Disclaimer: It's been a while since I've done one of these, so I'll renew my contract right here and now. I don't own anybody, I don't even own A body, seeing as I've been killed off for a long time. I'm not making any money except from feeding the neighbor's cats, and even then all I get is cookies. So don't blame me or sue me or anything for anything I've done. And oh yes, reviews are greatly appreciated, so thanks to everyone who has made them and left them with me. –Raja

CHAPTER SIX: How To Stall For Time And Profit

The following day yielded no sign of Gandalf. The Jedi had just disappeared into thin air, as far as the hobbits and Elfish Pretzel impersonator were concerned. Speaking of which, Strider still hadn't gotten over his victory the night before, and was still insisting that he was the coolest thing on earth since microwaveable Macaroni and Cheese.

The growing fellowship decided that they would have to go on without the Jedi, and until the time of departure they went their separate ways.

Pippin wandered into the Inn of the Three Little Pigs' gift shop and browsed through postcards for an hour before realizing he was flat broke and being kicked out of the store. Merry and Sam, in an effort to get to know each other better, went back to the bar. There they whiled away the hours laughing too hard at their own jokes and poking the local women just to hear them screech.

Frodo sat outside and smoked his pipe. He wasn't thinking of anything in particular but soon found his mind being drawn to the bead in his pocket.

"I suppose I will have to get serious about this whole catastrophe." He thought ruefully. "after all, this thing can spell out doom and destruction for Middle Earth. If it knows how to spell, that is."

It was at this very moment that Pippin poked his head outside and spotted the older hobbit. His countenance brightened considerably. "Frodo, Frodo, Frodo, Frodo!" he chanted, skipping around his cousin.

"What?!" Frodo snapped, a bit miffed at having his train of thought broken. Pippin calmed down instantly, having succeeded in drawing Frodo's attention.

"I need money for a postcard because the lady there says I can't have one unless I pay for it and I don't have any but you do can I borrow some Frodo please I promise I swear I'll pay you back!"

Frodo rolled his eyes and handed Pippin the contents of his pocket. "Don't hyperventilate or anything, geez."

Pippin was thrilled. "Thanks Frodo! I owe ya, I really do!" and with that he scampered back inside to get his postcard and show that gift shop lady who was boss.

Frodo tried to get his mind on track again but found it too far derailed to run again. Frustrated, he refilled his pipe and wondered what Sam and Merry were up to.

MEANWHILE…

"POKE!"

"'Ey, Watch it, ye bloody lil' dimwit!"

"Oh... sorry sir."

Sam cringed and turned back to his ale, Merry quickly following suite.

"Er..." Merry started.

"No points for that one, I know, I know. My mistake." Sam grumbled.

Merry shook his head. "No, you get points for that one. It was a woman."

Sam started to smile when a large beefy hand grabbed him by the shoulder.

"I was going to say," continued Merry, "that perhaps 'sir' wasn't the right word to use there."

"I see that now." Said Sam, who was being held upside-down by his ankles.

"Do you want to stop playing?" Merry asked, taking a sip of his pint.

"No, that's quite alright." Sam said between dunkings in a keg of beer.

"As long as you think you can go on." Merry's eyes followed Sam's progress as he flew across the bar.

"Oh, I can go on." Sam said, finally being shoved back onto his barstool.

"Another?" Merry offered.

"Please."

MEANWHILE…

Pippin peered over the counter at the cashier lady and poked his postcard closer to her. She peered over her glasses and raised an eyebrow at the hobbit. "That's all?"

Pippin blushed and occupied himself with adjusting his scarf. "Er… yeah. That's all."

"Well, that's hardly worth ringing up at all."

"Really?" Pippin asked, suddenly certain the lady would let him keep the postcard for free.

"Yeah, Really. I think we got a minimum limit here… and you're lucky I didn't already kick you out."

"Kick me out? WHY?" This wasn't going as planned.

The lady pointed at a sign on the wall: "No shoes no shirt no service."

"But I'm a hobbit! I don't ever wear shoes!" Pippin exclaimed.

"That's what I figured, but if you're gonna be a hobbit in here you're gonna buy more than just a postcard.

"…I'm wearing a shirt and a coat and a cloak and a scarf, surely that makes up for it!" Pippin continued.

"JUST GET SOMETHING ELSE!" the lady bellowed, her face turning red.

"Eek! Okay, okay! I'll take this!" Pippin grabbed the closest thing he could reach and slammed it on the counter next to his postcard, along with the contents of Frodo's pocket.

"Much better." She rang up Pippin's purchases and looked through the currency he had put on the counter. Pippin, in the meantime, groaned as he realized he had bought a souvenir miniature bobble head Elvish Pretzel. This wasn't going to help hinder Strider's arrogance.

The cashier lady's eyes suddenly widened as she picked something out of the useless pile from Frodo's pocket. "This should do nicely." She slid the remaining things back to Pippin and pocketed the object.

MEANWHILE…

Frodo's mind had once again wandered back to the bead. He thought back to the time he spent studying it while Gandalf slept in front of the fire. He had made a neat little discovery that he had yet to tell the Jedi. When he dropped the bead and it rolled too close to the fire, it started singing in a terrible falsetto:

One bead to laugh at them all

One bead to trip them

On a string to choke them all

And in the darkness make them...

Sparkly

And it repeated the same song over and over again until Frodo had shoved it into his freezer.

Only more incentive to make it melt in a big pit of hot stuff.

Suddenly Frodo felt an irrepressible urge to look at the bead. He felt around in his pocket and blinked.

"Where… where is… where is that bead? OH NO! PIPPIN!!!" Frodo sprang to his furry feet and bolted to the Inn, hoping beyond hope that he wasn't too late.