(Idril)
Odd Narrator: Merry's eyes went all googly (in a bad way) as he walked with the King and Eowyn toward the ruined gates. There were bodies everywhere, smashed circus tents, wrecked Ferris wheels and overturned port-o-lets. Several of the enemy's RV's had been pushed into the fire pits and were filling the air with a reeking smoky stench. Among the dead were many of the great Mumakil, who were being dressed out and hauled away by the Woses. The men of Minas Tirith were busy clearing a path to the city, grumbling all the time that the obsessively low-tech screenwriters wouldn't let them use the enemy's abandoned bulldozers.
As Merry's companions approached the ruined gates, several medics hurried up, bearing litters and large packages sealed in heavy plastic. They laid the King and Eowyn (and Sue Anne) on the litters, and broke open the package labeled "Death Kit - Visiting Royalty." Soon they had Theoden fixed up nicely with a cloth of gold coverlet and ceremonial torches for his entourage. For Eowyn they had a package labeled "Casualty Kit - Incognito Shieldmaiden", which contained nice soft pillows, a warm coverlet, and an emergency supply of makeup.
Thus the King and Eowyn were borne into the city. All who saw them bowed their heads with respect, and wondered who the hot babe was, and whether or not she was a dyke. Merry staggered along after them, wandering in and out of dark dreams.
Merry: <MOAN> No Dad, I don't want to kiss Gramma goodbye, she's all cold!
Odd Narrator: As Merry wound his way up through the streets of Minas Tirith, the torches receded and everything grew dark.
Merry: That much for a gravesite? You've got to be kidding, do you know how much that is per acre? I'll look at it again in the morning, it's getting too dark now.
[Somewhat Later]
Pippin: Merry! There you are! Wake up, bud!
Merry: No! I'm invishible... my eyesh r'shut!
Pippin: Oh geeze... what are you doing here?
Odd Narrator: Merry's sight cleared enough to see Pippin's beloved face. He found himself propped against a dumpster outside of a 7-11, clutching a mostly empty 40-oz of Old English '800'.
Merry: Ummmm... Pippin? Shat you? Sweres the king?
Pippin: They went on to the Citadel. You must have... Oh... you smell very, very bad!
Merry: Shank you... c'mere gimme kiss.
Pippin: Good gravy! Are you hurt?
Merry: Hurt? Naw. Arm fell off... sword... sword... sword... uhhh... pfft. M'arite.
Pippin: Well come on! Ooof! You're heavy. Try to walk, okay? Damn, they should have kept an eye on you! Everything's total chaos today, nobody can find their butt with both hands.
Merry: Kay gotta hurry dwanna miss my funeral. <SNORK> Damn dats funny.
Pippin: Okay. No, we don't need the bottle... walk... walk... oh not that way! Oh dear! Wait, is that Bergil! Bergil, hold up!
Bergil: (running up) Hey, who's the stinky guy?
Pippin: I'll explain later. Could you pretty please run up the the Houses of Healing and get Gandalf for me?
Bergil: Umm... okay, but I usually work for tips.
Pippin: Okay, here's a tip. If you go get Gandalf and tell him we have a perian down here, I won't smack you.
Bergil: Alright, sheesh! (runs off)
Merry: Nice to meecha, y'all come back now!
Pippin: We might as well slump down here.
Merry: This ain't good... dwanna be buried in a street. Horses'll poop on me. Want nice hill with a tree... can I have nice hill with a tree, Pippin? Sunny and crap... kay?
Pippin: Okay! Nice hill with a tree... gotcha! But first we'll stop by the Houses of Healing. Holy Guacamole, your arm is ice cold!
Merry: Horses of Healing... who boy... <SNORK> Pippin's grabbin my bum. Necro... necro... necrosomething!
Pippin: <SIGH>
[A bit later]
Gandalf: (striding up) Oh my... this is bad!
(PippintheElf2097)
Merry: Gandalffpphhh... Do it again, dooo it agaiin...
Gandalf: Oh dear what now?
Merry: The hat...
Gandalf: No Sir Brandybuck, no pointy-hat trick now! We need to get you to the Houses of Healing! (strokes Merry's brow)
Pippin: (looks on as Gandalf , who continues to stroke lovingly... )
Mr. Gandalf, shouldn't we be going now?
Gandalf: (stands up) Oh, yes, well, off we go now. (picks up Merry)
Merry: Oohh that feelllthss good.
