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"QX, Sam!" Cried Frodo. "That zwilnik Gollum had just enough jets to cut me free from that blasted ring!"
Meanwhile Sam's steely gaze followed the form of Gollum into the cracks of doom. The kinetic energy of its wretched body's translation into one with the magma became heat. Heat added to heat. It piled up ragingly, frantically, equilibrating, then turning hotter. Hotter! HOTTER! "By Ulmo's carballoy bowels, ringman Frodo! We gotta get to clear ether!"
"Udun's jingling bells, Sam! Its covered. I phialed a message to Galadriel to alert our boys in Aeries we'd be needing them! They'll be here in 3.3 minutes, Eriador standard time."
And as the Grand Fleet of the Eagle Patrol blasted away from Mordor airspace with the two second-stage ringmen firmly in their grip, Frodo wondered when he would next be called upon to pull the chestnuts of the Valar out of the fire again.