Queer Customs
As the crowds (and other drivers) gazed in horror at Gandalf's little diversion, Frodo ignited the rocket boosters and Bag-Endless-Fuel was away, gaining a much needed head start. Batteries of rockets shot out of its multiple exhaust outlets and swung skywards to burst over the Lonely Mountain in bright flashes of red, blue and green, drawing the eyes of the thankful onlookers away from the distasteful sight of the old Wizard uncloaking.
Once underway, Frodo switched to the Roman Candle jet propulsion. Colourful balls of fire popped out from the exhausts in rapid succession, as the motorised Hobbit hole sped south to the Long Lake. Then, turning west where the Forest River met the lake, it swiftly headed off towards Mirkwood.
And so it was not long before the mobile hill-and-burrow combo was picking its way through the mirky, woody blackness of the great forest of Rhovanion. Feeling rather pleased with himself for stealing a march on his rivals, Frodo was just beginning to relax when a cry rang out from above. It was Samwise Gamgee, who was perched in the bird's nest which some passing Thrushes (old friends of Bilbo) had kindly built on the chimney-top to serve as a look-out post. Frodo quickly cut the engine and doused the fire in the hearth so that Sam could make his way down the chimney-stack.
"Begging your pardon, Mister Frodo, sir," said Sam as he gingerly extricated himself from the fireplace. "But there's a mighty great Troll blocking our path. And he's demanding a toll to let us pass."
"A
Troll-gate, eh?" mused Frodo. "Well they certainly have strange
customs in these parts. He's only doing his
duty, I suppose, but it's a
taxing problem at any
rate. What's your
assessment?"
"Simple," said Merry appearing in the living room with Pippin and a crowd of mechanics. "Let's just give him some of Bilbo's dragon gold and we'll be on our way."
"Unfortunately, it's not quite as simple as that," said Frodo glumly. "All of Bilbo's gold was spent souping up Bag End for this race. We're out of funds."
"If we may makes a sssugesstion," hissed one of the mechanics, a queer looking fellow with large racing goggles and ill-fitting overalls. "Throw out one of the Hobbitses. Trollss like Hobbitses to eat. Yesss they do. And while the nasssty Troll is eating the little Hobbitses, we can ssslip passst him."
"No! I could never do such a thing," cried Frodo aghast. "Unless ... Pippin?"
"Me?" exclaimed Pippin in some distress. "But ...!"
"I was thinking that we could perhaps tempt the Troll with that mutton that you have been hiding away. Trolls like mutton too, I hear."
"But I was saving that for elevenses! With a nice mushroom pie and onion gravy. And a side dish of game pie with cranberry jelly. Oh, and some corn relish. And ..."
"Well, if you'd prefer to take its place ..."
And so, in no time at all, Frodo had disembarked and was offering the great haunch of meat to the Troll.
"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don't look like mutton again!" bellowed the Troll angrily. "Besides, I ain't hungry. I just ate. It's twenty pieces of gold or you ain't passing."
"Any more bright ideas?" enquired Frodo as he climbed back into Bag-Endless-Fuel. "The Troll ain't - ahem -
isn't hungry."
"Well, didn't Bilbo once escape from some Trolls when they turned to stone?" piped up Pippin. "We could keep him talking until the sun rises."
"Isn't that rather obvious, Master Pippin, if you get my meaning?" said Sam. "Old Mister Troll won't be falling for a trick like that, I'll wager."
"And it only works when you have more than one Troll," observed Frodo. "You need to get them arguing. Otherwise it doesn't work."
"Besides, the sun is high in the sky," pointed out Merry. "We just can't see it for all these confounded trees. There's a clue in the name.
Mirkwood, get it?"
"Oh!" said Pippin, unwrapping the game pie to help him think.
"What about the Ring of Zoom, Master Frodo?" suggested Sam.
"No. We cannot risk it, Sam," replied Frodo. "Mount Zoom is too close, most likely. We would be laid open to its Wheels of Fire. If only Gandalf were here. He would know what to do."
But that comforting thought was quickly dispelled by the distressing image of Gandalf uncloaking before a Troll.