Frodo's Exciting Day Out

by Llinos
beta Marigold

Chapter 2
I Think It's a Kind of Bath

"I'm sure we should have turned right at Bree!" Gandalf hadn't liked to say anything for a while, after all you can't complain when an old friend is doing you a favour. "Maybe we should ask?"

"Friend Wizard," Gwaihir did not mind backseat drivers, but impugning his sense of direction, that certainly ruffled his feathers, "I am merely keeping our course to Mordor, as the eagle flies."

"Crow," Pippin corrected recklessly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Crow," Pippin repeated, really pushing his luck, "it's 'as the crow flies'."

"A crow," Meneldor remarked, the tone in his voice disguising the extra tight squeeze he applied to Pippin's middle, "could no more fly to Mordor, than you could."

"Oh," Merry sounded disappointed, "I thought that was where we were going?"

"I meant," Meneldor now applied similar pressure to Meriadoc's waist, "without my assistance. Now please do not mention crows again, or I may start to lose my grip!" Both hobbits fell silent until they felt it was first, possible, and then feasible to breathe once more.

"Nevertheless," Gandalf coughed politely, "I think it might be a good idea to stop and ask, just to be on the safe side." The wizard was rightly embarrassed, he knew how much eagles hate to stop and ask directions, but this was far too important.

"Look, down there!" Frodo pointed and changed the subject in one fell swoop and, Landroval, taking the hint, made one very fast fell swoop and grabbed the running man in his talons. Sam was not sure whether to throw up or offer the newcomer his seat on the eagle's rear. To circumvent either outcome, he just kept his mouth shut.

"Strider!" Gandalf proffered his hand as Landroval dropped the ranger next to him on Gwaihir's pillion. "Just the man! We're not too sure if we are on course or not."

"Ahem," Aragorn returned the wizard's handshake and nodded sagely. It is always difficult to out-cool a Ranger and this one was no exception. "That rather depends on where you are trying to get to. Have you got a map?"

"There wasn't time," Gandalf lied, "besides, they're all in Minas Tirith and I haven't been able to get down there recently." This much at least was true. "I was hoping you could put us on the road to Mordor – Mount Doom to be precise. I fear we're a bit lost and I want to get these hobbits home for teatime."

"Well I wasn't doing anything too important," Aragorn sighed, "just guarding the whole of the Northern Kingdom from marauding trolls, demons, orcs, dragons, evil doers of every persuasion as well as wargs, wolves, witches and itinerant wanderers up-to-no-good-for-their-own-nefarious-purpose. That, and I was on my way to the Prancing Pony, but it can wait."

"Or we could all go to the Prancing Pony!" Pippin suggested hopefully. "You know, just to get acquainted over a pint or two."

"Aragorn this is Peregrin Took, Peregrin Took, this is Aragorn. How did that need a pint?" Gandalf made the rest of the introductions, "now left or right at the next mountain?"

Aragorn put his finger in his mouth and then held it up in the air. "Right, then straight on until you see the river, then we might have to ask again."

"Fair enough!" Gandalf pulled out and lit his pipe and made himself comfortable.

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"What the…!

"Swoosh!" The second arrow parted the fur on Frodo's foot.

"Gandalf! Gandalf, I think someone is shooting at us!" Pippin always had an amazing grasp of the astoundingly obvious and wasn't shy about letting everyone know. "Shouldn't you do something?"

"I suppose I could wait until he hits you," Gandalf suggested, "then at least I could consider the problem in peace."

"Whuueeeshh!" The thirdarrow pushed Gwaihir's patience (not a ubiquitous quality amongst eagles at the best of times) past what could reasonably be tolerated from casual pot-shots and he plummeted earthwards beak first, with Gandalf and Aragorn holding tightly to their robes and britches, respectively, their dignity having been abandoned 2,000 feet above.

"That explains the pointed hat," Frodo muttered as he watched the rapid descent. "Don’t' worry Sam, I don't think we're going to…Woahhhhh!"

"Mister Frodo really needs to work on his irony", Sam thought. "Oh bugger!" Landroval too made no concessions for his passengers, so enraged was he at being used for target practice, and he too began to streak on the assailant below.

