Monty Python's "There and Back Again"

[Thenamir]

I had a brainstorm (more like a light drizzle) in a separate thread. Take your favorite scene from The Hobbit or LOTR, and rewrite it as if it had been done by the Pythoners. Here's my example from the other thread: the scene is just after tea with Thorin & Co. at Bilbo's home -- instead of "Break the bowls and crack the plates, we could have this song instead:Thorin: Just think chaps! We're about to begin the quest to reclaim...The Lonely Mountain!
Dori: The Lonely Mountain!
Bifur: The Lonely Mountain!
Dwalin: (Muttering) It's only a model...
Thorin: Shhh! (A beat passes) Fellow questors, let us ride to...The Lonely Mountain!
(music begins, the dwarves begin to dance and sing)
We're dwarves of the Lonely Mountain
We're breaking all your porcelain
We bend your forks
Like ugly orcs
With intelligence uncertain
We dine well here at Bilbo's
We have toast and jam and Fritos!

We're dwarves of the Mountain Lonely!
Our mines are fine, not homely!
We craft our jools
And act like fools
But can't beat Smaug alone-ly!
We gotta find a burg-a-ler
And not a fearful grocer-ler!

[Mithalwen]

Bless you Thenamir - I thought that notion might have legs ....

All together now

"He's not King under the Mountain - he's a very naughty boy!"

[Eönwë]

I was thinking of a "Brave Sir Bilbo" song

Brave, brave sir Bilbo,
brought forth from the Shire
He was not afraid to die, no brave sir Bilbo
He was not in the least bit scared to squashed into jelly
Or to have his body minced, oh, brave Sir Bilbo,
To be roasted on a spit, until his body burns away,
Or be boiled in trolls' water, brave sir Bilbo

[Macalaure]

The sad thing about great ideas is, most of the times, somebody else had them before.....


Monty Python's: The Hobbit (http://www.xenocorp.net/H_bardCorner/mphobbit.htm)

Monty Python's: The Fellowship of the Ring (http://www.xenocorp.net/H_bardCorner/MPFotR.htm)

Monty Python's: The Two Towers (http://www.xenocorp.net/H_bardCorner/MPTTT.htm)

Monty Python's: The Return of the King (http://www.xenocorp.net/H_bardCorner/MPRotK.htm)

(Procrastination Disclaimer: If you intend to do anything productive over this weekend, I advise you to not click on any of these links.)

[Thenamir]

Ai! Oh, well...back to the creative drawing board...

This thread is dead.

No it isn't, it's just restin'.

I tell you this is an ex-thread.

No, no ,no, it's just pinin', pinin' away for the fjords...

[Bêthberry]

Of course it's Dead. This is the Downs.

But the fact that the Life of Brian had already been done did not stop the Pythons, did it?

And should the fact that some others have attempted this idea stop us?

Of course not. Because they weren't Downers and didn't do it "our" way. *cue Frank Sinatra*

After all,

Frodo: “Strange women lying in ponds distributing lilies is no basis for a system of government!”

Tom: “Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help! I'm being repressed!”

Merry: "And now for something completey different."

Sam: "Yes. Shrubberies are my trade. I am a shrubber. My name is Sam the Shrubber. I arrange, design, and sell shrubberies.”

Elrond: " “First you must find... another shrubbery! (dramatic chord). No, wait! I mean, another firery crack. Then, when you have found the shrubbery, I mean, firery crack, you must place it here, beside this cracked shrubbery, only slightly higher so you get a two layer effect with a little path running down the middle. ("A path! A path!") Then, you must throw it into the path of the crack... with... Herr's Ring!”

Gollem: “I'm not the Ring-bearer - I'm a very naughty boy.”

The Conceited Narrator: “This morning, shortly after 11 o’clock, comedy struck this little barrow in the Downs . Sudden, violent comedy.”

[Macalaure]

Why did I do this? I never wanted to be a thread-killer, I wanted to be... a lumberjack!

Everybody follow Bêthberry's advice. When I saw the thread, I just had to post those links. :)

[Morthoron]

Not wishing to demean the online productions of Monty Python's Hobbit, LotR, et al, but it seems to me they are only aping Python movie sequences and placing them wholesale into Tolkien's plot. Not a very creative exercise. Rather than real meat, we are left with Spam. Spam, Spam and more Spam.

I still like Thenamir's idea and would be glad to continue the concept.

A pythonesque scripting of the Hobbit does not require direct lifts from previous material...after all, it's only a model.

[Eönwë]

A pythonesque scripting of the Hobbit does not require direct lifts from previous material...after all, it's only a model.

Does that mean that they don't have to go to the Lonely Mountain. It is a silly place.

[Thenamir]

Gandalf: Master Elrond, who do you think we should send with Frodo to accompany him on his quest?

Elrond: I'd like Sam, Legolas, Sam, Sam, Aragorn, Sam, Sam, Sam, Gimli, Sam, and Sam, please.

Gandalf: Don't you think that's too much Sam?

Elrond: Well, it's got less Sam than Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam,
<dwarves begin singing>
Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam,
Wonderful Sam! Glorious Sam!

Gandalf (interrupting): Stop that! None of that! <muttering> Bloody dwarves...

[Morthoron]

Narrator: One morning long ago in the quiet of the world, when there was less noise and more green, the inestimable wizard Gandalf found himself once again at the brightly-painted, round door of the hobbit-hole at Bag-end. Smiling, he raps lightly at the door with his great staff.

*Knock Knock*

Voice from behind the door: 'Ooo is it?

Gandalf: It is I, Gandalf.

Voice from behind the door: 'Ooo?

Gandalf: [clearing his throat] Gandalf...it's Gandalf!

Voice from behind the door: Go 'way, there's nobody 'ome.

Gandalf: Nonsense! I can hear you as plain as day!

*Silence*

Gandalf: [now knocking more persistently] Open up this instant!

Voice from behind the door: We don't want any!

Gandalf: I'm not here to give anyone anything, dash it all! Open up, I wish to speak with Bilbo Baggins!

*Muttering and whispers from behind the door*

Voice from behind the door: 'Ees away on Holiday. Coom back next spring.

Gandalf: This is preposterous! Open up, I say! Open up or I shall turn you into something unpleasant!

*More muttering and whispers, then the door opens to reveal an old hobbit-hag*

Gandalf: Good morning.

Old Hag: Good mornin'? And what's good about it, I should like to know? What with strange old geezers with big, nasty sticks lurkin' about, threatenin' poor innocent folk. I told my 'usband the Shire was goin' to 'ell in a 'andbasket, but did 'ee listen...no!

Gandalf: [looking rather perturbed] By 'good morning' I merely meant to offer you a suitable greeting. I could just as well have said 'hello'.

Old Hag: Better to 'ave said goodbye and be done with it. Goodbye!

Gandalf: Now wait just a moment! Where is Bilbo Baggins? I demand to see him!

Old Hag: You...demand? Well aint that just like a filthy beggar to be puttin' on airs! All high and mighty and not a farthing to clean up those dirty gray rags. We'll just see about this...OTHO! O-T-H-O!

*A distiguished Hobbit appears at the door, wearing a green velvet smoking jacket and fez, and smoking a meerschaum*

Otho: See here, Lobelia, what's all this caterwauling about? You've interrupted my tea.

Lobelia: I'll interrupt more than your tea, you great lummox. This smelly old bugger won't leave. Says 'es 'ere to see Bilbo Baggins. Demandin' to do so, 'ee is!

Otho: Preposterous! Look here, my good man, what are you on about? It seems you've gone and confusticated and bebothered my good wife. The last time she was in such a state, she ended up burnin' the scones.

Lobelia: Scones, scones, scones...if it aint the tea, it's the scones. I get no appreciation 'round 'ere. *begins sobbing*

Otho: There, there, my dear, the last batch of scones was absolutely lovely. They were a triumph.

Lobelia: You...you think so?

Otho: A delight, my dear. Every bit as good as Beladonna Took's.

Gandalf: Excuse me...

Otho: What, are you still here? Be off with you, rapscallion, or I shall be forced to call the Shiriffs! There's laws against loitering I'll have you know.

Gandalf: [sighing in exasperation] Would you be so kind as to tell Bilbo Baggins that Gandalf is here. I was here only yesterday and spoke with him...

Lobelia: Ah, so it was you! Look, Otho, 'ees the one as scratched up the door with those queer markings. Must've used that nasty stick.

Otho: There's laws against defacing private property I'll have you know! You, sir, are a vagrant and a vandal!

Lobelia: Be off with you! Be off a'fore we sic the Bounders on ye!

*Lobelia hits Gandalf squarely in the nose with her bumbershoot*

Narrator: And so Gandalf, abashed by such a brazen attack on his Maiaric personage (albeit disguised in a corporeal manifestation to give him a less ethereal appearance), staggers in uncertainty away from the quaint hobbit-hole at Bag-end, little realizing that the conniving Sackville-Bagginses have been granted power-of-attorney by the high court in Michel Delving, and had poor Bilbo committed for reasons of rowing boats, being seen in the company of frolicking elves, feeding dwarves out of season, and generally behaving in a manner inconsistent with accustomed upper-class Hobbitish practices.

Tune in tomorrow for our next exciting chapter: Bilbo's Bail Out of Bounds

[Morthoron]

The March of the Naugrim of Ered Luin (In D minor...well...actually it's in C, but D minor is a more melancholy note and more appropriate for the basso and baritone voices of the Dwarves; unfortunately, marches of this sort require the diatonic scale and a major chord for the horns and such...)

Narrator: Ahem...

(Oh yes, sorry...without further ado, The March of the Naugrim of Ered Luin, which I patterned off the works of John Phillip Sousa, who is American, I know, but who derived much of his material from English influences....)

Narrator: GET ON WITH IT!

(Yes, certainly...bugger)

BUM-BUM-BUM, BA-BA-BA-BUM-BUM-BUM, BUM-BUM-BUM, BA-BA-BA-BUM-BUM-BUM...

We are the dwarves -- of Thorin's band
Our greedy thoughts now often linger
On the gleam of our gold -- in a far-away land
That slipped right through our stubby fingers
But it weren't our fault -- no, not the least
With Smaug in our vaults -- such a fiery beast
We swallowed our pride and started to run
As he burnt all our kin to kingdom come (repeated by Balin the dwarf in baritone: burnt all our kin to kingdom come)

BUM-BUM-BUM, BA-BA-BA-BUM-BUM-BUM, BUM-BUM-BUM, BA-BA-BA-BUM-BUM-BUM

We are the dwarves -- off to Erebor
We are fierce and full of chutzpah
We are the dwarves -- we're three times four (Dumplin: plus me!)
And our names come from the Völuspá
We shall not cease --nor raise a flagon
'Till we’re either deceased -- or kill the dragon
Then count up the swag when the job is done
And get so sloshed that our beards go numb (repeated by Bombur the dwarf in basso: get so sloshed that our beards go numb)

BUM-BUM-BUM, BA-BA-BA-BUM-BUM-BUM, BUM-BUM-BUM, BA-BA-BA-BUM-BUM-BUM

We are the dwarves -- all revenge and desire
We may be short but we're not lagging
We are the dwarves -- and we're in the Shire
To find a burglar the name of Baggins
And by Gandalf's request -- we'll take him for hire
To join in our quest -- If the blighter desires
He’ll get his share when the deed is done
Under contract for a percentage sum (repeated by Dumplin the dwarf in falsetto: dear little Bilbo with the nice tight bum)

*Brief pause to regroup*

BUM-BUM-BUM, BA-BA-BA-BUM-BUM-BUM...

