Lembas and Jam
By divineline and ciara_belle



The Scene: BAG END, UNDERHILL, HOBBITON IN THE SHIRE, just past eleven o'clock in the morning. The hobbit FRODO BAGGINS sits at his writing table, scratching busily at THE RED BOOK OF WESTMARCH, cheerfully oblivious to all else surrounding him. From the direction of the kitchen, humming can be heard.

A moment later, footsteps can be heard approaching in the hall, sounding as if they belong to a rather well-fed hobbit. From around the corner comes FRODO'S friend and caretaker SAMWISE GAMGEE, carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray heaped will all manner of food and drink. Prominently displayed is a large plate of the elven waybread LEMBAS spread with fresh STRAWBERRY JAM. SAM sets the tray down beside FRODO'S table and strikes a gallant pose, watching for his approval.

SAM
Here you are, Mister Frodo - Lembas and jam, made 'specially for you.

FRODO glances toward the tray and grimaces, sighing.

FRODO
Lembas again, Sam? I'm really not that hungry right now.

SAM, obviously used to this sort of behavior, plants his hands firmly on his hips and stares down his beloved and, by now, rather lean master.

SAM
Now, Mister Frodo, you know you have to keep your strength up if you want to finish your book.

FRODO
Sam, strength has nothing to do with writing. It's not as if my quill weighs more than a feather should.

SAM
They'll be no arguing from you, Mister Frodo. You sit down and eat up, like a good hobbit.

FRODO leans toward the tray of LEMBAS AND JAM and sniffs experimentally. He grimaces, and pushes the tray away toward SAM.

FRODO
Sam, I don't even like lembas that much. I -

SAM resolutely pushes the tray toward his master and crosses his arms, frowning.

SAM
That settles it, Mister Frodo. You're forcing me to use It.

FRODO looks apprehensive.

FRODO
…It? Sam, what is 'It?'

SAM begins rolling up his sleeves and pulls a collapsible metal pointer from his pocket. The audience is encouraged to discuss how and why SAM came to have a collapsible metal pointer on his person.

SAM
Oh, it's a little trick Rosie and I use when little Elanor doesn't want to finish up her vegetables. You just sit back and see if I can't convince you to try the lembas and jam.

FRODO sighs heavily, but sits back and motions for SAM to proceed with whatever he was planning on proceeding with. SAM grins.

SAM
Okay, Mister Frodo, now just bear with me. Sometimes the rhyming's a little hard to get into a first, but I'm sure you'll pick it up pretty easy. So, here we go…

He takes a deep breath, and flourishes his collapsible metal pointer, which is now extended to its full length.

SAM
I am Sam.

FRODO
Yes, Sam, I know that.

SAM
No, Mister Frodo, that's part of the rhyme.

FRODO
It is?

SAM
Yes, it is, now please be quiet. You're disrupting the meter and all.

FRODO nods, and SAM begins anew.

SAM
I am Sam.

After pausing a moment to be sure FRODO isn't going to interrupt again, SAM continues.

SAM
Sam I am.

SAM looks pointedly at FRODO.

SAM
(whispering) That's you, Mister Frodo. You have to rhyme now.

FRODO
(whispering as well) Rhyme with what?

SAM
(still whispering) Anything! The point is to keep the rhyme going long enough for me to convince you to eat your lembas and jam!

FRODO
…Alright…

FRODO ponders for a moment, chewing on the long end of his quill pen as he thinks. SAM taps the tray with his collapsible metal pointer absently while waiting. Finally, FRODO seems to agree on a phrase. He clears his throat.

FRODO
Ahem.
'That Sam-I-am!
That Sam-I-am!
I do not like
That Sam-I-am!'

SAM
Aw, Mister Frodo, that isn't very nice, now is it?

FRODO
Well, Sam, making me talk in rhyme isn't very nice, either, but I'm not complaining, now am I?

SAM looks rebuked, and hangs his head slightly.

SAM
You do have a point there, Mister Frodo. But let's continue. Just remember to keep rhyming.

SAM flourishes the collapsible metal pointer and points to the plate of LEMBAS AND JAM.

SAM
Do you like lembas and jam?

FRODO
I do not like it, Sam-I-am.
I do not like lembas and jam.

SAM flourishes the collapsible metal pointer, this time pointing to a MAP OF MIDDLE-EARTH hanging above FRODO's writing desk.

SAM
Would you like it in Helm's Deep?

He then moves the pointer to a small wooden model of a FARM, complete with tiny wooden fully-articulated ANIMALS.

SAM
Would you like it with a sheep?

FRODO grimaces once again.

FRODO
Sheep? Why would I like it with a sheep? How is that supposed to convince me to eat it?

SAM
Rhymes, Mister Frodo! Rhymes!

FRODO
Fine…

Frodo seems bored, and speaks in a monotone, twirling his feather quill idly.

FRODO
I would not like in Helm's Deep.
I would not like it with a sheep.
I do not like lembas and jam.
I do not like it, Sam-I-am.

SAM gives his master an encouraging smile and a pat on the back.

SAM
That's it, Mister Frodo! Don't you feel hungry now?

