Chapter One

Rain pelted his small body, he pulled his cloak tighter around himself as if that would help keep him dry. His bare feet were caked with mud and his heart pounded in his chest like a drum. He could barely hear the raspy breaths of his companions over the storm, but he knew that they were feeling the same thing he was, the fear of being hunted. They had barely made it to the village and now the only thing that kept him and his friends going was that their journey was nearing its end.

A crack of lightning cut through the night sky and briefly lit up a small sign that was blowing in the wind. He had just enough time to read what it said, The Prancing Pony. He ushered his friends towards the door of the inn and quickly entered. The smell of smoke immediately filled his lungs as he entered the inn. The loud, roaring laughter of men (who had probably had too much to drink) boomed in his ears and he began to feel very small in the crowded inn. His three friends stayed close to him as they approached the counter where the innkeeper was too busy with his other guests that he didn't notice the small, childlike beings huddled together and shivering with cold.

Removing his hood Frodo Baggins looked up and blinked his azure eyes to clear the water out of them. His dark, curly hair clung to the sides of his face as he gasped quietly for breath. Pointed ears were flooded with the sounds of the storm outside and the men inside. He stood up as tall as he could on his dirty feet, which were far larger than those of the Big Folk, and cleared his throat to attract the attention of the innkeeper.
"Excuse me." He called trying to be heard over the noise. He sighed in relief as his call was heeded and the innkeeper leaned over the counter and smiled warmly at him his fellow hobbits who had removed their hoods as well.
"Good evening little masters what can I do for you?"
His voice nearly drowned out the other noises in the inn.

Frodo tried to calm his pounding heart and keep his voice from shaking as he spoke.
"We are here to meet someone, his name is Gandalf the Grey, has he arrived?"
The innkeeper's face wrinkled in confusion as he tried to recall the owner of the name he had been given.
Frodo's heart softened its violent beating when the innkeeper's face suddenly lit up in recognition.
"Oh, Gandalf! Yes I know him, he carries around a staff and wears a grey hat yes?"
Frodo nodded eagerly and for a moment it seemed as though their troubles were over. That joy was crushed the moment the innkeeper said, "I 'aven't seen him for six months."

Frodo's heart fell as quickly as it had risen. Gandalf wasn't here? He had said that he would be here to meet them!
"Could I interest you in some rooms for the night?" The innkeeper suggested noticing Frodo's crestfallen look. "We have some hobbit-sized rooms available for you if you are wanting to stay the night."
Frodo shook his head, a bit faster than he had meant to, as the fear in his heart began to rise again. They hadn't come to stay the night, their hunters would be coming for them.
"We will go and wait for Gandalf when he comes will you send him over to us?"
Frodo asked hoping that he was making the right decision.
The innkeeper nodded. "Of course, and what name would I be giving him?"

Frodo hesitated. He knew that his true name was never to be mentioned, his mind raced to come up with something that Gandalf would recognize.
"Underhill."
Frodo noticed a look of uncertainty flash in the man's eyes but he said nothing as he shrugged.
"Alright, Mr. Underhill. I'll keep my eyes open for him if there's anything you and your friends need just let me know."
Frodo thanked the innkeeper and led his friends through the crowded inn towards an empty table.

The four of them tried not to make eye contact with any of the men who towered over them. Most ignored the hobbits, not caring for their presence or too drunk to notice. Yet there were some that Frodo saw who had an evil glint in their eyes as they stared at them from different places in the room. Frodo did his best to ignore them, but it was as if he could feel their gazes burning into him as he sat down in a wooden chair.

His best friend, Sam, with his sandy blond hair a tangled mess, reached his hand out and placed it comfortingly on his shoulder.
"He'll be here," he said believing it with all of his heart.
"I hope you're right Sam," Frodo replied quietly as his friend removed his hand.
In front of Frodo sat Merry, his blue eyes were tired and the smile on his face seemed to be forced.
Lastly, Pippin, the youngest in their group, was looking around the room as if he expected the ones who were hunting them to burst through the door at any moment.

Frodo turned his own gaze towards the door every so often, hoping that it would open and that Gandalf would arrive to guide them on the rest of their journey.
Yet as time wore on a feeling of dread settled in the bottom of Frodo's stomach. He just knew that something was wrong, Gandalf wouldn't have kept them waiting this long.
"Do you see them staring Frodo?" Sam whispered startling him from his thoughts.
"Who?"
Sam nodded his head towards a group of dark men who were staring intently at the hobbits.
Frodo gulped and turned away from them.
Gandalf where are you?

Merry grasped Frodo's hand and when he looked at his cousin he could see the urgency in his eyes.
"We need to leave, now." Merry's tone held no room for argument. When Frodo looked over his shoulder to see what had alarmed his cousin he nearly leaped out of his seat as at least ten men began to close in around them. Frodo stood up and his friends did the same. They had to get out of there, Gandalf or no Gandalf. Frodo led the way as Sam walked protectively at his side. Merry was holding onto Pippin's arm as if to comfort his cousin in some way. The door was only a few feet away, but before he could take another step a tall, menacing figure blocked their way with an ugly scar where his right eye should have been.

