The Famous Five and the Mystery of Moria

Chapter One

 

 

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 stay at the Prancing Pony to avoid the rain during their camping trip. After overhearing the hobbits’ meeting with Aragorn and subsequent lucky escape from the Nazgul, they decide something very queer is going on.

 

 

The children were growing more and more excited despite themselves. At last the train was nearing the station and they knew they were only minutes away from seeing Aunt Fanny – then the hols would really begin!

 

“I say, it’s wizard seeing the girls again, isn’t it Julian?” grinned Dick. “I’m so excited I could burst!”

 

“I’ll say!” said Julian. “George, is your hair even shorter?”

 

“Yes, it is,” said George, getting a nudge from Anne. “Anne cut it for me this morning.”

 

“Anne, you shouldn’t encourage her!” scowled Dick. “I bet Aunt Fanny won’t like it one bit.”

 

“Pipe down old chap,” said Julian sternly. “We can’t start fighting when we haven’t even left the train.”

 

“That’s right, Ju,” said Anne. Dick made a face at her.

 

Julian turned to George. “Will we see Uncle Quentin this time? Or is he working on a new invention? Or a top secret project for the government?”

 

“Oh, you know Father, he’s always up to something queer!” laughed George.

 

“Well, as long as he hasn’t been kidnapped again,” said Julian.

 

“I can’t wait to see Aunt Fanny,” said Anne. “And dear old Timmy!”

 

“Yes, it’s going to be a smashing holiday,” said Julian. “I vote we go camping again and see if we can find ourselves another adventure.”

 

“Hurrah!” they chorused.

 

As the train slowed down near the platform, the children hung out the windows waving and laughing at Aunt Fanny. She was struggling to keep hold of Timmy, who didn’t want to wait until they were off the train to greet them.

 

They jumped down off the train and ran to Aunt Fanny, smothering her in an enormous group hug with Timmy jumping and barking around them.

 

“Oh it’s so wonderful to see you all!” laughed Aunt Fanny, giving George an especially big hug.

 

George blushed. “It’s good to be on holiday, mother!” She bent down and was almost bowled over by Timmy. “Oh Timmy, look at you!”

 

“Woof!” barked Timmy happily.

 

“He says he’s very happy to see us all!” laughed George.

 

“Well we’re very happy to see you too, Timmy,” said Julian with a serious face. The rest of them burst out laughing.  

 

“Come on, all of you,” said Aunt Fanny. “There’s a smashing afternoon tea waiting for you at Kirrin Cottage. I bet you’re all famished after that long train journey.”

 

“Me especially!” said Dick.

 

“You eat so much, Dick,” laughed Anne.

 

“Well so does Julian!” retorted Dick, defensively. “I’m not the only one!”

 

 

They arrived back at the cottage, freshening up quickly before heading downstairs for afternoon tea. Of course Timmy was already waiting for them.

 

Dick ruffled his fur affectionately. “You’re a dear old dog!  We’ve missed you!”

 

“I say, Aunt Fanny,” said Julian. “There’s enough food here to feed an army.”

 

“Well it was a long trip,” said Dick, reaching for a treacle tart.

 

“Just remember to leave some for the rest of us,” said George with a smile. “I want to eat some tart, too!”

 

“Well that’s no surprise to us!” laughed Julian. “Anne, pass me some of those cream buns, they look wonderful!”

 

“Ooh, they are,” said Anne through a mouthful of bun. “The cream just fills your mouth when you bite into them!”

 

The four children ate virtually everything in front of them, finally sitting back in their chairs and sighing heavily.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t eat another thing!” said Anne.

 

“Yes, we’ll all get fat as pigs if we eat like this through the hols,” said Julian with a grin.

 

“So what do you all have planned?” asked Aunt Fanny. “Another one of your camping adventures?”

 

“We were talking about that on the train,” said Julian as the others nodded. “We were thinking we could ride our bikes down towards Camambere. There’s some nice cheese factories down that way.”

 

“Ooh, yes, we have to visit Bree and…what’s that other village called?”

 

“Danish Blue,” said George through a mouthful of tart.

 

“Yes, that’s the one!”

 

“What do you think, Aunt Fanny?” asked Dick excitedly.

 

“Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea. I’ll pack you some food and you can head off first thing, if you like.”

 

“Hurrah!”

 

 

It was a beautiful clear morning as the four children and Timmy set out. They stopped only briefly in Camambere at lunchtime, intimidated by the dark clouds that had quickly filled most of the sky. They scoffed down ham and turkey sandwiches, fresh tomatoes, hard-boiled eggs, bags of lettuce and lashings of ginger beer before heading off again towards Bree.

 

They were only minutes from the village of Bree when the rain started to fall. They stopped to discuss their options.