FRODO
No. Not in the slightest. May I go back to writing my book, now?

SAM
Not until you finish your lembas and jam! Let's try a few more.

SAM twirls his collapsible metal pointer around, looking for his next target. After a moment, he snaps his fingers, and reaches behind the study door to pull out LEGOLAS GREENLEAF, son of THRANDUIL, LORD OF THE ELVES OF MIRKWOOD (anddon'tyouforgetitmister). LEGOLAS looks rather embarrassed and laughs weakly.

LEGOLAS
Oh…Hello, Sam, Frodo. Fancy meeting you here…

FRODO
Legolas, what were you doing lurking behind my study door?

LEGOLAS
Heh…Funny story, that…

SAM
Never mind that, Mister Frodo. Now, the rhyme.

SAM gestures with his collapsible metal pointer to LEGOLAS, or, rather, LEGOLAS' KNEES.

SAM
Would you like it with an Elf?

FRODO
(muttering) Not one who lurks behind my study door.

SAM pointedly ignores FRODO's previous statement and soldiers on. He continues gesturing with his collapsible metal pointer.

SAM
Would you like it on a shelf?

FRODO gestures half-heartedly toward each object as he speaks.

FRODO
I do not like it with an Elf.
I do not like it on a shelf.
I do not like it in Helm's Deep.
I do not like it with a sheep.
I do not like lembas and jam.
I do not like it, Sam-I-am.

SAM
Hungry?

FRODO
No.

SAM
Then we continue.

SAM once again glances around the study, looking for more convenient objects to rhyme. His eyes fall upon a tasteful but squat metal helmet resting several inches above the room's only windowsill, and he tugs on it to reveal GIMLI, SON OF GLOÍN, LORD OF THE GLITTERING CAVES AND POSSESSOR OF VARIOUS OTHER SUNDRY TITLES. GIMLI grunts in a Dwarf-like fashion.

GIMLI
I see the Elf has already beat me to the best hiding spot.

He climbs in through the window and brandishes his AXE at LEGOLAS, who raises an eyebrow in typical Elf-like fashion.

GIMLI
That'll be forty-three out of fifty that you've beaten me with, you nancy Elf…But beware, for the Dwarves are known for their cunning and stealth from sunken Numenor to the halls of the Elven King of Mirkwood!

LEGOLAS opens his mouth, no doubt about to unleash one of his famous SARCASTIC BUT GOODNATURED REMARKS ON THE BATHING HABITS OF DWARVES, but SAM slaps them on the knees and breastplate respectively with his collapsible metal pointer and gestures toward FRODO, who has meanwhile gone back to writing in his book.

SAM
As I was saying…
'Would you eat it with a Dwarf?
Would you eat it on a wharf?'

FRODO does not look up from his writing.

FRODO
What do Dwarves and wharfs have to do with each other?

SAM
Mister Frodo, you have to

SAM & FRODO
Rhyme!

FRODO
Yes, I know.

FRODO turns from his book and gestures with his quill.

FRODO
Not with a Dwarf.
Not on a wharf.
Not with an Elf.
Not on a shelf.
I would not eat it in Helm's Deep
I would not eat it with a sheep.
I would not eat lembas and jam.
I do not like it, Sam-I-am.

SAM
Excellent. Now…
'Could you, would you with an Ent?'

There is the sound of branches cracking and popping over head, and the room's occupants are suddenly on guard. GIMLI hefts his axe.

GIMLI
I knew there was something strange about the trees around here…Can't trust them tree things…

The entire group jumps in surprise as a BRIGHT YELLOW EYE THE SIZE OF A DINNER PLATE appears in the study's only window. There is a tense moment of silence, during which GIMLI seems to be deciding whether or not to use his axe, and then LEGOLAS holds his Dwarfly friend's arm and smiles.

LEGOLAS
…Treebeard? How did you come to be in the Shire?

The EYE crinkles in delight, and a boom echoes around the room.

TREEBEARD
Hoom, hoom…I believe it is referred to as 'The Magic of Holly Wood."

LEGOLAS
'Hollywood…' That is a name I have never heard before… Tell me, Treeherder, where is this 'Holly Wood?'

TREEBEARD opens his sizable mouth, obviously intending to explain the mysteries of THE HOLLYWOOD to LEGOLAS, but SAM cuts the venerable Ent off with a sharp smack of his collapsible metal pointer to the writing desk.

SAM
Never mind that, you two. If we don't hurry, Mister Frodo's lembas and jam will be getting cold. Now, where was I…Oh, yes.
'Could you, would you with an Ent?
Would you, could you in a tent?'

FRODO
I would not, could not with an Ent.
I could not, would not in a tent.

SAM, looking pleased, moves to gesture to the next object of rhyme, but is interrupted by a heavy knock on Bag End's FRONT DOOR. He sighs, and motions for LEGOLAS to answer the door. LEGOLAS springs off with ELVEN GRACE and the room is left in silence for a moment. In the HALL, LEGOLAS can be heard conversing with a deep-voiced individual, most likely a MAN. A moment later he reappears, followed by a tall figure in a dark cloak. The figure pulls the hood back to reveal FARAMIR, SON OF DENETHOR, PRINCE OF ITHILIEN, LORD OF EMYN ARNEN, AND STEWARD OF GONDOR. He greets the assembled company with a friendly wave.

