Luke talks to a knave named Henry, who inexplicably laughs whenever people ask him about his beard. He tells Luke the latest gossip o' the land. It seems Haybale Bill got caught in a tent with Annie, the grog girl, who is engaged to the fruit ice guy. This would seemingly mean absolutely nothing to anybody, but they're going to keep this tertiary storyline going through the episode, so I had to write it out. Due to the belligerence of Annie's bethrothed, the grog people are currently enslaving the poor girl in a fort made of kegs. Let's Godspeed to the next scene, shall we?
What ho! The camera just swiveled on its base, keeping us in the land of yore, as Luke applies trinkets of pewter and fairywinkles upon a tree of dreams. Nearby, not-too-young T.J, afflicted with the plague of shattered limbs, calls out to fair Luke, thrashing his jewelry-laying skills left and right. Oh, 'tis a pity, how Luke's new brother-in-law does bandy about instruction, without showing any signs of wanting to improve in his own condition. 'Tis true, what they say, that this husband of Amy does like much discussion around the issue, and not much of the issue. We spend three hourglasses' worth of sand watching Lord Danes offer navigation to a lost, fair maiden, prompting the failed jester T.J. once again to knock our beloved diner proprietor for his lack of Ren-Fairian dialogue, such as which I am thusly demonstrating. Thusly. By the by, I am annoying myself most horribly at this moment, and am wishing the speedy conclusion of this humble play. Zounds! It appears the afflicted has come down with a case of heavy-television, which has sprouted from his groin as he rests in his anachronistic lawn chair. Comedy, dear friends and wenches of the land, ensues. Someone says "Deepak Chopra." Prithee Luke soon leaves this prairie of the loon. Sister Elizabeth unleashes her brother's collar, much to the chagrin of Duke Gimpy. The man of much flannel stomps away to find mead, first absconding the electronic storybook. Exeunt.
"Rome." Emily and Rory are led by a concierge who knows Emily by name. Rory thinks their hotel room is nice, but Emily finds it to be hot. Emily inspects the view and complains that it is different. She thinks something has moved -- either the buildings or the ruins. Rory and the concierge assure Emily that nothing has moved in Rome for two thousand years, and that this is the same room Emily has stayed in before. The concierge offers to switch Emily's room, but she decides to settle with this weird, hot, view-obstructed, cigarette-laden monstrosity because Rome likes a martyr. Emily barks at her granddaughter for daring to pull her own bag off the luggage cart. Emily makes plans for high tea and private tours of places like The Vatican. She stresses that the tours should be for only Rory and herself, since earlier they were forced to tour with [shudder] tourists. Emily runs off to tell the bellman how exactly to hang the hanging bags. Rory asks the concierge for directions to the catacombs. The concierge warns her that Emily would not like them: "Bones disturb her." Rory says she goes exploring on her own every day when Emily is down for her nap. The concierge flirts, "Ah, yes. A nap." Emily asks for two more pillows. Emily and Rory dismiss the concierge and then sit to pick their restaurants. Rory is disappointed to find that Emily isn't going to take her nap today. Emily picks up at this, and then decides to stay in the room for a while, pretending she was always going to take her nap, so that she can let Rory explore on her own. Oh, do I love Rory's outfit in this scene. Why can't Marc Jacobs do a line at Target like everybody else? Emily asks Rory when they last called Lorelai. Rory does that bad fake lying she does and stammers that she doesn't know before running out of there as quickly as she can.