A/N Thanks for everyone who has so far reviewed the freaky little sequel to
my freaky little story! Here comes chappy Three…Note to Ripper: thanks for
your continued encouragement ;-) 'Says so in the scriptures…' by God, now
I have to include some sort of reference to Obadiah, so the second Green
Room scene is 'specially for him, and for you!
So there's this live wizard…
"My bones're cold." Remarked Gimli, rubbing himself in an attempt to stay warm.
"Yeurgh! I did not wish to know that." Aragorn muttered, but Legolas looked on with interest.
"You know, while we're pissing about here Pippin and Merry are probably being skinned alive and buggered." The Elf remarked after a while. "Shouldn't we actually *look* for them rather than sniffing the ground and sleeping?"
"You mean the film's started?" Asked Aragorn, surprised. "I thought we were still on our lunch break…"
Legolas rolled his eyes, then his nose for variety. "Come on, you lazy creatures!"
Man, Elf and Dwarf resumed their search for the Hobbits. All they found however was an ugly orcish knife and some random costume jewellery. It was most disheartening. Worst of all, they kept seeing visions of an old man, who stole their horses, flicking the Vs at them as he did so.
"Saruman!" Cried Gimli, having a Dwarvish flid. "He's come for us!"
"Oh, chill out, shortarse." Aragorn scoffed. "If that old crumbly is all we have to worry about, we're in clover!"
"With all due respect, bollocks to that, and I don't like the look of these trees much either…Legolas!"
The Elf had wandered over to one of the suspect trees and was hugging it tenderly.
"Bloody Elf hippie." Muttered Gimli darkly. "You wait 'till it hugs back!"
--Meanwhile in the Green Room--
"Thought you'd left ages ago, Gandy!"
"I forgot my beard conditioner. Never go to Middle-Earth without it. What exactly are you doing?" Gandalf the Straight watched in consternation as his companion, Boromir the Brave-but-slightly-Schizophrenic, took a gulp of lager from a bottle on the table before him, quickly moved to another chair, and took a swig of bitter from a pint glass.
"I'm having a post-production party." Replied Boromir. "On my own…" he added sadly, and a sympathetic
"Aww…." Came from the crew.
"Hum." Mused Gandalf, stroking his newly conditioned beard. Perhaps being the first character to get killed off was starting to get to Boromir's self-esteem?
"But don't worry about me," the Man continued, "I'm going to watch the Oscars in a minute…"
"Fair enough." Gandalf, re-assured, departed once more for Middle-Earth.
He had just arrived near Fangorn and was preparing to spring his appallingly ill-timed return from the dead on the bemused hobbit-seeking trio, who were still acting (just about), when a scream from the semi- closed vortex made him jump.
"Oh, Valar, what's he doing *now*…" And Gandalf the Straight was drawn back to the Green Room once more.
Upon arriving, a strange scene met his eyes. Boromir was sitting huddled in a chair, whimpering, while on the floor before him lay a fizzing, broken television set, covered in lager and shattered glass.
"What has happened?" The wizard demanded. "Has there been an attack?"
"The…the…" Boromir pointed helplessly at the destroyed TV set. "Russell Crowe…" he whispered, weakly. Gandalf grabbed a copy of Middle-Hollywood magazine from the coffee table and swiftly scanned the Oscar results.
"Valar…" he breathed. "This is terrible…a great shadow is coming…a great evil has descended over Middle-Earth in the form of a panel of judges…"
Boromir whimpered.
"Does this mean…does it mean…"
"What, my child?" Whispered Gandalf, staring in horror at the three dreadful words… 'A Beautiful Mind'.
"Does it mean They think Russell Crowe is…*sexier* than me?" Boromir buried his face in his hands. Gandalf the Straight placed a tender hand upon his shoulder.
"No, no…" he soothed. "It means They think he's sexier than Aragorn."
