[Meela]

Gandalf and Pippin enter the hall.

Guard #1: Feet!

Gandalf and Pippin wipe their feet and walk forward.

Guard #2: Wait, body search.

Gandalf: Is it necessary? We’re here to stop the impending destruction of all mankind, not gossip over tea and cake.

Guard #2: We had some nutter in here the other day raving about death, doom, and a lack of toilet paper. We’re taking no chances.

Gandalf: I think you’ll find that was your Steward.

Guard: Oh…well, you’re clear. Approach him with caution and make no sudden movements.

Gandalf and Pippin tiptoe towards the far end of the room. Gandalf coughs loudly, adding some after-effects spluttering, and bangs his staff on the floor.

Gandalf: Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor, High Warden of the Crooked Mountain, and recent Official Juror of the Crackpot Committee. I come with tidings in this dark hour, and with complimentary cookies from Rohan, which are supposed to put some sense into your head. I’ll leave you a few thousand.

Denethor: Perhaps you come to explain this. Perhaps you come to tell me why my son is dead.

Denethor holds up a cloven purple teddy bear. Gandalf swiftly turns his snort of laughter into a bad cough. Denethor Glares Suspiciously™.

Denethor: Oh, uh… *snatches back the bear and holds up the cloven horn*

Gandalf scratches his head and looks away.

Gandalf: Uh, nope… no idea. We’re completely in the dark, aren’t we Pippin? *nudges Pippin*

Pippin: But you said he was dead. You said he was as loony as his dad and deserved everything he got- *whack* ow!

Pippin kneels before Denethor.

Pippin: You’ve got to help me, see how he treats me! Pleeeeaaase let me work for you. I’ll wash cutlery, I’ll cook, I’d gladly be a food taster… I’ll be in charge of your toilet paper supplies…

Denethor perks up.

Pippin: Pleeeaase, I’ll do anything!

Denethor: I wouldn’t mind having an amusing, pocket-sized court jester. Jason, you’re out of a job.

Jason the Court Jester gloomily packs away his hand puppets and leaves.

Gandalf: Get up, Pippin! *mutters* I’ll deal with you later… My Lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir-

Denethor: Who? *gleefully pokes Pippin with his staff* Look at him dance!

Gandalf: The enemy is on your doorstep! As steward, you are charged with the defense of this city! Where are Gondor's armies?

Denethor: Gone off to Osgiliath, I s’pose. They all love Faramir so much… and something about a chess tournament…

Gandalf: You still have… some friends. One or two.

Pippin: And me!

Gandalf: I was counting you in there. C’mon Denny… pal…you’re not alone in this fight. Send word to Théoden of Rohan. Light those candle thingies. Someone’s bound to see them.

Denethor: *snarl* You think you are wise, Mithrandir, yet you don’t even know that white went out of fashion six months ago. Do you think the eyes of the White Tower are blind? I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan. Word has reached my ears of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I tell you now I will not bow to this Ranger from the North, one who refuses to bathe.

Gandalf: Authority is not given you to deny the return of the king, Steward, no matter how smelly he may be.

Denethor: *standing* No, it may not be so. But I can push my chair down that hall and bar the door with it!

Denethor sits. Gandalf pulls a rude face at his bowed head, then turns and walks away.