The Famous Five and the Mystery of Moria

Chapter Two

 

 

Author:  Kinkyhobbit and Kevswitchau 4/02

Genre:  AU, Humour, LOTR/Famous Five crossover

Rating:  M

Warning:  Contains extreme silliness and lewd sexual innuendo. Yay! 

Disclaimer:  We take no responsibility for the characters, but full responsibility for their circumstances.

Summary:  The Five follow Aragorn and the hobbits as they leave Bree, heading for Rivendell.

 

 

The children rose at sunrise, determined not to miss Strider and the hobbits as they left Bree. All except Dick, who was still fast asleep when the others were ready for breakfast.

 

George and Anne knocked on the door to the boys’ room and Julian opened it, shaking his head.

 

“Look at him,” he gestured at Dick. “It’s impossible to get Dick up sometimes.”

 

“Did you tell him it’s time for breakfast?” asked Anne.

 

“Breakfast?” Dick sat bolt upright in bed, hair sticking in all directions. “Someone say breakfast?”

 

“Yes,” said Julian tersely. “Get dressed quickly and join us downstairs or we’ll be late!”

 

Julian, Anne and George arrived downstairs just as the innkeeper was setting out plates of sausages, mushrooms, bacon, eggs, tomatoes, thick sliced bread, honey and jam.  

 

“I told him we’re in a hurry, and that a small breakfast will do,” said Julian.

 

They sat down just as Dick thudded down the stairs. He stood and looked worryingly at the table. “I hope we don’t have to wait long until lunch.”

 

“Don’t worry, Dick,” said Anne. “The innkeeper has prepared some lunch to take with us.”

 

“Yes, we’ve got my favourite,” grinned Julian. “Cold ham and turkey, bags of lettuce, heaps of tomatoes, hard-boiled eggs and lashings of ginger beer.”

 

Dick nodded. “Do you think that will be enough?”

 

“Oh, it’s a wonder we don’t have to roll you out the door!” scolded George. “I’ve never seen someone eat so much.”

 

“Do shut up, you two,” said Julian. “We haven’t got the time. We’ll have to leave shortly.”

 

“Will we wait outside the gates?” asked George.

 

“Yes, I’ve arranged with the innkeeper for us to leave our bikes here. If we’re following people who are on foot, we won’t need them. We’ll pick them up on our way home.”

 

“So what about these people we’re following,” asked George excitedly.

 

“Well, the innkeeper said to look for a man and four hobbits, which apparently are just like dwarves, only a bit different.”

 

“What do you mean, Ju?” asked Anne.

 

“Well, he said they’re not as hairy, but they do have big hairy feet.”

 

“Oh, that’s disgusting!” replied Anne. “I do hope they don’t smell.”

 

“Well it would make it easier for Timmy to follow them,” grinned Dick, ruffling the dog’s fur and slipping him some sausage. “What about the man they’re with?”

 

“He’s going to be wearing a long cloak and hood, carrying an enormous sword and is apparently unshaven.”

 

“Oh, why can’t we ever get stuck following well-groomed, handsome villains,” sighed Anne.

 

“We don’t know they’re villains,” said George. “They might be the good guys.”

 

“All the more reason for them to be well-groomed and handsome, then,” Anne huffed.

 

 

They crouched in the bushes outside the gates of Bree, waiting. They didn’t have to wait long, as only minutes later the gate opened and a tall, dark-haired man and four small men and a pony exited the village.

 

“That must be them!” whispered Dick excitedly.

 

“Ew,” said Anne, screwing up her nose. “He looks terribly unwashed and scruffy, doesn’t he?”

 

Julian was staring at the man.

 

“I said doesn’t he, Ju?”

 

“What? Er…yes, well, he’s on the road quite a bit, I expect.”

 

Dick snorted. “That’s no excuse. We manage to look decent when we’re out camping.”

 

George was already on her feet. “Come on, you lot!” she hissed, stepping out of the bushes, still holding Timmy’s collar. They followed her.

 

Suddenly there was a yelp and they turned to see Anne sprawled on the ground. They ran back to her.

 

“Are you all right, Anne?” asked Julian, concerned.

 

“Just like a girl to sprain her ankle!” scoffed Dick. “What next?”

 

George punched him and shoved him out of the way, helping Anne to her feet.

 

“Are you allright, old thing?”

 

“Yes, I think so,” Anne smiled, wiggling her foot about. “Yes, it feels fine. False alarm! Well, come on everybody!”

