Disclaimer: Let it be known henceforth that I am in no way under any percentage of ownership of the plot, characters, or world of Lord of the Rings.
Twilight: Welcome to my spoof! I dedicate this chapter to the Almighty Author, Terry Pratchett. Also, let it be known that at some time, my sisters (one going under the code name of Saki, the other of Kasumi) will be showing up on the author notes.
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(From the "writings" of Gollum: Creature that is Very Ugly in a cute sort of way)
it cam too me my owen my luv my preshusssssssssss!11!
(No, Gollum is not very skilled at typing exclamation marks. Nope!)
Then a filthee litle hobit camed and stoll it frum ussssssssss!1! we hats them preshussssssssss!111!1!
(Spelling ain't exactly his forte, neither.)
we haats tthem SO BAD PRESHUSSSSSSS!11!11! WE MUST KIL THEM THAT WE MUST!
(Whoa. That was pointless.)
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Gandalf rode on his cart, humming softly to himself, when suddenly… Nothing happened.
Gandalf looked up, startled at the lack of happenings. Surely someone was supposed to run up to his cart about now?
He decided to ignore it and continue on his way.
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Meanwhile, a mile or two away, Frodo sat down facing Sam with a serious expression on his face. A drop of sweat trickled down his forehead as he considered his options.
"Do you have any twos?"
Sam smirked, "Go fish!"
"Noooo!"
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Gandalf went up to the door at Bag End and knocked with his staff. A muffled voice was heard from inside.
"No thank you! We don't want anymore visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!"
Gandalf smiled at his friend's irritated reply, "How about Crypt Keeper-esque friends?"
The door immediately opened, revealing a big-footed midget.
"Gandalf? Gandalf!" They hugged warmly, "Don't just stand there, come in!"
Gandalf promptly hit his head on the doorway and was knocked out cold.
"Oo That wasn't supposed to happen."
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Gandalf woke with a splitting headache. He grunted incoherently and sat up, finding himself lying on the grass outside Bag End.
Presently, a blue-eyed big-footed midget walked up to him and said, "You're late. If you don't hurry you'll miss the fireworks, and that wouldn't really work because you're doing the fireworks.
Gandalf stood up and brushed himself off irritably, "A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins," he glanced at his watch, "Nor are they—Aw dang I'm late!"
He grabbed his staff off the ground and was gone before you could say 'But watches hadn't been invented in Middle Earth!'
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In Mordor, the Dorks (black wire-rimmed glasses, pocket protectors and nasty big pointy teeth) were in the most savage of duels.
The one with brown-speckled green skin and a polka-dot bowtie whose name was Tarquine locked eyes with the moldy-looking skinned, off-brand lunchable eating Sheridan.
Sheridan was the first to drop his gaze, looking down nervously at the dueling field.
Finally, he said, "I summon Kagemusha of the Blue Flame, in attack mode!" he put the card in its place, "I will now end my turn."
Tarquine merely drew a card from his respective deck. He smiled at his hand and flipped over a card on his side of the field, "I flip over Red-Eyes Black Dragon. Red-Eyes, destroy Kagemusha of the Blue Flame!"
Sheridan looked aghast, "By golly! If my calculations are correct, then you just got rid of the last of my life-points! Want to make it a match?"
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That night was Bilbo's party, he was turning eleventy-one: a very important occasion.
Gandalf made splendid fireworks while Bilbo told of his past adventures to the little big-footed midget children. Bilbo had once been abducted by a couple of dwarves and forced to become a thief to aid them on their quest to vanquish the dragon Smaug.
He returned to the rest of the big-footed midgets who immediately labeled him a wild-eyed eccentric. (He was eccentric instead of weird because he was now rich from the treasure in Smaug's lair. Only rich people get to be eccentric.)
The big-footed midget children listened eagerly as he told of the time that trolls captured him and his companions.
"…Then they began arguing amongst themselves about how they were going to cook us. Whether to turn us on a spit or sit on us one by one and squash us into marmalade!"
At first the children shrank back in fear, but then one curly haired little girl asked, "Mister Bilbo, what's marmalade?" She furrowed her little eyebrows in confusion.
"Um, well, it's kind of like jelly."
Her eyes brightened, "Oh! Like jelly!" She thought for a moment and shrank back in fear again.
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Elsewhere, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrine Took were scheming about how to sneak around Gandalf's back to get some fireworks.
Merry had an overhead projector and began seriously going through the plan of attack as Pippin looked on with a grim expression on his face.
"Okay, listen up, Pip, you're going to start a diversion by cross-dressing in my old auntie's nightgown and dancing on the table while singing 'Oops, I Did It Again' complete with choreography. Once you have everyone's attention, I'll grab the fireworks."
Pippin nodded gravely, "Yessir—What? No way! I'm not doing THAT again!"
Merry turned pleading eyes to him, "Come on, Pip! I thought you wanted to set off fireworks with me…" His eyes filled with glistening tears.
Pippin melted, "All right, but this is the last time!"
Merry instantly lost his sad look and grinned widely, "Agreed!"
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Frodo's good friend and gardener, Sam, gazed longingly at the circle of dancing big-footed midgets. There, in the center, was the lovely Rosie, Sam's long-running crush. It was obvious from the look in his eyes that he wished for nothing more then walk into the circle of firelight and sweep her off her over-sized feet. Instead, though, he resigned himself to sitting all alone at a table on the far side and sipping at his ale.
