Chapter 4: Of Rations and Regulations
(and a bit of weed)
"Grima!" I called.
Where was that idiot?
He had probably found some little hole to crawl into and nurse his wounds, which, I have to admit, were many. But it takes discipline to learn to shut one's mouth, and he frequently opened his to complain and grumble about the wounds which I gave him because of his grumbling. It was a tangled knot and he brought it upon himself. But where was he?
I looked around, surveying the beautiful damage that I had brought upon this little…town, you could say, although it was scarcely the size of one. It was a pathetic, miserable little place full of gardens and flowers and trees and cottages and…happy children.
Oh, how I hate children, and how I hate happy ones too. What do they have that I haven't got? I had power, wealth, minions, but perhaps..? No, it's a stupid thought. Happiness has absolutely nothing to do with families.
"Grima!" I called angrily. "You try my patience! I will find you, Scum, and you'll be in trouble!" I came up to Bag End and saw a little hobbit hole nearby. "Who lives there?" I inquired. "Over there? That's the old Gaffer, Gamgee he's called. Why?" he asked. I merely shook my head in response.
This is misery. Oh, Gandalf you will pay dearly for this.
Suddenly, Wormtongue popped his head up from the grassy hillside. "Do not punish me, I beg," he said, groveling at my feet. "This kindly man, er, hobbit, invited me in for tea and a biscuit. Seeing as I had not eaten for many days, I accepted." He cowered, expecting a blow. I yielded and did not strike; it's no use wasting my time.
"There shall be no admittance 'after hours'", I announced. "and each man shall have rations, no more, no less and NO sharing! Record this 'Gamgee' as disregarding two rules."
"I meant no 'arm, sir," he said defensively. "Just a bit of tea for a poor, starving creature is an act of kindness, and I knew of none o' them 'rules', and may I say that even if there wuz a lotta' them 'rules' of yern I still would of offered 'em a warm place to stay." He crossed his arms defiantly.
"The rules are broken, nevertheless, and you may record a third," I added "for refusing to accept authoritive decisions. And may I remind you, Old Gaffer, that to follow these rules and not cause a disruption may be the better part of judgment for yourself." I smiled, but the stubborn fool had not the taste for my sweet speech and stated simply that I could take away liberty but never remove the taste of Freedom form his lips, and that I could take away material goods, but not destroy the spirit of riches. I glared at him and then I jotted down a fourth rule break: Back-talking to an official. By the end of the conversation I had a list as follows:
Admitting guest 'after hours'
Sharing of rations
Refusing to accept authoritive decisions
Back- talking to an official
Rhetorically insulting the Chief and 'comrades'
Praising the pipe weed of the Southfarthing
Smoking it
Resisting accusations
Refusal to budging or going indoors
Resisting arrest (before Lotho said he wanted no arrests yet, the fool)
Staying outdoors 'after hours'
Not allowing gatherers and sharers to enter household
Raising voice at the Chief and officials
Drinking beer (he made mention of doing thus but did not altogether do it during our conversation)
Talking after hours
If Lotho had not insisted on not arresting him I could not have killed him there. But if this was to work I'd have to be patient. I hate waiting. With these idiots? This is WAY harder than it looks.
You Halflings will pay for this; dearly
And since they took the liberty of stealing and smoking my pipe weed (dearly bought), I also gave myself the honor of smoking theirs to my satisfaction. Perhaps this could be fun if I play the pieces right. As for you Halflings, the game is already lost it seems. All I need is a few more days. And maybe another smoke.
Please Review! I'm sorry I took so long with this chapter to post!
More coming, keep reading!
(I update my profile often, so please check it out and vote on my poll!)