 

 

The hobbits were still reluctant to follow Strider out of Bree. While he had saved them from the Ringwraiths, they were still unsure of his motives and Sam and Pippin in particular began to get more worried as the group headed further into the wild. They let Strider walk ahead and hung back so they could talk.

 

“Did you see what he had for breakfast?” whispered Sam. “What kind of person doesn’t take breakfast seriously?”

 

“He’s a man, Sam,” said Frodo. “Men are different to hobbits.”

 

“That’s hardly relevant, is it?” said Pippin.

 

Merry and Frodo exchanged looks and shook their heads. Sam grumbled something about certain hobbits being easily impressed by big swords and began to lead Bill away.

 

“I’m sure he knows what he’s doing, Pip,” said Merry, placing a hand on Pippin’s shoulder. “He wouldn’t save us if he was only going to do us later.”

 

“What?” said Sam suddenly, turning back. “What was that, Merry?”

 

Frodo sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you, Merry, the term is ‘do us in’. ‘Do us in’.”

 

Sam gave a relieved smile and kept walking

 

“At any rate,” asserted Merry. “He wouldn’t save us if he was going to kill us later.”

 

Sam nodded, throwing Frodo a worried glance. “Well…come on then.”

 

They all followed Sam. Pippin sighed heavily. “Surely it’s time for second breakfast.”

 

Sam stopped again, and Frodo nodded. “I think you’re right, Pippin.”

 

They began unpacking provisions from Bill’s back as Strider returned to see why they were lagging behind.

 

“Gentlemen,” he said sternly. “We don’t stop until nightfall.”

 

“But what about breakfast?” asked Pippin.

 

“You’ve already had it.”

 

“We’ve had one, yes. What about second breakfast?”

 

Strider just looked at him like he was mad, then turned and continued walking.

 

“Don’t think he knows about second breakfast, Pip,” said Merry.

 

Pippin looked like he was about to panic. “We can’t trust a man who doesn’t believe in second breakfast!”

 

Merry caught the first apple and handed it to Pippin, just as the second one smacked him fair on the head. Pippin looked up, confused.

 

“Someone’s throwing apples!” He looked at it and grumbled. “What’s the point of having a bottomless bag of food, you know, sausages, mushrooms, nice crispy bacon, if we can’t stop and eat any?”

 

“Come on, Pippin!”

 

They followed Strider, unaware of the four children close behind.

 

“Did you hear all that?” said Dick wonderingly. “Second breakfast!”

 

“Don’t even think about it,” said Julian. “We stop only when they do.”

 

 

As dusk arrived the group came within sight of a ruined tower. Strider pointed to it. “The Watchtower of Ambushing Nazgul,” he said. “We camp here tonight.”

 

Merry’s eyes widened in fear. “Did you say Ambushing Nazgul?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, well, why is it called that?”

 

Strider shrugged. “It’s just a name. It doesn’t mean anything.”

 

Merry’s eyes darted around the rest of the group. “I don’t like it, it sounds bad.”

 

“If Strider says it’s allright, then it’s allright,” said Frodo.

 

Sam made a face behind his back.

 

They followed Strider up into the tower and set up camp. The ranger produced a bundle wrapped in cloth and opened it to reveal four swords which he distributed to them.

 

Sam noted irritably that his still wasn’t as big as Strider’s. “Why is yours bigger?” he asked, suspiciously.

 

“Because I’m a man, therefore mine is bigger. You’re a hobbit, you couldn’t handle it.”

 

“I could,” said Frodo quietly. Sam shot him a look.

 

“It’s not how big it is,” said Merry examining his. “It’s what you do with it that counts.”

 

Pippin nodded seriously. “It’s all about being good with your hands, right Merry?”

 

“Right you are, Pip.”

 

“Well, as long as it’s big enough for the job,” grumbled Sam.

 

“You don’t need a bigger one, Sam,” said Frodo, smiling and patting his arm.

 

“I don’t?” Sam brightened considerably. “Really?”

 

“No.”

 

Strider frowned at them all. “I’m going to go have a look around. Don’t do anything to get noticed.”

 

 

Not far away, the Nazgul were going through their plans for the evening. The Witch-King strode up and down in front of them and would have looked sternly at each in turn if he’d had eyes to look with.

