Daughter of Sorrow
A/N: My usual disclaimers, all copyrights go to those who rightfully own them.
Recently, I went to see The Desolation of Smaug (if you get a chance to see it, go, it's so much better than the first one) and to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Return of the King being released to theaters, I've come up with this piece.
For additional information, this is closer to the movies than the actual book. It's been ages since I've read The Lord of the Rings and since I can't find my copy I had to make due.
With all of that said, enjoy and destroy.
Hobbits at the Prancing Pony
From the table in a dark corner, my surrogate father and I watched the four hobbits enter the noisy inn. While hobbits weren't unheard of in the village of Bree, these four were clearly nervous looking and didn't appear to be from the area. Their bright but simple clothing were clearly of people from the western countryside as opposed to the darker colors of the Breelanders.
My ears were able to pick up their conversation with the innkeeper, one Barliman Butterbur. "Underhill." One of them spoke, a youngish looking fellow with blue eyes and curly black hair. "My name is Underhill. We're friends of Gandalf the Gray. Can you please tell him we've arrived?"
Now I was interested. Gandalf the Gray was the name of Strider's wizard friend. We were on the lookout for not only him but two hobbits named Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee. I didn't recognize the other two hobbits though, nor did Gandalf tell Strider that they would be accompanied.
Why they were important, I did not know. Strider didn't share that information with me.
"Gandalf?" Butterbur said, looking confused. "Gandalf?" I hid an annoyed groan. Gandalf himself once said that Butterbur had a memory filled with sawdust. A light of recognition replaced his eyes. "Oh! I remember now! Elderly chap. Big, gray beard. Pointy hat." Underhill nodded, smiling. But I knew the truth. "Not seen him for six months." Butterbur said.
Dejected, Underhill and his three companions ordered a room and a meal. They sat down at a very large table not too far from us.
"Do you think that's them?" I whispered to Strider. He grunted a noncommittal response, his smoking pipe tightly clenched between his teeth. Puffs of smoke rose and the light from the pipe illuminated his gray eyes. I said no more and instead pulled my still damp green cloak around me.
The sooner the wizard appeared, the sooner we would leave. I detested being in crowded areas, a probable result of the many solitary weeks I spent in the rugged wilderness, first with my late father and then with Strider. "Don't worry." Strider said. I thought I saw a smile creeping up his thin lips. "We'll be out of here soon. Enjoy the warm bed and food."
"Only reason I'm glad we are in here." I said, leaning against the windowsill.
One of the hobbits, a stout looking fellow with curly blonde hair and deep brown eyes, looked at us suspiciously and then to Underhill. "Those two have done nothing but stare at you since we got here." My well trained ears heard the blonde haired hobbit say to Underhill. The accent was definitely something I expected to hear from the Western folk.
Butterbur passed by and Underhill pulled him aside. "Excuse me? Those two in the corner, who are they?" He asked.
Butterbur took a look at us before turning back. "They're part of them Rangers. Dangerous folk they are. Spend most of their time in the wild. Now, what their real names are, I've never heard. Around there, they're known as Strider and Shadow." He said in a low voice before slipping off to serve more people.
"Strider…" Underhill whispered, giving us an unsure glance.
These had to be our hobbits. But we wouldn't know for sure until Gandalf arrived.
"They're speaking about us." Strider commented, not looking up from his pipe. It took me a second to realize that he was talking to me.
"Hmm." I said, watching the other two hobbits get up to get pints. "Still waiting for your wizard friend?"
"Be patient Nyérë. He'll be here soon." Strider said gently, still watching the two remaining hobbits. I watched as the black haired hobbit take out something and flip it between his fingers. His eyes closed and his lips began moving silently. He was clearly nervous. The blonde hobbit continued to eye us with suspicion.
"Baggins?" I heard a higher pitched voice say from the bar. I looked up and saw one of the hobbits pointing at Underhill. "Sure, I know a Baggins. He's over there. Frodo Baggins…"
The hobbit continued speaking of his family relation to him. But my ears had heard enough.