Meneldor shrugged and followed, Merry and Pippin both shouting "Wheeeeee!" As the wind parted their hair. Followed by "Whuuuuu" as the descent parted them from their breakfast.

Gwaihir hit the ground flying – a clever trick if you can do it and one where eagles generally score well over swans and possibly ducks. His assailant was still firing arrows upwards at the other rapidly descending eagles.

"I shall be speaking to your Father about this!" Gwaihir rounded on the archer and snatched the bow while it was still in operational use. Gandalf and Aragorn picked themselves up from the embarrassing tangle they had landed in and managed to assemble their gravity (both kinds) and decorum before the rest of the dive-bombing party arrived.

"Legolas Greenleaf, what on Middle-earth do you think you are doing?" Gandalf quivered from his staff down to his wizard's boots. "Why were you trying to shoot us down?"

Legolas bowed deeply and looked warily around at the hobbits who had now arrived and even more warily at the three eagles encircling him in a less than sociable way. "My Esteemed Windlords," he began, "pray forgive the error of my judgement. I believe a rare bout of elven myopia…"

"Elven what?" Aragorn put his head on one side in question, "there's no such thing! Tell me Legolas, what do your Elven eyes see?"

"You Aragorn, Mithrandir, four hobbits – oh and um three very large and cross eagles!"

"Then why young elfing," Gwaihir had never been particularly forthcoming about his age, but this was a bit of a giveaway, "were you shooting at us? Please state your response with haste and precision as I have several pressing engagements today and I am not sure if I can fit in slashing and cleaving your lithe elven body to shreds."

"I believed you to be Nazgûl?" Legolas suggested.

"Good Grief! Are they flying already?" Gandalf would have looked anxiously at his watch, only he didn't have one. Frodo took his from his waistcoat pocket and held it out for the Wizard to see. "They were on horses not fifteen minutes ago, we really must get on."

"Just a minute," Gwaihir still pinned Legolas with his beady piercing eyes and, if you've ever been looked at by an eagle – which I doubt, you would know how uncomfortable that can be. "How could you mistake the great Windlords for Nazgûl? It's not as if we are remotely related or any such thing!"

"I um, forgot to wear my spectacles, in fact," Legolas looked down at his feet rather too shamefaced to confront the unbelieving, albeit bemused, company. "I've lost my spectacles."

"Spectacles!" Aragorn tried not to laugh and failed. "Since when did an elf need spectacles?"

Frodo looked baffled as Pippin whispered to him, "what are spectacles? Is it what my mum is always saying to me? 'Don't make such a spectacle of yourself', is it Fro? Hmm… is it?"

"No," Frodo hissed back, "he means eye-glasses – you know like Great Aunt Petunia's lorgnette!"

"Well I don't really need them," Legolas began defensively, "I can see close-to, it's just long distances and such. Anyway I'd like to see you with 20/20 vision after two thousand plus years."

Aragorn put his head on one side in a sympathetic stance, "you just don't want to wear them – do you? You'd just die of embarrassment?"

One of the things that elves can die from, apart from falling in battle or dying of a broken heart, is embarrassment, but they tend to keep quiet about it as there is no known cure.

"It's only come on recently," Legolas was still on the defensive, "I was supposed to go to a meeting in Imladris, but when I got there, Elrond said, not to bother as it was all being dealt with."

"That is true," Gandalf nodded sagely, "but how did that affect your eyesight?"

"Some of the lads and I, because the meeting was cancelled, we went on a bit of a bender," Legolas was still carefully examining his feet, "and I ended up on the Telperion Old Peculiar."

"Ouch!" Aragorn and Gandalf winced in unison.

"Anyway," Legolas sighed, "long story short, when I woke up everything was a trifle blurred – been that way ever since."

"So what are you doing out here all alone?" Aragorn tried to ignore Gandalf tutting and tapping Frodo's pocket watch.

I was a bit embarrassed to go home, what with not being able to see straight," Legolas admitted, "so this dwarf invited me to go and stay with his folk for a bit – you know, just until I got better."