Under contract for a percentage sum...

BUM-BUM-BUM, BA-BA-BA-BUM-BUM-BUM...

Under contract for a percentage s-u-u-u-u-u-m-m-m-m!

Narrator: Very nicely done!

(You don't think the mention of the Völuspá -- an Icelandic Poetic Edda composed by Snorri Sturluson, circa 1220 A.D. -- is too esoteric a reference for our viewing audience?)

Narrator: Not at all; in fact, I'm sure no one is even paying attention to the lyrics. It's the flashy special effects and the buckets of blood and gore they'll be looking for.

(Oh...alright then)

[Morthoron]

In regards to the casting of an epic of such pythonesque proportions, whom do you think would play the roles from the Hobbit? Obviously, the Python crew is getting on in age (with one cast member sadly deceased), but let's suppose they did a Hobbit send-up right after their Holy Grail send-up. In keeping with Python's flare for multiplicity, each fellow would have several roles in the film:

Gandalf -- Graham Chapman most likely (the 'Charlton Heston' of the group); or perhaps John Cleese.

Bilbo -- Michael Palin? He has sort of that wide-eyed innocence.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins -- A small part, but I can think of none other than Terry Jones in drag (like his role as Brian's mother) stealing Bilbo's spoons.

Thorin -- Tough one. Any suggestions?

Elrond -- John Cleese as the world-weary Master of the Last Homely House, bored to tears with all the Elvish frivolity (immortality does have its downside, after all).

The Trolls -- A stuttering, cockney Eric Idle, a mumbling Terry Gilliam and perhaps Terry Jones.

Gollum -- Terry Gilliam. No one in the group can distort his face in such a manner as to look disfigured without make-up.

Beorn -- Again, either Chapman or Cleese.

Thranduil -- An effeminate Graham Chapman bedecked in a laurel wreath of autumn leaves.

Bombur -- Well, Terry Jones played a morbidly obese diner in 'The Meaning of Life'.

The Voice of Smaug -- John Cleese? I am sure Terry Gilliam would do the animation.

Thoughts?

[Hstaphath]

Narrator: Very nicely done!

(You don't think the mention of the Völuspá -- an Icelandic Poetic Edda composed by Snorri Sturluson, circa 1220 A.D. -- is too esoteric a reference for our viewing audience?)

Narrator: Not at all; in fact, I'm sure no one is even paying attention to the lyrics. It's the flashy special effects and the buckets of blood and gore they'll be looking for.

(Oh...alright then)

Excellent! You have my attention, at least. :cool:

[Morthoron]

Excellent! You have my attention, at least. :cool:

*The Dark Elf bows*

Hmmm...it seems I've stirred up the spirit of a previous Monty Python production (the Ghost of Hobbitses' Past, I guess you could say). I am glad to have...ummm...maintained your interest. ;)

By the way, nice website you have:

http://www.xenocorp.net/H_bardCorner/xcbard.htm

[Eönwë]

Maybe you could do "The Life of Bilbo" when actaully the person who Gandalf asked for was "Milmo, the son of a Took" (or something along those lines) but he had a cold at the time.

[Morthoron]

Maybe you could do "The Life of Bilbo" when actaully the person who Gandalf asked for was "Milmo, the son of a Took" (or something along those lines) but he had a cold at the time.

Naw, as I stated previously, I don't think doing direct lifts from Python skits is the way to go (particularly since Mr. Hstaphath has done such an admirable job of that in his version of the story). Think 'Pythonesque', not 'Montyfactual'. Consider Python themselves, they did not repeat gags from one movie to the next, but it all had a certain...a special....

[MUSIC]

FATHER: Stop that, stop that! You're not going to do a song while
I'm here. Now listen lad, in twenty minutes you're getting married to
a girl whose father owns the biggest tracts of open land in Britain.
HERBERT: But I don't want land.
FATHER: Listen, Alex,--
HERBERT: Herbert.
FATHER: Herbert. We live in a bloody swamp. We need all the land we
can get.
HERBERT: But I don't like her.
FATHER: Don't like her?! What's wrong with her? She's beautiful,
she's rich, she's got huge... tracts of land.

Ummm...sorry, digressing. What were we talking about again?

[Eönwë]

The thing is Morthoron, there are is always a MOnty Python quote for every occasion.

A short post. No, thats not me!:

Me with dwarvish accent: My record is scratched
The Barrow-Wight: No no, this is a forum!
Me: Ah! My forum is scratched.

(I dare not go on)

[Hstaphath]

Hmmm...it seems I've stirred up the spirit of a previous Monty Python production (the Ghost of Hobbitses' Past, I guess you could say). I am glad to have...ummm...maintained your interest.

I am but the shade of the Bard that Was... destined to wander along the haunted paths of Tolkien and Python... to linger wherever those roads should chance to cross.

You've started off wonderfully and I am anxious to see how you get along with this. It is the Pythonesque sort of retelling that, though I enjoy it very much myself, I only dabbled in while writing my parodies. Only a handful of the scenes I wrote were truly Pythonesque rather than Montyfactual, as you rightly put it. ;)

Speaking of Pythonesque and Tolkien, this is rather good:
http://fan.theonering.net/writing/stories/files/kyriel_monty15.html

Everybody follow Bêthberry's advice. When I saw the thread, I just had to post those links.

I, as well, agree with Bêthberry! Otherwise, everyone would be named "Bruce" before you could grab your egg and fours.

By the way, thanks for the "shout-out" Macalaure. :cool:

[Morthoron]

I am but the shade of the Bard that Was...

Hmmm...a rather melancholy minstrel in the gallery, or perhaps a marred bard? Well, you know what they say...some things in life are bad, they can really make you mad; other things just make you swear and curse. When you're chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble, give a whistle, and this'll help things turn out for the best...ummm...sorry, drifting again.

You've started off wonderfully and I am anxious to see how you get along with this. It is the Pythonesque sort of retelling that, though I enjoy it very much myself, I only dabbled in while writing my parodies. Only a handful of the scenes I wrote were truly Pythonesque rather than Montyfactual, as you rightly put it. ;)

I am waiting to see if anyone else is going to join in.

*The Dark Elf holds up a large placard with the embossed words 'SUBTLE HINT'*

[Bêthberry]

Frodo, aka Silly Walker: I have a silly walk and I'd like to obtain a Gondor grant to develop it.

Boromir: Now wait a minute. One does not simply silly walk into Gondor.

Frodo: Well, you're obviously the cruel heartless bastard.

Elrond: Behold Frodo's Bane!

Boromir: Now wait a minute. I was not sent to spend any money, simply to seek the meaning of a riddle.

Sam: *off side* I"m the sweet, slightly ineffective lower middle class one.

Frodo: Four hundred years ago Isildur died for want of a silly walk. Now I'm suggesting we make an advance.

Aragorn: An advance? One does not simply make silly advances to lovely ladies.

Gimli: You learnt that when she turned you into a newt?

Aragorn: Oyi, but I got better.

Frodo: It's my duty as the Silly Walker to sample as much peril as I can.

Gandalf: Okay, but it'll only be a flesh wound.

exit stage left, followed by a little bit of peril

[Eönwë]

exit stage left, followed by a little bit of peril

Frodo (appearing suddenly): Hey, I want a bit of peril!

Elrond: who was hiding behind a chair the whole time: No, its lucky I saved you!

Frodo: Well, you have a ring of your own!

Elrond: No I don't.. well... I do, but you're not supposed to know that.

[Bêthberry]

Frodo (appearing suddenly): Hey, I want a bit of peril!

Elrond: who was hiding behind a chair the whole time: No, its lucky I saved you!

Frodo: Well, you have a ring of your own!

Elrond: No I don't.. well... I do, but you're not supposed to know that.

Frodo: Ohh, let me see yours. Is it as nice as mine?

Elrond: No, you can't have it. It's not healthy.

Frodo: You're gay, aren't you?

Elrond. No, that was Priscilla.

[Morthoron]

An Unexpected Party, Part I

Narrator: And so Gandalf, having conjured up a writ of Habeas Corpus (as well as disintegrating the stubborn judge's gavel with a flash of lightning), managed to secure Bilbo Baggins' release from unlawful detention. The Sackville-Bagginses were, of course, sacked, and the relieved Bilbo once again found himself alone in the cozy environs of his quaint hobbit hole. Setting a kettle on the hob, Bilbo sat back in his chair and gingerly nibbled a biscuit.

*Knock, knock*

Bilbo: Now who can that be? Ah yes, it's Wednesday, and Gandalf said he'd be by.

*Opens the door*

Bilbo: Greetings Gandalf, how are...wait a moment, who the 'ell are you?

Dwalin: Dwalin at your service. [the dwarf in a dark-green cape bows grandly]

*Uncomfortable silence*

Dwalin: I am here for a meeting.

*Uncomfortable silence*

Dwalin: Errr...At Gandalf's request.

Bilbo: Right...in you go then. I'm about to take tea and have some cakes, would you care to join me?

Dwalin: I thought you would never ask. I am starving.

*The dwarf hangs up his cape on a peg and bowls Bilbo over in a rush to reach the cakes*

*Knock, knock*

Bilbo: [Picking himself off the ground] Excuse me, Dwalin, I'll be right with you! [opens the door] Gandalf, I really...

*A white-haired dwarf in a scarlet hood bows*

Balin: Greetings! Balin at your service! Ah, I can see by the green hood that they have begun to arrive! Is that seed-cake I smell? Don't worry, I'll help meself. I hope you have some beer in your cellar.

*Balin puts his hood on a peg next to Dwalin's and storms off down the hallway*

Bilbo: [pitifully] They? Begun to arrive?

*Knock, knock*

Bilbo: This better damn well be Gandalf!

*Two more dwarves force their way through Bilbo's door, hanging two blue hoods on the pegs*

Fili and Kili: We are Fili and Kili at your...

Bilbo: Yes, yes, you're at my bloody service. Off with you then.

*The two dwarves stamp down the hall*

*Knock, knock*

Bilbo: Oh for the love of...

*Bilbo opens the door to find a dwarf in a pink hood*

Dumplin: HI! You must be Bilbo! Oooh, such an erotic name. I am Dumplin, at your service. [winks]

*Bilbo opens his mouth to speak, but is speechless*

Dumplin: I'll just follow the others and get a bite to eat. Do you have a latte? Oh, never mind, I'll make some myself. Oh my dear, we have so much to talk about. I am intrigued by hobbits and their big feet. You know what they say... [winks again]

*The dwarf pinches Bilbo's bottom as he passes*

*knock, knock*

Bilbo: What the...

*A horde of dwarves in variously colored hoods mob his doorway*

Bilbo: And just who are all of you?

Gloin: We are the dwarves of limited speaking roles, at your service. Bit actors and carnies mostly. There's so few decent parts for we dwarves as of late, what with CG animation taking away all the Oompaloompa roles in Charlie and the Chocolate factory.

Dori: That Tim Burton bastard.

Gloin: At least this gig pays union scale, and is not some dwarf-tossing event at the local county fair.

Dori: Dwarf-bowling's even worse.

Bilbo: [rolls eyes] Come in, come in...I am Bilbo Baggins...at your service! The rest of your herd are already raping my pantry. What's a few more?

