A/N: Hey again. Still reading. Gah, I must not being doing my job very well, am I? Everyone must be so sick of that joke, the smash the computer screen every time they see it. Which is almost every chapter, I believe. I won’t do it again, if it means that your computer will live.

Disclaimer: Ha ha. I don’t have anything. *points at self and laughs*

Rating: PG-13 for brief language and thematic references (or SEX)

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“Yeah… yeah… so youÂ’re sure you can make it?” Araforn asked, anxiously into his cell phone. The person on the other end of the phone squealed.
“Only if you call us everyday at the beginning of every hour!” a shrill, girlish voice trilled.
“Fine, fine, as long as you get the work done,” Araforn said, making sure the flobbits weren’t near.
“So youÂ’re going to push us off a cliff after we stab him… and light us on fire? Okay, do you want a torch plant?” the person asked.
“What?” Araforn asked.
“You know, you stab the torch into our faces…,” the person whispered.
“Yeah, thatÂ’d be good…,” Araforn added, “Now, IÂ’m only going to call you if all goes as plan… you know, Fraudo dies and everything…”
“Okay, okay, you got yourself a deal,” the voice said, tartly, “WeÂ’ll be there at two oÂ’clock at Feathercrop. If you arenÂ’t there, you have to call us at the beginning of every MINUTE! BE THERE!” and the other person hung up. Araforn sighed and clicked his phone off. Those Nascul were such hagglers…
“HI ARAFORN!” Fraudo bellowed and tackled Araforn. Araforn picked himself up off the ground.
“Hello,” he said, grouchily. Fraudo looked gleeful.
“POPPIN SAYS HE WANTS FIFTIETH BREAKFAST!” he squealed. Araforn rolled his eyes.
“Tell him I’ll chuck an apple at his head if he doesn’t shut his trap,” Araforn growled.
“Okay!” Fraudo said, happily and skipped off toward Poppin, who was whining loudly. Araforn sighed, happily. At least Fraudo would be gone soon…
“I WANT MY BREAKFAST!” Poppin screamed, throwing a huge fit. Araforn swung around, irritably.
“I don’t want to hear ANOTHER word about it!” he yelled. Poppin’s jaw snapped shut.
“Your mean,” he said, almost in awe. Araforn turned back around, slinging his pack over his shoulder again.
“You just figured this out…,” Araforn muttered. Poppin stared at him, his mouth slightly agape.
“I DON’T LIKE YOU ANYMORE!” he squealed, “I’M TELLING BOBO!”
“I’m shaking in my boots,” Araforn whispered to himself.
“Oh, shut up, Poppin,” Scram muttered. Poppin wailed louder.
“EVERYONE IS SO MEEEEEEEEAN,” he screamed, throwing himself on the ground and throwing a tantrum.
Fraudo skipped ahead next to Araforn, “Are you really a guy?”
“Okay, I’m daring you to ask that question one more time,” he snarled, facing Fraudo. Fraudo shrugged.
“Okay,” he said, flippantly, “Are you really a guy?”
“Don’t ever ask that. I mean never, ever again,” Araforn said, glaring at Fraudo. Fraudo pouted.
“But… but…. why naw-awt?” he whined. Araforn kept his eyes ahead and didnÂ’t even look at Fraudo, afraid what he might do if he looked at him.
“Just don’t,” Araforn growled.
“Why?” Fraudo asked, eyes wide.
“Don’t,” Araforn answered, tartly.
“Why?”
“Because I’ll wring your scrawny little neck.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re being an asshole.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me.”
“Why?”
“SHUT UP!” Araforn roared, towering over Fraudo. Fraudo stared at him.
“Why?” he asked, finally. Araforn sighed loudly and walked ahead.
“We’re taking a break,” he decided, throwing his stuff down, “Don’t bug me. If you come near me-”
“The Nascul will eat out our brains,” the flobbits chorused, “We know the drill.” Araforn nodded, tartly.
“And don’t you forget it,” he said, firmly. As soon as the flobbits were out of sight, Araforn ducked behind a tree and dialed a few numbers on his cell.
“Hello? Nascul head quarters? I was wondering if you do a four for one type of deal…?”

