Title: The Lord of the Thing: Generation (Se)X; Book
One; Chapter Three:  Threesome Company
(Being the Mad Slash-lover's Parody of Prof. J.R.R.
Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings')

Author: Unbegrenzt

Summary: Three out 'n' about.  Who'll get left out? 
Pippin's dilemma as he travels across the Shire with
his two most SPECIAL friends.

Warnings: Humor, Parody... Please don't go!!

Rating: R (I'm stretching it, folks.  It might be a
bit on the raunchy side of R, if you get my
meaning...)

Pairings: Frodo/Gandalf, Frodo/Sam, Frodo/Pippin,
Frodo/Fredegar Bolger, Frodo/Folco Boffin, Sam/Pippin,
Sam/Fredegar Bolger, Sam/Folco Boffin, Pippin/Fredegar
Bolger, Pippin/Folco Boffin, Fredegar Bolger/Folco
Boffin... Oh, Jeebus.  I *think* that's all... but I'm
not really sure.  How ELSE am I supposed to explain a
'Going Away Orgy for the Four Helpers'??  Also,
Frodo/Any willing Elf, Sam/Any willing Elf, Pippin/Any
willing Elf.... 

Disclaimer:  Wizards:  Not mine.  Hobbits:  Not mine. 
Dwarves:  Not mine.  Elves:  Not mine.  Money earned
off of any of the aforementioned species:  $0.  This
fic may not be priceless, but it's mine.

Archived:  Library of Moria and ff.net (if I
feel so inclined)... Anyone else who wants it can ask!

Author's Notes:  Fork me with a spoon!!  Oh, and
THANKS TO TRIANNE AND DAISY GAMGEE FOR BETAING THIS
WOMBAT.

Feedback:  I'm a Feedback slut.  I need it to live.

*****

Chapter Three:  Threesome Company

"You ought to come quietly, and you ought to come
soon," said Gandalf.  "Sam's just in the next room,
and he'll be wondering what we've got up to."  Two or
three minutes had passed, and still Frodo made no sign
of getting ready to come.

"I know.  But it is difficult to do both," Frodo
gasped, biting his delightfully pouty lower lip in
concentration as Gandalf stroked him speedily.  Frodo
trembled, and the shelf that he was standing on
shuddered along with him.  "Oh fuck," he moaned
quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and trying his best
to keep his voice down, "fuck, fuck, fuckfuckf-mph!" 
Gandalf smothered his whimpers with a sloppy kiss as
he came into the wizard's *great* hand.  The kiss
ended as Frodo ended, and the shelf shuddered bravely
one last time before collapsing with a mighty crash,
spilling Frodo, along with every one of his saved
copies of PlayDwarf to the floor.  "Fuck," Frodo
sighed again, this time in muted agony, as he stood
and rubbed his throbbing buttocks.

"Mr. Frodo?"  Gandalf and Frodo regarded each other in
silent panic as they heard Sam's approaching
footsteps.  "Is everything all right, Mr. Frodo?  I
heard a mighty big crash... Is something wrong?"

"No!" twittered Frodo, his voice cracking.  "My head
just got bonked, Sam!"  He smacked himself immediately
and swore his favorite swear under his breath upon
realizing what he'd just said.

"All right, then!" answered Sam brightly from the
other side of the bedroom door.  Gandalf exhaled
noisily and gave a wizardly *hmmph* as he listened to
Sam's footsteps fade away down the hall.

"You are indeed fortunate that Sam of yours is as
dense of skull as he is wide of girth," scolded the
wizard.  Frodo scowled at the broken shelf, then at a
disheveled Gandalf, all the while still massaging his
bared, bruised behind.

"This isn't going to work, is it?" asked Frodo,
gesturing at the mangled plank on the floor.  "That's
the fifth shelf this week, and I'm trying to sell the
hole!"

"Yes," mused the wizard, "and I really ought to be
getting back to Sweetie-Pumpkin.  I'm sure he will
have had his fill of the air for now, and is quite
ready to continue his torture of me."  Frodo squirmed
at the sight of the strange light that always appeared
in Gandalf's eyes whenever he spoke of torture.

