*~*~*
Racetrack's Quest
*~*~*
Getting into the lodging house was a stealth operation. The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky when Racetrack got to the door, and he knew that it was about the time that Sapphy would be getting back from selling her papes. He also knew that he couldn't let her see him-not yet. He only wanted to meet up with her tonight, when he could give her her half- birthday present, whatever that turned out to be.
After a few moments of careful deliberation, Race finally decided that the safest way to go about this would be commando style. Flinging himself down on floor where he was sure he wouldn't be seen, he slowly dragged himself on his elbows towards the front desk, moving inches at a time. He was nearly halfway across the floor and making fairly good progress when Kloppman looked up and saw him. "Oh, hey, Racetrack."
"SSHHH!" Racetrack whispered in panic, looking around frantically to make sure no one had heard. Smashing his face into the floorboards, he looked up at Kloppman with one eye and said, very muffledly, "keep quiet. I don' wanna be seen."
"What was that?" Kloppman asked loudly. "Free beans? Is that what you said, Racetrack?"
Dragging himself a little closer to the desk, race lifted his shin and looked up. "Don't. Say. Anything," he commanded, his prowess only slightly diminished by the fact that he had the imprint of a nail on his left cheek.
"Well, Sapphy ain't here at th' moment," Kloppman said casually. "If you're lookin' for her. She's out at Tibby's."
Rather sheepishly, Race stood up and dusted himself off, and sauntered up to the front desk, attempting at least a little pride. "Well, thanks for the heads-up, anyway...actually, I was wonderin' if I could tawk ta you about somethin'?"
Kloppman sighed. "If this is about puttin' a sauna in the bunkroom, then forget it. You know by now that's out of our budget."
"Uh...it wasn't about that."
"Oh," said Kloppman. "Sorry. I've just been gettin' a lot of requests for that, lately."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Mostly from Mush, actually."
"Dat'd be Michelle."
"Ah. Right." Kloppman looked down at the register and underlined something, then closed it before Racetrack could see what he had done. "Now then," he said, "what's th' problem?"
"Well," said Race, "y'see, we're doin' Sapph's half-birthday tanight, an' I still haven't gotten her a present. Ya got any ideas foah me?"
Suddenly, a strange look came on Kloppman's face. His eyes clouded up, and when he spoke, his voice was dreamy: "I knew a girl once..."
"Really?" Racetrack asked, surprised.
"Yes," Kloppman said, beginning to do a slow little two-step waltz behind the counter. "Her name was Rosie Cotton...and she had ribbons in her hair..."
"Oh, deah God..." Racetrack muttered.
Suddenly and without warning, Kloppman reached out and grabbed Race by the collar, looking deep into his eyes. "I made a promise, Mr. Racetrack," he said, with such force that he was almost spitting. "A promise. Don't you leave him, Kloppman, and I don't mean to. And I don't mean to."
"Well...that's...great..." Racetrack said, trying hard to mask his terror as he pried Kloppman's fingers from his shoulders. "But, uh, do you have any ideas, in your experience, what would make a good gift?"
"Ah," said Kloppman. "That would be the One Ring."
"Right," said Racetrack, already making a beeline for the door. "Well, nice ta tawk ta you—"
"You know, I told Sapphy to abandon you," Kloppman added.
"WHAT?" Racetrack yelled, spinning around. Even if Kloppman *was* insane, he wasn't going to take this one lying down.
"Yes," Kloppman said. "But she wouldn't have it. She looked and me and she said, 'reforge the sword.'"
"What sword?" Racetrack asked, against his better judgment.
"I have no idea."
Race just shook his head. "So, uh, you don't have any other ideas?"
"Nope. Just the One Ring."
"Dat's what I thought."
"But, you might want to go ask that Mr. Conlon over in Lothlorien.
"You mean Brooklyn, right?"
"Yes, that. I hear he has some success with the ladies."
"Well, thanks anyway," Racetrack sighed, letting himself out the door. The last thing he heard from Kloppman was a faint warning to watch out for the Nazguls. After that, he headed straight for Lothlorien—er, Brooklyn. If Spot didn't have any ideas, he would have to seriously begin considering the One Ring...and that just wouldn't be pretty.
