A/N: This is somewhat of an AU. I plan to throw in certain elements from the books and possibly even Shadow of Mordor/War, but it will mostly follow the events as they play out in the movies.
At some point I'll come back and rewrite this prologue. I wrote it pretty lazily and hastily some time back when I still wasn't sure what this story was going to be about. Writing is rewriting! But for now it stays.
Prologue
The rain poured down hard as the mud sloshed under the weary feet of travelers and locals alike as they traipsed up and down the streets. This was a typical early Autumn evening in the village of Bree. Men, dwarves, hobbits, all seeking shelter from the weather, lodging for the night, and maybe even a warm meal to top it all off. Arguably the best inn in Bree to offer all of these accommodations was The Prancing Pony, and on this night, the well known inn was no less busier than usual. Of the many rough-looking denizens who often made use of the pub, located on the main floor of the Inn, few caused the turning of heads. Most were used to the rough exterior of the frequent, and more gentile folk tended not to make use of the pub.
But on this particular night, many heads were turned when three oddly garbed figures walked into the Inn. The three strangers were covered from head to toe in dark cloaks, with little showing of what they wore beneath them. The cloaks appeared to be black, but were in fact a multitude of shades of green, brown (which may just have been mud), and gray. While the cloaks alone made the three strangers appear ominous enough, they all had their hoods drawn low over their faces, concealing their identities, making them downright frightening to the denizens of the pub. The entrance of this dark trio caused the tavern to go silent as everyone took their turn in viewing them, but the general din and clattering began again after a moment, hardly missing a beat. While the mood of the room seemed to remain the same, most were wary of the trio, either hoping they would leave or go to a secluded table in the corner. After getting a view of their surroundings, the three cloaked strangers slowly sauntered over to a table which stood alone in a rear corner. They sat down and began to speak to each other under their breath, while to the rest of the pub it appeared that they were only staring intently at one another.
A gruff looking man at the bar turned to face his friend sitting beside him, remarking, "them rangers are a strange bunch indeed. Always up to something, I say, what with keeping to themselves and all. Can't trust the lot of 'em."
A slight tension lingered in the pub as the three rangers continued their conversation well into the night.