Pippin: Heyyy
Gandalf: Come along, Mr. Took! Hurry up! (Hugs Merry close) This has been an evil day. (Hugs Merry tighter)
Merry's Eyes: (bug out)
(merithehobbit)
Odd Narrator: As Gandalf rushed to take Merry to the Houses of Healing he mumbled to himself quietly, then seeing the folks of Gondor looking at him like he was a lunatic, he placed a flashing red light on the brim of his hat and Pippin started crying "Woo wooo wooo!". It worked like a charm and soon they were through the crowds of smelly folk and could cut in line at the Houses of Healing.
Gandalf: [tries to walk by]
ER Admitting Clerk: Hold on there old guy... gotta go through registration first.
Gandalf: What? Here I carry an honored hero of battle. One who should have been borne here with honor and lots of fanfare!
Pippin: Or at least with a Halfling Casualty Kit.
ER Admitting Clerk: [chewing gum] Uh huh... whatever... got your insurance card?
Gandalf: [bluster] Are you insane! Insurance?
ER Admitting Clerk: Or is he Medicaid?
Gandalf: Of course not! [starts digging in hidden pockets in robes]
Pippin: He has Shireificare. It has a great policy.
Gandalf: [slaps a card down]
ER Admitting Clerk: [blows a bubble, snap] Kay... uh... letssee... you got a 20 silver piece co-pay, and you will get a bill for the 50 gold piece deductible, but the amount after that is covered. Oh, and you have to fill out these forms... here's a clipboard. [hands him a clipboard with a pile of parchment and a quill]
Gandalf: HOLY #@$%!
Pippin: Here... got paid Tuesday. [coins start rolling all over the counter]
Gandalf: Scrawling with quill... thanks Foolofa... I mean Pip. Uh... Merry's mother's maiden name?
Pippin: Took.
Gandalf: Really?
Pippin: Yup. First cousins.
Gandalf: Uh, is he allergic to anything.
Pippin: Uh... yeah... dust mites.
Gandalf: Huh... me too.
Pippin: I know, me too. Though you may want to make a note that they shouldn't give him anything that will react poorly with alcohol for a while.
Gandalf: Good idea. [scrawl, scrawl] How much does he weigh?
Merry: [wakes up for a second] Lesshh than Pipppstterr! [faints]
Gandalf: [SNORK]
Pippin: [scowl] Actually, he is probably more than me by now, I am sure they had something better than rice cakes on their journey... Hornburger mustard on his sleeve... and even some grease from cheese fries.
Merry: [MOAN]
Pippin: It's Okay Merry, I'll have them use Peroxide on it before they wash it.
Gandalf: Here's all the paperwork.
ER Admitting Clerk: [snaps gum] Kay, GEORGE! STRETCHER... WE GOT A PAYIN' DYING GUY HERE!
George: Hi folks, just put him here... lets get him a room... smoking or non?
Pippin: Oh definitely smoking... well, if you have any good leaf?
Gandalf: Bring him up to the room between Faramir and Eowyn... they'll need a chaperone if they ever regain consciousness.
Pippin: [snicker]
Odd Narrator: So George took Merry up to his room, where Gandalf donned a white overcoat with a tag that said Dr. Gandalf the White, and suddenly everyone thought his opinion was reasonable.
They were tended well, as the folks in Gondor had actually had schools and things, as opposed to Rohan, where people died of colds all the time. Though they didn't remember all the old tricks, lots of stuff had been written down, and mostly people could be cured... well, except for old age... only Aragorn's family knew that trick and they weren't telling.
They were having more trouble than usual on this day, lots of wounds and dead guys, but there was a new sickness that seemed to be taking the lives of the young men of war that they couldn't figure out. They called it the Black Shadow for they caught it from the Nazgul, and was apparently air borne and very catchy which explains why the Nazgul were out there sneezing and blowing their noses during battle, haphazardly leaving their handkerchiefs all over the battlefield.
Whatever it was, it made the victims all depressed, had bad dreams then they passed into silence and went deadly cold... well and then they died. I know, what a wimpy disease to hand out as a biological weapon... it could have at least had bleeding eyeballs, or pussy wounds...
Dying guy: Hey... shuddup I'm dying here!
Odd Narrator: Well, anyway the nurses and doctors worked frantically and diligently all day long, Gandalf walking between the three and only paused to hear the reports from the battlefield... but he stayed at their side [sniffle] what a great guy.
