Frodo and Sam hurried along the road to Rivendell, sweating under the mid-
summer sun. Sam took his cloak off and sighed.
"I'll have to stop a bit Mr. Frodo." He said, pausing and leaning against a tree. Frodo looked round, and smiled wearily at his best friend.
"Oh Sam." He sighed and walked over to him. "Okay then, for a little while." They settled under the shade of a large oak tree, and leant against the trunk.
"Why are we going to see the elves, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, looking up at the canopy of leaves.
"We promised Lord Elrond we'd visit him, remember?" Frodo looked over at Sam. "He's getting on a bit now, I think he just wants some company."
"He's got Bilbo, hasn't he?" Frodo smiled slightly.
"Ah yes, Bilbo, we'll have to see him, won't we?" Sam frowned gently, and pulled his pipe from the traveling bag.
"If he even remembers who we are anymore." He grumbled, searching his pockets for some pipeweed. Frodo laughed lightly.
"He'll remember Sam, don't worry."
The two Hobbits lazed around under the great oak for a while, then decided to go on. Sam reluctantly packed his bag again, while Frodo rolled his cloak up and slid it into his own bag.
"Come on then Sam." He waited till Sam was next to him, then they started walking again.
They hadn't got far when it started to rain.
"What the..." Frodo yelped, racing under the trees for some cover. Sam was right behind him, but it was too late, they were soaked to the skin. They hurriedly found some cover and pulled their cloaks from their packs.
"The sun was shining only half hour ago!" Sam exclaimed, as they peered out from the hollow tree trunk at the weather. Frodo frowned.
"I don't like this very much Sam, it's not natural." Sam gasped, then thought hard for a few moments.
"You... you don't think its an... an Author... do you?"
Frodo's eyes widened, "No! No, it can't be..." But he wasn't sure.
There had been no mention of Authors in the shire for over 60 years, since Bilbo's last adventure, in fact. The details were few and horrible to hear, like how Bilbo suddenly found himself attracted to dwarves, or became lost in the caves when he wasn't even in them anymore. It was during the time of the last Author that the dragon came, the only dragon in the Shire for over a hundred years. If an Author had, in fact, found Middle Earth, then they were all in very great peril.
"Quickly Sam, we must reach Rivendell as soon as possible!" Frodo pulled his hood up and ran, Sam right behind him. As they ran, Sam looked over at his best friend, and realised how fond he was of the older hobbit. He smiled to himself, then shook himself out of it and concentrated on running.
They had to stop abruptly, however, when a Thing landed in their path. Sam looked up, but couldn't see anything to indicate that the Thing had fallen from anything. It had just fallen, and landed in front of them. Frodo looked curiously at the Thing. It appeared man-like, though it was wearing strange clothes. 'It's a skirt,' Frodo realised. The now very wet Thing groaned, and sat up.
"Oh." It said, as it spotted Frodo and Sam. The hobbits stared at the Thing. It was indeed a man, with a strange short-spiky hairstyle. It looked like Pippin. "Hello." It said in a very strong accent that Frodo couldn't place.
"Um, are you okay?" Frodo asked, stepping forward a little way. The Pippin- Thing looked down at himself, then stood up.
"I'm very wet, aren't I?" Frodo blinked, then pulled his spare cloak from his bag.
"Here you go." The Pippin-Thing smiled, and pulled the cloak round his shoulders, and put the hood up.
"That's better." He looked down at the hobbits. "I'm Billy."
"I'm Frodo. That's Sam." Frodo replied simply. There was an uncomfortable silence.
"So... Where am I?" Billy said, eventually.
"Middle Earth."
"Oh really, I heard it was nice this time of year..." Billy looked up at the clouds, which had started to disperse. "Guess I caught it at a bad time huh?"
"We're on our way to Rivendell." Frodo said hospitably. Sam glared suspiciously at the stranger. "Would you like to join us?" Billy grinned.
