ongoing role-play parody by various fans on Bucklebury.net
Frodo flailed his arms for balance as he
tumbled into Nice Hobbit-Sized Room #3 (according to the brass plaque
on the door) followed by the Greasehead. He had gotten a glimpse of Sam
and Pippin gaping at his being Man-handled right before he'd been
propelled around the corner. Somewhere in the back of his mind a
couple neurons fired between each other to note that Merry was not in
their room and to agree that neither of them knew where he had gone.
The rest of Frodo's brain was filled with fear that he had just
in with a rascal and a thief, except for a few random thoughts that
were hoping Sam has left some of that rabbit for him and that Gandalf
would still somehow show up.
"Who are a you?" he asked the stranger, "and why have you been staring
at me so much? And are you really called Greasehead?"
...over the hills and far away, teletubbies....uh I mean....oh.....
Tom Bombadil was really looking forward
to getting in a nice warm shower, his day had been terrible, and he
hadn't managed to catch up to those rascally rabbits . . . um I mean
hobbits, his mood was not a particually good one. He eased himself into
the shower, and then reached out to grasp the shower gel, his hand
closed about instead an IOU note, it read;
I owe you one shower gel,
signed Meriadoc Brandybuck
He growled ferociously and grunted, in his agitation he
remnants of Tuna suprise (how did that get there?) . . .. . he
blacked out . . .
...and now back to Merry...dum-dum-dum-dum...dramatie reverb...
Merry tiptoed down a dark alleyway and
spotted some hobbit sized clothes drying on a line, and decided to help
himself. He had managed to get most of his "swirly" smell washed off
before he was discovered by the girls, but in the excitement he had
lost his favorite flowered shower cap and his rubber duckie, which he'd
had ever since he was in nappies.
(audience says "awwwwww" in unison)
In his haste to get away from the Pony, he hadn't even bothered to eat
his Coney con Queso, and his hunger began to override even his
reluctance to be too close to post-cheese-eating Pippin.
pulled out his script and consulted it thoughtfully. "Let's see...my
dorky cousin has to talk to Greasehead for several interminable
paragraphs in which he finally kind of sort of gets around to perhaps
guessing what Frodo has in his pocket, if Frodo doesn't forget himself
again and have it pierced through his lip to look cool, and my Generic
Wraith has yet to make an appearance, so that leaves me plenty of time
to go to Bell's House o' Hotcakes and get myself the Rooty Tooty Fresh
n Fruity Special."
Whistling, Merry rolled up his script and strolled down the street
(eerie bad guy music begins to play)
At first Bill Ferny thought he was
hallucinating (perhaps that ear trumpet jammed into his brain did some
serious damage) when he saw the bug-eyed hobbit disappear into thin
air. Ferny had an excellent view where he was sprawled out on the
floor, and he was confirmed in his suspicions that the strangers were
full of mischief (not to mention Coney Con Queso). He used the legs of
the pinball machine in the corner to haul himself up and leaned against
it while he brushed the sawdust off his clothes.
"Just wait until the guys hear about this," he muttered. Rubbing the
seat of his pants, Ferny staggered towards the door with his
squint-eyed southern friend, who reminded him the guys waiting for them
at Bill's house would probably be pretty surly by now. It was Bill's
turn to host poker night. He'd better get home with his to-go order of
ale and pizza before they got too rowdy and ate his pony.
The hobbit blinked. "Strider?"
"What's it mean?"
Strider squinted up at the ceiling for a moment as if trying to
"It stands for...Sauratarkilranyaeiedeanamelalierandirion..."
There was another pause and more squinting at various objects in the
"...never mind. Anyways, I need to help you to Rivendell. Gandalf
me, by the way.And he said...what was it he said? Ah yes! He said to
beware the screeching black teakettles. They work for Sauron."
Frodo's head felt like it was spinning -
go to Rivendell? Where the Elves were? Why go all the way over
And where was Gandalf? And why was this unpronounceably named "strider"
talking about tea-kettles? And how could he know that he wasn't just
some ruffian who had...well.... figured out about Gandalf
Maybe it was all just a lucky guess. He didn't like the reference
tea-kettles. Reminded him of nasty things, like....Goldberry's cooking.
