One seed to rule them all,
One seed to find them,
One seed to bring them all,
And in the darkness bind them,
In the garden where the insects lie.
Three seeds for the rat kings under the sink,
Seven for the hamster lords in their cages of metal,
Nine for mortal gerbils, doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord in his dark alley,
Near the garden where the insects lie.

The Lord of the Rodents

The newly formed fellowship continue their journey. After a while they stop near an old Sewing Table to regroup (& eat)…

Gimli: If anyone was to ask my opinion, which I note that they’re not, I’d say we were taking the long way round. Gandalf, we could pass under the Table. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome.
Gandalf: No he wouldn’t. Your cousin has no more royal blood in him than my hat. And besides he’s a famous drunk. I know just what kind of welcome we’d get. All in all, I would not pass under the table unless I had no other choice.

Gimli stomps off, annoyed.
Boromir, Merry & Pippin are razor blade fighting. Aragorn is watching them, looking angry.

Boromir: What’s wrong Strider?
Aragorn:…It’s all fun & games until somebody gets hurt.
Pippin: Oh, come on mate, don’t be such a sour…AAHH!!! MY ARM!!!
Aragorn: See.
Boromir: Sorry, Pippin.

Pippin starts crying.

Merry: Now look what you did! Honestly Boromir, you are so clumsy.
Boromir: Why you stupid little…

Boromir draws his razor & jumps on Merry.

Merry: AAH!!

Legolas sees this & thinks he’d better stop them before Boromir slaughters Merry so he shouts…

Legolas: Err, CREBAIN! Er, FROM DUNLAND!
Everyone except Merry & Pippin: HIDE!!!
Merry: Ow.
Pippin: Boo hoo.

After a few minutes of hiding Aragorn says…

Aragorn: Where the hell are they. Legolas, didn’t you say Crebain from Dunland?
Legolas: Uh, yeah. Ok, hang on a sec.

He dashes behind a big rock. There returns a suspiciously ratlike figure with a few dozen feathers stuck on it. It flaps its arms.

Rat/crebain: Caw caw.
Frodo: Wow. It’s pretty big.
Aragorn: Frodo, you are kidding me. You do know that’s Legolas with some feathers don’t you?
Frodo: *laughs* Oh yeah, right Aragorn. “That’s Legolas”. Uh huh.
Boromir: Frodo, look, when did you last see a crebain with whiskers & a long pink tail?
Frodo: You guys are so funny. Oh look, he’s gone back behind the rock. And here comes Legolas. He must have shot it. YAY, LEGOLAS, WOO!
Gandalf: Oh come on, I can’t stand him any more. Lets go up The Table.
Sam: How do we get up there?!
Gandalf: Oh, well, it’s easy, we just, um, well, it’s really very simple, we just, er, we just…
Aragorn: OI!

They all look around but they can’t see him anywhere.

Aragorn: UP HERE!

They look up at the huge towering Sewing Table. Right up at the top there is a tiny speck. A tiny speck with whiskers. It is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He throws down a long piece of cotton.

Aragorn: CLIMB UP!
Legolas: Ah, clever. But how did he get up there?

Aragorn shouts something indistinct.

Legolas: WHAT?
Gandalf: I think he said he’s trying to hide.
Gimli: No, he said the Table’s too wide. And I agree, we should go under the…

No-one is listening to him.

Aragorn: I…CLIMBED…UP…THE…SIDE!!
Sam: Now, there’s an eye-opener & no mistake. He did that fast!
Legolas: Well he did spend the majority of his life climbing trees.

They all begin to climb up the cotton. Legolas, being light & nimble as all rats are, can climb up easily, and Boromir picks up Frodo & Sam in his teeth by the scruff of their necks, & hauls himself up, but guinea-pigs & hamsters are very ill-suited for climbing things, so Gimli & Gandalf keep sliding back down.

Gimli: Oh, bother this for a lark. Come on, let’s just go under here…
Gandalf: Let the seedbearer decide.
Frodo: *thinks* Ow, ow…OW! Boromir’s biting me too hard.
We will go under the table.
Gandalf: Oh, fine, don’t listen to the guinea pig, he must be getting senile in his old age.
Frodo: Well…
Gandalf: Oh shut up. Let’s go before I strangle him.

All the rodents who had managed to make it up groan & slide back down.

Legolas: Ahh! Rope burn!

When they are all at the bottom they stand next to the Table. Because it is very old, they have to manoeuvre not only the covering over the bottom of the Table, but also a large pedal that you press with your foot to make the wheel go round.
On close inspection of the wooden board that covers the bottom of the Table, they see some markings scratched on to it, as if to make a door (coincidence? I think not…)

Gandalf: Hmm. Ithildien. It mirrors only starlight & moonlight.
Pippin: But it’s midday now & I can see it.
Gandalf: Fool of a Twitcher! Do not question a guinea-pigs methods! Do you want to get in or not?
Pippin: Alright, alright, keep your beard on…
Gandalf: What’s this then. The Doors Of Durin, Lord Of The Under Table, Speak Friend & Enter.
Merry: What does that mean?
Gandalf: Oh, I remember this one! You have to say “friend” in Elvish.
Legolas: How did you know that?
Gandalf: *blushes* I saw it on The Weakest Link. Mellon.

