Narrator: Leaving the encampment of Rohirrim at Dunharrow in the misty early twilight before dawn, three figures swiftly make their way along an ancient and dread trail. It is Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas... they have taken the back way out of Dunharrow and travel upon the Paths of the Dead. No one in the recorded history of Middle Earth has travelled these paths and survived to tell the tale. In all actuality, only one poor blighter, named Baldor, was mad enough to ever give it a go. Legend has it that it was done on a dare after a few to many pints at a pub in Medusëld, but that is another story entirely.

Legolas: I can understand why Gimli would take such a path as this after his misguided incident with Elrond's tent, but please remind me why it is that WE are going this way, Aragorn?
Aragorn: It was foretold by Malbeth the Seer in the days of King Arvedui that this is the path I was fated to travel.
Legolas: Right... and getting away from Eowyn had nothing to do with it?
Aragorn: Eowyn? Of course not, why would you ever think such a thing?!
Legolas: Oh, I'm not sure. Perhaps it was her curious habit of leaving letters on your bed with little hearts drawn on them in pink lipstick.
Aragorn: The ones with the daggers stabbed through them? Errr... I never actually got around to reading any of them.
Legolas: Or the way she kept telling you that her only fear was dying a virgin.
Aragorn: Well, who wouldn't be afraid of that?
Legolas: Or that she has been trying to find fabric to make a new white "ceremonial" dress?
Aragorn: Perhaps it is just a fashion thing... this season's white is the new black, you know.
Legolas: I even overheard her asking the elves from Rivendell if any of them knew any Gondorian wedding music.
Aragorn: Elrond's folk are renowned for their gift of song. I'm sure she was probably just making polite conversation!
Legolas: I also saw that she had made two small naked dolls that looked amazingly like you both. She kept saying some kind of sing-song rhyme as she bound them together with rope, and—
Gimli: Wait! Do you hear that lads?!
[shrieking and howling]
Legolas: I hear the sounds of moaning and wailing upon the wind!
Aragorn: These are called the Paths of the Dead for a reason, are they not? Perhaps the ghosts of old have taken notice of our trespass.
Gimli: Actually, the howls are coming from behind us.
Legolas: Indeed, Gimli, it sounds like Eowyn!
Gimli: Perhaps she has just noticed Aragorn's absence?
Legolas: You did at least leave her a note or something telling her we were leaving for Gondor, didn't you?!
Aragorn: Run faster, my friends, FASTER!
Narrator: Passing through a narrow glen, the three companions come upon a massive door in a sheer wall of rock. Ancient and evil looking runes surround the entrance with dire warnings decrying "fayme aynd fortunne," but there is no other course... in they must go. Minutes crawl by as if hours in these caverns far from the warmth of the sun here beneath the earth. Cold... dark... the sputtering of the torches and the trickling of water... whisperings in the shadows. Our trio realizes they are not alone.
Legolas: Shapes... there are shapes in the darkness.
Gimli: We are surrounded—

