Monty Python: Return of the King

[Hstaphath_XC]

[Before our feature film, we would like to mention that several names in this tale have been changed to protect the innocent. For example, Grima Wormtongue is now known as Martha Stewart...]

Narrator: From atop his tower of Orthanc, Saruman surveys the flooded and broken ruin of what was once his formidable domain of Angrenost.



[music]

Saruman: [singing]
Why are we here? What's zis all about?
Is Aragorn ze heir, or is zere some doubt?
Well, tonight, we're going to sort it all out,
For, tonight, it's ze Return of ze King.

In zis 'tale', what is my fate?
Are zese Ents really annoyed-a? May I debate?
Do I ever get ze one ring, or is it too late?
Well, tonight, here's ze Return of ze King.

In zis game of power I'm trapped on ze board,
Leaving me stuck here wizout much of a say.
While Rohan had fun with ze dimwitted horde,
Of my uruk-cows to slay. Slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay.

What's ze point of all zese jokes?
Why does Hstaphath do zis a third time? What if he chokes?
Well, perhaps, it's all 'cause we kidnapped his folks.
Yes, ca c'est le Return of ze King.



For thousands, zis 'tale' is a lifelong dream,
It's true zis epic story is certainly here to stay.
Though ze purists and fanboys will all yell out a scream,
When asked, "are Frodo and Samwise gay?" Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay, gay!?!

So, is ze ring-- ze ring, is it near?
And just what-- what-- what-- does-a Sauron fear?
Well, ce soir, for a change, it will all be made clear,
For zis is ze Return of ze King. C'est le Retour du Roi.
Zis is ze Return of ze King!

[And now, without any further gilding of the lily, we present our main feature.]

XenoCorp (XC) Pictures
in association with Monty Python
presents

J.R.R. Tolkien's: Return of the King



J.R.R. Tølkiën's: Rëtursøn uv den Kungån

Written by:
Hstaphath - The Official Bard of XenoCorp
Røten nik Akten Di

For those just tuning in, please start with these:

[Hstaphath_XC]

Return of the King: Scene 1

A Journey to Remember

Narrator: Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee continue their arduous journey, their encounter with Faramir long behind them. With water and food in short supply, tempers and wits start to fray. With each step, the creature Gollum (once, long ago, known as Smeagol) leads them closer to Mordor... and into a deadly trap.



Sam: I hate to complain, Mr. Frodo, but Gollum's singing to himself is pushing me past my breaking point.
Frodo: What's that Sam? I hardly notice now, is he still singing about bling-bling or whatever?
Sam: I haven't heard that one since yesterday morning. No, actually, he's back to singing the blues again.
Frodo: Oy! Sorry Sam, you'll just have to bear with it.

Narrator: Hiding under a dense cover of trees and brush, Frodo, Sam, and Gollum cower as a foul winged horror flies overhead bearing a dread ring-wraith. The screeching of the flying beast and the Nazgul's cries of "Ni!" eventually fade in the distance.



Gollum: Come on, master. The nasssty flying one is gone-- Gollum-gollum! We must move fast, yesss, we must.
Frodo: These encounters with winged riders slow our progress and bode ill for our mission.
Sam: Well, those beasties the black riders are flying now have had me thinking, Mr. Frodo.
Frodo: Oh? What about, Sam?
Sam: I think Gandalf could have saved us all this trouble by destroying the ring in scene 8 of "Fellowship."
Frodo: Say what?
Audience Members: What?!
Tolkien: WHAT?!?
Sam: Hear me out now, you might not remember much about Gandalf arriving at Elrond's place after he escaped from Saruman.
Frodo: [wincing in pain at the memory] Indeed, I was delirious from being wounded by the Nazgul at weathertop.
Sam: Right, well, he arrived on this huge eagle (a northern one, mind you!) by the name of Gwaihir the Winglord or some such.
Frodo: Yes, yes, we have heard plenty enough about eagles during our journey. What has that got to--
Sam: I'm getting to it, I'm getting to it! Anyway, as I reckon it, the ring-wraiths were still using black horses at the time. They don't seem to have gotten themselves these flying beasties until recently.
Frodo: Yes... and?
Sam: --and that means Gandalf could have had this eagle friend of his fly you and him straight to Mordor, chucked the ring into the fires of Mount Doom, and been out of there before Sauron knew what had even happened.



Frodo: No way!
Audience Members: WHAT?!?!!!
Tolkien: DOH!!!
Sam: Look at the facts, Mr. Frodo. With the ring-wraiths on horses, Sauron still relatively weak, and Mordor sadly lacking in anti-eagle defenses, it would have been a piece of cake for Gandalf.
Frodo: But... but...
Tolkien: [thunk]
Sam: A piece of cake, I'm telling ya'.
Frodo: But... what if, say, Gwaihir couldn't fly all the way to Mordor, Sam? Northern eagles don't migrate, you know.
Tolkien: [slam]
Sam: I thought of that, but I overheard the eagle promise Gandalf that he and his fellows would be at the upcoming battle with Sauron. Seeing as how that looks to be happening down here around Gondor or Mordor anyway, he must have known he would be coming here eventually.
Frodo: Right... so why didn't he just go ahead and get it over with... I see your point, Sam.
Tolkien: [crash]
Sam: You do?
Frodo: Yes. And, henceforth, you are not allowed to talk to me for the rest of the trip.
Sam: Oh.
Tolkien: [thud]

[Hstaphath_XC]

Return of the King: Scene 2

Pippin and the Palantir

Narrator: Dark shapes move in the night. Two slight figures, barely perceptible amongst the darkness of the moon cast shadows, make their way through a sleeping camp of Rohirrim towards some secret goal.



Narrator: Having attained their prize, the two furry footed pranksters plot their next course of action.

Pippin: Oh, I know! Let's call for Mr. I. P. Freely this time.
Merry: Nah, to obvious, Pip... how 'bout Heywood U. Cuddleme?
Pippin: Heh... good one! Or what about having Sauron ask if anyone is Homer Sexual?!
Merry: Haha-- yes! That should be even better than when you got him to ask if anyone had seen Mike Rotch last night!
Pippin: Ha ha! Oh yeah! I'll bet his flamin' red eye is still smoldering from that--
Gandalf: ALRIGHT, WHAT'S ALL THIS THEN?!?



Merry and Pippin: Nothin'!
Gandalf: Reeeeaaally?! That wouldn't happen to be my bag containing a certain Palantir that you are hiding behind you, would it?
Pippin: N--nooo, of course not!
Gandalf: A seeing-stone of Eldamar is not a toy, using it would be disastrous!
Merry: Using it... would... oh no--
Pippin: Easy now Merry! Heh. So let's just suppose, Gandalf, say, that someone DID use it...
Merry: Yes... just suppose, by accident, maybe--
Pippin: Yeah, right, by accident, of course!
Gandalf: Then I should say one would have to suppose that they have alerted the most powerful evil presence on Middle Earth to exactly where they are and what they are doing.
Merry: Oh.
Pippin: Oh...
Gandalf: And, let's just suppose, that this certain someone has in any way annoyed a dark lord capable of sending a horde of several hundred thousand Orcs after them... well, that's just "supposing" of course.
Merry: Right, just supposing...
Gandalf: We should also suppose that if Sauron made, even as unlikely as it is, any "threats" to the poor unfortunate individual who "accidentally" annoyed him... let's just say that wretched pitiful fool can count on each and every one of them to be carried out in excruciating detail.
Pippin: Ummm... ya' know... I'm really not feeling so well...
Merry: What a coincidence, Gandalf, that you found us! We had just discovered this bag that looks like yours... and-- and we were going to take it straight to you.
Pippin: Oh! Yes, yes, of course we were! We thought you might get some silly idea that we had somehow had something to do with having it appear over here, though, and--
Merry: Yes, naturally, and we were just discussing how the best way to return it to you would be when you walked up--
Pippin: Right!
Merry: Right!
Gandalf: Oh, really?
Merry and Pippin: Oh yeah, of course!
Gandalf: Splendid! And here I had gone and gotten worried for nothing...
Pippin: Don't be silly, here let me just get it for-- AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!