*The dwarves cheer and swarm over Bilbo, and soon there is the sound of clinking mugs and cracking plates*

*knock, knock*

Bilbo: Oh, please be Gandalf!

*An immensely fat dwarf stands panting on Bilbo's porch*

Bilbo: And you are?

Bombur: Hungry!

Bilbo: Of course you are. Come on in! I am sure there are a few cattle I can wrangle up for you.

Narrator: And so, a dismayed Mr. Baggins goes about serving the ravenous dwarves, who have started eating the rush seats off his kitchen chairs.

[Morthoron]

An Unexpected Party, Part II

Narrator: Even with the eventual arrival of Gandalf the Gray and Thorin Oakenshield, an immensely important leader of the dwarves (and quite nattily attired, I must say), the ransacking of Bilbo's hobbit-hole continued unabated.

*Sounds of tables overturning, glass breaking and drunken laughter*

Bilbo: Please be careful with that...

*A dwarf hurls a plate like a Frisbee to another dwarf sitting across the table*

Bilbo: Don't use that one, please, it's my Battle of Greenfields Bicentennial Commemorative mug!

* A dwarf crushes the mug against his forehead*

Dwalin: More ale, Bilbo!

Balin: And more cakes!

Bombur: And more meat!

Dumplin: And more cleavage! [the dwarf ogles Bilbo's opened collar]

Bilbo: [quickly buttoning his shirt] Please, my good dwarves, please do be more careful!

*The Dwarves break out into song*

Chip the glasses and break the plates
Carve obscenities into the table
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates
Plunder the cupboards and switch the labels

Spread grease upon the kitchen walls
Vomit all over the welcome mat
Play rugby up and down the hall
Break the bottles and bury the cat [a cat shrieks]

Burn the tapestries, molest the sheep [plaintive bleating]
Piddle down the cellar stairs
That's what makes poor Bilbo weep
Torture the houseplants and crucify hares [quick animation of a rabbit on a cross with a Gregorian chant as background music]

*Gandalf's mighty voice rises above the din like thunder*

Gandalf: Enough! That will be quite enough of that!

*A dwarf falls from a chandelier*

Gandalf: [In a more businesslike manner] Now, we have urgent business to attend to...

[Bêthberry]

*Bethberry steps in briefly with an observation*

This is sounding entirely too much like Withnail and I (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Withnail_and_I). I do hope Gandy won't turn out to be an Uncle Monty.

[Morthoron]

*Bethberry steps in briefly with an observation*

This is sounding entirely too much like Withnail and I (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Withnail_and_I). I do hope Gandy won't turn out to be an Uncle Monty.

*Shrugs*

I've never seen the movie (to be honest, I've never heard of it until you mentioned it -- blame it on my American naivety), but I take it your comment is entirely negative in that regard. Reading the summarization of the plot, I'm not seeing the similarities.

And no, based on the summarization I don't believe Gandalf will bear a resemblance to 'Uncle Monty', although I do see the part filled by Graham Chapman (who was of course gay in real life, but rarely played one in MP skits).

[Bêthberry]

*Shrugs*

I've never seen the movie (to be honest, I've never heard of it until you mentioned it -- blame it on my American naivety), but I take it your comment is entirely negative in that regard. Reading the summarization of the plot, I'm not seeing the similarities.

And no, based on the summarization I don't believe Gandalf will bear a resemblance to 'Uncle Monty', although I do see the part filled by Graham Chapman (who was of course gay in real life, but rarely played one in MP skits).

Oh dearie me, referencing a movie from too long ago for the newer members. I did see Withnail and I in North America at an American movie chain theatre, so am quite positive it did have an NA release. And so now, faced with the humiliation of having to explain it all.... ah, ah, well. You are incorrect, though, that my observation was negative. So that's two strikes against my post. Might as well give up and return to silent lurking . . . :p

Carry on, gang. ;)

[Morthoron]

So that's two strikes against my post. Might as well give up and return to silent lurking . . . :p

No, I can appreciate criticism, I just didn't understand the context it was framed in. After all, I would hate to think my posts were derivative...

Ummm...other than the bold-faced mimicry of the style of a satiric comedy troop making a farcical movie that apes a fantasy story (allegorical only on a subsumed basis) which contains elements of pre-existing mythology and a faint veneer of Catholicity.

Other than that, there should be nothing derivative whatsoever. ;)

[Morthoron]

An Unexpected Party, Part III

Narrator: Gandalf, having quieted the rabble-rousing dwarves, gave the floor to the immensely important dwarf, Thorin Oakenshield, who got his nick by swatting Orcs with the branch of an oak tree, which, of course, bears little resemblance to a shield (either the round buckler variety or the more substantial medieval heater shield)...

Thorin: Ahem...

Narrator: Oh yes, please begin.

Thorin: We are gathered here on this most auspicious of occasions to discuss, debate and otherwise converse in a high-minded and grave manner regarding the pitfalls, perils and myriad dangers the journey which we shall be soon undertaking is so decidedly fraught with...

Bilbo: [whispering to Gandalf] Does he always talk like that?

Gandalf: [whispering back to Bilbo] Shhhh! It's far better than his singing!

Thorin: ...Death will be a welcomed release for many of us who choose to trod on this most hazardous adventure...

Bilbo: [whispering to Gandalf] God, I'm glad I have no part in this.

Thorin: ...And I am most grateful that our newly-hired burglar has chosen to risk his very life and limb for we dwarves in the pursuit of our lost legacy...

Bilbo: [whispering to Gandalf] Hah, what idiot would go and risk his life for a bunch of flea-bitten dwarves?

Thorin: And so, my good dwarves, three cheers for Mr. Bilbo Baggins!

Bilbo: Wha?

Dwarves: HUZZAH! HUZZAH! HUZZAH!

Bilbo: I beg your pardon, but...

Thorin: And now I believe it's time for a song!

Gandalf: Oh no, not another song!

Thorin: [Blows a pitch pipe, but hums off-key] Ahem, excuse me...

*Thorin begins singing in a deep, rich tone*

In caverns deep in days of old
We built our keeps of solid gold
Labor was cheap, we bought and sold
With laissez-faire our motto

The market trade went up and down
But we got paid in golden crowns
The arms we made gained high renown
And booty filled our grottoes

Never hunted deer or herded sheep
We had kegs of beer and slabs of meat
Men supplied near all we could eat
And Hobbits sent po-ta-toes

But in every dwarf’s life a little rain must fall
And that is why it does us well to recall…

Hit it…

*The dwarves break out saxes, trumpets, trombones, tubas, banjos and harmonicas seemingly from thin air and start playing a swing-blues number*

This here’s the story ‘bout Smaug the Deathless
His breath so fiery it’d leave you breathless
He was the meanest old dragon spawn
And he burnt up the dwarves until we was gone

Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)
Us dwarves are sho’ 'nuf' po' (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)
Oh-Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho
It’s off to work we go (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)

He went and ‘et up the King under the mountain
He’s gone and defiled our drinking fountains
He drove us dwarves so far, far away
We sing the Lonely Mountain Blues till this very day

Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)
Us dwarves are sho’ ‘nuf po’ (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)
Oh-Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho
So it’s off to work we go (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)

Now we is exiled, and wherever we roam
We aint got no hearth, we aint got no home
Now we’s off on our journey ‘ere the break of day
To find that buggerin’ old Smaug and make him pay

Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)
Us dwarves are sho’ ‘nuf po’ (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)
Oh-Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho
So it’s off to work we go (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)

Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)
It’s off to work we go (Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho)
Oh-Hi-ho hi-ho hi-ho
Us dwarves are sho’ ‘nuf po’
Sho’ ‘nuf
Sho’ ‘nuf
Sho’ ‘nuf po’

[Thenamir]

"One-eyed dark lords distributing rings is no basis for a system of government..."

[Morthoron]

Roast Mutton, Part I

Narrator: Bilbo awoke the next morning with a pounding headache. All the previous night the dwarves and Gandalf had spoken in low whispers regarding the dragon, Smaug, of the far-off Lonely Mountain, and the burgling of the treasure that was to be done by the reluctant Bilbo.

Bilbo: Thank goodness, it was all a bad dream! Probably brought on by an undigested bit of beef.

*A scantily clad hobbit-maid enters Bilbo's bedchamber bearing a tray with hot tea and a steaming breakfast*

Bilbo: Hello...who are you?

Bawdy: Don't be silly, dear Bilbo! I am Bawdy...Bawdy Brandybuck, the contractually obligatory Hollywood love-interest. One can't very well have an epic movie now-a-days without a love interest, even if it has no bearing on the story itself, nor has anything whatsoever to do with the original plot.

*A quick shot of Dumplin the dwarf, who says: "But I thought I was the contractually obligatory Hollywood love-interest!"*

Bilbo: I see...

Bawdy: Yes, and I've practiced my forlorn, teary-eyed face all weekend for when you depart on your silly adventure. See?

*Bawdy makes a forlorn, teary-eyed face*

Bilbo: Yes, of course. Nicely done.

Bawdy: Thank you. One can almost sense me pining, can't one?

Bilbo: Right.

Bawdy: Would you like to see the winsome, sultry face I'll be doing for the flashback sequences?

Bilbo: No, that won't be necessary. Look, who did you say you were again?

Bawdy: I am Bawdy Brandybuck, your cousin twice-removed on your mother's side, and thrice removed on your father's. I guess you could say I have a little of you in me at both ends. [smiles wistfully]

Bilbo: [mouth agape] Right.

Bawdy: Oh dear, I had almost forgotten, Gandalf left you a letter...

*Bilbo snatches the letter and quickly rips it open*

Gandalf: My Dearest Bilbo: By now you will have realized that last night was not, in fact, a dream, but rather the beginning of a long, hard road...

*Bawdy tossles Bilbo's hair*

Gandalf: We shall endeavor to throttle the serpent with both hands...

*Bawdy caresses Bilbo's leg and gives him a peck on the cheek*

Gandalf: We must come at him with everything we've got...

*Bawdy kisses Bilbo's neck*

Gandalf: We shall not finish until the deed is done...

*Bilbo reaches over to kiss Bawdy*

Gandalf: BILBO! ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION?

*Bilbo snaps out of his reverie and continues reading*

Gandalf: Now, you are already late, it's almost noon and the dwarves and I have already started our march. You must leave immediately!

Bilbo: Drat!

Gandalf: AND NO BACK TALK!

*Bilbo sighs, pushes Bawdy aside and hurriedly starts dressing*

Bawdy: [distressed] But, but you can't go yet...we haven't...haven't...

Bilbo: [distractedly, as he pulled on his breeches] Haven't what?

Bawdy: We haven't...bumped uglies.

Bilbo: [Still distracted] Well, I'm sorry, m'dear, I've no time for bumping uglies or bumping anything else for that matter. Gandalf is a wizard, after all, and he's far too dangerous when he is angered. Now, goodbye my dear, I must run!

Bawdy: BILBO! [Gives her best forlorn, teary-eyed face]

*Bilbo runs out the door without so much as a good-bye*

Bawdy: Blimey! Well, if that don't beat all!

*Bawdy lays back in the bed and sighs*

Bawdy: Alright Gaffer, you can come out now.

*Gaffer Gamgee jumps out of a wardrobe and falls into the waiting arms of Bawdy*

Narrator: And so Bilbo has run off on his adventure, leaving poor Bawdy Brandybuck...errrr...pining in the bedchamber. As Biblo runs panting along the road, he realizes that in his haste to be away, he has left many important items behind, essentials that he is never without when off on a journey: his walking stick, his handkerchiefs, his handy shaving kit with travel toothbrush and nose-hair tweakers. But worst of all...he has forgotten to bump uglies!

