Narrator: The silent
watchers of Cirith Ungol are uneasy. Something has slipped... spies
are feared to be on the Stairs! The command is given for double vigilance
and patrols are sent from Cirith Ungol and Minas Morgul to Torech Ungol.
Narrator: Arriving at the scene of Sam's encounter
with Shelob, Gorbag and his group of orcs from Minas Morgul meet up
with Shagrat's patrol from Cirith Ungol. Together, they find a prize
worthy of Lugburz—Sauron's fortress of Barad-dur in the black
speech. Elvish, but undersized it looks. A midget? No... a halfling?
Yes—a hobbit! Quickly, the orcs move to take their discovery to
the Tower of Cirith Ungol for safekeeping. Samwise Gamgee, barely avoiding
detection, follows close behind.
Gorbag: Hey Shagrat, I wish to register a complaint.
(Shagrat ignores him)
Gorbag: Hey puss-face!
Shagrat: What do you mean "puss-face?"
Gorbag: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a
Shagrat: Well, I'm thinking about lunch.
Gorbag: Never mind that, Shagrat. I wish to complain
about this halfling what we picked up not half an hour ago from Shelob's
Shagrat: Oh yes, the—uh... the furry footed blue
thing. What's—uh... what's wrong with it?
Gorbag: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, Shagrat.
'E's dead, that's what's wrong with it!
Shagrat: No, no. He—uh... he's resting.
Gorbag: Look, garn you, I know a dead midget when I
see one and I'm looking at one right now.
Shagrat: No, no... he's not dead. He—he's just
resting. Remarkable halfling, the Furry Footed Blue, innit, ay? Beautiful
Gorbag: The pallor has everything to do with
it. It's stone dead.
Shagrat: No-no-no-no, no, no. 'E's resting I tell you!
Gorbag: All right then, if he's restin', I'll wake
him up. (shouting into Frodo's ear) 'Ello, Mister Jolly Hobbitt! I've
got a lovely little buttered teacake for you if you—
(Shagrat kicks Frodo)
Shagrat: There, he moved!
Gorbag: No, he didn't. That was you kicking him!
Shagrat: I never!
Gorbag: Yes, you did!
Shagrat: I never touched im..
Gorbag: (yelling and slapping Frodo repeatedly) 'ELLO
HOBBIT!!! Testing, testing, testing, testing! This is your nine o'clock
(Gorbag thumps Frodo's head on the nearby rock wall, stands the hobbit
up, and then watches him fall over)
Gorbag: Now that's what I call a dead midget.
Shagrat: No, no, no... 'e's stunned!
Shagrat: Yeah, you stunned him just as he was wakin'
up! Furry Footed Blues stun easily, Gorbag.
Gorbag: Um... now look—now look, Shagrat, I've
definitely 'ad enough of this. That halfling is definitely deceased
and, when we found it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its
total lack of movement was temporary due to it bein' stung by Shelob
following a prolonged scuffle.
Sam: Wait half a minute... Mr. Frodo isn't dead?
Shagrat: Well, he—he's, ah... probably pining
for the smials.
Gorbag: PININ' for the SMIALS?!? What kind of talk
is that?! Why did he just now fall flat on his back the moment I let
him go, then?
Shagrat: The Furry Footed Blue prefers keepin' on it's
back! Lazy little bugger, innit? Lovely pallor!
Gorbag: Look... I took the liberty of examining this
halfling as we've been marching along and I discovered the only reason
that he was even holding his head up in the first place was that he
is still half bound with Her Ladyship's cords.
Shagrat: Well, o'course he's still bound! If I hadn't
left him wrapped up, he would have waited 'til we were distracted, made
a break for it, and VOOM! Free as a bird!
Sam: ...he isn't dead?!
Gorbag: VOOM?! Utter bollocks. This halfling wouldn't
voom if you poured hot lava down his shorts! 'E's bleedin' demised!
Shagrat: No, no! 'E's pining!
Sam: He... isn't... dead!?!
Gorbag: 'E's not pinin', 'e's passed on! This midget
is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet the floggin'
Valar! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e's an orc entree! If you hadn't
left 'im bound 'e'd be pushing up the mushrooms! 'Is metabolic processes
are now 'istory! 'E's bit the bolt! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled
off 'is mortal coil, run up the tower and hugged the bleedin' Dark Lord!
THIS IS AN EX-HOBBIT!!!
Shagrat: Well, I'd better see if I can find another
(Shagrat and his men take another look around the area)
Shagrat: Sorry Gorbag, we've had another look 'round
and, uh, we're right out of halflings. We did strip this thoroughly
Gorbag: I see. I see, I get the picture.
Shagrat: I got a garden gnome..
Gorbag: Does it have furry feet?
Shagrat: No, not really.
Gorbag: Well, it's hardly a bloody replacement then,
Shagrat: N-no, I guess not.
Shagrat: (quietly) D'you—d'you want to come back
to my place?
Gorbag: Yeah, all right. I thought you'd never ask.
Sam: All I had to do... was check for a pulse... or
maybe just give him... mouth to mouth resuscitation?! Aaaaarrrgggghhh!!!
Narrator: Flying into a homicidal rage, Samwise Gamgee,
the gentle gardener from the Shire, slaughters over twenty orcs in less
time than it takes to butter a teacake. Only a badly wounded Shagrat,
clutching Bilbo's old mithril shirt, taken from Frodo, manages to escape
Shagrat: He was a mighty warrior of vengeful doom,
I'm telling you! Eight feet tall at least with a stinging sword of blue
flame! He must be one of those bloody handed elves or maybe a filthy
tark like those cursed brothers Boromir and Faramir! Run for
your lives minions of Mordor! Run!!!