 

“I don’t want to camp out in a thunderstorm,” said Anne determinedly.

 

“You’re such a girl,” scoffed Dick. “It’s only a bit of rain.”

 

“No, Anne’s right,” said Julian. “There’s a little inn in the village called the Prancing Pony, we could stay there.”

 

“Oh, what a lovely name,” said Anne delightedly. “I’ll bet it’s a quaint little inn with lace curtains and fine china! And good linen on the beds! It will be simply lovely!”

 

“Just like a girl,” muttered Dick, so George kicked him.

 

They arrived shortly at the village and headed straight for the inn. It was late afternoon but the inn was still fairly quiet. Julian asked for two rooms adjoining each other, and the innkeeper cheerfully advised that two such rooms were available. He led them upstairs and left them to settle in.

 

Anne sat heavily on one of the beds and scowled. “I don’t like it, it’s smelly and horrid!”

 

“Well it’s the only option,” said Julian simply. “It’s this or camp out in the rain.”

 

“Julian’s right, Anne, at least this is nice and dry,” said George.

 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” grumbled Anne, pulling out her feather duster and dusting the furniture.

 

“We’ve had a big day,” said Julian. “I vote we have supper and get an early night.”

 

There were nods and murmurs of agreement, and as the sun set the children were tucked in their beds fast asleep, with Timmy curled up in front of the door.

 

 

As the children slept, the hobbits arrived at the gates of the village, which was now closed and watched. It was some time since their close encounter with the Ringwraiths, and they were no longer frightened, simply exhausted and desperate for some food and sleep. They made sure there was no-one about before banging on the gate to be let in.

 

A wizened old gatekeeper peered out at them. “Hobbits?” he said, surprised. “Four hobbits! Don’t get many hobbits about. What are you doing here?”

 

“We’re on our way to the Prancing Pony,” said Frodo. “And our business is our own.”

 

“Allright, allright, no need to get defensive, I was just asking,” said the gatekeeper, stepping back to let them pass. “Just making a bit of conversation, you know. Just being friendly, like.”

 

“Yes, thank you,” said Sam tersely as they walked past him.

 

“Yes, well, you’re welcome,” he replied, closing the gate. “I mean I’m here all night every night in the cold and rain, just on the off chance that someone might want to come in to the village, and nobody really says more than two words to me,” he grumbled. He turned, but they were already gone.

 

He tsked-tsked to himself, shaking his head. “Typical,” he muttered. “They want my attention when they’re outside, don’t they? It’s always ‘Open the gate old man!’, ‘Oh, we’re being chased by villains! Help!’, ‘I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date!’. Then the moment they’re in they just ignore me, I don’t know…”

 

The hobbits made their way up the street in the mud, Merry momentarily distracted by the large carrot a drunk-looking man waved at them as they went past.

 

Finally they arrived at the Prancing Pony and stepped inside, immediately engulfed in warmth and noise, and the smell of beer and a roaring fire.

 

“Good evening, little masters,” said the innkeeper, drying a tankard. “What can I do for you, Mr…?”

 

“Underhill,” said Frodo.

 

“Underhand,” muttered the inkeeper.

 

“Underhill,” repeated Frodo. “We’re friends of Gandalf the Grey, can you tell him we’ve arrived?”

 

The innkeeper thought for a moment. “Oh yes, old fellow, big grey beard, pointy hat.”

 

“Wizard,” prompted Merry helpfully.

 

“Yes, that he is, yes,” nodded the innkeeper. “Haven’t seen him for ages.”

 

The innkeeper went back to his drying up and the hobbits looked at each other, confused.

 

“What do we do now?” asked Sam.

 

“Oh, I guess…we wait,” said Frodo.

 

They settled at a table, ordering some food and beer. Merry and Pippin were in their element, but Frodo was worried and that made Sam tense. While Frodo tried to look calm, Sam kept scanning the room anxiously. He couldn’t be certain, but he felt they were being watched. He waited until he was sure, then leaned over and spoke quietly in Frodo’s ear.

 

“That man’s done nothing but stare at you since we arrived.”

 

Frodo followed Sam’s gesturing hand with his eyes. “Which one,” he asked. “The man with the cloak and pipe, or the black man with the strange hair?”

 

“Both of them.”

 

Frodo grasped the innkeeper’s sleeve as he walked past. “Excuse me.”

 

“Yes, Mr Underdog?” replied the innkeeper, bending down.

 

“Underhill. Who are those men?”

 

The innkeeper looked at the men Frodo was pointing at. “The one in the hood is one of them Rangers. Round here, he’s known as Strider. The other I don’t know where he’s from, but he calls himself Mr T.”