And Lobelia's terrible "tea" that she had served him the day
had become Bilbo's heir.
He wished the others were here, to see what they thought. He wished he
had some sort of proof, but it wasn't like some letter from Gandalf
with an official stamp of approval was likely to show up out of
He fixed the stranger with his disconcertingly blue
"Black tea-kettles?" he asked.
There was a noise outside in the hallway.
Elladan and Elrohir managed to escape
from the Prancing Pony with virtue intact, though Elladan did get
several cocktail napkins with number and email addresses scribbled on
them thrust into his hands before his brother dragged him out of the
tavern. Pausing by the horse-trough long enough to wash off their
pancake make-up, Elrohir saw something that brought joy back to his
A hobbit walked by, talking to himself while reading from a script....
HIS script! Excited by this unlooked-for development, he siezed
brother's arm and dragged him after the halfling, filtching two black
cloaks from the drying peg outside the Pony. They donned these
robes and crept after Merry, whispering to each other in low hissing
There was a knock on Frodo's door. When
it opened, Nob and Hob were standing there, smiling to beat the band.
Hob began . . .
"Butterbur sent us up with a sealed note--we tried to see . . . " He
began to hold the letter up to the lantern in the hall.
" . . . if we could get it here quickly for you," Nob
quickly, "but Hob tripped on his way up." Nob saw the
on the hobbit's face. "My friend, Mater Proudfoot has decorated
wooly feet with Dread Locks . . . they are the latest rage in
Bree--Toupees for toes, or 'Toepees' as the we like to call them.
you like, we could do a nice set of Pedacure Pomapdores for your, Mr.
Underhill. You are Mr. Underhill, aren't you?"
Frodo gaped at them, then snatched the
letter. "N...I mean, YES, I'm Underhill...right, right...but I'm
buying any..." He saw their crestfallen faces and something made
take a moment's sympathy for them. Like a businessman who goes
his way to purchase a dixie cup of lukewarm, overly tart lemonade from
a child's roadside booth, he took pity on them and reached in his
pocket, dropping what change he had into Nob's hand before shutting the
door on them.
The two of them turned to the light and sifted through what they had
been given. A silver penny, a washer, a fuzzy breath-mint, a
of string and a brass token "good for one pint" shone up at them.
Inside, Frodo turned the letter over in his hands. It was from Gandalf!
And it had a Wizard's Seal of Approval on it! Cracking the
tore it open and unfolded a mangled-looking piece of parchment that
smelled of tobacco.
THE PRANCING PONY, BREE Midyear's Day, Shire Year,
Bad news has reached me here. I must go off at once. You had better
split the Shire right away, and I don't mean just when you get around
to it! I will try to find you. You may trust the landlord,
even if he is a bit stupid. I've seen worse. You may meet a
mine also, a Man, lean, dark, tall, by some called Greasehead though he
prefers Strider. He knows all about...well, you know. Wink wink, nudge,
nudge. Make for Rivendell and look up Elrond there.
Yours in haste,
P.S. Do NOT use IT again! Do not travel by night! Do not open the
carton of milk until you've used up the old one! Watch out for
P.P.S. Make sure that it is the REAL Strider.
There's a lot of weirdos out there and he tends to blend in. His
name is Aragorn.
Coffee that's cold still gives jitters,
Sometimes he wanders: he's lost;
The Man is sometimes in a dither,
But his boots were not bleached in the wash.
From the stupor a drunk shall be woken,
A smell from the shadows shall spring;
Reglued shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
PPPS. I hope Butterbur sends this prompltly. A worthy man, but a
block-head. If he forgets, I shall use him for kindling! Fare
Frodo looked up from the letter to Strider and appraised him
critically. "Well. I guess that settles that."
"Hmm...well, now that I'm here. Do you happen to have some coffee? It
doesn't have to be warm. I mean, coffee that's cold still gives
jitters, and I think I'm needing some of that right now."
After searching the room for a few minutes, the two of them located a
coffee pot with something still in it.
After gulping down his daily dose of caffeine, Strider looked up at the
"By the way, where are your friends? We should get going soon as
possible- the screeching teakettles and all..."
