My wife has gone mad. One moment she's channeling spirits in a seance, the next I'm running through snow banks that come up to my knees, trying to coerce her into putting her clothing back on.

Don't get me wrong, she's beautiful naked, but I'm concerned about her catching pneumonia.

Already we've traveled far from the Shire, crossing through forests I'm unfamiliar with, scaling the side of a small mountain.

The woman is fast.

Last summer, she had a sprained ankle. I told her to take it easy, and she told me to stop treating her like a baby.

Gee, maybe I shouldn't have treated her like a baby! The woman has a hardier constitution than me!

Rose barged right through thorn bushes and sticks that slapped hard enough to draw blood, but didn't complain once.

And those rabbits! Gods! To kill them with her bare hands and eat them raw! I don't know much about these things, but I'm pretty sure she'll contract dysentery or something worse. What in Hel would possess someone to behave like that?

At first, I was jealous because I thought it an act, to cheat on me with my best friend. But to go to such enormous lengths merely to sleep with Frodo...I'm beginning to think she truly is possessed!

If Master Frodo is enjoying any of this, he hides his emotion well. Mostly he looks disgusted, miserable, and not a little worried.

If a woman wanted my friend sexually, you'd think she wouldn't start by pretending to be his dead enemy, and a creepy one at that.

It's not right. Here I am with this pile of blankets and clothes piled over my shoulder, when the woman I vowed to feed and take care of is getting frostbite, nude in the snow.

The Rosie I know hates hiking.

I had not prepared for a march of this sort. I had only intended to grab my wife, drag her home, possibly by her hair, and mummify her with blankets before a fire until her brain thawed out.

It was really cold, colder still on account of it being the middle of the bleedin' night. We wouldn't be anywhere at all, had I not thought to bring along a lantern.

"Where'd she go?" Master Frodo shouted as he stared into a thicket.

We wandered the woods with numbing fingers and toes for about an hour before we spotted her.

"There!" Frodo shouted, pointing to a pale shape between two trees.

A second later, we saw a brilliant flash, and heard the sound of a tremendous explosion.

"Wow!" I shouted. "What do you think that is, Master Frodo?"

He hushed me.

"With that kind of bang," he whispered. "Someone one must have set off ten powder kegs!"

"I only heard one bang," I said.

"Nor did I. Whatever set that off has magic twice as powerful as Sauroman."

I heard a sharp whipping sound, like that of an arrow, then my head was showered in tree bark.

"What was that!" I cried.

Frodo glanced up. "Miniature cannonballs, by the looks of them. If only I could turn invisible and investigate the matter!"

"Now master," I scolded. "I really don't think you'd ever want to be doing that again!"

Frodo sighed. "I suppose you're right. But in some ways it was convenient."

We trailed Rosie down the hill, arriving at a massive funeral pyre. As tempted as I was to warm my hands by its flames, the stench was ungodly, so we skirted around it.

Gandalf, Aragorn, and an Orc were all kneeling around a wounded man. I was just about to go up and ask him what he was doing when Master Frodo started tugging my sleeve and hissing, "Sam!"

I turned and saw Rose disappearing down a hole in the ground, not like a Hobbit hole, but sort of a burrow. We had no choice but to follow her in.

It was a small cavern, basically a pocket. A limestone dome and dirt, with tree roots that brushed our heads.

As you know, Hobbits are small, and our homes are a bit uncomfortable for larger folk, but this, this was uncomfortable even for a Hobbit. Even my wife's grandmother's place had more overhead room. I hit my head on a stalactite.

I shuddered when I saw Rosie crawling through a tunnel with an even lower ceiling. It wasn't much more than a rabbit hole, and the woman was diving in.

"Now you listen here, Rose!" I shouted. "Enough is enough! I'm not following you into that dank hole!"

I attempted to grab her, but she disappeared into the darkness.

Master Frodo just shrugged and followed her in.

You know I had to go too, in the event that she decided to break her vows in my absence.

Obviously, I couldn't keep carrying all those supplies. The hole was barely big enough for my fat bottom, so I set the stuff down. I pushed the lantern ahead of me, which was awkward in and of itself.

The tunnel twisted around in an elbow bend, the roof dropping even lower. I was crawling on my belly now.

The lantern, being a glorified candle in a glass box, had to be turned sideways. It was a lucky thing it didn't burn out. Looked like it would a couple times as we were going through.

To my relief, the tunnel widened out, and we found ourselves in another pocket cave.

