Chapter 14: The Town
Guts awoke to the muffled sound of voices chatting nearby, obscured by the constant assault of heavy rain falling onto the ground around him. Before he opened his eyes, he could feel his entire body soaked through, as if he had been stuck in an underwater dream for hours, and above all else, he was so cold he wondered how he was even alive. There he lay, in the grass and mud, staring up into the black clouds. Occasionally, thunder rolled through the heavens overhead, as if they were trying to wake him up, but he was already awake, though he didn't feel like moving just yet. Somehow, even though the rain chilled him to the core, he felt at peace, a rare feeling for him. Guts didn't want to move just yet.
Then he squeezed his sword-hand, finding nothing blocking him from making a fist. He shot upright, unable to find it anywhere around him, not on him, not around him. The Dragonslayer was gone.
"No!" Guts shouted. He refused to lose that sword. It had become a part of him that he couldn't live without. "Where is it!?"
"How pitiful," a voice said, a few meters away. Guts, still on his knees, turned to see two men, drenched from the rain, walking by. He couldn't see their faces.
"I'm piss-drunk, but at least I don't take a nap in the mud," one said to the other, before walking out of Guts' earshot. Guts was too confused to remember to ask them were they were, or who they are. Instead, he knelt there, in the cold and mud, bewildered out of his mind. What happened? Where did Aragorn go? All he could remember was travelling with him through an endless forest, on an unknown land.
He surveyed the area, quickly finding a wide wooden building directly in front of him. How he didn't see it immediately, he wasn't sure, but he knew now that he was in the yard behind this building. He looked around some more, seeing gravel paths, fences, and more buildings. One building had a roofed area outside, wherein a short, hairy man banged some metal with a hammer. A blacksmith, clearly. Guts got up out of the mud to inspect the area further. Was this a town? Had he finally found civilization?
He rounded the building, seeing horse-drawn carriages, cloaked people walking down the road, people smoking on pipes, much like the one Aragorn carried. Some people seemed to be staring at Guts. This was a village, or town. Finally!
In the front of the building, Guts saw a sign hanging above the door. He had to shield his eyes with his hands to get a good look, due to the rain's endless barrage. The sign read: The Prancing Pony, along with a carving of a small horse standing on it's hind legs. There were people of all heights going in and coming out at all times. Whatever this was, it sure was popular. The people coming out were noticeably less coordinated than those going in. That could only mean one thing: this was a tavern. It also meant an escape from the cold. Guts didn't wait any longer.
Upon entering the pub, it was obvious Guts was right in his assumptions. The whole place smelled of alcohol and sweat. The tavern was packed, with people lining every table and every stool. All except one table and chair, in the corner of the lively room, hidden by shadow. The table was completely empty.
Guts took a step inside, revealing himself to the crowd. In an instant, chatter died down, becoming a quiet chit-chat, rather than a drunken festival. Almost everyone in the room eyed him, either looking straight at him, or out of the corner of their eye. They all looked at the massive man dressed in dark, whose hair was dripping with rain and mud, and whose cloak and armor was caked with nature. Truly a sight to behold, and to top it all off, he wore a metal hand on his left arm, and had one eye closed.
"Welcome, stranger," someone said to him. Guts looked down to see a short, fat man scrubbing a mug with a cloth. He wore an apron, so must've worked here. He had a bushy mustache that connected to his sideburns, and eyes that had seen thousands of visitors. "Don't think I've seen your chops around here, heh?"
Guts took a moment to respond. He had a million thoughts running through his head. "Uh, y-yeah, I'm new here."
"Mmhmm," the man mumbled, looking down at his mug. "Come on over at sit at the bar. I can tell you're a man with many questions."
The man read Guts' mind, but Guts didn't even acknowledge it. He went and sat at the bar, while the man walked around to the other side.
"Name's Butterbur, but you can call me Barliman," he announced. "I run this here tavern and inn, so if you've got any questions, you come to me, y'hear? Oh, and try not to touch anything above waist-level. Don't want mud on the tabletops, yeah?"
Guts had forgotten that he was covered in mud and rain, but he hardly cared.
"Barliman, I need to know where I am, and what happened," Guts started with. Barliman didn't understand the second question.
"I don't know what you mean by "what happened," but I can tell you where ya are. You're in The Prancing Pony, the finest tavern this side of the Misty Mountains!" Barliman beamed. Guts just looked at him with a face of fatigue and desperation.
"The Prancing Pony? You know, Bree?" he hinted, but Guts had no idea what he was talking about. "C'mon, son, don't you know Bree?"
"Listen, barkeep, I don't think I'm from around here, and I certainly don't know where I came from, if that makes any sense. I was in the woods with my companion, looking for civilization, then, I woke up in your yard, in the mud. You must know how I got here."
Barliman thought his hardest, but he truly didn't know how Guts could've ended up in the back.