"A dwarf wanted to help you?" Aragorn gasped. This was unheard of, dwarves generally find elves snooty and so up themselves they're coming out the other end.

"Yes, Gimli son of Glóin, his name was, nice enough chap in his own way. But I kind of got slightly lost," Legolas went on, "this dwarf was supposed to put me on the right road, but I think he was having a laugh. I ended up in these caves, well it was more of a mine really.

"You mean Moria?" Gandalf corrected.

"Yes that was it!" Legolas snapped his fingers in recognition, "Moria. This dwarf said I could stay with his family there – you know, that they'd be pleased to put up any friend of his. But when I got there they were all out."

"Out?" Gandalf asked suspiciously.

"Well, dead actually," Legolas agreed, "but it amounted to the same thing. Now I'm stuck here in the middle of Middle-earth with no idea how to get home."

"Erm, begging your pardon, Mr Gandalf Sir," Sam took his bag of a hat off and stood wringing it with both hands, "what with him being an elf and all, couldn't he come with us?"

"Yes, I wouldn't mind," Frodo added enthusiastically, he liked elves.

"More the merrier, I say," Merry put in, "Perhaps we could have a party when this is all over."

"Gwaihir?" Gandalf hardly liked to ask. Of course, an elf or two always came in handy, but a myopic elf?"

Gwaihir narrowed his beady eyes even more, which made them almost invisible. "You have my condolences elfperson, for to be bereft of vision over a 50 mile radius must be an appalling state of affairs. I too would not wish to return to my eyrie in such a condition. You may accompany us, but no more shooting!"

"You may ride with me," Meneldor offered graciously, "on the understanding that my hobbits agree to stop wriggling and making sarcastic remarks!" Merry and Pippin both dropped their jaws in indignation and were about to protest when Meneldor added, "or I'll send you home by orc and, believe me, you would not like that!"

The hobbits nodded in acquiescence. But when the eagle's back was turned Pippin hissed into Merry's ear, "what's an orc?"

"Shhhush!" Merry whispered back, "I think it's a kind of bath, maybe one with wheels on."

Luckily, they never found out.

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"Arrrrrroooouuuuuuugggghhh! Arrrrrroooouuuuuuugggghhh!" The piercing sound echoed across the desolate land of Hollin, hit Celebdil the White and ricocheted off Cloudyhead, totally missed the Dimrill Stair and doubled back round the Redhorn Gate to bounce off Caradhras and went skimming across Hollin, where it hit a flock of crebain and put them to fright and flight.

"What is that dreadful noise?" Gandalf put his pipe down and glanced over the side of his eagle. "It's usually so quiet around here."

"No use asking me," Legolas had swapped eagles as Merry and Pippin had not stopped fidgeting and was now riding with Frodo and Sam. "I can hear it, but I'm afraid I can't see a thing – not at that distance."

The blast sounded again – twice!

"Ow Merry!" Pippin clasped his hands over his ears. "Make it stop Merry, I can't hear myself eat!"

"I do not know why you protest so hobbit," Meneldor cried over yet another ringing blast, "You should try listening to it through my ears!"

"I didn't know you had ears," said Pippin, looking with interest now, "I can't see any. Where do you keep them?"

"Shhh Pip!" Merry put his hand over his reckless cousin's mouth, "don't tease the eagle. Especially now we've made it up onto his back or do you want to go back down in the claws again?" The eagle had offered them a ride on his back in the vain hope they might behave.

"Enough!" Meneldor snapped. Merry and Pippin headed towards the eagle's tail in panic. "That noise will stop!"

"Yes, we'll be quiet now!" Pippin squeaked, "We're sorry Mr Eagle, sir."

"What d'yer mean? We!" Merry began indignantly. "I didn't… whooah!"

"Arrrrrroooouuuuuuugggghhh! "Arrrrrroooaaaaaackkkk! Oi! Give that back!"

