Lord Of The Rings Housewarming

DISCLAIMER:

The story is al fictional parody - it's not true, nor is it approved of by the celebrities named in the stories. Authors write these fictitious stories about famous people for the same reason that Larry Flynt made fun of Jerry Falwell, because they can. The Supreme Court of the United States, the country where this site is located, has ruled that parodies involving famous people are perfectly and totally legal under the United States Constitution. The specific case law on this was decided in the case of "Hustler Magazine, Inc. et al. v. Jerry Falwell" in 1988. No harm is intended toward the celebrities featured in these stories, but they are public figures and in being so, they must accept that they are fair target for parodies by the public. We believe in the first amendment, and more broadly, in the basic principle of free speech and this section may push the boundaries of that principle, but the United States Supreme Court has approved of this type of material. We believe that the Supreme Court was correct in their decision.

This story contains scenes of male hobbits having fun with one another without a lass or lady in sight. If this is not your cup of tea, pass on!

*

Now it was night, cool and misty, and only the brighter stars looked down upon them. The three hobbits threaded their way up a country lane near Crickhollow. The grassy track leading to Frodo's new house was soft under their feet and gentle after a day of many miles underfoot.

"I say, Frodo," said Pippin brightly. "Do you suppose Merry has the mushrooms on to cook? Ah, I can almost taste them. Maggot's are the best. With butter, scrumptious. With gravy, delicious. With cream, divine."

"You ate enough at first supper, you must be tasting them still!" Sam said.

Pippin laughed and patted his belly. "Empty now. Walking is good for the appetite!"

"Hush, you two," Frodo said.

Sam hung his head. It was probably safe, but those black Men on their black horses meant there was dark business afoot. They had left one sinister follower on the far bank of the Brandywine, and there would not be another ferry tonight. But perhaps one of his fellows had come round the Brandywine Bridge. Sam sharpened his ears and quieted his tread. Even Pippin put off his giddiness.

They passed the last piece in silence, entering through a gate in the tall hedge that guarded the quiet house Frodo had chosen weeks ago. Frodo's furnishings (much diminished) and the best of Bag End's larder and cellar had preceded him in the capable hands of Merry Brandybuck and Fatty Bolger. As well as being a friend and a hobbit of many parts, Merry was a local and well-liked, and had helped Frodo pick the house.

Across the lawn, a cheery yellow light shone from the round windows. After a long day's ramble, Frodo was home.

Merry welcomed them in as Fatty Bolger bustled about in the kitchen. The scent of hot butter tickled their noses. Merry had been sent ahead on pony-back with a basket of mushrooms from Maggot's farm, with the happy intention of having them ready when Frodo's party arrived.

"Oi, there had better be mushrooms going in that butter!" Pippin called.

"I'll thank you to be polite about those mushrooms," Frodo scolded. "Or you shan't have any. Mrs. Maggot gave them to me personally."

"Oh, is it to be that way, then?" Pippin said. "See if you have any friends by the end of the week!"

Fatty raised his eyebrows and stuck his thumbs in the pocket of his cook's apron, looking to the master of the house.

Frodo laughed. "Tell this impudent Took he'll have his mushrooms," he told Fatty. "I see he won't be denied. But he shall be served last."

"That wounds to the quick, that does," Pippin said.

"Serves you right, it does," Sam said.

"Now, now," Merry said. "Off to the bath with the lot of you muddy travellers! The water's hot and we won't be warming it up again if you stand here gabbing."

Frodo, Pippin, and Sam followed Merry's lead to the bathroom, where not one but three tubs stood, ready for the steaming water that stood ready in great cans to fill them.

Merry made the table ready while Fatty cooked the delectable earthy flesh of the mushrooms from Frodo's gift-basket.

"Oh, these are the genuine article," Fatty said with a chuckle as the mushrooms sizzled gently in a pan. "Nothing like Longbottom Leaf for a pipe, or the Golden Perch for a beer..."

"Or Maggot's farm for mushrooms," Merry added. "How he does it is a deep mystery. Nothing equal in the Shire or Buckland."

"Pays for those fearsome dogs of his," Fatty said. "And keeps his family in butter and Sunday frocks." He breathed in. "Ah, but it's worth it. A whole basket? A princely gift."

"A bit of a homecoming gift, Frodo told me," Merry said. "Mrs. Maggot was pleased to see he was returning to his old haunts."

"Very pleased, I see," Fatty said. "Do you suppose Frodo wants to warm his new home in good style?"

Merry looked at the pan of sizzling, fragrant mushrooms. He breathed in and felt a warm glow. "Like our old custom at the end of a cross-country ramble?" he said. "It has been a while. I can't be sure, but it would be like him. And, you, me, and Pippin, well, we all..."

