In Which A Decision Is Made, A Journey Is Begun, And Apples Are Eaten
"Do you mean to say that dear old Bilbo carries the solution to your problems?" Frodo asked. "My cousin Bilbo, sitting in Rivendell writing his book?"
Gandalf's eyes twinkled. "It looks as if that is exactly the case," he said.
Perry ran over and hugged Legolas and Mippin. "Then the spell wasn't worthless after all!" he cried. "We'll find our answers yet, Mippin, you'll see! And then we'll know who we are for good!"
"Really?" Mippin sniffled.
"Really," Perry assured him.
"Would that Mr. Bilbo help, do you think?" asked Little Sam. "It's no use us getting all worked up till he's said yes."
"He's got a good heart," Frodo said. "I can't imagine he'd say no. Especially if Bigwig were there."
"The only way to find out is to ask him," Aragorn said firmly. "We must find him."
Merry laughed. "That's easy. We know where he is. Gandalf and Mithrandir can say their spell to bring him here."
Mithrandir frowned. "It is not so easily done," he said. "Travel between worlds is difficult enough without forcing a trip through geography as well."
"Can we get to him at all from here?" Gimli asked.
"Yes," Mithrandir said. "We must return to Rivendell — our Rivendell — and cast the spell from there. It will be a difficult journey. Wolves and other unpleasant things will be guarding the way back."
Aragorn smiled. "But you have twice the warriors in your company as you did when you set out," he said. "And our Hobbits are not entirely useless with their knives, either."
"Will you come with us, then?" asked Strider. "Will you aid us in our quest? We will need you, I think, to communicate with this Bilbo when he is found."
"Now that we have seen your plight, our hearts give us little choice but to aid you," Aragorn told his double softly. "Now, let us be off. The road grows no shorter by waiting."
It was roughly an hour later when they finally did move out. Strider and Mithrandir had plotted a course for them through the foothills of the Misty Mountains. The Hobbits kept together in a pack in the middle of the group. Mithrandir and Strider went ahead, and Gandalf stayed in the rear with the two Elves, so as to keep the two Rings physically as far apart as possible.
Both Frodo and Mr. Underhill had expressed some reservations about leaving their burdens in the hands of an alien wizard, but an incident shortly after they were underway had silenced them. Mithrandir, feeling that Strider could guide the group to the foothills perfectly well on his own, had dropped back to discuss with Gandalf how best to locate and bring Bilbo to them quickly and efficiently. As the two wizards huddled in conference, the rotoscoped Ring had shifted in Gandalf's pocket. Perhaps it sensed the presence of its counterpart, perhaps it simply sensed the opportunity for mischief.
The sky and the land had vanished abruptly, and the united companies had found themselves seemingly standing in thin air. Mist and brilliant blue lights had swirled around their feet, and lightning flashed negative coloring around the landscape. The live-action members of the party were completely disoriented, and even the animated ones had difficulty remaining on their feet.
Fortunately, Mithrandir was experienced with both Rings of Power and psychedelic special effects and had removed himself from Gandalf's vicinity quickly. Now, whenever he felt the need to communicate with the other wizard, he would call the nearest member of the combined company to convey the message.
It was occasionally difficult to estimate the time, as the lighting was not at all what Aragorn was used to, but it seemed to him that they had been walking for merely a day when the foothills hove into view. Strider declared that they would make camp then and tackle the foothills the next morning. All eight Hobbits seemed pleased by this announcement, especially Little Sam. Being so much shorter than the other seven Hobbits, he was constantly running to keep up. As the group settled down, making themselves comfortable, the Hobbits delved into their combined packs to provide a meal.
Little Sam dug in his pack, produced a shiny apple, and handed it to Frodo with a flourish. Frodo reached out for the apple and missed. He glanced at Aragorn in confusion. Aragorn considered the problem for a moment.
"I think this is related to the difficulties we have had walking through this landscape," he said finally. "It is hard for us to move because there is no depth for us to perceive here."
Frodo squinted carefully at the apple, reached again and missed.
"You were closer that time," Aragorn said. Then a thought struck him. "Close one eye and take the apple," he told Frodo. "Often I have seen men who have lost an eye in battle, and they have reported that their ability to see depth is forever hindered by this. Your problem lies in your ability to see depth, which is not needed here."
Frodo winked one eye closed and reached for the apple a third time. His fingers closed around it, and Little Sam cheered and clapped his hands. Frodo inspected the animated fruit. It had a dull reddish-brown sheen to it and seemed rather less than substantial in those places where it could not be seen, but it had a pleasimg scent and, on the whole, seemed real enough to eat. He took a cautious bite. Aragorn watched him closely. "It's real," Frodo said finally. "It's not as substantial as I should care for, but I imagine it would sustain me well enough."
"Then you round folk can eat our food," Little Sam said happily. "I'd been wondering about that. I think we'd better provide meals for all, then."
Aragorn frowned. "We could not eat so much of your provisions," he said. "You would have much less for yourselves, then."
"But we're going back to our Rivendell," Little Sam explained. "Surely Lord Elrond will replace any food that you've eaten. But you'll need all of your food for when you get back to your own world."
Aragorn had to concede the logic of the offer, and accepted gratefully. The two companies sat down to share a meal, the live-action ones quickly learning to shut one eye when they wished to grasp anything. The animated Fellowship was attentive to this handicap, offering their counterparts assistance when needed. Eventually, everyone got some food inside of them.
As the meal was winding to a close, Greenleaf suddenly sat up straighter. A hush fell over the group. "There's something out there," Greenleaf murmured to Legolas. "Do you feel it, too?"
Legolas thought for a moment, then nodded. "There is a threat," he said, "but what it is, I cannot say."
"Weapons!" Strider barked. The group scrambled to its feet and formed a circle, bows, axes and swords pointing out into the night. The sky darkened suddenly, and terribly real shadows began to lower.
"What is going on?" Gimli asked.
"Orcs!" Timkin replied. "They are the most fearsome of our enemies, for they are not like us. They are done by high-contrast photography painted over most dreadfully. They are most difficult to kill with our rotoscoped weapons."
Gimli smiled fiercely. "Then it is good that you have us at your side, then," he said. "We will be more of a match for them than they expect."
Frodo's last thought before the Orcs were upon them was a fervent hope that Gimli was right.
