Frolijah - Part 9 - You know you make me wanna Shout!

Frolijah - Part 9
You know you make me wanna Shout!
Singing in the Rain - Or at least in the Inn of the Prancing Pony

(Frolijah's account.)

Frolijah lay flat on his back, hands on his breast. When he came to himself, he found he could recall nothing of what happened. Where am I? he wondered. In his dream, Frolijah had heard a strange voice sing the song Tom Bombadil had taught them. So at least Bombadil was coming, but where was he?

As he lay thinking, Frolijah noticed that the darkness was slowly giving way to a pale greenish light. It did not show what kind of place he was in, but he turned to look around. In the cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry. They were on their backs, and their faces looked deathly pale; and they were clad in white. About them lay many treasures, of gold, maybe. Though in that light they looked cold and unlovely. On the hobbit's heads were circlets, gold chains around their waists. Swords lay by their sides, and shields were at their feet. But across their three necks lay one long naked sword.

Frolijah stood up quickly, backing away from the cold, green light. A song began - if it could be called that. Frolijah tried his best not to listen, but it came through anyway and chilled his bones.

Cold be hand and heart and bone,
and cold be sleep under stone:
never more to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die,
and still on gold here let them lie,
till the dark lord lifts his hand
over dead sea and withered land.

Frolijah stiffened, breathing heavily. Behind him he saw a long arms groping in, and walking first toward Sam, then turning toward him. Eyes wide, Frolijah kicked the arm, stepping on it as one would a spider - or a snake. Where was Bombadil?

"Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:
His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster.

"Wait! Bombadil, wait up! My legs aren't as long as yours," called Alice after Tom's song. Frolijah sighed. Figures that she wouldn't be caught in here - wherever here was.

Tom sang again, and there was a cry of terror. Part of the inner end of the chamber fell in with a crash. Then there was a long trailing shriek, fading away into an unguessable distance; and then silence.

(My account, again.)

I covered my mouth in an attempt not to laugh; the hobbits looked ridiculous in their sheer-white dresses. I hope Frolijah didn't notice. He was really falling into the part. I wondered if Frolijah didn't really believe in method acting. It was working, in any case.

"Come Frodo," said Bombadil. "Help Tom bear the hobbits out." Together, we took Pippin, Merry, and Sam out. To my surprise, Frolijah took Sam out. I think the hobbit's deep affection was affecting him. It was kind of sweet - and ironic.

"What in the name of wonder?" Pippin asked. "What are these?" He fingered the gold circlet that had fallen over one eye.

"Present from the devil," Frolijah muttered. "Let's get away from here."

"Dressed up like this, sir?" said Sam. "Where are my clothes?" He looked around. I wondered if Sam really expected to find his clothes just laying about.

"You won't find your clothes again," said Tom, bounding down from the mound. "You've found yourselves again, out of the deep water. Clothes are but a little loss. Be merry, friends. Cast off these cold rags. Run around naked on the grass while Tom goes hunting." Tom ran off again, singing.

"Um," I said, blushing slightly. "I think I'll just go lie over there, shall I?" Frolijah breathed a sigh of relief. I probably should have been offended, but I was just busy feeling stupid and embarrassed. Though, frankly, the other hobbits had the same expression on their faces. I suppose getting lost wasn't too bad. At least I still had my clothes. I laughed to myself, slightly wickedly.

When Tom came back, we all ate well. Then came to the part that I had been looking forward to for days: getting our swords. I drew mine and it was beautiful. It was wonderfully balanced, and no rust touched the blade and it was plainly sharp. Frolijah learned that for me - and had to suck on his thumb to stop the bleeding afterward. For someone who fenced, that wasn't the brightest move . . .

"Old knives are long enough as swords for hobbit-people," Bombadil was saying. "Sharp blades are good to have, if Shire-folk go walking, east, south, or far away into dark and danger." He spoke a little more about how they were Westernesse. I already knew most of it - my temporary memory block had melted away. (Except, as I found later, concerning the voice over)

"Few now remember them," Tom murmured, "yet still some go wandering, sons of forgotten kings walking in loneliness, guarding from evil things folk that are heedless." Was he talking about rangers and people like Aragorn? I had never thought of that before . . .