Fatty laughed. "I hope so. With mushrooms like these, more than just a hope."

Merry noticed a little break in the smooth slope of Fatty's white apron that hadn't been there before. "Maybe so," Merry said. "If not?"

"If not, then early to bed," Fatty said with a chuckle. "The sooner to rise."

Merry grinned.

The sounds of splashing and a voice raised in song came from the back of the house.

Merry frowned. "They're carrying on something fierce back there," he said. "Let me go look."

Sam emerged from the bathroom, a trifle damp but looking much refreshed, wrapped in a towel.

"What manner of alarming adventures are happening back there?" Merry asked.

"I don't rightly know," said Sam. "Mr. Frodo and Master Pippin are wrestling or something such. I stepped out here before they could splash me again."

Merry stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. The air was thick with moisture. And indeed, as Sam had said, Frodo and Pippin were in a tight clinch in one of the tubs. Most of the bathwater was, regrettably, upon the floor.

"Three!" Frodo said, touching Pippin's shoulders to the side of the tub. "Forfeits!"

"Oh, very well," Pippin said. "I suppose I can't be best at everything."

"You're young yet, and no Bullroarer." Frodo said.

Frodo released him and sat up in the tub. Pippin put his feet on the bottom and stood up. His stem was already stiffening, gaining another tithe of length and girth as it rose.

Frodo smiled. "Good for more than just winning pissing contests," he said.

Merry smiled, remembering his own acquaintanceship with Pippin's estimable shaft. Pippin did always win on distance. Though there had been some disputed contests, he had never been squarely beaten.

"I should hope I'm good for more than that," Pippin said. "Miss Marigold thought so this afternoon."

"So that's why she wanted your help in the barn," Frodo said.

Frodo opened his mouth and leaned forward, taking Pippin's swelling member in.

"O ho!" Merry said. "Is this how we'll be celebrating your new house?"

"I should hope so!" Pippin said. "I... ah." He looked down at the top of his host's head. Pippin smiled broadly, and his member twitched inside Frodo's mouth. "Good. Very good."

Merry laughed. "Good or very good, your mushrooms are coming to the table. And beer, bread, and cheese. Raisins and apples and nuts. Pickles and turnips, onions and beans. But first, foremost, and last, mushrooms."

"Oh, cruel Brandybuck, who could call you Merry?" Pippin protested. "I must leave this for mushrooms -- or stay here and lose them. Oh why, oh why."

Frodo tickled his fingers under Pippin's balls as a "good-by!", eased his head back, and let Pippin's wet shaft spring up.

"You heard Merry, Peregrin," Frodo said. "What kind of hobbit are you? To table, to table, as fast as we are able!"

"Not so fast, the both of you," Merry said. "You cannot leave this floor all aswamp."

"It's my house, I shall if I choose," Frodo said. But the looks on Merry's and Pippin's faces convinced him otherwise. Frodo and Pippin, with Merry's help for extra towels, mopped out the bathroom. After that, for want of dry towels, they strode out naked and glowing.

"It's warm enough," Frodo said. "And it's my house, I shall do as I please." Bilbo's ring, on its fine chain, hung round Frodo's neck, low on his chest. Under the gentle swell of his belly lay his proud stem, rising from a nest of curly brown hair.

"Is everything wet, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked.

"All the towels, and I am done with my travelling clothes," Frodo said.

But Merry produced nightshirts, and the three travellers sat at the table covered up, if loosely and open-endedly.

Fatty chuckled as he brought out the pan of mushrooms. "The guest of honor," he said.

"Yes," Frodo said. "Precious, precious things. I'll serve them, thank you! Mrs. Maggot gave them to me, after all."

"Well, then," Fatty said. Having prepared and cooked them, he felt entitled to some of the credit, but mushrooms were mushrooms, and even a kind and generous hobbit showed his greedy side in their presence.

Frodo gave each dish a generous portion of mushrooms, leaving Pippin's to last, as promised. But Pippin just looked hungrier, rather than the least bit penitent.

After a time of eating, Merry called out, "A song, time for a song for Frodo's first night!"

"Yes, a song!" Fatty echoed. "Something good and happy."

"Anyone know a mushroom song?" Sam asked. "These are so good, I never had better."

"I do!" Pippin said. "It's one of Bilbo's." And he began.

"A new house calls for friends to come, To eat and sing when day is done. To cheer the host, to toast his health, To lay their gifts upon the shelf.

"A new house calls for merriment, For song, for dance, for nutriment. And what is best, if we are able? Buttered mushrooms on the table!"

