Hobbiton

Tater's laughter died down, an evil look taking over his face. He slapped the dwarf in the face and pushed him out of the way.
"Men,!" he said, "Sharky moves too slowly! It's time for us to take this land from those little halflings! Are you with me?"
Some of the men were hesitent at first, but when they was their comrads chearing they quickly joined in.
"Good, good!" shouted Tater over the racket. "Let's start by getting rid of that overweight leader fo their's!"

At the same time few thousand miles away ??

The Old Mage, self proclaim Master of Evil in the wake of Sauron demise, summon his best apprentice.
-Lissen young one for I have a task for you.
-What is it my master ???
-I want you to travel to the Shire.
-To the Shi...
-SHUT UP !!! And listen carfully for it's VERY important that you succed in this task.As I already say i want you to travel to the Shire.Their stand the only man who can treatten my dominion of all the land between Harad to the gray mountain.He goes by the name of Sharky.KILL HIM !!!
By whatever mean you see fit. Then hide for a time as King Elessar as clearly state that he want to reopen the golden way and re-establlish Arnor. Build your forces and when the time was right we will destroy his dream and rule the Eriador as it should be.
-When i will know that the time was right ??
-You will know. Now go and DON'T FAIL ME !!!
-You will be please my master.

Without any other word the young women know only as Xivigg exit the room.By the end of the day she was already riding toward her goal and possibly her death.

-Are you sure you pick the right one my friend ???
-Yes she can succeed and if she fail that leave one potential rival less to think about.As you can see I win on both situation.

Anga shocked and angry storms out of the tavern. "Blasted trouble makers," he mumbled "I'll find Shanamir and we'll put an end to this nonsense" He started off towards the more populated part of Hobbitton hoping he would catch a glimpse of the elusive Ranger on the way. He was whistiling a tune gloomily wondering where the Ranger could be, he was always looking in on Sharky's activities at this hour why wouldnt he be here. He decided to see if he can find him in the sorrounding forests...

*Yay! More people. Wow, this is really taking off. To set things straight, I had kind of placed the timeline just before Sharkey's death, just before the hobbit-heros returned to set things right. Regardless, you have a really good idea Tater, have fun with it. I have no set plot, so lets just grab ideas and run.*

Rose found herself with her hands tied behind her back, being led once more back to Hobbiton. The rode was long, and those who'd captured her were none to gentle. In fact, by the time they'd reached the edges of town early the next day, she'd had her share of cursing, spitting and rough kicks from her guards.
She was led, without rest, directly to Sharkey's headquarters and thrown against the wall. To wait for Sharkey to have enough time to question her. As it was, that chance didn't come that day, and she was thrown into a pantry to spend the night. Surrounded by food, having her hands yet tied, and given but a crust of bread for supper was quite detrimental for this unfortunate hobbit...to be sure. But with the will of any Elf-Lord, she didn't speak a word, but watched the moon rise and the stars appear from the small round window.

Oh, Oromë, may you be at my side and help me find my way back to the land and forests I love

"I]Shan, if that's the name you want to be called, will you talk now?" The voice grew loud.

Shan, determined: "I won't talk to you, not now, not later. NEVER."

Shadowy voice "You're much like your old friend Benëdor, he really did love you, for he didn't want to talk about you neither."

*With that, the shadow threw a little dagger at Shanamir's feet. It's handle was made of carved bear bone. Shanamir instantly recognized it for it was Benëdor's dagger, covered with blood*

"You monster, you'll pay that, I swear!"
...

The group of men walked through hobbiton, towards the building where their mayor lived. Two hobbit guards blocked the entrance way.
"You cannot pass," one said, holding a stick up as if to bar the way, "not unless Sharkey has sent you."
Tater through the stick away. "Damn Sharky," he said, "he moves too slowly."
Tater walked up to the doors, through them opened, and beconed for the men to follow him.
But something about offending Sharky didn't sit well with them...

A pale man with heavily lidded eyes approached Tater and his men. He seemed to slink rather than walk, and he seemed sinister rather than threatening. His name was Grima but they knew him as Wormtongue and he was the servant of Saruman, known to them as Sharkey. The small gaunt man drew himself up before Tater and his brutes.

