CHAPTER SEVEN: In Which Many Things Are Rushed

"Pippin!" Frodo shouted, bursting into the Inn.

Luckily for him, Pippin was right there in front of him.

"Frodo!" Pippin shouted. "Here, I have all your stuff, you can have it back."

Frodo fell to his knees, spread his stuff out on the floor, and searched through it with a vigor that surprised Pippin.

"Frodo, I'm hurt! You don't trust that I gave you back every last thing you gave me?"

"Not now, Pippin, I need the bead!"

"You need the bead?" Pippin mused for a moment. "That rhymes!" he concluded mere minutes later.

Of course by then Frodo was in the gift shop, arguing with the cashier about Pippin's payment.

"It's mine, I tell you!" the lady shouted. "That fine little lad with no shoes on gave it to me!"

"Well, I gave it to HIM, and I want it back!"

"Oh, you gave it to him, did you? Well that's a fine tale, but I'm hearing none of it! Unless you got something better than this to trade for it, you aren't getting it back!"

Frodo sputtered. "But it's MINE!" he said lamely.

"Well it's mine now!"

Frodo had no time to come up with a better retort, because before he could do so, he was grabbed from behind by two strong, well-manicured hands. It was Strider. "Quick, get back!" the performer hissed between clenched teeth. He had changed out of his Elfish Pretzel costume and was looking a little more like a real human being.

The two of them got back just in time, for two Wraith-Troopers had found the gift shop and were marching single-mindedly towards the cashier lady.

"It's MINE!" she repeated, challenging them to defy her ownership.

They did.

THUNK! The lady's body landed heavily right by the place where Strider and Frodo were cowering in fear. A small golden bead rolled out of her pocket, and Frodo snatched it up as he and Strider ran for their lives.

As they ran out of the shop, Strider scooped up Pippin, who had just come to the brilliant conclusion that "I need the bead" was—or could be—a couplet. The three of them zoomed through the bar, where Sam and Merry were arguing whether or not waitresses counted as points in their twisted little poking game.

For one second they were all there. The next second, the four hobbits and one man were out in the streets of Brie, hidden in a small horse-drawn cart.

The horse pulling this cart was comprised of a muscle-y warrior-type man named Broomstick and his trusty elven sidekick Logolash. Broomstick pulled the cart, and Logolash clopped two coconut halves together to make horselike noises. They were very good friends, or so it seemed, since they had been working together for such a very long time. They actually hated each other, and called each other spiteful names when they were drunk, such as Leggos, or Logless, and Broomer or Orc Fodder. But at the moment the two weren't bickering, and they managed to pull the travelers a long way before their union forced them to stop and take a break.

And so it was that the one bead of power and its entourage escaped the grasps of the Wraith-Troopers and left Brie.