We walked with Bombadil to the edge of the forest. I wished he could come further, but he refused. "Tom's country ends here: he will not pass the borders. Tom has his house to mind, and Goldberry is waiting."

"Now that's suggestive," muttered Frolijah, but no one heard him. Except me, that is.

"All right everyone," I said. "We need to be careful. And please remember - do NOT say the name `Baggins.' Frodo is Mr. Underhill if any name at all. Come on, let's go."

It was dark and the stars were shining when we came to the West-gate. "What do you want, and where do you come from?" asked the gate-keeper gruffly.

"We are making for the inn here," answered Frolijah. "Our business is our own." I will never cease to be amazed a Frolijah's memory for movie lines.

"Hobbits! Five hobbits! And what's more, out of the Shire by their talk," said the gatekeeper, softly as if speaking to himself. Pardon me. What may your name be, might I ask?"

"Ours names and business are none of your concern," said Frolijah, a little more rudely than perhaps he meant.

"Your business is your own, no doubt," said the man. "But it's mine to ask questions after nightfall." Grudgingly, he opened the door. I had the uneasy feeling that he was watching us as we went past.

"Now," said Frolijah in whisper. "If that doesn't make you feel short, what will?" Personally, I agreed. But I wasn't about to tell him that.

"Probably the inn," I answered. "Look, here we are."

We stepped in. I was immediately separated from the others but a shuffle of the Big Folk. Wait, why was I calling them that? I mean, shrinking must have altered my brain or something . . .

In any case, by the time I caught up with the others again (wondering desperately what Frolijah had blundered now) we had arrived in the small parlor adjoining our rooms. I would probably have to sleep in there - but wait, with the Nazgul we all would. Great, sounded comfy. Of course, it was better than being stabbed . . . Frolijah looked like he was thinking about the same thing right then, though he kept his mouth shut for once.

We ate a good meal, and before long the others - save Merry - had decided to go down to the common room downstairs. "I shall sit here quietly by the fire for a bit," he said. "Perhaps a bit later I'll go out for a sniff of air. Mind our Ps and Qs, and don't forget that you're supposed to be escaping in secret. We're still not far from the Shire!" I sighed. Figures now I'd have to go down and baby-sit Frolijah.

I followed them out and grabbed Frolijah by the sleeve, "Can I have a word with you?"

"Sure," he answered. "What's wrong?"

"Listen, Frodo - Elijah - Mr. Wood - whatever you want me to call you," I said, skipping clumsily around my words. "I'm sorry if I've been mean, but - "

"Hey, it's okay, no problem." He flashed me a smile and turned away. I grabbed his sleeve again.

"Be careful. You're going to have to sing. I don't have time to teach you the song now, and even if I did, I don't have the proper tune. Improvise, I'll help you if you can. Good luck." I looked seriously at him for a moment.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," he loosed his sleeve from my grip. "Relax."

"Right," I muttered watching his back. "We're in trouble."

Frolijah got along quite well with the others, but I sat in the back, looking around until I spotted Aragorn. After a while, Frolijah came to join me. "How's it going?" he asked. "Am I doing fine? Want a beer?"

"No thank you," I said properly. "Allergies. I spotted Strider, look," I jerked my head in the man's direction."

"You sure?" Frolijah asked, taking a sip of number three. "Viggo looked so much nicer."

"Yes," I said. "Anyway, I asked Barliman. You'd better talk to him." Strider looked over at us, nodded and beckoned invitingly to Frolijah.

"Okay," Frolijah answered jauntily. Was it just #3? He walked away toward the man - Strider. I suddenly felt very small and unsure. Suppose I was wrong? But then again, according to so-and-so's theory, one person couldn't change the course of history no matter what he did. Then again, so-and-so wasn't in Middle Earth. Oh, hope!

Frolijah came back a moment later, looking rather grimmer and more doubtful of himself. He glanced at Pippin and gave me a long-suffering sigh before climbing on a table. Some of the hobbits laughed and clapped, thinking - probably rightly - that Mr. Underhill had taken as much ale as was good for him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, as a magician might at the beginning of a show. "Thank you all very much for your hospitality. We are all very much gratified, and I hope that our the friendship will last." He stopped, confused. I could almost see the gears in his brain working.

"A song!" shouted on of the hobbits, and all the others took up the cry. Frolijah took a deep breath and I noticed I had been holding mine.

