Ando and Erwise were bummed. Their burdens had been weighing heavily on them since they entered the land of the Euros. Even the smallest staircase, which the lithe Eurofolk bounded up, required great toil. And while their shoulders were heavy, their purses were becoming distressingly light, for their Shire coins were worth very little.
Dusk was fast approaching as they wandered another unfamiliar town, understanding none of the strange tongue spoken. A sign, mercifully legible, indicated they might make camp for the night someplace outside the town. But their legs were weary, and the sign said nothing about the distance to camp. Erwise sat and contemplated the deepening shadows the headlands cast over the immense, blue Meditteranean, when suddenly she was struck by a vision so vivid it was as if Gandalf himself had returned with his wizardry. They would mount their burdens, and pedal them to camp! In fact, they could really pedal them anywhere in Middle Earth! They were not burdened at all. Instead, they possessed a great power.
"Ando! Alack! Grab the reins of your stead and let us flee this town, for the wind is at our back and the world is ours!"
Ando mounted his stead with a hearty yell, and started up the sinuous highway. As soon as his foot hit the stirrup, the world seemed to shift. The azure Meditteranean appeared an even deeper blue. He charged up the steep hill that lead out of town, not feeling the grade at all, as though he was being pushed by an invisible hand.
Your heroes banked through turns and raced the birds, and soon, too soon, camp appeared on a headland across a cove. Provisions, they had not, but they now understood that it didn't matter. On their faithful steeds, the immense world had become a little smaller.