"Thank the Valar!" Gasped Boromir. "But still, it is greatly shameful to me. I have failed. The White City will fall…"
He really is losing it. Thought Gandalf. I cannot, in good conscience, leave him here alone… Inspiration struck. Grabbing his mobile phone Gandalf the Straight dialled a number, barked commands into the mouthpiece, and moments later the Green Room vortex opened to reveal a tall dark figure.
"You called, Gandalf?"
"Who…who's this, Gandy?" Whimpered the cowering Boromir.
"This man has come to help you. He is a psychotherapist. His name is Doctor Douglas. Be not afraid." Doctor Douglas meanwhile had spotted Boromir. He lunged forward with a scream of rage.
"You bastard, what have you done with my *daughter*…!?" Boromir shrieked and hid behind Gandalf. Gandalf looked again at his watch.
"Sorry, have to run, love. Don't worry, the nice doctor will take care of your psychotic episodes and excessive histrionics, and you'll be back to your beer-swilling, woman-shagging, hard bastard self in no time. TTFN!" And with that singularly camp farewell, Gandalf the Straight departed, finally, for Middle-Earth.
--End of interlude--
"I…was bo-orn…under a wan-drin' star…"
"Do you think it'd affect the plot much if we killed him?" Legolas asked Gimli, after three hours of listening to Aragorn sing.
"Sadly yes." The dwarf replied. "Don't forget, he's the 'King of men and really groovy'."
"Yah…but do they really *need* a king? Why not go Republican?"
"Well, look at all the trouble they got into without a king." Gimli reminded the girly Elf. "bloodshed and battles and psychotic stewards…look at the way Boromir turned out for Durin's sake! You think we need any more like that?"
"You think we need any more like Aragorn?"
"…under a wan-drin' star…"
"Ai! If only he knew the next line." Sighed Legolas mournfully.
"What's that?"
"Well *I* don't know, stupid dwarf! I am no connoisseur of Men's musical tastes!"
"No, that in the bushes?"
"Bushes?" Legolas pricked up his pointy ears, then eared up his pointy prick for variety. "Ooh…interesting things can happen in bushes!"
But Gimli was on his feet, stumping short-arsedly over to a small grove.
"Urk!" He cried.
"wan-drin'…eh?"
"It's Saruman!" Gimli howled, having another dwarvish flid. "Saruman the psychedelic! Help! Help! He's going kill our women, eat our children, and bugger us to death! Help! Help!"
"What a way to go!" Exclaimed Legolas hopefully. He stiffened his bow.
"Shoot the bastard!" Screamed the dwarf, dancing about hysterically. "Shoot him! Shoot him! Argh! Argh!"
"Hang on a minute…" interrupted Aragorn, but no one paid him any attention. Peering carefully over the bush, Aragorn confirmed his friend's fears: there, before them in all his horror, was an elderly white haired wizard, his posture one of fearsome evil: he was standing awkwardly with his robes pulled up around his waist, his hands gripping his mighty staff.
"I think he's just having a piss." Remarked the King with a shrug. Gandalf, for truly it was he, looked up in surprise, splashing it all over himself.
"Ah, shit…oh! There you are."
Legolas let fly an arrow with a cry of astonishment.
"Christ!" Yelled Gandalf. "Watch where you're shooting that bloody thing!"
"Mithrandir! Mithrandir!"
"It was nearly Mithrandir the Dickless wonder. You ought to be more careful with that bow, elf boy. I don't want to get to the Grey Havens and be awarded the DSO*."
"Sorry, Gandy. Wow, it's good to have you back."
"You're all white!" Exclaimed Gimli, extracting himself from Aragorn's trousers, in which he'd been hiding, to the Ranger's distress.
"Yes, I'm perfectly all right, thank you."
"No, no, I mean, all white! All *in* white! What happened to the grey?"
"Aha! Simple." Replied Gandalf. "I discovered Aerial washing powder."
"Just a minute," put in Aragorn with the unvarying slowness of his race, "weren't you dead?"
"Yes…and no."
"Well?"
"Well?"
"What happened, Gandy?" Snapped Legolas impatiently. "We're all *dying* to hear."
Gandalf sat upon the ground. Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli sat in a semi- circle around him. Aragorn offered round popcorn.
