Chapter 6-A Truck Bumper in the Dark

Gandalf was not a happy wizard.

He'd been camped on top of Orthanc tower for three days, four hours, thirty-six minutes and forty-nine seconds, to be exact, with absolutely nothing to do but play paper-scissors-rock with himself, which got pretty old after the 400th round or so. He was pissed at Saruman for trying to be Mister Macho Wizard and pitching him up there just because he could, and at Saruman Jr. The Pink for starting it. Where did he get that Indiana Jones crap anyway? Indiana Jones? Hmmm….must make note of this. I could make it big in Hollywood….

He checked his watch again. Three days, four hours, thirty-seven minutes and twenty-three seconds. Still, bored, not quite as pissed. This might have been his big break. Now if he could only get down…

~*~*~*~*~*~

Saruman was a happy wizard.

He'd gotten rid of that pain-in-the-ass Grey Wizard and was free to plot the ultimate distruction of the world of Men unhampered. All he needed was the Ring, and that would be fairly easy. He'd plan that later.

At the moment he decided he needed to call an old friend he'd met at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They'd been in the same house (Slytherin, naturally), and this particular friend was the Draco Malfoy type, only slightly more evil. And he didn't have a body, but details, details…

He picked up his cell and speed-dialed the number: 1-800 DEATH TO STRIDER. An automatic recording answered. Sauron must have expanded his operation since last they chatted.

"Hello, you have reached the Bara-Dur hotline for All things Evil. If you would like to speak to the Mouth of Sauron, press 1. If you would like to reach the Witch King, tough cookies, he's out hunting hobbits. If you would like to reach Shagrat, press 2 and leave a message. He's killing off some rival orcs. If it is completely necessary that you speak to Dark Lord Sauron, Lord of the Rings, Middle Earth, and Playelf magazine, go BLEEEP yourself 'cause he doesn't wanna talk to a stupid loser like you anyway, who do you think you are you useless evil wanna-be? Please press 666 and wait a few ages and he'll get back to you, I'm sure. Mwahahahahahahahaaaa…sucker! Beeeeep!"

Saruman rolled his eyes. Sauron forgot to mention he was the Lord of the Annoying Answering Machine Messages as well.

"Hi, this is the White Wizard, just checking in, my lord, seeing if you need anything-"

Crackle, clunk "YO!! Saruman, my man, you called just in time! I just won Isengard in this poker game with this drunk elf and now I have ultimate control over you, and all those little orcies that you keep for pets and I'm so excited, aren't you? This TOTALLY rocks!"

"It does, my lord."

"So, I need a favor dude."

"Anything, my lord."

"Ahem-BUILD ME AN ARMY WORTHY OF MORDOR!"

"Ooh, you gave me goosebumps, my lord."

"Cut the mushy stuff and get cracking!"

"Yes, my lord."

~*~*~*~*~*

"Hey, lookit, Merry, check out that tower!" Pippin said excitedly, pointing to the hill ahead of them.

"Cool."

"It used to be a great watch tower of Amon-Sul, and more recently we rangers use it as a firewatch station. We will rest here tonight. It's the only designated campground for miles, anyway."

The hobbits rolled their eyes.

They hiked to the top and got their camp set up with minimum fuss, well, almost, except for Pippin dropping an iron skillet on Sam's toe, who hopped around for a few minutes in agony, howling obscenities until Frodo and Strider managed to restrain him. After that, Sam pouted in a corner, nursing his wounded toes and glaring murder in the Took's direction.

"These are for you," Strider said, tossing each if them a pop gun. You know, the kind that shoot ping-pong balls. Sam, Frodo and Pippin easily caught theirs, but Merry's went right over his head. He made an attempt to catch it, but overbalanced and flopped onto his back, gun smacking him in the forehead.

"Out of curiosity, what for?" he asked as he sat up, rubbing the growing welt.

"One never knows," Strider said mysteriously, waggling his eyebrows. "I am going to patrol the area. Stay here."

The hobbits watched him go with varying degrees of confusion and incomprehension written on their faces.

"There is definitely something wrong with our park ranger friend," Pippin said when he was out of earshot. "He's either insanely macho or insanely paranoid or just plain insane, and money's on the latter."

"Agreed, " Merry said. "Ah, well, no use worrying about it now. Suppertime!"

It was getting dark when they'd gotten their tomatoes, sausages and nice crispy bacon ready, and it was getting cold too, but the hobbits didn't mind. Pippin had discovered the function of the pop gun, much to the annoyance of his companions.

"Heee hee…you pull the trigger and POP! Bullseye!"

"OW!"

"Gotcha Frodo!"

"POP!"

"OW!"

"You too, Sam. And here's one for you, Merry!"

He ducked.

The offending ping-pong ball arced gracefully over the edge of their campsite, and disappeared.

"MY AMMO!"

Pippin went diving after the errant ping-pong, quite forgetting Strider's order to stay put.

"Pippin! Get back here!" Frodo yelled. The remaining hobbits crowded to the edge to watch the spectacle.

"I can't find it! AAAAAAH! Maybe it went under the bushes over here?? AHH! I need that ping-pong! Guys, come and help me!"

"You were shooting us!"

