A/N: This took me awhile to write. I was in this play thing and I had like a four hour practice every day so I didn’t write in this for awhile. But all that matters is that the new chapter is up, right? Right.

Disclaimer: Nothing that I mention in this belongs to me. Unless it does. And then it’s MINE. And I’m not getting paid. Duh.

Rating: PG-13 for a suggestive reference, language and mild violence.

—

Broomier felt like his lungs would explode. Why did the dumb little flobbit have to get so far away? And how did he get there so fast on his stubby little legs? Broomier finally conquered the last hill and looked to see Fraudo hanging around a cheap looking plastic statue of a hand. Fraudo noticed Broomier and immediately threw himself on the ground and began writhing.
“HE KNOWS I HAVE IT!” Fraudo shrieked.
“Who knows you have what?” Broomier said lazily, looking at Fraudo with an obviously bored look.
“SAURIAN KNOWS I HAVE THE THING!” Fraudo sobbed, curling himself up into a little ball and looking miserable. Broomier rolled his eyes. In his opinion, he was far too hot and important to be taking care of such a screamy little baby.
“Does he now,” Broomier said dully.
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?” Fraudo screamed, looking at Broomier with wild flashing eyes.
“I dunno. No more coffee?” Broomier said, rolling his eyes.
“NO! IT MEANS NO MORE COFF–oh, wait. You were right the first time,” Fraudo said and then looked at Broomier with a disappointed look. “Wow. You’re boring. I’m going to go find someone more interesting.” And with that, Fraudo leapt to his feet and began to stumble away. He then stopped and turned around to look at Broomier. “Hey, do you want the thing?”
“Um. Not really,” Broomier said, eyeing the thing that hung about Fraudo’s neck. “It really wouldn’t look good with my hair.”
“Aw, c’mon!” Fraudo squealed. “It’ll be so cool!”
“Don’t think so, my little midget pal,” Broomier said dully, patting Fraudo’s curly hair.
Fraudo sucked in a deep breath and whined in the most annoying voice possible, “C’mon!”
“No.”
“Aw, c’mon!”
“Don’t want to.”
“Pleeeeeeeeeeease?”
“Not gonna happen.”
“YES IT IS!” Fraudo thrust the thing into Broomier’s hand. Broomier tried to give it back to Fraudo, but Fraudo decided to sit on Broomier. Fraudo’s funk was so overpowering that Broomier found himself incapable of doing anything but gasping for breath, the thing hanging loosely from his chunky fingers. Fraudo then let out a scream.
“YOU’RE STEALING THE THING!” he wailed, shoving his flobbit butt into Broomier’s face. Broomier screamed, trying to get away from the horrible scent that was Fraudo. Fraudo got up and ran around in a circle, wailing at the top of his lungs, “BROOMIER STOLE THE THING! BROOMIER STOLE THE THING!” and on and on and on.
Meanwhile, the other six members of the fellowship were sitting at the camp, listening to Fraudo and Broomier’s mixed shrieks. Araforn–who had very recently recovered from his running into the rock incident–looked to Scram with a weary expression.
“Who wants to go see what’s up with them?” Araforn finally said. The other five all suddenly became very interested in their fingernails. Araforn sighed and shook his head. “I suppose I’ll go then.”
“Enjoy,” Scram grunted. Araforn trudged up the hill to where Broomier had left a few minutes earlier, muttering under his breath about how he shouldn’t have to go after stupid flobbits. After all, he was going to be the king of Gonfloor! It hardly seemed fair. He finally found Fraudo running around in a circle, screaming about Broomier stealing the thing with Broomier on the ground, sobbing.
“What’s going on?” Araforn asked, eyes wide with shock at the strange scene.
“He stole the thing,” Fraudo whimpered in a pathetic fashion. Araforn rolled his eyes and then crouched in front of Fraudo.
“Look, Fraudo, I donÂ’t know how to break this to you… but we all donÂ’t really like you–“ Araforn started, but then Fraudo interrupted him.
“I can’t stay here, Araforn,” he said in a hushed voice. “I must bear this burden alone.”
Araforn’s eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. But he was afraid that if he looked too happy, Fraudo would decide to stay. So he then cleared he throat and said in a very serious voice, “If you must, Fraudo.”
“I must,” Fraudo squeaked. Then, he ripped the thing out of the groaning Broomier’s hand and offering it to Araforn. “Would you take it?”
