The tale of Rebecca Underhill, a Hobbit in Bree.

Rebeca Underhill is a fairly unremarkable young, lady Hobbit in Bree. Until one extraordinary day her life is mixed with the fortunes of Frodo and his friends. Even though they barely meet. A tale set in Bree at the same time of the Prancing Pony chapter. Please read and review, thanks, Ham!

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Rebecca Underhill was a Hobbit in Bree. Though young for a Hobbit, 35. She had dark hair and been a Hobbit small with little furry feet. She was reasonably attractive, with dark hair as was normal, and a bit plumb as well, been a Hobbit. She was a capable cook and she worked in the Prancing Pony at times she served behind the bar as well. Where she did meet, interesting people from faraway places. As far afield as the Shire in fact. Over a whole days walk away. Though as time passed this did become rarer. And then the visitors were nearly always from Buckland. Which, as the landlord, Barliman pointed out was actually nearer Bree then the Shire.

Time moved on. One of the more unpleasant aspects of her job, there was always unpleasant sides, was in having to be pleasant to people she wouldn't normally be. Such as Bill Ferny, for example. One of the nastier men in Bree. And one of the more unpleasant things about him was his body odor.

Bill Ferny was short, for a man, but naturally enough he towered above a small Hobbit like Becky. And he ponged something rancid. For a sensitive Hobbit like Becky this was a bit much for her poor little nose. Especially if he did, as he sometimes did, stay and talked to her at the bar. 'Nice to see you doing so well here, Rebecca! Though you are working a bit better than you ever did for me!'

She supposed this was an attempt at humour. She replied with a polite chuckle. 'Work for you? Did I ever do that? Technically speaking I suppose, I don't think I ever received anything like wages, however!' Or at least not the correct amount!

Still, overall that was a lovely year. Work was interesting, she was having a nice on and off romance with that exciting Mr. Flannel Heathertoes, Sybil the pub landlady changed the colour of her hair twice to everyone's amusement. But the most interesting thing of all was that the Ranger, Strider decided to take her into his confidence a little. In fact after Ferny left her and she wiped the smell off her nostrils, he told her something of the wild lands outside Bree.

Rangers were folk that wandered around in the wild. Many in Bree looked down upon them and even most of the good folk of the county thought them dirty and uncouth with little money or influence. This was how the Rangers liked it, the truth was too terrible for most in Bree to cope with. But Strider thought it wise to trust some of them a little and so told her something of those wild lands and of the Rangers role. Her eyes widened as he told her extraordinary tales of those lands. Becky did not know that such dangers existed, though she was a little suspicious. Which was why Strider decided to trust her a little. She was a decent, capable and inquisitive young lady Hobbit, he thought it worth the risk.

There was some unpleasant foreign news. There had been trouble away down south and men were on the move. They were fleeing trouble and looking for somewhere to stay, and Bree seemed nice. Though the local men were a bit unhappy about this. Becky had her suspicions. Why did they have to choose Bree there were plenty of other empty lands? Many of the Hobbits were unconcerned by this news. The problems of the big folk were not their problems. Becky wasn't so sure. The fortunes of the two peoples were interlinked. What happened to one, she suspected, could not fail to affect the other. Months later, Becky saw the truth of this. In fact, she played a major role in leading the defeat of those men in Bree. But this does not come into this tale. Also, the dark lord Sauron had arisen in Mordor and many were fleeing from his power.

Then there was one extraordinary day. It was in October, her day of a Tuesday and it was a showery one. Though when she woke up it was with a strange sense of fore-boding, which grew upon her through the morning. She wore a simple, but practical green dress for the day. At lunchtime she bumped into Nob, a Hobbit who also worked at the Prancing Pony. 'Hey Beckie,' he said to her breathlessly, 'Take care. Some horsemen have invaded the country. Outlandish in the extreme. Knowing you work at the Pony they might ask you some questions.'

'Why should they trouble us simple folk?'

