The light of the stars began to appear one by one as the night vivified over the boundless grasslands that stretched far beyond the lands of the Shire. Their journey, though only beginning, seemed so long. Never before had any of the four traveling hobbits left the shire, and none of them were very comfortable with the outside world. Even their guide, the mysterious ranger that conveniently materialized in the Prancing Pony, ready and eager to lead them through the wilds made them uneasy. But none-the-less they followed his steps and took his word.
"I'm feeling tired," Sam blurted out as he wandered towards the small group, a pair of carrots in his arms. The five travelers rested beside a warm fire. At Sam's comment, Merry looked up.
"Then come join us by the fire," he invited. The youthful hobbits seemed all very weary. Somewhat further back from the bustle of the halflings, the shadow of Strider, leaned over his pipe, resting on a nearby rock watched the still night with alert eyes. A gentle breeze carried the smoke away towards the East. Sam's eyes glanced in Strider's direction for a moment, trying not to squirm from uneasy tension.
"Are you sure you don't want to come down here by the fire and rest a while with us, Mister Strider?"
A long pause ensued the question, then, after taking a puff of his short-necked pipe, he began to speak. "The long day is over, though night is no time for rest, either. No, Master Gamgee, I will stay here."
Sam looked back to the hobbits, shrugging his shoulders as he lowered himself down, carrots and all. Frodo, most of all, looked exhausted. "I think its time we got some rest," Sam suggested, noting that Frodo was scarcely able to keep his eyes open. Unknown to him, Pippin had already fallen fast asleep, his head resting on his hand, which was planted firmly on his knee.
"I think that's a good idea," Merry added. "But first, we should eat these carrots… After all… we can't let them go to waste."
As the dawn rose, the only attentive member of the party was Strider, his eyes still watching the horizon. Long ago the four hobbits laid themselves down to sleep, but he knew that he would be unable to rest. This was where everything that would bring about either the victory of the loss of everything he had lived for would begin. Everywhere, there might be an unfriendly observer. The wind is gone, and the land is still silent. This journey may yet be unnoticed by Sauron. I would hope so… Though that chance is small.
Togeather in a small, uneven square, the hobbits rested, still asleep at dawn. For a moment, the Man sat, watching the embers burn on.
"Where are we traveling to today, Strider?" Pippin broke through the sound of the trail of footsteps. The party had set out once more just after dawn. At the rear of the all of them, Merry noticed that he had begun to make a song of the sound of Sam's pots clanking together. A heavy sigh of annoyance escaped Sam as he listened to his baffled companion.
"We are still traveling to Rivendell, Master Took," Strider replied in his monotonous way. If one could find a way to read emotion in his voice, one would have found a bit of sarcasm.
"Oh… Alright." Merry found himself, reflexively turning to Pippin, a bit of a mocking look on his face.
"Where'd you think we were traveling to, Pip?"
"I don't know. It was just a thought," Pippin cheerfully replied. It seemed that nothing could hold back Perigrin Took from speaking his mind. Merry simply rolled his eyes as he continued on.
As night began to fall once more, their spirits and their strength went away with the Sun. Finally, they stopped.
"What is that smell?" Frodo asked, unable to see the bog, scarcely beyond the horizon. He let his pack down off his shoulders and lowered it to the ground.
"We are nearing a bog, though we will not cross it until tomorrow, for I would not wish to risk it to the darkness," Strider assured him as he lowered himself onto the ground. Before he managed to even sit, the howl of a distant beast broke the silence of the night. In the blink of an eye, Strider was back on his feet, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Pippin, who had bee looking away into his pack looked up and nearly jumped three feet into the air.
"What is it?" his anxious voice shaking like a tree in a storm.
Again, Strider paused, listening to the sounds of the new-fallen night. "Wargs…" His voice trailed off. Pippin would have spoken again, if it weren't for the efforts of Merry, who promptly shut him up. In the still silence, nothing was heard, spare the hard breathing of four young hobbits. Slowly, the Man's vice-like grip loosened. "But they were simply passing and we went unnoticed, I would hope."
"Good… That was the least of all things we were going to need." Sam added.
"You all should take some sleep, we have a long journey yet to go."
Frodo nodded, "I agree… we should rest up." All four hobbits laid out their bedrolls and readied themselves best they could to sleep. Then, just as he thought they were sound asleep, Pippin turned to Strider.
"What's going on tomorrow?"
Strider sat, lost in thoughts of distant times and distant places. As if he pulled it straight from memory, he replied, with passion pulling at his words. "With no reprise the sun will rise. And before you know it the long day is over again."
'Feeling tired
By the fire
The long day is over
The wind is gone
Asleep at dawn
The embers burn on
With no reprise
The sun will rise
The long day is over again'
~ Norah Jones