Disclaimer: LOTR is not mine. Obviously.
Foreword: Sorry its been a long time since I updated. I've had a lot of work on.
The Prancing Pony
Rain lashed from the cloud dark sky as three hobbits made a sodden journey through the winding streets of Bree, which were now more like winding streams. Passers by pushed past drunkenly splashing them and slurring insults such as, "watch where your going!", which was rather unfair as the three companions walked in orderly single file. From above they looked like three struggling shiny green/brown lumps of wet cloak, which is indeed just a bit of extra description.
"I hope there's no more description to wait through", muttered Merry," I'm soaked. I just want to get out of this rain!"
"What sort of place is the prancing pony anyway?", said Sam with a note of incredulity
Frodo shrugged. Anywhere which had a roof seemed like a good idea just about now..... Although he had to admit, the "Prancing Pony" did sound a bit .....gay.
"I would be wary of any place frequented by Gandalf", put in Merry, "after all, he likes the Shire"
"And what's wrong with the Shire?", said Sam, aghast.
Merry shrugged, "Maybe its me, but... recently the Shire seems a bit small to me, like I was destined for bigger things... plus crimes gone through the roof, cabbage theft is up 200% from last year"
"Yeah. Only since you and Pippin started stealing cabbage!", returned Sam.
At the mention of Pippins name, Merry withdrew into silence. What had become of their liable friend, lost in the wilderness, with only the rings evil for companionship?
At last the hobbits reached the inn of the "Prancing Pony". It sign battered back and forth in the rain. Despite their misgivings the hobbits pushed eagerly through the large oak door, while noting a poster in the window proclaiming "topless waiting tonight!"
Inside, the inn was both welcoming, in its warmth of a log fire and intimidating in its patronage who all looked extremely dodgy characters, none of whom could drink their beer without spilling it and they could all have done with a good wash.
"Excuse me!", Frodo waved trying to get the barman's attention. "We're friends of Gandalf. Can you tell him we're here!"
The paunchy barman towered over the hobbits, but looked down in a friendly manner.
"Gandalf.....", said the barman, rubbing his bristly chin, "Gandalf.....Oh yes Gandalf! Old fellow, likes Morris dancing!"
The hobbits nodded uncertainly.
"Not seen him since last years Morris dance-off"
Later that night three hobbits sat, depressed and directionless at the back of the inn.
"What now?", said Sam
"At least we came on topless night", said Merry, "Hey barman! It said topless waiting outside!"
The portly barman, who had just finished serving a cloaked figure in the corner rolled his eyes and took his greasy shirt off, revealing a pale, flabby and extremely hairy chest. That made the hobbits feel worse. Merry almost threw up in his pint.
"That man...", Sam nodded to the cloaked figure in the corner, "hasn't stopped staring at you since we came in"
Frodo looked across the room. The man did indeed look suspicious. He drank and smoked alone for instance, his face was hidden beneath a dark hood which lended him an enigmatic air.
It was while Frodo and his companions were staring at this strange man that ten sinister looking black cloaked figures walked in, one of whom was significantly smaller than the rest. However this small black-cloak was ushered to the front of them, to ask for a room. The topless innkeeper didn't really want to have such odd people staying, but the nine tall ones all had big swords....
By the time Frodo had turned back to survey the room, the ten black-cloaks had ambled up the stairs to their rooms.
Several drinks later the three hobbits stumbled up to their room. It had been a disappointing night, not one Gandalf had turned up, leaving Frodo in a state of confusion. What was he to do with this ring business now? He didn't even have the ring. But then remembered that Tombombadil had said "the ring will find you". Absently, Frodo wandered where Pippin was now... and was he still constipated. If Frodo hadn't drunk so much he would have realised the bedroom door was not locked and the lock had been forcibly broken...
"Whaaaaaaaaaa!"
As the three hobbits lurched into their darkened room, this was the noise that greeted them. It came from a tall scruffy looking man who was lying awkwardly on a hobbit-sized bed, his legs dangling off the edge.
Frodo recognized him as the staring man from downstairs.
