Of Corn Fields and Hills
XxX

"Oh, no, Sam," Arabelle replied. "I was thinking. If Bree is just two days away now, Rivendell must surely not be far beyond that."

Frodo 'hmm'ed.

"I don't know how many days it would take, Arabelle," he warned, "but it is farther than you may think. Bilbo went away with dwarves once, many years ago. He said it had been a month when they were captured by goblins in the Misty Mountains, not very far from Rivendell. That was how he got th- ... It."

That was what the three friends referred to the Ring as; It. None felt safe saying 'the Ring' aloud. Gandalf's warnings had made them all wary, and slightly superstitious.

But Arabelle wasn't thinking about that. Now, her mind was fixed on the fact that it might be a few weeks, rather than a few days, before she saw her family again. Only one day away, and already she missed them terribly. At every little thing, she would catch herself turning to call the others' attentions to it, remembering at the last second that they weren't there.

And now, according to Frodo, it would be even longer before she would see them again.

She said nothing, though. She had no reason to complain when she would see her family again soon enough. She would just have to be patient. After all, how long could a month be made to seem? Surely, if she didn't think about the distance, the time would fly, and she would see them all before she realized it.

...

...

It was only after Sam began to call for him that Arabelle realized they had lost track of Frodo. Though she was taller than the height of the hobbit corn, she could not see him, and a distant note of panic, born of years worth of associating a missing person with heaps of trouble to come, rose inside her stomach.

Please, no, she thought, as in her mind rose a picture of some unknown enemy, robbed all in black, leering over her friend.

"Mr. Frodo!"

"Frodo!"

Sam was hurrying forward, his head casting side to side. Arabelle was about to follow him, when she saw a dark patch moving through the corn ahead. She was about to call out to Sam, when Frodo appeared.

"There you are," Sam sighed. "I thought we'd lost you."

"What do you mean?" Frodo asked, looking slightly confused.

"Nothin'," Sam replied, and Arabelle noted the slightest flush of embarrassment that came with the realization of having overreacted. "Just somethin' Gandalf said. 'Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee.' And I don't mean to."

Frodo smiled.

"Sam, we're still in the Shire," he almost laughed. "What could possibly happen?"

And suddenly, something knocked into them, and Frodo and Sam were knocked completely off their feet.

Apparently this, Arabelle thought as she stumbled to keep her balance.

"Frodo!" she heard Pippin cry in excitement. "Merry, it's Frodo Baggins!"

"Hello, Frodo," Merry smiled, before Sam dragged him off of Frodo.

Each hobbit had an armful of vegetables, Arabelle noticed, and her eyes narrowed.

"What's the meaning of this?" Frodo asked, beating her to the punch.

"You've been into Farmer Maggot's crops!" Sam accused, glaring.

There was a shout in the distance, and above the corn, all five friends could see the blade of a scythe, waving menacingly, and moving quickly toward them. Accompanying this was angry barking.

"What did you do?" Arabelle demanded.

"No time!" Pippin squeaked, taking off through the corn, Merry and Frodo close behind him. Arabelle shoved a distracted Samwise after the others, the load of vegetables Merry had pressed on him falling on the ground.

"I don't know why he's so upset," Merry mused out loud. "It's only a couple of carrots."

"And some cabbages," Pippin added. "And then those three bags of potatoes that we lifted last week. And the mushrooms the week before!"

Arabelle rolled her eyes. Stealing was stealing, and it was wrong.

"Yes, Pippin!" Merry interrupted. "My point is, he's clearly overreacting. Run!"

As Merry, still in the lead, broke through the edge of the cornfield, Arabelle looked back. No longer could she hear the angry shouting and barking, nor see the scythe being brandished above the corn stalks. They were safe.

The next the she noticed, though, was that there was suddenly no ground beneath her, and she fell, tumbling head over heels down a steep bank. She was jolted to a halt near the bottom when her back slammed against a tree. The stinging there, and on her arms and legs told her there were scrapes that she could not see; indeed, her hands were raw, almost bleeding. Standing stiffly, she moved down the last few feet of hill to where the hobbits were gathered, Merry, Pippin, and Sam around a pile of wild mushrooms, Frodo a little farther down the road.

"Here's a nice one, Sam," she heard Merry say as she passed them.

"Frodo?"

He didn't respond when Arabelle spoke, and she could see the intense concentration - almost fear - on his face as he glanced down the road.

"I think we should get off the road," he murmured, though no one else seemed to hear him.

Arabelle frowned. She remembered very well Gandalf's warning, but they would only be here a moment. Still, Arabelle understood the worry in Frodo's eyes, and she took a step back toward the others, to tell them they needed to go on.

Barely had she taken that step when an icy wind whipped down the road, stirring the leaves and chilling Arabelle's blood. The vague fear in Frodo's eyes blossomed into terror, and he swung around to look at the others.

"Get off the road!" he cried. "Quick!"

Sam was up first, running to Frodo and following him to a drop off on the far side of the road. Arabelle pushed Merry and Pippin ahead of her, hurrying them over and pushing them all down beneath the tree root that formed the far edge of the road. She removed her brown cloak, and spread it over them all as best she could, scattering some leaves over it so that at least it would look a little like earth.

"Shh," she breathed, closing her eyes tightly.

Presently, the sound of horse's hooves were heard on the road above, and every muscle in Arabelle's body tensed. Slowly, she slid her left hand across to the hilt of her sword, and held her breath.

Beside her, she felt Frodo shift, and heard his quiet gasp. Whatever was above them was not friendly.

Suddenly, metal-gloved hands gripped the tree root, and a horrible sniffing sounded above them, as though whatever was there was trying to scent the five friends.

