Article: 207266 of rec.arts.books.tolkien Path: uchinews!newsfeed.berkeley.edu!awabi.library.ucla.edu!164.67.43.25!news.ucla.edu!ppc-cam.chem.ucla.edu!user From: <<>> (Bruce N. Hietbrink) Newsgroups: rec.arts.books.tolkien Subject: Chapter 5 Date: Wed, 10 May 2000 17:37:57 -0700 Organization: UCLA Chemistry Lines: 179 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: ppc-cam.chem.ucla.edu Xref: uchinews rec.arts.books.tolkien:207266 Here is my submission. Be gentle. Bruce Hietbrink Chapter 5 A Conspiracy Undressed "Well," said Mobster, as the laughter subsided, "we'd best be going ourselves. I'm looking forward to a meal and a pint of ale." Across the river the hobbits could see the cheerful glow of neon lights blinking in the windows of Brandy Hall. Long ago, Gorhendad Oldbuck (Mobster's great-great-great- grandfather, his great-great-uncle, or his third cousin once removed, depending on which branch of the family tree you trace) was the town drunk of Bywater. People called him all kinds of names--Drunkenbuck, Alebuck, and the like--but the name that stuck was Brandybuck. Unfortunately for him, he lived at the time of the Shire's great experiment with prohibition. Unhappy with the dry state of affairs, he moved across the Brandywine River and set up his own little country, where the alcohol flowed freely. Pretty soon, the greater portion of the Shire's population was packed into a small strip of land between the River and the Forest. The mayor of Michel Delving finally admitted defeat and repealed prohibition. Most hobbit folk returned to the four farthings, but Brandybuck and his family had set up a nice home in Bucklebeltland, so they stayed behind. To this day, Bucklebeltland is still known for it's cavalier attitude towards the Shire's laws (making it the perfect place for Frodo to hide out from tax laws and bill collectors), and also for the fine quality of its many pubs. As the ferry-boat moved away from the shore, Sam peered uneasily at the darkly swirling water, convinced that an armed elf-princess would jump up and bonk him on the nose. Knowing the Bucklebeltlanders' reputation, he wasn't sure that he liked the idea of taking a boat piloted by Mobster (after all, Frodo's parents Gordo and Primadonna had died in an accident involving drinking and boating). "Um, about that bridge," he offered, "couldn't that Black Rider fellow just ride across and attack us on the other side?" "Samwise, my butt," grumbled Mobster to himself, "Samfool is more like it." Aloud he answered, "It's clearly posted that you have to take boats eastbound, and since this is the last boat, we'll be safe." Peering into the murk, Sam could just make out a dark figure walking around on the west bank. The figure moved towards the bridge, but noticing a sign it turned dejectedly and disappeared into the night. "Here we are," declared Mobster as the ferry pulled into its slip. "Coming, Sam?" Looking around, Sam realized that Pipsqueak and Frodo had already scrambled ashore. "C'mon, Sam, Crickhollow is just around the corner and Fatty's getting dinner on." Entering Crickhollow, Frodo could tell that his friends had taken great pains to set it up just like his old home at Bag End. All of his posters were already up on the walls, his fish were swimming happily in an aquarium set up in the corner, and they had even left a pile of his dirty laundry beside the T.V. He felt ashamed that they'd gone to all of this work and he was going to have to leave them. "Dinner smells great," said Pipsqueak to Fatty, who was just coming out of the kitchen, "but after sleeping under a tree last night I need to wash up first. It's bath time." "Which order shall we go in," said Frodo. "Smartest first, or cutest first? You'll be last either way, Master Pipsqueak." "No fear!" said Merry, "There are two tubs back there. You're left with the shower, though, Sam. In a class-based society such as this you really can't expect a servant-boy like you to enjoy the same luxuries as your betters." As the three travelers filed back to the washroom, Sam was muttering something about ". . . first one up against the wall when the revolution comes." Soon, though, the sound of splashing and wallowing was mixed with the sound of Pipsqueak's favorite bathing song. Rubber Ducky, you're the one, You make bathtime lots of fun, Rubber Ducky, I'm awfully fond of you; (woh woh, bee doh!) Rubber Ducky, joy of joys, When I squeeze you, you make noise! Rubber Ducky, you're