The Family Business

Haldir had expected all sorts of preposterous shenanigans at the very first meeting of the Frodo Baggins Admirers Club, but he hadn't expected Saruman, of all people, to come knocking at the door. "What in the name of the almighty lembas bread combo meal are you doing here?" Haldir demanded coolly, refusing to act flustered. "I believe the old codger convention is being held the next street over."

"There is a club meeting here, is there not?"asked Saruman, raising an eyebrow almost as condescendingly as Haldir himself.

"Yes, but I don't see how that's any of your business."

Saruman pushed past Haldir without another word and swept into Gimli's living room, taking in the sight of Galadriel, Gimli, Gloin, and Groin gathered around a stack of Frodo Baggins novels sitting on the coffee table. "Saruman!" Galadriel said in shock. "What in the name of Groin's highly amusing name are you doing here?"

"Is this the Frodo Baggins Admirers Club?" asked Saruman.

"The one and only," Gimli said proudly.

"Well then." Saruman sat down on a chair uninvited and folded his hands upon his lap. "I wish to join."

Haldir resumed his place on Gimli's couch and scoffed at the wizard. "You've got to be kidding me. Don't you have an imported car dealership to manage?"

"I have left Isengard Imports in the capable hands of my associates. I am here because it is my deepest wish to discuss the beautiful literature that has touched my soul." To everyone's surprise, Saruman's voice shook with emotion and a tear had appeared in each eye. "Go ahead and scoff at me, but I am one of Frodo Baggins' biggest fans. His writing has moved the deepest core of my being!"

Everyone watched in awkward silence as tears fell down Saruman's cheeks. "Who would have thought that a mere hobbit could be capable of creating such beautiful, soul-stirring work?" he continued. "Those novels have changed my life. My very life, I tell you!"

"Well, that's fascinating to hear," said Galadriel, quickly interrupting before Saruman became too emotional. "It's literary voting time! I want you all to write down the titles of your top three favorite Frodo Baggins novels."

Haldir pulled out a pen and snuck a derisive glance at Saruman, glad that he had never cried in public like that fool of a wizard. No, Haldir always made sure to cry over his Frodo Baggins novels in the privacy of his own home.

Frodo sipped nervously at his tea and wished that Sam was around in case he had a panic attack, but dear old Sam was busy filming yet another Wal-Mart commercial. Frodo only had to write one more chapter of his novel and then he would be finished, but that last chapter was such a great burden, and he feared he would succumb to the evil power of writer's block before he could complete his great task.

A loud knock at the door nearly gave poor Frodo a heart attack.

"He's found me at last!" Frodo cried in despair. "He must have seen me."

There was no putting it off any longer. After taking deep breaths like his stress therapist had instructed, Frodo opened the front door and looked up at his tall, imposing editor who stood in the doorway. Shrouded in darkness, his editor was even scarier in person than he was over telephone and e-mail.

"So I have caught you at last, my elusive hobbit," he said, and even the sound of his voice was enough to make Frodo tremble.

"I-I'm sorry," Frodo stammered. "I've been ill."

"So you say. I expected your completed manuscript a week ago, Mr. Baggins."

"I know, I know. It's just, this novel is such a great weight to carry. And it grows heavier by the day!"

"That is no excuse." The editor finally stepped into Frodo's home and took off his long black cloak, revealing himself to be none other than... Elrond. "But lucky for you, I've got bigger matters to worry about than your silly book."

Nobody, not even dear Sam, knew the identity of Frodo's editor, and Frodo knew that if he ever told anyone he would likely end up at the bottom of the sea, because Elrond was more than just an editor. He also happened to be the feared leader of the Elvish Mafia and Frodo was afraid that these "bigger matters" were somehow linked to the mob.

"I'll take tea," Elrond said as he seated himself at Frodo's kitchen table. It was not a request, but an order, and Frodo immediately obeyed it.

"What brings your powerful self to my humble home if it isn't about the manuscript, sir?" Frodo asked nervously.

"I'm sure you've heard the news about Rivendell Acres Retirement Facility."

"Actually I can't watch television. It's bad for my nerves."

"Well my family owns that joint," said Elrond. "And we aren't too happy about Bilbo Baggins escaping. Your uncle, or cousin, or whatever he is, made a great errand runner because he's crazier than Tom Bombadil on crack and never asked any questions. Thought he was on one of his ridiculous adventures, you know?"

Frodo Baggins stared at Elrond in surprise. "I never knew that about Bilbo."

"Well of course not. We trained him to keep his mouth shut. But now that our best errand runner is out of action, it's hurting the Family Business, and things could get real ugly."

Frodo didn't like the sound of this. "I'm, uh, sorry about your Family Business and all."

"Are you really?" Elrond's voice was downright dangerous. "Or are you just saying that to cover up the fact that you know something about Bilbo's whereabouts?"

"But I don't know where he is!" Frodo said truthfully.

"You've probably heard rumors that my wife is in Vegas. She's been there for years because she was going to get whacked by one of my rivals. You could end up getting whacked yourself, Mr. Baggins, and I won't be generous enough to send you to Vegas before it happens."

