A Pint for Pippin: The MST
This story was used without permission and should not be reproduced… but I did anyway. Bad! Bad Laura.
‘Twas a fateful day that the two Hobbits were discovered in the mighty tower of Cirth Ungul. They had been taken to Barad-Dûr where the dark lord reigned over Mordor. The terrified Frodo and Samwise were thrown into a small, dank cell, where they contemplated their probably short future. A few minutes later, two small bundles of armor and grey cloak were tossed in. The miserable hobbits, for that is what they were, soon uncurled enough to be recognized as Merry and Pippin. Before long, the cousins (and gardener) had recounted the latest news. Frodo and Sam had been on their way down from the tower of Cirth Ungul and had been caught. Merry had ridden with the Rohirrim before being plucked from astride a galloping horse near the Grey Wood. And Pippin had been minding his own business atop the walls of Minas Tirth before a great black bird had come along, naked of feathers and wearing scaly, reptilian skin, and been snatched before he knew what was happening.
It was, of course a very joyous reunion. And, due to some cosmic law of Comic Irony, they were just getting to the exciting part of their stories when a giant orc burst into the room, slamming the reinforced door into the wall. "Ta Bas says yeur to go an’ see him," The giant orc drawled with a clumsy tongue. "Says now. So we go." The large orc clapped fetters around their bare feet. The shackled hobbits were led off into the depths, or was it heights, of the stronghold. They went through dozens of twisted passages, sloping up and down. By the time they reached their destination, the hobbits were so dismally confused they were sure they would never find their way back. Their orc guard opened the door and shoved them in.
Inside the large room, high vaults decorated the ceiling. Worn tapestries covered the walls and there was some simple furniture, some of which was "small-folk" sized. In the middle of the spacious room stood a tall, black clad figure. The hobbits managed to untangle themselves from the heap they had landed in (No simple feat when bound together at the ankles.) just in time to see the person in the center of the room turn around. His skin was pale and his hair was jet black. He would have looked actually rather youthful, were it not for his piercing gaze. It reminded the hobbits of a void, and nearly swallowed each of them up in turn as he looked down at them.
"Dear perrian. I have asked you here to participate in a little experiment of mine. But it would not do for us to speak with you in chains, as captives. Come, have a seat." The chains fell open and the hobbits could not stop themselves from stepping forward to seat themselves on a smaller greenish couch. "I have a proposition for all of you. I find your race has a certain something to it that intrigues me. It makes me wonder. Why, why of all races is your race bound to my ring? The creature Gollum was once a hobbit, you know. And the next creature to find it was too. I believe Gollum called him a Baggins. But I ramble. Surely you know this already." The row of curly-haired heads cautiously bobbed in ascent. "My proposition is this: I will allow you to keep my ring for the experiment, along with your lives. If you amuse me, then you will be set free with your life, though the ring, my ring, must stay here. Bore me and you will find yourself dangling over the cracks of doom for a short moment before plunging to your death, minus MY ring." The black figure, now recognized to be Sauron, nonchalantly explained as if he were simply commenting on the weather.
"And what if I don’t want to be a part of your twisted schemes?" Samwise stood, fists and teeth clenched.
"Then you die. You have only five minutes to decide. Choose wisely." He disappeared in a flutter of material and a flash of light.
"Well, this looks like it’ll be an easy decision. I’m for staying, it can’t be that bad." Merry leaned back.
"Sit down, Sam. You don’t know what he’s capable of. I’ve seen, " Frodo whispered, his eyes darting. "The lidless eye. Giant and flaming, I see it awake and asleep. But even that is not the worst. I have heard whispers, rumors of a new breed of evil created in the darkest corner of Mordor. They call it ‘fanfiction’."
"What do you suppose it does?" Sam sat in an overstuffed chair and mused to himself.
"Frodo, that’s just one of Bilbo’s stories." Pippin cried, convinced that something that evil could simply not exist.
"Is it?"
After more debate, the hobbits finally reached a consensus, but between Frodo and Sam’s age advantage and Merry and Pippin’s wit, it was a hard call.
"Alright, we’ll be in your test." Pippin shouted to whomever was there to hear.
"Wonderful," boomed a disembodied voice. "Now, if you will just step into the room on Mr. Baggins’ left, we will commence."