The doors open & they all scurry in

Sam: How come you have to say it in Elvish? I thought the Elves & the dwarves hated each other.
Pippin: I dunno.
Gimli: This is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call it a Table. A TABLE!
Boromir: This is no Table. It’s a tomb.

The camera swings around to show dead hamster skeletons littering the carpeted floor. The fellowship all recoil in horror.

All: RUN!!!

They all run out. There is an ominous swishing behind them. Suddenly a huge high-heeled-shoed foot appears out of nowhere & kicks Frodo to high heaven.

Frodo: AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHH AHH etc.
Mice: FRODO!!

A huge face appears at the doors. A huge booming voice screams…

Huge booming voice: AHH! MICE! VERMIN! QUICK, WHERE’S THE TRAP?

Aragorn draws his blade & tries to stab the big face.

Huge booming voice: EEEK! IT’S SCRATCHING ME WITH IT’S CLAWS! HELP!
Gandalf: UNDER THE TABLE!

They all run back in, panting.

Gandalf: We now have only one choice. We must face the not particularly long but very dark of under the table. Be on your guard. There are older & fouler things than cockroaches in the
un-dusted places of the house.
Boromir: Cut out the dramatics, let’s hunt some orc.
Aragorn: Hey! You stole my line!
Boromir: Yeah well you stole my Gondor!
Aragorn: It’s not your Gondor!
Boromir: Is too.
Aragorn: Is not.
Boromir: Is too!
Aragorn: Is not!
Legolas: Oh come on let’s go!

They traipse along countless dark corridors (though why there are corridors in a sewing machine I don’t know, even a very old fashioned one) until they reach the tomb of Gimli’s cousin, Balin. Gimli is in some state of despair. Gandalf finds Balin’s diary.

Gandalf: Oh great. It’s just as I feared. I told you he was a famous drunk! Listen…

Verie dark in here, but evythin keps goin dubbble. i don’t fell very weell…

Ooh…splitting hangover. Can’t write any more.

Had a goood patry today. Drinked a lott of Evlish whine. All peeple at party wering pritty cullered dressis…oops! Tee hee, only the wimmin was wearin prety dreses…hee hee. Stoopid Elves they think theyre sho shmart but they just bounce around when I’m trying to focus & they dint even bring there own whine…

Oh, the drumming in my head. Wait, that’s not my hangover…AAH! RUN AWAY!

Sam: But he didn’t write “aah run away” did he?
Gandalf: That’s what it says here.
Pippin: Well, if he were running away he wouldn’t bother to write “ahh run away” would he? He’d just do it.
Frodo: Perhaps he was dictating.
Gandalf: Oh shut up.

Suddenly there is a huge CRASH as of some heavy armour falling down a well. They all turn round & see Aragorn standing by said well looking very embarrassed.
Gandalf: Fool of a …er, what’s your last name.
Aragorn: Don’t know sir.
Gandalf: Oh, well, Fool of an Isildur’s heir. Throw yourself in next time & rid us of your stupidity. That’s the kind of thing I’d expect from Pippin, not you.
Aragorn: Yes sir. Sorry sir.
Gandalf: Oh, do stop talking like a guilty schoolboy. It’s very demeaning.

DRUM, DRUM, DRUM. DRUMDRUMDRUM.

Boromir: Oh nice one.

Suddenly there is a loud buzzing…ZZZzzzzZZZZzzzzzzz…..ZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!
Aragorn & Boromir open the doors to see a whole army of flies buzzing towards them. They bar the door just in time.

Boromir: (Sarcastically) They have a cave moth.

There ensues a large fight which I could tell you all about; how they fought, what weapons they used, what the name of the third orc-fly on the left on the second row from the back was called – but I’m not going to. So there. Oh, alright then, the third orc-fly on the left on the second row from the back was called Martha…Ok?
Anyway, let’s just skip ahead to the end of the battle. Frodo has been skewered like a kebab on a toothpick held by the Giant Cave Moth. Everyone thinks he is dead…L Aragorn goes over to him but Frodo sits up.

Frodo: It’s alright. I’m not hurt.
Sam: He’s alive.
Frodo: Yes, I know that thank you Sam.
Aragorn: You should be dead!
Frodo: Oh ta very much…that’s a nice thing to say, “You should be dead”. How would you feel if I came and stabbed you in the night but you survived so I said “You should be dead”, eh?
Aragorn: …Er…yes. What I mean is, that toothpick would have skewered a wild boar, whatever one of those is. How did you survive? *quickly* Which is a good thing, you being alive…
Gandalf: I think there’s more to this mouse than meets the eye.

