A/N: I kind of thought that Boy George was a bit out of date for you guys. He was the singer for the band Culture Club in the 80's, and he used to dress up as a woman in ragged clothes, but he did look ver androgenous (can't spell worth squat!). I cannot think of anyone in the modern music scene that is quite like him. Oh well.

Anyway, thanks to my dear reviewers, and JRR Tolkien wants to know what did I do to his poor story!

Chapter 9: Barrels out of Bond

The dwarves were brought to the Wood Elf King, who was in quite a state. His hairdresser fussed over him. Thorin had totally uncurled his hair, and the hairdresser complained terribly about unruly hair and split ends. Needless to say, neither hairdresser nor elven lord had had a good day.

"Why are you dwarves trying to ruin our party? Your leader had to go off and start a riot! We may never see Boy George again! And it's all your faults!" complained the Elvenking. After a moment, he heaved a heavy sigh in an effort to control himself, then he broke down in tears.

"We weren't trying to crash your stupid stinking party! We were hungry! And you silly sissified souls wouldn't feed us. So, Thorin decided to incite a riot."

"Why were you squares in our forest to begin with?" asked the king, after a moment to compose himself. The hairdresser sighed and batted the king with his comb.

"When did Mirkwood become 'your' forest! I didn't see your name on it!" remarked Kili.

"It is written on every tree. 'This forest belongs to me!' So there! I can't help it that you are illiterate! What were you doing in my forest!" demanded the Elvenking. The hairdresser hurriedly hushed him. His anger was causing him to squirm too much and it was doing even worse things to his hair.

"Oh, we were out for a little afternoon stroll," Ori answered.

"Nop!" answered the king.

"Hunting?" suggested Kili.

"Not today."

"The truth of it is," started Bifur, "We were on our way to visit our cousins in the Iron Hills. We are having a big celebration, because Ethel, Dain's only daughter has finally snared herself a dwarf. Dain only had to lay flat three cities and pay out 15,00 gold pieces to do so."

"Bull! It was 25 cities, and 50,000 gold pieces and a whole coupon book good for forty meals at McDonald's," muttered Bofur.

"Shut up, Bofur! Or I shall be happy to lay out your insides!" remarked Fili.

"Take these vile disgusting rodent infested cretins to the dungeons! Make sure you give them all good baths before hand. And after a couple of centuries, they may understand the light of Boy George Groupie Association of Mirkwood!" ordered the king. The hairdresser squeezed out some mousse and prepared to do his special job.

"Why you #$&(!"yelled Kili.

The Elvenking developed terminal split ends at that moment. The hairdresser cursed and threw the bottle mousse over his shoulder. "With the used car commercials" added the king in his distress.

The guards took the whining dwarves away. The Elvenking slouched low on his throne. Exhausted and near tears, he tried to recompose himself, as the hairdresser tried to redo the king's hair after the grand mess the dwarves had caused.

Bilbo briefly thought of leaving them all behind until the smell from the kitchen wafted his nose, and he eagerly followed. He could learn to like it here! Being of such a generous nature, he cleaned the kitchen three or four times before each meal, and he cleaned it once after each meal. He never gave much thought to the dwarves until he heard a little voice in his head that said:

"You need to think of a plan to rescue the dwarves. You will not leave this place without them! I have such beautiful plans for them! I will not have my plans ruined! If you fail me, I'll have Mr. Clean pay a visit to that hellhole you call fondly home!"

After this occurrence, Bilbo plotted and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and plotted on how to rescue the dwarves. It took him several weeks, and he still didn't figure out a plan, but he was keeping himself well fed as often as possible.

Now the wood elves are an extremely clean race of people. Bilbo couldn't take all this cleanliness (although he was more than happy to clean the kitchen, the pots and plans and the dishes). So, he just had to do some redecorating of the place. He splashed large quantities of wine on the floor and walls. He tossed garbage into every corner and even out in the main pathways. He smeared fertilizer on the walls and the linens. He even wrote his name on the oriental rug in the throne room. (He needed the feeling of home.) He poured molasses all over every thing and down he king's underwear (It would have been his pants, but he wore a dress). That turned out to be a very sticky situation, indeed. The elves were all very prompt in cleaning up all this mess, and the king didn't really mind the molasses, because it gave him an excuse for a long relaxing bubble bath. It was so hard for Bilbo to keep up with all of these suzy spotless elves. After all, he was just one small hobbit against so many elves.

The stress of such a job sent Bilbo under the Elvenking's bed three times a week with a nervous breakdown. Now, the hobbit would have been spending more time under the bed, except for the plentiness of food and his sense of hobbit duty in dirtying up the place. The elves couldn't understand why they were having such a food shortage. So, they finally decided to call in an exterminator. The following Wednesday the exterminator was coming. So, Bilbo only had until Wednesday to rescue the dwarves and himself, or else he would be exterminated. Now all the screaming and yelling he did under the king's bed made the king think that this was a new rock fad. So, he started to crawl under the bed himself and scream and yell on a daily basis. That was the final straw. The hobbit now had no place to have a nervous breakdown. He really had to get out of this place.

Now, the dwarves weren't faring too well either. The elves bathed them everyday, then tied them to chairs and forced them to watch those commercials of the lowest type. The dwarves prayed that the elves would have a water shortage and a power outage everyday. Those commercials were driving them crazier than the hobbit did, and Bombur no longer had his centerfold of Bertha to comfort him! They were truly miserable.

Wednesday, just before the exterminator came, Bilbo ran around in a frenzy and ran into a wall. When he woke up, he saw the elves rolling barrels to the cellar, where there was a trap door, that they pushed the barrels into the river from. It struck him as the barrel rolled over his prone body that was in the middle of the pathway. Stuff the dwarves in the barrels and send them up the river. Who knows, they may drown in the process.

Bilbo conveniently stole the chief guard's keys and wallet. He set each dwarf free. Dizzy and half crazed from their tortures, they didn't seem to care that Bilbo stuffed them barrels and kicked them in the river. So, with a quick hurried effort, the hobbit acquired many and a various wallet and swam to shore before the exterminator came. The harmonious sounds of the music of the Culture Club floated down the river after him, but they soon faded to the hobbit's relief.

Leaving the barrels of the dwarves in the river (and the floating picture of Bertha that had finally caught up to them from unknown parts of the forest), Bilbo went in search of food. He found a campsite, and he promptly ate it.