Prologue
Two figures were heading from opposite directions, toward a very old tree at the edge of the shire. One was dressed in long robes, a pointy hat and a brown wooden staff. The other was dressed in a long black cloak that hung from their shoulders, keeping everything else hidden from view.
The old man with the pointed hat greeted this person with a long, big hug.
"How are you?" He questioned, affectionetly.
"Besides the fact that I am soaked to the bone, I can not complain."
"I hope you are well rested, a long journey is ahead of you, and you will have your hands full." She nodded in agreement.
The dull slaps of rain hitting leaves surrounded them, along with the occasional clap of thunder.
"Keep them safe, but do not let them know you are there. Do not let anyone know of your presence."
"Of course." Their dark eyes were shone with a bolt of lightning.
"They will be heading to a pub called The Prancing Pony." The wind shifted, blowing the cloak away from the slim body and revealing a black sword sheath. The hooded stranger nodded their head; dark hair fell from behind the hood, dripping with water.
"Stay safe, I will meet you there." And Gandalf parted; the stranger raised their hand in farewell, and then headed towards the edge of the Shire, near the main road to Bree.