Chapter III - Weathertop
"Whew, that sure was a close one, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, who still hadn't gotten over the past evening's run-in with Black Riders. Actually, the "Black Riders" were costumed humans who had filed into the room, made a great show of shredding the bedding and stabbing the feather pillows, then left "lip-synching," if you will, to pre-recorded shrieks.
After they had gone, it was revealed that Strider had fainted dead away, which he desperately denied. "I was playing dead!" he had protested, when asked about it. "No one ever stabs things that look dead! At least, they don't in all the stories."
Frodo, astutely realizing that Strider's manly pride hung in the balance, had effectively changed the subject. "Oh, look, Sam. You haven't quite finished all my dinner yet!"
Well, now Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Strider found themselves traversing the wilds. Through brush and high desert scrub, though swampland and meadows, they marched mile after mile, day after day. The only thing that was missing was an epic "traveling" soundtrack, which Lord Elrond added in post-production.
By the end of the first day, food had run out. Frodo had worried this might happen, but it seems none of the others had even conceived of it.
"Oh no!" cried Merry and Pippin in unison. "Whatever shall we do?"
Suddenly, food began to fly over the tall bushes – apples, oranges, sausage links, and biscuits. It was like Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs: Middle Earth Edition.
"What the deuce is going on?!" Frodo yelled.
"Don't question it!" said Merry. "It's part of the magic of this place. It rains food every day at a certain time."
"Then why isn't there a bunch of rotting food on the ground?"
"Because… uh… because the animals eat it. All of it. Every day."
Frodo shook his head. "Very peculiar." An apple hit him in the nose. "Hey!"
Sam didn't seem to mind. "Say, Mr. Frodo, when we get done with the quest an' all, what do you think about maybe… settlin' down here or somethin'?"
"Oh, Sam, don't be ridiculous. Live out here in the wild? Just because it happens to rain food?"
"Somethin' wrong with that?"
It continued to rain food every night, on them, as they continued on their way. Frodo grew even more suspicious based on the fact that the food rained only on them, and nowhere else around them. Merry and Pippin were, of course, in on Elrond's plan to facilitate the audience not having to watch the company starve to death right off the bat, but Strider and Sam didn't seem to mind much either.
"Merry must know more of these lands than I do," he admitted. "Strange, isn't it? To be such a handsome devil as myself and not have all the answers."
"Strange, indeed," said Frodo, rolling his eyes.
By the fourth night, they spotted, on a hillock in the distance, a bizarre, jagged-edged tower rising above the landscape.
"What's that?" said Sam, eyes wide.
"It's obviously a… a haunted castle!" said Strider. "We'd best stay away. I wouldn't want any of you little ones to… uh… get hurt. Or get eaten by ghosts."
"Here you go," said Merry, nudging the ranger. "Here's a map."
Aragorn took the map and peered at it very hard. "Oh. I see. It's the great watchtower of Amon Sûl."
"You know," said Frodo, "that map might've come in handy during the four days we walked in circles to get here..."
"It says, 'Perfectly safe,'" said Aragorn, apparently not hearing Frodo. "And 'a good place to camp.'"
"Alright!" said Merry and Pippin, high-fiving.
"Okay, Ada, they're nearly there," said Elladan. "They're just walking up the slope now."
"It's about time," Elrond muttered. He sighed and shifted in his plush easy chair. The chair had been brought specially from Rivendell for his use, and sat on a matching throw rug inside his director's tent behind Weathertop. "Out of five travelers, you'd think at least one of them would know how to navigate. Should've given 'em the map days ago."
"Yeah, you could've picked smarter Hobbits to be in the know, too," offered Elrohir. "Those Merry and Pippin fellows are dimmer than a shadow inside another shadow's shadow."
"Yes, yes, I know," said Elrond irritably. "But they were eager enough, and I erred in giving them a chance. We're stuck with them, so we'll just have to use them best we can." He turned to Elladan. "So, are the others in position?"
Elladan nodded. "Well, they've had an extra three days to prepare. I certainly hope so."
"Fine, just make sure everything goes off without a hitch."
"Ada, they're big guys covered from head to toe in black robes with no lines. How can they possibly screw up?"
