Disclaimer: Monty Python and the Holy Grail, M.S.S., and LoTR belong to other people.

A/N: Italics in the story indicate thoughts or words in another language.

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            "Get the door," Saruman directed Wormtongue.  He wished he could say it was Domino's Pizza, but he knew that was not the case.  The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the mostly deserted tower, until opened the window above the entrance with a loud scraping sound.

            "Who is it?*" he called, as he looked upon the scene.  Théoden, Éomer, Gandalf, Aragorn, a dwarf, and an elf stood in front of the imposing door, while two hobbits and miscellaneous riders of Rohan stood on the ground at the foot of the steps.

            "It is I, Théoden, son of Thengel of the castle Meduseld in Edoras, King of the Mark, sovereign of all Rohan.  And these are my trusty companions, whom you know.  We have ridden the length and breadth of the land in search of you."

            Gandalf stepped forward.  "Go and fetch Saruman, since you have become his footman, Gríma Wormtongue!*"

            "Well, I'll fetch him, but I don't think he'll be very keen.  You see, he already has a plan to get out of here."  Gandalf had not expected that reply.

            "Are you sure?"

            "Oh yes, it's very nice."  Saruman and Muhammed had come down the stairs to stand behind Wormtongue, but out of sight of the observers on the ground.  "I told them we already have a plan," Gríma whispered to them.  Saruman smirked.  He was confident that he could escape this situation, and the more he could annoy Gandalf while doing it, the better.

            "Yes, we are winning without their help," added al-Sahaf.

            Gandalf needed to get control of the situation.  "If that is so, why don't you have Saruman come out and explain this plan?"

            "No, of course he will not do that.  You are unworthy types." Wormtongue sneered.  Théoden could not let that groveling worm get away with that comment.

            "Well, what are you, then?  And who is that beside you?" he asked, spotting Muhammed.

            "I'm the representative of Saruman.  Why do you think I have this outrageous audacity, you silly king?"

            "And I am Muhammed Saeed al-Sahaf, the Information Minister of Iraq.  We welcome you with bullets and shoes."

            "It wasn't supposed to go like this," thought Gandalf.  Only Gríma and Saruman were supposed to be in the tower, and he should be having an argument with the other wizard by now.  But Gandalf knew how to adapt to interesting situations.  He had faced a Balrog, and surely he could face an Iraqi.

            "What are you doing in Orthanc?" he asked, directing his question at the information minister.  Al-Sahaf started to go into his spiel about proclaiming truth to the oppressed, when Wormtongue interrupted him.

            "Mind your own business!" he shouted at Gandalf.

            "If you will not show us Saruman, we will take him by force."  The quiet tone of Gandalf and the way the sky darkened over where the wizard stood made even the riders uneasy, but Wormtongue paid him no heed.

            "You don't frighten us, Istari pig-dog.  I blow my nose at you, so-called Théoden, King.  You and all your silly Rohirric Riders."  Wormtongue began blowing raspberries.

            In front of the door, the white wizard and Aragorn exchanged glances.  "What a strange person," proclaimed the human.

            Al-Sahaf got into the act as well.  "We don't want to talk to you any more.  We are in control, and you are in a state of hysteria.  You are tarateer, men full of farts, because we will fart in your general direction.  Your mothers were wild donkeys, and your fathers smelled of leeches with dramatically ugly faces."

            "Is there someone else up there we can talk to?" queried Legolas.  He, more than any of the company, knew what wreckage a wizard's wrath could wreak, and he had no desire either to be caught near an angry Gandalf or to say that phrase three times fast.

            "No," retorted Wormtongue.  "Now go away, or I shall taunt you a second time."  He was having fun.  Gandalf, however, was not.  Before their eye, he seemed to grow in power, becoming as something terrible.

            "This is your last chance, Wormtongue.  I have been more than reasonable."  Gríma paled, hurriedly backed away from the window, and almost pushed Saruman forward.  "You've still got it in you, old boy," thought Gandalf happily.  "Go me."

* indicates a direct quote from The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 10, "The Voice of Saruman."

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Q: Did you mean to turn this into a Monty Python and the Holy Grail parody?

A: No! No! No! No! Well . . . yes.  Yeah, a bit.  A bit.  But "Who is it?" is a direct quote from the book, and when you already have a predisposition to see Monty Python quotes everywhere, you can't help but read it with an outrageous French accent as "Who eez eet?" and things just escalated from there.

A/N: Ok, people, I need your help.  I have the next chapter planned out, but after that I am not entirely sure what I want to do.  I wanted to get up to the scouring of the Shire, but I would have to come up with a story about how M.S.S., Saruman, and Wormtongue get from Orthanc to there, because I can't find it explained in the book.  Or, I could just gloss over it.  Am I drawing this fic out too far?  Also, would you prefer to see M.S.S. get returned to Earth, shifted into yet another reality, or left in the Shire?

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Thanks, reviewers!

French Pony – Yes, but Saruman deserves it.  I will try to get inside al-Sahaf's head in upcoming chapters, especially if I decide to leave him in the Shire.

Hana – Thanks for the rose.  I liked your comment about the nerve gas.

Queen Isis – I'm glad you like it.  The next chapter might be a few days in coming, but I won't stop writing.