A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, and all those stubborn/shy people who read and didn't review. I'm really glad to see I haven't lost the old regulars, not to mention really excited to see newcomers. Welcome to the fold, guys! Thanks for joining us! For those who don't already know, I'm an atrocious updater because I'm in my last year of high school and I'm in the full IB program, which means I'm BUSY AS HELL with school stuff. This will be the last update for several weeks, because I've got midterms coming up. But I'll update either the last few days of January, or the first week of February at the latest. Which reminds me: I want to try something new in Part III. I'm going to tell you when the next update will be in the author's notes—that way, you guys will know when they'll be, and I'll have a deadline (which should hopefully force me to update more regularly).

Disclaimers: Every Lord of the Rings fan knows that you can't actually own LotR…it owns you.

Chapter 2: What Did Gandalf Want? . . .

It took me a few minutes to find Aragorn, his Leggy-weggy-honey-bunny-etc., Gimli, and Gandalf. They were riding through the woods toward the general direction of Isengard.

Okay, okay, I'm here. How may your slave serve you, o exalted master?

"We want take Meriadoc and that fool of a Took with us to the mountain pass," Gandalf said gruffly. "Go check if they are still at Isengard with Treebeard."

"Please," Legolas added, before I could get my hackles raised again.

Fine, whatever. I guess it's better than watching Sam rape Frodo with his eyes.

I did a quick mental sweep of the area around Isengard, just to make sure there was nothing weird or dangerous going on. Man, the thoughtful little favours I do for those ingrates, and they don't even appreciate me.

The Ents really did a number on Isengard. What used to be Saruman's Tower, Workshop, and Flourishing Weapons Industry was now more like a swamp. Ents wandered around, kicking down the last few stumps of buildings and machinery that stuck up out of the water. I spotted Merry and Pippin sitting on one of those stumps, stuffing their faces. I didn't bother saying anything to them, because really, who in his right mind would talk to them if he didn't have to? I just went back to Gandalf with the news.

I'm back, I announced.

Aragorn's horse twitched at the sudden appearance of my voice, and I waited for him to calm it down.

Okay, so the wonder twins are both still at what's left of Isengard, and they're busy having one of their many afternoon meals. If you hurry, maybe they'll share.

"They're unharmed, then? All's well?" Aragorn asked.

I was about to retort that yeah, obviously, or else why would they be calmly eating. But then I remembered that it was Merry and Pippin we were talking about here, and they could probably find a way to eat even if all of their limbs had been torn off, so Aragorn was actually asking a fair question.

Yes, they're fine, we're fine, everyone's fine. Just because big, manly Aragorn isn't there to take care of us doesn't mean we'll all immediately die. Full of yourself, much?

"I was not thinking that," Aragorn retorted.

I could tell from the way his nostrils flared that he so was, and I stage-whispered this fact to Legolas, who tried to giggle yet reprimand me at the same time. That earned him a wounded glare from Aragorn. Legolas had to spend the rest of the trip assuring him that he loved his manly nostrils; Gimli sat behind the saccharinely doting Legolas, quietly wishing that his stumpy legs were longer so he could have a horse of his very own.

The four of them eventually made it to Isengard, where they saw the true extent of the damage for the first time. Merry and Pippin were still sitting on their piece of debris, pigging out. The joyful reunion was sort of cute, but Aragorn and co. were a lot less impressed than I thought they'd be.

"We managed to get a lot done, didn't we?" Merry asked cheerfully, sweeping his arms to indicate the whole of what used to be Isengard and area. "Surprised, are ya?"

The others looked the definition of unsurprised. "Not really," Gimli said with a shrug. "You always do about this amount of damage if we leave you unsupervised fer long enough."

"Ah, but we didn't do it alone! We had help—Treebeard runs the show now," Pippin explained, raising his mug of ale and using it to indicate a group of Ents huddled in a circle doing…something.

What are they doing? I asked.

"Oh, it's the Ring! You're with us too! Well, it's a jolly old party now, isn't it? How are Frodo and Sam?" Pippin chirped.

Fine. Great. What are the Ents doing?

"I think they're having a spot of fun with Saruman," Merry said offhandedly while biting off an obscenely large chunk of bread. "Would anyone like some lunch?" he offered, spraying crumbs.

Everyone politely declined. Gandalf decided to go investigate exactly what the Ents were doing to Saruman, and the rest of us followed him out of curiosity.

Now there's a sight I never thought I'd see. The Ents crouched in a circle, with Saruman trapped in the middle. They had his Palantir—that all-seeing orb that operated on the same principles of magic as my own vision did—and they were dangling it just out of his reach. Every time he reached for it, they'd pass it over his head to another Ent, so on and so forth. Saruman jumped and screamed and snarled and begged, but the Ents were impervious to anything he did. They would just laugh their deep, rumbling laugh and pass the Palantir to someone else.

"Ooh, that ball is shiny!" Pippin said, "May I have it?"

The Ents, no doubt used to doing whatever the hobbits asked just to get them to shut the hell up, passed it to Pippin without a word.

"Ooooooh," Pippin murmured, staring into its depths.

Gandalf quickly snatched it from him before he could do anything stupid, like accidentally communicate with Sauron. Or eat it. "Peregrine Took, do not play with things that you cannott understand," he instructed.

Pippin pouted. Gandalf frowned at him and turned to Treebeard. "I trust you shall be able to keep Saruman safely locked away?"

"Of course," Treebeard assured him in his deep, deep voice. "You shan't have to worry about him ever again."

Satisfied, Gandalf carefully wrapped up the Palantir in some soft cloths and tucked it away. "Very well, then. Thank you, my old friend, for everything you've done. We leave the rest to you." He then turned to the hobbits. "Come on, you two. You've done enough mischief here. Say goodbye to Treebeard before we're off."

Hey, where are you guys going now? I asked as Aragorn and Gandalf swung a hobbit each into the saddle behind them.

"To my favourite part of every battle," Gimli said, grinning lewdly.

Wait, what battle? The Helm's Deep one? But that's over.

"Exactly." Gimli rubbed his palms in anticipation.

I am. So. Lost.

"Och, c'mon, Ring! Yer old, ain't ya? Don't tell me you've never been to an after-party!"

After…party.

"That's right, Ring." Aragorn exchanged some sort of secret, insiders-only look with Legolas. "It is customary to celebrate a victory." He smiled one of his smug little half-smiles before turning his horse around expertly, heading back the way they came. The others followed suit.

What do you mean, 'celebrate'? Guys? Hello?

"Follow us and you'll see," Aragorn called back, already heading into the forest at full gallop.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC

ps- I have a livejournal account, by the way. If anyone's interested in what I do outside of this fic or the other fiction that I write but don't post on here (it's mostly slash), go there. My user name is matchsticks(underscore)p, except the underscore is an actual underscore and not the word 'underscore'...this website really needs to allow more symbols. Anyway,I will love you forever if you friend me, or at least contact me.