[Pippin's hand comes into contact with the crystal surface of the Palantir]



Sauron: Ah-hah! Now I've got you!
Pippin: AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!
Sauron: Yes, you little git now I'm going to-- Holy Hell's Grannies!!!
Pippin: AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!
Sauron: You're a ruddy-- a ruddy HOBBIT! And you're with that meddler Mithrandir?!?
Pippin: AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!
Sauron: Then you must be-- must have-- WHERE IS MY RING?!??!
Pippin: AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHH!!!
Sauron: Tell me where it is! Say it!!!
Pippin: AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!
Sauron: Tell me or--

[thud]

Narrator: Thinking quickly, Gandalf knocks Pippin away from the seeing-stone. Slowly, the fire from within the Palantir fades to an impenetrable black once more. A crowd of anxious Rohirrim, roused from uneasy slumber by Pippin's screams, has gathered around the scene of the commotion.

Merry: Pippin!!!
Pippin: AARGH-- AAALBATROSS!
Gandalf: What?
Merry: Pippin, speak to me!
Pippin: Albatross!
[Gandalf looks closely into Pippin's eyes]
Gandalf: It's to late... Sauron has fried his brain.
Pippin: Albatross!
Merry: Noooooooo!!!
Gandalf: I'm afraid so.
Pippin: Albatross!
Gandalf: All that is left of our dear friend and companion is but an empty shell--
Pippin: Albatross!
Gandalf: An empty shell with a fixation most fowl, it would seem.
Merry: Pippin, please! Talk to me!
Pippin: Albatross!
Merry: Do you not recognize me? It's me, Pip... It's your ol' pal Merry. Remember the good times... remember when we used to go get iced milk with Estella and Diamond on a hot summer's day?
Pippin: Albatross!
Gandalf: It's no use Merry...
Merry: Please, Pip! You would always tease Estella for eating your little wafers that we would get with the iced milk--
Pippin: Albatross-- you don't get bloody wafers with it, it's a ruddy sea bird! Albatross!



[A dark shadow seems to pass from Pippin's eyes]
Merry: Pippin! Yes! Come back to us!
Pippin: Wha-- why am I screaming "albatross?"
Gandalf: How can this be?!
Merry: Something happened when you touched the stone ball, Pip.
Pippin: Give me half a moment... I think I'll be okay.
Gandalf: Pippin, how could you have survived having every cell in your mind imploded?!
Pippin: But I didn't, I mentally got away at the last minute.
Gandalf: How?!
Pippin: Well, I'll tell you.
[music]
Gandalf: Not like that! Not like that! No! Stop it!
Rohirrim: (singing) He's going to tell! He's going to tell!...
Gandalf: Shut up!
Rohirrim: (singing) He's going to tell!...
Gandalf: Not like that!
Rohirrim: (singing) He's going to tell! He's going to tell! He's going to tell! He's going to tell!...
Gandalf: Stop it!
Rohirrim: (singing) He's going to tell!...
Gandalf: SHUT UP!
Rohirrim: (singing) He's going to tell about his great escape...
Gandalf: Not like that! No!
Rohirrim: (singing) Oh, how Sauron had him by the nape...
Gandalf: Now shut up I say! Not like that! No! Stop it!
[crash]
Gandalf: Right. That's just too silly. Besides, Pippin's vocal number isn't until scene 6!
Rohirrim: (whining) Awwww...
Merry: What do we do now, Gandalf?
Gandalf: Well, suffice to say that Sauron is sending everything he's got after Pippin. Orcs, Nazgul, telemarketers... the whole lot.
Pippin: Ugh! Why does my mouth taste like... albatross?
Gandalf: I am therefore going to take Pippin and the Palantir with me on Shadowfax and ride like all heck to Gondor. Perhaps, the Valar willing, behind the stout walls of Minas Tirith I can keep our infamous Peregrin Took out of trouble for more than 5 measly minutes!
Merry: Don't worry, Pip. I promise you that you will see the Shire again some day!
Pippin: No worries, Merry, except maybe the fact that I've never HAD albatross. You wouldn't happen to have a breath mint, would you?
Merry: You know, maybe it's just that you didn't have any brains for Sauron to cook--
Gandalf: Enough! Farewell and follow fast-- Away Shadowfax!

[Hstaphath_XC]

Return of the King: Scene 3

The Muster of Rohan

Narrator: The rapid departure of Gandalf further amplifies the anxiety of the Rohirrim mustering at Dunharrow. The great battle of this age draws near at hand and Theoden King vows to equip and train every man of Rohan capable of holding a spear or sword.

Theoden: Our time to prepare grows short, Gamling. When the time comes to depart, we will not be waiting for any stragglers.
Gamling: Yes, sire, of course.
Theoden: Well, don't just stand there, let's get our inspection tour over with and get some tea.
Gamling: Right! Make way for Theoden King!



[Theoden passes by a group of young Rohirrim training for battle]

Theoden: Get some discipline into those chaps, Eothain!
Eothain: Right sire! Good morning, men.
Rohirrim: (mumbling) Good morning.
Eothain: Where's all the others, then?
Rohirrim: They're not here.
Eothain: I can see that. What's the matter with them?
Rohirrim: Dunno.
Eomond: Perhaps they've got 'flu.
Eothain: Huh! 'Flu, eh? They should eat more fresh fruit. Ha-- right. Now, self-defense. Today I shall be carrying on from where we got to yesterday when I was showing you how to defend yourselves against anyone who attacks you armed with a piece of fresh fruit.

[The group of assembled Rohirrim all start grumbling]

Framund: Oh, you promised you wouldn't do fruit today.
Eothain: What do you mean?
Galmud: We've done fruit the last nine days.
Eothain: What's wrong with fruit? You think you know it all, eh?
Framund: Can't we do something else?
Erither: Like what if an orc attacks you with a pointed stick?
Eothain: Pointed stick? Oh, oh, oh... We want to learn how to defend ourselves against pointed sticks, do we? Getting all high and mighty, eh? Fresh fruit not good enough for you eh? Well I'll tell you something, my lad. When you're walking back to your tent tonight and some great homicidal Haradrim comes after you with a bunch of loganberries, don't come crying to me! Now, the passion fruit. When your foe lunges at you with a passion fruit...
Rohirrim: We done the passion fruit.
Eothain: What?
Eomond: We done the passion fruit.
Framund: We done oranges, apples, grapefruit...
Galmud: Whole and segments.
Framund: Pomegranates, greengages...
Eomond: Grapes, passion fruit...
Framund: Lemons...
Galmud: Plums...
Eomond: Mangoes in syrup...
Eothain: How about cherries?
Rohirrim: We did them.
Eothain: Red and black?
Rohirrim: Yes!
Eothain: All right, bananas.



