This is a new LOTR Fanfic/Spoof I am writing. It is insipired by an RPG that Elenna and I had taken part in about a year and half ago on another forum. Unfortunately it was never completed, for whatever reason.
These are a few excerpts from the work currently in progress. Feel free to express your comments in the comments thread.
With a loud deafening crash, the large hobbit lad fell through the roof of the tavern. Startling everyone in the place. Picking himself up, he staggered forward in unsteady steps, up to the bar, "Another flagon of ale," he slurred.
The tavern keeper eyed him in annoyance, and poured out the drink. This hobbit was a walking disater but he did pay for his excesses.
The disheveled hobbit noticed a young hobbit lad staring at him, and he grinned back. He was Barocas Headstrong, and he loved to fight and drink. And maybe a hobbit lass or two along the way. Living his life mostly on the road, this unusually large hobbit loved to travel and meet new people and explore new lands.
Dragging his ale mug along, he flopped down next to the young hobbit. "Hello, me lad... how are ye this fine morn?"
"I am well," replied the young hobbit, amused by this clumsy fellowman. "I am called Dinodas, and what may I call you."
"Drunk!" the large hobbit replied and then fell into a fit of raucous mirth, slapping his knees.
Wiping his eyes, his laughter abated, he replied, "I am called Barocas Headstrong. And I am a travelling man, I love to boldly go where no hobbit has gone before." He waved his hands across in a wide arc.
Dinodas raised an eyebrow and smiled in amusement. "You don't say. I have need of a travelling companion, Barocas... pray tell, would you like to accompany me on a quest for all hobbit kind."
Barocas emptied the ale with a long gulp and slammed the mug down on the table. "And who are you, my bright eyed friend?" he asked, his eyes blurry.
Dinodas sighed. Better than wandering alone, he thought as Barocas erupted into another fit of ribald merriment.
Barocas strolled out along with Dinodas, as the score and four hobbit messengers set off on their chosen paths. He turned and cast a longing look at the tavern and then at Lobelia, grinning as she called, "You hurry back now, Barocas Headstrong! Hurry back, Y'hear..."
Barocas was one of the larger hobbit men, hard work and battle training had developed his muscles well, but the last few years of good food and drink had a telling effect. His rapidly expanding waistline, preceeded him wherever he went. Often incurring the mirthful looks of his fellowmen.
Barocas mostly laughed off such comments, and joined in the revelry with his ridiculers. Dinodas, however, appeared to take some offence in such matters.
"Which road shall we take?" he asked his young companion, as he took a swig of the wine he carried in his waterskin.
"Friend Dinodas," boomed Barocas Headstrong, gesturing widely across the horizon, "Let us go to this little settlement known as Bree, for there are great many taverns there to help us through with this journey." He winked.
Dinodas looked at the large hobbit with some discomfort, but the jolly smile on his generous face made the young hobbit laugh, "And what after that, or are we to drink our way through this mission?"
"Nay! Young Dino, nay I say," boomed the larger hobbit, "we shall traverse to lands I have only heard of from the tales of strange big folk and the dwarf people. We will go to the lands where the qround is white and hard and the cold air bites like the sharp teeth of a warg."
Dinodas gulped hard and wondered if his companion had one too many that early in the day to be considering that hobbit folk would ever be found in such unfriendly places, but something in the sour-breathed tone of Barocas convinced the youngster and he put his arm around the older hobbit's generous girth as they headed off toward Bree.
Barocas was pleased to have some female company, though Dinodas seemed a bit uneasy. He was young, he would soon grow accustomed to it. Barocas assured himself.
"We can go to Bree firstly..." Barocas began, scratching his head, "and then we will head for the colder lands up north-east."
"If you think we can find some lost hobbits there." protested Dinodas.
"If not we can have a great adventure..." Barocas said, then whispered to Dinodas, "An if we find no other hobbits, we can take this one over to old Marcho, at least we won't some home empty handed."
Dinodas scratched his head as Barocas turned to the hobbit lass, who clutched her dog close to her.
"Aye, lady!" He said,"you can come with us, if you can bear with the company of two clumsy men."
The hobbit lass smiled and nodded her head.
"Can you cook, Amy?" Barocas asked, rubbing his generous belly, "Oh... may I call you Amy?" he smiled wide enough for both the hobbit men, as Dinodas too looked eagerly at Amaranth.
Sipping deeply from his waterskin, Barocas looked around for a good place to lie down.
After all, a good nap was necessary after a hearty meal. That lass, Amy, did cook well. Rubbing his well fed belly, the large hobbit settled down under a tree. His mind lazed over what he would do in Bree, there were supplies to replenish, more wine to refill. And then decide which way would be safest to travel at that time of the year. And also keep a sharp eye out for any more hobbits... especially hobbit lasses.
A soft snoring sound emitted from where he lay, unaware of the world around him. Barocas slept peacefully.
The soft honeyed and pale-gold streaks of the first rays of the new day sun fell across the fresh dew covered blades of emerald green grass swaying in the fresh early morning wafts of pleasant breeze that caressed across the tall, gray tree covered landscape rolling on for miles and miles. Far ahead in the horizon, clouds of billowy white floated over the icy peaks of the far off misty mountains that rose majestically to make an imposing barrier across the vast expanse of the shimmering horizon.
Barocas rode on his pony and marveled at the view before him with eyes widened in awe and expectation. Glancing across at Dinodas, he noticed that the young hobbit lad had a look of equal wonderment in his bright eyes. Amaranth too felt excited as she tossed her head and looked around. Her large wondering eyes surveyed the lands they were about to travel until their gaze settled on the large hobbit. She softened her gaze as she saw the youthful look of exuberance on his large, chubby face. A look of boyish wonder in anticipation of a great journey ahead.
