Lord of the Munchkins
Chapter Two: Social Grooming
Author's notes: Sorry about the wait, for all who care. x.x Um, enjoy! And thanks for all the reviews. All who review get a free pat on the back and a complementary rubber chicken… at some point in time.
The hobbits gained control of themselves and dove off the road. They grouped together under the cover of a tree's visible roots.
In a few moments a rider cloaked in black, but not very tall, on an armored black foal rode up and stopped beside the tree. Sam wet his pants. Frodo jumped into Sam's lap, and immediately jumped back to his original place of sitting. Pippin clung to a tree root for dear life. And Merry fell asleep. The Rider sniffed (but soon regretted it, thanks to Sam) and rode away. The hobbits jumped up and ran like the dickens to their desired destination. They had had the bejeebus scared out of them (and in Sam's case, more), and wished to arrive at Bree by nightfall. They were afraid of the dark, after all.
It started to rain around noon. This led to a lot of griping and moaning from the weary travelers. Which led to a great annoyance to the author, who decided to let them arrive in Bree in the next paragraph.
By sundown they approached the West Gate of Bree. The four of them started banging on the door with all of their "hobbit might," which really wasn't much, but was enough to arouse the dozing eleven year old gate keeper. He opened the lower peephole and gazed at the newcomers. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
"Shssh," said Frodo, who stood in front, "Be vewy, vewy quiet. We'wre hunting wabbits!"
"Oh, really? That's nice. But you won't find none of them here."
Merry whacked Frodo upside the head. "We're only passing through and wish to spend the night at the Prancing Pony." Amazingly, Merry still held at least an ounce of his former intellect.
To make a long story short, the hobbits entered Bree and ran past the same pony corral multiple times before finally realizing it, and eventually found the Prancing Pony.
"'Ello!" waved a short, fat child carrying a tray of mugs. "What can I do for ya?"
"Is Gandalf the Grey here?" asked Merry, just as Frodo was opening his mouth to ask for a bedtime story to be read to him.
"Nope. Haven't seen that git in six months. Go sit over there and I'll get ya something to drink. Oh, and the name's Butterbur."
So they shuffled to an empty table and laid their soiled cloaks on the floor. They were served cookies and milk and they happily ate and talked. Pippin got on a sugar high and started running around asking people about how many boogers they had eaten in the past week.
"Five, say you? My cousin--two times removed--Frodo Baggins has eaten more than that in a DAY!" Pippin rambled. "Where is he? Over there!" Pippin pointed at Frodo and the others.
"Ack! Pippin, no!" Frodo cried. "My name is Underhill because I have that stupid Ring, remember?" There was a collective gasp in the room and everything became frightfully silent.
"Oh, yeah. Can you take it out so my new friends can see it?"
"Well.. Okay!" Frodo reached for his pocket, but his wrist was grabbed by a black-gloved hand. Frodo gasped and looked up to see who it was, and found himself being towered over by a tall, shaggy haired boy around the age of ten dressed in the dark-colored clothes of the Rangers.
"I would suggest you leave your trinket in your pocket," the boy said.
Frodo pouted. "Fine." The boy dragged Frodo up the stairs by his wrist (literally), the hobbit wailing every time he bumped against a step. Frodo's companions jumped up, grabbed their cloaks, and ran up after them.
"You are the stupidest little short dude I have ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on," the boy said, annoyed.
"Thanks," Frodo smiled, unable to define half of the words the boy used. "What's your name?"
"Ara—Strider."
"AraStrider, okay! My name is Frodo Baggins," this time it was Frodo who forgot his false name. Strider smacked his forehead.
The door burst open, and Sam with the others tumbled in. "RAPE!" they were screaming.
"Keep your hands off him, you child molester!" Sam shouted.
Strider blinked. "You losers! Does this look like rape to you?!" Frodo was standing a good three feet away from him.
"…ORAL RAPE!" Sam shouted.
Strider smacked his forehead again.
"That's AraStrider. He's nice," Frodo hugged Strider's legs, being too short to hug him properly. Strider tried to break free from the hobbit's death grip, but only managed to fall over.
"I thought his name was only Strider, according to a big, fat, stinky kid who I talked to," Pippin said, confuzzled.
"It IS," Strider growled, attempting to stand in vain.
"Oh," the hobbits said in unison. Frodo let go of Strider and scampered over to the others.