The man flailed wildly. Reached for his sword and on realising it was on his bedside table and not at his hips, he did the next best thing he could think of. He hurled his pillow at Frodo. It missed.
Frodo held up his hands.
"Calm down! We're not going to harm you"
At this the man stopped struggling to reach his sword. Maybe it was because of Frodo's words or perhaps he had just realised that they were only small hobbits.
"You're in my room", he said accusingly
"No you're in ours!" Frodo retorted, jangling his number 6 key, "look, this is room six and I have the number six key"
The man squinted in the darkness, "Actually I have the number six key!", the stranger held out his room 9 key upside down.
There followed half an hour of careful explanation, as Frodo convinced the man he was in the wrong room, at last the man grudgingly agreed. Amongst their talk the stranger revealed himself as a ranger named "Strider".
Meanwhile, just along the corridor, in room eight, stood the Nazgul in an evil circle. At the centre of it Pippin explained the plan.
"We take these sharp pointy tools", he pointed to the macabre swords each of the nine possessed, "and we kill everyone!"
His companions took a moment to deliberate.
"Andsssss the ringssssss bearer?"
Pippin smiled. A decidedly evil smile. "Oh yes, I know he'll be in here somewhere. That's the beauty of my plan. If we kill everyone we're bound to kill the ring bearer!"
The nazgul nodded agreement.
"One more thing....", said Pippin as the nine reached for their swords, "Am I a full member now or what?"
The Nazgul sighed as one.
"Firsssssst you musssst passsss the initiation"
"Well what is it? Come on I want to do this now!"
Five minutes later ten murderous black cloaked figures stepped into the hallway, swords at the ready, they would be swift an efficient, slaying the occupants a room at a time.
The smallest of their number held a long knife in his twisted grip. He had passed the initiation, it involved standing on one leg, blindfolded, whilst drinking a pint. He had also had to shave his pubes.
Next time: A murderous killing spree with guest stars...
PS If anyone still reads these then please review it to let me know. Do I have an audience? I'd count one person as an audience you know!
Foreword: Sorry its been a long time since I updated. I've had a lot of work on.
The Prancing Pony
Rain lashed from the cloud dark sky as three hobbits made a sodden journey through the winding streets of Bree, which were now more like winding streams. Passers by pushed past drunkenly splashing them and slurring insults such as, "watch where your going!", which was rather unfair as the three companions walked in orderly single file. From above they looked like three struggling shiny green/brown lumps of wet cloak, which is indeed just a bit of extra description.
"I hope there's no more description to wait through", muttered Merry," I'm soaked. I just want to get out of this rain!"
"What sort of place is the prancing pony anyway?", said Sam with a note of incredulity
Frodo shrugged. Anywhere which had a roof seemed like a good idea just about now..... Although he had to admit, the "Prancing Pony" did sound a bit .....gay.
"I would be wary of any place frequented by Gandalf", put in Merry, "after all, he likes the Shire"
"And what's wrong with the Shire?", said Sam, aghast.
Merry shrugged, "Maybe its me, but... recently the Shire seems a bit small to me, like I was destined for bigger things... plus crimes gone through the roof, cabbage theft is up 200% from last year"
"Yeah. Only since you and Pippin started stealing cabbage!", returned Sam.
At the mention of Pippins name, Merry withdrew into silence. What had become of their liable friend, lost in the wilderness, with only the rings evil for companionship?
At last the hobbits reached the inn of the "Prancing Pony". It sign battered back and forth in the rain. Despite their misgivings the hobbits pushed eagerly through the large oak door, while noting a poster in the window proclaiming "topless waiting tonight!"
Inside, the inn was both welcoming, in its warmth of a log fire and intimidating in its patronage who all looked extremely dodgy characters, none of whom could drink their beer without spilling it and they could all have done with a good wash.
"Excuse me!", Frodo waved trying to get the barman's attention. "We're friends of Gandalf. Can you tell him we're here!"
The paunchy barman towered over the hobbits, but looked down in a friendly manner.
