Solid Frodo: Hobbit Espionage Action

Chapter 10: Otaku are People Too

Slowly the locker opened, and the Hobbits piled out, none too careful about it; both Sam and Pippin accidentally stepped on the Doctor’s face, eliciting a few "ows". As soon as they were out, the locker slid shut again.

Pippin picked up the SOCOM and holstered it. Sam went over and sat next to Frodo. "Are you OK sir?"

"Yes...well...he hit me a couple times; I feel a little hurt," Frodo conceded.

Merry came up and handed him a ration. "We’ll use it for why we’re supposed to this time. That Colonel person said they were for healing lost health; I suppose getting hit with a sword counts." Frodo nodded his thanks and took the ration, eating it by himself this time. It did seem to make him feel a good deal less beat up, somewhat the same way lembas did, but it still tasted awful.

Sam looked at Frodo’s Sneaking Suit. "That coat of yours is a wonder," he said, noticing the glitter of fine mithril rings just visible under Frodo’s cut up Suit.

Frodo picked at it a little. "Yes, it does seem to come in handy."

Pippin was the first to notice the state of Frodo’s hair and fur. Frodo hadn’t realized, not having time to, that when he struck the ninja with Sting the last time, it had made his hair stand on end. "Frodo...your hair is worse than Sam’s a bit ago."

Frodo felt his hair and sighed. "Well, you can try to fix it, but so help me Peregrin Took, if you braid any of it...!" Pippin looked utterly innocent, but with Merry and Sam’s help, he tried to get Frodo’s hair looking reasonable. Frodo made an attempt to flatten his foot fur.

"So where did the wraith ninja go?" Merry asked while he patted at Frodo’s hair.

Frodo shrugged. "I don’t know. I thought I had him killed, but he started acting really strange and left. I’m glad I didn’t have him killed...I didn’t want to, you know."

"How did you know he was a wraith?" Merry had himself recognized the feeling of the ninja’s ‘fadedness’, having been far too near wraiths before, although those wraiths were evil.

"I put It on."

"Ohhh, sir, you shouldn’ta oughta done that, did you have to do that?" Sam asked in concern.

Frodo suddenly remembered the Ring was still in his hand, so he slipped the chain back over his head, disrupting the Hobbits’ attempt to tame his curly hair, and tucked the Ring under the rather tight top of his Suit. "Yes, I had to. He, his name is Gray Fox, well, he can turn invisible too, so I thought that was the only advantage I had. And I was shocked! Gray Fox had white lines of fire all around him, but inside, he was pale and sad, he must have faded a while ago. He wasn’t under any evil power though, it wasn’t sorcery that made him fade. But he couldn’t see me!" He paused for a moment, looking at his hands. "He should have been able to, I seem to have got myself a glow...but I guess the metal on his face blocked it out. He could see me when he took his mask off."

"A mask? So he’s not really all made of metal?" Pippin asked.

"No, I think it’s like armor or something."

"And you still have your sword?" Merry asked, knowing that it was not uncommon for a blade to vaporize on contact with a wraith. The three Hobbits took a moment to survey their handiwork, and decided they had done their best with Frodo’s hair.

"Yes, Sting is fine." Frodo drew the blade, and then his face fell. It was covered in blood. "I suppose he wasn’t all wraith...and I also suppose the inside of my scabbard is filthy now."

"You can wipe Sting on Dr. Emmerich’s pants...he needs to change anyway," Pippin commented.

Apparently Dr. Emmerich heard the comment because the locker door slid open. He peeked out and adjusted his glasses. "Who are you anyway?"

The Hobbits turned toward him and Frodo stood up. Pippin introduced himself and the rest of the Hobbits to Dr. Emmerich. "Well...," Dr. Emmerich said, "I think Peregrin knows my name at least." He eyed the taller Hobbit somewhat unhappily.

Merry said, "You can call him Pippin, or you can call him any vulgar name you like."

Pippin turned on Merry. "That wasn’t nice!"

"Well it wasn’t nice making fun of this Big Person for loosing his water."

Dr. Emmerich groaned. "You might too if some scary ninja guy came and stuck a katana in your face."

"If I did, I’d hate to think what I would have done when those Ringwraiths attacked," Pippin commented.

"Oh stop it, Pippin," Merry scolded.

"So," Frodo said to Dr. Emmerich, "we haven’t finished introductions, even if we do know who you are."

