How to Cook a Mr Frodo

by CapNicholls

When Frodo is kidnapped by a Throgger, it's up to Sam to rescue him. Will he succeed? Or is this the last we'll see of Frodo?

How To Cook a Mr. Frodo By S. Gamgee

Sam looked at the sky, with the sun shining brightly down, "Isn't it a nice day, Mr.

Frodo?"

Frodo gave him a side-ways glance then looked at the sky. "I…suppose it's a fine day.

I haven't paid much attention to the weather. I've been thinking." He stared at the ground

ahead of them. "We don't know how far away Mt. Doom is, and once we get there, I'll

have to destroy the Ring…" He clutched the Ring, narrowing his eyes. "It's mine. My

own. They think I'll join forces with Sauron. They don't think I'm trustworthy enough.

Just because I'm a hobbit…"

"Mr. Frodo," Sam said gently.

Frodo suddenly came back to himself. "Sam! What have I been saying? I'm sorry. The

Ring's playing with my mind."

Sam gave him a slight smile. "It's alright, Mr. Frodo. Not your fault. And anyway, I

think you were nutters before you even got the Ring."

Frodo sighed. "Thank you for your confidence in me, Sam."

After walking a few hours more, they stopped for the night.

"I'll keep watch, Mr. Frodo," said Sam.

"Thank you, Sam. But you can sleep. I'm not tired."

"Are you sure, Mr. Frodo?"

"Yes, Sam. I'll be fine."

Sam shrugged and fell to the ground. Within minutes, he was snoring.

Frodo thought he heard something behind him. He spun and looked around. Nothing.

Then he saw something move in the shadows. He took his sword out of the sheath. It

wasn't glowing. He searched around, but saw nothing else. As he searched, something

grabbed him from behind.

Oh, why did I volunteer for this job? "Sam!" He managed to wheeze out before it

covered his mouth.

Unfortunately, Sam was sound asleep. The Throgger, for that's what it was, dragged

Frodo into the darkness.

When Sam awoke, he immediately noticed that Frodo was gone. "Mr. Frodo!" he

cried. "Mr. Frodo! Where are you?"

He ran around crying, "Mr. Frodo! Where'd you go? Mr. Fr-"

Then suddenly he heard a yell come from across the woods. He grabbed his sword and

in a flash was running across the woods after Frodo. He slowed down when he saw a

large cave in the distance. He heard grunts and growls of some creature. He cautiously

approached the cave. As he peeked inside, he saw a large creature about fifteen feet tall

with knobby, mud-colored skin. He looked around and noticed Frodo tied up near the

back of the cave with a gag in his mouth, flopped on the ground. He had a cut on his head

and he wasn't moving.

Careful to stay out of sight of the Throgger, Sam inched his way towards Frodo. When

he was about six yards away from him, the Throgger turned and snatched up Frodo and

used a large knife to cut the ropes tying him. Frodo's eyes flew open and he started

squirming, looking fearfully at the knife. With horror Sam realized that the Throgger was

about to throw Frodo in a giant pot he now saw was hidden near the back of the cave.

There was a blazing fire under the pot, and Sam could smell vegetables simmering in it.

"Wait! Stop!" He shouted before he realized what he was doing. The Throgger

stopped and wheeled around towards Sam. He growled and lumbered towards Sam.

Frodo looked panicked. He managed to get the gag out of his mouth, a notable feat, being

that his arms were pinned to his sides. "Go, Sam! Run!"

Sam stood his ground, holding his sword towards the Throgger. He thought quickly

and said, "You're going to cook him in that?" He cocked his head towards the pot. The

Throgger nodded. Sam forced a laugh. "You can't cook 'im like that! What you've got to

do is…is cut up some taters and let them boil at least 10 minutes, but the longer the

better." The Throgger cocked an eyebrow. Sam put on an innocent look. "It's true," he

said. "And I'm a cook. Aren't I, Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo slowly nodded, realizing what Sam was up to. "He is. He's the best cook you'll

find in all Middle-Earth."

That was stretching the truth a bit, but Sam was the best cook in the whole Shire, at

least that was the rumor in Hobbiton.

The Throgger seemed to be listening. Sam went on. "See, you cook them taters, then

some carrots and cabbages. If you set him down you could-"

The Throgger growled. "But I'm sure you could cook them just as easily if holding

him," Sam said hurriedly. "I just thought it would be easier puttin' him down. You know,

then you have both hands to work with." He tried to look unconcerned.

The Throgger looked closely at him. He finally set Frodo down where he could see

him. He went to a pile of sacks in the back of the cave and dug through them. While he

did that, Sam crept over to Frodo and sat next to him. "You alright, Mr. Frodo? You've

got a nasty cut on your head."

Frodo nodded. "I'm fine. Sam, what are we going to do? He'll see us if we try to run,

and catch us."

Sam took a deep breath. "I'm thinkin', Mr. Frodo, I'm thinkin'."

