Frolijah- Part 2
Poor Wandering One*
“Okay, Frolijah,” I said for what seemed for the millionth time. “Tonight is your fiftieth birthday.”
“Is that why I’m so fat and ugly?”
“Shut up. You are not ugly. Personally I think you are much more handsome now that you have some hair. Anyway, for a hobbit, in their years, you look about the same as you did on Earth! Just around your age of accession!”
“Hey, it’s not my fault we’re stuck here. Come on, gimme a break!”
“I don’t think the real Frodo would talk like that,” I answered, rolling my eyes.
“Yeah? Well I’m not the real Frodo.”
“You are now. There will only be a couple guests: Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Fatty,” I said in answer, plowing on ahead. “You will not say to much, but you will sing . . .”
“What?? I have to sing? I don’t want to sing! Did you just say Fatty?”
“Yes! What songs do you know?”
“Like, I am not singing.” Frolijah tried to edge his way to the door, but I stopped him.
“What songs do you know?
“Oh, you know,” he said uncomfortably, “rock and stuff. But I don’t want to sing!
“Fine! I’ll sing for you! Jeez, can’t you do anything for yourself?”
“I shouldn’t have to,” he answered, sulkily. “It’s all your fault.”
“Who cares who’s fault it is? I thought you were an actor – so act! Anyway, I read somewhere that you love to sing and play the piano, and you are very good at it!”
“I suppose so . . .”
“Sing me something.”
“Er- I like to rock the boat, baby- ”
“Stop! I get the point.” I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll teach you some songs. What do you want to know? Never mind, you have no clue.”
“Hey!” Frolijah looked indignant. “That’s not funny!”
“No offense meant,” I answered. “But it’s true. Okay, `The Road Goes Ever On and On,’ and the `Walking Song’ should do for now. I can always teach you more on the way.”
“I already know the first one.”
“Sing it to me.”
“Okay,” Frolijah answered, surprised that he remembered, “it goes like this:
“The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.”
He stopped, proud for having remembered. “But I thought Gandalf sang that.”
“Gandalf!” I answered in shock, before remembering the movie, “He most certainly did not! Anyway, you have the tune wrong.”
“Great. Just Great.”
I guess there was some actor in him – at least after I convinced the others that he was slightly sick, and no, it was nothing to worry about, and yes, there would be no trouble leaving tonight. Phew! – in other words, he was better than I had thought, thankfully. The real problem didn’t come until we started walking.
“I am sure you have given me all the heaviest stuff,” said Frolijah, “I pity snails, and all that carry their homes on their backs.” Well, at least he remembered one of his lines.
“I could take a lot more yet, sir. My packet is quite light,” said Sam stoutly and untruthfully. I had to kick Frolijah to stop him from accepting anyway.
“No, you don’t Sam!” said Pippin. “It is good for him. He’s got nothing except what he ordered us to pack. He’s been slack lately, and he’ll feel the weight less when he’s walked off some of his own.” Frolijah opened his mouth angrily, and I gave him a harder kick.
“Be kind to a poor old hobbit!” Frolijah laughed in a resigned voice, giving me an I-told-you-I-am-fat look. “I shall be as thin as a willow-wand, I’m sure, before I get to Buckland. But I was talking nonsense. I suspect you have taken more than your share, Sam, and I shall look into it at our next packing.” He picked up his stick again. “Well, we all lie walking in the dark,” he said, giving me a meaningful look, “so let’s put some miles behind us before bed.”
Well, I’ll say one thing for Frolijah: he has a good memory for lines.
Right then, though, he went to walk beside me. “Happy?” He asked, sarcastically, “What lines come next, O Great Teacher?”
Don’t let him mock you, you can do this, Alice. “Yes, I’m happy. But you have to learn one more song.”
“What for? I’m not going any farther than – what’s it called – Buckland.”
“Whatever. At Bree, in the Inn of the Prancing Pony.”
“No, way.” He shook his head adamantly. “I am not going.”
“Just in case, promise! It’s a fun song.”
“Fine! Fine!” I whispered, “Be quieter, or the other will hear you. At least you have to know about the elves.”
“What elves, I’m just going to Buckland!”
“Remember the un-cut version?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Well, in the book we meet them,” I sighed, “please be respectful. Really.”
“I’m to tired to even think right now,” Frolijah complained, “tell me in the morning.”
“Okay,” I went over to talk with the younger hobbits while Frolijah sulked. Those guys were really cool. But still, in the back of my mind, I wondered: What happened to the real Frodo?
“I am not entirely sure I understand. What’s a movie?”
“Maybe we should take him to a doctor. I don’t think he’s feeling well.”
“I’m fine! What happened to Sam?” Elijodo looked confused. “Is this one of the Dark One’s tricks that Gandalf warned me of?”
“I think it has something to do with memory loss. Let’s drive him to the hospital.”
“What is driving?”
*Author’s note: Think “Pirates of Penzance”
Poor Wandering One,
Though thou hast seen the movie,
Remember your lines and you’ll be fine,
Poor Wandering One.
Poor Wandering One,
If such poor guidance as mine,
Can help thee find
True hobbit mind,
Why take it, it is thine.
Take heart though danger looms,
Take the ring to Mount Doom,
Take heart fair days will shine,
Take any book, take mine.
– I had a Dear (though nameless) friend help me through these. *coughRoseDraculacough*