Arafron trudged along. He couldnÂ’t wait for tonight. Soon, Fraudo would be DEAD! Dead, dead, dead. No more coffee addicted hobbits (or whatever) to worry about. All he had to worry about was himself. And getting rid of Grandalk, that is. Araforn pulled out a small notebook out of his jacket and ran his finger down the list. It looked like this:
People to Kill
1. Fraudo
2. Grandalk
3. Snarfin
4. Elcond
5. Legalese
6. Gimbal
7. All hobbits (or whatever they are called)
Araforn sighed, almost happily. So many people to kill… so little time. He put the notebook back in his jacket. He glanced around, looking for the flobbits.
“MIDGETS!” he yelled into the air. Fraudo gave an annoyed grunt.
“I am NOT a midget!” he defended, popping out from a bush. Araforn rolled his eyes.
“Where are the others?” Araforn asked, changing the subject.
“Poppin’s barfing again,” Fraudo said, happily, “It’s really gross. Wanna see?”
“No especially…,” Araforn said, wrinkling his nose. Fraudo shrugged his shoulders.
“Your loss, man,” he said and disappeared into the bushes. Merr-ay popped his head out of the bushes.
“Yeah, mate, this might take a while,” he said, sullenly, “Maybe we better stop here for the night..”
“NO!” Araforn yelled and dragged Fraudo out by his ankles, “WE’RE GOING NOW!”
“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Fraudo yelled, clinging to the dirt, leaving scratch marks, “I DON’T WANNA GO!!! WAAAAAAH!”
Poppin chased after Araforn, barfing vile, green liquid the whole time. Merr-ay followed, whistling and Scram (who was about a billion miles away) waddled after them.

Finally, the flobbits and Araforn arrived at their destination. Feathercrop. It was a small shrine like looking thing with bright, plastic rocks surrounding the top of a mountain. The perfect tourist spot. Many people were standing on top of the mountain, pulling face for the flashing cameras. The flobbits stared.
“This is where we’re staying?” Fraudo asked, an eyebrow raised. Araforn nodded, hastily. He threw some swords at them.
“Here, defend yourself,” he said, throwing the dulled and useless swords and the flobbits. The flobbits were nonetheless impressed.
“Wow… shiny…,” Fraudo said, eyes googly.
“Yes, they are, aren’t they?” Araforn said, quickly, “Well, gotta go!” Araforn bolted down the mountain. The flobbits eyed each other.
“Is it just me, or does he always leave when there’s potential danger?” Scram asked, slowly.
“I don’t know,” Merr-ay said, “All he left me was this note: ‘Make a big bonfire. That scares people away’. Oooo, we can make some crispy bacon!”
“Cool! I love crispy bacon!” Poppin trilled, gleefully, lighting a fire on his finger. Poppin yelped and jumped back, screaming. Scram contented himself by poking Fraudo and watching his reaction. He knew that something was wrong…

