A/N: Okay, people who actually are reading this, I have a bit of a warning for you: this is the product of my sister's and my own "creativity". The story might be a bit weird sometimes and I have an explanation for that: I did the first paragraph, my sister did the second, and we kept on alternating. It may be obvious sometimes that one did not understand the other between paragraphs, and that's becuase we disallowed ourselves from communicating our paragraphs to one another. We learned what the hell was happening when it was our turn and we interpreted it the way we thought it was. And, it wasn't always right. Oh yeah, and there were ten minute gaps between each spell. So there. Enjoy. Remember: Alternate Universe.

The light filtered into the small round room of Bag End, where Bilbo lay sleeping at his writing desk. Drool bubbled in his mouth and popped. He had obviously had a long day.
Frodo, as noiselessly as hobbitly possible, opened the door to the study. Eyeing Bilbo nervously, he crossed the room and attempted to pull a slip of paper from beneath the sleeping hobbit's arm. No luck. Sighing he decided to call on the help of his faithful gardener, Samwise Gamgee.
"Mr. Frodo Sir," Sam started, wringing his fingers into nervous knots, "I'm not sure if I can do this, sir. I'm not as quiet as I would like to be. What if Mr. Bilbo woke up? He'd have half a mind to switch me, if you know my meaning, sir."
"Oh Sam," Frodo began, "Bilbo won't wake, you know that it's near impossible to wake him when he decides to take a nap. Besides, that note is really important. It has my great uncle's recipe for mushroom stew."
Sam held back the saliva at the thought; saying that Great Uncle Bingle's mushroom stew was well known around hobbiton was a great understatement. Bingle the genius's stew was known for it's wonderful taste and the sweet dreams they created during an after dinner nap. Some people claimed him some sort of sorcerer and kept a suspicious eye upon him until his untimely death. He had taken a fall off of Bucklebury ferry. Since then, the delicious mushroom stew has hardly been made. No one knew how to make it like uncle Bingle!
"Yes Sam, my great uncle Bingle," Frodo said, seeing the dreamy look on Sam's face. "And if you help me get it, I promise to split it with you, fifty fifty."
"But Mr. Frodo, sir," said Sam, still unsure, "you can't make a stew with half the recipe. That's not how it works, sir!"
"Oh Sam, you're right, how could I forget. I suppose what Rosie said was true!"
Sam paled somewhat. "Rosie said somethin' about me, Mr. Frodo?"
"Not about you, Sam, about me. She said something the other day and I thought she was just joking. But, it seems to me that it might be true. Oh Sam, I fear for myself!"
"Mr. Frodo, sir, is something wrong?" Sam said, his tone alarmed. He put a consoling hand on his master's shoulders. "Would me getting that recipe help you any?"
"Of course Sam. Don't you remember the rumors of Bingle's magic curing mushroom stew? It's that same recipe that my dear uncle Bilbo has securely under his arm. Oh Sam, I'm sorry to bring you into this, but I just have to have that recipe!" Frodo said, becoming distressed.
Sam started to shake a little. Mr. Frodo, sick? That was horrible! What was it, he wondered, that would worry him so horribly? He must be hurt bad. Sam looked at his master with quiet worry. He looked pale already. Was he sweating? Oh, Mr. Frodo, I'll get you that recipe if it meant the death of me!
Bilbo shifted slightly in his sleep, frightening the two hobbits. A strange note seemed to come from outside the window next to the writing desk. Sam took a few uneasy steps toward it, his curiosity and overprotectiveness mingling with fear of Bilbo's awakening and the source of the peculiar noise.
He could have sworn that the floorboards had something against him; it seemed every step he took caused an explosion of some sort beneath the creaking wood. Trickles of sweat ran down his paling face as Bilbo and his desk came closer into reach. That paper seemed to mock him from its place beneath the old hobbit's arm.
"Wooooooo," the window wailed, "Don't come any closer, hobbit. Or else, you'll feel my wrath. Wooooo." Sam froze. How odd that the window pane would have such a familiar voice. Now where had he heard it before?
Sam stopped in his tracks, listening closely as the shutters of the open window seemed to shake with the warnings. After several moments, his task was somewhat forgotten, and an animosity of some sort was evident by the dynamic frown that controlled his mouth. With crossed arms he strayed away from his earlier destination, right to the window adjacent, and pushed open the round panes, allowing the cool dusk breeze to waft in. Along with the wind, the voice seemed a bit louder with the opening of the window.
