A/N: Been a bit since I updated, but ja, I have a life outside of writing, yah know… JK, actually, I’ve been very busy with school and friends and other stories… ja, ja, fun shtuff like dat.

Disclaimer: Though Tolkien’s characters don’t belong to me, these certain variations of these characters ARE mine, so back off, precious.

Rating: PG-13 for language (?), drug reference, thematic elements and… Grandalk finally kicking the bucket… actually, that doens’t count… I just said that because… I don’t know… woah, I’m shutting up right now before I talk myself into another wall. >_< --- After Merr-ay had sewed Fraudo up (he was number one in his knitting class) the fellowship set off again. “When does Grandalk die?” Araforn whispered to Broomier, furiously as Grandalk launched into another head throbbing rendition of “One Million Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” “I-donÂ’t-know-but-I-hope-itÂ’s-really-really-really-soon-because-that-senile-coot-is-driving-me-out-of-my-Valar-loving-mind,” Broomier said in one breath through gritted teeth. “JOIN IN, NOW!” Grandalk squealed, waving his staff around (everyone around him ducked), “NINETY-NINE NINE HUNDRED THOUSAND AND EIGHTY-SIX NINE HUNDRED BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE–HEEEEY, WATCH IT!” Fraudo had thrown his empty mug of coffee at GrandalkÂ’s singing form, missing his oversized ear by only inches, “Sing something else!” “Like what?” Grandalk inquired, curiously. “‘Break AwayÂ’ by Kelly Clarkson!” Poppin suggested, shrilly. “I know that one!” Grandalk announced, “IÂ’LL SPREAD MY WINGS AND IÂ’LL LEARN HOW TO FLY IÂ’LL DO WHAT IT TAKES ‘TIL I TOUCH THE SKY MAKE A WISH TAKE A CHANCE MAKE A CHANGE AND BREEEEEEEEAK AAAAAAH-WAY!” Scram stuck his chubby fingers in his ear that he had removed only momentarily, knowing full well that it would only be second before Grandalk started shrieking/singing again. The huge problem was that the chorus of ‘Break AwayÂ’ was apparently the only part of the song that Grandalk knew, and he ever got that mixed up. A lot. So the nine walked down the dark corridor, listening to GrandalkÂ’s ear-piercing screeching. It was truly enough to drive someone to becoming a murderer, which most of the group were truly considering. “Give it a rest, will you?” Legalese said, wearily. He had surely taken the Mines of Snoria the worst out of anyone else in the crew. Even worse than Gimbal, who SHOULD have been worst, considering it had dead bodies of people he knew lying around it, but GimbalÂ’s brain, completely addled, did not register this interesting bit of information. Legalese was completely bedraggled and constantly begged Araforn if he could use the water supply to wash his hair. “Just a tiny bit?” Legalese pleading, tears actually filling his bright blue eyes, “ItÂ’s almost got–“ here, he looked around to see if anyone was listening. Then, he said in a very low voice as if the following words were revolting curses, “–split ends.” He gave a horrified yelp and covered his mouth, tearfully, “DonÂ’t you see how dire this situation is? If I have split ends... omigod, itÂ’s too horrendous to think about! Please, Araforn? If you have any goodness in your heart–“ “I do, but I do not have any goodness to spare for your hair,” Araforn sniffed. “JUST BECAUSE YOU DONÂ’T WASH YOURS–“ “ThatÂ’s beside the point,” Araforn said, tossing his dirty hair over his shoulder, “and it looks good on me.” Legalese opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it when he realized that Araforn was right. He did look good when he looked like he needed a serious bath and haircut. Araforn smirked, arrogantly and walked away from Legalese to stop beside Fraudo, who was being a complete and utter drama queen. “How does it feel, Fraudo?” Araforn asked in a hushed voice. “BAD!” Fraudo squawked, clutching his stomach that had been sewed up with a great amount of fluffy yarn. “Good,” Araforn muttered under his breath, turning away. He then turned back, “Do you think youÂ’re ready to go on?” “I canÂ’t!” Fraudo moaned, “IÂ’ve had no second breakfast!” “For the love of...,” Araforn growled, “YOU... DONÂ’T... NEED... ANY... STUPID... SECOND... BREAKFAST!” “Did he say second breakfast? When are we having second breakfast?” Poppin suddenly appeared at ArafornÂ’s elbow and started blithering about second breakfast. “You want second breakfast?” Araforn snarled. Poppin nodded. “Last time, I threw an apple at your head... would you like me to throw this–“ he picked up a very large and heavy rock, “–at your head?” “Is it edible?” Poppin trilled, staring