LOTR X-(wo)men Style: A Mutant Fellowship. Part 2 – Welcome to Bree, Visitors Most Unwelcome
The small party of hobbits and mutants had not spent the entire time that morning on the road to Bree singing songs and telling tales. Though when talk of their plans for when they reached their destination petered out, Frodo did share a rendition of "There is an inn, a merry old inn…" to everyone's amusement. Rogue reciprocated with the summer camp classic, "The cat came back," which the hobbits enjoyed even though they'd never seen a tame cat before.
As everyone had been watching her for the last few minutes, no one was surprised when Storm announced, "I think this is close enough. Time to head off the road, and over to those trees. I'm fairly sure no one has spotted us yet."
When the group finally ensconced itself in the shaw of woodland between two recently harvested fields, Storm took hold of the reins of Frodo's pony and scanned the faces of the hobbits. "Are you ok going ahead without us?"
They all nodded. "We'd have had to go on ourselves any way if we'd never met you. And as you said, the quieter our entrance the smarter. Besides, without appropriate clothing, you'd all be the talk of Bree for the next year. Especially you Storm," said Frodo.
"All right then. We'll wait here till you bring us some proper clothes. I'd prefer to have you come back right before dusk, but I worry about us being separated for too long. Are you sure you have enough funds?"
"I've enough left of Bilbo's silver and more from selling Bag End. We'll avoid using any of the Barrow treasure, I think you were right that it might raise too many questions. Hopefully travel fare and horses, or at least ponies, won't be hard to find either. Bree isn't the busiest of places after all. Regardless, one of us will come back for you in a few hours."
Storm nodded and let go of the reins, the hobbits restarted their ponies and headed out of the shaw toward the East-West Road coming in from the Shire.
"Smart of Ms. Storm to realize that a group of hobbits coming into Bree out of the south and not from the Shire would look odd," said Sam.
"I don't like her suggesting we keep our mouths shut about who we are and why we're travelling. It's not natural for a hobbit to NOT express himself. Ta think we'd babble about Black Riders, or strange Big Person women-folk, or Barrow wights to attract 'attention' she said," harrumphed Pippin.
"She's a far thinker, like Gandalf in many ways I guess. I hope he's waiting for us here, smoking some pipe weed. That would ease things," said Merry.
As their ponies got closer to Bree-hill, they saw the East-West Road cross the Greenway and approach a deep dike with a thick hedge on the inner side. Over this the Road crossed by a causeway; but where it pierced the hedge there was a great gate, thankfully open. Above the hedge they saw a hundred or so houses of men on the lower side of the hill and hobbit dwellings delved into the hill further up the slope.
A man sitting in front of a lodge just beyond the gate jumped up and walked to his end of the causeway when the ponies' hooves first struck the crossing over the dike. "What do you want, and where do you come from?" he asked gruffly.
"We're hobbits from the Shire, come to try and purchase supplies." answered Merry for the group.
"Four hobbits out of the Shire," the gatekeeper spoke softly to himself. In a louder voice, he asked, "We don't often see Shire-folk so much these days. You'll pardon my wondering what business takes you to Bree to look for supplies. Seems ta me you Shire-folk look after yourselves nicely enough."
"We are from Buckland," responded Merry. "I am Mr. Brandybuck. My father hired some Big Folk these past few seasons to help build a new mill. Our seamstresses make them new clothes, but they complain that a hobbit can't sew it right. With winter approaching, we were sent to buy men-made warm gear so they won't nitpick us at every snow. Is that enough for you? The Bree-folk used to be fair-spoken to travelers, or so I had heard."
"All right, all right!" said the man. "I meant no offence. But you'll find more folk than old Harry at the gate be askin' ya questions. There's queer folk about." He stepped aside and let them pass through the gate, but a quick glimpse showed Frodo that the man was still eyeing them curiously. There was something in the look and voice of the gatekeeper that made him uneasy.
"Smoothly done, Merry," whispered Frodo to his companions. "He didn't make the rest of us give our names, so no need to say I'm Mr. Underhill instead of Mr. Baggins."
As the gatekeeper returned to his stoop to sit down, a cloaked figure hiding in the shadows emerged from between two nearby houses and started to follow the hobbits as they clopped down the road curving toward the center of town.