Nob was wearing typical Hobbit attire of yellow and green shirt and braces with no shoes. He was brown-haired and usually happy and a bit cheeky. 'They are asking for a Hobbit called Baggins. A Shire name which is where he is coming from.'

Becky scowled, 'We Hobbits should stick together,'

Nob bade her goodbye and went back to his chores in the Pony. Later that day, Becky was picking up some goods from the village and walking back to her home, she saw one of the creatures. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, it was now a rainy Autumnal Bree day. The spitting rain slatted into Bree's cobbled streets from the grey, cloudy sky. Then a Rider passed her on the street. He must have been one of those whom Nob was referring to.

And he was correct, outlandish in the extreme.

The rider was all clad in black, with black coat, black trousers, a black hood and black horse. He rode boldly on the streets as though he owned it. He was the most outlandish thing about him was his face. Or lack of one. He looked, somehow she could tell, at her and underneath his hood, she could see...nothing. Just a shadow. No face at all, no sign of flesh, just an empty shadow. Her breath was totally taken away. She picked up her skirts and went about her business.

Later, she saw the Ranger, Strider. Would he know something of these creatures? Indeed he did. His dark face grew grim as she told him of the creature.

'So, do you think they mean well?'

'If they do, Strider, I'm a man of the big people!'

Strider laughed grimly. 'All right, I will tell you about them. They come from Mordor!'

Becky's face paled. 'But why? What does Mordor want of us?'

Strider looked around and motioned her to come round a side. 'I can't explain properly. You know of Mordor, more than most in this little town do if only from me, but you still do not understand quite how powerful Mordor has become, or how it desires to plunge all the lands to its foul will, or how close Sauron is to world domination. All I can say is do not help them unless you desire your town to be forever under Sauron's rule.'

Such words were grim. It could even dampen her usual cheerful attitude for the rest of the day. Still, this was Strider. He did have that nature recently. Still the rest of that evening started brightly anyway. It was a gloomy and rainy evening, good for an evening in the Inn with some wine. The Hobbits of Bree were affluent and liked their wine. Some of the lady-Hobbits even liked Rum mixed with honey. Though Becky to be careful. Whilst like most Hobbits she rarely got outright drunk, she could get very giggly after some alcohol. She was with a few Underhills, and some of her friends. She changed her dress to to a light blue. After a while, Sybil, the landlady came to join them. This was good as Sybil was always jolly. Although she had changed the colour of her hair again. To bright pink of all colours. 'What do you think?' she asked.

Beckie thought she should really be honest and say, 'I'm afraid it looks like a marshmallow on your head,' but she was tactful and said, 'erm, colourful!' but with a little twinkle in her eye. Maybe Sybil would get the message. Still, Sybil had her own troubles. Se was trying to teach Nob to cook to tastes other than Hobbity. Which in Nibs case was a bit difficult. Nob thought that bacon and mushroom sandwiches was the ultimate in cooking skills. It was hard to convince him that the Big people or the Dwarves liked meals other than that.

What else was happening? Well, that nice farmer's son from Birdle way was taking an interest in Becky's friend, Rose. Becky personally wasn't sure about him. He was pretty enough but not much between the ears. She had had better conversations with her cat, she was sure. Beryl was getting closer to her potential suiter, who did have a nice stream on his land, but what would eventually happen to her, or her 3 sisters, was anyone's guess. And, the Stradlle-Underhills were having a party. For Thursday week. A big one, a wedding anniversary. Becky was already wondering what to wear.

Then there was a bit of interest in their corner of the Inn. 3 strange Hobbits. From the Shire. 'Isn't that what those riders are after?'

'No, they are looking for a Hobbit called Baggins. No Baggins here. One is called Mr. Underhill.' There was excitement at this. An Underhill! Must be a relation, many thought. 'A bit odd, however, Mr Underhill turning up from the Shire as well as Mr Baggins,' said Becky, in total innocence. Although he was friendly enough, and he did sing a cheery little song, he made a bit of a fool of himself. Managing to disappear, then reappear in the middle of the bar.

