Monty Python: The Return of the King
Monty Python: The Return of the King
By James Haines (aka: Hstaphath)
Monty Python: The Fellowship of the Ring
Scene 4: The Barrow-Anthrax
Monty Python: The Return of the King
Monty Python: The Return of the King

Narrator: Finally reaching the eastern edge of the Old Forest, our stalwart band from the Shire has entered an ancient and haunted region of burial mounds known as "The Barrow-Downs." Having missed the chance to pass through the downs during daylight due to a poorly timed afternoon nap, an eerie cold fog now rolls in across the downs. One by one... the hobbits become separated in the silent, heavy mists.
Frodo: Sam! Pippin! Merry! Come along! Why don't you keep up?!

(from some place a far way off to the east, so it seems... there is a distant cry, "Hoy! Frodo! Hoy!")
Frodo: Sam! Where are you?! Pippin! Merry?! Come along!
Narrator: Climbing up a hill-top, Frodo sees a great barrow looming open before him. Near the entrance is the dark cloaked figure of what appears to be a rather attractive young elf maiden... her ears distinct even in the gloom. Turning to Frodo, her eyes are very cold as though lit with a pale light that seems to come from some remote distance.

Frodo: Hello? Can you help me? I've lost my friends and—
Narrator: Her beautiful ghostly face smiles as a strong soul-chilling grip seizes Frodo. The icy touch freezes him right down to his "Fruit-of-Thy-Looms" and he remembers no more.
Frodo: (weakly) Hello? Where am I?
Mercé: Welcome, gentle halfling. Welcome to the Barrow Anthrax.
Frodo: The Barrow Anthrax?
Mercé: Yes, it's not a very good name, is it? Oh, but we are nice and we will attend to your every, every need!
Frodo: You are an underground colony of elves?
Mercé: We are a what?
Frodo: Elves. One led me here.
Mercé: Oh, but you are tired and you must rest awhile. Jen! Kel!
Jen and Kel: (appearing as if out of thin air) Yes, O' Mercé?
Mercé: Prepare a pyre for our guest.
Jen and Kel: Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Mercé: Away! Away, varletesses. The beds here are cold and hard and very, very lonely, I'm afraid.
Frodo: Well, look, I—I, uh—
Mercé: What is your name, handsome sir?
Frodo: Frodo Baggins... of the Shire.
Mercé: Mine is Mercé. Just Mercé. No other names are necessary anymore... oh, but come.
Frodo: Look, please! In all seriousness, where is the elf who led me here?
Mercé: Oh, you have suffered much. You are delirious.
Frodo: No, look. I saw her! She is here in this—
Mercé: Mr. Frodo! Surely you would not be so ungallant as to refuse our hospitality?
Frodo: Well, I—I, uh—
Mercé: Oh, I am afraid our existence must seem very dull and dead compared to yours. We were but eight score young blondes and brunettes, all between sixteen and twentynine-and-a-half, cut down and laid to rest in this barrow with no one to protect us. We here in this grand and stately barrow are the wives and harem of the King of Arthedain. Unfortunately, that poor sod Arvedui not only messed up his rights of succession, but went and got himself killed somewhere up north with the snow-dwellers of Forochel... leaving us with not even a male guardsman for company! Oooh, it is a lonely state of non-existence and now you and your three companions are here and we are just not used to having such handsome males to tend to... or any males for that matter. Nay, nay. Come, come. You may lie here. Oh, but you are exhausted!
Frodo: No, no. Well, I guess I do feel a bit worn.
Mercé: Oh, you must see the embalm... errr... healers immediately! No, no, please! Lie down.
[clap clap]
Freya: (two more, rather scantily-clad girls, appear as if from nowhere) Well, what seems to be the trouble Ma'am?
Frodo: They're healers?!
Mercé: Uh, they—um, er, have a basic medical training, yes.
Frodo: B—but—
Mercé: Oh, come. Come. You must try to rest. Freya! Fliss! Practice your art.
Fliss: Try to relax. Gosh! You're a big, strong chap aren't you?
Frodo: Are you sure that's absolutely necessary?
Freya: We must examine you and get you into this nice white robe.
Frodo: Hey! Watch where you're... there's nothing wrong with that!
Freya: Please. We were professionals.
Frodo: Look! This cannot be. I at least need to find Sam, Merry, and Pippin!
Fliss: Lay back down! At once you naughty boy!
Frodo: Torment me no longer. I must find my friends and I must find the elf who guided me here!
Mira: There aren't any elves here.
Frodo: I have seen her! I have, I have seen one!
Frodo: I saw her at—
Girls: Hello, what's this then?
Frodo: Uh—Oh! Mmmm...
Girls: Hello, Hello. Hello. Gosh, you do seem to be responding well to treatment.
Frodo: Whoooa! It was good to be the King!
Freya: Shall I rub the lube—um...herbal salve on his—um—er—
Fliss: No me! Me first!
Frodo: Uh—ngghh—groan...
Girls: Oh! What a big boy your are!
Narrator: Amid the spirits of some of the most beautiful female beings Frodo has ever beheld, he spots his relaxed and helpless companions.
Frodo: Sam! Merry! Pippin!
Sam: Hoy Mr. Frodo, sir! Miss Mercé said you were getting a massage... oh, these girls are so lovely...
Merry: Hey Frodo, the girls say they are going to teach us something called "tupping!"