my very best friend, it's true! (doo doo doo doooo, doo doo) Rubber Ducky, you're so fine And I'm lucky that you're mine Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of - Rubber ducky, I'd like a whole pond of - Rubber ducky I'm awfully fond of you! There was a terrific flush, and a shout of "Whoa!" from Sam as he was scalded in the shower. It wasn't long before all three were drawn back to the dining room by the smell of Fatty's roasted mushrooms. Now, if you've ever met a hobbit, you know that they love to eat. For such little guys, they can pack away a lot of food, which is why you'd better be sure you've a well-stocked larder before inviting a hobbit home for the weekend. Above all, though, hobbits loved mushrooms. Hobbit gourmands had identified seven hundred and thirty eight varieties of edible mushrooms, and from the look of his waistline, you could tell that Fatty was familiar with them all. He'd prepared a sumptuous six course feast based completely around fungus. He started with a nice little appetizer of mushrooms stuffed with cheese, followed by a salad of morels, stir fried shitakes, grilled portabellos, and roasted truffles. He ended it all with mushroom ice cream, but curiously everyone decided they were full at that point, and pulled their chairs around the fireplace to talk. "Well, I'm not sure exactly how to say this . . ." started Frodo when Pipsqueak interrupted. "Years from now," he began, "when someone writes the story of our adventures, no one is going to want to dwell on this scene. They'll want to move ahead into the action, so let's not draw this out. Let's just pretend that you already know that we know all about the Ring . . . " "But how?" protested Frodo. "Do you think we're idiots?" Mobster piped in. "You'd never have a chance with Pipsqueak's cousin Cassiopiea without magical help. You're my friend, man, but I've got to say that you've got a face only a mother could love. A blind mother." "Anyway," continued Pipsqueak, "let's just pretend that we've already told you we're going with you, you've protested, and we've insisted. Sam's nice and all, but let's face it, he's a bit of a stick in the mud. Adventures will be a lot more fun with Mobster and I along." "You are a set of scoundrels!~ cried Frodo. "Bless you one and all." They all danced around Frodo (not that there's anything wrong with that) and Mobster and Pipsqueak started a song they'd apparently composed for the occasion. Farewell we call to hearth and hall! To hobbit lasses one and all. To Cassiopiea, Mary Jane, To Beth, and Ruth, and sweet Lorraine. To the wafflefoot twins with kisses sweet, To all the gals with those sexy bare furry feet. Someday we'll return to this corner of the world, And maybe even Sam will meet a nice hobbit girl. For now we're off on a quest of sorts, To meet the women found in exotic ports. We might find elf-maids with pointy ears, Or even kiss dwarf girls (after eight or nine beers). We must be gone, we must be gone. We leave before the crack of dawn! "Actually, guys, if it's okay with you, could we wait until about nine or so?" asked Frodo. "I'm exhausted." "Well, of course we'll sleep in. 'Nine' just doesn't rhyme. 'We must be gone, we must be gone, we leave before the crack of nine'? Old Bilbo would have never let me get by with a song like that," said Mobster. "I've got it all set up. We'll wake up at nine, Fatty will make up a nice breakfast of mushroom omelets, Sam will pack all of our bags while we have a nice leisurely smoke, and we'll be gone by noon. Our route takes us hiking through the Old Forest." Fatty suddenly went pale. "Wait a minute! No one told me anything about the Forest! I can't go in there, I'm afraid of trees!" "You're afraid of trees? What kind of pansy are you?" demanded Frodo. "If you can't handle a few trees, you're not going to do us much good on the road. Maybe you should stay behind and tell Gandalf where to find us." Fatty seemed relieved that everyone agreed to this plan. After some final preparations, they all settled down to bed. After tossing and turning for some time, Frodo finally settled down into an uneasy sleep. Eventually he fell into a vague dream in which he seemed to be looking out of a high window over a dark sea of tangled trees. When he turned away from the window to face the classroom, he noticed he wasn't wearing any clothes. Just then, the teacher started to pass out an exam that he hadn't studied for. In a panic, he woke up.