Strider got up and brushed himself off. "Of all the creatures to choose as a Ringbearer," he muttered angrily. He glanced over at the hobbits, only to find that Frodo was pulling the Ring on and off of his finger.
"Now you see me," he put it on. "Now you don't." And he repeated the process. Pippin, Merry, and Sam watched in amazement as he vanished and reappeared.
"I take my eyes off of you for TWO seconds, and look what happens!" Strider sighed heavily and walked over to Frodo, grabbing his wrists and holding them apart before Frodo could slip on the Ring again.
Pippin poked Strider timidly. "Why did you take Frodo up here?"
"So that he would not draw too much attention to himself, and then get found by the Enemy."
"You wouldn't happen to know Gandalf the Grey, would you?" Merry inquired curiously, suspicious. This guy knew too much for his own good.
"Yes, in fact, I do. That zit-faced git seems to be delayed, so it looks like it is up to me to baby sit you munchkins."
"Yay, we're saved!" cried Pippin and Sam.
Frodo was staring up at.. something. Strider and the other hobbits looked at him, then up at the ceiling to try and see what was so terribly interesting. After the silence was too much for Strider, he cried out, "What are you looking at?!"
"The chapter title," Frodo replied plainly.
"What?!"
Frodo pointed. "It says 'Social Grooming'."
"I repeat, wha—" Strider was cut off.
"I think Merry has lice. Does that mean we have to pick it out?" Sam asked, looking quite nauseated.
"You know what? The author is also a zit-faced git, and I do not give a flying rat's tail what the chapter title is!"
Pippin had already started to rummage through Merry's curly hair. "Aww, but I almost caught one," he whined. "And I should like to see what a flying rat's tail would look like!"
"You four, go to bed. I will keep watch for Nazgûl," Strider said, fed up with the young hobbits' ignorance.
"Nazgûl?" Merry asked as he straightened his lice-free hair.
"Servants of Sauron. They were once Men, but now they are neither living nor dead."
"How incredibly uninteresting," Merry yawned.
Strider stopped himself from, yet again, smacking his forehead. He would lose all sense by morning at this rate.
"Where's Frodo?" asked Pippin as he jumped on the bed.
Sam watched Pippin, waiting for when he'd miscalculate a jump and hit his head on the floor. Merry rolled his eyes and grabbed Pippin's ankle, causing him to fall over. "Frodo is, uh, changing into pajamas." Even as the words escaped his mouth, he didn't believe them anymore from when he heard them first from Frodo.
Before any questions could be asked, Frodo opened the door and waddled, yes, waddled into the room. He was wearing a one-piece, woolen penguin suit. Little penguin footies, wings, and all.
Strider glanced away from the window and saw Frodo. He stifled a laugh, and then turned his head away again. Not that he could see anything through the blurred glass, since it was raining. Silly Strider.
Pippin rolled off the bed in laughter. Sam and Merry exchanged amused looks and snickered.
"My mom made me pack it!" Frodo said in a pathetic attempt to save his already-shattered dignity.
"Frodo, isn't your mother…?" Sam trailed off.
"I mean, uh—Bilbo, no… It has sentimental value!" Frodo stomped over to the bed, plopped down in Pippin's vacant spot, and fell asleep.
The next morning they stole—or borrowed without giving back, as Strider put it—a pony from some jerk named Bill Ferny. Sam immediately became emotionally attached to the beast of burden, because it was just so darn cute!
"Shotgun!" Pippin called as he made a running jump onto the poor pony's back. Bill (Sam thought of the name, not I) gave a yelp of pain and surprise. But the yelp sounded more like a "moo" than anything else.
"No, you ninny!" Merry cried, pulling Pippin off the pony's back. "It is going to carry or packs, not us!"
"Aww," Pippin whimpered.
"Let us get a move on," Strider said. "I wish to reach Weathertop by nightfall."
"Weathertop," Sam and Frodo snickered. "What a stupid name."
And so, Strider took hold of Bill's reins and started walking, not caring whether or not the hobbits were following or not. He would have liked it better if they had stayed behind in Bree, for he was confident that he could throw that stupid Ring into some stupid volcano without that stupid hobbit's help. At any rate, their journey had begun.
