Once in a while, when he awakened, he took over oars . . . assuming Sev wasn't awake to take that responsibility from him. Sam said she wouldn't be happy if she found out he was rowing, and so he said nothing to her in the increments that they were both awake. Sure enough, she took his shift every time.

Soon it began to rain. Frodo huddled close to Sev and hoped she didn't notice. She didn't seem to mind, whatever she actually thought. The other hobbits also didn't seem to realize that Sev was particularly warm. As a matter of fact, they maintained their distance from her . . . as though afraid.

The moment they reached Bree, all hoods were up and they leaped to the shore, dashing for the main wooded entrance to the village.

Frodo knocked, and after some suspicion from the gatekeeper were allowed inside. Within Bree there were far more larger people than any of the hobbits had ever encountered, and often they were shoved out of the way by gruff men, horses and carts. Sev hissed at them periodically. Frodo turned to calm her, but he noticed it kept people out of the way.

Then she grabbed his shoulder, pointing at the sign for the Prancing Pony. They all ducked inside, and Frodo walked immediately up to the main desk.

"Excuse me," he called over the thick of noise within. The inn was warmer, but certainly not more friendly than the rainy outdoors. A kind, elderly face leaned over the counter. He introduced himself as Mr. Butterbur, and said they had plenty of accommodations for hobbits.

Frodo nodded. "Thank you. We're friends of Gandalf the Grey; can you tell him we've arrived?"

Butterbur seemed confused, and that worried Frodo. Then a sign of recognition warmed him up again, until Butterbur stated, "I haven't seen him here for six months."

Frodo's hopes collapsed. He thanked Butterbur, then turned back with the other hobbits. Pippin pulled Sev into a huddle with them, and Frodo's arm initially rounded her shoulders. The rain on his arm immediately began to dry, and he relished the warmth.

"What shall we do now?" Merry asked.

The nearly unanimous vote was for a drink. Sev turned to go find Gandalf herself, but Frodo pulled her back with them. He didn't feel up to a drink either, but he didn't want her to leave too. She did not resist.

As they sat at one of the huge tables with huge mugs, Frodo felt his worry bubbling with the ale. He fingered the mug, hoping Merry wasn't getting himself into trouble when he suddenly disappeared.

He felt better, sitting by Sev. They were close enough that his entire side began to warm. He swallowed.

"He'll be here, Sev," Frodo insisted. "He has to come." She bit her lip, and he glanced up at her. He wanted everything to be all right. They couldn't afford this.

He heard mumblings from the other hobbits, but he did not care.

"He has to come, Sev," he muttered. A patch of his back heated with her hand, and she rubbed a little. He felt somewhat better.

Sam tapped his shoulder and pointed across Sev. "That fellow's been nothing but staring at you since we arrived." Frodo followed his finger to a man, cloaked and smoking a long pipe in the corner.

Frodo caught Mr. Butterbur. "Excuse me," he said. "Who is that man in the corner?"

Butterbur inhaled sharply. "He's one of them Rangers," he said. "I don't know his proper name, but folks around here call him Strider."

As Butterbur departed, Frodo repeated the name to himself.

Sev's hand remained at his shoulder . . . and everything melted away. He felt his eyes slip closed. That's what he needed; he needed the Ring. He felt it shifting through his fingers. Even the feel of Sev's hand slipped off. Something chanted his name through the murk of his mind.

Baggins. Baggins . . . Baggins . . .

"Baggins?!" Frodo's eyes slid open, and he spun around. "Sure, I know a Baggins! He's over there; Frodo Baggins!"

It was Pippin, drunk out of his wits.

Frodo dashed from Sev's side. He grabbed at Pippin, trying to stop him. Pippin protested as he turned, throwing Frodo from his feet. The Ring sprang from his fingers, and as he reached up for it, it slipped on. The world, all but the Ring, descended into a shifty gray. Shapes blackened and became liquid.

Then a voice . . . a blazing fire . . . it seared, not like Sev, but like something vicious. He turned slowly, and terror grabbed him with an iron claw.

An eye, blazing everything in its path, carved through the inn. "I see you," a harsh, powerful voice growled. The sound crackled through the air like fire.

Frodo grappled for the Ring, finally yanking it off. He breathed hard and slipped the Ring back into his pocket. Then he heard Sev, and he perked up from his sitting position.