Bill Ferny's steps were none too steady,
and his vision wasn't too good either, though his hearing was excellent
thanks to his new hearing aid implant. Things were still a bit blurry
and his bum was sore, but he wasn't in too bad a condition to be
interested when he saw the two strange "ladies" leave the Pony. He and
Squinty nudged and winked at each other, straightened their collars,
slicked back their greasy hair (and then wiped their hands on their
britches) before following the twins down the street...
(eerie music plays)
Merry stopped, frowning, and tipped his head to one side like people do
when they're listening to something and for some strange reason think
this will help them hear better, but really it doesn't make any more
sense than when the Bionic Woman used to brush her hair back from her
bionic ear when she wanted to listen...
eerrrumph. (rewind tape)
(eerie music plays)
Merry stopped, frowning, and tipped his head to one side to listen more
carefully to the music.
"Hmm...I hear the eerie cadence to the music, but it's a little
different than the Oh-my-here-comes-the-Black-Riders music we heard a
ways back. This sounds more like Joke-Playing-Elves-In-Tights music."
He sniffed the air and nodded. "Yup- that's Eau de Elanor, the newest
cologne from Fragrant Flet...I used a bit of Goldberry's."
drew his bony hand (which had now had a fractured pinky thanks to Sam
sitting on it) and said menacingly, "I'm warning you, I have three
hands, and I know how to use them all!"
He felt a chill run down his spine when he heard identical evil
snickers (though they were a bit girly-like)...
Elrohir stopped when the Halfling turned
and brandished a withered wraith's hand at him. Standing up his
height, he tried to intimidate the small creature. "Hand over the
script, shorty... or else!"
Elladan wondered why on earth his brother was threatening a person half
his size, and was about to remind him of rule #347 of the
ReadyRanger's Code of Conduct : "Never approach a three-handed halfling
in Bree", when a number of strange things happened at that exact
Hob and Nob came bursting out of the tavern, around the corner . . .
"We did it, Nob, We did it!--You are a genius! I know you are in
"Bar Bets Hall of fame, but Who would have ever thought that you would
make good on that bet three years ago with Glorfindel."
'Hobbits eat like horses' he said,
'You'll never get them to give you a breathmint, let alone a sandwich
when they are travelling! I'll wager 500 goldpieces that while
steal a crumb from them, they would never part with food
"Well, now you have the mint--including the hobbit lint
fresh from the
pockets! No DNA (Dwarf Nose Assesment) test will be able to deny
one! Let him bring in Gloin or that son of his, they will be able
smell the Hobbit on that one from 10 paces!! We'll be able to pay
Barliman back and . . . errmph!
They ran straight into
Merry, making him fall backwards and toss the hand at the shadowy
figures behind him . . . causing the twins to stumble back into the
reaching grasp of the dark-haired figure behind them . . .
Glorfindel had just tied his horse to
the Prancing Pony stand, when he saw two really tall, ugly ladies
emerge from the bar. The smell of the perfume was an Elven spice
favored by the twin's girlfriends--Eau de Elanor. The keen elven
saw that the "ladies" in question were really the twins in drag.
Now I have them! he thought. I'll
get those two back for all of their tricks. Look at them--all
up in cute wigs! Since my golden hair disappeared, and with only
old black "Elf-vira" wig in the trunk from the last Rivendell Costume
Ball, I have had to gallop from Rivendell so that nobody would
recognize me. But now--I shall reek my revenge.
snuck up behind the twins, as they followed a small hobbit down the
alley. As he got behind them, and loomed ominously, everything
The twins, stunned by the sudden arrival of Hob and Nob, stumbled back
into the tall Black form.
The wraith hand, thrown by Merry, grabbed the end of the Dark Figure's
Hair, and ripped it off from the head of the tall dark figure.
hit the ground, it wrapped itself in the hair and began to walk down
the alleyway into the street (looking to many witnesses like a weird
combination of 'Thing' and 'Cousin It' from the Aadams Family).
As the wraith hand got to the main street, it startled the Black horse
who threw the Dark Rider from the saddle, who landed in an earhorn of a
The brothers stared into the bald face of
their kinsman, and screamed in horror--they had never witnessed an
elf-lord in all his glory. Battle Bald and ready for action.
"You have gone too far! were the last words the
twins heard before they fainted.