Bilbo: ARRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!

[Morthoron]

ROAST MUTTON, PART II

Narrator: Thus, Bilbo and the dwarves trudged off and left the heart of the Shire (with Gandalf astride a great white horse leading the way.)

Bombur: Why's 'ee get to ride a horse while we walk?

Narrator: Because that particular stallion was the only one the production team could afford with this film's limited budget. Would you like a pair of coconut shells to simulate the clip-clop of horse's hooves?

Bombur: Ummm...what's a coconut?

Narrator: Never mind. As I was saying, the determined group of travelers left the Shire. Minutes turned into hours, hours into days, and it became very cold and wet, and the lands became strange and rather empty (hence, I suppose, why one calls them the 'Lonelands'). It was getting on towards evening, and the rain was becoming torrential. Cold, bedraggled and soaking, the intrepid group of adventurers decided to stop for the night.

Balin: Drat! I can't seem to light a fire.

Dwalin: Could be because everything's sopping wet.

Thorin: [Rolls eyes] You think? By the way, where's that confounded Gandalf ran off to?

Balin: I haven't seen him for hours.

Bombur: Probably was the only one who got proper accomodations due to the production team's limited budget. Pffft!

Bilbo: [Sighing] Well, it would help if he were here.

Balin: Why? Is he flammable?

Bilbo: Yes...no...I mean he's very adept with fireworks, perhaps he could get a fire started.

Thorin: That's all very well, Mr. Baggins, but it seems the wizard has flown the coop, and we'll just have to rely on our own vast expertise. We dwarves are very resourceful in the wild, you know.

[Thorin and Bilbo watch in dismay as Balin and Dwalin blow furiously on logs immersed in a puddle]

Bilbo: I wish I'd brought my Zippo.

Thorin: Is that some newfangled Hobbitish invention?

Bilbo: No, actually it's my cousin, Zippo Baggins. Very good at starting fires; unfortunately, he was arrested for arson in Hobbiton....

Bombur: Hey, look over there! I think I see a light, there through the trees!

Thorin: I do believe you are right, Bombur. Why, it looks like a bonfire! Fili, Kili, I want you to go investigate immediately.

[Silence]

Thorin: Well? Aren't you going to answer me!

Gloin: Sorry chief, as union steward for the dwarves with limited speaking roles, I must tell you that, contractually, Fili and Kili have already used their single line of dialogue for this film. You'll just have to get someone else to do it.

Thorin: Cursed unions! Ah well, Mr. Baggins, I suppose you had better go and reconnoiter the situation. We're not paying you to sit about when there's burgling and...reconnoitering...to be done.

Bilbo: But you haven't paid me anything!

Thorin: Nonsense! You've eaten our food, haven't you?

Bombur: Not to mention loungin' in these here deluxe accomodations!

Bilbo: But I am cold and wet!

Dumplin: Never you worry, Bilbo dear, I'll keep you warm. [bats his eyes]

Bilbo: Right then. I'll be off.

Narrator: Stay tuned for further adventure in the third part of Roast Mutton, right after a message from our sponsor, Johnson's New and Improved Navel Cleaner:

Way down in your belly button
There's such a nasty clog of lint
That your wife is knitting stockings
And hasn't even made a dent.
And your friends call you Rapunzel
Perhaps you really should get the hint
Buy a product that dissolves your problem
It shall certainly be money well spent....
NEW AND IMPROVED NAVEL CLEANER!
Look for the bright blue scoop today!
By Johnson's (a Fungal Pharmaceutical Company)!

[Morthoron]

ROAST MUTTON, PART III

Narrator: Bilbo set off to discover the source of the strange light in the woods, followed for a bit by the dwarves (who didn't wish to appear cowardly, nor miss out on a chance to bag some easy swag, if the proper circumstances presented themselves). Needless to say, after a long trek through the bracken and brush (and grumbling all the way), the dwarves stopped a goodly distance from their goal, leaving Bilbo the burglar to practice his appointed profession without their interference, but not until Thorin gave Bilbo some sage advice:

Thorin: Now, be careful, but do not hesitate.

Bilbo: Yes.

Thorin: Just get a lay of the land, so to speak, and then come back.

Bilbo: Alright then.

Thorin: But don't take overlong.

Bilbo: Certainly.

Thorin: If trouble should arise, make three short warbles like a rosebreasted grosbeak, and then a series of mating calls like the male piping plover.

Balin: We shall answer in the antiphonal duetting of a bobwhite quail.

Bilbo: Ummm...huh? Do what with a which?

Thorin: Off you go then.

Narrator: Bilbo slunked stealthily through the woods towards the mysterious light, not even daring to breathe. As he approached the clearing, Bilbo indeed saw a roaring bonfire and three figures of giant stature gnawing on great, greasy legs of roast mutton. Even though he had never seen one, Bilbo was convinced these were trolls based on their tremendous size and their gruff voices speaking in a vulgar language that was almost foreign to Bilbo. Even now, the trolls were engaged in an argument:

William: ...but Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy, with its reverent platonism, certainly had a direct effect on Thomistic Scholasticism and even on the works of Chaucer.

Bert: Yes, yes, you and your neoplatonist platitudes. Boethius' work has been largely rejected for a more Aristotleian view, and a modern emphasis on material productiveness.

Tom: Not to mention Boethius' inward looking virtues -- quite foreign these days.

Bert: Yes, that's precisely what I am saying.

William: Yet it is noble to eschew worldly goods such as money and power, and to seek instead internalized virtues.

Bert: But nobility will not feed an empty stomach, Bill m'dear; the more practical applications of Aristotle and the rational search for meaning found in his scientific method...

William: Bah! The scientific method! Just another means by which the military-industrial complex foists its technocracy on the proletariat, subjugating the masses in industrial thrall with the nodding consent of the pretentious bourgeoisie!

Bert: Bloody Marxist Franciscan swine!

William: Capitalist Jesuit hyena!

[The trolls start bashing each other with branches]

Narrator: While the trolls fought among themselves, Bilbo saw a chance to practice his burgling skills, noticing that a large purse was hanging enticingly from William's pocket.

Bilbo: [Talking to himself] Easy now, Bilbo, just slip the purse from the pocket and sneak back to the dwarves, no worse for the wear...

Purse: [in a voice reminiscent of Maurice Chevalier] Vat ees thees? Eet seems I am being -- how you say -- purloined by un petit burglar sans hauteur! Mon dieu! L'aide je suis volé!

William: [Picking up Bilbo by the ankle and suspending him in mid-air] Well, well, my dear chaps, look who's come for dinner.

Tom: Hmmm...he seems a bit on the smallish side, Bill, perhaps we should stuff him in a capon l'orange met sous verre, garnished with leeks and pimento.

Bert: Nonsense, Thomas, he is obviously an hors-d'oeuvre -- a finger food, if you will.

Tom: Fingers and toes, my dear Bertram, fingers and toes!

Bert: Ah, your wit is delicious, brother Tom.

William: Enough of this idle banter, lads! We need to find out exactly what this creature is, and furthermore, if there are more of his ilk skulking about. Now, little fellow, what have you to say for yourself?

Bert: Yes, what are you exactly?

Bilbo: I...I...am a bur...a hobbit.

Tom: A burrahobbit? What species is that precisely? An insect?

Bert: He appears more mammalian, perhaps a rabbit with scabies, what with fur only about his head and toes.

William: Never mind all that, are there more of you about?

Bilbo: Many...None. There are none.

Tom: Now that's a bit paradoxical.

Bert: I should say!

William: Now look, my mammalian appetizer, what do you mean by 'many and none'?

[Just then, Balin walks into the midst of the camp, and is quickly scooped up and bagged by the trolls]

William: Never mind searching for these silly little burrahobbits, my dear fellows, there are dwarves about, I can smell them.

Bert: I just thought you had gas, Bill. You know how mutton disagrees with your digestion.

William: Well, rest assured we won't be having any more mutton. Tonight I shall prepare Dwarf a la Guillame in a nice bordelaise sauce.

[As each dwarf sneaks warily into camp, the lurking trolls pop them into sacks. Soon all thirteen are wriggling and mumbling by the campfire]

Narrator: And so, Bilbo and the dwarves find themselves in a fine stew (or shall be stewed presently), and what of little Nell? Will she find Grandfather before the evil Taskmaster Moriarity sells the farm to her priggish cousin, Deacon Sprague? And will her delicate condition be revealed to her beau, Geoffrey DeBourgeran-Heathcliffe-Wellsley? How will she explain the drunken troop of Portugese sailors and the trapeze in her boudoir? All these questions and more shall be answered in the next thrilling installment.

[Son of Númenor]

Mmm, I'm afraid it would be far too perilous to be on the ins with the Galahadrim.

Better to spend your days with Brave Sir 'Obbit and Sam the Minstrel, the diminutive duo who walked to the gates of Mordor...and bravely ran away.

If you're really keen to risk life and limb (ahem), look to Fangorn. There dwell the Ents Who Used to Say Ni, now the Ents Who Say A-lalla-lalla-rumba-kamanda-lindor-burúme. Don't bother about that mightiest tree in the forest, though, it would only upset them; better to use that herring on the hosts of Saruman.

[Morthoron]

ROAST MUTTON, PART IV

Narrator: When last we left our band of intrepid questers, Blibo's feet were near crushed by the wicked trolls and the dwarves were all in sacks, individually wrapped for a homemaker's convenience. Just pop them in boiling water, heat and serve. Voila! You have a tasty and economical meal for even the most trollish of appetites...

Thorin: HMMMMPPPPHHHMMMMPPPHHH!

Narrator: Right. Sorry. The unsuspecting trolls were gleefully preparing for their meal, but they never expected [cue menacing music]...THE SPANISH INQUISITION! Ha-ha-ha, just had to throw that one in there!

Thorin: HMMMMPPPPHHHMMMMPPPHHH!

Narrator: Yes, yes, hold your sack on. As I was saying, little did the unwitting trolls know that even now Gandalf had returned, just in the nick of time!

Thorin: HMMPH-MMH!

Narrator: You're welcome.

A voice like Berts: It was Thomas Jefferson who rightly said, "Take from Plato his sophisms, futilities and incomprehensibilities, and what remains? His foggy mind."

William: [who thought it was Bert speaking] Don't start that argument all over again, Bert, or it'll take all night!

Bert: [who thought it was William speaking] Who's arguing, I should like to know? I thought you had an epiphany and were finally agreeing with Tom and I regarding the modern rejection of Plato.

William: I'll epiphany you all right! Stop arguing, you lout!

Bert: I was not arguing, and I demand you retract you assertion!

William: I shall not!

A voice like Tom's speaking: Well, Friedrich Nietzsche did say "Plato is a bore."

William: [who thought it was Tom speaking] See? Now you've got Tom in on it, with his boorish asides!

Tom: [who thought it was Bert speaking] I'm not in on nothing! But Bert's got a point about Nietzsche's appraisal...and what do you mean by boorish asides?

William: Nietszche? Bah! A syphilitic mental-case mumbling nihilistic aphorisms!

A voice like Bert's speaking: Well, Thomas Aquinas was so grossly obese he should have named his philosophy Elasticism rather than Scholasticism!

