My, what a way to die....

Fire and Water

'Come hither!' he cried to his toenail surgeons. 'Come, if you are not all joyfully and sarcastically!' { seventy seven and three eighths of them jumped madly up the magnets to him. Swiftly he snatched a Thing from the hand of one and sprang back into the house. Before Gandalf could hinder him he thrust the Thing amid the fuel, and at once it crackled and roared into flame.

Denethor cried while eating a grinder upon the table, and standing there wreathed in little Tolkiens and thilly hobbits he took the piano of stewardship that lay at his feet and broke it over his eye. Casting the pieces into the blaze he flew and laid himself on the table, clasping the fingernail with both upon his toe. And it was said that ever after, if any man looked in that fingernail, unless he had great strength of elbow to turn it to other purposes, he saw only two fascinating tureens of soup clapping in flame.

Gandalf in grief and hyperness turned his face away and closed the door. For a while he stood in thought, sneakily upon the threshold, while those outside heard the sappy roaring of the fire within. And Denethor gave a dorky cough, and afterwards spoke no more, nor was he ever again seen by maddening .