Chapter One
Strider sat in the corner of the Prancing Pony, waiting for the four (queer) hobbits to come through the door. It was originally Aragorn's job, but he was on a hot date with Arwen. Strider and Aragorn were twins. None in Middle-earth save themselves and Elrond know about Strider and none could tell them apart if they did. Even Elrond or Arwen couldn't, so, naturally, Aragorn used Strider to get out of many tasks that interfered with his love life. Aragorn was born one minute before Strider so Aragorn, not Strider, was Isildur's heir. Strider pulled out his pipe, already filled with leaf, and lit it.
"Who wants to bet the Halflings won't even come?" he grumbled while blowing the smoke out in a steady stream. "Who wants to bet." He was cut off by the distant sound of a Nazgûl scream and sighed. "I guess the Ringbearer is coming after all," he said as he pulled his hood even farther down over his head so the pipe would light up his eyes and look really dramatic. Strider was always a drama king.
He didn't have to wait long before four hobbits, or halflings or whatever you want to call them, came through the door.
"Let's see, do I sit here and smoke or go get the halflings right away? Hmmm." he thought sarcastically. "I wonder...smoke wins!" And he settled back down into his corner and stared at the shiny golden Ring that he could've sworn had told him itself to stare at it.
"Ooohhh! Pretty color. I like rings. Aragorn has a ring, but it has snakes on it. I wish they would bite him." Strider rambled on and on, his eyes never leaving the Ring until the Ring and the hobbit who carried it disappeared entirely. Strider sat up straighter.
"Hey! Where'd the pretty Ring go?" he whined. Then he heard another Nazgûl scream and he snapped out of his ring trance, well, actually his jewelry trance since he always acted like that around jewelry.
"Alright," he instructed himself, "switch to Aragorn mode. Ready? Ok!!" And he ran up and grabbed the hobbit that had just reappeared in a circle of Men.
"Ow! That hurts!" complained the hobbit. (This is obviously Frodo, but I had to put this here just so some orc could let that penetrate his skull.)(No offense to orcs) "What would Aragorn say? What would Aragorn say?" Strider whispered frantically to himself. "Uhhh.blah blah caution blah blah blah Mr. Underhill!" he hissed hurriedly at Frodo (or the hobbit). Frodo looked scared out of his mind. Strider saw that many people were staring and decided to drag the hobbit up to his room.
"What do you want from me?" Frodo asked, trying to be brave. "Sam and I were cautious, we."
"What I want is more caution from you about.ow!" Strider tried to put out a candle with his fingers. "That really pretty.ouch!!" He tried again and only succeeded in burning himself. ".golden ringy thingy that you carry. Ahhhh!!" he screamed, clutching his two severely burnt fingers while hopping about in a circle. Soon the hopping became so violent that Strider banged into the candles, lighting his clothes on fire. "YEEOOOWWWW!!!!!" Strider screamed like a woman. If it hadn't been for the fact that so much rain pounded on the roof that the roof caved in and stopped the fire, the whole Prancing Pony would have burned to a crisp and the story would end right here. Of course, the roof did cave and the fire was put out and le dee da.
"Let's find another room, preferably one without candles!" said the cold, wet, fool of a Ranger as he grabbed Frodo's shoulder and stomped out of the room.
"Okay, no candles!" Strider smiled. "So, do ya wanna start the conversation over? Without me screaming?"
"Uh, sure. Whatever," was the reply. "Um, what do you want from me?"
"Money?" asked Strider.
"You were supposed to say 'More caution from you about that pretty golden ringy thing that you carry'. Duh," said Frodo, rolling his eyes.
"Right, um, what was that again?"
"Never mind. Hey, uh, what's your name? Can I leave?"
"No, I'm supposed to take you to, wait, I'm not supposed to tell you until we're on the way."
"I'm leaving."
"Wait!"
"Why?"
"Because."
"Unless you talk to me about what's going on, I'm outta here!"
"Ok! Are you frightened?" That threw Frodo off.
"Uh, yes, you do scare me." Strider smiled at Frodo's remark.
"Not nearly frightened enough!" He was about to do his evil laugh when three hobbits burst through the door. Strider screamed like a woman...again.
"Let Mr. Frodo go or I'll have you, Longshanks!" said that fat one, Sam.
"Oh my God! You scared the crap out of me! You're brave, I'm not." said Strider, trying to regain his breath as Sam put down his fists and ran to hug Frodo. Strider pulled them apart.
"Two men do not hug each other," he instructed.
"I wouldn't be surprised if Sam turned out to be a girl," whispered a voice that he could come to learn as Merry's.
"I know what you mean, he won't change anywhere near us," said the pleasant Scottish accented Pippin.
"That's what Frodo meant when he said he and Sam were cautious," murmured Strider to himself. He shuddered. "Ewwwww. That's nasty!" He decided to address the whole group.
"Ok, I'm still going to skip all the long and wise words and just say that we should leave the Prancing Pony 'cause the Nazgûl are coming for you. Just don't ask questions."
