Disclaimer: Some of the characters and places are very loosely based on those created by Tolkien.
The Smegging of the Shire
Beginning
Once upon a time, a hobbit was enjoying some nice cool beer and his 'pipe weed' in the pub. Actually, that's what hobbits do every day, so the opening statement isn't very good. In fact, it's a bit crap. Maybe what I should have said was: 'Once upon a time, a hobbit didn't just go to the pub and light up, he did something else too.' Perhaps.
The hobbit I am speaking of was one Belthagorus Took (known by his friends as 'Belchy'), and the pub he was in was the Green Dragon Inn. Or, 'Ye Olde Greene Dragone Inne' as it was now called. His friends were talking about this and that: their day at work, who they though would win the annual pie eating competition ("Ol' Fatty Bolger's son, Lardo, is shaping up nicely this year," one hobbit remarked. "No!" another cried. "He'll be vomiting out of his ears by the time young master Gamgee's finished with him!"), and who had the biggest carrot. ("I've got a massive one!" they all said. There's no double entendre there. They were talking about carrots. That's all.) Ted Sandyman talked crap as usual. Then, inevitably, conversation turned on to the good old days, and how the Shire wasn't anywhere near as lovely now as it was then. Belthagorus sighed.
It is an ironic twist of fate that although the hobbits had managed to fight off Sharkey (This matter is so sensitive that the cartoon Sharkey and George is still banned in the Shire) and their oppressors some fifty-odd years previously upon the return of Frodo and his companions, the hobbits fell slaves to one thing they did not expect: tourism. Once the films were released, everyone wanted a piece of Middle Earth… especially the Shire. And so the hobbits were soon inundated with 'big people' who brought along with them litter, overcrowding, and an incredible lack of privacy. (Actually, that was the least of their problems. Some of the more fanatical of the tourists brought with them the high-paying demand for hobbit sex, and the underground hobbit prostitution racket was born.) However, they also brought with them one valuable commodity: lots and lots of money. Soon, the entire Shire had been changed to such a degree that it could make an older hobbit cry, whilst reminiscing over the good old days. Everything either stayed as 'traditional' as possible, or became modernized in order to suit the tourists who would come all year round. And so it came to pass, that in the fifty-fourth year of the fourth age, Middle-Earth's first ever McDonald's was built. In the Shire. And they had to cut down part of the Old Forest to do so. But earlier that day, Middle Earth sank to a new low: it was announced that a Butlin's would be built in the Grey Havens.
'Ye Olde Greene Dragone Inne' was one of the pubs that attempted to remain as staunchly traditional, authentic and 'quaint' as possible. Anyway, it's better than The Prancing Pony, which became apart of the Q's chain, and served 'onion rings of power' as a side dish. Young Belthagorus didn't remember the 'good old days' that all the older hobbits complained about, but he had had enough of working in the factory mill, making action figures of his father's cousin, Pippin. And the others. He had had enough! And that news about Butlin's was too far. Was nothing sacred? It was bad enough that the Grey Havens were permanently swamped by fangirls hoping to get another glimpse of Frodo. He got off his stool, and walked out of the pub to the bemusement of his friends. However, as he opened the door, he walked into a Big Person. Belthagorus looked up at the man he had walked into. Wait a minute… the grey beard… the cloak… the staff… Could it be? Could Gandalf have really returned to sort out their mess?
"Hello!" the man said. "I'm Gary the Grey: Gandalf's half brother's cousin, thrice removed on his mother's brother's sister's chicken's side. Pleased to meet you!" That probably wouldn't make much sense to you, but Belthagorus was a hobbit, and he understood complicated family relations.
"I'm Belthagorus, Belthagorus Took," he said. "Though my friends call me Belchy. I would be honoured if you would have some ale with my friends and me." Belthagorus looked back over to the table where he had been sitting with his friends and saw that they looked less than pleased at this suggestion. Despite spending most of their working day with the Big People, hobbits were hobbits, and preferred to keep themselves to themselves. Racists.
