Up the winding path
PROLOGUE
Some say they were servants of the Dark Lord, others say they were wood- elves in disguise. No one was ever sure of his or her identity, and no one ever will be. They never spoke to each other
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The mottled grey pony trudged up to the village gate, showing no sign of discomfort from its heavy load. The sliding panel in the heavy oak door slid open, and an old man's weather- beaten face appeared in the slot. "Who are you, and what's your business?" He croaked. "You need not know, but this is my lady," the man answered. "We need shelter at the inn tonight," the pregnant woman said. "Very well, then," the gatekeeper wheezed, swinging open the creaking door. Everything about the village seemed old, or broken, or just not oiled smoothly to the Gondorian couple. They found the 'Prancing Pony' easily, and Farinor tethered the horse to a pole outside a stable before helping his pregnant spouse down off the pony. They entered the inn, not nearly as astonished by the smoke-filled air and general dirtiness by now; they were now more accustomed with dirt just by travelling through half of the tiny village. The innkeeper bustled up to them, looking self-important and pompous. The Gondorian couple booked a twin room, and, seeing as it was late, walked slowly up the stairs to their room, with a small fellow called Nob as a guide. =============================================================
The next morning, the couple departed after a breakfast of bread and jam. The man and woman trudged outside and saddled the pony. The man helped the pregnant woman mount before leading the pony through Bree. Word had spread overnight, and a crowd gathered to see the Big Folk traverse through the town. They reached the edge of the city, and were faced by a fork in the road. There were six branches of the road, and the citizens of Bree were worried. Normally, there were only five branches of the road... "Six?" Some said, "Why, that's the number of evil!" and other utterances like that spread like wildfire. By now, the couple had started to ride up the sixth path, winding and jolting over rocks and dips. The crowd of interested hobbits scattered, to gather some Men to prove that the path was there. =============================================================
By the time the crowd was back, only five paths remained. And the mysterious couple were never seen again in Middle-Earth.
PROLOGUE
Some say they were servants of the Dark Lord, others say they were wood- elves in disguise. No one was ever sure of his or her identity, and no one ever will be. They never spoke to each other
=============================================================
The mottled grey pony trudged up to the village gate, showing no sign of discomfort from its heavy load. The sliding panel in the heavy oak door slid open, and an old man's weather- beaten face appeared in the slot. "Who are you, and what's your business?" He croaked. "You need not know, but this is my lady," the man answered. "We need shelter at the inn tonight," the pregnant woman said. "Very well, then," the gatekeeper wheezed, swinging open the creaking door. Everything about the village seemed old, or broken, or just not oiled smoothly to the Gondorian couple. They found the 'Prancing Pony' easily, and Farinor tethered the horse to a pole outside a stable before helping his pregnant spouse down off the pony. They entered the inn, not nearly as astonished by the smoke-filled air and general dirtiness by now; they were now more accustomed with dirt just by travelling through half of the tiny village. The innkeeper bustled up to them, looking self-important and pompous. The Gondorian couple booked a twin room, and, seeing as it was late, walked slowly up the stairs to their room, with a small fellow called Nob as a guide. =============================================================
The next morning, the couple departed after a breakfast of bread and jam. The man and woman trudged outside and saddled the pony. The man helped the pregnant woman mount before leading the pony through Bree. Word had spread overnight, and a crowd gathered to see the Big Folk traverse through the town. They reached the edge of the city, and were faced by a fork in the road. There were six branches of the road, and the citizens of Bree were worried. Normally, there were only five branches of the road... "Six?" Some said, "Why, that's the number of evil!" and other utterances like that spread like wildfire. By now, the couple had started to ride up the sixth path, winding and jolting over rocks and dips. The crowd of interested hobbits scattered, to gather some Men to prove that the path was there. =============================================================
By the time the crowd was back, only five paths remained. And the mysterious couple were never seen again in Middle-Earth.