Narrator: With the forces of Mordor on the move, Denethor the 2nd, the Ruling Steward of Gondor, makes plans in the high Tower of Ecthelion to unleash his secret weapon. The sudden arrival of Gandalf and the halfling Peregrin Took in Minas Tirith comes as an unwelcome frustration to the aging Steward who holds Gandalf responsible for the loss of Boromir, the elder and most favoured of his two sons.

Faramir: My lord, Osgiliath is overrun!
Denethor: Then it must be retaken.
Faramir: But how, father? The army that has issued forth from Mordor is overwhelming our defenses.
Denethor: We must use the Silly Walk Brigade.
Gandalf: The WHAT?!
Faramir: They have yet to be tested in battle... if they fail—
Denethor: They will not fail!
Gandalf: Perhaps—
Denethor: No, I will abide none of your meddling Mithrandir! Now listen... every bit I could squeeze out of national defence, social security, health, housing, and education in the Gondorian budget has gone into researching, training, and implementing this elite brigade.
Pippin: I just can't imagine how someone with a silly walk is going to—
Denethor: We now have troops who can bend their legs back over their heads and back again with every single step. What chance do a measly horde of orcs have against that?!
Faramir: I will lead them, if I must. This is our most desperate hour.
Denethor: You?! Your right leg isn't silly at all and your left leg only does a forward aerial half turn every alternate step... alas, if but Boromir were here!
Faramir: Though it is true that I can not walk with little jumps and then three long paces without moving my upper body as my brother could, I will lead the Brigade to retake Osgiliath if it is your wish.
Denethor: I do wish it, besides... I'm not going to mince words with you, what other son do I have left to kill off?!
Faramir: So be it.
(Faramir hurries out)
Denethor: Sing for me little hobbit!
Pippin: Sing? My big musical number is going to be here?!

Denethor: And why should my halls be unfit for your song?!
Gandalf: Better humour him, Pippin.
Pippin: Alright, alright.
Denethor: A-one, two... a-one, two, three, four...
Pippin: A Half-a-ling, quite literally,
Must ipso facto half not be.
But a Half-a-ling still must be
Vis a vis it's entity-- You see?
But can a thing be said to be
Half a thing in it's entirety,
Since a Half-a-ling is about 4'3",
Due to suspiciously murky ancestry-- Singing!
[music]
Tower Gaurds: La di ding, here to sing,
It's Pippin the Half-a-ling.
Tehta, Tema, Tengwa-la-ling,
Pippin the Half-a-ling.
Pippin: Was it other's curiosity,
That enraged an orcish army,
So through Moria we did quickly flee?
Gandalf: No! T'was Pippin the Half-a-ling!!
Tower Gaurds: Kazad-dum, bum-bl-ing,
Pippin the Half-a-ling.
Here we go, give'm a fling,
Pippin the Half-a-ling.
Pippin: I had to split from Merry,
In trouble "accidentally,"
A crystal ball I had to see,
I'm now screwed as can be.
Tower Gaurds: He's now screwed as can be.
Pippin: Pretty carnally.
[music stops]
Pippin: The end.
Denethor: Jenny Connelly?!
Gandalf: No, "pretty carnally."
Denethor: Oh.
Tower Gaurds: (quietly singing) Miss Jennifer Connelly.
(Pippin ends with an elaborate whistle)
Denethor: Most excellent, Master Halfling, consider yourself a member of my Tower Guard.
Pippin: Really? Why, thank you, my lord!
[crash]
(Faramir stumbles into the room with a couple of orc arrows sticking out of him)
Faramir: Father!
Denethor: Back already?
Faramir: It was a slaughter!
Denethor: Wonderful! Then Osgiliath has been retaken, I trust?
Faramir: It was our slaughter, father! Even killing 10 orcs to 1 Gondorian, we rued the exchange. It was... La Charge Futile.
[thud]
Gandalf: Faramir has blacked out from loss of blood, we must get him to the houses of healing immediately!
Denethor: Such a slacker. I would wager his brother would have taken twice as many arrows to bring him down.
Pippin: Well, now that you mention it, Boromir did have a good baker's dozen—
Gandalf: Enough! The city must be prepared for defence.
Denethor: Fine, fine... whatever. It's not like it will do much good at this point.

Pippin: You know, "pretty carnally" just doesn't do all this justice.