Araforn almost laughed out loud. It was obvious that Fraudo had tried to pull the same trick on Broomier and Broomier had given in. He instead kept the solemn look on his face and closed Fraudo’s fist around the thing. “No. You must take it.”
“Okay,” Fraudo shrugged and walked away, ignoring the plethora of urks that were chasing him. Araforn let out a yelp and clumsily pulled out his sword. The urks laughed at him. Either that or they were doing a lot of coughing, burping and farting.
Araforn realized that his limited swordplay could not fend off the army of urks. So he then sheathed his sword, pointed behind the urks and screamed at the top of his lungs “LOOK! IT’S PETER JACKSON!” and then barreled away, leaving the still screaming Broomier to deal with the urks. The urks screamed in their rage, dumbly swinging about and trying to find that hated director. They settled for Broomier, who tried to defend himself. For no reason that was known to anyone, Poppin and Merr-ay ran out from behind some bushes that they were hiding behind and began screaming wildly. The urks snatched them up. Broomier began to blow the horn of Gonfloor desperately, as the urks stomped on his toes.
Meanwhile, back at the camp, Gimbal and Legalese were playing War with pack of GrandalkÂ’s old cards.
“Do you hear something?” Legalese asked, quirking a perfect eyebrow as he laid down the ace of spades.
“Besides you losing? NO!” Gimbal squealed with glee, laying down the two of hearts with a triumphant look.
Legalese rolled his eyes and continued to admire those feminine fingernails. “Gimbal, what part of having a card lower than the other is a bad thing don’t you understand?”
“The whole thing,” Gimbal said simply. He then gasped and clapped his hands with glee as he saw his next card. “Dude, you are so going to get massacred! I’ve got like solid twos and threes! You’re dead!”
“I wish,” Legalese muttered under his breath as he began to file his fingernails. Suddenly, a large urk stormed into the camp, followed by a scraggily little one.
“Ooh, cards! You guys want to play hearts?” squealed the small urk. The large urk clapped his hands together like an very overweight toddler and made a disgusting gurgling noise.
“Sure, why not?” Gimbal smiled and grabbed Legalese’s cards, shuffling the deck and beginning to deal the cards in a surprisingly fast pace. Legalese rolled his eyes and pulled out a compact mirror, putting on more red lipstick.
“I hope that everyone dies soon so I can get out of here,” bemoaned Legalese. The other three nodded sympathetically.
“Yeah, we know how that feels. Jimbo and I ran away from the other urks. There was a big fight starting and fights make Jimbo have accidents,” said the tiny urk in a gentle voice. Legalese pulled a face and subtly backed away from the large urk that had been dubbed Jimbo. Jimbo giggled and waved, sucking on his huge dirty thumb. The four played hearts for the next three hours. The tiny urk won each time, zero points to all of theirs which was over a hundred. Jimbo was ostracized from the game after he threw down all of his cards on the first hand and began to laugh hysterically.
Suddenly, a very bloody Broomier stumbled in onto the fourÂ’s animated game. He dramatically clutched several arrows that stuck out of his chest and moaned.
“Hey, Broom. Wanna play?” Gimbal said, waving the ace of spades in Broomier’s face. Broomier threw up on Gimbal and then died.
“Gross,” Legalese said shortly. “So whoÂ’s winning? Let me guess… Tiny?”
“You guessed it,” Tiny replied, a wry grin on his scrawny face.
“I wanna win!” wailed Jimbo.
“Fine. Jimbo’s winning,” Tiny sighed, rolling his bloodshot eyes.
“But I wanna win too!” whined Gimbal, tears spilling down his filthy face into his matted beard.
“Yeah, but you don’t pound people into the ground when you lose,” Tiny pointed out.
“New strategy, Gimbal. Let the big urk win,” whispered Legalese.
“I LOVE STAR WARS!” Gimbal suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Huh?” Tiny blinked.
“Just ignore him. He belongs in a mental institute,” Legalese sighed, picking up the cards that had been dealt to him.
“So what are we going to do about the corpse?” questioned Tiny, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at Broomier’s bloody body.
“Pretend it’s not there?” Legalese suggested.
Tiny pondered this solution for a bit and then nodded. “Good idea,” he said. “So guys… ready to get killed in hearts again by Jimbo?”
“BORN READY!” squeaked Gimbal and the four started into another game.