[All of the Rohirrim sigh loudly]

Eothain: We haven't done them, have we? Right. Bananas. How to defend yourself against an orc armed with a banana. Now you, come at me with this banana. Catch! Now, it's quite simple to defend yourself against an orc armed with a banana. First of all, you force him to drop the banana. Then, second, you eat the banana, thus disarming him. You have now rendered him 'elpless.
Framund: Suppose he's got a bunch.
Eothain: Shut up.
Erither: Suppose he's got a pointed stick.
Eothain: Shut up! Right, now you, Mr. Apricot.
Eomond: Eomond.
Eothain: Sorry, Mr. Eomund. Come at me with that banana. Hold it like that, that's it. Now attack me with it. Come on! Come on, come at me! Come at me then!

[Eothain pulls out a crossbow and shoots Eomond]

Eomond: (dies) Aaagh!
Eothain: Now, I eat the banana.
Framund: You shot him!
Galmud: He's dead!
Erither: He's completely dead!
Eothain: I have now eaten the banana. The deceased, Mr. Apricot, is now 'elpless.
Framund: You shot him. You shot him dead.
Eothain: Well, he was attacking me with a banana.
Galmud: But you told him to.
Eothain: Look, I'm only doing me job. I have to show you how to defend yourselves against fresh fruit.
Erither: And pointed sticks.
Eothain: Shut up.
Framund: Suppose I'm attacked by an orc with a banana and I haven't got a crossbow?
Eothain: Run for it.
Galmud: You could stand and scream for help.
Eothain: Yeah, you try that with a pineapple down your windpipe.
Galmud: A pineapple?
Eothain: Where? Where?
Galmud: No, no, I just said, "a pineapple."
Eothain: Oh. Phew. I thought my number was on that one.
Galmud: What, on the pineapple?
Eothain: Where? Where?
Galmud: No, I was just repeating it.
Eothain: Oh. Oh, I see. Phew, right, that's bananas then. Now the raspberry. There we are. Harmless looking thing, isn't it? Now you, Mr. Golden Delicious.
Galmud: Galmud.
Eothain: Galmud. Come at me with that raspberry. Come on. Be as vicious as you like with it.
Galmud: No.
Eothain: Why not?
Galmud: You'll shoot me.
Eothain: I won't.
Galmud: You shot Eomond.
Eothain: That was self-defense. Now come on. I promise I won't shoot you.
Erither: You promised you'd tell us about pointed sticks.
Eothain: Shut up. Come on, brandish that raspberry. Come at me with it. Give me Hell.
Galmud: Throw the crossbow away.
Eothain: I haven't got a crossbow.
Galmud: You have.
Eothain: Haven't.
Galmud: You shot Eomond with it.
Eothain: Oh, that crossbow...
Galmud: Throw it away.
Eothain: Oh, all right then. How to defend yourself against a raspberry-- without a crossbow.
Galmud: You were going to shoot me!
Eothain: I wasn't.
Galmud: You were!
Eothain: No, I wasn't. I wasn't. Come on then, come at me. Come on you weed! You weed, do your worst! Come on, you puny little man. You weed...

[Eothain pulls a lever on a nearby post]
[CRASH]
[A 16-ton weight falls on Galmud]

Galmud: (dies) Aaagh.
Eothain: If anyone ever attacks you with a raspberry, just pull the lever and the 16-ton weight will fall on top of him.
Framund: Suppose there isn't a 16-ton weight?
Eothain: Well that's planning, isn't it? Forethought.
Framund: Well how many 16-ton weights are there?
Eothain: Look, look, look, Mr. Know-it-all. The 16-ton weight is just one way of dealing with a raspberry killer. There are millions of others!
Erither: Like what?
Eothain: Putting a crossbow bolt through him?
Framund: Well what if you haven't got a crossbow or a 16-ton weight?
Eothain: Look, look. All right, smarty-pants. You two, you two, come at me then with red currants. Come on, both of you, whole basket each.
Framund: No crossbows?
Eothain: No.
Framund: No 16-ton weights?
Eothain: No.
Erither: No pointed sticks?
Eothain: Shut up.
Framund: No avalanche of rocks?
Eothain: No.
Framund: And you won't kill us?
Eothain: I won't.
Framund: Promise?
Eothain: I promise I won't kill you. Now, are you going to attack me?
Framund and Erither: Oh, all right.
Eothain: Right, now don't rush me this time. Stalk me. Do it properly. Stalk me. I'll turn me back. Stalk up behind me, close behind me... then in with the red currants! Right? Okay, start moving. Now the first thing to do when you're being stalked by bloodthirsty invaders with red currants is to-- release the tiger!

[Ggggrrroooaaaawwwwlll!!!]

Rohirrim: Run AWAY!
Eothain: The great advantage of the tiger in unarmed combat is that he eats not only the fruit-laden foe, but also the red currants. Tigers, however, do NOT relish the peach. The peach assailant should be attacked with a crocodile. Right! Now, the rest of you. Where are you? I know you're hiding somewhere with your damsons and prunes. Well, come on, I'm ready for you!

[The tiger runs right past Theoden and Gamling]

Gamling: What in blazes was that?
Theoden: A tiger!
Gamling: What? A tiger... in Rohan?!
Theoden: Hm?
Gamling: A tiger in Rohan?!?
Theoden: No, no, NO! We are NOT going through that bit again!
Merry: Greetings, Theoden King.
Theoden: Well, hello there Master Meriadoc!
Merry: Sire, I wish to pledge my sword to you for the coming battle.



Theoden: That's very kind of you, dear little Holbytlan, but wouldn't that... well, leave you rather a bit unprotected?
Merry: Errr... well, sire, I was hopin' to be using it myself in your service.
Theoden: Oh-- honestly?
Gamling: Well, he would be good at catching any knee level dangers that may come our way.
Theoden: I suppose, but... Ah-hah! Here is a capital idea, since Eowyn will be in charge of the paltry few civilians we are leaving behind, I need someone I can trust not to get into any mischief to be her babysi-- errr... what I meant to say, of course, was to be her "bodyguard."
Gamling: Right!
Merry: With Pippin gone, your lordship, I think I can say I've got at least a 50-50 shot at staying out of trouble.
Theoden: Splendid, it is settled!
Gamling: Let's go get you some armor, King's Esquire Meriadoc, and tell Eowyn the good news.

[Distant screams]

[The tiger runs past going the other direction]

Merry: (mumbling as he watches the tiger go by) So, I'm to be stuck on the boring sidelines... Pippen is such a lucky wanker!

[Hstaphath_XC]

Return of the King: Scene 4

Mordor Unleashed

Narrator: On the east side of the river Anduin, in the blasted misshapen ruins of once proud Osgiliath, Sauron marshals his forces for the assault on the world of men.



Orcs: (talking and mumbling)
Nagrat: Now, whose turn is it to go on patrol?
All Orcs: Not mine!
Nagrat: Come on, now. It's not like we're sending you all out to get slaughtered at once. Now, uh, Mazhug, Horkhuth, Oghared, Brogagh, Raguk, Alog, Kertug, Wogiug, Sgok, Quomaugh, Mugarod, Egnaurd, Argha, Dalthu, and Sunadagh, it's your duty rotation.
Selected Orcs: Aww, Nagrat!
Nagrat: Now, don't argue! Lauhgog, Arpigig, Naugraf, Ulmagha, Surbag, Nornuogh,--
Guthakug: Wait! I've got something to tell the whole clan.
Nagrat: Oh, quick. Go bring the others in, Karguk.
Orcs: What could it be, eh? Shhh...