"It is a tragic tale involving many flashbacks." Began Gandalf. "I fell for a long, long time…the Balrog fell with me. At last I landed, helpless and naked…"
"Right!" Aragorn got quickly to his feet. "That's all we need to hear, I think. On with the Quest. Come on boys!"
"Aww…" complained Legolas, but Gimli was already running very fast in the opposite direction. Gandalf snorted.
"Well, if you don't want to hear my story, sucks to you! I'm off to Edoras, and you lot should be on your way there as well. You can ride some slower horses; I'm off on Shadowfart. Screw you lot of unfeeling bastards!" And with that Gandalf the Straight was away, leaving the others to trot along unhappily on a set of scruff y donkeys.
Gandalf travelled so much faster than the others on Shadowfart that he had time to stop off at the Green Room, to see how Boromir's psychotherapy was going, on the way.
--Interlude: Green Room 2--
When Gandalf arrived therein, a strange and disturbing sight once more met his eyes. Boromir was evidently feeling better, for he was chasing Doctor Douglas around the Green Room with a sword.
"Keep still, yer bugger!" The mighty warrior roared.
"Not on your nelly!" Came the reply. Boromir stopped for a moment, panting, and came over to Gandalf.
"'Lo, Gandy. Any notion of how to kill this bastard? I've tried everything: throwing him in a pit of Balrogs, walking an Oliphaunt over him, hanging him, chasing him over the hills with a complete company of riflemen…"
"You could just try shooting the bugger."
"Good idea!" Boromir snapped his fingers. Enthusiastically, a group of extras began tying the squirming psychotherapist to a stake. Boromir quickly assembled a firing squad consisting of cameramen and grips.
"Right lads! One, two, three…" Doctor Douglas was bombarded with fifty bullets. Riddled with shot he slumped against the stake, but promptly stood up again screaming:
"I…cannot…die!"
Boromir rolled his eyes.
"Back to the drawing board…" he growled, but there was a gleam of happy purpose in his eyes.
The psychotherapy was working wonders.
Dick Shot Off. Kudos to the wonderful Spike Milligan for this.
A/N The line 'skinned alive and buggered' comes from 'Bottom'.
So there's this live wizard…
"My bones're cold." Remarked Gimli, rubbing himself in an attempt to stay warm.
"Yeurgh! I did not wish to know that." Aragorn muttered, but Legolas looked on with interest.
"You know, while we're pissing about here Pippin and Merry are probably being skinned alive and buggered." The Elf remarked after a while. "Shouldn't we actually *look* for them rather than sniffing the ground and sleeping?"
"You mean the film's started?" Asked Aragorn, surprised. "I thought we were still on our lunch break…"
Legolas rolled his eyes, then his nose for variety. "Come on, you lazy creatures!"
Man, Elf and Dwarf resumed their search for the Hobbits. All they found however was an ugly orcish knife and some random costume jewellery. It was most disheartening. Worst of all, they kept seeing visions of an old man, who stole their horses, flicking the Vs at them as he did so.
"Saruman!" Cried Gimli, having a Dwarvish flid. "He's come for us!"
"Oh, chill out, shortarse." Aragorn scoffed. "If that old crumbly is all we have to worry about, we're in clover!"
"With all due respect, bollocks to that, and I don't like the look of these trees much either…Legolas!"
The Elf had wandered over to one of the suspect trees and was hugging it tenderly.
"Bloody Elf hippie." Muttered Gimli darkly. "You wait 'till it hugs back!"
--Meanwhile in the Green Room--
"Thought you'd left ages ago, Gandy!"
"I forgot my beard conditioner. Never go to Middle-Earth without it. What exactly are you doing?" Gandalf the Straight watched in consternation as his companion, Boromir the Brave-but-slightly-Schizophrenic, took a gulp of lager from a bottle on the table before him, quickly moved to another chair, and took a swig of bitter from a pint glass.
"I'm having a post-production party." Replied Boromir. "On my own…" he added sadly, and a sympathetic
"Aww…." Came from the crew.