Despite such outlandish behaviour, she wasn't about to give him away to Bill Ferny. But most of the patrons had had enough for the evening and left. Becky thought she would too, but just to have a chat with Sybil. When she left, with a polite little curtesy,she noticed Mr Underhill with Strider in the corner. What was that about, wondered she.

She had a nice little chat with Sybil over some wine, mostly talking about babies, cats, or Sybil's luck, or perhaps that should be lack of it, with Bingo. After she said goodbye to Sybil, she just popped back in the Inn to check on her rota for the next day. She noticed that the parlour's light s were still on. There, in the parlour she saw an extraordinary sight. There was Mr. Underhill sleeping on the floor, not in his bed, which he had actually paid for. He was with 3 friends, and to cap it all, there was Strider as well, looking at her, none too pleased by her entrance.

'You! Out, out,' he spluttered in some surprise. This was a bit rude of him, she thought as she had as much right to be in the parlour as anyone else did. She held her ground. Strider came over to her and said, 'sorry, but please. These are the Hobbits which the riders are after. They are supposed to be in their rooms, but of course it isn't safe for them there. If anyone asks you, please do not tell anyone, at least for this evening, that they are here,'

'But look this is silly, they are looking for Mr. Baggins from the Shire, not Mr. Underhill here from the Shire, oh...' the penny piece dropped. Of course Mr. Baggins was just as capable of using an alias as anyone else. She gave his sleeping form a little smile. Only one of the Hobbits was actually awake, and he glared at her in suspicion. She sniffed. There was a little smell in the air which her nose could detect. Strider could smell a bit sometimes. The difference between him and Bill Ferny was hard to place, but it was their. Strider sometimes had a bit of a smell because he tramped all over the wild for the good of Bree. Bill Ferny smelled because he had never heard of soap! And there was no excuse, it was plentiful in Bree.

As she left, Becky heard Strider growl, 'Lock the landing door as well and watch out for it, Sam! We don't want half of Bree wandering through here!' This was wise of him as Sybil, Barliman's pal who just found it hard to sleep at nights, and the possibly untrustworthy watchman would have popped in!

But there was one more considerable shock in store for Becky. She walked the short journey from the Pony to her home when she felt an uncontrolled wave of fear. Normally, the streets of the town were perfectly safe at night, open violence against the person was unheard of inside the town. 3 men stepped behind her. All clad on black, looking particularly creepy in the night air. The riders from Mordor. She looked at them in terror. One asked, 'have you seen Hobbits from the Shire? Bagggggins? Think well upon your reply, your very life could depend upon it.'

Becky gulped. She didn't really need Strider's advice for her to realise these creatures, called the Nazgul, were of no good. Still, she could say something. 'I saw some in the Pony this evening,' she spluttered. That information was safe. Someone would have told them that.

And she was correct as conformed by their reply,

'So much we know! Is there anything else you can say about them?'

The men pressed on her mind. She nearly blurted out, 'they are sleeping in the parlour,' but she just restrained herself. She told a bare-faced lie. 'They are in the rooms on the ground floor, the way we Hobbits like it.'

'That confirms what we were already told. Be on your way!' Becky was a truthful Hobbit and did not lie very well. Anyone who could have read expressions could have seen this, but obviously the Nazgul did not have that ability. The creature hissed and Becky scampered off with a tale to tell.

Becky was not the only person to be asked questions by the Nazgul that night. They did make an attempt to get to Mr. Baggins. They hammered on the door and poor Mr. Butterbur was forced to answer. He felt the same pressure on his mind as they requested he surrender Mr. Baggins to them. But Butterbur was of the same mind as Becky. He showed the door to their faces despite their hisses and threats.

As a result, the Nazgul were unable to find were Mr Baggins and his friends were sleeping, and he had the chance to escape and to continue on his journey unhindered.

The end