Chapter One:
The Prancing Pony
The low glow of lanterns hanging off the walls of the inn gave the large, common dining hall a warm ambience as men and hobbits alike talked loudly among themselves. A lone young woman balancing a tray of jugs swerved between the tables with grace, before gently placing them onto the tables of thirsty mouths.
"Here you go Mr. Millbrook, one strong ale for you. I do believe it has seen many winters within our cellar," she stated proudly with a soft smile.
"Ah, thank you dear," her pet regular replied as she moved off to serve her next guest, a young hobbit who cheekily asked for a free pint of ale. A gentle raise of her brow and stern look soon put the hobbit into his place, before he bid her a cheery and loud goodnight, staggering out of the the inn for his burrow home.
The soft glance of her fire whiskey eyes around the common saw the dining hall tantalizingly slowly emptying of her patrons, however one with an empty glass caught her sharp sight and swooping in she offered him another drink; he gladly accepted deeply swallowing the strong, amber liquid.
Looking through a glass stained window told her the evening was growing late, and soon she would have to close the inn for the night. She felt at peace for tonight business had been well and the men had been decent, allowing her the ease of serving her patrons easily and the shine of gold coin upon the tables left for her had greatly lifted her spirits.
She could not remember the last she had found working so pleasing.
"Tessa…?"A meek voice called and with a glance behind her shoulder, she saw a young child hugging the post of the ajar back door. A tangle of dark curls framed the sweet girl's face, a pair of large auburn eyes staring intently at the inn maiden, a tinge of uncertainty outlined in the way she shyly drew her foot in circles on the wooden floor, her eyes now following the movement.
Tessa couldn't help but feel a tinge of annoyance at the child for it was unsightly for a young girl of her age to be seen up at such an hour. However, concern for what had made the girl come seeking her overrode the feeling and she strolled over to kneel before the child, placing a hand under her chin.
"What is it my dear Myria?" Tessa asked smiling softly when the girl raised her head to speak.
"We all wish for your company. Mother is sickly again and we are afraid of the shadows…"she whispered, her eyes wide with childlike fear. Tessa let her hand fall down from Myria's cheek before gathering the girl's small hands into her own and giving them a comforting squeeze.
"I shan't be too long. Hurry along back to the cottage, and I promise to tell all of you a wonderful tale. I may even bring along a little treat if I find you all within bed," Tessa prompted, watching as Myria's eyes lit with the promise of a bedtime story and special treat.
"Ok, we will wait for you!"
Tessa watched amused as the young girl slipped out the back door and bounded down the winding path, past the inn's stables and to the cottage residence at the back. She watched intently until she saw Myria enter the cottage and close the door, and sated that she was safe in their home she returned to her duties. The sight of her master, Mr. Butterbur, dealing with hobbits at the door only made her sigh, for surely they would seek the warmth of a hearty meal and the sweet sting of ale.
"Good evening, little Master! What may you be wanting?" Barliman Butterbur asked, his approachable demeanour easing the group of hobbits. They had been chased by evil beings through forests and country sides and to have finally arrived within the safe walls of Bree, the hobbits were ready for a hearty meal and warm bed.
Frodo Baggins however, was not at ease as he glanced around the busy inn searching for a familiar grey bearded wizard, who to his surprise could not be seen. He did however notice a young woman attending the patrons with a gentleness and ease he had never seen before. Her hair was cut short in a ragged chin length bob, the strands of hair straggly and curled, the hair dark in colour under the ambience of the lamps.
Feeling the expected stares of his hobbit friends Frodo quit his search of Gandalf and his observation of the girl and faced the inn keeper.
"Beds for four, and stabling for five ponies," Frodo replied. He then remembered something. "Are you Mr. Butterbur?"
"I can very well see to that! And that is right, Barliman Butterbur at your service!" the innkeeper replied a happy twinkle to his wrinkled eyes. He then too seemed to remember something as he slapped his hand to his forehead.
"Hobbits! That does remind me! Might I ask your names?" he asked leaning over the counter to give the four hobbits his attention.
"These here are Mr. Brandybuck and Mr. Took," Frodo introduced the two cheeky, childish hobbits grinning ear to ear, their stomachs unashamedly growling at the smell and thought of a hearty meal.
"Sam Gamgee," Frodo nodded to the round, pudgy hobbit beside him. "And I am Mr. Underhill."
"Ah, I see. Welcome to the Prancing Pony, my Hobbit friends, please do make yourself at home," Barliman encouraged seeing them to a table. Before long plates of steaming, warm food was placed before them and large cups of ale, the young woman smiling a soft smile that seemed to melt their distress and troubles away.