Ghostly Man: Hello there!
Aragorn: Whoa! What the... where did... who are you?
Ghostly Man: We are merely the nameless multitude exiled here.
Ghostly Woman: We are those who reached out for our 15 minutes of fame... only to be denied.
Aragorn: No, you can't mean that these are the Paths of...
Ghostly Man: Yes.
Aragorn: ...the Paths of the Dead Showbiz Careers?!
Ghostly Woman: The same. This dismal forgotten realm is the end of the road for legions of would-be 'D-list' celebrities. We are those that are "ratings impaired."
Ghostly Man: Stars of rejected TV series.
Ghostly Woman: Game show contestants that never won.
Ghostly Man: Some without so much as a parting gift!
Ghostly Woman: Lately, though, we have mostly been getting flooded by participants from something indescribably evil called "reality shows."
Legolas: The horror!
Gimli: You mean that frightening large mob over there?
Ghostly Man: Oh, that lot? Those are the New Zealanders that didn't get to appear as extras in Peter Jackson's interpretations of these movies.
Legolas: May the sacred Valar protect us!
Ghostly Woman: We wait here for the one who can redeem us.
Aragorn: Redeem you?
Ghostly Man: The one who can give us what we so desperately need to pass on in peace... screen time!
Ghostly Woman: Which brings us to the question, who are you?
Aragorn: Oh, ummm... no one worth bothering over.
Ghostly Woman: No? There wouldn't be a casting agent among you by any chance?
Aragorn: No, nothing like that, just three traveling salesmen who got lost on their way to Minas Tirith.
Ghostly Man: Still, do you know of anyone that could get us into a scene in this movie?
Ghostly Woman: Like a King or script writer.
Ghostly Man: Finding ourselves a stagehand, stunt double, or maybe even an elven prince wouldn't hurt either.
Gimli: King?! Well, Aragorn here actually—
Aragorn: We once met a King is what Gimli was going to say!
Ghostly Woman: Did you really?!?
Legolas: We did, but he has yet to claim his kingdom, so no help there.
Ghostly Man: Oh, that's a shame. Well, it's not like we can expect the lost King of Gondor to pop up or something.
Ghostly Woman: Indeed, if any of us had that kind of luck we wouldn't have ended up here.
(as the ghosts start into an obviously old debate involving a prophecy, a duck, and a sacred jar of marmalade, our quick thinking trio slips away and makes a break for it)
Ghostly Man: Right. Well, if you can recall, that silly prophecy about Isildur's heir clearly states that... ummm...
Ghostly Man and Woman: WAIT A BLOODY MINUTE!
Aragorn: Run away!
Gimli: They are following us!
Legolas: Faster—they are gaining!

Narrator: Try as they might, Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas had no real hope of outrunning the massive crowd of undead following them. They are finally surrounded once more at a hill where sits a great globe of unearthly stone.
Aragorn: Go away!
Ghostly Man: How shall we go away, sire?
Ghostly Woman: And does going away involve some kind of cameo appearance?!
Aragorn: Oh, just go away! Leave me alone!
Ghostly Man: Give us a sign that you are the true heir of Isildur!
Ghostly Woman: He has given us a sign! He has brought us to the Stone of Erech in accordance with the prophesy!
Aragorn: I didn't bring you here, you just followed me!
Ghostly Man: Oh, it's still a good sign by any standard.
Ghostly Woman: And he bears the sword—the sword that was broken!
Aragorn: Oh, errr... this isn't Narsil, it's called Andúril.
Ghostly Man: A miracle! He has remade the sword... he is the King!
Aragorn: Well, if it was Narsil, I'm sure I didn't reforge it.
Ghostly Woman: Hail the true King of Gondor... the one that can get us into the end credits of this feature!
Aragorn: Back off now, I'm not the King!
Ghostly Man: I say you are, sire, and I should know. I've stalked a few.
Ghostly Woman: Hail King of Gondor! Our Messiah to stardom!
Aragorn: I'm not the King! Will you please listen? I am not your Showbiz Messiah, do you understand?! Honestly!
Ghostly Woman: Only the true King would humbly deny his nobility.
Aragorn: What?! Well, what sort of chance does that give me? Alright then, I admit it. I am the King!
Ghostly Horde: He is! He is the King!
Aragorn: Now, flûk off!
(pause)
Ghostly Man: How shall we flûk off, O wise and noble King?
Aragorn: Oh, just go away! Leave me alone.
Narrator: As Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas continue on their journey, the dread army of dead showbiz wannabees follow behind them. What few inhabitants there are in such places as Lamedon and Ciril flee before the horrific sight of undead 'D-list' celebs on the make.
Legolas: So much for getting to Gondor unnoticed.
Aragorn: I might as well have used Gandalf's palantir to tell Sauron exactly where to find us.
Gimli: We are so screwed.