FARAMIR
Hullo, all…Ah, Frodo, could I bunk down here for the next few days? Éowyn's having…um… 'women's troubles,' and I don't want to be caught in the crossfire…

The assembled men nod sagely, as if they know exactly what's wrong, and SAM uses the moment of silence to push on with his rhymes.

SAM
Would you eat with Faramir?
Or in the halls of Pelargir?

FRODO
Where is Pelargir?

FARAMIR steps up, taking the collapsible metal pointer out of SAM's hands (much to SAM's dismay) and gestures toward FRODO's CONVENIENT MAP OF MIDDLE-EARTH, looking remarkably like a grammar school teacher.

FARAMIR
Ahem…
Pelargir is the greatest and most ancient of the havens of Gondor. It lies in the land of Lebennin in south-east Gondor, on a delta of the River Anduin. It often harbored ships from Númenór, and was a great fortress during the Last Alliance of Men and Elves.

FRODO and his guests stare openly at FARAMIR, obviously awed by his FANTASTIC DISPLAY OF KNOWLEDGE AND OBSCURE FACTS ABOUT GONDOR.

FARAMIR
What? Father kept a summer home there. Fantastic fishing. I wonder if Aragorn knows about it…

FRODO, being the first to regain control of himself, turns to SAM. SAM motions for him to go on. FRODO sighs.

FRODO
Not with an Ent
Nor Faramir!
Not in a tent
Or Pelargir!

FARAMIR
But why not? Granted, it's probably fallen into disrepair after an Age, but I'm sure we can clean it out respectably.

FRODO ignores him.

FRODO
I do not like lembas and jam!
I do not like it, Sam-I-am!

SAM
Would you? Could you?
With the Evenstar?
Eat them! Eat them!
Here they are!

There is a long pause as the assembled company glances around, waiting for the rhyme's subject to miraculously appear. However, there is no one. FRODO looks slightly disappointed, and opens his mouth for his reply. But, before he can reply, a small ADORABLE ELFLING comes running through the door, GIGGLING ADORABLY. He stops, watches everyone with ADORABLE GREY EYES, and then grins in a predictably ADORABLE way. The assembled MAN, HOBBITS, ELF, DWARF, and ENT smile foolishly.

ALL
Awww…

The ADORABLE ELFLING looks around the room once again, and then up at FARAMIR. His ADORABLE GREY EYES light up in recognition.

ADORABLE ELFLING
'lo, Uncle Far'mir. 'S me, Eldarion!

ELDARION throws himself at FARAMIR'S LEGS and hugs them tightly. FARAMIR pats him on the head as ELDARION GRINS ADORABLY.

From the hall there is the unmistakable sound of FRUSTRATED YOUNG MOTHER, and ARWEN 'THE EVENSTAR' UNDOMIEL, DAUGHTER OF ELROND HALF-ELVEN, GRANDAUGHTER OF GALADRIEL OF LOTHLORIEN, WIFE TO ARAGORN ELESSAR AND QUEEN OF THE REUNITED KINGDOMS looks into the room, looking STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL despite the fact that she has obviously been chasing after her son. ELDARION detaches himself from FARAMIR's legs and runs to his mother, who sweeps him up in her arms and sighs.

ARWEN
I'm sorry, Frodo…Eldarion has inherited some of his father's uncanny stealth and speed…He didn't interrupt anything important, I hope?

All eyes turn toward ELDARION, who SMILES ADORABLY.

SAM
No, no, not at all.

He looks toward FRODO, who looks hopeful that the ADORABLE ELFLING will distract his company long enough for them to forget about SAM's rhyming.

SAM
Go on, Mister Frodo.

FRODO sighs wearily.

FRODO
I would not, could not, with the Evenstar.

ARWEN
Couldn't do what?

LEGOLAS
(whispering) We'll fill you in later.

SAM
You may like it.
You will see.
You may like it when in Bree!

FRODO
I would not, could not, when in Bree
Not with the Evenstar! You let me be!
I do not like it with a Dwarf.
I do not like it on a wharf.
I do not like it with an Ent.
I do not like it in a tent.
I do not like it with an Elf.
I do not like it on a shelf.
I do not like it in Helm's Deep.
I do not like it with a sheep.
I will not eat with Faramir
Or in the halls of Pelargir.
I do not like lembas and jam.
I do not like it, Sam-I-am!

SAM
A Took! A Took!
A Took! A Took!
Could you, would you with a Took?

There is a rustling of leaves from outside the window, and TREEBEARD disappears momentarily, only to reappear seconds later holding PEREGRIN 'PIPPIN' TOOK, SWORN SWORDSMAN OF GONDOR AND TALLEST OF THE HOBBITS. PIPPIN struggles in TREEBEARD's grip until he deposits him in the middle of FRODO's study. He is covered in leaves and various other outdoor-type things.

