Hobbits in the Infield
Part Two: Training Day
"So, any questions?" the author (Dun dun duuuun!) asked, having just finished giving a long speech about the rules of the game.
No one raised their hand or said anything, but sat staring, looking a good deal like deer caught in the headlights. She gave them a few moments to gather their wits, then, still not having any questions asked, she turned and put down her dry-erase marker. She stood in front of a board with a number of things written and drawn on it.
"Good," she said finally. She picked up her clipboard. "Now if I could have all of the servants of the forces of darkness go to this side of the table and the servants of good go to that side, it would make this a lot easier."
There was the sound of chairs scraping against the ground and feet shuffling as the large group complied.
Once everyone was situated, the author (Dun dun duuuun!) turned to the side where the good guys sat.
"You can go first," she told them, "because... because I say so. After some thought I came to the conclusion that your team shall be called the Middle- earth Heroes. Your colors will be green and white, representing life and purity. When I call your name, please come forward and get your uniform. Gandalf the Grey."
Gandalf rose and walked forward, accepting his jersey, pants, socks and cleats. Then he was told that he would be a pitcher.
Next came Gimli the catcher, Sam the first baseman, Merry the second baseman, Pippin the shortstop, Frodo the third baseman, Boromir the leftfielder, Legolas the centerfielder, and Aragorn the rightfielder.
The bullpen would consist of Elrond, Haldir and Radagast the Brown.
Bench players were Beorn, Elladan, Gildor, Glorfindel, Elrohir, Tom Bombadil, Faramir, Eomer, Thranduil, Beregond, Celeborn, Cirdan and Barliman Butterbur.
Next the author (Dun dun duuuun!) turned to the bad guys. "Your team will be called the Mordor Screechers."
"Why not the Isengard Screechers? We're just as evil as the Mordorians!" Saruman spoke up defensively.
"You will be the Mordor Screechers because Mordor is run by the Dark Lord and he is more evil than you are, whether you believe it or not, Saruman. Besides, this is my story and I say so. Now, if Wraith number one, the Witch King will come forward, you're going to be the pitcher."
The head Nazgûl hissed and grabbed his uniform, a long black cloak with his name and number on the back in red lettering, and a pair of cleats. The other eight Nazgûl made up the rest of the starting team.
"Why do we have red and black?" Radbug asked. "You don't explain to us, but you explain to them?"
The girl looked up from her clipboard. "Forgive me. Your colors are black and red, representing death and fire." Radbug and his fellow bad'ns looked pleased at this, which was rather disturbing when you consider their Orc and Uruk-hai faces. She shook it off and called the rest of the players up.
The bullpen consisted of Saruman, Radbug, and Gorbag.
The bench players would be Bill Ferny, Shagrat, Grishnakh, and several random orcs.
Snaga stood up then. "What is my position?" he asked.
"Well, Snaga, since your name means 'slave,' I've decided that you get to be the bat boy for the Mordorians," she told him.
"BAT BOY!" Snaga looked insulted. "BAT BOY?!"
"You don't know what a bat boy is, do you?"
"No, not really."
"I'll tell you now, in that case. Nob," she turned to a sweet little hobbit, "you will be Middle-earth's bat boy. Your duties will be to give the batters their bat, collect the bat after they are finished, and so on. Very simple, but very important."
Nob looked happy and Snaga sneered. The author (Dun dun duuuuun!) made a mental note to find out who was playing that music and ignored Snaga.
"Now, I'm going to give each of you a glove, bat, and ball. I'm going to put you into groups and send you to do different things around the field for hands-on practice. We'll switch every once in a while," she said.
After dividing the groups and pulling the catchers and pitchers aside, she told them to go to where they were told.
Several players went to sit in the dugouts (one group in each), several went to positions to field the balls hit their way by the fourth group, who were to bat first.
"Okay, Gimli, squat down right here," she said to the dwarf as they stood at home plate. Gimli looked questioningly at her, but complied after she showed him exactly what to do.
"Alright, Gandalf. That's perfect right there," she called to the wizard on the mound. "Now, when I tell you to, just throw the ball like I showed you. Try to hit Gimli's glove, now. Batter up!"
There was silence.
"Batter up!"
More silence.
"Shagrat, this is the part where you come over here and try to hit the ball."
Shagrat stood up as straight as an orc would and walked to the batter's box. The author (Dun dun duuuun!) pulled down her mask and instructed Gimli to do the same. (She had given the catchers their gear while everyone went to their places.)
"Okay, Gandalf, go ahead and pitch," she called, bending over to watch for the location.
Gandalf looked at the ball, then wound up as he had been shown and threw the ball towards the plate.
Shagrat swung and missed.
"Strike!" she announced. Gimli threw the ball back.
Gandalf threw it again. Shagrat swung again. Shagrat missed again.
"Strike two!"
And then, "Strike three! You're out, Shagrat."
Shagrat spat on the ground angrily, and recieved a sharp admonishment for the act. Gorbag was next, and Elrond stepped onto the mound to pitch a few balls.
"I'll show you how it's done, lad!" Gorbag said proudly to Shagrat, who scowled.
Elrond pitched. Gorbag swung and missed. The hobbits in the outfield were falling asleep in the warm sunshine. The girl shook her head.
"We've got a lot of work to do. Strike one!"
***
"Okay, boys, that will just about do it for training day. Go get some food, then head back to your rooms and watch the tape I've put in there for you. Just read the instructions I've provided and you'll be able to do it. If you have trouble, just stick your head out of your door and yell. I'll be right there. After the video, get some sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow. See you then!"
With that, the author (Dun dun duuuun!) left to search for the crazy music fiend.
