"So Merry and Pippin are okay?" Aragorn demanded of Gandalf.

"Yes, yes, they're fine. Actually, I don't know that I can really claim that they're fine. They're being carried around by a giant tree monster who has a habit of reciting avant-garde tree poetry and squeezing too hard. But I think they'll survive, at least. Most likely."

Aragorn glared at him. "Well, that's really comforting, thanks for that. Now can you tell us where exactly you're marching us off to?"

They were stomping through Fangorn, but they stayed very close to the forest's edge just to be safe. Gimli had heard horrible rumours about people being murdered by killer trees with teeth. Legolas was chuckling merrily to himself at Gimli's facial expression of pure terror even now.

"I'm taking you with me to Rohan. Theoden King has gone bonkers, and we have to go and snap him out of it."

Aragorn groaned and massaged his forehead irritably. "Oh no, not more stupid human cities. Can't we go back to Rivendell, or Lothlorian, or Mirkwood? We haven't been to Mirkwood in ages, let's go there!"

Gimli took a moment out of staring at the trees around him in terror to grunt distastefully.

Gandalf grinned at Aragorn. "What's there to do in Mirkwood? Eat fine food, drink fine drink, listen to fine music?"

"Yeah, you're right, let's go to Rohan. Eat slop, drink slop, and listen to countless ballads about cleaning stables," Aragorn snarked. Marquis-de-Sade beneath him tossed his head in silent but merry laughter.

"Well, above all things I need a horse. I have to leave you guys again," Gandalf explained.

"Again?" whined Gimli. "How many times have you abandoned us in the middle of nowhere?"

"As I recall," snarled Gandalf, "the only time I 'abandoned' you was when I tripped and you didn't help me up in time to get away from the Balrog."

"Oh yeah," Gimli said. "Good times."

"Look!" called Legolas suddenly. "A clearing!"

Before the companions stretched a magical field of magicalness.

"Ah, this would be a marvelous place to summon forth a silver horse running in slow motion," Gandalf declared, clasping his hands together in satisfaction. He whistled magically, and from the forest galloped a silver horse. In slow motion.

"This is Shadowfax," Gandalf told them five hours later. "He is the fastest horse in the whole of Middle Earth."

"Which is of course why he runs in slow motion all the time," Aragorn said, yawning. As he stood up, he brushed the dirt off of his pants.

"Well, no, that was just to be impressive," Gandalf replied. "All right then, let's be off."

"Finally," Gimli complained, reluctantly allowing Aragorn to hoist him onto Legolas's horse. "Let's just hope your magical horse actually picks up the pace for our journey."

But Shadowfax did not seem particularly interested in demonstrating his speed. In any case, it didn't matter: Rohan was only about ten minutes away as the slow motion horse rides.

What was left of the Fellowship dismounted outside the Rohan gate.

"Okay, Gandalf, what's the plan?" asked Aragorn out of the corner of his mouth. A bunch of perpetually unamused–looking guards were glaring down at them from atop the gate.

"We go in and we reasonably reason with Theoden. Then he'll see reason," Gandalf replied, tapping the gate with a stick Treebeard had given him in place of his malfunctioning staff.

"What do you want, Gandalf Grehame?" snarled a guard.

"Oh, you know, just a little hospitality," Gandalf replied in his best "I'm an old man with scraggly legs oh won't someone take pity on me" voice.

"We were given very specific orders not to let you in," the guard snapped.

"Are you sure it wasn't very specific orders to let me in?" Gandalf suggested innocently.

"No, I'm quite sure it was not to let you in."

"I rather think it was to let me in."

"It was not to let you in."

"It must have been a misunderstanding. I'm sure your superiors meant you to let Gandalf Greyhame in, and not the other way round."

"Or maybe it was 'Not to let Gandalf Greyhame in', you know, with a bit of a different emphasis?" piped up a second guard.

"Perhaps it was 'Not to let Gandalf in'," posited a third.

"Or quite possibly 'Not to let Gandalf in'; in which case you may as well let my companions in," Gandalf suggested.

"Actually, now that I think of it, the exact words weren't 'Not to let Gandalf Greyhame in' at all, because that wouldn't make sense, would it? I think it was really 'Don't you dare let bloody Gandalf Greyhame in if you value your pathetic bloody life', right?" The first guard explained.

"Are you sure it wasn't 'Don't you dare let bloody Gandalf Greyhame in if you value your pathetic bloody life'; in which case one of the other guards might let me in, if the orders were only meant for you in particular. Perhaps your superior was worried about your ability to make me feel well at ease," Gandalf put forth, smiling at the now fuming first guard.

A fourth guard raised his hand shyly.

"Yes?" prompted Gandalf kindly.

"Maybe it was 'Don't you dare let bloody Gandalf Greyhame in', so, I mean to say, well, you're not bloody, are you? So if you're not bloody we can let you in."

"Ah, an excellent suggestion," Gandalf said, making the fourth guard beam.

"Yes, I rather think that's what Wormtongue meant," the second guard declared.

"You soft-headed dopes," the first guard snapped. "Wormtongue clearly meant, regardless of emphasis or lack thereof, that we were not to let Gandalf Greyhame in."

"Oh, we're back to this, are we?" muttered Aragorn. He exchanged irritated glances with the three horses, Legolas, and Gimli.

