If the meeting between Frodo and Strider had gone like the meeting
between Han Solo and Luke and Obi-Wan ...
Strider: Aragorn son of Arathorn, I'm the captain of the Rangers. They
tell me you're looking for passage to Rivendell.
Frodo: Yes, indeed. If you're a fast Ranger.
Strider: Fast? You've never heard of Strider?
Frodo: Should I have?
Strider: I've made the Gondor run in less than twelve leagues!
Frodo reacts to Strider's stupid attempt to impress them with obvious misinformation.
Strider: I've outrun armies of Orcs, not the local half-Orcs, mind you. I'm talking about the big Uruks of Mordor now. I'm fast enough for you, old hobbit. What's the cargo?
Frodo: Only passengers. Myself, the boy, two other hobbits with funny names, and no questions asked.
Strider: What is it? Some kind of local trouble?
Frodo: Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Mordorian entanglements.
Strider: Well, that's the trick, isn't it? And it's going to cost you something extra. Ten thousand, all in advance.
Frodo: We haven't that much with us. But we could pay you two thousand now, plus fifteen when we reach Rivendell.
Strider: Seventeen, huh!
Strider ponders this for a few moments.
Strider: Okay, you guys got yourself a Ranger. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Stable ninety-four.
Frodo: Ninety-four.
Strider: Looks like somebody's beginning to take an interest in your handiwork.
Frodo and Sam turn around to see four Orcs looking at the dead bodies and asking Butterbur some questions. Butterbur points to the booth.
Orc: All right, we'll check it out.
The Orcs look over at the booth but Frodo and Sam are gone. Butterbur shrugs his shoulders in puzzlement.