The dark bald figure towered over Merry,
who backed up stammering incoherently and tripped over the two fainted
twins, and wished desperately for his hand, which he glimpsed out of
the corner of his eye chatting up two girls at the porkpie stand down
"Wh-who are you??" he stammered up at the dark bald figure.
"Merry," it said in a deep growly voice. "I...am...your father."
"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" Merry screamed.
"Yes, it's true," the figure continued as he advanced upon him. "You
are not really a Brandybuck. You were kidnapped from Kurdish yak
herders in infancy and raised as a hobbit...if you'll look carefully,
you'll see those ears are attached with crazy glue..."
right into Merry's face, and the chilling stench of his black breath
washed over the yak herder- er, hobbit, and made him pass out cold.
The bald black figure grinned and saluted the twins, who were just
waking from their faint.
"Now THAT is playing mind games," he announced, and walked down the
street whistling to join Cousin Hand at the porkpie stand.
Elladan lay in the muddy street where he
had fallen. It was curiously comfortable, just lying there,
the mud and rainwater soak into his costume. It was so
...Until the maddened Black Horse trod ran across his middle.
Wheezing, he scrambled up from beneath the sharp hooves and grabbed
Elrohir by the collar, dragging him like a sack to the side of the
road. In a moment of pure selflessness, he also retrieved the
from where he had fallen. Proping them up by the trough, he
some cold water on their faces.
When Elrohir woke up fully. Elladan grabbed two fistfuls of lapel
and shook his brother until his teeth rattled.
"YOU got us into this, Eldink! YOU get us out, NOW!"
A piece of parchment is nailed to the door of Bree-Under-Hill:
One Right Hand, antique and of great sentimental value.
Five digits, one thumb (opposable) Reward offered.
Contact "Rags" by eMail,
As the crowd at the bar seemed more
interested in the two flat chested blondes, Pippin didn't have to get a
round in and had time to notice a tall dark greasy looking man with
four feet scurry up the stairs.
"They really are wierd here" he thought, then he shivered the weirdo
had two booted feet and two hobbitty hairy feet and they looked just
He hopped down form the bar and scurried over
to where Sam sat amongts the remains of various bits of duck, rabbit
jalapeno sauce and tortillas.
Pippin jabbed him in the ribs and angrily whispered
"Hey, Frodo's been nabbed by some dark greasy guy and I don't think
he's being offered tea!"
A great dark thundercloud gathered above the Last Homely House, its
centre being right above Arwen's chambers.
The Elven princess was fuming, packing her bag with
reach (including Erestor's hairbrush, Elrond's silk kimonos, and
Glorfindel's rubber duckie), while she clenched a slightly smoking
piece of paper in her fist, saying:
Prancing Pony EasyInternetCorner, Bree
Bree is great! Everything's here, drinks, snacks, chicks... Too bad
Daddy wouldn't let you go, hehe...
By the way, your Grimy Gorny is here, too. You might wanna start
looking for something else, sis, because we just saw him exiting a
private room with a very cute blue-eyed... thingy. He looked even more
messed-up than usual.
Oh well, better luck next time, lil' sis!
Arwen slammed the door of her chambers shut behind her,
stamped to the stables and...
saw that Asfaloth was gone.
Darn it all.
Merry groaned. "oohhh...."
The elven twins leaned in to listen.
"Moooommm....Daaaaaad....I see dead people..."
Just then Cousin Hand came bouncing down the alley with a bottle of
Reviv-a-Hobbit (strong enough to waken even a Stone Troll) that he had
purchased at the local Burt's
Excepted. Unable to speak because he had no mouth, unable to see
because his toupee was slipping from his fingers, leaking marrow tears
from his fingernails, Cousin Hand gripped the bottle and dashed
contents into Merry's face.
Merry sat up and blinked at Cousin
Hand, who next held out an ad he had ripped from the local paper, the
Daily Bree Bugle and Kazoo, that read that his owner Rags missed him
and wanted him home.
Cousin Hand pinched Merry's cheek
affectionately, goosed the Elf twins, and then bounced down the street,
as the Local Sad-Orchestra-Music-For-Hire followed after him with their
The twins and Merry stared at each other.
that's the darndest thing I ever saw," Merry finally said. "I guess I'd
better get back to the Pony now...it's time for me to burst in and make
my grand entrance and realize that nobody missed me in the first place."