FRODO
Pippin, what-

PIPPIN
I wasn't eavesdroppin', I swear! I just happened to be passin' by lookin' for fresh mushrooms, and I just happened to hear you talkin' about lembas and jam and then about Tooks, and I said to myself, "Self, if they're talkin' about you and about food, well, they're either plannin' on having you over for second breakfast, or they're tryin' to hide the food from you, and that just ain't right, is it?" An' then I said back to myself, "Self, you know, you're absolutely right." So I hid myself under that there convenient exposed tree root, only that tree root turned out to be Treebeard's left foot. So, you see, none of this is any of my fault.

FRODO shakes his head wearily and looks toward SAM.

FRODO
Sam, he can have my lembas, if he wants it that badly.

PIPPIN
Can I? Oh, please? I'm starvin'!

SAM
No way, Pip. You ate half the stores last time we let you in here unsupervised. I'm not letting you eat Mister Frodo's breakfast, and that's it. Now, Mister Frodo, get to it.

FRODO
Alright…
'Not with a Took! Not when in Bree!
Not with the Evenstar! Sam! Let me be!
I would not, could not with a Dwarf.
I could not, would not on a wharf.
I will not eat it with an Ent.
I will not eat it in a tent.
I will not eat it with an Elf.
I will not eat it on a shelf.
I will not eat it in Helm's Deep.
I will not eat it with a sheep.
I will not eat with Faramir,
Or in the halls of Pelargir.
I do not eat lembas and jam.
I do not like it, Sam-I-am.

PIPPIN
Say, what's with all the rhymin'?

SAM hits PIPPIN over the head with his collapsible metal pointer.

PIPPIN
Ow! What was that for?

SAM
Be quiet.

PIPPIN rubs his head, scowling at SAM.

PIPPIN
Gee, Sam, who put a toad in your trousers?


SAM says nothing, but brandishes his collapsible metal pointer in a rather menacing way. PIPPIN quickly retreats until he is safely behind FARAMIR, but sticks his tongue out at SAM as soon as his back is turned. ELDARION GIGGLES ADORABLY. SAM ignores them and points toward FRODO'S CONVIENIENT MAP OF MIDDLE EARTH.

SAM
Say!
In Khazad-dûm? Here in Khazad-dûm?
Would you, could you in Khazad-dûm?

FRODO
I would not, could not in Khazad-dûm.

SAM
Or Amon Hen! In Amon Hen?
Or maybe with the Kings of Men?

There is another momentary pause as everyone glances around the study, preparing for ANCIENT or POSSIBLY QUITE DEAD KINGS to come out of the woodwork. Only after SAM nods does FRODO continue.

FRODO
I would not eat in Amon Hen.
I would not with the Kings of Men.

SAM
Would you, could you by a brook?

FRODO
I would not, could not, by a brook.
Not in Khazad-dûm. Not with a Took.
Not with the Evenstar. Not when in Bree.
I do not like them, Sam, you see.
Not on a shelf. Not with a dwarf.
Not with an elf. Not on a wharf.
Not with an Ent or Faramir
Not in a tent or Pelargir
I will not eat it in Helm's Deep.
I will not eat it with a sheep!
I will not eat in Amon Hen!
I will not with the Kings of Men!

SAM
You do not like lembas and jam?

FRODO
I do not like it, Sam-I-am.

In the pause it takes for SAM to come up with his next rhyme, the sounds of horses galloping can be heard outside BAG END. The assembled company turns as one toward the door. Moments later, a familiar figure appears in the study doorway. It is ARAGORN, SON OF ARATHORN, KING OF THE REUNITED KINGDOMS, CHIEFTAIN OF THE DUNEDAIN OF ARNOR, CAPTAIN OF THE HOST OF THE WEST, BEARER OF THE STAR OF THE NORTH, WIELDER OF THE SWORD REFORGED, VICTORIOUS IN BATTLE, WHOSE HANDS BRING HEALING, THE ELFSTONE, ELESSAR OF THE LINE OF VALANDIL, ISILDUR'S SON, ELENDIL'S SON OF NUMENOR, SOMETIMES KNOWN AS 'FINKLE-BUNS' BUT ONLY IN THE PRIVACY OF HIS OWN HOME, THANK YOU. He looks rather winded.

ARAGORN
Did I miss it?

EVERYONE looks confused. ARWEN takes a step toward her HUSBAND.

ARWEN
Miss what, dear?

ARAGORN waits a moment to catch his breath, and then straightens up, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

ARAGORN
You know, you know…

He gestures expansively with his hands as EVERYONE looks on in confusion.

ARAGORN
The 'Kings of Men' line. Have I missed it?

SAM sighs.

SAM
Yes, you have.

ARAGORN looks rather upset. His shoulders droop, and he steps outside the study, leaning to speak through BAG END's front window.

ARAGORN
Dad? Dad, we've missed it. We've missed it. Yes, I know. Well, I rode as fast as I could. No, Dad, I couldn't have gone any faster. The hobbits in this area are very strict with the speed limit. Well, you may not be among the living any longer, but I am, and traffic laws certainly apply to me, King or not. Yes. Yes. You and Grandpa can go back to sleep. Sleep, not sheep. They've already had that line as well.