"Oh, yes...um, I’m Doctor Hal Emmerich." He climbed out of the locker and stood, a little wobbly. He was tall and lanky, with what must have been prematurely gray hair, because he didn’t look old enough as Big People go.

The Hobbits all bowed. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Emmerich," Frodo said cordially.

"Oh, you can call me Otacon."

"Otacon?"

"Yeah", he said, pushing up his glasses. "It stands for Otaku Convention."

All four Hobbits blinked up at him, totally lacking any comprehension. "What’s that?" Sam finally asked.

"Oh, it’s a big get together where Otaku go to cosplay and watch Japanese animated shows and movies."

More blank expressions. "And what’s otaku?" Sam asked again.

"Um...an Otaku is a guy like me, a fan of Japanese animation."

Expressions were gaining a slight bit of understanding. "So, is an Otaku different than a Man?" Merry inquired.

Otacon slumped. "That’s not nice."

"It’s not?" Merry was confused—he thought maybe Otaku was a different race he’d never heard of.

"No, it’s not. I get teased enough as it is. I’m just as much a man as anyone else."

Pippin scratched his head then looked up at Otacon. "We aren’t Men, we’re Hobbits."

It was Otacon’s turn to look confused. "What are Hobbits?"

Frodo explained. "Hobbits are like Men more than Elves or Dwarves, we’re probably related to Men, but in the distant past that no one remembers. Anyway, as you can see, Hobbits are shorter than Men and we have foot fur."

"Oh!" Otacon exclaimed. "You meant to ask if I was a different race, like an Elf?"

"Sorta," Merry answered.

"Oh, no, I’m a Man, a human. I assume you are all...er...male?"

All the Hobbits nodded. "Well, now that we have that all squared away...could you tell us what a ‘Japanese’ is and an ‘animation’?" asked Sam.

Otacon shrugged. "I’d say you guys don’t know much, but then, I’ve never met a Hobbit before, or even heard of one."

"You and the rest of Middle-Earth," Pippin muttered under his breath.

"Japanese is a...well...Japanese people come from Japan. That’s a country. And Japanese make...er...animated movies, kinda like cartoons, but a lot more sophisticated. Sometimes they’re called animé, and sometimes Japanimation. I don’t think I can explain what animation is. But you can look at the posters around here...they’re all for animés. Just pretend they were moving, and that’s animation."

"Like the pictures on the Codecs?" Merry asked this time.

Otacon nodded. "Kinda like that."

"And what’s a ‘cosplay’?" Sam continued.

"That’s...," and suddenly Otacon blushed, "that’s Otaku dressing up in costumes of their favorite characters. I was thinking about going as Spike Spiegel this year."

"This is all right over my head, and that’s a fact," Sam said. Hobbits didn’t have days that they dressed in costumes, although sometimes there would be a play-act at Michel Delving. Then he added, "Well, as long as we’re giving out nicknames, you can call me Sam and him Merry. Frodo doesn’t have a nickname...his parents were smart, give him a name he didn’t have to shorten to use."

Pippin looked at Sam. "Now didn’t your Gaffer say something like that? Why didn’t he take his own advice?"

"I don’t rightly know, and I never thought to ask him."

Frodo looked up at Otacon. "The ArmsTech president told us you would know how to destroy this Metal Gear REX so it couldn’t launch a ‘nuke’. Do you?"

Otacon nearly jumped in shock. "REX wasn’t made to launch nuclear weapons! It was made to shoot them down, a defensive machine!"

Frodo went and sat in one of the soft chairs that were all over the room. "President Baker said that Metal Gear was for launching ‘nukes’. He gave me something, he said it had all the test data on it."

Otacon went white. "That can’t be right! REX is armed with missiles, a vulcan cannon, and a small rail gun...you mean to tell me they always intended to put nuclear missiles in REX’s missile module?"

"I don’t know anything about any of that," Merry said. "All we know is that this Metal Gear thing was being tested to launch a ‘nuke’."

Otacon pushed his glasses up his nose and thought for a long while. "They...they wouldn’t need to do any special tests to launch a nuclear missile from REX’s regular missile module." Otacon pointed at a number of tall, metal boxes. "These are supercomputers...run them all together and you could test anything...could it be they meant to test if REX could fire a nuke through its rail gun?! That would explain all the guards and the secrecy...an undetectable nuke would be devastating to the political balance of the world! Is that what’s on the disc Baker gave you?"

