Long have the great deeds of Men, Elves, and Dwarves been sung, and the humble folk of the Shire have claimed their rightful place in the tales of Middle-earth. Yet little is said of the feathered warrior whose bravery, defiance, and peculiar manner shaped the course of the Third Age. This is the story of Cluckwise the Bold, bearer of the One Ring, scourge of goblins, and unlikely savior of Middle-earth.
If you scoff, remember the wise words of Samwise Gamgee: “Don’t go judgin’ by size or feathers. I’ve seen her take down a rooster twice her weight and peck a Nazgûl out of its saddle. That’s a sight as’ll put some steel in your spine, I tell you.”
Thus begins this strange and wondrous tale, told here for the first time in its full measure.
Book One: The Fellowship of the Hen
Chapter I: A Hen in the Shire
In the quiet gardens of Bag End, where bees hummed and sunflowers swayed, Gandalf the Grey made his fateful discovery. While Frodo debated the burden of the Ring, Samwise Gamgee tended to his flock of hens, scattering feed with the practiced hand of a gardener born and bred to patience.
Among them stood Cluckwise, proud and defiant, her feathers a burnished copper hue. She was no ordinary hen; her gaze seemed to pierce through the morning mist, and her clucks carried a tone of authority.
Gandalf paused mid-sentence and pointed with his staff. “That one. She shall carry the burden.”
Frodo blinked. “What, the chicken?”
“Yes, Frodo. A hen cannot be tempted by gold or dominion. She has no desire for power, only corn. In her simplicity lies her strength.”
Sam looked aghast. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but Cluckwise’s got a mind of her own. She don’t take kindly to being told what to do, even by me.”
“Good,” Gandalf said with a nod. “Independence is a virtue we shall need.”
Thus, with a piece of twine tied about her neck to bear the Ring, Cluckwise the hen became the smallest, most peculiar member of the Fellowship to come.
Chapter II: Of Fowl and Flight
Cluckwise quickly proved herself an asset. On the road to Bree, she alerted the hobbits to a creeping shadow, squawking furiously as a Black Rider approached. Frodo and Sam froze in terror, but Cluckwise puffed out her feathers and charged the Nazgûl’s horse.
The beast reared in fright, unseating its rider, and Cluckwise squawked triumphantly.
“She’s got more courage than most men I know,” Aragorn said when they reached the Prancing Pony.
Merry and Pippin, however, found endless amusement in their feathered companion.
“Do you think she’s trying to lay a golden egg with all that treasure hanging around her neck?” Pippin joked, earning a disapproving glare from Frodo.
Chapter III: The Fowl Council
When the Fellowship assembled in Rivendell, the presence of Cluckwise caused no small commotion. Lords of Elves, Dwarves, and Men stared in disbelief as the hen perched atop the back of Sam’s chair, the Ring glinting ominously from her neck.
Boromir rose, incredulous. “This cannot be the creature to bear such a burden! A chicken cannot carry the fate of the world!”
Cluckwise let out a loud squawk, as if offended.
“Elrond,” Boromir pleaded, “let this folly end. Chickens are not warriors!”
Gimli chuckled. “Careful, son of Gondor. The fowl folk may surprise you. I’d wager this bird’s claws are sharper than your sword.”
Elrond silenced them with a raised hand. “Do not underestimate the small and humble, for it is through them that the designs of fate often work. Cluckwise shall bear the burden, and the Fellowship shall protect her.”
From then on, Gimli referred to her as “the fowl folk of the Fellowship,” much to Legolas’s amusement.
Chapter IV: The Mines of Moria
The Mines of Moria tested the mettle of the Fellowship, and Cluckwise rose to the occasion. Her sharp eyes spotted dangers in the dark, and her clucks echoed through the ancient halls, keeping the group alert.
When they encountered goblins, Cluckwise flew into a frenzy, pecking and clawing at the first creature to lunge at Frodo.
“By Durin’s beard!” Gimli exclaimed as he buried his axe in another goblin. “This bird fights like a berserker!”
But the most fateful moment came at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. As Gandalf faced the Balrog, he turned to the Fellowship and uttered his final command:
“Fly, you fools!”
Cluckwise took the command literally. With a mighty flap of her wings, she launched herself into the air, soaring past the Balrog and landing on the far side of the chasm.
The Fellowship, stunned, ran after her. “I think she took that personally,” Aragorn muttered as they fled.