William: [who thought it was Bert speaking] Oh, very clever, Bert! Did you think that one up all by yourself, or did you confer with the other buffoon?

Bert: [who thought it was William speaking] Who's the buffoon? You're the idiot arguing with himself, like some contradictory schizophrenic!

Narrator: And so, the philosphical battle of intellectual giants (well, trolls, actually) raged on through the evening, and into the night, and right up to the break of day, when...

William: And isn't that just like an existentialist, trying to get the last posit in...

Bilbo: Well, would you look at that, the trolls have turned to stone!

Gandalf: [appearing from behind some bushes] Of course they turned to stone, dear Bilbo, trolls can't take the sunlight.

Bilbo: I get a rash myself. [suddenly noticing Gandalf's unexpected arrival]. Gandalf! Then it was you throwing your voice that caused the trolls to argue! Hey, wait a minute! Where have you got off to? We nearly drownded in the rain, froze without a fire and were about to be fricasseed by pretentious trolls!

Gandalf: Errrmm...I had to run an important errand.

*FLASHBACK SEQUENCE -- Gandalf mind wanders back to the day spa at Rivendell, with elvish maidens massaging him in a hot tub.*

Bilbo: An important errand? Out here in the wilderness?

Gandalf: [clears his throat] Never you mind, Bilbo. You are, after all, a small person in a large world; while a wizard's toil is great and never ends.

Biblo: Well, yes...of course. Forgive me.

Gandalf: Think nothing of it, dear boy, but lets make haste and get these dwarves out of their sacks. They're near to suffocation, I'd wager.

Thorin: HMMPH-MMH!

Gandalf: My pleasure.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[Morthoron]

CHAPTER III: A SHORT REST, Part I

Narrator: Having handily dispatched the trolls and removed the dwarves from bondage, Gandalf suggested that perhaps the trolls had a hidden cave nearby where they hid from the sun and hid their swag as well.

*Gandalf parts some bushes near a rocky outcropping*

Gandalf: Here's the cave door, but unfortunately it is locked. It is obvious we'll need magic to get this open. I once knew the songs to every Disney animated feature ever produced. [Begins singing a rather off-key version of Lady and the Tramp's 'Bella Notte']

*Several hours later, the door remains locked*

Gandalf: Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
My, oh my, what a wonderful day
Plenty of sunshine headin' my way
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay...

Thorin: [sighing] It just doesn't seem to be working, Gandalf.

Gandalf: Hmmm...perhaps a tune from a newer film. [the wizards adopts a French accent, and the dwarves sing along]:

Be our guest
Be our guest
Put our service to the test
Tie your napkin 'round your neck, cherie
And we provide the rest
Soup du jour
Hot hors d'oeuvres
Why, we only live to serve
Try the grey stuff, it's delicious
Don't believe me? Ask the dishes...

Bilbo: Excuse me...

Gandalf and the dwarves: [In a Folies Bergere-style chorus line]

Course by course
One by one
'Til you shout, "Enough! I'm done!"
Then we'll sing you off to sleep as you digest
Tonight you'll prop your feet up
But for now, let's eat up
Be our guest
Be our guest
Be our guest
Please, be our G-U-E-S-T...

Bilbo: Halloo...excuse me, I found this key over by the trolls. Perhaps it will help.

Gandalf: [Taking off a black top hat and replacing it with his conical wizard's cap] Ahem...yes...well...that will do nicely, Bilbo, nicely indeed. [Gandalf irritably grabs the key away from Bilbo]

*The stone door creaks open revealing a dank and dreary, foul-smelling cobwebbed chamber*

Narrator: And so Gandalf, Biblo and Thorin's company crept warily into the cave. The sunlight revealed a trove of oddities and treasures -- aside from the bones of the trolls' previous victims and a good deal of food stuffs stored carelessly about on various shelves, there were brass buttons, pots of gold, SPF 150 sunscreen, introductory makeup kits from Avon, a rather attractive gold lame' evening dress, colorful pumps, ballet flats and sylish stiletto-heeled thigh boots for every occasion, bustierres, chemises, camosoles, teddies...

Gandalf: Ahem...That'll do!

Narrator: Errrmm...right...and in a corner they discovered some marvelous jewel hilted swords with wondrously wrought scabbards. Gandalf kept one, as did Thorin, and they gave Biblo a handsome leather-sheathed dagger of the same make.

Gandalf: Hmmm...These are no ordinary swords. They are of a marvelous make, obviously First-Age craftsmanship.

Bilbo: I shall call mine 'Sting'.

Gandalf: [Raising an eyebrow] But by the intricately carved runes on the blades, it indicates they were made by the Noldorin Elves who came from the Undying lands...

Bilbo: 'Sting' it is then.

Gandalf: [Becoming more irritated]...who wrought these peerless and magic blades in the fabled city of Gondolin, hewn out of the very living rock of Thangorodrim. Its impervious walls sparkling of jewels, its spiralling white towers piercing the cerulean blue skies of the now lost land of Beleriand...

Bilbo: [flashing about his knife like Eroll Flynn] Ha-ha, feel my 'Sting'!

Gandalf: [Rolling his eyes in disgust] Why don't you just call it 'Stab' and be done with it.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[skip spence]

That's some funny (and clever) stuff Morthoron. I would have repped you but it seems I must spread it around first.

[Morthoron]

CHAPTER III, A SHORT REST, Part II

Narrator: Gandalf and the rest skipped blithely through the next few pages -- relatively boring stuff, like descriptions of landscapes and mountains, which of course are all CG animated, and aren't we all rather tired of the replicated splendor of computer graphics? I know I am. So, they walked and walked...blah, blah, blah...and scrambled up the mountains...blah, blah, blah...anyway, it was getting to be about supper-time (which would be dinner for you Yanks), when they came upon a hidden valley...

Gandalf: Here we are! The fair valley of Rivendell where lives Master Elrond in the Last Homely House.

Bilbo: What, is he a bad housekeeper?

Gandalf: No.

Bilbo: Ah, he's like one of those eccentric neighbors who insist on painting their house bright blue and plopping plastic pink flamingos and garden gnomes all about their front yard.

Gandalf: No, not at all, don't be silly.

Bilbo: Well, you did say his house was homely.

Gandalf: Merely a figure of speech, dear boy. Homely meaning comfortable, at-ease, a place of relaxation and enjoyment.

Bilbo: Something like Madame Harbottle's House of Red Light?

Gandalf: Drop it.

Thorin: [suddenly putting a hand to his ear] What's that? It sounds like...singing.

Where are you going,
And why are you here?
Your noses need blowing,
You have wax in your ears.

O! Toora-loora-lally,
The Dwarves stink up the valley!

O! Where did you come from,
And how long will you stay?
Don't except much of a welcome
When you smell that way!

O! Toora-loora-lie,
'Tisn't the smell, but the burning of my eyes!

O! Follow the turnings,
And head down the path --
You're clothes will need burning,
And you need a bath!

O! Toora-loora-loma,
Gandalf save us
From this dwarvish aroma!

Gandalf: Damnable Elves.

Bilbo: They seem quite gay.

Dumplin: Oooh! You think so?

Bilbo: Errr...I meant gaiety, to be merry.

Thorin: Well, gay or not, it's rather a rude welcome.

Gandalf: Don't let it bother you, Thorin, the mischievous elves are only having a little fun at your expense. It's rare they see dwarves now-a-days. But let's follow the path down to the Last Homely House....before they get really nasty.

*As the Party of dwarves start descending down the path, the hidden Elves start taunting them*

Elf #1: Why do dwarves have beards?

Elf #2: I don't know, why do dwarves have beards?

Elf #1: So they can look like their mothers!

Elf #2: Hahaha! Here's one: A man in a hay wagon runs over a dwarf. When the man gets down from the wagon to apologize, the dwarf says, "I'M NOT HAPPY!" The man answers, "Well, which one are you then?"

Elf #1: Ba-dump-bump! What do you get when you cross a dwarf and a donkey?

Elf #2: A little jack-*** about this tall!

Gandalf: Fly, you fools! This foe is beyond you!

Narrator: And so the dwarves escape the savage taunting of the Elves by running as fast as their little legs could carry them, finally finding themselves at the very doors of the Last Homely House!

TO BE CONTINUED...

[Morthoron]

CHAPTER III, A SHORT REST, Part III

Narrator: Having reached the Last Homely House, the road-weary company of travelers finally found rest and relaxation, but not along the lines of Madame Harbottle's House of Red Light -- if you get my meaning (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). The Last Homely House, as Bilbo would later recall, was not homely at all (like his acne-plagued cousin Primula); rather it was perfect for just about anything: reading, writing, thinking, croquette with pink flamingos, painting the roses red, talking with chess pieces...
And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you're going to fall,
Tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call.
Call Alice
When she was just small...

Narrator #2: We regret the intrusion, but Narrator #1 has been caught in a bit of a flashback...

Narrator #1: When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead,
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"
Remember what the dormouse said...

*Sounds of a struggle*

Narrator #2: And I am afraid he will have to go on short-term disabiility...

Narrator #1: "Feed your head. Feed your head. Feed your head"...

*The sounds of shouting and scuffling fade and a door slams off-stage*

Narrator #2: Ahem...now, where were we? Ah yes, after a bit of a rest, the company of travelers were sent for to meet with Master Elrond.

Bilbo: Now Gandalf, just who is this Master Elrond again?

Gandalf: He is a descendant of a great old family. Quite famous, really. His great-grandfather was the mortal Beren and he was wed to Luthien, daughter of an Elf and a Maia.

Bilbo: What, like an Aztec?

Gandalf: No, Maia as in 'of the Maiar'. I am one myself.

Bilbo: I didn't know you came from Peru!

Gandalf: Oh, skip it! Just know that Elrond is a half-elf.

Bilbo: He's short then?

Gandalf: No, no, no! His father was mortal and his mother was an elf. No, wait...actually they both were elves, but his grandfather was mortal. Bah! Needless to say Elrond is still considered an elf, while his brother was mortal.

Bilbo: That makes no sense genetically.

Dumplin: Can dwarves wed elves?

Gandalf: I'm not sure. I don't see why not. Why do you ask?

Dumplin: Well there's this elf in Mirkwood named Legolas, and he's just GORGEOUS!

Bilbo: [Turning and whispering to Balin and Dwalin] What is the story with Dumplin? He certainly acts odd.

Balin: [whispering back] Well, first of all, Dumplin is not a he, but a she-dwarf.

Dwalin: [whispering also]: Are you sure?

Balin: [still whispering] Well of course I'm sure. Look at her beard!

Bilbo: Dumplin is a she?

Balin: Well, close enough for a lonely night on the road.

Dwalin: You see, Bilbo, we dwarves have very few females...

Biblo: What with half-elves from Peru and he-she dwarves, thank the Lord I'm a hobbit!

Gandalf: Quit your gossiping, you three, there is Master Elrond.

*Elrond is sitting regally upon a carved, oaken throne, reading manuscripts and drinking a glass of sherry*

Elrond: Welcome, welcome!! Do come in, please do. So nice to have dwarves about the Last Homely House. Here for a short visit are we? Ha-ha, lovely, lovely. And what's this? A hobbit? My, I haven't seen one of your race for a thousand years. But then there could be a few hiding 'neath the table and you couldn't see 'em, eh? Ha-ha-ha, lovely, just lovely!

Gandalf: [bowing] We thank you for your hospitality, Master Elrond.

Elrond: Oh, no formalities, old friend, no formalities! You weren't so damn genteel in the hot tub the other night!