Gandalf: Thanks, I'm just tired of fighting and this is easier.
Odd Narrator: Well, it sure looks nice. Well the day was long and the sun set and with all that pollution made for a pretty sunset that impressed everyone and briefly gave the nursing crowd hope that their patients would pull through, but alas as the sun fell, they all were gloomy again.
Ioreth: [weeping at Faramir's side] Alas! I hope he doesn't die! He is such a hottie he even lights up the long dormant flames of such as I... shall I never have the tingle of lust again before I die? [sigh] If only we had a King instead of a dying studly steward... I heard a story when I was a kid about Kings... it's probably a fairy tale, but it sounded nice. That the hands of a king were enough to set all hearts a flutter... and so the rightful King would be known... but look at Faramir's hands... not fluttery at all, in fact he really needs a manicure.
Gandalf: Hmm... [smirk] There may be some hope in your words, maybe a King has returned to Gondor; or have you not heard of the vats of hand lotion being sent down to the front?
Ioreth: Huh? No, haven't heard anything, nope, me just slaving away as I always do, not complaining, earning a pittance, helping my fellow man... the only thing I hope for is that the carnies and orcs and things keep out of my sterile hospital environment. It's bad enough cleaning up after the sick, I'd hate to have to clean up after a battle.
Odd Narrator: As Ioreth began a long tirade about disinfectant, the use of vinegar and various herbs to kill germs, Gandalf snuck away with a fresh batch of lotion for someone special out on the battlefield.
(Silarien)
Odd Narrator: Aragorn entered the House of healing.
Pippin: SQUEAK!
Beanie: [SPIN]
Pippin: STINKER! Come and give me a big, greasy hug.
[HUGS]
Imrahil: [to Eomer] King Stinker?
Aragorn: Well in the high tongue, I am called Elessar, the Elfstone. [points to green stone]
Beryl: And I'm called Stymied, the Unhappily Married. Meet the wife, Pin Face, the Frigid.
Aragorn: But Stinker will be the name of my house, if it ever gets built. In the high tongue it sounds better, 'Dunroamin'.
Odd Narrator: Aragorn then went to visit the sick, standing at the end of each bed in turn, and studying the obs on the clipboards.
Aragorn: This isn't good. I'm going to need a crash trolly, a positron emission tomography scanner and some herbs. Are there any herbs in here?
Ioreth: Aye, there are indeed, m'lord, but we're running a bit short on supplies; herbs, bandages, support tights, soap, faggots for the fire. Thought we'd plenty of 'em, but all of a sudden, there's none left. Nobody can get in or out of t'city, what with all the hoo har. It wasn't like this when I were a lass, I can tell thee. Oh no, we wouldn't let a bit of a war stop us. Up to our necks in muck and bullets, but we carried on as usual. See all, hear all, say nowt. That's my motto. Learn a lot that way, I do. Resourcefulness, for a start. I've used mi stockings for bandages. Tha wouldn't guess would tha? Look. [turn round to show back of legs]
Aragorn: [Stares at wobbly line drawn down chubby, mottled calves and opens mouth to reply]
Ioreth: Did that with mi eyebrow pencil. [brief pause for praise]
Aragorn: I'm-in-a-hurry-Have-you-got-any-athelas?
Ioreth: Athelas? Now let mi see. We've got atropine, aubergines, asters, aspirin, ascorbic acid, arrowroot...
Aragorn: KINGSFOIL! IT'S-ALSO-CALLED-KINGSFOIL!
Ioreth: Kingsfoil? Well why didn't tha say that in first place. No good using them posh words with the likes of me. Anyroad, why would tha be wanting Kingfoil? It's nowt but a weed. Now mi sister Nelly reckons it goes nicely in dandelion soup, but I wouldn't eat it. In fact, I wouldn't eat anything cooked by our Nelly. Now, mi other sister, Nora, she's what I'd call a cook. Bakes a lovely Battenburg. Takes after our mam, she does. No, if tha wants something to help these here sick folk, try Troll Oil, or some Newcastle Brown. Our Nora swears by it as a pick-me-up, and it makes her meat and potato pie really tasty. A few glasses of old Newkie would get the dead up and dancing. Come to think of it, there was a time we ran out of perfume and we used to dab kingsfoil behind our ears. It was no substitute for Channel No. 5, but it smelt quite nice...
Aragorn: NICE! It would be NICE if you would shut up and fetch some. Would that Elrond were here. You two could talk each other to death.