"What do you want here?" asked Wormtongue in a low voice.

"We want to see Sharkey!" said Tater gruffly.

"He is not to be disturbed. You must make an appointment."

Tater shrugged his massive shoulders and then turned as if to leave. Suddenly, his huge knot of a fist had gathered much of Wormtongue's tunic and was holding the small man high above the ground.

"Alright! Alright!" cried Wormtongue. "Release me and I will take you to him!"

Tater grunted and set the lackey down none too gently. Wormtongue sneered at them and said, "Follow me. But if Saruman of Many Colours is displeased with you, do not seek for tears in MY eyes!"

He then lead them up a path to the last hole at the top of a large hill. This had to be the biggest hobbit hole Tater and his lads had yet seen. The round front door was green, with a large brass knob in the center and was big enough that even Tater wouldn't have to stoop much. Window after window looked out on Hobbiton. The mail box read Lotho Sackville-Baggins.

"Wait here," ordered Wormtongue and before Tater could move, the little man had slipped inside and shut the door.

The men seemed to wait for a very long time. Finally, just when they were getting hungry and hot in the sun, and ready to try later, the round green door opened again. Wormtongue opened it wide and said, "He will see you now. Not all of you!"

He waved back the others, getting to their feet, eager to get out of the hot sun and inside the cool burrowings. He pointed at Tater. "Just him. You, come with me."

Tater followed Wormtongue into the extensive hobbit hole. It had a long woodpanelled tunnel with rooms full of sunshine on one side and shady and cool on the other. As he walked past one room, through a door slightly ajar, he saw movement and thought it was a struggling hobbit, bound and gagged. Wormtongue blocked his vision and shut the door, glaring at the big man. "This way," he said.

Wormtongue stopped and pointed at the last room on the right. Tater went in, brushing hard against the odious little man as he did.

It was a study, with a rolltop desk, a small fireplace with a clock on the mantle, comfortable chairs and a nice little table. A bearded old man in a white robe sat at the table, looking out the window, smoking a long pipe. A plate with the remains of his dinner was on the table, and the better part of a roasted chicken and a loaf of bread was on a platter. There was also wine and cheese. Tater's stomach growled loudly in the quiet little room.

The erstwhile wizard turned and laughed aloud. It was not a merry laugh. It was laughter full of derision and scorn. As he turned, his robes caught a shaft of sunlight through the deepset window and Tater's eyes were bewildered by the myriad colors dazzling his sight. He looked long it seemed, though only an instant passed and in that moment, Saruman of Many Colours spoke.

His voice was keen and commanding, its tone was that of a wise old captain of men. Almost with the first word, Tater wondered how he could have thought Old Sharkey didn't know what he was doing.

"Been eating none too well I hear!" he laughed again. "Well, then! Have a seat!"

The big man grabbed the chair and started tucking in the food as quickly as he could. Wormtongue uttered a hiss of bitter hatred. A thin stream of saliva had trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"You!" commanded the wizard. "Close that door and let me speak with this man!"

The lackey spun on his heel and slammed the door.

Sharkey sighed. "It has been so difficult without some stout fearless Men at hand, who see a job and know how to do it! I remember you."

The wizard had only seen the man once or twice before on mundane occassions. But his keen mind recalled facts such as these readily, tools for the working of his subtle plans. He knew Tater's name and he knew his type.

" Tater you and I will have a fine time here in this fat little land. I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," said Tater through a mouthful of chicken and cheese. He grabbed the wine bottle and drank straight from it.

"What the Shire here needs is Progress, and we're going to bring it to them if it kills them, eh Tater my lad?"

"You said it Sharkey!" agreed the big man, wine running down his neck.

"Now take your boys down to the Green Dragon. I've decided that such a place is harmful to the morals of the community. Close it. And, have a drink on the house!"

"Ahhh! Don't mind if we do Sharkey! It's good to be in your service again." He put out his big dirty hand to shake on it.

The wizard drew himself up and seemed to tower like a cloud over him. His voice was cold and powerful.

"Do not forget yourself before me again. Go."

Tater went, feeling a cold chill down his neck. He saw Wormtongue slipping out of the room where the hobbit was bound. It was none of his affair. He and the boys had a job to do!

