Conversations with Crebain
Conversations with Crebain
(Two Crebain settle on a branch to watch the Fellowship sail down the Anduin.)
Crenny: Why’s the Boss so interested in these guys anyway? I mean, it’s just a bunch of land-crawlers. How come they’re so important?
Babble: You want to tell the Boss he’s wrong, I’ll sweep up your ashes afterwards.
Crenny: Stupid eyeball. If he’s all-seeing, how come he can’t do his own spying?
Babble: I bet he’s not even all-seeing. I think he’s just insecure.
Crenny: (snorts with laughter) Sauron, insecure? If you say so…
Babble: Word is, one of the little furry ones has something the Boss wants. ‘Course, he’s not going to tell us. Oh, no.
Crenny. It’s a conspiracy! A conspiracy against us birds!
Babble: Yep. Look out, they’re getting out of sight.
(The two fly up and ride the thermals around the river.)
Babble: You can see everything up here!
Crenny: No kidding. You never been up here before?
Babble: Never near the Misty Mountains. Hey, I heard a bunch of orcs got killed in there the other week.
Crenny: You reckon it was this lot?
Babble: No way, it has to be an army of elves. Took down the Balrog and all!
Crenny: (whistles in appreciation) He was getting way too big for his flaming boots.
Babble: Balrogs always do.
Crenny: You sure it was elves? Hard to imagine that nancing lot actually fighting anything.
Babble: You don’t know elves. Deadly bunch. Most of them, anyway.
Crenny: What, even that one in the boat?
Babble: Nah, all that one seems to do is sing. That’s all any of them are doing, really.
Crenny: I suppose it must get boring, sailing for days.
Babble: Thank Eru for wings, eh?
Crenny: Oh, look, they’re off again.
Babble: What’s the betting the elf started it off, eh?
Crenny: Him or the furry things.
Babble: I thought the elf was a girl?
Crenny: Nah, male.
Babble: He looks like a girl. And that is NOT natural blonde.
Crenny: Since when were you a beauty critic for land-crawlers?
Babble: Since this morning. Remember when they set out on the boats?
Crenny: Oh, no…
Babble: The tall human needs a bath and the dark-haired furry thing has really nice eyes.
Babble: …did I say that out loud?
Crenny: The furry thing has … nice … eyes?
Crenny: Beautiful weather we’re having at the moment, eh?
Babble: Oh yes. Beautiful.
Crenny: D’you think they’ve noticed they’re being followed?
Babble: Well, we could just be any two birds.
Crenny: But those orcs aren’t exactly masters of camouflage, are they? I mean, red and brown against green? I don’t think so.
Babble: Oh, I don’t know. Black and white zebras against yellow grass… works for them.
Crenny: What in Arda are zebras?
Babble: I … don’t know.
Crenny: You haven’t been taking your medicine, have you, Babs?
Babble: Well … no.
Crenny: I really think you should. The psychiatrist said … what the heck is that!?
Babble: No he didn’t.
Crenny: No, over there! Isn’t that one of the Shriekers’ birds?
Babble: Great Melkor, that’s not a bird. That’s some kind of dragon thingy.
Crenny: Since when were you an expert on birds?
Babble: I AM one, you know.
Crenny: Oh, the elf shot it. Crud.
Babble: Why crud?
Crenny: Means we’re going to have to report it, and my wings are tired. Come on.
Babble: Shouldn’t one of us stay here? You know, keep watch?
Crenny: Nuts to that, it’s no fun on your own. What’re we going to miss?
Babble: What if, while we’re gone, something huge happens which decides how the rest of this tale will plan out? And we miss it? ‘Specially if it’s something to do with … you know … whatever it is the Boss wants. Say, for the sake of argument, that someone tries to take it, thus pushing the one who bears it into the decision to journey into Mordor? What would the boss say if we missed something like that, eh?
Crenny: Oh, please. What are the chances of that happening?
(They fly away toward Barad-Dûr. Far below, on the river bank, Boromir of Gondor gets up quietly and follows Frodo into the trees.)