"Dooooon't dooooo that, I say, you should keep me cloooooosed, or else...or else you might get a cold, noooooow!" Sam's frown deepened as he looked down at the hobbit below, crouched beneath the window. Said hobbit saw Sam and immediately threw its hands over its head and face, trying to hide its identity, whilst the bush beside him quivered in laughter.
"You little stinker!" Sam exclaimed, grabbing Pippin's pointed ear and pulling the tween up until their faces were level. Peregrin was still trying to hide his face with his hands, his frightened eyes peeking through the cracks between his small fingers.
"Let the little hobbit go," another voice proclaimed, "he has noooothing toooo dooo with thissss." Sam eyed the bush and a grin appeared on his face. Three guesses who the one in the bush was.
"Well, I suppose it's your fault then, Slinker?" asked Sam, and he pushed Pippin hard into the talking bush. Pergrin yelped, as did another hobbit that rolled out of the bush. The two ended up in a tangled heap at the foot of the hill, leaving behind them flattened grass and the mangled remains of the bush. Sam flinched. Poor plants.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Frodo asked, appearing by Sam's side and leaning out the window to look at the two tangled hobbits. He was smiling.
"Ah, Frodo!" Pippin said, trying his best to unsnarl his scarf from Merry's neck, his look guilty and pained. "We were just...me and Merry were doing...doing..." he paused, a strained look on his youthful face. He turned to his comrade. "What were we doing Merry?"
"Doing, we weren't doing anything. We were walking home when we heard this strange voice talking...and...uh...it was all Pip's idea!" Merry pointed vehemently and Pippin stared at Merry indignantly.
"I have no idea what this scheming prankster is talking about!" He claimed, pointing an accusing finger at his companion. "I was walking by and he was in the bushes, whispering. I went over and tried to stop him and Merry pushed me under the window. Little blighter."
"What?!? Stop lying to them Pip! Don't you remember the last time you lied?! You were stuck in bed for a week!" Pippin paled. "So, I suggest you just admit that you forced me to do it and save yourself the trouble of messing with you know what again."
Pippin coughed uneasily into his hand, and looked back up at the glaring Samwise and the waiting Frodo. He nodded his head defeatedly and made his way up to the window.
"Well...um...well, it's kinda like this, you see...um...Merry here heard that...that well, Mr. Bilbo..." Pippin looked uneasily at the sleeping hobbit, "well, he heard that Bilbo had a mushroom stew recipe and we really really wanted it!" The last half came out exceptionally fast. "And well, Merry came out with this plan and all..." Pippin looked down at his hobbity feet and shuffled them restlessly. He didn't look up; instead looking in Merry's direction, pleading with his eyes for his companion to save him and continue the narrative.
Merry frowned, but sighed and told them about deciding to open the window and stealing the recipe and running before Bilbo knew it was gone. As he spoke he was glaring at Pippin with an odd look on his face. He was obviously not too happy.
Pippin smiled widely; he apparently thought he had just accomplished something grand. He looked like he was about to say something when Bilbo once again stirred, the conversation and cool breeze rousing him slowly.
Frodo eyed his uncle with a concerned uncertainty, and he put a quieting finger to his lips. All hobbits inside and out stopped moving their lips and vibrating their vocal cords. Frodo motioned for Sam to move from the window.
Merry also started to back away from the window, but Pippin, thinking nothing of Bilbo's stirring, started to climb clumsily through the window. The others mouthed silent shouts of protest, but to no avail; the preoccupied Took continued on.
Pippin, one short leg halfway through the round portal, lost balance and fell, yelping loudly and grabbing onto whatever, down onto the floorboards, which seemed to explode beneath his weight. His groping fingers had, coincidentally, found themselves clutched around one end of the sacred recipe, ripping the one half of the paper off from under the hobbit's arm.
"Oww," Pippin said, rubbing his head gently, trying to ease the pain of the fall. "That really hurt. Now what's this?" he asked, noticing the piece of paper in his hand. "Wow!! Merry, look! It's the recipe, that's what it is!!" He exclaimed excitedly. "Look Merry, look!!" Pippin started hopping eagerly, but was quieted by Merry's incensed glare. Pippin's gaze moved to Frodo and Sam, both of which wore the same look. Pippin stared back, innocently confused.
"Confusticate you!" Sam hissed, dragging Pippin to his face with such a frightening look that even Frodo was a bit taken aback.