A pocket full of treasure.

A mound of gold coins, gold goblets, necklaces, pearls, rubies, diamonds, fine silk fabrics, silver dishes, and cutlery. Mostly small stuff, things you could squeeze through the narrow passage. Still, the size of the hoard was considerable.

My wife was digging through a mound of coins, muttering something unintelligible.

"Now Rosie," I said. "I brought you blankets and clothing. You mustn't keep running around like this in the frigid cold!"

She just snarled like an animal, giving me a dismissive wave.

A moment later, she pulled out a wide golden dish, setting it on the floor.

She scooped a handful of dirt into it, and the dish filled with a roaring flame, flame as warm as a dozen oil soaked yule logs on a blazing hearth.

We warmed our hands and feet before it for awhile, staring at the treasure, staring at Rose, staring at each other.

"Rose, Gollum, whoever you are," Frodo said. "You can't be very warm walking around like that in the freezing cold. Why don't you put on some clothing?"

"Pah," Rose growled. "Smeagol, he doesn't needs it!" And she hopped on another pile of gold, digging around. "Doesn't needs it. Smeagol drink special elixir. Yess..."

"I have a cousin," I protested. "He drinks the firewater too, but he lost half his foot to the cold."

"Its cousin is foolish, it is," Rose said, pulling a crystal decanter out of the pile. "It has not the magic elixir Smeagol's got!"

She poured something pink into one of the goblets, then drank greedily.

"Ahhh..."

She stretched out, relaxing on the pile of coins like she were lounging on a beach in summer.

"That's rubbish," Frodo said. "You're going to catch a death of cold!"

My wife glanced at me and Master Frodo with suspicion, then poured another glass.

"They do not believes us. We must shows them."

And then she was offering me the goblet.

I figured I was due a stiff drink, so drink I did.

The stuff tasted like honey mead. After only a couple sips, I felt like I had just eaten a bunch of spicy food and drank coffee. I was actually sweating, from some kind of internal heat.

I pressed the back of my hand against Frodo's cheek. "Does this feel cold to you?"

He stared at me in surprise. "Actually, no. I'd swear you had a fever."

When Rose offered him the goblet, he drank it.

"Zounds. It's like summer came too early."

The combined warmth and the disturbed sleep eventually got to us, and we both curled up on the floor and fell asleep.

"Where's Rose?" Frodo said as he shook me awake.

I looked all around in frantic worriment. "Rose!"

I didn't see her anywhere.

"She must have gone back out," Master Frodo said.

Nodding, I scooped up a handful of gold coins, pocketing them.

My friend stared at me.

"It's Gollum's stuff. Gollum's dead. You can't say we won't need this sometime."

Frodo stuffed some coins in his pocket. "Let's pray you're right, and this doesn't belong to someone else."

I nodded. "And let's pray the people, or dragons he's robbed never find out where this came from!"

As I crawled out, I discovered I didn't need the lantern, for the sun was shining brightly on the snow, and even the outer cavern shone with its brilliance. We rushed outside in a hurry.

I wisely (or unwisely, depending on your perspective) left a portion of the clothes and blankets behind, intending to retrieve them later.

In the light, it was easier to see where Rose had traveled to. Her tracks were fresh and easy to see in the snow.

Thankfully, the substance we had ingested last night was still in our system, so our bodies were full of heat and vigor, even in the freezing wind.

Sadly, as the tracks reached the foul smelling funeral pyre, they crossed with others, then completely disappeared.

We stared at the blood and dead bodies for a minute before Frodo pointed up the road.

"Gandalf!" he cried, running in the direction he pointed.

Looking up, I could see the robed person with the tall hat, and a handsome figure in boots and a cape. If anyone could help us, thought I, it would be him.

We caught up with the two as fast as we could, inquiring about my wife's whereabouts.

The man looked flustered, perhaps a little annoyed, waving me in the direction of the woods.

He made some wry joke about involving myself in another adventure, but I told him no sir, I was done with that.

"Since when do you make friends of Orcs?" Frodo asked him.

"Since he saved my life last night," came the reply, which I thought a bit odd, but the Orc seemed to confirm this statement.

Apparently she had been breakfasting on rabbits. It seems Gollum, despite his skeletal appearance, was somewhat ravenous. The Orc in their party approved of it, but I found it disgusting and unsettling, to say the least.

We hurriedly rushed through the forest in the direction Gandalf had pointed.

