CHAPTER SEVEN: A thief amongst the travelers

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"How much longer have we to go?" Sam asked, feeling as if an age had passed since the beginning of their journey. 

Merry shrugged but continued walking along the twisted path, an extra skip added to his step.  He was in a good mood that night, even better than usual.  Perhaps it was because they had stumbled on a patch of mushrooms as they traveled, or perhaps it was because they had a destination now instead of wandering aimlessly.  But whatever the reason, his joy unfortunately did not last very long.

"I've got a bad feeling again," Sam announced as his eyes started darting around the shadows in suspicion. 

Frodo stopped suddenly in his tracks upon hearing his friend's words.  Since he was at the front of the line, Sam ran into Merry who promptly ran into Frodo, who was pushed to the ground from the force.  Merry and Sam exchanged glances before rushing to Frodo's side and helping him up.  "What is wrong?" Merry questioned.

"Where is my pipe?" the hobbit wondered as he began patting his coat pockets.  "I clearly remember it being in my right pocket, as it always is."

And then, Sam began to panic.  "Oh no, Mister Frodo.  This is bad.  It is a bad sign; first your pipe, then it'll be Merry, then us!  I knew that this was a horrid idea!  As the old Gaffer used to say, 'One ill omen often leads to another,' and I know better than to ignore my Gaffer's advice!"

"Don't worry, I'm sure you just misplaced it," Merry reassured, and then resumed whistling as he continued skipping. 

Frodo shook his head.  "I never misplace things.  Someone took it," he accused.

The hobbits stared at each other nervously.  Apparently, there was a thief amongst them; the tension in the air thickened drastically.  "We've no reason to take it, we all have brought our own pipe," Merry said.

"I never said the thief was either of you," Frodo corrected.  "I've no reason to accuse you; I trust the both of you like my brothers."

"That's right, we'd never steal from you, Mister Frodo," Sam nodded.  He turned to nudge his companion in the arm and smiled, "Isn't that right, Merry?"

The hobbit paused, and then his eyes wandered nervously around the surroundings in search for a topic change.  "Say, how do you think the elves we met are faring?" he asked.

Frodo narrowed his eyes at Merry.  An awkward hesitation between all three of the hobbits followed, but there was definitely some anger and suspicion sent towards the Brandybuck in Frodo's part. 

Fortunately, the staring contest did not last long enough for a serious quarrel to break out.  A sniff in the air that came from Sam interrupted the moment of silence.  Merry and Frodo turned to see their friend inhale the air curiously, a confused look plastered on his round face.  They blinked as Sam continued sniffing, slightly afraid to ask what was amiss.  "I smell something.  A foul stench lingers in the air."

"It wasn't me," Merry replied quickly.


A disgusted look was his response before Sam shook his head.  "No, I smell…" he hesitated, scanning his memory for the right word.  "I smell smoke."

Frodo and Merry simultaneously both took a deep breath of the air, but they could not detect anything out of the normal. 

"Pipeweed smoke," Sam confirmed once again, cocking an eyebrow.  Then, he began walking away from them, stopping every so often to smell the foreign presence of the smoke again. 

"Must be the Doggit in him," Merry shrugged as they followed. 

"You know, this Doggit trait will come in handy," Frodo smiled.

"Indeed it will– hark!  The Doggit has found something!" he exclaimed as he saw Sam begin growling.  It was no ordinary growl; the one that the hobbit gave was low, almost a warning threat.  He had found something.

Frodo made his way beside Sam to see what he had discovered.  "What is it, boy?"

The three of them turned to examine Sam's discovery, and was slightly disappointed to see what it was.  "Why, it's just a raccoon," Merry replied.  Sure enough, staring straight at them perched happily on a branch quite a distance away was the animal, grinning like a fiend.  His tiny paws were hidden behind his back, bushy tail waving side to side.

"Hullo there, what have you got?" Frodo asked softly, approaching the tree where it perched slowly so not to scare him.

Suddenly the raccoon pulled a pipe – Frodo's pipe –, from behind him and presented it to the hobbits.  A gasp escaped from all three of their mouths as they put the pieces of the mystery together.  "Blimey!  The bloody bugger stole'd your pipe!" Merry screamed as he pointed at the animal and jumped up and down in awareness.  Then, the raccoon's grin growing larger and larger, he spun around and darted towards the opposite direction before anyone could say anything else.

"Don't you mean stolen?" Frodo corrected.

"It doesn't matter, he still has your pipe whether he has stole'd it or has stolen it," Merry answered.

"Huh.  What do you know?  A smoking raccoon!" Frodo laughed.  It took a few moments for the situation to sink into his mind, and then a few more to realize what just happened.  When it finally dawned on him, his face grew of pure dread and horror.  "MY PRECIOUS!  HE HAS MY PRECIOUS!" he exclaimed, donning his famous deer-in-headlights look again.

Without another moment's waste, Sam immediately dashed off after the thief on all fours.  He barked and snapped at the creature as he ran, determined to retrieve what was rightfully his master's.  "SAM!" Frodo screamed, then took off after the Doggit.

"FRODO!" Merry tailed the pursuers, not willing to be left behind in the creepy old forest. 

The chase was skill testing and difficult.  Being a raccoon, the sly fellow was able to squirm in and out of tree logs, narrow areas, complicated twists and turns.  Being a Doggit, and a chubby one at that, Sam was slightly slower than the small nocturnal animal, and a little less bright.  And being hobbits, both Merry and Frodo struggled to keep up with the two.

