The Freakoship of the Rings

Chapter 1

The Journey Begins

Frodo was a hobbit. He was a girly hobbit, but a hobbit. He lived in Bag End, Bagshot Row in Hobbiton. It was a fine afternoon, and Frodo, being rather lazy, instead of doing his chores, was sitting in the shade reading a book.

He eventually realized that the birds had stopped singing, and there was dead silence in the world. He looked back at the page of his book, which was a Sherlock Holmes mystery book, and was rather creeped.

Then, a wagon with an old man pulled up on the lane next to where Frodo was sitting. Frodo bounded up to get a better look at the man. The guy turned to face him.

“Hullo, Frodo my lad!” cried the old man.

“Gandalf!” said Frodo in shock, “What are you doing here?”

“Ho, well, I was passing through for your uncle’s birthday,” he replied. “Also, I was robbed of my favorite wagon, and this one is quite damaged, so I also stopped to have it fixed.”

“Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will do what I can in his stead,” volunteered Frodo bravely.

Gandalf shot him a disgusted look and slapped the horse’s behind to get him moving.

Frodo shrugged and went back to his book.

Later that evening Bilbo’s party began. Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam were all huddled together whispering.

“Gandalf’s up to something; I can feel it in the earth; I can smell it in the air. All that one was is lost. For none now live who remember it,” spoke Frodo.

“I agree. Why else would he come here if there weren’t a significant rationale?” agreed Sam.

“What on earth is a rationale?” asked Pippin.

“Uh, actually I think it means ‘purpose’,” replied Sam.

“SHUDDUP!” hissed Merry, “you don’t want Gandy ‘t hear us!”

Frodo scooted back his metal foldout chair and grabbed a doughnut. After scarfing the entire pastry, he washed it down with a cool mug of Fruitopia.

“You should count you carbs Frodo milad,” scolded Gandalf strolling over to the gang.

Pippin rolled his eyes.

“I SAW THAT, MAGGOT!” Gandalf bellowed, slapping poor Pippin’s head.
Pippin dunked his head into a nearby ice bucket.

“I think I’ll have another ale,” said Sam starting to rise.

Gandalf gave him a sound shove back to his chair.

Sam rubbed his behind.

“Now listen up Maggots,” he seized Pippin by the scruff of the neck, and yanked him out of the ice.

Pip’s head was completely blue, and his teeth were chattering. Gandalf soon slapped that out of him.

“Now,” he spoke, puffing on his pipe, “there is a serious matter at hand that needs to come to attention.”

Frodo nudged Merry with his elbow.

“IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK THAT I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION FOR A LEAST FIVE SECONDS WITHOUT BEING RUDELY INTERRUPTED?” screamed Gandalf in Frodo’s face.

Frodo numbly shook his head.

“Good. Now, back to business. As I have been trying to say, Frodo is inheriting Bag End and all of Bilbo’s possessions,” Gandalf said calmly.

“I don’t want any of his crummy old junk!” cried Frodo.

“I HAVE JUST ABOUT HAD IT WITH YOU MISTER!” yelled Gandalf.

Frodo slunk back to his seat and pouted a pouty pout.

“Anyway, this means that you also inherit his old ring; a ring of great importance. This ring is the One Ring, forged by Sauron himself in the fires of Mt. Doom. The Ring is altogether evil!”

Frodo glanced expectantly at Gandalf for him to carry on.

Gandalf whiffed his pipe again, and continued. “You must take the Ring and go with it into the fires of the Black Land of…hmmmm. This might be too complicated for a dope like you. In other words, you are going to take the ring to Rivendell, and there we will decide what to do with it.”

Frodo appeared befuddled.

“Auuuggghhh! Moron! Idiot! How shall I ever explain this to you! Uhhhhhhmmmm? Ah, yes! FRODO!”

Frodo, who had been quietly dozing off, leaped to attention. “HOO, HAA, what?”

“Yes, my friend, YOU. You are taking Bilbo’s ring to Rivendell. Tomorrow. Got it?” asked Gandalf.

