The camera zoomed dramatically on an abandoned asylum during a rainstorm, as dramatic pipe organ music played in the background, then cut to a laboratory inside occupied by Dr. Weird and Steve.
"Gentlemen, behold!!" shouted Dr. Weird. His head fell off, and Steve looked bored.
------
Frodo awoke, light shining obnoxiously in his eyes. Visions of elves prancing around and chanting things still filled his morphine-riddled mind.
Not that there had ever been prancing, chanting elves in the first place.
"Huhh?" moaned Frodo, his head rolling over to the side. The alligator in his bed grinned at him.
------
"Bwahahaha!" laughed MysticButtCrystal evilly.
"You're stupid!" yelled Celestina, throwing the little tiara she had been wearing and hitting MysticButtCrystal in the back of the head with it.
Mort sobbed quietly in the corner because Spoofmaster had confiscated all of his corn in retaliation for his previous sponsorship deal, and given him beans instead.
"Damnit," said Spoofmaster, seeing what her brother had done.
------
An anvil suddenly fell through the ceiling, crushing the alligator's head and causing quite a mess. The Comical Donkey fell humorously through the hole after it, brayed comically, and jumped out the window.
Gandalf awoke from his nap, knocking over his water glass and a priceless ivory oliphaunt.
Frodo sat up, and discovered that he was wearing a lacy pink nightgown.
"What the hell is this?!" exclaimed Frodo, pulling at the silky fabric.
"You are in the house of Elrond," droned Gandalf. "It is-"
"No, not that!" growled Frodo, smacking Gandalf upside the head. "I mean, why the hell am I wearing this?!"
"I figured that since you're such a little bitch, you should probably be dressed like one," explained Gandalf.
Frodo stared at him in disbelief.
"There's a meeting soon," said Gandalf. "There' a really nice gown for you over there, and I got you some makeup."
Frodo was spared from having to respond when all his hobbitty little friends came rushing in.
"Oh, Mr. Frodo, I came as soon as I somehow magically knew you were awake!" cried Sam.
Gandalf paced across the room, and held up the dress, a stern look on his face. Frodo sighed, got up, took it from Gandalf, and went behind the screen to change.
------
Boromir approached Rivendell on his trusty steed, Bobbo the Horse Great. Obviously, Boromir had named it himself, and was very, very stupid.
He thought in his drunken stupor of the events that had brought him to where he was....
Boromir sat at the table in Minas Tirith with his father, Denethor, and brother, Faramir. Faramir ate neatly, while Boromir and Denethor slurped disgustingly at their dinners.
"Faramir, why are you such a pussy?" asked Denethor. "Why can't you be more courageous, like your brother?"
"But Dad," protested Faramir. "I killed seventy-six orcs just this morning and solved five major disputes among our peasants! Then I balanced the national budget, and worked out the kinks in the army so it would be 5 more cost-efficient, and 10 more combat-effective, while allowing each soldier to be paid 20 more and receive a dental plan!"
"Big whoop," grumbled Denethor unappreciatively.
Boromir farted.
"Good job, son!" cheered Denethor in response. "Here's some money!"
Faramir fought to hold back tears.
"Anyway," Faramir managed to say a few minutes later. "We got a letter from the elves today. They want us to send a high-ranking representative to a meeting of some sort. It sounds important. I'll be leaving sometime tomorrow morning."
"You can't go, Faramir," said Denethor. "This sort of thing calls for a real man! Besides, knowing those elves and how they like to go around pulling each others' dicks, you'd get lost in the crowd."
Faramir stared at Denethor, unable to comprehend his father's stupidity.
"Boromir, you're leaving for Rivendell tomorrow," said Denethor.
"Dad, Boromir is a drunken retard, and he can barely even dress himself!" complained Faramir.
"Shut up!" yelled Boromir, jumping up and knocking over the table. Faramir's big words had confused and angered him. Wine and various meats spilled across the floor.
"That's my boy!" smiled Denethor. "Have some more money!"
'Dad sure is a smart man,' thought Boromir. 'But I think Faramir's a faggot.'
