Massive Movie Mash-up

2. The Lord of the Rings

The Ellesmere siblings, Rosemary, Nicolas, Victoria and Thomas, descend the patio’s white, stone steps two by two, arm in arm and stride into the palace gardens. The politicians and their families, who were invited to the garden party, have gathered in small circles, surrounding the royals like planets orbiting around a star. One by one, the Ellesmeres separate and join one of the politicians’ circles.

Rosemary files in with a circle gathered around a large, fat, hazel-haired man. The man is so fat that his eyes are no more than tiny, black pins engorged by thick, pink skin. His face reminds Rosemary of the grooved surface of a walnut, only bloated.

“Princess, what an honour to be invited to the Grand Palace!” the fat man bellows. His booming voice startles Rosemary, but she composes herself and smiles.

“The honour is all mine, Minister Jones,” she bows her head slightly.

“Yes, yes,” he waves the chubby stubs of his fingers, “it is rather disappointing though that a man of my pristine hasn't been offered a drink yet.” He purses his lips in a seemingly innocent expression, but the cold, black pins of his eyes reveal his disgust with the royal family.

Jones has never been a supporter of the monarchy, but since all other politicians had been invited, Rosemary couldn't deny him the invitation. However anti-monarchy he may be, he would never turn down the opportunity to eat and drink at the Ellesmeres' expense either. Rosemary was already beginning to regret inviting him.

“No worries, Minister Jones, you will get your drink. Our staff are still pouring them out,” Rosemary gestures for the oak tables a few feet away from her. A small army of servants is busy pouring glasses with champagne and orange juice.

“I had expected that they would have been poured out long before our arrival. Especially since we are at the Grand Palace,” Jones says quizzically.

“Well, we expected that a man of your pristine would attend, Minister Jones, so we had to stock up on enough food and drink to fulfil such a person. Evidently, it took our staff a while before said stock was stored properly. Consequently, they started pouring drinks later than expected,” Rosemary smiles.

A few others in the circle around Minister Jones giggle, but Jones himself purses his lips. Rosemary's answer clearly implied his weight, but he can't demand an apology. Her insult was too concealed and she knows it well enough.

The tension is broken when they hear laughter coming from the circle where Nicolas joined. As if on cue, servants flutter through the crowd with trays of filled glasses. They distribute the drinks like a well-oiled machine, handing one to each guest.

When a servant hands Rosemary a glass of champagne, she whispers in the servant's ear: “Make sure the baron receives a glass of orange juice, even if he protests. Tell him I insist.”

The servant nods and scurries off to the tables. Meanwhile, Rosemary nips of her champagne and watches Minister Jones closely. He drains his glass in a single gulp and alerts one of the servants. As soon as his glass is refilled, the remainder of his anger disappears from his pin-like eyes.

Next, the guests are led further into the palace gardens. They are taken to a meadow near a cherry orchard. The cherry trees are blossoming, impregnating the air with a sweet, mesmerizing sent. In the meadow, a massively long, purple wooden dining table with matching purple wooden chairs has been set. The purple wood originates from the Androsian willow, a 492 feet tall tree with purple leaves native to Andros-9.

Since it costs a small fortune to cut down one of these trees, the guests are dumbfounded by the Androsian willow dining table. Still flabbergasted, they seat themselves at the immense table. The Ellesmeres sit at the head, which is broad enough to fit at least four more people.