Disclaimer: Not mine.
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"I've heard of the Shire," remarked Wormtongue as they were traveling. "You know, 'Why not try a holiday in the Shire this year. See the lovely lakes, the wonderful messenger system, and the many interesting animals, including the majestic Hobbit.' You know," he continued, his speech gaining momentum as he realized that his traveling companions were too tired to do him physical harm, "A Hobbit once bit my sister." Saruman and al-Sahaf looked at him sceptically. "No, really! She was carving-"
"You're thinking of a hedgehog, if you can even call what goes on in that insignificant head of yours thinking," interrupted Saruman.
"You might be right," mused Wormtongue, annoyed by the slight but choosing to ignore it. "I seem to remember her having an irrational fear of an imaginary giant hedgehog she called 'Spiny Norman.' I used to terrorize her by singing a song about something you could never do to a hedgehog. And then there's my brother, who decided to dedicate his life to the study of swallows.[1]"
"African or European?" questioned al-Sahaf [2].
"I don't know," huffed Grima, "but I do know it's amazing that I turned out as well as I did."
"Yes, truly Allah has granted you a miracle," exclaimed al-Sahaf. Wormtongue searched for sarcasm in the Iraqi's comment but failed to find any. Al-Sahaf and sarcasm went together like orcs and air fresheners – desperately needed but never found together. Wormtongue caught himself thinking that his sister, who was almost as terrified of sarcasm as she was of hedgehogs, would get along well with the buffoon of an Iraqi. As he was thinking, they came upon the lush fields of the land surrounding the Shire. The path into the Shire was barred by a rather menacing –looking gate manned by two young Hobbits.
"Stop!" demanded the first Hobbit. "What are your names?" Saruman introduced himself as Sharkey, which drew odd looks from Wormtongue and al-Sahaf, but they wisely chose to keep quiet after Saruman directed a death glare at them. The two underlings gave their proper names to the gatekeeper. As the first Hobbit was struggling to spell "Muhammed Saeed al-Sahaf" in the visitor's log, the second Hobbit eagerly spoke up.
"What is your quest?"
"We're just visiting," answered Saruman.
"What is your favorite color?"
"Why are you asking so many questions?" asked Saruman. "I didn't expect the Rohirric Inquisition." Everyone looked around expectantly after that statement, but nothing happened [3].
The Hobbit explained, "We want visitors to remember the Shire as the happiest place on Middle-Earth, so we like to give them souvenier postcards in their favorite colors when they leave."
"Multi-colored, just put anything on it," replied Saruman, growing impatient.
"Red, black, and green, the noble colors that stand on the Iraqi flag, representing God, truth, and justice for all the world to see."
"Black," grumped Wormtongue.
"Is black really a color?" asked the first Hobbit.
"Well, I don't know," considered the second. "Scientifically speaking, of course, black is the absense of color."
"Are you sure?" questioned the first.
"Yes, because white is a blend of all the colors," reasoned the second.
"But what about in art then?" retorted the first Hobbit. "If you mix all of your paints together you get black, or a kind of disgusting brown."
"Oh yeah, I agree with that," admitted the second Hobbit, "but then again . . ."
Saruman, Wormtongue, and al-Sahaf ignored the bickering Hobbits and walked past the gates. They soon overtook a small person carrying an umbrella.
"Young girl," called out Saruman, hoping he could get information.
"Hobbit," replied the figure.
"Hobbit, sorry. Can you tell me--"
"I'm 102" interrupted the Hobbit.
"I --What?"
"I'm 102. I'm not young."
"Well I can't just call you Hobbit."
"You could call me Lobelia."
"I didn't know you were called Lobelia."
"Well you didn't bother to find out, did you?" Saruman got the vague notion that he had just lost some kind of contest, although he was not aware he had been in any competition. Al-Sahaf observed the Shire with interest. The quaint little hobbit holes with their bright doors and well-tended gardens certainly didn't look like any type of command center, but he knew those cowardly infidels could be sneaky. He would not put it past those wild dogs to hide in civilian areas and wear disguises. He remembered how the American propaganda machine had dressed up their own people and pretended they were Iraqi prisoners of war in order to demoralize his country's army. Well, he had certainly dispelled that lie.