Racetrack's Quest
*~*~*
Getting into the lodging house was a stealth operation. The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky when Racetrack got to the door, and he knew that it was about the time that Sapphy would be getting back from selling her papes. He also knew that he couldn't let her see him-not yet. He only wanted to meet up with her tonight, when he could give her her half- birthday present, whatever that turned out to be.
After a few moments of careful deliberation, Race finally decided that the safest way to go about this would be commando style. Flinging himself down on floor where he was sure he wouldn't be seen, he slowly dragged himself on his elbows towards the front desk, moving inches at a time. He was nearly halfway across the floor and making fairly good progress when Kloppman looked up and saw him. "Oh, hey, Racetrack."
"SSHHH!" Racetrack whispered in panic, looking around frantically to make sure no one had heard. Smashing his face into the floorboards, he looked up at Kloppman with one eye and said, very muffledly, "keep quiet. I don' wanna be seen."
"What was that?" Kloppman asked loudly. "Free beans? Is that what you said, Racetrack?"
Dragging himself a little closer to the desk, race lifted his shin and looked up. "Don't. Say. Anything," he commanded, his prowess only slightly diminished by the fact that he had the imprint of a nail on his left cheek.
"Well, Sapphy ain't here at th' moment," Kloppman said casually. "If you're lookin' for her. She's out at Tibby's."
Rather sheepishly, Race stood up and dusted himself off, and sauntered up to the front desk, attempting at least a little pride. "Well, thanks for the heads-up, anyway...actually, I was wonderin' if I could tawk ta you about somethin'?"
Kloppman sighed. "If this is about puttin' a sauna in the bunkroom, then forget it. You know by now that's out of our budget."
"Uh...it wasn't about that."
"Oh," said Kloppman. "Sorry. I've just been gettin' a lot of requests for that, lately."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Mostly from Mush, actually."
"Dat'd be Michelle."
"Ah. Right." Kloppman looked down at the register and underlined something, then closed it before Racetrack could see what he had done. "Now then," he said, "what's th' problem?"
"Well," said Race, "y'see, we're doin' Sapph's half-birthday tanight, an' I still haven't gotten her a present. Ya got any ideas foah me?"
Suddenly, a strange look came on Kloppman's face. His eyes clouded up, and when he spoke, his voice was dreamy: "I knew a girl once..."
"Really?" Racetrack asked, surprised.
"Yes," Kloppman said, beginning to do a slow little two-step waltz behind the counter. "Her name was Rosie Cotton...and she had ribbons in her hair..."
"Oh, deah God..." Racetrack muttered.
Suddenly and without warning, Kloppman reached out and grabbed Race by the collar, looking deep into his eyes. "I made a promise, Mr. Racetrack," he said, with such force that he was almost spitting. "A promise. Don't you leave him, Kloppman, and I don't mean to. And I don't mean to."
"Well...that's...great..." Racetrack said, trying hard to mask his terror as he pried Kloppman's fingers from his shoulders. "But, uh, do you have any ideas, in your experience, what would make a good gift?"
"Ah," said Kloppman. "That would be the One Ring."
"Right," said Racetrack, already making a beeline for the door. "Well, nice ta tawk ta you—"
"You know, I told Sapphy to abandon you," Kloppman added.
"WHAT?" Racetrack yelled, spinning around. Even if Kloppman *was* insane, he wasn't going to take this one lying down.
"Yes," Kloppman said. "But she wouldn't have it. She looked and me and she said, 'reforge the sword.'"
"What sword?" Racetrack asked, against his better judgment.
"I have no idea."
Race just shook his head. "So, uh, you don't have any other ideas?"
"Nope. Just the One Ring."
"Dat's what I thought."
"But, you might want to go ask that Mr. Conlon over in Lothlorien.
"You mean Brooklyn, right?"
"Yes, that. I hear he has some success with the ladies."
"Well, thanks anyway," Racetrack sighed, letting himself out the door. The last thing he heard from Kloppman was a faint warning to watch out for the Nazguls. After that, he headed straight for Lothlorien—er, Brooklyn. If Spot didn't have any ideas, he would have to seriously begin considering the One Ring...and that just wouldn't be pretty.