Chapter 2 : At the Sign of the Smelly Arse
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Edmund was slightly put off by the fact that he, unwittingly, embarrassed himself in front of a whole host of people.
"Drat this nonsense again. Must remind myself: do not make an arse of one's self in public."
"Anyway, Edmund: whom are we waiting for here ?"
"Let's see: four miserable short buggers, one being that horrendous cretin called Baggins, the other his gardener, and the last two being expendables."
"Well, if that's so, then, don't you think that lot down there are who we're looking for ?"
Edmund shifted his head to the direction that Baldrick was pointing at, and, true enough, there was the sight of four, relatively short people. They were, of course, in cloaks, the reason, being quite obvious, at least to Edmund, who found it pitiful.
"Not that is just plain stupid. They're the only lot of short people in this damned inn, trying to cover themselves up wouldn't bloody well help at all."
"But Edmund, surely there must be other hobbits…"
"Unless my nose is filled with dog's snot, there's no bleeding chance that a hobbit, dwarf, gnome or whatever would lend his blood backside in this downright pathetic in.. Why, even the elves shun this place. This inn is only for bums, drunks, and lousy adventurers…."
"Alright, alright…. But, what do we do now ?"
"Let's see: Gandalf wanted us to track down "Mr. Underhill" and his gang, which is what we a re to do now."
"But, if that's the case, then… why re we sitting down here and still drinking ale ?"
"That's the thing, my dear Percy: you have to have a keen eye. You must use observation, strike in at the right moment ! Let's just wait…"
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"Well, Frodo, here we are. Gandalf asked us to meet a man called Barliman…"
"I suppose. Can't believe this dreadful s*it. One moment, I was resting my wonderful fat arse upon inheriting the couch that my uncle used to rest his fat arse on, and, the next moment, I'm down here, carrying about some ring that can literally screw us all up."
"Oh, cheer up Frodo ! Here, have a beer…"
Scruffy hands, filled with the soil of diseased plants, offered Frodo a hole ridden mug, filled to the brim with a foaming, foul smelling fluid.
"Samwise, get that bloody filth out of my face."
Pippin and Merry were now thinking of something to cheer the grumpy fart.
"I know ! Let's all dance !"
Out of nowhere, a foreign hand made a grab at one of Frodo's hands, and, in a forceful gesture, made him do an unspeakable act.
"Pippin, you bloody idiot ! I do not want to dance…."
Just as Frodo said this, he pulled his hands away from Pippin, and placed both of his hands in his pockets.
"I'm bloody well…"
However, Frodo never finished his sentence.
For, in one, smooth, sliding motion, the ring, that had laid dormant for so long, slipped onto his middle finger.
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"Edmund…"
"What is it now Percy ?"
"Have you ever seen a fellow just turn into thin air ?"
"Well, I did see Gandalf once turn the homosexual that tried to advance on…"
"No, no, no, I mean, as in: he made himself into thin.."
"Wait a minute."
Edmund took a deep breath, and recollected his thoughts, before emptying, completely, the pint of ale that his hands never touched.
"Now's the time."
Edmund got up, and left both Baldrick and Percy, who were flabbergasted by their friend's sudden movement, as he scoured the inn for the erroneous hobbit.
"What's got into him ?"
"Ah, just drink your ale."
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Frodo did not realise he had turned into thin air.
"Now, what's all this, why are these bastards all staring at me… oh good lord ! I can't see my d**k !"
And, true enough, not only his clothes, his entire being was completely invisible, even to his own eye.
As Frodo moved around, he took one good look back, and realised that the audience were still staring at the thin piece of air. Of course, there can never be a piece of air, but, some short lad had, suddenly, been vaporised, into air, and the crowd was still staring at what they thought to be were the remains of a young hobbit.
Frodo then had a plan.
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"Behold, ladies and gentleman, boys, girls, eunuchs and the like: I am here !"
And true enough, Frodo reappeared, at the entrance of the inn.
"What you have just seen is the incredible disappearing act of the great Frodo, travelling Hobbit Magician !"
The crowd gave a loud applause, and resumed their drinking, resuming their own private affairs.
As Frodo felt smug at his own personal victory, a black hand reached out to grab him from behind.
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