I'm sorry for a lack of updates lately. I swear I had about ten essays due in all at once, and hobbit scenes are really the hardest things to parody in the world. And my impending exams probably didn't help either, gah.

My writing tutor recently pointed out to me that I am inconsistent when it comes to using punctuation in my dialogue, so I apologise if I have been using it incorrectly throughout this fic. I was really embarrassed when I realised, and I might go back and proofread when I am feeling less lazy xD

XXX

As a fitting score swelled from somewhere in the distance, the Three Hunters continued their pursuit of the Uruk-hai. Aragorn was currently in the lead, with Legolas closing in like some kind of freaky elven Richard Simmons. Gimli was puffing and panting at the rear.

"This isn't fair!" moaned Gimli. "No matter what the camera angle I'm always lagging miles behind you two!"

Legolas just ignored him.

"They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them."

"Eww," said Aragorn, shuddering as he ran. "That just threw up a very disturbing image."

"Even so," panted Gimli, "I expect to see a fanfic about it within a couple of days."

They continued on for a moment, until Aragorn slid to a sudden halt. Legolas almost crashed into him.

"Why are you stopping, Aragorn?" cried the elf.

"Hmm. I just realised how pointless this scene is."

Gimli's face fell.

"Then why on Middle Earth did you drag us out of bed at the crack of dawn to film it?"

Aragorn stuck out his tongue.

"Just because you didn't catch any fish."

XXX

Time must have skipped an entire day, since night was descending upon the plains as the Uruk-hai stopped to rest beneath the boughs of Fangorn Forest. Everyone was beginning to get rather antsy, and not just because of the continuity errors.

"We're not going no further," complained one orc, "'til we've had a breather!"

"Oh, come on!" yelled one of the Uruk-hai. "Could you at least try and speak like a Tolkien creation?"

The orc marched forwards.

"Dost thou haveth a problem with me?"

"Ugh, never mind."

Once their feuding guards were out of earshot, Pippin crawled towards his fellow hobbit. Merry opened his eyes a little blearily; blood was seeping through the rag bound across his forehead.

"Is it just me," said Pippin, "or has everything turned blue again?"

Merry shook his head.

"I think..." he managed, "we might have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pippin."

"Well, duh."

All around them, overweight orcs were hacking at the trees for firewood. Suddenly, a creaking sound rose up. Pippin turned to Merry in horror.

"What's making that noise?"

Merry pushed himself up onto his elbows, and looked about.

"It's the trees," he said.

"What?"

He lowered his voice: "Do you remember the Old Forest? On the borders of Buckland?"

"No," said Pippin, "and we're not supposed to talk about it anyways." He cast his eyes about shiftily, just in case Wormtongue's goons came to drag them off too.

"Yeah, well, folk used to say that there was something in the water that made the trees grow tall. And come alive."

"Alive?"

"Yes, alive. Idiot." He rolled his eyes. "These were trees that could whisper, talk to each other. Even move."

Pippin's eyes widened.

"Could they Riverdance?"

Around them, the Uruk-hai were having an increasingly heated discussion.

"I'm starving!" complained an orc named Maúhur. "We ain't had nothin' but maggoty bread for three stinkin' days!"

"Yeah!" agreed his companion. "Why can't we have some meat?" He cast around for a moment, and his eyes fell upon the hobbits. He grinned. "What about them? They're fresh." He emphasized this last word with a substantial amount of saliva.

Pippin wiped at his face. Merry just shook his head in protest.

"Not really," he said. "Have you seen these fingernails?" He gestured with his hands.

The Uruk-hai just ignored them.

"They are not for eating!" yelled Uglúk, the captain of the group.

"What about their legs?" asked Grishnákh, taking a step forwards. "They don't need those." The hobbits looked down at their legs worriedly. "Ooh… they look tasty!"

Uglúk shoved the orc back.

"Get your eyes off my halflings you twisted son-of-a-bitch!"

The two soon descended into a childish shoving contest, interspersed with increasingly offensive 'yo mama' jokes. The hobbits took the opportunity to crawl away, as intestines and blood began flying in all directions.

They had gotten barely a dozen yards when a foot came down upon their backs. It was unsurprising, really, when they realised they had been crawling towards the camp. Grishnákh loomed before them with a knife, and waved it just inches from Pippin's face.

"Go on, call for help," he hissed. "Squeal! No one's gonna save you now!"

Suddenly, a spear exploded through Grishnákh's back. He toppled over, dead. Rather conveniently, the spear had stopped just short of impaling Pippin as well. The next moment chaos broke out around them, as the riders of Rohan stampeded through the camp, crushing and stabbing many an orc in their path.

Pippin lay there for a moment, blinking stupidly, as he registered what had just happened.

Merry crawled over to him, and smiled a little: "Poetic justice."

Pippin frowned.

"How d'ya mean?"

"Well," said Merry, thinking for a moment, "he said that no one could save us now… And then he got impaled by a spear." His face fell. "Hmm, maybe that's just regular justice."

Pippin glanced around.

"We better go."

"Whatever happened to the whole elaborate siege thingy?"

"Beats me."

And so they began to crawl, rather pathetically, through the mass of trampling horses, cursing orcs and writhing tree limbs, hoping that their implausibly effective cloaks would continue to shield them from unfriendly eyes.

Unfortunately, horses do not care whether you are wearing a cloak or not, as Pippin soon discovered. He let out a rather girlish scream as a pair of hooves descended upon his face.

XXX

Meanwhile, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli kept running throughout the night. As dawn approached, the land beneath their feet was painted red.

Legolas paused and looked up, suddenly pensive.

"A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night."

The other two just stopped and glared at him.

"What?"

"Shut the hell up."

Legolas sighed.

"Somebody's not a morning person."

