THE LORD OF THE RINGTONES: THE ECOMMUNITY OF THE RINGTONE – CHAPTER THREE – THREE'S COMPANY
"Frodo Baggins, will you please go now?" Gandalf asked.
Frodo did not want to leave because he was watching a Three's Company marathon that would not be over for two weeks.
"I will wait until autumn, after my birthday," Frodo said. "After all, I can't miss the season finale."
"Very well, but no later," Gandalf said. He knew full well that there was a Wings marathon next, and if Frodo caught the first episode, they would be in the Shire for at least another good month.
"Meanwhile, take care, and don't give any hints as to where you are going. No chain letters, no cryptic away messages—"
"I know, Gandalf. But it would be rather difficult to tattle because I don't know where I'm going."
"I'll give you a GPS with Rivendell marked out. You should have no problem finding it."
"I've been so busy saying goodbye to everyone, I haven't really given it much thought. The truth is, I was thinking about just leaving and going somewhere random. Surely I'd get to Mordor eventually."
"Well, you wouldn't get very far. Chances of your simply happening upon Mordor are about the same as Bill Gates actually eradicating spam and the Blue Screen of Death," said Gandalf, fondly patting his Apple.
"I suppose you're right," Frodo said. For the sake of repetition, he added, "I shall leave in autumn, right after my birthday."
One summer evening (seasons were unpredictable in the Shire), an astounding, stunning piece of news hit the Hobbiton News Network. Paula Zahnbramble had an exposé for HNN.
"This week, Frodo Baggins sold Bag End to the Sackville-Bagginses at a bargain price. No one really knows why Mr. Baggins is selling his home. John Vausegirdle is at Bag End with your opinions."
The screen cut to a young, thin hobbit holding a microphone for an old, fat hobbit. "If you ask me, he's run out of money."
"I think it's a vast right-wing conspiracy," replied a collegian.
"What? Er†I†uhh... umm†err" Samwise Gamgee stuttered.
"I don't know, but it's not my fault," claimed an older, white-haired hobbit.
"Wait—Frodo had a house?" asked one thoroughly confused Peregrin Took.
"How should I know?" a teenaged hobbittess snorted.
"I hope he's keeping his CDs. The Sackville-Bagginses never lend me anything," Hugo Bracegirdle complained.
"Well†erm†uhhh†ah†err" Sam continued.
"IT WASN'T ME!!"
The screen cut back to Paula Zahnbramble. "Thank you, John. That was touching. We did get an interview with Mr. Baggins shortly before he sold his house."
Now, in Bag End, Frodo was sitting in a comfortable-looking armchair with a cup of tea and an obnoxious black shirt with white lettering that read: "PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE THE REASON PEOPLE LIKE ME GO ON VACAY."
"Yes, I am moving. Merry is looking for a nice new hobbit hole or a house for me. Real estate is up these days, you know. I think he found one, though."
Back in the studio, Paula was looking sympathetically into the camera. "So he has. Frodo will be moving into a house in Crick Hollow, beyond Buckleberry. It looks like he will be settling in for a while. Frodo's best friend, Samwise Gamgee, was unavailable for comment. For HNN, this is Paula Zahnbramble.
Gandalf stayed in the Shire until Frodo left, when he mysteriously disappeared under what the Hobbiton Police Department called "suspicious circumstances." No one cared. They were happy to see Gandalf go.
---
Obscenely early one morning (which, coincidently, marked the end of the Three's Company marathon), Frodo and Sam gathered supplies that they would take with them to Rivendell.
Once they made sure they had everything they needed, including the Ringtone and Gandalf's GPS, had everything stowed in the trailer, and the trailer was attached to Frodo's midnight blue convertible Mustang (which, remarkably enough, was capable of pulling a multi-thousand pound trailer), they set off, singing:
Round round, get around,
I get around.
Yeah
Get around, round round, I get around.
