A/N: Guess what? I'm updating early this time to make up for updating so late last time. Plus, I'm really bored right now and what better thing to do than update this fic? Anyway, this chappy was inspired by KaleidescopeCat.
Chapter 13: School Time For HobbitsFrodo lay on the couch at what had apparently become Uncle Rico's house. I mean, Napoleon's grandma was always off trying new things that could get her killed and Napoleon certainly wasn't there. Kip hardly cared whose house it was as long as he wasn't the one paying for it. So that made it Uncle Rico's house for the moment. And the couch was then, obviously, Uncle Rico's couch, but Frodo could care less as long as he could rest on it.
"One…two…three…four…five…"
"Sam?"
"…six…seven…eight…"
"Sam."
"…nine…ten…eleven…"
"SAM!"
"…twelve—Oh, sorry, Mr. Frodo. What is it?"
"What are you doing?"
"Why, counting the dots on the ceiling, of course."
Wow, even hobbits count things on the ceiling when they're bored? I wonder if that has a profound meaning…okay, it doesn't. I'm just looking too far into it again. Stupid English classes.
"Ahem! Aren't you supposed to be telling the story here?"
Oh. Right. Many apologies, Sam. Please continue.
"Right. Now where were we?" Sam coughed. "Ah, yes: Why, counting the dots on the ceiling, of course."
Frodo said nothing for a moment and then answered, "Well, I suppose we've got nothing better to do. How about I work on that half of the ceiling and you work on the other. Then we'll add up what each of us got."
"Alright, Mr. Frodo."
"One…two…three…"
Then an hour later:
"Eleventy one…eleventy two…"
"Just what do you kids think you're doing?" asked Uncle Rico as he came into the room, gnawing on a piece of steak.
"Counting the ceiling tiles, Mr. Uncle Rico."
"Well, you're obviously not doing a good job of that."
Frodo looked insulted. How dare a steak-gnawing, football-throwing, lazy bum tell him that he didn't know how to count! "What do you mean, we're 'obviously not doing a good job of it?'"
"Yeah," Sam snorted, puffing out his chest, putting little hands on his hips. Aww…he's so cute when he does that!
"Uh-oh. Not again…" Frodo muttered.
I just have to glomp him!
GLOMP!
"Um…excuse me Mr. Author."
First of all, I'm NOT A MR! I'M A MS! Second of all, WHAT?
"The story?"
Oh…yeah…
Uncle Rico chewed on his steak, looking like a cow chewing on it's cud. "That was odd," he said. He shook his head as if to snap himself back to reality. "So anyway, since you two don't know how to count, I think it's time I sent you to school. I don't even know why you aren't in school in the first place. Come to think of it, why are you still in my house? Don't you have parents you should be going home to?"
Frodo glared at Uncle Rico. Ooh…a glaring hobbit. Scary. Right. "I don't have any parents. They died. I live…erm…lived, I should say, with my Uncle Bilbo."
Woah. Looks like Frodo and Napoleon have more things in common that I thought. I never thought of that before…I mean, they both have curly hair, they both live with their uncles…and…um…that's it. Okay, so they're not that similar.
Uncle Rico glowered at the author for going off track again. The author slapped herself…on the other cheek this time.
"Who you live with doesn't matter, kid. Why are you still in my house?"
"Have we not told you this before? We were brought here from Middle-earth. We're still not sure how that happened exactly. At any rate, we're going to stay here until we figure that out."
Uncle Rico crossed his arms. "Well, if you insist on staying here, then you have to go to school so that you can at least learn how to count properly when you're bored."
"But…"
"No excuses, kid. You're going if I have to drag you all the way there myself."
Sam glanced over at Frodo. "I don't think I'm going to like this one bit, Mr. Frodo."
"Me neither, Sam, me neither. And Sam?"
"Yes, Mr. Frodo?"
"STOP CALLING ME MR. FRODO! Just call me Frodo. If you have to use Mr., then call me Mr. Baggins. It just doesn't make any sense for you to use my first name when you address me as Mr. Do you understand?"
Sam nodded. "Yes, Mr…Mr…um…"
Frodo raised an eyebrow.
"Mr…Mr…B…ugh. Mr…Ba…Bag…Mr…"
"Oh, confound it, Sam, it's not that hard!"
"I'm sorry Fr—Fro…Fr…Fffffff….."
Frodo rolled his eyes. "Alright! If it's really that difficult for you…"
"Thank you, Mr. Frodo."
Frodo sighed, shaking his head shamefully.