Scram picked up his pack and began to run as fast as his chubby legs would carry him. This was his chance. He could run for it and nobody would even notice. That meant no more dealing with prissy elves, insane dwarves, annoying hobbits and whiny humans. He almost laughed with glee as he thought of the quietness the forest would offer him. He didn’t even notice the searing side ache that stabbed at him as he ran faster and faster–right into the lake that Fraudo was paddling away on.
“SCRAM!” squealed Fraudo. “I’M GOING ALONE!”
“CAN’T SWIM!” floundered Scram in return.
“Wait. That doesn’t make any sense. I’m going alone, so therefore you can’t come with me. See you, Scram,” Fraudo said and began paddling away. Scram clumsily dog paddled to Fraudo’s boat and yanked his overweight body into the boat, gasping for breath. Fraudo looked at Scram with those wide blue eyes full of gratefulness.
“AW, SCRAMY!” he wailed and then threw his arms around Scram’s neck. Scram threw up a sardine on Fraudo’s back. “I KNEW YOU’D COME!”
“What? Come where?” sputtered Scram. He leaned over the side of the boat and puked. Fraudo slapped him on the back a few hundred times and then began to sob.
“To come with me to Mortar,” he choked out. “It’s just so emotional, Scramy. I can’t help myself.”
Scram was staring at Fraudo with eyes the size of golf balls. “Wait, what the HELL are you talking about?”
“You are coming with me, aren’t you?” questioned Fraudo with big, innocent blue eyes. Scram stared. There was nothing else he was capable of doing.
“Where did you get that idiotic idea?” he asked quietly.
“Script,” Fraudo shrugged, pulling out a frayed “Lord of the Rings” script.
“But thatÂ’s a script for Lord of the Rings, not whatever this story is, right…?” Scram said desperately, but Fraudo was already solemnly shaking his head.
“This is a parody of Lord of the Rings,” Fraudo told him in a simple voice. “Things have to go the same way.”
“But why?” whined Scram. “I don’t want to go with you!”
“In this script, we’re apparently friends or something stupid like that,” Fraudo said with another shrug of his scrawny shoulders. “It kind of looks like you don’t really have a choice, mm?”
Scram swore under his breath and crossed his arms, pouting heavily. He would have rather died than gone anywhere with his sworn enemy, Fraudo. The pair began to slowly paddle into the distance.