"Hum." Mused Gandalf, stroking his newly conditioned beard. Perhaps being the first character to get killed off was starting to get to Boromir's self-esteem?
"But don't worry about me," the Man continued, "I'm going to watch the Oscars in a minute…"
"Fair enough." Gandalf, re-assured, departed once more for Middle-Earth.
He had just arrived near Fangorn and was preparing to spring his appallingly ill-timed return from the dead on the bemused hobbit-seeking trio, who were still acting (just about), when a scream from the semi- closed vortex made him jump.
"Oh, Valar, what's he doing *now*…" And Gandalf the Straight was drawn back to the Green Room once more.
Upon arriving, a strange scene met his eyes. Boromir was sitting huddled in a chair, whimpering, while on the floor before him lay a fizzing, broken television set, covered in lager and shattered glass.
"What has happened?" The wizard demanded. "Has there been an attack?"
"The…the…" Boromir pointed helplessly at the destroyed TV set. "Russell Crowe…" he whispered, weakly. Gandalf grabbed a copy of Middle-Hollywood magazine from the coffee table and swiftly scanned the Oscar results.
"Valar…" he breathed. "This is terrible…a great shadow is coming…a great evil has descended over Middle-Earth in the form of a panel of judges…"
Boromir whimpered.
"Does this mean…does it mean…"
"What, my child?" Whispered Gandalf, staring in horror at the three dreadful words… 'A Beautiful Mind'.
"Does it mean They think Russell Crowe is…*sexier* than me?" Boromir buried his face in his hands. Gandalf the Straight placed a tender hand upon his shoulder.
"No, no…" he soothed. "It means They think he's sexier than Aragorn."
"Thank the Valar!" Gasped Boromir. "But still, it is greatly shameful to me. I have failed. The White City will fall…"
He really is losing it. Thought Gandalf. I cannot, in good conscience, leave him here alone… Inspiration struck. Grabbing his mobile phone Gandalf the Straight dialled a number, barked commands into the mouthpiece, and moments later the Green Room vortex opened to reveal a tall dark figure.
"You called, Gandalf?"
"Who…who's this, Gandy?" Whimpered the cowering Boromir.
"This man has come to help you. He is a psychotherapist. His name is Doctor Douglas. Be not afraid." Doctor Douglas meanwhile had spotted Boromir. He lunged forward with a scream of rage.
"You bastard, what have you done with my *daughter*…!?" Boromir shrieked and hid behind Gandalf. Gandalf looked again at his watch.
"Sorry, have to run, love. Don't worry, the nice doctor will take care of your psychotic episodes and excessive histrionics, and you'll be back to your beer-swilling, woman-shagging, hard bastard self in no time. TTFN!" And with that singularly camp farewell, Gandalf the Straight departed, finally, for Middle-Earth.
--End of interlude--
"I…was bo-orn…under a wan-drin' star…"
"Do you think it'd affect the plot much if we killed him?" Legolas asked Gimli, after three hours of listening to Aragorn sing.
"Sadly yes." The dwarf replied. "Don't forget, he's the 'King of men and really groovy'."
"Yah…but do they really *need* a king? Why not go Republican?"
"Well, look at all the trouble they got into without a king." Gimli reminded the girly Elf. "bloodshed and battles and psychotic stewards…look at the way Boromir turned out for Durin's sake! You think we need any more like that?"
"You think we need any more like Aragorn?"
"…under a wan-drin' star…"
"Ai! If only he knew the next line." Sighed Legolas mournfully.
"What's that?"
"Well *I* don't know, stupid dwarf! I am no connoisseur of Men's musical tastes!"
"No, that in the bushes?"
"Bushes?" Legolas pricked up his pointy ears, then eared up his pointy prick for variety. "Ooh…interesting things can happen in bushes!"
But Gimli was on his feet, stumping short-arsedly over to a small grove.
"Urk!" He cried.
"wan-drin'…eh?"
"It's Saruman!" Gimli howled, having another dwarvish flid. "Saruman the psychedelic! Help! Help! He's going kill our women, eat our children, and bugger us to death! Help! Help!"