“What other duty would you have me do my lord?” mumbled Frodo sleepily.

“Draw out Sauron’s armies; empty his lands,” replied Gandalf sarcastically.

The next morning, Gandalf woke them. “It is time, Frodo.”

Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam started out on their quest. They each had a luggage pack to carry, and Frodo was whining because he thought that he was carrying more than the rest. Before they had left, Gandalf spoke a few words of comfort.

“So Maggots, if you see some black dudes on black horses, know that they want the ring and will kill you or worse to get it. But DO NOT GIVE IT TO THEM.”
“Why?” asked Frodo.

“BECAUSE, if they get it, they will take it to Sauron, and if Sauron gets it, he will destroy the world,” replied Gandalf.

“Oh,” answered Frodo. He started off in the wrong direction.

Gandalf slapped his forehead. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Show me the way?” said Frodo innocently hopeful.

Gandalf decided it would be best if he just left the four hobbits on their own. He slapped his horse’s behind, and galloped off to meet with Saruman.

Frodo said sadly, “He leaves because there is no
hope.”

“He leaves because he must,” responded Pippin.

“Is there any hope, for Frodo and Sam?” asked Merry.

Pip replied, “There never was much hope, just a fool’s hope.”

“I hope we can find a tavern along the way,” said Frodo hopefully.

“No hope of that,” objected Sam.

“You’re hopeless,” said Pippin.

That night they slept beneath the boughs of the willow trees, and it was rather chilly. Sam was additionally comfortable that night, for he had brought a soft mattress and a lovely feather pillow along in his pack. These were not his for very long, for the others absconded with them soon after.

A few mornings later, the hobbits were quarreling about who should get the last tomato, when they heard an unearthly scream. A second later, a Black Rider rode into the midst of the clearing. Sam shook his skewer at it and howled, “No! You shan’t have it either!” The rider was quite flummoxed, and kept on wheeling his horse around, this way and that way, until Frodo felt somewhat sorry for the beast.

Meanwhile, Gandalf’s mind was on anything but the matter before him as he rode to Isengard seeking Saruman’s counsel. He was actually thinking about the best way to dip strawberries into chocolate. ‘Do you use tongs, or do hold them by the leaves?’ He was so deep in thought that he nearly crashed into a tree and a lamppost, but as Gandalf usually does, he came out all right.

Saruman was watching all this from Isengard and thought about what a klutz Gandalf was.

Gandalf rode up to the tower, sprang off his horse and started toward Isengard. His horse whinnied and stamped his hooves. Annoyed, Gandalf threw a lump of sugar at it. He then turned back to his path of destiny.

The dark door opened, and Saruman the White started down the long flight of steps. However, he stumbled, and he went bumpety-bump down for his cloak was so long.

When he finally hit the bottom, he was rather battered and bruised, but it was his pride that was hurt most of all.

Gandalf was giggling and snickering and it gradually became right-out laughing.
Saruman slowly rose with a look of malice on his face. “Why hello Gandalf my old friend,” he growled.

“Tell me ‘Friend’ when did Saruman the Wise abandon Reason for Madness?” indicted Gandalf.

“Um, actually it was on the twenty sixth exactly…..uhmm, nine days ago.” he retorted, counting on his fingers.

Gandalf was rather irritated. “Don’t play Coy with me, foul FIEND!”

Saruman sat down on a stone, placed his head in his hands, and let out a long sigh.

Gandalf hopped around, gloating and hovering over poor Saruman. “You’ll never amount to anything, you never have, never will…..you have appalling decorating taste …you’re a couch potato……..you, you, you….”

“Just leave me alone, okay?” sobbed Saruman. I know I have a large nose and girly fingernails, but that’s no reason to dislike me,” he wailed.

“Large? Talkin’ ‘bout LARGE? You don’t have a nose; you have a BEAK!” ridiculed Gandalf mercilessly.

Saruman just sobbed.

Gandalf realized that staying at Isengard was pointless, and he realized that he must join Frodo at the council of Elrond.