"I think we should cool it for now," Frodo suggested,
and bent over, attempting to hoist the fallen shelf. 
"Besides, you can meet up with me in Rivendell later
on, if you really want to."

"Oh, I shall" Gandalf answered eagerly, taking
advantage of Frodo's current position to give the
hobbit's perky bottom a little tweak.  "I still can't
believe I'm the only wizard on the counsel who goes in
for hobbits."  Frodo opened his mouth to reply, but
then thought better of it, and decided to let Gandalf
go on thinking what he wanted to.  "When are you going
to leave?"  Frodo heaved again at the shelf, and then
shrugged.

"Well, I've been saving up for Our Birthday Orgy all
this year, and I'd hate for all of that to be for
nothing.  How about the day after that?"  Gandalf
guffawed, bending down to bestow a loving peck on
Frodo's rosy cheek (yes, *that* cheek).

"Did I kiss it all better?" he asked sweetly.  "I
think you should delay one day past what you've got
planned.  You really won't be up for any traveling
the day after your little celebration, if I remember
anything about you and Cheap Ale."  Frodo grinned
sheepishly and nodded, despite himself.  "I guess I'll
be off, then.  Ta-ta for now, darling.  Oh, and make
sure that grubby gardener Gamgee keeps his big trap
shut, or else he'll be sore for more than just a
week... and *don't*, for ANY reason, use that Thing!"

With a theatrical *poof*, Gandalf disappeared, leaving
Frodo to glare at nothing.

"Show off," he muttered.

****

Some of Frodo's friends came to stay and help with the
packing of his silk boxers, among other things:  there
was Fredegar Bolger and Folco Boffin, and of course
his special friends Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck. 
Between them they turned the whole place upside-down--
AFTER they had finished packing, of course.

Word had gotten around the Shire that Frodo had got to
missing some of his younger Took and Brandybuck
cousins horribly, and was moving back to Buckland-- to
Crickhollow, to be precise-- so that the lads wouldn't
have to travel a whole day to Hobbiton to *visit*.

On September 20th two covered carts went off laden to
Buckland, conveying the furniture and boxers that
Frodo had not sold to his new home, by way of the
Brandywine Bridge.

Of course, the only person in the Shire who had been
willing to buy the shelfless bachelor hole was the
infamous Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.  Frodo had
grudgingly agreed to sell it to her at a bargain
price, with many a favorite curseword.

*****

On September 22, Frodo's birthday morning, he woke up
pleasantly refreshed and un-hungover.  Strolling out
the door of Bag End, Frodo made a last-minute decision
to splurge all of the hard-earned Bake-sale money he
had saved up throughout the year to by the finest,
most expensive Cheap Ale in all the Shire.  He didn't
really want a big communal orgy after all.

In the evening, Frodo gave his farewell celebration: 
it was quite small, just a wee bit of mischief for
himself and his four helpers to indulge in while they
still could.  The thought that he would so soon have
to part with his young friends weighed heavily on his
genitals.  He wondered how he would break it to them.

The four younger hobbits, however, were as chipper and
as frisky as ever, and the party soon became very
cheerful.  The dining-room was bare except for a table
and chairs, but the Cheap Ale was good, and so was the
mischief.

Later That Night:

Frodo reached down and grabbed a handful of messy Took
hair and yanked *hard*.  The younger hobbit groaned
loudly, and the sensation of the buzzing of a mouth
caused Frodo to shudder with the absolute ecstasy of
it, and he yanked even *harder*.

"Pippin!" he cried.  "Whatever happens to the rest of
my stuff, when the S.-B.s get their claws on it, at
any rate I have found a good home for this!"

The home was, of course, Pippin's delectable little
rose-bud of a mouth, and the precocious Took swallowed
gleefully.

"Better than the Cheap Ale," he complimented, smacking
his lips.

When they had sung many songs, and done many things
together, they toasted Bilbo's birthday (Frodo was
drunk enough by this time to think fondly of the Old
Hobbit), and they drank to his health and Frodo's
ever-lasting vigor.  Then they went out for a sniff of
air, and glimpse of the stars, and then they went to
bed.  Frodo's party was over, and they had all come.

