Chapter Text
It was sixty years to the day after the vanquishing of Smaug by Bilbo and the dwarves of Denny’s and now preparations were being set for the closing of the Waffle House on Shire Boulevard and the long expected 40% discount.
It was the Fourth of July when a young man called Frodo was sitting in a parking garage lip syncing to Lady Gaga. Frodo was short, only standing at around 5’1” and wearing a button up blue striped polo shirt. Just then, a used Honda Civic pulled into a parking spot.
“You’re late.” Frodo exclaimed to the wrinkly old man who stepped out of the car.
“A store manager is never late nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.” By all accounts the man was senile but you know what they say:
“What doesn’t die of old age makes the US congress.”
The man’s name was Gandalf, a tall bearded fellow that looked weathered with pain, grief and copious amounts of weed.
“Come now my boy, we need you to help to package up the rest of the inventory and move it downtown.”
While Gandalf seemed to be rambling on, the several hobbits eavesdropping on their conversation collected their last coupons and doubloons. When the two strange store goers finally met Bilbo, he seemed rushed and spaced out, like his many years had finally begun to come back to bite him.
”Ah, Frodo my wonderful little lad.”
“Uncle, I’m 33.” Frodo responded, already dreading the awful small talk with relatives.
“Oh you know I never keep track of the age of hobbits as young as yourself. Why at thirty-three I had already fought Smaug.” Bilbo said, clearly proud of his lackluster achievements from decades past.
Frodo let out a long, heavy sigh clearly bored with Bilbo’s constant lectures propping up his fragile ego.
“Hullo Mr Frodo, packaging up I see.” Sam exclaimed, a childlike whimsy in his eyes and tone.
“Yes Sam, I am just packing up to be ready for the new job Bilbo got me downtown.” Frodo responded. “Hey now Mr Frodo don’t be ‘forgettin not to go where the three of us can’t follow” as he gestured to Merry and Pippin.
“Not that it matters since we did put a tracking chip in your Chevy and also applied for the same job as you.”
“Wow Sam, this might be the first time I’ve told you, but I think this might be a step too far,” Frodo said, surprised as ever with Sam’s dedication.
“Not that I need a job, once my rap career gets up I’ll be swimming in cash, I call my rap persona, “Old Took Lost In The Sauce”. Pippin proclaimed to the entire Waffle House at full volume.
“Pip, not to be rude or anything, but we share a bank account and that is currently resting at 13 cents and your latest song on SoundCloud has only had one listener, ME.” Merry chimed in, clearly tired of Pippin going on about his rap career.
“Well I suppose we must be going now, make haste and to downtown we venture.” Gandalf coughed out, as he needed Red Bull.
Then the four hobbits and Gandalf (better named as the babysitter) climbed into the parked Honda Civic, tuned the radio to Chappell Roan and drove off down the forty-five lane highway.