A/N Sorry we haven't updated in so long! Please don't stab us with sharp objects! We're not all invincible like Richard and Rahl…Anyway, here's another chapter. This one's by Piutebob. If it isn't any good, go flame him.

Piutebob: Nooooo!

Me: Shut up.

Richard: Teehee!

Rahl: Teehee!

Me: Oh, and if you read Gandalf out loud, it's much funnier. You shouldn't be somewhere where you can't make noise anyway, because you will end up laughing. I hope.

Frodo Baggins was sitting on a chair in Roran and Garrow's living room, talking with Eragon, who had recently arrived from a tiring journey.

"And then he was like, 'Will I get better?' And then I was like, 'Yeah. Don't worry about it! You just need to get warmed up.' So Murtagh got up and stopped crying. We continued sparring, and all of a sudden, the ground went dark, like nothing you've ever seen in your short person's life, and Murtagh just disappeared! Just like that! Poof! Gone!" yelled Eragon.

Frodo rolled his eyes, knowing full well that this was the exact opposite of what really happened. Eragon like to change the story around to make the other person seem like the underdog.

"Die! Die! Die!" yelled Roran. He was playing Call of Duty: Black Ops on his Xbox 360 Elite (Just one of his many gaming consoles). Everyone in the village of Carvahall really thought that Garrow was just a poverty-stricken, overweight farmer. In actuality, Garrow had the most impressive TV and stereo hook up. State-of-the-art sound and picture.

The villagers just didn't know that.

"Shut up, Roran! I'm trying to talk!" Eragon exclaimed.

"Shut up, Eragon! I'm trying to play! Be quiet so I can concentrate!" yelled Roran.

"What's going on in there?" asked an exasperated-sounding Garrow from his bedroom.

"Eragon keeps ruining my concentration with his talking!" Roran complained.

"Roran keeps ruining my conversation with his yelling and the video game volume being up too loud!" whined Eragon.

"Do I need to come in there and settle this?" threatened Garrow.

"Yes," said Roran.

Garrow seemed to hesitate. "…Ok. Roran, roll me in."

"But I—"

"Do it!" screamed Garrow.

With a groan, Roran got up and walked to the other room. He came back rolling an enormous, literally round person in. Seriously round. Like an overgrown beach ball.

Eragon leaned over to Frodo. "See why I call him my vicious carbuncle?" he whispered in Frodo's ear.

"Carbuncle? What?" asked Frodo.

Eragon rolled his eyes. "Separate the two syllables, dummy."

"Oh! Carb Uncle! Cause he's fat!" yelled Frodo. "I get it!"

Eragon winced as Garrow turned toward Frodo, his face red. "I AM NOT FAT! IS THAT CLEAR?" he bellowed.

"Y-yes, sir!" said Frodo, scared of the angry fat man.

"Good," said Garrow. "Now, what was this dispute I had to arbitrate?"

"Well, Eragon keeps talking! It ruins my concentration, so I can't play!" Roran complained again.

"Then don't play," said Garrow.

"What—No!" Roran cried.

"What's your complaint, Eragon?"

"Well, he keeps yelling, and I'm trying to talk! And the volume is up too loud!" Eragon moped.

"The volume on him or the video game?" asked Garrow.

"Both!" Eragon exclaimed.

"Well, then, Roran, you can keep playing, if you turn the volume down," said Garrow.

"Well, what about my concentration level?" asked Roran.

Garrow rubbed his face on the wall, and sighed. "Right. Eragon, you keep it down, too."

"Yes, uncle."

"And no more fat uncle jokes."

"Yes, uncle."

Just then, Darken Rahl walked into the room, followed by Richard, who did not have a cleaver in his hand.

"I smell pot roast!" exclaimed Richard.

"Me too!" said Rahl.

"What good noses you have. That's what we're having for dinner," said Garrow.

"Rahl, there's been a change of plans. We're staying for dinner!" whooped Richard.

Frodo was thinking about how weird—not to mention rude—it was to invite yourself for dinner. In the Shire, people get thrown in jail for that.

"Yay!" shrieked Rahl.

"I love pot—" started Richard, then stopped. He was looking at Frodo with a strange gleam in his eye. "What nice fingers you have, Frodo. May I hold them?"

Frodo hesitated, wondering what Richard was going to do. He noticed Darken Rahl rolling his eyes. Without waiting for an answer, Richard snatched Frodo's fingers into his hand and began stroking them.

"Roran, I need to check on the pot roast—" started Garrow.

"Pot roast!" crooned Rahl.

