Once again, thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. And I welcome new reviewers with cookies •grins widely•

This chapter introduces my quite strange obsession with pie (I don't know why such an article of food is so amusing to me) and the soon-to-be infamous Samwise Gamgee buffet jokes. Beware all ye who enter here...

XXX

So began the adventures of Frodo and Sam, who trekked through forest, country and hitchhiked wherever appropriate. Suddenly they had reached a cornfield.

"This is it," said Sam, suddenly stopping.

"This is what?" asked Frodo.

"It."

He groaned.

"Yes, I know it's it, I mean what do you mean by it?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind." They both kept going. "Now Sam, let me randomly quote some of the book, just to distract the purists from the absence of Fatty Bolger: 'It's a dangerous business Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.'"

And they skipped merrily on, whilst a Black Rider watched them in the distance, arms folded in a sulk.

"Why can't I attack them now?" he whined.

"Cause," said Jackson, "we need to establish you as these really evil killing machines and then completely ruin your integrity by having you mistake a bunch of pillows for some hobbits, not to mention the ass kicking you'll be getting from a certain elf maiden."

The Black Rider raised an eyebrow.

"Elf maiden? I know Glorfindel is pretty feminine, but he's not exactly a maiden."

"Ooh, yes." Jackson laughed nervously. "Silly me: slip of the tongue."

The Black Rider raised the other eyebrow.

"You haven't replaced Glorfindel have you? That poor guy gets replaced in every single adaptation of this story. The purists will skin you alive!"

"Of course I haven't replaced him!" He fidgeted a bit. "Excuse me a minute."

And he shuffled off to bolster his security force for the premiere.

XXX

Gandalf rode to Isengard to see his old friend Saruman. The journey was a long and rather boring affair, and on the way he was assaulted by someone called Radagast, who kept insisting that he was the wizard's cousin. Gandalf just gave him a penny and rode away, giving him a very queer look.

Finally, he rode into Isengard, and made towards the tower of Orthanc. Saruman the White descended the steps before it. He was dressed in robes of grey (ironically enough), and had teeth so bad they could rival the Mouth of Sauron for dentist bills. His long flowing hair and beard stirred slightly in the breeze, and he bore a tall staff, alighted with the spikes of Orthanc. He liked his accessories to match.

"Smoke rises from the mountain of Doom," he said. "The hour grows late and Gandalf the Grey rides to Isengard seeking my counsel." (Talk about subtle plot narration folks). "For that is why you have come, is it not...my old friend?"

Gandalf simply said: "Saruman."

The white wizard raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, that is my name."

"Forgive me," said Gandalf, smiling, "but I had to say such an incredibly stupid and unnecessary line in order for the audience to catch your name."

"But aren't there like 50 billion characters in this trilogy? They're hardly gonna remember one name. Let's be honest. The average cinema goer these days actually thinks reality TV is entertaining."

Gandalf frowned.

"I see your point. Very well, I shall repeat your name again, just so it is imprinted in the audience's minds." And he took a deep breath and yelled: "SARUMAN!"

The white wizard wiped saliva from his face.

"That better?" asked Gandalf, grinning.

"Hmmm," said Saruman, "I better wear a nametag, just to be safe."

And so the Leader of the Istari donned a sticker saying: "Hello! My name is Saruman. Ask me about our pies!"

XXX

"You are sure of this?"

"Beyond any doubt."

"So the bad guy turns out to be Quirrell and not Snape?"

Gandalf shook his head, as Saruman buried his nose into a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

"If you actually bothered to learn to read, I wouldn't have to tell you how the bloody thing ends."

Saruman stuck out his tongue.

"I never could get past those Dick and Tracey books. 'See Smeagol. See Smeagol run. Run Smeagol run.'" He made the motion of his hand passing over his head, and gave a low whistle.

"Honestly," said Gandalf, "I wonder sometimes how you ever became the head of our Order."

"Because of my looks of course." He grinned a toothy grin.

Gandalf shook his head.

"Are we ever gonna discuss the Ring?" He got no answer, and promptly snatched up the book and threw it away.

Saruman folded his arms, and went in a huff.

"The Ring of Power has been found," he grunted.

Gandalf nodded. "All these long years it was in the Shire, under my very nose."

"Then I'm not surprised you didn't see it. Your nose is larger than Samwise Gamgee after he has eaten a buffet."

"But we still have time," said Gandalf, "time enough to counter Sauron if we act quickly."

"Time?" Saruman snorted. "What time do you think we have?"

Gandalf looked at his watch.

"I make it just turned noon."

Saruman stormed off to his tower, muttering: "I don't know why I even bother…"

XXX

They entered Saruman's chamber, which was lined with books, scrolls, jars of varying shapes and sizes and many Instruments of Doom. In the centre stood a pedestal, and atop this was an orb, covered in a dark cloth.