As darkness began to deepen outside,
Frodo and Strider peered carefully out the grimy windows of Nice
Hobbit-Sized Room #3. In the street below the dusk had begun to
to true night. There had been a lot of very strange things
around on the street nearby, large and small.
"What were those strange black shapes scurrying around out there?"
Frodo asked his companion. "Those aren't the...the...tea
kettles are they? Do you think they know I'm at this Inn?"
Strider nodded solomnly.
"Indeed, they are, and if you suspect that I suspect that you suspect
that they suspect that you suspect that they are here, then you are
But if you suspect that I suspect that they suspect that you are
here...then that would be correct.
I suggest that you spend the night in a different room. How about
upstairs? They probably wouldn't suspect a hobbit being up there."
"Ups-s-stairs?" Frodo whimpered.
Aragorn sighed. "Yup."
Frodo sighed. "I hate heights." He
gathered up an extra pillow, an already-opened carton of unfinished
milk and a spare packet of coffee.
He sighed one more time, but the thought of Gandalf's warnings made him
gather his courage about him. Stairs couldn't be that bad - after all,
they had braved the Road... "Lead the way, Strider." he said.
"Are you frightened of stairs?"
"Not nearly frightened enough." the Man said cryptically. This didn't
do much to boost the trembling hobbit.
They opened the door to head out and promptly crashed into Sam and
Pippin, both bravely clutching odd household objects as if they were
Merry burst into the room and was
greeted by nothing but chirping crickets, two overturned chairs, and a
bunch of duffel bags in various stages of emptiness-Pippin had
apparently forgotten his pink bunny slippers before he went upstairs.
Merry sighed and glanced at Nob. "What did I tell you? I knew no one
would notice I was gone. No one ever listens to me."
"Huh? What?" Nob asked.
Frodo's heart beat in his chest like a
band of crazed teenage boys loose in a percussion store. The
three steps hadn't been so bad, but he made the mistake of looking back
and the landing seemed sooo far away he felt dizzy...
He really, really wished there was a bannister of some kind he could
grip. He slid his hand further up the wall and forced his legs to
himself to the next step. Behind him he could hear Pippin having
minor panic attack and felt Sam gripping the edge of his coat for
"I'm with you, Mr. Frodo. Just keep going. We'll get through this
together." he gasped weakly.
Strider, up ahead of them had nearly missed a couple of the steps and
caught himself just in time. Stairs never had been his strong
They just went up so much. He could never get the hang of
stepping up onto the next one and also remember to lift his lower leg
in just the right way that his toes didn't catch. He finally
the top and turned to encourage the hobbits.
determined, they were still courageously climbing. Frodo tried to
imagine that it was level, and he was just stepping over the piles of
paper that Bilbo had always left around Bag End. It helped.
faaaar below them he thought he heard Merry's voice.
"Merry!" he shouted. "We're up here! We're going to stay the n...."
suddenly realized it wouldn't be too secretive if he continued.
"...evermind....just follow us!" He took another step.
Merry blinked. We're going to stay the nevermind?
Boy, Frodo was getting weirder by the minute.
Merry saw his cousins and friend, headed by a tall greasyhaired
stranger, shivering up on the stairway, clutching various kitchen
implements and looking like they'd just seen the ROTK trailer.
"What is it with you guys?" he asked. "These are just stairs! No big
deal! I'll sing my climbing song for you!"
The hobbits and human stared at each other, and then as one body they
turned and fled up the remaining stairs, in order to avoid Merry's
"Everyone's a critic," the Brandybuck muttered, and slowly inched his
way up the steps.
Dashing into Strider's room (Mediocre
Man-Sized Room #7) Frodo grabbed the lumpy pillow off the bed and
wrapped it around his head, just in case Merry really did sing.
peered out between the fat ends of the pillow to see if the others were
writhing in agony, holding their ears, but as they seemed to be normal
(for them) he carefully let the ends go and took a moment to look
The darkness outside was now complete, eerily so. Strider
re-made the bed sideways so that four very short people instead of one
long one could sleep in it.