Shrill and sweet birdsongs rent the air around them as their ponies began their steady trot onward. As their journey progressed, birds of many sizes and hues filled their field of vision. The densely wooded land around them was home to many kinds of feathered animals of the air.
“Such beautiful birds and so sweet they sound,” sighed Amaranth.
“Aye, it is a wonderful place, so peaceful and tranquil.” Dinodas chimed in.
Yes,” agreed Barocas, “but you have to watch out for their droppings, such creatures are notorious for pelting unsuspecting passers-by from above in the air as they fly over.”
“Still, the wonderful sight and sounds they make are worth taking a few peltings.” Laughed Dinodas.
“I agree,” smiled Amaranth, ‘what kind of place is this, Barocas… have you been here before?”
“Aye that I have, but briefly.” Barocas nodded. “This place has no name, or none that I know of, it is some kind of bird land.”
The happy chirruping of the birds grew louder as the three awe-struck travelers moved on further into the rich, dense, jade foliage. Golden streaks of the sun’s warming rays broke through the dark canopy like illuminations of divinity. The atmosphere there was one close to heaven if such a lace did indeed exist. Never the less as all good things come to and end so did their passage through the rich forest of birds.
“That was a beautiful experience, Barocas.” Dinodas nodded smiling.
Barocas nodded in agreement and grumbled as he scraped off some of the new hues that the birds had bestowed upon his somber tunic and hat. Amaranth laughed even as she did the same.
“Do we head for bree now, friends.” The pluckly hobbit lass asked.
“We already are on the way,” said Barocas, trying to be less gruff.
“Look!” cried Dinodas, pointing to a dark, billowy cloud of dust in the far horizon that steadily appeared to grow larger as they progressed. “What do you think that is?”
“It could be trouble,” the fat hobbit muttered as he struggled to unsheathe his short sword from it’s leather worn scabbard that hung loosely from the belt that barely held up his leggings over his generous midriff. “But fear not, Barocas has lived through many a battle to tell of their tale, some of which he intends to narrated to his grandchildren one day.” He grinned at Amarath, whose eyes widened. Hoping that the plucky hobbit lass would blush, Barocas was dismayed when she snorted instead and grabbed two frying pans, which she intended to use as her means of defense. Dinodas too brought to hand his weapon of choice, though with much more relative ease than his large, girthsome companion. “Let them come,” the young hobbit lad whispered, “We shall be ready for them.
“Aye lad, that we shall,” boomed Barocas as Amaranth winced at his decibel level.
The dark, billowy cloud of dust grew larger and larger as the three hobbits baraced themselves on their mounts. The ponies neighed loudly and cantered about from side to side in well-founded anxiety. “It comes!” Barocas growled.
With a sudden, ear splitting scream, the could of dust halted to a stand still, a few arm lengths in front to the three travelers. Dinodas and Amaranth glanced at Barocas as if awaiting his command to attack. Barocas waited with bated breath as the dust cleared to reveal a tall man, in dirty grayed robes, his long beard and hair was gray and covered in dust from the road. He wore a long pointed hat on his large head; its tip was pulled down over his forehead, hiding his large bushy eyebrows beneath which eyes of seemingly blue stared out from. Though he had been moving towards them with considerable speed, there was no steed beneath him as his bared feet stood strongly planted on the hard packed soil. His thin dry lips twisted upward in an attempt to smile even as his eyes struggled to twinkle. “Little people,” he said hoarsely, and licked his dry lips.
“Goodness,” screeched Amaranth, “does he intend to eat us?”
“What!” screamed Dinodas and held up his sword in reflex, his young body trembled.
“No, he does not!” Barocas said calmly as he sheathed his rusted short sword. “He is an old wizard, I have heard of him on my travels, though this is the first time I have seen his so close.”
The tall old man cocked his head and smiled down at the three hobbits, his long bony fingers of each hand clasped each other in a grip of satisfaction and salutation.
“Where are you off to, my little friends?” he croaked, his eyes twinkling.
“We seek others like us and we will travel to Bree for supplies before we embark on our journey.” Dinodas piped up, now feeling completely at ease with this bright-eyed stranger.
“This is Barocas, this Dinodas and I am Amaranth,” the plucky hobbit lass joined in, “What is you name?”
“It’s best we not know,” interrupted Barocas, “Lest some enemy of his capture us and torture us to find out his whereabouts and real name.”
“Well, I never…” objected the old man.
“Tell us how you travel with such swift speed without a mount…” Dinodas asked innocently, and Barocas smiled, relieved for having the topic being changed.
“I run…” replied the old man, a look of dejection clouded his face.
“Right!” said Barocas, “We have to be on our way.”
“I have seen others like you, over beyond the misty mountains.” The old man cackled, feeling important all of a sudden.
“Good!” replied Barocas, half smiling, “We were headed that way anyhow, now we can be further motivated. Fare well, old wizard.”
“But, I…”
“Goodbye!” cried the three hobbits in unison and kicked their ponies onward, leaving the old man gaping.
“I was hoping for a good meal and a smoke,” he mumbled to himself, “And maybe tell of a few good tales while we were at it, but… ah, impetuous children, let them run off.”
With that the old man flopped himself down on the hard ground, whipped out a pipe and began stuffing pipe weed into it, humming himself a sad tune.
When the three hobbits reached the make shift gates of Bree, it had grown quite dark and clouded. Little silvered flecks of snow drifted down all around them. Filling the atmosphere with a sense of charmed euphoria and wonderment. But soon the stale rank of the surrounding town that struggled to grow brought the three intrepid adventurers back to reality. Dismounting, Barocas proceeded to ring the bell at the gates.
Email This To a Friend
Topic Commands
Click to receive email notification of replies 
Click to stop receiving email notification of replies