****

The morning after the next day, after they had all
outlived their hangovers and stiff joints, they were
busy packing another cart with the remainder of the
luggage and Cheap Ale.  Merry took charge of this (and
so depleted a good amount of the saved Cheap Ale) and
drove off with 'Fatty' (Fredegar's new Pet-name).

"Someone must get there and warm the house before you
arrive," said Merry, giving Fatty's plump rear a
friendly little smack.  "Well, see you later-- the day
after tomorrow, if you don't mess around too much on
the way!"

Folco went home after a last farewell feck, but Pippin
remained behind.  Frodo was restless and anxious: 
things were going so well, and he wasn't sure he
wanted to leave now at all.  He took Pippin up on his
after-lunch offer and decided to procrastinate until
nightfall.

Frodo opted to go on foot.  His plan-- for pleasure as
much as any other reason-- was to walk from Hobbiton
to Bucklebury Ferry, taking it fairly easy, and
indulging in as much mischief as he possibly could
along the way.

"I shall get myself into a bit of training, too," he
said, giving his shiny, naked body a look in a dusty
mirror in the half-empty hall.  He had not done any
strenuous activity lately (other than WAY too much
mischief) and Folco had hurt his sensitive feelings by
mistaking him for Fatty a couple of times two nights
before.

Hearing a knock at the door, Frodo strolled toward it
and flung it wide, and was faced with an unabashedly
gleeful Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

"Ours at---" Lobelia looked Frodo up and down.  "Oh
my."

"Sale isn't final until Midnight, Lobelia.  You know
that, and if I want to walk around naked in my own
home for the time-being, that's just what I'm going to
do,"  Frodo said coolly, gently closing the door on
her
face.  Lobelia didn't knock again, but someone else
sure did.

"Whore!" Frodo swore, expecting the find the gawking
S.B. still on his doorstop.  Instead, he was greeted
with the sight (and the scent) of a very sweaty
gardener.

"Begging your pardon, sir?" Sam asked, a bit taken
aback.  Every lad in the Shire knew that Sam wasn't
easily had, and the insult sounded like a menacingly
false accusation.  But, Sam bit back his tongue.  It
wasn't his place to question Mr. Frodo.  If Master
thought he was a whore, then by golly, he'd be a
whore.

"Oh, Sam!" cried Frodo, laughing. "I'm so sorry!  I
thought you were Lobelia.  Please, come inside."  Sam
liked the way that Frodo made no attempt to cover
himself.  He'd never gotten quite this view of Frodo's
body before, and he looked amazingly delicious to Sam,
if a mite on the flabby side.  Trundling in after the
unclothed hobbit, Sam hurriedly shut the door,
becoming quite aware of what being alone at last with
his Master-- 'My NAKED Master,' he corrected himself--
might entail.  Striding into the bare living-room, he
was disappointed to find that Frodo was not alone. 
That pesky Took brat of his was here, sprawled out
naked as the day he was born in the middle of the
floor.  Sam didn't like him very much; he thought Mr.
Pippin was as loose as a pink, furry handcuff around
an insect's leg.  'Although,' he admitted to himself,
'he doesn't look half-bad.'

Pippin raised an eyebrow suggestively at the gardener.

"Aren't you a bit hot in those clothes, Sam?" he
asked, in his most innocent voice.  'Damn,' thought
Sam, 'the bugger's good at it.'  He only had to glance
at Frodo and see the wanton look of pure need in his
big blue eyes to make his decision.  Sam grinned,
toying playfully with the top button of his shirt.

"I'm thinking that I can make you forget every Dwarf
you ever saw, Mr. Frodo," he purred.  Frodo's tongue
lolled out of his mouth.

"I'm thinking you're right," he answered.

Exactly forty-three minutes later, with the taste of
gardener in his mouth and the tingling aftershocks of
Pippin panging delightfully from behind, Frodo leaned
forward against the wall next to the hearth.

"My last fecks at Bag End," he muttered wistfully. 
Bag End was sad and gloomy and disheveled and sticky.
 As retaliation for that afternoon's intrusion, Frodo
decided that they should leave the washing up for
Lobelia.  They all had a communal nap, and when Frodo
awoke, he thought that he really shouldn't
procrastinate any longer.  It was time to leave.

