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EXT. A RIVERBANK. The Largely Interchangeable Dwarves drift ashore in their BARRELS, cold, hungry, and wet. They have dispensed with their STOLEN ORC WEAPONS. Dwarf #13 is badly wounded; his PLOT WOUND is tended to by Dwarf #12.
Thorin: Alright, now we need to--
They are approached by a mildly baffled Bard the Bowman. He is, intuitively enough, a bowman.
Dwarf #3: An individual of some sort! Attack! Attack!
Bard demonstrates his badass quotient by rapidly shooting a pair of warning shots at the Largely Interchangeable Dwarves.
Dwarf #9: Wow, Legolas has really let himself go in the last ten minutes.
Bard: I'm not a "Lego-lass". I'm Bard, an ordinary bowman from Esgaroth who just happens to be the best human archer in the entire wide world, which is surely not due to me superfluously being royalty like everyone else in these stories. I must warn you that things are very difficult in Laketown these days. Stephen Fry doesn't let just anyone in, you know.
Balin: But you're from there? Then you might have a barge that we could hire? Now, I am...
Dwarf #3: What's taking so long!? This conversation has lasted for almost thirty seconds, and we're no closer to Laketown! Get a move on, or, in my inexhaustible dwarven rage, I will eat the boat and light myself on fire!
Thorin: I'm with Urist McBaldypants there.
Balin: Ugh. You know what? Bard, we want to get into Laketown, and we need your help. Now, we have intangible adventurer inventories, so contrary to all logic we've kept hold of our money. Smuggle us in, don't ask too many questions about our blatantly super-fake cover story, and we'll give the money to you.
Bard: I can see no downside to this plan.
Dwarf #3: Are we still talking!?
INT. THE THRONE ROOM deep within the ELVENKING'S HALLS. Legolas and Tauriel have taken Fergus the Orc prisoner and brought him before Thranduil Awesome-Hat for questioning. Legolas holds a knife to his throat; Thranduil approaches him.
Thranduil: Such is the nature of evil. Out in the maw-like ignorance of the world it grows and festers, like a shadow in the shadowy dark. That is lightless. And dark. Sleepless malice like the impending night rests in that dark. So it has always been. All foul things must ultimately come to light. Colourless green ideas sleep furiously in the dank swamp of orcy festeringness. We traverse the wilderness of evil but are not touched by it; forever and ever... you know what, I don't remember where I was going with any of this.
(...)
Radagast: You know, as an unshaven hippie, I have copious crittermancy powers, and we're standing in a forest the size of Germany. I'm pretty sure we could find an animal to play messenger boy for us. Heck, there's a family of elk living in my coat that's perfect for the job. We could just sit back and wait for Galadriel, who, by the way, can kick seven different kinds of ass. Why the hell are you going in alone?
Gandalf: I don't know! I can't be expected to have an explanation for every sodding thing in this movie!
Radagast: Fine, but if we have to come fish you out in the third one, I'm so going to point and laugh.
Gandalf leaves Radagast and advances deep into the foreboding shadows of DOL GULDUR. He begins to incant the words of power necessary to un-weave the spells laid upon it. The Incredible Albino Hulk and his servant, Elmer the Orc, listen from below.
Gandalf: Lorem ipsum flapdoodle malarkey foo!
Special Forward Sensor Effects: *FOOSH*
Elmer the Orc: My lord, I can hear words of power from high above! I think it's Tim Burton, come to take back his home at last! What are we going to do?
The Incredible Albino Hulk: No. It is the Grey Wizard. We must do nothing until he comes within our aggro range. When he does, make a beeline at him and just start swinging with everything you've got.
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Thorin: Alright, now we need to--
They are approached by a mildly baffled Bard the Bowman. He is, intuitively enough, a bowman.
Dwarf #3: An individual of some sort! Attack! Attack!
Bard demonstrates his badass quotient by rapidly shooting a pair of warning shots at the Largely Interchangeable Dwarves.
Dwarf #9: Wow, Legolas has really let himself go in the last ten minutes.
Bard: I'm not a "Lego-lass". I'm Bard, an ordinary bowman from Esgaroth who just happens to be the best human archer in the entire wide world, which is surely not due to me superfluously being royalty like everyone else in these stories. I must warn you that things are very difficult in Laketown these days. Stephen Fry doesn't let just anyone in, you know.
Balin: But you're from there? Then you might have a barge that we could hire? Now, I am...
Dwarf #3: What's taking so long!? This conversation has lasted for almost thirty seconds, and we're no closer to Laketown! Get a move on, or, in my inexhaustible dwarven rage, I will eat the boat and light myself on fire!
Thorin: I'm with Urist McBaldypants there.
Balin: Ugh. You know what? Bard, we want to get into Laketown, and we need your help. Now, we have intangible adventurer inventories, so contrary to all logic we've kept hold of our money. Smuggle us in, don't ask too many questions about our blatantly super-fake cover story, and we'll give the money to you.
Bard: I can see no downside to this plan.
Dwarf #3: Are we still talking!?
INT. THE THRONE ROOM deep within the ELVENKING'S HALLS. Legolas and Tauriel have taken Fergus the Orc prisoner and brought him before Thranduil Awesome-Hat for questioning. Legolas holds a knife to his throat; Thranduil approaches him.
Thranduil: Such is the nature of evil. Out in the maw-like ignorance of the world it grows and festers, like a shadow in the shadowy dark. That is lightless. And dark. Sleepless malice like the impending night rests in that dark. So it has always been. All foul things must ultimately come to light. Colourless green ideas sleep furiously in the dank swamp of orcy festeringness. We traverse the wilderness of evil but are not touched by it; forever and ever... you know what, I don't remember where I was going with any of this.
(...)
Radagast: You know, as an unshaven hippie, I have copious crittermancy powers, and we're standing in a forest the size of Germany. I'm pretty sure we could find an animal to play messenger boy for us. Heck, there's a family of elk living in my coat that's perfect for the job. We could just sit back and wait for Galadriel, who, by the way, can kick seven different kinds of ass. Why the hell are you going in alone?
Gandalf: I don't know! I can't be expected to have an explanation for every sodding thing in this movie!
Radagast: Fine, but if we have to come fish you out in the third one, I'm so going to point and laugh.
Gandalf leaves Radagast and advances deep into the foreboding shadows of DOL GULDUR. He begins to incant the words of power necessary to un-weave the spells laid upon it. The Incredible Albino Hulk and his servant, Elmer the Orc, listen from below.
Gandalf: Lorem ipsum flapdoodle malarkey foo!
Special Forward Sensor Effects: *FOOSH*
Elmer the Orc: My lord, I can hear words of power from high above! I think it's Tim Burton, come to take back his home at last! What are we going to do?
The Incredible Albino Hulk: No. It is the Grey Wizard. We must do nothing until he comes within our aggro range. When he does, make a beeline at him and just start swinging with everything you've got.
More Hobbit
More Hobbit II: Hobbit Harder
More Hobbit III: The Hobbitest Day
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