Meneldor had easily located the source of the noise, as it was the only living thing for 200 leagues around, now that the crebain had departed. He soared aloft once more, Merry holding desperately to his tail and Pippin holding frantically to Merry. "Got it!" He announced proudly, holding up a large horn-shaped object in his claw.

"Hmm!" Gandalf examined the article carefully, "It's a horn!" Wizard's are very astute about such things. "It looks terribly familiar. Could we stop for a chat with its owner? Just a quick word should suffice, only I need to tell him something."

"Very well," Gwaihir agreed. "Although all these unscheduled stops are not making your journey shorter."

"This is true," Gandalf admitted, "but it will save me writing a letter in the long run, so that's all to the good."

The airborne convoy headed Middle-earthwards once more and alighted next to the bearded, surly looking man, who had been shaking his fist angrily at the clouds ever since his horn had been removed.

Gandalf spoke first. "Slow should you be to wind that horn again, Boromir," he said, "until you stand once more on the borders of your land and dire need is on you."

"Well I can't bleeding wind it at all now!" Boromir spluttered, "I have always let my horn cry at setting forth. I will not go forth as a thief in the night."

"Well you weren't exactly setting forth," Aragorn pointed out, "you're in the middle of Hollin, which is 200 leagues from the middle of anywhere."

"Maybe so," Boromir sulked, "But I'd lost my horse, lost my way and lost my temper. Now I'm late for my meeting and my father is not going to be pleased!

"Oh yes," Gandalf put in, "about that – the meeting's been cancelled."

"What?"

"Cancelled, yes," Gandalf looked very slightly embarrassed, which with a wizard is always very slight, "I was going to let you know – well I was going to let everyone know – but things kept coming up at the last minute, you know how it is."

"Same thing happened to me," Legolas put in unhelpfully, "only I got all the way there before I found out."

"That's just fine!" Boromir obviously did not think it was fine. "I come all this way, I had to leave right in the middle of my recapturing-Osgiliath-aren't-I-clever party and now you tell me I'm not needed! Have you any idea how much I've got to do?"

Gandalf shook his head, he really did not have a clue how much Boromir had to do. Meanwhile Merry and Pippin had climbed surreptitiously off Meneldor and were sitting in Boromir's shield and using it as a see-saw. Sam was going through the Man's pack to see if he had any spare food and Frodo had borrowed the horn from Meneldor and was trying to get a tune out of it.

"I've got to fight the marauding foes of Gondor; protect the White City from Orcs; cover the river for Corsairs; continue the never ending struggle against the Hordes of Harad; battle against the looming blackness that threatens to cover all the land in a second darkness," Boromir ran out of fingers and switched hands. "And ward off attacks from the Dark Lord Sauron, to name but a few. Oi!" He suddenly noticed what the hobbits were doing. "Get off that, you little buggers!"

"We're just testing the balance," Merry said indignantly, "You wouldn't want it off-balance with all you've got to do."

"And you!" He snatched the horn from Frodo, "That's the renowned Horn of Gondor! A treasured relic and heirloom of my House. Don’t play Jingle Bells on it!"

"And that…" Sam pointed in outrage at Frodo, "I mean, he, is Frodo Baggins, the Ring-bearer himself! Don't you go telling him what to do."

"Ring-bearer?" Boromir narrowed his eyes, "Which ring is that exactly?"

"The Dark Lord Sauron's Ring a'course!" Sam couldn't believe how ignorant this man was, "Whaddya think? Ring around the Rosie?"

"Sam!" Frodo looked at Gandalf for help, as he hissed at his servant, "we're not supposed to tell anyone that!"

"Oops!" Sam put his hands to his mouth, dropping the haunch of venison he had extracted from Boromir's luggage. "Sorry!"

"So!" Boromir's expression towards Frodo changed to an ingratiating smile, "let me see this Ring, little one – just to make sure, you know, that you've got the right one."

"I don't think I need It appraised sir," Frodo stepped backwards away from the Man. "Gandalf already did a valuation for me thank you."

"Well I'd like to have a look anyway," Boromir took a pace forward. "After all, I have come all this way and I'd have seen It anyway if Gandalf hadn't cancelled the meeting."