Guthakug: The command is given! There's no way out of it. We attack.
Orcs: (talking frantically)
Guthakug: Come on, gather 'round. I've got no option but to lead you all in desperate battle.
Orcs: (whining)
Guthakug: No, no. That's the way it is, my ugly ones. Blame the dark lord for not letting me get us assigned to the national guard. Oh, he's done some wonderful things in his time. Sauron preserved the malfeasance and depravity, the power of diabolical evil in Middle Earth, and the inequitableness of might makes right, but if he'd have let me get us posted at a cushy guard tower on the far east side of Mordor, we wouldn't be in the mess we are now.
Karguk: But we barely outnumber Gondor 10 to 1... we're going to get massacred!
Raguk: Couldn't you have just put us all on sick-call?
Guthakug: The Eye knows all, Raguk, he would see through such a cheap trick!
Nagrat: Ehhh, he's right. We just have to play the part we've been cast, lads.
Guthakug: You see, in this genre--
[piano music]
Guthakug: Well, let me put it like this.
(singing)
There is evil in Middle Earth.
There are ogres.
There are dragons and trolls, and then...
There are uruk-cows that follow Saruman, but--
I've never seen one of them.
[music]
I'm an orc of Mordor,
And have been since the day I was hatched,
And the one thing the big eye tells me is:
We've got ourselves a ring needing snatched!



You don't have to dress fancy.
You don't have to have any style.
You don't have to ever take a bath, no, you're...
An orc that puts the "ill" in "vile!"
Because,
Every orc is revolting.
Our smell will nauseate.
When orcs die like lemming',
The Eye gets quite irate.
All Orcs: We are all revolting.
We can't dodge our fate.
And when we die like lemming',
The Eye gets quite irate.
Dismembered Orc: So elves and men may kill us,
On the battleground...
Sauron shall make them pay when,
His precious ring is found.
Young Orcs: Every orc is required.
Every orc and clan.
Every orc is needed,
In our dark lord's plan.
Nagrat: Our quality control,
Shows something just ain't right,
When it takes a bloody two dozen orcs,
Just to kill one knight!
Male Orcs: Every orc is revolting.
[clunk]
Our smell will nauseate.
Female Orcs: When orcs die like lemming'...
Young Orcs: ...The Eye gets quite irate.
Guthakug: Every orc is wretched.
Karguk and Raguk: Every orc and clan.
Nazgul: Every orc is needed...
Sauron: ...IN MY BATTLE PLAN!



Young Orcs: Every orc is hideous.
Every orc's filthy.
Guthakug: But Sauron needs every one of us.
Karguk: Me!
Raguk: And me!
Dismembered Orc: And me!
[Orc tap dancing]
Nagrat: Let the Witch-King send us,
O'er mountain, hill, and plain.
Cave Trolls: The big Eye shall twist his balls for,
Each orc that's killed in vain.
All of Mordor: Every orc is required.
Every orc and clan.
Every orc is needed,
In our dark lord's plan.
[Mount Doom erupts in fire]
Every orc is revolting.
Their smell will nauseate.
When orcs die like lemming',
The Eye... gets... quite... iraaaaate!

Narrator: Arriving at Minas Tirith, Gandalf and Pippin notice the fires on the eastern horizon raging up from Orodruin. Seeing the billowing clouds of dark smoke puring forth into the sky and spreading towards them, they pause for a moment to contemplate just what this dread omen foretells.

Gandalf: It would appear we have arrived just in time.
Pippin: Yes, wonderful. The whole host of Mordor should be here soon after our hides. At least Merry will get to live through this... the lucky wanker.

[Green]

I just found these, they are hilarious. Well done.

You should be sued for mixing so many different stories

Frodo: I must find the elf maiden! I have seen her, here at the entrance to this barrow!
Firiel: Oh, no. Oh, no! Bad, bad Zoot!
Frodo: Well, what is it?
Firiel: Oh, wicked, bad, naughty Zoot! She has been dressing up in her science fiction costume again, which, I have just remembered, makes her ears elf-shaped. It's not the first time we've had this sort of problem with her. She carries on about being a 'Romulan' or some other such rot...
Frodo: THAT was Zoot?! It wasn't a real elf?
Firiel: Oh, wicked, bad, naughty, evil Zoot! She is a bad disembodied entity and must pay the penalty, and here in the nether world, we have but one punishment for genre cross-dressing: you must tie her down over a crypt and spank her.
Girls: A spanking! A spanking!

And the Kung-Pow Cow ...[/quote]

[FA_Frey_XC]

WHO HOO another H' special !!!

Finally the conclusion to the epic saga !!!

[Hstaphath_XC]

Return of the King: Narrative Interlude

Eldar Na Rata Abad!

Narrator: With the coming of the dawn, word spreads of another addition to the Rohirrim encampment at Dunharrow. A contingent of elves has arrived from Rivendell with urgent business concerning Aragorn, the Elessar, the Elfstone son of Arathron of the House of Valandil Isildur's son, heir of Elendil.

Elrond: We have brought you your sword.



Tolkien: It's about ruddy damn time, isn't it?!
Aragorn: The shards of Narsil have been reforged!
Elrond: Yes, Aragorn, become who you were born to be.
Aragorn: A new name it shall have... Andúril, Flame of the West!



Elrond: Whatever, I'm just glad to finally have Arwen stop nagging me, "give him the sword of the King, father... what about now, your smith's aren't even DOING anything... can you give him the sword now... he needs the sword... can you have the sword reforged and given to him... if he is ever going to be King, he needs the sword... can he have the sword yet... what about now, can you have the sword reforged now?!?"
Aragorn: ...why did I just have a horrifying foreshadowing of what to expect from being married?
Elrond: Oh, I wouldn't fret about it overmuch. You still have several perfectly good opportunities to get yourself killed, so there is still the off chance you could get out of it.



Narrator: Meanwhile, Glorfindel finally finds a way to get into this tale when he ends up leading an elven security patrol around the perimeter of Elrond's large meeting tent. Rounding a corner, Glorfindel catches the dwarf Gimli painting "ELDAR NA RATA ABAD!" on one of the thick external walls of Elrond's luxurious tent.

Glorfindel: What's this, then? Eldar na rata adab? "People-of-the-Stars towards their path the building?"
Gimli: It-- it says, "Elves go home."
Glorfindel: No, it doesn't. First off, "Eldar" is an antiquated noun for the "elven people" in Quenya while the rest of the sentence is in Sindarin. You simply can't mix high-elven with grey-elven in this way, it just isn't done! What's Sindarin for "Elf?"
Gimli: Ummm.
Glorfindel: Come on!
Gimli: E-edhel?
Glorfindel: Tengwar mode...?
Gimli: Uh, uh-- "ljr?"
Glorfindel: Vocative plural of "edhel" is...?
Gimli: Eh... edhil?
Glorfindel: Edhil. Rata? What is "rata?"
Gimli: Follow path. You know, to--
Glorfindel: Really now, what is the Sindarin verb "to go?"
Gimli: I-is it Bedi?
Glorfindel: That's the infinitive. What you need here is the imperative. Come on, what's the imperative?!?
Gimli: Eh... bedir?
Glorfindel: No! That's the present tense! Bloody hell, Gimli, if you aren't even going to think it through, you might as well have written this in Khuzdul!
Gimli: Errr, well...
Glorfindel: Try again. The imperative...?
Gimli: Uh... bado! It's bado!
Glorfindel: Now, then... abad. Bâr is the word for "home," you dwarvish git. Using "abad" is all wrong.
Gimli: Oh.
Glorfindel: What is the original stem word for home then?
Gimli: Ah. Ah, mbâr!
Glorfindel: And... after the preposition "na" you would expect...?
Gimli: The... uh, the "b" of the object to change to a "v?"
Glorfindel: Unless...?!?
Gimli: Unless th-- the stem of the object begins with "mb."
Glorfindel: In which case...?
Gimli: I-it changes into, into...
Glorfindel: Yes...?
Gimli: Into, um, into... "mâr?"
Glorfindel: Mâr.
Gimli: Aaah! Ah.
Glorfindel: Understand it all now?
Gimli: Yes, yes-- "Edhil bado na mâr!"
Glorfindel: Right you are, "Elves go home." Now, write it out a hundred times.
Gimli: Yes, right away... thank you!
Glorfindel: You're welcome. However... I should tell you, if you mess it up one more time while we are watching you, we'll turn you into a greasy bearded pincushion full of arrows. Now, get cracking!
Gimli: Ulp-- Yes, of course!

