Blood in the Brandywine: Chapter 2

Sorry about the wait! I've been trying to get over this evil writer's block for a while now, and I finally managed to bully myself into it. Yay. Rejoice. Whoopee. (If you didn't catch the note of sarcasm, it was there.)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, and as much as I wish it otherwise, it remains so.

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Frodo got about halfway down the hallway, when suddenly one of the doors burst open. "Did you hear what Daisy and Hal were doing the other day?!" was about all he heard, before he was trampled by about fifteen of Brandy Hall's various occupants, all gossiping excitedly, and heading down for breakfast.

Other doorways opened as well, and before he knew it, Frodo was pressed up against the wall, hoping he wouldn't be swept away in the huge crowd of hungry hobbits. When they had finally cleared out, Frodo let out a sigh of relief, and un-flattened himself from the wall. He never understood why the female hobbits had these crazy sleepovers. It's not like they didn't live in the same place.

By the time he had reached the kitchen, he had discovered several new bruises (in various places on his body), and that his headache had worsened. "Was that from the dream or the hobbits, I wonder?" he smiled to himself. His smile faded at the look on his Aunt Esmeralda's face.

"Frodo, what kept you?" She asked, annoyance thick in her voice, as she flipped some sort of pancake in one hand, and furiously stirred a large vat of oatmeal with the other.

"I'm sorry Aunt Esmeralda, but I got caught in the morning crowd. And you know how they are when they're hungry." Frodo knew his aunt probably wasn't listening. It was all just some sort of game, where whatever you told them really didn't matter; you got the same reply anyway.

"Alright Frodo, just don't do it again." said Aunt Esmeralda distractedly, pouring more batter onto the pan, leaving little white blobs on the space between the stove and the counter. "Now Frodo, I need you to help clean out the stables again, seeing as we're slightly shorthanded. You'll be working with Roy and Hugo, you've met them before, right? Oh yes, you worked with them yesterday." Large amounts of steam were rising from the stove, as she attacked the other two pans with a spatula. "It's just until Yule is over. We need all the help we can get, what with all the family over, and all the hungry mouths to feed."

Frodo took this as his dismissal. "Sure Aunt Esmeralda." He said, nodding to her. Not like she heard him, he thought dejectedly. 'She's already told me that yesterday.' He thought glumly, turning around. His heart caught in his throat as the red, glowing eyes of the cloaked and hooded man staring in at him through the window met his own. He gasped in horror, but the man was already gone.

Frodo realized that it was the same man from his dream. The man who had killed his parents, and was supposedly going after Frodo now. The same man that had stood only a few feet away from him, with nothing but a thin screen of glass in between them. Breathing heavily with a hand over his mouth, Frodo realized the true impact of what this meant, and stood there frozen to the spot. What was he supposed to do?! How did the man know where to find him?! He had some how managed to track him down, out of all the hundreds of hobbits living in the Hall. And on top of that, he was practically right beside him a few moments ago. Right Beside him!! The man was probably still lurking around outside, in the courtyard or the stables… And then Frodo remembered. As much as he wanted to hide under his bed, curled up in a ball, he had to do what his Aunt had told him. And right now, that meant cleaning out the stables. Outside.

Frodo, trembling like mad, silently made his way to the door, leaving his Aunt Esmeralda flipping pancakes and muttering to herself, completely oblivious to her nephew leaving the hall for what he thought was the last time.

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Frodo slowly peered around the door as it creaked open, cautiously peering out. When nothing jumped out at him, he slowly edged out from the door way, head nervously turning from side to side. He took a few steps, and then very slowly reached back and touched the door. Then, in one swift movement, he slammed it shut, and whirled around, not wanting to leave his back to the woods. After a few minutes, he very slowly crept foreword a few paces, hearing only his heart pounding in his ears. There was still no sign of the man. Suddenly there was a crack, and the snapping of a twig. Frodo gave a loud squeak, and before he knew it, he was sprinting toward the stables.

He collapsed once inside, and quickly bolted the doorway. Roy and Hugo weren't coming. They had told him so yesterday, and they had recommended that he not tell anyone, if he valued his limbs. Not one to miss a hint, Frodo had decided to keep quite. Besides, who would listen to him in the first place? Frodo actually liked working alone, but right now, even Roy and Hugo would make a welcome change from this silence.

"Ok, just clean out the stalls, that's all." He said to himself, trying not to think about the seemingly boundless hatred those red eyes had possessed. Every time one of the horses snorted, or whenever some small barn sound was heard, Frodo spun around in panic, but it never was anything. Still, the stable was quite a way from the hall, and surrounded by trees, offering some protection. Then again, Frodo thought nervously, no one to hear him scream.

When Frodo finally finished, the sun was already sinking towards the horizon, casting odd shadows and shapes. Frodo gulped nervously. It was a fifteen minute walk back to the hall, and he didn't want to be caught out after dark. He wasn't afraid of the dark; Frodo just didn't like the idea of walking alone in the dark, with a red eyed murderer on the loose. Frodo very cautiously opened the door, and locked it as fast as he could, so his back wouldn't be facing the woods. He then took a deep breath and started walking as fast as he could without running.

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The cloaked figure watched the young hobbit leave the stable, and starting along the long path home. It smiled to itself, red eyes glowing in the darkness. He would make the hobbit suffer. The thing hissed, drawing the darkness further around itself, as a shield from the setting sun. The thing started after Frodo, keeping to the shadows, waiting for its chance to strike. Yes, the Baggins would pay for what he had done. No. For what he was going to do.

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Cool! My first cliffy! It might be a bit confusing at the moment, but it will start to make sense in a few more chapters. I will try to be more punctual in my updates, but this writer's block keeps coming back! Virtual cookies to all reviewers and a virtual cake to whoever can guess what the "cloaked figure" is. Please r/r!!!

hoom