Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR or its characters, or a giant themepark. I'm poor. There, I've said it. The good news is, if I'm sued, all they can get is my pencil with the broken lead.
Chapter 4 Poor Unfortunate Souls
"Gimli," the guide said, flashing him her high wattage smile, "You stand right here, next to Treebeard. The guests will be sent into Fangorn in small groups. When they reach you, push this button," she continued, pointing to a large red button on a small panel hidden in a nearby bush. "This will activate Treebeard. When Treebeard has finished speaking, you should say something like, 'I am Gimli, son of Groin. Heed Treebeard's warning and leave this place!"
"It is GLOIN - son of GLOIN, not GROIN!" Gimli shouted, his face nearly purple with fury.
"Very good! But be sure to tell the guests to run, so that they will be gone before the next group arrives. And wave your axe around, too," the oblivious guide said, smiling cheerily.
She motioned for the rest of the group to follow her, and set off at a trot, leaving a sputtering Gimli behind.
Gimli continued to rage, greatly insulted by the slur on his father's name. "Groin, she says. GROIN! The wench would not be so careless in my presence if I had me real axe! She would show more respect of the mighty name of Gloin when I visited me axe on HER groin! Groin, indeed! Miserable, witless, warg-ugly tart! Worse than an Elf, that one!" He stomped about in a circle, frustrated at his inability to strike back at the insult.
Hearing movement coming in his direction, he ducked behind Treebeard. A few moments later, a group of six short men trouped up to the plastic Enk. They were all clad as Gimli was, in brown tunics and leggings, plastic helmets, and carrying plastic axes. All except one had white beards haphazardly glued to their chins. One wore wire-rimmed glasses.
"Dis here is da place," spoke the glasses wearing Dwarf to the others, motioning toward Treebeard. "We're supposed to meet up wit anudder guy here."
Looking around, a second Dwarf giggled, and said, "I don't see anyone. Come out, come out where ever you are!"
"I'm getting really tired of these games, Melvin," said a third Dwarf to the second, yawning. "I had a real late night with that brunette from the Mordor Cafe. I'm not about to be playing hide and seek with some little pansy who's too scared to come out of the bushes."
Gimli stepped out from being Treebeard, newly infuriated by the Dwarf's comments.
"I know not what a 'pansy' is, but I don't much like the sound of it!" he growled facing off with the sleepy Dwarf.
"Hold on, pal...he didn't mean anything by it. He's just cranky. Don't pay him no attention. I told him if he don't get enough sleep he's gonna get sick, but does he listen? Noooo!" said the glasses wearing Dwarf, stepping between Gimli and the sleepy Dwarf. "Knock it off, Irving!" he said, giving the sleepy Dwarf a little push backward.
"What? You think you're a doctor, now or something, Herman?" Irving said. "Look," he said, addressing Gimli, "I'm sorry, okay? Let's not get off on the wrong foot. "
"If that be an apology, I suppose I will accept it," Gimli said almost graciously.
"Good!" said yet another Dwarf. "I really hate working this kind of job when people aren't getting along. It's bad enough that they stuck me here in the Forest, what with my allergies and all." As if to illustrate this point, he let out a mighty sneeze. "I'm Frank. And that guy over there is Simon," he continued, pointing to a Dwarf standing a few feet away who was staring intently at his shoes, "he's a little bashful."
"Whoaaa, dudes!" spoke up the beardless Dwarf, "Like, we still got some time before the show starts, and like, we should light up a fattie and, like, get mellow..."
"Rodney, ya know you'll get fired if ya get caught doing dope onstage. Do ya wanna lose your job, ya moron? Do ya?" asked Herman, smacking Rodney upside the head.
Rodney sat on the ground, dazed. "Whoaa, dude! Not cool."
Melvin looked down at Rodney, covering his mouth with both hands, and giggling.
"Is he a half-wit?" Gimli asked Herman, hooking his thumb at Melvin. "Methinks he is a bit TOO happy."
Melvin stopped laughing, put his hands on his hips, and looked at Gimli. "My, aren't we grumpy, today."
"You ever work a gig like this before?" Irving asked Gimli, changing the subject. Seeing the blank look on Gimli's face, he continued, "It's a piece of cake. The guests come up this path and Ol' Treebeard goes into his routine. Then we shake our axes at 'em, and move 'em on out. It's really easy. You'll get the hang of it in no time."
"Places, people! Places!" the giggly Dwarf sang, clapping his hands, "It's ShowTime!"
