A/N: I thank you all for your reviews! And now, to the delight(?) of one of my reviewers, Marendigell, here is a fictional piece of work that you'd enjoy!
The Faramir Variety Hour Episode II
"Hello, all!" Faramir says, smiling.
"We have something special lined up for you today!" Boromir says, somewhat less energetically.
"This is our own little made-for-TV drama short section, entitled, 'What would I do without you?'" Faramir says, smiling evilly.
"And, also, we've been moved from Cablevision Gondor to PBS Gondor because we couldn't afford the studio we had. Wow." Boromir says, looking like he's about to cry.
"Shut up! Let's just do the short piece!" Faramir says, putting the tape into a slot that says, "To be shown on my show".
TITLE CARD: This is a fake. The actors are real; the characters are real, except for in one scene where we used a prosthetic dummy because such gore on reality TV would take us off PBS. Thanks. None of the events actually happened. Thanks.
AND SO STARTS THE MOVIE...
"Boromir, what would I do without you?" Faramir asks, sounding like he means it but he really doesn't.
"Not have a good-looking camera man, that's what." Boromir replies.
"Also, I wouldn't be ridiculed by my family." Faramir says, looking off into space. A flashback starts.
/FLASHBACK! /
We see a 25-year-old Boromir and a 20-year-old Faramir in the throne room.
"Father, can I have a party?" Boromir asks.
"Of course." Denethor replies.
"Can I invite Arwen?"
"Of course!"
"Can I be Arwen's husband?"
"Of course!"
"Can I have some money to buy some...stuff?"
"Of course!"
"Can I have some money to redo my room that is in such a state that the Society for the Protection of Gondorian Welfare, also called S.P.G.W., would put you in jail?" Faramir asks.
"NO!!"
"Can I have some money to buy some new clothes?"
"NO!!"
"Can I kill you?"
"NO!!!"
"Can I...."
"BRING WOOD AND OIL!!"
"Crap."
/UNFLASHBACK/
"That's sad. That's where I'd be with you." Faramir says, tears coming to his eyes.
"Oh, get over it! You're such a wuss! You never do anything good!" Boromir says.
"That's it!!!" Faramir yells, picking up an axe from the wall.
"No, what are you doing? What are you doing?" Boromir screams.
"This is THE END!!" Faramir screams, as we see his shadow plunge the axe into Boromir's shadow's body on the wall.
Blood spurts from the almost dead Boromir on the floor. Faramir mirthlessly laughs.
Just then, Marendigell runs out and hugs Faramir for killing "Stupid Boromir." The authoress does the same.
Boromir is bleeding to death.
"What would I do without you, Boromir?" Faramir asks.
"Succeed in all your future goals, become Steward, and marry the beautiful blonde." Boromir says his last words.
Faramir cries for his brother, as the curtain closes on the short story.
We see the intrepid two-man crew sitting on the couch in Faramir's basement. Boromir has gone pale. Obviously, he didn't see the end. Faramir is smirking. And if that story really sucked, I know it did, I was at a loss of how to write that. Sorry, all! And no, Boromir did not get killed. That was the prosthetic dummy. Suddenly, Eowyn comes out, looking at the two.
"What's going on?" She asks. A loud CRASH is heard in the direction of the kitchen.
"AHA! Aye, avast! Eat lead, ye halfwits! The great and powerful Legolas shall rule ye with his mighty hand! He hast descendeth from on High to smite the mortals! He has smote the enemy on the mountainside. His blonde hair is brilliant; never again shall a mortal look upon him! All shall love me and despair, I shall smite thee!" Legolas screams. He has gone insane. I am sorry; we couldn't save him.
"What?" Eowyn screams. "Faramir, that was my antique china from Rohan. This is coming out of this show's income."
"But, we're on public Television! We don't have income!" Faramir says, hiding behind Boromir.
"Desendeth from on High? What the hell?" Boromir asks.
"Ye mortals have not the heart to stand up to Legolas the Mighty! Thee hast been killed by the Mighty Legolas! I shall lead the revolution! Long live the Republic! Down with the House of Stewards! Thine subjects have been subjects of smite! Thine people mournest thou!" Legolas screams, appearing on top of an overturned couch dressed like Napoleon.
"THEY HAVE A CAVE TROLL!" Boromir says; getting caught up in the moment.
"No, you foolish mortal! They haveth a cave troll. HAVETH!!" Legolas screms.
"THEY HAVETH A CAVE TROLL!" Boromir says.
"Much better."
"Smite me not, mighty Legolas. I willst follow your rule, thine subjects adorn thou!" Faramir says. Eowyn looks on.
"And you, shieldmaiden? What say you?" Legolas says.
"LINE STEALER!!!" Aragorn screams, trying to kill Legolas. He is restrained.
"Uh, oh mighty Legolas, release not your wrath upon a pathetic mortal like I!" Eowyn says, without much emotion.
"Fair maiden, what be your name?" Aragorn asks Eowyn. Why have I made everyone talk like freaks? Because!
"My name is Eowyn, mighty Lord." She says.
"May I ask if thou are married?" Aragorn asks.
"Nay, I am not." Eowyn says.
"I thought you were married to me!" Faramir says, shocked.
"No, you're too much of a pansy for me to like you. You got wounded and couldn't fight in battle. You're a wuss." Eowyn says. Nice, isn't she? Marendigell runs out and slaps Eowyn upside the head for bad-talking Faramir. She amazingly recovers.
"If I asked if thou would wed me, would thou do it?" Aragorn says.
"But of course!" Eowyn says.
"Will thou marry me?" Aragorn asks Eowyn.
"OF COURSE!!" Eowyn says, as the two go off to get married.
"Why? Why is it always me? It's always me!!!" Faramir moans.
"Hey, don't look at me!" Boromir says.
"Pathetic mortals, I leave thou." Legolas says, running away, screaming curses in French.
"I though I was going to wed the blonde chick?" Faramir says.
"Think again, man." Boromir says.
"Oh, well. I'm single, ladies, if anyone's interested." Faramir says, looking at the camera.
A/N: I bet some of you are interested!! Ha. So, you know what to do! Review! I need to know how many women are interested in marrying Faramir for use in another chapter! This chapter did nothing. And you learned how to speak like you're from the Olde English Period. Ye must be proud. Oh, gods, it's contagious! HELP ME!! Erm, sorry.