 

“Right, Three reports they are on the Watch-Tower of Ambushing Nazgul. We can now make an impressive entrance and kill them. Now it’s very important that everyone be wearing the same dark cloak. It just looks better, we don’t want the shemozzle we had last time where everyone was wearing something different and we didn’t look like a team.”

 

There were murmurs of assent from the rest of the group.

 

“You may deal with the others as you wish, but remember, the Ringbearer is mine.”

 

The rest of the Nazgul nodded. 

 

“And Seven!”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do resist the urge to grope any of them, please.”

 

Seven hung his head, then shot an invisible glance at Four who had started giggling.

 

“But there are four of them. Can’t we just have a bit of a play?”

 

“No.”

 

Four giggled louder.

 

“And no giggling! How on Middle-Earth are we supposed to frighten people if any of us are giggling?”

 

Four quickly shut up.

 

“Right, let’s go. Two, Five, Eight and Nine will be off seeing to the horses while the rest of us take care of the Ringbearer and his friends. Afterwards we meet at the Cloak and Dagger.”

 

 

Meanwhile the four children and Timmy had set up their camp at the base of the Tower.

 

“Aren’t they the cutest little men?” exclaimed Anne with a smile. “Oh, they’re adorable! Especially that one with the blue eyes!”

 

“Well I don’t know what that innkeeper was on about, they look nothing like dwarves,” said Dick.

 

George threw a tomato at him. “How do you know? You’ve never seen one, silly!”

 

“Well I’m sure they’d look different. And what about those trousers?!”

 

Anne laughed. “Oh, I know! They look like little schoolboys.”

 

Dick grinned. “Oh, don’t they!” 

 

“Shhh!” said Julian, frowning. “That Strider character is coming back down!”

 

They crept forward and watched through some bushes as Strider arrived at the base of the Tower. He looked around to make sure no-one was watching, then took several slow paces towards a small bush.

 

“Are you looking at me?”

 

The bush, predictably, said nothing.

 

Strider persisted. “I said, are you looking at me?”

 

The children glanced at each other, gaping.

 

“What’s he doing?” whispered Anne.

 

“I think he’s…trying to start a fight,” said Dick, shaking his head in amazement.

 

“With a bush?!”

 

Dick just shook his head again, glancing at Julian who was unable to take his eyes off Strider.

 

Strider glared daggers at the shrubbery before him. “I don’t think I like the tone of your voice,” he said in a low growl, and with that he drew his sword and slashed at the innocent plant, sending branches and leaves in all directions.

 

He finally chopped it off at the base with a cry of triumph, then suddenly scowled and fixed his fierce gaze on another, nearby shrub.

 

“What did you say?!” he asked incredulously.

 

The bush had no time to respond before Strider attacked.

 

The children looked at each other and started to laugh as Strider leapt onto rocks and down again, darting behind trees and attacking more bushes, one in particular which he took an intense dislike to. Julian stared, mouth slightly open, slowly licking his lips.

 

“I just don’t see what’s so great about having a big sword,” huffed Anne.

 

“Well you wouldn’t see, would you? You’re a girl,” snapped Dick.

 

“Oh shut up, Dick,” said George. “As if size matters.”

 

“What?” said Julian, head snapping around to look at them. “What was that?”

 

“We’re talking about his sword,” explained Anne, rolling her eyes.

 

Julian boggled. “His…?”

 

“Sword. You know.” And she made a slashing motion through the air.

 

“Oh! Oh, of course…yes…”

 

“And I still think he looks like he would smell,” she grimaced.

 

“Yes,” said Julian slowly and thoughtfully. “Doesn’t he…”

 

Strider’s imaginary battle took him around the other side of the Tower and out of sight, just as five enormous hooded figures quickly and silently approached.

 

The children gaped as the figures went past them, staring in shock and horror.

 

“What are they?” hissed George, terrified.

 

“I think they might be the Nazgul the ranger was talking about,” replied Julian grimly.

 

“What do we do, Julian?” asked Dick.

 

Julian nodded, his eyes narrowing. “We follow them!”

 

 

On top of the Tower, Frodo was desperately trying to sleep. Unfortunately Pippin, Sam and Merry had other ideas, and woke him with the smell of supper cooking. He tried to resist but he didn’t last long, getting up and joining them.

 

“Give me some sausage, Sam!”

 

Sam grinned. “Anything you say, Mr Frodo!”

 

Merry giggled. “Want some sausage, Pip?”

