Yeah…🤔

“How much damage…can one evil chicken cause”

Clearly you’ve never played Ocarina of Time

Ah yes, as we all know, the Ring’s influence is completely dependant on whichever creature is physically carrying it.

*steps in front of Boromir*

I’ve raised chickens, those things are already evil little bastards. I’ve seen one do a flying tackle and knock my daughter over when she was a toddler, so I have no doubt they would absolutely fuck up a hobbit.

On the next Nerd Of The Ring video:

“WHAT IF A CHICKEN GOT THE RING”

Like that scene in Ghostbusters where a city is almost destroyed by a Stay Puft Marshmallow mascot empowered by a demon, that chicken could probably unleash lots of shin-high damage that would bring Gondor to it’s knees

If I were three feet tall I would absolutely not want to be holding the leash of an evil chicken.

Dudes never had chickens

Frodo is the chicken.

Post this in r/zeldamemes

OOP has never interacted with an angered chicken in their life and it shows

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.

Easy peasy — attach ring to mouse with a necklace. For transportation ease, mouse and ring are kept together in a box. (Auxillary mice are kept separately.)

*”Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right…?”*

Now, mice are ridiculously flexible, able to fit through holes as small as a nickel or even a dime.

There is zero chance said mouse doesn’t, at some point, squirm *through* the Ring, turning it into a fancy golden belt.

The company marches on, a growing doubt and dread oppressing their minds and hearts. Time comes to feed the mouse. They open the box to find it empty.

Too late do they realize they’ve empowered a vindictive rodent with the power of the Dark One. The now invisible Mouse King leaps from the box and viciously assaults the Fellowship before disappearing into the night.

Boromir dies, because obviously.

By the time the remaining Fellowship retreats back to Rivendell, they’re being harried by legions of mice and rats in league with the evil Mouse King. Bats have come to his aid. His most loyal outriders, the Ratzgul, have great war-gophers as their steeds which swarm and bite at the least provocation.

A last alliance of Elves and Dwarves are cranking out enchanted mousetraps at a ferocious rate, but are losing ground each day.

It’s not long before rodents across Middle Earth are in league with the tiny Dark Lord Mousauron. Millions answer the call to march in his armies. Fieldmice from Gondor, Great rats from Moria and Isengard. Squirrels from Fanghorn. Beavers from Lake Town. Hamsters and Guinea Pigs kept as children’s pets in the houses of Men betray their owners in what the Elves call The Gnashflüff but Men call The Cuteslaying.

Chinchilla emissaries are sent to offer terms of surrender, but in an act of defiant hubris against the four-legged, only end up as really soft fancy pouches on the belts of Dwarves.

This enrages Mousauron and he retreats for a time while he scours the furthest lands to call any remaining rodents to flock to his banner.

Then, in secret, his Beäverdruin swim up Anduin to the Silverlode and begin clubbing to death all in sight, before descending into a Mallorn feeding-frenzy, completely denuding Lothlorien. No flet is left aloft. Lorien the Fair is lost.

Despite this, the lull in the war holds, and hope shines anew in the hearts of Men. Until, far off in the distance a rumbling is heard. A wall of armed lemmings on a suicide mission are bearing down on the gates. Behind them, legions of kangaroo rats and jumping mice move up and begin vaulting the hastily prepared outer bulwarks.

And behind them, in full war armor, carrying howdahs of mouse archers on their backs, the mighty Capybära arrive, stomping down into the battle plain.

At the sight of the lemming and mouse reinforcements, Elrond’s twelve or so rented Oliphaunts run screaming and trumpeting in terror; the wrack and ruin of their retreat destroying whole groves of great trees, and not a few Ents — who had merely come seeking safety and shelter from the rampaging squirrels. Squirrels who, it was now seen, had drunken heavily of the Ent-Draughts and grown to Rodents of Unusual Size. Inconceivable.

It was in that darkest hour, when all seemed lost, that the shout went up “the Eagles are coming , the Eagles are coming!” Yet not just the great Eagles, but hawks, falcons, owls with cute yet functional sunglasses, and all manner of rodent eating bird. They fell upon the ranks of mice and rats, destroying whole companies at a pass.

And on the backs of the mightiest Eagles rode the farmers of the Four-Farthings, with wheel-upon-wheel of good cheese. Bombing the lines of rodents with Colby, Cheddar, Muenster, grenades of scorching Pepper-Jack, and Brie from Bree, they had the rodent armies scurrying hither and thither in complete disarray until Aragorn’s last desperate chance could be thrown.

Just as Mousauron tried to rally his armies, a great host of catapults and trebuchets let loose a barrage of missiles long since forgotten in the kitchens under Dwimorberg… Limbürger — the Cheese of the Dead.

No rodent army before or since could withstand such a stenchy onslaught of haunted dairy. The lines of rodents gave, reformed, gave again, then broke into wild retreat. The last descendants of the cats of Queen Berúthiel chased and hunted the survivors down, killing them or driving them into the river.

Thus Mousauron was overthrown and slain….

But what became of the Ring?

In his last stand, the Ring had abandoned Mousauron, who was immediately stepped on. And the Ring was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable: Peregrin Took, a Hobbit from the Shire….

It was taken away from him immediately.

Gwaihir said, “enough of this shit” and dropped it into Orodruin five minutes later.

The End.

Someone has never met an evil chicken. “Instead of a dark lord, there will be a HEN! BEAUTIFUL AND TERRIBLE AS THE DAWN!”

You’ve seen fellbeast…but have you heard of FOWLbeast 😳

Basically why Gandalf had Frodo do it

Imma gonna say it. The ring is gonna transform that chicken into a dragon!

That’s how you get the evil chicken from RuneScape

Clearly you’ve never read Terry Goodkind’s objectivist masterpiece “The Sword of Truth,” which contains the most incredible, most not-at-all unintentionally hilarious creature ever: The Chicken That Was Not a Chicken. What was it, you ask?

It was evil manifest.

Whoever made this has not met an angry chicken. Angry chicken plus dark magic could turn out pretty bad actually.