"You kids are really something else, you know that?" said Uncle Rico, swallowing his last chunk of meat. "Now then. Off we go."
"You want to enroll two ten-year old kids into this high school?" asked the school admissions lady, lazily chewing on a piece of gum.
Geez. Looks like I got a lot of people chewing on stuff in this chapter. Anywho…
"Napoleon goes here, doesn't he?" Uncle Rico answered, a look of disbelief on his face. "So why can't they?"
The admissions lady stared at him for a moment, her eyes glazing over. "Yeah…you've got a point there." She sighed heavily in resignation. Alright, I'll tell you what. I'll enroll them, but if they cause any trouble, they're out. Got that?"
Uncle Rico flashed the lady one of his "charming" smiles. You know the one. "Well, thank you very much, Mrs…uh," he checked the nametag on the desk, "Mrs. Heifer-son."
The admissions lady gave Uncle Rico a dark look. "It's Mrs. Jefferson. Perhaps you should think about enrolling here."
Uncle Rico chuckled. "Heh. That's a good one, ma'am, but I graduated high school a long time ago. I could have made the championships, I tell you. I could have done it!"
"Whatever. Now then, I want you two to head down to the boys' locker room and get ready for gym class, alright?"
"It looks as if we've no other choice. Let's go, Sam."
The two hobbits left the front desk and found their way to the boys' locker room. I know, they've never been there before, so just how did they know where to go? Because they just do, okay?
I lied. There was a huge sign that said BOYS' LOCKER ROOM at the end of the hall. Savvy?
"Hey, look what we've got here, guys!" shouted Don. "Two little kids! What do you think you guys are doing in here? This is a high school!"
"But it has only got one floor. How is it high?" Sam—the poor dear—wondered.
"Boy, you guys are something, aren't you? What are your names?"
Frodo sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm Frodo son of Drogo and this is Samwise Gamgee, my gardener. We are hobbits of the Shire, of Hobbiton to be exact."
"Ha! This is great! We've got two kids here who think they're from Lord of the Rings or something!" Don then leaned in close to the hobbits and said in a low, warning voice, "Now you better get out of here before I let my gang beat you up."
He's so mean ain't he? So is everyone else in this town it seems. They don't have a problem with hurting two little "kids." WHAT KIND OF ANIMALS ARE THEY?
"Listen, good sir, but my master and I have fought against the dark riders and I should hardly think that you'd be much of a challenge compared to them."
Don's eyebrows went up. "Did you hear that boys? They think that they can take us on! Let's show them how wrong they are!"
"Oh dear. I don't think I like the look of this Mr. Frodo."
TBC…
A/N: Ah, sorry to leave you hanging there like that. That's mean of me, but next time I write a Frodo and Sam chapter, you'll get to see what happens when a butt load of gangs find out how good at fighting these two hobbits are…
Oh yeah, um, I want to know what all of you want me to do to Galadriel in the next chapter. Should Napoleon make her so angry, she throws the Fellowship out of Lothlórien without any of their gifts (like the cloaks, lembas, and other stuff) or should I have her silently try and tolerate him, trying her best to hold in her anger without exploding? Or should I do something else entirely?
So anyway…
Earendil Eldar: Yeah, I know! I love that show! Did you know that they have it on DVD? Jaina Kenobi and I go see it every week because they show it in the Senate Chambers every Friday at our college. It freaking rocks!
Snodgrass Winkle: Yeah, I kinda realized that as I was reading through it. I should work on that some, eh?
The Hobbit Lass: You like Weird Al too? That's awesome! high fives I like the part in Albuquerque where he says, "Okay so one time, I was out in the parking lot trying to remove my excess earwax with a golf pencil…" You know, that whole part?
Erin: Thanks! Like I've said before to other people, I'm still surprised that I was the first one to think it up. I thought that with Napoleon Dynamite being so popular, there'd already be a bazillion crossovers like this.
Jaina Kenobi: I'm probably helping you procrastinate right now, aren't I? But hey, it's productive procrastination, right? No, I guess not, but still…
jae: I don't know. I've tried to come up with ways to get Pedro to react to stuff, but no matter what I do, he still always has that half bored look on his face. He didn't even laugh at the worlds funniest joke…
Mystical Full Moon Maiden: There you are! I thought you ran away. Anyway…Look! I actually updated soon this time! Go me!
Starsinmypocket: Still babbling, eh? Yes! My evil plan is working! Mwa ha ha ha ha! Now, if I could only get everyone else to do that, I could TAKE OVER THE WORLD! That was random. Sorry about that. I'm tired…
