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Some of the lines from (as I called it) The Lay of Luthien Tinuviel are from the book. Others are *ahem*changed, if you will.
Barliman Butterbur was having a rotten night. He had been outside in the Valardammed rain for hours, digging a hole in the ground for the hobbits. He knew hobbits lived underground, but the hobbits that had stayed at his inn before were perfectly alright with sleeping in regular rooms! He muttered something about stupid, stuck-up halflings as he walked to the bar to see if the hobbits were there. He was going to tell them that their hobbit-hole was all dug.
"Kind sir," he said to one of the random drunk Bree-landers sitting on a barstool, "have you seen four chubby, small creatures that look like mutated dwarves with beards on their feet?"
"Indeed I have," said the random drunkard. "They went to Strider's room to play a stripping/drinking game."
Fear made Barliman's blood turn to ice, and he shuddered like maggots were breeding in his spine. "S-Strider?" His voice shook. "But- I warned them and all! Oh, what will Gandalf say when he learns I let Strider get to those poor hobbits..." All of his earlier frustration at the four had turned into pity. "Oh dear, oh dear! Dear, dear, dear!"
He raced down the halls to Strider's room. He didn't know where Strider's room was, but he could smell the disgusting stench of vomited-up liquor and knew where the room was. He threw open the door and let out a girlish scream of agony, screwing his eyes shut, wanting to un-see the scene.
Sam was passed out cold on the floor. Merry and Pippin were jockeying for the best position for throwing up in the chamber pot. Frodo was nowhere to be found. Strider was curled up into the fetal position, rocking back and forth, whimpering and moaning, "Please let me not have been ass-fucked..."
"Strider! You rogue! You rascal!" Barliman Butterbur ululated, jumping in through the threshold. Everything was silent for a second. "Getting those fine young halflings drunk!"
"Oh, it wasn't him, Mister Butterbur, if you don't mind me saying!" Sam said, miraculously returning to consciousness. "We were having a drinking game, but dear old Mister Frodo beat us all, even Mister Strider, if he doesn't mind me-"
"Did that... Ranger molest you? Did you strip you of your-"
"Well, no, Barliman good chap," said Merry, pausing in his excessive vomiting. "We stripped ourselves. We were having a stripping/drinking contest. The loser had to strip completely, and the fourth place had to take off his shirt, and third place-" he leaned over and vomited onto Pippin's head. "-that's why Strider's in nought but his-"
"Stop talking about me!" Strider snarled from the floor, getting up and trying to act dignified while wearing a vomit-splattered tunic with nothing underneath. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, lost King and rightful Ruler of Gondor!"
"Really?" said Barliman Butterbur, suddenly forgiving the man. He knelt down at Strider's dirty, stinking feet and made the dire mistake of looking up. "Put- put on some pants!" was all he managed to say before running off.
Aragorn let out a sigh of relief when the innkeeper left. "So... you all didn't... ah... put your... ah... things... in my... thing?" Strider said, unsure of how to say this in a dignified way (and a way that wouldn't offend the hobbits).
Unfortunately, it did. "No, Mister Strider!" Sam said defensively. "We didn't put our travel-bags in your closet!" Aragorn nearly groaned. The innocence of the hobbits infuriated him, but he supposed if they were that innocent, then they must not have assaulted him...
Aragorn opened the window. "Isn't it a beautiful day?The sky is blue, the sun is shining! Holy Valar, it's a Nazgul!" the Ranger hollered. He slammed the window shut. "Where did Frodo go?"
Just then, Frodo took the Ring off his finger. Strider let out an exasperated shout and waved his arms about like a windmill (he had learned how to do so from Gandalf the Grey himself). "Didn't I tell you never to put it on?"
"No," said Frodo. "Why shouldn't it? It's shiny and pretty and it's my friend."
"Just splendid! Now the Nazgul are after us!" Aragorn said. He glared. Strider's glare was so terrible that it made Frodo start crying. Then again, it doesn't take much for Frodo to cry, so maybe his glare wasn't so bad after all.
"What's a Nazz-gull?" asked Pippin, trying to wipe the vomit out of his hair.
"It's a creepy fallen man on black horse. They are blind and a bit deaf (especially the third of their kind, but that's besides the point) but they are quite deadly. They have Morgul-blades. And before you can ask about those, too, they are the blades that the Nazgul wield." Aragorn said all of this as he tugged on some pants under his tunic. "They are coming. Fortunately, they don't know you're not in your room. We shall wait them out in here."
