CHAPTER FIVE: Wraith-Troopers Are Definitely Stupid
"Here it is!" Strider grinned and threw open the door to his suite. There was only one bed but it took up more than half of the room and was trying to invade more of it. A bureau was being pressed up against a stained-glass window by the bulging mattress.
"Dude, this is a sweet suite!" Frodo enthused, enjoying the colorful view out the window.
"Sweets!" Sam squealed, attacking a mint on Strider's pillow.
Merry and Pippin merely threw themselves onto the bed and burrowed under the sheets.
"Sheets!" Sam squealed again, hiding under them himself. After a few days of bedrolls on hard ground, all the hobbits were happy to have a cushioned rest. Frodo soon followed the other three into the bed. In no time at all, all four were fast asleep.
Strider sat on the bureau by the window and brushed the hair gel out of his hair as he watches the hobbits' original room across the street. Surely if anything were to happen, he'd be awake to protect the little men.
LATER THAT NIGHT, a loud synthetic clattering was heard. The hobbits all sprang into sitting positions in the bed, eyes wide, clinging to each other.
"WHAT'S THAT?" Merry and Pippin screamed, terrified.
Strider was sitting, cross-legged, on the bureau, looking rather calmly out the window. "Wraith-Troopers." He intoned mysteriously.
Frodo raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Those again? That's not so mysterious."
Strider looked a bit surprised, having thought that the name of the terrifying creatures would be new to the hobbits. "Err... you've met them?"
"Well, not personally, but I never set off on a quest without doing some research on the dangerous indigenous populace." Frodo smiled slightly.
Strider was at a loss for words. Damn, he would have liked to scare the hobbits a little bit before he told them everything. He tried again. "They used to be men, you know."
"Oh yes, but then they were tricked into accepting plastic bead necklaces that were really collars and were led over to the dark side. Now they are doomed to serve under the command of Darth Sauron."
Strider blinked. "Uh... yeah... that's right."
Frodo noted Strider's confusion. "Seriously man, you have to read a little more. They have information about all this junk down at the library."
The synthetic clanking noise—which had continued through this little interlude—suddenly stopped. The buzz of nine light sabers filled the air, causing the hobbits' hair to stand on end with static energy. Loud ripping noises followed, then the high pitched screaming and static feedback of Trooper communication devices.
"Yess!" Strider exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. The hobbits gave him a confused stare. "I tricked them!" he explained, "I set up this little trap and they fell for it!" Then he chanted a prayer of thanks: "I'm good, I'm good, oh yeah, who's the king? Who's the master? Me! It's me!"
The hobbits were disgusted at Strider's self-involvement.
Sam leaned towards Frodo, his eyes focused on Strider, who was happily sashaying around the room like a belly dancer. "Say... do we really have to stick with this guy?" he asked apprehensively, forgetting his drunken admiration from the night before.
"I'm afraid so, Sam." Frodo sighed. "He's the only one of us tall enough to see over bushes. Besides, I think he'll be useful later on."