Oh dear. Talk about a writer's block induced chapter. o.o Next one will be better, I promise! *grovels*
Chapter Two: Social Grooming
Author's notes: Sorry about the wait, for all who care. x.x Um, enjoy! And thanks for all the reviews. All who review get a free pat on the back and a complementary rubber chicken… at some point in time.
The hobbits gained control of themselves and dove off the road. They grouped together under the cover of a tree's visible roots.
In a few moments a rider cloaked in black, but not very tall, on an armored black foal rode up and stopped beside the tree. Sam wet his pants. Frodo jumped into Sam's lap, and immediately jumped back to his original place of sitting. Pippin clung to a tree root for dear life. And Merry fell asleep. The Rider sniffed (but soon regretted it, thanks to Sam) and rode away. The hobbits jumped up and ran like the dickens to their desired destination. They had had the bejeebus scared out of them (and in Sam's case, more), and wished to arrive at Bree by nightfall. They were afraid of the dark, after all.
It started to rain around noon. This led to a lot of griping and moaning from the weary travelers. Which led to a great annoyance to the author, who decided to let them arrive in Bree in the next paragraph.
By sundown they approached the West Gate of Bree. The four of them started banging on the door with all of their "hobbit might," which really wasn't much, but was enough to arouse the dozing eleven year old gate keeper. He opened the lower peephole and gazed at the newcomers. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
"Shssh," said Frodo, who stood in front, "Be vewy, vewy quiet. We'wre hunting wabbits!"
"Oh, really? That's nice. But you won't find none of them here."
Merry whacked Frodo upside the head. "We're only passing through and wish to spend the night at the Prancing Pony." Amazingly, Merry still held at least an ounce of his former intellect.
To make a long story short, the hobbits entered Bree and ran past the same pony corral multiple times before finally realizing it, and eventually found the Prancing Pony.
"'Ello!" waved a short, fat child carrying a tray of mugs. "What can I do for ya?"
"Is Gandalf the Grey here?" asked Merry, just as Frodo was opening his mouth to ask for a bedtime story to be read to him.
"Nope. Haven't seen that git in six months. Go sit over there and I'll get ya something to drink. Oh, and the name's Butterbur."
So they shuffled to an empty table and laid their soiled cloaks on the floor. They were served cookies and milk and they happily ate and talked. Pippin got on a sugar high and started running around asking people about how many boogers they had eaten in the past week.
"Five, say you? My cousin--two times removed--Frodo Baggins has eaten more than that in a DAY!" Pippin rambled. "Where is he? Over there!" Pippin pointed at Frodo and the others.
"Ack! Pippin, no!" Frodo cried. "My name is Underhill because I have that stupid Ring, remember?" There was a collective gasp in the room and everything became frightfully silent.
"Oh, yeah. Can you take it out so my new friends can see it?"
"Well.. Okay!" Frodo reached for his pocket, but his wrist was grabbed by a black-gloved hand. Frodo gasped and looked up to see who it was, and found himself being towered over by a tall, shaggy haired boy around the age of ten dressed in the dark-colored clothes of the Rangers.
"I would suggest you leave your trinket in your pocket," the boy said.
Frodo pouted. "Fine." The boy dragged Frodo up the stairs by his wrist (literally), the hobbit wailing every time he bumped against a step. Frodo's companions jumped up, grabbed their cloaks, and ran up after them.
"You are the stupidest little short dude I have ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on," the boy said, annoyed.
"Thanks," Frodo smiled, unable to define half of the words the boy used. "What's your name?"
"Ara—Strider."
"AraStrider, okay! My name is Frodo Baggins," this time it was Frodo who forgot his false name. Strider smacked his forehead.
The door burst open, and Sam with the others tumbled in. "RAPE!" they were screaming.
"Keep your hands off him, you child molester!" Sam shouted.
Strider blinked. "You losers! Does this look like rape to you?!" Frodo was standing a good three feet away from him.
"…ORAL RAPE!" Sam shouted.
Strider smacked his forehead again.
"That's AraStrider. He's nice," Frodo hugged Strider's legs, being too short to hug him properly. Strider tried to break free from the hobbit's death grip, but only managed to fall over.
"I thought his name was only Strider, according to a big, fat, stinky kid who I talked to," Pippin said, confuzzled.
"It IS," Strider growled, attempting to stand in vain.
"Oh," the hobbits said in unison. Frodo let go of Strider and scampered over to the others.