at the rock with a very strange kind of hunger in his eyes. “IÂ’m sure it is,” Araforn lifted the rock over PoppinÂ’s head. “Hey, check it out!” Grandalk skipped over to where a large, dusty book lay, “COOL! I always wanted to find one of these!” “One of what?” Broomier asked, curiously, creeping over to where Grandalk was poring over a moldy looking book, “Is it a list of all the hot girls in Middle Earth?” “Even better!” Grandalk squeaked. Broomier was dumbstruck, “Better? What could possibly be better–?” “Hey, werenÂ’t we supposed to find that a chapter ago?” Araforn asked, peering at the pages of the dirty book and pinching his nose so the dust wouldnÂ’t make him sneeze. “Yeah, but the author is a loser so she forgot,” Grandalk said, turning a moth-eaten page of the book. “AM NOT!” the author roared, once again depositing her joint, “JUST GET BACK TO THE RUDDY STORY!” “Ruddy,” Fraudo giggled, ignoring the blood that was spurting from his wound, “ThatÂ’s a funny word...” “Back to the story,” Araforn said, hastily, “What does it say, Grandy?” “DonÂ’t call me Grandy,” Grandalk sniffed, “Now IÂ’m not going to tell you because you insulted me.” “Oh, come ON!” Broomier suddenly burst out, “Just GET OVER WITH IT, you overly sensitive old coot!” “Oh, sure, you snap at me but you donÂ’t say a WORD to the wretch of a man who just insulted me and my family!” Grandalk wailed, pulling out a large, snot stained handkerchief. “Your family? I didnÂ’t say a peep about your stupid family!” Araforn said, angrily. “There, see? He just called them stupid!” Grandalk said, loudly and dissolved into loud, very stupid sounding sobs. “Oh, get a hold of yourself,” Legalese murmured, rolling his pretty eyes and shoving Grandalk out of the way, scanning the pages of the large, dusty book, “Well, this isnÂ’t too hard to read,” Legalese said, flippantly, “ItÂ’s not even written in a foreign language.” “Yes, it is!” Grandalk said, desperately, pointing his staff at the page and bellowing, “FOREIGNIOSOUS!” which did nothing except light the back of his robes on fire. The eight watched Grandalk for a second run around the cave, trying to put out the fire with his fake spells, which only made the fire become hotter. One of the spells transformed his nose into a turnip, which is a very distracting thing to happen when one is trying to put out a fire. “What does it say?” Araforn said, turning everyoneÂ’s attention back to the moldy old book. LegaleseÂ’s blue eyes scanned the pages. “It says ‘August Ten: My mommy made me go to an orthodontist appointment and I hated it because he made me sit around and read old magazines that talked about somebody named Brad Pitt or something and I mean who knows who Brad Pitt is? Does he even exist? Anyway, then I got my braces tightened and it hurt so bad that I decapitated the orthodontist with my axe even though mommy told me not to but it was okay because he was a big fat meanie anyway and I didnÂ’t like him very much because he thinks heÂ’s so fancy just because he takes a bath more than once a year and–‘“ “Okay, whatÂ’s the point of this?” Broomier said, taking the book from Legalese and flipping through it. “Hey, guys, check out the drawing!” It was a drawing a woman who appeared to have a beard. Gimbal let out a wolf whistle, “What a hottie!” “Ew,” Broomier said, gingerly setting the book down, “What a waste of paper–“ “ThatÂ’s not what it says!” Grandalk said in a ringing voice. He had apparently put out the fire, though his grey hair was singed to a crisp. “It says that there is a very mysterious and ancient beast residing in the mines of Snoria!” “I donÂ’t remember it saying that–“ Araforn started, taking the book and flipping through it, “Hey, hereÂ’s a recipe for egg salad... ew, do they really put alcohol in it–?” “It says it in there,” Grandalk said in that same, ringing voice, “Only those who are brave, amazing and wise can see it–“ “Well, that rules you out,” Poppin sniggered. “Hey, I was supposed to say that at the Council of Elcond about YOU!” Merr-ay wailed, throwing his microphone at PoppinÂ’s head, which gave an ear piercing screech of feedback. “See? Hear the cry of the RALBOG!” Grandalk said, loudly, making everyone jump. “Um, actually, I think that was just my microphone,” Merr-ay said, picking up his microphone. “No, it wasnÂ’t!” Grandalk said, hysterically, “RALBOG! IT WAS THE RALBOG! Do not tell me that you cannot hear the drums?” “ThatÂ’s just Gimbal practicing,” Broomier said, nodding to Gimbal in the corner who was practicing banging on his set of drums. “YEEEEAH IÂ’M A GIMBAL