Frodo shrugged. "I really don’t know, but...it could be. He said once the pentagon got the disc, they would adopt the project, something like that."

The lanky doctor sat down heavily. "Damn! It’s all my fault!" Then he went into a long spiel about how his family was cursed with nuclear weapons in their destiny and stuff like that.

While Otacon was bewailing his fate, Sam whispered to Frodo, "You know, with those cuts in your top the mithril catches the light real easy. We should fix that."

"But how?" Frodo asked. "We don’t have anything to fix it with, and none of use can sew."

"Oh, that’s not so, sir," Sam replied. "I can sew a bit. Nothin’ proper, and I’d probably just make a mess of your cloak, but I reckon I can at least get the mithril hidden. ‘Course, that’s assumin’ I can get a needle and thread...."

Frodo looked at Sam in wonder. "You are a marvel, Sam." Sam bowed his head and muttered something, his ears flushed red.

Then Frodo turned to Otacon, who had started in on a long sounding monologue about how he got into science to help mankind and how he was just being used. "Um, Otacon?" he said gently.

Otacon stopped short. "What?"

"Do you have a needle and thread?"

He blinked. "Why?"

Frodo motioned to his Sneaking Suit. "It needs fixing...otherwise my mail shirt will attract too much attention."

Otacon blinked a little and thought for a moment. Then he said, "Hold on, there might be some in this first aid kit." He went and fetched it out from under a desk, then opened it up and examined the contents. "Well, here’s some; I don’t know if it’s enough." He held it out.

Sam went and took it. "This’ll do just fine, thank you!" Then he turned to Frodo. "Sorry sir, but I’ll be needing the top of that Suit...."

Frodo slumped and sighed. "I know. Hold on a moment." He unclasped the Elven cloak and set it aside; Otacon looked at it in wonder, noticing for the first time that it seemed to change to look like different shadows wherever it was. Then Frodo, amidst much growling and muttering, managed to wrestle the top of his tight Sneaking Suit off. It took him a good five or six minutes to peal the thing away. Then he handed it to Sam. "I rather don’t look forward to having to put that on again," he sighed.

Merry nodded. "I tell you, they are simply too tight. Can’t get a moment’s peace...these pants!"

Pippin made a face. "I dare think I shall never get my undergarments free again."

Otacon hid a smirk behind his hand. Then, while Sam went about attempting to repair the two cuts in the Sneaking Suit, Otacon gasped. "What is that?" he breathed, pointing at Frodo’s mithril corslet.

The mail shirt glittered with diamonds and pearls, the mithril glowing with a sheen even finer than silver, and apparently had quite stunned Otacon. The Hobbits weren’t exactly used to seeing it, but they had seen it a few times, and so it didn’t catch them off guard. Frodo held up the trailing edge of the ringmail; it draped over his hand like fine silk. "This is a Dwarven corslet of ringmail...made of mithril."

"M-may I...?" Otacon asked, extending his hand.

"Yes," Frodo answered, and so Otacon touched the coat, feeling the very fine rings, and how light it was.

"And this turned a katana?! It doesn’t feel strong enough!" His eyes were wide.

"It’s bullet-proof too," Pippin added helpfully.

Otacon’s eyes widened even more. "Do you all have these?"

"No, unfortunately," Merry said. "It would come in real handy, but Dwarves can’t make them anymore, and even if they did, they’re worth more than a king’s ransom. Frodo got it from Bilbo, who got it from Thorin Oakenshield, who was King Under the Mountain for a little while. Came out of a dragon-hoard, I hear...but then, the dragon-hoard belonged to the Dwarves before the dragon stole it."

Otacon couldn’t seem to stop letting the tiny rings slip through his fingers over and over again. "It’s like you all stepped out of a fantasy novel."

"We’re from Middle-Earth...we don’t know how we got here," Frodo said in response. His voice didn’t sound like it, but he was getting mildly annoyed at Otacon, who was still playing with his coat.

"I believe you...I don’t know if I would have if someone just told me, but...it’s hard not to believe what you see with your own eyes. And this ringmail...I don’t think anyone on Earth could make something like it."

All the Hobbits looked pleased. Finally, one of these Big People actually took them seriously! Sam came over with Frodo’s Sneaking Suit top. "Well, this is the best I could do, sir. The material’s a lot harder than I thought it would be." He handed the top to Frodo, who examined the stitches.

