View Single Post
Old 07-06-2008, 03:07 PM   #34
Morthoron
Curmudgeonly Wordwraith
 
Morthoron's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jun 2007
Location: Ensconced in curmudgeonly pursuits
Posts: 2,528
Morthoron is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Morthoron is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Morthoron is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Morthoron is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Morthoron is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.
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.
__________________
And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulders of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision.
Morthoron is offline   Reply With Quote