Chapter 4: First Impressions

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Within a few moments, Frodo found himself far removed from the hustle and bustle of the nearby inn. He was no longer surrounded by the mob of pathetic ale drinkers and miserable adventurers. Now, he was in a more comfortable are: a bedroom, within the inn.

For a moment, the room started to remind Frodo of his times back in Hobbiton. Though the ceiling was, of course, higher than that of the usual hobbit hole, it did have all the requirements of a proper hobbit dwelling establishment: big, comfortable beds, furniture, an adequate fireplace, though unlit at this juncture, a proper cabinet, and of course, pipes and ashtrays, as hobbits were filthy smokers.

As the large stranger placed him down, Frodo took one good look at the man who snatched him by the collar. He was a black haired individual, cut short, with lighter brown, hazel eyes. His eyebrows were neither thick and bushy, nor thin and straight, but a steady median between the two. He bore the look, not of a hero, or of a fool, but of one of the most dangerous types of people in all existence: a cynic. He was baring his teeth,as he looked on, half in disgust, at the sight before him, his shirt sweaty, his rustic cloak rusty, and his boots all worn.

"I presume you had a lovely time making a fool of yourself, Mr. Underhill...."

"What in blazes are you going to do to me ?"

"I was thinking of buttering your arse but I'm sorely lacking in butter. Anyway, what on earth were you thinking, you stupid ape. Putting on that bloody ring in public..."

"Look, you faggot, it was an acci..."

"Oh, everything is a bloody accident. Like me buttering your arse would be an accident itself !

Now listen carefully: I know full well about hobbits disappearing in public, but, to magically disappear in front of an audience, that's quite a different feat !

Now, what do you have to say for yourself, you little midget ?"

Frodo decided to remain silent. A defiant type of silence, defiant in the face of adversity.

"Oh yes, make me look like the villain."

As Edmund said this, a knock came on the door. Edmund reached for his sheath, and waited patiently.

False alarm. It was only Percy and Baldrick.

Though Percy was caring a rather large bag on his back.

One that was moving very violently.

"Well, since you bagged one..."

"Oh very funny Percy: "Bagged". Now get those animals out before you suffocate them."

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"Now listen carefully you lot: you have cause a substantial amount of trouble at this time of the night, and by right. So, I suggest that you all get a good night's rest, as we are going to have a *marvelous* adventure through the woods tomorrow."

~

As the little hobbits lay comfortably in bed, their large mouths snoring ridiculously loudly and with their feet left bare, Edmund, Percy and Baldrick stayed awake, close to the window. The smell of the hobbits feet wafted, by some unknown force, to the nostrils of the three men's noses, perhaps a reason why the three chose to stay awake at this time of the night.

"Looks like we finally have the Ringbearer now Edmund."

"Indeed we do. But that's only the first part of our plan...''

"There is a plan ?"

"Yes Percy. Now shut up."

"Anyway, Edmund, I notice that the sword sheath on your right is much shorter and fatter. What sort of dagger are you wielding ?"

"Ah Baldrick ! It is not a dagger !"

And with that, Edmund reached to the sheath on his left. The handle of the weapon, as Baldrick noticed earlier, was distinctly unique, as it was curved in a manner which would allow the weapon to be pointed, not horizontally, but vertically. It was a handle, similar o that of some dagger's he had seen, but it was thicker and fatter, luck as thought it was more of a support than a handle of an actual weapon.

And Edmund revealed the weapon. It was not a dagger, not a blade of any kind. It was.... he was quite unsure as to what it was. The handle of the weapon was a long stick, which was attached to a pipe at the end. There were a few elaborate mechanisms on the weapon which Baldrick found incredibly foreign to him. Baldrick could only think of one possibility as to the actual use of the weapon.

"Edmund, please don't tell me that is a clyster pipe...."

"No you nitwit. Though that would be more efficient, it would take too long, and I can't really be bothered to pull down the pants of all my enemies.

No Baldrick.: This here is the future of weaponry in all Middle Earth. Forget swords, knives, hammers or even the bow: THIS is the definitive weapon of the season.

This weapon here uses the Fire of Orthanc, and was a gift from Saruman to me a while back. As you know, Saruman created that explosive mixture, and now, I have it's secrets, all in this little device.

Watch. I insert powder in the pipe here, then place a small pellet. Then, I simply have to pull the trigger here, like I would to a crossbow, and, poof !, I win."

"Incredible !"

"Yes it is, but, I do not have enough of this magic powder that Saruman gave me. I need to get a bit more of from his as soon as I can. As far as we know, Isengard is still safe territory, so I'll journey there tomorrow. You two escort the hobbits as we earlier planned. Then, I will catch up with you along the road to Rivendell."

"As you command, Edmund."

Good. And you Percy ?"

"Same here, though I have to admit: that's one clever use of a clyster pipe there..."

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