Denethor:
Possibly to get the idea that he wanted to go East totally and completely out of his father's mind, Faramir had advocated going North-West.
"We can skirt the edges of the Grey Mountains, avoid Mirkwood altogether, and hopefully avoid the other racers, who will probably opt for a more direct course- right over the Elvenking's halls."
"Skirt the mountains, eh?" mused Denethor. "You seem to have a powerful attraction to anything in skirts."
"It's a natural term of the Westron language," retorted Faramir. "It's your dirty mind that's hearing what it wants to hear."
"I can hear things perfectly well," said Denethor. "And you said 'skirt'."
Faramir rolled his eyes.
So North-West it was, Denethor clicking Minas Taxi into overdrive, and away they went, passing over the Desolation of Smaug, and ever nearer to Mirkwood and the to-be-skirted Grey Mountains. Occasionally, Faramir descended down, down, from the Tower of Ecthelion to confer with Húrin of the Keys and the rest of the support staff of the city about a minor detail regarding the city's performance, but by and large the nuclear-powered city ran like a charm.
"Ha! I told you all those millions of castar spent on developing a nuclear bomb wouldn't be wasted! Pity the War of the Ring ended so soon," Denethor chuckled to himself.
"I'm half of the opinion that the ancient Númenoreans must have had nuclear technology, and that we just rediscovered it. The radiation could account for the decline of the Númenorean lifespan. Since the lifespan began to decline about the time of Tar-Atanamir, then I think we can possibly assume that nuclear technology was first developed in the aftermath of the War of Eregion, nearly employed by Ar-Pharazôn in his invasion (the real reason Sauron surrendered), and then lost in the aftermath of Númenor."
"Did you get that crackpot theory from Mithrandir?" scowled Denethor. "That sounds like the sort weed-induced nonsense he'd come up with."
"Actually, it's my own theory," said Faramir.
The control room fell silent.
"Well, at least she has a reliable fuel source," said Denethor. "That's the important part. Besides, if Saruman didn't spend all those millions of castar on developing us nuclear technology, then what DID he spend it on."
"Scuba gear and genetic research," replied Faramir.
"Scuba gear?" said Denethor. "What kind of a nonsensical theory is that?"
"Well, to find Morgoth's notes on the creation of the orks, he'd have needed scuba gear," replied Faramir.
"Only a weed-deluded old reprobate like Mithrandir would try a plan as foolish as that. It's almost as bad as the "let's send the One Ring to Mt. Zoom" theory."
"Well, Saruman is a smoker, and he's rather old, and reprobate does fit," said Faramir.
"Thorongil fits all of those qualities too," mused Denethor. "Any chance we could have him impeached on those grounds?"
"Arwen would kill you."
"What would she do?" demanded Denethor. "She's a seamstress, not a swordsman! She's admitted herself that the whole Ford of Bruinen sword-thingy business never happened."
"Of course not," agreed Faramir. "That was actually her size 88 embroidery needle."
"Why'd she only make Aragorn a flag!" said Denethor. "She could have knitted him a whole sail for those *CENSORED* black ships of his! That would have saved me a lot of anguish!"
"I'm sure she did it for the sole purpose of antagonizing you, father," said Faramir sarcastically.
"It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest," muttered Denethor.
To himself, Faramir muttered. "It's a good thing the Númenorean lifespan declined. I'm not sure I could take another 300 years of this."
Minas Taxi cruised on...
To the Reader: Yes, that's right, we haven't even made it to the Troll yet. What's your hurry? We've got in the neighbourhood of 40 hours left...