Frodo starts to unbutton his shirt.

All: EWWW! NOOO! NO FATE IS WORTH FRODO UNBUTTONING HIS SHIRT!!!
Frodo: Oh, don’t be such wimps. Look, Mithril…
All: Ooh, aah…pretty…
Frodo: As light as a feather, & as hard as dragon scales. Bilbo gave it me.
Aragorn: No, he gave it to you, not he gave it you.
Frodo: …You have a thing for correcting people’s grammar don’t you?
Aragorn: *quietly* Maybe…

The drumming continues.

Gandalf: To the bridge of Khazad-Dûm.
Sam: Ok, hold it, hold it, everyone stop. How can there be corridors, bridges, tombs, giant moths, hundreds of flies & little doors…IN A SEWING MACHINE!!!!!!!!!!!!
Aragorn: Actually, it’s not really a sewing machine…
Sam: SHUT UP! YOU’RE REALLY STARTIN’ TO ANNOY ME NOW! ALL OF YOU! JUST SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone stands in frightened shock, clustered together, not daring to move.

Sam: I’m takin’ charge of this quest now. Move over old man.
Gandalf: I’m a guinea pig…

Sam shoots him a look of such menace that he backs away.

Gandalf: Yes sir. Sorry sir.
Aragorn: Oh, so I’m not allowed to talk like a guilty schoolboy but you are of course…
Sam: Stop your bickerin’.

Boromir sticks a paw in the air.

Sam: What?
Boromir: *timidly* What does bickerin’ mean?
Legolas: It’s like arguing, isn’t it Sam?
Sam: Yes. Um, people? I’ve changed my mind. I’ve just thought that if I’m leader I’m the most likely to get killed, so I’m going to let Gandalf to be leader again.
Aragorn: I thought I was leader.
Gandalf: No, you were just the quiet brooding one who was the eye-candy for the ladies.
Aragorn: What ladies!? Besides, I thought that was Legolas.
Legolas: Yeah…
Gandalf: No, he’s for the teenage girls. You’re more for the older generation, Aragorn.
Aragorn: *sarcastically* Oh, great.
Frodo: ANYWAY… can we just get on with it please? I think the drumming is getting closer.
Gandalf: You’re quite right. Let’s go.

They all run along countless corridors into a big hall. Sam is silent but you can tell he’s thinking “A big hall in a sewing machine?!”
In this hall thousands of orc-flies burst out at them. They are surrounded but the orc-flies seem edgy. As suddenly as they arrived, they disappear back in to the walls.

Boromir: What is this new devilry?
Gandalf: …A Batrog. This foe is beyond any of you. RUN!

They all run like heck to the bridge of Khazad-Dûm. Gandalf is the last. He waits until they are all off the bridge, then he stops & turns around. He is facing a huge bat which (for some reason) is holding a whip.

Gandalf: You cannot pass.
Frodo: GANDALF!
Gandalf: I am a servant of the secret fire, wielder of the Flame of Arnor. YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!
And with that he bashes his staff on the ground, breaking the bridge. The bat somehow seems to forget he can fly, and he tumbles down into the darkness. Then Gandalf does something incredibly stupid. He breathes a sigh of relief. You must never, ever breathe a sigh of relief, because something will always come & get you. And, sure enough, the Batrog’s whip appears over the bridge and pulls Gandalf down by his ankles.

Gandalf: Ahh!
Frodo: GANDALF!!
Gandalf: Fly you fools.

Gandalf falls into the blackness.

Frodo: NOOO!!!!

Boromir drags Frodo out, everyone else has already scarpered, except Aragorn who is standing at the bridge with a look of heartbroken despair & confusion. Boromir shouts him.

Boromir: ARAGORN! COME ON!

Aragorn comes, backwards still looking at the place from where Gandalf fell. Sad music plays as the remaining fellowship break into their various versions of the grieving process. (By the way, you can work out what race you are from this) The mice sit down hard & burst into tears. Legolas walks around with his face in the sort of shape it goes when you’re trying not to cry. Gimli stands still with very wide eyes (looking more confused than sad). The gerbils deal with the situation in an orderly & businesslike manner, because although they feel like doing exactly what the hobbits are doing, they have their gerbilhood to defend, and/or they know that if they stop for any longer they will be eaten/stabbed by countless horrid things. (I’m a mouse, personally)

One seed to rule them all,
One seed to find them,
One seed to bring them all,
And in the darkness bind them,
In the garden where the insects lie.
Three seeds for the rat kings under the sink,
Seven for the hamster lords in their cages of metal,
Nine for mortal gerbils, doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord in his dark alley,
Near the garden where the insects lie.

Thus endeth part three.