The next two chapters in Felicity's story
Frodo and Sam had finally proved, after two weeks at Jim’s house, that they were not children, so they were given horses, and they had a difficult time with them, but finally, they got up on the horses and went to expplore the town. First plac they stopped at was the Barrol o’ Boys Saloon. Sam was trying to sound it out.
“The Bar-rel ‘o Boys Salon? Sal-oon? Sayloon? How do you pronounce that Mr. Frodo?”
“Saloon, let’s see what’s inside.”
“OK Mr. Frodo.”
The two of them went inside and saw guys gambling and drinking beers.
“An inn? Maybe?” thought Sam.
Frodo went over to the counter and saw the bartender talking to one of the guys.
“Yer gonna regret this Joe.”
“Awww Bill, grow up,” replied the guy.
Joe turned and saw Sam and Frodo behind him. Squatting down, he looked under their hats, then stood up again. Looking at Sam he said,
Sam, not wanting to pick a fight, said, “Hello, Mister,” and tipped his hat like he saw other cowboys do.
Then looking at Frodo he called down to him, “Hello there shorty, how’s the weather down there?”
Frodo looked up at him, with a face meaner than Sam had ever seen before.
“What did u just say?” he said through clenched teeth.
Joe yelled down to him, “I said Hello MR. SHORTY!”
Everyone was looking at them now, the piano stopped, and the men dropped their cards, everyone knew that Joe was the meanest, toughest guy in town. He loved picking fights with people.
Frodo opened his mouth. “Pretty bold, u messin’ with me like that.”
Taking a whiskey bottle he climbed on his seat, and broke it over the guy’s head.
Joe turned, picked Frodo up, and put him on the ground.
“My turn.” He smiled.
“OWCH!” Frodo exclaimed, as a punch landed on his gut.
One of the men jumped up from the table, and said to Joe, “Joe, he’s only a kid, ya know, probly just 17 or 18. You can’t do that to him!”
Frodo got up, and walked across the room, picked up a chair (wel’ll never know how he managed to pick it up) and threw it at Joe.
Joe ducked, then, suddenly, chairs, bottles, and cards were flying all over the room. Frodo and Joe were constantly ducking and everyone was yelling.
Bill the bartender then yelled out, “Hey, let’s not do this so loud!”
Joe stood up. “Good idea, Bill. Mr. Shorty, let’s do this ‘not so loud.’”
Same groaned. Frodo stood up, and pretty soon, punches were flying. Before Sam knew what was happening, Joe had picked Frodo up by his short collar, and thrown him out the swinging doors. Sam ran over to Frodo.
“Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo? Are you all right?”
“You stay out of this, Sam.” He pushed Sam’s hand away when he tried to help him up.
“Joe, let’s do this like gentlemen,” Frodo said.
“NO, MR. FRODO, NO!” Sam yelled.
“Sounds like fun, but you’ll regret it,” said Joe.
Walking out the doors, they picked their spots. Sam covered his eyes. Pretty soon he heard gunshots. He opened his eyes. Frodo was laying on the ground with a bullet in his left shoulder.
“No, why THAT shoulder?” Sam exclaimed.
None of the crowd knew why. He rushed over to Frodo, whose face was twisted in pain.
“Sam, he - he got me in - my - left shoulder.”
Jim was just leaving the General Store, across the street from the saloon, when he hard gunshots. He was used to gunfights, but he knew Frodo and Sam would be there, and he had to make sure they were OK. Walking out of the general store, he saw a short blond guy running over to a dude on the ground and yelling,
“Mr. Frodo? Mr. Frodo?”
Jim dropped the supplies and rushed across the street to the place where Frodo and Sam were.
“Sam! U okay? Where’s Frodo? Is that him? What happened?”
“Mr. Jim, Mr. Jim, Mr. Frodo’s been shot, whatever it’s called, he got in a gunfight, whatever u say.”
Sam had already ripped his shirt off and bandaged Frodo’s arm as best he could (like a real cowboy). Jim gathered Frodo in his arms and put him on his horse, and helped Frodo guide it (wow! he’s being Glorfindel right now!) and they rode on to the Doctor’s house.
“Doc. Campbell, we have a problem here.”
“Well, Jim, what is it?”
“Well, ya see, we have some new comers, and there’s been a gunfight, and this here kid’s been shot in the left shoulder.”
Doctor Campbell got right to work, and in a few hours, he had not only brought out a bullet, but along with it, he brought out some knife splinters attached to the bullet.
“Hmm, interesting, this here bullet seems to be magnetic, and it’s brung somethin’ out with it, little slivers of somethin’.”
Frodo was wide awake now. “Knife splinters? Maybe? From Weathertop? Wow! Elrond’s a real great doctor!”
After about a day of doing nothing but laying around and reading, Frodo was allowed to leave. Sam had not slept a wink all night and had stayed right by him.
Frodo and Sam were riding along on their horses. Frodo had a brown and white paint one that he named The Fellowship, but he just called it Fellow. Sam had named his white horse, a girl, Galadriel, in memory of the Lady of Lorien.
Anyway, they were riding and Frodo decided they would look at the sheriff’s office this time. Stopping at the door, they heard keys jangle, a door slam, and a guy’s voice saying,
“Awww, sheriff, u can’t do this to me.”
“Oh yes, I sure can, now shut up.”