And so, our fearless trio of heroes... Well... Two "heroes" and a sadistic feline continued their quest to reach The End. After leaving the pitiful imitation of the Shire, they found the rest of the scenery wasn't much of an improvement. Little thought was put into the surrounding area, so just do your best to imagine your ideal fantasy forest because it'd be way better than what these guys had to look at.

After roughly 30 minutes into their journey, it was inevitable that the griping began, courtesy of Thunderpuff.

"Could we slow down?!" He shrieked, falling behind the group and kicking up a cloud of dust in his efforts to catch up. "Don't you see what tiny legs I have?! One step for you guys is like a hundred to me!"

"Yet you refuse my offer to carry you," Amarth tsked and turned to walk backward so he could converse properly with his adopted child. "I've already slowed down to Hobbit-walking speed, and it's driving me insane. Though I love you wholeheartedly, you can walk faster or ask your father for help. No one will judge you for it!"

"Oh, I still plan on judging him." Es didn't even bother giving Thunderpuff an angry scowl. He deserved to be left behind and carried off by crows. Except there were no birds of any kind, so there was little point in wishing for such an event. "You're wasting your breath anyway, Marthy. That is a creature of pure evil. You'll never reach him."

"Some might call me a creature of pure evil, but people adore me!" Amarth winked at the audience. "I have just enough redeeming qualities that all the horrible things I do get a pass. Surely, we can find some of those for my wayward son!"

"STOP CALLING ME YOUR SON!" Thunderpuff screeched, forced to do so, given how far behind he was. His tiny legs scurried with all their tiny might, but at this point, he was just a tiny ball of fluff in the distance. "WE ARE NOT EVEN THE SAME SPECIES! AND MINE IS THE SUPERIOR ONE!"

"That might be true, but he can't deny our resemblance is uncanny." Amarth pointed out, finally walking forward again now that Thunderpuff had left his elf line of sight. "Black hair, blue eyes, tormented souls. You can't tell me there's not a connection here!"

"That or someone just has a habit of making tormented characters with black and blue color schemes," Es remarked dryly, "Why are we talking about this anyway? Can't we focus on finding something to eat? I'm starving now that I'm forced to exist again..."

"CAN'T YOU JUST MAKE YOUR OWN FOOD OUT OF THIN AIR?"

"Hm, I suppose I didn't think about hunger being a problem..." Amarth hung his head in contemplation. "I tend to go days without eating since I technically can't die of hunger... There's an interesting story about that I don't plan on sharing."

"Well, I probably can die of hunger, and I don't want to test that theory." Esmerelda came to an abrupt stop and crossed her arms. "I refuse to take another step until I've got some grub."

"Now you're acting childish?" Amarth stomped up to Es, placing his hands on his hips, but the hobbit was unphased. "You finally have a purpose again, a chance to go on an adventure, and you'd rather eat first?"

"Um, most of my character revolves around an insatiable appetite, so, yeah. I ain't moving." Es plopped onto the ground, crossing her arms. "I don't care what it is. I just want food. Though if you happen to come across a double bacon cheeseburger, I'd settle for that."

"Oh, I'm sure you would..." Amarth sighed dramatically. "Very well, I'll seek nourishment to heal your weary, hobbit soul. Just don't move until I get back. This story is very unstable, and it'd be easy to get lost."

"I'm not speaking until I eat," Es added to get out of having more dialogue in this chapter. With an unsubtle eye twitch, Amarth turned on his heel and disappeared into the poorly described scenery. Or beautiful, depending on what you've all been imagining so far. Not long after Amarth departed, an exhausted Thunderpuff dragged himself over to Es, using his tiny front paws to drag his little body across the dusty ground.

"F-Finally! I found you! Whew..." The kitten fainted from exhaustion shortly after. As Es awaited Amarth's return, she considered cooking Thunderpuff should the hunger consume her and annihilate her sanity.

/\\//\\//\\/

Switching to 1st Person Because Amarth Can Do Whatever He Wants

Now that I was alone again, I took some time to collect my thoughts while searching for the hobbit's lunch.

Why did I bother entering this story? Do I have a spiritual connection to Thunderpuff? Have I finally gone off the deep end? If I punch myself and it hurts, does that make me weak, strong, or stupid for punching myself?

As you can probably tell, roughly seven years of isolation do things to a person. It's a shame when your creator loses inspiration and tosses you aside for a new adventure without resolving the first. I could get into quite a bit of trouble if I continue on like this, but I'm just saying it how it is. Suffering the consequences of doing so is all part of the fun!

Anyways. My search for food of any kind is off to a rough start. There is nothing of substance to be found in this story. It's a shame the poor hobbit has lost her ability to summon food. Then, she wouldn't cause a fuss the rest of the trip. Oh well. I just have to keep moving forward with a positive mental attitude.

Of course, I should know better than most that happy thoughts are useless when you're a character in a story. Are my thoughts even my own? Or that of my creator? This is the existential dread that accompanies those who are made self-aware.

Back to my search for food, I notice some odd shapes in the distance. They should be buildings, but the detail is so atrocious that it'd be better if I drew a picture.

See? Despite my natural artistic talent, the scenery is just that bad.

As I approach the village, a downpour begins, instantly improving my mood. Surely, there is some food to be found here. A giant gate stood between the village and me, but no one was around to guard it, so all it took was a single push to get inside. As expected, the place is completely abandoned. But maybe a morsel of food was left behind by its previous inhabitants.

Now, I'm not one to be unsettled easily. I've been to some literally dark places that were way worse than this. It was due to that experience that I quickly realized something was wrong here. A sane person would have left immediately. Actually, no. A sane person wouldn't have come here in the first place. Following what little self-preservation I had left, I decided to make a swift exit, only to discover the gate I entered through was gone.

"How curious," I say aloud. Odd, there's a deafening echo that follows my two words. "I know I'm alone, so why do I feel I'm being observed?" Since I'm alone, I don't get an answer. But leaving won't be as simple as climbing over the wall surrounding this village. One that now appears to stretch on for miles and miles.

"Well, I came here for an adventure, didn't I?" I smile. I'm all alone. This is fine.

With no choice, and because I have a bit of a death wish (I know it's a problem, and I'm working on it), I ventured further into the sprawling expanse of derelict buildings.

How strange. I forgot why I came here in the first place.