Bilbo was sitting inside on the floor, playing tea party with his collection of Barbies and My Little Ponies.
"Oy! Bilbo!" Gandalf called, dropping Frodo on the ground.
"Uhn!" he moaned, tenderly holding his ankle, which was swelled up and purplish.
"Ah, Gandalf! DO come in! I was wondering, do you have that last Barbie doll? It's the Strawberry Slut-Cake one.." Bilbo muttered, setting down his toys.
"Oh shut up, you fruitcake, and listen to me. We have three problems now, thanks to you." Gandalf said grumpily, sitting down.
"And what's that?" Bilbo asked, sucking hard on his juice box.
"One, that evil Gumball I mentioned earlier. Two, that fool of a Took blew Frodo up again. And three, I'm a little worried about your fetish for Barbie dolls."
"How is Frodo's being blown up my fault?" inquired Bilbo, looking around with a blank and somewhat stupid look on his face.
"Fool of a Baggins." muttered Gandalf, annoyed. "Just shut up and let me talk, or I'll be forced to shove my staff up your ass and turn you into a sandwich." He wiggled his fingers in the air and made a grotesque face, like a four year old.
Bilbo let out a loud gasp and clutched his rear. "No, no, of course that would never do.. Bilbo flavored sandwich, who'd eat it?"
Frodo raised his hand. "Pippin would." he offered. "Or Merry."
"I don't want them to eat my delicious soul!" Bilbo squeaked.
Gandalf lowered his staff.
"Fine, then.. so, explain to me once more, WHY are you playing with Barbie Dolls again?" he asked.
"Because they're pretty!" Nevermind the fact that one of them looked like she could eat a trailer.
"Fair enough." Gandalf sighed, defeated. "Someone get him an apron, maybe we can have us a nice little housewife."
"Maybe we can have us a nice little Bilbo loaf, too." Samwise Gamgee hinted from behind the windowsill.
Gandalf immediately turned and directed his rage at Sam. "How many times have I told you about SNEAKING AROUND ON PEOPLE LIKE THIS?" he threatened, snippets of malevolent green lettuce sparking from the end of his staff. One floated lazily to the sill and latched itself to Sam's nose.
Sam cowered and began frantically swatting at the lettuce hanging off his nose. "It wasn't my fault! I wasn't sneaking, I was overhearing!" He brandished a pair of garden shears. Never mind the fact that the trees he was pruning belonged to his fat aunt Margaret who resided at the other side of town.
Gandalf switched his gaze from the comical view of Sam swatting at the lettuce hanging persistently from Sam's nose, wondering briefly if it would spawn some kind of emotionless clone of the fat little hobbit, to the trees that were several households away, and back again. Sighing, he threw aside his staff and the little piece of lettuce floated away in the gentle breeze.
"Well, if you have to act like a nosy old grandmother," he said sternly. "How much have you heard?"
"Enough to want to stay away from him," said Sam, looking nervously at Bilbo. Bilbo was playing with his Barbies again. One of them was now called Butch, and the other was called Rosie, and they were having a passionate plastic lesbian affair in Bilbo's wrinkly old man hands.
Nasty.
"What about the one Gumball that's going to take over all of humanity?" Frodo asked innocently.
Gandalf pointed his staff at Frodo and blew another hole in his head in a very nonchalant manner. "That's settled then, you know too much and you're coming with us!"
"We can have a tea party together!" Bilbo said ecstatically, abandoning Butch and Rosie in order to pop up from behind Sam and scare the living hell out of him.
Sam screamed like a girl and jumped out of Bilbo's way, smacking his head on the doorframe and falling down half-unconscious.
"What, we're leaving now?" Pippin whined from the kitchen. "I don't have time to get my fourth supper!"
"Oh, I'm sure we'll find some maniacal ranger who'll be happy to harvest the local fruits and throw them at you for your fifty-seventh breakfast next morning," Gandalf said, his voice heavy with annoyance.
Loading up Sam's pony Brianna (nicknamed "Bill" by those who thought no horse should have to bear the name "Brianna") they headed off deep into the woods.
"Why are we going this far?" Frodo complained, nursing the bleeding hole in his head that he had managed to wrap up with Band-Aids. "The road we're taking's just over there!"
"Because we can!" said Gandalf, who was looking quite pleased at himself for forcing a long walk on a handful of lazy hobbits and an unfortunately named girl pony.
Bilbo had tagged along, and was tripping over his pretty dress and forcing them to all stop whenever Butch and Rosie decided they needed more plastic lesbian action. Dirty old pervert.
And worst of all, Pippin was still hungry.
Once they were pretty much lost in the heart of the woods, with Bilbo whining about how his heart was going to give out and his dolls weren't getting enough lesbian action, Gandalf stopped and turned to face them all.
"Now, listen." he dropped his voice to a whisper. "I have some very special business to take care of, so I need my homies -- you guys -- to get to the Inn of the Prancing Pony."
"Pony!" squeaked Merry, clapping his hands.
"Yeah, right. Anyway, keep it secret. Keep it safe. And never, ever put that Gumball in your mouth, no matter how tasty it may look and no matter how hungry you may get. For the moment the Gumball touches your lips, you will have a half-life. A cursed life."
"Wrong movie, dude." Sam reminded him.
"Then how do you explain THIS?" Gandalf asked, flaunting his left hand. "Tragic, limp, dead."
"It looks completely normal, dumbass." replied Sam.
"That's Dumbleass to you!" Gandalf was obviously out of his damn tree.
"Can I eat it?" Pippin asked, his eyes glazed over and staring at Gandalf's hand with the sort of lust that hobbits reserved for their meals.
Gandalf went to deny Pippin his piggish desire, but a sly smirk crossed his face. "Sure, go ahead."
Pippin took an eager bite at Gandalf's hand, then pulled back, spitting out skin. He stood there for a moment, and then fell to his knees, screaming, "It was my fault! Make it stop! KILL ME!"
"Shut the hell up, you twit." Merry kicked him, and Pippin, after he realized he had not, in fact, drank some kind of poisoned liquid.
"I want a drink." Pippin whined, getting to his feet and wiping his mouth.
"So get to Bree and get a pint! Now, off with you! I have to go see Hugo-- I mean, Elrond."
Twirling gracefully on the spot, Dumbleass-- I mean, Gandalf, vanished into thin air with a sharp crack.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
a/n: So, that was definitely half of the original chapter three and half new stuff Sweet Daddy D and I wrote today. I love that my writing hasn't gotten any more mature or intelligent since I was thirteen.