Sorry for the wait, life got in the way a bit. Thanks for Reviewing, following and favouriting

Also I did some research - it was normal for families to share one room in medieval times apparently, privacy wasn't as huge of an issue - but Bilbo's rather rich so to Frodo it would seem a bit worse, it wasn't my intention for him to come across as a snob, he's just not used to well-loved possessions

I Own Nothing

Still in Frodo's PoV, but if you'd like to guess the bit where magic is used feel free . . .

Thank you alexma for telling me how to fix the format issues the last draft had!

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A Meeting in Bree, Part 2

Initial distrust aside, it was eventually possible for the ranger and the barman to convince Frodo that it was best for the four companions to use the hobbit-sized room as a decoy, and to instead rest that night at Harry's home.

"You may not have put on the ring – that would've been much worse," Stider had argued "but Bill Ferny is a tricky sly sort. He's been on the lookout for hobbits passing through and he scurried off earlier – he could be telling anyone anything from the second he left the pub

"But he doesn't even have proof-" Sam had cut in.

"In situations such as this one, lack of proof either on either can make things even worse – desperation forces rashness, and believe me any minions of Sauron's will be desperate slaves to his will." Harry answered with a grimness Frodo wouldn't have attached to the man who'd stopped his fall earlier.

Frodo suspected a slightly tipsy Pippin was convinced by his stomach at the mention of there being provisions (food) for a journey without the Grey Wizard ready there. It was probably a good thing the Ringbearer had a bit more self-restraint than his intoxicated cousin, but it did slow negotiations down a bit. Said negotiations had taken place in the hobbits room away from prying eyes and ears.

Ultimately the Prancing Pony's owner, Butterbur, convinced him to trust the strangers, however unwittingly – he gave Frodo a six month old letter from Gandalf. Strider recited the poem which accompanied his true name. Harry announced his favourite piece of clothing were socks. The answers were swift; with no trace of deceit implied by the manner they were given. Although, he couldn't help being somewhat thrown off balance upon hearing such a decidedly wistful tone in a conversation about socks.

Socks were strange things, Frodo thought, why did big folk need to wear what seemed like a hat for their feet year round? - And boots as well?! He had enough good sense inside him not to waste time babbling at that particular moment in time to actually bring this up. Strider probably wouldn't like it, Frodo reflected, he had said they were short on time. He need not have bothered. A tipsy Merry pondering the usefulness of socks – and stockings and boots and slippers - also slowed down negotiations a bit.

The Ranger of the North distracted Merry by asking how Pippin and his self had cause near chaos at Bilbo's one-hundred and eleventh's birthday party. Frodo was startled by the stranger's foreknowledge of the twos' past bouts of mischief, as well as offended on their behalf at the perceived lack of trust towards his own cousins. This too slowed down negotiations.

He was mollified by the reminder the duo had only been told to pick up two hobbits by Gandalf and therefore had to be sure of any additions that had discovered such secret information. Heat rose to his face at the subtle rebuke. Rangers specialized in stealth. Gandalf had explicitly stressed what was at stake if the truth should come out, and here he hadn't managed to leave the Shire undetected.

Later, it occurred to him that Strider had cut in with the question just to stop his cousins' inane babbling.

Sam still had his doubts. These he muttered loudly as they gathered their belongings. Bound by his word to stand by Mr. Frodo, he reluctantly followed the group the short way to the new accommodations for the night.

Opposite the Inn, was a side street filled with two-story buildings, this one a little less grand than what the hobbits had encountered so far in Bree. A street where the town inhabitants to actually live, rather than a place to attract travellers just passing through. The effect of white paint peeling here and there, combined with the windows that were a little bit smeared with grime, made it less eye-catching than the busier pub street. There was nothing that drew attention of passerby's to the house that Strider led them too. In fact, the whole building seemed to drift into obscurity

Entering through an equally ordinary door held half-open by Strider, Frodo spared a half second of hesitation to examine the narrow hallway. His first impression was that it was cleaner then he'd expected after judging the exterior, but not much else impressed him; it all looked a little bit lonely. Unlike Bag-End where he had spent most of his life, neither drawings nor maps adorned the walls and no knick-knacks decorated the sideboard, which was roughly crafted and held untouched post. It was cold too. It did not feel particularly safer than the Inn. All in all, he couldn't deny preferring the Prancing Pony – not that he was so incredibly rude as to say this aloud.

A glance over his right shoulder showed Harry giving Merry and Pippin a light shove over the threshold in order to manage securing the front door shut behind them.

"Quickly now" Strider commanded quietly, as he unlocked a door off to the left of the entryway. Frodo wondered why he had the key to Harry's house.

The hobbits scrambled inside to follow Strider up through a door leading to an equally shabby staircase. Oddly, the steps didn't creak. When they were halfway up a loud click followed by a thud broke the silence as the second door was locked behind them.

"We just rent out the one room up these stairs," Harry said to no one in particular "an old widow owns the whole building, she's got the first floor rooms to herself – can't manage the stairs, bless her – and the rest is filled with tenants. None of them ever come up here though, won't even know your here."

The green eyed man's chatter came to an end as he casually weaved his way to the front of the group in order to knock on the third door in a broken rhythm. Frodo had to raise an eyebrow at yet another additional security measure. Maybe this place was safer . . .

"The three of them call it 'Morse Code'" Strider said in reaction to the bafflement of the four.

Barely an instant after the final tap, the door swung open to reveal a young woman with big brown eyes. Frodo assumed she was one of the people Gandalf's letter had referred to as Harry's "roommates".

"Has Gand-" the immediate question died in her mouth as she surveyed the group.

"Still no sign of him" Strider confirmed in a grim voice.

Frodo couldn't deny himself a private sigh of relief at the honest concern in Strider and the woman's tone. He felt a stab of warmth watching them worry over his old friend's absence so genuinely.