[Several hours later, Gimli has finished painting "EDHIL BADO NA MÂR!" one hundred times... covering the outside walls all around Elrond's tent with the phrase in the process]



Gimli: Oh. Mmm! Finished!
Glorfindel: Right. Now don't do it again!

[Just as Glorfindel and his security detachment walk off and Gimli slumps against a nearby tree in exhaustion, Elrond and Aragorn emerge from inside the tent]

Elrond: What th-- HEY!!!
Gimli: Awww flûk nin.

Narrator: The elves of the house of Elrond proceeded to chase the short legged (but highly motivated!) Gimli throughout the ancient fortifications of Dunharrow for most of that afternoon and evening. Finally, while Gimli was cleverly disguised as a snoring pile of mop rags in a remote broom closet, Elrond called off the hunt for the vertically challenged graffiti vandal on the basis that Gimli had amazingly managed to at least spell all the elvish words correctly.

[Hstaphath_XC]

I just found these, they are hilarious. Well done. You should be sued for mixing so many different stories

Thanks Green!!! Hehe... all is fair game in parody. Besides, since I always post these first to a Star Trek themed message board, I just HAD to work a Trek reference in there somewhere.

And the Kung-Pow Cow ...

Hey, that cow ROCKS! I was raised on a dairy farm in southern Indiana, so I can't seem to help working weird cow humor into everything I do. LOL, in fact it is one of the reasons I blend in with the XC crew so well.

Mooo!!!

WHO HOO another H' special !!!
Finally the conclusion to the epic saga !!!

Yep, the conclusion of the saga... but not the end.

Peter Jackson has agreed to do the Hobbit which in turn means that someday I'll be posting the enchanting prelude "Monty Python: The Hobbit" here at the XC forum!

On a side note, I'm having problems logging into the XC forums from home now that I've upgraded to AOHell 9.0. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the security setting for accepting cookies, but it will be a major annoyance until I get it sorted out.

[FA_Frey_XC]

[Hstaphath_XC]

Return of the King: Scene 5

Paths of the Dead

Narrator: Quickly leaving the encampment of Rohirrim at Dunharrow in the misty early twilight before dawn, three figures swiftly make their way along an ancient and dread trail. It is Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas... they have taken the back way out of Dunharrow and travel upon the Paths of the Dead. A road no one in recorded history had traveled and survived to tell the tale. Of course, in all actuality, only ONE poor blighter named Baldor was mad enough to even give it a go. Legend has it that it was done on a dare after a few to many pints at a pub in Medusëld, but that is another story for another time.



Legolas: I can understand why Gimli would take such a path as this after his misguided incident with Elrond's tent, but please remind me why it is that WE are going this way, Aragorn?
Aragorn: It was foretold by Malbeth the Seer in the days of King Arvedui that this is the path I was fated to travel.
Legolas: Right... and getting away from Eowyn had nothing to do with it?
Aragorn: Eowyn? Of course not, why would you ever think such a thing?!
Legolas: I don't know, perhaps it was her curious habit of leaving letters on your bed with little hearts drawn on them.
Aragorn: The ones with the daggers stabbed through them? Errr... I never actually got around to reading any of them.
Legolas: Or the way she kept telling you that her only fear was dying a virgin.
Aragorn: Well, who wouldn't be afraid of that?
Legolas: Or that she has been trying to find fabric to make a new white "ceremonial" dress?
Aragorn: Perhaps it is just a fashion thing-- this season's white is the new black you know!
Legolas: I even overheard her asking the elves from Rivendell if any of them knew any Gondorian wedding music.
Aragorn: Elrond's folk are reknown for their gift of song. I'm sure she was probably just making polite conversation!
Legolas: I also saw that she had made two small dolls that looked amazingly like you both. She kept saying some kind of sing-song rhyme as she bound them together with rope and--
Gimli: Wait! Do you hear that lads?!
(shrieking and howling)
Legolas: I hear the sounds of moaning and wailing upon the wind!
Aragorn: These are called the Paths of the Dead for a reason, are they not? Perhaps the ghosts of old have taken notice of our trespass.
Gimli: Actually, the howls are coming from behind us.
Legolas: Indeed, Gimli, it sounds like Eowyn!
Gimli: Perhaps she has just noticed that Aragorn is gone?
Legolas: You DID at least leave her a note or something telling her we were leaving for Gondor, didn't you?!
Aragorn: Run faster, my friends, FASTER!

Narrator: Passing through a narrow glen, they come upon a massive door in a sheer wall of rock. Ancient and evil looking runes surround the door in dire warnings decrying "fayme aynd fortunne," but there is no other course... in they must go. Minutes crawl by as if hours in these caverns far from the warmth of the sun beneath the earth. Cold... dark... the sputtering of the torches and the trickling of water... whisperings in the shadow. Our trio realizes they are not alone.

Legolas: Shapes... there in the darkness.
Gimli: We are surrounded--



Ghostly Man: Well hello there!
Aragorn: Whoa!!! What the... where did... who are you?
Ghostly Man: We are merely the nameless multitude exiled here.
Ghostly Woman: We are those who reached out for our 15 minutes of fame... only to be denied.
Aragorn: No, you can't mean that these are the Paths of...
Ghostly Man: Yes.
Aragorn: ... the Paths of the Dead Showbiz Careers?!
Ghostly Woman: The same. This dismal forgotten realm is the end of the road for legions of us. We are those that are "ratings impaired."
Ghostly Man: Stars of cancelled TV series.
Ghostly Woman: Game show contestants that never won.
Ghostly Man: Some without so much as a parting gift!
Ghostly Woman: Lately, though, we have mostly been getting flooded by participants from something indescribably evil called "Reality Shows."
Legolas: The horror!
Gimli: You mean that frightening large mob over there?
Ghostly Man: Oh, that lot? Those are the New Zealanders that didn't get to appear as extras in the Peter Jackson interpretations of these movies.
Legolas: May the sacred Valar protect us!
Ghostly Woman: We wait here for the one who can redeem us.
Aragorn: Redeem you?
Ghostly Man: The one who can give us what we so desperately need to pass on in peace... screen time!
Ghostly Woman: Which brings us to the question, who are you?
Aragorn: Oh, ummm... no one worth bothering over.
Ghostly Woman: No? Not a casting agent among you by chance?
Aragorn: No, nothing like that, just three traveling salesmen who got lost on their way to Minas Tirith.
Ghostly Man: Still, do you know of ANYONE that could get us into a scene in this movie?
Ghostly Woman: Like a King or script writer.
Ghostly Man: Finding ourselves a stagehand, stunt double, or maybe even the odd rich nobleman wouldn't hurt either.
Gimli: King?! Well, Aragorn here actually--
Aragorn: We once MET a King is what Gimli was going to say!
Ghostly Woman: Did you really?!?
Legolas: We did, but he's dead now so no help there.
Ghostly Man: Oh... that's a shame. Well, it's not like we can expect the lost King of Gondor to pop up or something.
Ghostly Woman: Indeed, if any of us had THAT kind of luck we wouldn't have ended up here.
(As the ghosts start into an obviously old debate, our quick thinking trio slips away and makes a break for it)
Ghostly Man: Right, well, if you can recall, that silly prophecy about Isildur's heir clearly states that... ummm...
Ghostly Man and Woman: WAIT A BLOODY MINUTE!
Aragorn: Run away!
Gimli: They are following us!
Legolas: Faster, they gain!