"Well, that's all well and good," said Pippin. "But we don't have any hangover remedy in here!"
Nazgul the Third and the rest of his company (the Fellowship of the Valardamn Creepy Riders) were going underground.
Me and my ring do not like it underground... Nazgul the Third thought nervously, rubbing the ring on his bony, gauntlet-covered finger. And me and my ring think that we look ridiculous in the daylight. We should've waited until nighttime to kill the shy Bogginses.
He let out a screech that sounded like a hippopotamus having sexual intercourse. In the unknown language of the Nazgul, it meant, "Let's get this over with".
The Witch-King of Angmar screamed like a bullfrog being trampled. It meant "Fine, you little shit".
So all the Fellowship of the Valardamn Creepy Riders went inside the newly dug hobbit-hole. It was little more than a hole in the ground. A worm fell on Nazgul the Third's head and he squawked like a chicken having its head cut off.
"Shut up!" said the Witch-King, which sounded like the death cry of a strangled rabbit. Various other animal sounds were made as the rest of the Riders agreed to shut up and dramatically stab the shy Bogginses.
They drew their Morgul-blades and raised them. And, as they were blind, they accidentally hit each other. As they can not kill each other, they were not injured in the slightest. They were disappointed, though, so they found comfy pillows and laid down to sleep sulkily. The Witch-King grew angry, due to there not being enough pillows for him. He stabbed all of the pillows right out from under his fellow Nazguls' heads.
Screeches echoed out of the hobbit-hole and through Bree.
"We need to buy a pony," said Aragorn. As he walked on sure feet to the stables, the hobbits noticed something.
"Mister Strider?" asked Sam tentatively. "Not meaning to offend, but why do you walk as you do?" The man was walking with astonishingly long strides, as if he was trying to do the splits or be in a conga line while walking at the same time.
"Because I like when people call me Strider," said Aragorn. "It makes me feel evil." He attempted his best evil look. It was pretty good, but since he looked like he was in a conga line, it was therefore ruined.
"Okay, then..." said Sam. "I guess everyone has their oddity."
Strider's face turned white with anger. "Oddity?" he cried. "Oddity?" He drew a knife. "If my sword wasn't broken, I'd skewer you with it! And roast you over a fire like a shish kebab!"
"I didn't mean it!" whimpered Sam, trying to use a random pony as a shield.
At the sight of Strider threatening to kill Samwise, Frodo burst into tears again.
"Are we there yet?" asked Pippin.
"No," said the Ranger shortly. "And if I hear you say that again I shall make you walk all the way to Gondor!" The hobbit shuddered, thinking his feet would probably fall off if he did that.
"I already have to walk you all the way to Rivendell," griped an unfamiliar voice. Everyone spun around and found- no one. Not one living thing except their pack horse, Bill.
"I believe I am going crazy," Strider announced. "I swear I just saw and heard that horse talk!" He blinked. "Maybe the lice in my eyebrows have found their way into my eyes..." Aragorn frantically rubbed at his eyebrows, trying fruitlessly to rid himself of the lice.
"You did!" said the horse. This time, everyone saw its mouth move. They stared, astounded. "My name's Bill. And I really wish Samwise here would get off me."
Poor kindhearted Sam hopped off the horse. "I wasn't meaning to offend, Mister Bill the Talking Horse!" he said.
"Oh, yes, you were," insisted Bill. "As punishment for your rudeness, you will have to bear me as a rider."
Considering the horse was five times Sam's size, he decided not to argue. The unfortunate hobbit got down on all fours. Bill the horse promptly sat down upon him. Sam let out an almighty groan and muttered, "Now I know how Mister Gandalf feels..."
Frodo, Merry, Aragorn, and Pippin were snickering all the way to Weathertop. Behind them, the Nazgul were snickering too.
Weathertop had another name, if you listened to Aragorn, but no one in their right mind ever listens to Aragorn. The hobbits just saw it as a 'big hillish thing with mighty creepy ruins', if, according to Sam, they did say so themselves.
"I'm bored," announced Merry bluntly, plopping his weary body down on the a stone. "And tired."
"Tired?" Sam spat. "Tired? You say you're tired, and you didn't even have to carry a pack horse on your back all day long!" He glared at Merry, and probably would've hit him if not for the fact that his hands were about as weak as two dead mice.
"Don't fight!" Strider said lazily, sprawled out on the ground like a pig in mud. The halflings ignored him. "I will tell you of the Lay of Luthien Tinuviel as punishment!"