Strider got up and brushed himself off. "Of all the creatures to choose as a Ringbearer," he muttered angrily. He glanced over at the hobbits, only to find that Frodo was pulling the Ring on and off of his finger.
"Now you see me," he put it on. "Now you don't." And he repeated the process. Pippin, Merry, and Sam watched in amazement as he vanished and reappeared.
"I take my eyes off of you for TWO seconds, and look what happens!" Strider sighed heavily and walked over to Frodo, grabbing his wrists and holding them apart before Frodo could slip on the Ring again.
Pippin poked Strider timidly. "Why did you take Frodo up here?"
"So that he would not draw too much attention to himself, and then get found by the Enemy."
"You wouldn't happen to know Gandalf the Grey, would you?" Merry inquired curiously, suspicious. This guy knew too much for his own good.
"Yes, in fact, I do. That zit-faced git seems to be delayed, so it looks like it is up to me to baby sit you munchkins."
"Yay, we're saved!" cried Pippin and Sam.
Frodo was staring up at.. something. Strider and the other hobbits looked at him, then up at the ceiling to try and see what was so terribly interesting. After the silence was too much for Strider, he cried out, "What are you looking at?!"
"The chapter title," Frodo replied plainly.
"What?!"
Frodo pointed. "It says 'Social Grooming'."
"I repeat, wha—" Strider was cut off.
"I think Merry has lice. Does that mean we have to pick it out?" Sam asked, looking quite nauseated.
"You know what? The author is also a zit-faced git, and I do not give a flying rat's tail what the chapter title is!"
Pippin had already started to rummage through Merry's curly hair. "Aww, but I almost caught one," he whined. "And I should like to see what a flying rat's tail would look like!"
"You four, go to bed. I will keep watch for Nazgûl," Strider said, fed up with the young hobbits' ignorance.
"Nazgûl?" Merry asked as he straightened his lice-free hair.
"Servants of Sauron. They were once Men, but now they are neither living nor dead."
"How incredibly uninteresting," Merry yawned.
Strider stopped himself from, yet again, smacking his forehead. He would lose all sense by morning at this rate.
"Where's Frodo?" asked Pippin as he jumped on the bed.
Sam watched Pippin, waiting for when he'd miscalculate a jump and hit his head on the floor. Merry rolled his eyes and grabbed Pippin's ankle, causing him to fall over. "Frodo is, uh, changing into pajamas." Even as the words escaped his mouth, he didn't believe them anymore from when he heard them first from Frodo.
Before any questions could be asked, Frodo opened the door and waddled, yes, waddled into the room. He was wearing a one-piece, woolen penguin suit. Little penguin footies, wings, and all.
Strider glanced away from the window and saw Frodo. He stifled a laugh, and then turned his head away again. Not that he could see anything through the blurred glass, since it was raining. Silly Strider.
Pippin rolled off the bed in laughter. Sam and Merry exchanged amused looks and snickered.
"My mom made me pack it!" Frodo said in a pathetic attempt to save his already-shattered dignity.
"Frodo, isn't your mother…?" Sam trailed off.
"I mean, uh—Bilbo, no… It has sentimental value!" Frodo stomped over to the bed, plopped down in Pippin's vacant spot, and fell asleep.
The next morning they stole—or borrowed without giving back, as Strider put it—a pony from some jerk named Bill Ferny. Sam immediately became emotionally attached to the beast of burden, because it was just so darn cute!
"Shotgun!" Pippin called as he made a running jump onto the poor pony's back. Bill (Sam thought of the name, not I) gave a yelp of pain and surprise. But the yelp sounded more like a "moo" than anything else.
"No, you ninny!" Merry cried, pulling Pippin off the pony's back. "It is going to carry or packs, not us!"
"Aww," Pippin whimpered.
"Let us get a move on," Strider said. "I wish to reach Weathertop by nightfall."
"Weathertop," Sam and Frodo snickered. "What a stupid name."
And so, Strider took hold of Bill's reins and started walking, not caring whether or not the hobbits were following or not. He would have liked it better if they had stayed behind in Bree, for he was confident that he could throw that stupid Ring into some stupid volcano without that stupid hobbit's help. At any rate, their journey had begun.
Oh dear. Talk about a writer's block induced chapter. o.o Next one will be better, I promise! *grovels*