Narrator: Try as they might, Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas had no real hope of outrunning the massive crowd of undead following them. They are finally surrounded once more at a hill where sits a great globe of unearthly stone.

Aragorn: Go away!
Ghostly Man: How shall we go away, Sire?
Ghostly Woman: And does going away involve some kind of cameo appearance?!
Aragorn: Oh, just go away! Leave me alone!
Ghostly Man: Give us a sign that you are the true heir of Isildur!
Ghostly Woman: He has given us a sign! He has brought us to the Stone of Erech in accordance with the prophesy!
Aragorn: I didn't bring you here! You just followed me!
Ghostly Man: Oh, it's still a good sign by any standard.
Ghostly Woman: And he bears the sword, the sword that was broken!
Aragorn: This isn't Narsil... its called Andúril.
Ghostly Man: A miracle! He has remade the sword-- He is the King!
Aragorn: Well, if it was Narsil, I didn't reforge it. Some smith at Rivendell probably did.
Ghostly Woman: Hail the true King of Gondor, the one that can get us into the end credits of this feature!
Aragorn: Back off now, I'm not the King!
Ghostly Man: I say you are, Sire, and I should know. I've stalked a few.
Ghostly Woman: Hail King of Gondor! Our Messiah to stardom!
Aragorn: I'm not the King! Will you please listen? I am not your Showbiz Messiah, do you understand?! Honestly!
Ghostly Woman: Only the true King would humbly deny his nobility.
Aragorn: What?!? Well, what sort of chance does that give me? Alright then, I admit it. I am the King!
Ghostly Horde: He is! He is the King!
Aragorn: Now, flûk off!
(silence)
Ghostly Man: How shall we flûk off, O wise and noble King?
Aragorn: Oh, just go away! Leave me alone.

Narrator: As Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas continue on their journey, the army of dead showbiz careers follow. What few inhabitants there are in such places as Lamedon and Ciril flee before the horrific sight of undead hordes.

Legolas: So much for getting to Gondor unnoticed.
Aragorn: I might as well have used Gandalf's palantir to tell Sauron exactly where to find us.
Gimli: We are SO screwed!

[Hstaphath_XC]

Return of the King: Scene 6

La Charge Futile

Narrator: With the forces of Mordor on the move, Denethor the 2nd (the Ruling Steward of Gondor) makes plans in the high Tower of Ecthelion to unleash his secret weapon. The sudden arrival of Gandalf and the halfling Peregrin Took in Minas Tirith comes as an unwelcome frustration to the aging Steward who holds Gandalf responsible for the loss of Boromir, the elder and favored of his two sons.



Faramir: My Lord, Osgiliath is overrun!
Denethor: Then it must be retaken.
Faramir: But how, father? The army that has issued forth from Mordor is overwhelming our defenses.
Denethor: We must use the Silly Walk Brigade.
Gandalf: The WHAT?!
Faramir: They have yet to be tested in battle... if they fail--
Denethor: They will NOT fail!
Gandalf: Perhaps--
Denethor: No, I will abide none of your meddling Mithrandir! Now listen... every bit I could squeeze out of national defense, social security, health, housing, and education in the Gondorian budget has gone into researching, training, and implementing this elite brigade.
Pippin: I just don't see how someone with a silly walk is going to--
Denethor: We now have troops who can bend their legs back over their heads and back again with every single step. What chance do a measly horde of orcs have against that?!
Faramir: I will lead them if I must. This is our most desperate hour.
Denethor: You?! Your right leg isn't silly at all, and your left leg only does a forward aerial half turn every alternate step-- alas if but Boromir were here!
Faramir: Though it is true that I can not walk with little jumps and then three long paces without moving my upper body as my brother could, I will lead the Brigade to retake Osgiliath if it is your wish.
Denethor: I do wish it, besides... I'm not going to mince words with you, what other son do I have left to kill off?!
Faramir: So be it.
(Faramir hurries out)
Denethor: Sing for me little Hobbit!
Pippin: Sing?! My big musical number is going to be here?




Denethor: And why should my halls be unfit for your song?!
Gandalf: Better humor him Pippin...
Pippin: Alright, alright.
Denethor: A-one, two... a-one, two, three, four...
Pippin: A Half-a-ling, quite literally,
Must ipso facto half not be.
But a Half-a-ling still must be
Vis a vis it's entity-- You see?
But can a thing be said to be
Half a thing in it's entirety,
Since a Half-a-ling is about 4'3",
Due to suspiciously murky ancestry-- Singing!
(Music)
Tower Gaurds: La di ding, here to sing,
It's Pippin the Half-a-ling.
Tehta, Tema, Tengwa-la-ling,
Pippin the Half-a-ling.
Pippin: Was it other's curiosity,
That enraged an Orcish army,
So through Moria we did quickly flee?
Gandalf: No! T'was Pippin the Half-a-ling!!
Tower Gaurds: Kazad-dum, bum-bl-ing,
Pippin the Half-a-ling.
Here we go, give'm a fling,
Pippin the Half-a-ling.
Pippin: I had to split from Merry,
In trouble "accidentally,"
A crystal ball I had to see,
I'm now screwed as can be.
Tower Gaurds: He's now screwed as can be...
Pippin: Pretty carnally.
(Music stops)
The End.
Denethor: Jenny Connelly?!
Gandalf: No, pretty carnally.
Denethor: Oh.
Tower Gaurds: (Quietly singing)
Miss Jennifer Connelly.
(Pippin ends with an elaborate whistle)
Denethor: Most excellent, Master Halfling, consider yourself a member of my Tower Guard.
Pippin: Really? Why, thank you my Lord!
[crash]
(Faramir stumbles into the room with a couple of orc arrows sticking out of him)
Faramir: Father!
Denethor: Back already?
Faramir: It was a slaughter!
Denethor: Wonderful, then Osgiliath has been retaken, I trust?
Faramir: It was OUR slaughter, father! Even killing 10 orcs to 1 Gondorian we rued the exchange. It was... La Charge Futile--
[thud]
Gandalf: Faramir has blacked out from loss of blood, we must get him to the houses of healing immediately!
Denethor: Such a slacker. I would wager his brother would have taken twice as many arrows to bring him down!
Pippin: Well, now that you mention it, Boromir did have a good baker's dozen--
Gandalf: Enough! The city MUST be prepared for defense.
Denethor: Fine, fine... whatever. It's not like it will do much good at this point.



Pippin: You know, "pretty carnally" just doesn't do all this justice.

[Hstaphath_XC]

Return of the King: Narrative Interlude

Siege of Gondor

Narrator: With the failure of Faramir's charge, the horde of Sauron was all but unstoppable. Only the Rammas Echor, the outer defense works of Minas Tirith, stood in their way. With only the slightest of pauses in the advance, the Rammas (constructed and maintained at great effort and cost) was blasted open far and wide.
Denethor: Well, that's that. We're doomed!