"Here we are my little masters. I can only hope this is to satisfy?" she asked playing nervously with the fraying ends of her old apron. One smell of the food had the hobbits stomachs growling and looking up in awe from their plates of food they nodded their heads eagerly. With a soft twinkle in her eye she curtsied a little bob and went off to tend her other patrons, unaware that from the edge of the room a cloaked man watched them intently unsure if these were the hobbits the old wizard had spoken off.
The evening melted away into night, and with a disgruntled sigh Tessa leaned against the wall wearily, a plate in her hand. Instead of business slowing it had seemed the coming of night had encouraged the visiting of many patrons and before long Tessa had found herself struggling to tend to them all. At times even Mr. Butterbur had helped in attending.
Now all who was left was the four hobbits and a strange, cloaked man sitting in a dark corner, leisurely puffing away on a pipe. She frowned at the sight of the smoke. It wasn't disallowed to smoke, but the smell was nauseating and she found herself struggling to keep her face from showing her scowl.
The hobbits who were now quiet, had been a rowdy bunch singing and drinking away their weariness. At one point one of them had mysteriously disappeared and then reappeared, and believing it a hobbit magic trick she had dismissed it. But the strange man at the back had not, and to Tessa it had seemed that his dark vigil had increased twice fold. With a shiver she removed herself from her thoughts, only to feel a large hand clamp down onto her shoulder.
"Eeek!" She yelped dropping the plate with a loud clatter. Her cheeks flamed a deep red as the last patrons, the hobbits and the strange man, all turned to stare and a deep chuckle from behind let her know the hand belonged to her master, Mr. Butterbur.
"Oh my dear Tessa! You always were easy to scare!" he chortled bending to pick up the plate. Tessa stood frozen in embarrassment and she could feel the deep blush racing down her neck.
"I came to inform you that the little masters want to let a room. Would you be a dear and prepare it?" She nodded in response, still unable to speak but then remembering her younger siblings she spoke up.
"Master, I must tend to my siblings first. Is that ok?" She kept her eyes downcast nervously playing with the fraying apron once more.
"Of course! Of course!" he chortled rumbling off. With a sigh she hurried along to the stone cottage, not before secretly stuffing some scones into her apron. The low glow a lantern could be seen through a window of the cottage, and making her way down the path she tried to avoid the stones and dips that more often than not caused her to trip and stumble. The night was quiet and a cold breeze tickled her cheeks, an ominous shiver slivering down her spine.
Reaching the door of the cottage she knocked before entering the room, only to watch amused as three of her four siblings raced to the bed. Deena, of twelve years age was already in the bed a book upon her lap.
"I told them you would arrive soon," she commented coolly an arched eyebrow high on forehead. She then turned her attention back to the book. The other three siblings scrambled and bumped into the bed, squishing against one another roughly. The sight of four children cramped onto a large bed was amusing yet sad. Tessa found herself wishing she was able to earn more to provide them with a bed each, but it was not to be so and with that thought in mind she strolled over to them.
With a gentle smile she sat on the edge of the bed and slowly pulled out four scones, one for each of the children. Asram, the only boy and eldest of the four children, face lit up eagerly. Mildred, the youngest, eyed the scones with large, blue eyes; dark lashes framing the curious orbs. She cuddled up to Asram latching onto his arm before whispering into his ear, "Are them scones?"
Tessa let out a little laugh at Mildred's use of English. Despite being five, she still had not grasped how to talk properly and glancing at Deena, who was menacingly intelligent for her age, she saw a visible scowl.
"Mildred… What am I to do with you?" Tessa sighed an exhausted smile on her lips. Mildred's face lifted into a cheeky expression, two dimples appearing. Next to her was Myria, who shyly glanced at the scones.
Leaning forward she placed one scone each on their awaiting hands and watched happily as they all either nibbled, scoffed, tested or ate the scones. They disappeared within moments.
"Thanks Tess!" Asram leaned forward to place a kiss of appreciation on her cheek and she blushed in return. Myria merely smiled and Mildred who always copied Asram leaned forward to place a sloppy kiss on her other cheek. Deena who was reading again, had a small, secretive smile on her thin lips.
Seeing their appreciation gave Tessa renewed energy and she happily delved into a tale of adventure. They all eagerly listened, except for Deena, and before long they all began to nod off. Mildred was the first to go, her little head of brown curls falling onto Asram's shoulder, and then Myria who curled up into a little ball.
