Return of TTT:EE All-Slash Parody! (part 5 of ?)
*rolls up sleeves and gets ready to lose more subscribers*
Back in July of last year I left off the all-slash parody of TTT:EE I was working on. If you're new to this, or need refreshing:
Long story short: I like the occasional slash fic very much, but when viewing slash as an entire phenomenon I tend to find it absurd. And you know I love the absurd. More absurd still would be to color every single scene in the movie with the slash-tinted paintbrush--or, to look at it another way, to roll every possible slash fic into one long saga--so that's what I set out to do. The links below take you to previous achievements in this important field. In this entry, behind the cut, is the continuation of TTT:EE, though it still is not finished. Damn, this is one slashable movie. Takes a lot of work!
Here is the All-Slash All-the-Time parody I did of FOTR, and
Here is the progress made so far on TTT:EE.
TTT:EE, All-Slash, All-the-Time, part 5 of ___?
FANGORN FOREST, GROTTO OF LOVE
MERRY and PIPPIN loll on the leaves.
PIPPIN: I had the loveliest dream last night. There was this--
MERRY: Oh, who cares about that. We're doing things in reality far kinkier than anything you could dream up.
They giggle and start kissing on the forest floor. PIPPIN wriggles around and makes a strange Treeish moan. MERRY pauses, and checks PIPPIN out more closely.
MERRY: You're...bigger.
PIPPIN: Than what?
MERRY: Than me!
PIPPIN: I've always been bigger than you.
MERRY: Pippin, everyone knows I'm the hung one; you're the young one.
PIPPIN: Please, Merry. You're what? Six--
MERRY: All right, all right. Let's not venture crassly into measurements.
PIPPIN takes a drink from a bowl nearby, and smiles in a vixenish way at MERRY.
MERRY: You took something! I've gotten emails about that kind of drug; I just didn't think it was true!
MERRY seizes the bowl away from PIPPIN and runs out of reach.
PIPPIN: Merry! Don't! Don't drink it! Treebeard said there could be heart complications, and at your age...
MERRY: Nonsense. I want some!
MERRY fends off PIPPIN with one hand while gulping down his Fangorn-Fly, then drops the bowl and grins, looking downward. PIPPIN follows his gaze, widens his eyes, and hauls MERRY to the ground, where they resume their mashing session. The TREES, at this point, try to get in on it, and start wrapping their roots around our lovebirds.
PIPPIN: Ow! Hey! Gentle, gentle! Treebeeeeard!
TREEBEARD walks in and gives the TREES a slap on the rump. They let MERRY and PIPPIN go.
TREEBEARD: Go to sleep. Away with you. Eat earth. Do not dig deep into impressionable young hobbits. Come, Shirelings. You are turning the forest on. It isn't safe. They will fondle you if they can. Too few of us Ents left to satisfy them.
PIPPIN: Why are there so few of you left? I would think you'd breed like rabbits.
TREEBEARD: Brou-ra-room. The Entwives got tired of us slashing so exclusively, and left. Very little breeding ever took place. You see what can happen when this type of perviness is taken too far.
MERRY: Well. That's a bit of a downer, isn't it.
PIPPIN: It really is.
MERRY and PIPPIN look depressed for a few seconds.
PIPPIN: Hold me.
MERRY complies. Quite soon, they have forgotten to be depressed.
EDORAS
EOWYN kneels at THEODEN's feet.
EOWYN: My lord...your hall grows bleak indeed. One of our hottest men is dead, another has been banished, and you still have not brought me any young women to play with. Will you do nothing? Will you let all other characters get more action than your own people?
THEODEN: ...(mumble)...
Outside, GANDALF rides up with GIMLI, ARAGORN, and LEGOLAS.
GANDALF: Edor-ass. Or so we used to call it back in the day. Not near as much fun now, what with Saruman making everyone all mopey. Let's see what we can do about that, eh?
Inside, GRIMA joins EOWYN at the bedside of dead-but-still-foxy-THEODRED.
GRIMA: Oh, he must have died sometime in the night. I understand this must be hard for you, knowing your brother's exertions killed your cousin. What position do you think they used, in the end?
EOWYN: Leave me alone, snake.