"Okay," I heard him mutter. "Here goes nothing."

You know you make me wanna (Shout!)
Kick my heels up and (Shout!)
Throw my hands up and (Shout!)
Throw my head back and (Shout!)
Come on now (Shout!)
Don't forget to say you will
Don't forget to say, yeah

What the heck was he doing? Frolijah had started a little nervously, but sang with dynamic confidence now, dancing on the tables. He grinning, and motioned for everyone to join in. Very professional. Of course, he was an actor. Even so, I slapped my head with the palm of my hand, but helped him out anyway by calling out `Shout' when he did. The others picked it up with amazing velocity. Thank goodness they were Breelanders!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Say you will)
Say it right now bab-ay
(Say you will)
Come on, come on
(Say you will)
Say it, will-a you-ooooo!
(Say you will)
You got it, now!
(Say) say that you love me
(Say) say that you need me
(Say) say that you want me
(Say) you wanna please me
(Say) come on now (4x)
(Say) I still remember

I backed quickly to the wall. I felt so incredibly stupid - I hope none of them recognized me. But, of course, they couldn't, this being Middle Earth. Unless, that is, Alice was a real person in this world . . . I desperately hoped I was wrong.

When you used to be nine years old
I was a fool for you, from the bottom of my soul, yeah!
Now that you´ve grown, up
Enough to know, yeah yeah
You wanna leave me, you wanna, let me go

"What's he doing?" Pippin asked, coming up to me. "I've never heard that song before, it doesn't sound like one of Bilbo's.

"It's not," I answered between `Yeah, yeah's'. "I think he wanted to stop you from saying too much. We'd better help him out." Pippin nodded, and began to sing along.

(Shout) a little bit louder now (2x)
(Shout) a little bit louder now (ooo)
(Shout) a little bit louder now (3x)
(Shout) a little bit louder now (wooo) (5x)
(Shout) a little bit louder now
Hey-Hey-A-Hey (Hey-Hey-A-Hey) (4x)


On the words `Jump now,' Frolijah jumped high in the air and came down - staying visible. I rolled my eyes. Figures. Well, it might help us -

I had spoken to soon, as usual. Frolijah immediately got up and slipped again, as if in slow-motion. His mouth opened and - disappeared. I blinked; even the Tolkienite, movie-goer me couldn't believe that he was just, just gone. Everyone froze.

Some little part of me began to laugh, and I put my hands hard over my mouth. Stupid Alice! This is not supposed to be funny . . .


"Okay," said Dom. "Let's listen to some music and relax while you tell us exactly what's going wrong with you." He turned on the stereo, and music rang out:

You know you make me wanna (Shout!)
Kick my heels up and (Shout!)
Throw my hands up and (Shout!)
Throw my head back and (Shout!)

"Is this supposed to be music?" Elijodo asked. "I have never heard anything like it."

"This," Sean said, "used to be your favorite song. What's wrong with you?"

But Billy had a different idea. The Pippin-like part of him thought in a very mischievous way. "What kind of songs do you know?" he asked. "Sing one for us."

Elijodo looked around, feeling trapped. "Well," he said. "What would you like?"

"Just pick one, any one." Billy sat back; Sean, Dom and Lea copied him. "No! I know, sing the one you did at Bree - You know `There is an inn, a merry old inn.' That one."

"It doesn't seem right here." Elijodo wondered where they had heard that one. He had never seen them with Bilbo.

"We can take you to one. Or maybe we can set it up," Billy winked at Dom, and before long, the two of them had entirely rearranged the room, invited some friends in; and waited for Elijodo to sing.

But he was up for it.

Before long, they were all dancing (and drinking) and having a merry time.

The Man in the Moon Came Down Too Soon

There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he saws his bow
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a hornéd cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced
and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
'The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!'

So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!' he said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.

With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.

The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She* hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!


Author's Notes:

You may be able to find Shout at: It is by the Isley brothers. But then again, I couldn't get it to work. Good luck and please comment if you can find it.

Okay, I know the first part wasn't as funny, but it had to be there. Suggestions? Comments anyone?

Part 1:
Part 2:
Part 3:
Part 4:
Part 5:
Part 6:
Part 7:
Part 8:

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