"What if someone nasty tries
to find us tonight? If they look in the window they'll see we aren't
there. Shouldn't we make, like, dummies or something...? Not that
some of us don't already make like dummies..." he
broke off to chortle at his own joke.
He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "No, really
- where'd that Hob
Nob Bob guy go? Maybe he could mock up something. That way all of
stay here nice and safe and let him be in danger instead."
In Rivendell in the meantime, Arwen was
at a loss. With Asfaloth gone and her Daddy's Creampuff at the
trimmer's, there was no good horse left to ride to Bree and all over
She finally made her decision and walked over to a very dark, spooky
corner in the back of the stables, where a tall, dark steed stood
almost invisible because of the many cobwebs covering it...
"Hi!" said the horse amiably. Arwen slapped it on the nose and told it
to shut up.
She had always stolen other people's horses and therefore of course
never ridden this one, which was in fact her own, since the day she'd
bought it off a door-by-door salesman some years ago. She thought its
red glowing eyes were "like, sooo cool, you know".
Elrond had had
his suspicions about the horse and the dodgy black-cloaked salesman,
but after a spectacular pouting session Arwen had been allowed to keep
'Muffy', as the horse was called according to its former owner.
Arwen mounted her black steed and rode out of Rivendell into the
setting sun, to seek her Revenge...
The night was dark and still.
Frodo had trouble sleeping and startled awake at every noise.
own snoring woke him up more than once. In the dim light of the
fire he could just make out the shape of Strider. It comforted
think that the Ranger was keeping guard over them. At least it
when the man wasn't dangling over the edge of the chair breathing
noisily and twitching like a cat in his dreams.
heard horses go by, then what sounded like a cavalcade of ponies.
Various odd persons walked by on the street far below though the
darkness hid their features. A belch resounded. A
Far off he thought he heard some odd whistling, like a tea kettle
been left over the fire in the kitchen.
He thought about
the dummies down in their Hobbit-Sized Room and hoped HobNobBob had
done his job. That had a certain ring to it that made him enjoy
rolling it around in his mind. HobNobBobJob. HobNobBobJob.
Nobble Bobble Jobble. Hobbity-Nobbity-Bobbity-Jobbity. He
fell asleep, mumbling.
Pippin stared up at the cieling, what
with Frodo's twitching at every sound and looking around, not helped by
Merry's 'b sharp' snoring, Sam's sleeptalking about Rosies
hot-potatoes, and the combined snores and "falling off a chair"
noises of the grunger; not to mention Bree's nocturnal chorus of
belches and farts outside he'd spent the last two hours awake.
Of course drinking a whole pint had now also introduced him to a new
level of suffering. Nope nothing for it, he'd either have to try out
the Man-size bathroom at the end of the corridor or brave the stairs.
He crawled down from the bed and scurried along the corridor. The tiles
were cold to his feet but dry ...
Merry opened one eye and saw his younger
cousin tiptoeing out of the room. A perfectly evil smile crossed his
face, and he saw a perfect opportunity to avenge Pippin taping that
"Kick Me, I'm a Brandybuck" sign on his back on their way in to Bree.
Pushing aside his blankets, and "accidentally" stepping on Sam's head
as he went by, Merry skulked down the hall and concealed himself in a
wardrobe in the hallway, giggling softly to himself. He'd jump out of
there and give Pippin a fright he'd not forget anytime soon.
stood there in the dark, waiting, and felt something furry rub against
his legs. Thinking it was Butterbur's cat, Merry leaned down and
absently stroked its head, murmuring, "Nice kitty."
A moment later, the entire inn was wakened by a shrill, very girlylike
scream from the wardrobe.
At the sound of the scream, Frodo didn't
even remember moving. He just found himself crouching back behind
bedstead, gripping a blanket over his head like the Virgin Mary in a
child's play. There was a pause in which the only sound he could
was the pounding of his own heart. Sam, only mildly disturbed,
over and snuggled deeper into his pillow muttering "good one, Gandalf."
Frodo poked at an insentient lump of blanket. "Pippin!" he hissed. "Did
you hear that?"
Strider jerked upright at Merry's scream, blinked, and
flopped back down with his eyes squeezed shut.
