Well I went out for a stroll around the White Wedding Cake City the other day and somehow I seem to have ended up in the Shire ways, judging by all the short and cuddly folk scurrying around. If I remember correctly I had ingested some mushrooms a farmer said came from the Shire -- I probably should have just left them alone, but I was sooo hungry. When I got to a little town called Bree, I stopped in for a pint in the Prancing Pony and was assaulted by somebody who kept calling me Longshanks? I was very flattered, for I am quite hung, but I swear I'd never seen the guy before and I haven't partied so hard as to not remember one-night-stands in quite a few years.
So I crashed at the Prancing Pony (finally got that creep to quit pinching my bum and stroking the Horn of Gondor) and set off the next morning, still heading west.
I skipped through the pretty woods but started having an allergy attack. Damn pollen. I miss my shield. If I had my shield the pollen would know better than to float around and spread its golden sneeziness around my face.
I tumbled out of the forest covered in brambles and leaves and a few stray hobbit children. "This must be Hobbiton," I thought triumphantly. "I shall pay Frodo and his queer little friends a visit!"
I walked around, covered in leaves and wee hobbit kids, searching for a familiar face of one of the little ones...