Chapter 1
So Bilbo is at his party in the middle of making a long and boring speech when he suddenly disappears.
"Shit!" Says everyone. "What the hell did he put in this ale?" And Bilbo scurries off to his hobbit hole where he finds his old mate Gandalf, a scruffy wizard, lurking about, waiting for him. Gandalf convinces Bilbo to leave the ring to Little Frodo, and after all this preamble the story actually starts. Almost. First Gandalf has to wander off and pore over some papers. He figures out how to test the ring: he throws it on the fire. Now the story starts…
"Do you see any markings on the ring?" Demanded Gandalf the Gay, his head compressed against the ceiling, after more preamble about fire.
"No…oh hang on, yes. There's some funny writing I can't read, it's in a foreign language." Replied Little Frodo. "What is it, Gandalf?" The wizard peered at the words, written in fire upon the gold band.
"It is an ancient and evil language, Frodo…the language of Bollocks, which I will not speak here."
"Oh, sorry, I thought you had been." Said Frodo.
"In the Common Tongue," continued Gandalf, choosing to ignore this, "it reads:
"Made in Taiwan"
and there followed a little poem.
"Wow." Said Frodo in awe. "How did he fit all that on such a small ring?"
"There's no time to explain. You must take the ring away from the Shire, to Rivendell, where some really cool and groovy elves live."
"Oh, great." Muttered Frodo. "Why pick on me?"
"The ring came to you." Replied Gandalf, gravely.
"But I'm only little." Said Frodo.
"Even the smallest person can make a difference." Quoth Gandalf. "Look at Ronnie Corbett" (A/N for non-Brits: a small comedian)
"And Danny DeVito." Came a voice with a classically yokel accent from outside the window. Gandalf reached out and, grabbing the speaker by the short and curlies, dragged him right through the window.
"Samwise Gamgee!" He cried. "You were spying, weren't you? Now tell the truth - you little git - how much did you hear?"
"Oh, not much." Whimpered Sam. "Just a lot of stuff about elves and rings. Nothing important. Please don't turn me into anything unnatural, Mr. Gandalf sir."
"Such as a strawberry flavoured, foot long condom?" Suggested Gandalf. Sam shuddered.
"Don't worry." The wizard assured him. "I've got a better use for you…"
And so Sam went off with Frodo to see the elves. At this point Gandalf buggered off for a bit, telling the hobbits he would meet them at the Pissed Pony in Bree, or possibly the Boiled Horse in Danish Blue. He also warned Sam to keep on eye on Frodo, lest he be turned into a condom, or more likely kidnapped and/or horribly murdered by some scary dudes on big black horses. So Sam and Frodo set off, conversing inanely, and on the way met a double act called Pippin and Merry, or Little and Littler as they were often affectionately known. Pippin and Merry decided to go with their friends to Bree.
The journey was not entirely easy; on the way the hobbits got chased by faceless guys on black horses who screamed a lot, and met up with various people who weren't mentioned in the film and hence can't be important. At last they found the Pissed Pony but alas, Gandalf the Gay was not there.
"Gandalf, Gandalf…" mused the innkeeper when Frodo asked about him. "Ah yes…old scruffy bloke, spent most of his time sitting in the corner eyeing up the talent. I remember. He hasn't been here in six months, since I barred him for coming on to one of the waiters."
"Frodo." Hissed Merry suddenly. "There's a scary bastard over there who keeps staring at us." Frodo looked over there; there was indeed a grim, brooding sort of bloke, gazing at him intently.
"Who's that?" Frodo asked the bartender.
"Who's what?"
"That bloke over there, the one with the constipated expression on his face."
"That be the Lone Ranger." Said the bartender, slipping into some form of dodgy vernacular. "We also call him Strider."
"Why does he look at me like that?" Whispered Little Frodo fearfully.
"Like what?"
"Like this." Said Frodo, crossing his eyes.
"He looks at everyone like that." Replied the man in a low voice. "He's got piles."
"Poor thing." Said Sam. For no reason at all, Frodo fell off a chair, accidentally putting on the ring; he was immediately dragged upstairs by the Ranger with piles, who looked irate.
"I know what you carry, O little fart." Said the Ranger. "You ought to draw less attention to yourself. Now listen up. I'm a friend of Gandalf the Gay, and I'll go with you on your quest and protect you from the Really Scary Bastards, also known as Ringwraiths."
"Ok." Said Frodo, who was very gullible, at least at this stage. So the four hobbits and the tall guy with piles set off, dodging Black Riders and the bill.
Of course at some point Frodo had to get stabbed, mutilated or in other ways abused; in fact this will happen on many occasions, the poor little sod, and this is the first of them: he got stabbed by a Ringwraith, and boy was he in trouble, because it went septic. Unfortunately no one was in much of a position to do anything about it, apart from Strider, who turned out to be a great fan of Alan Titchmarsh and was able to instruct Sam to find a certain curing plant, which he then proceeded to chew before sticking it into Frodo's gaping wound.
"You dirty git." Said Sam in disgust. But Strider was looking grave; yes, he had turned into a six foot long hole in the ground!
"He's about to kick it." Said the Man bluntly. But fortunately for him a random elf turned up and began talking Bollocks at Frodo.
"We need to get him to Rivendell." Said the random elf. "Tell you what, I'll bugger off on a big white horse while you guys walk. Fair?" And so that is what they did.