He re-enters the study, seating himself beside ARWEN and muttering under his breath.

ARAGORN
Do you have any idea how long it took me to persuade Mandos to let me take them out for a bit? Hours! And let me tell you, the House of the Dead has not lessened his temper. The whole ride here, it was nag, nag, nag. 'When I fought the orc hordes threatening the north I never drove the horses like this…' 'When I saved six lovely maidens from the spiders of Mirkwood I was half your age…' 'When was the last time you washed your hair, son?' It never ends. Hey, Dad, who's King of the Reunited Kingdoms? Who helped defeat Sauron? Who makes muddy trousers and a pipe look good? Who? Me, Dad, that's who!

ARWEN pats her HUSBAND on the head soothingly.

ARWEN
Now, calm down, dear. You're your own King now. You don't have to listen to him any longer.

ARAGORN grumbles to himself, but ELDARION climbs onto his father's lap, appeasing him for the time being with his sheer ADORABILITY. EVERYONE ELSE then turns to SAM, who gestures with his collapsible metal pointer in preparation for his next rhyme.

SAM
Now, where was I? Amon Hen, Kings of Men…

ARAGORN
Which I missed!

ARWEN
Hush, dear. Let Sam finish his rhymes.

ARAGORN grumbles. SAM moves on.

SAM
Yes, that's right. Here we go…
'But would you eat with Peredhil?
Or while you wore a Silmaril?
Or if you bore great Andúril?
Or while you rode with Eärendil?'

Outside the study window, a bright LIGHT appears to the west, gradually coming closer and closer. The COMPANY is dazzled, and moments later the light fades, revealing a beautiful silver and white SHIP made from NIMBRETHIL. The ship's name - 'Vingilot' - is written in Elvish script along the bow. ALL are amazed. There is a knock on FRODO's front door. ELDARION leaps from his father's lap.

ELDARION
I'll get it!

ELDARION dashes off, and a few moments later returns leading three ELVISH LORDS. One is noble ELROND HALFELVEN, LORD OF IMLADRIS. Another is noble CELEBORN, LORD OF LOTHLORIEN. The third is equally noble, and bears a shining JEWEL upon his brow. It lights the study with a cool blue glow. ALL stare in wonderment, until ARWEN breaks the spell.

ARWEN
Daddy? Grandpa Celeborn? And Grandpa Eärendil? What has brought you here? Haven't you already left for the Undying Lands?

The THREE ELVISH LORDS exchange glances, and the BEARER OF THE SILMARIL leans down to scruff ELDARION on his ADORABLE HEAD.

EÄRENDIL
Your father was showing me a portrait of his grandson, and he was just so adorable that I had to come and see him for myself. Isn't that right, Eldarion?

ELDARION grins up at his GRANDFATHER and GREAT-GRANDFATHERS and nods. The ELVISH LORDS exchange another glance. EÄRENDIL chuckles.

EÄRENDIL
You're absolutely right, my boy. He is more adorable in person.

As the DOTING GRANDPARENTS fuss over the ELFLING, FRODO steels himself. He has come to a CONCLUSION: The quicker he finishes the rhymes, the quicker he can be free of the GUESTS now filling his previously spacious study. He speaks quickly.

FRODO
Not Peredhil, not Eärendil,
Or Silmarils, or Andúrils
Will make me eat lembas and jam!
I do not like it, Sam-I-am!

SAM seems surprised by FRODO's sudden ENTHUSIASM, and smiles at his old friend.

SAM
See, Mister Frodo? It gets fun after a little while!

FRODO
Just get on with it, Sam. I'd like to finish this some time before the next Age.

SAM
Alright, then.

SAM glances around, and points his collapsible metal pointer toward CELEBORN. He and his companions are watching EÄRENDIL entertain ELDARION with the SILMARIL.

SAM
Say, would you eat with Celeborn?

FRODO
I would not eat with Celeborn.

SAM
Or in the forest of Fangorn?

TREEBEARD HOOMS to himself at the mention of his home, which earns him a short look from SAM for interrupting him.

FRODO
Nor in the Forest of Fangorn!

SAM
Could you, would you, in Ithilien?

FARAMIR perks up.

FARAMIR
Hey, I live there!

SAM
Yes, we know.

He looks at FRODO

SAM
Are you hungry yet, Mister Frodo?

FRODO sighs.

FRODO
Not really, Sam. What I'd really like to do is finish up my book now…

SAM
Nonsense, Mister Frodo. You've got to keep up your strength! Now, 'Would you, could you, with Lórien?'

FRODO takes a deep breath, and the assembled group turns to him, expecting something.