"A palantír is a dangerous tool, Saruman," said Gandalf, guessing what it was.

"Why? Why should we fear to use it?"

He threw the cloth aside, and revealed the glowing orb of the palantír. Gandalf's eyes widened.

"They are not all accounted for," he hissed, "the lost Seeing Stones. We do not know who else may be watching!"

He threw the blanket over the palantír again. The Eye of Sauron flashed briefly in its surface. The blanket caught fire. Saruman grabbed a fire extinguisher and bashed Gandalf on the head with it.

"The hour is later than you think," he said. "Sauron's forces are already moving. The Five have left Minas Morgul."

Gandalf coughed as he nursed the growing bump upon his head.

"Don't you mean the Nine?"

Saruman blushed.

"Hey," he said, wagging a finger, "who's the head of the Order, huh? If I say there are five of them, then there are five! Got it?"

Gandalf shrugged: "Whatever."

"Good," said Saruman, crossing his arms. "They crossed the River Isen on Midsummer's Eve, disguised as Dementors. They will find the Ring and kill the one who carries it."

And then Gandalf realised the danger that the hobbit was in, and cried: "Frodo!"

He made for the doors, but they promptly slammed shut in his face. He turned back to look at Saruman.

"I think there's a draft in here." Frowning, he walked over to the window, and pulled it shut. Saruman slapped his forehead.

"You did not seriously think," he said, "that a hobbit could contend with the will of Sauron? There are none who can, so get over it. We must join with him, Gandalf. We must join with Sauron. It would be wise, my friend."

Gandalf snorted.

"Not really. Sauron is really quite evil you know." He began to fiddle with Saruman's Instruments of Doom. The wizard scowled, and snatched them away from him.

"That is the point!" he said. "We should join with Sauron, and we will become as dark and powerful as you could ever imagine!"

Gandalf did not answer, instead walking over and plonking himself on Saruman's throne.

"Ooh," he said, "comfy."

Saruman screamed in rage, and shot off a huge blazing sphere of fire, which ricocheted off the walls, and went flying out of the window. A few miles away, Radagast the Brown was stopped short as he looked at the smouldering pile of ash where his horse had once been.

"I am trying to instigate a clever plot twist here! Could you at least pretend to be horribly betrayed by my words?"

Gandalf frowned.

"What are you trying to tell me Saruman?"

The white wizard screamed.

"That's it! PG-13 can go to hell!" And he walked over and smacked Gandalf over the head with his staff. Then he grabbed the guy's own staff, and set him spinning on the floor. "I gave you the chance of aiding me willingly. But you have elected the way of pain!"

And he sent Gandalf flying towards the pinnacle of Orthanc, but was just slightly ticked off to hear the aforementioned wizard crying: "WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Saruman collapsed into his throne with a sigh.

"This is doing nothing for my image."

XXX

Sam was confused, and Sam was worried. And so an extremely confused and worried Sam began jogging between the huge stalks of corn, wondering how in all of Arda he had winded up on the set of the Wizard of Oz.

"Mister Frodo?" he cried. "Frodo? FRODO?"

"What?"

Sam jumped fifty feet into the air. When he landed, Frodo was standing there looking befuddled.

"I thought I'd lost you," explained the fat hobbit.

"What are you talking about?" said Frodo. "I was standing right behind you."

Mr. Gamgee shrugged.

"It's just something Gandalf said."

Frodo panicked.

"What did he say? I swear those pictures are faked! I wasn't even at that party! Just ask Lobelia!"

Sam was taken aback.

"You were with Lobelia?"

"Um, yes. We were playing checkers." A glare. "I-I mean, what did Gandalf say?"

"'Don't you lose him Samwise Gamgee!' And I don't mean to."

Frodo laughed. "Sam, we're still in the Shire. What could possibly happen?"

And then they became aware of a huge roaring sound, which was becoming louder and louder. Then, from amidst the Oz-like stalks of corn, two young hobbits came running, and smacked right into Frodo and Sam. Everyone tumbled to the floor, with many a flying cabbage.

"You idiots!" scowled Frodo, getting up and dusting off his pants. "Look where you're bloody well going!"

But the two hobbits, who had turned out to be Merry and Pippin, had no time to talk. They promptly ran off, squealing like girls. Sam and Frodo exchanged a WTF? look. And that was when they heard the roaring sound again, and slowly, achingly, they turned around, and saw the corn being ripped down before their eyes.

"TRACTOR!" they screamed, and plunged after Merry and Pippin, but not without grabbing up the delicious vegetables they had left. They were, after all, hungry hobbits.

Shortly afterwards though, all four hobbits promptly fell off the edge of a conveniently placed cliff.

"Ow!" said Merry, who had three hobbits lying on top of him. "I think I've broken something." He pulled out a ruined carrot.

