Holmes refolded his paper and replaced it in his pocket.
  "Mr Baggins, where can I find a friendly Orc?" inquired he.
  Frodo Baggins looked surprised. "A friendly Orc? A *friendly* Orc?" he said. "What do you want with a friendly Orc?"
  Holmes looked at the halfling with hooded eyes and an inscrutable smile on his lips.
  "That should be obvious even to the most primitive mind, Mr Baggins", he said. "However, I think I know the answer even without your help. First, however, we must replenish our famished bodies. Waiter, a Mûmak ear with some French fries and pickles on the side, please."
  During the meal, Holmes conversed about the writings of Schopenhauer, the latest astronomical discoveries and the singing of Vrål Gorm Hildebrandsen, the famous Norwegian baritone, fending off all questions pertaining to our quest with a half-mocking little smile. At last, the meal was over. Holmes threw some coins on the table, grabbed my arm and Frodo Baggins' ear and dragged us outside. Gamgee, Baggin's man, rushed out after us while glowering at Holmes in an unfriendly manner. After him came Peregrin Took, the half-witted country squire's son, his moronic eyes staring wildly and his brow furrowed as his primitive intellect strove to understand what was going on.
  A whoosh was heard overhead. It was accompanied by an evil cackle, and looking up we saw Saruman fly away on a yellow dragon. Holmes gave a sharp whistle, and a mountainous Eagle landed on top of Peregrin Took. A sickening, crunching sound was heard.
 "I say, Gwaihir, how careless of you" said Holmes calmly. "However, you can recompense us for the loss of our companion by transporting the rest of us. Follow that dragon!"
  "Shure, sir", answered the Eagle. We clambered onto its back, and it took off. Looking down, I could contemplate the flat, immobile body of our late companion. It was not without a certain sense of relief that I reflected that he would no longer be with us, tripping us up at every opportunity.
  A vista of rolling plains, snowclad pinnacles and fresh green trees unfolded underneath us as the Eagle, its majestic wings beating steadily, bore us eastwards. We came to a plain where a herd of Mûmakil were feeding. The dragon landed, unloaded Saruman and took off. We could see the wizard hitch up his dress and run into a thick forest. Gwaihir landed, was given a white mouse as a reward by Holmes and flew off, muttering curses about stingy, ungrateful losers. Holmes looked at me and said: "Watson, your unshaven stubble shows through your false beard. Nobody could mistake you for a Dwarf, no matter how much you try to stoop in order to make your athletic body fit the description of that folk."
  I could feel my cheeks grow hot as I muttered an excuse.
  "There, there, Watson", said Holmes generously. "It was a worthy effort, though it probably did more harm than good. However, I suggest you keep the beard on and hand it back to Fangorn when the opportunity arises." He pulled out his magnifying glass and began to investigate the ground.
  "Excuse me, Mr Holmes, but what purpose does that serve?" asked Frodo Baggins. Holmes regarded him, his upper lip faintly curled.
  "In order to ascertain where Saruman got to", he answered.
  "But we saw him run into the woods!" said Baggins, pointing in the direction where we had last seen the renegade wizard from the air. Holmes laughed a laughter that even I, his friend and chronicler, had to admit was rather sneering and annoying.
  "Not necessarily", he declared.
  Baggins looked at me as if appealing for help, and, when he failed to get an acknowledgment from me, towards his servant, Gamgee; however, Gamgee had wandered over to the Mûmaks and stod gazing at them in a very earnest manner.
  "Things are rather more complicated than your mind has encompassed, Mr Baggins", said Holmes. "Now, we need the Ring from your servant, Mr Baggins; and I really must compliment the perspicacity of your late companion, Gandalf, in declaring him more realiable and worthy of bearing the Ring than you." He looked towards Gamgee.
  At that very moment, a blood-curling scream of despair was heard, and Gamgee came running towards us. He stopped in front of us, huffing and puffing, but did not neglect to touch his forelock as he said to Baggins: "Master Frodo, the Mûmak ate the Ring and then made a big pile over there".
  "Oh, dear, oh dear", said Holmes. "Let is investigate this fecal catastrophe." We wondered over to the huge pile of bodily exhaust that Gamgee had indicated. Standing upwind, Holmes studied the pile, first with his magnifying glass and then with a pair of binoculars which he had apparently kept inside his deerstalker.
  "I am afraid you are in the wrong, Gamgee", he said at last. "Both about the perpetrator of the crime and about this rather disgusting monument to gluttony. The Mûmak is as innocent of this odoriferous monstrosity as it is of the theft."
  "Whatever can you mean?" exclaimed Frodo Baggins.
  There was almost a look of pity in Holmes' coldly analytic eyes as he looked at him and replied: "It was Tom Bombadil who did it."

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