The hobbits trudged and bitched and eventually they came to the Prancing Pony. They all shuffled their feet outside and avoided going inside for as long as possible, because they didn't want to get carded and left boozeless without Gandalf, but alas, Gandalf was off doing questionable things with an elf that had scary Vulcan eyebrows and looked like he could turn you to stone by looking at you the wrong way. Kazam.
Finally, Pippin shrugged and ran inside, on the reasoning that he needed booze and he needed food and he needed it now. The others followed him, on the reasoning that they were largely wimps and couldn't go in unless someone else did first.
The hobbits got themselves settled into a table in the corner with a large pitcher of ale and several mugs, and a plate of random foods including lemon drops and edelweiss. As they ate and got properly shitfaced, Pippin noticed a man in the corner. Well, a schwa-type man. One that was normal-sized.
"Hey, there's a guy over there staring at us."
"Maybe he likes you, Pip." Frodo hiccuped, giggling.
"Shut up, you one-eyed pile of shit." Pippin sulked, throwing a lemon drop at Frodo and hitting him square in the eye.
"The pile of shit has a THOUSAND eyes!" Frodo retorted, reaching over and bitch-slapping him.
As they continued to bicker and hurt each other, Pippin began to get rather munchy, as he always did when he was toasted. He glanced disdainfully at the remaining lemon drops and edelweiss, and decided he would have none of that nonsense.
Digging around in Frodo's coat pocket, he found some leftover cigarettes and a few balls of lint, but nothing else.
And then his fingers closed around something about the size of a peanut... something that felt smooth and fresh and slightly squishy to the touch...
The One Gumball.
One lick won't hurt... Pippin said to himself, and popped the Gumball into his mouth.
It took about three seconds before there was a bloodcurdling screech that shattered the windows and made everyone go quiet.
Just then, the door to the Inn was destroyed, as nine Wraiths burst through the door. They were tall and menacing with their black horses. And they were all wearing Guy Fawkes masks.
The barman, with a look of terror, dove behind the counter with a shout of, "HOLY SHIT, IT'S GAY MAN!"
"Freddie Mercury?!" shouted the man, looking around in frantic excitement. One of the more properly moustachio'd Wraiths looked flattered, and then composed itself and killed the dumbass who apparently overlooked the cloak and the sense of impending DOOM.
The schwa man in the corner sprang to his feet and an oooOoooOoo scary peanut Patronus erupted from the end of the skinny little stick he had under his robe, but then he realized that he wasn't a damn wizard and Patronuses didn't exist and that the stick was just useless. The peanut deflated and sadly poofed away.
The Freddie Mercury/Gay Man leader of the Wraiths looked fazed for a moment, before snapping his fingers.
One of the other Wraiths came forward and seized Schwa-Man, and took him over to undergo agonizing torture of cosmetics, while the head Wraith went over to Pippin.
"Who is the dumbass who has put in his mouth the One Gumball?" he thundered, trying to look terrifying. But a happy smiling mask isn't something to be afraid of, unless it is in danger of being kissed by a dirty bald lesbian.
Pippin pointed automatically to Merry, who pointed to Sam, who pointed to Frodo, who pointed to Bilbo, who was playing with his dollies and was completely oblivious to the whole thing.
"You never shall lick the One Gumball again!" said the smiling mask. It smited Bilbo, and all that remained now was a meatloaf sandwich sitting in Bilbo's chair, that had some malevolent-looking lettuce bits poking out the sides. It looked suspiciously like Bilbo. Pippin secretly rejoiced.
"He can never again violate the greatness of the One Gumball with his dirty old pervert tongue!" thundered the smiling mask. With that, he turned on his high heel and headed for the door, snapping his fingers for his henchman who was still torturing Schwa-Man. "Shannon! Get your smiley-face ass over here!"
Growling, Shannon dropped Schwa-Man, who fell to the floor and began twitching, and headed for the door. With a clap of thunder that appeared from nowhere, the Wraiths disappeared.
The hobbits recovered and stopped cowering behind chairs like the little wimps that they were, and they cautiously approached Schwa-Man to see if he was alive and okay.
Well, except for Pippin. Pippin lifted Bilbo from his chair, shoved him in his mouth, and stalked off after the other hobbits.
Merry skipped over to Schwa-Man and prodded him with one filthy toe. "Are you—" he began, but Schwa-Man leapt to his feet and cowered in disgust before he could finish.
"I'm fine, keep your feet away from me!" he snarled.
"Schwa-Man?" Sam asked tentatively.
"What the hell does that mean?" came the curiously angry reply.
"That's you, dude." Frodo pointed out helpfully. "You're Schwa-Man."
"I'm Schwa-Man?" Schwa-Man poked himself, to make sure Frodo wasn't talking to someone behind him.
"Yep." Frodo pronounced happily.
Schwa-Man seemed as if he were going to protest, but shrugged and nodded. "Whatever. It's better than my real name, anyhow."
"Whazzat?" Pippin asked through a mouthful of Bilbo.
"Leslie."
Pippin spat, coughed and began laughing; a good-sized chunk of Bilbo flew across the room and splat on the wall loudly.
"Yeah, I know," Leslie replied, looking disgruntled. "So Schwa-Man it is, then?"
The hobbits all looked at each other again, and Frodo whispered loudly, "Leslie?" They all lost it and fell on the floor laughing.
Schwa-Man kicked Frodo in the face and he began bleeding profusely from the scape of band-aids covering the enormous hole in his face.
"That hurt, damn it!" Frodo swore, trying to push a Band-Aid soaked with blood back into the hole on his head.
"Don't call me Leslie." Schwa-Man said, grinning slightly at the way the light-brown floor of the Inn was turning maroon with Frodo's blood.
Just then, a loud, amplified voice echoed around the room. "In light of our brave escape from those Wraiths, I declare a celebration!"
A loud cheer went up around the room.
"… with FIVE dinners instead of FOUR!"
The cheer rose to a deafening roar that could have shattered the windows.
"And to accompany our pigfest, with his charming voice and wise words of wisdom, I give you..."
Just then, there was a loud crack!
"… Lord Elrond!"
"HAPPY HOUR WITH ELROND?" Frodo shouted disbelievingly.
A loud, pimping bass-line ripped through the room, and Elrond began shaking his pelvis in ways that you don't even want to imagine. His deep voice tore through the atmosphere, which was as awkward and tense as said pelvis-shaking was.
"You don't have to be beautiful to turn me on
I just need your body baby, from dusk till dawn
You don't need experience to turn me on
Just leave it all up to me, I'm gonna show you what it's all about"
Everyone was cringing and trying to make their way to the door, but Elrond seemed quite oblivious and kept putting on his show. His tight leather pants showed every ripple and every bulge in his thighs, and retching was heard in the back of the room somewhere.
"You don't have to be rich to be my girl,
You don't have to be cool to rule my world
Ain't no particular side I'm more compatible with," he sang, making googly eyes at Frodo who cringed and hid his face in Sam's cloak, and then Elrond slid across the slick floor on his knees for the last line.
"I just want your extra time and your kiss!"
He smooched the microphone loudly and wetly. Looking around expectantly, he raised his Vulcan eyebrows suggestively around the room.
A hundred pairs of scarred eyes gazed back at him. The room was as good as dead, anyway.
...
a/n: That was awesome. I love how productive our Friday nights are. Also, poor Leslie.