FARAMIR: Hello there! You've reached the profile of Eggo Waffles, literary enthusiast and writer of dubious quality. Eggo is out of her mind at the moment—

BOROMIR: As usual.

FARAMIR: —and so we're here, taking messages and holding down the fort.

BOROMIR: Which is no light undertaking, mind you. This place makes Osgiliath look like a fifth-grade birthday party.

FARAMIR: That's perhaps not the best metaphor to use, Boromir. Never underestimate the destructive powers of a group of eleven-year-olds with treat bags full of Pixi Stix.

BOROMIR: Point taken. The gist of what I'm trying to say, however, is that there was clearly nothing about this in the job description. I mean, "Two rough-and-tumble Gondorians to participate in depraved mental fantasies involving bathtubs and vials of cooking oil; apply within (literally)"; does that sound like managing a fanfic profile to you?

FARAMIR: You said... you said... when you read the advert out loud to me, you told me it said, "Two prominent literary characters wanted for participation in literary undertakings of a highly tame and erudite nature"!

BOROMIR: Oh. Well. I may have mispronounced a word. Or two.

FARAMIR: And I wondered why you were so eager to take the job...

BOROMIR: Explains a lot, huh?

FARAMIR: Yes. A lot.

(slightly awkward silence ensues)

FARAMIR: But enough about us. This is about Eggo.

BOROMIR: Well, what can you say about her, really? She lives. She breathes. She eats. Periodically, she visits the library. There's not much to it.

FARAMIR: To be somewhat more descriptive, Eggo is an carbon-based ape-descended life form who resides on an utterly insignificant blue-green planet orbiting an unregarded yellow sun in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the West Spiral Arm of the Galaxy. Plagiarizing, especially from Douglas Adams, is one of her particular hobbies, though, being the creative and open-minded individual she is, she will also plagiarize Monty Python and Oscar Wilde with similar readiness.

BOROMIR: Usually in conjunction with butchering the published works and legendarium of J.R.R. Tolkien.

FARAMIR: Endeavors in which we usually feature prominently.

BOROMIR: Because, let's face it, we're the only two people in Tolkien with anything approaching a character arc.

FARAMIR: Now, be fair, Boromir; that's not necessarily true. After all, Frodo is—

BOROMIR: Cardboard.

FARAMIR: But Aragorn is—

BOROMIR: Sinless. Infallible. The Savior™ of Gondor.

FARAMIR: But you have to admit that Sam is—

BOROMIR: The classic sidekick. Nothing to it.

FARAMIR: And Éowyn—

BOROMIR: Is a cop-out. She does her whole "cross-dressing and ass-kicking" repertoire and then immediately settles down to gardening and healing and homemaking and other such Stepford Wife-ly activities. It's pathetic.

FARAMIR: Hey, that's my wife you're talking about.

BOROMIR: Well, I haven't seen her around since you started doing fanfic.

FARAMIR: We're taking some time apart. We're working things out. Like a mature couple.

BOROMIR: Whatever you say, little brother.

FARAMIR: Getting back to the original purpose of this profile, which was not, as I recall, a marriage-counseling session—

BOROMIR: Eggo welcomes you to the wonderful and mysterious world of her fanfiction. She encourages you to review copiously. Constructive criticism is helpful to her. Flames amuse her greatly. Shameless flattery keeps her warm at night.

FARAMIR: As do the flames. Though in a rather different context.

BOROMIR: Well, at least something is keeping her warm at night, eh, Faramir?

FARAMIR: Excuse us for a moment.