A RIVER, CENTURIES AGO
SMEAGOL and DEAGOL find the Ring and start fighting over it.
DEAGOL: Yours. (dies)
UNOFFICIAL ENTRANCE TO MORDOR
SAM: We can’t trust Gollum! He’s out to kill us!
FRODO: Really, Sam, you and your imagination. I suppose YOU have a better plan for getting into Mordor?
SAM: As a matter of fact I do. Hang-gliding.
FRODO: Excuse me?
SAM: Hang-gliding. It’s all the rage in the Southfarthing. We make a big kite-like frame out of a lightweight wood, like balsa, if you follow me, and stretch some muslin across it; then we climb to the top of one of these mountains, wait for a warm updraft -
FRODO: I am NOT listening to this.
FRODO grabs GOLLUM’s hand and walks away.
LEGOLAS: The sky wears a film of gauze. The night air breathes infamy. Deceit weaves itself around my fingernails.
ARAGORN: What in the world is that? Poetry? I pay you to do two things: shoot stuff, and look pretty. If you have something to tell me, tell me in normal words.
LEGOLAS: Fine. S-A-U-R-O-N is H-E-R-E. Simple enough for you, numbskull?