By the end of the evening, Belchy and Gary had not just two breakfasts, elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and supper, but four extra suppers. (they stopped off at the new portable kebab wagon. "This takes like warg meat!" Gary spluttered. The kebab man looked shifty, and somewhat relieved when they left.) Sitting on the hillside smoking their pipe weed, Belthagorus considered having a sixth supper. Or maybe that should be an early first breakfast.
"I'm bored!" he complained. "I don't want to live my life working in the factory mill! This isn't how the Shire should be! I wish things could go back to how they used to be! I wish I could have an adventure!"
"Gollum Gummy?" Gary held out an open bag of jelly sweets to Belchy, who took a handful. "You know, this whole tourism thing only started once the Dark Lord arose in the south.
"The Dark Lord?" Belthagorus gasped. "Sauron's… back?"
"No, it's not Sauron."
"You mean… Darth Vader?"
"No!"
"Not Voldemort!"
"No, Belchy! This is another Dark Lord. A new one. I shall not utter his name in this place, for his spies are everywhere, but he's the one who's responsible for this… smegging of the Shire! He brought tourism to Middle Earth. He's the one who's ruined our lives by making people work either in production lines or tourist jobs!"
"Are you saying that if we can defeat him… Middle Earth will go back to how it used to be?" Belthagorus asked.
"Defeat him? I wasn't suggesting…" Gary began, "umm… Yeah, I guess that's what I was saying!"
"Excellent! I'll go and pack, and we can leave tomorrow!"
"What?" Gary cried, looking alarmed. "I can't mate, I've got work!"
"Do you want to be a slave to your job all your life? You're a wizard, aren't you?" (Here it was Gary's turn to look shifty) "I'm a hobbit. It's meant to be you persuading me to have an adventure!"
Gary thought hard, and made up his mind.
Gary the Grey grimly gripped his staff as he stared down his enemy.
"You cannot pass!" He held his staff aloft, his face fierce, and eyes gleaming with fire. "YOU… SHALL NOT… PASS!" He brought the staff down on the cold stone as hard as he could. To his satisfaction, cracks appeared beneath the foul beast's feet.
"But mister," a small boy said, "you're the lollypop man. You've got to let us past so that we can get to school!"
Gary's lollypop 'Stop' sign sagged in his hand. "Oh yeah, sorry. I got carried away."
"GARY!" A stern woman shouted at him across the road. "GET IN MY OFFICE RIGHT NOW!"
Gary stood in the headmaster's office, feeling as foolish as he did when he was a little boy.
"Gary, I hired you just three weeks ago, and in that time, I've had one thousand, two hundred and thirty-nine complaints about you." Headmaster Parryblossom growled. "Your job is simple. You let the traffic go past, then you stop them with your lollypop 'stop' sign-"
"It's a staff."
"It's a bloody florescent yellow lollypop, you idiot! You stop the traffic, and then you let the children cross the road to school. But what do you do? You stop both traffic and children and shout at them as if they were a dragon!"
"Balrog, actually."
"I don't care! I should have fired you when you chased that little girl down the street calling her an orc, but your chances are up. You're fired."
Gary paused, and asked "Can I keep the staff?"
Headmaster Parryblossom threw a pot plant at him which exploded on his head.
"I'll take that as a no, shall I?" He said.
Middle
With Gary jobless, Belchy discontent, and the Butlins construction underway, the pair decided to travel the land and gain aid to defeat the Dark Lord. It was something to do. They traveled first to the town of Bree, where they sampled some of the new local produce for the tourists – Bree brie. Now it was Belthagorus' turn to spit out food.
"This tastes like curdled rat's milk!" he complained. The cheesemonger was the one who looked shifty now.
"Makes sense, I suppose," Gary said reasonably. "No cows round here." He took a large bite. "I think it's rather nice."
After spending the night in the Q's Prancing Pony, and finding no one arsed to come and help them, they went on their way. (You may be interested to know that Nob, one of the hobbit servants at the Prancing Pony, became something of a celebrity for a short while. After becoming popular by winning Middle Earth's first Celebrity Big Brother, he became a porn star. However, there's only so many jokes you can make about his name (well, ok… there's only one joke, but it served him well for a time), and his fame diminished. So now you know.)