Just then, he lost control of his horse, and it ended up wrapped around a tree.
"Bugger," said Boromir, getting up to walk the rest of the way.
------
Legolas was also headed to Rivendell, riding his not-off-white horse, which was not a not-virgin horse (at least not specifically), and not wearing a cloak that shimmied and sparkled as he moved. You see, this was not Animated Legolas. This was the real thing. Or as real as a fictional character can conceivably get.
He too had a spiffy flashback about how he came to be traveling....
You see, elves are in relatively high demand, even drunkard elves from places like Mirkwood. Lothlorien and Rivendell elves, along with any other elf tribes that were out there (let's face it—who the hell knows how many there even are?) tended to not respond to any letters asking for their presence at trivial events, since they felt it was beneath them.
In contrast, Mirkwood elves were entirely willing to, for the right price. Seeing as they were drunks, and spent most of their time partying, they never had much money. So what was a Mirkwood elf to do when he wanted to go to a movie or buy a video game? Well, he could go down to Letter Recieval, and draw a message out of a hat. Usually it was something like attending an eight-year-old's birthday party, or appearing in a commercial for a used car lot. Sometimes it was something a little less pleasant, like making a pimply fangirl's dreams come true. But, of course, the discerning elf could always put a bag over her head, and then it wasn't so bad.
So, in any case, the Mirkwood elves tended to make about $500 per appearance, and were generally doing pretty well.
The unfortunate side-effect of all this, though, was that any request that came in had to be put in a hat, and the elves who worked down at Letter Recieval for royalties tended to set aside the particularly nasty ones for other elves they didn't like, and gave the really nice ones to their friends and family, or just people they thought it would be good to have leverage on.
With that said, it will make sense that even Legolas, a prince, was completely broke, and that, despite his severe dyslexia, he decided to take the chance and try to get a job. After all, Metal Gear Solid 3 was coming out in the foreseeable future, and there was no way in hell he was going to miss that.
It had been a slow day, and Duranor was very bored. He hadn't given out many jobs at all, and wouldn't be receiving much royalty money for all the hours he'd spent sitting around the office all day. He saw Legolas approaching. Legolas was such a spaz, he thought.
Well, he did have one letter he'd been sure he wouldn't be able to shove off on anybody. It seemed to imply that anyone who took it would end up going on a horrific quest for little or no monetary reward. But since that illiterate moron had shown up, maybe he would at least be able to get the thing out of his files.
'Hell,' he thought. 'I'll even have a little fun while I'm at it.'
He opened his desk drawer and pulled out one of the spare hats that were to be used if the primary one broke down or something. Not that hats ever break down, but that's just how bureaucracies think. He took out his yellow highlighter, and wrote in big words on the side: 'Crappy Jobs for Illiterate Morons I Don't Like.' He then took the normal hat from its normal perch on his desk, and hid it in the drawer along with all the letters it held. He replaced it with the new hat, in which he placed only the letter from Rivendell.
"Hey," said Legolas, grinning as he entered the room. "Got any jobs today?"
"We've always got jobs," sighed Duranor. "Go ahead, pull one out of the hat."
"Wow," said Legolas. "There's only one left!"
"Well, aren't you the lucky one," replied Duranor, as he struggled to keep a straight face.
Legolas pulled the letter out, but started to peer at the writing on the hat.
"Bjso f.. ffff...uhmmm...." tried Legolas.
"Don't read the hat," said Duranor, not quite keeping the straight face.
Legolas lifted the already-opened tab of the envelope, and pulled the sheet of parchment out.
"Reda....uhm...veles?" attempted Legolas pathetically. Duranor rolled his eyes and took the letter from him.
"Basically, some people from Rivendell want you to go to some meeting, and then go on a camping trip with them," lied Duranor. "Do you accept?"
"Uhh...sure," said Legolas.
"Well, then, sign here," said Duranor, pushing a contract across the desk at him. "By signing this, you are agreeing to fulfill the obligations specified in the letter. 10 of anything you make comes back to Letter Recieval, and then half of that comes to me."
