"I'll kill any man who lays a finger on you!" growled Fido.
"Pity..." teased Snowdrop, nibbling on a plate of crispy mushrooms. The mushrooms, that is, not the plate, which was anything but crispy. "It might have been interesting..."
"You don't seem to be taking your predicament very seriously," said Snider.
"Mr Fido will protect me."
"Don't be too sure."
"What do you know?" asked Snowdrop.
"Too much," said Snider, grimly. "I know there are no trains out of Bree on Tuesdays, on account of Tuesday being the Mayor's birthday. I also know that you can get a very nasty rash from doing what you were doing when I came in. But that's not important, right now. It's enough for you to know that the thing that hunts you is altogether evil. It feels no pity. it does not sleep. It has no conscience. You cannot reason with it. You cannot fight it, and it will not ever stop until you are dead, and the ring is in it's grasp. A really fast motor-car is your only hope."
The Robbits stared at him open-mouthed and were shocked to see he was trembling from head to foot. For a while he sat with unseeing eyes as if he were reliving some unspeakable nightmare.
"There!" he sighed, drawing Snowdrop's hand into his. "You fear it now, my pretty, but you do not fear it enough—yet. Tomorrow you will have to escape, if you can. And my motor-car is at your only hope."

Just then there was a heavy blow on the door, followed by a dull thud and a lingering groan.
Fido dropped the mushroom that was halfway to his mouth. Snowdrop dropped the plate. Snider dropped his pipe. Snowdrop squealed as the hot ash dropped onto her thigh.
"Stay there!" hissed the Peddler, and crept across the darkened room, his naked sword gleaming in the flickering firelight. He turned the key and wrenched open the door.
"Mith—mithter Fido, Surrr—argghh..." Jam Spongee staggered into the room and fell in a heap at Fido's feet.
"Jam!" said Fido. "You're drunker than a coney!"
"And you stink horribly!" said Snowdrop.
"Wh -whasat? Whassat g-girl doing here?"
"It's me—Stingo."
"Schting—Schtinggo?"
"Don't you recognise me without my disguise?"
Jam gaped up at her and heaved.
Snowdrop stepped nimbly back as he vomited heavily on to the carpet. No sooner had they had cleaned him up and put him to bed when there was a loud rap on the door. It was Mr Butterbore.

"I've come to apologise for mislayin' that note Mr Randolf left for you Mr Fag - Mr Underpants. Here it is!"
Snider drew him into the room and re-locked the door behind him.
"Well?" said Fido, "read it, then!"
"Just a minute," said Butterbore, catching sight of Snowdrop. "Who's this? I have strict rules about female visitors in guest's rooms after eight-o-clock-"
"It's Stingo, you idiot!" snapped Snider.
"Stingo?" said Butterbore, scratching his head. "But Stingo's a bloke - this he is a she.. How did he, how did she—-"
"—By a clever disguise. In much the same way as you have managed to cleverly disguise the vacuum between your ears, Mr Butterbore," said Snider. "Now will you read the note?"
Butterbore mopped his brow and cleared his throat. "Dear Burleyman", he began solemnly. 'Please change the towels when you bring my candles. May I also remind you that I must have scented soap for my bath, not the foul-smelling cowpats Marge left yesterday-"
"-Can we skip the shopping list," interrupted Fido.
"Sorry, Guv. 'Faggins will be going by the name of Underpants' - mind that, Butterbore - Underpants. NOT Funderpants, Thunderpants, or Fag Funderpants. 'e will be accompanied by three 'obbits. An over-protective fat little servant with no more sense than a lobotomised rabbit—"
Snowdrop burst into giggles.
"—a lisping, dim-witted ninny in yellow strides—"
Fido slapped Snowdrop on the back and broke into howls of laughter.
"—And a very 'andsome lithe-limbed lad wearing tight leather pants who is not what 'e seems".
"Well that was true enough," spluttered Fido.
"You haven't 'eard the wizard's description of yourself, yet, guv," said Butterbore.
"Let's have it, then."
"A cheeky little chappie in a green weskit with airs and graces above his station who is a few links short of a bicycle chain."
"Humph!" said Fido. "Is that all he said?"

