An Unexpected Brawl (The Hobbit/Seven Dwarfs/Wizard Of Oz)

"...Are you even sorry about killing Paul?" He shoved him again. "Answer me, dammit! You stupid, ugly @#$^&*!!!!!" *

While Fred is being berated by the dwarfs for murdering their colleague Paul, one may wonder what our friend Belboz the magician is up to. Being virtually ignored by the others, he has struck up a friendship with Biffur "Sleepy" Cullen, the gangly misfit of the band of dwarfs who carried most of their rations. Topping five feet tall, he has always felt somewhat alienated from the other dwarfs. He and the magician are currently being entertained by the disgraceful display of shamefully gratuitous violence, as they tap into the dwarfs' supply of 100-percent proof homemade grog. In minutes, they have drained nearly a quarter of the high-alcohol beverage that can eat through pewter mugs after only twenty seconds. Now that all ten of the remaining dwarfs have joined into the carnage, they are laying bets on the winner.

"I'll wager you..." says Belboz hazily, "twenty sovereigns. On that, heavy fella. There," he grunts, and manages to point in the general vicinity of Bombur "Grumpy" DiPaolo, who was nearly as wide as he was tall.

"Yeah? Well, I bet you that Bashful will gnaw off your friend's hand! Fifty sovereigns!" Sleepy thumped on the nearby grog cask, threatening to upset it.

Belboz squinted through blurry vision, to see that Bashful was the smallest of the dwarfs. He failed to notice that Bashful had just broken apart iron manacles and shackles ten seconds earlier, too inebriated to pay complete attention. Assuming that Sleepy's own drunkenness was the reason for this incompetence, he hiccuped, "Yer on, pally! We'll see who wins! Seventy sovereigns, right?"

The fight went on.

Fred could no longer even be seen below the tide of beards, iron helmets and hamfists, all moving around the noble.

Without warning, a female voice pierced the fray. The farmhouse on top of the late Paul "Happy" Armstrong was lit up. The door creaked open, and a young girl, or possibly a young woman wearing pigtails, a bluish plaid dress and makeup, appeared in the frame. "Please don't fight!" she pleaded. "Fighting is so, so...well, horrid." The word was said as though it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Bashful had to be restrained by both Sneezy and Dopey. He struggled in their hold, slobbering lustfully at the oblivious farmgirl. He was foaming at the mouth.

Fred stood up carefully, in case any of the dwarfs attacked him again. But they all seemed riveted by the girl in the farmhouse. Doc was now spewing poetry, comparing her to a summer's day.

Fred held up an unsteady finger, about to speak, when something important came to mind. His back shuddered painfully, and he collapsed on the ground unconscious. The girl rushed over in concern, to the general annoyance of Doc.

Meanwhile, the two beer-buddies sat by the near-empty cask. "Well, I guess neither of us wins the bet," said Sleepy to Belboz.

The magician looked up from the ground. "Blrrgps," he agreed, before another ripple hit his stomach, upturning its contents and sending them gushing up his esophagus and out his mouth, "Grahlkl!" elaborated Belboz, "Buglml! Hraagh!" He exhaled the entirety of his stomach contents over a log.

"You said it, man."

1. Stir Well, Until Plot Thickens To Creamy Consistency

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