A few yards into the frozen weeds and snow, we came across female footprints, and, following it, we wound our way around a hill.

Seeing a dark shadow passing overhead, we stopped in our tracks, nervously searching the sky.

"What is it?" Frodo hissed.

"Nazgul," I whispered, pointing upwards at the flying object.

He squinted at it for a moment. "That's...not a Nazgul."

A second later, the thing swept over the treetops, dusting us with snow.

It was a strange sort of giant flying beetle. That's the only thing I could liken it to. It had a shell like a bug, a lower body like a hornet, and its legs were like a grasshopper.

For some reason, it flew past us, letting out a shriek as it dove at something on the other side of the hill.

"Gandalf!" I cried, preparing to run that way, but Frodo stopped me.

"They are well equipped and stronger than us. If they cannot defeat this thing, what good can we do?"

And so we resumed our quest to retrieve my crazy wife from her wanderings.

As we wandered through the trees, we continually heard yells and loud shrieking, and the sound of a horse's whinnying cries of agony. I wanted to go help, but Frodo was right. If Gandalf and Aragorn couldn't help themselves, we weren't nearly strong enough to rescue them. Our adventures have shown us time and time again that it isn't our brawn that gets us through, it's using our heads, and clever tricks. Of the latter, I was currently in short supply.

The tracks took us to the side of a broad road, but of course, the battle had already concluded, with one dead horse, an angry flying beast departing once more to the skies, and my wizard friend...departing on a sled pulled by woodland creatures. At least, that's what it looked like from a distance. It didn't make a lot of sense, but, well, Gandalf is a strange fowl.

My wife's footprints turned around on the road, returning to the forest, so we continued to pursue our quarry through there.

"There she is!" Frodo shouted, pointing at a pale figure in the distance. We ran to catch up.

For a time, it appeared as if the creature were gone for good. We followed my wife over the rise of a hill, descending through a thickly wooded area that stretched on for what seemed like miles.

We reached a clearing at the bottom of the hill, trudging through snow at the edge of a valley town.

My hands reached into my pockets, fingering the gold coins I had acquired, but I never got to use them. The beast had returned.

With an angry shriek, it dove after us, breathing out a foul smelling fog that melted the snow and killed the plants.

I tripped over something and fell into a waist high snowdrift.

I thought I was done for, but as the winged demon descended upon me, a group of elves burst from hiding beneath the white, drawing bows.

Instead of firing at the creature's heart like I thought they intended, these elves fired shots above it, and I saw that their arrows bore lengths of strong rope.

Four more elves burst from their cover, and I suddenly discovered the ropes they fired were connected to a net, and soon they had the beast ensnared within it, thrashing indignantly as they pulled it to the ground.

The beast breathed its fog and clawed the ropes, but to no avail. It seemed the net were made of some magically enchanted substance.

In minutes, they had the net moved to a nearby location, where they affixed the ropes to a set of boulders.

Trembling, I got to my feet, checking around for my companions.

I found Frodo easily enough, but my wife, alas, was nowhere to be seen.

Noticing a tall, imposing leaderly sort among the other elves, I marched up to him, in order to inquire about my her present location.

He was a tall, long haired older male, with angular features, a stern countenance and icy gray eyes. I recognized him immediately as Elrond, the ruler of the elves.

I couldn't say we were actually friends, but I believed us to at least be trusted acquaintances, so I approached him with my request.

"I have not seen her," came the gruff reply.

"Oh well," I said. "At least accept my sincerest thanks for saving our lives."

"Do not thank me just yet," he said.

A second later, I see one of the elves pulling a silken bag over Master Frodo's head.

"Elrond!" I cried. "What-"

I didn't get to finish. Someone had just clubbed me over the back of the head.

I lost consciousness.

When I awoke, I found myself on my stomach, arms fastened behind my back with metal cuffs.

I was strapped to a table in a large pillared room constructed out of marble. It was dark, and the marble was cracked in places.

It appeared to be some sort of alchemist's lab, filled with strange potions and diagrams. A narrow, gaunt looking male in Mithril armor stared at me with a cold silent expression.

Only part of my body was strapped to the table. My head and neck hung from the edge.

I was looking down at a slimy green egg, which pulsated unpleasantly as I stared at it, and smelled worse.

The flaps of the egg slowly spread open. Inside, I could see its contents, a large salmon colored insect with eight legs and an enormous tail.

The flaps spread wider.