"Does it strike any of you as odd that we can talk to the hobbits?" asked Rogue.
"From the first moment Frodo opened his mouth and spoke," answered Storm. "Though I only understand maybe eight words in ten. Context usually clears up the rest."
"Noun, verb, adverb, adjective patterns pretty similar too," said Kitty.
"And their accent is definitely British … ish. Not like the Professor. Not cockney or Yorkish either. Sort of in-between," interjected Jean, wagging a hand back and forth.
"Weird," stated Rogue.
"Weird as mutants," Storm said with a smile.
"All in all a lot easier than listening to the Professor read Beowulf in old English," added Kitty, causing the others to laugh. As the chuckles died, Kitty continued. "I miss him. I miss the school. I miss my bed. One night outside, and I really miss my bed. I miss … I miss … I miss everyone."
Storm gathered Kitty in her arms, trying to forestall too many tears. "I miss the Professor too. I miss my students. I feel the same as you child."
"I miss Bobby," added Rogue. "I'm terrified I'll never see him again. I miss John too. I miss how damn annoying he gets when he's all Pyro at the world, the idiot."
"I miss Scott," said Jean. 'And Logan too,' she thought. "But we're X-men. Or in our case, X-women. The Professor created the school to train us for the difficult. Now is that difficult. We aren't in just another Danger Room simulation. This is real life, and we have to depend on each other, no matter what."
They all nodded and quiet settled in for a time as they kept an eye out for any signs of trouble or the return of their new hobbit friends, while keeping their personal thoughts to themselves. Eventually, once everyone's body tension had visibly lessened, Kitty spoke up, "Don't you think Frodo and Sam look familiar? Not Merry or Pippin though?"
"Uhmm, like how?" asked Rogue responding to Kitty's verbal bait.
"I can't put my finger on it. TV or magazines I think."
Rogue laughed, "Sure, didn't Frodo star as Tyrion Lannister in Game of Thrones."
"Nooooo. I'm serious," laughed Kitty. "Their faces, just their faces. I swear I've seen them before."
"Rightttttt."
"Shush children. Eyes forward, I think something might be happening."
"Excuse me good Matron," shouted Pippin at a passing woman on the Road. "Where might we buy some Big Folks clothes."
"Why would ya ever be wantin that, little gen'leman?" perplexedly replied an in fact matronly appearing middle aged woman.
"We are from the Shire and we have some Big Folks that will be working for us through the winter. We need to buy them warm cloaks and sturdy boots so they can keep working in the cold."
"Ah then. Finnegan an alley back and up the hill two houses makes great coats from sheep hides. Lumper next to the tannery close by the East Gate works leather. Ya might have ta wait a day or two if ya needs much."
"Thank you good lady," responded Frodo and he flipped her a copper coin from his pocket. "Merry, you have the leaves marked with their shoe outlines. So why don't you and Pippin head to the leather worker. Here's a pouch of silver, that should cover it."
"We get the smell of the tannery then? Thanks Frodo. Ales on you tonight at the Inn." complained Pippin.
"C'mon Sam, let's turn around and look for this Finnegan fellow." As their ponies turned and walked back in the direction they'd come, they passed a scraggily bearded man leaning against a house lighting a pipe. Once turned into the alley directed them, the man tapped out his pipe, slide it into his belt, and casually sauntered over toward the alley himself.
"You drive a hard bargain Mr. Finnegan, and don't you say other. Here's a silver penny a piece for the four winter cloaks and four blankets. Now I'll give you one more silver for the four pairs of gloves, and not a copper more."
"Gloves t'aint easy littl'feller. Lottsa lil' delicate kneedlework by the missus ta getz the fingers right. Takes time and work way from makin' me dinner."
"Well it don't appear to have inconvenienced the size of your gut none yet," interjected Sam. "Now Mr. Frooo … Underhill has made you a sound offer. We got friends to meet up with. Gloves don't use as much material as blankets or cloaks. So take it or leave it, cause we have to be about."
Frodo looked from Sam back to Finnegan and raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'Exactly'.
"All rights. A deal then. Hard drivers yerselves. Not many fools in the Shire I suppose."
