THEM AGAIN:
The next morning Trotter announced he would be going on a trip. Having nothing else to do, Frodo announced that he too would be going o a trip; to get Trotter to give up smoking in favor of ketchup guzzling. Merry, Pippin and Sam, also having nothing better to do, announced they were coming too. And so now they were climbing up hill and down dale for no apparent reason. In general, the hobbits spent their time either asking Trotter questions or playing I Spy. At the moment they were in interrogative mode.
MERRY: Can we trust you?
SAM: Where are we going?
PIPPIN: Are we there yet?
FRODO: How are we going to get there without asking for directions?
MERRY: Who are you anyway?
Trotter turned around.
TROTTER: No. Halfway to Rivendell. No. We must walk 20 paces over hills, 10 paces through a midge-infested marsh, sit down in said marsh while I demonstrate my Rangerness by killing a deer even though I'm a vegetarian, sing you a snatch of a forgotten song, lead you 30 paces over more hills, give you some kitchen knives and leave you to defend yourself on a godforsaken Watching Hill while I go visit my psychiatrist for help with all the stress I've accumulated from traveling with you four morons...and that pony that just kinda appeared. I am a future king.
With that, Trotter trotted off. The hobbits settled down to guzzle ketchup until nightfall in a nook in the hillside. Meanwhile, the Black Riders were looking for a place to sleep. #7 thought he saw the perfect spot....until he realized some else had gotten there first.
#7: Stop right where you are and put your hands on your head, or I'll shoot!
MERRY: Won't!
PIPPIN: And take my ashed tomato to boot!
Incensed, the Black Riders jumped off their horses and began climbing the hill. For a while the hobbits relaxed lazily, chuckling every time one missed his footing or Pippin hit one with a tomato. That was until Sam spoke a little too loudly.
SAM: Too bad they don't know there's a perfectly good footpath on the other side.
#2: There is?!
FRODO: THAT is why they call you Samfool Ohgee.
While the Black Riders hastened up the footpath, the hobbits ran to beat them to the top of the hill, hoping for a glimpse of Trotter. It wasn't long before the Black Riders arrived, swords drawn. Or were they swords?
FRODO: Aaaaa! They're glowing-humming-collapsible-technicolored-Walmart- quality-battery-operated lucasblades!
Sam, Merry and Pippin tried to use some of the Tae Qwon Do techniques they had learned 10 years before at a Women's Defense workshop, but ended up flat on their backs and groaning mightily. Frodo promptly put the Key in his mouth, and was astonished at what he saw.
FRODO: Hey, you're just a bunch of tin men!
B.R. #1: Not!!!
Quite infuriated, #1 took a stab at Frodo's shoulder. The lucasblade's tip was, however, cracked, and not only did it break the skin, it left a tiny piece in the wound.
FRODO: AiiiiiiYYYYYYeeeeeeeeE!
At this moment Trotter arrived, wielding a flaming baton. The Black Riders cried out.
B.R.s: Not fair! Ours are only battery operated!!!
TROTTER: Mwahahaha!!
Hastily the Black riders dropped their weapons and jumped off the hill screeching Indian death chants. Trotter knelt down at (the now visible) Frodo's side, nearly cutting himself on #1's lucasblade.
TROTTER: He's been stabbed by a lucasblade....why isn't it working?
SAM: Oh, gee, I took out the batteries...my alarm clock died this morning.
TROTTER: Weeeeeel, if I had a chainsaw I could fix Frodo up right now, but as it is....we'll have to take him to Rivendell.
FRODO: Chainsaw??!
The next morning Trotter announced he would be going on a trip. Having nothing else to do, Frodo announced that he too would be going o a trip; to get Trotter to give up smoking in favor of ketchup guzzling. Merry, Pippin and Sam, also having nothing better to do, announced they were coming too. And so now they were climbing up hill and down dale for no apparent reason. In general, the hobbits spent their time either asking Trotter questions or playing I Spy. At the moment they were in interrogative mode.
MERRY: Can we trust you?
SAM: Where are we going?
PIPPIN: Are we there yet?
FRODO: How are we going to get there without asking for directions?
MERRY: Who are you anyway?
Trotter turned around.
TROTTER: No. Halfway to Rivendell. No. We must walk 20 paces over hills, 10 paces through a midge-infested marsh, sit down in said marsh while I demonstrate my Rangerness by killing a deer even though I'm a vegetarian, sing you a snatch of a forgotten song, lead you 30 paces over more hills, give you some kitchen knives and leave you to defend yourself on a godforsaken Watching Hill while I go visit my psychiatrist for help with all the stress I've accumulated from traveling with you four morons...and that pony that just kinda appeared. I am a future king.
With that, Trotter trotted off. The hobbits settled down to guzzle ketchup until nightfall in a nook in the hillside. Meanwhile, the Black Riders were looking for a place to sleep. #7 thought he saw the perfect spot....until he realized some else had gotten there first.
#7: Stop right where you are and put your hands on your head, or I'll shoot!
MERRY: Won't!
PIPPIN: And take my ashed tomato to boot!
Incensed, the Black Riders jumped off their horses and began climbing the hill. For a while the hobbits relaxed lazily, chuckling every time one missed his footing or Pippin hit one with a tomato. That was until Sam spoke a little too loudly.
SAM: Too bad they don't know there's a perfectly good footpath on the other side.
#2: There is?!
FRODO: THAT is why they call you Samfool Ohgee.
While the Black Riders hastened up the footpath, the hobbits ran to beat them to the top of the hill, hoping for a glimpse of Trotter. It wasn't long before the Black Riders arrived, swords drawn. Or were they swords?
FRODO: Aaaaa! They're glowing-humming-collapsible-technicolored-Walmart- quality-battery-operated lucasblades!
Sam, Merry and Pippin tried to use some of the Tae Qwon Do techniques they had learned 10 years before at a Women's Defense workshop, but ended up flat on their backs and groaning mightily. Frodo promptly put the Key in his mouth, and was astonished at what he saw.
FRODO: Hey, you're just a bunch of tin men!
B.R. #1: Not!!!
Quite infuriated, #1 took a stab at Frodo's shoulder. The lucasblade's tip was, however, cracked, and not only did it break the skin, it left a tiny piece in the wound.
FRODO: AiiiiiiYYYYYYeeeeeeeeE!
At this moment Trotter arrived, wielding a flaming baton. The Black Riders cried out.
B.R.s: Not fair! Ours are only battery operated!!!
TROTTER: Mwahahaha!!
Hastily the Black riders dropped their weapons and jumped off the hill screeching Indian death chants. Trotter knelt down at (the now visible) Frodo's side, nearly cutting himself on #1's lucasblade.
TROTTER: He's been stabbed by a lucasblade....why isn't it working?
SAM: Oh, gee, I took out the batteries...my alarm clock died this morning.
TROTTER: Weeeeeel, if I had a chainsaw I could fix Frodo up right now, but as it is....we'll have to take him to Rivendell.
FRODO: Chainsaw??!