although the snout and feet spoke of her true heritage. With a smile at the revelry before him he stepped forward to greet them both.

“Good day, Starbuck,” said he. It felt unspeakably rude to address her so, but she had insisted upon the point the last time they had conversed, and he had acquiesced, although reluctantly.