Chapter Two
The Hobbits were having trouble of their own. They had been led off to the second of the gray buildings. Here, they met a new person, a tall woman with short black hair. She led them into a room, where they saw six children sitting at two tables, working on math. Two were boys and the rest girls. All the children stopped what they were doing to stare at the Hobbits.
"Shannon, Ben, Thomas: go sit with Nat's group," the woman spoke up.
"But, Mrs. W, we can't concentrate there!" the blonde girl, who had been sitting with the two boys, complained.
"Shannon, it's just for today," Mrs. W said firmly. "These boys have to take their placement tests."
Shannon muttered something under her breath, but picked up her books and went along with the boys. Upon their reaching the other table, the group commenced whispering and giggling.
Mrs. W invited the "boys" to sit down, and started asking them questions. "So, how old are you? We'll start with you." She indicated Frodo.
"I'm fifty," he answered honestly.
"Okay, enough joking. How old are you?" she said, smiling sweetly.
"But, I told you already," insisted Frodo plaintively. "I'm—"
"Okay," Mrs. W interjected, "I don't have time for this. I'll be back in five minutes. If you aren't ready to be serious by then, you can have detention." She walked out, slamming the door behind her in frustration.
The Hobbits held a whisper conference.
"Now what?" asked Sam, with a questioning shrug.
"Well," Merry said quietly, "we should try to blend in."
"Oh, that will be easy!" Frodo responded mockingly.
"No, really, it should!" Merry insisted quickly. "The strange women obviously think we're human children, like them." He motioned toward the group at the other table with his eyes, then continued, "We can pretend that we are human children until the others show back up."
They discussed this idea a little, then agreed it was the most reasonable plan.
"First," Merry told them, enjoying his temporary role as the leader, "we have to find out what age we should say we are."
"Let's ask them!" suggested Pippin loudly, pointing at the children, who all ceased chatting and turned to stare at him. Pippin used this opportunity to initiate a conversation.
"Um…hello! I'm Pippin! How old do you think we should say—do you think we are?"
The kids looked at each other, then began yelling out answers.
"Um—eight!"
"No—ten!"
"Uh…eight."
"Seven!"
"Ten!"
"Nine?"
The door opened, and the children quickly returned to their work, as Mrs. W entered the room.
"Well?" she questioned, searchingly.
Merry clapped Frodo sturdily on the shoulder.
"Nine!" Frodo yelped. "I think…."
"You think?"
"Well…um…you…see…uh…I…."
"That's okay. I'm sure nine is close enough. And how old are the rest of you? About nine?"
"Yes!" Merry, Pippin, and Sam blurted out collectively.
"Okay, well, take this test and we'll see where you are in school." She pointed toward the placement tests she had set on the table earlier.
Each hobbit took his test and started, trying to answer the outlandish questions. They proceeded through the math section fairly well, until they arrived at the story problems.
"Merry!" Pippin whispered. "If Rosie has five cherries, and Mike takes two—"
"Hey!" Sam interrupted, "who is this 'Mike,' and what is he doing with Rosie's cherries?"
"It's just a story, Sam," Merry replied. "It didn't really happen."
"Oh…right…. Sorry," Sam muttered.
They continued working through the test without further incident, until they reached the history section.
"Merry?" Pippin whispered once more.
"What?" Merry responded, slightly annoyed.
"Who was the 1st president?"
"What? How should I know? Um…what are the choices?"
"Abraham Lincoln, William Jefferson Clinton, George Washington, and Johnny Depp."
Aragorn tried again to explain to the officers in his car what had happened. "We were just trying to rescue the Hobbits! Why can't you understand that?" he nearly yelled in frustration.
The driver stifled a laugh as the other officer continued to attempt to fill out his report. "What is your full name?" he asked.
"I've told you before, you may call me Strider."
"First and last names, please."
"I'm not telling you all my names," Aragorn said defensively.
"All your names?" asked the officer, eyes beginning to look glazed-over. "How many do you have?"