GRIMA stares in fascination at EOWYN, and touches her face.
GRIMA: Oh, but you are alone. And so am I. You know...you look a fair amount like your brother... If I were to glue a beard to your chin, and dress you in armor...then maybe...
EOWYN: I only do that for virgin chambermaids, and you know it!
EOWYN storms out. On the front porch, she catches sight of the riders approaching, squints, and draws a breath in excitement.
EOWYN: Can it be? That blonde one...have the gods sent me an Elf maiden at last? Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!
EOWYN rushes inside to comb her hair and throw on her most Sapphically appealing dress.
Meanwhile, GANDALF & CO. climb the front steps and are stopped by HAMA.
HAMA: I cannot allow you before Theoden King so heavily dressed, my lords. By order of Grima Wormtrousers.
GANDALF nods in approval, and winks at his friends. They all shimmy out of their excessive accessories and toss them to the cutest Rohirrim soldiers at hand.
HAMA: The staff too, my lord. No pole dancing allowed here any longer.
GANDALF: Oh, pretty please? If I promise to behave? I just use it in private, with my favorite pool-boy.
GANDALF links his arm into LEGOLAS's. LEGOLAS cuddles up and bats his eyelashes at HAMA. HAMA gives in, like everyone does when LEGOLAS bats his eyelashes at them. They go inside. GRIMA gapes at the sight of them.
GRIMA: (whispering to THEODEN) My liege. Hot and virile outsiders approach. They will try to seduce you and make me jealous. Turn them away.
THEODEN: Why should I...pleasure you...Gandalf Stormslut?
GRIMA: A just question, my liege. Late is the hour in which this swinger chooses to appear--
GANDALF: Silence! I get my way with whomever I want.
GANDALF shows everyone his staff. (If you know what I mean.) GRIMA falls back in fear. ROHIRRIM SOLDIERS take it as a signal for a free-for-all, and pounce upon GIMLI, LEGOLAS, and ARAGORN, who literally have to fight them off. GIMLI does, however, take a moment to pin GRIMA to the floor, and observes with interest how much GRIMA seems to like being pinned down.
GANDALF: Theoden, son of Dangle, too long has this place sucked as a meat market. I release you from your dry spell! Saruman, get the hell out of there, you dominatrix. You and I are through.
THEODEN: (in SARUMAN's voice) The hot Rohirrim are all mine!
GANDALF: Through, I say! Be gone!
THEODEN collapses. Somewhere in Isengard, SARUMAN does too. EOWYN rushes in, freshly lipsticked, and runs to her uncle. THEODEN looks up, and gets younger and way handsomer all of a sudden.
THEODEN: Hey, sweet! I'm feeling the power again.
EOWYN: I'm so happy! And you brought me visitors--
She spins around and beams at LEGOLAS, then her smile dies.
EOWYN: Oh. Damn. From a distance I thought...
Everyone else, however, being male, is admiring their newly studly King.
GANDALF: Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped my sword. Er, your sword. Well, anyone's, really.
THEODEN looks around the hall in wonder.
THEODEN: I was surrounded by all this male deliciousness, and instead I was being kept by...
He swivels and glares at GRIMA. Pretty soon he is flinging GRIMA down the front steps.
THEODEN: Your leechcraft would have had me on all fours and wearing a saddle!
GRIMA: Don't break up with me. I beg you.
THEODEN: How about I kill you?
ARAGORN: No, my lord. Let him go. We've got lots of tastier things to do today, if you're interested.
ARAGORN offers GRIMA a hand to get up. GRIMA licks it furtively, then runs away.
THEODEN: Here--hanky? By the way, where's my son?
GANDALF: Ummm...very un-slashable answer ahead, I'm afraid.
BURIAL MOUNDS
THEODEN and GANDALF are sitting in the rays of the sunset, alone, on lovely flower-covered hills. They're tombs, technically, but a little Goth factor never hurt the romance.
THEODEN: Dammit. I really cannot catch a break this week, can I?
GANDALF sidles up and puts his arm around THEODEN, and smoothly turns it into a hurt/comfort scene. There. Slightly slashable after all, I guess.
