Gandalf Takes a Delicate Dump

In the heart of the Shire, where the sun danced with the dew-kissed grass, there stood a humble garden, tended with care by the hands of Frodo Baggins. The air was thick with the scent of hobbits’ pipe-weed and the gentle hum of bees, as the green fields stretched out like a tapestry woven by the gods themselves. On this particular morn, the mist was still heavy, and the world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the day to unfold.

Frodo, his heart light and his spirit unburdened, was pruning his roses when a familiar figure appeared at the garden’s edge. Gandalf the Grey, his staff tapping the cobblestone path, stepped forward with a twinkle in his eye and a glint of mischief in his beard. “Ah, Frodo,” he said, his voice as warm as the summer sun, “I have wandered far and wide, but always, my path leads me back to thee.”

Frodo, ever the gracious host, welcomed the wizard with a smile. “Gandalf, you are a sight for sore eyes! Come, let us sit and share a pipe, for the day is young, and the air is filled with promise.”

As they settled onto the garden bench, the sun peeked through the clouds, casting a golden light upon their faces. Gandalf reached into his robe, producing a small pouch of pipe-weed, and the two friends shared a smoke, their laughter echoing through the garden like the songs of the Elves in the distant woods.

Time passed as it often does in the Shire, with a gentle pace and a comforting rhythm. The sun climbed high in the sky, and the shadows shortened, as Frodo and Gandalf lost themselves in tales of old and dreams of the future. But as the day wore on, a strange restlessness came over the wizard. He shifted in his seat, his brow furrowed, and his eyes darted to the horizon.

“Frodo, my friend,” Gandalf said, his voice tinged with a hint of urgency, “I fear I must take my leave. The call of the road beckons, and I must answer it.”

Frodo, though saddened by the thought of his friend’s departure, knew that the ways of the world were beyond his understanding. “I shall miss your company, Gandalf, but I know that the fate of Middle-earth rests upon your shoulders. Go with the blessings of the Shire and the love of all who call it home.”

With a nod of gratitude, Gandalf rose to his feet, and the two friends embraced, their hearts heavy with the weight of their parting. As the wizard turned to leave, he paused and looked back at Frodo, a playful glint in his eye.

“Before I go, my young hobbit, there is one more thing I must do. It is a task of great importance, and I need your aid.”

Frodo, ever the loyal friend, nodded eagerly. “Of course, Gandalf. What can I do to assist you?”

The wizard leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I have been walking for days, and the road has been long and arduous. I fear that my inner needs have grown beyond my control.”

Frodo, though puzzled, understood the gravity of the situation. “I see. Well, we must find a place where you can attend to your needs. There is a goblin toilet not far from here, hidden in the woods. It is not often used, but it will serve our purpose.”

With a nod of thanks, Gandalf followed Frodo through the garden and into the forest, their steps muffled by the soft earth beneath their feet. As they approached the ancient stone structure, Gandalf paused, his hand on his staff.

“Frodo, my friend, I must ask one more favor of you. As I attend to my needs, would you be so kind as to anoint your chest with lotion? It is a ritual of the Elves, a reminder of the beauty and fragility of life.”

Frodo, though surprised by the request, complied without question. As Gandalf lifted his robe and settled onto the stone seat, Frodo retrieved a small vial of lotion from his pack. He rubbed it gently onto his chest, the cool liquid soothing his skin as the scent of lavender filled the air.

Inside the goblin toilet, Gandalf let out a sigh of relief, the tension in his body easing as nature took its course. Frodo, standing guard outside, watched as the wizard’s shoulders relaxed, and a sense of peace settled over the forest.

As Gandalf emerged from the stone structure, his face was flushed with contentment, and his eyes shone with a renewed vigor. “Frodo, my friend, you have been a true companion on this journey. Your kindness and loyalty are a beacon of light in a world often shrouded in darkness.”

Frodo, his chest still tingling from the lotion, smiled at his friend. “It is my honor, Gandalf. May the road rise up to meet you, and may the wind be ever at your back.”

And with that, Gandalf the Grey turned and walked away, his staff tapping the path as he disappeared into the mist, leaving Frodo to tend to his garden and the memories of their shared adventure.