Ioreth: Hmph. [thinks - uppity, lah-de-dah, know-it-all]
Gandalf: Get a move on, woman, or I'll take you for a long ride in the woods.
Ioreth: [can't be seen for dust]
(Idril)
Odd Narrator: When Ioreth was gone, Aragorn asked for hot water.
Iobeth: Yes, you'll probably want a wash before you touch anybody. Do you want to pop into some scrubs? We could send your clothes to be burned... I mean cleaned.
Aragorn: I don't need water for washing silly woman! I'm going to make an fragrant infusion.
Iobeth: And you need water for that? You're pretty fragrant already, aren't you?
Aragorn: Arrgh! What idiot screenwriter gave you lines? Now scoot!
Odd Narrator: Then he took Faramir's hand in his, and then felt Faramir's fair-
Aragorn: Don't start with me!
Odd Narrator: Brow!
Aragorn: Alas, Faramir's credit cards are maxed out, and his checks are bouncing. But his wound is healing. Looks like a would from a "Trueflight" Arrow, 16 gauge, bronze tip, shot from a Southron Mach II bow... standard issue... probably manufactured in 3012 or 3014... no wait... (looks carefully) make that 3016.
Imrahil: Close, it was a "Fletcher's Choice" Arrow.
Aragorn: Darn! I always get those mixed up.
Imrahil: They're very close.
Aragorn: But a Southron arrow wouldn't make him sick like this. Must be the Black Breath.
Iobeth: But we've tried Listerine!
[They stare at Iobeth until she blushes]
[Enter Herb Master]
Herb Master: My Lord! Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
Aragorn: Ah! A lore master! Let me see... blah blah blah blah blah blah?
Herb Master: Blah blah blah?!?!
Aragorn: Blah blah blah blah blah blah.
Herb Master: Blah blah blah blah blah... ahem!
Blah blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah! Blah blah blah!
Blah blah blah blah
Blah blah blah blah!
Aragorn: Blah blah blah! Blah blah blah blah blah blah!
Gandalf: And make it snappy!
[Exit Herb Master]
Odd Narrator: And now Aragorn placed his hand on Faramir's BROW and called to him.
Aragorn: Here Faramir! Here boy! <whistles> Faaaaaaaaaaaramiiiiiiiiiiiiir! Come on!
Bergil: (running in) I brought Kingsfoil my Lord. But I fear that it's not fresh. And it's already been rolled into joints. Oh! He looks bad! If he dies, can I have his gauntlets?
Aragorn: (takes the six joints from Bergil) No you may not! These will do fine.
Odd Narrator: Aragorn then cast two of the... uh... he unrolled two of the joints and shook them out into the hot water. Immediately the fresh scent of strawberries stole through the room, and everyone felt refreshed. They were reminded of spring and grass and sunny hillsides... and picnics on nice soft wooly blankets... and laughing with a nice companion who likes tickles and kisses and who's blouse keeps coming undone and who then likes to... uhh... mumble.
Imrahil: Ooooh!
Iobeth: <SIGH>
Aragorn: Apparently it's working.
Bergil: EWWW!
Gandalf: Whooo boy! Is it getting hot in here?
Ioreth: Now that reminds me of the time-
Everyone: Shut up!
Faramir: (waking up) Where am I and what is the time?
Aragorn: Awake! Walk no more in the Shadows!
Faramir: (looks around) Oh... uhhh... greetings, your Majesty. (looks closer) Don't I know you from somewhere?
Aragorn: Never mind that. Now, you've awakened, you need to rest up, get some food... and most important... you won't really be yourself again until you engage in some vigorous sexual activity.
Iobeth and Ioreth: [GASP]
Faramir: (looks askance at the ladies) Ummmmm...
Aragorn: Trust me. It's the only way. We need you back on your feet. The war's not won yet!
Iobeth and Ioreth: *titter*
Faramir: Ooookay... I suppose. If you command it, my King.
(Russ)
Aragorn: Well, as they say in Edoras, 'I gots me a passel o' healin' t'do.' Later Dude.
[exeunt: Gandalf, Imrahil, Pippin and Aragorn]
Ioreth: Did you hear... blah blah blah blah blah...
Beregond & Bergil: Goody! Goody! Goody! Goody!
[cut to lobby]
Orderly: Did you hear? The King Blah blah blah blah...
Receptionist: Gasp! Thanks!