 

Pip winked at him. “Ooh, I don’t know, I think I’d rather fancy a nice big carrot.”

 

They collapsed giggling and Sam stared at them. “What’s wrong with you two?”

 

“Just ignore them, Sam,” said Frodo softly, tucking in to some supper. Sam watched transfixed as Frodo routinely licked his fingers between mouthfuls.

 

“Need some help there, Mr Frodo?”

 

“Hmm, no thanks, Sam.”

 

They all stopped suddenly as they heard a noise, and stared at each other.

 

“Nazgul?” whispered Merry.

 

Frodo leapt to his feet and kicked the fire out, before all four of them grabbed their swords and hurtled up to the top of the Tower. Four sets of frightened eyes darted quickly around as they realised there was nowhere else to run.

 

They froze in fear as five Nazgul suddenly appeared. The Nazgul drew their swords and Sam leapt at them.

 

“Back you devils!” 

 

He only got two hits in before he was knocked flying, landing breathless against a wall. Merry and Pippin tried vainly to protect Frodo, but were just as easily thrown aside.

 

From their hiding spot, the children watched, frightened.

 

“It doesn’t look good!” whispered George.

 

Dick shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to get stuck on one of those swords.”

 

“Who cares about the swords,” said George, wide-eyed. “What about those boots?!”

 

Dick gaped. “I see what you mean!”

 

“Oh no!” gasped Anne, pointing. “They’re going to kill him!”

 

Frodo was scampering backwards across the stones as the Nazgul approached. Unable to resist, and unable to think of anything else he could do, he pulled the Ring from his pocket and slipped it on.

 

The children gasped as he disappeared.

 

“How did he do that? Is that the One Ring they were talking about in Bree?” asked Dick.

 

“It must be!” said Anne. “Ooh, how exciting!”

 

The Nazgul just stood there, reaching towards Frodo. Suddenly the Witch-King stabbed him and he screamed.

 

Dick clamped a hand over Anne’s mouth as she did the same.

 

“They’ve skewered the little dwarf!” cried George, outraged. “How horrid!”

 

Before they could say any more, Strider leapt over the wall, sword in one hand and a flaming torch in the other.

 

“Hurrah!” shouted Julian with a grin.

 

Strider took to the five Nazgul in earnest. He sliced, diced and barbecued his way through them as the children cheered him on, Julian in particular.

 

“Yes!” yelled Julian as another Nazgul hurtled over the edge of the Tower. “Give it to him good!”

 

Dick peered at him. “You allright, Ju?”

 

Julian just stared, his eyes shining eerily in the moonlight, before suddenly jerking his attention back to Strider. “Again!” he shouted.

 

Strider hurled the torch at the last remaining Nazgul. The torch slammed into its head and it jumped screeching off the Tower.

 

The children leapt up to cheer, but in the sudden silence quickly remembered they were supposed to be hiding. “Hurrah,” they whispered in unison.

 

The other hobbits had surrounded Frodo, and Strider ran quickly to join them.

 

Dick shook his head in frustration. “What are they saying?”

 

Julian shook his head. “We’re not close enough to hear.”

 

Suddenly Strider lifted Frodo onto his shoulder.

 

“Oh, isn’t that a bit much!” said Julian scornfully. “Surely he can walk!”

 

“He’s hurt, Ju,” said Anne, concerned for the little hobbit.

 

“Hmph! But still…”

 

Strider and the hobbits began gathering their equipment. Julian leapt to his feet.

 

“They’re leaving. Come on you lot, we have to follow! The man might need a hand!”

 

They ran quickly down to get their own things and returned just as Strider and the hobbits took off into the forest. The five set off in pursuit but were not as fast. By the time they caught up, Frodo was in a very bad way.

 

“Where’s that ranger?” snapped Julian anxiously.

 

“Perhaps he’s gone to get help?” suggested Dick.

 

“Yes, of course, how silly of me!” said Julian.

 

“He doesn’t look well,” said Anne, looking closely at Frodo.

 

Julian waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, a hot bath and a cup of tea would soon sort him out!”

 

“He’s been stabbed, Julian!”

 

“He’s probably acting just to get some attention.”

 

They were still arguing when a tall, beautiful brunette stepped into the clearing.

 

“Ew, look at her ears!” sniffed Anne. “They’re all pointy!”

 

“Yes, they are rather,” said Julian thoughtfully. “I wonder if it’s some kind of genetic defect.”

