Chapter Eight: Pabulum and Panoply – The Madness of Théoden King
(Written in nearly blank verse by Will Shakespeare's besotted and iambically-challenged cousin thrice-removed on his mum's side,
Oswald Drinksbière, who was all we could afford, given this parody's shoestring budget)

ACT I

SCENE I. Outside of Fangorn
GANDALF, ARAGORN, LEGOLAS and GIMLI exit the forest.

ARAGORN
Gandalf, where didst thou go in Moria?
Methought with waking eyes a mære perceiv'd --
Incubus benighted, a fiery sleepless fear –
With cat 'o' nine ablaze did draw thee down
Into the roiling maw of Khazad's gloom.

GANDALF
Long time I fell, and with me he who rose
Before the Fall that held Milton enthrall'd --
In days when Morgoth was not yet enchain'd
Beyond the starless Door of Night -- thence came
This darkling angel wreath'd in flames so dire,
Who strove to 'whelm me o'er in ageless feud.

LEGOLAS
What's this? Why speakest thus with wacky words?

GIMLI
'Tis yet one more contrivance by the curs'd
And callous narrator, who scribes us two
As playing pawnish prats, while those nobler
Ones prattle on in high estate – I guess.

LEGOLAS
And thus, with comedy, we motley fools
Enact for rabble crowds in penny seats?

GIMLI
Aye, friend. But soft! Yon wizard waxes wise
With wondrous words – make way for that wanker!

GANDALF
The Balrog's bated breath about me blew--
All cheap cigars and tub-brew'd Chianti –
I yet did not in lover's swoon fall prey
To cozening demands of his, and striv'd
With ever weakening resolve to foil
The predator's fell pounce for gamey prey:
For that whoreson I wouldst the coquette play!

ARAGORN
'Tis not the stuff that legends make, it seems!
For this, I am now quite perplex'd with thee:
No battle fierce you claim to make; not but
A scull'ry maiden's venal virtue lost
Unto a fiery Lothario!

LEGOLAS
Slut!

GIMLI
So -- cheap seats, cheaper play! This Soap shall not
E'er wash the dirty thoughts from out my mind.
Out, damned spot!

LEGOLAS
He is outted – the tramp!

GANDALF
So, dowsed I did Udun's ardor aflame,
And turn'd the tables 'round the burning brute.
With sword unfurl'd from 'neath my robes I thrust,
And thus, I smote him where the sun shines not.

ARAGORN
With that, methinks I shall with vomit spew.

GIMLI
O end this mess, and please bring forth Scene Two!

SCENE II. Same place, less racy material.

GANDALF
Sent back I came naked.

GIMLI
'Tis no surprise!

GANDALF
Until my task is done.

LEGOLAS
Not soon enough!

GANDALF
What say you? Shall we to horse, my friends?

ARAGORN
We have but horses two, and I shall not
Be sitting presidentially with thee.

GANDALF
No need has thou to take a back seat, friend.
A horse, a horse – the Istar needs a horse!

GIMLI
He calls to nothing but thin air, the fool!

LEGOLAS
Methinks there's method to his madness yet,
For look, betwixt yon ferny tors – a horse!

GIMLI
Well damn'd I am!

GANDALF
And damn'd thou shalt e'er be,
My doltish Dwarf: for this is Shadowfax,
The equine exemplar, the Meara gray!

GIMLI
Eh? Gay mirror? Reflects its rider, does't?

GANDALF
Grey Meara, fool! Art thou as short on mind
As matter? Never trust a Dwarf: 'tis said
Their brains are too near to their bottoms bare!

ARAGORN
And thus, the bottom's fallen out of this
Odd dialogue -- to Edoras let's fly!
A change of scenery we need before
We shall upon this plain all up and die!

ACT II

SCENE I. At Edoras, capital of Rohan
GANDALF, ARAGORN, LEGOLAS and GIMLI try to enter Meduseld, the Golden Hall.

HÁMA
Who comes here? Freaks! My King forbids entrance!

GANDALF
A valet better mind his place. Ushers
Are at one's beck and call. Announce us to
Your Lord with haste, or I will ask ol' Gimli here
To bite your knees and gnaw your ankles down
To bloody stubs!

HÁMA
Oh dear! I'll be right back!

GANDALF
I think this ward will mind his manners now.

ARAGORN
Or else he's scared of Dwarvish cannibals!