"Oh, no!" all the hobbits said in a very timely unison. "The Lay of Luthien Tinuviel!"
Aragorn cleared his throat. "Here goes," he said, and then began:
"Beren's dick was long and his balls were green
His biceps long and fair
And in the glade a light was seen
Of Beren fucking himself by a fire.
Tinuviel was dancing near there
To the beat of a different drummer
And light of stars was in her tits
And she was wearing sluttish clothing..."
Aragorn continued on, describing how Beren (literally) laid Luthien Tinuviel. The hobbits screamed at the Elf-song-porn and tried to cover their ears, but Aragorn's voice was too Valardammed loud.
Finally he finished with a fortunately tamer passage:
"Long was the time the two had laid
O'er stony mountains cold and grey
Through halls of iron and darkling door
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
They even had sex in the Sundering Seas
And every single night.
And long ago they passed away
Still ready to have another lay."
Strider grinned in a very horny way. "Lord Elrond taught me that one." The poor hobbits screamed and, in Frodo's case, burst into tears.
"No more, please, no more!" begged Sam. "I'm weary in body, and now in soul, thanks to your terrible chanting!" Aragorn glared. Even though it was not directed at him, Frodo started wailing even more loudly, attracting the attention of even the deafish Nazgul.
The Fellowship of the Valardamn Creepy Riders rode up the slope of Weathertop. Aragorn, who was busy thinking about how nice it would be to lay Luthien Tinuviel, didn't hear them, so they were two feet from him before he yelled, "Run!"
Naturally, they were surrounded by that time, so they couldn't run. They screeched to each other in a very unsettling way.
Frodo burst into tears once more. He looked lonely and frightened, and he fingered the Ring on the chain around his neck.
"Mister Frodo, don't!" Sam said loudly.
"I need my Ring!" he insisted. "I'm scared! The Ring is my friend!" And so he put it on.
The Witch-King of Angmar smiled. Of course, no one could see his smile, since he had a creepy I-am-so-Valardamn-evil hood shadowing his face. So he bellowed like a horse being electrified, which meant, "I'm smiling!"
Those stupid hobbits cowered in fear, burying their faces into a random man's shirt. The Witch-King smiled again. They probably thought that we were saying 'Let's eat them!' he thought, talking to his ring.
"You're whaaat?" asked Nazgul the Third. It sounded like a cow having its eyes popped out. The hobbits looked even more scared.
"Smiling!" the Witch-King bellowed. The hobbits flinched. Suddenly, the Witch-King heard voices. And then he felt its presence!
"The Ring!" he said excitedly, pointing at the One Ring of Power that one of the halflings was putting on. He was blind, but he could tell that the Ring was there. Then one of the voices said, "Mister Frodo put on the Ring and made himself vanish!" The Witch-King groaned in disappointment, which sounded like a charging buffalo.
"The spring? But it's not spring!" said Nazgul the Third. The Witch-King of Angmar raised his sword menacingly, warning his deaf friend to keep quiet. Then he said, "A-ha-ha, I shall stab him!" Since the hobbit was invisible, any normal being wouldn't be able to see him. But no, this was a Nazgul! They are drawn to the Ring.
So drawn to it, in fact, that they all simply had to be making physical contact with it! All Nine Nazgul tackled the invisible hobbit to the ground, and in the middle of all this chaos, the Witch-King stabbed Frodo.
There was an odd battle-cry behind the Nazgul. They had no clue what it was, so they all looked back to see... the random man toting around a bunch of flaming torches!
"Fire!" screamed the Witch-King of Angmar. "We hate fire!"
"We eat liars, too!" Nazgul the Third said, mishearing as usual. The random man hit him with a fiery torch.
"By the breasts of Luthien Tinuviel!" Aragorn cried, driving the Nazgul away from Frodo. When all the Nine Valardamn Creepy Riders had left (including a royally pissed off Witch-King) he started juggling his torches, just because he felt like it.
Then he saw Frodo, who had taken off the Ring and therefore was visible, and swore. Aragorn threw the torches in the fire and ran over to the hobbit.
"I think he's dying!" said Pippin tearfully. Frodo... well, he didn't look in that great of shape. He was bleeding, and unconscious.
Strider sat back on his haunches and groaned. "I need a drink..."
To be continued, as Bill the Talking Horse rides on Sam and as Frodo the Extremely Weepy tries not to succumb from his random stab wound!