CHAPTER FOUR: Of Hobbits And The Effects of Alcohol

Frodo rolled the bead across the table, and cheered when it rolled into his overturned beer mug. "Alright! Another hole-in-one!"
"You know, Frodo, that's not how you play golf." Sam chugged back another mug full of his own beer and added the empty pint to his growing collection.
"So?"
"Good point. Can I have another over here?" Sam called to the bartender, a rather large and lumpy looking alien of some sort.
The bartender grumbled something in a foreign language and trudged to Sam with the beer.
Pippin and Merry were seated across from Sam and Frodo, leaning against each other and snoring. The two gas-station attendants had had quite enough adventure for one day, and were exhausted.
"Where's Oboe anyway?" Sam asked.
"Obi-Wan Gandalf." Frodo corrected. He craned his neck and scanned the smoky area of the room. "Oh, I think that's him next to the juke box." Frodo grabbed the bead and made his way towards the cloaked figure next to the musical machine. "Hey, Gandalf..."
The figure punched a number on the jukebox and strains of a song Frodo had never heard filled the air.
"Gandalf..."
The figure turned, flipping back the hood on it's cloak to reveal the tall man from the streets. His thick black hair was now greased back in a wave-like manner, and Frodo could see the collar of a rhinestone-covered white suit underneath the brown and dusty cloth. "Sorry, kid, I'm not Gandalf... aren't you a bit young to be in here?"
"I'm fifty!"
The man pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. "Really. Awfully short, aren't you?"
"I'm a hobbit!"
"And so quick to say so, too. You know," the man placed a hand on Frodo's shoulder, "you ARE in great danger. There are many perilee... perili... perilisis... uh... dangerous things ahead of you on your journey."
Frodo gasped. "How do you know that I'm on a journey?"
"You look like it. Excuse me, duty calls." The man tore off his grungy cloak to reveal a white rhinestone-studded suit. He put on a pair of sunglasses, grabbed a microphone and started to sing some song about some broken hotel.
Frodo stumbled back to Sam and cast a bewildered look at the man.
Sam gaped. "Oh... my... GOD!" he squeaked. "He *IS* the king! All hail Elfish Pretzel!" Sam stood up, saluted, then fell over stone drunk.

MEANWHILE...
Gandalf sat among huge piles of papers, looking at receipts and filling in tax return forms. "Heh... you bought a hair removal kit? You should worry about growing *more* hair." He snickered at Yodaman's scarcely-there white hair.
Yodaman ignored the snickering wizard and leaned back in his easy chair. He made his remote control hover over Gandalf's head, then dropped it. The channel on his huge-screen-TV changed and Yodaman grinned as his favorite show came blaring on. "Whoo-hoo! The Simpsons!"
Gandalf rubbed at the bump that was forming on his head and threw the remote control back at Yodaman, who stopped it in mid-air and let it hover for a moment before hurtling it back at his prisoner.
"Dammit, why don't you just get an accountant?" Gandalf asked, rubbing at his new bump.
Yodaman grinned, eyes glued to the TV. "Then I wouldn't get to do *this*."
The remote hit Gandalf on the head again.
"Grrr...." Gandalf shuffled through the papers again, muttering to himself and jotting down dollar amounts on a piece of scrap paper. He glanced up in time to see Yodaman's eyelids droop as he started to drool. Slowly, he slipped out of his handcuffs and crept out of the room, all the while continuing the hypnotic spell he had cast on the TV. With any luck, he could escape before Yodaman awoke from his stupor...

MEANWHILE...
"...Trust me, you don't want to sleep in your room tonight." The tall man said. His name was actually Strider, and he was, in fact, the parlor singer for the Inn of the Three Little Pig's bar. He was a very good Elfish Pretzel impersonator.
*SO* good, in fact, that Sam was still in shock. "It's the king... oh, migosh. Can I have your autograph?"
"Samwise, get a hold of yourself, Elfish is dead."
"Then who are you? HA! Trying to trick me, eh?"
"My name is Strider, not Elfish."
"Ooh, reeeally now. *Gasp!* You're delirious! You knocked your head on something and wandered too far from home and you had amnesia and you don't know that you're Elfish, and..."
Frodo clamped a hand around Sam's constantly running mouth and grinned apologetically at Strider.
Strider smiled back and shrugged. "Happens all the time... really, it does."
Merry and Pippin trudged slowly after their friends, leaning on each other and struggling to keep their eyes open.
"When can we go home?" Pippin asked groggily.
"As soon as we're sober again, I reckon. Would you stop putting those damn little pink dots in front of my eyes?" Merry answered, yawning hugely as he did so.
"As soon as you start to keep your green isosceles triangles to yourself." Pippin replied wearily.