"So, Lobelia," said Saruman, "Who is in charge here?"
"That would be my son, Lotho," she said proudly, but with an undercurrent of unease. "Ever since old Will Whitfoot the Mayor was arrested, Lotho has been taking care of things as the Chief Shirriff." She eyed the trio critically. "I expect you'll want to report to him, or else his big man, Bill Ferny, who lives there." She pointed to a newly-constructed brick house that looked like it had been thrown together in two hours by someone who normally walked around with a sign saying 'Will Build Houses For Food.' Lobellia continued, "I can't say I hold with all of you ruffians, even if you do work for my Lotho."
"Well you'd better get used to it, you old bat," Wormtongue started to gloat before an umbrella impacted his shin with a surprising amount of force. "Ouch! I'll do you for that, you miserable hag!" He started to lunge at Lobelia, who was defiantly standing her ground, when he was stopped by Saruman's kick to his uninjured leg. He fell to the ground, cursing, as Lobelia deliberately walked away.
"We need to focus on taking control of the whole Shire, Worm. You can't let one old Hobbit distract you, even if she does have more courage than you," explained Saruman.
"Why do you always kick me, and hardly ever kick the Iraqi?" he whined, pointing to al-Sahaf, who was quietly watching the proceedings and going over how he could best persuade the common Hobbits to turn from their misguided ways and embrace the true leader. Al-Sahaf's musings were interrupted by a swift kick to the ankle.
"Better now?" questioned Saruman.
"Yes, a bit" shrugged Wormtongue.
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[1] Oddly enough, Grima's brother found himself apprenticed to another wizard, Radagast the Brown. Together, they determined that the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow is about 24 miles per hour. Of course, adding coconuts would considerably change the weight ratios, and throw off all their calculations.
[2] Radagast and Grima's brother actually spent most of their time studying the Eriador swallow, as the Easterling swallow was migratory and therefore harder to observe.
[3] Four hours later, three men dressed in red rode up to the gate, and the following conversation was overheard: "Nobody expects the Rohirric Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise. . surprise and fear, our two chief weapons are fear, surprise—What do you mean we're too late? Biggles, I told you to get faster horses! Mark my words, it will be the comfy chair for you!"
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A/N: The number quoted as the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow comes from the website www.style.org/ unladenswallow/ (take out spaces). The hedgehog song belongs to Terry Pratchett. A picture of the Iraqi flag can be found at www.flags.net/ IRAQ.htm (no spaces). Spiny Norman is from the Pirahna Brothers sketch in the Monty Python TV show, and everything else is either from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, or the Lord of the Rings. I'm sorry I haven't updated sooner. I've been so busy with school work, but I wrote this over Thanksgiving break. I have exams coming up, so the next update probably won't be until January.
Thanks Reviewers!
Hanya the Bloody Angel – I'm sorry I seem to have missed replying to you earlier, I didn't mean to. Thanks for the reviews. Yep, traveling with those two can be very annoying.
Queen Isis – I hope you're completely recovered by now!
Oremis – No, that wasn't the end. I definitely will finish this, it just might take some time. I hope to have it completed by February, but I won't promise. I'm a slow writer, but I do still plan to write "Pretty fly for an Uruk-hai."
Tarock – Thanks. I'm really glad to have your opinion.
Kitsune-Chan 8 – I appreciate it. I'll make sure to put in something about Uday and Qusay just for you. Don't worry, you haven't seen the last of the garden "gnome."
Giantgreenbird – Do you have a fanfiction.net account that you're just not logging into? I'd love to read your stories if you've written anything.
They-call-him-wormtongue-for-a-reason – It's based on a line from Monty Python, where Tim the Enchanter warns the knights about the rabbit, telling them that "Death awaits you all . . . with nasty, big, pointy teeth!" I'm trying to not bend them out of character too much, while still staying funny, but feel free to tell me if I go too far.
OjosVerdes – Thanks, and sorry about that. *hands out e-asprin*
Wilwarin – [font = Sir Launcelot] Ah . . . oh, yes, about not updating . . terribly sorry . . . Well, you see the thing is . . . I really didn't mean to . . .[/font]
ElfLover – Yep, I remember you. Thanks. "I fart in your general direction."