In The Old Forest
Title: In the Old Forest
Rating: G.
Pairings: Ten/Rose and Hobbits
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who and anything Tolkien
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 1K or so
“What a foul thing to happen!” cried Frodo wildly. “Why did we come to this dreadful forest? I wish we were all back in Crickhollow!”
Sam stared at amazement at the ancient willow. What a horrid thing! And yet for all of its murderous heart, it was still a tree. “I suppose we haven’t an ax among our luggage, Mr. Frodo?”
Frodo ran his hand through his hair, his eyes moving from poor Merry’s kicking feet to the withies that lashed the air high above their heads. “I brought a little hatchet for chopping firewood,” said Frodo. “That wouldn’t be much use.”
“Wait a moment!” Firewood, Sam thought. We can burn the wretched thing. "We might do something with fire!”
Frodo chewed his lip. “We might succeed in roasting Pippin alive inside.”
Sam kicked at the tree and its leaves hissed at him, laughing. “We might try to hurt or frighten this tree to begin with.” He pounded the trunk with his fists in frustration and then turned away and staggered to the ponies. “If it don’t let them go, I’ll have it down, if I have to gnaw it.”
Horrid, murderous beastie. I’ll burn you, I will!
Sam set the tinderboxes and the hatchet down at the base of the willow, and he and Frodo scraped together dry grass and twigs in a little pile against the trunk. The first spark landed well and the tender flared, catching the small twigs and sending little fingers of fire licking up the old, buckled bark.
A sound moved through the air, too low for his ears but echoing in Sam’s bones. Above their heads, the branches tossed with a sound of pain and anger. Inside the tree, Merry and Pippin began to scream. “Put it out! Put it out!” cried Merry. “He’ll squeeze me in two if you don’t! He says so!”
“Who? What?” shouted Frodo rushing around to Merry and pulling vainly on the trunk that pinched the hobbit’s waist.
“Put it out! Put it out!” begged Merry.
Sam stomped the fire out and threw himself at the tree, pounding at it with his whole body, crying, “Let them out! Let them out, you monster! Damn you! Let them out!”
Frodo stared at them in horror, the lashing tree, Merry’s kicking legs and his faint weeping, Sam’s fury, and then whirled away, running down the path and calling out help! help! help!
From far away in the deep forest, something answered them. It was a voice; Sam stopped and took a step away from the willow, listening. Someone was singing. Frodo came up beside him, and Sam grabbed up his hand, clutching it as they listened to the voice come nearer.
Hey dol! Merry dol! Ring a dong dillo!
Rig a dong! Hop a long! Fal lal the willow!
Tom bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!
There was another burst of song, and then suddenly, hopping and dancing along the path, there appeared above the reeds a shock of brown hair. With another hop and a bound there came into view a tall thin man, dressed all in brown, with bright red shoes. The man stopped when he saw them and grinned, his brown eyes twinkling. “I’ve always wanted to sing that song. Quite jolly, isn’t it?”
Sam leapt toward the man, pulling Frodo along. “Help! Please!”
“Alright, yes, slow down! Introductions first!” He held his hand out. “Hello, I’m the Doctor.”
“My friends are caught in the willow!” cried Frodo breathlessly.
The brown man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Sam hopped about in frustration and pointed back to the tree. “Master Merry’s being squeezed in a crack!”
“What?” The Doctor squinted at the tree. “What? Old Man Willow!” He fished into the pocket of his coat and drew out a bright silver instrument and grinned down at the hobbits. “Naught worse than that, eh?” He strode toward the tree muttering. “What’s with this then? Swallowing hobbits?” A high whistle pierced the air, and Sam ran up to see the Doctor aim the instrument at the tree, his face stern but with the corner of his mouth turned up in some faint amusement. “Whatever can you be thinking, hmm? Hobbits?” He walked slowly toward the tree, the instrument whirring, until he stood right against it and leaned his shoulder to the trunk. “Hobbits. Really, that’s just silly. Let them go now, or I'll get angry.”
There was a groaning screech and the tree opened up. Merry and Pippin sprang out as if they’d been kicked and sat dazed at the willow’s roots. The cracks snapped shut and a shudder passed through the whole tree. The Doctor flicked off the instrument and pocketed it with a satisfied nod.
Sam helped Merry to his feet, and Frodo pulled up Pippin. One after the other, they gave the Doctor a small, solemn bow and said, “Thank you.”
The Doctor grinned with delight. “Well, my fellows,” he bent at the waist and peered down at them. “You should come home with me. I’m sure the TARDIS will be quite accommodating with a nice tea.” He turned toward the path and then turned again, walking backward. “Come along! I’ve got honey from the planet Dido, and some of that lovely tea from Ta.” His grin became even wider. “Tea from Ta! Ha! And thimbleberry jam! I got it from a girl at a roadside stand up in Houghton. Wonderful stuff, thimbleberry jam! ” With another hop, the Doctor faced forward, practically skipping down the trail. “Hurry now, Rose is waiting!” he threw over his shoulder. “And I can’t wait to see the look on her face!”
He ran lightly down the trail, his wild hair ruffled by the breeze. "You'll see a blue box! Just knock on the door," Sam heard the Doctor shout. The hobbits looked at each other, eyes wide and smiles slowly showing on their faces. As they gathered up the ponies, they heard the Doctor's voice float on the air, singing:
Hey! Come derry dol! Hop along, my hearties!
Hobbits! Ponies all! Rose is fond of parties.
Now let the fun begin! Let us sing together!
Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:
The Doctor and Rose with hobbits in the TARDIS!