"You don't want to know," offered Gimli, helpfully. "It would take all night!"
Aragorn gave him the look.
"Well, it's true," Gimli mumbled under his breath. Boromir and Gandalf nodded in agreement.
The officers looked at each other briefly, somewhat baffled. Finally, the one filling out the report turned back to Aragorn. "Alright, this oughtta be good. Humor me. Give me all your names, please. And don't leave any out."
Gandalf and Boromir rolled their eyes and groaned.
Aragorn took a deep breath, then began, somewhat reluctantly, in a deeper, narrator-type voice. "I am called Arathornion, Estel, Strider, Elfstone, Wingfoot, Elessar, Heir of Isildur, King of Gondor, Thorongil, Telcontar…" (Two hours later.) "…Evinyatar, and Aragorn."
The officer writing the report looked down at the ten full pages of names he had written and sighed. "You really are a case. Care to explain why you have so many names?"
"Well," began Aragorn cheerfully, "The main reason I have so many names is because of my true identity: the Heir of Isildur! For this reason, my stepfather, Elrond, initially concealed my identity in order to keep me safe from the Dark Lord, and later to give me the challenge of re-uniting the kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor. Before this could be accomplished, I traveled widely, but did not want it to be known who I really was. This led me to take whatever names were given to me, meaning that I was called many things in many places. Kind of like Gandalf here. Some of his names are—"
The officer cut him off. "I think I've had enough of that for one night. But, hey - maybe you folks'll get off the hook with a plea of insanity."
The car pulled up to the police station, where they were escorted inside. The officers from the car hurried back out as soon as they could.
"This time," Boromir hissed at Aragorn, "I get to answer the questions."
"Be my guest," Aragorn muttered under his breath.
"I will be the one answering the questions!" Gandalf announced to Boromir.
Overhearing him, an officer came over. "Good," he said smiling, "Let's start with your name."
Meanwhile, back at the school, it was lunchtime. When the Hobbits realized this, they tried to keep as low a profile as possible as they followed the rest of the class to the lunchroom. However, this was rather difficult since Merry and Pippin kept trying to surreptitiously slip in front of the other students to assure a good position in the line. Sam and Frodo were required, many a time, to grab them by their hoods and pull them back.
"What do you think they eat?" Pippin questioned quietly as they went along down the hall. Secretly, he hoped there would be mushrooms.
"How should I know?" said Sam, somewhat annoyed. Ever since that long, confusing placement test, he had been acting rather perturbed.
Frodo tried his best. "Humans generally eat well. I should think it will be satisfying, at any rate."
"If there's enough of it, that is," added Merry.
At last, they reached the lunchroom. The smell of pepperoni and melted cheese greeted the hobbits.
"What's that smell?" Pippin asked the boy in front of him.
"What? The pizza? It's lunch… DUH!" he replied before returning to his own conversation.
"What's pizza?" Pippin whispered to Merry.
"How should I know?" Merry shot back, trying to push in front of Pippin.
Finally, they reached the front of the line and grabbed trays. After receiving the delicious smelling food from sour looking servers, they sat down at the least densely populated table available and inspected their "pizza."
Pippin didn't wait around too long before digging in. It was a bit hot, but he didn't mind. As the taste registered with him, his eyes widened and a smile slowly crept onto his face.
The others watched his reaction with some interest. "What's it like, Pip?" asked Merry, earnestly.
Pippin began wolfishly scarfing the rest of the pizza, rather messily, I might add, and was therefore far too busy to reply.
The other hobbits exchanged glances briefly, then together picked up their respective pieces of pizza….
Sam bit into his next. Then Merry and Frodo. It was only a matter of seconds until they had all finished their pizza. They had soon cleaned their trays and were looking for more food.
"SECONDS!" someone yelled from the front of the cafeteria. Merry jumped up with his tray and ran to get back in line. Pippin, Sam, and Frodo followed close behind. ~