"Y'know what?" said Pippin. "This scene would bring hobbit fangirls a whole lot of pleasure." And, as if realizing this, they all scrambled off each other lickety split.

"Trust a Brandybuck and a Took!" muttered Sam.

"What?" said Merry. "That was just a detour, a shortcut."

"A shortcut to what?"

"Mushrooms!" cried Pippin, spotting a patch of the tasty fungi. They all scrambled over and began to pick some, whilst Jackson sat in his director's chair, with a huge smug smile on his face.

"That should keep the book purists happy," he said to himself. "At least until Movie!Arwen arrives..."

Frodo was the only one not fawning over the delicious mushrooms. He stood silent, gazing into the near distance, and like the party pooper he was he said: "I think we should get off the road."

Eerie sounds were heard. Frodo began to panic.

"Get off the road! Quick!"

And with many a curse and a nibble of vegetables, all four hobbits hid down in the hollow of a tree, whose branches hung over the road. The sound of hoofs was heard. They all became silent, as something sinister loomed nearby.

Then a jolly laugh broke the silence, and a huge red face hung down and beamed at the hobbits.

"Hail friends!"

Tom Bombadil climbed down off his pony, and stood there with his thumbs in his breeches. He wore a queer feathered hat.

"Um, sorry?"

Tom frowned.

"It's me Tom Bombadil!"

They all looked at each other.

"Aww come on. Remember the Old Forest?... Old Man Willow?... The Barrow Downs?"

They all just sat there, staring at Tom as though he had grown another head.

"I'm sorry," said Frodo, taking charge. "We must be on our way. Good day, Mr. Bumble."

"It's Bombadil!" He watched as they gathered up their vegetables and trotted off with haste. "Don't you recognise me? Buddies? Pals? What is going on?" He began to cry, and fell to the floor, smacking at the dirt with his fists. "This cannot be happening! I am an integral part of the book dammit!"

Presently Jackson walked over, and covered the crying Bombadil with a blanket. Fatty Lumpkin was led away. Mr. Bombadil was stashed inside a closet. Two men wearing dark suits and sunglasses were put on guard, and whenever someone came down the road all they would utter was: "Jackson is god. Move it along."

A few minutes later, the hobbits actually did encounter a Black Rider. Strangely though, they did not find him quite so scary as Tom Bombadil.

XXX

Night fell upon the land, hard and swift, like, well, night falling. A Nazgûl continued to search for the hobbits, but with a less than stellar attitude. He was now on hour twelve of a four hour shift. You do the math.

In the thickets below, the hobbits crept like mice. Frodo went first, to check the coast was clear.

"Anything?" whispered Pippin.

"Nothing."

"What is going on?"

Merry trudged forwards, and stamped his foot with a scowl.

"That Black Rider was looking for something… or someone. Frodo?"

"Hey, don't look at me!" cried the hobbit. "I, er, I mean, Sam… Sam owes his money. Yes, that's it!"

The fat hobbit frowned.

"Do I?"

Frodo smacked him.

"Ooh yes. Yes. I lost to him at poker!"

Pippin was intrigued.

"How much did you lose?"

"Umm, 400 thousand dollars."

Frodo slapped himself in the forehead.

"Get down!" cried Sam, and they all got down. Looking up, they saw the Nazgûl promptly ride away.

"I have to leave the Shire," said Frodo. "Sam and I must get to Bree."

Merry nodded. "Buckleberry Ferry. Follow me."

XXX

Hours later, the hobbits, creeping through the forest, had reached the Brandywine River, and the little ferry which bobbed in its waters.

Sam was relieved: "WE MADE IT!" he yelled, punching a fist in the air.

They all glared at him.

"We're trying to be stealthy here!" they hissed.

And from amidst the bushes there came a shriek. A Nazgûl came galloping up, looking extremely pissed. The hobbits ran for their lives, all except Frodo, who was on the receiving end of the horse's wrath. He received a rather painful kick in the face for his troubles, and went flying about two dozen yards and landed, quite conveniently, on the deck of Buckleberry Ferry.

The others soon made it to the small craft too, and quickly cast off, whilst Merry moaned about a huge splinter in his foot, which turned out to be the size of a toothpick. A very small toothpick. Pippin laughed at him, and Merry shoved him into the Brandywine River.

The Nazgûl, meanwhile, stopped short of the water and then gave an enraged scream.

"That's it" he yelled. "I'm sick of the lousy hours and the crooked union. I QUIT!"

And he stormed off, and presently Peter Jackson was seen cycling after him, calling: "We need you for the rest of the trilogy! How else will a whiney and bitchy Éowyn redeem herself to the audience?"

Meanwhile the hobbits rowed to the next bank for all they were worth. A rather sexy ranger was waiting for them in Bree, and wherever he was, crazed fan girls were sure to follow.