"Eru, help me," whispered Gimli. He clutched his axe, and waited.
"
Chapter 4 Poor Unfortunate Souls
"Gimli," the guide said, flashing him her high wattage smile, "You stand right here, next to Treebeard. The guests will be sent into Fangorn in small groups. When they reach you, push this button," she continued, pointing to a large red button on a small panel hidden in a nearby bush. "This will activate Treebeard. When Treebeard has finished speaking, you should say something like, 'I am Gimli, son of Groin. Heed Treebeard's warning and leave this place!"
"It is GLOIN - son of GLOIN, not GROIN!" Gimli shouted, his face nearly purple with fury.
"Very good! But be sure to tell the guests to run, so that they will be gone before the next group arrives. And wave your axe around, too," the oblivious guide said, smiling cheerily.
She motioned for the rest of the group to follow her, and set off at a trot, leaving a sputtering Gimli behind.
Gimli continued to rage, greatly insulted by the slur on his father's name. "Groin, she says. GROIN! The wench would not be so careless in my presence if I had me real axe! She would show more respect of the mighty name of Gloin when I visited me axe on HER groin! Groin, indeed! Miserable, witless, warg-ugly tart! Worse than an Elf, that one!" He stomped about in a circle, frustrated at his inability to strike back at the insult.
Hearing movement coming in his direction, he ducked behind Treebeard. A few moments later, a group of six short men trouped up to the plastic Enk. They were all clad as Gimli was, in brown tunics and leggings, plastic helmets, and carrying plastic axes. All except one had white beards haphazardly glued to their chins. One wore wire-rimmed glasses.
"Dis here is da place," spoke the glasses wearing Dwarf to the others, motioning toward Treebeard. "We're supposed to meet up wit anudder guy here."
Looking around, a second Dwarf giggled, and said, "I don't see anyone. Come out, come out where ever you are!"
"I'm getting really tired of these games, Melvin," said a third Dwarf to the second, yawning. "I had a real late night with that brunette from the Mordor Cafe. I'm not about to be playing hide and seek with some little pansy who's too scared to come out of the bushes."
Gimli stepped out from being Treebeard, newly infuriated by the Dwarf's comments.
"I know not what a 'pansy' is, but I don't much like the sound of it!" he growled facing off with the sleepy Dwarf.
"Hold on, pal...he didn't mean anything by it. He's just cranky. Don't pay him no attention. I told him if he don't get enough sleep he's gonna get sick, but does he listen? Noooo!" said the glasses wearing Dwarf, stepping between Gimli and the sleepy Dwarf. "Knock it off, Irving!" he said, giving the sleepy Dwarf a little push backward.
"What? You think you're a doctor, now or something, Herman?" Irving said. "Look," he said, addressing Gimli, "I'm sorry, okay? Let's not get off on the wrong foot. "
"If that be an apology, I suppose I will accept it," Gimli said almost graciously.
"Good!" said yet another Dwarf. "I really hate working this kind of job when people aren't getting along. It's bad enough that they stuck me here in the Forest, what with my allergies and all." As if to illustrate this point, he let out a mighty sneeze. "I'm Frank. And that guy over there is Simon," he continued, pointing to a Dwarf standing a few feet away who was staring intently at his shoes, "he's a little bashful."
"Whoaaa, dudes!" spoke up the beardless Dwarf, "Like, we still got some time before the show starts, and like, we should light up a fattie and, like, get mellow..."
"Rodney, ya know you'll get fired if ya get caught doing dope onstage. Do ya wanna lose your job, ya moron? Do ya?" asked Herman, smacking Rodney upside the head.
Rodney sat on the ground, dazed. "Whoaa, dude! Not cool."
Melvin looked down at Rodney, covering his mouth with both hands, and giggling.
"Is he a half-wit?" Gimli asked Herman, hooking his thumb at Melvin. "Methinks he is a bit TOO happy."
Melvin stopped laughing, put his hands on his hips, and looked at Gimli. "My, aren't we grumpy, today."
"You ever work a gig like this before?" Irving asked Gimli, changing the subject. Seeing the blank look on Gimli's face, he continued, "It's a piece of cake. The guests come up this path and Ol' Treebeard goes into his routine. Then we shake our axes at 'em, and move 'em on out. It's really easy. You'll get the hang of it in no time."
"Places, people! Places!" the giggly Dwarf sang, clapping his hands, "It's ShowTime!"
"Eru, help me," whispered Gimli. He clutched his axe, and waited.
"