FIRST HALF

"The players have entered the pitch... Dear Yavanna, I can't watch. There's hardly enough room on the field for the dragons at all, and yet the hobbits will have to run twice as far to reach the opposite goal - this is just so totally not fair-"

"Oh, shut up, Merrypus. This is how the lottery falls - sometimes the match'll be even, and sometimes, well... sometimes it won't. That's what makes things interesting. And Figglenob the Puce is stepping out into the pitch with the ball..."

"There's Bullroarer Took - facing off against the Ered Mithrin captain, Swafa the Great - forty feet from nose to tail-tip, green and scaled over in impregnable armor, except on his tender underbelly, which scrapes the ground - how MEFA can allow such a travesty, I cannot fathom..."

"For goodness' sake, don't be such a wet blanket! THIS is the sort of thing people watch this sport for!"

"The chance to see a bunch of kind and innocent hobbits get trampled to death by great waddling reptiles?"

"Yes, exactly. ...And now the ball's in play! Swafa's caught it before it even hit the ground-"

"Shire forward Jack Middleburrow weaves around the dragon's pounding feet trying to intercept-"

"-but Swafa's having none of it. He's bouncing the ball between his wing-shoulders... Is he laughing? Why, I do believe he is!"

"Oo, the nerve! This is utterly unsportsmanlike behaviour. He should be yellow-carded for taunting an opposing player!"

"You know very well there's no such penalty. Swafa's ambling downfield in no particular hurry - the hobbits are mobbing him but it doesn't look to be having any effect... except that maybe he's laughing harder..."

"Aren't you supposed to be objective in your commentary, Bret?"

"Aren't YOU, Mr Don't-Let-the-Evil-Dragons-Hurt-the-Cute-Little-Hobbits? Mr Elves-Can-Do-Nothing-Wrong? Where's YOUR objectivity?"

"Don't you start with me-"

"Swafa passes to Redgrave the Defiler, who whips the ball towards the Shire goal with his tail-"

"Missed by a mile. Serves him right."

"Is that unbiased commentary, Ath? I never knew-"

"I'm sorry, were you talking? Pogo Toadbottle throws it in, but Grigory Chubb is cut off from receiving the throw by the agile Yarma, the youngest player on the Ered Mithrin team and also the smallest at twelve feet long, who flew to catch the ball in his teeth before it could fall. And-"

"And it looks like he's popped it with his dagger-like incisors. Figglenob's called time out..."

"They're bringing in a new ball - replacing it on the ground below where Yarma's hovering - and time in!"

"The dragon swoops down and scoops up the ball, though gently this time... and it looks like he's gotten Chubb in his mouth with it!"

"Yellow card! Yellow card!"

"No, indeed, Ath, it was purely accidental, and the Puce Wizard ought to be taking that into account - which he is, being objective, unlike you..."

"Yarma's spit the hobbit out and the ball with him-"

"Both have crashed right into the goal! Grigory Chubb slams right into keeper Hambutt Weevil and bowls him over, while the ball- OH!"

"It rolled to a stop just outside the goal line! What luck for the little folk! And now Bosco Lardbottom's got it - he's driving downpitch-"

"Intercepted by Orogoth! The dragon noses the ball to Slog, who blows a huge blast of steam and-"

"-and incinerates the ball. There's the whistle again."

"This isn't an uncommon occurrence in matches involving dragon players, in particular all-dragon teams. In the last Cup Ered Mithrin managed to destroy twenty-two balls within the first ten minutes of the match, breaking the previous record of twenty-two balls in eleven minutes set in 2242. The most impressive, however, was the five hundred thirty balls ruined in a single match twelve hundred years ago in which Ered Mithrin was competing against-"

"-and play's resumed. Muggo Proudhandle has gotten the ball and is maneuvering between the dragons, who are too large to get around each other. He passes to Pondipot Longbrow, who's somehow already snuck downfield-"

"Longbrow takes a shot, but as keeper Fabord the Buttmuncher takes up the entire box, it bounces off the dragon's side. I was speaking, you know-"

"Pondipot takes another shot - no good."

"Fabord is a wingless dragon weighing over eight tons, famed more for his size than his skill. He appears to be napping at the moment."

"Longbrow passes to Proudhandle, who takes a shot - no good-"

"I don't know why they bother. The goal is entirely hidden behind Fabord's bulk. No even the crossbar is visible - shoot, not even the lines of the box are visible! But then no one's ever said too much for hobbit intelligence..."

"And is that objective, too, Bret? You can't tell me-"

"AND now the Ered Mithrin players are looking bored. Maudreg's trundling up to take the ball away..."

"Longbrow sees him and passes to Mumbo Flubb-"

"Scaum's moving to intercept him-"

"Flubb passes to Lardbottom-"

"And there's Glormor."