"Blast," he muttered. "Enough pranks, Halbarad. Can't you see I'm
trying to get some rest here?..."
"A fine kettle of fish this is!" moaned Hob.
"I'll say!," replied Nob. First these pesky newcomers can't ever
our names right. Who in the world names a child after a fishing
Then, they think we are munchkins from the Wizard of Oz and have us
building silly "Scarecrow" fake bodies of themselves. Lucky for
that Ranger took a shower ahead of time, or else we would never have
found enough hair to make these mock-ups. Every Dustbunny in the
was needed for that 'Pippin' blokes feet!"
A stifled sob
from Hob calmed the friend down. "Sorry, Mate, I do go on.
say we could have filled Merry's with old cheese, the way he stank
after that trip to the girls bathhouse."
Hob began to giggle, and Nob knew everything was OK.
"But what they want with these things is beyond me. Not really
Teddy Bears, and not cute enough to be 'girl-friends.' What do
reckon they want with them?"
"Maybe they owe people money . . . " Hob posited.
two endentured servants flashed their dentures at each other, and
headed off to the barn to find some more straw . . . but were stopped
mid stuffing by a terrible scream, which no living soul could have made
. . .
The Nazgul, still under the guise of "Pete the
Teapot salesman," slipped over the Wall of Bree . . .
Well, Actually, he slipped off
of the wall at Bree, but that was his story and he was sticking to it.
Besides, who was the Horse, Creampuff, going to tell.
had Creampuff been able to talk (but alas, he couldn't and suffered
from "Mr. Ed Envy" to the end of his days), he would have told ol'
"Pete" that he was thrown down from the wall by a wraith hand in a wig.
Later, he realized that had he said such a thing, he would only
become an object of ridicule . . . . but I digress.
had been following the hobbits for some days, and had just gotten a
track on the Ring a few hours ago. The wraith slipped unobserved
through the streets, and he vowed never to go traipsing through the
streets without shoes with Rubber bottoms.
the call of the Ring to the Prancing Pony. Assuming that the
would be in the ground level rooms, he entered the Inn and strode
through the hallway, carefully ducking his head.
He found the rooms easily enough. There were only
3 Hobbit Rooms that were taken--and one set was labled Nob and
He stood above the covered creatures, and raised
his sword. After
extracting it from the chandelier, he began stabbing the hobbits and
calling the Ring to him.
As the Fur began to fly
(literally!), he suddenly realized that the beds were empty, and filled
with Straw Dummies. A shriek issued forth from his mouth, as he
out of the window . . . .
Aschblix vlegda! Mes Grebblix dwee blegla!!*
A few minutes later, he entered the local apothocary in
search of a
decongestant. He almost tripped over the figure of Bill Ferny,
putting some Preperation D on his dart wound.
*In the common tongue, this translates to roughly, "Creampuff, get here
now! I forgot my Allegra!
Frodo poked the blanket again, more insistently.
"Pippin! Now there's been another scream...
He reached up a hand to flip the blanket around. No Pippin.
either. What had become of them? What if those screams had been
dear cousins, encountering one of those dreaded black teapots?
the boiling waters of the teapots spread and the inhabitants of Bree
were boiled and there wouldn't be any cousins?
They could not face these things alone! It affected all of
His thinking seemed to be slowing down. He woodenly struggled out of
the blankets and got to his feet. After the
screams, it seemed eerily silent. Somewhere down in the street he
heard something like a gurgling, rasping sneeze. The door was
open and a faint light came in from the hall.
Strider snorted and drooled on the sleeve he was pillowing his head on.
Elladan uttered a shriek himself, as he peered at himself in a mirror.
"Mousse! Give me the mousse, quick!"
"Hurry up!" snarled Elrohir, who was keeping watch on the door of the
make-up and costume gear trailer. "That Ngila person is gonna be
any second. Just get it wet and come on!"
They had finally
found suitable clothing, since their ReadyRanger gear had disappeared.
They had foregone the garb that the costume director had wanted
to wear, "You cannot ride a horse bareback in ROBES, lady!
Are you insane?" and were now trying to make a break for it
before Glorfindel caught his hair and then caught up with them.