Please, God help us, Arabelle thought, trying to keep her breathing silent.

The sound of something being thrown called the creature's attention, and it turned away. Arabelle realized that Merry must have thrown the bag of mushrooms he'd gathered.

But there was no time to think, as they all ran in the opposite direction, Frodo and Sam in the lead.

By the time they stopped, they were well away, and the hill they were on caused Merry and Pippin slip in the dead leaves.

It was then that Arabelle realized just how much her hands and legs - in particular her right leg - hurt, and she stumbled slightly.

"Arabelle?"

Sam spoke, but all four hobbits were looking at her in concern.

"I'm alright," she assured. "When we fell down that hill, I scraped myself a bit. It's nothing."

They set out early from the camp. Christine awoke to find Erik already dressed and closing his pack. He came back to where she slept, and bent to kiss her lips.

"I'll bring her straight to Rivendell," he whispered, careful not to wake Charles and Jillianna. "Then we'll go home."

Christine wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her face into his bony shoulder.

"Be careful, Erik," she murmured, nuzzling her head against his neck.

Erik smiled softly, and stroked her curls.

"I will," he promised. "I will."

He let go, and Christine sagged sleepily against the pillow. Erik looked at her another moment, before picking up his bag, and walking out of the little hut.

Strider was waiting for him in the center of the camp, and as Erik approached he nodded, and began to walk.

"It is a day's journey to Bree, Erik," the Ranger explained. "We must go quickly if we are to make it there ahead of the hobbits and your daughter."

Erik nodded.

"Then let's go."

The Ranger smiled, and began walking, Erik close behind.

...

...

They stopped only once, at mid-day, and Erik sighed, his mind on his sweet girl, wondering where she was, and only praying she was safe.

"Will you speak of her?"

Strider's sudden words sounded loud in the quiet of the woods, and Erik jumped slightly.

"My daughter?" he asked. The Ranger nodded. "She's wonderful. Sixteen years old, and a treasure. Her name is Arabelle, Strider. It means 'Answered prayer'."

"In a language of your world," said Strider.

Erik nodded.

"Yes," he replied. "French. The language I was born to. She was born, when I believed she never would be. Her hair curls like her mother's, Strider, but is black as night."

Here, Erik closed his eyes, picturing the sweet little face of his daughter from years long passed, when she was small.

"Her eyes are the color of the sun," he went on, "like mine, but more lovely. She's a good girl. Kind-hearted and intelligent, but a force to be reckoned with if need be."

"A fighter, then," Strider summed up, smiling slightly.

"Very much so," Erik laughed. "Quick to defend those she cares about. I would not put it past her to take on a wild beast for a friend."

"And for family?"

Erik looked away to the southeast, and a distant smile crossed his lips beneath the mask.

"She has moved heaven and Earth," he whispered. "And raised a fallen demon."

The faraway tone in his voice told Strider that Erik would speak no more - could speak no more, as his mind had left the present, and was firmly in the past - and so he let the conversation drop. The two men ate the food they'd brought, and set out again soon after.

"You will see her soon," Strider said quietly as they began down the hill. He pointed to a cluster of houses in the distance, barely discernible they were so far away. "That is Bree. We will be there early in the morning if we walk through the night. The hobbits and your daughter cannot be far behind."

Erik smiled. It would not be long now. Sometime the day after tomorrow, he would see Arabelle again. She would make it to Bree with the hobbits, and then he would bring her on to Rivendell, where they would meet up with Christine, Jillianna, and Charles, and they could go home. So soon, it would all be right again. So very soon.

"Strider gave us orders to take you to Rivendell as soon as we could, my lady," the Ranger explained to Christine, who nodded. "We have horses for you, and the children. Tomorrow, I, Thorgin, Melnor, and Aidan will set out with you on the road to Rivendell. Worry not, for we shall see you safely to the end of your journey."

"Thank you," Christine said quietly. "You have all been very good to us. You did not have to take us in yesterday."

"Nevertheless, it is our duty to help others," pipped up a younger Ranger, who was identified as Aidan. "What other purpose or joy to life can there be?"

The grey eyes of the young man were bright with enthusiasm for his current life, and there was pride in the set of his shoulders. Clearly, he saw nobility in his cause.

"But for tonight," the first Ranger, whose name was Fargrin, said, "sleep. Get your rest and be prepared to leave early tomorrow."

Christine smiled.

"Again, thank you so very much for this."

Fargrin nodded.

"I shall bid you good night, then," he replied. "Sleep well, my lady."

...

...

"Jillianna... Jillianna, wake up, now."

Bleary blue eyes blinked slowly open.

"Mitheth Dethtler..." she murmured, yawning.

"Yes, dear," Christine answered. "We are leaving now. Come, wake up."

Jillianna sat up slowly, and rubbed at her eyes. After a moment to fully wake, she dressed and exited the hut to see Christine standing with a sleepy Charles, and the four Rangers who had agreed to guide them to Rivendell.

"Are you prepared?" Fargrin asked the three. Christine nodded for herself and Charles, and Jillianna shifted the bag on her shoulders. "Then come, now."

Fargrin turned, and lead the group out of the camp, following an eastward trail that led uphill.

"We will reach Rivendell in two weeks from this place if we follow the road," Melnor explained. "If we were to cut through the wilds, it could take twice that. But fear not; we will guide you safely."

Christine smiled gratefully.

"We trust you," she replied. "You have shown my family nothing but kindness. Thank you."

XxX
Next chapter done at last! Yay! Time to squeeze out the next one.

Review, please!