Finding Mordor
By Squishy
I don't really want to research my bum off to get every tiny detail, so the last chapter was the conclusion of keeping track of years. I didn't want to keep saying "and a really long time later... blah blah blah happened." because it wouldn't make much sense. So, for now, you're on your own as far as keeping track of time's passage. You can interpret it as events happening one after another like in the movies, or months and months apart like it is in the books. Artistic License and Reader's License.
I have recently acquired my very own hobbit hole in the West Farthing of the Shire, by Woody End. Although this purchase of land does, in fact, include me in partial ownership of it, I do not possess complete rights over the Lord of the Rings. Perhaps once I develop strongholds within the prime real estate that is the Shire, I will have enough influence to spread across Middle Earth, eventually taking over.
Frodo and Sam, their backs laden with heavy satchels, trudged through the Shire, going south of Hobbiton, towards the South Farthing. They were simply passing through Tuckborough, asking for help – "Can you point me to the best direction to get to Bree?" "Excuse me, miss, do you know how I can get to Bree?" – but received no aid. No hobbit seemed to want anything to do with an adventurer. Goodness, no! They were quite befuddled, and kept asking hobbit after hobbit after--
"WAA! LOOK OUT!" screamed a hobbit, who was running straight towards him. He couldn't seem to stop, however, and crashed straight into poor Frodo.
"Gerroff him, you!" snarled Samwise, yanking the golden-haired hobbit off of his master. He was young, lean, and especially light on his feet for a hobbit.
" 'allo there Frodo!" said the grinning hobbit lightheartedly, as though he had not just tackled him to the ground but had met him just casually walking down the lane.
"Pippin Took," said Frodo, rubbing his head where an unknown and particularly boney appendage had collided with his skull. "It's been a while since I'd last seen you."
"Now wot are you lot doin' in The White Downs?" Pippin asked, looking back and forth between Sam and Frodo. "I insist that you spend the night with me 'n me family!"
And so, Samwise and Frodo spent the night in the luxurious and lavish home of the Tooks. Pippin's father was Thain Paladin II, and thus they were very well off.
Once inside, two older hobbits immediately came to greet them, and introduced themselves as Thain Paladin and Eglantine – Pippin's parents. Eglantine embraced them all, cooing as any mother would. Paladin, dressed in very fine hobbit clothing, shook their hands with a big grin, but remained stately.
A younger face popped out into the foyer. She was almost identical to Pippin – very thin, and taller than most, with pure golden hair framing her bright face. "'ey Mum," she said. "Who's Peregrin got over now?"
"Now now, Pearl," scolded Eglantine. "That isn't half decent a thing to say in front of today's guests."
"This 'ere's Misters Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee," said Paladin. "They're from up in Hobbiton." The eldest Took daughter smiled and shrugged, walking away.
Peregrin "Pippin" Took was heir to his father to be the next Shire-Thain, and despite his fathers favor for being his only son. Pippin often invited guests over without consideration as to his parents' wishes, as his father promoted a lot of social interaction for his heir. His elder sisters Pearl, Pimpernel and Pervinca never seemed to mind their father's favoritism but for when it came to guests. The girls always wanted to invite friends to dinner and very rarely succeeded in obtaining permissions.
It was a pleasant, hobbit-y evening. The dinner was divine and abundant. Afterwards, Frodo and Sam sat with Pippin, belts loose and, thanks to the wine, their tongues were even looser. They explained everything to him, about the Dark Lord Sauron and the Ring of Power...
Quite a long time later, after a brief pause, Pippin scratched his head. "Well," he said. "I don't quite understand how this Sauron got off getting all that power in the first place..."
Sam rolled his eyes. "That's completely off the point."
"Ahh, the point!" winked Pippin. "Merry can help us get to Bree lickity split!"
In the morning, the three left in search of Pippin's greatest friend and cousin, Meriadoc Brandybuck, who they meet at the Brandywine Ferry. As they crossed the river from the Marish into Buckland, they discussed everything they'd just explained to Pippin earlier. Surprisingly enough, Merry knew all about Sauron's Ring and his Darkness that covered the world. He wasn't at all shocked to hear that the ring Bilbo found in Gollum's cave beyond the goblin city was THE. RING.
They came ashore, and just as they were about to head off to Buck Hall, Merry's home, Frodo looked back across the vast waters of the Brandywine. Frodo felt a pang of longing for his parents, and he felt the ever so familiar sting of pain, guilt, and nausea as the waters where Drogo and Primula died dampened the thick hairs on his large feet.