"Don't hurt him." She sounded afraid.

Frodo scrambled to his feet, but banged his head on the table. As he rubbed it, he saw Strider's hand shoot out of the air and snatch him up by his collar. Sev growled, and he glanced at her. She was fingering her dagger. Frodo only hoped Strider didn't hurt her.

"You're drawing a lot of attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill," Strider snapped. He grabbed Sev as well, and she hissed loudly as he dragged them both up the stairs and threw them into a dimly lit bedroom. He shut the door behind him.

"I can avoid being seen when I wish." He snuffed out a few candles. "But disappearing entirely!" He threw off his hood and faced Frodo. "That is a rare gift." Then he nodded to Frodo's hand. "That is no trinket you carry."

Sev stood up straighter, then fingered her dagger as she stepped to Frodo's side.

"I carry nothing," Frodo insisted. Strider need not know, and Frodo was fairly sure he couldn't trust him at this point.

"Oh, believe me, I know," Strider said.

"Who are you?" Frodo asked, while Sev was silent as well as curious. Or so Frodo gathered.

Strider's eyes narrowed. "Are you frightened?"

Frodo swallowed. Sev grabbed his hand. "Yes."

"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you."

Then the door behind them slammed open. Strider drew his sword and stepped forward; Sev did the same. Frodo backed away, having no weapon to sustain him. Not that he would need one; Merry, Pippin, and Sam entered. All three within the room relaxed.

"Don't touch them or I'll have you, longshanks!" Sam cried.

Strider exhaled, sheathing his blade. "You have a stout heart, master hobbit," he said, "but that will not save you." He gestured to four beds he had lined up, insisting that the hobbits rest there instead of where they had designated.

Fear numbed Frodo as he laid down. He swallowed. The Ring would not be safe in Bree. Gandalf hadn't met them. Nothing was going as planned. The side of the bed sank as Sev sat down behind him. She laid her hand against his shoulder and rubbed a little bit. For a moment, as had been earlier, he could escape his pain.

He rolled over. The moonlight from the window pierced her eyes, igniting the white beyond her dark blood. They were gentle, though . . . protective, intense. "I'm afraid, Sev."

Sev pulled him up in a tight embrace. He hugged her back; the warmth dizzied him. He'd needed that.

"You'll be okay." Her words held him. He believed her. "I so swear," she whispered, "you will make it home alive and safe. If anything harms you, I will break it." Frodo wanted nothing more than to feel her arms and her words; they wanted to protect him, and would.

He sank. "Thank you," he said. He figured it was time to let go. He did not sleep, however. He drifted away, missing Gandalf, fearing the Ring and its following, wanting Sev. Nothing made sense anymore.

A shriek snapped him out of it for a glimmer of a moment. He heard Strider explaining something about Nazgul . . . Ringwraiths. They'd had Rings of Power all of their own. It haunted him to hear. The Ring burned against his chest; he could succumb to the same fate.

Warmth pressed his shoulder, and he flipped over. "Sev."

She nodded gently.

"They are gone?"

Sev nodded again and gestured for him to follow her. He stepped away from the bed, and she directed him to Strider and the other hobbits, who were standing outside at the front door.

Strider told them he was taking them into the wild. They trudged after him, through forest and over rock. Frodo felt his conviction rising and his determination setting in stone. The others sounded skeptical.

"We have no choice but to trust him," Frodo said, moving forward. Sev stood beside him, stiffening a moment later. He turned to her, but nothing seemed to have gone wrong. She stiffened again when Sam spoke.

"Well, where's he taking us?"

"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee," Strider said. "The House of Elrond."

Sam gasped. "Do you hear that, Sev?" he said, trotting to catch up to her. She grinned at him. "We're going to see the Elves!" Frodo smiled too; he liked her smile now that he knew what was behind it. Initially it was not the best-looking, but that had somehow changed for him. Her gaze fell to his pocket, and suddenly she stepped back.

Frodo paused to watch. Merry and Pippin passed by, but Sam asked what was wrong before he continued. Sev waved him on, saying she had a pebble stuck between her toes. But there were no loose pebbles, from what Frodo could see, and Sev was shaking. He saw sweat prick at her hands, and her feet trembled. Sam carried on.

Frodo carefully stepped up to her.

"Sev?" he asked. She did not respond. He fingered her hair cautiously. It, too, was warm. He wondered what she was really made of. He backed away. His curiosity frightened him; he did not understand her.

