enyafreak
RETURN OF THE KING
A RIVER, CENTURIES AGO
SMEAGOL and DEAGOL find the Ring and start fighting over it.
DEAGOL: Mine!
SMEAGOL: Mine!
DEAGOL: Mine!
SMEAGOL: Mine!
DEAGOL: Yours. (dies)
UNOFFICIAL ENTRANCE TO MORDOR
SAM: We can't trust Gollum! He's out to kill us!
FRODO: Really, Sam, you and your imagination. I suppose YOU have a better plan for getting into Mordor?
SAM: As a matter of fact I do. Hanggliding.
FRODO: Excuse me?
SAM: Hanggliding. It's all the rage in the Southfarthing. We make a big kite-like frame out of a lightweight wood, like balsa, if you follow me, and stretch some muslin across it; then we climb to the top of one of these mountains, wait for a warm updraft -
FRODO: I am NOT listening to this.
FRODO grabs GOLLUM's hand and walks away.
EDORAS
LEGOLAS: The sky wears a film of gauze. The night air breathes infamy. Deceit weaves itself around my fingernails.
ARAGORN: What the hell is that? Poetry? I pay you to do two things: shoot stuff, and look pretty. If you have something to tell me, tell me in normal words.
LEGOLAS: Fine. S-A-U-R-O-N is H-E-R-E. Simple enough for you, numbskull?
(MEANWHILE, INSIDE IN EDORAS)
PIPPIN: I'm going to go look at that crystal bowling-ball thingy.
MERRY: Bad idea, Pip.
PIPPIN: No, I think it's a good idea.
MERRY: Really seriously bad idea.
PIPPIN: No, it'll be fine. See? I just pick it up and AAAAHHHHH!!
ENTIRE CITY wakes up.
GANDALF: Fool of a Took! Now I must take you on a horseback ride.
PIPPIN: Okay! Can Merry come?
GANDALF: No.
MERRY: See what you did? Ugh. Why do I always hang out with the stupid ones?
ROHIRRIM CAMP
EOWYN: Here, little fellow. Put this armor on.
MERRY: Thanks much, my lady. Ooh, I don't think you fastened my belt right. Could you put your hands there again? ...Ahh, that's it; right there...
EOMER: Wow, sis, you are getting desperate.
EOWYN: Look at this hobbit: can you honestly tell me he isn't brave and handsome, and doesn't inspire your courage?
EOMER: (snicker) Uh, sure. Sure, he's great. Yeah. (gives MERRY thumbs-up sign) You go, dude.
MINAS TIRITH
GANDALF: Don't say anything, Pippin. Hi, Denethor!
DENETHOR: Hi. My favorite son is dead and my life sucks.
PIPPIN: That's all my fault! I'll fight for you!
GANDALF: Agh. WHAT did I say, Pippin? What did I say?
ROHIRRIM CAMP
ELROND: So, we brought you this sword.
PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ THE BOOK: About freaking time.
ARAGORN: Shiny. Thanks.
ELROND: Oh, and by the way, Arwen's sick. The longer the Ring goes undestroyed, the weaker she gets.
ARAGORN: Come off it. That's such a crock. There's no connection between her and the Ring.
ELROND: Yeah, well, I guess they don't teach you everything in Ranger school. It's just TRUE, okay? Now go pick up a ghost army and save your grimy unshaven people.
ROHIRRIM CAMP, LATER
EOWYN: I love you.
ARAGORN: Me? What? Oh. Um...listen, Ellen...
EOWYN: Eowyn.
ARAGORN: Right, Eowyn. You're a fine-looking woman, and I'm sure somebody will say to you someday, "Erin -"
EOWYN: *Eowyn*.
ARAGORN: "Eowyn...you're the only woman for me. Be my wife."
EOWYN: But it won't be you.
ARAGORN: Exactly! It won't be me. I'm glad we understand each other. Well kiddo, I've got to go. The Paths of the Dead beckon.
EOWYN: Don't do it! You'll never survive!
ARAGORN: Nonsense. You're only saying that because no one ever has.
MINAS TIRITH
PIPPIN: Any chance I can get out of fighting, Gandalf?
GANDALF: Probably not.
PIPPIN: Are Frodo and Sam going to make it?
GANDALF: Don't think so.
PIPPIN: Isn't there anything you can say to cheer me up?
GANDALF: Maybe you'll get decapitated. That should be quick and painless.
PIPPIN: Oh. Uh, thanks.
PATHS OF THE DEAD
GHOST: Hello! Welcome to the Paths of the Dead. We ask that you keep your hands and arms to yourselves at all times, as the ceiling is low in places, and fighting back will only prolong your ghastly death. Unless of course you are the heir of Isildur, in which case you and your party get a free pass.
ARAGORN: Hey, that's convenient. I AM the heir of Isildur!
GHOST: Got any ID?
ARAGORN: Sure, hang on a sec.
ARAGORN starts digging through his knapsack for his Ranger license.
AUDIENCE: I'm just not the least bit worried for them.
GHOST: (examines license) Okay, you're legit. Ooh, hang on: I'm sorry, but you must be at least as tall as this sign to enter. This kid with the beard can't come.
GIMLI: I'm a dwarf, not a child, you transparent twit.
ARAGORN: Really, he has to come along. He catches all the knee-level dangers for us.
LEGOLAS: Indeed, if we leave him behind, I do not know who I will taunt for the rest of the journey.
