Tolkien Gestures
by Rob Morris
Trapper and Hawkeye saw Radar attacking yet another tray of mess tent mystery. McIntyre felt compelled to comment.
"Uh, Radar? Didn't you have what our chef insists on calling breakfast only an hour ago?"
O'Reilly shrugged.
"So? This is second breakfast."
As they walked away from the nearsighted vacuum, Pierce gave his two cents.
"You ever wonder if Iowa is actually populated by a species of small, always-hungry people, just like Radar?"
"Hawk, hopefully there's no one else just like Radar. Besides, where would they live? By definition, half of them would be smaller than him. What kind of housing are we talking about?"
Pierce raised an opened hand.
"They live---in holes in the ground."
McIntyre glowered.
"Holes in the ground? Try again."
Pierce shook his head.
"They're very stylish holes. Very comfortable. I bet they get written up in---"
Trapper started to walk away before Hawkeye could say 'Better Holes & Gardens'.
Klinger had crossed a line. It took a lot to get Father Mulcahy angry, but somehow he had managed.
"Corporal---get out of that priest's uniform. Right now."
"But Father---I'm just gonna go out and minister to the poor. The poor in Toledo. C'mon, nobody's gonna wanna stop a Padre. Its my perfect way out. Now step aside--my parish at Packo's Hot Dogs is waiting."
Klinger made it into the jeep, and turned it over. But Mulcahy calmly-albeit with a stone look on his face--opened the vehicle's hood and tore out a handful of wires. The jeep stopped dead, and the Padre disgustedly threw the wires at Klinger's feet.
"YOU--SHALL--NOT-PASSSS!!!!!"
Having obtained the files she needed from Radar, Margaret offered a then-rare compliment.
"Very good, corporal. You know, I mean it when I speak of who really runs this camp. If it weren't for you, Colonel Spine-ecteme wouldn't have a prayer."
Radar took offense, but couched his words.
"All respect, Major, but I don't think you ought to talk about him that way."
"I won't anymore--on the day that Frank Burns--a real man—is permanently running this camp."
Radar shook his head.
"Well, if you're planning on knocking out Colonel Blake, then why don't you just run the place yourself, Major? I mean, it seems like you do anyway, anytime Major Burns is in charge."
Rather than correct or yell at O'Reilly, Margaret felt intrigued by this notion. She looked at the CO's desk.
"I could take it, couldn't I? But then, you wouldn't have a rubber man or an iron man in charge, would you?"
Margaret grinned.
"You'd have an iron lady!"
Abruptly, she calmed down.
"No. Its not for me. I could never truly fit myself behind this desk."
Radar pshawed this.
"Ah, Gwan! We could always widen it for ya, if that's a problem."
Radar ran very far and very fast that day, and a result missed both elevenses and luncheon. Margaret, for her part, barely missed hitting him with various objects found around the compound.
Frank grabbed it up before it could fall from Margaret's shelf.
"Honeybun, be careful! I only have the one ring."
An angry Margaret stuffed his wedding ring back into his hand, and bid him leave.
"Frank, how many times have I asked you to either not wear the ring, or at least to keep it hidden? It reminds me of things best not contemplated--like ending our relationship. Now I want it and you to just disappear!"
Knocking outside her door seconds later, Frank did what he did best.
"Margaret--let me back in. Please, Margaret. Please, my precious girl. My precious, precious girl. Open up, precious. Pre---eee--cious?"
In a shock to nobody but Frank Burns, standing within earshot were Pierce and McIntyre. Trapper chuckled.
"Frank? You didn't tell us Hot Lips was precious."
Hawkeye nodded.
"Yeah. So what's her listing on the commodities exchange?"
Burns sneered and pointed.
"I hate you two. I HATE YOU Forever!!"
As he stalked off, Trapper smiled.
"Frank hates us forever. And here I thought that this would be a bad day."
Hawkeye heard the Swamp door slam, and contemplated.
"You think if we returned Frank to the hospital in Indiana where his mother gave birth, we could get a refund?"
"Frank wasn't born in a hospital. They forged him in a volcano. That's why he's always making an ash of himself."
This time, Hawkeye walked away.
Henry was further past listening to Flagg than usual.