Merry and Fatty joined in with Pippin, remembering the song. Together they sang,

"Long or plump, hot and rich, Buttered mushrooms in a dish. Open wide and savour one, A buttered mushroom on a bun!

Let none hoard mushrooms just for him, But share every cap and every stem. And so that all enjoy the fun, Buttered mushrooms for everyone!"

And Frodo joined for the final verse,

"No gift more warms the hobbit's soul, Then mushrooms in his hobbit-hole! And this shall be our fondest dream, What starts with butter ends with cream!"

The four singers ended the song with a peal of laughter.

"It's a fine song," Sam said. "About mushrooms. But it doesn't seem funny like that to me."

Frodo smiled. "No, mushrooms aren't funny. It's more the way you sing it. And it's a happy occasion."

"Oh," Sam said, remembering that they planned to quietly depart in the morning. "I suppose it is. I'll drink to that."

--

Sam retired early while the four old friends stayed up to talk about their old journeys and new plans. Their bellies full, their feet up on the table, and a tin of pipe-weed from Bilbo's carefully-preserved old supply sitting between them.

From Frodo's seat, he could see up Pippin's nightshirt as the young Took rested his broad feet on the table. Pippin's fine instrument was still a trifle wakeful, showing most of its length, with a twitch or throb now and again. Later there would be time, Frodo hoped. But now was business.

Frodo knocked out his pipe and set it down.

"Friends, I have something to tell you," he began uneasily.

The others' eyes searched his face.

Fatty nodded and looked at him ruefully. "We know what it is."

Pippin grinned. "Indeed."

Merry said. "Shall I begin?"

Frodo widened his eyes in amazement. "Do," he said.

"All season you have been saying good-by to people, to places, to your dearest haunts in the Shire," Merry said. "It was written in your face that you might be looking your last."

"And you said it once or twice," Pippin added. "'Ah, when shall I see you again.' Not like you."

"So we thought you must be following Bilbo," Fatty said. "His adventure. He was the same age as you when he went off with Gandalf and all those dwarves."

Merry said, "And now you're going to tell us you have to leave rightaways."

"Struck by lightning," Frodo murmured, as Bilbo did when he was astonished. "Is there anything you don't know?"

"Well," Merry said, "After we heard about the Black Riders, and when I saw in the bath that you had Bilbo's Ring, I was sure of it. You're off to Rivendell, and elves, tomorrow. Am I right?"

Frodo nodded, slowly, and sighed. "Does everyone in the Shire know?"

Merry laughed. "No, we've kept it dark. But you and Sam will do better with a couple of stout travelling companions, until Gandalf finds you again."

Pippin added, "And after meeting Gildor, now I know all Bilbo's stories about Elves are true. It will be worth the trouble to go with you to Rivendell."

Fatty grinned. "I'll stay here," he said. "I was never the rambler that you chaps are. Someone has to act the part of Mr. Baggins in Crickhollow, if you're to go quietly. Most of your clothes are staying."

"And Fatty has a lass in the family way," Merry added.

"No!" Fatty protested.

Merry gave him a skeptical look.

"Well, not yet," Fatty continued. "But I have been encouraged to make a go."

They all laughed at Fatty's shamefaced grin, slapped his shoulders and congratulated him.

Frodo gave in to his old friends' entreaties, and they made plans for Pippin and Merry to join Frodo and Sam in an early start.

Merry said, "And now. This was to be a housewarming, but now it's a farewell party. But it can still be a party."

"Good friends, a warm house, beer, mushrooms, and butter, what more is needful?" Pippin said.

"Poles and holes?" Frodo asked. There were grins around the table. "That's the way!" he said, smiling at his old friends. "Trim the lamps and poke up the fire, Merry. And off with that smock, Peregrin, you haven't paid your forfeit yet. Fatty, off with the apron, we must see the spear you're to slay a maidenhood with."

"No maiden," Fatty said. "But a sweeter, warmer lass you've never met."

"And she lets you put it in her bum," Merry added. "So you won't even miss your old friends!"

"I promise I'll think of you every time," Fatty said. "Cold and wet on the Road, while I'm warm and snug in her hole."

This set off an impromptu wrestling match which saw Fatty stripped of his clothes. Merry put his off under threat of being next.

"Now, one more bite of Maggot's excellent mushrooms for everyone, and let us get to work!" Frodo said.