GHOST: Fine, fine. Let's go.
A RIVER, CENTURIES AGO
SMEAGOL and DEAGOL find the Ring and start fighting over it.
DEAGOL: Mine!
SMEAGOL: Mine!
DEAGOL: Mine!
SMEAGOL: Mine!
DEAGOL: Yours. (dies)
UNOFFICIAL ENTRANCE TO MORDOR
SAM: We can't trust Gollum! He's out to kill us!
FRODO: Really, Sam, you and your imagination. I suppose YOU have a better plan for getting into Mordor?
SAM: As a matter of fact I do. Hanggliding.
FRODO: Excuse me?
SAM: Hanggliding. It's all the rage in the Southfarthing. We make a big kite-like frame out of a lightweight wood, like balsa, if you follow me, and stretch some muslin across it; then we climb to the top of one of these mountains, wait for a warm updraft -
FRODO: I am NOT listening to this.
FRODO grabs GOLLUM's hand and walks away.
EDORAS
LEGOLAS: The sky wears a film of gauze. The night air breathes infamy. Deceit weaves itself around my fingernails.
ARAGORN: What the hell is that? Poetry? I pay you to do two things: shoot stuff, and look pretty. If you have something to tell me, tell me in normal words.
LEGOLAS: Fine. S-A-U-R-O-N is H-E-R-E. Simple enough for you, numbskull?
(MEANWHILE, INSIDE IN EDORAS)
PIPPIN: I'm going to go look at that crystal bowling-ball thingy.
MERRY: Bad idea, Pip.
PIPPIN: No, I think it's a good idea.
MERRY: Really seriously bad idea.
PIPPIN: No, it'll be fine. See? I just pick it up and AAAAHHHHH!!
ENTIRE CITY wakes up.
GANDALF: Fool of a Took! Now I must take you on a horseback ride.
PIPPIN: Okay! Can Merry come?
GANDALF: No.
MERRY: See what you did? Ugh. Why do I always hang out with the stupid ones?
ROHIRRIM CAMP
EOWYN: Here, little fellow. Put this armor on.
MERRY: Thanks much, my lady. Ooh, I don't think you fastened my belt right. Could you put your hands there again? ...Ahh, that's it; right there...
EOMER: Wow, sis, you are getting desperate.
EOWYN: Look at this hobbit: can you honestly tell me he isn't brave and handsome, and doesn't inspire your courage?
EOMER: (snicker) Uh, sure. Sure, he's great. Yeah. (gives MERRY thumbs-up sign) You go, dude.
MINAS TIRITH
GANDALF: Don't say anything, Pippin. Hi, Denethor!
DENETHOR: Hi. My favorite son is dead and my life sucks.
PIPPIN: That's all my fault! I'll fight for you!
GANDALF: Agh. WHAT did I say, Pippin? What did I say?
ROHIRRIM CAMP
ELROND: So, we brought you this sword.
PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ THE BOOK: About freaking time.
ARAGORN: Shiny. Thanks.
ELROND: Oh, and by the way, Arwen's sick. The longer the Ring goes undestroyed, the weaker she gets.
ARAGORN: Come off it. That's such a crock. There's no connection between her and the Ring.
ELROND: Yeah, well, I guess they don't teach you everything in Ranger school. It's just TRUE, okay? Now go pick up a ghost army and save your grimy unshaven people.
ROHIRRIM CAMP, LATER
EOWYN: I love you.
ARAGORN: Me? What? Oh. Um...listen, Ellen...
EOWYN: Eowyn.
ARAGORN: Right, Eowyn. You're a fine-looking woman, and I'm sure somebody will say to you someday, "Erin -"
EOWYN: *Eowyn*.
ARAGORN: "Eowyn...you're the only woman for me. Be my wife."
EOWYN: But it won't be you.
ARAGORN: Exactly! It won't be me. I'm glad we understand each other. Well kiddo, I've got to go. The Paths of the Dead beckon.
EOWYN: Don't do it! You'll never survive!
ARAGORN: Nonsense. You're only saying that because no one ever has.
MINAS TIRITH
PIPPIN: Any chance I can get out of fighting, Gandalf?
GANDALF: Probably not.
PIPPIN: Are Frodo and Sam going to make it?
GANDALF: Don't think so.
PIPPIN: Isn't there anything you can say to cheer me up?
GANDALF: Maybe you'll get decapitated. That should be quick and painless.
PIPPIN: Oh. Uh, thanks.
PATHS OF THE DEAD
GHOST: Hello! Welcome to the Paths of the Dead. We ask that you keep your hands and arms to yourselves at all times, as the ceiling is low in places, and fighting back will only prolong your ghastly death. Unless of course you are the heir of Isildur, in which case you and your party get a free pass.
ARAGORN: Hey, that's convenient. I AM the heir of Isildur!
GHOST: Got any ID?
ARAGORN: Sure, hang on a sec.
ARAGORN starts digging through his knapsack for his Ranger license.
AUDIENCE: I'm just not the least bit worried for them.
GHOST: (examines license) Okay, you're legit. Ooh, hang on: I'm sorry, but you must be at least as tall as this sign to enter. This kid with the beard can't come.
GIMLI: I'm a dwarf, not a child, you transparent twit.
ARAGORN: Really, he has to come along. He catches all the knee-level dangers for us.
LEGOLAS: Indeed, if we leave him behind, I do not know who I will taunt for the rest of the journey.
GHOST: Fine, fine. Let's go.