When the tale was finished, Tessa was reminded of the room she had to prepare. Standing she moved along the bed to each give her siblings a kiss on the head, tucking the large quilt around their bodies. As she stood to leave, a hand snatched her dress's sleeve and she glanced down to see it was Deena. There was vulnerability within her hazel eyes that had Tessa concerned, and kneeling down beside the bed she tenderly stroked the usually indifferent girl's hair.
"What troubles you Deena?" Tessa asked softly, her voice barely heard in the quiet room. Deena seemed hesitant to ask and placing her book down on the floor, she whispered, "When will father return?"
The question caused Tessa's heart to stumble and her mouth parched as she struggled for a response. Glancing away nervously her straying hand found Deena's and gave it a small squeeze. Finally, after mere moments she faced her sister.
"Deena… I-I…"she sighed uncomfortably, "I do not know when he will return."
The statement rang true within Tessa, and she realised in that moment just how long their father had been away. She watched closely gauging Deena's reaction. The girl simply nodded, as if she had already known the answer. Perhaps she had and had asked merely for Tessa's own sake. Tessa was only reminded of Deena's insightfulness and menacing intelligence, it truly scared her.
As she left the cottage she saw Deena curl into the bed and close her eyes. Satisfied that they were all now asleep she hustled off down the path, stumbling only once.
Returning to the inn she found the common dining room eerily empty and severely cold. It was strangely dark, the lamps having blown out when she entered, the wind having smitted the flame. Feeling a sense of misplaced fear she called out for Mr. Butterbur, but none replied.
The front door to the Prancing Pony rattled against a strong gale of wind and starting in fright she made for the stairs, eager to finish preparing the room and be gone. The old stairs creaked under her weight and reaching the top landing she fumbled through the dark to a spare room.
The door creaked open and she winced at the sound, terribly aware of the odd silence and other sleeping patrons. She couldn't bear the thought of an angry, tired patron coming after her and with that thought she hurried in grabbing the lamp on the far-side of the room.
She searched within her apron's pocket for the matches she kept spare. The window rattled behind her and abruptly burst open, a strong gust blowing into the room.
"Oh my!" She gasped her small body shaking before running over to try and shut them. They were causing a loud racket as they banged against the wall, and finally having them shut she slumped feeling very weary.
It was once more silent in the room, and downstairs she heard the front door rattling. It hadn't been windy before, but a strong gale probably from the far, cold North had blown in and she expected a storm would soon follow in its path.
As she thought she began making the beds quickly with her expert hand. The process of putting sheets on and fluffing pillows was calming to her frazzled nerves, and when the door slowly creaked open she paid no heed, deep in concentration.
As she smoothed over the sheets on the last bed, she felt a cold, sickly breath upon her neck and a thousand warnings blared in her head.
Someone or something was behind her.
Her skin, despite being hidden beneath her dress was prickling and alive with raised bumps, her heart racing frantically.
She slowly turned around only to scream in sheer fear.
Whatever they were, ghost, beast or thing were dressed in dark cloaks, their faces obscured from her eyes. They squealed their high pitched call and Tessa felt the blood leave her body as her legs turned to jelly. Her eyes raced to find an escape but before she could act she felt herself be thrown against the wall, her throat held tight by the bony, chillingly cold hand of the wraith.
Tears were falling freely down her cheeks as she sobbed, trying to breath.
"Frodo… Baggins…" the one holding her hissed and she cried out, her heart thumping against the cage of her ribs dangerously. The voice was cold and pure evil and Tessa struggled to remain conscience.
"The ring, girl… The ring!" they all hissed, growing agitated at her lack of response. She tried to scream and in a desperate attempt she kicked out with her legs. All she hit was cloak and it only served for the hold on her neck to grow tighter as she was lifted higher against the wall.
"L-Let me… go!" she choked out, her vision blurring.
"The Dark Lord seeks the ring…." They hissed, "Where is the ring… Where is Frodo Baggins?"
"I d-don't know…"she rasped her hands grabbing onto the arm of her attacker. She weakly tried to ply the hand away, but it was to no avail. Her head pounded from the lack of oxygen and her throat screamed for reprieve.
Then they all began to wail their high pitched scream, and like a breaking of a dam clear, crisp air burst forth into her airways and she greedily sucked it in. At the same moment she collapsed to the ground, her head hitting the floor heavily as her attacker fled, a mysterious figure slashing at the fleeing enemies.
Her vision was blurry and within her foggy mind she realised that two small humans were suddenly beside her, touching her shoulder and speaking. She couldn't hear because of a dull ringing in her ears but before she blacked out she remembered the feeling of weightlessness and the figure of man, a sword of great craftsmanship held within his grasp.