Chapter 5-The Finish Line at the Prancing Pony

A/N: Aww, c'mon, no reviews for the last chapter? Whatsa matter with you people? Doesn't anyone love me anymore? ::sobs:: Okay, all done whining now. Starting to sound like that Nazgul. Yes, I admit, I haven't updated for a while. Keep those reviews coming, please! I need to know if anyone's reading this!!! I apologize for the absurdly long length of this chapter. I may just split it in half. And now that the begging and pleading is all done, on with the story! We now join up with the hobbits once more….

"See anythin'?" Sam called up to Frodo. The sun had set, and now the peaceful woods of the Shire looked very gloomy and ominous indeed to the four hobbits. This wasn't helped at all by the fact that there was a strong chance of encountering something that had a black cloak, no face, dropping giant spiders everywhere and rather hostile feelings toward the company of said hobbits.

"Nothing," said Frodo as he peered around a tree trunk.

"What is going on?" whined Pippin, stumbling down the hill that Frodo had just come down to join them.

"That Black Rider was looking for something. Or someONE," Merry said darkly. "Frodo?"

"Um, we already took care of that back there, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry."

"GET DOWN!" Sam cried suddenly. There was much cursing and rattling of cookware as the hobbits dove for the shrubbery.

"Might be something within a two mile radius that didn't hear us," Pippin muttered. "Man, some time to have a hangover…"

"Shut up. Hey look, it's our Black Rider friend!" Frodo whispered, pointing. "Sam, what's up with the big panic?"

"Him," Sam said with a shudder.

The Rider shrieked suddenly, in an unearthly voice that sounded to Frodo like a cross between a hawk and a mouse being tortured and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"Wow, he's still upset? I didn't mean anything personal," Frodo muttered.

"Oh man, he's ahead of us!" Merry moaned. "C'mon, MOVE!"

They bolted from their hiding spot in a panic, following Merry, who seemed to have some idea of where they were going. They'd blundered through the woods a fairly good way, and the Brandywine River was almost in sight when-

"I'm sick of this damn chase! Gimme the Ring already!"

The sudden appearance of the Black Rider touched off a barrage of profanity from the fleeing hobbits, most notably Merry and Pippin. The Rider's horse lunged in front of them, trying to block their way. Merry, Pippin and Sam squirted around him without much difficulty, but Frodo was definitely having some trouble.

"This is fun!" said Pippin as they sprinted away. "Let's leave Frodo back there to play tag with the faceless freak!"

"Not Mister Frodo! RUN FRODO, RUN!"

"Aw, Sam, you spoil everything."

Frodo made another dash to get around the crazed Rider, but was blocked yet again.

"Move it, you faceless freak!" he shouted in frustration.

"Call me a freak, will ya? Take this!"

The Rider jerked the reins in Frodo's direction, trying to get the horse to squish him. Frodo was off and running now, down the hill, trying to catch up with his friends.

Merry and Pippin vaulted a rail fence in their way, and Sam tried to follow. Unfortunately, he was just not as graceful or nimble as the other two and his foot caught the rail on his way over. He landed face first in the grass with a loud crash.

"Why do I always have to lug around the bloody backpack?" he griped as he got to his feet and continued running.

They had already begun to untie the raft as Frodo came sprinting into view, Black Rider in hot pursuit.

"RUN, Frodo!"

"C'mon, hurry!"

"Run Toto, run! He got away, he got-"

"That's the Wizard of Oz script, Pippin."

"Cool! I can be a Munchkin!"

"Shut up and say your lines right."

"Right. RUN, FRODO, RUN!"

"Fro-do! Fro-do! Fro-do!"

"Merry!"

"Sorry."

They were moving the raft out into the water as all this yelling, screaming and bickering was going on, leaving a sizable gap between it and the shore.

"Run Frodo!" Merry shouted. "C'mon, JUMP!"

So he jumped. As soon as his feet left the ground he realized there was a small problem with this course of action. This was also dawning on the other hobbits except…

"LOOK OUT, SAM!" the three of them screamed in unison.

"Wha? Ooof!"

Splash.

Frodo's momentum had taken him and Sam off the other side of the raft, and now they were both swimming. Or more specifically, floundering, treading water and clinging desperately to the side of the raft like their lives depended on it. Which, in all truth, they did.

"Um, guys, isn't this scene not till the end of the movie?" Merry asked.

"You can't swim!" Pippin pointed out.

"Hee hee. We're going to Bree alone!" Merry giggled.

"Of course you are," grunted Sam, trying to climb back on. "And we're coming with you!"