Man in Lobby Reading Paper: (Lowers Paper- Gasp! It's Geraldo! Drops paper and runs out of Houses o' Healing)
[cut to Aragorn and co. standing over Eowyn]
Aragorn: So, she threw down on The Witch King eh? A valiant deed! Stupid, but quite valiant! And she still looks so life-like!
Gandalf: That would be due to the fact that she still LIVES! But not for long if you don't quit staring and get busy!
Aragorn: Oh, right. Well lets see here... Hmmm, arm wound, nice clean break, no sign of infection, splinted and... Nope, no problem here. Let's have a look at this other... OH MAN!
Pippin: Oh that's just wrong!
Imrahil: Arrlup! (runs to waste basket) WRETCHHHHHHHH!
Aragorn: Um, Gandalf, I don't suppose you'd like to...
Gandalf: Me? Are you kidding? You're the one who wanted to be the King, you do it!
Eomer: Um, Guys? I'm sitting right here.
Aragorn: Oh, sorry man. Well, the rest of her still looks pretty hot I'll tell you what! But that sword arm, now that's a pickle and no mistake!
Gandalf: (cocks head) Yep, that's just about what it looks like.
Pippin: (ears perking up) Somebody say pickles?
Aragorn: I remember the day I first saw her... (face turns red) Ahem, well, enough of that. Is it warm in here or is it just me? (loosens collar) But her problem goes back before this day does it not Eomer?
Eomer: Why you askin'... OH! Dude! She's my SISTER! You are sick!
Gandalf: My friend, you had horses and deeds of arms and free fields, but not a woman among you! Do you seriously expect us to believe that you could be out there all the time with nothing but men around you and then...
Eomer: (voice low and dangerous, fingering sword hilt) Y'all were sayin' old man?
Gandalf: Um... (looks at Aragorn who raises his palms and steps back)... Ah yes, I can, um... see it all clearly now! This is... this is... this is the work of, um... WORMTONGUE! Yeah, that's it! Wormtongue, that sly rogue bastard! This is all HIS fault! Better?
Eomer: Better. But watch it.
Aragorn: Yep. That and she wanted me and couldn't have me. I have that effect on women you know, what with my being so handsome and manly kingly and all. Not that I'm bragging or anything.
Pippin: (rolls eyes) Oh nooo never!
Aragorn: (oblivious) It's a gift. It's too bad really, she'll probably never quite get over me. Well, let's get this show on the road. (crumples a joint into the water and palms a second for later, "medicinal" use.)
Aragorn: (rubs a little on her brow) Eowyn, Lady of Rohan, Awake!
(nothing)
Aragorn: C'mon, Eowyn, Rise and shine!
(nothing)
Aragorn: Hmmm. Better try a little lower. ( starts to slide hand under sheet)
Eomer: Hey!
Aragorn: Um, it's okay, I'm a doctor.
Eomer: Right! Back off you! Eowyn, Eowyn, y'all come back now, y'here!
Eowyn: Eomer? What joy is this? And whose hand is... HEY! SMACK!
Aragorn: Yeeeeow! Sorry, I was um, healing you.
Eowyn: Grrrrr!
Pippin: Oh yeah, it's a gift alright. (snork)
Eomer: Relax sis, ya'll just need to set here a spell.
Eowyn: Well ah am feelin' uh little bit peekid. But what about The King?
Eomer: You'uz lookin' at 'im. Theo is a-layin up yonder way in the Citadel. He looks right natcherul too!
Eowyn: And what about the Kings esquire? The runt? Ya'll are gonna make a Knight out of 'im! He got balls the size of his feet!
Eomer: (whistles softly)
Pippin: (looks at his own feet sheepishly) sigh.
Gandalf: Don't worry Lady, the run... er, Merry, is nearby. We're going to go to him directly. You just stay here and rest. Eomer, you stay here too. And give her whatever she needs.
Eomer: Any orders Doc?
Aragorn: Just one: Sex. and lots of it!
Eomer: Wha?
Eowyn: Maybe there is something to look forward to after all! (winks at Pippin)
Aragorn: Um, I'm going to have a bit of free time later on if you want me too look in on you...
Eowyn: You HAD your chance mister and you BLEW it! But if shorty here doesn't have any plans...
(BunnieBugs)
Odd Narrator: Gandalf and Pippin went to Merry's room, and there they found Aragorn standing by the bed.
Aragorn: (hastily hides a smoking object behind his back, looks guilty) Oh, hi. Just finishing up here...