So Bilbo is at his party in the middle of making a long and boring speech when he suddenly disappears.
"Shit!" Says everyone. "What the hell did he put in this ale?" And Bilbo scurries off to his hobbit hole where he finds his old mate Gandalf, a scruffy wizard, lurking about, waiting for him. Gandalf convinces Bilbo to leave the ring to Little Frodo, and after all this preamble the story actually starts. Almost. First Gandalf has to wander off and pore over some papers. He figures out how to test the ring: he throws it on the fire. Now the story starts…
"Do you see any markings on the ring?" Demanded Gandalf the Gay, his head compressed against the ceiling, after more preamble about fire.
"No…oh hang on, yes. There's some funny writing I can't read, it's in a foreign language." Replied Little Frodo. "What is it, Gandalf?" The wizard peered at the words, written in fire upon the gold band.
"It is an ancient and evil language, Frodo…the language of Bollocks, which I will not speak here."
"Oh, sorry, I thought you had been." Said Frodo.
"In the Common Tongue," continued Gandalf, choosing to ignore this, "it reads:
"Made in Taiwan"
and there followed a little poem.
"Wow." Said Frodo in awe. "How did he fit all that on such a small ring?"
"There's no time to explain. You must take the ring away from the Shire, to Rivendell, where some really cool and groovy elves live."
"Oh, great." Muttered Frodo. "Why pick on me?"
"The ring came to you." Replied Gandalf, gravely.
"But I'm only little." Said Frodo.
"Even the smallest person can make a difference." Quoth Gandalf. "Look at Ronnie Corbett" (A/N for non-Brits: a small comedian)
"And Danny DeVito." Came a voice with a classically yokel accent from outside the window. Gandalf reached out and, grabbing the speaker by the short and curlies, dragged him right through the window.
"Samwise Gamgee!" He cried. "You were spying, weren't you? Now tell the truth - you little git - how much did you hear?"
"Oh, not much." Whimpered Sam. "Just a lot of stuff about elves and rings. Nothing important. Please don't turn me into anything unnatural, Mr. Gandalf sir."
"Such as a strawberry flavoured, foot long condom?" Suggested Gandalf. Sam shuddered.
"Don't worry." The wizard assured him. "I've got a better use for you…"
And so Sam went off with Frodo to see the elves. At this point Gandalf buggered off for a bit, telling the hobbits he would meet them at the Pissed Pony in Bree, or possibly the Boiled Horse in Danish Blue. He also warned Sam to keep on eye on Frodo, lest he be turned into a condom, or more likely kidnapped and/or horribly murdered by some scary dudes on big black horses. So Sam and Frodo set off, conversing inanely, and on the way met a double act called Pippin and Merry, or Little and Littler as they were often affectionately known. Pippin and Merry decided to go with their friends to Bree.
The journey was not entirely easy; on the way the hobbits got chased by faceless guys on black horses who screamed a lot, and met up with various people who weren't mentioned in the film and hence can't be important. At last they found the Pissed Pony but alas, Gandalf the Gay was not there.
"Gandalf, Gandalf…" mused the innkeeper when Frodo asked about him. "Ah yes…old scruffy bloke, spent most of his time sitting in the corner eyeing up the talent. I remember. He hasn't been here in six months, since I barred him for coming on to one of the waiters."
"Frodo." Hissed Merry suddenly. "There's a scary bastard over there who keeps staring at us." Frodo looked over there; there was indeed a grim, brooding sort of bloke, gazing at him intently.
"Who's that?" Frodo asked the bartender.
"Who's what?"
"That bloke over there, the one with the constipated expression on his face."
"That be the Lone Ranger." Said the bartender, slipping into some form of dodgy vernacular. "We also call him Strider."
"Why does he look at me like that?" Whispered Little Frodo fearfully.
"Like what?"
"Like this." Said Frodo, crossing his eyes.
"He looks at everyone like that." Replied the man in a low voice. "He's got piles."
"Poor thing." Said Sam. For no reason at all, Frodo fell off a chair, accidentally putting on the ring; he was immediately dragged upstairs by the Ranger with piles, who looked irate.
"I know what you carry, O little fart." Said the Ranger. "You ought to draw less attention to yourself. Now listen up. I'm a friend of Gandalf the Gay, and I'll go with you on your quest and protect you from the Really Scary Bastards, also known as Ringwraiths."
"Ok." Said Frodo, who was very gullible, at least at this stage. So the four hobbits and the tall guy with piles set off, dodging Black Riders and the bill.
Of course at some point Frodo had to get stabbed, mutilated or in other ways abused; in fact this will happen on many occasions, the poor little sod, and this is the first of them: he got stabbed by a Ringwraith, and boy was he in trouble, because it went septic. Unfortunately no one was in much of a position to do anything about it, apart from Strider, who turned out to be a great fan of Alan Titchmarsh and was able to instruct Sam to find a certain curing plant, which he then proceeded to chew before sticking it into Frodo's gaping wound.
"You dirty git." Said Sam in disgust. But Strider was looking grave; yes, he had turned into a six foot long hole in the ground!
"He's about to kick it." Said the Man bluntly. But fortunately for him a random elf turned up and began talking Bollocks at Frodo.
"We need to get him to Rivendell." Said the random elf. "Tell you what, I'll bugger off on a big white horse while you guys walk. Fair?" And so that is what they did.