"Fine, fine, I promise. No more! Pleeeeease come help me!!!"

"No."

"Aw, c'mon. It's dark and I'm scared and I can't find it in the dark and I'll be defenseless if I don't have it and you guys wouldn't want something to eat your old buddy, would you? I promise I'll never even aim in your direction if you come down and help me find it PLEASE!"

"All RIGHT! We're coming, " Frodo yelled back in exasperation. "Shut up before everything in the wild hears ya!"

"Thank you so much you're so sweet, I'll make it up to you…"
"Shut up."

The search began with a thorough going-over of the bushes, turning up nothing. Frodo wandered down the hill a little farther, thinking that it might have rolled. He was scouring the bushes at the base of the hill when a little gleam of white caught his eye. Eagerly he scooted over, bent down to pick it up…

"We meet again, Mr. Baggins."

It was a dark voice. A scary, hissy voice. A voice he associated with faceless freaked galloping around on horseback in the spooky woods.

"Oh. Shit."

Frodo froze. This was so not in the script. The Black Riders came after THEM and shoved Merry and Pippin and Sam out of the way and Frodo falls over on his butt and scoots back and puts the Ring on and gets skewered, which in his mind was not only extremely pathetic, but insanely stupid.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam took off down the slope, straight at the Wraiths. There were more of them coming now.

"He's mad, " Pippin said in disbelief, pausing from his frenzied search.

"Seconded," said Merry.

"HEY GUYS!!" Sam called to the Riders. "Remember me?"

"Yeah," said one with a snively voice. "You're the one with the really bright light, aren't you?"

Sam's hand went to his pocket, where it touched the digital camera. He sensed an air of bitterness and revenge in the Rider's voice, a tone that he didn't like at all.

"Er-"

"Oh, yes you are! You're the little meanie who can't be nice to anybody and-"

"Aw, shut up you stupid crybaby!" Pippin yelled. The two hobbits decided that there was more safety in numbers, and scurried down to join the other two.

Sniffle. "I-I'm not a crybaby!"

"He's just a sensitive soul, " said another Wraith, putting his hand on the sobbing Rider's shoulder. Sam snorted, and the other hobbits fought back giggles.j

"Now you're laughing at me! I may not be able to see, but I can hear, you know."

"Hey, dudes, Ring alert, " the Witch King said suddenly, sniffing the air. Frodo still hadn't moved. He was still bent over awkwardly at the King's feet, hand inches away from the ping-pong ball. He decided now was the time to act.

Frodo scooped up the ball, and in one swift motion, chucked it at where the Witch King's face should have been. It vanished into the darkness, and the King squealed in surprise.

"AHH!" He was grabbing the outside of his robes in a panic, trying to figure out where the ping-pong went. "It tickles! Ooooh! Get it out, get it OUT! HeeeeheheeheeeheeeheeeheeeUGH! Stop it Stop it! It tickles!"

The Frodo didn't wait around to see what would happen next. He took off away from the hill, screaming bloody murder. The Riders and the other hobbits didn't give pursuit quite yet. They were all fascinated by the King's dilemma.

"Help me! Hahahahahahahahaaheeeeheee whoo, ooooooh! AAA…aaaagh."

A little puddle of water appeared between the Witch King's feet. Apparently the undead could still wet their robes. The giggles stopped, at least from that Wraith, whose embarrassment was quickly turning into rage.

"AFTER HIM, BOYS!" he crowed. The Wraiths took off after the panicked hobbit.

"Mr. Frodo!"

Sam took off after the panicked hobbit and the frenzied Wraiths.

Merry and Pippin looked at each other, shrugged, then took off after the panicked hobbit, the frenzied Wraiths, and the defensive gardener, both seriously questioning their sanitity. Or lack thereof.

"AHHHHH! HELP ME SAM!"

Frodo had a fairly good lead over the frenzied Wraiths to start with, but it was closing a bit faster than he'd have liked. Sam, meanwhile, was wearing out faster than Frodo, whose panic attack and adrenaline rush had given him the ability to do some superhuman, er, superhobbit feats.

"Mr. Frodo, wait for me!"

Frodo went sailing over a fallen log higher than would have been possible in his normal state. All the Wraiths but one cleared it easily. The crybaby went on his face. A second later, Sam fell over the log and did a spectacular somersault onto the Rider. Merry and Pippin followed close behind, ending up in a neat little pile on top of the unhappy Wraith.

"This is just not my day," Sam mumbled as he pulled his face from the grass.

Frodo decided that he was screwed. He heard the hobbits go down, and a glance behind him told him that he wasn't going to last much longer if something didn't turn him into Super Hobbit. He saw lights coming through the woods towards him, accompanied by a funny roaring sound. He didn't know or care what it was at this point. He had better things to worry about. The Wraiths were almost on top of him when several things happened at once.

Strider came dashing full-pelt at the chase from off to the right, waving his sword. A pair of headlights popped out of nowhere, accompanied by a loud squealing of brakes. It took Frodo a split second to realize that the headlights were on a direct collision course with him, and another split second to realize he had stopped dead…

Yes, folks, this is a cliffhanger. Can't scroll down any more! You can't see what happens.. Mwahahahahahaaaa. Tune in again next time and send reviews!