"But I wasn't some more beer," complained Merry. "Pippin got 1 ½ pints and I only got one!"
"Ok, I'll but you one on the way out!" said Sam. Merry's eyes widened and he shook his head.
"That won't be necessary," he said hurriedly as he followed Strider out of the room.
* * *
The four hobbits an dour mentally impaired friend, Strider, sat in a room across the street watching the Nazgûl stab pillows to death.
"What do they have against pillows?" asked the woozily drunk Pippin. He also had gotten a second drink on the way out, increasing his count to 2 ½. Merry had gotten mad at that and even took up Sam's offer. (He was broke.)
"Yeah," hiccuped Merry, "Why do they try and kill willows? I mean, pillows."
Strider couldn't understand a word they said. Their words were too slurred to distinguish.
"You can share my pillow if you'd like," offered Sam hopefully. That sobered up Merry and Pippin right away.
"No!!!" they screamed and ran around the room like idiots. Well, the are idiots, so excuse them.
"I'll share your pillow, Sam," said Frodo tenderly.
"No!!" yelled Strider. "There will be no pillow sharing here! Not while I'm here, anyways."
"Who else beside you would be here?" asked Pippin thoughtfully.
"Ara-" he started. A thought came to his mind. The hobbit's didn't know about Aragoen and since no one in Middle-earth could tell them apart. "Nobody. Nobody else who looks like me will lead you." He gave the hobbits an evil grim and laughed. "Mwahahahaha!"
"Must be high," Merry concluded.
"No way!" countered Strider, "I only had a fifteen minute smoke. I'm just happy"
"Why?" asked Pippin simply. He was becoming quite a nuisance.
"Uh, um , well, you see." Strider stammered. He avoided Pippins gaze and it landed on.
"Frodo, Sam! What did I tell you about pillow" he paused, letting what was happening sink in. "Oh gross! You guys are sick" He then started to dance around the room, wringing his hands and chanting: Ew Gross Yuck Sick , over and over.
"You still haven't answered my question." Said Pippin, getting impatient.
"If you haven't noticed," replied Strider, "I don't plan to. You see, it's one of those really uncomfortable questions that you really need an excuse not to answer. Sam and Frodo were my excuse. Wow, that's a lot of words!" For a while, all five just sat in the room. Frodo and Sam were doing, uh, stuff, Merry and Pippin were taking pictures of them and Strider continued his Ew Gross Yuck Sick chant. After a while, they all got bored and started following Strider to Rivendell.
Strider sat in the corner of the Prancing Pony, waiting for the four (queer) hobbits to come through the door. It was originally Aragorn's job, but he was on a hot date with Arwen. Strider and Aragorn were twins. None in Middle-earth save themselves and Elrond know about Strider and none could tell them apart if they did. Even Elrond or Arwen couldn't, so, naturally, Aragorn used Strider to get out of many tasks that interfered with his love life. Aragorn was born one minute before Strider so Aragorn, not Strider, was Isildur's heir. Strider pulled out his pipe, already filled with leaf, and lit it.
"Who wants to bet the Halflings won't even come?" he grumbled while blowing the smoke out in a steady stream. "Who wants to bet." He was cut off by the distant sound of a Nazgûl scream and sighed. "I guess the Ringbearer is coming after all," he said as he pulled his hood even farther down over his head so the pipe would light up his eyes and look really dramatic. Strider was always a drama king.
He didn't have to wait long before four hobbits, or halflings or whatever you want to call them, came through the door.
"Let's see, do I sit here and smoke or go get the halflings right away? Hmmm." he thought sarcastically. "I wonder...smoke wins!" And he settled back down into his corner and stared at the shiny golden Ring that he could've sworn had told him itself to stare at it.
"Ooohhh! Pretty color. I like rings. Aragorn has a ring, but it has snakes on it. I wish they would bite him." Strider rambled on and on, his eyes never leaving the Ring until the Ring and the hobbit who carried it disappeared entirely. Strider sat up straighter.
"Hey! Where'd the pretty Ring go?" he whined. Then he heard another Nazgûl scream and he snapped out of his ring trance, well, actually his jewelry trance since he always acted like that around jewelry.
"Alright," he instructed himself, "switch to Aragorn mode. Ready? Ok!!" And he ran up and grabbed the hobbit that had just reappeared in a circle of Men.
"Ow! That hurts!" complained the hobbit. (This is obviously Frodo, but I had to put this here just so some orc could let that penetrate his skull.)(No offense to orcs) "What would Aragorn say? What would Aragorn say?" Strider whispered frantically to himself. "Uhhh.blah blah caution blah blah blah Mr. Underhill!" he hissed hurriedly at Frodo (or the hobbit). Frodo looked scared out of his mind. Strider saw that many people were staring and decided to drag the hobbit up to his room.
"What do you want from me?" Frodo asked, trying to be brave. "Sam and I were cautious, we."