Frodo came to an abrupt stop and nearly fell when Merry accidently ran into him. Frodo took one look at the man and knew that he was someone who wasn't afraid to hurt them.
"Why are you halflings leaving so soon?" The man asked waving his hand to summon more men to his side. The hobbits pressed closer together as they became surrounded.
"We have somewhere to be," Frodo took a step forward and tried not to look afraid, "please stand aside and let us through."
The man chuckled and leaned down to where he was eye level with the hobbit. Frodo resisted the urge to back away but couldn't keep his legs from trembling.
"Here's what we're going to do hobbit, you and your friends are going to come with me and my boys here without a fight, understand?"
Frodo said nothing as his eyes narrowed. "We are not going anywhere with you."

The man sighed and shook his head.
"You shouldn't have said that hobbit."
An alarmed cry from Pippin immediately caused Frodo to turn his back on the one-eyed man and watch in horror as one the men had Pippin caught in his cruel arms.
"Frodo!" Sam's warning came too late as strong arms wrapped around Frodo's chest and pinned his arms to his sides. He kicked furiously and the others, now captive as well, did the same but to no avail.
"What's going on here?" The innkeeper demanded storming up to the men.
"Stay out of this or you'll wind up dead on the floor," the one-eyed man spat as he tightened his grip on a struggling Frodo.

Eight men who had their hands free of hobbits each drew a long sword and pointed them at anyone who got too close.
"We'll be leaving now."
Frodo's captor stomped towards the door with his captive stuck in an iron grip. Frodo looked at all the men watching with pleading eyes. Would any of them help? Frodo's body jerked as the one-eyed man came to an abrupt stop. When Frodo saw what the cause was his heart sank as another hooded man blocked the door.
"Get out of my way," the one-eyed man growled dangerously. The hooded man refused to move.
Instead, he remained motionless as he said, "You have something that doesn't belong to you."

Frodo couldn't believe this. How many men were after them? The one-eyed man tightened his grip on Frodo and laughed cruelly.
"What are you going to do about it? There's twelve of us and one of you."
In a flash, the hooded man whipped out a long sword and pointed it inches from the one-eyed man's face.
"I'm going to give you a warning. Release the hobbits and we will let you live."
The man laughed again which caused Frodo to be jostled around in the air.
"Do you think that one sword scares me? I could have you killed right now."

Frodo's eyes widened as two men stepped towards the men with their swords drawn. Surely one man wasn't a match against two, it would be a quick fight. Just as the two men raised their swords the hooded man attacked. He took off the hand of the man on his left and his sword went clattering onto the floor. While the man screamed and clutched his bloodied arm his companion went to finish the hooded man off himself. He parried a blow but was thrust backwards by the strength of the hooded man, who drove his sword right through his shoulder. Both men were on the floor and were screaming in pain. The one-eyed man's face was unreadable as he stared at the hooded man.

Suddenly Frodo was thrown onto the floor as the one-eyed man drew his own sword. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the others had been thrown down as well. The ten remaining men rushed the hooded man and strangely Frodo began to fear for the man's life. He had stood up against the one-eyed man, but how did he know if he wasn't just trying to take them himself?The other men gathered watched in silence. Not one of them making a move to help the outnumbered man. A cry from Frodo's left caused him to turn his head and watch as a man collapsed lifelessly onto the floor. This caused the one-eyed man and his followers to pause their attack and stare at the fallen body in shock. Frodo lifted his face and watched as another man, who was also wearing a hood, raised his bloodied sword at One-eye.

"I would stand down if I were you," he growled menacingly.
Frodo realized that this new hooded figure was the one who'd just slain the man in front of him. The first hooded figure seemed to relax at the other's arrival, Frodo noticed them greet each other with a small nod and figured that they must know one another. One-eye didn't seem bothered at all by the newcomer's threat. Once again his men attacked the two hooded figures. Frodo watched them battle in a mixture of awe and fear. The skill of the two men was unlike anything he had ever seen before, of course, he hadn't ever seen a fight with swords until now. Frodo watched as the two men ducked and parried the swords of the men. They were holding their own for the moment but something at the back of his mind knew that it wouldn't be long now until one of them fell.

One of the men's hoods had fallen off revealing dark hair and stormy, grey eyes that flashed with fury as he fought. Frodo was so captivated by the fierce fighting of the dark haired man that he didn't notice the man creeping behind him until he was about to drive his sword through his back.
Look out! Was what Frodo was about to shout when suddenly the man was jerked backwards by the arm and flung into the counter, where he landed with a loud crash. That was when a third hooded man appeared, he was lithe and fought with a long, white knife instead of sword. Frodo couldn't decide whether he should be grateful for the strange men's help, or terrified at the prospect of being taken captive by the three fighters.

