Act I
"One does not simply walk into Mordor," Boromir warned, "Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there, that does not sleep. And the great eye, is ever watchful. 'Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this; it is folly."
Boromir's speech was so vivid, Gandalf could practically smell the sulfur of Mount Doom. He then realized that he had accidentally let one slip. He prayed fervently that nobody else could smell it and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Aragorn's calm voice broke him from his reverie.
"Well, can we drive in? We could take your car."
"No! One does not simply walk or drive into Mordor!" By now Boromir was getting quite flustered, and the vein on his forehead throbbed visibly.
Quite confident that his gas was no longer detectable, Gandalf rose from his seat, slamming his staff onto the cobblestone a little more forcefully than he intended. He grunted a small apology before speaking.
"Boromir, stop being selfish. Your father got you a brand new SUV with nine seats and surround sound stereo."
"No, no, absolutely not! Do you have any idea what the condition of the road into Mordor is like? And don't even get me started on the roads in Mordor. Sauron hasn't had them paved in at least two thousand years, probably more. They're full of potholes and ditches, and I've already had to replace my rear axle twice. Do you know how much my insurance will go up if I damage it one more time?"
A bone-rattling scrape shattered the quiet of the courtyard, causing hobbits to cover their ears and birds to flee the surrounding trees, as Aragorn scooched his chair closer to Boromir's; Elrond looked on in horror as the lovely flagstone was marred with four deep scratches.
Aragorn put an arm around Boromir's shoulders. "Come on, buddy. The future of the world is at stake…"
Boromir crossed his arms over his chest and Aragorn could see that perhaps a bribe was in order. He pondered for several moments and was prepared to offer Pippin as a slave for a year before he thought of an even better, more tempting, idea.
"Boromir, if you drive us to Mordor…we'll let you hold the ring for five whole minutes."
"Deal."