The daylight was thinning, the sun setting a golden light in the rosy sky.
The once crowded streets of Bree was thinning, littered with only a few women in dull colored dresses and men in dirty and worn tunics. Children raced down the cobbled road, bare feet slapping on stone as they vanished inside quickly locked doors.
A sinister feel hung on the air, echoing with fear and dread.
I followed the street, keeping my eyes down and head low. I kept my hood up around my face, my dark auburn hair that I had tucked in so carelessly falling out in tangles.
The tavern on the side was the only open door, filled with the drunken voices of those who preferred to drink away their lost hope. Above the doorway read; The Prancing Pony.
With a quick glance over my shoulder, I pushed inside, wrinkling my nose instantly at the foul stench.
"I need a room," I said, approaching the front counter. A greasy looking man leaned forward in his chair and raised a thick eyebrow, glowering slightly.
"Only got few left. You're lucky, lass."
I didn't answer, but pushed over the coins, taking the offered key. Shoving it into my cloak, I carefully scanned the room, looking for a more hidden spot to get dinner.
Slipping into the corner, I quietly ordered my food and sat back against the wall to wait, keeping my eyes alert on the room.
Many of the room was already drunk, both men and women hooting with laughter. I pulled my hood farther around my face and slouched lower.
Then my eyes locked on another's. His glazed eyes brightened and he smirked, pushing himself up and stumbling over to where I sat. Tensing, I broke my gaze to the table, my hand creeping into my cloak and wrapping around the hilt of my dagger.
"Well lass..." He broke off in a look of confusion, then his face brightened again. "La-lass. Yer a little young to be on yer own." He sat heavily in the booth and I sat up straighter, pressing my back against the wall.
"I can handle myself."
He grinned, revealing rows of browning teeth. "Why you hiding under the wretched cloak? Look like a male if not for those... eyess." He slurred over the word, leaning forward slightly.
My heart leaped into my throat and I drew my dagger, placing it on the table in the place between us. The drunk froze and eyed the blade, going instantly wary. I clenched my jaw, staring hard at the man. "I said I can handle myself."
The man's eyes narrowed and he leaned back, pushing himself up and taking a stumbling step back. "You better watch yerself girl. Dark days, it is."
I didn't answer, watching as he glared one more time and then turned, stumbling back to his friends.
Slowly I took a breath, releasing the grip on my dagger and leaning my head against the wall and closing my eyes.
Just then another figure silhouetted over my table. Snatching my blade again, my eyes flew open.
But it wasn't the drunk.
An old man leaned on a tall staff, hovering over where I sat. His blue eyes were sharp, but tired looking. I noticed he had the strangest pointy hat and a long gray beard that fell all the way down his chest.
"Would you mind if I sat?" His voice was low and scratchy. "My bones aren't what they used to be, I haven't had a good rest in days."
"Um, sure." The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them and the old man smiled, sitting down across from me.
A thick woman bustled over at that moment, carrying with her a plate of steaming food. She slid it at my place and the old man's eyes fell on the meal. He grabbed her arm before she could leave, nodding at the plate. "I'll have the same."
She nodded and bustled off, leaving me staring wordlessly at the man.
"My name is Gandalf." The old man said, turning his eyes to mine. I blushed, dropping my gaze. "Erm... Aria."
"Yes."
I blinked in shock, but he just smiled pleasantly.
Then he reaching into his cloak and searched around, finally pulling out a long, wooden pipe and lighting the end. Humming softly to himself, he puffed on the top, then let loose a circle of smoke.
I was starting to wish the old man would leave, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. My fingers automatically started playing with the strands of my hair, twisting nervously at the dark red ends.
"You are wary."
I looked up, unsure for a second what to say. "Uh. Yes?"
Gandalf nodded, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. "At first I too was uncertain. But no, now it is very clear. You are most certainly the fourth companion."
I didn't know what to say; the old man was speaking in riddles. For a second I wondered if he was possibly drunk himself. Or perhaps it was something in his pipe.
"I'm sorry," I said carefully, keeping a hesitant eye on the stranger. "But have we met?"
Gandalf raised a thick eyebrow, removing his pipe. "Why of course not. What an absurd question."
I stared, taken aback. But before I could say anything, the barmaid hurried back over, setting Gandalf's plate down at the table. He smiled and thanked her, then without a moment's hesitation, began to eat.
I looked from the old man to my plate, then around the room, weighing the option of attempting break for it.
Then the smell of warm bread met my nose and my stomach rumbled loudly. Hesitantly, I also began to eat, keeping my dagger next to my hand and a wary eye on the stranger.
Presently Gandalf slowed, taking a long drink from his tankard. Then he fixed his attention once more on where I sat.
I paused mid-bite, then regretfully set down my chunk of bread, looking up at the old man.
"I have heard rumor of a female Ranger. One who wanders of this side of the mountains, both nameless and faceless." Gandalf stated, a curiosity shining in his eyes. "That is you, is it not?"
I instinctively tensed; how could the stranger possibly know who I was? "I'm sorry, but who exactly are you?"
Gandalf frowned, looking at me with such incredulity, it seemed as if I had what a rock was, not an actual, real question. "I am Gandalf. You are Aria. We have been over this."
For a second I wanted to laugh. Or maybe scream.
The old man was definitely crazy, all doubts I had earlier had vanished, replaced by that certainty.
"You know what," I stumbled over the words, pushing away my plate. "I actually really need to go. It was nice meeting you... and everything."
I slipped my dagger into its sheath under my cloak, pushing myself up. Gandalf didn't answer, but his gaze remained fixed on mine, an intensity burning in his blue eyes.
Then he spoke, voice so low that I could barely hear what he said.
"You cannot escape fate. It has already begun."
My heart leaped into my throat and I whirled around, rushing through the crowd toward the rooms. On the first step, I paused, slowly turning and looking back at the table.
Gandalf was gone.
A shiver ran up my spine and I swallowed hard. Breaking my eyes from where the old man had sat, I hurried up the stairs, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart.
I only knew one thing; I would not be seeing the old man again. Not if I could help it.
But little did I understand, I never had a choice.
