Chapter Two = At the Hotel of the Hopping Horse
Obligatory Legal Disclamer Thingy: OK. This fic' has not been authorised by the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema or anyone else with a connection to the Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings, names and related indicia is a trademark of the JRR Tolkien Estate and does not belong to me, though I sure as heck wish it did. Err. thank you. Now read this fic.
As always, for Chris, Zoe and Jose
Plodding down the bank of the Brandy Wine river, Fido drew in deep breaths of air, wondering what to say. Phlegm was wandering several feet behind him, kicking at rocks and looking very surly indeed.
"So, Flam. How're you doing?"
"Horrible. And it's phlegm, meatball head."
Fido considered that statement. "Oh. So.why'd your parents name you after a bodily fluid, anyway?"
"Dunno. Why'd your parents name you after a dog?"
The Bobbit had no reply to that, so he remained silent. Over the years, he had found that talking to Phlegm when he was in a bad mood resembled conversing with a particularly uncommunicative wall. Only you got more from a wall. At length, he managed to form a thought. "Hey, Phlegm, D'you know how to get to Pee?" Pee was a small town in which the Hopping Horse was situated and was mainly inhabited by Men. (no women, by the way, which is why everyone there was perpetually in a state of constant sulkiness.)
"Pee? Nope." Phlegm growled, kicking a stone and bruising his big toe. "No idea at all."
"Oh!" Fido cried, sitting flat on his bottom, tears streaming down his cheeks. "We're lost! Lost with nothing but a pair of smelly jeans."
"Jeans?" Phlegm asked, eyes resting on the pants. "Jeans!"
"Phlegm! What are you doing?!"
"I want those jeans! It's calling me! It says it'll improve my luck with women if I bonk you over the head with a rock and take them and wear them so that the nine Dork Riders will be drawn to it's siren call!" Phlegm shouted, a manic expression on his face. "Give them to me!"
"No!"
"Fool of a Bobbit! All Bobbits are smelly!"
"Hang on, Aren't you one of us?"
"No! I'm just a really short Man! Give the pants to me, Fido! You're never getting to Pee!" Phlegm yelled, leaping at Fido, arms outstretched. Fido began to sob.
But Phlegm's aim was well off it's mark. Missing Fido, he crashed into a boulder and lay very still.
Fido climbed to his feet, crushing a clump of daises in the process. Standing there, wondering just what to do with his mad gardener, he looked up at a far-off noise.
It was Stinkin' Crook and Hairy Lendabuck, two of Fido's distant relations. "Well done, Old Shaggings! You've got him!"
"Yeah. We saw Phlegm trying to have it on with you.lousy employer molester." Hairy grunted, prodding Phlegm with his toe. "What brings you here?"
"I need to get to Pee," said Fido slowly. "D'you know the way?"
"There's a ferry." Hairy said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "But It's not been used for three years. I don't think."
"I'll take it!" Fido cried, stuffing the jeans into his coat pocket. "Let's go, chums!"
***
"This stinks!" Fido wailed a moment later. The Ferry had indeed fallen into disrepair. The boards were creaky, there was a huge hole in it's floor and there was something that looked rather suspiciously like a used tampon slotted in between two planks. "We can't use this!"
"You want to get to Pee, don't you?" Stinkin' said, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, here's the Huckleberry Ferry. Only mode of transport around these parts."
"Hang on," Fido said, shushing him. "What's that?"
They all jumped as a mad cackling came from a clump of bushes. There, a bearded man with knobbly knees was cavorting wildly around wearing a nightgown and a feather boa. "I'm your transit officer!" He cried, leaping about. "How may I help you?"
"He's gone bonkers!" Hairy breathed. "We'd best leave without him."
They were just climbing into the boat when the creepy man caught sight of the trouser leg dangling from Fido's coat pocket. Grinning like a mental patient, he capered nearer and nearer to the ferry. "The One Jeans! Give them to me!" He cried, shaking a gnarled finger in their direction. "The Dork Lord shall pay me well for this!"
"No!" Fido screamed, kicking out at him with a furry foot. "Go back to your master!"
Leaving the freaky transit officer behind them, the Bobbits sailed down the Brandy Wine River to Pee.
The Hotel of the hopping horse was luxuriously furnished. Owned by Barleymad Butterbeer, it stood in the middle of a distinguished part of Pee and was meant for gentelmen who felt just a bit inadequate for lack of the fairer sex. The three Bobbits looked around in awe at the leather sofas and velvet carpeting.
"Hey, Fido." Stinkin' whispered, prodding his cousin on the shoulder. "That man's been doing nothing but stare at you since we came in."
"Oh, really?" Fido said, feeling rather flattered. "Where?"
Turning around, the Bobbit looked through narrowed eyes at the very large figure in the corner, lolled on a mahogany armchair and sipping an apple martini. "Oooh. What d'you suppose he wants me for?"