FRODO
I could not, would not, with Lórien.
I will not, will not, in Ithilien.
I cannot, cannot with Celeborn.
I would not, could not in Fangorn.
I would not eat with Andúril,
Or with the lovely Silmarils.
I could not eat with Eärendil.
I would not eat with Peredhil.
I will not eat it with a Took.
I will not eat it by a brook.
Not in Khazad-dûm! Not when in Bree!
Not with the Evenstar! You let me be!
I do not like it with a dwarf.
I do not like it on a wharf.
I do not like it with an Ent.
I do not like it in a tent.
I will not eat it with an elf.
I do not like it on a shelf.
I do not like it in Helm's Deep.
I do not like it with a sheep!
I will not eat with Faramir!
Or in the halls of Pelargir!
Nor will I eat in Amon Hen!
Or even with the Kings of Men!
I do not like lembas and jam!
I do not like it, Sam-I-am!

As FRODO catches his breath and the COMPANY applauds, CELEBORN leans toward his GRANDDAUGHTER.

CELEBORN
Arwen, dear, why does young Sam want Frodo to eat lembas and jam?

ARWEN looks between the two HOBBITS, both locked in a staring contest. She shrugs.

ARWEN
To tell the truth, Grandfather, I'm not sure myself.

CELEBORN shakes his head.

CELEBORN
I shall never understand the Periannath…

ARWEN
Nor shall I, Grandfather. Nor shall I.

The MOMENT is interrupted by a rather loud knock on BAG END's front door. FRODO groans and rests his forehead on his hand.

FRODO
Oh, who is it now?

LEGOLAS rises and pushes his way through the crowd and vanishes into the foyer. The room sits in silence as he opens the front door. A GRUFF VOICE drifts in from the front step.

GRUFF VOICE
Good evening, sir! I'm collecting donations for the Outreach to the Elderly program, and I was wondering if you'd like to make a small contribution. Is Mister Frodo Baggins in?

LEGOLAS hisses and leaps back. ALL lean forward, trying to see whom the ELVEN PRINCE is speaking to.

LEGOLAS
Yrch!

ALL gasp. GIMLI, FARAMIR, and ARAGORN leap to their feet, drawing various WEAPONS. ELROND pushes his GRANDSON into his DAUGHTER'S arms and stands with his ELF KIN. PIPPIN scrambles under CELEBORN's legs to stand with the others. SAM leaps in front of FRODO.

SAM
I'll save you, Mister Frodo!

FRODO sighs wearily and slides down from his stool, pushing his way through the CROWD and their SHARP POINTY WEAPONS. He holds up his hands as he reaches the door.

FRODO
Now, everyone, calm down. There's no need to get all jumpy. It's only Lurtz.

He pushes past a surprised LEGOLAS and opens the door wide, revealing a tall URUK-HAI standing on his doorstep. He is wearing a THREE PIECE TUNIC and carrying a large WOODEN CRATE emblazoned with the words 'HELP AN ORC: DONATE TO THE ELDERLY ORCS FUND TODAY! ALL PROCEEDS BENEFIT THE 'CLEAN MORDOR' PROJECT!' Inside the crate are various items, including a pair of BLUNT SCISSORS, a PIGGY BANK SHAPED LIKE MINAS TIRITH, and several WALNUTS. Upon seeing FRODO, LURTZ smiles toothily

LURTZ
Well, hello, Mister Baggins! I was just passing through and thought I might stop by to tell you how the fund is going.

He looks up at the POINTY WEAPONS and one FRYING PAN directed toward him and the WARRIORS on the opposite ends.

LURTZ
…I hope I'm not interrupting anything…?

FRODO chuckles, drawing odd looks from the WARRIORS, and beckons the URUK-HAI inside. LURTZ ducks his head as he enters.

FRODO
No, no, of course not! Come in, come in, and tell me: How goes the program?

LURTZ beams. It is an unsettling sight.

LURTZ
Oh, wonderfully, thanks to your recommendation! We've raised enough funds to finally begin repairs to the Home for Retired Orcs. Oh, and the missus sends her thanks for the jam biscuits you sent last month. Little Hurk couldn't get enough of them!

FRODO smiles at the ORC and pats his arm.

FRODO
I'm glad I could be of service, then. Why don't you come in and enjoy some tea?

SAM edges his way over to FRODO and whispers.

SAM
Mister Frodo? May I have a word?

FRODO motions for LURTZ to wait a moment, and walks a few steps away to where SAM and the WARRIORS wait.

FRODO
Yes? What is it, Sam?

The WARRIORS exchange glances.

SAM
Um, Mister Frodo, I don't know if you've noticed, but…

GIMLI
Ye've got an orc in your foyer, lad.

FRODO glances back toward LURTZ, who is cracking a WALNUT with his TEETH. He turns back to the WARRIORS.

FRODO
I know.

ARAGORN
But, Frodo…

LEGOLAS
We…we kill orcs, Frodo. Have you forgotten?

FRODO sighs.

FRODO
No, I haven't. You don't understand - Lurtz used to be the bad sort of orc, but he's turned over a new leaf! He's an inspiration to all the other orcs! I see nothing odd about trying to help a fellow down on his luck make something of his life.

He crosses his arms over his chest, as if daring the WARRIORS to make a statement otherwise. The WARRIORS exchange glances again and look as one to LURTZ, who is now cracking the PIGGY BANK with his teeth. FRODO rolls his eyes and begins pushing the WARRIORS back into the study.