"oh, that'd be nice." He said. And so, they set off to Rivendell.
"I'll have to stop a bit Mr. Frodo." He said, pausing and leaning against a tree. Frodo looked round, and smiled wearily at his best friend.
"Oh Sam." He sighed and walked over to him. "Okay then, for a little while." They settled under the shade of a large oak tree, and leant against the trunk.
"Why are we going to see the elves, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, looking up at the canopy of leaves.
"We promised Lord Elrond we'd visit him, remember?" Frodo looked over at Sam. "He's getting on a bit now, I think he just wants some company."
"He's got Bilbo, hasn't he?" Frodo smiled slightly.
"Ah yes, Bilbo, we'll have to see him, won't we?" Sam frowned gently, and pulled his pipe from the traveling bag.
"If he even remembers who we are anymore." He grumbled, searching his pockets for some pipeweed. Frodo laughed lightly.
"He'll remember Sam, don't worry."
The two Hobbits lazed around under the great oak for a while, then decided to go on. Sam reluctantly packed his bag again, while Frodo rolled his cloak up and slid it into his own bag.
"Come on then Sam." He waited till Sam was next to him, then they started walking again.
They hadn't got far when it started to rain.
"What the..." Frodo yelped, racing under the trees for some cover. Sam was right behind him, but it was too late, they were soaked to the skin. They hurriedly found some cover and pulled their cloaks from their packs.
"The sun was shining only half hour ago!" Sam exclaimed, as they peered out from the hollow tree trunk at the weather. Frodo frowned.
"I don't like this very much Sam, it's not natural." Sam gasped, then thought hard for a few moments.
"You... you don't think its an... an Author... do you?"
Frodo's eyes widened, "No! No, it can't be..." But he wasn't sure.
There had been no mention of Authors in the shire for over 60 years, since Bilbo's last adventure, in fact. The details were few and horrible to hear, like how Bilbo suddenly found himself attracted to dwarves, or became lost in the caves when he wasn't even in them anymore. It was during the time of the last Author that the dragon came, the only dragon in the Shire for over a hundred years. If an Author had, in fact, found Middle Earth, then they were all in very great peril.
"Quickly Sam, we must reach Rivendell as soon as possible!" Frodo pulled his hood up and ran, Sam right behind him. As they ran, Sam looked over at his best friend, and realised how fond he was of the older hobbit. He smiled to himself, then shook himself out of it and concentrated on running.
They had to stop abruptly, however, when a Thing landed in their path. Sam looked up, but couldn't see anything to indicate that the Thing had fallen from anything. It had just fallen, and landed in front of them. Frodo looked curiously at the Thing. It appeared man-like, though it was wearing strange clothes. 'It's a skirt,' Frodo realised. The now very wet Thing groaned, and sat up.
"Oh." It said, as it spotted Frodo and Sam. The hobbits stared at the Thing. It was indeed a man, with a strange short-spiky hairstyle. It looked like Pippin. "Hello." It said in a very strong accent that Frodo couldn't place.
"Um, are you okay?" Frodo asked, stepping forward a little way. The Pippin- Thing looked down at himself, then stood up.
"I'm very wet, aren't I?" Frodo blinked, then pulled his spare cloak from his bag.
"Here you go." The Pippin-Thing smiled, and pulled the cloak round his shoulders, and put the hood up.
"That's better." He looked down at the hobbits. "I'm Billy."
"I'm Frodo. That's Sam." Frodo replied simply. There was an uncomfortable silence.
"So... Where am I?" Billy said, eventually.
"Middle Earth."
"Oh really, I heard it was nice this time of year..." Billy looked up at the clouds, which had started to disperse. "Guess I caught it at a bad time huh?"
"We're on our way to Rivendell." Frodo said hospitably. Sam glared suspiciously at the stranger. "Would you like to join us?" Billy grinned.
"oh, that'd be nice." He said. And so, they set off to Rivendell.