Chapter 2

The Prancing Pony was loud, dimly lit, and reeked of smoke and food and beer. Most of the clients were drunk and singing ridiculous songs that grated on his ears, but Elnias loved it. He loved the noise from the instruments and the warmth from the torches, and he loved the silly songs and the happy atmosphere. It's been quite long since he ventured outside.

He had been living in the small village for around a decade and half now, so it would have been time to find another place again anyways. Perhaps he might settle in Bree again after the quest. He had been here before, how could he not? He must have crossed the world several times over all the centuries, before and after the world got destroyed in the Fourth World War between muggles and wizards. He had known the town in different names and different languages, though he had forgotten its first name, or the name it had had. It used to be part of Europe, that he knew, not that it mattered at the moment. Europe had been blown to pieces together with the rest of the Milky Way, turning everything in chaos until Eru came and restored order. Elnias still marvelled at how the two worlds could be so alike yet utterly different. Not that he'd complain, as anything was better than surviving on a barren piece of land with barely a living being.

What did mattered at the moment, were the four little Hobbits dancing, drinking and singing along with the drunken clients. The Hobbit of interest though, Frodo Baggings (or Underhill, but that wasn't going to fool him), kept rather to himself while his two loud friends (Peppin and Mirry?) joined the drunken joy. Gandalf had told him that Frodo and others would wait for them at the inn. Seeing as the four were the only Hobbits around, Elnias didn't have to worry about searching for them.

Frodo called Butterbur over, talking in a soft voice and vaguely gesturing to one side of the inn. Butterbur was slightly less subtle in looking over at the person mentioned and Elnias followed his eyes.

They were talking about the shady stranger in one of the corners where the shadows almost seemed to swallow him. Elnias had noticed him and his veiled interest in the Hobbit before. Though he didn't feel any malicious intentions coming from the man, he didn't like it, not one bit. The dislike didn't have anything to do with the fact that the mysterious stranger had the air of… of well, a mysterious stranger, down better than him, of course. Absolutely nothing.

It wasn't as if Elnias was annoyed that the stranger could perfectly pull off the menacing look when he, with his small frame and childlike face, could barely look mysterious, let alone dangerous. No, not at all.

The stranger suddenly moved his head, and their eyes met.

Green light. The first thing he did upon arrival at Grimauld Place was finding Sirius and hugging him. Screaming and screaming. The body falls. No, no, no! Not Sirius! Cackling, insane, laughter. His godfather falls through the Veil. "Padfoot!" The dog looks at him, barks and runs off. Harry chases him. But the eyes are blue. Not grey. And Sirius is dead, and – oh

The jawline was different, the eyes were slightly bigger and the hair not wavy enough. The nose and eyebrows were totally different too. After blinking several times, he realised that there's only a slight similarity. For a moment he's disappointed, and the dull pain in his chest throbbed for several heartbeats before he managed to close it off.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a vague memory told him that he did remember a man with such features, but it's quickly lost in a web of other memories of people long dead. He did remember, however, why he didn't like venturing outside, meeting new people. Elnias sighed, reverting his eyes from the not-grey-but-blue ones and refocused on the task at hand.

It's now Frodo who's singing, singing a ridiculous song with a panicky edge to his voice. He stood on one of the tables, shifting on his large feet. Had the situation not been so grave, Elnias would have been amused. Then suddenly the Hobbit was falling and something shiny was catching the light from the torches and slipping onto Frodo's finger.

Elnias had always thought the working of the Ring quite anticlimactic. Because you'd expect at least a puff of smoke or some glitters, right? Something bigger from the object that could bring doom to the whole world, but no, not a single spark. Then again, it was made by a dark lord. Elnias guessed that he wouldn't like glitters. Truth be told, he hadn't met that much of dark lords, but he did know that megalomania usually resulted in overdramatics (just look at Riddle).

Don't tell Gandalf, but Elnias was a bit disappointed with the Will-Destroy-All-Of-Middle-Earth-Evil-Ring (he had grown fond of hyphenated words after the whole Boy-Who-Lived and Savior-Of-The-Light hype).

While Elnias was having a slight trip down the memory lane, the inn had broken down into a frenzy. All four Hobbits had disappeared now, as did the shady stranger, and the clients were blaming Butterbur for putting weird stuff in their drinks. After all, Hobbits didn't just suddenly disappear.

Upstairs, three of said Hobbits were waving makeshift weapons – and in Sam's case, his fists – at the Man who had taken their friend.

"Let him go!" Sam cried. "Or I'll have you, Longshanks!"

Strider sheathed his sword, slightly impressed at the Hobbit's loyalty. "A stout heart you have, young Hobbit. But that will not save you." The smaller men shifted on their big, hairy feet, their nervousness showing after the glow of their heroic rescue… attempt. "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Mr. Frodo. They are coming." The Hobbits swallowed with difficulty, their shoulders slumping and they shuffled closer to each other in an attempt for reassurance.

"Was someone waiting for a wizard?" A new, young voice asked. "'Cause, here's one damn fine example." A young man, child almost, with the greenest eyes the Hobbits had ever seen and night-black hair, gave them a lazy grin. Strider immediately redrew his sword. "Who are you?"

"Whoa there, Mr. Jumpy. No need to go violent on me."

"What did you hear?!" Strider barked.

Green eyes narrowed. "Calm down, mate. I'm an ally, Grey sent me."

"Who?" Pepping? Mirry? asked.

"Right, Gandalf, I mean Gandalf."

"Prove it." Frodo said.

Elnias blinked. "Seriously?" He pointed at Strider. "He gets to say a couple of fancy, mysterious words and you suddenly trust him, but I can't just be mysterious and shady? I've got to actually prove something?"

A moment of silence. Then, "He does have a point."

The Hobbit received a big cat-like grin. "Thank you, Mirry!"

"It's Pippin, actually…"

"'Tis no time for games, stranger. Answer the questions!" Strider brought the sword dangerously close to Elnia's face. "These are serious matters."

"Mind putting that sword away, Jumpy?" He pushed the point away with a gloved finger.

"Only an enemy has secrets to hide from his allies."

A big, mean, smirk spread over Elnias' face and his eyes shone with a sadistically amused glint. "Is that so, Heir of Isildur?"

Strider staggered back as if hit, briefly losing control over his grip on the sword. The poor Hobbits regarded the scene with confused looks. Before the situation could escalate into something worse, there's a loud noise and the distant sound of horse hooves.

"Ah, damn…" Elnias breathed.

The Hobbits were wide-eyed and slightly shaking. Strider seemed to snap out of his stupor, throwing Elnias an accusatory glare. "Take your bags, be silent and quick. We're moving for Rivendell right now."


This is a revised version, betaed by Swallow Tailed Kite (Thank you~)

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