"What a way to go!" Exclaimed Legolas hopefully. He stiffened his bow.
"Shoot the bastard!" Screamed the dwarf, dancing about hysterically. "Shoot him! Shoot him! Argh! Argh!"
"Hang on a minute…" interrupted Aragorn, but no one paid him any attention. Peering carefully over the bush, Aragorn confirmed his friend's fears: there, before them in all his horror, was an elderly white haired wizard, his posture one of fearsome evil: he was standing awkwardly with his robes pulled up around his waist, his hands gripping his mighty staff.
"I think he's just having a piss." Remarked the King with a shrug. Gandalf, for truly it was he, looked up in surprise, splashing it all over himself.
"Ah, shit…oh! There you are."
Legolas let fly an arrow with a cry of astonishment.
"Christ!" Yelled Gandalf. "Watch where you're shooting that bloody thing!"
"Mithrandir! Mithrandir!"
"It was nearly Mithrandir the Dickless wonder. You ought to be more careful with that bow, elf boy. I don't want to get to the Grey Havens and be awarded the DSO*."
"Sorry, Gandy. Wow, it's good to have you back."
"You're all white!" Exclaimed Gimli, extracting himself from Aragorn's trousers, in which he'd been hiding, to the Ranger's distress.
"Yes, I'm perfectly all right, thank you."
"No, no, I mean, all white! All *in* white! What happened to the grey?"
"Aha! Simple." Replied Gandalf. "I discovered Aerial washing powder."
"Just a minute," put in Aragorn with the unvarying slowness of his race, "weren't you dead?"
"Yes…and no."
"Well?"
"Well?"
"What happened, Gandy?" Snapped Legolas impatiently. "We're all *dying* to hear."
Gandalf sat upon the ground. Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli sat in a semi- circle around him. Aragorn offered round popcorn.
"It is a tragic tale involving many flashbacks." Began Gandalf. "I fell for a long, long time…the Balrog fell with me. At last I landed, helpless and naked…"
"Right!" Aragorn got quickly to his feet. "That's all we need to hear, I think. On with the Quest. Come on boys!"
"Aww…" complained Legolas, but Gimli was already running very fast in the opposite direction. Gandalf snorted.
"Well, if you don't want to hear my story, sucks to you! I'm off to Edoras, and you lot should be on your way there as well. You can ride some slower horses; I'm off on Shadowfart. Screw you lot of unfeeling bastards!" And with that Gandalf the Straight was away, leaving the others to trot along unhappily on a set of scruff y donkeys.
Gandalf travelled so much faster than the others on Shadowfart that he had time to stop off at the Green Room, to see how Boromir's psychotherapy was going, on the way.
--Interlude: Green Room 2--
When Gandalf arrived therein, a strange and disturbing sight once more met his eyes. Boromir was evidently feeling better, for he was chasing Doctor Douglas around the Green Room with a sword.
"Keep still, yer bugger!" The mighty warrior roared.
"Not on your nelly!" Came the reply. Boromir stopped for a moment, panting, and came over to Gandalf.
"'Lo, Gandy. Any notion of how to kill this bastard? I've tried everything: throwing him in a pit of Balrogs, walking an Oliphaunt over him, hanging him, chasing him over the hills with a complete company of riflemen…"
"You could just try shooting the bugger."
"Good idea!" Boromir snapped his fingers. Enthusiastically, a group of extras began tying the squirming psychotherapist to a stake. Boromir quickly assembled a firing squad consisting of cameramen and grips.
"Right lads! One, two, three…" Doctor Douglas was bombarded with fifty bullets. Riddled with shot he slumped against the stake, but promptly stood up again screaming:
"I…cannot…die!"
Boromir rolled his eyes.
"Back to the drawing board…" he growled, but there was a gleam of happy purpose in his eyes.
The psychotherapy was working wonders.
Dick Shot Off. Kudos to the wonderful Spike Milligan for this.
A/N The line 'skinned alive and buggered' comes from 'Bottom'.