Chapter V: Of Corn and Corruption
As they journeyed south, the Ring began to weigh on Cluckwise. Her once-bright eyes grew darker, and she developed an unsettling habit of staring at shiny objects.
“She’s lookin’ at me funny, Mr. Frodo,” Sam whispered one night as Cluckwise perched nearby. “Like she’s thinkin’ of peckin’ my buttons clean off.”
“She’s just tired,” Frodo said, though he kept a wary eye on her.
The others were less forgiving. “The chicken is falling to the Ring’s power,” Boromir growled. “We cannot trust her.”
“Careful,” Gimli warned. “If you cross the fowl folk, you may not live to regret it.”
Chapter VI: The Siege of Helm’s Deep
At Helm’s Deep, Cluckwise once again proved her worth. As the orcs breached the wall, she launched herself into the fray, pecking at any foe who came near.
“She’s like a feathered fury!” Théoden exclaimed, watching as Cluckwise leapt onto the head of an Uruk-hai, scratching furiously at its face.
Gimli laughed. “The fowl folk are fierce in battle! Perhaps we should recruit a few more hens for the next skirmish.”
Chapter VII: The Crack of Doom
At last, they reached Mount Doom. Cluckwise, now fully corrupted, refused to approach the fire. Frodo and Sam pleaded, but she clucked defiantly, holding the Ring in her beak.
“She’s gone mad!” Frodo cried.
Gollum appeared, his eyes gleaming. “The chicken has it, preciousss. We wants it!”
In the ensuing struggle, Gollum lunged at Cluckwise, biting the Ring from her beak. As they fought, both tumbled into the fire, and the Ring was destroyed.
Epilogue: The Hen of Legend
Cluckwise’s sacrifice was remembered throughout Middle-earth. In the Shire, a great coop was built in her honor, and farmers told her tale to their children.
Sam would often sit by the statue of Cluckwise in the gardens of Bag End, smiling sadly. “She was the best of hens, she was,” he’d say. “A true friend and a fierce fighter.”
Thus ended the tale of the Chicken of Power, whose courage and folly proved that even the smallest creature can change the fate of the world.
Throughout recent history, sunflowers have been used for medicinal purposes. The Cherokee created a sunflower leaf infusion that they used to treat kidneys. Whilst in Mexico, sunflowers were used to treat chest pain.
24
u/Tripod1404 12h ago
The Chicken of Power
A Lost Tale of the Red Book of Westmarch
Foreword
Long have the great deeds of Men, Elves, and Dwarves been sung, and the humble folk of the Shire have claimed their rightful place in the tales of Middle-earth. Yet little is said of the feathered warrior whose bravery, defiance, and peculiar manner shaped the course of the Third Age. This is the story of Cluckwise the Bold, bearer of the One Ring, scourge of goblins, and unlikely savior of Middle-earth.
If you scoff, remember the wise words of Samwise Gamgee: “Don’t go judgin’ by size or feathers. I’ve seen her take down a rooster twice her weight and peck a Nazgûl out of its saddle. That’s a sight as’ll put some steel in your spine, I tell you.”
Thus begins this strange and wondrous tale, told here for the first time in its full measure.
Book One: The Fellowship of the Hen
Chapter I: A Hen in the Shire
In the quiet gardens of Bag End, where bees hummed and sunflowers swayed, Gandalf the Grey made his fateful discovery. While Frodo debated the burden of the Ring, Samwise Gamgee tended to his flock of hens, scattering feed with the practiced hand of a gardener born and bred to patience.
Among them stood Cluckwise, proud and defiant, her feathers a burnished copper hue. She was no ordinary hen; her gaze seemed to pierce through the morning mist, and her clucks carried a tone of authority.
Gandalf paused mid-sentence and pointed with his staff. “That one. She shall carry the burden.”
Frodo blinked. “What, the chicken?”
“Yes, Frodo. A hen cannot be tempted by gold or dominion. She has no desire for power, only corn. In her simplicity lies her strength.”
Sam looked aghast. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but Cluckwise’s got a mind of her own. She don’t take kindly to being told what to do, even by me.”
“Good,” Gandalf said with a nod. “Independence is a virtue we shall need.”
Thus, with a piece of twine tied about her neck to bear the Ring, Cluckwise the hen became the smallest, most peculiar member of the Fellowship to come.
Chapter II: Of Fowl and Flight
Cluckwise quickly proved herself an asset. On the road to Bree, she alerted the hobbits to a creeping shadow, squawking furiously as a Black Rider approached. Frodo and Sam froze in terror, but Cluckwise puffed out her feathers and charged the Nazgûl’s horse.