 

“Or a cosmetic thing for some bizarre religious cult,” suggested George.

 

“Yes, that’s even more likely.”

 

“What’s she saying?” asked George.

 

The woman was speaking to Frodo in a language they couldn’t understand. The other hobbits just stared in wonder, then Strider arrived.

 

The children watched in horror as he chewed up a bit of plant and then put it on Frodo’s wound.

 

“That’s just disgusting!” grimaced Anne. “Eew!”

 

“It’s probably some kind of witchcraft!” said George. “Or folk medicine.”

 

Then Frodo was being lifted onto the woman’s horse. Julian made a startled noise and almost leapt to his feet as Strider took her hand.

 

“What are they doing?!” he hissed.

 

“I wonder if that’s his girlfriend?” asked Dick.

 

“No it isn’t!”

 

“Steady on Ju!”

 

“It’s not his girlfriend! Not with those ears.”

 

Then she quickly mounted the horse and was gone. Julian sat down, relieved.

 

“What does it all mean, Ju?”

 

“Blowed if I know, but it’s getting queerer by the minute!”

 

Dick yawned. “I don’t know, doesn’t anyone sleep around here?”

 

As if on cue, Strider told the remaining hobbits to make camp. Frodo would be taken care of, he said, and they needed to regain their energy ready for the morning.

 

“There you go,” Julian grinned, nudging Dick. “You only had to ask!”

 

They crept some distance away and began to set up camp for the night.

 

 

In a private room at the Cloak and Dagger, the Nazgul were feeling a little glum. All except the Witch-King, who was ropable.

 

“Who was it?” he snarled, pacing up and down like a caged animal. “Who was the bright spark who said ‘Come on baby, light my fire’?!”

 

He suddenly whirled and pointed. “FOUR!”

 

Four yelped and dropped his sword.

 

The Witch-King advanced towards him. “It was you, wasn’t it?” said the Witch-King menacingly. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

 

“I…I…” Four’s eyes darted wildly from side to side as the other Nazgul edged slowly away from him.  “I…was just sort of…caught up in the drama.”

 

“Oh!” said the Witch-King. “Caught up in the drama…” he said sarcastically. “Well then. I guess that makes it allright.”

 

He turned to the rest of the Nazgul. “In rushes the Ranger, with an enormous flaming torch, and Four here is ‘caught up in the drama’, and says ‘come on baby, light my fire.’”

 

He let his words hang in the air for effect. Four shifted uncomfortably. The Witch-King stopped his slow pacing in front of Four and spoke very, very quietly.

 

“Come on baby. Light. My. Fire.”

 

“Bu-” said Four.

 

“Did you stop,” interrupted the Witch-King. “Did you stop, to think, about how the Ranger might interpret that particular request?”

 

“Uh-”

 

“Did you THINK, at ALL, about WHAT EXACTLY MIGHT HAPPEN NEXT?!”

 

“We-”

 

“Did you PAUSE, to consider, that this MAY give him the idea to SET FIRE TO US ALL?!”

 

“Um…”

 

“DID YOU?”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m sorry, WHAT?”

 

“No, no I didn’t.”

 

The Witch-King was shaking with fury. He pointed a quivering gauntlet at Four. “If you weren’t already sort of undead, I’d kill you. I’d kill you myself.”

 

 

Strider had promised to keep watch. It was some time before the frightened but exhausted hobbits calmed down enough to sleep, and when they had, he immediately took his chance.

 

He headed quickly and silently through the trees, back the way they had come. He had suspected for some time they were being followed, possibly all the way from Bree, and the voices he had heard as he fought the Nazgul only confirmed it. He hadn’t said anything to the hobbits because he didn’t want to worry them, and because he suspected they were not really in any danger.

 

He crept silently upon the four sleeping children. As he knelt behind a bush Timmy sat up, wide awake.

 

Strider growled at him and Timmy pricked up his ears. Another growl from Strider, and Timmy came over.

 

“Grrr,” said Timmy.

 

“Aroo?” asked Strider softly. “Arf arf. Grr.”

 

Timmy whimpered, eyes wide, and Strider patted his head.

 

“Woof,” said Timmy at last.

 

This exchange went for several minutes until Strider was satisfied the children were no danger to them. He thanked Timmy with a pat and headed back to camp. The children were harmless, but would still need to be watched.

 

End Chapter Two.

 

Kinkyhobbit/Kevswitchau 2002

 

Chapter 3

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