Disclaimer: Of course, I do not own the characters, setting, or anything else from The Lord of the Rings. Most of the plot also is not mine; I just used my imagination to add details to certain scenes. Nor am I making money from this.
Author's Note: This story is book-verse and there are some references to one of my other stories, Falling into a Dream of Growing Shadow. Feedback is more than welcomed!
~~~
The Beginning of the Quest
~~~
Chapter 1: Shadows Before Daybreak
Dawn still slept on. Grey clouds slowly drifted across the sky. Not a single star could peek through the misty sea to the sleeping hills and valleys. The crisp air moved soundlessly through the still trees and bushes and grass. Crickets were silent. Not a hoot described the quietness; only an owl once blinked its large eyes. The beating of bats' wings was not heard. Leaves quivered, moving slightly on the road. The forest seemed to hold its breath, aware of the unnatural stillness of the night.
On the edge of the road sat a hunched figure wrapped in a dark cloak and hooded. The slight fall and rise of their chest were invisible to the naked eye. Their shallow breathing passed from their nostrils without a whisper of sound. They simply listened to the silence, watching. Time passed at a crawl and a rush. Still nothing stirred. A break broke in the clouds, allowing some starlight to pour forth.
The figure tensed. Their ears strained, listening to the deafening silence and their thundering heartbeat. There it was again! The distant sound of hoofs softly thudding on the leaf-covered road. The figure blinked, slowly turning their head first one way, staring into the darkness, then the other way searchingly.
With each hoof step, the ground seemed to tremble with unease. The figure slowly reached and wound their fingers around the hilt of their sword. A soft whistle passed between their lips, two long whistles, and one short. A moment later the whistle was answered by another. The figure, still tense and on alert, was relieved.
A horse neighed. Whipping their head to the left, the figure peered into the darkness. The hoofs steadily drew nearer. The figure stood up without a noise. Stealthily they walked onto the road and faced the approaching, yet still invisible, rider. Gripping the sword's hilt tighter, they stared down the road. At first all that they saw was darkness. Slowly, their sharp eyesight distinguished movement against the blackness. Eight tiny fiery lights shined forth. The figure threw their hood back – revealing a man of dark skin, with shoulder length brown hair, and green eyes – and drew his sword, the steel ringing loudly in the night. The strange lights pierced the figure with their gazes. With a shudder, the man realized the lights were eyes…of horses. The riders blended in with the night, yet at the same time stood out, for they were dressed in the deepest of black, cloaked and hooded, a shade darker than the shadows.
"Who goes there?" The man called loudly, fighting against the urge not to break the stillness. His heart pounded, his skin crawling as he was seized with a terrible dread.
The riders advanced, riding side by side stopping several yards from the man who blocked their way. Very still they sat in the saddles, crouched and silent. One horse shook its head; another stomped its hoof against the ground.
"Answer!" The man stepped closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, body trembling.
"Let us pass, in the name of Mordor!" the bloodcurdling hiss came from deep in the blackness of one of the hooded riders.
The man paled at the command and name and stared as one rider urged their steed forward a few steps. He lowered his sword a little, not being able to move or speak. As he looked into the hood, only darkness met his gaze. He seemed to fall into a tunnel of endless black, where there was no hint of light. Soundlessly he opened his mouth. His heart was squeezed in his chest with terror. His sword fell from his limp hand. It seemed tall shadows surrounded him, and horrible cries filled his eyes. The man shook his head and looked at the riders with panicked eyes. A wild scream fled his lips, and then he fell.
The rider urged his horse forward with a leap and was followed by the others. The forest became quiet once again, but now a feeling of fear hung in the air. To the creatures awake, soon there came the sounds of the clashing of blades, voices giving orders, and cries of pain. The sound of desperate running echoed in the ground which trembled. A chilling scream rose in the air, causing even the insects to freeze. After that, not a sound of blade against blade, yells, or running was heard.
Slowly hoofs were heard coming at a trot. The riders passed over the lifeless ranger and disappeared. But the sense of forbidding and unease remained about. Only three riders had backtracked the way they had come.
Evil remained in the Shire.
~~~
Merry gasped and bolted upright in his bed. His heart pounded painfully in his chest. He was covered in sweat. He could not stop shaking. Slowly he untangled himself from the covers, crawled from the bed, and nearly collapsed -- had he not used the window sill for support. He leaned his wet forehead against the cool pane of glass. Taking deep breaths, he warily closed his eyes.
He had had the dream again. It had been many years since he experienced the strange, frightful dream about his cousin and Sam. He had never forgotten it – he had often thought of it as he had carefully watched Frodo this past year – but this was the first he had dreamed it again. He had once more unsuccessfully attempted to follow his friends and helplessly watched as those strange creatures reached for Frodo. The darkness came again, and Merry could not find his cousin who called for him. But then the dream had continued. A voice had called to him, telling him to hurry, hurry! Before it was too late…hurry!
Hurry? What did it mean? Merry opened his eyes and stared at the darkened countryside. Hurry…to leave Hobbiton? Crickhollow? The Shire? Or did the message mean something else entirely? Merry flopped heavily into a chair by the fire, brow furrowed in worry. For many hours he pondered his dream and why he had had it again. He did not get another wink of sleep.
~~~
TBC…