I'm really, really sorry,
I really truly am.
But my life got in the way,
College, medieval fairs, and damn!
I'm sorry I haven't updated.
I know it's been long, forgive me?
I never meant to leave you hanging.
Dear reviewers, please don't hit me?

Seriously, though, you guys. I didn't mean to take this long before an update. My Gods above, there's so much I've got to catch up on here. I do apologize. Somehow, I thought school, medieval fairs, and FFN would be easy to juggle.

I have discovered otherwise.

But now, at last, here is the next chapter. I promise to try to update more regularly again.

Bree At Last
XxX

Arabelle, used to rising early for school, was the first to wake up. Blinking, she made to move her arm, but found it trapped. As the reason why crossed her mind, she smiled.

Pippin's head was pillowed on her right upper arm, his small body curled into a ball. Behind him, Merry had moved in close against his young cousin, protectively, with an arm wrapped around him.

On her left, Frodo's back was pressed against her side. She knew he had been terrified last night, however hard he'd tried to hide it; the light in his eyes had spoken volumes. He was only lightly curled up, one leg straight, the other tucked. His left hand was hidden behind his head; Sam held his right.

The urge to protect the hobbits, all at once so small and strong, rose inside of Arabelle. They were so sweet, all of them, and each in their own way had earned a place of honor in her affections.

The fire was out, but as it was dawn, and the hobbits all looked so comfortable, Arabelle saw no reason to move until the others woke. This, of course, meant that her thoughts had time to wander, and they wandered to her family, and Jillianna. They wandered to her father.

She'd never been separated from her parents for so long before. Only occasionally had she spent the night at Jillianna's, and only ever one night at a time. Tears threatened again, but Arabelle forced them back. She had other things to focus on now.

But try as she might, her thoughts stuck firmly on Erik and the others, wondering just what they were doing. They'd be on their way to Rivendell now, probably. She wondered if her papa was alright. She knew that when he worried, he neglected his own health terribly (if the truth be known, Erik's health had never been so important to him as the health of his family), and if he were to have an attack, here, in this far away place, would he live?

Arabelle shook her head hard to dispell those thoughts. The image of her father in pain should not have a place in her thoughts now. She had to see the hobbits to Bree - wherever that was. Then she could think of her family again.

Beside her, Arabelle felt Pippin stir, and she smiled, turning her head in time to meet his sleepy, somewhat confused gaze. Carefully, she moved her arms and sat up.

"Good morning," she whispered gently. Turning, she touched Frodo's and Sam's shoulders. "Wake up," she called quietly. "Frodo, Sam." Now she shook Merry's arm. "Wake up, Merry. It is morning, now."

Sam, stretching, went to tend the fire and start breakfast, Pippin trailing after to try and help.

Breakfast was a quick mash of potatoes, sausages, and some tomatoes, fried over the little cooking fire. It was not much, but it was good, and it would hold them until that night.

Arabelle could think of nothing else. They were mere hours away from Bree, where, once there, Gandalf would take her to Rivendell, and she would be with her family again. She could hardly wait to see Erik, Christine, Charles, and Jillianna.

When they set out, the sky was clear. It seemed to Arabelle that it mirrored her happiness.

I'm coming, Papa, she thought with a smile. Mama, Charles, Jill, I'll be there soon. I've missed you all.

The terror of the night before seemed forgotten. The hobbits were smiling and laughing again as they walked, and Arabelle was happy. They were all happy. It was a day for bright sunshine, and happy thoughts.

...

...

By noon, the skies had darkened and a downpour was unleashed upon the Breelands.

There really had been no warning of the storm. No first drop to make the travellers look up and watch as the clouds rolled in.

One moment, the sky was clear. The next, it was as though night had fallen.

The sudden change in the weather sent a chill down Arabelle's spine which had nothing to do with the earthly coldness in the air.

Something was not right. Things, she sensed, were about to go quite amiss. Trouble was coming, and it was coming fast; just as the storm had broke upon them, there would be little, if any, warning.


When the rain began to fall, Erik groaned. He'd never really cared for storms. It wasn't that he feared them, oh no. He disliked the damage they caused, and the chilly ache that in recent years was left behind in his bones when a storm passed through.

