Chapter 3
It was another day of travel for the two young halfling men and the human woman. In their trek, the three covered a good deal of ground and fairly quickly despite the heavy packs they carried. While they were travelling in Farmer Maggot's cornfield, Frodo and Sierra had gotten slightly ahead of Sam and slipped out of sight upon rounding a corner in the tall, leafy produce.
"Mister Frodo?" Sierra heard Sam a little ways off, "Frodo? Frodo?!" Quickly the two rounded a corner in the path of the cornfield and Sam sighed heavily in relief. "I thought I'd lost you…"
"What are you talking about?" Frodo asked innocently.
"It's just somethin' Gandalf said." Sam admitted, catching Sierra's attention. She had missed the hobbits being assigned their mission, and judged whatever Sam said about Gandalf to be important.
"What did he say?" Frodo prompted gently.
"'Don' you lose him, Samwise Gamgee.' An' I don' mean to." Sierra quietly pocketed the words for herself. She was part of this adventure now and Frodo was the key to it all. If keeping him safe and keeping an eye on him is Sam's charge, Sierra would choose to take it on as her task as well as Sam's.
"Sam, we're still in The Shire. What could possibly happen?" Frodo asked.
"He's right, Frodo." Sierra interjected, "We can't take this mission lightly, even while we're still in-" but she was interrupted when two figures came crashing through the corn and knocked over both Sam and Frodo. Taking a startled step back, Sierra realized she recognized the two figures.
"Frodo!" Pippin said as he got up off the hobbit, "Merry, it's Frodo Baggins!"
"Hello Frodo!" Merry greeted while Sam roughly shoved him and Pippin away from his friend.
"Get off him!" he said, "Are you alright, Frodo?" He pulled the black-haired hobbit up off the ground and helped dust him off.
"What's the meaning of this?" Sierra asked as Merry and Pippin proceeded to collect their loot: cabbages, carrots, and other herbs and greenery. They handed the produce to Sam.
"You've been into Farmer Maggot's crop!" Sam accused. Sierra turned when she heard the close, loud barks of a dog coming from the right. When they all turned and spied the farmer's scythe and heard him shouting, it was silently agreed that they'd all run as far and as fast away as they could from the angry hobbit. Frodo, Merry, and Pippin ran first while Sam turned again to see how far the farmer was.
"Run Sam!" Sierra half whispered as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him the way the others had gone, causing him to drop the produce and stagger as fast as he could after them. Sierra managed to stop herself short enough to keep from colliding with the three hobbits ahead of her, but Sam was not to be easily stopped and barreled into them from behind, Sierra remaining on the steep hill while the others tumbled down it. She glanced back for a second and then proceeded to skid down the hill after the halflings. She ended up landing on the road with far more grace than the males. Three of them were whispering and talking over a mound of mushrooms, but Frodo stood in the road, a peculiar look on his face.
"Frodo?" Sierra asked cautiously as she approached him, "You okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine…but…" he looked around nervously, "I think we should get off the road." Suddenly a piercing screech had Frodo's head turned towards the darker direction of the road and a cold breeze stirred the leaves at their feet.
"Frodo…" Sierra was starting to worry now.
"Get off the road! Quick!" No one contested Frodo's panicked command and they all rounded a tree on the side of the road, tucking themselves deep under the outcrop of roots. Sierra didn't quite fit with the four hobbits and hurried to a similar tree just a little further down the road. "Sierra!"
"Stay there!" She commanded, "Hide! Don't let them see you!" And with that she swung under the overhang of roots and pulled her knives from her belt, just in case. Suddenly, the forest was put in a suffocating silence and the five huddled in their hiding places, stilling their breath and waiting. The whole environment seemed to chill and become dark in an instant. It seemed like cursed magic when a black as night horse and his matching rider arrived down the path. Sierra watched, terrified, as the armored and cloaked rider paused at the hobbits' hiding place. 'Don't find them. Don't see them. Please don't see them.' The clang of metal boots landing on the road made her heart and the hearts of the hobbits leap in further terror. Sierra watched as the figure hunched over the roots and sniffed around, as if sensing the hobbits' presence, or rather, the thing that Frodo was protecting.
After a minute, one of the hobbits flung some gear around the other side of the tree, falsely alerting the black being and causing it to shriek and take off that way. When the hobbits ran down the hill, Sierra was quick to follow, her weapons quickly sheathed and her feet flying to catch up to her small companions. The group paused a short time later at the bottom of a hill to catch their breath.
"What was that?" Merry asked while he and Pippin rested on the ground. Sam was panting with his hands on his knees, Sierra against a tree, and Frodo seemed far more disturbed for the experience. Then Sierra saw it, the cursed gold ring Frodo was telling her about. It rested in his hand innocently, but Sierra could feel the darkness the ring held; it oozed evil.
Sierra questioned whether or not she wanted to run back to Bag End and hide.