EDORAS
ARAGORN: Unfortunately, work calls. There's like this war we have to fight or whatever.
THEODEN: Jeez, and I just got back into the groove, too. Can't it wait?
ARAGORN: What, you can't multi-task? We Fellowshippers learned how.
THEODEN considers, and nods.
STABLES
GANDALF: Theoden has great stamina, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of the sexy blondes of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. You will have to hold him.
ARAGORN: Aw, shucks, if you insist.
GANDALF: (studies ARAGORN, and shakes his head) Three hundred lives of men have I walked this earth, and never have I seen such a slut. Well, look for me in five days. I'll bring that Eomer fellow, and you can get your fill then.
ARAGORN: Awesome. Hurry! Go!
ISENGARD
GRIMA, wearing a very demeaning leather-and-chains outfit, is massaging SARUMAN's feet.
SARUMAN: Does that Gandalf whore really think people will be charmed by him? They want my domination. They know they do.
GRIMA: We do, master. We do. I grovel before you.
SARUMAN: You stink.
GRIMA: You're so right. I deserve to be punished. Kick me, my lord.
SARUMAN casually kicks him.
SARUMAN: So, tell me about that Ranger fellow. Good-looking? Strong? Likes poetry, maybe?
GRIMA: All of that, my lord. Wears gaudy jewelry.
SARUMAN: Splendid. My sugar daddy and I will take great pleasure in submitting him to our will.
EDORAS
EOWYN starts smacking imaginary villains with a sword. ARAGORN steps up and blocks her.
ARAGORN: You have some skill with hardware. Yet you also wear pretty dresses. Interesting.
EOWYN: The women of this country learned long ago that you can be both butch and femme. I do not fear being stereotyped.
ARAGORN: What do you fear, my lady?
EOWYN: Getting through the rest of this story without meeting one damn girl.
ARAGORN: As long as we have fanfic, I do not think that will be your fate.
ITHILIEN
SAM: Hey, Stinker! Adjust that loincloth; nobody wants to see that.
FRODO: Why do you do that? Call him names, hurt his self-esteem?
SAM: What, suddenly you care what Squicker thinks of us?
FRODO: You have no idea how to recognize someone's inner beauty, do you? Shallow peasant.
SAM's lower lip trembles, and he turns away. FRODO looks guilty.
FRODO: All right, that wasn't nice. I don't know why I said that.
SAM: Well, I do. You don't want to be in this relationship. It's clear as day, if you're letting Towel-boy there get in between us.
FRODO: (gets angry) Look, we have a quest to finish, all right? It's not *all* about you and me. Big shock, I know, but in fact the story has just a tiny bit to do with this thing, okay?
FRODO takes out the RING and waves it in front of SAM.
SAM: (sniffling) Yes. I see. I see exactly how it is. You can't commit to anyone, and now you're using work as an excuse to avoid me, as an emotional barricade. Why can't you open up? Why can't you just embrace what we have here?
FRODO: Oh, for God's sake.
FRODO stomps away.
NIGHTTIME IN THE FOREST
SAM and FRODO are sleeping apart, turned away from one another, heads resting on tear-stained knapsack-pillows. In the background we hear some woeful country ballad like "I've Got Tears In My Pointy Ears From Lyin' On My Back and Cryin' Over You." It segues into a more sinister piece of film-score as we pan over to GOLLUM.
GOLLUM: We wants the precious, and we needs to be caressed. We must have the slash! Sneaky little hobbitses tease us. Wicked, trickssy, false!
SMEAGOL: Not Master. Master is too cute to be false.
GOLLUM: Yes, precious. False. Master is a tease. He would promise you sex, then cheat on you and lie.
SMEAGOL: No. Not listening.
GOLLUM: All you have is me, my love. (gives himself a caress)
SMEAGOL: (smacks his own hand away) No! Go away!
GOLLUM: Go away? Hahaha! Who would sleep with you except me? I get us laid. We get sex because of me!
SMEAGOL: Not anymore!
GOLLUM: What did you say?
SMEAGOL: Master promised us slash. Master will pleasure us now. We don't need you. Leave now and never touch us again!
GOLLUM: What??