"It makes sense, having a small cast," Gary mused. "Easier on the Author. Means he doesn't have to bother with developing lots of characters. Anyway, let's head on to Rivendell."
"Why?" asked Belchy. "What's in Rivendell? All the elves have left and gone west."
"Oh, not all the elves." Gary laughed. "Come on, I'll show you."
As they left the pub, a dark and obviously sinister figure watched them go. He had spied on them whilst they were in Bree, and had much to tell his master… THE DARK LORD!
As the pair walked (passing Troll's Knoll, where Bibo's stone trolls were, which too had become a popular tourist attraction, and a haven for sculptors, artists and pretentious gits), Belthagorus asked Gary a question he had been wondering ever since they first met.
"Gary… why does your wizard's staff have a 'stop' sign on the top of it? It looks like a lollypop!"
Gary blushed. "It's to let orcs know that I'm coming, to give them the chance to run away before me." A short pause. "Anyway, it's not 'Stop', it's Elven runes, saying 'I am Gary the Grey… powerful wizard and terrifying warrior.' Yeah. That's what it says."
"Err… right." Belchy didn't have the heart to tell his friend that he looked a prat carrying it around. "Anyway, how far to Rivendell?"
"Conveniently, it's just down the next valley."
Belthagorus looked and saw it. The Elven architecture, the last homely house, the beautiful trees… all dwarfed and ruined by the theme park built on top of it.
"That's Rivendell?" Belchy cried.
"Yep," said Gary. "Thorin's Hammer is a good ride, and the ghost train staffed by the spirits from the Path of the Dead is fun, too."
"Gary! We came all this way just to go on a roller coaster?"
"No, don't worry Belchy! We came here to meet a couple of people who might be able to help us. Follow me."
High in his tower of Barad Ass, the Dark Lord listened to the news of Belthagorus and Gary. They were coming to defeat him… He who had power over all Middle Earth? He laughed at the thought. He would send out the Nine… and they would crush them until there wasn't anything left to crush! That's really crushed! He laughed manically. Original.
Belthagorus didn't think much of the short, fat man with the big beard, but his tall, slim, beautiful wife with long blond hair was breathtaking. Belthagorus gasped.
"Sweet maiden-"
"I'm male, you moron!" The woman squeaked.
Gary sighed. "Belchy… meet Gimli and Legolas."
"… Ah."
"What're you doing here, Gary?" Gimli asked. "Still working as a Gandalf impersonator at children's parties?"
"No, I got fired." Gary said, awkwardly.
"Get carried away and attacked someone?"
"No!" he cried indignantly. "It was a dog. I thought a warg was attacking me."
"So," said Legolas, gracefully pressing up against Gimli, and twisting a lock of the dwarf's hair around a slender finger, "to what do we owe this pleasure?"
"Belchy here wants to kill the Dark Lord so that Middle Earth can rid itself of tourism." (This could be seen as an extreme measure, but don't question it: the entire plot depends upon it.)
"What? Kill the Heir? Never! The man is a complete delight!" Legolas squeaked.
"You'd have to kill me first before you laid a finger on him!" Gimli growled, clutching his axe that appeared from nowhere.
Legolas put his hands on his hips and pouted. "We own and run this theme park, Gimli and I. If you defeat the Heir, then that won't be good for business, will it?" He drew his bow and tried to look threatening, failing miserably. Belthagorus and Gary backed away.
"Look, there's no need to be hasty!" Belchy said, and Treebeard would have agreed with him. (He would have… if Fangorn Forest hadn't been uprooted to build a car park.) Gary's eyes glittered as he realized that he really was in a dangerous situation. He raised his staff.
"You cannot pass!"
"Not now, Gary!" Belchy yelled. "Ooh, I wish Tom Bombadil was here! He could save the hobbits from anything!"
At once, Legolas' manner changed.
"Ooh, you know Tom? Isn't he a darling?"
