GUARD 1: Halt! Who approaches the gate of the town of Tarnheim this night?
FROME: I am Frome, of Brackendorf.
GUARD 1: I know you not, Frome. What is your business?
FROME: Oh, you know. This and that.
GUARD 1: You may not enter until dawn's light, Frome, we know not who you are.
FROME: I am Frome, son of Glome.
GUARD 2: OK, that's fine, come in.
GUARD 1: No! Could you wait a moment, please, Frome.
[All exchanges hissed quietly, unless addressing FROME]
GUARD 1: We can't just let him in, we don't know who he is.
GUARD 2: He's Frome, son of Glome - weren't you listening?
GUARD 1: But, that's a not a thing.
GUARD 2: Course it is: Someone son of someone, it's fine, we do that all the time. You can't deny we do that all the time.
GUARD 1: Yes, I know, but only for people in the town. It's meaningless this time, because we don't know who Glome is!
GUARD 2: Alright, hold on. Frome?
FROME: Yes?
GUARD 2: Who's Glome?
FROME: Glome? Oh, he's son of Glame.
GUARD 2: OK, that's fine, come in.
GUARD 1: No!! Hang on just one more minute, please, Frome.
GUARD 2: Son of Glome.
GUARD 1: Yes, so -
GUARD 2: Son of Glame.
GUARD 1: Stop it! Look, we don't know who he is, we don't know who any of his ancestors are, and for all we know, he might be here to kill the duke.
GUARD 2: Oh, I doubt it. But if he does, we can tell Glome.
GUIARD 1: There might not even be a Glome! He could be lying.
GUARD 2: Alright, we'll tell Glame, then! At the very least, we'll invade Brackendorf.
GUARD 1: I've never even heard of Brackendorf.
GUARD2: Ah, well, that's probably why you don't know Glome, then. I mean, think about it. Hardly his fault , is it. You can come in, Frome.
GUARD 1: No, wait. Frome-
GUARD 2: [Fast] Son of Glome son of Glame.
GUARD 1: What's that thing in your hand? The one that looks something like a bomb?
FROME: This? Oh, it's...err, it's just a keepsake. Of my dear old grandad, Grame.
GUARD 1: You said Glame!!
FROME: Oh, no, that's my other grandad. My maternal grandfather was Grame, Dad's dad was Glame.
GUARD 2: OK, that's fine, come in.
GUARD 1: No!!! Just stay there, Frome
GUARXD 2: [Mega fast, almost undre breath] Son of Glome son of Glame, and son of unspecified daughter of Grame.
GUARD 1: I refuse to let him in.
GUARD 2: And I say he's fine.
GUARD 1: Alright then. If that's how you want it, let's go and wake up Steven.
GUARD 2: Steven?
GUARD 1: Yes, Steven.
GUARD 2: Who's Steven?
GUARD 1: Steven! The chief guard? Our supervisor?
GUARD 2: Dunno. Who's he son of?
GUARD 1: You cannot be serious, you little - Steven, son of Stoven.
GUARD 2: Nope, don't know him. I know a Steven, son of Stooven.
GUARD 1: Him! I mean him! Steven, the head guard, the only Steven I could possibly have been talking about, that Steven. Go and get Steven so we can decide whether to let him in.
GUARD 2: Let who in?
GUARD 1: Glome! I mean, Glame! Flame! Groom! That guy there, the one with the bomb!!
GUARD 2: No, I mean, there's nobody there. I think maybe Frome walked in whilst you were talking.
GUARD 1: Son of a bitch!