Sweat dripped down the Doggit's face like rivers, but he did not dare stop.  Not until his master's pipe was back in the rightful hands.  The raccoon took a sharp right and ducked underneath a low tree branch, continuing to sprint as fast as he could.  Sam followed with pure determination, but unfortunately for him he did not see the tree branch until it was too late.  His head collided right into the thick branch as he ran ahead, knocking Sam backwards onto the dirty ground.

The raccoon turned its head back to examine his work as he ran on.  Snickering at his ingenious plot, he was too busy to have seen the giant rock that lay right before it.  A dull thudding sound of the raccoon crashing into the rock, a small squeal of pain, and another dull thud following the fall of the creature ended the chase.

As soon as Frodo and Merry helped Sam rise, they sought the thief and their stolen item.  Frodo picked up the pipe to find that it was still lit, freshly used.  Staring suspiciously at the raccoon lying on the ground, Frodo tucked the pipe away securely in his backpack after thanking the Valar for its return.  The raccoon rolled over and coughed, two smoke rings emerging from its mouth.

"I didn't know raccoons smoke," Merry said.

"Me neither," Sam piped in.

"Raccoons don't smoke," the creature groaned as himself pushed itself up. 

The hobbits' eyes grew wide, unsure of what they have just seen.  Perhaps it was the pipeweed talking, or maybe they've merely been too long away from home.  Did that animal just–

"Yes, I'm talking," he spoke again, rubbing his head in pain.  "And I should have paid more attention to where I was going."

They were too shocked to speak.  Not only did the raccoon have a voice, but WHAT a voice it had!  A deep baritone melody emerged from the creature's throat, pleasing to the ear as well as amusing to watch coming from a tiny raccoon.  Who could have thought?

The raccoon shook his head, not surprised at the reaction.  He cleared his throat, and resumed, "Greetings from Lothlórien.  I have been sent to aid you in the search for your friend."

The hobbits blinked.  "Lothlórien elves sent you?" Merry exclaimed.

"They have raccoons in Lothlórien?" Sam piped in.

"Raccoons that speak?" Frodo said. 

Merry frowned.  "… And smoke?"

"… And steal?" Sam added.

The raccoon cleared his throat again before anyone could say aught else.  "I'm not perfect.  Stop picking on me."  Giving rather cold glares at the three hobbits, he saw that he had their complete attention before he continued.  "I am not a raccoon.  I am–– was a Guardian spirit.  The elves thought that appearing in my natural form would scare you away, so I assumed a… less intimidating life form."

"So what is your natural form?" Sam asked, the question burning in the back of his mind.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," the animal assured.  "Anyway, Illiciatherionathil sent me to aid you.  The elven healer thought you would never find your way even out of this forest without some sort of aid."

The hobbits didn't know whether to feel thankful, or insulted.

"Illici… Illiciath…" Sam said slowly, trying to bring up his memory. 

"The elf that we met," Merry answered.  "I called him Icky, but he wasn't too happy about that."

"And I haven't the slightest idea why," the raccoon rolled his eyes again.  "My name is Theadoramitheriacaepernith," he introduced, bowing gracefully in greeting.

"Thead… Theadoram…" Sam stuttered again.

"Why does everyone have trouble pronouncing my name?  It's not Quenya you're learning.  The-a-dor-a-mith-eri-a-cae-per-nith!" he exclaimed. 

The hobbits exchanged looks of confusion, all scratching their heads with question marks written all over their faces.  The raccoon sighed.  "Call me Teddy.  Everyone else does anyway."

Frodo almost burst out laughing, but kept his giggles inside for the sake of being polite.  "Teddy the Guardian sprit?"

"Theadoramitheriacaepernith the Guardian spirit," he corrected.  "Teddy is for the less intelligent who can't pronounce a name as simple as mine." 

Once again, the hobbits debated amongst themselves on taking that as an insult.  They didn't get enough time to reach a decision when Teddy turned around, ignoring the puzzled faces of the hobbits as he began trotting away.  "Well, we'd better be off now.  I wasn't sent to dilly-dally and make friendly banter."

Sam turned to Frodo, and lowered his voice drastically so the raccoon would not hear, "Do we dare trust him?"

"You've no reason to have suspicion.  If evil wanted to lead you elsewhere, they would not assume the form of a raccoon of all animals," Teddy spoke up, obviously heard Sam's comment.  "They'd choose something more frightening." 

The hobbit muttered a curse quietly to himself, forgetting that most animals have shaper hearing.  A Guardian spirit most likely would have superior hearing, and could hear a leaf fall onto the ground in Lothlórien if he needed.  Though they weren't too familiar with this mysterious raccoon, Sam already disliked him.

The raccoon pointed at the right with a tiny paw.  "As the result of the chase for your master's pipe, I have lead you directly to Bree, whereas without my aid you would have still been three days until your arrival."

Merry raised an eyebrow in disbelief.  There was no way that a few moments' chase could be worth three days of travel, even at a hobbit's pace.  And why should they trust a creature's advice?  Just because it could speak did not make it an ally. 

Approaching the bushes towards where Teddy pointed, Merry pushed aside the vegetation to see a small town beyond.  His doubts were removed as soon as he realized that the raccoon was telling the truth.  Before he could speak, Teddy darted off once again ahead of them.  "Make haste, Master Hobbits!  Spending one more day in this Old Forest is enough to drive even an immortal to his wits' end!"

Hesitating before finally giving in and following the animal, Frodo and his friends made their way towards Bree.  He was glad to be out of the forest himself, and he was sure that without the 'help' of the raccoon, they would still be wandering to and fro aimlessly. 


Sam, however, did not appreciate the raccoon at all.  "If he is a Guardian spirit, then may I encounter a cave troll with nothing but a frying pan in my hand to defend myself!" he exclaimed, but followed along willingly.