The hobbits did so only to find themselves in a small room with almost no light. There was a couch and two armchairs, all correctly sized for hobbits. The couch, however, was big enough to seat all of them. They sat on the couch gingerly and wondered what would happen. Merry sat on the far left, Pippin sat next to him (squirming a bit), Frodo was next to Pippin, and Sam fidgeted with the far right arm of the couch.
Sauron sat in his tower giggling insanely. The little hobbits had no idea what they were in for. He turned to his ‘laptop’ and loaded the first ‘fan fiction.’ Over the ‘microphone’ he announced his purposes. "Let’s see… I should probably explain why I’m doing this little experiment first. Hobbits seem to be part of a very hardy race, and therefore, I’m testing my new weapons on them. If one of you goes insane, then I know that the ‘fan fiction’ is strong enough to release on the rest of Middle-Earth! They will all be turned insane instantly by the total lack of plot and canon!" This was followed by some evil laughter, which dissolved into coughing. "Have fun!"
The hobbits looked at each other. Before they could say anything, the first words scrolled by on the previously blank wall ahead of them.
.
A PINT FOR PIPPIN
Pippin: Really?
Merry: No.
Today is a very special day. Today is Pippin's fourth birthday. Pippin is turning four today.
Frodo: That’s sort of redundant,
His mother is preparing a special meal for his birthday dinner, but she stops to give him an early present.
Pippin: What a novel idea, giving people gifts on their birthday.
Merry: How strange.
Frodo: That would mean only one day of gifts every year!
Merry: Gasp!
Pippin: Oh, the horror!
"It's a mug," she says, handing him the dark brown cup.
Sam: I’d assume if it were a mug it would also be a cup.
"And it's just your size! Well, maybe a bit big." She laughs and tells him to go off and play.
Pippin heaves his mug up and carries it away.
Pip: Yep, just my size! I’ve got to heave it around everywhere.
"What can I put in my mug?" he asks himself. "I'll ask Merry. He's my best friend, he'll know the answer."
Frodo: Oh great Merry the all knowing, When will we escape this prison?
Sam: The author must not know Merry.
On his journey, he encounters another of his friends, Sam Gamgee. Sam frowns at his mug. "What's that for?" Sam asks.
Pippin: Good question. What is it for, Sam?
Sam: A spade? How would I know?
"That's just it," says Pippin, "I don't know." He smiles goofily.
Merry: ‘Goofily?’ How very strange. Pip, let’s see that smile.
Pippin smiles
Merry: no, more ‘goof’ less ‘–ily’
"Do you know what to put in my mug?"
Sam's face brightens.
Frodo pantomimes lighting a torch
Frodo: fwoosh!
"I have just the thing!" He pulls a spade from his pants pocket. "Try this."
Sam: No comment.
Pippin takes the spade and puts it into his mug. He frowns.
Pippin: My mug is dirty now.
"This spade is too big for my mug." He waves good-bye to Sam and goes on his way.
Next, he encounters his old wizard friend, Gandalf. "Gandalf," he cries, "hello!"
Frodo: That should be capitalized.
Pippin: Why would you notice something like that?
The old wizard steps out of his cart.
Merry: And falls on his face.
"Why, hello, young Pippin. Because I am a very wise man,
Pippin: Heh.
I know it is your fourth birthday!"
Frodo: Happy fourth Birthday Pip! What are you giving us?
Pippin: Quiet you.
He laughs a great hearty laugh. "I've just been to the market." He gestures to the many bags in the back of his cart.
Pippin grins.
Merry: Was it a goofy grin?
"Then maybe you have something to fit in my mug!"
Gandalf mumbles to himself in deep thought, and grabs something from one of the paper bags. "Will this fit in your mug?"
He hands Pippin a shiny red apple and Pippin
Sam: Drops it.
Pippin: Grabs it and runs
Frodo: Looks at it.
Merry: Eats it.
drops it in his mug.
Frodo: Sam, please don’t do that again.
Sam: Do what?
But the apple is much too small and only fills half of the mug. "No," he says sadly, "this apple is too small for my mug."
Frodo: That’s obvious, redundant, and annoying.
"Oh, I am sorry, young Pippin." Gandalf climbs into his cart. "Happy birthday." He drives away.