"Lardbottom to Grandoc Goodbutter-"

"How long is this going to go on for? I say why don't the dragons just immolate the halflings and be done with it-"

"Goodbutter to Proudhandle - that's in very bad taste, Bret."

"So? This is boring."

"So are you, but I don't go around calling for you to be burned alive, do I?"

"That's because you're boring, too. And now finally the ball's intercepted! Yarma's swept in and snatched in into his mouth once more-"

"That's got to be some sort of penalty-"

"He's reached the end of the field - Ortabong of the Massive Wings is ready-"

"Ban Butzbindle-Bundlebom leaps to intercept-"

"-but in vain, as he's three feet tall and the dragon's twenty feet in the air. Weevil's bound to have a hard time blocking this one!"

"Ortabong knocks it to Yarma, who deflects the ball down-"

"-but not down far enough. The shot sails right over the goal."

"Shire ball. You'd think the dragon players would know not to fly quite so far above their target..."

"Butzbindle-Bundlebom passes to Toadbottle, who passes to Flubb-"

"-who runs it past the oversized lizards to Pondipot Longbrow-"

"-who takes it to the box and again takes a hopelessly futile shot. You'd think the halfling players would learn not to keep kicking at an impenetrable scaly barrier..."

"Something's happening-"

"Yes, I hear it too - dragon laughter. You've never seen such amusement out of a group of monstrous reptiles as we're now wit-"

"No, no, no. They're shouting at the Buttmuncher - the Shire team, I mean. Look, I think Fabord's waking up!"

"So THAT's why the hobbits were so persistantly kicking the ball into him. Speaking of which, where's the Bullroarer been at all this time?"

"He's- uh, I don't see him. But look! The dragon keeper's gotten to his feet-"

"THERE'S the Bullroarer! He's racing like the wind out from behind Maudreg, where I guess he was hiding..."

"Fabord's still groggy - doesn't see him-"

"-but Yarma does! He swoops down-"

"-but while he's busy paying attention to Bandobras Took, Mumbo Flubb's gone and kicked the ball into the Ered Mithrin goal, right under Fabord the Buttmuncher's oversized belly!"

"NO goal! The ball is lodged between the dragon's stomach and the ground just inches outside the line!"

"And that's- MIGHTY ULMO!"

"Listeners, Fabord has just- I mean, in his grogginess, I suppose the dragon mistook the impact of the ball against his belly for- well, what I mean to say is, he was understandably startled-"

"What you mean to say is that FABORD JUST COUGHED A TEN-FOOT MASS OF FLAME AT MUMBO FLUBB."

"Well, something like that... There are medics running onto the field- fortunately all of the Shire players were instructed in Stop-Drop-and-Roll techniques for extinguishing themselves in case of one such circumstance as this, and Flubb has been rolling on the pitch for a full minute now - I think the fire's out."

"He IS still smoking..."

"What hobbit isn't? It's just as well, anyhow - the first half of the match was almost over. Looks like Figglenob's coming out to have a chat with Fabord."

"Flubb's being escorted off the pitch - don't think he'll be coming back for the remainder of the game."

"Incidentally, there's an interesting story behind how the Ered Mithrin goalie earned the epithet Buttmuncher..."

"Do we REALLY need to hear this, Bret?"

"How else should I fill the time? I expect the ref'll be arguing with the dragons for quite a while."

"About what? Burning your opponents is against the rules!"

"Well, I wouldn't be so sure about that... Anyhow, legend has it that Fabord once was fighting some kind of brave knight or something, but he was too fat to move himself off of his treasure pile, so he begged for mercy instead. The knight, being a Numenorean, was into all of that chivalry nonsense, so of course he agreed-"

"Is this story actually going anywhere?"

"Of course it is. Let me finish. Anyhow, so the knight agrees, and Fabord says, 'I'd like you to have this beautiful sword I took from Gondolin, as a sign of my gratitude. It's just there on the wall above the door.' And so the knight turns around to look at the sword. 'I don't see anything,' he says. 'Look harder,' says Fabord. And while the knight's back is turned, the dragon scoots up behind him and opens his mouth and CHOMP! No more knight!"

"You know, I really ought to have expected you to tell something so utterly idiotic... oh, but wait, I did."

"Anyhow, that's why he's called the Buttmuncher."

"Lovely. And now Figglenob's holding up - ah, it's about time! RED CARD!"

"WHAT! That was ACCIDENTAL!"

"Oh, fiddlesticks. Anyhow, that's the end of the first half. When we return, Fabord the Buttmuncher will not be watching the Ered Mithrin goal-"

"Hmph. Well, it's no score hobbits or dragons, and after these messages, we'll see whether the halflings' ridiculous luck holds or not-"

"Objective, Bret..."

"Hey, Merrypus?"

"Mmm-hmm?"

"Shut up."