Disclaimer: I've always wondered what the point in a disclaimer is. I mean, obviously I don't own Middle-Earth or anyone in it. If I did, why would I be writing Fanfiction about it? That would be just stupid.

A/N: I kind of forgot when I posted this up that stories in script form aren't allowed. Anyway, it ended up getting deleted, so here is the revised (and probably better –there were a lot of things I wanted to change) version of Aragorn, SHUT UP. It's full of very short sentences. I'm considering making this longer than just one chapter, but I'm not sure yet. So, what do you think: Should I continue on with the story, or leave it the way it is?

Lastly, I want to thank everyone who reviewed last time. Sorry I never replied, for some reason the review reply thing doesn't work on my computer or something. I will be replying by PMs now.

Oh yeah, and Gimli rocks.

Gimli: -bows-

So, without any more ado. . . I present you:

Aragorn, SHUT UP!

(revised)

With a wild yell ("HRAAAAAH!!"), Aragorn slays the last Uruk-Hai, a satisfied look on his face. "And THAT'S why you don't mess with The Aragorn." Suddenly he spots a pale figure leaning against the base of a tree. "Boromir! No!" Aragorn cries, running over and kneeling beside him.

"I'm dying, Maximus," Boromir says, imitating the voice of an elderly man.

Aragorn stares in confusion. "Er. . . what?"

Boromir sighs. "Never mind. . ."

Aragorn shrugs, and says, "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. I am sorry. I have paid."

Boromir scowls at him. "That's my line, you idiot."

"Nuh uh! And don't call me an idiot! I'm your King!"

"It is so my line! Go check the script. Also, I'll call you whatever I want! You're not my King yet!"

Aragorn stands up and crosses his arms, towering over Boromir's prone form. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Well . . . you look like a pincushion! So there."

"Oh yeah? Well you stole my lines, you – you lines stealer!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did not!"

"Did too – aw crap." Aragorn glares at Boromir, and after searching through his numerous pockets, he finally finds some rolled up pieces of paper. He shuffles through them until he finds the one he is looking for. He clears his throat. "Let's see. . . 'Aragorn runs over to Boromir and kneels beside him. Boromir says. . .' oh."

"Ha ha! Told you so!"

"Well, if you had said your line properly, instead of adding new ones on,then I wouldn't have mixed them up in the first place!" Aragorn shoots back, annoyed at being proven wrong by Boromir of all people.

Boromir scoffs. "It's called improvisation. You should try it sometime."

Aragorn is about to reply when Legolas and Gimli run over. "Boromir!" Legolas cries, "You're all full of arrows! Oh no!"

Gimli rolls his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock."

"My name's not Sherlock. . ." Legolas mutters.

Aragorn, having become tired of standing up, sits down again, cross-legged. "I was going to help you pull those arrows out, but now that you've acted all mean. . ." he pouts and crosses his arms, looking very much like a five-year-old.

Boromir shrugs. "Leave 'em. I go for the halls of whathisname. Begins with an M. . ."

"Melkor? Morgoth?" Aragorn suggests.

"No, no, no, no, no. Morgoth was the first Dark Lord. Honestly, just shut up about things you don't understand, Aragorn." Legolas looks at Aragorn crossly. "It's Man – something."

Gimli rolls his eyes. "It's Mandos."

"That's it!" Boromir shouts triumphantly. "I go for the Halls of Mandos!"

"That's bad grammar," Aragorn says wisely.

"Shut up, bozo."

"What's a bozo?"

"No idea. Anyway – "

"I thought only Elves go to Mandos," Legolas interrupts. They all stare at him as if he had grown a second head.

Gimli raises his eyebrows. "What idiot told you that?"

"I didn't think he'd actually believe me," Aragorn says defensively. Before an argument can break out, there is a bright white flash of light, and Gandalf appears. "TA DA!" he shouts.

"Gandalf!" Aragorn gasps. "But – but – you fell!"

"Shut up, Aragorn, it's Legolas' job to be Captain Obvious," Gandalf snaps.

"My name's not Captain Obvious, either," Legolas mutters again.

"Boromir, my man!" Gandalf says cheerfully, opening his arms wide. "Your mother sends a message. She says that if you die before you make her a Grandmother, she will kill you, then dig you up and kill you again."

Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli all snicker, while Boromir stares at Gandalf, not entirely sure how to reply to that. "Um. . ."

"So," Gandalf continues, "I managed to convince the right Gods to send me back a little earlier than scheduled to save you! Isn't that nice?"

"Yes, thank you, but if you don't do anything soon it will be too late to save me anyway."

Gandalf leaps to action. From his robes he removes a small bottle filled with clear liquid and kneels down beside Boromir. "This will only hurt a little bit." He grabs one of the arrows and yanks it out.

"ARRRRRGH!"

Gandalf ignores Boromir and yanks out the rest, humming quietly to himself.

"You bastard! Fucking son of a bitch!"

Gandalf sprinkles some of the liquid from the bottle on Boromir's wounds. "I borrowed this from a nice girl named Lucy Pevensie. Heals any wound, she said, no matter how fatal."

"That really fucking hurt! You – " he stops in mid rant when he sees the look Gandalf is giving him. "What?"

"I shouldn't hurt any more."

"It doesn't," Boromir confesses, "but I figured no one's ever called you a son of a bitch to your face before, so I figured I would make the most of the situation because I thought that I would never . . . get to . . . uh, yeah. . ."

Gimli, meanwhile is bored and wants to move on. "Let's hunt some orc!"

"Isn't that Aragorn's line . . .?" Boromir asks quietly, and is ignored.

"But I don't like hunting!" Aragorn complains, "All the cute little bunnies. . . and it isn't the orc's fault they are the way they are, and – "

"Aragorn," Gimli interrupts him, left eye twitching, "SHUT UP!"