The four hobbits managed to get away from the rider, and made to a safe hideaway. Later that morning, Gandalf met them while they were frying second breakfast over a blazing fire. Frodo punched Merry in the gut when he tried to steal Frodo’s last slice of honey-cured ham. Frodo pummeled Merry in return. Then Pippin socked Sam. “What?” cried Sam keeling over. Pip shrugged. Then Frodo punched Pippin, and Sam thumped Merry on the skull. Merry whacked Pippin, Sam hit Frodo, and Pippin stroked Merry a blow. By the end of the brawl, the hobbits were battered and bruised, and Pippin was even in tears.

“What were we fighting about, anyhoo?” asked Sam.

The three shrugged and sighed.

Then, Gandalf galloped into the circle of hobbits, and whisked the portion of meat out of Merry’s greedy hands.

The next morning they were on their way to Bree.

“I think we’re heading for the prancing pony,” said Frodo smugly glancing at Merry.

“Is it a good place for beer and crumb cake?” asked Sam.

“Oh yes. It’s a quality establishment. I hear the staff are very good,” answered Pippin wisely.

As they were walking down the trail, Pippin cried out, “Mushrooms!” All the hobbits rushed to the mushrooms and started stuffing them into a bag. Frodo got an uneasy feeling that someone was coming down the road. Then suddenly three people bounded out. One was an elf, on was a dwarf, and the other was a wimp. His name was Aragorn, and he was the lost king of Gondor and the heir to Isildur.

Legolas was complaining that all this waiting was mussing his hair. As a gust of wind blew, it carried with it one of his shiny blonde hairs. He grabbed it and carefully pushed back into place.

Frodo stared in total befuddlement.

Merry, Pippin, and Sam paid no attention to them whatsoever.

“Hi” said Gimli the Dwarf.

“Hello, Gimli my old Friend,” greeted Gandalf.

Aragorn just sniffled.

Legolas smoothed his hair. Gimli cuffed him on the ear.

Gandalf said, “These fine gentlemen are going to join us on our quest. CAN WE FIX IT?”

“YES WE CAN!” shouted the three.

Finally, the hobbits were done, and they were on their way. Just then, someone in a black hood was standing across the path.

It hissed, “Ssssshire, Bagginsssss!”

“Present!” yelled Frodo bounding up.

“Noooo, not pressssent, Bagginssssss, “it replied stupidly.

“EEEEEEEEKKKKKK!!!” squealed Aragorn cowering into a little ball.

“Hellloooo? Uh, Mr. Nightingale, I’m right here!” said Frodo now quite exasperated.

The black widow galloped right at Frodo. Frodo and the rest of the troop dove into a marsh called Midgewater to hide from the black riders. They heard a splish, splosh like a horse with a black rider on it coming through a marsh.

‘Maybe,’ thought Aragorn, ‘maybe it is!’ and he collapsed from pure fear.

“Shhh!” hissed Frodo. “He’ll find me, he’ll seeeee!”

“Shaddap, maggot!” whispered Gandalf. They waited there for a long time and then continued on to Bree.

At the sign of the Prancing Pony they all breathed a sigh of relief,”Ahhhhhhhhh.”

Then Gandalf sent the hobbits in to get a table while they all waited. The hobbits went to the counter and waited for the Innkeeper.

“Why good evening little masters, what may I be doing for you? Barliman’s the name. If you’re looking for some nice hobbit sized rooms then I’ve got some down in the west wing with those round windows and all. If you want some malt beer, roaring fires, and red meat off the bone then we’ve got that as well. Come now answer quick! I haven’t got all day!”

Frodo replied, “Yes, actually we’d like both, but also reserve four man sized rooms for our friends. Oh, and by the way we are here to see Gandalf. Can you tell him we’ve arrived?”

“Gandalf? Gandalf?…. Oh yes! Elderly chap, long beard, pointy hat? Not seen ‘em in months.” Frodo was not greatly disappointed, but the fates were not going to be good for long, for at that moment Gandalf came in looking for them.

“You maggots! Where have you been? The fellowship has been waiting for half an hour!”