The Throgger turned from the sacks and went over to a large table in the center of the

cave. He put the cabbages and carrots he was carrying down. From his belt he took out a

fairly large knife and was about to cut the cabbages when he turned to Sam. He grunted.

Sam went over to the massive table. "You want me to tell you how to cut 'em? Well, uh,

first you…first you…" Sam was at a loss for words. He knew the recipe for vegetable

soup as well as he knew his way around Bag End (and he knew that very well), but he just

couldn't think of what it was. His mind raced.

"Well, see, this is what you do…uh, you just…"

The Throgger growled impatiently. Sam quickly blurted out "You slice them down the

middle, then you chop them up, see, then you cut the potatoes up the same way, and get

the cabbagesandyouslicethefirstfewleavesoff,causetheyusuallyalwayshavebugsinthem…"

Without realizing it, Sam had spoken the last line without stopping to take a breath at

all. The Throgger was struggling to keep up with what Sam was saying.

Frodo waved his arms madly to get Sam's attention to tell him to slow down, but it

was no use.

"Thenyouhuskthecornandchopituprealsmalltobitesizepeicesbutyouprobablywon'thaveto

cutitatallbecauseyoucouldfitawholecobintoyourmouth-"

The Throgger let out an angry growl.

Sam realized that he was talking a mile a minute and stopped. "What I was saying was

that you won't need to cut the corn, because you can fit a whole cob into your mouth at

once. And then you just let them boil for 20 minutes. After that, you let them simmer for

half an hour."

The Throgger gave a questioning grunt. Sam tried to decipher what he was saying. He

finally figured it out. "When do you…when do you cook Mr. Frodo in the pot?" The

Throgger nodded.

Sam had a sick feeling in his gut. Then an idea popped into his head. "Well, you cook

the vegetables, and in another pot, with no water, or anything in it, you put 'im in it. Then

you wait for the vegetables to finish. That should be enough for now."

The Throgger gave a nod and cut up the vegetables, paying no more attention to Sam.

Sam slowly backed away from the table and sat down next to Frodo. Frodo had a look of

anguish on his face. "Sam, why in the world are you telling him how to cook hobbit? We

don't want to be cooked!" He looked confused. "How do you know how to cook hobbit?"

A look of horror came on his face. "Sam!" He whispered loudly, "You've haven't

actually cooked hobbit…have you?"

Sam shook his head. "Of course not, Mr. Frodo!"

Frodo looked relieved. "Good. But why did you tell him how to cook me?!"

Sam nodded. "Well I figure-" He stopped and looked up at the Throgger, who was only

paying attention to the vegetables. Sam tried to keep his voice low. "I figure that if we can

keep 'im tied down, if you know what I mean, then we can think of a plan while he's

busy."

Frodo gave a nod. "It's our only chance."

Sam took a deep breath. It was now or never. He yelled, "Mr. Throgger! Mr.

Throgger! The nasty hobbit is trying to get away!" He knew it sounded corny, but

apparently it worked. He saw Frodo running (well, not running, really. It was more like

swaggering) out of the cave.

Frodo looked back at the Throgger. "Oh no! He'll catch me! Oh, help, help! What am I

going to do?"

As Sam looked on, he had to admit that Frodo was a terrible actor, but the ruse

worked. The Throgger put down his knife and lumbered towards Frodo. Sam knew he

had to act fast. He scrambled up the table leg (though not without getting a few splinters

in the process). He ran over to the knife and tried to snatch it. He grunted under the effort.

He finally heaved it up, and tripped as he tried to walk to the edge of the table. He

stopped as he realized that Frodo hadn't thought of how Sam should get down. He looked

towards Frodo, who was now at a full run trying to actually stay out of the Throgger's

grasp. He wobbled and tried to steady himself. As he did so, he fell off the edge of the

table.

Frodo heard a yell. As he ran, he turned his head to see what had happened. He saw

Sam falling, falling down towards the ground. In a split second he knew what happened.

"Sam!" He yelled. He ran full force towards him.

As Sam fell, everything seemed to slow down. He faintly heard someone yell Sam! As

he fell, many thoughts ran through his mind. He thought of things that seemed strange to

think when you're about to fall to your death, though that's usually how it is.

Well, I sure do hope me ol' Gaffer will remember to trim the grass at Bag End every

weekend. And I'll never know if Rosie Cotton liked me or not. I do wonder just how that

Throgger would've cooked poor Mr. Frodo if I hadn't waltzed along. Oy! I say, that

would make a title for a story: Mr. Frodo Was Almost Roasted Alive! No, too long. How

'bout: How to Cook a Mr. Frodo. Now that there would make a good title for a tome, if I

do say so myself. Too bad I won't be able to write it. Or even tell Mr. Frodo my idea! He

gave a small sigh, and the world seemed to speed up again. He saw the stone surface of

the cave. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Frodo saw Sam falling towards the ground. Then he saw where Sam was going to

land. He was relieved when he saw Sam hit a cabbage lying on the ground, bounce off,

and land on two feet. Sam looked a bit dazed, but wouldn't anyone who had just fallen

off a ten foot table? (Especially if you're only 3`7!)

