Disclaimer: I own nix. Like blinkin' duh.

Chapter Five

"Are we there yet?"

"You know we're not."

"I know, I just wanted to say that."

"Pippin, a word of advice: be quiet."

Pippin hitched his pack higher on his back and quietened. It seemed that they had been walking for hours, and yet they were still in London. The streets were just as crowded with people, the roads as crowded with the big roaring metal things that they had discovered were called "cars" or "vans" or "trucks".

The Fellowship trudged on the streets of London towards Oxford and the mysterious Tolkein's house to find the still more mysterious Iant-tri-amar. They still attracted a few stares, as they all carried large bundles, Gandalf had his staff, and they all had their weapons. They passed on without mishap, though, until they stopped for lunch. They had had no breakfast, and Gandalf saw the need for an early lunch if he wanted to keep the hobbits on their feet and in something at least resembling good spirits. They stopped at a small shop that had interesting smells wafting out of its door. They had managed to purchase enough food earlier in the day to last them for several days, and now thier supply of coins was running seriously low. Gandalf eyed the shop window, and studied the price list stuck up inside. He managed to decipher what it meant, and went inside. Soon he was back with a little cardboard box in one hand, and a big paper cup in the other.

"This is all I could get," he said. "We have no more coins left, now." He opened the box and passed it round, adding, "One each," to Pippin's hopeful glance.

Inside the box were a selection of small pastry rings with brown icing. When they had all taken one, there were two left over.They were very tasty, and they all gulped them down in one bite. Gandalf took a swallow from the cup he was holding, then blinked and coughed. Then he handed it round, saying, "Just a mouthful each - for all of us. Be careful, it's hot. It's hot I said!" This as Sam swallowed his mouthful and immediately yelped in pain.

Merry wisely handed the cup to Pippin before taking his share, asking him, "What's it like, Pip?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're the one obsessed with anything edible. Go on."

Pippin did so; his face changed into an expression of suprise at the taste that hit his tongue. "Oh, it's strange!" He took another swallow and in his eagerness burnt his tongue. "OW!"

"What does it taste like?" Merry wanted to know; practically.

"It's..." Pippin's voice trailed off. Instead, he asked, "What is this stuff, Gandalf?"

"I think the serving woman said it was 'coff-fee'."

"Coff-fee." Pippin repeated. "Can I have another cake?"

"No. They must be saved for later. Come on now, we have wasted enough time as it is."

They walked on, passing the cup of "coff-fee" round until it had all gone. The hobbits found that it went to their heads in a most peculiar way, making Frodo start thinking of poetry he could write about this experience when they got home, and making Pippin and Merry skip slightly as they walked. Sam, solid and less easily effected, had not had much anyway, and stumped along in silence, feeling his stomach grumble.

All went well until they reached a very busy part of the street. There was so many people walking in different directions that the Fellowship had to stop for fear of losing each other. They pressed up against the wall and in that way kept on at a snail's pace. Suddenly, Aragorn felt a hand on his shoulder, and a voice said, "Excuse me, sir."

They all stopped and turned around. Behind them were two men in black and white uniforms and wearing an odd type of flat black hat. The older one said, "Excuse me, but may I see those weapons you have there?"

Aragorn exchanged glances with the others, then unsheathed Anduril and held it out to the officer. Glamdring, Boromir's sword, Legolas' bow and hunting knives and Gimli's axe were also inspected. The first man felt Anduril's edge and drew in his breath with a hiss of pain when his finger slipped and bled. "Its sharp!" he exclaimed.

The second man snickered, and the other glared at him before saying sternly to Aragorn, "Sir, I'm afarid I shall have to confiscate this weapon, and the others in your posession."

"What?"

At the horrified look on Aragorn's face, the officer said reasonably, "Well, that makes sense, don't it? I mean, you can't just walk around with a sword - a sharp sword, no less - like it was an umbrella."

"But, you cannot do this! What authority do you have?"

The man's face hardened. "As police, we are able to do this. I must ask you to hand them over peacefully."

"We refuse."

"Then, I am afraid..."

What the man was afraid of was never found out, for Aragorn shot a quick look at Gandalf who nodded, shouted "Come on!" and dived into the crowd with the others. Aragorn grabbed Anduril back from the man and plunged after them. Behind them, he heard the man shouting, "Stop them! Stop them!"

The Fellowship darted through the crowds, weaving around people, ducking under arms and avoiding legs and bags. "Find - find a corner." Gandalf panted, tucking his staff under his arm and looking ridiculous with it. They ducked round the corner that he pointed out to them, and ducked around it into a side alley. They watched the police men running past, and let out their breaths in a collective sigh.

"That was close!" Pippin remarked.

"Too close," Boromir said. "If our weapons are going to attract this much attention, we ought to hide them."

Frodo peered out of the alley, and announced, "They've gone now." He stepped out into the crowds just as Gandalf cried sharply, "No, Frodo! Get back!"

Frodo turned back, and opened his mouth in suprise to say something. That was when a tall man with long white hair and beard materialised out of the crowds, and grabbed Frodo from behind. He smiled as Gandalf started forward, and wheeling about, dived into the crowds, dragging Frodo with him.

"Saruman!" Gandalf cried in horror.