Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR or any of its characters, or any giant theme park. If I said I did, would you believe me? I think not.
Chapter 12
You've Got A Friend In Me
"Ooooh, my aching feet!" Frodo complained as he and Sam walked back from Mordor toward the front of the park. Frodo and Sam looked completely exhausted as they dragged their big plastic feet down the path.
"Remind me to flog Aragorn when we get back. This is all his fault," Sam added, groaning as he rubbed his cheeks, which were turning a lovely shade of purple. "My cheeks will be sore for a month after all that pinching!"
"I know," commiserated Frodo. "Why are old women so enthralled with pinching our cheeks? I swear by Eru, tomorrow I am going to start pinching back!"
Sam stopped and stared a Frodo. "You mean to say that we have to do this AGAIN? Noooo."
The Hobbits continued limping down the path, until they came upon a figure lying prone in the grass, off to the side of the path.
"Boromir? Oh, no! Oh, poor, poor Boromir!" Frodo cried, dropping to his knees at the sight of Boromir lying prostrate on the ground, arrows protruding from his chest. "He's dead! They've killed him!" Frodo's eyes began welling up with tears.
"Dead men don't snore, Frodo," Sam said. Picking up a stick, Sam began to poke Boromir. 'Wake up! WAKE UP, you lazy son of a warg!"
"Huh...what?" Boromir opened his eyes and sat up, yawning and stretching. "Is it raining?"
"No. Frodo's crying again. Knock it off, Mister Frodo - he's not dead," Sam proclaimed, turning the stick on Frodo.
"Why does everyone keep insisting that I'm dead? I'm starting to get a complex!" Boromir said disgustedly. "What time is it?"
"Time to leave this place...our shift has ended."
"You can stop poking me now, Sam," Frodo said, trying to dodge the stick.
"Well, that wasn't so bad a task..." Boromir stretched and yawned again. "I didn't even have to break a sweat all day!"
"Lucky, lucky you. WE had to endure physical torture at the hands of shriveled old women. Therefore, I'll thank you to get up and get moving!" Sam yelled.
"You're still poking me, Sam," Frodo whined.
"I know, Mister Frodo. It's the most fun I've had all day. Want to try it, Boromir? He's rather squishy."
"No, I don't think so - perhaps another time. Right now, I'm as hungry as a bear. Mayhap we should try to find the others and get some food.' Boromir replied, standing and stretching yet again.
"You people are no fun," Sam grumbled, as Frodo snatched the stick from him and tossed it away.
The three began walking down the path again. "Carry me, Boromir?" asked Frodo, reaching his arms up toward Boromir. "My feet hurt terribly!"
"Yes! Come on, Boromir...you didn't have to do squat today but lay on your flabby behind while we had to work! Carry us!" Sam chimed in.
"Are you daft? I'm not carrying you. And my behind is NOT flabby," Boromir retorted, clearly affronted. "I'll have you know that many a maid has commented on its firmness!"
"Riiiggghhht...that's why you've been laying here all day unmolested, while Legolas has been charging about the park chased by hordes of women for the past eight hours. He past us twice!" Frodo giggled. "Come on, carry us!"
"No! I will absolutely NOT carry you, and I'll thank you not to compare me with that prissy Elf! I'm getting sick and tired of hearing 'Legolas this,' and 'Legolas that'...you'd think women had never seen blonde hair on an elf before!" Boromir looked quite disgusted.
"Carry us! Carry us!" the Hobbits screamed, jumping up and down, reaching their arms up at Boromir.
"NO!"
"Please! Please! Carry us!" begged the Hobbits, pulling on his turquoise and orange jerkin. "CARRY US!"
"Oh, for the love of Eru...anything to shut you up!" Boromir exclaimed, exasperated at the jumping, obstinate Hobbits. He bent down and picked them up.
"Is there no end to this indignity?" Boromir asked, looking down at the arrows which protruded from his chest and bobbed up and down with each step. "Stop wiggling about, or I'll drop you on your empty Hobbit heads!" he cried to the giggling, wriggling Hobbits. Walking down the path towards the park's entrance, he held each Hobbit under his arm like a sack of potatoes.
"I'm still going to flog Aragorn when I see him, " Sam said to Frodo from under Boromir's left arm.
