Author's Notes: Here we go, Chapter Three, revised. Wahoo. Whoopie. Is anyone actually even reading this?

Well, if you are review.

The two walked back to Bilbo's house looking like whipped puppies.

( I am not going to say anything....I am NOT going to say anything!)

Heads bowed, eyes wide and hands still at their sides they waited for Gandalf, who had said nothing of yet, to begin reprimanding them.

"What sort of greeting is this?" he asked in a half teasing half scolding voice, "I would have thought better amongst old friends."

Abby's head whipped up sharply, "But we've never met you before Gandalf."

(Just in case he forgot.)

"I'm quite aware of that myself young Abby. But that's not what you told dear Bilbo and the rest of the Shire now is it?" He said eyes shinning with mirth.

"Well uh no." Steve mumbled flinching as Abby shot her notorious death glares at him.

'So I've heard, younguns, so I've heard." He sat down in an armchair and lit his pipe.

(Younguns? Younguns? For Chrissake Gandalf isn't a cowboy!)

"Well aren't you mad?" Steve asked uncertainly.

"Not practically Lord Steven, why do you ask?"

"Well aren't you going to ask us uncomfortable questions about where were from and the likes?"

(Or you could ask uncomfortable questions Steve...since you are already and everything.)

"So naïve." Abby thought with a sigh, watching as his crystal blue eyes became rounder with the second, "He has no idea that the old man is just dying for us to spit it out. Quite the dramatics, Gandalf. Well I'm certainly not going to let you continue on this way."

(Uh oh Gandalf gonna get the what for now!)

"No I should think not Lord Steven." Replied Gandalf looking into the fire.

"But you are supposed to care!" Steven was getting an edge of whine to his voice.

(Just like your birth parents from Armenia that abandoned you in the woods and left you for dead were supposed to care! What a coincidence!)

"Am I?" he asked, with his best poker face on. Only the slight twitching at the corner of his lips betrayed what he was feeling.. vast amusement.

Abby huffed to herself, "I am not going to be some old pot head's evening diversion!"

(Who the fuck do you think we are then bitch?)

"If you're not curious, then somebody must have told you something Gandalf." Abby said sharply, her chocolate brown eyes narrowing into thin slits. "You must now more about this then we do ourselves. Tell me what you know old man." She demanded.

(Or she might just whip out her...'dun-dun-dun'...POWERS OF REASONABLE PERSUASION!)

Steven stared at her, eyes ready to bulge out of his head. "Abby!" he cried, usually deep voice squeaking with anxiety, "That's no way to speak to your betters!"

(He learned that lesson many a tea party ago.)

Abby glared at Steven, Steven stared at Abby innocently. It continued this way for a few short moments before Abby's hand was raised. She pulled it back behind her still raised. And with an alarming speed she propelled it forward, until it came into contact with Steven's tanned cheek. Ah the laws of inertia where at work, and what a thrilling sight it was.

Gandalf winced inwardly at the "Thwack!" her slap made. "Must remember to watch out for those in the future." He muttered to himself.

Unfortunately for him however, he mumbled too loud, and the hand of death came descending down upon him. He didn't strike back, as many others would, or wince in pain and coward before her eyes brimmed with tears. He merely stood impassively acting as though she had just nonchalantly commented on the weather here about this time of year.

(You suckas got served! Power to the babies!!...'cough'...)

However on the inside Gandalf was cursing the petite brunette and the she- devil that dwelled within her small frame. He was surprised that Steven, so tall and muscular, would coward before the spitfire of a woman Abby. He seemed to be nearly three times the size of her in weight and at least once over in height. She could be hardly more than fifteen hands tall, as the horse lords would say, but the power and spirit that dwelled within her seemed to shower 100 times that meager height. Her friend Lord Steven was himself just over 19 hands, Gandalf decided. An impressive and powerful height for a man. But for some reason Gandalf fancied him a little weak and dull in spirit.

(Anyone else lost?)

"Ouch." Steven muttered, "Temper, temper, Lady Abby. We aren't at home were your wild manner is aloud to run free and without restraint."

She decided to ignore him; a person only needs to receive only some many red hand marks on his face in a day.

"I know not your story," Gandalf said, "Except that you are of another world. For some reasons of fate that I know not why you have been brought here, but this has happened before, a long time ago, in the first age. Perhaps you would like to tell me your story?" He asked kindly, bidding them to sit down.

The two exchanged a glance, and they sat. And they told him everything.

(Did you know that you aren't supposed to start a sentence with And you stupid bitch? Okay, I've got to be going...so many parodies to make fun of...so little time!)

Author's Notes: Hope you all are enjoying this, if anyone out there is actually reading it?

(Sigh)