The hobbits finally get past the begging wraiths and walk into the Inn, soaking wet. They walk up to the bar.
Frodo: [looking up at the barman.] Excuse me?
Barliman: Good evening young sirs! You seem to be looking for a place to stay! We've got some cosy hobbit-sized rooms available if you'd like?
Frodo: We're looking for Gandalf?
Barliman: [Sharply.] Well how the bloody hell am I to know who Gandalf is for Eru's sake?
Frodo: I beg your pardon?
Barliman: [Nicely.]Gandalf you say… Gandalf… Ooh yes! Elderly chap, long beard, pointy hat….
Frodo: Yes
Barliman: Bloody twit of the West, what do you want me to do? Take you to him I suppose??
Frodo: I… I'm sorry?
Barliman: He's not been here for six months I'm afraid…
Sam: [To Frodo.] What do we do now?
Frodo: Could we have four halves of your best Ale please?
Barliman: Get your own! You great poofy hoonager!
Frodo: What?
Barliman: Certainly young master, three ale's.
Frodo: Oh, thankyou.
Barliman: 'Oh, thank you' says the great queen like a la-di-dah pooftah!
Frodo: I beg your pardon?
Barliman: That's alright sir, anything else?
Frodo: Well yes actually…
Barliman: What is it now you great pillock?
Frodo: Well, I can't help noticing that you insult me and then you're polite to me alternately.
Barliman: I'm terribly sorry to hear that, young master.
Frodo: That's all right, it really doesn't matter.
Barliman: Tough titty you nasty spotty prancer!
Somewhat bemused, the hobbits take their seat opposite from Strider, who stares at them intently.
Frodo: It's all right Sam, he'll come.
Merry walks over with a large pint glass in his hands.
Pippin: What's that?
Merry: This, my friend, is a pint!
Pippin: A pint? I'm getting one!
Sam: You've had a whole half already!
Sam gives up and looks over to the corner where Strider sits.
Sam: That bartender worried me, and who is that man over there? He's been looking at you since we arrived.
Frodo looks over to Strider, who sits in the corner, smoking his "pipe weed." The smoke rises and his eyes flash menacingly. Frodo stops Barliman, who is walking past.
Frodo: Excuse me, who is that?
Barliman: That? He's a ranger of sorts. Not many of us around here deal with 'im.
Frodo: What's his name?
Barliman: Why the hell do you want to know you toffee-nosed twat?!
Frodo: I … erm… beg your pardon?
Barliman: Around here, he goes by the name of Strider.
Barliman shuffles off, leaving Frodo looking at Strider. He begins to finger the ring, when he overhears Pippin.
Pippin: Baggins? 'Course I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins…
Frodo runs over to Pippin in a rush.
Frodo: No pippin!
Pippin: Steady on Frodo!
Frodo falls, and the ring falls upon his finger.
Muttering Breelanders: Qu'est quelle… Sacre bleu!
Frodo sees the world changed, and looks to the great eye, which speaks to him
Eye: I see you! Peek-aboo!
Frodo takes the ring off hurriedly and finds himself next to Strider, who picks him up roughly.
Strider: You should be more careful of the company you keep, Mr BAGGINS!
Frodo: How did you…
Strider; No time for that, I've a mind to take you to your room.
Frodo gets dragged off to almost certain ravishing by a certain ranger, and the scene ends
