[Oddwen]

If ya doon't mahnd, Iy-ll trie tae doe thoe Aeoriwen floeshbeck scenches...uh, yeah.

Eowyn: Where is she? The woman who gave you that jewel?

Aragorn: Uhh.....what woman? This is from Gimli.

E: But, it's too graceful for Dwarven-smithery.

A: I dunno what you're talking about.

E: And when do male dwarves start giving jewelry to other men?

Gimli: Male? Oh, please, you silly girl.

E: *gulp*


(If that fits in anywhere...if not...)


*Scene: Theoden and Gamling are pacing the walls, preparing for battle*

Theoden: Mm-hmm. Yup. *nodnod* *point* A-yup.

Gamling: Sire?

T: Gamling, tell the men to set up my beach chair there. It looks like I might be able to deepen my tan there.

G: *ahem*

T: Oh, um, I mean, muster there, draw back behind *mumblemumble*

G: But, my lord, what of the women and children?

T: They can all take turns giving me massages and fluffing my pillows...*angry glare from Gamling* I mean, get them safely bestowed into the caves *mumblemumble*

Voice from a culvert: Helm's deep has one weakness, besides King Theoden. A small culvert, little more than a drain and just as easily clogged with hair, is the one weakness in the very thick, hard wall.

Saruman: A-hum. But Grima, tell me, why are we crouched in a culvert?

Grima: Well, um, we're scouting.

Saruman: Here I sit, waist deep in water...when I have thousands of Orc spies at my beck and call...Grima, why did I get stuck with you?

G: But look, we're scouting! We're outside in the wild, camping and doing some male bonding!

S: ....eh?

Random Rohirrim: Hey, Denthelm! There are some kids hiding in that culvert again!

Random Rohirrim 2: Get the sticks!

S&G: Yipe! *skeedaddle*

G *panting*: What I don't get is...*wheeze*...how can fire...*pant*...undo stone? *gasp*

S: It's my own invention. I like to call it "Dy-no-mite!"

G: But even with...*gasp*...such an implement, it would take...um, lots and lots to even hope to make a dint! *whimper*

S: So? Your point?

G: Well, last time I checked, that many gullible orcs don't exist.

S: It's time to update, pal.

*The two suddenly run into a nearby canyon, wherin is stowed thousands upon thousands of Orcs! Grima, holding his pore feet is speechless and a tear rolls down his face."

S: Are we ready to rock?

Hoarde: Yeah!

S: Are we ready to roll?

Hoarde: Yeah!!

S: Are we ready to rock and roll?

Hoarde: YEAHH!!

S: Then, let's go!

*The hoarde troops off*

S: I hope Men have set their alarms, because dawn comes a bit early around these parts.

G: Huh?

S: Nevermind. You wouldn't understand.


Annnd, next is Merry+Pip+Treebeard gazing on "Smoke to the South".