He was snapped out of his inner mourning by an involuntary shudder. He felt cold and miserable – as though all the happiness in the world had gone. There, on the opposite shore, stood a fearsome black steed with dark eyes and hooves bloodied from being pushed too far. It huffed and puffed and bucked its head back, rejecting its bit. Seated menacingly on top of the horse was a large figure, hooded and cloaked in heavy black fabric. It was about four times the size of an incredulously tall hobbit, and larger still than Gandalf.
"Bloody 'ell," breathed Pippin, whose wandering eyes had fallen on it, too. "What the ---- is that!?"
"I don't rightly know," said Samwise. "And I don't mean to find out either."
"Let's go," said Merry. "I know a short-cut through the Old Forest we can take to Bree."
By the way ... Kudos to any of you who are mourning the loss of the Tom Bombadil and the Barrow-Downs scenes right now. If you've no clue what that is, don't bother trying the extended versions of the movies. Just read the effing books. You'll like yourself more for doing so, trust me.
They reached Bree with some close scrapes, but no incredibly unmanageable maladies. (Again, go read if you don't know what I'm talking about.) Gandalf was not to be found at the Prancing Pony Inn. The innkeeper Mister Butterbur led them into the main parlour to dine and drink. They were surrounded by a very diverse company of guests. There were hobbits, local men, men from the South, traveling dwarves, even a Ranger from the North was there. He kept himself tucked away in a corner, simply observing from hidden within his dark gaze.
After supper, Merry left for a brisk evening walk while Sam and Pippin fetched themselves large mugs of alcohol. It did not take Pippin long to get too inebriated with ale. He began to brag about the Shire and of Bilbo's party, the men who listened were simply interested in watching the funny little drunk hobbit for a good laugh.
Frodo panicked... they needed to keep a low profile from here on out, and talk of a hobbit disappearing at his eleventy-one-th birthday party would be anything but that. He couldn't think of anything else to do but... And then he found himself on top of the table, leading them in a pathetic drinking song and dance. He leapt off the table, but as he did so, the Ring accidentally slipped over his finger and he vanished.
Chaos ensued as those who saw it freaked out. Some looked for trap doors while others chewed the barkeep out for making their drinks wrong.
Frodo reappeared beneath a table. He crawled out, trying to play it off as having slipped beneath the table. Many of them, convinced or otherwise, simply left the common room at that point.
He sighed, the adrenaline passing for the most part.
"Hello." said a deep, rich, and dangerous-sounding voice. "Th'name's Strider." Frodo leaped with fright and looked up, wide-eyed and fearful into the deep brown eyes of the scraggly Ranger. He out-stretched out his hand to the little hobbit. Frodo didn't take it.
Merry burst into the parlour, out of breath.
"That rider we saw on the bank..." he panted. "There are more and they're here in Bree. They're looking for it. I saw 'em on my walk... and ran back as fast as I could."
"Right," said Strider. "This way, then." He led them up to his chambers.
… doo doo doo walking theme song goes here… dooodoo…
"My true name is Aragorn," said the man. "Though some who know me as a Ranger call me Strider, others still have other names for me. It has been appointed to me, in the event of the Wizard's absence, that I be your guide."
"And where 'xactly are you guiding us?" slurred Pippin, followed by a minute hiccough. Merry added, "...And what in the world ARE those things?"
"Hate to say it, but he's right," muttered Sam. "How do we know you'll keep your word rather than give us to the Black Riders?"
"Ah... I understand... Why trust a Ranger?" said Aragorn, turning his back to them. In one swift motion, he flung his sword from its scabbard, twisting back around, and carrying the motion of the sword through. The blade whooshed past Sam's head, slicing a few hairs from his forehead. Aragorn laughed heartily at seeing their faces.
"So... since Gandalf will not be coming anytime soon," he said, regaining his intimidating composure once more. "Why don't you morsels come along to a little... get-together I'm attending."
"You mean like a party?!" smiled Pippin – he was sold.
"Yea, yea, s'right! A party!"
"Mister Frodo," said Sam. "I – I don't think—"
"Oh, come on, I insist!" The four hobbits all jumped as they heard screeches coming from their would-be hobbit accommodations as the Dark Riders "killed" feather-filled dummies and destroyed the entire room with rage.
"W-w-w-well," stammered the gardener. "I g-guess that's all that matters..."
A/N: I seem to stop after every 3 or 4 pages on MS Word. Weird how it works out that way. I'm sorry. I COULDN'T resist the Harry Potter reference there... hehehe OH, and obviously, my beloved Peregrin is hand-in-hand with Dory, and Aragorn is Bruce, the great white shark. The part of Marlon has thus far gone to Bilbo AND Sam. Oh well. It works out better this way, methinks.
Tell me what you're thinking!