"It looks fine, Sam. Thank you." Then Frodo gave Otacon a meaningful look when the aforementioned Big Person didn’t stop feeling the mithril.

Meaningful look didn’t register, so Frodo cleared his throat.

Otacon was still playing with the ringmail.

"Excuse me," Frodo said as politely as he could manage, which was actually phenomenally polite, since Frodo was always a gentle-spoken Hobbit.

"Hmm?" Otacon said, looking up. Frodo held up his Sneaking Suit. "Oh! Uh, yeah, sorry," he said, finally dropping the edge of Frodo’s coat.

Frodo just smiled in acknowledgment then went about growling and muttering in his attempt to pull the Suit top back on. While he was wrestling the Suit over his head, the Ring slipped out from under the ringmail, and Otacon saw it. On a sudden impulse, Otacon reached over and picked up the Ring, thinking for the moment it looked even more beautiful than Frodo’s coat.

Three Hobbits gasped in shock, and Otacon dropped the Ring nearly as fast as he had picked it up: there was a short silver sword aimed right between his eyes.

How Frodo had managed to draw Sting so fast when he was still only half in the Suit was never quite answered. But he had, and Sting was perhaps two, three millimeters away from Otacon’s face. Frodo looked ridiculous, but the feral gleam in his eyes kept anyone from laughing. "Touch that again and I will not stay my blade."

Otacon stumbled backwards and fell on his backside; in a way he was fortunate he had already peed his pants recently or else he would have again. "S-s-s-s-sorry...sorry...!"

After several tense moments, Frodo dropped Sting and went back to struggling with the Suit. He didn’t apologize to Otacon though. He knew Otacon didn’t know what he had done, but he was still angry...and he didn’t want to discuss why he was so angry. The minions of the Dark Lord were crawling everywhere in this fortress, and Frodo didn’t feel right explaining anything about the Ring, and if he explained why he was angry, it would surely lead to questions that were best left unasked.

In the meantime, Sam fetched Frodo’s Elven cloak, casting a less than pleased glance at Otacon as he did, and started sewing the cut in it together, although he felt horribly inadequate to the task. Merry picked up Sting and went to look through Otacon’s first aid kit to see if there was something to clean it off with. He found some gauze...it didn’t look quite right, but he couldn’t find anything else, so he used that. Pippin just sorta stood around. He would have helped, but the only thing he could think Frodo needed help with was either getting that blasted Suit on or cleaning Sting’s sheath, and he didn’t know how to do that.

Otacon slumped, feeling very bad and strange and scared. He’d had swords pointed at him too many times in one day. And he had no idea why he had felt that sudden need to touch that gold ring on Frodo’s necklace...but for that brief touch, he thought it was the smoothest, most beautifully made ring in the whole wide world. He thought about it, and decided maybe Hobbits looked younger than they were, and maybe that had been Frodo’s wedding ring or something...if it had been, his wife must have been someone extraordinary and very well loved. And Frodo must be fabulously wealthy to afford such a wonderful ring. He wondered a little more about why he seemed so fascinated by the ring...then he decided he’d already been scared to death twice today, there couldn’t be any harm in asking, right?

So after Frodo managed to pull the Sneaking Suit back on and was reaching for the cloak Sam was handing to him, Otacon cleared his throat and ventured, "So, um...what’s...what’s with that ring there?"

The glare Frodo gave him was, to Otacon, surprisingly frightening considering that Frodo was probably about half his height. "It’s nothing you should be concerned with!"

Otacon frowned and pushed up his glasses. "Well, OK...it was just a question...."

"And one would think a blade pointed between your eyes would cure you of your curiosity!" Frodo shouted. "Don’t ask me about it again!"

Otacon half shrugged, conceding that Frodo did have a point, a very sharp one at that. "All right, all right, I’ll leave it alone...it’s just—"

"OTACON!"

"OK, OK, OK!"

Pippin looked over at Merry. "I’m beginning to think that an Emmerich could beat a Brandybuck for inquisitiveness."

Merry returned the glance and quirked a little grin. "I think an Emmerich might even beat a Took for the thickness of their skulls!"

"Merry...!"

"What?"

Pippin pouted. "Nevermind."

Otacon was pouting a little now too. "You Hobbits have rather caustic wits, don’t you."

Merry and Pippin suddenly started shuffling their feet.

