Miraculously, Merry and Sam finished their little tumble long before either of them was seriously hurt- much to Frodo's disapointment. They then continued on their journey, neerly got eaten by a tree, were saved by an insane man in a yellow coat and green boots- yes, a Yellow coat- were then captured by a demented creature that clothed them all in treasure, were rescued again by the insane man who couldn't make up his mind about what his last name was (Bombadil, or Bombadillo? Hmm, let's try BomBomBiBeDo.), and finally made their way into Bree.

All in all, it was a rather un-eventful trip.

'Mr. Frodo, do you think we can skip Bree? I mean, that Gandalf... I think he's trying to steal you from me.' Sam wispered to his master, who had been trying (and failing) to keep a safe distance away from his travelling companions. 'I know, let's go see the dwarfs!'

Frodo sighed. 'No Sam, much as I'd like to for-go meeting up with Gandalf, I really think we need to rest.' He then muttered, 'Besides, being on the road with you is really starting to creep me out.'

'Oh.' Sam said, simply.

Frodo began to bang maddly on the gate, shouting 'Let me in! They're going to kill me! LET ME IN!!!!!' The gate opened and he toppled inside.

'Quit making such a raket, I'm not deaf, you know!' The gate-keeper shouted at them.

By now, Frodo had scrambled to his feet. 'Close the door, don't let them in! They're all phycoes.' He whispered.

'WHAT?! SPEAK LOUDER, MY BOY.'

Frodo shuddered at the sudden use of his uncle's name for him, then yelled 'CLOSE THE FREAKING DOOR!'

'Why?'

'Just do it!'

'Oh. Um, no. I think I'll let them in out of the rain.'

And so it was that the four hobbits were admitted into the small villiage, where it seemed tradition to welcome new-commers by grinning wildly and showing them how crazy living in Bree makes you. They stopped looking at Frodo once they realized that Sam was intent on clobbering anyone that did, yelling 'THAT'S MY MASTER, MINE, MY OWN!' As he pouded their faced in.

At last, they came to a small inn called "The Prancing Pony", and hurridly entered, despite the horrible smell that radiated from it. Once inside, Frodo went and sat at a table in the very center of the room, hoping that someone would at least try to save him if his cousins tried anything.

Both Merry and Pippin, however, were busy getting drunk. Sam sat next to Frodo, gazing madly around in search of prying eyes. Suddenly, he stood, apparently drawn to something on the far side of the room. 'He's done nothing but stare at you all night. I'm going to teach him to stare at MY master!' And, before Frodo could even think of trying to stop him (and, really, it should be noted that the thought never did cross his mind) he stood and made his way determindly accross the room.

Halfway there, he stoped, and passed out. Breifly, Frodo wondered about this, but then realized what had happened, and went to get a celebratory drink.

Reaching the bar, far to happy about Sam's sudden parting to notice the looks his cousins were shooting at him, he ordered a pint. 'I see your friend has taken an intresst in STRIDER.' The barman comented.

Frodo grinned. 'Yes, lucky for me. Why's he called Strider?'

'Can't you smell him? STRIDER stands for: Smells Truely Ransid, Impure and Diseased. Exiled Ranger.'

'Great, more akronyms.' Frodo muttered.

Before he could say anthing more (and before he'd gotten his ale) Pippin pulled his feet out from under him and he and Merry proceded to drag him through the room.

In a desperate attemt to escape, Frodo poped the ring out of his pocket and slipped it onto his finger. The sudden disapearence of their victum caused the two hobbits to foolishly let go of Frodo's ankles, and the invisible hobbit quickly crawled under a table, his fear making him imune to the horrid stench that now assulted his nose.

Reluctantly, he pulled the ring off of his finger and looked tentatively out at his cousins, who were standing around stupidly, wondering what could have happened to their victum.

The table he was hidding under was occupied, and the stranger kicked Frodo in the ribs, forcing him out into the open. 'You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr... er... What's your name?'

'Frodo Baggins.'

'FOOL! Did Gandalf not tell you not to use that name?'

'No.'

'Oh. Well, he meant to, and you should have therefor figured it out.'

'Why does everybody just assume these things?' Frodo muttered.

The man, who could be no other than STRIDER, hauled him out of the room, much as Merry and Pippin had been trying to do earlier.

Removed from the imeadeat vicinity of the stench that was STRIDER, Sam woke up- just in time to see his master being dragged out of the room. Merry and Pippin had noticed too. 'Oy, Merry, he's steeling our victum!' All three hobbits rushed after the man who had so rudely stolen Frodo away from them.

*~*~*~*~*

Bookworm, yes, I couldn't resist making fun of that stupid line Sam's got, and the mixed up lines just seem to fit.

Oh, and Sam? Don't do anything too terrible to Bookworm2000, she's my only reader!

Sam sighes reluctantly but nods, if only because he knows that I would love to have him tossed off a cliff or something. Merry and Pippin might even realize that their never going to get rid of Frodo with the insane gardner haning around... he he he, *evil grin*