[the guy who be short]

Though he had tried to keep up when she had been rudely snatched away, Fléin had now, to his despair, completely lost sight of Wilhelmina. Perhaps his only chance of company in this forsaken city was lost, in the grasp of reality showism.

Well, maybe now that he was alone (excluding the several million Lûndûners rushing around, of course) he could get some thinking done. What he really needed was somewhere to sit and ponder, or maybe just sit.

He wandered around a little, still slightly dazed, until he found a grimy sign proclaiming his presence at Amon Haradow. He inspected the sign more closely - to the North was North Haradow. West Haradow lay to the West. To the South was Far Haradow. The sign posting to the east was too grimy to read, and his eyes were streaming, but he could warrant a guess as to what lay in that direction.

"Curse this place! Curse Mordor!" he roared to the world at large. A few people glanced at him. He swore again, at a complete loss and still bench-less. What could he possibly do now, save maybe swallow his pride (Pride? What pride is there in this land?, he thought bitterly) and ask somebody where to go.

He approached a singularly odd looking man in a top hat, his arms full of chocolate bars. "Excuse me-" he had began but the man seemed to have no intention of listening to him.

"Want to buy a Wonka bar, eh? Delicious Wonka bars... my own brand, don't you know, and ever so good to eat. See this egg? Try it! Try it! Free!" He thrust a small chocolate egg into Fléin's hand.

"I really don't want to-"

"Eat it! Eat it!" he continued as quickly as before. "Oh, it's new, you know, but don't worry, it's quite safe; or at least, it is for Oompa loompas, not that you know who they are, but my dear Dwarf, don't just stand there, try it and tell me what you think!"

"But I just want to ask you-" the Dwarf tried again, to no avail.

"Oh please, don't make this more suspenseful than it has to-"

"WHERE EDGINGVILLE IS!" Fléin finally managed to scream into the annoying man's face.

"Well, now, there's no need to be quite so rude" said the easily offended amazing chocolatier, walking off in a huff.

Fléin signed. At least the conjunctivitis appeared to be clearing up... his eyes weren't quite so watery anymore. He decided he definitely needed a rest. Once his bottom had a little support, his mind could get on with some thinking. But where was he to find any place to rest in Lûndûn? Should he approach another stranger? Considering how the last one went, it didn't seem a very appealing proposition, but there was little else to do.

Crowds were still speeding past in both directions on the pavement. Fléin walked across, planting himself firmly in front of a man in a suit, presumably one of the many bureaucrats in Mordor, and accosted him. "Excuse me, my good Man, I'm looking for somewhere to rest," he said loudly, "and if you won't be of any assistance, I'm of a mind to use this axe." He indicated the axe on his back.

"Er... well... erm, there is... that is to say... erm, you could... there is Ma Cuddonelds, a fast food place... nearby."

Fléin allowed the man to direct him to the lunching house and left him, much relieved, to go on his way. So it was that the Dwarf came to the notorious Ma Cuddonelds.