Frodo Baggins. That was who we were looking for. The one Gandalf had told us to keep an eye open for.
Frodo jumped up and hurried over, no doubt to stop his cousin from revealing more. As he struggled with his cousin, the hobbit tripped and began to fall. Strider and I watched as something went flying out of his hands. It looked like a gold ring. Strider seemed to rise out of his seat.
Time seemed to slow as Frodo reached to catch the Ring. It landed on his finger. We watched in astonishment as he vanished. My heart must've skipped a beat. I had never seen such powerful magic. Cries of astonishment filled the room. But Strider's eyes never left a shaky looking shadow that was slowly moving across the floor.
"Nyérë, come with me." Strider finally spoke. "They will be here any minute."
I nodded and got up, making sure my dark green hood was covering my face. Frodo's shadow went against a table leg. He reappeared as quickly as he disappeared. A frightened look was on his sweaty face and he gasped in what sounded to be relief.
Strider grabbed Frodo by his shoulder and pulled him up. "You draw too much attention to yourself…Mr. Underhill." My mentor hissed, dragging him up the side staircase. I stayed close behind, watching for anything suspicious.
We went into the small room we had bought for the night. I closed the door and stood beside it in case anybody tried coming in. Strider let go of a now shaking Frodo. "What do you want?" The hobbit asked, clearly frightened.
"A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry." Strider said.
"I carry nothing." Frodo said, trying to remain still.
"Indeed." Strider said with a soft scoff as he went to extinguish the candles. "I can avoid being seen if I wish. But to disappear entirely? That is a rare gift." Strider pushed back his weather-beaten hood, revealing his shaggy mane of black flecked with gray and noble face.
"Who are you?" Frodo asked.
"Are you frightened?" Strider asked, a gentleness now appearing in his voice.
"Yes."
"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you." Strider said as he stepped forward. No doubt he was going to reveal who we were and that Gandalf had sent us to escort him and his friends to Rivendell. We were interrupted though by the sounds of footsteps hurrying up the stairs. Strider and I both drew our swords as the door flew open.
Frodo's three hobbit companions ran in, armed with a bar stool, an iron candlestick and their bare fists respectively. "Let him go!" The suspicious looking hobbit shouted, holding up his fists. "Or I'll have you, Longshanks!"
"You have a stout heart, little hobbit." Strider said, sheathing his sword. I did likewise. "But that won't be enough to save you. We can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."
"Use this to pay the innkeeper for extra bedding." Strider said, tossing a small leather pouch at me. "Stuff their beds, make it look like they're sleeping."
I nodded and got ready to leave. "Help him, you three." Frodo said to the other hobbits. "I'll stay here." He had mistaken me for a man. I decided to not correct him. They had had enough of a shock for one day.
Not many women dressed as men. Fewer still carried a sword, bow and arrow.
"I'm not leaving you, Mr. Frodo." The suspicious hobbit said, a firm look in his brown eyes.
"We'll go." One of the younger hobbits said, putting his hand on his companion's shoulder. "Besides, Pippin needs to pay for not holding his tongue." I left, the two smaller hobbits following closely behind.
"What are you talking about, Merry?" The other hobbit asked innocently.
"You know what I mean, Peregrin Took." Merry replied with a groan.
I went downstairs to the bar. Everyone drank and laughed as if nothing had happened. I hoped that Butterbur's strong ale was enough to convince everyone that they had seen an apparition.
But a strange sense of dread filled me. It was the same feeling I had when the Nine attacked my father and me in Angmar nearly twenty winters ago…
"Is everything in place?" Strider asked me when Merry, Pippin and I returned fifteen minutes later. We had stuffed the beds full of feather ticks, quilts and pillows. I nodded as I barred the door. Not that it would've done any good. "Good. All of you need to rest. I'll take the first watch." Strider took his place in a chair by the window, his sword resting by his side.
The hobbits nestled down in the large bed. One by one, they dozed off. Strider didn't sleep. Instead, he continued to watch out the window, a pensive look in his gray eyes.
I sat down in the chair opposite him. "Can't sleep either, huh?" Strider asked.