*****

It wasn't very difficult to rouse Sam from sleep.  A
little nibble on his ear was all it took; the gardener
was as awake as he might be at noon.  Frodo had firmly
decided that Sam was... amazing.  He couldn't believe
he'd held out on bonking Sam just because he was his
gardener.  'But isn't his cousin Hal boffing that
irritable Mr. Boffin?' Frodo thought.  It couldn't be
all wrong.  Pippin was a treat; he was good at
surprises... but *Sam*... Sam was like coming home
after a long journey to a home-cooked meal. 'That
green thumb of his is certainly useful for more things
than gardening,' he thought, and grinned evilly at
Sam, almost considering having a little more fun and
letting that lazy lump Pippin wake himself up.

Sam seemed to read his mind.  He arched an eyebrow and
waggled an index finger, making clucking noises deep
in his throat.  'No-no,' said that playful expression.
 Frodo forced his eyes down.  Sam was right, of
course, and Frodo had already made up his mind that it
was time to leave.  He had recently become aware of
the effect his eyes had on Sam, and if his servant saw
the needy 'Yes-yes!' written into their blue depths,
they would lose a lot of time.  Instead, he knelt
beside a snoring Pippin and tweaked his bottom
viciously.

"Pippin!" he called quietly.  The spoiled brat of a
Took whimpered and rubbed his bum where Frodo had
pinched it.  Other than that, he made no move.

"Let me," Sam suggested.  Frodo could feel hot breath
on the back of his neck, and he yearned more than
anything to turn and draw Sam to him.  'Must leave!'
Frodo thought to himself desperately.  When that
didn't do anything for him, he thought: 'Lobelia! 
Lobelia!  Lobelia!  Lobelia!'.  He grunted and moved
aside, allowing Sam to kneel beside Pippin.  Much to
Frodo's delighted surprise, Sam didn't even touch the
sleeping Took.  He simply leaned over, until his mouth
was nearly on Pippin's exposed left ear, and
whispered:

"Merry's here."

Pippin's eyelids flapped open and he rolled over. 
Upon seeing only Sam and Frodo, he groaned.

"You tricked me!" he squealed pointedly at them both. 
"Cunts!" he added, as a witty afterthought.

He got up and headed for the porch in a snit.  Once
there, he sat down heavily on his pack and waited
silently.  After three minutes, he stepped back inside
the door.

"Sam!" he called, "Frodo!  Time!"

"Coming!" came two labored cries (one quite muffled)
from far within, followed soon by Sam himself, wiping
his mouth, and Frodo.  They had had time for a quickie
after all.

"All aboard, Sam?" Frodo asked.

"Yes, sir.  I'll last for a bit now, sir," Sam said,
beaming.  Frodo smiled at him affectionately and
pulled him close for another involved kiss, dropping
the key to Bag End down the squirming Gamgee's
trousers.  Breaking the embrace, Frodo gave Sam's
cheek a little pat.

"Be a good lad and run that down to your Gaffer.  Tell
him to take as much from Bag End as he wants, but to
be quick.  There's no telling when that awful S.B.
could rear her ugly head."  Sam nodded gratefully and
ran off down the Hill at full speed.

Frodo and Pippin shouldered their packs and took up
their sticks, and walked away from Bag End.

"Good-bye!" cried Frodo dramatically.  "You were a
wonderful hole, and full of wonderful memories!" 
Pippin rolled his eyes.  They were already running
late.  "Good thing that I'm taking all my best
memories with me!" Frodo laughed, pulling down his
drawers and mooning the dark blank windows. 
"Nyah-nyah-nyah!" he sang.  Straightening, and yanking
his breeches back up, he followed an astonished Pippin
down the Garden Trail.  "Well, now we're off at last!"
 said Frodo.

"You're not the only one who got off!" cried Sam
defiantly, running up.  'Ooo,' thought Frodo, 'I do so
love it when he's witty.'

After a few minutes of marching along, Frodo began to
emit a low whining noise.

"My pack's the heaviest, damnit," he growled.  "Will
you slow down a bit there, Pip?"

"I could take a lot more yet," Sam said. "Or... We
could take a little break..."  Pippin bawked.