The five had been fleeing for what felt and truly had been hours. They were exhausted, but every scream from their ghoulish pursuer echoed through the wood and spurred them on to their destination. More than once they stumbled on bushes, rocks, and tree roots, but they were hell bent on escape and the safety the town of Bree promised them. But every time they thought they'd escaped the rider, it would appear before them, just as threatening as before. They spotted a small dock with a ferry attached; it wasn't the best escape, but it could buy them time. Taking the chance to distract the rider, Frodo cried out and ran around him and Sierra swiped her blades, hoping to spook the horse, while Merry, Pippin, and Sam freed the boat. When the boat was released, Sierra helped them aboard, leaped the short distance easily and helped catch Frodo when he made a desperate leap onto the vessel, and finally they could breathe in their heap on the ferry.
"He would topple us if he jumped." Sierra muttered.
"What'd…you say?" Sam asked, breathless.
"The boat. If he tried to jump on and catch us, he'd send us and himself into the water." Sierra clarified.
"How far to the nearest crossing?" Frodo asked, still panicked.
"Brandywine Bridge." Pippin answered, taking the rudder of the boat, "Twenty miles." Twenty miles was a long way to ride and by the looks of the two riders who joined the troupe's pursuer, the shadowy figures were bent on getting to the bridge as fast as they could. Bree had to be close, needed to be close.
Carefully, quietly, and with their dark hoods drawn up to hide their faces, the four hobbits and human made their way from the boat stop, up the bank, and into the cover of the forest. It was by this time that the sky opened up on them and added slick, wet conditions to the challenge of getting to Bree. Eventually, the five all made it to a small building on a road, the gateway into Bree.
"Come on." Frodo murmured, leading everyone across the road and to the door. Sierra watched the road carefully while Frodo knocked firmly on the wooden surface. A panel towards the top of the door opened and an old, lightly-wrinkled face peered out. The door shut and a lower panel halfway down the door opened, again revealing the same face.
"Wha' da ya want?" The person asked.
"We're heading for the Prancing Pony." Frodo responded, raising his voice to be heard over the rain. The panel shut and they heard a latch being undone. Then the whole door opened and the figure, Sierra couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, held out a lantern to get a better look at the visitors.
"'Obbits!" they remarked, "Four 'obbits! An' a girl too!" Sierra huffed lightly, but kept her eyes focused on the roadway. "What's more, out o' the Shire are ya! What business brings ya ta Bree?"
"We wish to stay at the inn." Frodo answered, "Our business is our own." The person seemed satisfied with the answer and gave a curt nod.
"Awright young sir, I mean' no offense." the person, Sierra decided it was a man, turned and allowed all five into the doorway, "It's my job to ask questions aftuh nightfaw. There's talk of strange folk abroad. Can' be too careful." He closed the door after Sierra passed through, the last of the five, and they all waded through the muggy and muddy town of Bree. There were men on the sides of the road, most of them filthy, all of them wet, and some more than a little grabby when Sierra got too close. Eventually they came upon a wooden sign featuring a rearing horse that read "The Prancing Pony".
Finally, they'd made it. And Gandalf was waiting for them.
Inside was far more crowded than outside, but it was also far more pleasant by being warm, mostly dry if you excuse the puddles of ale, and sheltered. The four hobbits pulled down their hoods, excited to finally have a rest from the black riders chasing them, but Sierra kept her hood up, preferring to keep a shield between herself and the grabbing hands of drunken men. It seemed to her that men didn't differ much from world to world when alcohol got involved.
"Excuse me. Excuse me!" Frodo asked at the ledger at the bar's opening. He went unnoticed, as he was too short to look over the bar and address the man directly.
"Let me try." Sierra moved in front of the group and lightly banged her hand on the counter, "Excuse me, barkeep." Being taller, though only by one and a half feet or so, Sierra was noticed quickly and the barman wandered over.
"Good evenin' lass…oh! And little masters. What can I do for you?" The barman greeted, noticing the four hobbits in Sierra's company. He was remarkably pleasant compared to all the other men they'd seen in Bree. "If you're lookin' for accomodation, we got some nice, cozy 'obbit-sized rooms available. Always proud to cater to little folk." Suddenly his pleasantness seemed sarcastic to Sierra.
"I do hope you are sincere, barman." Sierra said with a narrowed glare, immediately getting the barkeep's attention again, "My friends and I have had a trying time reaching Bree."
"Oh yes, yes, don't you worry lass." The apparently genuine barman assured her, again turning towards Frodo, "We'll get you all set up right as rain. Now, what can I help you with mister…"
"Underhill. My name's Underhill." Frodo lied; it was a good idea to use fake names. Sierra quickly plotted using her mother's full maiden name if she needed to. The barman seemed unsure. "We're friends of Gandalf the Gray, can you tell him we've arrived?" That was pushing it, and Sierra's glance switched between Frodo and the barkeep cautiously.
"Gandalf?" The barman puzzled, "…Gandalf?" Then Frodo's desperate look seemed to spark a memory, "Oh yes! I remember! Elderly chap, big gray beard, pointy hat." Frodo nodded sincerely with a small smile. "Not seen 'im for six months." Frodo's smile disappeared and Sierra flexed her hidden hand in and out of a tight fist to keep her agitation and worry from her face. The four hobbits convened and Sierra sighed heavily and glanced around the crowded room. From her vantage point, she could scan much of the bar and didn't trust any of the men she could see, especially the man hiding in the dark corner booth. "I uh, I take it you all were plannin' to meet 'im here?" The barman asked, concerned.