"Well you certainly seem to think so, don't you?" said Gimli.
"And what do you mean by that?" Legolas enquired.
"You know full well what I mean! The lengthy trips to the Old Forest; spending all that time in his house…"
"I'm a wood elf. I like woods!"
"And you like him too, don't you?"
"Gimli, I will not be drawn into another argument about Tom. Not when we have guests!"
"There's always some excuse, isn't there! Why won't you ever talk about it?"
"There's nothing to say, that's why! You just don't like him! Stop being so unreasonable!"
"Oh, I'm being unreasonable!"
"Yes you are! You're…" Legolas stopped, with a dumbfounded look on his fair face. "Gimli? The wizard and the hobbit – the ones that we were about to kill for threatening our wealth – they've gone!"
As Belchy and Gary ran out of the building, they searched for somewhere to hide. Looking back, Belthagorus saw Legolas and Gimli burst out of the building and started hunting round for them. Where could the pair hide? Suddenly, they were both jerked backwards as someone pulled them from behind.
"In here!" a rasping voice said. Gary and Belchy realised that they were standing in a public toilet. They smelt it before they saw it. A filthy old man with rank, matted grey hair stood next to them. He wore a long stained, brown coat, carried a mop and bucket, and his breath stank almost worse than the toilets. He leered at them, whilst rubbing his grey stubble. "Quick, climb in the cubicle!" he said. They were pushed into a stinking toilet cubicle, making Belchy retch because he was a short-arse, and his head was close to the toilet pan.
"Stand up here!" Gary said as he pulled Belchy up on top of the toilet. They heard the door burst open and Legolas' melodic voice.
"Have you seen a hobbit and a wizard running around here?" he asked the man. "Not just one of the costumed entertainers, but a couple of troublemakers."
"Nope, not round here!" the cleaner replied.
"Then why is there a lollypop sign sticking out above the cubicle?"
"Damn!" Gary muttered. Legolas kicked the cubicle door open, and Gary brought the 'stop' sign down hard on his head.
"You messed up my hair! I can't believe it! You ruined my hairstyle!" Legolas wailed. Belchy pushed him aside as they ran out.
"Come on!" the grimy old man yelled.
They followed him as he led them round the back roads of the Rivendell Pleasure Park, until they finally reached the entrance.
"Who are you, and why are you helping us?" Belchy asked the man.
"My name is Bill… You are trying to defeat the Dark Lord. I want that bastard to pay!"
"Why? What did he do to you?" Gary asked.
"He snubbed me. I would've been famous; I would have been in those films! But he rejected me! I would have spent the rest of my life touring from convention to convention: an easy life for an old man! But instead, here I am cleaning toilets!"
"Will you come with us?" they asked him.
"No, I've got my toilets to scrub," he told them. "Besides, the Author can't be arsed to develop my character anymore. But before you go on your way, I have a terrible warning for you. The Nine have left Barad Ass and are seeking you! Whatever you do, don't let yourself get caught, for terrible death will await you!"
As Belthagorus and Gary left the man at the gates, he watched them go, rubbed his stubble and cackled.
As they headed towards the tower of Barad Ass, Belchy and Gary discussed what had happened to them.
"Nice going, Gary! 'Let's go and see a dwarf and his poofy elf boyfriend who love the Dark Lord!' Good thinking!" Belchy complained, unaware that this was doing nothing for his popularity ratings, as Gary was a far more fun character.
"Yeah, well… sometimes you've got to really."
"Huh?"
"Well, we could've gone and seen Aragorn and perved over Eowyn – I mean Arwen - but then Aragorn would've kicked the shit out of us." (It's got to be asked: how smegging unimaginative was Tolkien? Sexy ladies: Arwen, Eowyn; Nasty baddies: Saruman, Sauron… why not Saruman and Trevor? Or Arwen and Betty?)
"And what was the deal with that scruffy toilet-cleaner guy?" Belchy asked. "Are we really not going to see him again? But he had an introduction! A description! Even a back story and hidden motives! How come I didn't get any of that stuff? Why do I have to be so two-dimensional?"