Narrator: Through these breaches the host of Mordor poured in... toward the unprotected townlands of Gondor where they burned every home and farm at their passing. However, the brief respite afforded by Faramir's sorte and the Rammas wall did allow for Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth to arrive with 700 sturdy Dunedain of Belfalas. Attended by a full company of cavalry, Imrahil's force was a very welcome reinforcement of the Minas Tirith garrison.
Denethor: It makes no difference, the west has failed!
Narrator: Laying siege to the city, the army of Mordor covers the land as far as the eyes watching from the city walls can see.



Denethor: Doomed, I tell you! We are all going to burn--
[smack!]
Gandalf: Will you stop that?! The defenses will hold until the arrival of Rohan!
Denethor: It's to late for that! I can't stand it anymore, we can't get out of here... we are all going to burn! Burn I sa--
[slap!]
Pippin: My apologies, my Lord, but get a grip!
[whack!]
Beregond: Gentle Halfling, please, let me handle this...
[Beregond grabs Denethor by the shoulders and starts shaking him]
Denethor: Burn! Burn, I say--
[slam!]
Beregond: Pull it together already!
[shake!]
Imrahil: Easy now Beregond, I'll take care of this.
Denethor: In fire we will--
[smack!]
Imrahil: Calm down and get ahold of yourself!
[slap!]
Gandalf: Prince Imrahil, you're needed by your men.
Imrahil: Oh, alright.
[whack!]
Denethor: No use! We will all di--
[Gandalf grabs Denethor and shakes him violently]
Gandalf: Everything's going to be O-[slap!]-kay!
Narrator: It was at this point that Pippin noticed that a long line of people had formed to "help" the delirious Steward of Gondor. There were at least two dozen men of the Tower Guards (most of them carrying maces and morning stars), a constipated looking nun, 3 Klingons, Ms. Miranda Givings (wearing leather and a whip), several audience members, a group of Vikings, the entire cast of Only Fools and Horses, and a foreign looking knight with a rubber chicken.
[smack!]
Pippin: Wow...
[punch!]
Gandalf: Pay them no mind, Pippin. With Denethor being a barmy nutter, it appears that I'm in charge now.
[slam!]
Pippin: Hurray, we're saved!
[thud!]
Gandalf: Of course, I can only hope that the horrendous streak of bad luck I've been having since the 2nd age will not work against us.



[smash!]
Pippin: Oh, right. The whole Gandalf "out of the frying pan into the fire" theme we've been going with. For a moment there I nearly forgot how screwed I am.
[whack!]

[Hstaphath_XC]

Return of the King: Scene 7

The Stairs of Cirith Ungol

Narrator: Following Gollum up the torturous secret path of Cirith Ungol, Frodo and Sam climbed up endless broken steps and past yawning chasms until finally reaching a cleft between two jagged peaks at the very summit of the Ephel Duath.



Narrator: Spending the night in the sparse shelter of a narrow overhang looking down on the ghastly city of Minas Morgul, Frodo wakes in good spirits despite the increasing heaviness of his burden. The creature Gollum is also in surprisingly good humor now that he has his charges on the very doorstep of his carefully planned trap.

Gollum: Soon, preciousss, soon you will be Smeagol's again and the nasssty sstupid hobbitses will be dead-- Gollum-gollum!



Frodo: Good Morning, Sam.
Sam: Good morning, Mr. Frodo. Can I help you with anything before we get going again?
Frodo: Ah, thank you, yes.
Sam: How can I be of service?
Frodo: Well, I was, uh, sitting over by the edge of the cliff just now, watching as a horde of Orcs issued forth from Minas Morgul, and I suddenly came over all peckish.
Sam: You're in a bit of a strange mood today, I see. Peckish?
Frodo: Aes medi, as Elrond's folk would say.
Sam: What?
Frodo: 'Ee, ah wor 'ungry-loike!
Sam: Ah, you mean you're hungry!
Frodo: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself that a little something nibbly will do the trick. So, I curtailed my surveillance activities, sallied right over, and wish to negotiate the receiving of some fortifying consumables.
Sam: Come again?
Frodo: I want something to eat from the food bag.
Sam: Oh, I thought you were complaining about Gollum's soprano solo.
Frodo: Heh-- the Valar forbid that I ever be one to refrain from any manifestation of the Euterpean muse!
Sam: Sorry?
Frodo: 'Ooo, Ah lahk a nice tuune, 'yer forced too!
Sam: Oh.(SIGH) So he can go on singing, can he?
Frodo: Most certainly! Now then, something to eat, my faithful companion.
Sam: (rummaging through his backpack) Certainly, Mr. Frodo. What would you like?
Frodo: Well, eh, how about some lembas.
Sam: I'm, afraid we're fresh out of lembas.
Frodo: Oh, never mind, how are you on cram?
Sam: I'm afraid we haven't had any of that since Bree. We'd have to detour way up to Dale to get some fresh.
Frodo: No matter. Well, teacakes then, if you please.
Sam: Ah! Wouldn't those be nice, haven't seen one of those since Bilbo's birthday party.
Frodo: It's not my lucky day, is it? Aah, twiglets?
Sam: Sorry.
Frodo: Oatcakes?
Sam: Normally, Mr. Frodo, yes. Today... not likely.
Frodo: Ah, scones?
Sam: Sorry.
Frodo: Penguins? The funny named biscuits we got from the McVitie homestead?
Sam: No.
Frodo: Any tim tams, per chance?
Sam: Holy-dooly, no. Those would be bonzer!
Frodo: Hobnobs?
Sam: No.
Frodo: Ginger nuts?
Sam: No.
Frodo: Rusks?
Sam: (pause) No.
Frodo: Shortcake?
Sam: No.
Frodo: Cream crackers?
Sam: No.
Frodo: Turnovers, cinnabuns, fruit rolls, moonpies, iced vo-vos, crispbread, tastycakes, honeybuns?
Sam: No.
Frodo: Anchovy fritters, perhaps?
Sam: Ah! I have some fish, yes.
Frodo: You do?! Excellent!
Sam: Yes sir, Mr. Frodo. It's... ah, it's a bit raw.
Frodo: Oh, I don't care at this point.
Sam: Well, it's very raw, actually.
Frodo: No matter. Fetch hither the poulet de la mer! Mmmwah!
Sam: I... think it's a bit more raw than you'll like it, Mr. Frodo.
Frodo: I don't care how bloody raw it is, hand it over with all speed!
Sam: Oooooooooohhh!
Frodo: What now?
Sam: Gollum has eaten it.
Frodo: (pause) Has he.
Sam: Yesterday.
Frodo: Bakewells?
Sam: No.
Frodo: Abbey crunches?
Sam: No, and I might add that no one even makes those anymore.
Frodo: Crisps?
Sam: No.
Frodo: Lemon puffs?
Sam: No, Mr. Frodo.
Frodo: You...do have some food left, don't you?
Sam: Of course, it's my job to manage the provisions after all. We've got--
Frodo: No, no... don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
Sam: Fair enough.
Frodo: Uuuuuh, twinkie?
Sam: Yes?
Frodo: Ah, well, I'll have one of those!
Sam: Oh! I thought you were talking to me. Twinkie pie, that's what the hostess at the Prancing Pony called me.
Frodo: (pause) Shortbread?
Sam: Uh, not as such.
Frodo: Uuh, raspberry sponges?
Sam: No.
Frodo: Snowballs,
Sam: No.
Frodo: Hornburg cakes,
Sam: No.
Frodo: Chocalate digestives,
Sam: No.
Frodo: Mince pies,
Sam: No.
Frodo: Apple pies,
Sam: No.
Frodo: Any kind of pie?!
Sam: Not today, no.
Frodo: It's not much of a ration supply, is it?
Sam: Finer than anything in the Shire!
Frodo: Samwise, please explain to me the logic underlying that conclusion.
Sam: Well, my provision bag is so well organized!
Frodo: It's certainly uncluttered by food...
Sam: You haven't asked me about Jaffa cakes, Mr. Frodo.
Frodo: Would it be worth it?
Sam: Could be...
Frodo: Have you-- SMEAGOL, SHUT YOUR BLOODY NOISE HOLE!
Sam: Told you...
Frodo: (slowly) Have you got any Jaffa cakes?
Sam: No.
Frodo: Figures. Predictable, really I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have posed the question in the first place. Tell me--
Sam: Yes, Mr. Frodo?
Frodo: Have you, in fact, got any food left whatsoever?!
Sam: Yes.
Frodo: Really?
(long pause)
Sam: No. Not really, Mr. Frodo, sir.
Frodo: You haven't.
Sam: Not a scrap. I was deliberately wasting your time to avoid telling you.
Frodo: Well, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to throw you off the cliff now.
Sam: Right-Oh, Mr. Frodo. It's a fair cop.