"Don't say that. If you say that, they'll screw up, because that's what always happens anytime anyone makes a statement like that."
"Okay."
"Mr. Frodo," said Sam.
"What?" said Frodo.
"I don't like this place. Not one bit."
"But the map said it was perfectly safe," said Frodo, trying to be reassuring. "Don't you trust the map?"
"But, Mr. Frodo, the sky is greenish. And it's foggy. And I keep hearing these strange whispering voices wailing, "Eat at McDonalds! Eat at McDonalds!"
"I know. I hear the voices, too, Sam. But you must be strong. I think it's just the ancient spirits that still indwell this ruin."
"Ahhh!" cried Sam, edging closer to Frodo. "Ancient spirits? You shouldn't have said that. You really shouldn't have. Oh, my. I'll never be able to calm down now."
"Oh look!" cried Merry, reading off a cue card in the distance. "A bundle! It might contain something useless… uh, I mean useful."
"I'll be the judge of that," said Strider, trying to seem as though he were actually in command. He knelt down and began to lift the lid of the suspicious leather bundle. "Hmm… swords. Hobbit-sized swords. How fortuitous!"
"Look, another happy coincidence," Frodo muttered. Something fishy was definitely going on here, and he planned to get to the bottom of it. Eventually. Maybe Lord Elrond would know. He would ask him when they arrived in Rivendell.
The hobbits each accepted one of the shiny swords from Strider and the group continued on their way up the hill. When they had entered the crumbling stone gateway, they found themselves in a strange, circular structure. A ruin, of course, and creepy as all get out. The leering statues with glowing red eyes didn't help.
"Well, what do we do now?" asked Frodo.
Strider was uncertain, but didn't want to seem so. "Why, you young Hobbits get some rest, of course!" he said, boldly. "I'm going to go have a look around!"
"But…," said Frodo, worriedly, but Strider raised a hand to stop him.
"No buts," he said. "Relax, the map said this place was perfectly safe. Ever been lied to by a map? Didn't think so."
With that, Strider strutted away, trying to look cool and manly. He was actually going off in the bushes to relieve himself, but he never would have told them that, being much too dignified and all.
"Sleep, Frodo," said Merry.
Pippin nodded supportively. "Yes, Frodo, you should sleep. It'd do you some good. I think."
Frodo felt severely creeped out. No way was he going to be able to relax enough to sleep. "Do you not see the statues with glowing red eyes or something?" he nearly exploded. "Does this LOOK like a good place to sleep?"
"Well, uh…," said Merry, still not very good at ad-libbing when he was off-script.
"It's better than some places!" Pippin chimed.
"Really? What could be worse than this?"
Pippin spoke up again. "How 'bout trying to sleep in a small cage with a giant lizard, a giant snake, and a giant crab?"
Frodo was silent a moment. Then he released a lengthy exhale. "Shut up, Pippin."
After several more unsuccessful attempts to get Frodo to go to sleep, Merry sneaked behind Frodo and clubbed him over the head with the butt of his sword. Sam, who had been determinedly tucking into the last of the biscuits, didn't seem to notice until a few minutes afterward.
"Mr. Frodo!" he cried, scrambling over to his unconscious master.
"Shhh," said Merry. "Quiet. He's sleeping."
"Sleeping?" said Pippin. "But I thought we—"
Merry thumped Pippin in the back, laughing. "We helped him get to sleep, right Pip?"
"Right," said Pippin, nodding and grinning.
Merry and Pippin then proceeded to start a fire. At least, they tried to start a fire, but had no woodcraft whatsoever. Finally, Lord Elrond sent some Elves dressed as cupcakes to distract Sam while other Elves in black spandex rushed in, built a fire, and disappeared.
"Oh," said Sam, turning back to the others. "I must've been seein' things. I thought for sure there was a bunch of cupcakes runnin' around out there. So you two finally got a fire built? Good, it'll keep Mr. Frodo warm."
"Pippin," said Merry, "hand me the food haversack. I think I fancy some tomatoes and bacon."