“Oops, I forgot. There now, you see? I forgot that this version is different than the normal one,” Frodo replied shakily. They all made their way into their rooms and slept peacefully, except for when the riders burst into the inn across the street, and destroyed the place.

“Why don’t they just look in this inn?” asked Pippin sensibly.

“For a good reason, and the reason is good and there is good in the reason,” replied Gandalf.

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Chapter 2:

El Ringwraiths

The next day the came to this place called Weathertop. They made camp on top of it and hoped the Blackboards wouldn’t be able to see them. All the men went with Aragorn to scout out the area. The hobbits were left with only dinky swords for protection. Then there was a ghastly shriek and some shadows shaped like men glided up the hill. The hobbits scampered up to the highest point of the ancient ruin.

They gathered back to back, as the Riders drew out their swords.

“Adiiiossss, mi amiiiigooosss,” shrieked the blacky. Sam ran, yelling at them, but they pushed him aside. Merry and Pippin tried to ward them off, but to no avail.

Frodo backed up and being Frodo he fell down. He clutched for the ring and slipped it on. The Witch King of Angmar came up to him and tried to stab him with the lollipop he had been sucking on, but only succeeded in getting tangled up in Frodo’s hair. He finally remembered his knife, and stabbed him in the shoulder.

Then Gandalf came and slashed at them with his sword.

Sam crouched next to Frodo, who said, “I can see the shire, Sam. The Brandywine River, Gandalf’s fireworks, Bag End, the lights, and the party tree.”

“Waiiiiiiit a minute!” shrieked Sam, “you’re not supposed to say that until the end of the movie!”

Frodo sat up. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Okay. We must be moving on!” said Gandalf.

“I will get some kingsfoil to put on the wound. In the meantime you all decide where we should go from here,” Aragorn ambled down from Weathertop in search of kingsfoil.

“Well where should we go?” asked Legolas globbing moisturizing cream on his hair.

“What does you heart tell you?” said Gimli.

“I heard that!” came a faint voice from down below. The next day Frodo was feeling worse by the second.

“We must get him to Rivendell, immediately!” screamed Gandalf, booting them down the hill. That night, they stopped at a mini mart for grub and refreshment.

Frodo was in a delirium, and was walking around the store swaying and singing to himself. “Ohhh….my darlin’….my…..Clementine.. was lost…..gone….forever…sorry…….” he staggered. The clerk, who was a Hispanic dude with dreadlocks, and about five hundred gazillion tattoos, and six teeth missing was watching him in utter astonishment. But when Froder stole a Fruitopia, he was laughing no more. As they trudged down the lonely path, Arwen came bounding out of the woods on a horse, grabbed Frodo and galloped away blowing Aragorn a kiss.

Aragorn waved, “Bye sweetie!”

“Heyyyyyyyy!” whined Legolas, “She mussed my hair!” And he whipped out a travel-sized can of hair spray, and a dainty mirror. He also grabbed a tiny comb and carefully smoothed down his hair and then sprayed the entire can of spray onto it.

By the time everyone stopped hacking and coughing Gandalf had already mounted his horse and was now shouting, “Let’s move it along maggots! We must get to Rivendell!”

Meanwhile, Frodo and Arwen were riding full speed toward Rivendell with nine black riders hot on their heels. Arwen kicked the horse into gear four, and stepped on the accelerator. Asfaloth’s rocket booster clicked on and they zoomed off. But unfortunately, the rockets only lasted for twenty-five seconds before they ran out of fuel.

“Oh patty cakes,” screamed Arwen. “I gotta get better boosters,” she said pulling up to a gas station. She spent five minutes arguing with the attendant about the best way to fill rocket boosters, and another eleven eating a chocolate bar. By the time she actually got around to leaving, the riders were not far behind.

“Give up the Halfling, She-Elf!” The witch King hissed as he approached the Mobil Mart.

“Oh you caint always get what jou want! Oh yeah!” she sang. She bolted, but this was not her lucky day, because although she had filled the boosters to the max, they still didn’t work. She hit them, but to no avail. She galloped to a river and said, “Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer; Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Ulaer!” which made the river flood, and carry away the riders and horses. When Frodo awoke, he found himself lying in a bright room in Rivendell.

