(AN: Praise the latest, first number 1 Black Sabbath album and everyone hates you for not ripping it a new one. Lol, at least I have this story to fall back on [lol])

(By "Middle Earth", I didn't mean just the lands between Eriador, Rhovanion, Gondor and Mordor, but the whole of it: Arda. Yes, the lands I mentioned are Europe, but there are Haradwaith and Rhun and the lands beyond those, so yeah, it's not just Europe.)


Five is Company

Frodo, Clara and the Doctor arrived at the door of Bag End shortly, where they were then met with by two other Hobbits. Frodo introduced them as Peregrin Took, whom he had previously named as Pippin, and his servant and gardener Samwise Gamgee, also called Sam. Sam, who had gone to his gaffer's hole at Number Three Bag-Shot Row to deliver the key to Bag End, told them about the black rider. Apparently, he had come there in search of 'Baggins.' He got very little out of Sam's old gaffer than that Frodo had gone to Crickhollow, which, obviously, was no secret.

Frodo sighed at this. "I wish I had spoken to him," he said. "I'm tired of my doings being known throughout the Shire."

"That's not a good idea, Frodo," Clara said.

"Why?" Pippin asked. "Do you know where he's from?"

"I do," the Doctor said. "They're from Mordor."

"Mordor?" Frodo asked. "They're servants of the Enemy?"

"Yes," the Doctor replied. "Didn't Gandalf tell you about them?"

"He didn't say anything about black riders," Frodo replied, shaking his head.

"Perhaps you recall them by a different word," the Doctor continued. "Ringwraiths. The black riders are Ringwraiths, bound to the Dark Lord of Mordor. They seek the Ring."

Frodo seemed at first off-put by this revelation, as though he should have known better, having been told of this danger already and yet so easily forgot.

"I haven't even left the Shire and already danger is at my very doorstep!" he said at last.

"Well, of course," the Doctor said. "Danger isn't considerate about what you call safe or not."

"But...but..." sputtered Pippin. "But this is the Shire! Nothing bad has happened here since the Fell Winter of 1311! And nobody living can remember that, except for Bilbo, maybe."

"Oh, but bad things will happen," the Doctor continued. "And they will continue to happen..." He looked at Frodo.

"You're right," the Hobbit said. "We must leave, now." He turned to Sam and Pippin. "I would advise you two to stay here, as it seems that danger has befallen us before we have even left Hobbiton."

"You're never gonna win this, Frodo," Clara said.

"Now, Mr. Frodo," Sam spoke up. "We're coming with you and that's that." He looked at Pippin, who winked at him, then turned back to Frodo. "I said I'd move in with you and take care of your new house in Crickhollow, and that's what I intend to do."

"Still, though," Pippin spoke up. "You shouldn't have turned down Merry's offer to go there by cart."

"What?" Clara asked. "You mean you had the chance to get out of the Shire by the fastest route and you didn't choose it?"

"No!" Frodo exclaimed. But it was too late, she had already said too much. Strangely enough, however, the looks on the faces of the other two Hobbits were not ones of surprise. Frodo turned to the others.

"Well," Sam spoke up. "Gandalf did say take those as you can trust."

"What?" Frodo asked. "You knew about this, Pippin?"

"Did you really think you were that clever?" the younger Hobbit asked. "Always walking about muttering 'Will I ever see these valleys again?' But, if the truth be told, it wasn't you who let out the secret: it was old Bilbo."

"It was?" Frodo inquried.

"Merry can tell you all about it when we get to Crickhollow," Pippin said.

"Crickhollow?" Clara asked. "If you know already, then why waste the time to keep up appearances?"

"Clara, I really don't think this is the proper time," the Doctor interjected.

"Nor is it for them to be discussing this!" she hissed back at him. "We just saw a Black Rider riding up Bag-Shot Row, and they want to sit here and talk about some kind of conspiracy?"

"But this is important to them," the Doctor said. "What, you really didn't think Merry and Pippin just stumbled upon Frodo and Sam in a corn-field somewhere and decided to go with them?"

"Yeah, that's how it's supposed to go," Clara said. "None of this makes sense."