Pippin: (rushing to Merry's side) Oh, Merry! He looks just awful, Strider! (sniffs) Why does it smell like smoked strawberries in here?
Aragorn: Um, well, he needed some stronger medicine than the others...
Pippin: (chin trembles) Is he going to... to...
Aragorn: (gently) Don't worry, he's going to be fine. In fact, I'll bet he's awake with a wicked case of the munchies any second now. He's just tired, and is suffering from a hurt like that of Lady Eowyn. You can't take down the Witch King of Angmar and expect to come away unscathed, you know. You DO know about the Witch King, right?
Pippin: You betcha! I finally had some time to do catch-up with my homework.
[Everyone stares in stunned disbelief.]
Pippin: (sigh)
Aragorn: Anyway, evils such as these can be mended, for this hobbit ROCKS! I mean, come on... the Lord of the Nazgul is toast thanks to him. He is grieved as well, and his grief will not be forgotten, but neither will it mar his enjoyment of life or the pleasure of closing a real estate deal.
[Aragorn lays his hand on Merry's head as the warm scent of berries fills the room.]
Aragorn: (softly) Merry... Mer-r-ry. C'mon buddy... (whispers) Wildlife refuge... Protected wetlands... Nature preserve...
Merry: Whuh? NOOOOOO!! Criminitly, what a nightmare... Oh, hullo! Gosh I'm hungry... I could eat a horse.
Pippin: (grins) Or maybe just a pony?
Merry: (smiles weakly) Well, only if it's prepared properly.
Pippin: (laughs) Well, I'll see what I can scare up for you... if they'll let me.
Gandalf: Oh, they'll let you, all right. I expect they'd let him have anything his little heart desires, seeing as how he ROCKS, and all.
Merry: Aw... I'd blush if my face wasn't so grey and stuff... But I would like some supper! And after that a pipe... Oh. [pause] No, on second thought, no pipe.
Pippin: Dude! No pipe? Strider, do something! He's still dying!
Merry: No, no. It's just that... he's dead. He apologized that he'd never have a chance to talk herb-lore with me. Now I'll never smoke again without thinking of him, and that day when he rode up to Isengard and listened so politely to my pipe-weed dissertation and real estate schemes.
Aragorn: All the more reason to smoke and remember him! He was a great king, and though you served him only briefly, the memory you can keep to the end of your days, and gladly.
Merry: (brightening) Well, don't just stand there! I'll have a pipe after all, if you give me what I need. I had some of Saruman's lovely leaf in my pack, but I haven't the foggiest notion what happened to it in the battle.
Aragorn: Master Meriadoc, it has been established that you do, indeed, ROCK, but if you think that I walked... one last time, with feeling... the
Music: DUN DUN DUN
Aragorn: Paths of the Dead
Horses: NEIGH!
Shadowfax: Don't look at me! I am SO not involved.
Aragorn: ... and crossed the vast expanse of Gondor to bring smoking paraphernalia to a careless soldier who can't keep track of his own stuff, you have another think coming. If your pack hasn't turned up in the Lost and Found, you'll have to send for the herbmaster, who will merely "blah-blah" your ear off and then tell you he doesn't have what you want anyway. But I shall leave you now to mull that over, because unlike you, I haven't slept in a bed since Dunharrow, nor eaten since before dawn.
Merry: Yikes! I forgot how touchy you can be. Forgive me! I know we've been nothing but a pain in the butt ever since Bree. But, I... I can't help but be a smart-aleck, sometimes.
Aragorn: I know. Me neither! (gives Merry noogies) No hard feelings. (smooch)
Merry: Oh, now that's nice... slobber all over my forehead.
[Aragorn and Gandalf start to leave]
Pippin: Wait! (runs over and whispers) You forgot to tell him about the therapy!
Aragorn: Therapy?
Pippin: You know... the, uh, sexual activity cure... treatment... thing.
Aragorn: Oh... that. I wasn't going to prescribe that, since there's no hobbit-lasses around, and he'd have to... um... fly solo, so to speak.
Pippin: Oh, I don't know... That Eowyn gal seemed more than a little willing.
Aragorn: Well, she's obviously not herself.
Pippin: (crosses arms) Oh? Then who, pray tell, is she?
Aragorn: Wellll... at the moment she seems to be a pervy hobbit fancier. Um, not that there's anything wrong with that.
Pippin: Way to duck and cover, Stinker. Fine! You beat feet, and I'll tell him.