*The dwarves scowl at Gandalf*

Gandalf: Ummm...yes...well...Master Elrond, we seek your aid. Thorin has a dwarvish map that needs deciphering.

Elrond: Oh-ho, a dwarvish map, eh? Devilishly tough, those. Usually written in shorthand. Ha-ha, short-hand! Eh? eh? Lovely, lovely! Pray tell, Master Thorin, where did you come upon this map?

Thorin: Well, it's quite a long story actually, and it had to be edited out of the theater release of the movie. But it will be told in its entirety in the Blue-ray Disc Extended Version available in stores this coming Christmas.

Elrond: Will it indeed? Lovely, just lovely. No short subject documentaries for the dwarves, eh? eh? Ha-ha, lovely.

Narrator #2: Please stay tuned for the next installment of Chapter III and find out what Master Elrond can discern from the dwarves' map.

Director: Cut! Cut! Narrator #2, that was the most bleeding boring segue I've ever heard!

Narrator #2: Well, it's not my fault, you know... [sobs a bit] I'm not a method narrator. I need my lines, and Narrator #1 was still holding the script when he was taken out.

Director: That's it! Randall, it's time for lunch.

Randall: Lunch everyone! Be back in an hour!

TO BE CONTINUED

[Morthoron]

CHAPTER III: A SHORT REST, Part IV

Narrator: [formerly known as Narrator #2] And so Master Elrond sets his great store of loremastery into deciphering the dwarven map.

Elrond: Jolly wonderful the dwarves were at mapmaking once in their short history, eh? Lovely detail, wot?

*The full moon appears from behind the clouds and casts it wondrous white light full upon the map*

Elrond: Eh? What's this?

Thorin: [drawing nearer in curiousity]: Yes? What is it?

Elrond: Oh, nothing. This coffee stain looks remarkably like a dragon.

Gandalf: Why, that is a dragon!

Elrond: Yes, yes...of course it is. Temporarily blinded by the moonlight, you know.

Gandalf: Hmm...it seems the moonlight is showing hidden runes and letters on the map.

Elrond: It is? Oh yes, of course it is. They're callled...ummm...moon letters. Yes, moon letters...that's what they are!

Bilbo: What are moon letters, wise Master Elrond?

*Elrond stares blankly at Bilbo for a moment*

Elrond: Why, they are...letters that...errrr...only show up in moonlight.

Bilbo: My, you are wise. Where did you learn that from?

Elrond: I believe it was in a rerun of an old MacGyver episode or in an Umberto Eco novel about monks. I can't recall, really. I am a few thousand years old, after all.

Bilbo: What do the moon letters say?

Elrond: What do they say? [Long pause] Well, if I read the runes corrrectly, they say --"Stand by the gray crone until her knees knock," and then it says -- "and the sitting nun with a bad bite from tooth decay will shut her pie-hole."

Thorin: But that makes no sense at all.

Elrond: It doesn't?

Gandalf: No, it does not. Where are we to find an old crone in a habit with periodontal disease who we have to shut-up? And what good will it do us in any event?

Elrond: [indignantly] Well, the other translation seems even more daft -- "Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin' Day will shine upon the key-hole."

Thorin: Durin's Day! A thrush knocking!

Elrond: That makes sense to you?

Thorin: Yes, it does. Durin's Day arrives in autumn and the key-hole in question is obviously a secret entrance to the Lonely Mountain! And I have the key! All we need to do is find the stone where the thrush knocks on Durin's Day and we shall find the secret entrance!

Elrond: Oh yes, that does make a lot of sense. [rolls his eyes] You'll have more luck finding the toothless old nun with creaky joints.

Thorin: We'll have to be on our way, and soon, if we want to reach the Lonely Mountain by Durin's Day. If I remember correctly, it is the first day of the last moon of autumn.

Elrond: Would that be the Julian or Gregorian Calendar?

Bilbo: Or is it by Shire Reckoning?

Gandalf: Neither and none, as the proper chronology for Middle-earth has not been fixed as of yet. Not until Tolkien writes The Lord of the Rings.

Bilbo: The Lord of the Rings? Is that a take-off on the Sword of Shannara?

Gandalf: Ummm...

Elrond: May I ask a favor?

Gandalf: Certainly, Master Elrond.

Elrond: Take me with you.

Gandalf: What?

Elrond: Please, take me with you!

Gandalf: I don't understand...

Elrond: I am bored, Gandalf, bored! I feel sort of thin and stretched...like not enough mayonnaise scraped over too much bun.

Gandalf: Buns?

Elrond: It's the Elves, Gandalf -- So damn merry! No wonder why they call death the Gift of Men! It's preferrable to living here for thousands of years...they don't even have cable. Always tra-la-la-lally, hopping and skipping, all blonde, all dull as doorknobs!

Gandalf: But...

Elrond: Let me explain...

[The lights dim and a single spotlight shines on Elrond]

ELROND'S SOLILOQUOY

An Elf or not an Elf...that is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler to be mortal and suffer
The twinges and hair-loss of mankind's fortune,
Or to take up Elfdom and unlimited potential,
and by inference become immortal. An Elf -- to sleep no more --
Because Elves rarely sleep given their high metabolism.
But there is heartburn -- a thousand years of eating lembas --
Does not aid in my digestion. 'Tis not a bowel movement
One would wish on an enemy. And sheep -- the sheep of which I've dreamed --
Ah, I've lost count. For in that count of sheep no dreams may come,
While snuggly mortals coil all soundly 'neath comforters and nap wihout pause,
There's only insomnia that makes a calamity of so long a life....

Narrator: While Elrond rambled in stilted iambic pentameter, the company of travelers had slipped unnoticed from the Last Homely House, and even now were heading up the great slopes of the Misty Mountains.

Elrond: Hey! Where did everyone go?

Elves: Tra-la-la-la-lappy, Elrond isn't happy

Elrond: Oh good lord.

Elves: Tra-la-la-la-lever, you're stuck with us forever!

*Elrond sobs uncontrollably*

TO BE CONTINUED...

[Morthoron]

CHAPTER IV: OVER HILL AND UNDER HILL, Part I

Narrator: And so, Gandalf, Bilbo and the dwarves escaped the dread gaiety of the elves and the taxing dialogue of the Last Homely House. Guiding their ponies up the circuitous paths that lead to the very heights of....

Bombur: 'Old on! Just a minute! Where did we get these blinkin' ponies from?

Narrator: Well, you see, the Italian funding the producers were expecting has fallen through (I told them they shouldn't trust the Italians), and subsequently the production team has had to sell the utility vehicles that were expected to be used as transport in all the Misty Mountain scenes. As a consequence of this budget reduction, they've had to buy these ponies on the cheap from a local glue factory to do the job instead. You'll notice various different departments' equipment crammed into your packs.

Bombur: Well, don't that defeat the suspension of disbelief required for a successful fantasy movie? I mean, the last scene we were scramblin' up the mountain on foot, and the next we're riding ponies?

Narrator: Not any moreso than a costumed character in the piece having an out-of-context discussion with an off-camera narrator.

Bombur: Right. Go on then.

Narrator: As the stalwart band of travelers made for the pass which would lead them over the Misty Mountains, a virulent thunderstorm struck.

Director: Cue the virulent thunderstorm!

Randall: Cue the virulent thunderstorm!

Scottie: I'm givin' 'er all she's got, Cap'n!

*Colorful animation of a virulent thunderstorm, complete with stone giants playing cricket with lightning bolts and storm clouds*

Bilbo: My, this is a virulent thunderstorm!

Gandalf: Indeed! No sense in muddling our way further, I can't see a foot in front of my nose, and the pass is treacherous enough without missing the trail and falling into an abyss.

Bilbo: That would be abysmal.

Thorin: I believe Fili and Kili have found a cave over to the right.

Gandalf: Hmmm...I am not at all comfortable with lodging in a cave in these parts. One never knows what lurks inside.

*A livid streak of lightning strikes a boulder nearby*

Gandalf: But then again, perhaps we should go in; at least until the storm abates...for the sake of the Hobbit.

Narrator: Safe from the crash and din of the storm, the travelers -- soaking, bedraggled and low in spirits -- made a small fire with Gandalf's wizardly assistance, and huddled the ponies at the very far end of the cave. Shorn of their wet clothes and exhausted from the perilous journey up the mountain, it wasn't long before the company started to nod off.

*Bilbo awakens to the sound of grinding rock*

Bilbo: What's this?

*To Bilbo's surprise, he sees the last of the ponies being herded off into a great crack that had opened in the rear of the cave*

Bilbo: This mountain certainly has an appetite. I wonder what it eats when it can't get ponies?

*Coming groggily to his senses, Bilbo sees goblins creeping from the crack where the ponies had disappeared*

Bilbo: GANDALF! HELP!!!

*Bilbo's cry awakens his companions, foremost of all Gandalf, who, having a knack for self-defense unleashes a bolt of lightning, killing several goblins, and in the smoke and confusion, saves himself by disappearing, leaving Bilbo and the dwarves at the mercy of the remaining infuriated goblins, who grabbed the helpless hobbit and dwarves and dragged them through the crack, which snapped shut with an angry crash*

Goblin #1: I 'eard you 'airy-footed 'alf-pints like singin' and merriment.

Bilbo: That's Hobbits, not half-pints, thank you, and yes we do like singing and making jolly.

Goblin #2: Garn, he's a precocious li'l blighter, aint 'ee?

Goblin #1: I'll say. But 'ee'll change 'is tune once we 'ave our way wi' 'em! Ready m'boys?

*a pitch pipe sounds in the darkened stone corridor, followed by several goblins struggling to get in tune*

The hills are alive with the sound of goblins
Wi' songs we have sung for a thousand years
The hills shake your bowels with the sound of goblins
And enchained, you can't stop up your ears

*The dwarves and Bilbo grimace in agony*

Your heart wants to shriek like the wings of bats
That rise like the dead in the dark
Your belly does a churn as the horse flies
Leave maggots on droppings so stark...

Bilbo: Enough! Enough! Oh please, no more torment!

Goblin #1: Ho-ho! You think this is bad, do ye? Wait'll the Goblin King gets 'is 'ands on ye!

Bilbo: He sings worse?

Goblin #2: [Coughs out a hoarse laugh and then becomes serious] Totally tone deaf.

Goblin #1: Aye, that 'ee is. Now, where were we?

How do we solve a problem like a Baggins?
How do you pinch and bite him while he's down?
How do you find the words to insult a Baggins?
Why, drag his sorry arse to Goblin-town...

[Morthoron]

CHAPTER IV: OVER HILL AND UNDER HILL, Part II

Narrator: Having been literally abandoned by Gandalf once again, Bilbo and the dwarves were in a bad way. They had been fiendishly serenaded by the diabolical goblins, and the torment was only beginning. Now they stood, heaped in chains, before the horrible and huge Great Goblin, named Marian after his domineering mother (which might explain his ill-temper).

Marian: Garn! Who are these miserable creatures!

Orc Driver: Dwarves and a Hobbit, Marian, your majesty.

*The Dwarves and Bilbo giggle*

Marian: What? Is there something you find amusing?

Thorin: No, not at all your highness. In fact, we are quite taken aback at the impression you've made...Marian.

*More giggles from the Dwarves and Bilbo*

Marian: I do not see the joke, no not at all! And what were you thieves doing on our front porch?

