Disclaimer- I don't own Lord of the Rings.

So...I haven't done a fanfiction purely for fun in a long time, and I thought my works needed to lighten up, so I wrote this little parody.

Bilbo, Frodo, Elrond, Galadriel and Gandalf, apparently with no crew whatsoever, are off to the Undying Lands, when things get a little mixed up...and they end up in California.

Enjoy! :)

"Hey, Elrond?" Frodo was pacing the deck, his small hands clasped behind him. He'd been pacing for the last three hours, to the point of driving Galadriel, Bilbo, and Gandalf below deck to get away from him. Elrond alone was prepared to deal with the irritating hobbit, having spent several thousand years with Elladan and Elrohir.

"Master Elrond." reminded Elrond absentmindedly, threading a needle carefully through his needlework. He was leaning back on a traditional Elvish lounge chair, wearing traditional Elvish sunglasses.

"You should stop calling yourself Master. It makes you sound like a porn star." commented Frodo.

"I know."

"Then why-"

"That's why I do it." One of Elrond's pointed eyebrows moved up slightly, and Frodo found it wise to shut up. For a minute.

"Master Elrond?"

"Yes, dear hobbit?" Where Elrond got his patience Frodo'd never know. He still remembered the time Gandalf choked a hobbit child because he'd consistently nagged Gandalf about genitalia-shaped fireworks. He'd been banned from the Shire for three years, although everyone, including the child, forgot after six months, letting Gandalf sneak back in. Too much pipe-weed all around.

"Do you remember that little ring I carried for a while?"

Elrond swore suddenly. Frodo looked at him with concern.

"Sorry. Pricked myself with a needle. You were saying?"

"Remember the One Ring?"

Now that Elrond was actually paying attention to Frodo, he gave him his absolute most scathing look, usually reserved for people who tried to sell him useless things, like pottery, or lawnmowers. "Yes, Frodo, I vaguely remember there being a ring."

Frodo disregarded the sarcasm. "So, I was wondering...is that Mount Doom thing permanent?"

Elrond couldn't find it in himself to reply.

"Like, I couldn't reach down and reform it or something? Or make another one with the lava?"

"Frodo Baggins," said Elrond finally, speaking like you would to a child. "Even if it wasn't, which thankfully it is, you're on a boat in the middle of the ocean on your way to V-"

Elrond cut himself off, slowly rising from his lounge chair. He lifted the sunglasses off his face, squinted at the sun, and said, in a voice of reverence, "I think we made it."

"Dammit." said Frodo.

"Something doesn't seem right," observed Galadriel. "Why do I feel like we're not in Valinor?"

Gandalf puffed on his empty pipe. They'd run out of pipe-weed weeks ago, when Bilbo had stolen it all and gotten ridiculously smashed. Gandalf, instead of punishing him, had ended up rolling on the floor with the old hobbit. Gandalf was not smashed.

The old wizard rolled his eyes. "Because we're not in Valinor," he replied. "I don't think Men are allowed there."

"Men..." whined Frodo. "So many of them, as far as the eye can see..."

There were indeed Men. Small ones, big ones, lady ones, child ones. They milled about the beach in a disorderly fashion, showing off their large breasts or saggy skin. Or both.

A good number of them had gathered around their ship, speaking some unintelligible language. Elrond waved and smiled and listened to them talk. "I think I've heard a dialect of this before. Maybe I can ask them where we are?"

They were standing ankle deep in muddy water. Frodo was supporting Bilbo, who was mumbling something about fruit. Galadriel's pristine robes were soaking wet and the edges were dark brown.

Elrond approached a woman. She was extremely tan and was wearing next to nothing, making Elrond feel excessively uncomfortable. He stared at her face, trying not to looked at her polka-dotted bra. Frodo was conveniently located where he was stuck staring at her belly-button, which had a silver ring in it. It reminded him of the One Ring. He wished it was the One Ring.

"Hello ma'am," said Elrond politely. "Do you know where we are?"

He was speaking in very, very ancient old English, and all the woman heard was "Hello."

She started laughing, and Gandalf shoved him over. "Step aside, Lordie. I speak moron."

"Excuse me?" replied Elrond haughtily.

Gandalf rapped his staff on the bleached blonde's skull, and she nearly fell over. "What the hell?" she yelled. The group was surprised they could understand her. Gandalf gave Elrond a broski chest-bump to celebrate his awesomeness.

Bilbo tottered towards her. "Hello, young lady," he croaked. "You're sexy."

"Are you a midget?"

"Where are we?" countered Elrond.

She cocked her head at him. "You look familiar."

"I can't see how. Where are we?"

She looked at Frodo and Gandalf. "You do too."

"Where are we?" repeated Elrond.

She squinted at Galadriel. "You, not so much."

"Screw you, bitch."

"Where are we?"

The woman snapped her manicured nails in Elrond's face. "I got it! You were in The Matrix!"

None of this was remotely understood.

"Where are we?" growled Elrond.

"Oh, yeah. Malibu, baby!"

"What's a Malibu?" asked Bilbo. "Can you eat it?"

Reviews are love! :)