"There's enough of them," said Frodo as one more silver penny slipped from his hand into Finnegan's big mitt. Sam picked up the bundle of clothes and they stepped out the door of Finnegan's shack back into the alley. A mysterious voice greeted them.
"Amazing to see your activities in Bree match with the story you told the gatekeeper Master Underwood." A strong appearing man with a scraggily beard stepped out from a nearby shadow close to Frodo. And in a whisper he added, "or should I call you Baggins?"
"Them Big Folks look none too pretty," said Merry as they squeezed to one side of the Road opposite the Prancing Pony Inn. Eight lean and hard looking men walked eight skinny and mean dispositioned looking horses out of the Inn's stables and on to the Road. Following a guttural call in a language neither hobbit understood, the eight mounted, adjusted the weapons in their belts and then started their horses walking west down the Road past the hobbits. Several of them took long hard glares at Pippin and Merry as they passed.
"Phew. Don't think I'd want to have shared the Inn with THEM tonight. If I hadn't of wanted a pint before, I really could use one know. What do you think Merry?"
"Mind your Ps and Qs Pippin. Don't forget you are supposed to be escaping in secret, and are still on the high-road. And we've the debt of the Barrow wight to still pay off. Let's use our noses and find that tannery."
Pippin couldn't hide a disappointed look, but he nudged his pony forward to keep pace with Merry.
Eight horsemen followed by a man on foot started over the causeway. From a half mile away, eight mutant eyes peered intently at the activity in front of Bree. Seven riders spread out across the Road and nearby fields. The last rider paused at the end of the causeway to talk to the man on foot, who kept nodding his head. Eventually the one on foot turned back to the village. And the riders, reaching the crossroads, split up. A few went North, a few South, and one West.
"That's a rascally lot," said Kitty.
"Scavengers, bar room brawlers, killers, bullies. But not real soldiers, not enough self respect," stated Storm.
"Could be refuges I suppose. More like scouts or spies. Don't like the leader talking to one of the villagers, like giving orders. Curious to know if they came across our friends at all," mused Jean.
"Not likely, well in any rough way. I didn't see any of their gear or their ponies gear on those bastards. If they'd hurt Frodo or any of the boys, they look the type to have looted the body."
"Well done Rogue," said Storm. "Smart thinking and sharp eyes. Logan would be proud."
"I am called Strider," he said in a low voice, staring VERY hard at Frodo. "I am very pleased to meet you, Master … Underhill. If I were you, I should hardly talk at all. There ARE queer folk about. And there have been even stranger travelers through Bree lately. Though I am impressed at the deception you've conjured. Are your other two friends as tight lipped? "
Sam protectively stepped between Frodo and the stranger. Frodo returned the man's gaze but said nothing.
"Be careful in Bree. Don't put your foot in it. And particularly don't put your finger in IT." the stranger rumbled.
Frodo and Sam both gasped and took a step or two back. Frodo recovered quickly. "I don't know what you mean," he said, not able to keep all the alarm out of his voice.
"Oh yes you do," answered the stranger placidly. "I should like a less public word with you, Mr. Baggins. Gather your two other friends and we can, ironically, have a quiet word in the Prancing Pony Inn's common room."
"Very well," said Frodo trying to appear unconcerned. The stranger slid back into shadows and the two hobbits quickly loaded the packs on the ponies with their new bought clothing and then led the animals by their halters down to the Road and toward the center of Bree.
"What do we do Mr Frodo," whispered Sam once they were on the Road.
"He's as dangerous a man as I've ever seen, Sam. You must take the pony with the cloaks and ditch down that alley toward the hedge. Cut back along it to the gate and go get Storm. Bring them to the Prancing Pony as fast as can be. The cloaks should cover them enough to get past the old gatekeeper. Bribe him if you have to, now go fast!"
"Frodo!" exclaimed Pippin when he saw him riding toward them on the Road. "That was easy, we got eight pairs of boots already. Only 5 silver and 6 copper for the lot. Each lady should find at least one pair that fits." Frodo grimaced at Pippin's use of his name.
As they drew close, Merry whispered discretely, "Where's Sam?"
