Disclaimer - See previous chapters.
A/N - Unfortunately a combination of project deadlines and influenza has meant that I haven't been able to work on this story as much as I would have liked over the last few weeks, so this chapter is woefully short, and not the one I was planning to write. It's more of an interlude focussing on the fate so far of those poor innocent Hobbits Frodo and Sam. A big thank-you goes out to all of the reviewers for giving such kind feedback.
It had been two whole days since Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee had suddenly, and without warning, been transported from certain death on the slopes of Mount Doom to certain terror in commuter belt England. One moment they had been courageously facing their demise, the next they had been had found themselves in a most terrible place, a place wreaking of the dark machinations of evil, a place called 67 Suburban Drive. It was an unassuming semi-detached house in the midst of an estate filled with hundreds of other equally unassuming semi-detached houses. It was also home to teenaged old Lord of the Rings fanatic Claudia Johnson.
The day that the two brave Hobbits had found themselves transported to the new and strange land, had been, quite coincidentally, the same day as Claudia's fifteenth birthday. She and twenty of her closest schoolfriend's had been having a special birthday barbeque in the back garden, complete with presents, party games, and copious under-aged drinking. Her favourite present of the day had, by far, been the autographed photo of Elijah Wood, which her best friend Harriet had so generously bought for her on e-bay. The photograph featured Claudia's favourite actor as a mournful looking Frodo Baggins. It goes without saying that she had been instantly filled with unutterable delight the moment she noticed the two diminutive Hobbit impersonators who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
Unable to contain their enthusiasm, eight of the girls had quite literally launched themselves at the poor unsuspecting Halflings.
"Look. It's Sam and Frodo," a tipsy Harriet had squealed, as she attempted hug Sam. Fortunately the poor Hobbit had managed to wriggle out of her grasp before he could sustain any serious crushing related injuries.
Claudia, had for her part been so entranced by the sight of her beloved Frodo, that she had been quite unable to speak, or move, or even think coherently, and had been more or less frozen to the spot.
Terrified by the dark beings that were besieging them from all sides Frodo and Samwise simultaneously decided that making a run for it was probably their best chance of survival, lest they be snuggled to death by these strange creatures.
On seeing their pint sized objects of desire running away from them the girls had assumed that a game of 'catch the Hobbit look-alike' had been arranged, and had immediately proceeded to pursue the duo out of the garden and into the streets. Frodo and Sam had run as fast as they could, given their already exhausted state, but the girls, being almost twice their size, were able to take longer strides, and had rapidly gained on them. It had been, in the end, the falling standards of physical fitness amongst the British youth that had saved them. After a one hundred metre burst of energy, fuelled by a potent combination of alcohol, estrogen, and adoration, all of the girls had collapsed with exhaustion, whilst the hardy Hobbits continued on at a modest gait.
After five hours of wondering through what seemed like an endless parade of gardens, lanes, and open countryside, Frodo and Sam had come to an area dominated by a series of very large, and very ugly, buildings. They had both agreed that it must surely be the dwelling of a great and evil power. This was in actuality fairly close to the truth, the owner of the place known locally as The East Surrey Industrial Estate was well known for being a bit of a vindictive, short-tempered bastard.
Realising that they needed somewhere to spend the night they had looked around for some time for a good hiding place, which they eventually found in the shape of a fully loaded articulated goods lorry, bound for a supermarket somewhere in Cambridgeshire. The two already traumatised Hobbits, unaware of the true nature of their hideout, were understandably quite surprised when the thing started to move.
"W..What's happening Sam, where are we going?" said Frodo who was still rather dazed and confused due to the amount of blood he had been leaking from the stump where his missing, presumed eaten, finger had once been.
"I don't know Master Frodo," said Sam. "But I reckon that some of this stuff might be edible." He gestured to the boxes of confectionary, ready meals and assorted produce that were piled high around them. "It seems to me like the best thing to do would be to stay here till this thing stops moving. Then we could try to sneak away without anyone noticing us." It wasn't a particularly inspiring and original plan, but it was the best that Sam could come up with at that moment
"You're right Sam," said Frodo weakly. "Do you think that the food would be safe to eat?"
"It smells right enough," said Sam sniffing the packet of angel cakes that he had just opened. "Maybe it's meant to be supplies for those Easterlings that Strider was telling us about. If it's for men then it can't be poisoned or else Sauron wouldn't have any them left to fight for him." Sam was rather pleased with this argument. He was hungry, and desperately searching for a reason why the stacks of food surrounding them would be safe to consume. Besides Frodo was looking even more pale and wan than ever, and needed some sustenance fast. Their flight from the creatures of darkness earlier in the day had really taken it out of them.
"I don't suppose it would hurt to eat a little," said Frodo, whose stomach was loudly beginning to make it's feelings on the matter clear.
The Hobbit's decided to eat a small amount, just enough to keep their strength up. A Hobbit's idea of what constitutes a small meal however isn't quite the same as that shared by most other species. After an hour of solid feasting they had between them consumed four boxes of cake, three loaves of bread, two packets of jelly babies and an uncooked pizza. This overindulgence in itself would have had no more dire a consequence than mild indigestion had it not been for the fact that the Hobbit's were rather unused to digesting the multitude of preservatives and additives that tend to be found in most modern food. The net effect of this on their already fragile systems was about the same as feeding an adult human four cans of Red Bull, followed by a grams or two of the amphetamine of their choice. Frodo and Sam weren't quite sure why they had started to suffer from acute heart palpitations, involuntary twitching and urge to regress to tweenage behaviour, but they were really rather glad when these symptoms began to subside. Fortunately this happened before the lorry driver, completely oblivious to the extra cargo he was carrying, decided to stop at a motorway service station on the outskirts of Cambridgeshire.