***
Later that night when there were flames lighting the clouds over Bywater, Saruman called Wormtongue to him.

"Yes, Master," groveled Grima.

"You are quite hungry now aren't you?" the wizard asked kindly.

"You know that I am," he answered.

"Then there is something you must do. And then, you may dine."

"You have only to command me."

"Good! Good! First of all, bring the hobbit lass to me and then wait."

Grima went down to the Mayor's Office and found the girl in a pantry. She had dozed off and was dreaming of the food she smelled all around her. He considered grabbing something to eat, looking at the food on the shelves, looking at the soft little hobbit lass, but Saruman would know... He shuddered, and then grabbed the girl and carried her back in the darkness to Saruman.

The wizard bid him untie her. He stepped outside the room and waited.

She could not quite remember what he said to her, but he seemed a wise and kindly old man who was trying to save the Shire from the worst of the inevitable immigration to come. How fine and noble he looked as he talked of how to best preserve the Shire from the days to come. The entire countryside would soon be swarming with men, and if the hobbitry could not compete economically, could not integrate with the sophisticated changes to come, then things would be terrible indeed for the hobbits. No, they would never be the same, but only Sharkey could keep these Men subdued. He had done much to keep her alive and now he would free her to tell others.

Rose found herself believing him, as he talked of great matters and sweeping changes in the course of events following the Great War, thinking how considerate he was to explain it all to her. He fed her from his table as he beguiled her with his talk.

He set her free that evening, and she walked home sad that things were bound to change, but glad that at least Sharkey was there to keep it from being even worse!

But somehow, this did not seem right. She would talk with her father and tell him why they needed to cooperate with Sharkey. If only Sam would return! She went back to the home she had not seen now for such a long time, joyful tears in her eyes as she saw her door in the moonlight.

Back up the Road, up Bagshot Row, up the Hill, in Bag End, a terrified hobbit looked up with horror filled eyes as Grima Wormtongue, slavering and laughing horribly, came into the room. The man's eyes were wild and in his hand was a long knife...

Lotho Sackville-Baggins was never seen again.

Anga Súle was searching the woods near where he used to see Shanamir But no one was to be seen. That was not so strange as Shanamir was master in the art of stealth, some people even once said he was better than hobbits... What was strange was that Shanamir did not pop out of the shadow to have a frindly chat...

He was in the now in the middle of the road when Rose walked by, returning to her home.

Rose looked at the puzzled dwarf and bowing, said "What are you searching good mister?"

Anga replied quickly, still thinking "I'm searching for a friend of mine..."

Rose asked: "Who goes by the name of?"

"Shanamir..." said the dwarf.

"Oh... I was with him two days ago... we got attacked by... OH MY GOD! Shanamir is still captive! Oh please mister dwarf help me find him!"

"Anga Súle, my name is Anga. And yes, me and my battle axe will help you rescue this great man Shanamir is."

And with that they started to follow the same path the first trio took some days ago...

Xivigg's horses was resting now. She had travel all the way up to Bree in one shot resting only briefly for eating. Now the time has come to be a little bit more stealthy. After all this Sharky must have some trick in his sleave if his master want him dead. She might need help and information. With this tough she realise that she know almost nothing of the Shire.She will have to find information quickly and this innkeeper will be perfect.

When the night was over she had all the information she needed. Her next logical move was to move to the Shire and find some first hand information. According to the Innkeeper the Dragon vert, or was it Green Dragon Inn, Will be a perfect place to start her investigation. Only 2 or three day of travelhad say the innkeeper, she smile. With her magic it will take much less time. She want to be at this Green Dragon Inn by noon the next morning.Better get going now them.

Rose and Anga raced along the forest path, Anga was getting aggitated because of their lack of pregress and Rose's constant babbling about the "greatness of the old man who would save the shire."

Anga stopped abruptly in a little opening in the trees, he looked at Rose and shrugged

"I...I don't remember exactly where we were when we got attacked" she managed inbetween gasps as Anga let her rest.

"Hummm who was it, who attacked you?" he asked

"There were... orcs tons of them, too many i don't know what they could have done with him..." she trailed off sadly.