The Doctor bit his tongue again, as Clara herself made no sense at all. "Still, I am here. And while I'm no Elf, I might be able to keep those Black Riders at bay long enough. And just let them have their little pow-wow: that's how Hobbits are like. They'll sit on the edge of oblivion and discuss the little doings of their ancestors to the tenth degree: reminds me of you humans, sometimes." He laughed, but ruefully as the memory of Donna Noble came into his mind for a brief moment.

"Still, we should go!" Clara whispered.

"Right," the Doctor said, then turned to the Hobbits. "Okay, sorry to break up the little chat, but there are Black Riders in the Shire and we should really be going."

"Which way?" Frodo asked. "They'll be watching the East Road."

"Can't you cross country easily enough?" Clara asked.

"That would be a bad idea," Pippin interjected. "Short-cuts make long delays."

"I thought you liked short-cuts," Clara retorted. "So long as they led to mushrooms."

"Any Hobbit loves mushrooms," Pippin said, with a wistful smile for a few moments, then it fell as he remembered that they had none.

"Which way, which way?" the Doctor asked. "Excuse me? I'm the Doctor! Running is what I'm good at!"

"Still," Pippin spoke up. "We should stop at Crickhollow first, try to make sure Merry and Fatty know we've not gotten lost."

"Alright, Buckland it is, then," the Doctor said. "Follow me!"


It was well into the night when they set off, packs upon their backs and the Doctor leading the way. He put his sonic screwdriver on power-saving mode and used its light to guide them, but kept it dim at Frodo's insistence. Though the Doctor and Clara were the ones at the head, they would have to pause and wait for the shorter strides of the Hobbits following on behind them. So they went for many, many long hours into darkness with the Doctor refusing to pause for a halt.

"It's still many miles to the Ferry," Pippin said. "We'll never reach Crickhollow before morning."

"Yes," the Doctor said. "But we will be much farther along our way if we don't pause and just keep running."

"I don't like the sound of that," Pippin commented ruefully.

"I could go on a bit more," Sam stated. "I can carry gear for two to make the goings faster."

"I think I agree with Pippin," Clara uncharacteristically groaned.

The Doctor halted, then walked over to where Clara was at the back of the group. She had gone from striding next to him to walking on behind Pippin, who was at the rear. She also was half-way bent over, her hand on her lower abdomen just above her navel.

"Clara?" the Doctor asked. "What's wrong? You've never been like this."

"I wish I could say that's true," she replied venomously.

"What was that for?" he asked, taken aback.

"Oh, what do you know?" she replied. "You're a bloke, you don't have to deal with this."

"What's happening?" Pippin asked.

"Lady stuff," the Doctor said to Pippin. "Happens once a month." He turned back to Clara. "Listen, it's okay. We'll rest for the night."

"Finally!" Pippin exclaimed.

"I don't want to put anyone in danger," Clara groaned as she sat down, throwing her palms against her face.

"It's alright," the Doctor said in almost a whisper. "You and your biological functions, you're so brave and so strong. These things happen, we just have to adapt."

"Please, don't coddle me, Doctor," Clara retorted. "It's very demeaning."

"Oh, sorry," the Doctor replied, seeming a little taken back. Around him, he saw the Hobbits looking for places to sleep for the night. He didn't need to sleep so, naturally, he elected himself to be the first watch. For a moment, his thoughts wandered to his previous companions and when they had first done their 'lady stuff' while traveling with him. Grace Holloway and Martha Jones were both doctors and so took it more in-stride, though it did make running all the more difficult. With Rose it had happened in 14th century London during a jousting tourney which he had taken her to witness. It was quite an ordeal, since not only did they have to find means to keep her from spoiling her clothes, but doing so in Medieval London with the most unsanitary of cloth available. Amy and Donna both got more irate, but it was worse: for Amy, she usually had Rory with her to diffuse some of her frustration out on. When it hit Donna, she was on Jupiter-1, a cramped observation post orbiting the gas giant Jupiter, and there was literally nowhere to go (the TARDIS had mysteriously disappeared). But Clara...

