Disclaimer- I do not own Lord of the Rings, Churchill Dogs or anything else that crops up in the story.
It's been ages and ages since I uploaded another chapter and stuff (I forgot what I was supposed to be putting here :'( so I just put 'stuff' down.)
Queer Things: The Fellowship of the Ring: Book One
-Chapter Ten: Cheerio, Tally On-
Despite Strider's warning, the hobbits slept soundly and where undisturbed for the rest of the night (save Butterbur running in to give them a letter from Gandalf, that he had unconfidently forgotten to give them when they arrived, he was awarded with a stern glare from everyone in the room at this).
However, during an extremely early breakfast that not even sleeping outside for a fortnight could have prepared them for, he broke the terrible news to them.
"No!" gasped Merry. Pippin dropped the spoon he was using to eat with, unfortunately for him, it had been frozen half-way through his mouth and he was left with a painful toothache for the rest of the day.
"I'm sorry, but its true- the ponies are... gone!" finished Strider with a dramatic pause, Frodo rolled his over-large eyes.
"What did Gandalf want us to do again?" Said Strider, forgetting what was written on the letter for the umpteenth time that morning as Sam bashed her head against the table for the umpteenth time that morning.
"Well, let's look at the letter again,"
"Good idea!" agreed Strider, nodding his head like a Churchill Dog as Frodo brought a scrunched-up sheet of paper out of his pocket.
"Hiya Frodo!" he read.
"Can't write much in fear this might get intercepted. Some weird shadowy guys are stalking me. If you go to Bree my friend Butterbur is trustworthy and he will give you this letter. You might meet another friend of mine on the Road, his name is Strider. He's really tall, likes wearing cloaks, also likes drinking ale as well He knows of the Ring and Sauron. He will help you get to Rivendell, that's were you need to go. Elrond will help you.
Byez,
Gandalf.
P.S. Don't you think that Elrond's eyebrows look funny!
P.P.S. Make sure that Strider is the real one- he won't tell anyone his true name!
P.P.P.S. Is there anything I'm forgetting?
P.P.P.P.S. Don't think so.
P.P.P.P.P.S. See you at Rivendell!
P.P.P.P.P.P.S I like P.S'
Cheerio, Tally On!
Gandalf." finished Frodo.
"I've got it!" yelled Strider. "Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pip! Follow me! I have solved out problem!"
The hovel that Strider led was in despicable condition, it was the last house in Bree and owned by a sneering man the hobbits had seen at the Prancing Pony the previous night; Bill Ferny.
"Were getting a pony from here?" asked Merry, bewildered and with an expression that clearly read "This is not happening".
"Morning, Longshanks!" hissed the unpleasant man, who had appeared from behind an overgrown and un-kept hedge. "Found some friends? A little on the small size aren't they!" he cackled manically.
Frodo stood his ground and glared at the gruesome Ferny with the same steely look he had used on Pippin, although it was more concentrated. Sam reached for an apple she had stashed away in a backpack, given to her at the inn. Pip hid behind Merry, who put a protective arm around him and gave Ferny a glare as if to say "You'll have to fight me to hurt him". Strider remained tall and spoke steadily.
"It does not matter of their size, Ferny,"
"Then, why are you here, Longshanks?"
"We wish you buy your pony,"
"Pony? You wish to buy..." he was cut off as he burst into a coughing fit.
"Yes, Ferny. I believe I just told you that," sighed Strider, obviously thinking "Honestly, some people round here."
"Well, the price... thirteen pieces of silver!"
"What?" yelled an outraged Frodo.
"Yeah! We could buy three ponies for that price and still have money to spare!" agreed Merry.
"We will pay your price," replied Strider, ignoring the wave of protests from the hobbits.
Ferny took the money and disappeared behind the hedge.
"That's it, Mr. Frodo, he'll probably just run of with the money, or the pony'll be at death's door," whispered Sam.
A hideous noise of coughing alerted them to the arrival of Ferny, via a rusting gate, he was pulling a tired and beaten pony by a rope, which was tightly fastened around its neck.
"Told you. Oh, the poor thing!"
"There's your pony, take good care of him," Ferny spat on the ground and cackled manically again.
Sam, angered at the horrid man's treating of the poor pony, through the apple she was holding at him, it hit him on the head and he disappeared behind the hedge.
"Wow," breathed a shocked Pippin.
"Ouch- he'll feel that in the morning!" yelled Merry.
Strider remained silent, but his face mirrored Pip's, which was quite hilarious.