Get around, round round, I get around.
Wah wa ooo
Get around, round round, I get around.
Oooo ooo ooo
Get around, round round, I get around.
Ahh ooo ooo
Get around, round round, I get around.
Ahh ooo ooo
Get around, round round, I get around.
Ahh ooo ooo
"That sounds a bit like Bilbo's rhyming," Sam remarked.
"No, actually. It's by the Beach Boys," replied Frodo.
"Ah, I see," Then, they rode on in silence.
They had been driving for quite some time when they were stopped at a red light. Suddenly, the squealing of breaks, a disconcerting thud, and a rather loud, "Pippin! The brake is on the LEFT!" broke the silence.
With an eye roll, Frodo opened the door, slid out of his seat, and stalked over to his back bumper to survey the damage. Surely enough, it was a good several inches thinner than it should have been.
"Driving lessons?" he mused.
"Well, sort of," Merry admitted, climbing out of the passenger seat window.
"'Sort of' is right!" exclaimed Sam, examining the bumper.
Pippin, who had emerged from the car a while before, announced "Well! That wasn't that bad."
"Not that bad?! Mr. Frodo will have to get a new bumper!" Sam exclaimed.
"True, but at least our car still works. And yours too, of course," replied Merry.
Suddenly, the traffic light (which had been green for a while) turned red again. A vehicle that looked rather like a levitating rubber raft but was a good deal faster zoomed by. It will probably not appear later, could not help the hobbits in their journey to Mordor, and basically serves no purpose other than to poke fun at the car that many claim to have seen in the movie. The hobbits, who were inspecting Frodo's car, did not notice.
Unexpectedly (as "suddenly" was used last paragraph), the hobbits heard an ominous-sounding motor off in the distance. "Off the road! Off the road!" Frodo cried, tugging his three companions off the road.
"But my car!" Merry protested.
"Actually, it's Milo—" Pippin started, but Merry shushed him.
"My car!"
The four hobbits huddled under the bushes. Everything became dark, and the shadows grew ominously longer. Dang lighting people. Frodo peaked through the bushes and saw black Dodge Viper. A large, dark figure with a blue and white nametag reading "Hello, my name is Tonewraith #6" climbed out of the car and peered through Merry's windows.
"He's searching Milo's car!" Merry declared in an indignant whisper.
"Whose car?" Pippin asked pointedly.
"My car!" Merry insisted.
"Merry, have you been stealing cars again?" Sam asked suspiciously.
"Er, no. Well, maybe," Merry stuttered. "Just to teach Pippin to drive. I don't trust him with my car."
"Whose car?" Pippin snickered.
"Quiet! Frodo hissed. The Tonewraith had now moved to searching his Mustang.
Immediately, the Ringtone went off. Frodo had a very strong urge to answer the phone. His hands were moving independently of his brain, and they took the Ringtone off of his belt and began to bring it towards his ear.
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam pulled Frodo's hand down from his ear.
The Tonewraith looked up (or, as far as Frodo could tell, he looked up, seeing as he had no eyes).
Pippin pulled his TI-30IIx out of his pocket and threw it. The Tonewraith immediately got into his Viper and bolted after it.
"That will keep him amused for hours!" Pippin said gleefully.
"How?" Sam asked, perplexed.
"They have no eyes, but they can sense intelligence," Frodo explained. "I assume we can conclude that the TI-30IIx is more intelligent than all of us put together.
"Well then!" Sam piped up. "Why don't we have the calculator go destroy the Ringtone?"
The hobbits looked at the Tonewraith who was now thoroughly engrossed in the calculator's many functions.
"Because, Sam," Merry explained patiently, "TI-30IIx's are very cool, but they can't walk."
The hobbits climbed into Frodo's now slightly beat-up Mustang and left Merry's (or Milo's—they never had reached a conclusion as to whose car it actually was) car beside the road.
And a lot of long, boring driving transpired.
