The Hobbits continue their zero-star walking tour of Rohan, trudging along with the Orcs in an endless tunnel of misery with nary a pub nor a B&B in sight. But the feel of wet grass between his hairy toes gives Pippin an idea, and he breaks away from the beaten path for just long enough to leave a message for any friend who may be following them: a token that may or may not idly fall. We wonder about Orc parents’ baby naming practices, revisit The Fall of Gondolin, and imagine Ulmo talking like a Cockney street tough in a Victorian melodrama.