Gandalf came in and said, “Art thou hungry?”

“Yes, but why are you talking like that?”

“Thou dost have no knowledge of these pressing tribulations,” Gandalf replied hurrying off to get Frodo some food. When he returned he brought roast fowl, peach dumplings, and malt beer. “Is there a significant enough amount of light for thee?” asked Gandalf.

“Not quite. There’s room for a little more.”

Gandalf drew back the curtain and breathed deeply.

“Breath the free air again, my friend,” he muttered.

“Eh? What’s that? You know I ain’t hearin’ as weel ast I used ta,” replied Frodo saucily.

“No!” screamed Gandalf! “No more of that bum talk!” Then remembering himself he started afresh. “I mean, if thou wouldst be so kind as to refrain from using such language that may offend such persons who may be entitled to that courtesy.”

“What in blue blazes are you saying?” hollered Frodo.

“Never mind,” said Gandalf whisking Frodo off to a meeting.

12. Chapter 2

The Mustering of the Good Guys

It was a fine day in Rivendell and Elrond was busy cleaning for some guests.

Actually, he was not cleaning; some other elves were doing that. Elrond was busily reciting what he was going to say. Just then, a horn sounded, and a strong man rode up to the front walk. After about forty-five seconds, a whole barrage of men in armor rushed up to the oblivious Boromir and surrounded him.
He flung his hands in the air and screamed, “Don’t shoot!”

“You rang?” asked a grumpy soldier with a rather ugly face.

“Yes, tea and crrrumpets, please,” said Boromir rolling his R’s.

“Hey, Smart Aleck! You’re only ‘sposed to blow your horn when you are in danger!” grumbled the soldiers marching back to Minas Tirith. .

Then Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn, and the four hobbits strode up the path.

That night, Aragorn and Arwen met on a bridge next to the local casino.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” asked Arwen.

“YEAH! I had wicked poison ivy, and you looked like you had just fallen off a cliff!” recalled Aragorn thoughtfully.

Arwen shoved him. “That’s all you remember? Poison IVY? You’re supposed to say, ‘I thought I had strayed into a dream’!” she screamed.

Aragorn was rather taken aback, “Well,” he said indignantly, “I had strayed into a dream. The poison ivy was making me so delirious that I thought I was in a dream.”
Arwen turned her back on him.

“IT WAS ITCHY!” he called after her. He sprinted to catch up with her.

“What do you want?” she asked without looking at him.

Aragorn looked down at his toes, which he could see quite plainly for his boots were too small and threadbare. “Uh, you look pretty now,” he said stupidly.

Arwen rolled her eyes.

“Pretty eyes,” hinted Aragorn, being rather a suck up.

Arwen hurled the Evenstar at him. “Here! Keep the stupid rock! I have no use for it!”
Aragorn dropped it.

“On second thought, it would look better on my neck.” She snatched it back from him.

He clutched for it and wrestled out of her grasp.

“Mangy Mutt!” she hollered scratching at him for the necklace.

Aragorn climbed a tree, which Arwen could not do, for her dress. “Aww, keep it,” she muttered and stalked away.

The next morning, all the people made their way to the council. Galadriel was there and so were Théoden and Gollum.

Aragorn pulled out his sword and sauntered to the middle of the room. He drew out his sword and said, “This is Anduril, Flame of the West, forged from the shards of Narsil.” He swung it around and smoothly put it back. He gave a flashy smile and marched back to his horse.

“I need a pint of spray for my hair,” moaned Legolas.

“It comes in pints?” asked Pippin.

“Okay people, we are gathered here in this dark hour to answer the threat of Mordor,” said Elrond standing up. “Bring forth the ring, Frido.”

“Uh, it’s Frodo.”

“Just bring the darn ring up!”

Frodo jumped up and ran up the steps and climbed on the parapet and threw the ring on the little table.

“Clever hobbit to climb so HIGH!!!” screamed Gollum rushing for the ring.