Visibly steeling her shoulders, she schooled her expression and looked to the hobbits.

"Well, come in and sit down then, I expect you'll be tired after coming so far from home. Long journeys have a way of catching up to you once you reach your destination. Please try to be quiet; Ron's asleep in the other room. I'm Hermione Granger by the way. I expect two of you are Frodo and Samwise, but I'm afraid we weren't expecting anyone else" She said, curiously examining the hobbits as they entered.

Still the tipsiest hobbit, Pippin immediately straightened to full height at the implied enquiry.

"Peregrin Took, at your service, Miss Hermione" he bowed lightly "but everyone calls me Pippin."

"Meridoc Brandybuck, also at your service, Miss Hermione" not one to be outshone, he also bowed "everyone calls me Merry"

"Hermione offered the pair an amused smile, one that wasn't in anyway mocking of their clumsy show of manners, which increased Frodo's good impression of the young women.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance" She answered with small curtsy of her own before turning to the quieter hobbits.

After Sam's shy introduction of himself, he seemed embarrassed to hear himself excitedly blurt out "you almost look like an elf miss!" Hermione laughed and said she was a little too short to be an elf. Indeed, Frodo observed she was only around five foot six by his estimate – though his measure might be off when it came to big folk.

"Satisfied that Miss Hermione didn't seem shocked or irritated upon suddenly finding herself the host of four hobbits for the evening, Frodo looked away from her to subtly survey the room. He idly noted Harry slowly relocking the door, having held it open for his five guests to pass. Actually, was Strider a guest? The man in question seemed rather at home, with his hood down again and already sprawled into a battered, but cushioned armchair. Not completely off guard, however, the seat was in another corner, at an angle which gave him full view of the room and much of the street below.

The door opened in the middle of a long room, probably at least sixteen feet long and seven across. Perhaps cramped for three people, the room was a definite haven of practicality, with no space wasted. The stairs, having spiralled upwards, only cut a three foot square out the centre of the living space.

This interruption of the back wall conveniently divided the room in half – the left half they were clustered in making up a small kitchen/living area. Five skinny drawers and two cupboards were present beneath an ordered work top, with a bread-bin and glass case of butter on top and an array of cooking instruments hung on nails above. To the left of this was a small hearth with a couch in front. The whole room was without a dining table.

Next Frodo found his attention captured by a small book shelf next to where Strider was seated. While it didn't hold an awful lot of books – only around fifteen or so – it did hold the knick-knacks that were so painstakingly absent from downstairs. Only the bottom shelf held books, the second holding a stack of loose parchment with a strew-pot shaped (maybe a cauldron?) paperweight, three inkwells, a block of wood pencils and quills poking out stood upright in it as well as a large sewing basket and the highest a small pile of daggers and short swords and a violin. It was a far from the hearth as possible against the adjacent wall.

The right side of the room was blocked by a large divider spanning the all but two feet of the dividing half of the room, behind which quiet snoring could be heard. Again it looked was mismatched, with random carvings in each one – some holding simple animals, others trees or flowers and some even holding images of the window view.

Yes, there was no doubt about it; all of the things around Frodo tied together in his mind to scream one brutal fact. He had brought the One Ring into someone else's home.

Remembered horror from Gandalf's last visit to the Shire made him feel ill. The idea of Sauron's minions anywhere near his home, the home that was left to save repulsed him– and he had brought the Ring and thereby any dangers that came with it - straight into someone else's. His insides squirmed with guilt. What was he thinking? He'd merely done what Gandalf bid him – brought the Ring to Bree. Only now did he consider the people who live there. For him to act so selfishly, to only be fixated on the safety of the Shire.

More than that, he had just wanted the blasted Ring gone.

So deep was Frodo in his brooding, he didn't notice the snoring in the background had come to a halt until a familiar voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

"Merlin, Baggins, I reckon you could out brood Harry on a bad day" the ginger gateman sounded astounded as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

"Pippin's excited exclamation of "Your here!" was drowned out by Hermione's "Ron!"

" - and we don't love Harry for his brooding" he continued mischievously, ducking a flying cushion sent his way as he crossed the room " – we love him in spite of it".

Strider badly muffled a snort from the corner. Ron was cuffed round the ear by second cushion as he hastily unlocked the door.

"Anyway, I'm off" he shouted, slamming the door against the final cushion.

"The gateman lives here?" Merry asked blankly once he'd left.

"Met him, have you?" asked Harry rhetorically, as he retrieved the cushions. "Yes, he's covering a late shift to keep an eye out for the Black Riders".

"He knew my name was fake, but he walked us to the inn anyway" Frodo replied, now feeling a little less like every man in Bree and his brother had been waiting for his arrival. At least most of them knew and where approved of by Gandalf, and represented proof that Gandalf made back up plans.

"Of course he brought that up" Strider sounded irritated and fond simultaneously.

"Oh, ignore that ginger idiot," Hermione answered in a long suffering tone "after we met the other wizards in middle earth, he got the idea all the best wizards sprout random cryptic nonsense then call it advice . . . and he's being trying to emulate them when the mood strikes him ever since. It clashes with his rather straight forward personality."

After the initial excitement of finding out all but Strider out of their new allies were wizards had died down a little the hobbits went to retired to where three single beds were located on the other half of the room devider. None wanted to rob Hermione out of bed – so it was settled that Merry and Pippin would share, as would Sam and Frodo while Harry and Strider alternated a watch on the couch, with Hermione in the left over bed. By the determined glances Hermione was giving the dark shadows under Strider's eyes, Frodo had the impression she would probably let him sleep through his watch.

At this point, Frodo fell asleep wondering why "ginger" had sounded like more of an insult than "idiot"

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