Pippin and the Porcupines
“Porcupines!” said Merry, gazing into the distance. “Hundreds of them.”
“Where?” asked Pippin.
“Just beyond that meadow,” replied Merry. “Er, Pippin, where are you going? Pip?”
But it was too late. The young Took was haring off in the direction that Merry had indicated.
“I wonder where he’s off to?” mused Merry.
“More to the point,” said Bilbo, staring glumly at the lacerated strips of rubber that now adorned Bag-Endless-Fuel’s empty axles. “What are we going to do about these tyres?”
“They got the spare too,” said Samwise, ambling up disconsolately.
“There must be something inside that we can use,” offered Frodo in an effort to lift their spirits. “Hobbit-holes are veritable treasure troves of mathoms and the like. You must have something hidden away in there that will serve us as makeshift wheels, Uncle Bilbo.”
The Hobbits fell silent as each tried to think what might best fit the bill. But it was not long before their thoughts were rudely interrupted.
“Ow! Ouch! Ooh! Eek! Wa-hey! Ow!” grumbled a pin-cushion as it stumbled delicately towards them.
“Well there’s something you don’t see every day, and no mistake,” observed Sam.
“Ouch!” said the pin-cushion, pulling a handful of quills from its body.
“Pippin!” cried Merry. “Where have you been? And why did you go off chasing after the porcupines?”
“Well I was hungry!” wailed Pippin. “But I couldn’t see any Porky-pies. Just a load of big rats covered in these nasty spines.”
