<A group of horsemen ride to Edoras. Éomer is in the lead, carrying a gravely wounded Théodred.>
<Éowyn runs hastily up the stairs to the Golden Hall and enters a bedchamber. She runs to the bed.>
Éowyn: Théodred!
<Théodred seems to hear her call but is unable to respond. He has a bloody gash on the side of his head. Éomer nods to Éowyn in the direction of Théodred’s torso. Éowyn draws back the covers and upon seeing Théodred’s fatal wound, her lips tighten and eyes close. She looks up to catch Éomer’s eye.>
<Éomer and Éowyn are speaking to Théoden-king who sits motionless on his throne, wizened, and aged beyond his years.>
Éowyn: Your son is badly wounded, my lord.
Éomer: He was ambushed by Orcs. If we don’t defend our country, Saruman will take it by force.
Gríma: That is a lie! <Appears from the shadows.> Saruman the White has ever been our friend and ally.
Théoden: <mumbles feebly> Gríma… Gríma… <Gríma leans down close to the King.>My son...? Gríma...?
Éomer: Orcs are roaming freely across our lands. Unchecked. Unchallenged. Killing at will. Orcs bearing the white hand of Saruman. <He drops a helmet onto the ground, which topples over to reveal the white hand of Saruman.>
Gríma: Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind. Can you not see? Your uncle is wearied by your malcontent, your war-mongering.
Éomer: War-mongering?
<Éomer grabs Gríma and pins him against a pillar.>
Éomer: How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price, Gríma? When all the men are dead you will take your share of the treasure?
<Gríma’s eyes flicks to right, watching Éowyn as she walks by. Éowyn stops to stare back for a moment before departing form the hall. Éomer jerks Gríma again and clutches his hand around Gríma’s jaw.>
Éomer: Too long have you watched my sister, too long have you haunted her steps.
<Gríma's eyes look to the left and relax as Éomer is suddenly pulled off Gríma by his thugs.>
Gríma: You see much Éomer, Son of Éomund. Too much. <The thugs punch Éomer n the stomach> You are banished forthwith from the kingdom of Rohan. Under pain of death!
Éomer: <Being dragged away> Argh!!
<Uruk-hai and Orcs continue to march across the plains with their hobbit captives, with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli hot on their pursuits.>
Gimli: Keep breathing! That’s the key! Breathe! Ho!
Legolas: They’ve run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them.
<They continue running over vast distances. The Uruk-hai and Orcs halt at nightfall, many panting with exertion.>
Mordor Orc: We’re not going no further till we’ve had a breather!
Uglúk: Get a fire going!
<As the Orcs and Uruk-hai take their rest, Pippin crawls over towards Merry.>
Pippin: Merry! Merry!
Merry: <opens his eyes> I think... we might have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pippin.
<A group of Orcs chops down the trees nearby for firewood. Low groans and rumbles start to emerge from the forest.>
Pippin: What’s making that noise?
Merry: <looks towards the forest> It’s the trees.
Pippin: What?
Merry: Do you remember the Old Forest? On the borders of Buckland? Folk used to say that there was something in the water that made the trees grow tall... and come alive.
Pippin: Alive?
Merry: Trees that could whisper. Talk to each other. Even move.
Maúhur: I'm starving. We ain't 'ad nothin' but maggoty bread for three stinkin' days!
Snaga: Yeah. Why can’t we have some meat? <His eyes rest on the hobbits.> What about them? They’re fresh.
Uglúk: They are not for eating!
Grishnákh: What about their legs? They don't need those. Ooh… They look tasty!
Uglúk: <Shoves at the Orcs> Get back, scum!
<The other Orcs are getting restless.>
Mordor Orc: Carve them up!
Snaga: <Moves towards the hobbits with his blade drawn> Just a mouth full.
Uglúk: No!
<Pippin and Merry recoil in fright. Uglúk jumps on the Orc and cuts off his head, which bounces off the hobbit's shoulders.>
Uglúk: Looks like meat’s back on the menu, boys!!
<The Uruk-hai and Orcs cheer and started tearing into the fresh meat, intestines flying, taking their eyes off the hobbits for a while.>
Merry: Pippin, let’s go.
<Their hands still bound, the hobbits try to crawl away. Suddenly a foot comes down on Merry and Pippin is turned onto his back.>
Grishnákh: <Brandishing a blade in front of Pippin’s face> Go on, call for help. Squeal! No one’s gonna save you now!
<Suddenly, a spear pierces the Orc's back. Mayhem ensues as Riders of Rohan burst out from their hiding places and ambush the Orcs.>
Merry: Pippin! <Gestures for them to make their escape.>
<The hobbits try to escape from the pandemonium to the forest, dodging bodies and stomping feet. Suddenly Pippin turns onto his face and looks up to a pair of thrashing hooves bearing down on him.>
Pippin: ARGH!!!
Logga in
Bli medlem
FAQ
Sök