"Your people, Blake--are contributing nothing to the security of this sector. We're wide open for an attack from the enemy at any time."
"Look, Colonel Flagg--my people are medics, not counterspies. Plus, in case you haven't noticed, we deal with enemy attacks all the time."
Flagg slammed his palm on the desk.
"Not like this. Blake, the unblinking, all seeing Red Eye of the Enemy is always watching for signs of weakness!"
Blake whistled.
"Unblinking? Boy, I'll just betcha that stings like the Dickens, come noon on a good sunny day."
(Saruman holds Gandalf prisoner)
Saruman : You are in grave danger of far more than mere death, my wayward learner. Come, tell me of the One Ring. It is the last mystery of the enemy that I have failed to pierce.
Gandalf : To delve that far into what our enemy is surely does nothing but lessen us as we go. We strive to be different, to be better. I want nothing of his secrets. The only secrets I lack that are worth knowing of concern only Gandalf Greyhame and his steady improvement. I find for myself that this is more than enough to occupy my time.
Saruman : Consider well your hasty and loose talk. Why, my one mere glance into the palantir can gain us knowledge that will strike at Sauron as hard as 30,000 mounted and armed riders of Rohan.
Gandalf : How fortunate then that you are learned Saruman and not another. Else, I might be forced to call such darkling glances for gravest foolery.
Saruman : Mock me again, you underling, and I shall feast pon your own left ear! Now, tell me of the halflings of Hobbiton, and of their part in your plans against me.
Gandalf : Why, are there truly halflings in the world? For I have not seen them. Perhaps they were about underfoot.
Saruman : Do not seek to feign such ignorance, Gandalf! You are not so well practiced in ignorance as am I.
( Impatient and in contempt, Aragorn kills the 'Mouth Of Sauron', then cries out before the gates )
Aragorn : I have swept the head of your Voice from his body, master of Mordor! Now face me yourself, you fiend. HEAR ME, O SAURON!!!
( Caught up, the others join in )
Merry : Hear Me, O Sauron!
Faramir : Hear Me, O Sauron!
Soldier : Hear Me, O Sauron!
Soldier 2 : Hear Me, O Sauron!
Soldier 3 : Hear Me, O Sauron!
( On and through the crowd it continues, till Aragorn begins to roll his eyes. Gandalf strikes his staff, bringing down thunder that draws all their attention )
Gandalf : Kings are best left to speak with one voice, and with one mouth. Remember that, if you wish to keep having mouths.
( Frodo, Sam and Gollum sit for evening meal )
Sam : Well, we have some smallish of the elven bread left. But as a meal, it's on the outs, I fear.
Frodo : You are that wearied of its taste?
Sam : Less weary than wary. Mister Frodo--I swear that I saw it move by its own self.
( Gollum jumps over and grabs the suspect bread )
Gollum : OURS! Ours it is, then---oooh. Master should have some. It is made rightly now. See it wriggle?
( Sam and Frodo run off, covering their mouths )
Gollum : It is that ale they drinks, makes them sick. Smeagol should expect no better from Ale-men.
( Gollum walks over with fish that Sam has cooked )
Frodo : Oh, Sam. To find a grouper in this foul place. I have awaited your catch all this long day.
Sam : I want bits of its roasted eyes caught between my teeth, sir.
Gollum : Here are Master's fishies. Fine, fine fishies!
Sam : They're neither browned nor much more than pink! But the fire I made was enough to bake them nicely.
Gollum : Oh, we puts out stupid fire, let smoke carry in for tastes of healthful wood.
Frodo : Smeagol, you great ninny! These are inedible. They are barely cooked at all.
Gollum : Nasty Hobbitses! Next time, Smeagol will show no caring and let vile fire cook fishies all the way through!
( Hama, Captain Of The Guards in Rohan, finds his way blocked )
Hama : Step away, Grima Wormtongue. I must see our Lord, Theoden King.
Wormtongue : Our footman has his orders, and these are also orders to all who dwell in Rohan. Our king is ill, and must not be disturbed. But I will be as disturbed as I may wish, as I find I am frequently disturbed.
Hama : Truer words. But I may not relay these edicts. No free Man of Rohan will obey them, so very vile and fetid they are.