Sam offered in a low tone, "It’s just that you were having a little trouble taking the hint there, you know, Mr. Otacon."

"Fine, well, I got the hint. No asking about rings, got it...even if they are—"

"OTACON!" Frodo yelled, up and reaching for Sting which Merry still had.

Otacon threw his hands over his head and cowered. "I’m sorry! Don’t kill me, please! It just...well it gets into your head, you know!"

Frodo stood down, leaving Sting with Merry. "I do know. You shouldn’t have touched it. Trust me when I say I can’t tell you any more, for your own sake."

The tall Man peeked out from under his arms. "I’ll try...I promise."

"All right." Frodo answered. "Anyway, we should be getting on to other things you know. About that ‘nuke’...we need to know how to stop the launch, or destroy the machine. Do you know where it is?" While he was speaking, Frodo took Sting from Merry, but fiddled with it, not really wanting to put it in its dirty scabbard.

Not feeling particularly comforted by the fact that Frodo hadn’t sheathed his sword, but still feeling less threatened, Otacon stood up, stumbled a little, and said, "Yeah, it’s in an underground base north of the communications tower. It’s a long way there. If they’re really ready to launch, you’ll need to override the launch command...you should be able to do that from the control room in the underground maintenance base." He paused. "Um, would it be too much to ask for you to put your sword away? It’s making me nervous."

Frodo looked at Sting. "I would...but my scabbard is dirty. I don’t guess Elven blades rust, but...I’d rather not have to clean it every time I draw it."

"Oh."

"Why don’t you clean it out with Otacon’s pants?" Pippin suggested.

"OK, look, Peregrin, that’s just not nice," Otacon complained, getting tired of being picked on.

"Frodo needs to clean his scabbard with something, and since I figured your pants were already dirty...."

Merry swatted Pippin on the head. "We should use your hair to clean it out! Leave Otacon alone!"

"OK! Fine!" Pippin muttered, rubbing his head.

Sam offered, "Look, why don’t we just find something else? Like that cloth Merry used to clean Sting?" Merry nodded and grabbed Pippin by the ear and dragged him away from Otacon so they could look around for some more cloth.

In the mean time, Frodo went back to the subject at hand. "The control room...do you know how to deactivate the ‘nuke’? Does it use that Dwarven key the president gave to Meryl?"

"Dwarven key?" Otacon asked somewhat incredulously. "It uses three keys. Anyway, you should get in contact with Meryl. I can help you out by Codec; I have one of those stealth cammos that the Ninja was using, so I should be safe."

"OK, hold on, let me call her," Frodo said, then put his hand to his ear. "Meryl?"

The Codec flickered to life. "Yeah? Did you find Dr. Emmerich?"

"Yes, he’s here...hasn’t had a heart attack yet, but it wasn’t for lack of trying."

"Huh?" Meryl asked, confused.

"It’s nothing. Where are you? We need to get the keys—"

Frodo was interrupted by the sound of gunfire. "Damn! They found me!" Meryl growled, and the Codec contact shut down.

"Oh! She’s in trouble!" Frodo cried out.

"She was dressed as a terrorist, she should be able to hide easily...she has a cute way of walking." Otacon said. "You should go find her."

The other three Hobbits came back from their searching with some materials they hoped would work to clean out Sting’s sheath. Frodo unbuckled the scabbard and handed it to them, looking a little concerned about what they found and worried he’d just end up with a scabbard full of cloth and paper.

"A cute way of walking?" Frodo asked, not sure exactly what to make of that. Big People standards of beauty rarely applied to Hobbits...for instance, no Big Person could ever properly appreciate the beauty of a Hobbit-lady’s foot fur. And Hobbits walked a bit differently than Big People...so what exactly constituted "cute walking" for Big People?

"Yeah, she wiggles her behind."

That answered that question, Frodo thought. So now I have to watch Big People backsides to see which one wiggles? "Well, OK," Frodo said, wrinkling his nose slightly at the idea of having to look specifically at Big People butts. He looked over at the other Hobbits, who were now using a bit of metal wire to fish out stuff that was stuck in the scabbard.

"What are you doing to my scabbard?!" he cried, hoping they would get all the stuff out of it without scraping the inside to shreds.

Three Hobbit heads popped up from their work. "We’re almost done sir, don’t worry!" Sam answered cheerfully. Frodo shook his head in a somewhat defeated manner and sighed. Then he looked back to Otacon.