Anga sighed and folded his arms across his chest "Orcs here, in such numbers strange indeed, Shanamir being taken captive stranger still" He stopped to read the tracks they had been following after Rose's memory failed "and you said that wizard was with you also where could he have gone" he kicked angrily at the dirt thoroughly stumped.

He heard a snap in the twigs to his left he whirled around drawing his axe and placing Rose protectively behind him...

"No need for that brother," said the dwarf as he nods at the axe in Anga's hand.

The dwarf had black hair and beard and his dark eyes glittered like jewels from under bushy, black brows. He wore clothes of dark brown with heavy leather boots and had a large double-bladed battleaxe at his side.

"I heard the young hobbitt lass mention orcs and thought perhaps I could lend my aid to you. My name is Convar."

Anga was quick to accept the aid of this dwarven warrior and the trio continued on their way. All too soon they found where the tracks led...

Bottles flew across the room, breaking on the walls, or sometimes on other men. Most of them were drunk, and the few who were not were close to it. The innkeeper went flying out the door, and Tater chased him away. The band suddenly ran out of the inn as it went up in flames.
"Well, that was fun!" screemed a drunk Tater. "Now, let's have more fun! That Sharky, he don't know as much as he thinks. We should kill em all, all de hobbits! Men should rule!"

*Tater, I protest! Whirling in a drunken stupor and shouting "kill de hobbits" isn't exactly rated G. *

Rose trotted along after her two new dwarven friends, chatting about this and that and the other thing as she went. They had travelled till nearly dusk when they decided to make camp. They set up the fire just under a nearby beech tree, and seated themselves around it. Rose took to wandering about, looking for the mushrooms she knew grew in these parts. Suddenly the two dwarves, who had been exchanging stories, heard a hobbitish shriek from behind them. They both leaped to their feet, drawing to readiness their battle axes. Running to where they heard the scream, they found her sitting on the ground, head in hands, sobbing.
"What's wrong?" They asked anxiously, looking about for trouble.
"There's a dead body over there," Rose sobbed, poor thing wasn't used to such gruesome details. The time would come, however, that she would see many such bodies, and think nothing of it.
The two dwarves looked to where she had pointed, and saw a man, probably a wayward warrior, lying faced downward on the ground. His sword, shield, and daggar were with him still. The two dwarves, looking at the body, thought about the many useful things the warrior had carried. Though they felt a little guilty, they ended up taking the money he'd had, the daggar, and an amulet he'd worn around his neck. Then they buried him as well as they could, not wanting to leave his body out for wild animals regardless of who he might have been.
The daggar they gave to Rose, for she had no weapon, and it was a good enough size to do for a short sword for her.
They want back to the camp and finished supper, then they fell asleep, each taking a turn on watch until daybreak.

The wizard known as Sauganast had been all across the shire keeping track of all the people and helping the innocent out. He had made sure that Rose had been safe before leaving her, he did feel a bit guilty about leaving her, but he was not yet ready to reveal his intentions to sharky. But most of all the Wizard had been keeping track of this new threat, he had heard the name Xivigg come out of her mouth, and assumed that was her name. For he felt an evil presence from her, so he had spent many days keeping track of her and often following her. But now the ruckus caused by Tater had drawn his attention, although that was only petty at the time and he could not be bothered by that.

Grima Wormtongue was horrified at what he had done. Not the killing of the little pimple, but what came after... He looked at himself in the mirror of the room through his heavy-lidded eyes. His reflection had been well fed when last he saw it, sleek and groomed. Now, it was gaunt and haggard, and stained with blood from his face to his feet. His eyes were drawn with morbid fascination to the grisly remains of his victim.

With a wail of self-loathing, he hurled a chair at the mirror. Bad luck. He almost laughed.

He sat down and bowed his head to his knees, weeping at his lost humanity and detesting what he had become.

But still, that voice, his Voice, the Voice of Saruman echoed in his mind.

It told him he was worthless as a man, a failure, fit only for orcish duties and orcish living. It persisted, drowning out other thoughts, entering his mind even as he slept.

It began when he had hurled the Palantir out of Orthanc. How was he to know what it was? He knew now. How he knew! Saruman had told him day after day what the loss of it had meant to his contingency plans, all now ruined. Because of Grima Wormtongue who failed at all manly things. Since he could not be a man, then perhaps he should live as an orc, said the fallen wizard in scorn one day.