"What I want is more caution from you about.ow!" Strider tried to put out a candle with his fingers. "That really pretty.ouch!!" He tried again and only succeeded in burning himself. ".golden ringy thingy that you carry. Ahhhh!!" he screamed, clutching his two severely burnt fingers while hopping about in a circle. Soon the hopping became so violent that Strider banged into the candles, lighting his clothes on fire. "YEEOOOWWWW!!!!!" Strider screamed like a woman. If it hadn't been for the fact that so much rain pounded on the roof that the roof caved in and stopped the fire, the whole Prancing Pony would have burned to a crisp and the story would end right here. Of course, the roof did cave and the fire was put out and le dee da.
"Let's find another room, preferably one without candles!" said the cold, wet, fool of a Ranger as he grabbed Frodo's shoulder and stomped out of the room.
"Okay, no candles!" Strider smiled. "So, do ya wanna start the conversation over? Without me screaming?"
"Uh, sure. Whatever," was the reply. "Um, what do you want from me?"
"Money?" asked Strider.
"You were supposed to say 'More caution from you about that pretty golden ringy thing that you carry'. Duh," said Frodo, rolling his eyes.
"Right, um, what was that again?"
"Never mind. Hey, uh, what's your name? Can I leave?"
"No, I'm supposed to take you to, wait, I'm not supposed to tell you until we're on the way."
"I'm leaving."
"Wait!"
"Why?"
"Because."
"Unless you talk to me about what's going on, I'm outta here!"
"Ok! Are you frightened?" That threw Frodo off.
"Uh, yes, you do scare me." Strider smiled at Frodo's remark.
"Not nearly frightened enough!" He was about to do his evil laugh when three hobbits burst through the door. Strider screamed like a woman...again.
"Let Mr. Frodo go or I'll have you, Longshanks!" said that fat one, Sam.
"Oh my God! You scared the crap out of me! You're brave, I'm not." said Strider, trying to regain his breath as Sam put down his fists and ran to hug Frodo. Strider pulled them apart.
"Two men do not hug each other," he instructed.
"I wouldn't be surprised if Sam turned out to be a girl," whispered a voice that he could come to learn as Merry's.
"I know what you mean, he won't change anywhere near us," said the pleasant Scottish accented Pippin.
"That's what Frodo meant when he said he and Sam were cautious," murmured Strider to himself. He shuddered. "Ewwwww. That's nasty!" He decided to address the whole group.
"Ok, I'm still going to skip all the long and wise words and just say that we should leave the Prancing Pony 'cause the Nazgûl are coming for you. Just don't ask questions."
"But I wasn't some more beer," complained Merry. "Pippin got 1 ½ pints and I only got one!"
"Ok, I'll but you one on the way out!" said Sam. Merry's eyes widened and he shook his head.
"That won't be necessary," he said hurriedly as he followed Strider out of the room.
* * *
The four hobbits an dour mentally impaired friend, Strider, sat in a room across the street watching the Nazgûl stab pillows to death.
"What do they have against pillows?" asked the woozily drunk Pippin. He also had gotten a second drink on the way out, increasing his count to 2 ½. Merry had gotten mad at that and even took up Sam's offer. (He was broke.)
"Yeah," hiccuped Merry, "Why do they try and kill willows? I mean, pillows."
Strider couldn't understand a word they said. Their words were too slurred to distinguish.
"You can share my pillow if you'd like," offered Sam hopefully. That sobered up Merry and Pippin right away.
"No!!!" they screamed and ran around the room like idiots. Well, the are idiots, so excuse them.
"I'll share your pillow, Sam," said Frodo tenderly.
"No!!" yelled Strider. "There will be no pillow sharing here! Not while I'm here, anyways."
"Who else beside you would be here?" asked Pippin thoughtfully.
"Ara-" he started. A thought came to his mind. The hobbit's didn't know about Aragoen and since no one in Middle-earth could tell them apart. "Nobody. Nobody else who looks like me will lead you." He gave the hobbits an evil grim and laughed. "Mwahahahaha!"
"Must be high," Merry concluded.
"No way!" countered Strider, "I only had a fifteen minute smoke. I'm just happy"
"Why?" asked Pippin simply. He was becoming quite a nuisance.
"Uh, um , well, you see." Strider stammered. He avoided Pippins gaze and it landed on.
"Frodo, Sam! What did I tell you about pillow" he paused, letting what was happening sink in. "Oh gross! You guys are sick" He then started to dance around the room, wringing his hands and chanting: Ew Gross Yuck Sick , over and over.
"You still haven't answered my question." Said Pippin, getting impatient.
"If you haven't noticed," replied Strider, "I don't plan to. You see, it's one of those really uncomfortable questions that you really need an excuse not to answer. Sam and Frodo were my excuse. Wow, that's a lot of words!" For a while, all five just sat in the room. Frodo and Sam were doing, uh, stuff, Merry and Pippin were taking pictures of them and Strider continued his Ew Gross Yuck Sick chant. After a while, they all got bored and started following Strider to Rivendell.