"I dunno. You'd best be on your guard, though."
Sitting down on a small stool, Fido ordered a Mai Tai, constantly poking Hairy in the eye with the swizzle stick.
"Ouch! Stop that."
"Sorry."
"No, you're not. Just stop that and finish your girly drink."
"It is not a girly drink!" Fido said huffily.
"Of course it is." Intervened Stinkin'. It's pink. And fruity. And it smells like an old lady."
"Shut up, compost face!"
Outraged, Stinkin' reached out a hand and slapped at Fido, causing the liquor to spill all over the Bobbit's breeches."
"Look what you've done!" Fido cried. "Now I've got to change my pants."
"Your fault."
Scowling, Fido pulled the jeans on. ***
The doors of the Hopping Horse exploded like a child blowing up a paper bag as nine horsed riders clad in black burst in.
"Give us the Jeans!"
"No!" Fido yelled, cowering expertly behind an expensive statue of a nude woman wearing a tiara. "You'll never get the pants!"
The man in the corner had leaped up from his sofa, brandishing a large, leather bound book. "Be off with you!" He bellowed, shaking the book in their faces. "I'm a lawyer, and I'll read you your rights!"
With a shriek, the nine Dork Riders fled for their lives.
"You draw too much attention to yourself." The man said, scowling and turning a colour vaguely similar tothat of a Maraschino cherry.
"What? Asked Fido, tugging at his waistband for no apparent reason. "What were those? And who are you?"
"I am Prancer, the Scout. And those were the Nine Dork Riders. They were parody writers, once.Saulang tricked them by giving them nine fake Calvin Kliens. The trousers shrank in the rain.whilst they were still wearing them. Squeezed into submission, they gave up their souls to the Dork Lord so that he would give them access to a tailor. He never did. Now, they hunt the One Jeans. All their thought is bent upon it. They seek it night and day.you must never put them on, for then the Dork Riders will find you."
"And what will happen if they do?"
"Really bad stuff. Stuff involving a live marmot, a Barney body suit and Telletubby reruns on a black and white TV."
Fido shuddered despite himself. "Where is Dandruff?"
"In court."
"What?!"
"Sherry, his manicurist, cut his nails too short. He's suing her for it right now." Prancer paused. "Dandruff sent me to get you. He wants me to take you to Riverdale, home of the Elves. There, we will learn the next step of your journey.
End of Chapter Two
Obligatory Legal Disclamer Thingy: OK. This fic' has not been authorised by the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema or anyone else with a connection to the Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings, names and related indicia is a trademark of the JRR Tolkien Estate and does not belong to me, though I sure as heck wish it did. Err. thank you. Now read this fic.
As always, for Chris, Zoe and Jose
Plodding down the bank of the Brandy Wine river, Fido drew in deep breaths of air, wondering what to say. Phlegm was wandering several feet behind him, kicking at rocks and looking very surly indeed.
"So, Flam. How're you doing?"
"Horrible. And it's phlegm, meatball head."
Fido considered that statement. "Oh. So.why'd your parents name you after a bodily fluid, anyway?"
"Dunno. Why'd your parents name you after a dog?"
The Bobbit had no reply to that, so he remained silent. Over the years, he had found that talking to Phlegm when he was in a bad mood resembled conversing with a particularly uncommunicative wall. Only you got more from a wall. At length, he managed to form a thought. "Hey, Phlegm, D'you know how to get to Pee?" Pee was a small town in which the Hopping Horse was situated and was mainly inhabited by Men. (no women, by the way, which is why everyone there was perpetually in a state of constant sulkiness.)
"Pee? Nope." Phlegm growled, kicking a stone and bruising his big toe. "No idea at all."
"Oh!" Fido cried, sitting flat on his bottom, tears streaming down his cheeks. "We're lost! Lost with nothing but a pair of smelly jeans."
"Jeans?" Phlegm asked, eyes resting on the pants. "Jeans!"
"Phlegm! What are you doing?!"
"I want those jeans! It's calling me! It says it'll improve my luck with women if I bonk you over the head with a rock and take them and wear them so that the nine Dork Riders will be drawn to it's siren call!" Phlegm shouted, a manic expression on his face. "Give them to me!"
"No!"
"Fool of a Bobbit! All Bobbits are smelly!"
"Hang on, Aren't you one of us?"
"No! I'm just a really short Man! Give the pants to me, Fido! You're never getting to Pee!" Phlegm yelled, leaping at Fido, arms outstretched. Fido began to sob.
But Phlegm's aim was well off it's mark. Missing Fido, he crashed into a boulder and lay very still.
Fido climbed to his feet, crushing a clump of daises in the process. Standing there, wondering just what to do with his mad gardener, he looked up at a far-off noise.