Frodo broke from the dancers to convince Sam to do as he so longed.
"Come on Sam, ask Rosie for a dance."
Sam was about to reply when he was interrupted by a high-pitched voice, "Oops, I did it again, I played with your heart, got lost in the game. Oh, baby, baby!"
It was Pippin standing on a table in the center of the area, clad in a lacy nightgown. He was dancing very provocatively with blowing kisses to the crowd, fanning himself as if it were too hot, and much shaking of the hips.
Even more odd: he actually seemed to be enjoying it.
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Pippin ended with, "I'm not that innocent!"
He made his way swiftly off the table and went off in search of Merry.
"Merry!" he exclaimed upon finding him, "Did it work? What'd you get?"
"It worked all right. I got this," he showed him the item.
Pippin's eyes widened and he began hopping up and down in glee, "Let's set it off now! Let's set it off now! Let's set it off now!"
They went into the nearest tent and jammed the firework into the ground. Pippin was about to light the fuse when…
"Wait a second, Pip. I sense a grave disturbance in the Force. Something tells me that we should put it in the ground outside."
"Oh, alright."
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Back in Mordor, Tarquine and Sheridan were deeply immersed in a game of chess. Tarquine moved his rook forward.
"Ah, the old ploy used by Randolf P. Woodworth," Sheridan smirked and easily countered it with sidestep of his queen.
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Merry and Pippin carefully stood the gigantic firework in the grass away from the festivities.
"All right, Pip, light it."
Obediently, Pippin struck a match and set the flame to the long fuse. The two big-footed midgets ran a few feet away and plugged their ears.
BOOM!
The firework burst into flame and flew into the ear. It took on the shape of a dragon, a very tiny one.
The miniscule dragon waggled its tiny wings pitifully and gave a little cough that issued a small fireball.
All of a sudden, it sneezed a huge wave of red and black flames, the force of the sneeze forcing it back a few feet. Then it sort of flew over the crowd, obviously trying very hard to be frightening.
"Awwwww!" The soft sound of appreciation of adorability rose up from the group of big-footed midgets.
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Tarquine and Sheridan were still hard at their chess game. Sheridan still had three pawns, one of his knights, one of his rooks, his queen and, obviously, his king. Tarquine was losing with four pawns, one rook and the obvious chess piece that would qualify him as still in the game.
It was Tarquine's move. He hesitantly moved his rook forward two spaces then carefully removed his hand from the wooden piece.
Bang!
Sheridan moved his queen with lightning-fast speed to knock over Tarquine's rook that fell miserably to the hard chessboard.
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Back at the party, Bilbo blew out the candles on his colossal cake. Slices were passed around to the other big-footed midgets.
"Speech! Speech!"
The cry rang out from the crowd, started by none other than Frodo.
Bilbo amiably went up on the stage.
The noise died down.
"Umm… Let's see here… I know I had a very witty thing to say. That's it! I know half of you should go… Wait, that's not right. I know half of you half as well as she would like… No, that's not right either. I like half of… Oh, bugger it!" He dug in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that appeared to have been off-handedly ripped from a note pad.
"Ah, here it is! I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve!" With that, he disappeared under mysterious circumstances.
"Gasp!"
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An invisible Bilbo walked silently into his big-footed midget hole and closed the door carefully behind him where he took off the shiny golden ring, yielding himself visible.
He began to pack some food and a few of his belongings into a bag.
Gandalf ran in, panting, "Sorry I'm late! I knew I shouldn't have agreed to join that blasted drinking game… At least Istari can't get drunk, or the entire of Middle Earth would have a problem on their hands! Anyway, straight to the point, I think you should leave the ring here."
"Come on, Gandalf! I was just having a bit of fun. You should have seen the looks on their faces!" Bilbo chortled, "Wait, You've already told me to leave the ring, haven't you?"
Gandalf nodded.
"You can't have it, it's mine, it came to me!"
"There's no need to get angry," said Gandalf calmly.
"Well, if I 'm angry it's your fault! It's mine… My own… My precioussss…"
Bilbo began to get a strange look in his eye.
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Tarquine knocked on the door of Sheridan's house. Sheridan opened the door a crack.
"Password?"
"Y squared equals the root of X," Tarquine answered conspiratorially.
"Enter."
Sheridan opened the door and Tarquine came in, carefully using the walk of the alien rebel forces.
"Greetings, Rebel Leader. I come bearing math lecture videos!" said Tarquine in the raspy voice of the Digglenuffs: his chosen race of alien for its water element abilities.
"Good work, Rebel Correspondent Number One. Let's stay up till o' three hundred eating popsicles and bacon!"
Ah, yes. The sleepover was definitely under way.
End of chapter one.
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Twilight: Here we have something that wishes it was a cliffhanger. Let's name it Fred!
Saki: Your attempt at humor fails miserably, foolish mortal.
Twilight: Anyway, I'm not too happy with the firework that Merry and Pippin set off. If anyone has any better/funnier/more humorous in general ideas then please give them to me!
Also, I want to give a shout-out to Penguine, author of Wake Me Up Inside:
yells into a rolled up kids' menu Long live the Order of Wizzbang! brandishes paper sword viciously while the newspaper hat tips to a jaunty angle
Quote of the Day: "Remember: dead cats are not aerodynamically efficient for use as Frisbees."—Unknown