"It looks like we've stopped moving," said Sam excitedly.
"What's outside?" asked Frodo.
Sam peered out of the tear in the plastic at the base of the lorry's canvas covering, through which they had entered in the first place. "Well it's still dark, but the whole place seems to be full of well.. things like the ones we're in now," he said surveying the car park outside.
"It might be to dangerous to leave," said Frodo who didn't particularly want to move until his heart rate had reverted to something resembling normal.
"But what if this... whatever it is goes somewhere even worse next," said Sam, who was feeling slightly paranoid and anxious. "I think we should go now if you don't mind me saying so Mister Frodo."
"You're probably right Sam," said Frodo dragging himself up into a standing position. His stump was still bleeding, but the flow had been slowed down considerable by a makeshift bandage that Sam had found in one of the boxes.
Sam clambered under the tarpaulin and out of the vehicle. The drop to the ground was really quite daunting if you were just under four feet tall so Sam shut his eyes before letting himself fall clumsily to the floor. "I'm out now Mister Frodo," he said in a stage whisper. There didn't seem to be many people about in this strange place, but those that were didn't seem to be paying the disembarking stowaways any attention. "Why don't you throw some of that food down to me, we might need some of it for the journey." Sam wasn't quite sure what kind of journey they were going on, or where they were actually journeying to, but he was adamant that they weren't going to go hungry on it.
Frodo looked around at the boxes they had opened, grabbed several cartons of processed ham, a box containing a large chocolate gateaux, a few bread rolls, and threw them down to Sam, who put the ham and bread in his pack and picked up the gateaux. As an afterthought Frodo stuffed five packets of brightly coloured sweets into his pockets, and picked up a large green bottle, which, had he been able to decipher the strange runic code on the label, would have revealed it to be Strongarm Cider: Extra Potent. He then descended to the ground. This wasn't a particularly easy task given that was both trying to carry a litre bottle of cheap booze and attempting avoid using his damaged hand. He made it just in time, for as soon as his feat hit the concrete the driver, returning from his sojourn to the to the service stations below par bathroom facilities and overpriced café, spotted the two hitchhikers making off with the goods from his truck.
"You bloody little thieves," he bellowed, as the Hobbits began to make a run for the tree-line at the other side of the car park. He made a half-hearted attempt to give chase, but gave up after just a few paces when his vertebrae began to threaten mutiny and the third slipped disc this year. Deciding on a different approach he removed the mobile phone from his overall pocket and dialled the police.
"..Err hello," he said as the frighteningly calm voice on the end of the line greeted him. "It's my lorry. It's just been robbed by two... err...two midgets."
Frodo and Sam made it across the tarmac in good time. Some of the other denizens of the service station car park had stood and watched the scene play out in front of them with mild interest. Fortunately for the Hobbits general apathy on the part of the observers had ensured that none of them had actually tried to apprehend the Halflings.
"Sam," said Frodo once they were two fields and a hedgerow away. "Where are we actually going?"
"I don't know Frodo," he replied. "One minute we were on the top of Mount Doom and the next minute those creatures started to attack us. And now we seem to be in some field somewhere, and it almost looks like it's near The Shire. Well apart from all those metal things going along the roads without any horses pulling them."
"We could try going west and seeing if we can find somewhere familiar," suggested Frodo. "It doesn't look like we're in Mordor anymore, so maybe we're in Harad, or Khand, or maybe even Rhun."
"You mean we're going to have to go through Mordor again," said Sam, heart sinking at the prospect.
"Maybe. But at least now that the ring has been destroyed Sauron won't have any power left."
"I suppose so," said Sam. "And at least that Gollum creature won't be bothering us."
As the sun rose on their second day on modern earth, Frodo and Sam started to walk in a westerly direction. Feeling better now that they were out of imminent danger, they crossed odd smelling streams and strange looking farmland with lighter hearts and heavier knapsacks than they has possessed for some time.
A/N - Well, unfortunately no Gollum related madness this chapter. He'll definitely be appearing in the next, as will Faramir, Eowyn, Gandalf, and Elrond. Not sure yet whether or not I should include a chapter focussing on what's been happening in Middle-Earth since the emergence of the Plot Hole of Doom. I don't want to create so many diverging storylines that I won't draw everything together properly at the end.
Response to reviewers:
Aisling Niamh - Thanks. Yes poor Faramir and Eowyn, soon to be flung into the cheesy medieval romance action drama from hell. One just has to hope that they somehow manage to grasp the idea of choreographed battle scenes before they start laying into the extras with real weapons.
Eykar - Glad you liked the Gollum-other mental patients interaction. I could just see television warping Smeagol's already skewed and fragile mind even further (just wait till he discovers MTV and sees the jewellery being worn by the gangsta rappers). Gollum's new apprentice will certainly be making a re-appearance in future chapters, and the sadistic/incompetent psychiatrists we met in earlier chapters will be getting their well deserved comeuppance.
Rabid Locust - Thankyou. I agree, Gollum and his worrying TV addiction is very disturbing. I've been very cruel to poor Eowyn and Faramir. I know I really shouldn't do things like this to the poor characters, but I just can't seem to help it.
Pippin-Kun - Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying the story. When I started writing this I wasn't sure whether the jokes were going to fall flat or not, so I'm v. happy that people seem to like the humour.