Araforn walked back into the camp with a permanent smile on his confusingly handsome face. He observed Gimbal, Legalese, Jimbo and Tiny’s intense game of hearts before opening his mouth, “Can I play too?”
Legalese snorted and then shook his long blond hair over his shoulders. “No. This is a cool people only game. No girls allowed.”
“I’m not a girl! And if it was no girls allowed, you wouldn’t be playing!” Araforn snarled, fully sulking.
“Ooh, cheap shot,” Legalese pretended to wince and then rolled his eyes. “Come back when you have better insults.”
“I have better insults! Like you smell like a chicken,” announced Gimbal. Everyone ignored him.
“You guys are so mean,” whimpered Araforn, wiping his snotty nose. “What did I ever do to you?”
“I believe this is some kind of psychological thing. He’s jealous because you’re prettier than him,” Tiny said, picking up a card to lay down from his hand in a jaunty fashion.
“Wait, I WHAT?” Legalese yelped, jumping to his feet.
“Cool your jets, dudette,” Gimbal said simply, holding his card upside-down. “The dude just said that you’re jealous of Arie because he’s prettier than you.”
“But… wait… heÂ’s not really prettier than me, is he?” whimpered Legalese, sliding down to the ground and helplessly pulling his knees up to his chest.
“Of course he’s not,” droned Tiny, patting Legalese on the head with a dirty hand and a bored expression.
“Ew, your hand has grossness on it,” whined Legalese, pulling away from Tiny.
“Aw, the guy’s so nice!” Tiny said earnestly. Legalese looked up. At first he thought they were being sarcastic, but then he realized that Tiny was being serious.
“Oh. Yeah. I definitely am,” Legalese mumbled into his knees. “I’m nicer than stupid Araforn, anyways.” He threw a nasty look at Araforn, who threw his hands above his head as if to say “I surrender.”
“Look, dude, I don’t even want to be prettier than you! I can’t help it if Mother Nature just decided to make me lovelier–“ It was true–Araforn had no interest in being more attractive than Legalese, but then again, Legalese was such a stuck up snob, Araforn was rubbing it in.
“YOU AREN’T PRETTIER! I’M THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL!” wailed Legalese at the top of his lungs.
“Not according to this magic mirror,” Tiny said, pulling a dirty, spotted mirror out of his grimy pocket.
“Prove it,” pouted Legalese, crossing his arms.
“Very well,” sighed Tiny. “Mirror, mirror, in my hand, who’s the fairest in the land?” The mirror showed a picture of Catherine Zeta-Jones. Everyone just stared at the mirror for a second.
“Wow,” Araforn said blankly. “I guess she’s the fairest in the land.”
“I think she’s ugly,” stated Jimbo in a loud voice.
“You’re an urk,” Araforn pointed out, gawking at the picture of Catherine Zeta-Jones with no hint of shame.
“Aren’t you like married or something?” Legalese said, wrinkling his nose.
“Sh!” hissed Araforn urgently, still gaping. Legalese rolled his eyes.
“Stupid heterosexual men,” he said in a prim voice, smoothing down his wrinkle-free tunic.
“Better than stupid gay men,” Araforn said. There was a bit of slobber coming out of his dirty mouth as he continued to gaze at the beautiful picture of Catherine Zeta-Jones. “Can I borrow this mirror?” he asked suddenly, his dirty flipping up as he looked at Tiny expectantly, who blinked, taken aback.
“Ew,” stated Legalese, wrinkling his perfect nose.
“What’s ew?” Araforn snapped, glaring at Legalese.
“What you’re going to do with that picture,” Legalese stated, giving Araforn that startlingly ugly expression of distaste. “I repeat myself: ew.”
“You don’t know what I’m going to do with it!” Araforn said, his cheeks turning bright red.
“Yes, I do. It’s what all disgusting straight men do with pictures of women.”
Araforn flushed brilliantly and gave a defiant look. “Now see here–“
“You’re going to use it–“
“Legalese–!”
“–to pretend it’s you gazing back at you in the mirror!” Legalese said, stomping a delicate foot. Everyone stopped and stared at him with a bewildered look. Araforn quirked an eyebrow and his brilliant blush faded.
“What?” he questioned, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
“You heard me!” Legalese said, crossing his arms and glaring at Araforn. “And it’s true, isn’t it?”
“Suuuuure,” Araforn said with a nod of his filthy head and then dashed behind a bush, mirror in hand. Everyone simply stood in silence for a while then.
“So where’s the flobbits?” Legalese asked casually as if nothing had even happened.
“Oh, you mean those smelly little dudes?” Tiny questioned.
“That’s them,” Legalese said with a nod of his immaculate blond head.
“Oh, yeah, some urks carried off two. The other two were ‘escaping’ in a boat,” Tiny said simply. “So you guys up for another game?”
Legalese swore softly and then turned to the bush that Araforn had dove behind. “ARAFORN, WE’VE GOT A PROBLEM! YOU CAN STOP GAZING AT THAT REFLECTION WHICH ISN’T YOURS!”
There was a bit of silence. Then came Araforn’s muffled voice, “Can it wait? Like ten minutes?”
“NO! GET OUT HERE NOW!” Legalese yelped, stomping a petite foot. Finally, Araforn slumped out from behind the bush, frowning and rolling his eyes, looking highly displeased.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning heavily.
“The flobbits are gone,” Legalese said with a quick roll of those baby blue eyes.
Araforn stared at him, not comprehending. “And your point is…?”
“DUDE! FRAUDO HAS THE THING!” Legalese screamed.
“What thing?” Tiny blinked. Jimbo giggled and picked his nose.
“Uh. The thing that is… um… nothing,” Araforn explained lamely and then grabbed Legalese, pulling him aside. “Where did Fraudo go?”
“They escaped on a boat,” Legalese whispered. “If they go, so does the thing! WE’RE DOOMED, ARAFORN! DOOMED, I TELL YOU–“
“Oh, would you shut up. We’ve got to go find them–“
“Who cares about them?” Gimbal asked mildly.
“Uh, just the entire world,” Araforn said with a roll of his eyes and a toss of his disgusting hair. “Look, Legalese, do you know which way they went–?”
“Look, I know we all hate Merr-ay and Poppin, but they’re famous,” Gimbal said with a strange showing of intelligence. Everyone did a double take and stared.
“No one likes them though,” Legalese pointed out, blue eyes wide.
“Actually quite a few people do,” said Gimbal in that light intelligent voice. “People won’t be happy if he disappears. And they won’t be happy with us if they find we had a chance to save them.”
“But… but they arenÂ’t even popular!” Araforn yelped.
“Merr-ay’s single ‘I’ll Be Your Igloo’ was right behind the Pussycat Doll’s ‘Stickwitu’ on the billboards last week,” Gimbal said, his eyes flashing.
“Good gravy, he is popular!” Legalese said, his eyes bugging. “How is this possible?”
“I dunno, but we’d better find Merr-ay and Poppin! Quick!” Araforn said, grabbing the other two and running away.
Jimbo and Tiny watched them for a second. “Well, don’t be strangers!” Tiny said with a wave of his grimy hand. Jimbo snorted and waved an enormous hand at the three’s retreating figures.

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A/N: Hope you liked that peeps! Tell me what you think.