",I Alogle,s" stammered Legolas, trying to read the contract.
"Don't read the contract," said Duranor, his eye twitching from the sheer effort of not laughing.
Legolas put his thumbprint on the contract.
"Okay, then, let me write you up some directions," started Duranor. "Oh...wait..."
He pulled a small stone that was pointed at one end out of his desk, and fiddled with it in a way Legolas did not quite understand.
"Just hold it in the palm of your hand, and the pointed end will point to where the job is," said Duranor. "Just follow that direction, and you'll get there."
Legolas bounded excitedly out the door, the stone in one hand. Duranor burst out laughing as soon as he was gone.
------
"How did that even work?!" complained Celestina. "How could Legolas remember all that if he didn't see half of it? And if he did see all of it, why would he take the job anyway?"
"Oh, yeah," said Spoofmaster sarcastically. "Look at little Miss Continuity here."
"I hate yoooou!" wailed Mort, throwing beans at Spoofmaster.
Aragorn sat in a dark, dank corner, staring at the statue that held a slab with Narsil on it. Around the statue, neon signs proclaimed in various languages that it should not be touched, and that violators would be brutally beaten.
Boromir staggered into the little elfy-gazebo-chapel thing, and proceeded to pick up Narsil and use it to pick his teeth.
"Don't do that!" yelled Aragorn, getting up.
"Why not?" said Boromir, just before four elves with clubs came up from behind him and began beating the living shit out of him. Narsil clattered on the floor as the guards dragged Boromir away.
Aragorn respectfully put the sword back where it had been, and muttered some irrelevant phrases in Elvish. Arwen came in and placed her hand on his arm, smiling. This was really just her being polite and not feeling well and wanting something to lean on, but Aragorn seemed to feel it was a declaration of love.
"I love you!" he told her.
"That's so kind, sir," said Arwen, coughing delicately. "Here, take my necklace."
"Thank you," said Aragorn. "When I get back from this quest, let's go out on a date or something."
"That would be very nice," said Arwen, quaking a little and looking polite.
Gimli sat with the other smelly dwarves, and observed all the others at the meeting. There seemed to be a very short person with no shoes and bad foot hygiene who was rather fetching in the dress she was wearing (Gimli, of course, assumed that anyone wearing a dress must be female), a very confused-looking elf, a creepy old guy with a stick, a guy who looked like the heroic type, and another who looked like some sort of brain-dead jock who'd recently lost a fight. Another elf named Elrond sat in the corner, looking moody.
In the center of the circle, there was a very attractive-looking brazier on a pedestal. Gimli hoped that they wouldn't notice it, so he could make off with it after the meeting ended.
Legolas was very confused, but he figured he'd probably just go camping with these weirdos and get some money, and then it would be Snake Eater time for him. So, he just sat quietly, and tried not to attract too much attention.
Frodo felt deeply embarrassed, but he had worn the dress in fear of what Gandalf would do to him if he didn't. Gandalf had been acting a lot more crazy than usual as of late.
Elrond wondered why Frodo was wearing a dress.
After seeing Frodo, Boromir was sure Denethor had been right about the elves. However, being the responsible yet badass guy he thought he was, he kept his mouth shut and tried to look important.
Aragorn felt clean and therefore upset.
Gandalf was amused that Frodo had actually worn the dress. Stupid Frodo. He was such a little bitch.
Elrond got up and addressed the group.
"What you see before you is the One Bra," stated Elrond. "It's very bad, and I don't like it. What are you going to do about it?"
"Well, it was kind of the plan to take it to Sauron's basement and burn holes through it," suggested Frodo.
"That is a very good plan indeed," said Elrond. "However, Sauron and all his orcs and horny flying monkeys are out looking for it, and you hobbits seem too weak and effeminate to do this on your own. Therefore, I shall appoint you a fellowship. You, you, you, you, and you."
Elrond pointed at Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf, and Boromir.
"Oh, and you three, too," said Elrond, looking at the other hobbits, who were hiding under a cardboard box marked "The Orange." "I'm sick of all of you being in my house. Besides, there's a horrible war coming on, and us cowardly elves need to get our asses on some boats and out of this place."