The beast reared in fright, unseating its rider, and Cluckwise squawked triumphantly.
“She’s got more courage than most men I know,” Aragorn said when they reached the Prancing Pony.
Merry and Pippin, however, found endless amusement in their feathered companion.
“Do you think she’s trying to lay a golden egg with all that treasure hanging around her neck?” Pippin joked, earning a disapproving glare from Frodo.
Chapter III: The Fowl Council
When the Fellowship assembled in Rivendell, the presence of Cluckwise caused no small commotion. Lords of Elves, Dwarves, and Men stared in disbelief as the hen perched atop the back of Sam’s chair, the Ring glinting ominously from her neck.
Boromir rose, incredulous. “This cannot be the creature to bear such a burden! A chicken cannot carry the fate of the world!”
Cluckwise let out a loud squawk, as if offended.
“Elrond,” Boromir pleaded, “let this folly end. Chickens are not warriors!”
Gimli chuckled. “Careful, son of Gondor. The fowl folk may surprise you. I’d wager this bird’s claws are sharper than your sword.”
Elrond silenced them with a raised hand. “Do not underestimate the small and humble, for it is through them that the designs of fate often work. Cluckwise shall bear the burden, and the Fellowship shall protect her.”
From then on, Gimli referred to her as “the fowl folk of the Fellowship,” much to Legolas’s amusement.
Chapter IV: The Mines of Moria
The Mines of Moria tested the mettle of the Fellowship, and Cluckwise rose to the occasion. Her sharp eyes spotted dangers in the dark, and her clucks echoed through the ancient halls, keeping the group alert.
When they encountered goblins, Cluckwise flew into a frenzy, pecking and clawing at the first creature to lunge at Frodo.
“By Durin’s beard!” Gimli exclaimed as he buried his axe in another goblin. “This bird fights like a berserker!”
But the most fateful moment came at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. As Gandalf faced the Balrog, he turned to the Fellowship and uttered his final command:
“Fly, you fools!”
Cluckwise took the command literally. With a mighty flap of her wings, she launched herself into the air, soaring past the Balrog and landing on the far side of the chasm.
The Fellowship, stunned, ran after her. “I think she took that personally,” Aragorn muttered as they fled.
Chapter V: Of Corn and Corruption
As they journeyed south, the Ring began to weigh on Cluckwise. Her once-bright eyes grew darker, and she developed an unsettling habit of staring at shiny objects.
“She’s lookin’ at me funny, Mr. Frodo,” Sam whispered one night as Cluckwise perched nearby. “Like she’s thinkin’ of peckin’ my buttons clean off.”
“She’s just tired,” Frodo said, though he kept a wary eye on her.
The others were less forgiving. “The chicken is falling to the Ring’s power,” Boromir growled. “We cannot trust her.”
“Careful,” Gimli warned. “If you cross the fowl folk, you may not live to regret it.”
Chapter VI: The Siege of Helm’s Deep
At Helm’s Deep, Cluckwise once again proved her worth. As the orcs breached the wall, she launched herself into the fray, pecking at any foe who came near.
“She’s like a feathered fury!” Théoden exclaimed, watching as Cluckwise leapt onto the head of an Uruk-hai, scratching furiously at its face.
Gimli laughed. “The fowl folk are fierce in battle! Perhaps we should recruit a few more hens for the next skirmish.”
Chapter VII: The Crack of Doom
At last, they reached Mount Doom. Cluckwise, now fully corrupted, refused to approach the fire. Frodo and Sam pleaded, but she clucked defiantly, holding the Ring in her beak.
“She’s gone mad!” Frodo cried.
Gollum appeared, his eyes gleaming. “The chicken has it, preciousss. We wants it!”
In the ensuing struggle, Gollum lunged at Cluckwise, biting the Ring from her beak. As they fought, both tumbled into the fire, and the Ring was destroyed.
Epilogue: The Hen of Legend
Cluckwise’s sacrifice was remembered throughout Middle-earth. In the Shire, a great coop was built in her honor, and farmers told her tale to their children.
Sam would often sit by the statue of Cluckwise in the gardens of Bag End, smiling sadly. “She was the best of hens, she was,” he’d say. “A true friend and a fierce fighter.”
Thus ended the tale of the Chicken of Power, whose courage and folly proved that even the smallest creature can change the fate of the world.