[Aragorn makes a hasty exit, followed by Gandalf]
(Idril)
Odd Narrator: After Gandalf and Aragorn left, Pippin remained, scratching his behind.
Pippin: I am not!
Odd Narrator: What? Oh... it says Pippin remained behind. Sorry.
Pippin: (to Merry) Strider's getting all cool and stuff... what's up with that? I always knew Gandalf was cool, with the hat and all... but I always thought Strider was a little geeky. Now he's going all "Revenge of the Nerds" on us, huh? Like Dr. Green on ER?
Anyhoo... here's your pack. You had it with you the whole time.
Merry: Yes, I think our vision is clearing. We're beginning to be able to recognize nobility when we see it. We're beginning to understand that they've sheltered us and cared for us in our little land, where we, being sheltered, have learned to love the simple things in life without being aware of the-
Pippin: [SMACK!] SNAP OUT OF IT!
Merry: OW!! Huh? Oh... Whew! Thanks, Pippin. I don't know what came over me!
Pippin: No problem. Here's your pack. I cleaned the puke off of it for ya. Now do you want some weed or not?
Merry: (looking through pack) Hey! You didn't just clean it off... you cleaned me out. Where are my Snickers?
Pippin: Oh sorry! They've had me on this horrible diet in here. I know you stood up to the Witch King and all... but I've been through hell! Then I find out that the weight management program is all a fake. They were just afraid I'd eat up all the food during the siege! Do you believe that! Stupid humans!
Odd Narrator: Meanwhile Aragorn and Gandalf went to the Warden of the Houses of Healing and gave him some instructions regarding the patients.
Aragorn: The Lady Eowyn will probably want to come find me and kill me when she's recovered a bit. Please see that she doesn't. Tie her down if necessary.
Gandalf: And let's not tell Faramir that he's the Steward just yet. He'll probably start work right away and have a relapse. How about we say... hmmm... Denethor took a little vacation?
Warden: Vacation? Now? He'd never believe that.
Gandalf: How about we say he went over to the Dark Side... and he took an express Nazgul to Barad-Dur.
Aragorn: That's no good.
Warden: We could tell him the truth.
Gandalf: That's no good!
Warden: Okay, I'll give him a Valium... then tell him the truth.
Aragorn: Perfect!
Warden: What about the perian? Electroshock therapy you think?
Aragorn: No, no... just a daily beating. He'll be alright. Peregrin will tell you if he needs anything.
Warden: Indeed! I noticed that Peregrin already marked his kinsman's breakfast order. Says here: "Twelve of Everything and DON'T skimp on the butter."
(Silarien)
Odd Narrator: People gathered at the doors of the Houses of Healing to see the king.
Person#1: Which door do you think he'll come out of?
Person#2: That's a good question. We don't want to miss him, do we?
Person#1: And how will we recognise him?
Person#2: They say he looks rather grubby but wears a green elfstone.
Odd Narrator: When the king appeared, he was instantly recognised. People called upon him to come and heal their kin. So, Aragorn sent for the sons of Elrond to assist him.
Elladan and Elrohir: Reporting for duty, Doc.
Aragorn: What on earth are you wearing?
Elrohir: Standard issue nurse's outfits, of course.
Aragorn: Very fetching, I'm sure, but I didn't think nurses were supposed to wear high-heeled shoes.
Elladan: Sheesh, Arry. We knew your fashion sense was limited. Black stockings with flat shoes? I think not.
Aragorn: Please yourselves, but your feet are going to regret it.
Odd Narrator: So the healer and his assistants laboured until very late and word went round the city.
Person#3: There he is. The king!
Person#4: Those nurses of his are walking kinda funny? You don't think they're drunk, do you?
CROWD: ELFSTONE! ELFSTONE!
Beryl: [waving?] Hello. Thank you. You are all so kind. I love each and every one of yoooo.
Odd Narrator: And when the sons of Elrond could stagger no further, and Aragorn was weary from healing and gloating, the king slipped away...
Beryl: Now hold on just one doggarn minute. Where do you think we're going? My audience NEED me. Let's just head right back into the city and the warm embrace of my people.
Eagle Pin: For crying out loud, stow it, you snot-coloured stone.
Beryl: Ha, THAT from a cheap piece of tin. You're greener than me. I didn't hear anyone shouting PINFACE! You're just jealous.
Odd Narrator: ... to his tent to grab some shut-eye.