SMEAGOL: Leave! Now! And never! Touch us! Again!
SMEAGOL (who, sorry, we're going to continue to call GOLLUM anyhow after this scene) pauses and looks around.
SMEAGOL: I told him to stop touching us, and away he went! Smeagol is free to fondle Master! Freeee!
ITHILIEN, DAYTIME
SAM and FRODO are sitting around, still sulking and not looking at each other. GOLLUM scampers up and straddles FRODO, dropping a skimpy rabbit-fur robe into his lap. FRODO jolts in revulsion.
FRODO: Holy--
GOLLUM: Look! Look! Smeagol makes you pretty outfit! We will try it on for you!
GOLLUM starts tearing off his loincloth and prepares to try on the rabbit-fur dealie, while FRODO stares, frozen in horror. SAM lunges forward and knocks GOLLUM away.
SAM: You'll make him sick, you will, behaving like that! Not to mention anyone else watching.
SAM and FRODO exchange a quivering, edgy glance. FRODO looks teary-eyed and apologetic. SAM looks away.
SAM: Well. If you saved the meat, we may as well make some soup.
While the soup is cooking and GOLLUM is screaming about forgetting to add the aphrodisiac herbs, and SAM is reminiscing about the good times he and the lads back home used to have with mashed potatoes and frying oil, FRODO hears a strange wolf-whistle and goes to investigate.
SAM finds him under a bush, spying on some more hot eyeliner-wearing men. He crawls up beside FRODO to watch as well. GOLLUM follows.
SAM: Nice-looking. Who are they?
GOLLUM: Wicked men. Pool-boys of Sauron. They will be trying to kill you and your sexy friends.
FRODO: Oh. Then we may as well not bother. Let's go.
SAM catches his arm and pulls him back down.
SAM: Frodo, look! An oliphaunt!
They gaze in wonder at the gigantic wildlife, and in their reverie they draw closer together.
FRODO: Remember when we used to tell tales about oliphaunts back home...
SAM: Curled up by the fire, sharing a blanket...
FRODO: And you were so innocent and young, and I felt so conflicted when I would caress your thigh...
They turn slowly to look at each other.
FRODO: Oh, Sam!
SAM: Frodo!
They fly together in a passionate kiss. GOLLUM sticks out his tongue and makes retching noises, and runs off. A foot in armor comes down and separates the hobbits, who look up in surprise.
FARAMIR: Both males! As I thought. Forgive me for interrupting. Please--continue. Only, on second thought, let's continue in my cave.
SAM: Wait! We're innocent honeymooners!
FARAMIR: Uh-huh. Hope you're into blindfolds. Wrap 'em up, lads.
ON THE ROAD TO HELM'S DEEP
EOWYN: So, Master Dwarf. Tell me about the women of your race.
GIMLI: Oh, dwarf women are swell! They do look rather a lot like dwarf men, of course...
ARAGORN mutters something about them having beards, or being beards, or doing stuff that makes them seem to have beards. Whatever he says, EOWYN gets it and starts smiling.
However, all this stuff where she's gazing at ARAGORN, and he's gazing back, and they have an awkward stew moment, is really way too het for this parody, so we must scoot ahead a scene or two...
THE DREAM ARAGORN REALLY HAS
ARAGORN is lying on Rivendell's cushiest chaise longue, with ARWEN on top of him.
ARWEN: Sleep...
ARAGORN: I am asleep. This is a dream. And therefore...
He squints at ARWEN until she vanishes and turns into FRODO.
ARAGORN: Much better. Now this is what I call a good dream.
FRODO smiles coyly and leans down and kisses him.
ARAGORN: (in Elvish) I should have gone with you. That was my path.
FRODO: (also in Elvish) Naw, you're doing fine. I miss you, though, studly.
ARAGORN sighs, and rests his head on FRODO's cheek. FRODO morphs into LEGOLAS, who is wearing the same transparent pale-blue negligee ARWEN had on earlier.
LEGOLAS: (in peeved Elvish) Hey, you still have me, you know. Slut.
ARAGORN: Never fear, darling...you know Elves will always be my favorite.
ARAGORN runs his hand down LEGOLAS's chest and fondles his nipples. LEGOLAS melts like butter and tackles ARAGORN.