Frodo reluctantly reached inside his shirt and lifted the Ring out on Its gold chain. "There! Satisfied? It's just a Ring you know."

"That's nice," said Merry, seeing It for the first time.

"Yes," Pippin agreed, "very stylish. Why don't you wear It Fro?"

"Because if I wear It," Frodo explained sighing deeply, "you wouldn't be able to see me."

"Even better," Pippin muttered, "then you wouldn't be able to tell me off all the time."

"I'd still be able to see you," Frodo pointed out. "And get off that shield and put the venison down!"

"So this is the Ring?" Boromir's eyes and mouth opened wide in wonder. "What are you going to do with It?"

"We," Gandalf began, "or rather, Frodo, is going to destroy It in the bowels of Mount Doom. So if you'll excuse us, we have to get a move on."

"Wait!" Boromir held up his hand, shaking his head in despair and misunderstanding. "You're going to chuck It away?"

"Pretty much," Frodo confirmed. "I don't like It that much anyway."

"Weee-ll…" Boromir began tentatively, "if you're going to throw It away, could I have It instead? I mean there's no sense in getting rid of It just because you don't like It. I think I know someone who would really appreciate It." Boromir surveyed the grim faces staring back at him and turned to Frodo again, "I'll swap you the horn if you like?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to do that," Frodo looked longingly at the great horn, but as Ring-bearer he knew where his duty lay. "No, I think I'll send It to a fiery doom if it's all the same to you."

"Well could I come with you?" Boromir looked from Gandalf to Aragorn. "Perhaps he'll change his mind and then I'll be there to take It off his hands."

"Um," Aragorn stroked his chin as if in thought, "I'm not sure that would be such a good idea. I mean you have so much to do in Gondor, we wouldn't want to hold you up."

"I think it would be best if Meneldor just takes you quietly back to Gondor," Gandalf suggested. "Would that be all right with you Windlords?"

"If you think it wise Mithrandir," Gwaihir spoke for them all. He was not too sure why the Wizard and Ranger did not want this Man along, but it was evident that they did not. "The two small cousin creatures can double up with the Ring-bearer and the other hobbit and I can manage the elf, it doesn't seem to weigh too much." Gwaihir picked the unsuspecting Legolas up in his claw and hefted him up and down to check.

"Oh no!" Breathed Pippin, "Now we'll have to go back in the claws, that or put up with Frodo bossing me all the way."

"Besides," added Gandalf, ignoring Pippin's protest, "this quest could be quite dangerous for one such as you, Boromir. It's possible we could run into quite a few orcs and I have this strange feeling that you, of all people, shouldn't do that.

"I don't know," Merry whispered to Pippin, "looks to me like he could use one of those orc-bath things."

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Tromp, tromp, stomp, clump, tromp, tromp! "Halt!" Uglúk held an oversized mitt up to bring to a standstill his thumping troop of Uruk-hai. It had absolutely no effect and they kept on stomping madly ahead.

Uglúk shrugged and shouted his orders again over the reverberating stamp of fourscore pairs of oversized feet. "Find the halflings!" He bellowed. It didn't matter too much with this crew whether they were standing or running. Given an order they would mindlessly pursue the goal against all other distractions.

The Uruk-hai stomped on and on, never pausing, never doubting, hunting their quarry until they ran them to earth or their Master called them away. Halflings! They would not rest nor break bread until they had won the prize and could bear them home in victory. Uglúk sniffed the air as he ran – they were near – so near!

They stomped through the woodlands past Sarn Gebir. They crashed over the top of Amon Hen and splattered through the little spring that tumbled down to feed the grass and they pounded out onto the lawn of Parth Galen. No one was there!

The Uruk-hai had a vague feeling that something wasn't quite right, but, since they were pod-bred and incredibly stupid, they could not even begin to think about what it might be.

"Halflings!" Uglúk repeated, as if that would make them magically appear.

"Halflings!" The rest of the horde echoed. And, with Uglúk in the lead, they stomped down into the mighty Anduin and were washed neatly over the Rauros Falls and were never heard of again.

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 Still To Be Continued….