Saruman took a fancy to the idea and exerted the Power of his voice to wreak his torture and vengeance on poor Grima. The Voice in his head would not let him eat the food of men, or enjoy the Sun. As his weakness grew with his hunger, the lusts and appetites of the orcish race began to fill his mind, with horror and yet with fascination. He felt himself falling into a nightmare of degradation and despair from which he knew he would never wake. Saruman's revenge for his fall lashed out first upon Grima and it was cold and remorseless and patient. And yet he stayed with the wizard, for his mind was enslaved and only death could separate them now...

But how could he go on living? ...now that he had...

...he couldn't bring himself to think of it again...

He wretched.


***
Late that night, he disappeared with a heavy bundle, and buried it deep in the woods. Still he heard the Voice and he could not stand it.

Now it was laughing.


***
Sharkey released another hobbit from the Lockholes. Those he could not "persuade" were sent back, and none were the wiser. Those who fell under his spell, were sent back to help subdue the rising alarm of the hobbits.

All would be well in the end. Just let old Sharkey tame these wild men. We don't want to provoke them into killing anyone, after all!

The Voice echoed almost unnoticed in their uneasy minds, but still, they repeated variations of these words throughout nearly every home and shop throughout the Shire.

There was only one problem. The Tooks. They were resisting very strongly, and had not had anything to do with the administration of Lotho Sackville-Baggins. They were, consequently, still free on his flank to cause mischief, if they ever left their little part of the Shire.

They would have to be penned up in their holes for now. Plenty of time to smoke them out later, when more and still more men arrived. Then he could move in the orcs, hidden in the forest with wolves, awaiting his command. But the Tooks, with all their hunters and archers, could be a problem.

A little lesson would make them pull their heads back in their holes like turtles, until it was too late.

The wizard noted that Grima had cleaned up his murder. Wormtongue had evidently given in to his new appetites. The wizard chuckled wickedly. It served the fool right. But now that he had suffered thus, he would have to die. It wouldn't do to leave the desperate wretch around too long. Still, the groveling lickspittle was useful in some ways. Perhaps he should just live a while longer.

The wizard laughed to himself, lit his pipe, and looked out a deep set window at the small blaze in the distance that was the Green Dragon burning to the ground. Tater's report the next day would be amusing. So would his next assignment...

A little lesson would make them pull their heads back in their holes like turtles, until it was too late.
You hinting at something Gil??!?!?!?!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~

Anga woke in the morning to find Rose the last on watch sleeping peacefully beneath a tree, despite himself he smiled. She had been through a rather rough day. He started preparing breakfast as Convar woke.

"Sleep well Anga" he said, after yawning and stretching his arms.

"Good enough I suppose, I just don't know where to go from here what to do..." The dwarf trailed off slowly stroking his beard deep in thought.

"I'm as stumped as you are" Convar added almost as an afterthought.

"I'll wake Rose" Anga broke off his thinking and moved to where Rose slept and nudged her gently. She woke quickly enough but she seemed preoccupied, probably with all that had happened Convar thought as Anga led here to where he was sitting, poor girl, poor girl Convar shook his head and moved over to make room.

After they finished their breakfast and hid all signs of there camp site they moved on. They traveled well into the afternoon with only little breaks inbetween. They reached a rather dense part of the forest when they heard a moan come from the bushes. Anga went over to investigate Convar moved Rose to the side and fingered his weapon expectantly.

"What in Durin's good name..."

Elbreth, Entmoot is rated PG, boardering on PG-13

Tater stormed up the walkway to where Sharky was residing. He had slept off the booze, but the anger was still thriving in him. He pushed open the door and ran into the study, ignoring the loathsome creature Wormtongue who tried to stop him.

"Sharky, you move too slowly!" he shouted at the back of a chair. "Just let us kill the little rats and be done with it!"

Slowly Sauruman stood up. Tater saw the wizards back first, then he turned his face on Tater.

"You have done well," said the wizard, "but you must learn your place! NEVER speak to me in that way again!"

Tater felt himself shrink. He heard a voice that he knew was his utter the words "yes master."

"Good."

The wizard returned his gaze through the window to the horizon. He sighed and then looked darkly at Tater.