Ignoring him, Gary said, "I think that may have been Bill Ferney. You remember him? Shifty character in Bree, ends up enslaving hobbits?"
"It can't be! The hobbits killed him!"
"Aah!" Gary smiled, pleased for a chance to show off his intellect. "Well, he died in the book, yes, but he didn't even appear in the film And that's why he's angry, because he wasn't in the film, so he can't have an easy life in conventions!"
"So…" said Belthagorus trying to work it out, "are you saying that the book him died, but the film him didn't because the film him never made it to the film, and that even when the film him died, the actor him would still be alive to work the fan conventions?"
"No idea. But it sounds good."
"I don't get what the deal is with this world. Is it based on the books or the film? And how come people from the world that have the books and the film and are reading this now can visit here as tourists? That doesn't make sense." (That's right, it doesn't. And the points raised by this conversation won't be dealt with, they'll just be left as gaping incomprehensible plot holes. Deal with it.)
Gary realized that this was starting to sound too much like the Architect scene from The Matrix Reloaded. Which is never good.
"Bloody metaphysics! Or whatever it is!"
There was a slight pause as Belchy tried to think of something else to do other than talk. He couldn't.
"Sorry, but what was the point of that Rivendell scene? And meeting up with Bill Ferney? That was all just a big long tangent that doesn't affect the plot in any significant way!"
"Of course it was! That just reflects the quality of writing this is. Just shut up, before the Author catches us slagging him off, ok?" (And who was this mysterious Author? Was he the answer to all those questions? Could he explain them all in a tedious philosophical conversation with the heroes. No. No, he couldn't.) "We've got to keep on the lookout for the Nine."
Suddenly, the road that they were walking on did that funny zoom-in-zoom-out thing that looks really cool but is a tad overdone in films. (Which is why they're resorting to having to do it in books. It's not as spectacular.)
"Get off the road!" Belthagorus shrieked.
Unfortunately, they were walking over a bridge on the main road. Below them was a motorway, and so they had no escape. They were trapped. Unless…
"You cannot pass!" Gary roared, waving his lollypop sign. "I am the servant of the ancient… errr… secret fire. Thing. YOU… SHALL NOT… PASS!"
A large, black Mercedes crashed into him and he flew over the fence onto the motorway below them.
"I'm flying, you fools!" he yelled as he fell.
"GARY!" Belthagorus screamed, running to the edge. Somewhere nearby, a choir nearby started singing. Belchy heard a thud, a splat, and a screech of tyres.
"Ow!" a cry sounded from below. It was Gary! He was alive! "Ow, that hurt! I mean that really hurt! Someone call an ambulance! I think I've broken sixteen different bones!" There was a screech as another car drove over him. "Make that seventeen!" he yelped.
As Belthagorus cursed Middle Earth's lack of health service, a hand clasped his shoulder. He looked up to see a neat, grey faced man with neat, grey hair in a neat, grey suit. His tie had Winnie the Pooh on it.
"Mister Belthagorus Took?" he asked. Even his voice sounded neat and grey.
"Yes?" Belthagorus asked, staring at the identical looking men standing behind the man holding him.
"My eight colleagues and I represent a man who is very grieved to learn of your threats and planned attempts on his life. He requests that you meet him in person so that any disputes can be settled amicably."
"You… work for the Dark Lord? Who are you?"
"My eight colleagues and I represent a law firm: Gray, Gray, Gray, Gray, Grey, Grey, Grey, Grey and…" his mouth twisted distastefully, "Rainbow ltd."
One of the men at the back shuffled his feet and muttered, "It's not my fault my parents were hippies."
From the road below them, Belthagorus could still hear Gary's pained cries: "I think my spleen's coming out of my ears! Hello? Is anyone actually going to go and get help, or have they all forgotten me?"
