As always I don't own LOTR or any of it's characters… Nasya is the only one that came from my mind.
Enjoy- Woven
Aragorn regarded his five charges as they slept, or attempted to in Nasya's case. Somehow she had been the one to end up sleeping on the floor, even though Sam had insisted that she take a spot on the bed. Turning back to the window, he remembered how she smoothly talked her way out of a proper place to sleep. He figured it was a matter of principle for this foreigner, but he admired the diplomacy that she employed, ensuring that the hobbits were not offended or felt as if they were being rude by allowing her to take the ground.
He hoped the hobbits enjoyed the bed. It would be the last one they slept on for a while.
"Do you really think the black riders will come here?" A feminine voice broke Strider from his thoughts. He looked to Nasya as she positioned herself on the ledge across from him.
"Most certainly," he responded. Nasya nodded and looked out the window into the darkness and to the inn across the way from them as the ranger sharpened one of his daggers.
"Why are they hunting him?" Strider stopped his movements and again regarded his unexpected charge.
"Why do you care?" he asked, as he jabbed his dagger back into its sheath. Nasya looked more hurt than surprised.
"You have nothing to fear from me Strider," she said, in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. "I do not care for those who would hunt defenseless beings for no reason."
Strider gave a rueful chuckle.
"Yes, they are being hunted. But not without reason."
Nasya opened her mouth to press further when an unearthly shriek rent the air, causing her to jump and the hobbits to awaken. Merry, Pippin, and Sam's eyes were wide with terror; only Frodo and Strider retained any semblance of clam. But even Frodo seemed nervous to Nasya as he asked the question most prominent in all of their minds.
"What are they?"
Strider allowed the shrieking to fade before answering in a far away tone, reciting a piece of history that Frodo would need to know.
"They were once men, great kings of men. Men Sauron the deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will. They're the Nazgul, ring wraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the ring, drawn to the power of the one. They will never stop hunting you."
Strider watched as a sense of dread settled onto the hobbits. Then he looked towards the young woman, still sitting across from him. She did not look scared as much as uncertain. Her hand fiddled with pendent that lay around her neck and Strider briefly wondered about its significance.
"We will leave at first light," he said, refocusing on the hobbits. "Get some rest, you will need it."
I know it's a lot shorter than the last two, however the stopping point felt right and the next couple of chapters will be longer.
Please remember to review!
Blessings- Woven