FRODO
Come on, now. Sam, don't you want to concentrating on your silly game?

SAM narrows his eyes at LURTZ, who steps into the room behind FRODO, and grumbles, but takes out his collapsible metal pointer and flourishes it. After a moment, he points it at LURTZ.

SAM
Would you eat it with an Orc?
Could you eat it with a fork?

FRODO
I could not, would not with an Orc.
I would not, could not with a fork.

SAM
Would you, could you, with a Ranger?
Or with the Twins? Or when in danger?

As if agreeing with SAM's last statement, EVERYONE turns as one to look at LURTZ. He is chewing idly on a sliver of CERAMIC PIGGY BANK MATERIAL. Upon realizing everyone is looking at him, he seems surprised.

LURTZ
Is something wrong?

FARAMIR in particular frowns at the ORC.

FARAMIR
I would think so, yes.

LURTZ squints at FARAMIR and tilts his head.

LURTZ
You know, sir, you look awfully familiar. Have we met before?

FARAMIR looks incredulous.

FARAMIR
My brother, Boromir. Remember him? Beard, horn, shield?

LURTZ thinks for a moment, and then lights up as realization dawns on him.

LURTZ
Ah, yes! The fellow at Amon Hen! How is he?

FARAMIR looks even more incredulous.

FARAMIR
He's dead.

LURTZ's face falls, and he looks as if he's about to cry. FRODO interrupts, attempting to change the mood.

FRODO
Not with an Orc, not when in danger.
Not with a fork or with a Ranger.
I could not, would not, with Lórien.
I will not, will not, in Ithilien.
I cannot, will not with Celeborn
I would not, could not in Fangorn
I will not eat with Peredhil
Or Silmarils, or Andúril
I will not eat with Eärendil
Or even here in Underhill!
I will not eat it with a Took.
I will not eat it by a brook.
Not in Khazad-dûm! Not when in Bree!
Not with the Evenstar! Why can't you see?
I do not like it with a dwarf.
I do not like it on a wharf.
I do not like it with an Ent.
I do not like it in a tent.
I will not eat it with an elf.
I do not like it on a shelf.
I do not like it in Helm's Deep.
I do not like it with a sheep!
I will not eat with Faramir!
Or in the halls of Pelargir!
Nor will I eat in Amon Hen!
Or even with the Kings of Men!
I just don't like lembas and jam!
I just can't eat it, Sam-I-am!

The COMPANY applauds. Even SAM looks impressed. He holds up the plate of LEMBAS AND JAM, amazingly still hot and fresh. FRODO looks at it, and it's obvious he's beginning to get a bit hungry. EVERYONE leans forward as SAM speaks.

SAM
Getting hungry, Mister Frodo?

FRODO
A…A little, Sam.

SAM waves the plate in front of FRODO's nose, who follows it with his eyes.

SAM
You do not like it.
So you say.
Try it! Try it!
And you may.
Try it and you may, I say!

FRODO licks his lips, his hobbit stomach growling. He looks tentatively around the room at the faces of his guests, and finally at SAM.

FRODO
Alright, Sam. You win.

SAM
Now, now, Mister Frodo! You can't eat it unless you rhyme!

FRODO
Sam,
If you will let me be, I will try it.
You will see.

It is the MOMENT OF TRUTH. FRODO reaches for the plate and takes a slice of the LEMBAS, holding it up in front of his mouth. The SMELL fills the room, and a hush falls over the assembled COMPANY. EVERYONE seems to hold their breath, and even the SILMARIL's brilliance is dimmed as FRODO finally takes a small bite of his BREAKFAST.

There is still more silence as FRODO chews and finally swallows. His face breaks into a smile, and he takes another bite of the LEMBAS AND JAM, grinning.

FRODO
Sam, this is good!

SAM smiles, but shakes a finger at FRODO as he does.

SAM
You're supposed to rhyme, Mister Frodo!

FRODO sighs a last time, and takes a deep breath before launching into his rhyme.

FRODO
Say!
I like lembas and jam!
I do! I like it, Sam-I-am!
And I would eat it with an Orc.
And I would eat it with a fork.
And I would eat it with a Ranger.
And with the Twins, and when in danger.
And I would eat it in Ithilien.
And I would eat it with Lórien.
And I would eat with Celeborn.
And in the forest of Fangorn.
And I would eat with Peredhil.
And Eärendil, and Andúril.
And I would eat in Underhill.
And even with a Silmaril!
And I will eat it by a brook.
In Khazad-dûm and with a Took.
And with the Evenstar. And when in Bree.
It is so good, so good, you see!
So I will eat it with a dwarf.
And I will eat it on a wharf.
And I will eat it with an Ent.
And I will eat it in a tent.
And I will eat it with an elf.
And I will eat it on a shelf.
And I will eat it in Helm's Deep.
And I will eat it with a sheep.
And I will eat with Faramir.
And in the halls of Pelargir.
And I will eat in Amon Hen.
Say! I will eat with the Kings of Men!

He turns and smiles at SAM, who nods proudly.

FRODO
I do so like
lembas and jam!
Thank you!
Thank you,
Sam-I-am!