"So, Mr Took, will you accept our offer?" Belchy had waited for the chance to meet and destroy the Dark Lord for… well… days. Perhaps even as long as a week. (I dunno, quests these days! They're never in for the long haul!) But as he heard a wail from the motorway as yet another car drove over his companion Gary, he knew that he couldn't desert his friend.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I can't. If there's one thing I've learnt through this adventure, it's the importance of companionship. Though our number may be small, us few, us happy few, us band of brothers-"
"A simple 'no' would have sufficed." Mr Gray interrupted. Or perhaps it was Mr Grey. "I offered you the chance of joining us willingly, but you have elected the way… of pain!"
Something heavy hit the back of Belthagorus' head, and everything went black. As he drifted into unconsciousness, he heard one of the lawyers say, "If I wasn't so grey and emotionless, I'd love this job!"
And then he knew nothing more.
End
The first thing Belthagorus knew when he woke up was that his head hurt. A lot. The second thing he knew was that he was hanging upside-down. The third thing he knew was that someone was pacing backwards and forwards in front of him. It made him feel a little dizzy. The fourth thing he knew was that armadillos are the only animal apart from humans who can get leprosy (It's never been tested whether hobbits could). Why did he think that? Who knows?
Belchy focused his vision on the feet that kept walking past him. They were wearing sandals. 'What sort of a saddo is this?' Belchy thought. The man, whoever it was, didn't appear to be wearing trousers (It was either a man, or a woman who really needed to shave her legs). Belthagorus hoped beyond hope that the man wasn't naked. Lifting his eyes to see, he was relieved to see that the man was wearing shorts.
"I hear that you are on a quest to kill me!" the man said, speaking with a slight twang.
"You… you're the Dark Lord?" Belthagorus asked with difficulty, for he was finding it hard to breathe upside down.
"If you choose to call me that, then so be it. Certainly, it is I who has brought such wonderful commerce to our land!"
Raising his head to see the man, Belchy gasped to see his face.
It wasn't Snape.
It wasn't even Voldemort.
The rain lashed down in the night, pounding as it hit the ground. A small stream of water trickled down the grassy bank. If anyone had been standing by the roadside (which of course they weren't as it was so wet), they would have seen a hand snatch at the root of a tree on the top of the bank. Gasping, wheezing, and struggling, an old man heaved himself over the sodden slope, and lay down, panting on the mud.
"It would've been nice if they could've phoned for a bloody ambulance!" he muttered. "And my clothes are filthy!" I'll have to stop off at a launderette before I do anything else!" He looked up at the distant tower of Barad Ass, and decided to have a stiff drink, too.
It was Jack Peterson.
"You?" Belthagorus said with a sharp intake of breath.
"Yes, me, Took," the Dark Lord, Peter's Heir said with a slight sneer. "Who else would have had the power to bring tourism to Middle Earth? Or a film industry? Who else could have brought civilization to your backwards, inbred hobbits? Me! That's who! Everybody loves me, because I have made the world a better place!"
"No you haven't!" Belthagorus shouted. "You've done nothing except make it a barren, commercialised dump! You think bringing McDonald's or Butlin's to Middle Earth is a good thing?"
"Belthagorus," Jack Peterson said, "I did not introduce those companies to Middle Earth… I merely held the door open."
"That's the same thing!"
"Is it? My films have brought jobs to Middle Earth as well as tourism, not to mention joy to millions." (It also brought him a hefty number of Oscars, which he wore in a belt around his waist.)
"And is that worth the rape of Middle Earth?"
The Son of Peter paused. "Yes. Yes it is."
"Shall we bites off his toeses, precious?" a voice rasped. Belthagorus turned his head, and saw Andy Circus in the shadowy corner, rocking on all fours.
"No, not yet, Andy," Peterson said. "I have a much better idea for this one."
He walked over to the window, and looked out over the plains towards Mount Happy. (Names such as 'Doom' were thought to be to dark and nasty. It just wasn't good for the tourist business.)
"A much better idea…" he repeated, grinning manically.