Another layer was added to the mystery that was Clara. The Doctor looked upon her for a moment, as she was trying to curl up into a semi-comfortable position for sleep. She always seemed on top of every situation in which she had landed. From what he had learned about her history - or at least the history of the Clara Oswald in whose company he now stood - she had 'blown into this world on a leaf', yet sometimes she seemed more sturdy and grounded than he, the Doctor. Even faced with something that would have made even the staunchest of his companions beg for a halt, she seemed unwilling to accept his help. Was it pride? Pride he could understand: humans could be so proud sometimes, arrogant even. They believed, falsely, that the universe revolved around them and, truthfully, that their ideas of how the universe began were true. But she wasn't arrogant, and proud? Well, she certainly didn't strike him as proud.

These and many other thoughts buzzed through the Doctor's mind as he paced the night vigil of the Hobbits and the Impossible Girl. No sound was heard save the song of birds and the howling of animals in the distance.


In the morning, the Doctor woke them all up and told them to set out without washing up or having anything to eat. Pippin complained, but not overmuch. Once everyone was up, they went on their way. The going was much slower than before and it seemed that if they were being pursued, it would not take much for the Black Riders to catch up to them.

"It's hard to believe," Frodo stated. "All of this happening in our Shire, within a stone's throw, it seems, from Hobbiton!"

"This would not be a problem," Clara said. "If the TARDIS hadn't shut itself up like it did."

"Don't worry, though," the Doctor replied. "We've been through worse."

"Oh, really?" she asked. "How worse?"

"Well," the Doctor began. "There was this one time I thought I had lost her for good. I was on this planet hovering inside a black hole's event horizon."

"How is that possible?" Clara asked. "I mean, I know it's been a long time since uni, but I'm pretty sure that's impossible."

"Oh, it is," the Doctor continued, fighting the urge to make a remark about Clara. "But there was..."

"What, Doctor?" Clara asked.

"Something there," the Doctor replied. "It called itself the Beast."

She laughed. "You're taking the mickey out of me, aren't you?"

"I wish I were," the Doctor said, half to himself than to her. He then turned about, a smile on his face. "Still, it doesn't matter. I cast the Beast into the black hole and the TARDIS was safe and sound. I'm sure she'll come around at the right moment, she always does."

"If you say so, Doctor," Clara replied, shaking her head. She then sighed. "How much farther is it, to this...uh, Crickhollow?"

"At least one more night's rest," the Doctor said. "Then we should arrive at the Ferry by nightfall and arrive late in Buckland."

"The ferry?" Clara asked. "Buckleberry Ferry, right?"

"You know of the ferry?" Pippin asked.

"Of course!" she exclaimed.

"Still," Frodo spoke up. "If what you have said, Doctor, is true, and those Black Riders are indeed servants of the Enemy, then we're going far too slow."

"Yeah?" Clara retorted. "You try running with blood pouring out of your..."

"I have an idea!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Why don't we sing, eh? A good song helps to pass the time."

"You sing?" Clara asked.

"Well, sometimes," the Doctor admitted. "I used to play a mean recorder once." He clapped his hands. "Well? Come on, then. Somebody start something!"

"I know a bit from 'The Snowman'," Clara said. "My mum used to sing it to me, although it's been a long time since anyone's asked for it."

"What about you, hmm?" the Doctor asked, turning to the Hobbits. "Any old poems or rhymes you know?"

"Quite a few, actually!" Frodo laughed. "Dear Uncle Bilbo wrote quite a few in his time, or adapted old melodies with a few bits of verse of his own."

The Hobbits struck up a tune that Bilbo had composed about walking and home and bed. They traded verses between each other while Clara and the Doctor walked on along, with the Timelord humming along with them.

"Shh!" Clara hushed. "I think something's following us!"

Just then, they heard the sound of hooves along the East Road.

"Hide!" the Doctor shouted. "They're coming!"

"Who's coming?" Pippin asked.

"Black Riders!" the Doctor shouted.

The three Hobbits ran off the road to the right hand and hid behind the bole of a tree. Clara ran after them but found that she, being a normal-sized human, couldn't possibly squeeze in next to them. The Doctor waved for her to hide, at which she ducked behind a tree and tried to make herself as scarce as possible. Back on the road, the Doctor ducked behind a nearby tree on the opposite side, so thin he was that he could hide easily. He thought whimsically back to his fourth incarnation, all those fuzzy scarves would have made hiding in a forest behind a tree nigh impossible.