"No," said Butterbore. "there's more: 'They may meet a stranger at the inn. A tall, dark, unsavoury looking character, who goes by the name of Snider. He masquerades as a numenorian rug trafficker'—there I told you!"
"Get on with it!" interrupted Snider.
"—but is really the famous Orc-slayer and impossibly pedantic consulting detective, Harry Gaunt."
“Wow!” said Snowdrop. “To think I turned down the chance of a shag with THE Harry Gaunt! I’ve read every one of your cases. I nearly died when that gorgeous Elven warrior babe was almost gang-banged by those three Orcs — wait a moment — if you’re really Harry Gaunt, you’ll have a heart-shaped mole on the inside of your left — WOW!” exclaimed Snowdrop.
“Have a fried mushroom, Mr Butterbore,” said Fido politely. “They’re delicious.”
Butterbore coughed and edged towards the door. "No thanks, if it's all the same to you, Mr, er — Underpants. If I don't find your Mr Pantypluck soon, 'e'll be locked out for the night."
Snider unlocked the door and the innkeeper hurried quickly away.

"Perry!" said Fido, "I'd forgotten all about him. Where can that dratted Robbit have got to at this time of night in a town with as few attractions as Bree?"
"Perhaps he came back early and went upstairs with that painted floosie."
"Don't be silly, Snowdrop. Perry wouldn't know what to do with one."
There was a long silence. "Well?" said Snider, eventually. "Now you know who I am will you let me give you a lift in my motor-car?"
"Is it really fast?" asked Snowdrop.
"Yep".
"Does it have leather seats?"
"Yep."
"And an eight-speaker sound system loud enough to blow out an Orc's eardrums at fifty yards?"
"Yep."
"You bet!" said Snowdrop, breathlessly.

At that moment the door splintered into fragments, there was a terrifying rush of hot wind, the lights went out, and something stood in the shattered doorway. It was like a great shadow with enormous, black wings, in the middle of which were two enormous breasts. Of woman-shape maybe, but bigger than melons. A foul smell went before it and followed after it, and travelled across the room and up the Robbit's protesting noses. The creature advanced toward them. In its cold white face burned two cruel and merciless eyes. Its rouged nipples quivered with suppressed desire; its hair was long and dark, and in serious need of a perm; its full, crimson lips parted in a lascivious smile to reveal the largest and sharpest canine teeth Fido had ever seen.
"Which one isss Fagginsss?" it hissed. "We will suck off his ring!"

Fido and Snowdrop clutched each other in terror.
"Don't look at its eyes!" warned Snider.
But it was too late. Snowdrop was already stumbling toward the Horror with outstreched hands. In another moment it was upon her and had ripped the skimpy crop-top from her shoulders; It's merciless eyes were a window into nothingness; a shallow world of mindless shopping, teenage diaries and casual sex, which overwhelmed her simple Robbit mind with unnatural lust. Fido was rooted to the spot in mounting terror. Snowdrop was transfixed by mounting excitement. Snider merely gaped as the shameless hussy dropped to her knees and stretched out her arms to embrace the Creature. Then she suddenly remembered that she still had her shorts on and promptly slipped out of them to expose a very pretty pair of pink knickers that looked decidely damp.

"Nooo!" shouted Fido.
"Yesss," moaned Snowdrop.

She writhed in shameless abandonment as the hideous ghoul bent it's head, thrust out an incredibly long tongue and—and—

Fortunately for her, Snider chose the very moment when her flushed face and gaping mouth told Fido she was about to two-time him with an undead slut sporting two monstrous breasts, to leap forward with his sword in his hands. The creature let out a hideous scream of rage as Snider's sword bit deeply into its wing and flung Snowdrop aside to grapple with him.
"Quick! The mushrooms!" he shouted.
"Mushrooms?" repeated Fido, incredulously.
"Yes, mushrooms! Of all Witch-Banes, the most deadly. It's the only thing that'll stop it."
Fido rushed for the griddle, and snatching up the frying pan, hurled the contents at the Creature.
There was a flash, followed by a noise like thunder as the roof came crashing down, and he knew no more.