Suddenly, there was a huge scream. A black figure scrambled up the mountainside.
Merr-ay screamed, “DEMEMTOR!” at the same time and Poppin yelled, “NASCUL!” The four flobbits rushed up the mountainside, all panting. They all learned at least one lesson that night: Don’t eat crispy bacon before running. The flobbits all pulled out their extremely dull swords.
“These swords arenÂ’t pointy!” Poppin whined, “I like pointy things…”
“They AREN’T?” Scram exploded, prodding the end of his sword. Sure enough, there was no blood. Not even a prick.
“ARAFORN GAVE US DULL SWO-ORDS!” Fraudo screamed at the top of his lungs. Scram tackled him. Fraudo gasped under his weight.
“SCRAM! IÂ’M DYING, DYING… DYING…!” Fraudo cried, his bones cracking. Scram got up off of the top of him, brushing off his bottom.
“Just shut up, alright?” he snarled, “WeÂ’re going to have to defend ourselves… somehow…”
“But how?” Poppin and Merr-ay lamented. But it was too late. With one sharp movement, a Nascul stabbed Fraudo. Fraudo bellowed.
“WAAAAAH! THAT HURT!!!!” he screamed and collapsed. Even though Scram felt like celebrating, he contained himself.
“FRAUDO!” Poppin and Merr-ay screamed and rushed down beside him, sobbing.
“He was… so young…,” Merr-ay cried, “Oh, well. I donÂ’t care.”
Suddenly, Araforn jumped out of nowhere, wielding a torch.
“Oh, no. A torch. Whatever shall we do,” the Nascul said, in a monotone voice. It was obviously scripted. Araforn lit the Nascul on fire one by one and ended it by throwing the torch at the last Nascul. Even though he missed it’s face and threw it over the edge, the Nascul still screamed in pain and stumbled blinding away, even though it wasn’t on fire. Araforn kneeled beside Fraudo, trying to look heroic.
“He’s been stabbed by a Mongrel blade,” Araforn said, the blade spewing confetti from the end and making part noises. Araforn dropped it, slightly disgusted. Fraudo heaved and heaved, his eyes huge and glazed over.
“He’s going to die. Oh no,” Scram said, not enthusiastic at all. He wanted Fraudo to die.
“No, he wonÂ’t,” Araforn said, briskly, “Go get me some of that poison… I mean, FlingÂ’s Soil… thatÂ’s it…” Scram walked off, slowly. He hoped that Fraudo would die.
“OH NO!” Poppin wailed, “HeÂ’s going to be so… so…”
“Dead?” Merr-ay suggested.
“THAT’S THE ONE!” Poppin sobbed. Merr-ay attempted to comfort him by doing his famous puppet show.
“HereÂ’s Mr. Ponypoo doing the macerana,” he said, holding up a pony puppet that was doing the macerena, “But King Sing HATES the macerena. He only want people to do the Electric Slide,” the king puppet began doing the Electric Slide, “So no thereÂ’s a war of the ponies against the kings…”
“Who will win?” Poppin said, transfixed on the puppets.
“YouÂ’ve seen this fifty times…,” Araforn said, utterly confused, “They always settle their differences in the end over a latte…”
“NO! YOU’VE TOTALLY RUINED IT!” Poppin wailed and started sobbing again.
“Thanks a lot, Arapoop,” Merr-ay said, shoving the two puppets back into his pack.
“What did I do? It IS true?” Araforn exploded.
“Don’t try to argue with flobbit logic, Mr. Araforn,” Scram, who had returned, advised. Araforn snatched away the Fling’s Soil.
“Gimmie that,” he snarled. He was seconds away from pressing the leaf to Fraudo’s wound, when all of a sudden, a bright light shown.
The Lady Snarfin was present.
“Araforn!” she whined, throwing herself on him, “WHERE WERE YOU-OU?”
“I was helping a hobbit…,” Araforn said, “That is, I was, until you came along…”
“OOO! I WANNA HELP!” Snarfin grabbed Fraudo and threw him on his horse.
“What happened to Snorakindel?” Araforn asked.
“Oh, I killed him,” Snarfin giggled, “But it’s okay. Daddy said it was.”
“Daddy says a lot of things…,” Araforn muttered under his breath, and then in a normal voice, “What IS it with you and stealing peopleÂ’s parts?”
“I don’t know,” she said and galloped away.
“That was… very strange…,” Merr-ay said, watching Snarfin gallop away.
“Oh, well. Anybody up for some leftover crispy bacon?” Poppin asked, pulling lint filled bacon out of his pockets. Merr-ay jumped on it.
“MEEEEEE!” he trilled. Araforn rubbed his temples. This was going to be one long trip…