"Yes, we were." Sierra answered, "He promised to meet us."
"Perhaps he got held up 'long the way." The man said, "Been talk of strange men riding on black horses. Lots o' folk are shaken up cause o' them." Then he noticed the despondent faces on the hobbits. "'ey now, no need to be upset. I'm sure your Gandalf will turn up. Tell you what, I'll set you all up with some food and drink and let you mull over things, eh? How's that sound?"
"Thank you sir," Sierra started, "We'd be glad for time to eat and rest." Gently, she herded the hobbits into the bar and the man led them to an open table. Merry, Pippin, and the bags occupied one side and Frodo, Sam, and Sierra occupied the other. It felt nice to get the weight off their backs, but they still couldn't shake their unease. Where was Gandalf? Who was chasing them? Why was that stranger staring at them? Sierra stared at the man in the corner and could swear she'd seen the white of his eyes glitter from under his hood. If she were completely honest, the man scared the living daylights out of her, almost as much as the riders did. Frodo stopped the barkeep as he passed and asked him the question Sam and Sierra both pondered.
"Excuse me," the man knelt down to better hear Frodo, "That man in the corner, who is he?" the man's head turned to regard the stranger and then turned back to Frodo before quietly answering.
"He's one o' them rangers." The barman said, "Dangerous folk, they are, roamin' the wilds. What his real name is, I never 'eard, but 'round here, he's known as Strider." Strider. A strange and dangerous man who'd done nothing but sit and watch the party of five since they'd arrived. It gave Sierra the shivers. The four at the table consisted of Merry, Frodo, Sam, and Sierra while Pippin had gone to collect a pint of ale from the bar while Merry nursed his own. Suddenly, their ears perk when they hear the loud-mouthed hobbit of their group speak behind them.
"Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins! He's over there." silently, Sierra cursed Pippin's wide open gob and Frodo's face paled when Pippin indicated his location with the pint cup. "Frodo Baggins. He's my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side, and I-" Frodo then immediately stood and hurried to get his friend. Sierra rose immediately after and hurried to keep an eye on her friend. Frodo grabbed Pippin's arm, to shut him up, but was interrupted when he misstepped over a stranger's foot and fell backward. Everything seemed to slow as Sierra watched Frodo fall and a peculiar golden glint fly through the air and land squarely on Frodo's finger. Like Bilbo Baggins, Frodo had instantly disappeared.
'Oh no.' Sierra thought, panic rising in her as the bar erupted into whispers and murmurs. She searched frantically for him, cursing Pippin again and again for his never-ending words and cursing Frodo for not having safely pocketed the ring. She looked around in a panic, the bargoers moving around just as frantically, and suddenly saw the stranger from the corner hunching over Frodo his hand clenched in the hobbit's shirt fabric. She hurried over as fast as she could but the man called Strider had forced Frodo upstairs into one of the rooms. She slammed open the door and found the stranger near the window, his hood finally down and Frodo nearer to the door. "Frodo!" Her shout caught Strider's and Frodo's attention and Frodo assured her he was alright.
"Your champion, mister 'Underhill'?" He asked. Sierra finally got a good look at Strider. He was rugged and worn from travel, his beard had gone unshaven for a few days, his hair was dark and wavy but looked almost caked with sweat, and his eyes belied a weariness Sierra was beginning to feel after their long and trying day. But he carried himself casually and with confidence, he knew she was no threat to him and she knew he was a bigger threat than he portrayed.
"No, my friend." Frodo answered, holding his ground. Sierra stood strong beside him, her hands itching to take hold of her knives. "Who are you?"
"Are you frightened?" The man asked condescendingly. Sierra scowled from under her hood.
"Yes." Frodo answered honestly after a pause.
"Not nearly frightened enough." Strider remarked, "I know what hunts you."
"What are they, then?" Sierra asked. Strider seemed about to answer, but then the three other hobbits stormed in, bearing makeshift weapons of furniture and candlesticks and Sam with his fists. Strider drew a long sword, prepared to face a far more threatening foe than three hobbits.
"Let him go! Or I'll have you, long shanks!" Sierra was glad they so bravely came to Frodo's defense, but silently prayed they'd choose the carving and dining knives from the table next time around.
"You have a stout heart, little hobbit." Strider commented, placing his sword back in its sheath. "But that won't save you. You can no longer wait for your wizard, Frodo. They're coming." Sierra was scared now for a different reason. This man seemed to be on their side, but what could he do against the black riders? How did he intend to help the hobbits and woman?
Wednesday is update day. Tune in next week for a new chapter.
Please feel free to leave a comment and know that I love constructive criticism.
Oh and I've noticed that every now and again I will goof and misspell something. If you spot one that I missed, please let me know in a private message with the error and exactly where you found it and I will fix the error. This story is entirely a solo project, with no proofreader to check any mistakes I might make, so accidents are bound to happen.