Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings and I don't own "Survivor".

Special Thanks: At this time, I'd like to thank my biggest inspiration, Mina! You never really did anything, but I always felt inspired around you! Just kidding. I'd like to thank Mina for giving me ideas, especially with the Dysfunctional Dorks when I got stuck. Oh yeah, and I'd also like to thank Mina for the whole thing about Gandalf and the Eagles thing. I forgot to do that the last time and Mina'd skin me alive if I forgot it this time. Again, just kidding. Anyways, thanks for always being there, Mina!

(blah) – Announcer talking

(Announcer: Welcome back to Stranded! While you've been gone, our contestants have decided to make groups. (pouts) Why did they have to make groups?! Anyway, the groups are…The Ringbearers (Frodo, Sam, and Bilbo), The Food-seekers (Merry, Pippin, and Gimli), The Hobbit-Haters (Sauron and Bob), The King of the Island (Aragorn), The Nitwit (Gandalf ), and The Dysfunctional Dorks (Faramir, Boromir, and Denethor). Let's see how these odd pairs were made…)

The Ringbearers (Frodo, Sam, and Bilbo)

"Alright," Frodo said, holding Bilbo's hand so that the peevish old Hobbit would not wander off, "you'd better stick with me, Bilbo. The wilderness is no place for a hundred-something year old hobbit. You probably can't see a thing."

"What was that, Grace?" Bilbo said.

Frodo sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you, Uncle? I'M NOT YOUR EX-GIRLFRIEND!!!"

"What was that? Grace, would you massage my bunions?" Bilbo asked, holding up his thoroughly dirty foot.

Frodo wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Ugh! Bilbo, don't you ever wash your feet?"

"What!" Bilbo yelled.

"Oi, Mr. Frodo!" Sam said, walking up to Frodo. "You thinking 'bout forming a team?"

"Yes, Sam." Frodo responded. "I'm going to take care of Bilbo. I think he'd die if I left him to fend for himself."

"Oh, terrific, then! You won't mind if I join you, right?" Sam asked.

"Um…" Frodo thought for a moment.

"Please?" Sam assumed the pleading position on his knees and sticking out his lower lip.

"Well…" Frodo said, still thinking.

"Please, please, please with taters on top!" Sam pleaded.

"I don't know..." Frodo said.

"Oh, come on! It can't be that hard to decide whether you want your Sam with you or not!"

"…Fine… You can join us." Frodo said indifferently.

"What!" Bilbo yelled.

"What should we call ourselves, then?" Sam asked.

"Well, I was thinking about calling Bilbo and me The Useless Hobbits, The Misfit Midgets, or The Ringbearers. Now that you're with us, we can't be called The Ringbearers, which was the one I was leaning towards, because you never bore a ring." Frodo said.

"Now don't be sayin' such things, Mr. Frodo. Don't you remember that I took the Ring for a while after Shelob?"

At the sound of Shelob's name, Frodo threw himself to the ground and began to twitch. "Her name! It burns us, precious!" Frodo yelled, sounding like Gollum. After a few seconds, he got back up and said, "Sorry, Sam, just had to get that out of my system. Very well, we shall be The Ringbearers!"

"What!" Bilbo yelled.

The Food-seekers (Merry, Pippin, and Gimli)

"Merry!" Pippin said.

"What is it this time, Pip?" Merry responded in a slightly irritated voice.

"I'm hungry!"

"Well, so am I, Pip! I missed second breakfast and all I had for breakfast were ten pancakes, five waffles, seven pieces of bacon, and a chocolate muffin with nuts in it!"

"Really? That's it? Well, for breakfast, I had a large bacon, cheese, and tater omlette, a large pizza, a croissant, ten dozen apples, an apple cinnamon muffin, ten chocolate chip pancakes…" Pippin paused to take a deep breath, "…and four pieces of Lembas bread!"

Gimli walked up to the two Hobbits. "That was your breakfasts, young hobbits? Ugh, I wish I could've been as fortunate. Since I was going sailing with Legolas, I only had a small meal, which was one bite out of my beloved salted pork! I would've had more, but you know what sailing does to my stomach, I…"

"WHOA!" The two Hobbits exclaimed. "Gimli, that's a little too much information!"

"All right then…" Gimli said, pouting. He really wanted to talk to someone about what sailing did to his stomach.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence between the three, who looked around awkwardly. Then, their stomachs rumbled in unison to break the silence.

