Chapter Five: I' Taur'ohtar en' i' For (The Ranger of the North)

The interior of the inn glows faintly from the log fire to the side. As I sit with Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, I see that not only are there many humans in the place, but there are also a couple more hobbits and even... are those dwarves? Good gracious. Frodo, meanwhile, is trying to remain silent and inconspicuous. for a reason that he refuses to tell me. I almost demand that he tell me what the hell is going on, but I don't want to make us stand out any more than we already are, so I stay silent. Sam keeps glancing around expectantly for the wizard that was supposed to be here.

"Sam, he'll be here," Frodo says reassuringly. "He'll come."

"I certainly hope so," I say softly, hugging my knees. "That wizard is my only chance of getting home. If he doesn't come then I can never go home. I'll be lost." I rest my chin between my knees and stare at the fireplace.

"Don't despair, Lady Shika. I know he'll come. He's been my friend for years and he hasn't disappointed me. I'm sure he can't now."

"I hope you're right, Frodo."

At the next minute, Merry plunks himself down at our table, carrying a large mug of some sort of alcoholic drink. I wrinkle my nose a bit in disgust; I for one have never been one for alcohol. Then again, I'm only fifteen; it's no surprise. Merry stares at his drink almost lovingly and grins.

"What's that?" Pippin asks, gazing at the mug.

"This, my friend, is a pint," Merry replies.

"They come in pints?" Pippin says excitedly and in disbelief. "I'm getting one!" He suddenly leaps unsteadily from his seat in his excitement. Sam watches as he bounces to the bar.

"You've had a whole half already!" he points out.

I sigh with an emotion I don't know. Could it be annoyance of Merry and Pippin's immaturity? Could it be sadness of the probability of never getting home? Is it even fear of the high chances that the dark, hooded people could come charging into Bree at any moment and leave no one alive, including us? I'm not sure why I sigh. But I think I might be just tired from our long run and really need some sleep. After a while of listening to the soft chatter from the people around me, my gaze drifts mindlessly at a stranger sitting alone in the corner closest to the fireplace. He's smoking a long-stemmed pipe and looking beneath his worn hood with quiet brown eyes. It is at the moment when the embers of his pipe light up that his eyes are lit up to gleaming orange. And looking straight at me.

I look away quickly. The blazing gaze seemed to burn a hole right through my skin and into my soul. How can a person do that? And does this mysterious man stand out so much like a deer in the headlights?

"Excuse me," Frodo asks the innkeeper as he passes by with a tray of drinks. "That man in the corner... who is he?"

"He's one of them Rangers," replies the innkeeper in a hushed voice. "They're dangerous folk they are, wandering the wilds. What his right name is, I never heard, but round here... he's known as Strider."

With that, he walks away with the tray of three full mugs in his hands. Frodo glances curiously at the man. The embers in his pipe have died down. His face is veiled in shadows.

I silently repeat his name. The word feels odd on my tongue.

For no apparent reason, I glance under the table to see Frodo's fingers toying nervously with a tiny gold object. Is it a family heirloom or perhaps something newer? But more importantly, I don't care. His gaze is drifting from side to side as if he's under observation. Perhaps he is and I just can't know for sure. He seems worried by something, or someone, that's here. At this inn.

Suddenly I hear Pippin's voice. "Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins!"

Oh no. Frodo's identity has been revealed!

Frodo jumps up and tries to shut Pippin up. But Pippin, getting a bit loopy from all the alcohol he's consumed, he carelessly shoves Frodo off. He stumbles backwards and lands on the floor with a loud thump and a grunt of shock, but something flies out into the air. The tiny golden object. Frodo reaches out to catch it, and it is at the moment that I realize that the object is gold ring that Frodo...

...disappears.

My eyes widen in astonishment as sharp gasps are exchanged around the inn. He simply vanished into thin air! How can somebody do that by only putting on a stupid ring? Hey, maybe it's magic and that ring has the power to make someone invisible. Or it could teleport someone to anywhere. I could get home that way, if that theory is perhaps true!

I glance at the hobbits. Sam looks as if he's about to throw up. I'm starting to feel the same. For no reason I steal a look at the ranger in the corner. He's equally surprised but there's not as big a reaction. Everyone else in the inn explodes into an excited babble. I sort of expected the ranger to do something else other than hang out and get high on some sort of weed, but the next time I look at him he's not there. I guess I jumped to conclusions to fast.

I feel I'm going to be sick. This is not going anywhere good.

Sam, Merry, and Pippin run up to me, holding makeshift weapons, like a small chair and candlesticks. I just grab the first thing I find in my pocket, which is a little pink lighter. How did that get there? Guess I didn't go through all four of my pockets. I flick the lighter skeptically. Still works.

Sam glances at Merry and Pippin, then at me. I nod without a word.

A minute later we're running up the stairs to the rooms. If Frodo went anywhere, he probably wanted to catch some Z's, so he went up to our room we rented. But why on earth would he mysteriously vanish just to go to our room to get some sleep? Then again, the ranger disappeared too. Maybe the ranger kidnapped Frodo for some reason I can't think of, and we're unmatched with this guy.

I run ahead to check out the scene. I see a room where the fireplace glows through the cracks in the door, and I peer through one of the cracks. I easily believe what I see. Frodo is standing near the fireplace, his eyes filled with fear. The ranger is there as well with his hood still up.

"What do you want?" Frodo demands, the last of his courage gathered in his voice.

"A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry," says Strider, the ranger. Is he talking about the ring that made Frodo vanish?

"I carry nothing," Frodo says, but anyone could tell he's lying.

"Indeed?" Strider says wittingly. "I can usually avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely..." With that, he removes his hood, revealing his face. He's not what I expected. He doesn't have the heinous look in his eyes or some scar over his face. He seems... normal. Friendly. And his sword isn't drawn. He might be dangerous but he might be okay. I'll know soon.

"...that is a rare gift," he finishes.

"Who are you?"

"Are you frightened?"

"Yes."

All right, now I know this guy is on our side.

"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you." Suddenly, Strider's eyes flash. I think he knows I'm watching. I jerk back from my peephole and press my back to the wall, a bead of cold sweat running down my face in a thin, glimmering line. I hear footsteps inside the room. He's coming for me. Now what?

Suddenly, I see my three hobbit friends running up to the door. I don't move as they burst the door open. I hear Strider draw his sword a little; enough to be cautious but not enough to be frightening.

"Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!" Sam says angrily.

"You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that alone won't save you," Strider says. "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."

What's he talking about?

Please let me know what you think! 333