One-eye didn't seem keen on losing his prisoners he barked an order for his men to grab the hobbits. Strong arms roughly grabbed Frodo around the waist and hoisted him into the air. Frodo started to kick and thrash around as much as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a man with auburn hair trying desperately to reach him. Something hard collided with Frodo's new captor and sent them both crashing to the ground. Frodo lay dazed for a moment as he tried to clear his head. He felt a rough hand on his arm that hauled him to his feet.

Who is trying to take me now?
Yet to his surprise no one grabbed him or tried to carry him off. Instead, he found himself standing with a startled Sam, Merry, and Pippin while four beings now stood with their backs to them and their weapons threatening anyone who dared to come near them. Frodo noticed something especially odd about one of their "rescuers," he was far shorter than his three companions or anyone else in the inn for that matter. His eyes widened in disbelief as he realized that he was a dwarf. But why would a dwarf be traveling with three men? And what did they want with them? All of them, except for the man with the knife, had their hoods off, revealing hostile glares and fiery eyes. Frodo wanted to believe that they had been saved and cautiously allowed a sliver of hope to enter his heart.

"We will be taking our leave now," he dark-haired man announced pointing his sword at One-eye, "and the halflings are coming with us. Anyone who tries to follow will be killed."
Frodo's hopes were dashed in that very instant. He'd known that it was too good to be true. Gandalf hadn't been here as he said he would, and now they were being led off by four vagabonds. The dark haired man grabbed Frodo's arm and dragged him forward. The man with auburn hair did the same with Pippin, the dwarf with Merry, and the lithe one with Sam. They weren't very gentle and Frodo nearly tripped on several occasions. One-eye wasn't going to give up so easily and he advanced towards them with his sword drawn.

"Those halflings are mine! Hand them over!" Their new captors paid him no heed and continued to the door. Frodo gasped as he thrust his sword at Sam, who would have been dead in an instant if the lithe man hadn't pulled him out of harm's way. Frodo caught a brief flash of gold from under his hood and wondered who this mystery man was. He had his hands placed firmly on Sam's shoulders and if Frodo wasn't mistaken, it almost looked as if he were being protective of the hobbit.
"Do not try that again." His voice surprised Frodo, it was soft, and yet carried something that Frodo couldn't explain which caused One-eye to back away. Frodo was jerked forward again and just heard One-eye growl.

"This isn't over. My master wants these hobbits and he will get them."
Master? His captor made no reply as he threw the door open. The storm hadn't lessened and Frodo's shoulders sagged at the thought of going back out there. The dark-haired man pulled Frodo forward and leaned down in front of him. Frodo's heart raced at the all the horrible things he expected this man to do to him.
But all he did was whisper quietly in his ear, "You have nothing to fear from us Frodo Baggins. My name is Strider and we were sent by Gandalf to protect you."
Frodo was shocked speechless. He knew his name? Had Gandalf sent them? The man who called himself Strider straightened himself and pulled his hood on over his head.
Frodo pulled on his own hood just as Strider ushered him out of the door and into the storm, the others following closely behind.

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The rain pelted Frodo's body just as it had done when they had first arrived in Bree. He was completely soaked to the bone and he wouldn't be surprised if he caught a cold. It was pitch black and he couldn't see anything unless a bolt of lightning lit up the night briefly. Strider hadn't released his grip on him and didn't seem to care that he was struggling through the thick mud. Frodo wished that he could check on his friends and see how they were holding up but Strider wouldn't give him the chance. There was something off about this man that made Frodo uneasy. He claimed to know Gandalf, and that he and his companions had been sent to protect them, but after seeing all of them fight and knowing that they were not afraid to kill-

*CRASH*

Frodo's head snapped to the left and a blinding flash of lightning illuminated a sight that made his blood freeze and his face pale, his heart slammed against his chest as if a fist was beating him over and over again. For in that brief moment he had seen the gate that he and his friends had entered the village in on the ground, and riding over it were five dark, faceless riders who shrieked as they laid eyes on the one they had come for. Him, and the small object that he carried. The Black Riders thundered behind them, their shrieks barely rose above the howling wind. Frodo was struggling to keep up with Strider who was the one thing keeping him from falling. At one point Strider shouted something over his shoulder but Frodo couldn't make out what he had said. His hood had been blown off by the wind and the rain stung his face but he kept running. He looked behind him just as another flash of lightning exploded overhead.

He saw two of the Black Riders not even four feet away from him, he saw no sign of his friends or the other riders.
Where are they?
Frodo was suddenly flung to the side and landed hard on his knees. He hadn't seen the Rider who had just been about to run him through with a deadly blade. He scrambled to his feet and ran blindly through the darkness. He could feel the black horse's hooves pounding the earth behind him, it was only a matter of time before he was caught. A flash of white blinded Frodo and a burst of thunder exploded in his ears. Burning heat coursed throughout Frodo's body as a bolt of lightning struck the ground and sent the hobbit crashing onto the ground. His ears were ringing and he couldn't move his body. Everything in him hurt as he lay with his face pressed in the mud.

A hazy figure appeared in front of him and gathered him in his arms. Frodo's head hung limply and swayed back and forth as he was carried. His eyes rolled back into his head and he gave one last exhausted sigh before falling into darkness.