"Hey, I have an idea!" Pippin said. "We all want food, right?"

"Right!" Merry and Gimli said.

"So, let's team up together and find some food!" Pippin exclaimed.

"…like apples!" Merry exclaimed.

"…or salted pork!" Gimli bellowed with joy.

"…or apple cinnamon muffins!" Pippin said, receiving a stare from the other two. "What?" He asked.

"And where are you going to find those, Pip?" Merry asked. "Apple cinnamon muffins don't grow on trees, you know!"

"Well, neither does salted pork!" Pippin retorted. "Besides, I like apple cinnamon muffins." Pippin's gaze grew wistful. "The apple makes it refreshingly crunchy while the cinnamon makes it deliciously soft!"

"Yeah…" Merry and Gimli said, wistfully thinking back on the last time they had apple cinnamon muffins.

"So, from now on, we shall be known as The Food-seekers!" Pippin exclaimed.

"Yeah!" The other two Food-seekers agreed.

The Hobbit-Haters (Sauron and Bob)

Sauron grabbed Bob's hand. "You're teaming up with me!" He hissed. "Together, we can conquer anything! First, this game. Then, the world! Bwahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

Bob sighed. "Yes, Master." He said in a bummed voice. Obviously he had no choice in the matter.

"Excellent." Sauron said, rubbing his hands together in glee. "We shall be the Hobbit-Haters and we shall hate Hobbits, for that is what we do as Hobbit-Haters! First, we shall get rid of that pesky Hobbit, you know, the one who destroyed the Ring and our chances of world conquest. Then, well, we'll play it by ear…"

"Sure, whatever floats your boat." Bob said indifferently. Then his tone changed to be slightly sarcastic. "I mean, after all, I am your slave for eternity, and it's not like I have anything else better to do."

"Exactly!" Sauron said, not knowing the definition of 'sarcasm'. "So, come, my minion! Let us destroy the Hobbits!"

Bob sighed and grumbled something about his master being a nitwit, but when Sauron looked behind his shoulder, Bob perked up and pretended to be enthusiastic.

The King of the Island (Aragorn)

Aragorn looked at the other stranded contestants to find someone he could pair up with. Frodo, Sam, and Bilbo seemed to have made a team and were chatting off in one part of the beach. Gimli, Merry, and Pippin also seemed to have teamed up and were walking off into the jungle, probably to find some food. Sauron was dragging Bob around, looking for a good spot where they could spy on Frodo, Sam, and Bilbo.

He could take his Steward, Faramir, but Faramir looked like he had other plans. Considering that they were both Rangers, they could have been a formidable pair. Oh well…

He surveyed his other choices for an alliance. Boromir… nah, he'd probably go with Faramir and Denethor. Aragorn had no wish to be with the former Steward of Gondor, also known fondly as Crazy. So that ruled Boromir and Faramir out. Denethor wasn't even on the radar screen.

So, who was left…? He saw Gandalf standing all by himself on the beach. "Not even if my life depended on it." Aragorn muttered.

Nobody else was left. But that didn't matter. He was a Ranger and King of Gondor! He could do anything! "And soon, I shall be King of this Island!" Aragorn said, psyching himself up for the challenge. "I'm easily going to win! Hmm…" He thought to himself. "King of the Island… I like it! That shall be the name of my one-person team!"

He walked off proudly to set up the necessary things to begin his 'conquest'.

The Nitwit (Gandalf)

Gandalf stood on the beach, alone. He ran his fingers through his white beard. He needed a partner, someone skilled in the arts of survival. Everybody except for Faramir, Boromir, Denethor, and Aragorn had made alliances. He automatically ruled Denethor and Boromir out. Denethor because odds are that if he made an alliance with that man, he would be killed sometime during their first night on the island. He ruled Boromir out because… well, he just didn't really like him. So that left Faramir and Aragorn.

Gandalf tried Aragorn first. As soon as he got within a few footsteps from Aragorn, he turned around and said to Gandalf, "Not even if you paid me, Nitwit."

Gandalf sighed and trudged over to Faramir and said, "I don't suppose you would want to…"

Faramir held up his hand. "If I had to choose between you and Crazy…" He said gesturing over to Denethor. Gandalf looked excited, thinking that he would finally get a lackey, I mean, partner. "…I'd pick Crazy." Faramir continued. "And that's saying a lot."

"I hate you Faramir!" Denethor yelled from where he was standing.

Faramir sighed. "I know." He muttered.