Pippin: I have no idea what that is, but I really think I'm going to like it! You don't mind if we stay a bit, do you?
Frodo: Mercé!
Firiel: No, I am the spirit of Mercé's identical twin sister and the head wife, Queen Firiel.
Frodo: Oh, well, excuse me, I—
Firiel: Where are you going?
Frodo: I must find the elf maiden! I have seen her... here at the entrance to this barrow!
Firiel: Oh, no. Oh, no! Bad, bad Mercé!
Frodo: Well, what is it?
Firiel: Oh, wicked, bad, naughty Mercé! She has been dressing up in her science fiction costume again which, I have just remembered, makes her ears elf-shaped. It's not the first time we've had this sort of problem with her. She carries on about being a Romulan, or Vulcan, or some other such rot.
Frodo: That was Mercé?! It wasn't a real elf?
Firiel: Oh, wicked, bad, naughty, evil Mercé! She is a bad disembodied entity and must pay the penalty and, here in the nether world, we have but one punishment for genre cross-dressing... you must tie her down over a crypt and spank her.
Girls: A spanking! A spanking!
Frodo: You can spank a ghost? Let alone tie one down?!
Firiel: Oh, my dear sweet innocent Frodo, not only is the answer to both questions very much "yes," but also—well... let's just say we take things to a whole different level here!
Frodo: (blinks a few times while his mouth is hanging open) Uhhh...
Firiel: So, you must spank her well and, after you have spanked her, you may deal with her as you like... and then spank me.
Stefi: And spank me.
Aylee: And me.
Kimmi: And me.
Firiel: Yes. Yes, you must give us all a jolly good spanking!
Girls: A spanking! A spanking! There is going to be a spanking in the old barrow tonight!
Firiel: And after the spanking... the oral sex.
Girls: The oral sex! The oral sex!
Frodo: Well, after what an utter disappointment Tom Bombadil's turned out to be, I'm sure we could stay a bit long—
Tom Bombadil: Frodo Baggins!
Frodo: Oh, hello.
Tom Bombadil: Quick!
Merry: What?
Tom Bombadil: Quick!
Pippin: Huh?
Tom Bombadil: Frodo called my name and I am here to rescue you. You are all in great peril!
Firiel: No, they aren't.
Tom Bombadil: Silence—foul, deceased temptress of the unwary!
Pippin: You know, she's got a point, I didn't like the look of that rash one bit...
Tom Bombadil: Come on, I will sing the verses that will cover your escape!
Frodo: Look, we're fine... just a bit pale is all. I really didn't mean to call for you, I was just saying it out of hand, sort of, and—
Tom Bombadil: Shrivel like the cold mist in the morning sunlight! Warm the heart and the stone, bane of the barrow wight!
Girls: No, please!
Merry: Now look, I can tackle this lot single-handed!
Firiel: Yes! Let him tackle us single-handed!
Fliss: Yes! Let him tackle us single-handed! And then spank us!
Girls: Oh spank us! Spank us!
Tom Bombadil: No, Merry, come on!
Pippin: No! Really! Honestly, I can cope. I bet I can handle this lot easily.
Firiel: Oh, yes! Let him handle us easily.
Girls: Yes, let him handle us easily!
Tom Bombadil: Out among the living lands, Go far beyond the burning sands...
Frodo: Please! I can overcome them! There's only a hundred-and-fifty of them!
Firiel: Yes! Yes, he will spank us easily! We haven't a chance.
Girls: We haven't a chance. He will beat us easily—
Tom Bombadil: Feel the shining golden rays, warm, true, and bright!
Firiel: Oh, shit!
Tom Bombadil: (singing the limerick all-together now)
Shrivel like the cold mist in the morning sunlight!
Warm the heart and the stone, bane of the barrow wight!
Out among the living lands,
Go far beyond the burning sands,
Feel the shining golden rays, warm, true, and bright!

Narrator: With an earth shattering rumble, the great barrow mound splits open to the full onslaught of a noon-day sun. The enchanting ghostly maidens of Arthedain disappear as but cool wisps of mist on a hot sunny day.
Tom Bombadil: You called for me just in the nick of time. You were in great peril.
Frodo: Well, I don't think I was.
Tom Bombadil: Yes, you were. You were all in terrible peril.
Frodo: Look... let us go back in there and face the peril.
Tom Bombadil: No, it's too perilous.
Merry: It's my honour as a Brandybuck to sample as much peril as I can.
Tom Bombadil: No, you've got to get to Bree. Come on!
Pippin: Oh, let us have just a little bit of peril?
Tom Bombadil: No. It's unhealthy.
Frodo: I bet you're gay.
Tom Bombadil: Ummm... no I'm not!

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