(TBC...)
Back in July of last year I left off the all-slash parody of TTT:EE I was working on. If you're new to this, or need refreshing:
Long story short: I like the occasional slash fic very much, but when viewing slash as an entire phenomenon I tend to find it absurd. And you know I love the absurd. More absurd still would be to color every single scene in the movie with the slash-tinted paintbrush--or, to look at it another way, to roll every possible slash fic into one long saga--so that's what I set out to do. The links below take you to previous achievements in this important field. In this entry, behind the cut, is the continuation of TTT:EE, though it still is not finished. Damn, this is one slashable movie. Takes a lot of work!
Here is the All-Slash All-the-Time parody I did of FOTR, and
Here is the progress made so far on TTT:EE.
TTT:EE, All-Slash, All-the-Time, part 5 of ___?
FANGORN FOREST, GROTTO OF LOVE
MERRY and PIPPIN loll on the leaves.
PIPPIN: I had the loveliest dream last night. There was this--
MERRY: Oh, who cares about that. We're doing things in reality far kinkier than anything you could dream up.
They giggle and start kissing on the forest floor. PIPPIN wriggles around and makes a strange Treeish moan. MERRY pauses, and checks PIPPIN out more closely.
MERRY: You're...bigger.
PIPPIN: Than what?
MERRY: Than me!
PIPPIN: I've always been bigger than you.
MERRY: Pippin, everyone knows I'm the hung one; you're the young one.
PIPPIN: Please, Merry. You're what? Six--
MERRY: All right, all right. Let's not venture crassly into measurements.
PIPPIN takes a drink from a bowl nearby, and smiles in a vixenish way at MERRY.
MERRY: You took something! I've gotten emails about that kind of drug; I just didn't think it was true!
MERRY seizes the bowl away from PIPPIN and runs out of reach.
PIPPIN: Merry! Don't! Don't drink it! Treebeard said there could be heart complications, and at your age...
MERRY: Nonsense. I want some!
MERRY fends off PIPPIN with one hand while gulping down his Fangorn-Fly, then drops the bowl and grins, looking downward. PIPPIN follows his gaze, widens his eyes, and hauls MERRY to the ground, where they resume their mashing session. The TREES, at this point, try to get in on it, and start wrapping their roots around our lovebirds.
PIPPIN: Ow! Hey! Gentle, gentle! Treebeeeeard!
TREEBEARD walks in and gives the TREES a slap on the rump. They let MERRY and PIPPIN go.
TREEBEARD: Go to sleep. Away with you. Eat earth. Do not dig deep into impressionable young hobbits. Come, Shirelings. You are turning the forest on. It isn't safe. They will fondle you if they can. Too few of us Ents left to satisfy them.
PIPPIN: Why are there so few of you left? I would think you'd breed like rabbits.
TREEBEARD: Brou-ra-room. The Entwives got tired of us slashing so exclusively, and left. Very little breeding ever took place. You see what can happen when this type of perviness is taken too far.
MERRY: Well. That's a bit of a downer, isn't it.
PIPPIN: It really is.
MERRY and PIPPIN look depressed for a few seconds.
PIPPIN: Hold me.
MERRY complies. Quite soon, they have forgotten to be depressed.
EDORAS
EOWYN kneels at THEODEN's feet.
EOWYN: My lord...your hall grows bleak indeed. One of our hottest men is dead, another has been banished, and you still have not brought me any young women to play with. Will you do nothing? Will you let all other characters get more action than your own people?
THEODEN: ...(mumble)...
Outside, GANDALF rides up with GIMLI, ARAGORN, and LEGOLAS.
GANDALF: Edor-ass. Or so we used to call it back in the day. Not near as much fun now, what with Saruman making everyone all mopey. Let's see what we can do about that, eh?
Inside, GRIMA joins EOWYN at the bedside of dead-but-still-foxy-THEODRED.
GRIMA: Oh, he must have died sometime in the night. I understand this must be hard for you, knowing your brother's exertions killed your cousin. What position do you think they used, in the end?
EOWYN: Leave me alone, snake.
GRIMA stares in fascination at EOWYN, and touches her face.
