Gandalf found himself standing before Saruman with his five new companions who were increasingly annoying. Saruman had just finished explaining that the Eye of Sauron sees all, but the only thing that came to the companion's heads were thoughts of perversion.

"Maybe Sauron is a Peeping Tom," Mark once said, "and his gaze is piercing through clouds, shadow, earth and walls of some young, fresh girls' bathing room right as we speak!" He looked at Saruman, totally pleased with himself and the idea he came up with, nodding his head approvingly. Saruman nodded his head at the pathetic Human and bowed it. "You know of what I speak, Saruman" Mark mocked. "The Eye of Naked Chicks!"

"That is so lame," Howie said.

"That is unlikely," Saruman said darkly. "He has matters of importance to see to!" At once, the five boys looked to Saruman as if suddenly aware of the evil deeds he has done. All but Vince was queued off. He had other thoughts in mind. Gandalf rolled his eyes and approached Saruman.

"You have seen this? How?"

"The…"

"Hey, Saru-dude, could you like, twirl me through the air?" Saruman looked to Howie like he wanted to sew his lips shut with his own veins.

"How dare you interrupt me, you insolent fool!" He looked back to Gandalf, utterly stressed out. "Why? Why should we fear to use it?"

"Use what?" Gandalf said.

"Oh, um, right. The Palantíri."

"The Palantír is dangerous. Anyone could be watching. What if Sauron is using it now to watch us?"

"He's not, der! I put this dark, black cloth on it that I got at the Shop for Evil Wizards."

"Oh. I guess it's ok, then. Just don't let the Hobbits touch it," Gandalf said, patting the top of the Palantír through the dark cloth. He connected with it upon contact, seeing the Eye of Sauron watching them, and when the vision broke, he looked to Saruman as if he was becoming aware that he was on the wrong team, and that something was utterly wrong.

"There are Ringwraiths looking for the ring. They went to the Shire. They're going to kill the guy who carries the One Ring," Saruman said with disinterest.

"Frodo!" Gandalf called. He marched to the door, but Mark walked before him and interrupted.

"Hey, um, didn't Frodo already leave the Shire? This storyline is messed up! And anyways, I would really like to be twirled through the air right now! So common, please, please, please, please, please?" Mark said. Saruman got so upset with him that he set four of the boys, Alex, Vince, Braden and Mark on fire and twirled them through the air. Thrilled, Braden grinned and called in glory:

"I'm just like Denethor! I'm just like Denethoooooor!" he cried as he faded to the heights of the room. Gandalf watched in horror and made for the doors, all which closed before he could near them. Gandalf glared at Saruman who stood and approached him with his staff. The boys landed one-by-one behind him, burning until Saruman stopped before Gandalf with a black look in his eye.

"Join me, rule by Sauron's side, it is the only way to survive in the world that will be," he said.

"Tell me, friend, when did Saruman the Wise reason for maggots?"

"Roaches! God! You smoke the stuff and yet you can't get the terminology right."

"It's not the best stuff, but hand it over! You still owe me from the Wizard Brawl 1889 of the Third Age!"

"No! Because you owed me from the Beach Party Madness Of The Ainur 1769 of the Third Age and then the Rise Of The Wise party of year 1000 of the Third Age! And you kissed my crush, you traitor!"

"She never loved you!"

"Die!" Saruman finally cried, spinning Gandalf to the ceiling. Saruman sighed. "This is overdone. I'll torture you until you decide to join me. Then if that's not enough," he bellowed into the heights of the room, "I'll stick you on the roof to think things through in the cold, dark of night. And I'll make it rain."

"Do your worst!" Gandalf challenged. Howie walked back into the room with a coke and watched with his mouth gaping as Gandalf spun higher and higher into the endless ceiling, and the bodies of his four charred companions on the ground.

"Dude, they're roasted!"

"And if you do not agree to serve me, you shall be next!" Saruman belted over his shoulder. Howie raised his hands.

"Okay, dude, chill out, I was just observing the scene," he said smoothly, waving his hand tranquilly through the air as if to help express that the sight before him was poetic. He sipped his coke and looked up, listening to the cries of Gandalf. "That poor bastard," he said indifferently, nodding his head.

Later, Aragorn and co. found themselves East of Bree, at the southern end of the Weather Hills. Aragorn paused before the sight and put his hand over his heart.

"This was the great Tower of Amon Sûl."

"Just call it Weathertop like everyone else," Kim said. "Or at least learn to use names in common, god!" She had long, brown hair and dark brown eyes, and had far too much energy for a girl of 23 years of age. Aragorn raised his eyebrows and sighed.