EVERYONE APPLAUDS as FRODO helps himself to another slice of LEMBAS. He chews happily as the applause dies down, but the MOMENT is interrupted by a commotion outside. ARAGORN groans as he recognizes the rather loud voice echoing from the path outside.

ARATHORN
Aragorn! Aragorn, this halfling tells me you're double parked! Aragorn! Come move the horses! Your grandfather can't seem to fix his reins correctly! Come on, boy! When I was your age, I never double parked! Get a move on!

ARAGORN rises to his feet wearily.

ARAGORN
I better go, then.

FARAMIR stands then, catching ARAGORN's arm.

FARAMIR
Uh, Your Majesty…I was wondering.

ARAGORN looks at FARAMIR, smirking.

ARAGORN
Eowyn giving you trouble again?

FARAMIR nods sheepishly.

ARAGORN
You're welcome to stay with us, then. But you'll have to put up with two cranky dead men and their stories of the 'good old days.'

He bids farewell to his COMRADES-AT-ARMS and trudges outside, followed by ARWEN and her KIN. EÄRENDIL carries ELDARION on his shoulders. When the ADORABLE ELFLING waves goodbye to everyone, they are awed by his ADORABILITY. FARAMIR moves to follow, but LURTZ stands, looking morose. FARAMIR looks alternately angry and unnerved at the ORC standing in front of him.

LURTZ
Lord Faramir, I'd like to apologize for the death of your brother. I…I was a different orc then, and I'd like you to know that I've made a complete turn around from the mindless killing machine I was then.

FARAMIR looks confused, but nods, backing away toward the door slowly. LURTZ smiles, making him jump.

FARAMIR
Uh…That's…That's okay. Really. I…

LURTZ looks EARNEST.

LURTZ
Would you like to share your feelings?

FARAMIR grimaces and continues to back away.

FARAMIR
No, no, that's okay. I think I'm fine, really.

LURTZ
But talking is the only way to solve the emotional rift between us. If you don't, you could develop a complex about it later in life, and I'd hate to think I caused any more pain to you or your family.

FARAMIR is obviously SCARED. He turns and RUNS. LURTZ follows him out the door.

LURTZ
Running from your problems never helps anything! You need to face your pain!

The remaining GUESTS watch in mixed confusion and wonderment. FRODO continues munching on his LEMBAS. LEGOLAS looks thoughtful.

LEGOLAS
Gimli? Didn't Aragorn cut off that orc's head in Amon Hen?

GIMLI thinks for a moment, absently tapping his axe against his helmet as he does. After a moment, he turns to his elfin friend.

GIMLI
Yes.

LEGOLAS
Then how does he walk about? His head seems attached quite securely to his neck. It's troubling…

LEGOLAS turns to TREEBEARD, who is humming a slow Entish song to himself.

LEGOLAS
Treebeard, you are wise. Tell me this: How does an orc without a head walk about?

TREEBEARD thinks. It takes several minutes.

TREEBEARD
Hoom, hoom…that sounds like an old Elvish riddle…

He continues to think.

TREEBEARD
Hoom…I believe, young Elf, that this orcish conundrum can also be contributed to
'the Magic of Holly Wood.'

LEGOLAS
Where is this Wood of Holly of which you speak? I have never heard of it, nor its magic before this.

TREEBEARD hooms to himself, and then beckons LEGOLAS to him.

TREEBEARD
Come then, Greenleaf, and we shall walk together and I will tell you of 'Holly Wood.'

LEGOLAS climbs out the WINDOW. GIMLI attempts to follow him, but finds he cannot fit. He GRUMBLES and leaves through the front door. The HOBBITS are left to themselves. PIPPIN stretches his arms over his head NONCHALANTLY.

PIPPIN
Well, I should be headin' off about now…

He attempts to leave. SAM halts him.

SAM
Pippin…

PIPPIN looks INNOCENT.

PIPPIN
…What?

SAM frowns at the tall hobbit.

SAM
Give the lembas back.

PIPPIN groans, but empties his pockets of several pieces of LEMBAS. SAM gathers it up.

SAM
Alright. You can go now.

PIPPIN pouts, but trudges out of the study. SAM and FRODO are alone.

SAM
Well, Mister Frodo, I'll be letting you get back to writing your book now.

FRODO licks the last of the JAM from his fingers and nods to his FAITHFUL COMPANION.

FRODO
Alright, Sam. And thank you for the lovely breakfast.

SAM grins proudly and walks out of the study, humming happily to himself. FRODO, relieved and quite full, turns back to the RED BOOK OF WESTMARCH and picks up his QUILL, preparing to write once again.

FRODO
Now, back to work…

For several minutes, there is silence save the scratching of FRODO's QUILL against the parchment. Then, a slimy-looking almost skeletal hand snakes out from under FRODO's desk and snatches up a crumb of fallen LEMBAS. There is the sound of chewing, and then a mutter of disgust.

SMEAGOL
Nasty Elf bread.

FRODO stops writing, and quickly kicks his foot under the desk. SMEAGOL squeals.

FRODO
Oh, be quiet, Smeagol.


THE END



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