GRIMA: Oh, but you are alone. And so am I. You know...you look a fair amount like your brother... If I were to glue a beard to your chin, and dress you in armor...then maybe...
EOWYN: I only do that for virgin chambermaids, and you know it!
EOWYN storms out. On the front porch, she catches sight of the riders approaching, squints, and draws a breath in excitement.
EOWYN: Can it be? That blonde one...have the gods sent me an Elf maiden at last? Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!
EOWYN rushes inside to comb her hair and throw on her most Sapphically appealing dress.
Meanwhile, GANDALF & CO. climb the front steps and are stopped by HAMA.
HAMA: I cannot allow you before Theoden King so heavily dressed, my lords. By order of Grima Wormtrousers.
GANDALF nods in approval, and winks at his friends. They all shimmy out of their excessive accessories and toss them to the cutest Rohirrim soldiers at hand.
HAMA: The staff too, my lord. No pole dancing allowed here any longer.
GANDALF: Oh, pretty please? If I promise to behave? I just use it in private, with my favorite pool-boy.
GANDALF links his arm into LEGOLAS's. LEGOLAS cuddles up and bats his eyelashes at HAMA. HAMA gives in, like everyone does when LEGOLAS bats his eyelashes at them. They go inside. GRIMA gapes at the sight of them.
GRIMA: (whispering to THEODEN) My liege. Hot and virile outsiders approach. They will try to seduce you and make me jealous. Turn them away.
THEODEN: Why should I...pleasure you...Gandalf Stormslut?
GRIMA: A just question, my liege. Late is the hour in which this swinger chooses to appear--
GANDALF: Silence! I get my way with whomever I want.
GANDALF shows everyone his staff. (If you know what I mean.) GRIMA falls back in fear. ROHIRRIM SOLDIERS take it as a signal for a free-for-all, and pounce upon GIMLI, LEGOLAS, and ARAGORN, who literally have to fight them off. GIMLI does, however, take a moment to pin GRIMA to the floor, and observes with interest how much GRIMA seems to like being pinned down.
GANDALF: Theoden, son of Dangle, too long has this place sucked as a meat market. I release you from your dry spell! Saruman, get the hell out of there, you dominatrix. You and I are through.
THEODEN: (in SARUMAN's voice) The hot Rohirrim are all mine!
GANDALF: Through, I say! Be gone!
THEODEN collapses. Somewhere in Isengard, SARUMAN does too. EOWYN rushes in, freshly lipsticked, and runs to her uncle. THEODEN looks up, and gets younger and way handsomer all of a sudden.
THEODEN: Hey, sweet! I'm feeling the power again.
EOWYN: I'm so happy! And you brought me visitors--
She spins around and beams at LEGOLAS, then her smile dies.
EOWYN: Oh. Damn. From a distance I thought...
Everyone else, however, being male, is admiring their newly studly King.
GANDALF: Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped my sword. Er, your sword. Well, anyone's, really.
THEODEN looks around the hall in wonder.
THEODEN: I was surrounded by all this male deliciousness, and instead I was being kept by...
He swivels and glares at GRIMA. Pretty soon he is flinging GRIMA down the front steps.
THEODEN: Your leechcraft would have had me on all fours and wearing a saddle!
GRIMA: Don't break up with me. I beg you.
THEODEN: How about I kill you?
ARAGORN: No, my lord. Let him go. We've got lots of tastier things to do today, if you're interested.
ARAGORN offers GRIMA a hand to get up. GRIMA licks it furtively, then runs away.
THEODEN: Here--hanky? By the way, where's my son?
GANDALF: Ummm...very un-slashable answer ahead, I'm afraid.
BURIAL MOUNDS
THEODEN and GANDALF are sitting in the rays of the sunset, alone, on lovely flower-covered hills. They're tombs, technically, but a little Goth factor never hurt the romance.
THEODEN: Dammit. I really cannot catch a break this week, can I?
GANDALF sidles up and puts his arm around THEODEN, and smoothly turns it into a hurt/comfort scene. There. Slightly slashable after all, I guess.
EDORAS
ARAGORN: Unfortunately, work calls. There's like this war we have to fight or whatever.