When Frodo regained consciousness, he became aware of three things. First, that the occipital portion of his head hurt, second, that he smelled bacon cooking, and third, that there was a fire burning beside him. He shot upright. "Put it out, you fools! Put it out! You'll let every evildoer in six leagues know right where we are!"
"Wha—?" said Merry, feigning ignorance.
Frodo stamped on the fire to get his point across. His toe hair burst into flame and he spent the next minute flailing about while a horrified Sam screamed and tried to dump a water cask over him. Eventually, between the four of them, they managed to put Frodo (and the fire) out.
"Whew, that was close, Mr. Frodo," said Sam, panting.
"Yes, it was," said Frodo, glaring at Merry and Pippin accusingly.
Just then, nine giant figures in black, tattered robes stalked into the ring of ruins.
Frodo and Sam screamed and hugged each other. The figures stepped slowly closer, preceded by a dense, crawling mist.
"Frodo," said Merry. "Quick! Put on the Ring! Hide!"
Too terrified to think, Frodo reached in his pocket and put on the Ring. Just as he did, an elf hiding in a chunk of the ruins tossed a handful of pink, hallucinogenic powder in Frodo's face.
"Gah!" Frodo yelled, swiping at his eyes. When next he opened them, he noticed that his vision was out of focus. It was like everything around him was smudging and smearing, shifting left and right. And then figures in white approached through the wavering environment – sinister figures with gaunt faces and hollow eyes. "No! No!" he pleaded, as they reached for the Ring on his finger.
The foremost figure then pulled a sword… and stabbed Frodo clean in the shoulder.
"Ooh, nasty," said Elladan, cringing. "It almost looks real."
"Yes," said Elrond, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly. "And more importantly, it will feel real to him. He's not in any danger, of course. It's all in his mind. And since we can guess at (more or less) what he's seeing, we'll create his 'Ring World' sequence in post-production, with CGI."
"Brilliant, Ada!" said Elrohir. "This is fantastic. Oh, the pathos of it all. It gets you right… here." He put a hand over his heart.
"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," said Elrond.
Strider, having conveniently found a lit torch upon returning to the ruined watchtower, picked it up, thinking it would be nice to see where he was going. Just then, he heard screaming and cries for help coming from up ahead.
"Oh no!" he said. "The hobbits are in trouble." He broke into a sprint, quickly planning his dramatic entrance. A minute later, he leapt into the arena, spuriously waving the torch in one hand and the sword in the other. "I'll save you, hobbits!" he yodeled. "Back, back, you monsters!"
The Black Riders, on cue, turned tail and waddled back out of the arena and away. The Nazgûl scream track blared deafeningly loudly in the background as they went. Strider made a great show of sniffing at them, unimpressed. "Yeah, that'll teach 'em!" he said, smirking, fist-pounding himself. "That'll teach 'em to tangle with my damsels… er, hobbits in distress."
Elrond face-palmed, repulsed.
"There, there, Ada," Elrohir said reassuringly, "we want to blow his bubble big before we pop it."
"That's right," Elladan chimed in. "Just wait'll he finds out none of his heroic deeds were even real."
"I suppose you're right," Elrond agreed, nodding slowly. "But it doesn't make it any easier to watch."
"Strider," said Merry, reading off another hidden cue card, "would you please stop congratulating yourself and help us? Frodo's been stabbed!"
"Oh, right," said Strider, leaping over to the three hobbits gathered around Frodo. "Ooh, that looks bad. What should we do?"
"Aren't you a ranger, Strider?" asked Merry. "Don't you have some healing skills?"
"Of course I have healing skills!" said Strider, loudly. He shoved his way between Sam and Pippin to get at Frodo. "Hmmm… let's see. Pointy object definitely went in right there." He poked Frodo in the shoulder, and the hobbit yelped.
"Don't do that!" said Sam protectively, shoving Strider away.
"And here it is!" said Pippin helpfully, holding up the "Morgul Blade."
"Nasty!" said Strider, taking the knife. The blade turned to dust in his hand. He yipped, swiping at his clothes. "Definitely magical, definitely evil. Yeah, he's probably gonna die."
"Oh, thanks, that's really helpful," Frodo moaned, beginning to turn green. ~