Guiding his pony between his two friends, Frodo answered very, very quietly, "We met a man calling himself 'Strider' who knows about Mr. Underhill AND about Mr. 'B.' Perhaps other things also. And he knows you two are with me. He wants to talk to all of us in the Prancing Pony. He's extremely dangerous looking, so I told Sam to sneak out the gate to bring our friends. I don't think this Strider knows about the ladies."
"Shouldn't we flee?" asked Merry.
"Without Sam? No, not till we're all together. And without supplies, continuing the trip will be VERY difficult. This man may be dangerous, but he didn't hurt us when he could have. So maybe talking is our safest bet till the others arrive."
"Then Jean can flatten him if he gets uppity," added Pippin.
Frodo turned his pony around and the three friends, each with a glum expression, slowly headed back toward the Prancing Pony.
"Hey, we got a hobbit on a pony starting on the causeway," called out Storm. Three heads quickly jerked to look in that direction.
After 30 seconds, Rogue spoke out, "Its Sam."
Jean checked her watch, "That was quick, not much more than an hour and a half."
"He's almost got the pony in a trot. Ohhh! He's coming right at us. Something must be up. Jean? Anything?" asked Storm.
Jean scrunched up her face for a couple of seconds in concentration. "Anxious, worry. Sorry, can't get anything more. Hobbits have hard skulls."
Storm thought for a moment, weighing the feel of the current situation, the weak points of the original plan, and guessing what would make a solid seeming fellow like Sam appear to throw caution to the wind. "Everybody up people. Let's go meet him. He must want us in Bree fast, so let's not disappoint."
The women picked up what little gear they had and left the wood they'd been hiding in for the field Sam was cutting through. In a couple hundred yards they heard Sam's voice.
"Ms. Storm, Ms. Storm. We met a hard man in the village and he knows Mr. Frodo's name. Mr. Frodo's going to talk to him at the inn. Mr. Frodo's scared a fright so he sent me to get you."
"Calm down Sam, calm down. We're already coming. Do you have clothing for us or do we go dressed as we are?" Storm shouted out.
"No, no, we got cloaks for you," Sam said. He stopped the pony and started pulling cloaks out of the packs strapped to its back and sides. The women finished trotting up to Sam and began passing cloaks out.
"Good! Hoods. I'll stay in the back though," said Storm. "Don't want to tip the skin of my hands, so to speak."
In less than a minute the women were robed and heading back toward Bree. As the X-men walked quickly next to Sam, he filled them in with more background.
"So if this Strider spoke honestly and Merry and Pippin weren't difficult to find, they are probably already at the Prancing Pony right now." stated Rogue.
"Will we have any problems at the gate?" asked Jean.
"When we went in the gatekeeper asked us our names and business. And he heckled me about leaving so soon when I left. He'll be more than a mite suspicious now with me coming back, AND with Big Folk friends. Frodo suggested bribing him."
Sam heard the two teenagers giggle, then Kitty spoke up. "Jedi mind trick time."
Rogue giggled again and in a roboticized voice said, "These are not the hobbits you're looking for."
Jean rolled her eyes and with a hard voice said, "This isn't a silly game, girls. The gatekeeper, good, bad, or indifferent, is a real person. WE don't attend the Professor's school to impose our will on others! THAT repugnant path is for the likes of Magneto."
"Sorry Jean." "Sorry Jean." Both girls replied in contrite voices.
"Alright then. Now my telepathy isn't that good. So Rogue, in case I can't work this guy, you're going to have to have your gloves off. Touch him till he feints. Understand?"
Rogue took a nervous gulp and nodded her head ever so slightly in agreement.
As they stepped on the bridge, Jean extended her mind toward the gatekeeper. She could see him slouched on a stool in front of a hovel close to the open gate. She knew she was nowhere near the Professor in telepathic strength or skill, so her confidence in the situation increased significantly as line of sight boosted her ability to target and focus. The man was on the edge of dozing, but years of gate keeping had attuned his subconscious to note any movement or sounds on the causeway. With just a soft push … no, the man's head jerked up in an effort to waken. Clouds. A soft feather mattress. The sound of a trickling brook. Jean slid a stream of calming imagery into the lobes of his cerebral cortex controlling consciousness. The man's eyes fluttered for a second and then shut. He was asleep. It had taken Jean a five second eternity to accomplish.
Passing through the gate into Bree, color came back to Rogue's face as she put her gloves back on.