"Would you two quit it already?  Stop whining, Frodo. 
Folco didn't mistake you for Fatty for no reason. 
Suck it up!"  Frodo eyed Sam, sidling up to him.

"Gladly," he whispered lustily.  Pippin wheeled, a
pissy storm of rage glowering in the depths of his
wide hazel eyes.

"Stop it!!  Stop it!!  I feel like a fucking SUB!" he
cried.  "Can we just walk a *little* further?  The
sooner we get to Merry, the better.  It's obvious I
won't be seeing much action with you and Sam drooling
all over each other every step of the way."  He huffed
bitchily and checked his pace.  Frodo and Sam giggled
behind him, taking every opportunity possible to touch
one another.

Gradually, they made their way over the skirts of the
Green Hills towards Woody-End, which Sam jokingly
called 'The Wild Corner of the Eastfarthing'.  Frodo
and Sam started to lag behind, and as they began to
climb a steep slope, they both collapsed to the ground
in a hobbit-pile of tangled limbs.

"I am *so* sleepy," Frodo giggled into Sam' hair. 
Pippin walked on over the slope and sank to the ground
despondently on the other side.  It was going to be a
long trip.

*****

Later in the evening, just as Frodo was beginning to
sink into a blissful doze, he felt a strange sensation
in the general vicinity of his crotch.

"Mmmm," he murmured, nipping Sam's nose.  "Is that
you, Sam-dear?"  But Sam was already snoring lightly,
and had both of his arms wrapped around Frodo.

The older hobbit glanced nervously downward, and his
breath caught in his throat at what he saw.  Writhing
between the two hobbits was a nose, desperately
sniffing at Frodo.  Attached to this nose was a
fearsome-looking figure clothed entirely in black. 
It's hands were gnarled and claw-like, and Frodo
couldn't see it's head but for the concealing hood the
creature wore. 
Frodo was about to scream like the living dead, when
he spotted another figure sneaking up stealthily on
the darkly-clad pervert.

"BOO!" cried the Elf, and the Black Figure immediately
halted its snuffling, screeched like the living dead
(for it was, indeed, the living dead) and disappeared,
yowling like a sex-crazed banshee, into the night.

"Whew," breathed Frodo.  "That was really scary."  The
elf nodded sympathetically.

"You're lucky it didn't start *biting*," he said. 
Frodo shuddered, and the shudder woke Sam (who had
slept through the Black Figure's blood-curdling
scream).  Sam, upon seeing the Elf, screeched in much
the same manner of the departed Black Figure and the
Elf
fell back, clutching at his chest and crying:

"Elbereth!"

"Holy fuck!" yelped Frodo.  "Only High Elves swear
like that!"  Sam recovered from his initial shock and
stared up in muted awe at the Elf.

"I've heard an interesting tale or two about the High
Elves," he muttered to Frodo.  The Elf, with his
superior Elf-hearing had of course heard the remark,
and scowled.

"Look, guys.  It's not really our custom, but we think
that you better stay with us tonight.  Those Black
Figures are dangerous and bothersome old brutes." 
Frodo blinked.

"Our?  We?  Us?  There's *more* of you?" he asked
incredulously.  The Elf nodded smugly.  At that
moment, Pippin came scrambling from his hiding place
on the other side of the hill.

"Finally!" he cried, and then:  "Can I stay with
*you*?"

*****

Frodo felt sleep coming upon him, even as Gildor
finished him off.

"I will sleep now," he said; and the Elf halted his
ministrations and cradled the hobbit gently.  The
Thing-bearer fell at once into a dreamless sleep.

***********

Coming Soon (if I get enough feedback):  Chapter Four:
'A Short-cut to Merry'.

=====
Keeper of Frodo's Genitals at FrodoRingbearer
http://www.livejournal.com/users/unbegrenzt

"[...] They aren't going to reproduce (what a scary idea!
A BrandyTook! TookBuck?)" -Daisy Gamgee, referring to Merry/Pippin.  
"Lookit.  Bree." -From Mcee's fic: 'Departure: Part Three'
"Since there wasn’t a bovine within thirty miles, I did Pippin 
instead." –Merry from Arc-ta-pus' 'Pretty' Series