THEODEN: Jeez, and I just got back into the groove, too. Can't it wait?
ARAGORN: What, you can't multi-task? We Fellowshippers learned how.
THEODEN considers, and nods.
STABLES
GANDALF: Theoden has great stamina, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of the sexy blondes of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. You will have to hold him.
ARAGORN: Aw, shucks, if you insist.
GANDALF: (studies ARAGORN, and shakes his head) Three hundred lives of men have I walked this earth, and never have I seen such a slut. Well, look for me in five days. I'll bring that Eomer fellow, and you can get your fill then.
ARAGORN: Awesome. Hurry! Go!
ISENGARD
GRIMA, wearing a very demeaning leather-and-chains outfit, is massaging SARUMAN's feet.
SARUMAN: Does that Gandalf whore really think people will be charmed by him? They want my domination. They know they do.
GRIMA: We do, master. We do. I grovel before you.
SARUMAN: You stink.
GRIMA: You're so right. I deserve to be punished. Kick me, my lord.
SARUMAN casually kicks him.
SARUMAN: So, tell me about that Ranger fellow. Good-looking? Strong? Likes poetry, maybe?
GRIMA: All of that, my lord. Wears gaudy jewelry.
SARUMAN: Splendid. My sugar daddy and I will take great pleasure in submitting him to our will.
EDORAS
EOWYN starts smacking imaginary villains with a sword. ARAGORN steps up and blocks her.
ARAGORN: You have some skill with hardware. Yet you also wear pretty dresses. Interesting.
EOWYN: The women of this country learned long ago that you can be both butch and femme. I do not fear being stereotyped.
ARAGORN: What do you fear, my lady?
EOWYN: Getting through the rest of this story without meeting one damn girl.
ARAGORN: As long as we have fanfic, I do not think that will be your fate.
ITHILIEN
SAM: Hey, Stinker! Adjust that loincloth; nobody wants to see that.
FRODO: Why do you do that? Call him names, hurt his self-esteem?
SAM: What, suddenly you care what Squicker thinks of us?
FRODO: You have no idea how to recognize someone's inner beauty, do you? Shallow peasant.
SAM's lower lip trembles, and he turns away. FRODO looks guilty.
FRODO: All right, that wasn't nice. I don't know why I said that.
SAM: Well, I do. You don't want to be in this relationship. It's clear as day, if you're letting Towel-boy there get in between us.
FRODO: (gets angry) Look, we have a quest to finish, all right? It's not *all* about you and me. Big shock, I know, but in fact the story has just a tiny bit to do with this thing, okay?
FRODO takes out the RING and waves it in front of SAM.
SAM: (sniffling) Yes. I see. I see exactly how it is. You can't commit to anyone, and now you're using work as an excuse to avoid me, as an emotional barricade. Why can't you open up? Why can't you just embrace what we have here?
FRODO: Oh, for God's sake.
FRODO stomps away.
NIGHTTIME IN THE FOREST
SAM and FRODO are sleeping apart, turned away from one another, heads resting on tear-stained knapsack-pillows. In the background we hear some woeful country ballad like "I've Got Tears In My Pointy Ears From Lyin' On My Back and Cryin' Over You." It segues into a more sinister piece of film-score as we pan over to GOLLUM.
GOLLUM: We wants the precious, and we needs to be caressed. We must have the slash! Sneaky little hobbitses tease us. Wicked, trickssy, false!
SMEAGOL: Not Master. Master is too cute to be false.
GOLLUM: Yes, precious. False. Master is a tease. He would promise you sex, then cheat on you and lie.
SMEAGOL: No. Not listening.
GOLLUM: All you have is me, my love. (gives himself a caress)
SMEAGOL: (smacks his own hand away) No! Go away!
GOLLUM: Go away? Hahaha! Who would sleep with you except me? I get us laid. We get sex because of me!
SMEAGOL: Not anymore!
GOLLUM: What did you say?
SMEAGOL: Master promised us slash. Master will pleasure us now. We don't need you. Leave now and never touch us again!
GOLLUM: What??
SMEAGOL: Leave! Now! And never! Touch us! Again!