"I don't know why I bother, but I will try to teach you something. Listen carefully..."

Tater felt anew that he was dealing with a great captain, bold, but subtle, who only waited to deal his master stroke. How could he have been anything but grateful for the chance to serve this Master?

"...we have not force enough in Men for that. These fat timid creatures can be managed and made useful if we do it by degrees, one step at a time. Think of a nation of little slaves, toiling with their nimble hands for the feeding, the arming, and the manufactures of an empire! Once we have them, their own lives will be hostage against the King of Gondor. The Elves will leave them to their fate, since they now face their own. No one will save them. And on their little backs, we shall feed and arm a host of war and machinery that in time will sweep away everything before it! But, we must move step by step. You need not kill them. At least not all of them. That might rouse them and make them resist. Things shall move on my own timetable and you shall soon enough see the widom of my plan for yourself.

"But, I cannot bear to see such zeal unrewarded!" The old wizard clapped the big man on the arm with surprising strength. "You and your boys want to see some action, eh?"

Tater had listened, and some of what the old man said made sense, and some of it he didn't understand. But he got the last part loud and clear.

"You bet, Sharkey!"

"Good! There is a whole nest of these halflings who have been giving trouble. When we have enough Men, we will smoke them out and put them to work like the others. But for now, they need to be taught a lesson. A lesson that will send them scurrying back to their little holes until we are ready to fetch them out! You may kill a few of them. You will probably have to."

"That sounds good to me, Sharkey!"

"First, send your best man to Bree. Put the word out that Men are wanted. I'm hiring everyone, skilled and unskilled, all professions, no questions asked. But mostly I need Men that are not afraid to knock a few heads together? Send another south to Dunland and round up as many of the old Lads there as he can find. Spread the word for them to keep coming. Have them post these notices in all the taverns and inns."

"Yes Sir, Sharkey," said the big man, taking the notices in his pawlike hand. "But what about the killin'?"

The wizard showed the man a map on the table and pointed to the part of the Shire where the Tooks lived in the Great Smials. He cautioned the man that there were archers among the Tooks and to get in and out fast.

"Lead them yourself if you like, but take your least worthy men and get yourself out whatever happens to them. Understand me? See Grima for disbursements."

The big man nodded, but didn't really think any of these little rats would ever give him trouble.

Tater left Bag End and he and his men set to work. His two best, he sent out with the notices and the small amount of money for their travels that Wormtongue begrudgingly doled out.

Tater then grabbed four squat sallow, leering fellows, orc-bloods obviously, and set off to teach a few Tooks a lesson they would never forget.

"Now for some fun, eh Lads!"

All the same, the wizard's caution echoed in the big man's mind...

***
The wizard watched them set out, from Bag End, high up on the Hill. A large tree in the field across the way blocked his view. He called for Grima to order some Men to cut it down.

As Grima turned to go, Saruman called out with an afterthought.

"Just have them clear out all those trees along the lanes. I want a clear view of all the approaches. Then start them to making quarters. And I want all the hobbits on and around this hill relocated."

Wormtongue turned to do his master's bidding. The wizard thought all was going well enough. Soon, all would be firmly in hand. He fully expected to lose a few of his Men that day, but what of it? Soon, he would have dozens more, and the rest would have learned caution.

Saruman almost smiled.

The young Took took off as fast as his short legs could carry him when he saw the group of men coming form Hobbitton. He had scarely ran a half-mile when he burst into the camp of his fellows.

"Men!" he gasped out, "from..Hobbitton..armed!"

The leader jumped to his feet. "This is what we've been expecting. Let's show them what Tooks are made of."

The Hobbits grapped their bows and began to move silently throught the woods toward the unsuscpecting band of men.

Rose stood back, watching the two dwarves. They soon re-emered from the bush, lifting between the two of them an Elven-lad. He looked about the right age to begin training for battle, though from the blood and bruises he seemed to already have some experience.
There was now something Rose knew how to do, so she took over. Right then and there she had them make camp, though they could have made a good couple of miles yet. Boiling water and preparing herbs she'd found, she soon had the young Elf cleaned up. He remained in a restless sleep and slight fever, but nothing more serious than that.
They stayed there the night, and at daybreak the lad's fever broke.