"Uh, Sam-"

"You're gonna-" Merry began.

Splash.

"-tip it."

"Damn, the water's cold."

"No duh," Sam and Frodo grumbled in unison, trying to get a new grip on the capsized raft.

"Hey, l-lookit, Merry," Pippin said, teeth chattering. "The our f-faceless freak f-friend didn't-t make it!"

"I don't think that was the same one," Frodo said.

"Out of curiosity, how can you tell?" Merry asked.

"He didn't cry when I called him a faceless freak."

"Hey, lookit, Merry!" Pippin breathed. "He's got friends!"

Indeed, there were now four Black Riders galloping along the back, making that eerie screaming noise that they had heard earlier, although one sounded more like a whimper than the cry of something demonic.

"Oh-wow. How far to the nearest crossing?"

"Brandywine bridge. Twenty miles."

"Well, that's good news," said Pippin. "How the heck do you know all this stuff, anyway?"

"Uh-'cause it's in the script?"

"Rrrright."

"D-d-don't tell m-me we're swimming all the way to Bree," Sam exclaimed fearfully, shivering severely.

"Only if we don't get this thing flipped over," Frodo said. "I have an idea. Merry and Pippin, you get on that end and push it down. Sam and I'll lift up on this end and pray like heck that it works."


"All righty then, great and fearless leader!" said Pippin. "Let's go!"

Now, if Frodo had thought this all the way through, he would've realized that when the raft was flipped over on their heads, he would smash and possibly drown a pair of hobbits very near and dear to his heart, which is, of course, what happened. There was much yelling, swearing, splashing and cries of "Help me! I'm drowning!" when the raft was successfully righted, and more things of this nature as they tried to climb back on, nearly resulting it being capsized again. So in the end there were four wet, freezing and cranky hobbits crossing the river to Bree. This was not helped at all by the fact that it was pouring rain by the time they got there, and the gatekeeper was PMS-ing or something when they knocked.

"What do you want?"

"To beat a bunch of faceless freaks here so Frodo can keep his Ring!" Sam exclaimed. "Let us in!"

"All right, little masters, I meant no offense. My business to ask questions after nightfall," the gatekeeper muttered as he opened the door.

"We don't care!" Frodo said as he pushed past him "Yippee skipee! We beat the Riders!"

"Yippee," Merry said with considerably less enthusiasm. "Dude, I need a drink. Where's the pub?"

"Er, right down this street, sir. The Prancing Pony," said the gatekeeper, sounding ever-so-slightly weirded out.

"Right-o! Off we go!"

So after much crowd-weaving and bumping into people's knees (Sam was wondering what so many people were doing out on a freezing rainy night) they found the Prancing Pony and hurried inside, shaking the rainwater out of their hair.

"Oooh, yeah, this is my kinda place!" said Merry, eagerly looking around. "Hey, where's all the girls?"

"Aw, crud, that's no fun," Pippin said. "C'mon, let's go."

"Oh no," said Sam, grabbing Pippin by the shoulders as he turned for the door. "We are staying right here and-"

"Good evening, little masters! If you're seekin' accommodation, we've get some cozy, 'obbit-sized rooms available, mister…uh…"

"Er, hello," Frodo said. "My name's Baggins and-"

"Psst, Frodo, that's not in the script," Merry whispered, digging an elbow into Frodo's ribs.

"Er, I mean, my name's Underhill and we're looking for a Baggins. Bilbo Baggins."

"Bilbo? Is he short?"

"Yup."

"With big hairy feet?"

"Yeah."

"Crazy whit hair?"

"Uh-huh."

"And he's pretty darn old?"

"That's him! Can you tell us-?"

"Never heard of him. Do you want a room or not?"

"Er-"

Five minutes later the four hobbits were seated around a super-sized table with super-sized chairs and super-sized beer mugs, much to Merry and Pippin's delight. Frodo and Sam both looked a little apprehensive, but the other two were most definitely enjoying themselves, despite the lack of members of the female gender.

"What's that?" Merry asked Pippin as he came back from the bar.

"This, my friend, is a pint!"

"It comes in pints?"

"Mm!"

"I'm getting one!"

"Haven't you had about enough already?" Sam asked.

"No, mother."

"I think you have."

"Stuff it," Pippin muttered as he went up to the bar.

Sam sighed in exasperation and turned to Frodo. "That man's done nothing but stare at you since we arrived."

Frodo glanced over to the corner where Sam was pointing. There was a man sitting there, dressed in a khaki shirt, dark green pants and a Smokey-the-Bear hat, and was leering out at them from under the brim.