"I swear I don't know anything!" Frodo cried, positively trembling with fear. "I'm just an innocent hobbit making a living!"

"If I receive word about any suspicious behavior from you, I will be back," Elrond promised. "And finish that book or else you'll really have something to be sorry about."

And with that parting threat, Elrond walked out the door, leaving Frodo to panic all alone.

The next day shone bright and sunny, the perfect weather to suit Sam Gamgee's mood as he strolled to the garden section of Wal-Mart to begin his greeting. Sam did love saying hello to all the kind folks who took the trouble to shop at Wal-Mart, and he heard there was a whole shipment of new flowers to admire. Even that pesky Gollum couldn't ruin his mood that morning!

That is, until Sam reached his usual spot and found a man standing there, armed with a gun and a walkie-talkie. "Hey, you!" he barked at Sam. "Let me see some identification!"

"Who are you, Mr. Stranger sir?" Sam asked. "Begging your pardon and all, but I work here."

"Well so do I," said the man. "And I demand to see your ID."

"I'm mighty sure I know all the faces round here, if you take my meanin', sir. I'd like a name first, if you please."

The man sighed, though he didn't look any less threatening. "I'm Eomer, the new security guard. Thanks to the success of its latest commercials, Wal-Mart can afford to hire me now."

"Well why didn't you just say so, Mr. Eomer?" Sam said brightly. "Samwise Gamgee at your service, and welcome to Wal-Mart! Most folks are real interested in our flowers, though I'm mighty fond of our miniature fruit trees myself. My old Gaffer says that—"

"You there!" Eomer yelled, interrupting Sam's chatter. "What business does an elf, a man, and a dwarf have in Wal-Mart?"

A random elf, man, and dwarf all gaped at Eomer with puzzled looks on their faces.

"Speak quickly!" Eomer barked, pulling out his taser.

"We- we just wanted to look at some daffodils!" the elf stammered. "That's all!"

"Very well," Eomer said gruffly. "You may pass."

Sam wasn't sure if he should be terrified or awed at Eomer's security guard skills. "Um, I hope you don't mind me askin', Mr. Eomer sir, but have you seen anybody named Gollum round these parts? Nasty sort of creature, wears boxer shorts and always goes on about his precious?"

"Be assured, he will never set foot on this property," Eomer said dangerously.

Sam was frightened into silence, but that silence didn't last long. "Sam! Sam!" a familiar voice called out.

Seconds later Legolas came sprinting into Wal-Mart as fast as his legs could carry him and knocked over an old lady in his haste to reach Sam. "I tried calling you, but you didn't answer," said Legolas. "I'm putting together an emergency meeting!"

"Hold it, elf boy!" said Eomer, prodding Legolas with the police baton he kept on his utility belt. "One does not simply walk into Wal-Mart. State your name and business!"

"I'm Legolas," Legolas said irritably. "And I'm here to talk to my friend Sam."

"Are you having a Treehugger's meeting or a Daddy Issues meeting?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Both, I guess. You see, my dad is drunk."

"It probably ain't my place to say, Mr. Legolas, but, well... your old dad is always drunk."

"I know," Legolas said sadly. "But this time he's gone completely crazy. He wants to cut down the biggest tree in the neighborhood and put a drive-through coffee stand in its place!"

Sam gasped aloud. "That poor tree! Don't anybody have respect for growin' things no more?"

"This is why you have to come with me! I already managed to get Pippin out of work early and he's waiting at Faramir's house."

Luckily for Sam, Eomer was more than willing to take over his duties and Sam followed Legolas to Faramir's house. Faramir opened the door, munching on something, and held out a hand to them both. "Hi guys. Want some celery sticks?"

"Faramir, this is not the time for celery sticks," Legolas said seriously. "Where's Pippin at?"

"He's on the couch, drinking all of Boromir's beer and eating all of my mushrooms," Faramir replied.

"Lego-buddy! Sam!" Pippin said happily as his friends entered the living room. "This sure beats working, doesn't it? These mushrooms are delicious!"

"Guys, we need to get organized here," said Legolas. "We all know why we're here, right? We need to band together and stop my crazy father before he harms that poor, helpless tree!"

"As the expert on crazy fathers, I think I should lead this mission," Faramir volunteered. "Unless somebody else wants to?"

"Not me, Mr. Faramir," said Sam. "I'm all shaken up over our scary new security guard at Wal-Mart."

"Don't remind me," muttered Pippin. "Now that Eomer's gone to work for Wal-Mart, Merry's gotten promoted. He keeps rubbing it in my face because he finally gets to arrest people."

Legolas glanced down at his green watch that was shaped like a tree leaf. "Well, we'd better get going. Who knows what damage Dad could have done? For trees everywhere!" he yelled, mimicking a battle cry.

"For sons with dysfunctional families!" Faramir shouted.

"For victims of alcoholism!" Pippin declared ironically.

"For my old Gaffer!" Sam cried.

And the four of them set off.

Author's Note: Raise your hand if you thought Frodo's editor was Sauron all this time. Fooled you! Sauron will have a role in this story, but that role is a secret for now. I've really been motivated to work on this lately, so you can probably expect another fast update!