"Hey! Hey! What're you doing?!" Pippin asked a tad bit too loud. Bilbo lifted his head slightly, staring at nothing, silencing all other hobbits in the room.
No one dared to move, no one dared to speak; Merry stared from the outside, sweat dripping from his nose, obviously nervous. Of all of the hobbits, he was nearest in Bilbo's sight, since Pippin was pulled away. He stood, motionless, amongst the remains of the bush that he and Pip had taken to crushing, unsure of whether he should run, or risk Bilbo's return to sleep.
"Wow, look at this guys, the recipe uses Withywindle 'shrooms...I remember something funny about them...um..." Sam quickly placed an angered hand over Pippin's mouth. Bilbo turned his head in the direction of the pair, looking them over with glazed eyes. Sam tensed, and Pippin stared on again in confusion. Bilbo rested his head on the desk again. Everyone sighed.
"Nimrod," Merry said, climbing in, much more successfully, through the large window. "I swear, Pip, you're so clumsy sometimes."
"Clumsy? Me? Since when have I been clumsy?" Merry rolled his eyes. "Hey! Now I remember! They were the green 'shrooms, weren't they Mer?"
"What 'bout them, Clumsy?"
"Well, remember when we were six, and you ate one? And you had to drink all that stuff!!!! WOW! Withywindle 'shrooms. That's why we could never get it right! Nobody'd ever put those 'shrooms in a stew....and yet..."
Merry put a finger on his chin. "Yes...I remember that one time...I also remember seeing a lot of things that weren't there." He shuddered horribly. "Didn't stop until I took a nap. It made my sore toe stop hurting though. Felt weird."
Frodo and Sam looked at the two incredulously. Seeing as how nothing was sure to stop them now, they headed out the door and out of immediate danger. Merry and Pippin chatted on.
Sam sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo. We would've had that recipe by now had I not just left the two blighters to play their games in the bushes."
"That's alright Sam, I'm sure they'll give it to us if and when they remember about it." Frodo sighed. "I hope Bilbo doesn't realize it's gone until then..."
"Well," Sam said, scratching his chin, "there's still that other half we have to deal with. Pippin ripped it all the way through. There is still a little under Bilbo's arm, and I'm not sure if I want to touch Bilbo now."
"Yes, that's true..." Frodo wondered how to explain the ripped recipe to Bilbo. He was at his fifth potential excuse when Pippin and Merry rushed out of the room and collided with him.
"'Scuse us, Frodo," Merry said, tripping over his friend's feet and making his way across the hall. Pippin was acting rather jumpy, and the ripped piece was clutched nonchalantly in his shaking hands.
"Bye Frodo, come visit us soon!" Pippin yelled back as both hobbits scurried down the hall, "But now that I think of it, you probably won't be able to, seeing as-OUCH!!! Why'd you hit me Merry?!?"
"Shut it, Pip," He hissed. "They'll figure it soon enough!"
"Well anyway, bye Frodo!"
Sam swore at the two, shaking his fist vehemently up in the air. As the two disappeared out of sight with the creak of the front door, Sam pulled Frollo off the wooden boards of the floor. "What d'you reckon that was about, Mr. Frodo?"
"I don't know Sam, but I'm afraid to find out. I think we better leave here as well..." Sam nodded.
As soon as the round door shut behind them, an explosion of noise sounded from the study. The two weren't very sure whether it was Bilbo or some other beast, but it sounded rather angry. Sam and Frodo moved as quickly as they could away from Bag End. They headed down the way to the Green Dragon, and halfway through they slowed down and took in all that surrounded them. The sun was almost completely below the horizon.

The Green Dragon was alive with energy. All the young hobbits deemed old enough for the privilege of alcohol consumption were there, drinking to their little heart's content or chatting with the friends and ladies that chose to talk to them. It was the social center of the town, and Frodo and Sam weren't surprised to find Merry and Pippin dancing on top of the table singing yet another one of their numerous drinking songs.
They made their way to their usual table, Frodo getting up and ordering two mugs, Sam too bashful to go over to Rosie. As they sipped their ales and discussed the recipe and any schemes to get it back from the two drunken blockheads that stood, surrounded, their drinking song coming to a close. Sam glared at them from the corner of his eye. He still wondered just what happened at the study.
"Frodo!" Pippin called, waving a mug of beer in his direction, "When'd you get here? What happened between you and Bilbo and Gandalf? He didn't get mad acha, did he? You didn't tell him nothing, didja? Because if you did, I didn't do anything! It was all Merry's idea!"
