Gandalf was more furious than he could remember being in all his 300 lives of Men. Stomping about the Mathom House, he bellowed Bilbo’s name in all directions and poked and pried into every hiding spot that was likely, and even a few places that weren’t (such as Sam’s pantry—what great scones were in there! And donuts!). But all to no avail—Bilbo had disappeared, and the boomerang along with him.

“Probably turned it into the Authorities by now,” grumbled the wizard. “Nasty little boot-licking snitch! Why didn’t we just leave him to rot in Rivendell?”

Suddenly his attention was arrested by a sound coming from one corner. Making his way over, he discovered Sam and Frodo snoring behind a huge stuffed Warg bearing a leering Orc, who was not only wearing Tom BombadilÂ’s signature hat, but also sporting all three Elven Rings of Power. Ignoring this intriguing spectacle, Gandalf poked Frodo with his staff and rolled him over. FrodoÂ’s hand was still clutching a glass bottle (empty) whose label ran thusly:

In addition, the label bore the picture of an extremely happy Elf. The wizard pried FrodoÂ’s four-and-a-half fingers off the bottle and stuffed it in his pocket. It had occurred to him that it might be useful when he finally met up with Bilbo.

“Heh heh”, chuckled Gandalf. “Now to make the innocent eyewitnesses talk.”

He then proceeded to plug his ears and yell (very loudly): “FOR GONDOR!!!” The two hobbits shot into the air, clutching each other and shrieking. When they finally landed, (and were smacked and made to stop shrieking by Gandalf) they were duly interrogated as to the direction Bilbo took when he left the Mathom House. The wizard then set off in pursuit of the old hobbit, leaving the Dynamic Duo to conclude that their dear friend the White Wizard had, alas, gone completely and utterly out of his mind.

Meanwhile, Bilbo had traveled to the home of Lord Elrond, sat on the doorstep until it was time for Luncheon, and knocked. He stuck his ear to the door and dropped some eaves. There were some very interesting noises coming from within:

slam…creak…“dumb paparazzi!”…crash… “get outa here!”…cat squalling…“we donÂ’t need anymore visitors, parasites, or unemployed sponges!”…glass breaking

The door swung open and Elrond half-fell out, glaring mad. “What is it?” he roared. “If you think for one minute I’m going to finance another one of your treasure-hunt-adventure ego trips then you can just—”

“Whoa!” said Bilbo, backing off. “Did you burn the coffee again?”

Elrond knit his forehead into a unibrow. “YES. I’m going to Starbucks. And I’m taking this BACK to Target!” He held up a sparking, smoking coffeemaker by its frayed cord and shook it.

“No youÂ’re not, youÂ’re coming with ME. WEÂ’RE going straight to Manwë to turn Gandalf in, because I have finally secured the ‘EvidenceÂ’…!”

Elrond stared in amazement. “You’ve got it? Where? Let me see it!!”

Bilbo grabbed him by the coffeemaker and began walking back down the path. “No, I’m keeping it hidden until we decide what to do with Mr. The White.”

Bilbo and Elrond rounded up all the assorted Valar and Maiar they could find readily available, and led the parade straight to the Ring of Doom, which oddly enough had nothing to do with the jewelry by the same name. It was just a dramatic name to call the Valinor Supreme Court. Usually Mandos presided, but today he was out fishing and Varda had graciously agreed to fill in for him. Of course she never thought sheÂ’d actually have to DO anything besides wear a large wig resembling carpet and a sweeping black robe, which she actually rather liked. But I stray from the point.

The courtroom session began as Chief Justice Varda brought the gavel down. “Hear ye! Hear ye! This court will now assemble to discuss I’m not sure what,” she said impressively. Bilbo glanced at Elrond and rose to his feet.

“Your Honor, I would like to suggest a point for this session,” he volunteered. Varda acknowledged him. “In the recent past, a Mr. Gandalf T. White who is not present has been several times convicted of instances of Assault And Battery, not to mention Embarrassment, Loss Of Job, Blindness Induced By Hard Knocks, and even the more dubious Smearing Of Eyeliner. He has perpetrated these crimes with an instrument known as a boomerang, which I have confiscated.”

Varda peered at him. “Do you wish to press charges on that last one, there?”

Bilbo shook his head. “No your Honor, it just sounded good. We’ll stick to the first ones.”

Manwë stood up. “Look here! Have you got any proof? I mean, Gandalf’s an old friend of mine!”

Bilbo grinned smugly. “Only too much proof. I shall call my first witness. Glorfindel!!”

A bland-voiced secretary called out “Mr. Glorfindel takethestand.”

A blond Elf with a black eye and a large goose-egg stomped up and sat down next to Varda. Bilbo held up a signed copy of the Red Book and had the Elf put his hand on it. “Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so far as it serves my cause?”

Legolas leaped to his feet, eyes blazing. “Of all the impudence! This is ridiculous—just why does the witness have to swear on the prosecutor’s autobiography?”

Bilbo, cool as a cucumber, looked suavely in Legolas’s direction. “Because I can.”

Aragorn glanced furtively around and grinned. The time had come to meddle. He jumped up and paced back and forth.

“Let us practice the employment and manipulation of this corrupt syndicate!” he cried.

Everyone stopped dead and stared at Aragorn in unison. Elrond arched his eyebrows off his head and found his voice.

“WHAT are you doing here? You’re supposed to be ruling a major conglomeration of Middle-earth properties and their various dependants, popularly known as the North-West Merger!! And anyway you’re a mortal!”

Aragorn, never able to stand up to his father-in-law, looked down sheepishly. “But…but…itÂ’s not fair. Monarchy is so depressing! I just wanted a break, you know, from mortality?”

He looked piteously at Elrond, but the Elf was inflexible.

“Get straight back to your throne THIS INSTANT! ” he thundered.

Aragorn slunk out of the Ring of Doom, muttering something about racial discrimination.

“Does anyone have anything reasonable to say?” asked Varda wearily.

“GANDALF’S GUILTY!!” bawled Bilbo, face red.

“OK, we’ll go with that.” Varda placed a large black square of cloth over her head, where it draped over her eyes. “Solely on the opinion of a questionable Halfling, I do solemnly sentence Gandalf the White, who is not even here to defend himself, to be hanged by the neck until d—”

“Uh, Varda,” interrupted Manwë. “You can’t dish out the death sentence for throwing boomerangs.”

Varda shrugged and picked off the black cloth. “Alright, then we’ll just exile him to a small independent community on the southern end of Harad. How’s that? Everybody cool with that?”

Everybody nodded. Varda picked up her gavel. “So shall it be,” she said in her most official voice. But before she could bang Gandalf into exile, the wizard himself appeared in a poof of glittering smoke.

“WAIT! WAIT! I have an opinion!” he boomed, coughing.

“How’d you do that?” said Manwë in unhidden admiration.

“Never mind. Just WHO has the boomerang right now? And WHO is the one with a PREVIOUS TRACK RECORD of LYING? And in addition…” he brought out the miruvor bottle. “WHO smuggled THIS into Valinor from Middle-earth, which is clearly in violation of the Valinor Code of International Trade and Quarantine Regulations???”

He swung around and pointed a long bony incriminating figure at the sputtering Bilbo. “HIM!” he thundered. The court murmured appreciatively. “So you know what I say? I say we GET HIM!!!”

Varda slammed her gavel into the desk, making a small crater. “I like it!”

And the court swarmed as one after Bilbo, as he ran for his life in the direction of Hobbit Hall.

TO BE CONTINUED…