A/N: My thanks out to my reviewers . . . crazyrabidfangurl, The Lady of Light, and Glorfindel34. I appreciate the enthusiasm. I promise to repay the favor in the near future. Oh, and the story is getting some improvements as it goes along. I never can retype two pieces the same (or type from the chicken scrawl that was my handwriting), and especially since I am older now. So, perhaps, my vocabulary was not as good when I was 13, but because of the retyping, I am adding in things. The story on my desk is from when I was 13. How's that. Something has to account for the humor.
Chapter 3 is the best, but I don't like elves anyway, so there! (See my Fictionpress stories!) because of the rave reviews, I have been updating frequently, and you guys are ahead of James. Chapter 4 needs some major work. (I may not like elves, but I tend to like the goblins, what can I say). My poetic skills aren't all that. I think my ancestors were vogons . . . go see "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" (or better yet, read the book) to get the gist of that.
Disclaimer: Not that I really feel that I need this. The site is "Fanfiction" after all, but let's put it this way, I am waiting with eager anticipation for the wrathful ghost of JRR Tolkien to get me in the middle of the night for such atrocities that I have done to his story.
Chapter 3: A Short Rest
The happy, merry party of recently enriched dwarves, hobbit, and wizard started through the trap infested well-hidden trail to Rivendell. Gandalf led and sprung all the traps in hopes of one of the many missiles would cut the extensive oversized number of the party, but luck was not with him that day. All the slings, arrows, poisoned darts, fireballs, and thermal nuclear weapons brilliantly and totally missed all dwarves and the hobbit. The elves, upon seeing this chain of unfortunate events, were heartbroken. They decided to sing to be happy about this situation (which proves that elves will sing about anything!)
"O! What is reeking?
And what is so putrid?
The can must be leaking!
The smell's really fetid!
O! Pu-pu-pu-pu whew!
Here in the valley!
"O, Fred, are you begrimed?
Could it be you that's crusty?
Follow the trail that's slimed
To those that are musty!
O! Krill-krill-krill-krolly
The valley's in folly!
Pu-Whew!
"O! You're the ones molding
On the path decaying!
No knowing, no knowing
How much we're dismaying
Praying and spraying
Down in the valley
In Fumes
Pu-Whew!
"O! Will you be bathing?
Or must we fumigate!
Our valley needs saving
From odors that 'cummulate!
To Fly would be jolly!
To stay would be folly!
Please, listen and Hark,
And leave in the next cart
With your fumes!
Pu-Whew!"
Bilbo was quite touched by their song. He had never got that many compliments even at home. His joy was even greater when the elves proceeded to throw cow chips at him. So, touched was he that he even returned the generous gesture. He hit his target even more precisely than they did theirs. The elves finally threw down their arms and ran in terror.
In the last Homely House, where Elrond paced, the half elf lord promised himself that he would try to be kinder to Gandalf and Company, and maybe they would go away quicker and quieter. Then, just perhaps and with much luck, he wouldn't have to fumigate the place again (And see his therapist afterwards).
As the dwarves, wizard, and hobbit entered the house, Elrond gagged and gasped for air. He promptly insisted on them all taking immediate baths. They promptly insisted otherwise (especially a certain hobbit, who was quite proud of his newly acquired grime). Elrond made a bit of a more firm insistence with 45 armed elves at point blank range. (They may be a bit more effective than the traps set.)
After an hour of bloodcurdling scream and shrieks and the vilest language used in name calling and other interesting activities for the elves to participate in (that Elrond had to whip out many and various dictionaries to find the meanings to) and in the greatest utmost terror of the wizard, dwarves, and especially the hobbit (footnote: hobbits bite), the lord of Rivendell was presented with a tolerable smelling group, that had cost many an elf their lives. The visitors sat down at his table and feasted and feasted and feasted (more free meals). Even though Elrond hopes were high that they would leave quicker, they stayed for two weeks. Bilbo was almost lost twice, because he spent most of his time in the elvish garbage dumpster, and the garbage pick up was on Wednesdays.
At last, Gandalf decided enough was enough. Some of this decision came about, because the elves only smiled when he or his cohorts did something truly disgusting. Not to mention, he had a tight schedule to fit the dwarves and the hobbit into. So, they had a big meeting with Elrond. Given that the uninvited guests were not too fond of bathing often and the half elf lord had no more elves to spare, he, like many of his subjects took to wearing nose plugs and gas masks. He looked over the swords presented to him that the wizard and dwarf had so graciously appropriated from the trolls. (He graciously declined to look over the centerfold that Bombur had acquired from the same place.)
"These swords were filched from my forefathers, so they should really remain here," he announced.
Gandalf gave him a sidelong glance, which said something to effects of: "We will be more than willing to stay from this midsummer to midwinter!" Elrond swallowed hard, and being the wise person that he was continued, "But you need them more than I do right now. These swords were made to knock down the goblin population and were created by Terminix just for that problem. Gandalf, your sword is 'Glamdring' the Foe Hammer. Thorin, your sword is 'Orcrist', the Goblin Cleaver. They obviously no longer work, since they haven't taken either one of you out."
"You know, that Spring celebration your people have every April sounds like a fun time for us to attend. I hear there is a lot of food there," Gandalf commented, and the bunch of freeloaders drooled in anticipation.
"May these swords serve you well," Elrond added hurriedly.
"But, unfortunately, there are other celebrations for us to attend," concluded the wizard solemnly.
There was a round of sighs of disappointment from the group of little people. Thorin stood up and held up his arms to silence them. "There is always the return journey," he reminded them, then he turned back to the pale half elven lord. "And what can you tell me of the map?"
The princely dwarf handed over a rather wet and musty and a bit more than a little slimy old map. Elrond held it at the tips of his fingers. With a look of disgust, he opened the map and looked it over. He stared at a certain group of letters in the far bottom corner. Being a master of letters, unlike most characters in this story, he was intrigued and it bypassed his disgust. "This is strange indeed. I haven't seen these letters in years. The message is even stranger. It reads 'Strange things are afoot at the Circle K.'"
Thorin and Gandalf stared at each other strangely a moment. Everyone else continued eating. Then the two leaders looked at Elrond. The lord of Rivendell looked affronted and quickly defended, "I didn't write it, I only translate it."
The wizard and the dwarf looked at the map in Elrond's hand. "Where does it say that?" asked Thorin.
"Right here," answered Elrond, pointing to the group of brown sloppy markings.
"Those aren't letters!" exclaimed the dwarf, "That's part of my lunch!"
"Oh," replied Elrond, as he looked again at the map. He held it back a bit again and found the right group of letters. "There are loon letters here, and they can only be read when the right looneys are in the same room on the right day. They read, 'With the light of the setting sun, when the thrush knocks on your head, you will find the keyhole.'"