AND IÂ’M GONNA BEAT UP THIS WORLD BECAUSE I ROCK AND... UM... MY HAIR IS CURLED!” Gimbal shrieked, head banging pathetically. Everyone in his vicinity moved away, subtly. “No, itÂ’s not!” Grandalk said, dramatically, pointing a quivering finger at the door of the chamber, “See the flame? That is the RalbogÂ’s great whip! He will slay us all brutally! Oh, what a world!” Grandalk dissolved into loud, annoying sobs. Everyone in his vicinity also backed away until everyone was pressed up against a wall. “Ew, Fraudo, get your foot out of my mouth–“ Scram started, pushing FraudoÂ’s smelly feet out of his face. “Fine, if no one will believe me, IÂ’m jumping off a cliff!” Grandalk sniffed and walked to the edge of a cliff and jumped off. Everyone stared for a second. Then, they all broke in raucous cheers. “Hey, thatÂ’s not how itÂ’s supposed to go!” Grandalk, who was clinging to the edge, “Fraudo is supposed to go ‘GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAANDALK NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’” “Okay GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAANDALK NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Fraudo copied. “Fool, you flies,” Grandalk said, dramatically, “Oh, wait thatÂ’s not right... um, die, you mules! Wait, that canÂ’t possibly–“ “May I?” Fraudo said, gesturing towards Grandalk, who was still trying to think of what to say. “Lie, you pools! No, that canÂ’t be right... erg, what is it?” Grandalk pondered. “Be my guest,” Araforn said, observing Grandalk with raised eyebrows. Fraudo pranced over and stepped on GrandalkÂ’s fingers. Grandalk fell to his doom, screaming something about tying rules. The minute Grandalk was off the edge, the eight broke into raucous celebration. “Okay, partyÂ’s over,” Araforn told Greenday, who had just arrived to play for the party. “Aw,” they all complained and walked out of the mines of Snoria, grumbling under their breathes. “LetÂ’s get out of here,” Araforn said, taking the party hat off of Merr-ayÂ’s head. “Give them a moment, for partyÂ’s sake!” Broomier wailed. “By nightfall, this place will be swarming with party crashers!” Araforn cried, an anguished look on his face, “Now, letÂ’s GO!” “Aw,” everyone complained and slumped out of the cave, throwing mournful looks back at the deserted party. “It was gonna be good,” Poppin whined, “We were going to play pin the tail on the Scram...” “I heard that!” Scram bellowed, tossing his fat, curly head. “How can you have a curly head?” Fraudo questioned, reading the text in the story. “IÂ’m telling you, kite!” Araforn said, waving a hand above his head in a distracted way, “And donÂ’t you DARE use that stupid joint throwing away gag again! YouÂ’ve used it, like, eight times!” “Oh, fine,” this time, the author kept her joint. “Good. I think GimbalÂ’s been picking them up,” Araforn said. “No, heÂ’s just acting normal,” Legalese said. “Well, I suppose as normal as he can, after you made him ram his head into the wall of forgetfulness!” Araforn snapped, irritably, “By the way, that really sucked too,” he informed the author, “I mean, the wall of forgetfulness? How long has THAT existed in Riversnail...?” “ItÂ’s not the wall of forgetfulness!” snarled the author, “ItÂ’s the wall of short term memory loss! Gawd, itÂ’s your own story, how could you forget?” “Shut up! You just–“ Araforn started to argue, heatedly. “Oh, quit it, the pair of you,” snapped Scram, “Listen, letÂ’s just get out of here and you can argue with your girlfriend all you want once weÂ’re out there–“ “GIRLFRIEND?” Araforn and the author screamed at the same time, “DONÂ’T BE GROSS!” “LetÂ’s just go, for PeteyÂ’s sake,” Poppin said, grabbing ArafornÂ’s arm and dragging him out of the mines of Snoria. “Yeah, then I can give you guys a concert!” Merr-ay squeaked, happily, grabbing his microphone, “IÂ’ll sing my whole album, if you like!” “I think Araforn would like that very much,” said the author, maliciously, her eyes glinting, “In fact, IÂ’m fairly sure that Araforn is your number one fan! He has all your CDs, donÂ’t you, Arie?” Araforn, who was standing there with all of Merr-ayÂ’s CDs in his arms, threw them up in the air. “You MADE me hold those, you stupid bi–“ “Language, Arie,” the author said, pleasantly, obviously enjoying being more powerful than Araforn, which she was all the time. However, she just liked it more as of late. She was especially pleased with the stupid look that Araforn had decided to don on his rather ugly face– “UGLY?” shrieked Araforn, “UGLY? YOU COME DOWN HERE AND CALL ME UGLY TO MY FACE–“ “You want