"Gandalf.....", said the barman, rubbing his bristly chin, "Gandalf.....Oh yes Gandalf! Old fellow, likes Morris dancing!"
The hobbits nodded uncertainly.
"Not seen him since last years Morris dance-off"
Later that night three hobbits sat, depressed and directionless at the back of the inn.
"What now?", said Sam
"At least we came on topless night", said Merry, "Hey barman! It said topless waiting outside!"
The portly barman, who had just finished serving a cloaked figure in the corner rolled his eyes and took his greasy shirt off, revealing a pale, flabby and extremely hairy chest. That made the hobbits feel worse. Merry almost threw up in his pint.
"That man...", Sam nodded to the cloaked figure in the corner, "hasn't stopped staring at you since we came in"
Frodo looked across the room. The man did indeed look suspicious. He drank and smoked alone for instance, his face was hidden beneath a dark hood which lended him an enigmatic air.
It was while Frodo and his companions were staring at this strange man that ten sinister looking black cloaked figures walked in, one of whom was significantly smaller than the rest. However this small black-cloak was ushered to the front of them, to ask for a room. The topless innkeeper didn't really want to have such odd people staying, but the nine tall ones all had big swords....
By the time Frodo had turned back to survey the room, the ten black-cloaks had ambled up the stairs to their rooms.
Several drinks later the three hobbits stumbled up to their room. It had been a disappointing night, not one Gandalf had turned up, leaving Frodo in a state of confusion. What was he to do with this ring business now? He didn't even have the ring. But then remembered that Tombombadil had said "the ring will find you". Absently, Frodo wandered where Pippin was now... and was he still constipated. If Frodo hadn't drunk so much he would have realised the bedroom door was not locked and the lock had been forcibly broken...
"Whaaaaaaaaaa!"
As the three hobbits lurched into their darkened room, this was the noise that greeted them. It came from a tall scruffy looking man who was lying awkwardly on a hobbit-sized bed, his legs dangling off the edge.
Frodo recognized him as the staring man from downstairs.
The man flailed wildly. Reached for his sword and on realising it was on his bedside table and not at his hips, he did the next best thing he could think of. He hurled his pillow at Frodo. It missed.
Frodo held up his hands.
"Calm down! We're not going to harm you"
At this the man stopped struggling to reach his sword. Maybe it was because of Frodo's words or perhaps he had just realised that they were only small hobbits.
"You're in my room", he said accusingly
"No you're in ours!" Frodo retorted, jangling his number 6 key, "look, this is room six and I have the number six key"
The man squinted in the darkness, "Actually I have the number six key!", the stranger held out his room 9 key upside down.
There followed half an hour of careful explanation, as Frodo convinced the man he was in the wrong room, at last the man grudgingly agreed. Amongst their talk the stranger revealed himself as a ranger named "Strider".
Meanwhile, just along the corridor, in room eight, stood the Nazgul in an evil circle. At the centre of it Pippin explained the plan.
"We take these sharp pointy tools", he pointed to the macabre swords each of the nine possessed, "and we kill everyone!"
His companions took a moment to deliberate.
"Andsssss the ringssssss bearer?"
Pippin smiled. A decidedly evil smile. "Oh yes, I know he'll be in here somewhere. That's the beauty of my plan. If we kill everyone we're bound to kill the ring bearer!"
The nazgul nodded agreement.
"One more thing....", said Pippin as the nine reached for their swords, "Am I a full member now or what?"
The Nazgul sighed as one.
"Firsssssst you musssst passsss the initiation"
"Well what is it? Come on I want to do this now!"
Five minutes later ten murderous black cloaked figures stepped into the hallway, swords at the ready, they would be swift an efficient, slaying the occupants a room at a time.
The smallest of their number held a long knife in his twisted grip. He had passed the initiation, it involved standing on one leg, blindfolded, whilst drinking a pint. He had also had to shave his pubes.
Next time: A murderous killing spree with guest stars...
PS If anyone still reads these then please review it to let me know. Do I have an audience? I'd count one person as an audience you know!