The four friends were a trifle older, and one might say prosperous, or one might say plump, than they had been on the last occasion they had all worn their birth-day suits together. But as they looked at one another in the lamplight, in the warm parlor of Frodo's new house, the rich savour of mushrooms on their tongues, the old magic worked as it always had. Pippin's impudent staff, as usual, was first to rise, lifting from its nest and standing above the curly bushes round its root. The others answered, Frodo's next in stature, then Fatty and Merry, each swelling and rising to meet his fellows. Bilbo's gold ring glinted on Frodo's chest, hanging on its chain, while the others were bare of adornment, save their staves lifted in salute.

"Let us give Fatty a send-off," Pippin said. "For the rest of us will all be leaving together, and his wife will ne'er let him out of her sight when we return."

"She's not my wife!" Fatty complained.

"Not yet," Merry said.

"It will be a send-off for all of us," Frodo said. "For there's little hope of such games on the Road."

Fatty begged the favour of having each of them in his mouth, and Frodo, as master of ceremonies, decreed it should be so. Fatty fell to his knees before Frodo and took Frodo's shaft into his mouth, sucking greedily. Frodo closed his eyes and enjoyed his old friend's attentions, curling his toes with pleasure as Merry and Pippin looked on. At length Frodo touched Fatty's cheek.

"Enough now," Frodo said.

Fatty's own rod stood out stiffly after his attention to Frodo, and his face and ears were pink. Fatty stood and kissed his friend, his rod prodding Frodo's belly and rubbing against Frodo's wet shaft.

Fatty winked and laughed. "You've been with a woman today!" he said. "I taste her on your staff!"

Pippin laughed. "Mrs. Maggot!"

Frodo's ears reddened.

"Ah, a gentleman never tells?" Pippin chaffed. "Well then, I never said it. I'd say...oh!"

Pippin's next words were stopped fast. For Fatty had knelt before Pippin and claimed the head of Pippin's pole in his mouth. As the shaft was too long for Fatty to swallow whole, Fatty's hands were called upon to polish its length and play upon its root.

Frodo and Merry smiled, seeing Pippin bound deeply in the enchantment that Fatty worked upon him. In a little while a low, rough note sounded in Pippin's breath.

"Hold, Fatty," Frodo called.

Fatty paused and took a breath. Pippin was pink-faced and breathing deeply. His long shaft seemed longer, if possible, than before.

"Good Fredegar, you have lost nothing of your skill," Pippin said.

Fatty stood up and stroked Pippin's wet pole with both hands. "And from the taste of you, good Peregrin, you have also been a-ploughing with the maids to-day!"

"Pippin, for shame," Merry said. "Straight from the bath? You should wash under the hood!"

Frodo laughed out loud. "So that's why she wanted you in the barn!"

Pippin pretended to pluck a bit of hay from his curly hair. "A gentleman, as I said. Ahem. And it seems I'm not the only one who needs to wash under his hood."

Frodo held his face without expression as well as he could, which was not so well. Merry burst out laughing, and Fatty could not resist a chuckle.

Merry shook his head. "Pippin, old son, I never know where that pony of yours will lead you," he said, smiling. "So far your charm has brought you safely home."

"It will bring me many places!" Pippin said. "I have my eye on one now!"

The others laughed at Pippin. Fatty moved along to his next good friend.

"Ah, Fatty," Merry said, as Fredegar sucked in his shaft. "You are the soul of hospitality, the solace of friends, the...ah, yes, like that." For Fatty's tongue was running under the crown of Merry's stiff rod. Merry spread his broad feet to steady himself as Fatty went to work in earnest, sucking in Merry's whole shaft, then in and out. Fatty's clever fingers tickled Merry's balls, and they rose and tightened.

Frodo and Pippin stroked themselves gently, watching as Fatty worked on Merry. The flames of the parlor fire reflected in their eyes, and the warm glow of the lamps softly shone on their bare skins. Four eager faces, four erect poles, and four holes between four pairs of buttocks were the stars of their little constellation tonight.

"Meriadoc, friend," Fatty said, "Will your hole receive visitors?"

Merry chuckled, "Any visitor with a buttered mushroom in hand is welcome!"

"Then let this be my knock!" Fatty said, slapping Merry twice gently on the hip.

"Be right there!" Merry said. "Mind you bring the butter!"

Merry gathered the fallen nightshirts and threw them down upon the hearthrug. Frodo brought the dish of butter from the table and held it as Fatty anointed his pole with the thick, slippery-rich fat. Merry knelt on the rug and leaned forward, resting his hands upon the nightshirts and elevating his bare fundament.

Frodo had a moment to regard Merry's rear visage. Two broad smooth hills with a deep narrow valley between, a hint of a hole, and a pair of tight balls formed the landscape. And dimples, there and there. But soon the view of Merry's back garden was eclipsed by Fatty, who knelt behind him with a sigh.