Rating: G.
Pairings: Ten/Rose and Hobbits
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who and anything Tolkien
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 1K or so
“What a foul thing to happen!” cried Frodo wildly. “Why did we come to this dreadful forest? I wish we were all back in Crickhollow!”
Sam stared at amazement at the ancient willow. What a horrid thing! And yet for all of its murderous heart, it was still a tree. “I suppose we haven’t an ax among our luggage, Mr. Frodo?”
Frodo ran his hand through his hair, his eyes moving from poor Merry’s kicking feet to the withies that lashed the air high above their heads. “I brought a little hatchet for chopping firewood,” said Frodo. “That wouldn’t be much use.”
“Wait a moment!” Firewood, Sam thought. We can burn the wretched thing. "We might do something with fire!”
Frodo chewed his lip. “We might succeed in roasting Pippin alive inside.”
Sam kicked at the tree and its leaves hissed at him, laughing. “We might try to hurt or frighten this tree to begin with.” He pounded the trunk with his fists in frustration and then turned away and staggered to the ponies. “If it don’t let them go, I’ll have it down, if I have to gnaw it.”
Horrid, murderous beastie. I’ll burn you, I will!
Sam set the tinderboxes and the hatchet down at the base of the willow, and he and Frodo scraped together dry grass and twigs in a little pile against the trunk. The first spark landed well and the tender flared, catching the small twigs and sending little fingers of fire licking up the old, buckled bark.
A sound moved through the air, too low for his ears but echoing in Sam’s bones. Above their heads, the branches tossed with a sound of pain and anger. Inside the tree, Merry and Pippin began to scream. “Put it out! Put it out!” cried Merry. “He’ll squeeze me in two if you don’t! He says so!”
“Who? What?” shouted Frodo rushing around to Merry and pulling vainly on the trunk that pinched the hobbit’s waist.
“Put it out! Put it out!” begged Merry.
Sam stomped the fire out and threw himself at the tree, pounding at it with his whole body, crying, “Let them out! Let them out, you monster! Damn you! Let them out!”
Frodo stared at them in horror, the lashing tree, Merry’s kicking legs and his faint weeping, Sam’s fury, and then whirled away, running down the path and calling out help! help! help!
From far away in the deep forest, something answered them. It was a voice; Sam stopped and took a step away from the willow, listening. Someone was singing. Frodo came up beside him, and Sam grabbed up his hand, clutching it as they listened to the voice come nearer.
Hey dol! Merry dol! Ring a dong dillo!
Rig a dong! Hop a long! Fal lal the willow!
Tom bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!
There was another burst of song, and then suddenly, hopping and dancing along the path, there appeared above the reeds a shock of brown hair. With another hop and a bound there came into view a tall thin man, dressed all in brown, with bright red shoes. The man stopped when he saw them and grinned, his brown eyes twinkling. “I’ve always wanted to sing that song. Quite jolly, isn’t it?”
Sam leapt toward the man, pulling Frodo along. “Help! Please!”
“Alright, yes, slow down! Introductions first!” He held his hand out. “Hello, I’m the Doctor.”
“My friends are caught in the willow!” cried Frodo breathlessly.
The brown man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Sam hopped about in frustration and pointed back to the tree. “Master Merry’s being squeezed in a crack!”
“What?” The Doctor squinted at the tree. “What? Old Man Willow!” He fished into the pocket of his coat and drew out a bright silver instrument and grinned down at the hobbits. “Naught worse than that, eh?” He strode toward the tree muttering. “What’s with this then? Swallowing hobbits?” A high whistle pierced the air, and Sam ran up to see the Doctor aim the instrument at the tree, his face stern but with the corner of his mouth turned up in some faint amusement. “Whatever can you be thinking, hmm? Hobbits?” He walked slowly toward the tree, the instrument whirring, until he stood right against it and leaned his shoulder to the trunk. “Hobbits. Really, that’s just silly. Let them go now, or I'll get angry.”
There was a groaning screech and the tree opened up. Merry and Pippin sprang out as if they’d been kicked and sat dazed at the willow’s roots. The cracks snapped shut and a shudder passed through the whole tree. The Doctor flicked off the instrument and pocketed it with a satisfied nod.
Sam helped Merry to his feet, and Frodo pulled up Pippin. One after the other, they gave the Doctor a small, solemn bow and said, “Thank you.”
The Doctor grinned with delight. “Well, my fellows,” he bent at the waist and peered down at them. “You should come home with me. I’m sure the TARDIS will be quite accommodating with a nice tea.” He turned toward the path and then turned again, walking backward. “Come along! I’ve got honey from the planet Dido, and some of that lovely tea from Ta.” His grin became even wider. “Tea from Ta! Ha! And thimbleberry jam! I got it from a girl at a roadside stand up in Houghton. Wonderful stuff, thimbleberry jam! ” With another hop, the Doctor faced forward, practically skipping down the trail. “Hurry now, Rose is waiting!” he threw over his shoulder. “And I can’t wait to see the look on her face!”
He ran lightly down the trail, his wild hair ruffled by the breeze. "You'll see a blue box! Just knock on the door," Sam heard the Doctor shout. The hobbits looked at each other, eyes wide and smiles slowly showing on their faces. As they gathered up the ponies, they heard the Doctor's voice float on the air, singing:
Hey! Come derry dol! Hop along, my hearties!
Hobbits! Ponies all! Rose is fond of parties.
Now let the fun begin! Let us sing together!
Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:
The Doctor and Rose with hobbits in the TARDIS!