Middle Earth Tom Swifties

by Primula

“I want to see the mountains, one last time.” Bilbo pined.

“It was your idea.” Pippin said thoughtlessly.

“I put on the Ring.” Bilbo said with abandon.

“I’m leaving everything to him.” Bilbo said airily.

“Look, Frodo, it’s Pippin!” Sam said dumbfoundedly.

“Mushrooms!” the hobbits all agreed.

“Underhill. I’m Underhill.” Frodo said lowly.

“Where shall I put these water lilies?” Bombadil pondered.

“The shards of Narsil!” Boromir exclaimed sharply.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Arwen said engagingly.

“Our list of Allies grows thin.” Elrond said listlessly.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor.” Frodo said appropriately.

“My old ring…how I should like to hold it again, one last time.” Bilbo said transparently.

“We must take the pass of Caradhras.” Gandalf hissed chillingly.

“The mines are no place for a pony.” Aragorn derided hoarsely.

 “The doors of Moria” said Gimli, entranced.

“Moria…” Gandalf fumbled darkly.

“It reads, ‘Here lies Balin.’” Gandalf noted cryptically.

“Dinna wave that axe aboot so, Gimli!” said Pippin heedlessly

“I’m think I’m getting the hang of this,” Sam deadpanned.

“We could have shot him in the dark.” Haldir breathed pointedly.

“The Argonath.” Aragorn related to them.

“There’s Gollum again!” Frodo recited.

“Give it to me!” came Boromir’s ringing cry.

“Call us hobbits.” Merry said shortly.

“There’s no water in Mordor.” Sam fumed drily.

“I’ve only got nine fingers now.” Frodo calculated underhandedly.

“Rosie and I have thirteen children.” Sam said overbearingly.

- Primula