Monty Python: The Return of the King
Monty Python: The Return of the King
By James Haines (aka: Hstaphath)
Monty Python: The Return of the King
Scene 11: Lunch Reservations
Monty Python: The Return of the King
Monty Python: The Return of the King

Narrator: With victory on the fields of the Pelennor, the great Captains of the West meet to discuss their next move.

Gandalf: We must gather what forces we may and advance against Mordor. There is no other option. Our one frail chance lies in keeping the Eye from seeing his true peril. Whether in wisdom, folly, or drunken delirium brought on by Elrond's best wine, the plain fact is that the One Ring has been sent into the very heart of Sauron's realm. We must follow the path set before us as we must trust that Frodo and Sam are doing the same. I personally believe we will all undoubtedly perish in this diversion. Nonetheless, we must go on as we have begun.
Imrahil: The men have gone beyond the limits of mortal endurance and are in dire need of rest and provision. Also, the people of the city desperately need attending to. It will take at least a month to organize such an endeavour.
Aragorn: Not to mention that the defences of the city have been breached. We must at least see to some sort of repair of the main gates though the craftsmanship of Gondor is not what it once was.
Gimli: There still is such skill to attend them among my kin in the Kingdom of Dain. You would be well served in seeking the wrights of the Mountain to restore the splendour of Minas Tirith.
Legolas: As well as sending for Silvan elves of the Green Wood to cultivate gardens and parks to rekindle life, beauty, and joy here once again.
Aragorn: It is plain that an urban planning committee should be assembled with all manner of urgency.
Gandalf: But-- but... there is no time for any of that!
Eomer: My lords, there is one other minor matter I would bring to your attention, if I may. My sister Eowyn is here and making a speedy recovery in the houses of healing.
Imrahil: What does that—
Gimli: She is looking for a husband.
Legolas: One of noble birth.
Imrahil: My men will be ready within the hour.
Gandalf: There is not a moment to lose.
Aragorn: Yes, we flee—er... "leave" immediately!
Narrator: Moving with amazing speed and order, Aragorn led the host of the West from the city to the Black Café of Mordor in a mere 10 days. The fact that those without horses ran nearly the whole distance certainly helped.

Narrator: On a side note, the only man of noble birth left in all of Minas Tirith was the badly wounded Faramir who, coincidentally, was placed in the room next to Eowyn's in the houses of healing.
Eowyn: (whispering softly) Hello handsome... I understand you are the new Steward of Gondor, yes?

Faramir: Who—Where—What ARE you doing?!
Eowyn: Just rubbing in a little—um— Athelas ointment. Your wounds are most grievous and the Lady Eowyn is here to make it all better.
Faramir: Mmph! [gulp] Ahhh... ohhhh. [gasp] Stop that at once... you—you—naughty...
Eowyn: Shhh... do lie still, my Lord Faramir, or you will do yourself a mischief.
Faramir: Oh Eru! [sob] Have mercy...
Narrator: Arriving at the Black Café, Gandalf was relieved to hear that Aragorn had thought ahead and used the palantir to call for reservations.
Maitre D: Ah, bon soir, monsieurs, and welcome to ze Restaurante Morannoni. Comment ca va?
Aragorn: Fine, thank you. We have a lunch reservation for "Strider and Warparty."
Maitre D: (consulting a notepad) Je suis désolé monsieurs, but you do not appear to be on ze list... do you have a number de confirmation?
Aragorn: A what?
Maitre D: A confirmation number, monsieur.
Aragorn: I wasn't given any blasted number!
Maitre D: I do apologize plus sincèrement, but I am afraid zat I can not let you in.
Gandalf: Is there someone in management we can speak to?
Maitre D: Oh, monsieur, I assure you zat I am ze Maître D'bouche Sauron. You could try leaving a complaint with ze Dark Lord himself, but I do confess he is rather tied up with jewellry shopping at ze moment.
Aragorn: Then you leave us no choice but to gain entry by force!
Imrahil: My liegelord Aragorn, I would caution that the staff of this establishment alone outnumbers our forces.
Eomer: Not to mention that the waiters of Restaurante Morannoni are one of the rudest and most feared fighting forces in all of Middle Earth.
Gandalf: Which, naturally, is why Sauron uses them in this manner to guard the main entrance to his land.
Aragorn: Fine. I see we have no option but to withdraw for now.
Maitre D: Merci beaucoup. Tres jolie to see you and I do 'ope very much we will have ze plaisir of your company again very soon. Au revoir, monsieurs!
Gimli: Please tell me you didn't make me wear a tie for nothing.
Legolas: A bath wouldn't have been amiss with you either. Still, I am very disappointed that we didn't even get a chance to look at a menu. I hear the appetizers here are to die for.
Gimli: Heh. Perhaps you could have ordered the lot of them mixed up in a bucket to go?
Legolas: No chance of that. One can never be sure if they are skimping on the paté that way, you know.
Gandalf: Aragorn! I have a plan.
[saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw saw]
[squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak]
[rrrr rrrr rrrr]
[squeak squeak squeak squeak]
Restuarant Staff: (whispering) Allo? C'est un lapin, lapin de bois. Quoi? Un cadeau. What? A present. Oh, un cadeau. Oui, oui. Hurry. What? Let's go. Oh. On y va. Bon magne. Over here...
[squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak]
Aragorn: What happens now?
Gandalf: Well... now, uh, Legolas, Gimli, and I wait until nightfall. Then we leap out of the rabbit... taking the Maitre D and his foul waitrons by surprise. Not only by surprise, but with unhindered access to that cursed reservations list!
Aragorn: Who leaps out?
Gandalf: Uh—uh—uh—um Legolas, Gimli, and I—uh... leap out of the rabbit—uh... and—uh...
Aragorn: Ohh.
Gandalf: Oh. Um, l—look... if we built this large wooden badger—
Aragorn: Run away!
Army of the West: Run away! Run away! Run away! Run away!
Pippin: Oh bugger. Now why didn't I just stay back in Gondor with Merry?

Gimli: Pippin!
Wait Staff: Oh, haw haw haw haw! Haw! Haw haw heh...
Maitre D: To arms, mes amis, détruisez l'uncouth defilers of our 5 star café!
Pippin: (underneath the wreckage of the wooden rabbit) We. Are. So. Screwed.

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