Thorin: Thieves? I am no thief! Do not call me a Robbin' Hood, as there are much kinder, gentler names you could've made...Marian.

*The stifled laughter gets louder*

Marian: Oh, I get it! You think my name is funny do you? Marian is a girly name, is it?

*The Dwarves and Bilbo cannot answer as they are convulsed in laughter*

Marian: That's it! Janet and Betty -- throws this vermin in a pit!

*A clap of thunder and a blinding streak of lightning sear the gloom of the cavern, and all the torches go out. The gleam of a blade flashes from the shadows, and the Great Goblin becomes Marian in fact and not in name only. A second streak of the sword cleaves the castrato in twain*

Gandalf: Quickly, fools, let us make our escape!

Narrator: And so Gandalf (returned from who knows where) led the band from the Great Goblin's throne room while the goblins were thrown into chaos. Making their way down the darkened corridors beneath the mountain was tough going, and soon the goblins had recovered and were in hot pursuit.

Gandalf: We must stop for a moment. The corridor branches off in several directions here and I need time to figure out which direction is best. Is everyone here?

Thorin: [Uses his fingers to count down the members and then borrows one of Balin's hands when he runs out of his own digits]. Two, three, four, eight, ten...thirteen dwarves and a hobbit. Yes, that makes fifteen.

Balin: Fourteen.

Thorin: Fourteen plus Gandalf -- fifteen! [sticks out his tongue at Balin]

Gandalf: I can hear the Goblins coming; therefore, I'll shall have to go on instinct here. We'll go in this direction.

Bilbo: What makes that direction better than the others?

Gandalf: My dear Bilbo, I am a wizard -- a member of the ancient order of Istari -- come from the Blessed Realm beyond the Western Sea. Have a little faith that I know what I'm doing based on my loremastery, innate magical ability and supernatural prescience.

Bombur: That and the exit sign on the wall over there.

Gandalf: Let's get going!

Narrator: Madly they ran down into the blackness followed by the shrieking, cursing goblins. But they had not counted on side corridors where goblins laid in wait. All was confusion and chaos when the goblins ambushed. Poor Bilbo took a nasty knock on the noggin and fell from the path down a steep cliff that yawned along the side. When he awoke, Bilbo was in complete darkness, with no sound of either goblin or dwarf nearby.

Bilbo: Why did I ever leave my hobbit hole! Wait a moment...[slaps his pockets and finds his pipe and pipeweed]...now, that's a bit better! [lights up and takes a few drags]...thank goodness, a little bit of home!

Production Disclaimer: The makers of this movie in no way condone or endorse the use of tobacco products, as the use of said products are known to be carcinogenic and are filthy and nasty and we hates them. However, since we have received a rather hefty promotional fee from Philip Morris International (an Altria Company), we feel the product placement overrides the frivolous complaints we may receive from cranks and busybodies who make up a rather tiny percentage of the movie-going public. So smoke 'em if ya got 'em!

Bilbo: Now where did I put my knife? [Fiddles about with his sock and pulls out his blade which glows dimly in the dark] Ah, Sting! This'll come in handy. Hmmm...now which way to go? Back? Well, I don't rightly know which way is back. To the right or left? No, don't want to take anymore nasty falls. Oh well, I guess the only way to go is forward.

Narrator: Struggling alone in the blackness, Bilbo crept silently down the tunnel, which seemed to have no end. On and on he went, unknowingly travelling deeper and deeper towards the heart of the mountain. Suddenly, without any warning he trotted splash into water.

Bilbo: Ugh! It is icy cold. Is this a puddle or stream in the way of the path?

Narrator: Unbeknownst to Mr. Baggins, he was on the brink of a subterranean lake.

Bilbo: So it is a lake and not an underground river!

Narrator: Well, yes.

Bilbo: I wonder how far off it goes, and if there are any strange creatures lurking about near the roots of the mountains?

Narrator: Funny you should mention that...

Gollum: S-s-s-s! Quits interrupting.

Narrator: Look, do you want an introduction or not?

Gollum: Bah! Gets on with it, gets on with it.

Narrator: Deep down here by the dark water lived old Gollum.

Gollum: That's us, precioussss.

Narrator: Yes, and although we are saving a fascinating vignette of Gollum's early life and times for The Hobbit II, lets just say that old Gollum saw Bilbo a lot sooner than Bilbo saw him. But before we go on, Mr. Baggins, aren't you forgetting something?

Bilbo: I'm not sure. Did I miss a line?

Narrator: [whispering] The ring! The ring!

Bilbo: What? Oh yes...what's this? why, it's a ring! Imagine that. Looks to be no more than 12 or 14 karats, but still it'll fetch a pretty farthing or two in Hobbiton...

Narrator: [still whispering] Put it away!

Bilbo: What?

Narrator: [still whispering] Away! Put it away!

Bilbo: Right. Sorry.

*Bilbo hears a hissing coming from the lake*

Bilbo: What the 'ell...

Gollum: God bless us, everyone, precioussss! A tasty morsel, this one, and no goblin. Bleahhh! We hates dark meat! *Gollum*

Biblo: [thrusting his dagger forward] Who are you?

Gollum: What isss he, my precious? A bit of clever CGI p'raps? Much better than that nasty Jar-Jar...horrid animation, my precious, simply horrid.

Bilbo: I...I am Bilbo Baggins.... and this...this is Sting, a blade from Gondolin!

Gollum: Sssssss! P'raps we sits and chats with is a bitsy, eh my precious? It likes games does it?

Bilbo: What, like Parcheesi or Stratego?

Gollum: No, no, precious. No board games. We means riddles.

Bilbo: Very well, riddles it is. You go first.

Gollum: Yesss, preciousss...

What is as small as a pin,
But looms large on your chin?
Such a small deformity
Is, socially, an eruptive enormity.

Bilbo: That's easy -- it's a zit!

Gollum: Does it thinks its easy? It must have a competition with us, yes it does, precious. If it tells us a riddle and we don't guesses it, we shows it the way out.

Bilbo: And if you ask a riddle and I can't answer, what do you get?

Gollum: [snarling] Dinner.

Bilbo: Right. Here we go then...

They’re as ugly as sin
And they don’t smell sweet
But you cannot begin
Lest their marching in beat

Gollum: Isss that all you've got, precious? Pffft! It's feets...feets! Now, here's mine...

Wingless with flies
Not edible but pies
A relief when it parts
But bought by the cart

Bilbo: That's not too hard, considering how badly you smell. It's cow dung. Okay, here's one for you...

Remove the outside,
cook the inside,
eat the outside,
throw away the inside.

Narrator: Now Bilbo thought this one was quite easy, but as he was pressed for time, it was the only one he could remember offhand. But it proved exceptionally hard for Gollum, who hadn't eaten anything but raw fish and an occasional orc the last few centuries.

Gollum: Ss-ss-ss. Chestnuts, precious, chestnuts.

Bilbo: Well, are you going to guess or not? With all that hissing, one would think your guess was a tea kettle, but that would be wrong.

Gollum: Give us a chance; let it give us a chance, my preciouss-ss-ss.

Narrator: And then Gollum thought back to the days of his youth when his grandmother (a Rhodes Scholar and Oxford graduate) sat and detailed the many anachronisms present in Tolkien's published work (it was part of her thesis). There was tobacco and potatoes, trains and timepieces and...

Gollum: Corn! corns, my precious! Or maizes as the Euros calls it! Ssssss...no mister nice guy, my precious, no more. Here's a toughie...

It speaks loudly but says nothing
The seat of judgment without wisdom
It stands for nothing and sits concealed
It runs regularly but does not move
Each has a pair like unto brothers
But some loom larger than others

Bilbo: Well, ahem...hmmm...

Gollum: Is it nice, my precioussss? Is it scrumptiously munchably scrunchably crunchable?

Biblo: Half a minute now! I gave you a good long time while you were hissing like a steam boiler.

Gollum: No, it must make haste, my precioussss. We don't wants to waste a taste, so hassste! [creeps closer to Bilbo with fangs bared]

Bilbo: But...but..but? BUTT! A BUTTOCKS!

Gollum: Bah! Now its got to ask us a question. So assskks away.

Bilbo: Ummmm....

Gollum: Ask us! Ask us!

Bilbo: Errr...what have I got in my pocket?

Gollum: Not fair! Not fair to asks us whats it gots in its pocketses! It goes against longstanding rules of riddle etiquettes, it does! It goes against international riddling conventionses!

Bilbo: Nevertheless, what have I got in my pocket?

Gollum: S-s-s-s-s! It must give us three guesses, my precious, three guesses!

Bilbo: Alrighty then, ask away.

Gollum: A banjo?

Bilbo: Nope.

Gollum: Lint?

Biblo: No. Unfortunately for you I was so hungry, I scraped it all out and ate it about half an hour ago.

Gollum: Hands or nothing.

Bilbo: [waves his hands at Gollum] No on both counts, and since that make four guesses, that means I have won -- game, set, match.

*silence*

Bilbo: Well? What about your promise? I want to go, and you must show me the way.

Narrator: Will the wily Gollum show Bilbo the way out, or has Gollum's promise been nullified by Biblo's infraction against ancient riddling conventions...es? Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion!

TO BE CONTINUED...

[Morthoron]

CHAPTER IV: OVER HILL AND UNDER HILL, Part III -- well, actually it's the Riddles in the Dark chapter of the book, but due to the time compression necessary in film-making, it was decided necessary to fold one chapter into another, like eggs in a bowl, smooshing them up nicely with some cheese, onions and green pepper (actually anachronistic, as the capsicum was unknown to the Old World until Columbus' discoveries) for a Tolkien omlette...perhaps with crispy bacon on the side, and some nice toast (not too burnt), slathered in butter. Mmmmmmm.....

*Daunting silence*

Narrator: Ummm...heh...We were last in the very bowels of the mountains and Bilbo had won the riddle contest (although by rather underhanded means), and he was waiting for the creature Gollum to live up to his side of the deal (and as their was no legal remediation or collective bargaining at this juncture in Middle-earth history, Gollum was perforce impelled to perform the terms of his verbal agreement).

Bilbo: [impatiently] Well? I want to go. You promised to show the way.

Gollum: Did we say so, precious? Show the cheatin' little bugger out, yesss, yessss. But what has it got in its pocketses, that rascal Puff? Not strings or sealing wax or other fancy stuff! Oh no! Gollum!

Bilbo: Never you mind. A promise is a promise!

Gollum: Ss-ss-ss, Cross it is, irascibly brusque, precious. But it musn't go yet, no it mustn't. We mustn't go through tunnels so hasty. We must gets us some travel aids first, yes things to help us, gollum.

Bilbo: Well, hurry it up. I'm starting to feel like a mushroom in this dank dark.

Narrator: And so Gollum paddled off in his little boat (how he managed to find wood in a subterranean cave is anyone's guess), and unbeknownst to Bilbo, went to a secret island in the middle of the lake where he kept his precious, his treasure (so I guess it was a Treasure Island), a very beautiful and wondrous thing. He had a ring, a golden ring. it was given to him by his cousin Deagolovitz many years ago as a present. He wanted to slip his ring on, his precious, and thus become invisible (as it was a magic ring, although not rabbinically kosher perhaps), so as to throttle the uppity gentile Hobbit in the dark.

Gollum: My Bar-Mitzvah present! Where isss it? Oy veh, were issss it?

Bilbo: What's the matter?

Gollum: It mustn't ask, mishugenah. It's losssst, golem, golem, golem!