He and Strider drew up the hoods of their cloaks, and pulled the edges tight around themselves.

The rain was icy cold and made Erik shiver when it hit his neck.

"We'll reach Bree within the hour," Strider consoled, slowing to walk beside Erik.

"It is not our position which worries me," Erik sighed. "Arabelle is in this."

As he spoke, lightning crashed overhead, and Erik prayed his daughter would be alright.

Hearing the father's words, Strider nodded in understanding. He had no children of his own, but there were some in his band of Rangers who were yet very young. Aidan, for one, was only eighteen winters.

"I am sure she will be alright," the Ranger said softly, continuing on toward Bree.

Erik sighed quietly, and tilted his head up toward the skies for just a moment, wondering what was happening to Arabelle, to the others. Christine, Charles, and Jillianna, at least, ought to have been far enough to the east to be out of the storm for the time being. But Arabelle...

Not for the first time, Erik wished he'd forbidden her to go with the hobbits. He wished he'd insisted she stay with him and the others. She'd have been angry, but in time, she would have understood.

And she would be safe, with Erik there to protect her. Long ago, he'd promised to always be there. He should have remembered that promise and convinced her not to go with Frodo and Samwise.

Or at the very least, he should have gone with her. Gandalf would have taken great care of his family, as would the Rangers. Erik had known that the entire time. When it all came down to it, he realized he really should have gone with her to begin with.

Well, he was fixing that mistake now. He would find her in Bree and they would go together with the hobbits and Strider to Rivendell, where they could find a way home.


They were all soaked to the bone. The hobbits and the girl cut a sorry sight, trembling with cold and huddled close together as they trudged down the road, which had long turned into a veritable river.

Arabelle had allowed the tears from that morning to fall, and now, masked by the storm, they fell unnoticed down her cheeks.

For the first time in her life, she wished she was not so stubborn. She wished she was more of a coward; she wished she'd gone with her father.

Arabelle forced back a sob, thinking that it would have been better if she'd let her papa convince her to come with him instead. She wished he'd ordered her to. At least then she'd be with Erik.

At least she would know whether or not her family was out of the storm.

The storm. Good God, Arabelle swore she would be very surprised if at least one of their group did not have an awful cold come the morning. It was at most mid afternoon, and already, everything they wore - and probably everything in their packs - was soaked through and caked with mud. To the knees, the skirt of her pale yellow dress was a dark, dingy brown, and weighed heavily against her legs.

She wanted nothing so much in that moment as to be home, safe and warm, curled up on the couch, leaning against her father and reading a book together, with a fire crackling in the hearth, her mother and her brother and Jillianna there, too.

Arabelle was beginning to feel petulant and moody, as well. Part of her wanted, just to spite the powers that be, to simply plop down on the wayside, and stay there until she was discovered by someone who could take her to her parents.

And yet, when all was said and done, and when all the negative thoughts had gone through her head, she knew her place was here, with Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. Someone had to look out for them. They may have been strong, brave hobbits, but they were still barely more than half her size.

Without the sun, she had no idea of the time. It seemed that the four of them were caught in never-ending night. Visibility was poor, and the slashing, icy drops of rain only made it worse. How would they know if those riders were about? One could be right behind them, and they would never know until it was too late.

The very thought set the hairs on the back of Arabelle's neck on edge. She glanced about, wondering if the vague shadows in the gloom really were just roadside trees and bushes.

Against her side, Pippin shivered, a small sound escaping him, and she adjusted her cloak so that it covered all four of the hobbits.

"We'll be alright," she promised, looking at each of them in turn. All four looked like kicked puppies; lost, forlorn, and drenched. She imagined she looked much the same as her little friends.

Indeed, she felt as bedraggled as they looked. Her entire body was wet and cold, and her clothes weighed heavily on her. The mud caked on her dress scrapped against her legs and made its way down into her boots where it scratched at her ankles. Her hair hung in lank, dripping rat-tails around her face, she couldn't stop shivering.

"If we keep moving," Arabelle explained, "we will be warmer. We are surely not far now."