 

As Merry returned to his seat, Mr T approached their table. He had a beard, a mohawk and what appeared to be a jewellery store around his neck. He towered over them and scowled fiercely at Frodo.

 

“You’re one fine looking hobbit!” he said in a deep, gravelly voice.

 

Frodo blinked, startled. “Er…”

 

Sam and Merry stared at each other.

 

“Why don’t you come over and sit on my knee?”

 

“!” replied Frodo, not knowing which way to look. 

 

Sam bristled and leapt to his feet.

 

“Sit down, fool!” bellowed the man. Sam obeyed, and began furiously studying his fingernails.

 

“Er…” whimpered Frodo again, glancing desperately at Merry and Sam for support.

 

“Come on boy, you know you want to,” growled the man.

 

“Er…no, no I don’t.”

 

The stranger’s eyebrows got even more agitated. Frodo thought they were going to leap off the man’s face and attack him.

 

“You sure?!”

 

“Yes,” squeaked Frodo, flinching.

 

“Well,” said the man, nodding. “I’ll be right over there. I’ll be watching you, boy.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The man left, and Sam felt terribly embarrassed. Frodo glared at him.

 

“I’m sorry Mr Frodo,” said Sam, shaking his head. “But…he’d eat me for breakfast.”

 

“And second breakfast,” nodded Merry.

 

Frodo scowled, annoyed. “Where’s Pippin?”

 

Pippin was at the bar drinking and chatting to some very rough looking men. The talk had been casual at first: the weather, the harvest, black riders and such. Then one of the ruffians turned to Pippin and said “There’s some of them black riders about looking for one of your folk.”

 

“Really?” said Pippin. “Who?”

 

“Baggins, I think.”

 

“Oh, that would be Frodo!” grinned Pip. “Frodo Baggins! He’s my cousin…”

 

Frodo overheard his name and turned and ran to the bar.

 

“Pippin! What are you doing?”

 

“Steady on Frodo!”

 

Frodo slipped and fell flat on his back, legs in the air.

 

“Nice ring,” said one of the men.

 

The Ring in question flew into the air. Frodo reached for it as it fell, only to have it find it’s way onto his finger. He disappeared and there were murmurs of surprise from the bar.

 

“That’s a good trick!”

 

“He must be a wizard!”

 

“Bit short for a wizard.”

 

“I bet that’s one of them Rings of Power! I’ve heard about those!”

 

“Oh yes, how many were there again?”

 

The conversation turned to rings and who had them, and Frodo crouched frightened at their feet as the air sizzled and crackled around him. He looked up to see an enormous blazing eye threatening to engulf him, accompanied by a deep, terrifying voice that penetrated his very body and gripped his heart with fear.

 

“I see you…you are so in trouble…”

 

Frodo fell backwards, yanking the Ring from his finger.

 

He was just about to get his breath back and yell at Pippin when he was seized and hauled to his feet.

 

“You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr Underpants,” said Strider in a low voice.

 

“Underhill!” snapped Frodo.

 

“Whatever,” replied Strider, shoving him up the stairs.

 

Frodo was thrown through a door into a room and turned to face the man.

 

“Who are you?”

 

 

Downstairs, the other hobbits panicked briefly when Frodo disappeared, searching under tables and around the bar looking for him. Sam was about to take to Mr T with a stool and an empty tankard to ask some questions when Merry stopped him.

 

“Look!” he pointed to the stairs.

 

They saw Frodo just as he was hauled upstairs by Strider. 

 

“I’ll find out which room, you get Pippin!” said Sam.

 

Pippin was at the other end of the bar trying to get away from Mr T. Merry grabbed him and pulled him to the bottom of the stairs just as Sam came back down.

 

“Found him!” gasped Sam. “That Strider fellow’s got him!”

 

“I wouldn’t worry,” said a man nearby. “He’s only after a bit of fun.”

 

“Fun!?” said Sam incredulously.

 

“Yes, bit of a pervy hobbit fancier, that one. Know what I mean?” he gave Sam a nudge.

 

“Wha…you mean he’s…he wants to…oh Mr Frodo!” Sam charged up the stairs, with Merry and Pippin close behind.

 

They threw the door open, and Strider whirled and drew his sword.

 

“Let him go!” snarled Sam. “Or I’ll have you, Long Shanks!”

 

Strider sheathed his sword with the hint of a smile. “You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that will not save you.”

 

Sam ran to Frodo. “Are you allright, Mr Frodo?”

 

Frodo sighed with relief. “Yes Sam, I’m fine.”

 

“Are you sure?” asked Sam, checking Frodo’s clothes to ensure they were still well and truly on him.

 

“Yes, stop that, what are you doing?”