"This tower was destroyed years ago, and once carried one of the Palantíri, the stones of seeing."

"Really? That's awesome!" Melany said.

"Yeah, thanks for the wonderful tour, can we please just keep heading to Rivendell?" said Kim.

"No one asked you to join me, you came on your own will. Anyways, we need to spend the night here."

"God, I'm sick of sleeping outside and roughing it all the time!"

"Melany," Angela said bluntly. "He's a ranger. He practically always lives outside. If you're going to be with him, you're always going to be roughing it."

"Wasn't it the Palantír?" Adam said. Aragorn turned in a way that made everyone but the Hobbits swoon, and his hair fell in a cascade of wet strands of hair. Adam tried hard not to blush.

"Adding an i makes it plural," Kim sighed impatiently. "If you're going to get along in this world, you might want to brush up on some of their languages," she said with her nose in the air.

"But you just got mad at Aragorn for not using common!" All the girls and Adam glared at her as she walked by and passed Aragorn, making her way to Weathertop.

Once there, Aragorn settled everyone there and intended to ditch them for some well-deserved free time, where he could be away from all those moonstruck girls. As they all laid themselves to rest, he approached the Hobbits and dropped a bag of swords.

"These are for you," he said.

"Oh, great, what does that mean?" Sam said.

"Personally, our stats are better for throwing rocks," Pippin said.

"I'm going to take a look around. Stay here," Aragorn said.

"Oh, I'll come with you!" one of the girls said.

"No, me too!" said another.

"Don't leave us here with the Hobbits!" The girls pleaded. Frodo looked to Sam and bowed his head down.

"We had Fangirls in the Shire, but they left because of our height," Frodo said softly.

"Or we'd lose them to our comforting lifestyle, once they got sick of us. Never paid us much attention afterwards," Sam nodded. "All they do is smoke and eat all day, and throw parties without giving away gifts."

"Nay!" Aragorn hushed. The Hobbits looked over only to see swarms of fangirls trying to be near Aragorn, who stood helplessly as they reached for him, trying to cling onto his clothing so as to not leave without them. "Ai, you cannot be controlled, so you may come," he sighed. "But you must be very quiet. Our presence here must go unnoticed."

"Very well, Aragorn, my sweet love," Melany said in a sigh. Many other girls suddenly called him their love, and Aragorn rolled his eyes as he walked past them and whirled his arms around to detach himself from many female hands. Frodo and the others looked from poor Aragorn and went to sleep.

Frodo woke up, his senses disturbed. Something was off. Something to be concerned about. When he turned to see what was going on, he noticed his Hobbit friends were talking giddily and loudly, hyper as ever. They were cooking a midnight snack over a fire, not even trying to be quiet and no effort was there to keep the fire small and inconspicuous. Frodo stood and stomped out the fire with his large, hairy foot.

"Put it out, you fools, put it out!" he exclaimed. "God damn it!"

"What are you doing?" Pippin asked.

"If that doesn't get the attention of the bloody Nazgûl, we're lucky!" Frodo said bitterly. He raised his head suddenly, still hearing tons of ruckus. "Damn, what's making all that noise?" he panicked. "We have to stop it! Hurry!" he cried in a hush. He looked over onto the rock layer above them, surprised to see a large circle of hippies singing love songs, one old man playing a guitar, tons of youths banging on drums and a huge bonfire in the middle of them all. One girl was really tripped out and was performing interpretive dance in the most bizarre way imaginable. Furious, Frodo suddenly reached for a large, spiked mace that should have been way too heavy for him to lift, and he started charging towards them like a madman! Luckily (for the hippies), Sam was thinking quickly and caught up to Frodo and held him back. Frodo kept waving his large mace around, his face contorted into an intense expression of anger and kicking around as Sam held him in place… a little too closely.

"No, Frodo, no!" Sam said desperately.

"Those hippies! Damn those hippies!"

"No, Frodo! Let the Nazgûl get them! Let the Nazgûl… get them…" he said as they both calmed down. "We've got to get out of here, Mr. Frodo… before it's too late!"

"Sam…" Frodo said, as a creepy look washed over his face.

"Yes…?" Sam said, holding Frodo closer.

"Hands! Hands!" Frodo said suddenly, jumping from Sam. "Watch the hands!" Sam nodded off innocently and they all turned their heads in surprise as the cry of the Nazgûl was heard from the bottom of Weathertop. They all leaned over, watching the Black Riders near them. Outraged, Frodo raised his mace and hesitated for the hippies, but Sam grabbed his arm and Frodo looked towards their escape, glanced back at the hippies, cursed something in the black tongue and ran off, throwing the mace behind him.