Part Two: Training Day
"So, any questions?" the author (Dun dun duuuun!) asked, having just finished giving a long speech about the rules of the game.
No one raised their hand or said anything, but sat staring, looking a good deal like deer caught in the headlights. She gave them a few moments to gather their wits, then, still not having any questions asked, she turned and put down her dry-erase marker. She stood in front of a board with a number of things written and drawn on it.
"Good," she said finally. She picked up her clipboard. "Now if I could have all of the servants of the forces of darkness go to this side of the table and the servants of good go to that side, it would make this a lot easier."
There was the sound of chairs scraping against the ground and feet shuffling as the large group complied.
Once everyone was situated, the author (Dun dun duuuun!) turned to the side where the good guys sat.
"You can go first," she told them, "because... because I say so. After some thought I came to the conclusion that your team shall be called the Middle- earth Heroes. Your colors will be green and white, representing life and purity. When I call your name, please come forward and get your uniform. Gandalf the Grey."
Gandalf rose and walked forward, accepting his jersey, pants, socks and cleats. Then he was told that he would be a pitcher.
Next came Gimli the catcher, Sam the first baseman, Merry the second baseman, Pippin the shortstop, Frodo the third baseman, Boromir the leftfielder, Legolas the centerfielder, and Aragorn the rightfielder.
The bullpen would consist of Elrond, Haldir and Radagast the Brown.
Bench players were Beorn, Elladan, Gildor, Glorfindel, Elrohir, Tom Bombadil, Faramir, Eomer, Thranduil, Beregond, Celeborn, Cirdan and Barliman Butterbur.
Next the author (Dun dun duuuun!) turned to the bad guys. "Your team will be called the Mordor Screechers."
"Why not the Isengard Screechers? We're just as evil as the Mordorians!" Saruman spoke up defensively.
"You will be the Mordor Screechers because Mordor is run by the Dark Lord and he is more evil than you are, whether you believe it or not, Saruman. Besides, this is my story and I say so. Now, if Wraith number one, the Witch King will come forward, you're going to be the pitcher."
The head Nazgûl hissed and grabbed his uniform, a long black cloak with his name and number on the back in red lettering, and a pair of cleats. The other eight Nazgûl made up the rest of the starting team.
"Why do we have red and black?" Radbug asked. "You don't explain to us, but you explain to them?"
The girl looked up from her clipboard. "Forgive me. Your colors are black and red, representing death and fire." Radbug and his fellow bad'ns looked pleased at this, which was rather disturbing when you consider their Orc and Uruk-hai faces. She shook it off and called the rest of the players up.
The bullpen consisted of Saruman, Radbug, and Gorbag.
The bench players would be Bill Ferny, Shagrat, Grishnakh, and several random orcs.
Snaga stood up then. "What is my position?" he asked.
"Well, Snaga, since your name means 'slave,' I've decided that you get to be the bat boy for the Mordorians," she told him.
"BAT BOY!" Snaga looked insulted. "BAT BOY?!"
"You don't know what a bat boy is, do you?"
"No, not really."
"I'll tell you now, in that case. Nob," she turned to a sweet little hobbit, "you will be Middle-earth's bat boy. Your duties will be to give the batters their bat, collect the bat after they are finished, and so on. Very simple, but very important."
Nob looked happy and Snaga sneered. The author (Dun dun duuuuun!) made a mental note to find out who was playing that music and ignored Snaga.
"Now, I'm going to give each of you a glove, bat, and ball. I'm going to put you into groups and send you to do different things around the field for hands-on practice. We'll switch every once in a while," she said.
After dividing the groups and pulling the catchers and pitchers aside, she told them to go to where they were told.
Several players went to sit in the dugouts (one group in each), several went to positions to field the balls hit their way by the fourth group, who were to bat first.
"Okay, Gimli, squat down right here," she said to the dwarf as they stood at home plate. Gimli looked questioningly at her, but complied after she showed him exactly what to do.
"Alright, Gandalf. That's perfect right there," she called to the wizard on the mound. "Now, when I tell you to, just throw the ball like I showed you. Try to hit Gimli's glove, now. Batter up!"
There was silence.
"Batter up!"
More silence.
"Shagrat, this is the part where you come over here and try to hit the ball."
Shagrat stood up as straight as an orc would and walked to the batter's box. The author (Dun dun duuuun!) pulled down her mask and instructed Gimli to do the same. (She had given the catchers their gear while everyone went to their places.)
"Okay, Gandalf, go ahead and pitch," she called, bending over to watch for the location.
Gandalf looked at the ball, then wound up as he had been shown and threw the ball towards the plate.
Shagrat swung and missed.
"Strike!" she announced. Gimli threw the ball back.
Gandalf threw it again. Shagrat swung again. Shagrat missed again.
"Strike two!"
And then, "Strike three! You're out, Shagrat."
Shagrat spat on the ground angrily, and recieved a sharp admonishment for the act. Gorbag was next, and Elrond stepped onto the mound to pitch a few balls.
"I'll show you how it's done, lad!" Gorbag said proudly to Shagrat, who scowled.
Elrond pitched. Gorbag swung and missed. The hobbits in the outfield were falling asleep in the warm sunshine. The girl shook her head.
"We've got a lot of work to do. Strike one!"
***
"Okay, boys, that will just about do it for training day. Go get some food, then head back to your rooms and watch the tape I've put in there for you. Just read the instructions I've provided and you'll be able to do it. If you have trouble, just stick your head out of your door and yell. I'll be right there. After the video, get some sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow. See you then!"
With that, the author (Dun dun duuuun!) left to search for the crazy music fiend.