Snarfin galloped across the plains, singing loudly and out of tune. Fraudo was screaming and wailing by the time she finished, “Home on the Range,” for the fifteenth time.
“Don’t you like ‘Home on the Range’?” Snarfin asked, confused. Fraudo moaned louder.
“No, ey?” she said, smirking, “Fine, then! I’ll sing something else! YO HO YO HO A PIRATES LIFE FOR ME! BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH I DON’T REALLY KNOW THE WORDS BLAH BLAH!” Snarfin sang/screamed. Fraudo was screaming by the time Snarfin stopped bumbling the words.
“I donÂ’t get it,” Snarfin said, scratching her head, “Everybody loves pirates…”
“YouÂ’re bloody right,” Jack Sparrow slurred, popping out of the ground, “Wow, how did I get here… oh well, itÂ’s all savvy…”
“I told you to go away!” Snarfin said, running him over, “Stupid pirate stalker… I tell him heÂ’s cute ONCE and he follows me for the rest of my life… anyway, want to hear my life story? IÂ’ll take your rude silence as a NO. Well, when I was five years old I was really into collecting bugs. I got this one bug that was a pink and cool but dad threw it away because he said it clashed with the furniture. So then I started collecting string, but dad hated that because it clashed with the floor. So I collected rugs and dad let me have a rug room and then he burned it because he said it was ugly. Then I collected stamps and dad said that he didnÂ’t want me to wear a stamp dress to the feast so then I collected McDonaldÂ’s toys but dad HATED that because he hates McDonaldÂ’s…,” Fraudo screamed loudly, “I know, isnÂ’t that ridiculous? EVERYBODY loves McDonaldÂ’s. Oh, is there a Nascul behind me? Oh, well, not that I really care… HEY, BUSTER! THIS IS MY LANE! MOVE OVER BEFORE I RUN YOU OVER- oh, whatÂ’s the point? Stupid jerks, only care about themselves,” Snarfin dug her extremely high heeled boots into the horseÂ’s flank and it took off.
“Give us the riiiiiiiing,” the Nascul hissed, “Or just give us the flobbit. We NEED those calls from Araforn… we really do…”
“Oh, it’s the old crowd,” Snarfin said through gritted teeth. She stopped her horse, swung around and yelled in a commanding voice, “It is I, Lady Snarfin! Holder of Araforn’s love!” The Nascul broke into hysterical laughter.
“SHE REALLY THINK HE LIKES HER!” they howled, slapping their thighs and roaring in their amusement. Snarfin stared around, her dark eyes wide.
“Am I really that funny?” she said, a smile creeping up her face, stupidly. The Nascul laughed louder, “Here, tell me if this is funny or not… A guy walks into a bar and he dies. What happened?”
“Um… alcohol poisoning?” one rather idiotic Nascul asked after an hour of dead silence.
“NO! ItÂ’s a BAR! Get it, a bar? You know, skinny long pole… usually made of iron or steel or something like that… but he DIES because he got HURT! Get it? Ha ha ha!” Snarfin roared with laughter, slapping Fraudo on the back. Fraudo began puking purple junk.
“ThatÂ’s… sad,” one Nascul said, “He died…”
“I know, and he didn’t even get to meet Araforn!” the leader of the Nascul realized. The other Nascul trilled, sympathetically.
“Poor lad,” one Nascul said, shaking her head, “To never meet Araforn… what a pity..”
“What happened to your Legalese obsession, anyway?” Snarfin asked, changing the subject away from her rather unfunny joke.
“Oh, he is OLD!” one Nascul said. The others nodded in agreement, “By the way, you seen Jack Sparrow around here?”
“Heck, yah,” Snarfin said, “He’s back there somewhere.”
“JAAAAAAAACK!” the Nascul turned and raced in the opposite direction, “WE LOOOOOOOVE YOU!”
“Especially me!” one called out. The brave Nascul was immediately clobbered by the others.
“Let’s go, Fraudo,” Snarfin said, “AW MAN! You just HAD to barf purple shit on my horse, didn’t you?” Fraudo croaked.
“Whatever,” she grumbled and rode into the water and struck a pose, “If only my photographer was here… Yeah, I DO have a photographer, smartass! DonÂ’t give me that sass mouth, sister, IÂ’m not going to hear it from you! TALK to myself? What in the world… IÂ’m talking to YOU, Fraudo! God, the nerve of you idiot flobbits…” Snarfin started muttering in elvish and the next thing Fraudo knew, he was in a soft warm bed in Riversnail…

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A/N: Thanks fer readin’, kiddos! Review, if it pleaseth you.