 

Sam glanced at Merry and Pippin and they all just shook their heads at each other.

 

Sam swallowed, slightly embarrassed. “Well, that’s allright then.” He sat down and gave the fire a bit of a poke.

 

“Er…so, what happened when you disappeared?  How did you do that?” asked Pippin.

 

Frodo looked at Strider, who proceeded to explain about the Rings of Power.

 

 

Next door, the four children had been woken by the commotion in Strider’s room and had their ears glued to the wall, listening. Their eyes widened with excitement at what they heard.

 

“A ring…a dark lord…” muttered Dick in amazement.

 

George shushed him, frowning. “Something about the end of the world…”

 

“What do you think it means?” whispered Anne.

 

“I don’t know, but it all sounds very queer,” said Dick.

 

“I’ll say,” nodded Julian. “They’re up to some mischief, I’ll be bound.”

 

“Do you think they’re gangsters?” asked George hopefully.

 

“Or escaped convicts?” suggested Anne.

 

“Or criminal masterminds bent on overthrowing the Government?” said Dick.

 

“Yes, that’s even more likely,” said Julian, seriously.

 

“Shush!” said George again, before glancing at the others. “Did you hear that? They’re moving to the inn next door!”

 

“The Dancing Donkey,” said Julian, nodding again.

 

“Should we follow them?” asked Dick.

 

Julian shook his head. “We know where they are, we can follow them in the morning when they leave. We don’t want to arouse their suspicions. Right now I think we should get to sleep, so we can get up early and make sure they don’t leave before us.”

 

The others all murmured in agreement, and they went back to bed.

 

 

Strider warned the hobbits that Frodo’s habit of playing with his ring was going to attract the attention of the Ringwraiths. It took little to convince them to move next door to the Dancing Donkey, and they settled in with only moments to spare. They watched as the Ringwraiths set about trashing their former room, murdering innocent pillows in their beds.

 

“Those black riders are after Frodo’s ring?” said Merry.

 

Strider nodded grimly. “They may not be the only ones. Are you allright Sam?”

 

Sam fidgeted and blushed even more. “Just a bit warm in here, Mr Strider, that’s all.”

 

“Perhaps you should sit further away from the fire, then.”

 

“So who are these black riders?” asked Frodo. “Where are they from?”

 

“They are the Nazgul, the Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead.”

 

“So…sort of dead?” asked Pippin.

 

“Not really. They’re just neither dead or alive.”

 

“Sort of undead?” Pippin tried again.

 

“Neither. They’re just not alive, nor are they dead.”

 

“So what are they? Like spirits?”

 

“No, they have ceased to be human, they are shadows of themselves. Wraiths.”

 

“So, like ghosts?” asked Merry.

 

“No, because they’re not dead. They’re wraiths.”

 

“Are they like-”

 

“No, oh look,” Strider sighed and muttered to himself. “Why are there four of them? Why?” He took a deep breath and looked up. “They’re not dead. They’re not alive. They’re wraiths. In-between. Neither one or the other.”

 

The look on his face warned against further discussion on the matter.

 

“Can you fight them?” asked Frodo, looking longingly at Strider’s sword.

 

“If need be.”

 

“So…um…are you really good with your sword?”

 

“I have to be, Frodo. Don’t worry.”

 

Frodo nodded and tried to ignore the fact that Sam was staring at him. “How many can you do, I mean, deal with, at once?”

 

“As many as I have to,” he gave them a wry smile. “I try not to make a habit of it.”

 

Frodo giggled, which made Merry and Pippin stare at him as well. 

 

“Now we must rest,” Strider said. “You need it.”

 

They settled down to sleep. Sam put a possessive arm around Frodo, and Merry and Pippin snuggled up together. Strider kept watch.

 

Sam had a thought.

 

“Mr Strider, you said you sort of keep an eye on us all in the Shire.”

 

Strider nodded.

 

“So…do you watch us when we’re…you know…” he nodded in Merry and Pippin’s direction. 

 

Strider smiled.  “Sometimes. Some hobbits do have a liking for doing it out in the open. But I try not to because it’s distracting.”

 

“Distracting?” asked Frodo, sitting up. “In what way?”

 

He looked at Frodo for a moment. Frodo smiled at him.

 

“Go to sleep, Frodo.”

 

“Yes, go to sleep Mr Frodo,” said Sam with a frown.

 

They settled back into their beds.

 

A few minutes later, Pippin stirred. “Merry,” he asked. “Is that your carrot?”

 

Silence.

 

“No…”

 

“Oh.”

 

“It’s my-”

 

“Go to sleep, you two,” growled Sam.

 

End of Chapter 1.

 

Kinkyhobbit/Kevswitchau 2002

 

Part 2

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