"As I was saying, Roran, would you roll me into the kitchen?" requested Garrow.

No response.

"Roran?"

"Die! Die! Die!" Roran screamed at the television screen. His screeches were followed by rapid gunfire.

"They're shooting at us, Richard! Run!" shrieked Rahl, his voice cracking.

"Just a second!" Richard howled back, hacking Frodo's left index finger off with a cleaver. He bolted out the door after Rahl, clutching his precious possession.

"What? Seriously? You've got to be kidding me," sighed Frodo.

Gandalf was drinking. Again. But that was okay. Saphira was drinking too. Gandalf was her drinking buddy. Except, when Gandalf was drunk, he did take on a strange behavior.

"Sho, Shmoo, you shee, shmis Shmelrond, heesh sho shtrangey, in shme shtrangesht wayshesh. Sheck, she doshen't shmeven shmamblesh!" said Gandalf, in his loud drunk voice.

(Translation: So, Saphira, you see, this Elrond, he's so strange, in the strangest ways. Heck, he doesn't even gamble!)

Not everyone gambles, Gandalf, she said, hiccuping occasionally.

"Shno! Shmat's shme shmeerdest shming! Shmey shmould shmamble! Shmeshmeeshmoo shoo shoshen't shmamble ish shmeerd!"

(Translation: No! That's the weirdest thing! They should gamble! Everyone who doesn't gamble is weird!)

Why is it—Saphira paused to hiccup—that everyone who doesn't gamble is smeared?

"SHNO! Shnot shmeared! Shmeered! Shmere'sh a shmugey shifferenshey!" exclaimed Gandalf.

(Translation: No! Not smeared! Weird! There's a huge difference!)

Saphira rolled her giant blue eyes. So why are they weird?

"Shmeecushe shmey shmon't shmamble!"

(Translation: Because they don't gamble!)

I see, my friend. Oi, Gandalf!

"Shmickenshmackingshmoi?" asked Gandalf.

(Translation:_?)

I daresay, *hiccup *, are those people… playing poker?

"Shmy shmoodydoody! Shme shmoves shmoakal!" yelled Gandalf.

(Translation: My goodness! I love poker!)

Gandalf went over to join them—albeit in a slowly, walking in drunk-like manner, tripping over his nose and whatnot. He sat down heavily with a noise like skebunk. "Shmeal shmee shmomee shmalds!

(Deal me some cards!)

Darken Rahl looked at him funny. "Are you drunk?"

"I'm not a shkunk…" muttered Gandalf.

(I'm not a skunk)

Rahl rolled his eyes. "Whatev. What's your name?"

"Shmandalf."

(Gandalf)

"…Okay, Shmandalf. Wait till the next hand."

"Shmy shame shims SHMANDALF! Shnot Shmandalf. Shand shee shmext shmand shims SHNOW!"

(My name is Gandalf! Not Shmandalf. And the next hand is now!)

Rahl looked at him oddly, like he was from another story. (*snickers*)

"I won! Can I hear a 'Whoop, whoop!'?" yelled Richard from across the table.

"Whoop, whoop!" yelled Rahl. "Okay, next hand. Big blind—why do they call it blind?—is Richard, Small blind—why do they call it blind?—is Shmandalf."

"How shmuch moneys shims shme shmack shmind?" asked Gandalf.

(How much money is the small blind?)

Rahl nodded and said, "Good point. Okay, put your money in."

Gandalf made a guess and put 20 Shire Moneys in.

Richard put in 50.

The cards were dealt. Gandalf had a royal flush.

"Shma! Shmeed shmand shweep!"

(Ha! Read and weep!)

Richard went into the Avatar State. He raised his hand and a large boulder flew in through the window. He was about to smash Gandalf when Rahl intervened.

"Hey, Ricky! Let's go get some cookies at Durza's!"

Richard's eyes went back to normal color. The boulder fell on top of Gandalf. "Okay!" He and Rahl ran out of the tavern.

"Shmey, Shmoo! Shemp shmee shmet shis shmouldering off of shmee."

(Hey, Saphira! Help me get this boulder off of me.)

Saphira rolled her giant sapphire eyeballs and swiped the boulder away with a claw, cutting Gandalf's legs off.

"Shmee shmo shmugof shmexty shimey!"

(Be more careful next time!)

Yes, Gandalf.

A/N R&R PLEASE. Yeah, was it funny?

Gandalf: Shmof shmoursh it shmuz.

Me: Umm…okay. Well, anyway. We love to hear your opinions!