"Eldad is gonna send us on errands until the Sickle falls for this!"
groaned Elladan, carefully touching up his pointed ears.
"Only if Glory brings us in," said Elrohir. "We just gotta beat
back to Rivendell, and make a plausable excuse. With luck, Arwen
have him so turned around, he won't even remember that we should have
been back from Isenguard four weeks ago."
Together they ran
from the trailer, found their horses, and then attemped to sneak them
out of Bree that night. Do you know how hard it is to get a horse
Merry flung open the door of the
wardrobe, crying and babbling as incoherently as if he were trying to
post a review for a particularly heartwrenching ROTK movie spoiler
picture. Some horrible hairy something had wrapped itself
around his ankles, pretending to be a cat. Could it be one of those
Something slithered to the tile floor and Merry leaned in for a closer
look. It was just an old foxfur stole that had fallen off a shelf.
Merry turned as red as a tomato with sunburn and looked around,
fervently hoping no one would notice. Then he heard crashing, tearing,
and ripping sounds down the hall, and
he whirled around. "Oh, no, I knew Frodo shouldn't have had that last
cup of espresso before bedtime," he groaned.
As he ran back down the hall, he heard the crash of glass, a sneeze,
and a rather girly voice calling for mousse.
"And I thought family reunions were weird," he muttered.
Hob and Nob were on their way back from
the barn, hoping that they could finally leave the Straw Dummies in
their beds and stiff ol' Butterbur with the check. As they
soggy ground, they had no idea what strange twist of fate would dash
their hopes on this plan for good . . .
Meanwhile, just outside the gates of Bree....
Glorfindel had just snatched the Wig
from the wraith hand, and sent it scurrying back to the Barrow Downs,
when he was beset by a heard of wild Hare-Moose, hopping as fast as
they could, antlers foaming wildly, as if to the aid of an Elven
Maiden's distress call. He knew that Arwen had been left back in
Rivendell, so it wasn't as if she would have called for them,
and besides they were running in the wrong direction.
He was about to see if one of the twins had forgotten to
dresses for one of Arwen's Mousse call buttons. But as he turned,
caught sight of a dark figure on a dark horse just under the trees
along the road, and decided that with the Nazgul about, and rumors of a
Teapot Salesman who gave everyone the cold shivers, his folicals
couldn't handle the stress of another emergency, and headed straight
Half an hour later, in the back of the Prancing Pony.
Nob and Hob crawled away from the heard of Hare-Moose
that had finished
eating the stuffing out of their scarecrows. The creatures, so
from their long run with little notice, had started munching before the
pair had even let go. Some of their hair had got caught in the
buck-teeth of these strange creatures. Seeing the bad coiffure on
bringers of such tasty straw, they set about fixing the damage,
resulting in the first
Nob had had enough strangeness for one night, and returned to their
beds, watching as the one called Merry, whom they thought sleepwalking,
muttered about "coffee." This put them in mind of the dreaded
who was said to be lurking about. They decided then and there
they were ever to get through the night alive, they would become honest
hobbits, and work until Butterbur was ready to let them go.
Rags looked up from reading the DeadWorld Daily News
when he heard the sound of scratching at the door. He opened his
and was delighted to find his right hand sitting on the unwelcome mat.
He picked it up and examined it closely.
"My! A broken
finger and what are these scratches from? My poor hand!"
applying craz-e-glue to the little finger, he repaired the hand and
prepared to reattach it to his boney wrist.
having any of that. It flipped over, pointing at the add in the
that said "reward offered for return of wight hand", snapped it's
fingers and lay palm-up.
Rags sighed and placed 5 gold
pennies in the palm of his hand. Hand waved a salute and
nimbly away, heading back to the only person who cared; Merry.
Rags wiped away a tear, watching him leave. He looked at his left
hand. "Why do the right ones alway leave?"
Lefty said nothing.
Frodo had been about to open the door
and venture into the hallway when even more screams and odd noises were
heard, sending him back to his hiding place under the blanket.
the lateness (or earliness) of the hour by then, he promptly fell
asleep and didn't even wake up when the much-abashed Merry and
much-relieved Pippin rejoined them.
Dawn came all too soon, sticking it's rosy pink fingers through the
grimy glass and right into their eyes.