Pippin: Great birthday present you…
Merry claps a hand over Pippin’s mouth.
Merry: Pippin, no swearing, you just turned four.
Tears begin to trickle down Pippin's cheeks as he continues his journey. "Nothing will fit in my mug!" he cries. "It isn't fair."
"What isn't?" says a mysterious voice from the cornfield.
Frodo: Oooh, mysterious voice!
Sam: Not really, we haven’t seen Merry yet.
Pippin gasps as a shape tumbles out. It is Merry, Pippin's best friend.
Frodo: Sam, please stop doing that.
"Why are you crying?" asks Merry.
Pippin reveals his empty mug.
Pippin: Tada!
"I cannot find anything to fit in my mug," he explains.
Merry holds up his own mug. His is dark green. "I have a mug too!" he says, smiling.
Pippin begins to smile again. "Then you must have something that fits in it!"
"Hold out your mug," says Merry. He pulls out a dark bottle filled with some kind of
Frodo: Poison!
liquid and Pippin holds out his mug. Merry pours the light liquid into his mug.
"It fits!" Pippin exclaims excitedly, spilling some of the liquid.
Merry: You spilled my liquid? How dare you!
When he calms down, he asks, "What is it?"
"It's ale!" replies Merry. "Try it. It's good."
Frodo: Drinking? At your age? For shame Merry. And now you’re letting Pippin drink too? When he’s four?
Merry: What, it’s not like that time when we were about ten and found Saradoc’s ale in the cellar.
Sam: Maybe these "authors" don’t realize that we hobbits age differently than humans. If Pippin were four in "hobbit years" then by big-people’s reckoning he’d only be about one!
Pippin: I’ll have you know I was a very bright lad.
Merry: You still are a lad. You’re not even come of age!
Pippin: You know what I meant! I did start talking when I was about three.
Frodo: And haven’t shut up since.
Pippin takes a swig of the ale. "It is good!" he
Sam: Hiccups.
exclaims. "Come with me to my birthday party. It's almost time."
Merry and Pippin walk quickly back to Pippin's house.
Merry: Even though Sam is in Hobbiton, and I’m in Buckland, Little Pip can "heave" his big mug from Tookburough and back in one day?
The others shrug.
When they arrive, it is dark outside. Lanterns of blue, red, and yellow have been set out in the field. Two large tables are filled with food, the same food Gandalf had picked up from the market.
Frodo: Where was I in all this?
Pippin sees his mother and he runs to her. "Mommy, look! I found something that fits in my mug!" he shouts. "Look, ale fits in my mug!"
She hugs him. "Good job, Pippin, I knew you could do it. You're such a smart boy!"
Merry: Oh so smart! Smart enough to put a frog down his…
Pippin: Merry! You said you would never mention that again!
She laughs and Pippin begins to laugh, then Merry, then pretty soon the whole crowd is laughing.
Frodo: For no apparent reason.
Pippin gulps down his ale. "Oh, no!" he cries. "I'm out of ale!"
All: GASP!
THE END
Sam: Well, that was pointless.
Pippin: (sob!) I want my ale back!
Frodo and Merry give Pippin a funny look.
Pippin: What? Can almost taste it, cool and frothy… (Almost drools)
Sauron’s voice floated through the chamber, echoing with and evil malice. "I hope you enjoyed the first installment. What did you think?"
"It wan’t all that bad," said Merry. Frodo promptly hit him. "Err…what I meant to say is that it was horrible, I’m not sure my sanity will be intact if I must endure this again." Pippin snickered at Merry’s melodramatics.
"Indeed." Sauron’s voice was laced with sarcasm. "In that case, I’ll have to create something worse. Pleasant dreams." The door to the theater creaked open to allow them back into the common room, which, upon exploring, they found had only two bedrooms leading off. Other doors led off into a small kitchen with a moderately well stocked larder, and a bathing chamber. Yet other doors were still locked.
Merry and Pippin had no objections to sharing a bedroom, but Sam was concerned that it "wouldn’t be proper for him to share with Mister Frodo." He, instead, took one of the couches in the main room.
As they settled in for the night, Sauron was hatching another evil plan. "Not good enough… I’ll have to think up something really, truly vile for the next one…"
He "booted-up" his "laptop" and went to the "internet", silently thanking the wonders of other dimentions.
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