me to?” the author said, hotly, “Because I will! You forget, IÂ’ve already got BroomierÂ’s life, I could have yours too just like that!” she said, dramatically, snapping her fingers. “Oh, bah!” Araforn said, waving his dirty hands around so violently that the people around him backed away. “You would do no such thing because IÂ’m a crucial character, unlike the stupid Broomster–“ “Excuse me, IÂ’m standing right behind you,” Broomier sniffed, pompously. “Good for you,” Araforn said shortly and turned back to the author, “You need me in this story because I get to be the king so HA HA thereÂ’s nothing you can do! I can call you the stupid, fat, ugly slug that you are and nothing can happen to me because IÂ’m important–“ “Insolent child,” the author said, her eyes flashing, dangerously, “You think that you canÂ’t be killed off? Well, weÂ’ll see, wonÂ’t we? WeÂ’ll see...” “Okay, like, guys? This is kind of stupid,” Legalese said, flippantly. “Yeah, itÂ’s pretty much gayer than Legalese,” said Scram, pointedly. “And thatÂ’s gay,” Merr-ay said, nodding his head, wisely. “Yeah, it really is,” Legalese said, seeing no reason to argue that he wasnÂ’t gay, seeing as any man whoÂ’s brain was larger than half a pea could see that Legalese was gay. Fraudo, however, happened to be one of those men. “Why is it happy? I donÂ’ undahstand!” he wailed. Everyone subtly backed away from him. “Hey, letÂ’s get out of here, alright?” Legalese said, grabbing FraudoÂ’s arm, “Araforn said that there would be party crashers here by nightfall, and I hate those creeps! Always pulling my hair and calling me a girl–“ “ArenÂ’t you?” Fraudo said, innocently, gazing up at Legalese, confusion rampant in his great, blue eyes. “YouÂ’re so lucky that youÂ’re the thing bearer,” said Legalese, bitterly. He then stopped in his tracks and turned to Araforn. “Why is the thing important? Why are we supposed to destroy it?” “It will get rid of the foot of Saurian,” Araforn said, darkly, “Now donÂ’t tell me that you donÂ’t want that.” “The foot of Saurian doesnÂ’t exist,” Legalese sniffed, importantly, “ItÂ’s just a logo for ‘SaurianÂ’s Super Cereal.’” “THATÂ’S WHAT THEY WANT YOU TO THINK!” Araforn burst out, his dark eyes flashing with a violence that made everyone back away so far that, once again, they were all pressed up against a wall. “Um, no, actually, isnÂ’t he right? I think GimbalÂ’s eating some right now...,” Scram said, pointing a fat finger at Gimbal, who was, indeed, munching gleefully on his ‘SaurianÂ’s Super Cereal.Â’ “It tastes like wood,” Gimbal announced, happily. “So what? Some logos are real! DonÂ’t tell me that you havenÂ’t heard of the great CapÂ’n Crunch!” Araforn said, throwing back his dirty head and giving an annoyingly superior look. “Sorry, we havenÂ’t,” Legalese said in a bored fashion, filing his manicured nails, “Why donÂ’t you go tell–“ “I think I will!” “–someone who cares,” Legalese finished, concentrating on those long, almost frighteningly perfect fingernails. “Aw, cÂ’mon, itÂ’s a great story...,” Araforn pouted. “I agree with the homo,” Scram said and then muttered under his breath, “For once.” Legalese, who had looked rather offended at being called a “homo,” clicked his tongue in a feminine way and went back to his fingernails. “We donÂ’t care, it sounds super retarded,” Legalese said, flippantly, now painting his fingernails a brilliant magenta and blowing on them to dry them. “ThatÂ’s what you think until you hear this tale of bravery and boldness–“ cried Araforn, tears welling dramatically in his eyes. “No one cares,” Legalese said, elegantly blowing on his fingernails with a stern look on his preppy face. “I do!” Araforn wailed in that still dramatic way, throwing his dirty hands around. “LetÂ’s make a run for it,” Scram hissed and began creeping away with Gimbal, Broomier, Poppin and Merr-ay at his heels while Legalese distracted Araforn. “Well, that settles it, doesnÂ’t it?” Legalese said, almost mechanically, “If you care, then we all automatically must,” he rolled his eyes, “Why donÂ’t you shut your yap, honestly? ItÂ’s really getting on my nerves, okay?” “Well, TOO BAD!” Araforn suddenly screeched, his eyes alight with the injustice of it all, “I MUST tell the inspirational tale of strength beyond belief. If youÂ’re preppy little head could even begin to fathom–“ “Oh, well, then I should just shut up and listen, huh? You insult me and then expect to listen to you raptly? Come on, Araforn, even you arenÂ’t that stupid–“ “Want to bet?” --- A/N: Ended fairly abruptly, but oh well. Git over it. Anyway, review please!