Falling Luggage

Authors note
Let me get one thing clear, I've not read a lot of discworld, I've not had a chance to see any of the short lived animations and if I'm honest other than the basics I haven't a clue what's going on with any of them. Still I've read more than a few Pratchet books (my favourite has to be Good Omens and I know he was only co-writer)

As for Lord of the Rings I can safely say I've read it, seen the films and know my way around it slightly better. So if I get anything out of place please don't shout, just accept that this is flawed.

Also I've incorporated one of the six or so endings from the film. Really I think it fits better as a narrative device, in this case at least.

A special thnaks to J.A. Barker, not only did his story inspite me to write this one but he was kind enough to glance through and get me to post this one.

I don't own Lord of the Rings or Discworld, I'm just playing with them.

Frodo sat back at the writing desk, closing the book for what he felt was the last time. Behind him he knew his belongings were stowed away, well as away as he could with out letting Sam know he planned to leave. Frodo looked again at the cover, the most difficult part for Frodo to decide on was a title. That was why he left it until last.

Frodo knew he had to finish soon. Only a few days left before he had to start his new journey. Like Bilbo before him, once bitten by the travel bug a Baggins couldn't stay in the shire for too long and just like Bilbo he had to write it all down. It was only good practice to end something before beginning something else.

Still there was so much he hadn't written, so much he couldn't. Language could only convey so much, even elvish had it's limitations and the things he and Sam had seen. What the had to do to survive that long journey. Absently the hobbit massaged his mutilated ring finger, half bitten off on that terrible night on the peak of Mount Doom.

There were also things he didn't write. Their encounter with the immortal tribe hidden by the Ents deep in the forest. The strange old man who lived in a blue box and spoke in riddles. The water pixies that danced from drew drop to drew drop on the leaves of giant plants. The great dragon who sheltered them from the storm conjured by Sauron. The hall of the gods where he was cast down for carrying such evil that existed in the Ring. So many things that were not only unbelievable but impossible.

With almost a smile Frodo remembered one of the more outrageous things that happened.

Guided by Smegol, not Gollum the creature that the Ring made him, Frodo and Sam could see the great eye. Sat upon the black tower like a giant with a search light the burning orb glanced this way an that. It's black cat like slit in the middle taking in everything with a single look. The three of them cowered behind a rock, Frodo could almost still feel the yearning desire to put on the Ring. Not to hide, there was no hiding from that eye, but to shout. To call out to the Ring's creator where it, where he was. To help and usher in a new age, one of hate and death at the incorporeal hand of his master.

Smegol was worse, he almost wanted to do it. The only thing stopping him was then his Precious wouldn't be his anymore. Even now, after all he did Frodo felt sorry for the deformed halfling. It wasn't his fault and no one could know the power of the Ring, what it could make you do. Even Sam, for all his strength and friendship, All he had seen, couldn't truly grasp what it had cost Frodo

Still on that fateful, almost eternal, night there was something other that the terrible eye's glare. They wouldn't have noticed it if it hadn't. If you've ever seen a dragon blink you know it's not the sort of thing your mind can accept. Much the same was the way Sauron's eye suddenly scoured the sky and blinked. It blinked in total shock at something high up there that only it could see. Frodo, Sam and Smegol watched for a moment before something else distracted them.

A falling star fell strait and true, landing like a dead bird only a handful of feet from the three of them. Smegol didn't even try to stand in the following earthquake, he just scrambled head over heels to get away. 'Dirty cowered' Sam muttered and Frodo looked over and at the fallen star.

He had never asked why or even what a falling star was. Like just about everyone he thought it would just be a tiny fire. Whatever fickle fate holding it in the sky turning their back on it and letting it fall to Middle-Earth. It turns out that wasn't what a falling star was at all, at least not this one. This one was about twice the size of a Hobbit and looked amazingly like a finely crafted and well made travelling trunk on its top. In fact the only thing that made it different from a rich and impressive case was the hundred or more human legs and feet it had on the bottom that was at the moment facing the sky.

With a flip the lid opened, flinging the Trunk into the air so that it landed back on it's feet. It also threw it's contents everywhere. Gold coins, books and strange boxes the like of which frodo had never seen before. Then, like a pet that had lost it's master the Trunk actually began to whine.

Somehow it was alive and even without a face or head for that matter Frodo could tell it was angry. Very angry. It's lid began to snap at them and it shuffled around in the middle of the things that had come out of it.

By his foot one of the strange boxes, with a glass circle on the front opened and a small... thing poked it's head out. 'Well that's just great isn't it.' the creature squeaked. 'We fall for the Lady knows how long and find another tourist! Great, Where are we anyway?'

'Urm... On the border of Mordor.' Sam said helpfully. 'I'm Samwise Gamgee and this is Mr Frodo.'

