The Hobbit: A Stupid Journey

Chapter Four: Trolls and Magic Swords

Chapter Four: Trolls and Magic Swords

They traveled in relative silence for a while. Relative, because Bibbo was constantly complaining about everything in existence. Imagine a whiny little kid on a 12 hour car ride and then triple it. Quadruple even. You now know more of Bibbo’s personality than a thousand pictures or a few words could tell.

Bibbo rubbed his stomach. “You lot care to give me a snack. I’m starving.”

“You’ve already eaten @$#$@#ing everything,” said Boff you in the Head disconsolately.

Thrashing held up a hand. “I hear something.”

Gander teleported away with a loud crack. The dwarves all jeered at the spot he was in.

“Coward. Your mother was a lizard and your father a hamster,” said Thrashing.

“It is not wise to insult a wizard,” replied Bibbo.

“Oh shut up, you,” said Thrashing.

Three huge trolls popped out of the underbrush and captured everyone in short order. “I say we eat them all,” said the largest.

“Fair enough,” said the smallest.

“This sucks,” said Bibbo.

“Use your thievery on them,” hissed Thrashing, king of the most dwarves ever.

“Oh yeah, great idea.” Bibbo held up his bound hands.

The sun appeared and the trolls turned to stone. Bibbo scratched his head. “Evolutionarily speaking, I have a hard time believing trolls could have survived long enough to learn language skills considering their average life expectancy is about 23.5 hours.”

“How do we get these ropes off?” said Boff you in the Head.

Gander reappeared. “I am Gander, and Gander means MEEEEE! Or, of course, taking a look around.”

When they were all untied, Gander found the troll’s cave and put all the loot in his magical pocket.

“What about us, then?” said Thrashing, King didn’t-ya-know.

Gander looked around. “You can have those junky elvish swords over there.

Thrashing picked one up, and Boff you in the Head reached for one, but Bibbo smacked him in the back of the head and stole it. “Mine.” He gazed on the sword. It was about 5 ft. taller than him and shone blue in the darkness. “Crikey, this thing is like a glow light!”

Gander gasped in wonderment. “Give me that other one there.” He snatched the third and final sword from another dwarf who wasn’t important enough to have a name yet. “These are the fabled swords “Die Goblin, Die!” “Kill-Maim-Dead” and “Ouch.”

“Which one is which?” asked Bibbo.

“Who cares?” replied Gander.

“I care,” said Bibbo, “That’s why I asked you.”

“Oh, well, mine’s Kill-Maim-Dead and yours is Ouch. Thrashing, king by the way, got the crummy useless one called Die Goblin, Die.”

Both Bibbo and Gander laughed heartily.

Thrashing frowned. “I hate you all.”