Gimli looked like he was about to object.
"Oh," said Elrond. "One more thing. All of you dwarves need to get out of here. Your ugliness is quite alarming. All of you that I chose are now the Fellowship of the Bra. Get to it!"
------
Bilbo and Frodo met in a cool-looking gazebo thing later that night.
"I know all about horrific quests," said Bilbo. "Why, when I was your age, I used to hang out with all these dwarves. We got high, and then I killed five hundred goblins."
"That never happened," complained Frodo. "You went and you stole some stuff!"
"Well, anyway, I'm going to give you my gear, because it's so much better than yours," said Bilbo. "Here's my old beating stick, Sting."
"That's a sword, Bilbo, a sword."
"It turns green when there's hot chicks around," grinned Bilbo.
"Bilbo, maybe if you hadn't spent the last few decades destroying your brain with substances, you would remember that it turns blue around orcs," sighed Frodo.
"I thought they were called goblins," said Bilbo.
"They were, but now everyone has switched over to calling them orcs for some reason," explained Frodo.
"Oh, okay," said Bilbo. "Well, here's my shiny shirt. It's great for getting chicks!"
"Whatever," said Frodo, taking Bilbo's "shiny shirt," otherwise known as mithril armor with a value roughly equivalent to that of the entire Shire.
"Oh, do you have the Bra?" asked Bilbo.
Frodo nodded, and drew it out of his pocket. Bilbo immediately snatched it and stuck his tongue out at Frodo.
"Come on, Bilbo, give it back!" whined Frodo, reaching for the Bra.
Bilbo snapped it against Frodo's ass and laughed.
"Hey!" protested Frodo. Bilbo giggled, stretched it between his outspread arms, and let go of one end so the little hooks smacked Frodo in the face.
"You're too slo-ow! You're too slo-ow!" chanted Bilbo gleefully.
"Please!" cried Frodo. "I need it!"
"For your blossoming bosoms?" chided Bilbo. Frodo snatched at the Bra and missed, and Bilbo squeezed Frodo's pecs. Frodo slapped his hands and dove for Bilbo. Bilbo easily dodged him, and Frodo wound up on the floor on his hands and knees. Bilbo quickly spun around, and kicked Frodo squarely on the ass.
Frodo went down on his stomach, but tripped Bilbo. He then staggered to his feet as fast as he could manage and latched his hands onto the Bra. The two hobbits tugged it back and forth for a few seconds, before Bilbo lowered his face and gave the fabric a long, hearty lick.
"You don't want it now!" taunted Bilbo. Frodo punched him in the face, breaking his nose.
"Oh Eruuuu!" screeched Bilbo, blood streaming down his face. Frodo gave the Bra one last tug to take it out of his uncle's hands, and tucked it safely away in his pocket. He then kicked Bilbo in the gut as hard as he could, causing him to double over in pain, and ran out the door.
------
The next morning, the Fellowship stood outside, finishing the last of their packing.
With a whoosh and a bang, Bill the Pony materialized. A perfect sphere of space around him was burned, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it. A letter came unstuck from his little pony-type pack, and fluttered over to Sam.
"'Hello Sam and other peoples,'" read the chubby hobbit. "'You forgot this in Bree. His name is Bill, and you'd damn well better not let it happen again. Signed Tud Russell of Time Squad.' Huh."
Concealed high atop a nearby hill the Comical Donkey looked down at the group. The pony had made its way to them despite the Master's best efforts. Things were not going as planned but the Comical Donkey knew that the Master's revenge on MysticButtCrystal was more important than anything else. Hell, that's why he existed in the first place. The Comical Donkey lost his balance and rolled down the hill and into some mud comically.
"Who or what is this 'Master'" thought MysticButtCrystal
Like all his other occurrences the parts concerning the Comical Donkey just materialized on the screen of their own accord and were impervious to the mighty backspace key.
Wow, what a long chapter. Almost epic, wouldn't you say?