"Maybe someone knocked you out and dumped you here?" he guessed, but Guts knew that was unlikely. He was with Aragorn, and no one in existence could sneak up on Aragorn. Unless... Aragorn himself hit Guts unconscious, then brought him here? No, that wouldn't make any sense. He had no reason to do that.
"Do you know a man named Aragorn?" Guts asked. "Usually wears a hood, he's got a stubble, shady."
"Never heard of an Aragorn," Barliman answered as he picked up another dirty mug. Guts thought of more questions to ask, but then he remembered something Aragorn told him a few days ago: "I only allow my friends to call me that."
"Have you heard of a man named Strider?"
Barliman's head stayed pointed at the mug in his hands, but his eyes shot up to Guts. He looked at him for ten full seconds, silently.
"The ranger, eh? I knew there was something about you, stranger." he said, stepping out from behind the bar. "Come with me, lad."
He lead Guts upstairs to a room, decorated with a painting, flowers, a table and a bed. This must be one of the rooms people could rent out here, Guts thought. Barliman pointed to a dark corner in the room.
"I believe this is yours. We found it outside earlier."
Guts looked into the shadow, and saw a comforting sight. His sword, Dragonslayer, standing tall against the wall. It's weight was making a chip in the floorboards where the point sat.
"Though I don't know how you brought that with you. It took three men to carry it up the stairs..." Barliman explained, but stopped when he saw Guts lift the sword with one hand, hooking it on his back.
"Yeah, you're definetely one of Strider's friends," Barliman assumed. "You must've heard what happened to the Ring."
The ring? Guts remembered Aragorn talking about a ring. Something about it's destruction being crucial, or something like that.
"Yeah, those poor hobbits. Just got tied up in something that was bigger than they were."
"Hobbits?" Guts asked. "What about hobbits?"
Barliman looked sad. "You haven't heard? Someone found out the hobbits had the ring, and found them. He... he killed them, and took it for himself. He couldn't have been Sauron, 'cause we'd all be dead already. Whoever took it, though... now has some fine power in their hands."
Guts also remembered Aragorn talking about a Sauron. Lord of evil, trying to destroy the world, or conquer it. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. Guts decided to try to get more information, as it might be of use to Aragorn.
"Do you know anything about the man who took the ring?"
Barliman thought for a moment. "All we know is from a bystander who happened to be travelling the road at the time. Poor man, looked like he'd seen a ghost."
Barliman Butterbur took a seat. Standing had clearly tired him out.
"He said the man who took the Ring was like an angel. Said he came down from the heavens, riding upon a giant beast. He had long, white hair, glistening white armor... damn, he honestly sounds like an angel, doesn't he?"
Barliman stopped when he saw Guts staring. "Something wrong, son?"
The memories came back to Guts like a waterfall. The plateau, with Aragorn. Then, He came to them. The one who cost Guts everything. Then white, then dark.
"Wh-where, did he go..." Guts said quietly.
"The lad said he took off into the sky again, heading south-west. My guess is he's off to Mordor, or Gondor. Same direction, both of them."
Gondor. Aragorn's home. Guts knew He had sent him here, to Aragorn's homeland of Middle-Earth.
"South-west of here?" Guts clarified.
"Yessir. But it isn't close. No sir, it isn't. On foot, it could take you a year. And that's no lie!"
Guts fumed. He was here, wherever here was. But so far away... what could he do?
"If you're really itching to meet this angel-man, you'd best find the wizard, Gandalf. He has tricks to cross the country quickly, so I've heard."
Guts was ready to do anything. "Wizard? where can I find this wizard?"
"You're certainly excited to get a move on, huh? Gandalf has a knack for finding those who're looking for him. If you want my advice, head south-west. I can almost guarantee you'll meet him along the way."
Guts went for the door straight away. There was no time to lose. Who knew what... He would do with Aragorn. And... Casca. Guts had to move, now.
"Aren't you gonna get cleaned up a bit, before you go on another adventure, stranger?" Barliman offered, but Guts shook his head. Barliman understood this must've been urgent. "South-west is that-a-way," Barliman said, pointing in a direction.
"If you somehow happen to see Strider before I do, tell him Guts is looking for him, and the Ring." Guts informed the barkeep, who nodded. With that, Guts headed down the stairs, and out into the rainy road. He saw the blacksmith again, still pounding away at metal, generating many sparks. He reminded Guts of someone.
As Guts strode down the road, passing many residents, he thought about the situation. He was in Aragorn's world, and so was the Hawk. Then it was possible Aragorn and Casca were here, too! And if so, Guts would stop at nothing to find them.
Then he thought of what Barliman had told him, about the Hawk taking the ring of power. All the power, the power to destroy the world, in His hands. It was a scary thought, but Guts wasn't deterred. He kept moving forward, as he always had.