The old bar-keeper looked over again at the bearded gentleman sitting in the corner, though he had to shade his eyes to do so. The barman was known to his friends as Iron-Hip McGee, which he thought made him sound quite hard and dangerous, though it was actually a reference to his hip replacement. He didn't like to turn down trade, but there was something vaguely disconcerting about that man. He carried a lollypop 'stop' sign, for one thing. And he exuded a bright glow, as if he had swallowed a light bulb, and it had seeped into his skin. The man stood up and walked slowly over to Iron-Hip, resting on the stop sign like a staff as he did so.
"Another quadruple methanol, please," the stranger asked. "I need something with a real kick!"
"You're looking very… bright tonight sir, if you don't mind me saying," Iron-Hip said as he poured the drink. "You haven't err… been fighting any balrogs, perchance?"
"No actually," the dazzling old man said. "It's laundry day."
"It's a nasty business, isn't it sir?" Iron-Hip asked.
"What is?" the man asked.
"You haven't heard the news? Mount Happy's smoking again. Reckon it'll erupt soon."
"What?" the man yelled, alarming Iron-Hip. "That must mean… Belchy and the Dark Lord are there!" ('Why must it mean that?' you ask. Because for the sake of the plot it just does. Plus, Gary didn't know much of the science of volcanoes.)
He started to run out of the pub, but then ran back to the bar, paid the man, and knocked back the quadruple methanol in a single gulp.
He promptly collapsed on the floor.
Within the ominous Mount Happy, Jack Peterson was hopping from foot to foot with excitement. Andy Circus bounded after him, singing a song about his precious and eating fingers (Which, despite being pretty awful, was actually a big hit in Japan). Behind the pair of them, the Nine lawyers flanked around Belchy, who wasn't looking forward to the fiery end that he knew he was about to suffer.
"You can't do this!" Belthagorus screamed, unoriginally.
"I think you'll find that I can," the Dark Lord said gleefully. I've got the legal weight to prove that I wasn't anywhere near Mount Happy, but was purchasing a chicken in Taiwan. What's more, the Nine will convince anyone who asks that you weren't here, but were… in Taiwan, buying a rooster."
"That's what you said about yourself! Then we'd both be in Taiwan!"
"The point is, you little midgety brat," Peterson raised his voice, and his face flushed red with anger, "that I can kill you any way I want. It can be as horrific and slow as I like, so that before you die, you'll learn what happens when you cross me." His face was dark and deadly, although his scruffy hair and beard, shorts and sandals detracted from his Dark Lord style somewhat.
Belthagorus started struggling and trying to escape, but the Nine had him firmly in their grasp.
"Don't worry, young master Took!" the Son of Peter said. "I am not a monster! Your death – a brief fall into the volcano – shall be quick and relatively painless." (Though not in relation to a healthy, happy, pain-free life.) "It's the time before your death that'll be painful. My loyal yet psychotic henchman Andy will eat all your fingers and toes… and I'll film it!" He joyfully produced a camera from behind his back. "It'll be a bloodbath! It'll be a late night horror-fest spectacular!"
As Messrs Gray, Grey and Grey (respectively) held Belthagorus down on the warm rock, Andy Circus leapt towards him.
"Andy!" Belthagorus yelped in fear. "Don't do this! You're a good actor in your own right! You don't need to be Jack Peterson's CGI lackey! You can make it big on your own!"
"Nice master gives us film roles. Nasty hobbit can't make films, oh no Precious!" Circus spat, and continued advancing towards Belchy's outstretched hand.
"You don't need him!" Belthagorus cried in a panicked voice. "You can make films with other people!"
"Master's my friend!" Andy said, and then a terrible, sneering look crossed his face. "You don't have any friends! Nobody likes you!" Andy looked shocked, and put his hands over his ears. "Not listening! I'm not listening!"
Jack Peterson looked at his watch. "Oh, not again!" he muttered. "This is the sixth time today!"
"You're a liar and a thief… murderARRRRGH!" he screamed as the Dark Lord picked him up by the scruff of the neck and threw him down into the fiery volcano. Peterson sighed.
"He was a good actor, but just not worth the hassle," he explained. "And now," he said, picking Belthagorus up likewise, "you will join him!" He took a step towards the brink when a convenient Deus ex Machina turned up in the form of Gary to save the day. He wore dazzling, bright white robes, and held the lollypop stop sign menacingly.
