SHORT DISCLAIMER:
Parts I and II were written by my friend and colleague Andrew Jones for his sister Meredith’s newspaper. Andrew disapproves of spoofs, so apparently his conscience was bothering him…because after Part II he flatly refused to write any more and relinquished all rights. Merry tried beating him up, but it didn’t work. So the poor dear turned to me and asked me to continue the saga. No sooner did I turn out a terrific Part III, than Andrew got jealous of my fame and once again claimed the rights to his creation. So R&R, and tell me who has the more genius.

Once again, Parts I and II are Andrew’s, and Part III is mine in all its glory. Neither Andrew or I own anything except the shirts on our backs, and maybe the IRS would disagree with that. But on with the show.

PART I
by A. Jones. Edited for spelling and grammar (and the proper plurals of various species) by Galendir (heh heh!)

After Gandalf the wizard had retired and settled down quite comfortably in Valinor, he began to adopt certain hobbies, as old folk tend to do when they are retired. One of these was boomerangs; but it was not their craft, nor their art, nor their history that interested him, but the sheer delight of throwing them: particularly at unsuspecting Elves and Maiar. This, as can be imagined, very much annoyed the population, yet they did not outwardly complain for fear of consequences that they called “unnatural”; and avoided the gleeful wizard as much as possible.

One day, Bilbo and Gandalf were walking along a path to Mandos’ to see they couldn’t get old Namo to come a-picnicking with them. (“For”, Bilbo said, “he spends too much time inside with his nose stuffed in that paper, fretting about wars and such.”) As they were coming up over a hill, they heard voices approaching them from the other side. Gandalf–always the opportunist–grabbed Bilbo, picnic basket and all and dove behind a nearby tree. After rummaging for a second in the basket, he retrieved a white ski mask, donned it, took his missile in hand and peeped out from behind the tree. Presently, the group came up over the hill and began to descend it.

They never got to the bottom. For an old wizard, Gandalf was a good aim; his boomerang had given each Elf a good bonk on their topknot and sent them charging, yelling crazily about a dark lord and something about the end of the world.

“I suppose you think that was terribly clever,” said Bilbo after the commotion had died down. Gandalf, who was trying to hold in the merriment, leaned up against the tree. “Oh, it was just a bit of fun,” he said. Then, unable to control himself any longer, he burst out laughing: “Did–” *sputter, laugh* “Did you see their faces?” Gandalf went on laughing. After a few minutes, he recovered himself and said to a rather stern-faced Bilbo, “Oh, you’re probably right, as usual.”

He stuffed the mask back in the basket, tucked the boomerang into his belt, and made as if to leave. “Let’s leave the basket here and pick it up on the way back, it’s a nuisance to carry anyway,” he said, but Bilbo hesitated. “What about that boomerang of yours, is that staying too?” he inquired. “Yes of course,” Gandalf said. “I put it there in the basket…no wait…it’s, it’s here in my belt.” He pulled it out and looked at it. “Funny,” he said, and then “Why shouldn’t I keep it?”

Both Hobbit and wizard were staring at the thing, but Bilbo regained his senses first and said in a friendly tone, “I think you should leave the boomerang behind, Gandalf.” Gandalf, who was stroking the thing, suddenly snapped out of it and said, “What business is it of yours what I do with my own, my love, my… *sputter* …my things. It’s mine, it came to me!” “That’s what it’s supposed to do!” said Bilbo, who was getting impatient and a bit nervous. “Now, I think you’ve had that boomerang quite long enough.”

He started to move toward Gandalf, and Gandalf started to back away. He was trying to remember what he did the last time a Hobbit had him in a fix…Yell at him? No, that couldn’t be it. Slam him on a desk full of papers? But where was he to get the desk… Pick him up by the ear? He was unsure, but he couldn’t think of anything else. It didn’t work. Bilbo bit him on the hand, snatched the boomerang, and ran like the dickens was after him. Gandalf ran after, screaming like the dickens, which made Bilbo run even faster. Gandalf caught up with him, though, being longer legged, and jumped on his back. Bilbo began to dance quickly, and jump up and down, and eventually, both he and Gandalf ended up in a tumbling heap on the ground. Bilbo came up after a few minutes with the boomerang in his hand and a victorious look on his face. He gave Gandalf an inconsiderate kick and ran off screaming “Mine! Mine! My own! My love! All mine!” etc., until he was out of sight.

Gandalf got up and started stalking around as he shouted in no particular direction, “I see your mind! You’ll take it to all your Elf friends and betray me to them, and they’ll hold councils and yell at the Dwarves and the Dwarves will say nasty things in Dwarvish, and then Aragorn will start meddling, and he’ll say “Shishkebab Legolas!” and then the Dwarves will be really ticked, ’cause Legolas will say (none too vainly) ‘A diversion’, and they’ll mistake him, and I’ll end up with only 9 fingers and…and…oh yes! Curse you and all Halflings! Curse you! Curse y–“. Gandalf then tripped and fell down, and got his mouth full of “Far Green Country” (which didn’t taste that great after all). And after he has flossed thoroughly, he started to call Bilbo’s name, but the sneaky Hobbit was long gone.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART II…