'Never heard of the place, where about's on Discworld is it?'

'I don't know what Discworld is but Mordor is of Middle-Earth. You fell here from the sky.' Frodo told it. 'In that thing.' he pointed at the still snarling trunk.

'That's the Luggage. It must have walked off the edge, no wonder we fell. Stupid lump of sentient Pear-wood!' The thing shouted before grumbling and going back inside his own box.

'Erm... hello.' Frodo asked the closed box.

The small thing poked its head out again. 'What?'

'Where did you come from.' Frodo asked it.

'Discworld,' the little thing said grumpily. 'It's probably up there somewhere,flying on by.' Frodo looked up, The Eye of Sauron was still focused up on the sky. 'If that's all the fall made a mess and I've got to tidy up.' the creature popped its head back inside.

The Luggage shuffled along on it's feet for a moment before trying to eat some of it's missing contents. Sam picked up a spilt bag of gold coins and scooped the coins back in. The Luggage stopped and turned his attention to Sam. It was a brief moment of tension, Frodo didn't know what the snarling, snapping trunk would do to his best friend but from the looks of things it wasn't going to be nice.

The Luggage gave a massive snap and stepped forward. Opening its lid again Sam tossed the bag, coins and all, in to the gaping maw. Frodo picked up the box that the thing had come out from and motioned to to the same. As if it was still keeping a wary eye on them the Luggage just about opened it's lid wide enough for Frodo to push it through. He did so and no sooner had the halfling pulled his empty hand back the Luggage clicked shut yet again.

Slowly, nervous of the way it's lid could slam itself shut the two hobbits fed the Luggage back it's spilled contents. Throwing the items back in one at a time. Somewhere in the middle of their task Smegol had crept back and watched them, never helping though and Sam didn't waste any time belittling the ancient hobbit. Finally they finished and Frodo could see that the Luggage was a complete mess inside. Stomping it's many feet in some sort of dance of thanks the trunk shook from side to side and then jumped into the air for a moment. Coming down there was a thud and the lid opened slowly. All the items inside were neatly stacked and packed, as if someone had spent a whole day organising it

Suddenly a rough voice that sounded like someone was hacking syllables out of their mouth with a pick axe shouted. 'It was over here. I saw it did I.' It was an Orc war party, Frodo couldn't guess what they were supposed to be doing up there, over looking Mordor but it was obvious one of them had seen the falling Luggage and wanted it for themselves.

'Hobbit's hide! Orcs come, many orcs with pointy weapons.' Smegol hissed, waving down the hill top.

Frodo didn't know how much the Luggage understood or even if it could but he knew he couldn't risk being found. 'Hide!' he whispered urgently to the Luggage and dived behind the rocks, pulling his dust covered cloak tight.

The Luggage trunk stomped it's hundred feet again, the sound of its lid crashing shut impossibly loud.

'What that?' The same orc voice hacked out.

The Luggage stomped some more.

Cowering next to Sam and Smegol all three of them knew that one sound, one movement, and they would be found. Still the Luggage stomped and clashed it's lid

'It wood box.' the Orc grunted to it's chuckling companions. 'It got feet'

'Wood box no have feet. It be half-things... it be food' Another orc pointed out with what it would call logic.

The Luggage stopped moving.

'Why it do that?' the first Orc asked and Frodo could hear it walking closer.

The silence from the luggage was almost oppressive, there was a hollow thudding. Someone was pounding on the Luggage. Slowly, with brass hinges squeaking quietly the lid opened

'No Halflings.' the Orc grumbled. His companions laughed before a familiar thud and a dozen Orc voices started shouting.


'Kill it. Chop it legs off!'

'It got teeth.'

'Run away.'


Frodo dared to look, he peered around the rocks the three of them hid behind. At least four orcs were now smears of green on the floor. Their hooked swords and black metal armour bent and scattered everywhere.

Running, as if chased by a Balrog, the band of twenty or so orcs were running down hill, almost climbing on top of each other. They were throwing anything that could slow them down behind them, at the chasing angry trunk. It wasn't much use, as fast as an orc could run the Luggage was faster.

As the odd orc slowed it was chomped by the thrashing lid. Frodo, Sam and Smegol looked at each other for a moment and laughed, partly out of relive but mostly at the sight that none of them could ever forget.

Frodo felt the ghost of a smile remembering that day. It wasn't often on his great journey he had a chance to smile, but he was right not to include it. After all who would believe that somewhere in Mordor that Luggage was probably still chasing abamd of very tired and scared Orcs.

No he had put all he could, all people would or could believe. Leaning forward the Hobbit finaly had a title in mind and wrote four little words...

Authors note

I said that I would do this, I won't say I'm pleased with it but like an itch that had to be scratched this was one plot bunny that needed to be nailed down and written.

Mountain King
AKA Thomas Fishwick