True to the Doctor's statement, the horseman that rode up the road towards them was a Black Rider. Peering out from behind the tree, the Doctor saw the black shape stooping in its saddle and began sniffing. Very carefully, the Doctor took his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and turned the output as high as he could. His hands were trembling as he aimed the sonic screwdriver. His beady eyes looked down at his shaking hands in amazement. He had not been this fearful since he had been trapped in the pocket universe: he thought that, after the Time War, he was incapable of fear. And yet he was afraid.

"Why am I afraid?" he asked himself.

Suddenly, his right hand slapped himself across the chin and he got a stronger grip on his fear. He pressed the sonic screwdriver and the noise was heard. An unearthly screech was heard and the Doctor heard horse-hooves plodding through the thick autumn leaves near him. Slowly, he inched his way around the side of the tree and tried to keep as much distance from himself and the oncoming Black Rider as possible.

There was another loud screech, and then the sound of hooves galloping away. Once the sound became impossible for even the Doctor to perceive, he walked out from behind the tree and turned to where the other hobbits had hidden.

"Alright, you can come out now!" he announced. One by one they appeared, first Pippin, then Frodo and Sam, with Clara being the last one out.

"That was a little scary," Clara stated in a voice that didn't sound scared at all. "We should get out of here now." She turned to Pippin. "Which way is the ferry?"

"Oh, we still have some miles to go," the young hobbit said. "It's unlikely we'll reach it before tomorrow evening."

"That's not fast enough," Clara said, then turned to the Doctor. "Come on, chin-boy. I'll race you until dusk."

"But what about..." the Doctor began, but Clara had already set off on a running start. With a rolling of his eyes and a few moments to adjust his bow-tie, he set off after her, with the hobbits taking up the rear with quizzical looks on their faces. Obviously they saw the need of haste, yet none of them were in any condition to be running.


When at last the Doctor caught up with Clara, they were a long way down the road and the night was swiftly settling in upon them. She was leaning against a tree, panting and breathing heavily. Behind came the hobbits, with the Doctor, seemingly un-phased by the long run with his bicardiac system, looking first at Clara and then suspiciously at the surroundings.

"What's wrong, Doctor?" Frodo panted.

"We're not alone," he said.

Suddenly there was a loud screech and, as the hobbits looked around to see what it was, the Doctor, however, removed his sonic screwdriver. One by one the hobbits gathered about the Doctor as they could hear something rustling in the bushes. It was not the sound of hooves, though, but as though something were walking towards them.

"Just stay behind me," the Doctor whispered, then turned to the oncoming beast. "Alright, Khamul, that's as close as you're going to get!"

There was a loud screech from the shadow-clad figure, but if the Doctor moved, it was impossible to discern.

"Yes, that's right," he replied. "Someone remembers your name. I don't know if your master, the Dark Lord of Mordor, is aware of my names. The Oncoming Storm, for one. What you seek is not here, and if it were, I wouldn't let you have it."

"Surrender the Ring!" the Black Rider hissed in a cold voice that stabbed all like knives of poisoned ice.

"Ring, what ring?" the Doctor asked.

"You lie!" the Black Rider returned, drawing out a sword.

"Doctor, what's going on?" Clara asked, her voice betraying something like fear for the first time since the Doctor had met her - any incarnation of her. "This didn't happen!"

"What do you mean 'didn't happen?'" Frodo asked.

"Enough talk!" hissed the shade in the dark.

"This is your last warning!" the Doctor threatened. "I've done some horrible things, things that would make me as dangerous as your little master. Trust me, Khamul, you don't want to be my enemy."


(AN: So I spent a good amount of time today, besides unsuccessfully looking for work, pondering on what my next move would be in this story. I'm pleased to say that I came up with something interesting as well as valid.)

(Thank you for the reviews. I'll try to get to as many of the points as you mentioned. As for "hobbit", that seems like a proper noun and we want "Elves" and "Dwarves" and especially "Humans" capitalized, so why not?)

(And yay for the cliff-hangar!)