Then she glanced up a moment later and blinked at him. Frodo offered his arm, and she took it, stumbling along. She thanked him under her breath every time she faltered.

She split off when they neared the breakfast camp that had been set up. She ate little . . . but flirted with Pippin. Frodo felt a flame of that feeling, that odd feeling that had come up back when Sev first started working with Rosie that he didn't understand. He turned away. It was a sharp pang, with a little bitterness on it. Sadness? No—jealousy. That was it.

Why should he feel that way? It made no sense. He restlessly finished the book over it.

An hour after they began walking again, Pippin said it was feeling like second breakfast, about at home. So they halted Bill and began unpacking. Sev rolled her eyes and continued after Strider.

"Gentlemen!" Strider said. They glanced up. "We do not stop until nightfall."

"But what about breakfast?" Pippin interjected.

Strider blinked. "We've already had it."

Frodo and Sam began packing anyway as Pippin began arguing his point. He lost in the end, as Frodo had assumed he would. They carried on.

Frodo finally felt as though he could best approach Sev in the middle of the afternoon. He told her he had finished the book.

"Without me?" She grinned and bit her lower lip as he responded. He told her he had finished it during breakfast . . . while she was flirting with Pippin. He tried to act very lighthearted about it, but something weighed on him.

Sev frowned. "Devil," she muttered. He nudged her shoulder and caught up to Bill; his face branded red, and he wasn't sure why. Everything was a conflict.

Then they approached a marsh. Frodo offered his help to Sev, grabbing her elbow to steady her, but with her warmth in the cold water he felt more that she was helping him. She assisted him in balancing as well. The other hobbits, Frodo noticed, weren't so lucky. None would take help from Sev, although she called out that she had another arm open.

Frodo noticed, near the end of their travel through the marshes, that Sev looked remarkably dizzied and tired. She sank to the ground once they were on solid footing, then collapsed to her side. He sat down next to her, but she rested only for a minute before she seemed fully charged and ready. She held out her hand and offered to hang up his cloak. He didn't seem to have an option, he realized, but wondered if she wore it . . . then perhaps it would dry.

Then she lifted one of his feet off the ground to rub it. Frodo's eyes rolled back; the warmth shot up his legs and into his back. He nearly collapsed. But then she seemed to feel unsuccessful with it and laughed. He laughed too, although the situation took more of a wistful stance for him. She didn't know what she did for him. She couldn't know.

Soon Strider returned with a deer slung over his shoulder. They ate it for dinner, but no one seemed in the mood for much. Sev hummed mournful songs to herself, but that was about all. She also seemed a little distanced, and Frodo followed. Frodo preferred the warmth her hands offered to that of the fire; the fire had smoke, and popped with sizzling sparks. Sev was simply Sev.

As the night wore on, the hobbits curled, uncomfortably, in their cloaks to rest. Strider and Sev remained awake at least as long as Frodo did. Sev, as soon as Frodo had feigned to drift off, positioned the other hobbits to strategically keep him protected. He sighed at that. She really did want him to be safe, although he wondered if it was all truly necessary. Perhaps it just made her feel better.

He didn't move until he was sure everyone else had finally slept . . . all but Strider. He had intended to stay put, until he heard Strider's deep voice singing in Elvish. The lyrics spoke of a young woman, and the narrator's devotion to her. That deep need to go back, to let her live.

Frodo sat upright. "Who is she?" he asked.

Strider turned to him, shocked.

"This woman you sing of," Frodo clarified.

Strider glanced down. "Luthien, an Elf maiden who gave her love to Beren, a mortal."

"What happened to her?"

Strider fumbled over his words. "She died."

Frodo paused. He glanced over at Sev. Her back was tense, and he wondered what more she would give up for him. If she would give up her life . . . like Luthien.

Strider followed his gaze. "Get some sleep, Frodo," he said.

Frodo did so, and for once the thoughts of Sev led him away from the Ringwraiths, away from the heavy responsibility breaking on him. He settled, and dreams stretched their liquid, uncertain fingers for him. Just as he slipped away, warmth shielded his shoulder and face. A gentle kiss settled against his cheek, warming every fiber of his being like Sev never had. The Ring's darkness backed away until her lips left.

"I'll never let them hurt you."

He didn't remember anything more.