Otacon said, "You’ll have to talk to her where she’ll be guaranteed to be alone."

"Where might that be?"

"Oh don’t be so dense," Otacon sighed.

"But...I really don’t know where a Big Person woman would be alone!"

"Don’t make me say it!"

Frodo gave Otacon a strange look. "You have no shame in prying about my secrets, but you can’t say where a Woman would be alone?!"

Otacon squirmed then finally spluttered out, "The women’s room, OK? She would go into the WOMEN’S ROOM!"

Frodo blinked. "There are special rooms for Big People women?"

"ARGH! YES, of course there are! Men go to the men’s room and women go to the women’s room!"

"What for?"

Otacon actually looked like he was about to tear his hair out. "TO USE THE RESTROOM!!"

"They...rest? It’s like a bedroom?"

"NO!!"

"Well what is it then?!"

Otacon was actually pulling his hair and stomping his feet. "They...! Argh! Don’t you have bathrooms where you’re from?!"

"Well, of course! Baths are great. Haven’t had a proper one in a long while...but Pippin likes them best. He sings fun bath songs."

Otacon made a strangled noise of frustration. "NO!"

"Well if you don’t take baths there, and you don’t rest there, why is it called a bathroom or a restroom?"

The tall Man started stomping the ground even harder. "Women go to the women’s room to take a leak! To dump a load! Pinch a loaf! GRAH!!"

"They what?!"

"THEY USE THEM TO RELIEVE THEMSELVES!!" Otacon practically screamed.

Frodo flinched, then said, "Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?"

"AAARGGGHH!!" Otacon panted with the effort to calm himself. "I thought you would know!"

"I’m sorry...but Hobbits don’t have special rooms for ladies and gentle-Hobbits to go...we use the same chamber pots...."

Otacon gave him a dull look. "Chamber pots? Nevermind. Don’t lady Hobbits want privacy?"

"Well we don’t go barging in on them, of course not! That would be exceptionally rude."

Otacon just shook his head, deciding not to argue the merits of having restrooms for each gender. "Anyway, you’ll have to talk to her in the women’s room once you find her. That would be the room with only stalls, OK...please don’t make me be more specific."

"I think I know what you mean," Frodo said, remembering the Hobbits’ recent adventure in what must have been the ‘Men’s Room’.

Otacon rubbed his face. "It’s about time," he muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "Look, here’s the level 4 security card. Just go find Meryl, see if she has all three keys." Then he told Frodo his Codec frequency.

Frodo took the card and nodded, then looked over at the other Hobbits. "Are you finished destroying my scabbard yet?" he asked.

"We haven’t destroyed your scabbard, Mr. Frodo," Sam said in injured tones. "It’s just fine, and as clean as we could get it. We got everything out." He pointed back at a pile of crumpled papers, bloody gauze, and the wire they used to fish it all out. Then he handed the sheath back to Frodo, who took it and eyeballed the inside doubtfully. It looked OK, so he put Sting away then drew it again experimentally. It seemed clean enough, and there wasn’t anything left in the sheath. Frodo looked back up at the Hobbits and thanked them, which was a good thing, since they all looked rather irritated at him for doubting them.

"Well," Frodo said to the three other Hobbits, "we need to go find Meryl now...."

Sam frowned. "I heard we have to look at her backside? I don’t wanna go around starin’ at Big People’s backsides! Besides, Rosie wouldn’t like it...."

"As long as they’re covered!" Merry complained. "I don’t care, as long as they have clothes on!"

"It shouldn’t be that bad," Otacon said, "she has a very cute behind." Then he smiled. "Don’t you have to look at Big People behinds all the time anyway? You’re all about the right height for it."

All the Hobbits gave Otacon unimpressed looks, while Merry nudged Pippin hard in the ribs as a way of saying he deserved the jab. Pippin squeaked and swatted Merry. They all seemed to have silently decided that explaining Hobbit standards of beauty would be a hopeless task, so none of them bothered to say anything about how enjoyable they would find the task, nor did they say anything about how they didn’t exactly like being just the right height to naturally look Big People straight in the hip, so to speak.

Then Frodo shrugged and said, "Anyway, we do need to get that Dwarf key, regardless of what we have to watch to get it. Thank you for your help Otacon, we’ll call you if we need anything."

"Oh, thank you too." The tall Man waved as the Hobbits all walked out the door.

Go on to Chapter 11