"But perhaps he meant that you were not to let Gandalf in at first, but after a lively debate you might just," Gandalf said cheerily.

"That might be so," the third guard agreed.

"Maybe," pondered the second guard, "It was, 'Don't you dare let bloody Gandalf Grehame in?' As in a question, as in, 'Don't you have the courage to let him in?' And that would suggest that we're meant to let him in –"

"No, you moron, then what about the rest of it?" the first guard snapped.

"What was the rest of it, then?"

"It was, 'if you value your pathetic bloody life'!"

"Maybe you missed the rest of it? He might have added, 'then you will indeed dare to let Gandalf Greyhame in'!"

"How could I have missed it, I was standing right here as he said it, and then he left!"

"Well maybe you weren't paying attention. Marigold Horsebreath was picking berries this morning out of gate, you were probably staring at her!"

"I do NOT stare at Marigold Horsebreath!"

"Yes you do! Constantly!"

"I do not!"

"Yes you do!"

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Are you sure it isn't, 'Do not' and 'Do to'?" Gandalf suggested helpfully.

"No, that wouldn't make any bloody sense, you bloody wizard!"

"I thought we had established that he isn't bloody?" the fourth guard said, looking enormously confused.

"I actually thought that what we had established was that I'm not bloody," Gandalf replied.

"Oh, yes, that's right."

"Look, it doesn't matter," shouted the first guard, red in the face, as the second guard grinned at him and made kissing noises. "Wormtongue clearly meant, when he said 'Don't you dare let bloody Gandalf Greyhame in if you value your pathetic bloody life', that we were NOT to let Gandalf Greyhame in, and that's that."

"Or maybe he meant 'Look out, there's a giant bloody rock being lobbed at your head!'" suggested Aragorn, and thereafter there was a loud THUNK, and the first guard had toppled off of his gate post.

Legolas, Gimli, and the three horses grinned.

"Hey, yeah, maybe that is what he meant!" said the third guard, looking down at the unconscious first guard.

"Mind opening the gate?" Aragorn called up to them.

"Oh, of course," the second guard said, and he unbolted it himself.

"Much obliged," Gandalf said to the guards as he and his companions passed them and continued on towards Theoden's castle.

"There, that'll show him," Sam panted.

"Sam, I thought we were tying Gollum to the rock," Frodo said, frowning.

"Yes, we were," Sam replied, frowning back.

"So… why am I tied to the rock, and why is Gollum running away screaming with the ring and all of our food?"

"Uh – I don't know, Mr. Frodo."

What was also extremely unclear was how Frodo and Sam managed to get out of their predicament and hunt down and secure Gollum and the ring once again. It was probably Sting. Being magical. And blue, sometimes.

So Gollum glared up at them. "Evil hobbitses, tying poor Gollum to a rock and thieving his precious. The rope, made by nasty elves, it burns us, tricksy hobbits, tricksy and eviiiiiil," he muttered.

"Let's just kill him," Sam suggested. "Then we'd have some meat to go with our lembas bread."

"I thought we were vegetarians," Frodo said, confused.

"What? Oh – yeah, I think I remember something about that. Well, still. We could eat him, he looks tasty."

"Nasty hobbitses, if you eats us, Gollum will scream, and scream and scream, and all of the orcses will hear us and come for the precious."

"Well, he has you there," said Frodo, much relieved to have an excuse to not eat Gollum.

"No, wait, if we kill and eat him how can he scream, Mr. Frodo?"

"He's Gollum, Sam, it's just hard to explain. Okay, Mr. Gollum. We'll just leave you tied to this rock. Goodbye."

"No, no! You are the master of the precious! You are the master of Gollum. We promise to do what you wants, we swears. Take it off us!" He thrust the rope at Frodo.

"If we untie you, you'll cut our throats in the night!" Sam bellowed. "And I'm hungry, Mr. Frodo!"

"How do we know you won't go back on your word?" Frodo asked Gollum suspiciously.

"We will swear it on the precious!" Gollum pleaded.

"The ring is treacherous, it will hold you to your word."

"Wait, what?" said Sam. "Can you say that again, but slowly?"

"The ring is treacherous," Frodo repeated slowly. "It will hold you to your word."

Sam stared at him blankly. "What?"

"It's treacherous, it will hold him to his word."

"Okay, it's treacherous, yes, I get that. I don't really know how an inanimate object can be treacherous but –"

"Really?" Frodo snapped. "Really, Sam, after all of this time and effort, after Gandalf died for this quest, you're going to question the ring's threat level?"

"I'm not saying that it's not a threat, Mr. Frodo, I'm just – yes, in Sauron's hands it's dangerous, but just on its own?"

"It talks to me, Sam, it talks to me. We've been through this."

"Frodo, that was Merry in his creepy voice. Anyway, the point is, okay, I'll give you that the ring is treacherous, but… because it's treacherous, it will hold Gollum to his word? Do these two statements really make sense to you put together?"

Frodo sighed. "Sam –"

"Mr. Frodo, I don't want to question your leadership capabilities, because you've done a great job so far, but all I'm saying is that the logic of that statement is maybe lacking a little bit."

"Sam. Gollum's run off again. With the ring and all of our food."

Sam looked around to see the former hobbit galloping away, cackling madly, ring thrust triumphantly into the sky in one skinny little fist.

"Bugger it."