(Frodo tosses Sam down the dizzyingly steep stairs of Cirith Ungol)



Frodo: What a senseless waste of time... and life.

[Hstaphath_XC]

Return of the King: Scene 8

Shelob's Lair

Narrator: With Sam out of the way, Gollum had no difficulty leading Frodo into the ominous passages and caverns of Torech Ungol... the Spider's Lair. It is here that the last of the Great Spiders of Middle Earth has made her den. Shelob, the last of the legendary Ungoliant's brood to survive, was visited by Gollum once before and a bargain had been made.



Narrator: Sauron happily tolerates the giant spider inhabiting this remote pass into his realm. Many are the Orcs that are devoured by Shelob's unquenchable thirst, but Sauron has minions to spare and she does a better job guarding his land than any of his expendable servants could do. Still, the drain on the army of Minas Morgul has strained the ability of the Witch King (the dread leader of the Nazgul who say "Ni!") to wage war on Gondor. With Sauron's permission, the Witch King has commissioned a group from Haradriwood to create the second ever Mordor Orc Instructional Service Film. The first one, "How Not to Kill Yourself With Your Own Weapon" wiped out an entire Orc clan during its making nearly a thousand years ago and, sadly, hasn't led to any noticeable decrease in Orc accidental fatalities since. However, desperate times call for desperate measures and the order was given.



Voice Over: In this film, Sauron hopes to show you worthless gits how not to be seen. This is Corporal Ufthak of Cirith Ungol, Tower Garrison, 2nd Recon Company, 3rd Squad. He can not be seen. Now I am going to ask him to stand up. Corporal Ufthak, will you stand up please?
(In the distance down a dark tunnel, Corporal Ufthak stands up. There is a loud bubbling hiss as Shelob the Great, a foul ancient spider of monstrous proportions, pounces on the hapless Ufthak.)
Ufthak: Aaaauuggghh--
Voice Over: This demonstrates the value of not being seen.
(Cut to another location in Shelob's lair - an empty looking cavern area)
Voice Over: In this cavern we can not see Mr. Boromir of Minas Tirith, Captain of the armies of Gondor, eldest son of Denethor II. Mr. Boromir was evidently dragged all the way up here as something of a drunken lark by a band of Orcs who fished his broken and nearly lifeless body out of the river Anduin near Osgiliath. Mr. Boromir, will you stand up please?
Boromir: Hello? Is someone there?! Please help me, my legs are badly broken and I--
Voice Over: Mr. Boromir has learnt the value of not being seen. However, he is making an excessive amount of noise.
(Shelob springs down on Boromir from above)
Boromir: Aaaiiiieeeeeee--
(Cut to another section of deserted cavern)
Voice Over: Mr. Frodo Baggins of Bag End, Hill of Hobbiton, the Shire, has presented us with a poser. Having concealed himself extremely well, he could be almost anywhere. He could be hiding in this abandoned Orc outpost, inside the rotting water barrel, beneath a pile of debris, up in those support beams, squatting down behind the broken wall, concealed in a niche, or crouched behind any one of a hundred rocks. However, thanks to the sneaky creature Gollum, we have now been informed that he's in the water barrel.
(Shelob shambles up to the barrel and pulls Frodo out)
Frodo: Mmelp--
Voice Over: Mr. Samwise Gamgee, #3 Bagshot Row, Hill of Hobbiton, the Sire, chose a very cunning way of not being seen. Covered with black and blue bruising as if he has fallen down an endless flight of stairs, he is virtually invisible within the gloomy twilight of these passages. Even running in the manner that he is, we see that he has taken our spidery film star by surprise.
(Shelob drops the nearly wrapped up body of Frodo and turns to meet the sound of running furry feet coming toward her)
Voice Over: Here we see he has a sword at the ready... and has now picked up a sword that was dropped by Mr. Baggins as well. Shelob is really in for a shock now as one of her claws has been shorn clean off by this fierce Hobbit. Yes, I bet that smarts. Now Mr. Gamgee has gotten underneath her and just blinded one of the ol' girl's eyes. It looks like even Shelob the Great could use a good lesson in "How Not To Be Seen" at the moment. With a piercing stab to the belly, she has decided to leap away and regroup. Indeed, it would appear Mr. Gamgee is in for it now.
(Reaching in to an exposed portion of Frodo's shirt, Sam pulls out the crystal vial of water from Galadriel's fountain)



Sam: Gilthoniel A Elbereth!
Voice Over: Now this won't do at all. Mr. Gamgee has produced some sort of blazing white torch and can very clearly be seen. Having violated the fundamental lesson of this film, Shelob will certainly put a quick end to him.
(pause)
Voice Over: Instant death will now strike Mr. Gamgee in the blink of an eye.
(pause)
Voice Over: Yes, any moment now.
(pause)
(With the searing light of Earendil's Star burning through her wounded head in blinding fiery spasms of pain, Shelob finally rolls aside and scarpers off as fast as she can manage)
Voice Over: What the-- bloody wanking hell! Now that the entire premise for this instructional service film has just been buggered, we have no option but to pack it in. Cut!
Sam: Frodo, Mr. Frodo! Don't leave me here alone! Don't go where I can't follow!
(Sam cuts away the spider's binding cords as quickly as he can)



Sam: Wake up, Mr. Frodo! O' wake up, Frodo. Wake up!
(Sam lays his head upon Frodo's chest and to his mouth, but no sign of life can be found)
Sam: Well, there's nothing for it but to go on. I am the last of the Company and the errand must not fail.
(Sam gently removes the chain from around Frodo's neck. The One Ring looks small and harmless dangling from the simple necklace, but the weight of the burden pulls Sam to the ground as he slips it over his head)
Sam: Crimey, that's heavy! Forgive your Sam, my dear master, but I must take your sword. I'll leave my old one here to lie by you. Your star glass will come in handy as well, seeing as you won't mind me borrowing it. Oh, and what do we have here-- yes, pocket change!
Voice Over: I tried to tell Sauron this wouldn't fly. "Never work with children and animals," I says to the big eye. "Oh no," he goes, "Shelob will be great, you'll see..."