"Fine, I don't need you anyway!" Gandalf yelled at Faramir, backing away from Faramir, still facing him. "I'm Gandalf the White! With my magic, I can do anything!" He assumed a proud pose. "Anything!" He turned on his heel and then tripped on his robes, receiving a face full of sand.

Faramir shook his head in disgust. "Nitwit." He muttered and walked away.

The Dysfunctional Dorks (Faramir, Boromir, and Denethor)

Faramir, after calling Gandalf a Nitwit, walked over to Boromir and pulled him aside before Denethor could.

"Please, Boromir!" He said. "You have to protect me!"

"From what, Faramir?" Boromir asked, raising his eyebrows.

Faramir looked around to make sure nobody was listening. "The squirrels." He whispered.

"The squirrels." Boromir reiterated in disbelief. "You want me to protect you from squirrels."

Faramir nodded, childishly. "Yes, the squirrels. They're after me, brother!" He said, grabbing Boromir's shirt sleeve.

"Faramir," Boromir said, shaking Faramir off, "you're thirty-eight years old, you're married, you're Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien and the White Tower, you're married, you're Steward of Gondor and one of the closest advisors to the King, you're married, you've faced and survived tons of perils when I did not, you're married, you live in the forest, and you're married. So, why do you need me to protect you from… squirrels?"

"You said 'married' five times."

"So? It's five times as scary as all those other things. Ever wonder why I never did want to marry?"

"Oh…"

"Anyway, you didn't answer my question."

"Remember when I was three? And I was feeding squirrels in Minas Tirith? And then a rabid one attacked me? Remember?"

Boromir nodded.

"So then you remember that you and mom had to chase it away and then Dad had to sic the entire GAC (1) on that one squirrel?" He shuddered in remembrance.

"Oh, for pity's sake, you were three! Let it go! Look, I'm more than happy to pair up with you, but if we're going to be a team, you've got to forget your phobia of squirrels!"

Faramir nodded. "I'll try."

At that moment, Denethor came up to Boromir and said, "Son, we're making an alliance." He locked his arm with Boromir's.

"Uh…" Boromir said.

"Oh, come on, it's not like you made an alliance with somebody else already!" Denethor said.

"Uh…" Boromir couldn't think of anything to say without causing a disaster.

"Don't tell me you're with him." Denethor leered at Faramir.

"Actually…" Boromir started.

"Very well, son, if you wish to be paired with…" Denethor paused to give Faramir a death glare. "… him, I shall put up with it to be with you."

"Gee, how generous." Boromir said sarcastically.

"I know, aren't I?" Denethor, also not knowing the meaning of 'sarcasm', said.

Boromir sighed and smacked his forehead, shaking his head.

"Well, if we're a team, we should probably set up some shelter first." Faramir suggested.

"Good idea, Faramir!" Boromir said. "That way we can be protected from the elements!"

"No," Faramir said, "that's a silly reason! We're doing it to protect ourselves from the squirrels!"

Boromir sighed. "If you say so…"

(Announcer: What a bunch of Dysfunctional Dorks!)

Faramir, Boromir, and Denethor glared up at the invisible voice in the sky and simultaneously said, "Hey!"

(Announcer: Hehehe. That's actually kind of catchy! So be it! You shall be the Dysfunctional Dorks!)

"We are not dysfunctional! Or dorks!" They all yelled in unison.

"I hate you, Faramir." Denethor said.

"I know." Faramir replied, shoulders sagging, accepting the fact.

"Well, at least we're not dorks!" Boromir said, trying to maintain a positive note.

(Announcer: Next time on Stranded, the first elimination occurs! Who will go? Will it be a Ringbearer, a Food-seeker, The King of the Island, The Nitwit, or a Dysfunctional Dork? Find out when we return!)

(1) – The GAC is the Gondorian Animal Control. It's in another story (The Downside to Being Steward) that I co-authored with Mina-chan AMD and I just had to put it in! XD

Another side-note for future chapters: People do not get eliminated automatically if someone in their team does. It's more like a loose alliance of mutual standing of each other than an actual team.

Nari: So, what did you guys think? Good, bad, so terribly awful that you wanted to silence me with a giant shovel? Tell me! At this time I would like to thank all of the awesome people who reviewed for the first chapter! You rock! Also, if you like this story, you may want to try "The Downside to Being Steward" written under Mina-chan AMD's pen-name. It's hysterical! Anyways, I rant, again! Please leave lots of reviews!