HÁMA
I'm back.

GANDALF
I see.

HÁMA
Thou can enter here, but…

GANDALF
Ah! Quid pro quos?

HÁMA
We speak no Elvish here!

GANDALF
In speech, is Elvish consider'd selfish?

ARAGORN
A fishy kettle, surely. Háma speak!

HÁMA
Enter without weapons and be welcome.

GANDALF
My staff?

HÁMA
A prop for age, mayhap – or wizard's tool?

GANDALF
My pension card shows that I have retired.

HÁMA
Then go in peace, Gandalf. I trust old farts.

SCENE II. MEMBERS of the FELLOWSHIP meet THÉODEN and GRIMA WORMTONGUE

GANDALF
Hail, Théoden, Fengel's son, Rohan King!

THÉODEN
Bl-a-a-a-a-h-n...ver-r-r-h-h-h…na-a-a-a-w!

GANDALF
Pardon me?

GRIMA
No blank verse.

GANDALF
Say what?

GRIMA
The king – he wants no blank verse. It would overly tax him. We must shift to narrative storytelling and away from foul Elvish meter, because the king is ill…

THÉODEN
A-n-n-n-h...sl-e-e-e-e-py.

GRIMA
Yes, I know you are tired, milord. And these fools care not for your health as I do.

GANDALF
Why, this is unheard of! One cannot just abruptly change from poetic form to narrative exposition…

THÉODEN
A-y-y-y-y-y-a-m-m-m...kin-n-n-n-gah...h-e-e-e-re!

Gandalf understood enough of Théoden's mumbling to know that it was useless to argue the point further, particularly since Grima had such an unnatural hold over the king. "Very well," the wizard spat angrily at Wormtongue, "but a format change will not avail you, Flame of Udun!"

"Ummm…Gandalf, you are drifting," Aragorn whispered. "We're in Rohan, not Moria."

"Oh…right," Gandalf muttered in embarrassment. "This whole resurrection thing has got me confounded!"

Grima, feeling he had the advantage at this point, growled, "Lathspell, I name thee. Ill-news is an ill guest!"

"Ga-a-a-a-a-nd-a-a-lf...St-o-o-o-o-rm...Cro-o-o-o-o-o-w!" Théoden moaned until he became short of breath and fell back into his seat.

"Bravo, your majesty, bravo!" Grima shouted and patted the king's arm patronizingly. "I'll make sure you get some raisins in your porridge tonight!"

"Ra-a-a-a-a-i-i-i-sins! Yu-u-u-u-u-m-m-m-m-y!"

Gandalf had seen enough. He threw off his gray rags and his brilliant white robes shone with a spectral light in the bleakness of the shadowed hall. With a wave of his staff, the dusty tapestries that blocked the high windows fell away and the blinding bright gleam of the midday sun cut through the smoky gloom.

"Drat, the wizard's rod!" Grima hissed. "Stay away from the king with your evil tool, Gandalf; it might give him a staff infection!"

"The only sickness here is the one you have visited on Théoden, traitorous Grima!" Gandalf cried. "Down, dog! Grovel, thou cur of Saruman!"

With a blast from Gandalf's staff, Wormtongue was sent sprawling, falling face-first at the foot of the dais. The wizard then strode forcefully toward the king, who cringed in terror on his throne. "Why for you do this to me, Dimmy?" Théoden groaned in a vaguely Greek accent.

"It is just as I thought," Gandalf roared, "the King is possessed!" So saying, the wizard brought out a vial of clear liquid from beneath his robe. This he sprinkled liberally on the king while shouting, "The power of Manwë compels you!"

"Miruvor," Aragorn whispered to Gimli. "Particularly effective in wightish exorcisms."

Théoden writhed in agony on the throne and then cried, "Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis!"

Gandalf brought forth a piece of Lembas and pressed it against the king's forehead, and Théoden shrieked as if he had been branded by white-hot iron. "The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass," Gandalf cried above the king's tormented sobs.

"Chickenshit!" Théoden bellowed. "You Maiar suck cocks in henhouses!"

"In a hole there lived a Hobbit!" Gandalf shouted, and then, "Confusticate and bebother thee, shade of Saruman!"

"I'm melting…melting!" Théoden sobbed. "What a world, what a world!" He then fell silent.

"It is done," Gandalf sighed in relief. "Give him some athelas and then ring me in the morning."