With a drunken swing of his arm, Merry sent Pippin flying off the table onto his already sore behind. "It was Pippin, Frodo. His fault entirely. I wasn't the one who woke up Bilbo."
"No, that was Gandalf!" Pippin yelled up, "and if I remember right, you were the one that woke up Gandalf!" Merry looked at Pippin, "and that elf!! Hey Merry, do you remember the elf? Wow! He was like, this tall!" Pippin jumped off his seat on the floor and stretched as high up as he could, "'Cept he was taller! Wow, an elf!"
Merry hiccuped. "Yes, Pip. An elf. A tall elf; much taller than you could ever reach. Anywho...What about Bilbo? I thought you woked up Bilbo..." He hiccuped again. Apparently, the effects of the alcohol were starting to take hold of him. He must have consumed quite a bit; it took a lot to make either Merry or Pippin drowsy.
"No, no, no I sayed that was Gandalf. 'Member? When he got mad atcha 'bout dropping 'is pipe? Y'know, the really pretty one? And then 'e made all the stuff all black and stuff and he was really loud? And then the elf talked in that language. Didn't sound like elf though, sound like other stuff...and...Oh yeah, Frodo, lookie what I got! Lookie!" Pippin excitedly showed the pair the other half of the 'shroom stew recipe.
Sam and Frodo stood up at the sudden appearance of the paper scrap. "Give that here, you little stinker!" Sam exclaimed pushing back his chair and rushing at the swaggering hobbit.
"Now wait justa second there. Me and Mer 'ere got the respy first, so you got to wait! 'Sides, whatcha gonna do with it, anywho?"
"If it's any of your bloomin' business," Sam started, reaching for the piece which Pippin did very well at keeping from his reach, "it's for Mr. Frodo. He's got an ailment of some sort and he needs it!"
"Ale? Of course! Thanky Sammy! You were always a good fri hic fri hic end!"
Pippin raised a hand in the air. "Rosie, brings us some ale right 'ere, kay? Sam's buying!"
"I'm not buying! Will you please just listen! Merry! Pippin! I said Mr. Frodo needs it! Are you even listening to me!?! I said we don't want more a... oh hi...a...Rosie...how're you today...uh...yeah, those for us? Well, I'll just...uh...take those...Thank you! Bye Rosie...bye."
Sam was completely red in the face, waving sheepishly as Rosie turned away from the scene, smiling. When she took her place behind the counter, Sam took the ale and looked sourly at Pip, who was chortling merrily on the floor. "You want your ale, do ya?" Sam asked angrily.
"Why thanks master Sammy!" Pippin reached up for the mug, which Sam accidentally dropped on Pippin's head, soaking him. The mug hit him hard, bringing him to his senses, if only for a split second. Pippin licked his lips. "Wow, I didn't realize b'fore, but I taste really nice!"
"F'you don't give us that recipe right now, Pip, I'm going to find a wild animal who can second that feeling!"
"Yeah, I know whatcha mean, but don' tell him I said that! I swear, sometimes, when he's 'ad a lil too much to drink, he kinda goes... "
Sam lifted a solid fist at the young hobbit, but Frodo stopped him before anything could happen, asking him just what he was about to do. "I'm gonna put him out of my misery," the hobbit replied, his eyebrows lowered in animosity.
"Too late Sam," Frodo said softly, "look, I think he just fell asleep." Sam looked over at Pippin, who was now slumped double on the floor, snoring lightly. "I wonder how many he had. I always thought a Took never got inebriated. At least he lasted longer than Merry..."
On the round wooden table, Merry had buckled down, unconscious. Sam sighed, shrugged his round shoulders, then bent over and pried open Pippin's relaxed fingers. Sam scratched his head thoughtfully, then searched through Pippin's clothing. He smashed a defeated fist down on the floor. "Confusticate that little...AARGH! Where's the other half, by thunder!?"
Frodo paled. "It's not there?! Sam, it's got to be there! Bilbo will....Bilbo...Sam, we've got to find it!" Frodo and Sam started to search the surrounding area frantically. "Oh Sam! We'll never find it!"
The search continued frenziedly, right until Sam remembered Merry snoring peacefully on the table. With a wide smile, he stood up and reached over to the hobbit's vest pocket. But, before he could find whatever was hidden in there, thunder flashed and a tall figure appeared at the door of the pub.