It was Stinkin' Crook and Hairy Lendabuck, two of Fido's distant relations. "Well done, Old Shaggings! You've got him!"
"Yeah. We saw Phlegm trying to have it on with you.lousy employer molester." Hairy grunted, prodding Phlegm with his toe. "What brings you here?"
"I need to get to Pee," said Fido slowly. "D'you know the way?"
"There's a ferry." Hairy said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "But It's not been used for three years. I don't think."
"I'll take it!" Fido cried, stuffing the jeans into his coat pocket. "Let's go, chums!"
***
"This stinks!" Fido wailed a moment later. The Ferry had indeed fallen into disrepair. The boards were creaky, there was a huge hole in it's floor and there was something that looked rather suspiciously like a used tampon slotted in between two planks. "We can't use this!"
"You want to get to Pee, don't you?" Stinkin' said, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, here's the Huckleberry Ferry. Only mode of transport around these parts."
"Hang on," Fido said, shushing him. "What's that?"
They all jumped as a mad cackling came from a clump of bushes. There, a bearded man with knobbly knees was cavorting wildly around wearing a nightgown and a feather boa. "I'm your transit officer!" He cried, leaping about. "How may I help you?"
"He's gone bonkers!" Hairy breathed. "We'd best leave without him."
They were just climbing into the boat when the creepy man caught sight of the trouser leg dangling from Fido's coat pocket. Grinning like a mental patient, he capered nearer and nearer to the ferry. "The One Jeans! Give them to me!" He cried, shaking a gnarled finger in their direction. "The Dork Lord shall pay me well for this!"
"No!" Fido screamed, kicking out at him with a furry foot. "Go back to your master!"
Leaving the freaky transit officer behind them, the Bobbits sailed down the Brandy Wine River to Pee.
The Hotel of the hopping horse was luxuriously furnished. Owned by Barleymad Butterbeer, it stood in the middle of a distinguished part of Pee and was meant for gentelmen who felt just a bit inadequate for lack of the fairer sex. The three Bobbits looked around in awe at the leather sofas and velvet carpeting.
"Hey, Fido." Stinkin' whispered, prodding his cousin on the shoulder. "That man's been doing nothing but stare at you since we came in."
"Oh, really?" Fido said, feeling rather flattered. "Where?"
Turning around, the Bobbit looked through narrowed eyes at the very large figure in the corner, lolled on a mahogany armchair and sipping an apple martini. "Oooh. What d'you suppose he wants me for?"
"I dunno. You'd best be on your guard, though."
Sitting down on a small stool, Fido ordered a Mai Tai, constantly poking Hairy in the eye with the swizzle stick.
"Ouch! Stop that."
"Sorry."
"No, you're not. Just stop that and finish your girly drink."
"It is not a girly drink!" Fido said huffily.
"Of course it is." Intervened Stinkin'. It's pink. And fruity. And it smells like an old lady."
"Shut up, compost face!"
Outraged, Stinkin' reached out a hand and slapped at Fido, causing the liquor to spill all over the Bobbit's breeches."
"Look what you've done!" Fido cried. "Now I've got to change my pants."
"Your fault."
Scowling, Fido pulled the jeans on. ***
The doors of the Hopping Horse exploded like a child blowing up a paper bag as nine horsed riders clad in black burst in.
"Give us the Jeans!"
"No!" Fido yelled, cowering expertly behind an expensive statue of a nude woman wearing a tiara. "You'll never get the pants!"
The man in the corner had leaped up from his sofa, brandishing a large, leather bound book. "Be off with you!" He bellowed, shaking the book in their faces. "I'm a lawyer, and I'll read you your rights!"
With a shriek, the nine Dork Riders fled for their lives.
"You draw too much attention to yourself." The man said, scowling and turning a colour vaguely similar tothat of a Maraschino cherry.
"What? Asked Fido, tugging at his waistband for no apparent reason. "What were those? And who are you?"
"I am Prancer, the Scout. And those were the Nine Dork Riders. They were parody writers, once.Saulang tricked them by giving them nine fake Calvin Kliens. The trousers shrank in the rain.whilst they were still wearing them. Squeezed into submission, they gave up their souls to the Dork Lord so that he would give them access to a tailor. He never did. Now, they hunt the One Jeans. All their thought is bent upon it. They seek it night and day.you must never put them on, for then the Dork Riders will find you."
"And what will happen if they do?"
"Really bad stuff. Stuff involving a live marmot, a Barney body suit and Telletubby reruns on a black and white TV."
Fido shuddered despite himself. "Where is Dandruff?"
"In court."
"What?!"
"Sherry, his manicurist, cut his nails too short. He's suing her for it right now." Prancer paused. "Dandruff sent me to get you. He wants me to take you to Riverdale, home of the Elves. There, we will learn the next step of your journey.
End of Chapter Two