[Hookbill the Goomba]

Although there were many winding stairs covered in a great many different kinds of slime, Smilog and his party soon came to the top of the Tower of Small Jim. They ere in a large square room, ten foot high the walls and the ceiling was up held by many thin pillars. On each wall they could see, dimly, the outline of great clock faces, each with a sword painted on them with yellow writing above; yet what the writing said, none could tell, for it was blurred and in a foreign language. "Kids," muttered Smilog, "always graffiti-ing our stuff."

Tollin examined the centre of the room, where there were, suspended three foot off the ground, four large bells, surrounding a larger bell made of brass and steel. All about them was the loudly echoed sound of ticking and the creaking of floorboards whenever they moved. There seemed nothing particularly odd about the place, bar the small group of rats in the corner who appeared to be dressed as 16th Century English aristocrats and drinking gallons of tea.

"I say," Shouted the Barrow Wight as he inspected the clock face closely, "I recognise this."

"You do?" said Smilog, turning suddenly and nearly falling over in the process.

"Yes, quite plainly," the dead man took out a monocle and peered at the face even closer, "it was several years ago when me and some other Wights came here and decided to leave a little message of our own. It simply reads 'The Barrow Downs' those were good times." Smilog resisted the urge to punch the Wight.

"Look at this," said Tollin noticing a part of the floor that appeared to have been recently cut out and replaced. "I think I can open it," continued the Minotaur, "shall I?" Smilog nodded and Tollin lifted the floorboards. Then, several things happened; a horse sneezed, a rat leaped out of the floor and bit The Barrow Wight on the ear, Smilog slipped and smashed through the floor, and Tollin saw a small book in the hole being carried down by gravity, just above Smilog.

There was some crashing and banging before a silence grew once again. "Good grief," said the Barrow Wight, "Smilog, I say!" he cried down the hole, there were some groans from the deeps, "You seem to have fallen down a thirty foot hole."

"I think he knows that," pointed out Tollin, "can you move." Smilog swore at them and muttered something about getting back up if he had to grow wings. "There was a book!" cried Tollin, "can you see it?" there was some muffled cursing and sounds of movement.

"Yes. I have it!" came Smilog's reply.

"What does it say, old bean?" asked The Barrow Wight, taking his pipe out and lighting it.

"It says, 'get me out of here you stupid rotting corpse!'" Smilog threw a rock up, but it did not even get close to the top, but came back down and obviously his him on the head. Tollin rose and stroked his chin, trying to think of a plan.

All of a sudden, the ceiling collapsed and a large figured clothed in an orange robe fell to the floor and then rose up again, gripping a large metal staff. It appeared to be a man, tall and blond with a short stubble and long hair that his threw back. He smiled widely and showed a set of ridiculously white teeth. "Sorry I'm late," he said in an agonisingly arrogant voice, "did I miss anything? I bet you're all glad to see me at last, eh beardy!" he grabbed Tollin and head butted him, "we're all real men here!"

"I'm sorry," said The Barrow Wight, putting his pipe out, "Who are you?" the man punched the Wight in the face and laughed.

"Me?" he laughed, "Who am I? Who am I?"

"Yes, that's what I asked," said The Wight after putting his head back on.

"I'm Flashalim, the fabled orange wizard of the south!" he announced, "you can call me 'Flash'!" he winked and said, "I had some terrible business to sort out back west, but now I'm here to sort out the so-called dark Lord and then take all his birds! Woof!"

The Barrow Wight stared, almost feeling sick. "I don't think they get many in Mordor. The air is too poisonous for them to fly." Flash looked at him for an awful second, then he threw his head back and laughed.

"You're a funny fellow!" he cried, "Now! Let’s get kicking some Sauron backside! And then, to Gondor! Woof!"

After explaining to Flash many times that he was a little late for the war with Sauron, Tollin eventually got around to asking him to help get Smilog out of the hole. "Well," said Flash, standing up and throwing his hair back, "I've got just the spell for this!

Two hours later, Smilog and the rest stood at the bottom of Mount Zoom, peering at the devastated remains of Small Jim. Flash was next to him, covered from head to tow in soot and brick remnant. "Well, wasn't that fantastic?" cried Flash, "Now, it was bucko seeing you ladies, but I've got a Middle Earth to save!" a mysterious rope appeared from no where from the sky. Flash grabbed it and swung off shouting "Woof!"

"I do hope he gets eaten," said Smilog as he watched the 'wizard' fly of towards the homes of the wild Wargs.