"Hello," he greeted smiling sweetly. It seemed Merry and Pippin's elf had been real. "I'm looking for a pair of hobbits, have you seen them?" he asked the hobbit nearest the door. The look on his face was one of extreme mistrust. The elf didn't seem to notice. "Mr. Baggins sent me to find them. He said that he needed to talk to them very badly." He looked around looking for them, while waiting for an answer it seemed that no one was willing to give to the tall stranger.
The outsider eyed all the short people in the pub, all seemingly little more than children to him, with a smile that was pleasantly unsettling. Sam stared at the back, his hand floating just over Merry's pocket.
The elf's eyes settled on the quartet, and he started to walk towards the group happily. "Do you happen to know anyone by the name of Frodo Baggins?" he asked Sam pleasantly. "I'm afraid that Mithrandir didn't give me a very clear description of him. He said a Mr. Gamgee would be with him...I don't suppose you know who they are, do you?" Sam didn't meet the elf's eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked. "It's okay, I won't hurt you."
"Mr. Fro-I mean me and my buddy here don't know what you're talking about, Mr. elf...sir..." Sam stammered, "But, Y'know, maybe, maybe you should...I..."
"It's okay, master hobbit," that unsettling smile again... "I suppose they're not here then. Too bad though, Mr. Baggins really wanted to talk to them. Will you do me a favor then, kind sir? If you happen to see either Mr. Baggins, or Mr. Gamgee, or both of them together, would you give them this?" he handed Sam a small white envelope. "He said it was very important. Well, I guess if you haven't seen them, then I'll have to search elsewhere. Fare thee well, my friends." And he left the pub skipping.
Sam was left, blinking, flustered on the bar's floor. Apparently the sight of the elf was s little overwhelming at that moment. He was smiling at himself as he turned, half-confused, half-frightened, and a teensy excited, back to Merry's pocket.
"What do you suppose he was about, Sam?" Sam suddenly remembered Frodo standing next to him. He shrugged his shoulders, reaching into Merry's pocket, pulling out a torn slip of paper. "Is that the other half?" Sam placed both papers together and saw that they fit perfectly.
"Yes, Mr. Frodo," he said. He was barely able to hold both halves together, his excitement had gone to new heights. "Can you imagine," he mumbled to himself, "a real life elf! I'd always wanted to see one, and I did. Odd... I didn't feel like I thought I would..." There was a bit of disappointment in his thoughts, but nevertheless, the elf and the papers made him feel wonderful. "We have the recipe, Mr. Frodo, sir. Now we can cure whatever's ailing you."
"Yes...I suppose we can. Um, Sam, what did the elf hand you?"
"Oh, yes," Sam said, his attention returning to the sealed envelope that he had placed in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out and stared at the lip. What would Bilbo want them to know. Surely, after seeing Pippin and Merry running out of the room he would know it wasn't them...He slowly brought his finger across the top and ripped it open with a sense of suspense that seemed to linger about the parchment as he brought it out.
"It's Mister Bilbo's that's for sure. But it's some form of elvish, I think. I can't read it Mr. Frodo, sir." Sam searched the paper over many times. "Wait, I can read a bit... this part here says Sam...I know it's my name, I asked Bilbo long ago...and this is yours...I can't really read anything else...I'll try...Si...SilfÄ— but I'm not sure..."
"What would Bilbo possibly want us to know about water?" Frodo asked, taking the letter into his hands. "I...I can't read this, Sam. It's too complex..." Frodo lowered his eyebrows suspiciously. "Why would Bilbo send me a letter I can't read?"
"I don't know...maybe he thought you knew it...or maybe he wanted to write you a letter that no one else could understand and forgot you couldn't read it...or maybe he wants you to go to someone who can read it...like...that elf! Mr. Frodo sir, I think we should go see Bilbo right away sir!"
"Of course, Sam," he said and he slipped the letter into his inside vest pocket. "Let's go see him right now."
"Okay Mr. Frodo." Sam also slipped the recipe within his pocket. Frodo lifted Merry with some difficulty and Sam took Pippin. They walked out of the Green Dragon and headed down to Bag End.

A/N: Okay dokay, that was the end! Well, the next chapter is almost as weird as the first, just to warn you, and there is a stupid attempt at a new character! YAY! Yes, Sam said "by thunder", forgive me for that. Originally, Pippin got dead drunk and started slurring all his words to the point of non-understanding...but we changed that. And I know, Sam is mean. My portrayal. Forgive me. REVIEW!!!!