"That's 'cause he thinks she's pretty!" Merry suggested. "Sam, shouldn't you be jealous?"

Sam slammed his head onto the table, rattling the mugs. "I am so sick of those stupid jokes! I'm straight, okay? And so's Mister Frodo. Right, Mister Frodo?"

"I donno Sam, those are some pretty sexy elbows you got there…" Frodo said, locking his eyes onto that particular part of Sam's anatomy.

"I beg your pardon!"

"Yo, Butterbur!" Frodo called to the passing bartender. "That man in the corner, who is he?"

"He's one of then Park Rangers. Strange folk they are, and annoying and bossy as hell. What his right name is, I've never heard, but around here, he's known as Skipper-I mean, Strider. Damn, I always do that." He muttered the last part to himself as he walked away, shaking his head.

"Skipper-er, Strider…" Frodo muttered and glanced nervously over at the Ranger, who still hadn't taken his eyes off him.

"Hey Merry lookit!" Pippin called suddenly from over at the bar.

"What now?" Merry sighed in an exasperated tone.

"I got Fro-do's ring thing! I got Fro-do's ring thing!" Pippin chanted and waved the Ring above his head.

"WHAT? Give that back!"

Pippin just grinned and shook his head, then hopped off the stool he was sitting on and ran through the crowd.

"Come back here!"

"Come and get it!" Pippin taunted.

"You stupid-"

"Hey Merry, go long!"

Pippin pitched the Ring across the room, and Frodo made a desperate dive for it. Sam saw what was about to happen and ducked under the table just as Frodo slid headlong over it, scattering beer mugs everywhere and crashing to the floor on the other side at Merry's feet. "Ha! You suck, Frodo!"

The other patrons of the inn had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the hobbits play keep-away, although not all with an approving eye, namely Strider and Butterbur.

Frodo made a grab for Merry and tackled him as he threw the Ring back to Pippin, who caught it and ran. Frodo scrambled up and dashed for Pippin, pitched it back to Merry. Frodi mad another spectacular dive, once again in Sam's general direction.

"Ha! Interception!" Frodo yelled happily as he strained to catch it. It fell over one finger and…

"Where'd he go?!" Merry shouted. "Ooof!"

Some invisible force plowed into Merry, who fell under the table and on top of Sam.

Frodo, meanwhile, was very confused.

He pulled himself off Merry, stepping on Sam's fingers.

"Yowtch!"

"Sorry," Frodo muttered, dragging himself out from under the table.

"What was that? Who said that?"

"Me, you fool."

"Frodo?"

"No, your great-aunt Millie. Of course it's me."

"Oh my gawd! We killed Frodo! He's a ghost!"

"Holy wow, guys, look at that!"

"What? What? Look at what?" Sam was sounding a bit panicky.

"See? See the giant red eye??"

"What eye? Frodo, stop it, you're scaring us."

"HOW IN BLOODY HELL CAN YOU MISS THAT EYE? IT HASN'T SEEN VISENE FOR A COUPLE MILLENIA…."

"Take the Ring off," an unfamiliar voice said slowly.

"What? Oh, yeah, right."

Obediently he pulled off the Ring. The creepy eye vanished, and in its place was the Park Ranger's face. The first thought through Frodo's mind was "oh wow, he needs to shave."

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, 'Mr. Underhill'."

"Uh, sorry…"

The Ranger easily lifted Frodo, shoved him up the stairs in the back of the bar and into an empty room.

"What the-? Dude, I said I was sorry, what's the problem?" Frodo protested as he scrambled to his feet. Strider was busy putting out the candles and muttering something about air pollution.

"Um, sir?"

"Disorderly conduct, public drunkenness, theft-"

"I wasn't drunk and I didn't steal anything!"

"Really now? A Bilbo Baggins informed me that you'd stolen his magic Ring and-"

The door burst open just then, and three angry hobbits charged in, brandishing a stool, a candlestick, and a pair of fists belonging to Sam.

"Let him go, you perv!" he shouted. "You disgusting…oh….crap…."

The reality had just dawned on Sam that this particular Ranger had a sword, that the sword was very long and very sharp, and the point of it was hovering a few inches away from his face.

"Please don't skewer me," he begged meekly.

"So much for Samwise the Brave," Frodo muttered, rolling his eyes.

Strider sheathed his formidable weapon.

"Since when do Park Rangers carry swords?" Pippin asked.

"Since always. They're standard issue nowadays. Chill," he said with a nod in Sam's direction.

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