Pulling them all in close so that the edges of her cloak just spread around the four hobbits, Arabelle gently lead them along down the road.


When at last the two travellers reached Bree, Erik smiled. The cold dampness had made his bones sore and he was tired. It was a relief to reach a place where they could find a warm bed until Arabelle and the hobbits arrived.

"Stay close to me," Strider whispered as they neared the gate. "This town is not always friendly to Rangers and those who travel with us."

Erik nodded, though he suspected any potential 'unfriendliness' would be due to his face rather than his acquaintances.

The town of Bree was a backwater, that much was obvious. The houses were squat and unremarkable, and to Erik's practised eye did not look quite as sound as they could be. He was willing to bet that the buildings were very drafty in the winter.

The entire place, with its air of smallness and exclusive community reminded him only too keenly of Boscherville. With a slight tremor that might have been either from cold or the memories, Erik reached up and pulled the hood of his cloak further down over his face to hide the mask. This was a small town. If even one person saw his mask, it would be all over the place come the morning.

But, oh, God, the memories. Erik felt his breath hitch in his throat at the waves of scenes that crashed against the backs of his eyes. His mother, Marie, Father Mansart, Sasha, Doctor Barye.

The mere thought of Etienne still unsettled him. The man surely had known that Madeline had a young son who had no one else to care for him - save a mouse who was too kind to shudder at his face, and too frightened to take him to her parents - and still he had wanted to take her away. And send little Erik to an asylum.

God above only knew how that might have turned out.

He ground to a halt when a man who looked just like Barye walked by. The man had not even noticed Erik with the driving rain, but still the mere sight sent his heart racing. His breath came quick and unsteady as all the memories of every second of his life - all the horror done to him, and by him - assaulted him. His head spun and he had to blink to clear his vision.

"Erik?"

He recognized the voice as Strider's but beyond that, Erik was lost. It was not until the Ranger repeated his name and touched his shoulder that Erik came back to himself.

Strider was gazing at him intently, grey eyes glinting under his hood.

"Are you well?"

Erik nodded weakly.

"I will be," he muttered. "Just memories. This town is far too like the one in which I was born."

Shaking his head to clear it, Erik ignored the dull pressure in his chest, and motioned for Strider to lead on.


At last the group, drenched and ragged, came across a wall, with a high wooden gate across the road. They had made it. This was Bree.

Arabelle could have cried. Beyond that gate lay the inn, The Prancing Pony. In that inn Gandalf waited. In the morning, he would take her away to Rivendell, to her family. She would go home, soon.

Home. To her own world.

Where there was no magic.

Where there was no such thing as evil jewelry.

Where there were no hobbits.

Soon, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin would be but a memory, never to be seen again.

Quite suddenly, Arabelle stopped. The gate which had looked so wonderful a mere moment ago was horrible now. It would return her to her family, but take her from her new little friends. She still wanted to go home, but not at such a high cost.

"Arabelle?"

She looked down at the hobbits. Her four dear friends. How could she never see them again?

"It is nothing," she replied, shaking her head. "Just a thought. Let's get inside before we get even more soaked."

"Somehow, I don't think that's possible," Sam muttered, shrinking back into his cloak slightly.

Arabelle was silent as they approached the gate. Her mind was whirling. She didn't want to leave her friends, but neither could she stay. Her family and Jillianna would surely go back. How could she stay anywhere without them? But to never see Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin again?

"What business brings you to Bree?" a man asked from a vent hole in the gate. He was a swarthy man with stringy, lank gray hair.

"We wish to stay at the inn," Frodo replied firmly, though Arabelle heard his voice tremble just a bit at the end. "Our business is our own."

"Allright, young sir," the gate man placated, "I meant no offense. It's my job to ask questions, after nightfall. There's talk of strange folk abroad. Can't be too careful."

Arabelle agreed with that whole-heartedly. She glanced over her shoulder as they entered the gate, but there was nothing to be seen. Shivering, she followed the hobbits through and into Bree.


Again, I do apologize for taking so long to update, but school is ending, the first of three fairs is coming to an end - it will be some weeks still before the next one - so I should have some more time for a bit.

Anyway, review, please!