SMEAGOL (who, sorry, we're going to continue to call GOLLUM anyhow after this scene) pauses and looks around.
SMEAGOL: I told him to stop touching us, and away he went! Smeagol is free to fondle Master! Freeee!
ITHILIEN, DAYTIME
SAM and FRODO are sitting around, still sulking and not looking at each other. GOLLUM scampers up and straddles FRODO, dropping a skimpy rabbit-fur robe into his lap. FRODO jolts in revulsion.
FRODO: Holy--
GOLLUM: Look! Look! Smeagol makes you pretty outfit! We will try it on for you!
GOLLUM starts tearing off his loincloth and prepares to try on the rabbit-fur dealie, while FRODO stares, frozen in horror. SAM lunges forward and knocks GOLLUM away.
SAM: You'll make him sick, you will, behaving like that! Not to mention anyone else watching.
SAM and FRODO exchange a quivering, edgy glance. FRODO looks teary-eyed and apologetic. SAM looks away.
SAM: Well. If you saved the meat, we may as well make some soup.
While the soup is cooking and GOLLUM is screaming about forgetting to add the aphrodisiac herbs, and SAM is reminiscing about the good times he and the lads back home used to have with mashed potatoes and frying oil, FRODO hears a strange wolf-whistle and goes to investigate.
SAM finds him under a bush, spying on some more hot eyeliner-wearing men. He crawls up beside FRODO to watch as well. GOLLUM follows.
SAM: Nice-looking. Who are they?
GOLLUM: Wicked men. Pool-boys of Sauron. They will be trying to kill you and your sexy friends.
FRODO: Oh. Then we may as well not bother. Let's go.
SAM catches his arm and pulls him back down.
SAM: Frodo, look! An oliphaunt!
They gaze in wonder at the gigantic wildlife, and in their reverie they draw closer together.
FRODO: Remember when we used to tell tales about oliphaunts back home...
SAM: Curled up by the fire, sharing a blanket...
FRODO: And you were so innocent and young, and I felt so conflicted when I would caress your thigh...
They turn slowly to look at each other.
FRODO: Oh, Sam!
SAM: Frodo!
They fly together in a passionate kiss. GOLLUM sticks out his tongue and makes retching noises, and runs off. A foot in armor comes down and separates the hobbits, who look up in surprise.
FARAMIR: Both males! As I thought. Forgive me for interrupting. Please--continue. Only, on second thought, let's continue in my cave.
SAM: Wait! We're innocent honeymooners!
FARAMIR: Uh-huh. Hope you're into blindfolds. Wrap 'em up, lads.
ON THE ROAD TO HELM'S DEEP
EOWYN: So, Master Dwarf. Tell me about the women of your race.
GIMLI: Oh, dwarf women are swell! They do look rather a lot like dwarf men, of course...
ARAGORN mutters something about them having beards, or being beards, or doing stuff that makes them seem to have beards. Whatever he says, EOWYN gets it and starts smiling.
However, all this stuff where she's gazing at ARAGORN, and he's gazing back, and they have an awkward stew moment, is really way too het for this parody, so we must scoot ahead a scene or two...
THE DREAM ARAGORN REALLY HAS
ARAGORN is lying on Rivendell's cushiest chaise longue, with ARWEN on top of him.
ARWEN: Sleep...
ARAGORN: I am asleep. This is a dream. And therefore...
He squints at ARWEN until she vanishes and turns into FRODO.
ARAGORN: Much better. Now this is what I call a good dream.
FRODO smiles coyly and leans down and kisses him.
ARAGORN: (in Elvish) I should have gone with you. That was my path.
FRODO: (also in Elvish) Naw, you're doing fine. I miss you, though, studly.
ARAGORN sighs, and rests his head on FRODO's cheek. FRODO morphs into LEGOLAS, who is wearing the same transparent pale-blue negligee ARWEN had on earlier.
LEGOLAS: (in peeved Elvish) Hey, you still have me, you know. Slut.
ARAGORN: Never fear, darling...you know Elves will always be my favorite.
ARAGORN runs his hand down LEGOLAS's chest and fondles his nipples. LEGOLAS melts like butter and tackles ARAGORN.
(TBC...)