Now the Throgger was really upset. He was usually a lenient guy, but after the fat dude

squashed his cabbage…well, that was just scandalous!

He roared and went after Sam, who looked at Frodo and nodded. "Over here!" Frodo

yelled. "Can't get me!" He ran around the other side of the table where Sam and Frodo

had very carefully placed the rope Frodo had been tied up in. They had tied a loop in it,

big enough for the Throgger's foot to fit through. When the Throgger's foot stepped in

the loop, Sam yanked on the rope and tightened it as much as he could. The Throgger fell,

and nearly squashed Frodo flat as a…well, let's just say he would've been as thin as

Gollum if he hadn't gotten out of the way just in time.

Well, at least Sam thought Frodo got out of the way in time. When he heard Frodo

give a shout, he wasn't sure if it was a yell of pain or a war cry.

Choosing the latter and hoping he was right, Sam yelled back, "Way to go, Mr. Frodo!

We got him good! I can't wait to tell Rosie Cotton!" He blushed when he realized what

he said. He expected Frodo to yell some sort of teasing comment to him, but he only

heard Frodo groan.

"Mr. Frodo? What's the matter?" He called, panicking and running around the

Throgger, who was knocked out after his head after he hit the ground. Sam ran over to

Frodo and immediately saw what was wrong. Frodo was lying on the ground, trying to

frantically pull his leg out from under the Throgger's arm, which was pinning it to the

ground.

"Go, Sam! He'll be up soon. Go!"

Sam looked Frodo straight in the eye. "Not without you, Mr. Frodo. I'm not going

anywhere without you. If I can't pull you out, I'm going to sit right here, so the Throgger

can have both of us."

Frodo gave Sam a genuine smile. "I'm honored, Sam. Really. Now could you please

get me out of here?"

"Yessir, Mr. Frodo," Said Sam. He grabbed Frodo's arm and pulled. "I think it's

working!" he grunted.

"No Sam! Don't!-" Pop! Riiip! Sam had succeeded in pulling Frodo's arm out of its

socket.

"Thanks, Sam," said Frodo with a pained look on his face, "That helped."

"Well, sir," said Sam blushing, "Rosie Cotton's been learnin' me some appropriate

doctorin' expertise. Here, I'll fix it." He knocked Frodo's arm back in place, and Frodo

let out a cry of pain.

"See," Sam beamed, "it worked. Rosie says you always know it worked when your

patient says you're hurtin' them."

"Sam," Frodo said between clenched teeth, "Please just get me out of here without

anymore dismemberment."

Sam gave a salute and went to work. He did some calculating in his head [or, at

least, tried to look like he was calculating something].

Finally he said, "Well, Mr. Frodo, I figure that if I can somehow lift the Throgger's

arm, I can get you out." He looked very proud to have thought this up.

Frodo sighed. "That's great, Sam. How are you going to move him?"

Sam's smile dropped. "I didn't think of that."

"Of course you didn't. That's why I'm here."

"I know!" Sam said, running out of the cave.

"Sam!" Frodo yelled, a bit panicked. "I didn't actually mean it before when I said to

go! You can't leave me here! The Throgger will get me! Come baaaaaaaack!"

Sam entered the cave in the middle of Frodo's cry for him to return. He was holding a

log. "You alright Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo looked embarrassed. "I…uh…never mind. What's the log for?"

"You."

"Me!?"

"Well, the Throgger's arm, actually. I'll get this here log, see, and I'll grab this rock."

He picked up a stone from the ground. "Then I'll set it up like so, and jam the log under

the Throgger's arm, and the log is setting on the rock, so I'll sit on this end, and it'll force

that end of the log with the Throgger's arm on it to go up, thus freeing your leg. It works

like a see-saw."

He set it up and looked at Frodo. "When the Throgger's arm is up, Mr. Frodo, you

crawl out. Got it?" He sat on his end of the log and it lifted the Throgger's arm. Frodo

managed to get out and Sam stood back up, grinning. "I knew it'd work!"

Frodo stretched his leg. "Where did you learn how to do that, Sam?"

Sam went red and looked at his feet. "Well, sir, Rosie Cotton's been learnin' me some

mechanical maneuvers."

Frodo sighed. "Of course. How could I not have known?" He and Sam walked out of

the cave and back to the clearing where their bags were. Frodo's eyes went wide. He

grabbed Sam and yanked him behind a tree.

"What is it, Mr. Frodo?" Sam whispered.

Frodo didn't answer, but peered around the tree. "There was someone…no, something

there…pawing through our things. It was grey, and hunched on all fours and…and…

beastly!"

Sam looked around and stood up. "Well, nothing's here now."

Frodo rose to his feet. "Maybe I was imagining…"

Sam nodded in affirmative. "You must have been."

But, little did they know, there was something there, waiting, just waiting to attack. It

gave a low hiss. "My Precioussss…"

THE END