Chapter Eight: A Smell in the Dark

Rangerdude, the four Magical Hobs, and Bill the pony then left the village of Beer and went out into the wilderness.

"Where are we going?" Frodo asked.

"I'm taking you to Rivendell, home of the prancing, pretty little elves. And we're not stopping on the way there, because I've never heard of second breakfast."

Pippin stopped in his tracks. "WHAT!"

"You heard me," Rangerdude said. "Let's get moving."

"But I have to have second breakfast!" said Pippin. "Or I'll die! Do you want me to die!"

"That wouldn't be too bad..." Rangerdude muttered under his breath.

"What?" Pippin said.

"Um... nothing! Now, er, here! Be content with this!" Rangerdude then took an apple and hurled it at Pippin's head.

"OW! THE SKY IS FALLING!" screamed Pippin, who then started running around in circles yelling.

Merry excitedly grabbed the apple. "OH MY GOSH! IT'S BOB'S FRIEND!"

"Um... does he do that often?" asked Rangerdude.

Frodo rolled his eyes. "Get used to it," he said. "Merry, put that apple down, you don't know where it's been!"

"Excuse me!" said Merry. "He's a he, not an it!"

"Whatever," said Frodo.

They soon arrived at the midgewater marshes, which was ugly and infested with vicious, flesh-eating bugs, that were bent on the destruction of Magical Hobs. At least, that was how Rangerdude described the bugs.

"Don't follow the lightsssss!" Rangerdude hissed.

"What lights?" Frodo asked.

"Never mind. I was temporarily possessed."

"Really?"

"No!"

"There are dead things, dead faces in the water- Wait never mind, wrong marshes," said Sam.

A bug landed on Merry and he caught it in his hand. "Hey, these things aren't vicious and flesh-eating!"

"Well, um, I lied," Rangerdude said.

Merry stroked the bug's head. It flew out of his grasp, bit him, and flew away. Merry angrily shook his fist at it. "I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!"

"Er, let's get out of here," Rangerdude muttered. "As soon as possible." He hurried the Magical Hobs out of the midgewater marshes, and they continued walking.

Suddenly, Rangerdude stopped and picked something up off of the ground. It was a piece of paper, and it said:

Hello, Rangerdude and Frodo

This is Gandalf the Grey writing you this, and I was here three days ago. I just thought you might want to know this. I'm not sure if it was a good idea to put my name and yours on this blatant paper where anybody can see it, but it was a risk that I was stupid enough to take. Hopefully nobody but you saw this. Well, got to go now.

From, Gandalf the Grey (in case you forgot who's writing this)

Rangerdude ripped up the paper into little tiny pieces and scattered them to the wind. "Idiot. I hope nobody found that."

Suddenly night-time arrived and the Magical Hobs gathered around a fire while Rangerdude suddenly appeared before them. "Look, you guys! I have a dead deer! And it's all bloody!"

"Eew..." moaned the Magical Hobs.

"And now I will sing, because I think that the Magical Hobs are asleep and will therefore not hear me," said Rangerdude, who then started singing to himself in a terrible voice.

"Hiya Rangerdude!" screamed Frodo.

"Stupid Frodo! Why aren't you asleep?"

"I don't know. You can't sing very well."

"Go to sleep, Frodo!"

"Meep! Yes, Rangerdude." The Magical Hob quickly ducked under his cloak and was fast asleep. Rangerdude helped himself to a piece of bloody, bug infested deer meat.

The next day, everyone left camp and soon arrived at a hill that was called Weathertop. Frodo laughed. "Haha! The weather is on top! Why is it called that?"

Rangerdude shrugged. "I don't know. But we have to spend the night here." He led them all into a smelly little cave and the Magical Hobs sat down and made camp.

"Okay, well, I've got to go now," Rangerdude announced.

"You're abandoning us!" Frodo cried.

"No, not exactly. I'm just leaving for a while so I can be conveniently out of danger! Bye!" He ran out of the cave as fast as he could, leaving the Magical Hobs all alone. Frodo soon became tired and fell asleep right on the floor.

Pippin grabbed some sticks and lit a fire. "I know I shouldn't, but I am giving in to my pyromaniac urges! Mwahahahaha!" Merry and Sam looked at him oddly. "What?" Pippin said.

Frodo suddenly woke and screamed, "Eek! My house is on fire!"

Sam anxiously rushed to his side. "Mr. Frodo!"

"Nothing. Just a dream."

"Oh. Okay."

Frodo suddenly looked around him and shrieked, "Holy shitake mushrooms! Fire! PUT IT OUT!"

"No way! It's my preciousssss!" cried Pippin. He affectionately stroked the fire and screamed in pain. "Ow! Fire hurts!"

Frodo then saved the day by taking a tinkle on the fire. The flames were soon extinguished and everything was safe and happy once more.

Pippin burst into tears. "NOOOOO! MY FIRE!"

"I had to," Frodo explained. "Someone could have seen it."

"Like us, for example," commented five Tater Wraiths.

The Magical Hobs screamed, wet themselves, and then ran out of the cave, which was an extremely stupid idea. "Wow, that was stupid," the Tater Wraiths commented. "But also convenient!"

One of the Wraiths, who happened to be the Tater King, cornered Frodo and wounded him in the shoulder with a shovel. Frodo screamed and passed out.

Suddenly, Rangerdude appeared out of nowhere. "RARRRRGH!" He approached the Tater Wraiths and lifted his arms into the air. In the next moment, there was a scream of, "AAAAGGGHHHH! THE AWFUL BODY ODOR!" and the Tater Wraiths all ran off.

"Hahaha!" laughed Rangerdude. "Good thing I don't use deodorant!"

"Mr. Frodo's dying," Sam commented.

"Well I'm too stupid to heal him," Rangerdude said. "And if I touch him, all the filth on my hands will dirty up his wound and infect it!" He picked up the shovel that the Tater King had used. "Egad! Frodo has been stabbed by a shovel from Mulchdor!"

The shovel then made several loud beeping noises and then exploded into a thousand pieces. "Interesting," Rangerdude muttered. He then dragged Frodo behind him until he came to a clearing in the woods. He dropped Frodo, and the Magical Hob leaned over and vomited.

"Eew!" said Rangerdude. "Don't do that around me!"

"I don't think it would make any difference, since you're already filthy!" Merry said. Rangerdude glared at him.

Meanwhile, in Rivendell, Elrond was holding a council of special magnificence. Elrond scowled. "Alright, the council's starting soon!"

"Heh heh heh..." laughed Arwen. She got out a potion and quickly put it in Glorfindel's tea while nobody was looking.

"Okay, is everybody here?" Elrond said with a scowl. "There is a wounded Magical Hob out in the forest. Who wants to go save him?"

"Ooh, me! Pick me pick me pick me!" cried Glorfindel. He took a sip of tea and fell over in his seat. Arwen tried to stifle a laugh.

"Um... okay. Any other volunteers?"

"I'll go, Ada!" shouted Arwen with an evil grin.

Elrond scowled. "Okay, fine."

"Yippee!" cried Arwen. She excitedly left her seat, ran to the stables, and mounted Glorfindel's prized white horse, Asfaloth. She was about to take off when a voice suddenly shouted, "STOP RIGHT THERE!" The she-elf turned around saw to her surprise, Glorfindel.

"Glorfindel? What are you doing here?"

"I quickly and conveniently recovered from that little incident with the tea, and then I followed you here. Give me my horse back!"

Arwen remained in the saddle. "If you want him, come and claim him!" She kicked Asfaloth and rode away. Glorfindel quickly found a horse, got on it, and followed Arwen.