I shook my head. "I feel uneasy." I said in a low voice, not wanting to wake the hobbits. "Like a mouse being stalked by a cat."
A terse silence filled the air. Yet Strider and I waited as we frequently did. BANG! A loud crashing noise came from the western gate. My hands rested nervously on the hilt of my sword.
A dull throbbing pain hit my left shoulder. The wound, having never fully healed, hadn't hurt like this. Not since the time I had been stabbed with their cursed daggers and Lord Elrond healed me.
"It aches, doesn't it Nyérë?" Strider asked.
"And it's getting worse." I grimaced, pressing my hand against the wound.
"There's some salve in my pack. Use a little bit on the wound." Strider said, still not looking at me. I get up and find the pack at the foot of the bed. Strider was incredibly organized so finding the little blue jar wasn't hard. I took it out and uncorked it. The wholesome and pure scent filled the air. Athelas. I thought gratefully as I took a bit of the greenish salve, pushed back my sleeve slightly and began rubbing it on the wound. Immediately I felt relief.
But the pain didn't dull.
"That wound." A soft voice said from the bed. I turned and saw Frodo sitting up. He was looking at me with a hint of concern on his face.
"My father crossed the wrong people." I said, not wanting to go into further detail. "Never did heal correctly." I said as I bottled up the Athelas salve, put it back in Strider's pack and replaced my sleeve. I returned to Strider's side.
"Be quiet." Strider said in a low voice. We heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The wound ached and burned despite the healing salve. I nervously bit on my hand, desperate to not scream.
I knew who was outside.
It was them. The Nine.
Outside in the streets, we heard an unearthly moaning. Looking out the window, I saw five black steeds with black saddles. They were rearing and looking anxious.
The footsteps went past our door and the pain in my shoulder subsided if only just. The hobbits had rented the room at the end of the hall. We waited with baited breath, desperate to keep hidden.
After a moment, there was a new sound. Of something stabbing through cloth and feathers. One by one, the hobbits in the bed sat up, fear in their faces.
I prayed that this would be the closest we would have to be to the Nine.
I felt a hand resting on my free one. It was Strider. He looked at me with a calm and soothing look. It reminded me of the one he had given me after he saved me from the Nine.
The calm look and low voice singing the Lay of Lúthien had soothed me during that dark time.
A new sound filled the air. It sounded like a shriek. Ear-piercing and blood curdling. More shrieks joined in and we heard the thumping of bedframes being over turned.
After a moment the footsteps went past us again. Strider let go of my hand and I stopped biting my other hand.
"What are they?" Frodo asked when he finally had the chance to speak.
Only then did Strider look back at the four hobbits. "They were once Men. Great kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed; they took them without question. One by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will. The Nazgûl they are called. Ringwraiths. Neither living nor dead. At all times, they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you." He said before returning to keep his vigil.
I knew that full well. I thought as I unconsciously held my shoulder.
I knew that all too well.
By the time the sky was turning a predawn gray and Strider announced to us that it was time to leave, I was more than relieved.
I wanted to get away from Bree.
The more distance we could put between those Ringwraiths and ourselves, the happier I was going to be.
The downstairs bar was deserted. Butterbur was awake, clearly shaken. I noticed the downy feathers stuck to his jacket. "I am so sorry all of this happened to you, Master Hobbits. I will do anything to make amends…"
"If you so desire to make amends…" Strider said as he tossed a small bag at Butterbur. "Get us a horse. We need one to carry our gear."
"The only one I have is an underfed and mangy little pony. Bought it from Bill Ferny. Good thing I did, otherwise the poor creature would've been sent to the tanners." Butterbur said.
"It'll do." Strider said. "Prepare a quick meal of bread and ale. We'll be leaving soon."
"Right away." Butterbur said, leaving as quickly as possible.
"Where will you be taking us?" Frodo asked in a low voice.
I didn't know where we'd be going. But I had complete faith in Strider.
"Into the wild."
A/N: So begins this great epic…that is if people like it. Please read and review.