Mistress-Samwise: On second thought, I'm not going to change anything with this chapter. But I do think I'm taking a risk with it, though. I'm prayin' to whatever it is I pray to that no uppity prick or some poor, sickly little thing that shouldn't even be here at ff.net comes by and reads this, because that would mean I'm done for. *sigh* But I know my loyal reviewers and readers won't kill me… Right?

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            It was evening time. Instead of returning home, Frodo had left to spend his time (and remainder of his money) at The Green Dragon to nurse his injured pride and drown his sorrows in cheap ale.

            "Bloody Lotho…" he muttered before taking another swig of ale. He wasn't much of a drinker, barely having more than a glass of wine, but this was his fourth mug, and he still had a lot of money left.

            I can't believe I was beaten by that bleeding son of a bitch… And in front of Sam. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep him from knowing about my anger for long… I just hoped he wouldn't be another person to get hurt by it…

            He was just about to buy another ale when he heard a voice speak to him. It took him a while to recognize it as Ted Sandyman's.

            "Hello there, Frodo," Ted stated while sitting down next to Frodo.

            "Hmm? What is it, Sandyman?" Frodo asked drowsily. Normally, he would be just about as averse about Ted Sandyman as he would be Lotho, but, currently, his judgment was considerably impaired.

            "Not doing too well, eh?" Ted inquired, smiling wryly. "It's not everyday Frodo Baggins comes here to get drunk."

            "Leave me alone," Frodo replied.

            "Oh, come now! Is that how you treat a friend who's trying to help you?"

            "Since when were you my friend?"

            Ted laughed.

            "I don't think drinking is your thing, Frodo. Maybe you would like something a little different."

            "What are you talking about?"

            Ted looked around for a moment and then produced a folded-up piece off paper.

            "I visited Bree recently, and while down there, I picked up a little bit of this," Ted said while handing the piece of paper to Frodo. The inebriated hobbit stared at it groggily.

            "Mmm? What's this?"

            "Well… Open it."

            Frodo slowly unfolded the piece of paper. Inside was a fine, gray powder, around a tablespoon. He looked at it from under half-open eyelids, slightly confused.

            "They make this stuff from poppies," Ted added with a grin. Frodo took some between his fingers and rolled it around.

            "You mean those little, red flower things?" Frodo asked, letting the powder trickle back onto the paper.

            "The same," Ted answered. "And do you know what you're supposed to do with it?"

            Frodo shook his head.

            "Get this…" Ted leaned closer to Frodo. "You're supposed to smoke it!"

            "Smoke it?"

            "Yes. You just put it into your pipe and smoke it just like you do pipeweed."

            "Then what's so different about it?"

            "Well… I haven't quite had the opportunity to try it out for myself, but the Men I bought it from told me about it. First, you have to put it in a pipe and light it, being sure you don't let too much of it burn away. Then, instead of smoking it the regular way, you have to breathe it all in."

            "You have to breathe it in?" Frodo inquired, his eyes widening. "Why do you have to do that?"

            "They said it's supposed to make you feel all light-headed, like you're not even feeling anything at all."

            Frodo let out a small chuckle.

            "Huh… That would be nice…"

            Ted smirked.

            "Is that so?" he asked. "Would you… like to buy it?"

            "Why not?" Frodo indiscriminately pulled out the rest of his money and placed it on the table. "Bilbo wouldn't be too keen if he found out I spent all my money on ale."

            Ted laughed amusedly while sweeping the money into his palm.

            "Well, I wouldn't tell him about this either, if I were you."

            Frodo nodded his head and turned back to his ale, taking another long swig. Ted stood up to leave Frodo to his drink.

            "Heh…" Ted chuckled while walking away. He flicked one of the gold coins in the air and caught it without even looking. "There's nothing better than a rich drunk…" He smirked and shook his head, slipping the coin back into his pocket.

            Frodo took one last drink out of his mug and folded the paper up again. He placed it in his pocket before standing up from his seat. After s few stumbles, he managed to find his way home again. Silently, he entered in through the front door and crept past Bilbo's room before stepping into his own. He softly closed the door behind himself, letting out sigh of relief. Stepping over to the window, he threw it open, letting the breeze blow past the curtains and the strong moonlight spill in. It was a fairly cold October night with swift winds blowing large clouds over the Shire. The weather had been drier than usual: it hadn't rained in weeks and now huge thunderheads were just rolling in. Just earlier that day, Hamfast had been complaining about the dying flowers.

            But Frodo would soon forget about those annoying memories. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a long, wooden box. In it was his pipe that he got as a birthday present two years ago. He drew it out, along with the pouch containing the flint and steel, and set them on his desk before retrieving the piece of paper from his pocket. Slowly, he opened it and emptied half of its contents into his pipe. Then he carefully lit the inside of the pipe's bowl with the flint and steel, the little sparks spraying out into the air. There was a brief flame before he blew it out, letting it smolder until smoke rose from it in visible wisps.  He could smell the strong, fragrant aroma floating in the air. It was a peculiar scent. He then suddenly remembered what he had to do.

            Holding the pipe delicately in his fingers, he placed it up to his lips and drew in his breath. He felt the smoke rush in past his throat to his lungs, and it stung. He let out a stifled cough, silently hacking until he could get his breath again. After briskly shaking his head, he carefully took another smoke off the pipe. Breathing out again, he instantly felt a small shiver run up his spine, leaving a soft numbness in its wake. He reclined against the wall and set the pipe to his lips again. This time, he breathed in a bit slower, allowing the smoke to seep into his lungs. The numbing sensation spread over his body and replaced the buzz left behind from all the alcohol he drank. Several more times he repeated this, each time feeling his body go more and more numb with pleasure. Also feeling a bit more brave, he raised the pipe to his lips and took a slow, long drag. Immediately, he was hit by an overwhelming sensation of ecstasy and dizziness. His body shuddered intensely. He felt his knees suddenly go weak and he slowly slid down the wall to the floor. Still tightly gripping the pipe, he weakly placed it between his dry lips and greedily sucked in another breath. Now he could feel nothing but the dull tingle of euphoria that coursed to every corner of his body. The pipe slowly slipped out of his fingers onto the hard, wood floor and he slumped over. Darkness clouded his vision. One last shiver of pleasure shot through him before he passed out cold, the pipe still smoldering beside him.

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Mistress-Samwise: Yeah. Don't hurt me, please. But, then again… I could be overacting… Nah. I'm going to be PARANOID. Freaking paranoid, at that. *looks around nervously, then dives for a shadowy corner* Eeee… They're out to get meeeeeee… My only friend is my new Cowboy Bebop DVD. *cuddles DVD* Don't worry, I'll find us a way out, even if it is in pieces…