Once upon a time, there was a school affectionately called Southwest Christian. It was a lovely place, filled with the laughter of children grades 9 – 12. They studied math and English and the Bible, but Mr. D taught the most important class of all. The Lord of the Rings (in which he found his soul mate, but that is not yet relevant). Anywho, everyone was having a loverly time just waiting in anticipation for that class of classes with that teacher of teachers (I almost peed my pants twice), when the most extraordinary thing happened! I sneezed. But THAT sneeze was of little importance, it simply meant that something REALLY NASTY was brewing for lunch. Mushrooms, in fact. I dislike those little devils with every fiber of my entity. Hobbits like them, however, so I eat them anyway.

So, the bell rang, I went to Lord of the Rings class, I watched others learn about the difference between the books and the movies, then the bell rang again, a single tear ran down my cheek, Mr. D. wiped it way with his bowtie, and then I went lunch pretending to be joyful about the mushrooms, when in fact my cheek still tingled from my extreme allergies to Mr. D. I got my food, sat down, blah blah blah…

Oh dear! Look at those slimy things swimming in gravy. Ewy. I nearly soiled myself, yet again! But, I didn't. Unfortunately, I took one whiff of those shrooms and gave a mighty sneeze (this is the relevant sneeze). The smell of the mushrooms blew out of the lunchroom, down the hall, through the lobby, out the door, into a sewage grate, and directly into Middle Earth.

***

The Fellowship of the Ring had been sitting in the long dark of Moria for over a fortnight (not really but that sounds better) waiting for Gandalf to make a decision. There were just too many tunnels, oh how to choose! He walked here, he walked there, he sniffed the air, with his thumb in his hair. Lo and behold, there was one passage less stinky than all the others. "Let's go this way, all," he crowed, his thumb still in his hair.

"But why, Mr. Gandalf of the gray robes?" asked the fool of a Took.

"Why this one's less stinky, foo! Follow your nose, wherever it goes!" Gandalf replied with a wink. Pippin nodded knowingly, but trembled inside. Gandalf's staff was the source of many nightmares and endless headaches, much like Rafiki's own twisted wooden rod.

Suddenly, at that very instant, and completely instantaneously, at that very moment, right away, Pippin smelled something so magnificent, so glorious, so splendid, so marvelous, so superb, that he promptly fainted. "Oh dear, not again," muttered Sam with a groan. Frodo then commenced to laugh so hard he tipped over. Boromir rolled his eyes as he drummed his fingers on his glorious Gondorian shield, and Pippin continued in his state of unconsciousness.

Just then, Frodo looked up with a start. "Oh good gracious, saints alive!" he cried out with jubilee as he then also fainted neatly beside Bill the Pony (whom, in a strange turn of events, had joined them in the mines). Sam began to weep and ran to Frodo's side with all the speed of a striking cobra. As he reached the prone form of his master he let out a low moan and slid headlong into a wall. Gandalf was beginning to look genuinely concerned.

Merry began to shriek in horror, "The spooks, they've come! Don't let them get me too! They feast solely upon the flesh of the little folk!" He ran frantically in circles until the marvelous perfume reached his nostrils as well. He then acted out a terrific death scene and crashed dramatically to the floor with all the style of a true Shakespearean actor.

Legolas stood with his mouth agape (a look he tends to frequent).

TBC…