"I SAID, YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" he roared at the Nine, who ran to meet him in battle only to get knocked off the narrow ridge by his lollypop sign.
"Is that a… lollypop man?" Peterson asked, still clutching Belchy.
"No," Belthagorus replied. "That's Gary the White. And it's a staff." And they too proceeded to fight and struggle. In the next few minutes, confusion and mindless violence reigned. Seven Messrs Grays and Greys were knocked into the heart of the volcano; Mr Rainbow ran away to join a hippy commune in Lothlorien; and soon it was just Gary the White versus Head Gray, and Belthagorus still fighting the Dark Lord. Gray had what looked like a court order that he was attempting to shove down Gary's throat. Peterson had all his weight on Belchy and was strangling him. Belchy couldn't breath. He couldn't move. He was dying, and he was helpless. A sudden glint caught his attention: an Oscar statuette on the Peterson's belt, glowing red in the lava light. He inched his hand towards the belt.
"Kindly move your hand away from my shiny little man!" Peterson said, looking shocked. In one swift movement, Belchy pulled the statuette out from the belt, and swung it full force at Peterson's head. The Dark Lord was knocked away from Belthagorus, and tottered at the edge. Suddenly, Andy Circus' head popped up behind him, from the convenient ledge that Andy had fallen on to.
"We'll show nasty master for trying to hurt poor Andy, won't we Precious?" he cawed, as he grabbed Jack Peterson, champion of Middle Earth, and hurled him down into the depths of the fiery volcano.
Suddenly, everything trembled. Gray slipped and fell down into the lava, and Belchy, Gary and Andy had to run out of the chamber for their dear lives. They could see a shockwave charge out into the distance, and a terrible sight met their eyes. Everything in the shockwave's path (that is, everything outside the volcano) was destroyed and left brown, muddy and barren.
"What's happened?" Belthagorus breathed.
"Everything's gone!" Gary said, removing the remains of the court order from his mouth. "Jack Peterson's death must have triggered some kind of ontological reaction… of course! Peterson was the champion of Middle Earth! He was bound up with it! His death has resulted in the death of… ah."
"The death of what? The death of Middle Earth?"
"Yep."
"You mean that in trying to save Middle Earth from the man who had been destroying it, we actually destroyed it by killing the man who had been sustaining it?"
"Yep."
"So everything's been destroyed?"
"Yep."
"The Shire?"
"Yep."
"Bree?"
"Yep."
"Gondor?"
"Yep."
"Rohan?"
"Yep."
"And is everyone…?"
"Yep."
There was a brief pause.
"You meant they were all dead, right?" Belchy asked.
"Yep."
Belchy searched for a suitable word.
"Oh… CRAP!"
"Yep."
A few hours later, and they were still standing there, clueless of what to do.
"I should have stayed as a lollypop man," Gary said.
Another hour of staring at the dead barren wastelands.
"Gary?" Belchy asked, "Is this a happy ending, or a sad ending? We're still alive, and we completed our quest, but destroyed all of Middle Earth in doing so."
"I don't know how this is meant to end." Gary said.
And neither did the Author, until luckily at that point, he realised how.
The next day, a helicopter appeared, buzzing like an angry hornet. It landed, and a squad of policemen jumped out and ran towards them. They handcuffed all three of them and bundled them back into the helicopter.
"You're in big trouble!" one cop said. "The Tolkien Estate is suing your arses off for damages!"
However, they were not sued, for they were merely fictional characters, and only puppets of the Author. And so, while the Author lived life on the run as a fugitive, constantly hiding from the Estate, police, and fanboys alike, the three survivors lived a happy, if slightly confused, life in the Reader's earth. Andy Circus became a famous actor. Belchy spent his days drinking and smoking in the pub. Gary became a lollypop man, until he was fired. Then he spent his days drinking and smoking in the pub with Belchy. And so it ends as it began; with a hobbit doing what he does every day – enjoying a nice cool beer and 'pipe weed' in the pub.
The End