"You'll have to stand in line," Boromir said.
Chapter 12
You've Got A Friend In Me
"Ooooh, my aching feet!" Frodo complained as he and Sam walked back from Mordor toward the front of the park. Frodo and Sam looked completely exhausted as they dragged their big plastic feet down the path.
"Remind me to flog Aragorn when we get back. This is all his fault," Sam added, groaning as he rubbed his cheeks, which were turning a lovely shade of purple. "My cheeks will be sore for a month after all that pinching!"
"I know," commiserated Frodo. "Why are old women so enthralled with pinching our cheeks? I swear by Eru, tomorrow I am going to start pinching back!"
Sam stopped and stared a Frodo. "You mean to say that we have to do this AGAIN? Noooo."
The Hobbits continued limping down the path, until they came upon a figure lying prone in the grass, off to the side of the path.
"Boromir? Oh, no! Oh, poor, poor Boromir!" Frodo cried, dropping to his knees at the sight of Boromir lying prostrate on the ground, arrows protruding from his chest. "He's dead! They've killed him!" Frodo's eyes began welling up with tears.
"Dead men don't snore, Frodo," Sam said. Picking up a stick, Sam began to poke Boromir. 'Wake up! WAKE UP, you lazy son of a warg!"
"Huh...what?" Boromir opened his eyes and sat up, yawning and stretching. "Is it raining?"
"No. Frodo's crying again. Knock it off, Mister Frodo - he's not dead," Sam proclaimed, turning the stick on Frodo.
"Why does everyone keep insisting that I'm dead? I'm starting to get a complex!" Boromir said disgustedly. "What time is it?"
"Time to leave this place...our shift has ended."
"You can stop poking me now, Sam," Frodo said, trying to dodge the stick.
"Well, that wasn't so bad a task..." Boromir stretched and yawned again. "I didn't even have to break a sweat all day!"
"Lucky, lucky you. WE had to endure physical torture at the hands of shriveled old women. Therefore, I'll thank you to get up and get moving!" Sam yelled.
"You're still poking me, Sam," Frodo whined.
"I know, Mister Frodo. It's the most fun I've had all day. Want to try it, Boromir? He's rather squishy."
"No, I don't think so - perhaps another time. Right now, I'm as hungry as a bear. Mayhap we should try to find the others and get some food.' Boromir replied, standing and stretching yet again.
"You people are no fun," Sam grumbled, as Frodo snatched the stick from him and tossed it away.
The three began walking down the path again. "Carry me, Boromir?" asked Frodo, reaching his arms up toward Boromir. "My feet hurt terribly!"
"Yes! Come on, Boromir...you didn't have to do squat today but lay on your flabby behind while we had to work! Carry us!" Sam chimed in.
"Are you daft? I'm not carrying you. And my behind is NOT flabby," Boromir retorted, clearly affronted. "I'll have you know that many a maid has commented on its firmness!"
"Riiiggghhht...that's why you've been laying here all day unmolested, while Legolas has been charging about the park chased by hordes of women for the past eight hours. He past us twice!" Frodo giggled. "Come on, carry us!"
"No! I will absolutely NOT carry you, and I'll thank you not to compare me with that prissy Elf! I'm getting sick and tired of hearing 'Legolas this,' and 'Legolas that'...you'd think women had never seen blonde hair on an elf before!" Boromir looked quite disgusted.
"Carry us! Carry us!" the Hobbits screamed, jumping up and down, reaching their arms up at Boromir.
"NO!"
"Please! Please! Carry us!" begged the Hobbits, pulling on his turquoise and orange jerkin. "CARRY US!"
"Oh, for the love of Eru...anything to shut you up!" Boromir exclaimed, exasperated at the jumping, obstinate Hobbits. He bent down and picked them up.
"Is there no end to this indignity?" Boromir asked, looking down at the arrows which protruded from his chest and bobbed up and down with each step. "Stop wiggling about, or I'll drop you on your empty Hobbit heads!" he cried to the giggling, wriggling Hobbits. Walking down the path towards the park's entrance, he held each Hobbit under his arm like a sack of potatoes.
"I'm still going to flog Aragorn when I see him, " Sam said to Frodo from under Boromir's left arm.
"You'll have to stand in line," Boromir said.