Bilbo: Well, so am I! And I want to get unlost. You never guessed my last riddle and you promised!

Gollum: Never guessed! Ss-ss-sss--sss...What has it got in its pocketses?

Bilbo: Well, perhaps I'll...ummm...try to find my own way out myself, while you ...errrr...find whatever it is you lost.

Gollum: What has it got in its pocketses?

Bilbo: Thank you so much for the splendid time. I don't believe I've ever had such an enchanting chat...in a dark cave with a menacing green creature such as yourself.

Narrator: Bilbo knew the jig was up and that Gollum meant to make matzoh balls out of him. He ran madly back up the tunnel from whence he came. Gollum's angry hissing came ever closer and his eyes appeared as green lamps in the darkness. Suddenly, Bilbo's rush to escape ended abruptly as he tripped on a snag, and he tumbled in a ragged heap on the stone. For no apparent reason save for pushing the plot forward, he felt the ring in his pocket.

Bilbo: What could that Gollum be missing? Could it be...? Hmmm.

*Gollums ran right by Bilbo, who unknowingly had slipped the ring on*

Gollum: Where did he go? Cursed Bagginses, we hates it! Hates it forever!

*Due to the lack of comedic pacing, the scene abruptly changes to a green glen among a stand of pine trees on the far side of the mountain*

Bilbo: And that, dear Gandalf and master dwarves, is how I escaped the creature Gollum and the orcs and passed through the secret door.

Gandalf: Ummm...but you haven't told us anything.

Bilbo: I haven't?

Gandalf: No, you began at the finish with no start or in-between whatsoever.

Bilbo: Well, you know what they say: keep it secret, keep it safe.

Gloin: I have heard that before.

Gandalf: Yes, it does sound vaguely familiar, but I fail to see how it applies...

*The sound of snarling and howling wargs echoes through the hills*

Bilbo: What's that?

Gandalf: Our next big-budget action sequence. Run everyone! The wargs are coming!

Thorin: Dash it all! The slopes are too steep hereabouts. We can't outrun them, and we have no weapons. We'll have to climb the trees!

*The Panicked escapees frantically scramble up the fir trees just in the nick of time, for the ferocious wargs, huge wolfish creatures, arrived in the clearing*

*The wargs slather and snarl around each tree, speaking in their gruff growls*

Bilbo: What are they saying Gandalf?

Gandalf: I can’t very well translate aloud, Bilbo, or else we may lose our PG rating. Needless to say, they are being quite rude. [cackling loudly] How about a little fire, Scarecrow?

*Gandalf begins pitching fiery fir-cones down on the wargs, which ignite as soon as they hit the beasts’ pelts (or, more poetically, flying fir-fire fearfully flaming foul fur, as it were)*

Bilbo: Hah! They’re on the run! Those are some hot dogs! [a drum and snare sound in the distance with a pronounced ba-dump-bump]

Gandalf: Ah, but look: the Goblins are here. It appears we are out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Bilbo: Oh, I like that! Mind if I use that for the book I’m writing? The working title is ‘Bilbo Baggins: A Glorious Retrospective of the Legendary Hero’.

Gandalf: [irritatedly] It might be titled ‘Hobbit Hash’ if we can’t get out of this mess. Even now the Goblins are fanning the fire below us!

Goblin #1: Garn, wha’ do we ‘ave ‘eer me boyos? A captive audience, it seems! Janet, line up the sopranos and altos. I think some serenadin’s in order ‘eer.

Gandalf: Not more singing!

Goblins:

O Crispy tree, O Crispy tree,
Burnt Dwarves atop thy branches!
O Crispy tree, O Crispy tree,
Burnt Dwarves atop thy branches!
It reeks of scorching wizard’s beard,
But in the warmth we still find cheer.
O Crispy tree, O Crispy tree,
Burnt Dwarves atop thy branches!

No use to chop to get our crop --
They’re sure to drop before they pop!
O Crispy tree, O Crispy tree,
Burnt Dwarves atop thy branches!

Goblin #2: [Sobbing] Sniff! That song always chokes me up.

Goblin #1: There, there, Betty, you always were a softy.

Gandalf: Go way, little boys! It’s not time for your curdled carols! You know what happens to brats who play with fire?

Goblin #1: I dunno. But I’m sure you’ll be a’telling us once you’re well-done! Let’s give him another, boyos!

Goblins:

Gandalf roasting on an open fire,
Dwarf beards singed below their nose.
Hobbit feet burnt up in the pyre,
And Orcs await the afterglow --
Everybody knows --
That turkey tastes like Hobbit toes,
Or chicken fingers fried just right.
‘Tater-tots and mushrooms I’m told
Are the perfect sides for Baggins tonight…

Goblin #1: Hey, look! What to my wond’ring eyes should appear?

Goblin #2: What, a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer?

Goblin #1: No, you dolt, it’s the Eagles!

Narrator: More rapid than coursers the eagles they came, And Gandalf whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; "Now, Landroval! now, Thorondor! now, Meneldor and Gwaihir! On, Miley! on Lindsey! on, Britney and Paris! To the top of the trees they had answered the call, grabbed them up in their talons, and dashed away all!

TO BE CONTINUED…

[Morthoron]

CHAPTER V: Wargses and Eagles and Bears (Oh my!)

Narrator: And so the Beagles, great fluffy puppies of the north, saved Bilbo, Gandalf and the Dwarves from the dreadful fire set by the Goblins. These curious canines had sensed goblinish mischief afoot and had come down from their mountain kennels, baying boldly in the moonlight like their noble sires, the hunting hounds of the Vala Oromë...

*The narrator is handed a slip of paper*

Narrator: Strike that last paragraph. It would seem it was the Eagles of the North that were the ones that saved the company from certain disaster; although why the Eagles rather than the Beagles did the saving is up for conjecture. I mean, after all, dogs have always been man's best friend, haven't they? Eagles are raptors, and would just as soon steal your sheep as look at you. Where were the Beagles? Were they hunting elsewhere, or was there perhaps a more sinister plot to keep dogs out of the story? Or cats for that matter! One mention of Huan the Hound in the Silmarillion, and one offhand remark regarding the cats of Queen Beruthiel in Lord of the Rings -- that's it! It's always the Eagles saving Gandalf here and rescuing Gandalf there, aiding in a battle here, swooping to Mount Doom there. No Fido or Tabby in several thousand pages!

*The narrator is handed another slip of paper*

Narrator: Well, it seems I've been sacked. Damn.

*Cut-scene to one-dimensional cut-outs of Eagles carrying dwarves against a static background set*

Bilbo: [shouting as the eagles fly off] Thank you very much for the ride! I'd always heard that beagles were noble creatures.

Gandalf: Eagles.

Bilbo: Right. Ummm...where are we at present?

Gandalf: We are at the Carrock.

Bilbo: Carrot?

Gandalf: No, Carrock.

Bilbo: And what is a Carrock, exactly?

Gandalf: It is what he calls it.

Bilbo: He who?

Gandalf: He who named the Carrock. It is what he calls such things.

Bilbo: Whom?

Gandalf: Whom?

Bilbo: Yes, whom? The person who named the Carrock.

Gandalf: That's right.

Bilbo: What's right?

Gandalf: He is the person who named the Carrock.

Bilbo: Yes, but who is he?

Gandalf: I just told you.

Bilbo: Look, I don't want to get caught up in an Abbott and Costello comedy routine, who is he?

Gandalf: Bilbo, I shan't tell you anything further if you're not going to listen.

Bilbo: [bites his lip] Alright then, let's try this again. This is the Carrock.

Gandalf: Yes.

Bilbo: And he who named the Carrock a Carrock did so because that is what he calls such things.

Gandalf: Precisely!

Bilbo: And what is his name, this person who calls Carrocks a Carrock?

Gandalf: Beorn.

Bilbo: Who is he?

Gandalf: [sighs in exasperation] He is the person who named the Carrock.

Bilbo: I probably won't be getting anything further out of you, will I?

Gandalf: Most likely not.

Bilbo: Right then, off we go.

Gandalf: [speaking to the whole company] Ah, but before we go, I must warn you, he is not a man to be trifled with. When we reach his home perhaps it would be better if I introduced you in pairs rather than all at once.

Thorin: But that could take all night.

Gandalf: It is better than having your limbs ripped off and being pummelled about the head and neck with your arm or leg.

Thorin: Yes, yes...I suppose you have a point there. But what sort of a man would do such a thing?

Gandalf: Well, I've heard tell that when he is riled Beorn becomes a giant tree sloth.

Thorin: A tree sloth? They're rather lazy and moss-covered aren't they? Not the type of creatures to be ripping limbs off.

Gandalf: No, you're right. Perhaps it was a large badger....or a menacing aardvark.

Bilbo: Yes, they do get antsy, I suppose.

Bombur: I've 'eard tell the squirrels in these parts are quite nasty. Black as coal and go right after your nuts.

Gandalf: No wait, I have it! He turns into a great bear and roams the land at night.

Bilbo: [nervously] Ummm...perhaps we should just skip going to Beorn's house altogether then.

Gandalf: Oh, stop fidgeting! Beorn is a very kindly man. It's just that sometimes he gets a bit testy. So don't aggravate him.

Bilbo: ...Or else he'll rip my limbs off and pummell me about the head and neck with my arm or leg?

Gandalf: See, you are very bright when you actually listen.

Narrator #3: Hello, Narrator number three here! Yep, Narrator the Third. I am actually quite excited to be narrating this tale for you, as it is my first time doing narrative work. Well, there was that brief bit I did back in school as God in The Ten Commandments. "LET MY PEOPLE GO!" Ha-ha, good times, good times! Hmmm? What? Oh yes, sorry. Tune in next week as Bilbo and company visit Beorn's house. I'm rather looking forward to seeing Bilbo aggravating Beorn and getting his limbs torn off, aren't you?

[Morthoron]

A few of you have inquired about the ongoing parody I was fiddling about with here, and just suddenly stopped a couple months ago. Well, I was so smitten with the idea that I totally revised the concept and decided to do a full-blown novel (chapter-by-chapter, and in some spots page-for-page) parody entitled, not surprisingly, Monty Python's The Hobbit. Why, you ask? Because my AD/HD addled brain requires concentration of this sort; therefore, in addition to serious writing projects, I waste time writing something I will in no way ever receive any type of remuneration for (imagine trying to battle for rights from both the Tolkien Estate and the members of Monty Python!).

As the project required a different venue for chapter-by-chapter presentation, editing capabilities and material review (in addition to allowing some of the bawdy material that would perhaps be inapproprite here), I have plopped the 'ole bloody thing roight 'ere:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4732841/1/Monty_Pythons_The_Hobbit

I have employed most of the bits from this thread but fleshed it out from a movie script to novel-form. Stop by and say 'ello.

[Morthoron]

As a follow up to the last follow up, 'Monty Python's The Hobbit' has been completed and is ready for your perusal here...

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4732841/1/Monty_Pythons_The_Hobbit

Amusingly, a few crazy persons nominated it for a Middle-earth Fanfiction Award (MEFA) -- before it was even completed!

The MEFA Site is here (you are required to log in to enter the site)...

http://www.mefawards.net/MEFA2009/index.php?page=index

If you like it, review it on the MEFA site, as I guess the only way to win a MEFA award is to shamelessly shill for reviews (i.e., votes). Literary excellence is, of course, a secondary consideration with such contests, as it is in the world of literature.;)