Boromir ran with his sword raised and yelled, “Aiiieeeooowwwahhhhhnnkkkaaa!”

“Please don’t hurt us, Master, we promise to do what he wants.”

“There is no promise you make that I can trust,” said Boromir lowering the saber.

“THEIF!!!” hollered Frodo, “that was MY line!”

“Order! I will have order!” screamed Elrond.

They all slunk back to their places.

“Who will take the ring to Mordor, and cast it back into the fiery chasm from whence it came?”

Legolas stood up, smoothed his hair, and said, “I…….”

But then Gimli leaped up and shouted, “I will not see the ring in the hands of an elf!”

“SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET! NOW!” shrieked Elrond.

Everyone sat down and shut up.

“Now, as I WAS SAYING, who will take the ring to Mordor?”

Boromir stepped up and said, “I will take the ring to Mordor, though, I do not know the way.”

Frodo turned purple, then red, then green. Then he collapsed, and fainted dead away.

Gandalf said, “He was strong in life. His spirit will make its way to the halls of his father. I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.”

Everyone stared at him and Pippin dumped some Ent draught onto Frodo’s face.

Frodo jumped up and opened his eyes, which were now quite big because of the Ent draught.

“Hoo hey! Mr. Bug Eyes!!” teased Pippin. As Frodo regained his senses, Boromir accepted the ring from Elrond.

“This task has been appointed to me Boromir of Gondor, and if I do not find a way, no one will.” Just as he said this, Galadriel stormed up and punched him in the face. She grabbed the ring from him and shoved it into Frodo’s hand. “There, ya little whiner, ya happy?” she growled.

“Uh, duh, um…. I…”

“Shaddap!”

“Okay! Now that we have that settled, we must choose those who will go with this honorable hobbit.

We have only to remove those who oppose us. Rohan, my Lord, is ready to fall,” said Elrond sneakily.

“Hey! We are your friends! Saruman was supposed to say that!” bellowed Theoden.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant. Heh, Heh!”

Theoden glowered and turned away in a huff.

The next day, the fellowship was ready to start on their long journey to Mordor. Everyone was retuning to his proper place, Galadriel, to Lorien, Theoden, back to Rohan.

A couple of days later the Fellowship continued on their journey. They were camping on a small hill of rock and Merry, Pippin, and
Boromir were practicing sword fighting.

Legolas had just finished giving his hair a shampoo when his elf eyes saw something. “The stars are veiled. Something stirs in the East. A sleepless malice. The eye of the enemy is moving. He is HERE,” said Legolas peering into the sky.

“Sweet mother of Abraham Lincoln, Legolas! That has nothing to do with what is going on! That comes later!” shrieked Aragorn.

Boromir stood up. “Craibain, from Dunland!” he hollered.

“Fly you fools!” screamed Gandalf.

“Cripes!” said Frodo. They all dove under cover just as the fleeting flyers flew from far.

“The passage south is being watched. We must take the pass of Carhadras!” yelled Gandalf when the birds had passed. The fellowship trudged up the snowy mountain. Frodo, of course, fell down and lost the ring.

“Good Gravy, Frodo! Quit fooling around!” screeched Boromir.

Aragorn snatched up the ring and thrusted it into Frodo’s hand. “See that you keep it safe from now on,” said Aragon irritably. When they had gotten high up into the mountain a dreadful storm was brewing. Lightning struck a cliff and brought an avalanche down on to them.

“They will be like the small stones that starts an avalanche,” spoke Gandalf.

“That’s in the last movie!” shrieked Pippin.

“Cripes!” said Frodo.

“We must go through the mines of Moria,” spoke Gimli.

Gandalf looked worried. “You know what the Dwarves awoke. Shadow and flame; whispers of a nameless fear. Let the ring bearer decide.

“Who, me? Uh, duh… um…”

“This will be the death of the hobbits,” yelled Legolas.

Then Merry came up with a brilliant idea. Bing! “We will go through the mines.”

Frodo hollered, “When last I looked, Frodo not Merry was the Ringbearer.“

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