Wormtongue : Fool. Until all the words of rulers are as actions taken by their peoples in the very same breath as they are spoken from on high, none may ever walk about and say that they are free.
( A tent in the field after the great Battle Of Gondor in ROTK; Aragorn and Eomer are both refitting themselves to ride soon on Mordor. Eowyn and Merry enter, looking very haggard )
Eomer : Sister, rest now! You ought not to be about, nor Merry with you. For you, the Witch-King is no more, his Wraith Riders leaderless. But though only he fell forever, he did not fall alone. What could bring you here, with such poison still mixed in your blood?
Eowyn : Good Meriadoc Of Buckland, pray speak the words that I may not, even in the debt I know.
Aragorn : If you words speak of more headless Ringwraiths, Merry, I say to toss them here. I daresay I'm stout enough to bear the sight.
Merry : The battle behind us takes with it in its final passage our beloved Theoden King, slaughtered as he was by the destructed and despised Angmar Witch-King, and struck down in his second prime, though he was prior restored by Gandalf Greyhame Mithrandir. A King he was called, and this never left him, from first to last. Till all our ears catch tune of Illuvitar's best feasting song, I fear that we shall not know any more of Theoden King.
( One and all, they withdraw their swords and point them in the direction of Mordor )
( Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn see an Orc formation down the hill they are standing on. Gimli snorts in disgust when responding to an idea )
Gimli : You wish me to roll down this hill like a ball, this to knock down that gathered line of orcs?
Legolas : You are made for such a venture, Gimli Gloinson. Your mass and build make you unto a living weapon.
Gimli : Hear me, Elf and Man both. You may toss me over pits, run my poor feet ragged, and you may question my strength of arm. You may even roll me like a baby's toy. But know that though the spirit of a dwarf may bear infinite indignities, that spirit may bend, yet never break!
( Rolls down )
Aragorn : He shows an excellent grasp of the tenets of war-making.
( Gandalf and Bilbo are back in the Shire, after the events of 'The Hobbit' )
Gandalf : Bilbo, where ever did you get this type of dwarven honor-medallion?
Bilbo : It is a mark, given me by Gloin, after the last urgings of Thorin. It hails my strength for surviving Old Smaug's poisoning.
Gandalf : You greedy grasping devil of a halfling! I was there, you Hobbit. You ate too much of Old Smaug's meat as his corpse was roasted up and made into meal. Your poisoning was all a sour stomach gotten by stuffing your fat face.
Bilbo : Be that as it may, it rests forever in Dwarven lore as simply a poisoning by dragon.
(Bilbo smiles and walks off; Gandalf snatches up the medal, walks outside and sees the gardener )
Gandalf : Hamfast Gamgee? This is for you. Keep it well hid.
Ham : Why, it's a medal, sir. Whatever is it for?
Gandalf : A middling token of appreciation for keeping this varied estate in one piece.
The last great ceremony of thanks and victory was over, and the tired Hobbits, two of whom had literally saved the world, were borne away to their Shire on the backs of the great Eagles, one last favor to Gandalf from their ancient King. Only at the highest point at which Gondor was still sightable did the halflings notice what was done for them. At the order of their Strider Aragorn, now evermore King Elessar Of All Men, the brave soldiers of Rohan, Gondor and all the stations of men raised their multi-colored shields in a certain order so as to create the skyborn appearance of two simple words :
FARE WELL
Now, in the Fourth Age, ensconced as he was in The Gray Havens, Gandalf did set up a healing center for those warriors wounded or troubled by their time in the War Of The One Ring. Though he made Frodo Baggins his aide in this, for some reason the Elves appointed their own administrator, and this led to one and one-half seasons of mixed results. But we know well that they all triumphed, in those tales we shall never see, but in our hearts....
1953, MILL VALLEY
BJ grabbed up a beaming Erin, and Peg grabbed up her man, who she feared never to see again. He looked about him at his homely place, so different than the ruins he had seen, and realized he would roam no more.
"Well--I'm back."
THE ROAD GOES EVER ON...BUT CHECK YE FOR MINES, SNIPERS, CHECKPOINTS AND HOLES THE SIZE OF SMALL COOKING POTS, AND SOMETIMES LARGER.