And then there was a rumbling sound. At first Gimli assumed it was just his stomach, but then Aragorn saw about a hundred armed men on horses coming towards them, and figured that was very probably the origin of the noise. The three ran and hid behind some conveniently placed rocks.

"Phew," said Legolas, "that was lucky."

Gimli nodded.

"Especially since we were standing two feet in front of them and they didn't even see us."

Aragorn smacked him.

"Shut up, our elven cloaks disguised us."

"Oh yes," said Gimli, "dark green blends so well into bright yellow grassland."

Whilst they were arguing over the finer plot details, the huge host of riders had all but passed them. So it escaped Legolas and Gimli why Aragorn suddenly leapt up and called: "Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?"

The riders checked their steeds and wheeled about, crying with loud voices and galloping straight at them.

Gimli's face dropped.

"You might as well have said 'Come over here and trample us to death kthanxbye!'"

The horsemen formed a ring about them, and advanced with their spears, threatening to turn the three into human kebabs. One rider came forwards and glared upon them. He had disheveled blonde hair, and a rather silly plumed helmet that kept falling in his eyes. He brushed it away and scowled.

"What business does an Elf, a man and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

Gimli shrugged.

"No business. We're just loitering." He stuck his hands into his pockets and stood there, whistling inanely.

The rider's eyes flashed with anger. He dismounted from his horse.

"This is the kingdom of Rohan. I am Éomer, Third Marshall of the Mark. There will be no loitering in my lands!"

The dwarf didn't answer, but stepped right up to him. Then he turned slightly and signaled to Aragorn, who lifted the vertically-challenged creature and held him up to eye level.

"I am Gimli, son of Glóin. I will do as I please." To prove his point, he took out the gum he was chewing, folded it into the wrapper, and carelessly threw it onto the ground.

Éomer lunged for him. Legolas went for his bow. Suddenly a thicket of spears was aimed at the group.

Aragorn stepped between everyone.

"Calm down!"

"No," whined Éomer, who was in the midst of having a hissy fit, "he dropped gum on my land!"

The ranger rolled his eyes.

"Right, I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glóin – as you know - and Legolas of the Woodland realm. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king. Just accuse us of being spies, tell us you killed our friends and be off for the next two thirds of the movie! We've got a plot to drive forward here!"

Éomer scowled.

"Fine then. I'm only bitter cause they wrote me out of Helm's Deep you know. I mean, what kind of plot device is a banishment? I could just go round up tons of men and attack Rohan and claim it back for the King. I mean, if I loved my country so much the threat of death wouldn't scare me right? And what about poor Erkenbrand? He was crying his eyes out when he didn't get a callback for the movie. He and Bombadil are considering taking roles in Harry Potter just to piss everyone off, I mean-"

"THE PLOT, ÉOMER, THE PLOT!"

"Ooh yes, sorry." He cleared his throat. "Yes, um, I accuse you of being spies of Saruman!" He wagged a finger at them. "Also, the King's mind is poisoned, and we've seen a wizard walking around in the forest or something." He whistled. Two steeds came trotting up. "And we brutally slaughtered your friends. Here's some horses."

He gave the reins to Aragorn, and then climbed onto his own steed and rode off. The other riders quickly followed.

Gimli frowned.

"He has good people skills doesn't he?"

XXX

It didn't take them long to find the site of the battle - huge smoking mounds of dead orcs tend to be quite conspicuous in any terrain. Once they had rode up and dismounted, Gimli busied himself sifting through the pile of burnt corpses for any sign of the hobbits. He spotted something, and pulled it out with a look of horror.

"It's one of their wee belts," he murmured in horror.

Aragorn frowned.

"Since when do dwarves speak Scottish?"

Gimli just shrugged.

Legolas stood, meanwhile, with his eyes downcast and his face twisted in some outlandish way. They both looked at him worriedly.

"What's wrong?" asked Aragorn.

"I'm grieving," said Legolas, in a confused manner.

Gimli's eyebrows shot up.

"That's grieving? It looks like you swallowed a bug."

Legolas had a hissy fit.

"I am grieving dammit! I am an elf who does not understand death and I am completely blown away by the very idea of it! Arghhhhh!"

Aragorn frowned.

"Are you sure you're not just a lousy actor?"

The elf glared at him.

"Just kick the helmet in a sexy way already."

"Fine."

He ran back some ways, and then punted the helmet for all he was worth. It went sailing over the boughs of Fangorn. He let out a scream of rage as he did so, and fell to his knees in an overly-dramatic way.

"Wow, Aragorn," said Legolas, raising his eyebrows, "you must be really torn up about this."

"Not really," gritted the ranger, his eyes staring forwards in pain. "I think I just broke my toe."

Gimli walked over, and leant upon his axe as Aragorn began hopping around, yelping in pain.

"That's called showing emotion," Gimli said, nudging Legolas in the side. "You should try it sometime."

The elf burst into tears. They both just decided to ignore him, especially when Aragorn caught a glimpse of some tracks upon the ground.

"A hobbit lay here," he said. "And the other. They crawled." He started following the trail, with Legolas and Gimli at his heels, wondering what on Middle Earth he was seeing. It just looked like a bunch of grass to them.

Stooping, the ranger picked up a piece of rope, hidden in the grass. "Fangirls were here." He glanced at Legolas. "Stay close. They could be lurking nearby. Gimli, I don't think you need worry." The dwarf folded his arms and grunted.

Aragorn wandered off.

"They ran over here," he said. "They were followed." He was practically sprinting now. "The tracks lead away from the battle..." They all stopped, and looked up. Dread came over them. "…into Fangorn Forest."

The aforementioned forest loomed above them, big and dark and… foresty.

"What madness drove them in there?" asked Gimli, straining to peer over their shoulders.

Aragorn shrugged.

"Longbottom leaf?"