- Chapter 11 -

2939 spring (4 years later)

Shyloh stepped out from under the shade of the tree and into the sunlight. Snapping the book she held closed, she peered out into the woods around her, listening with her ears to the sounds that filled the air. Standing statue still, she waited. The steady rhythm that pattered towards her was familiar, and the grey mare's ears perked up from where she stood tied to the low branch of the tree directly across the small grassy opening. They were small feet, and she would know them anywhere.

Smiling to herself, she crossed the gap between her and the mare, tucking the book inside the saddlebag and then turned and waited. Not two minutes passed before Estel's face emerged from the treeline, a look of concentration etched into his forehead. He didn't see her at first but then he froze and stiffened, as if sensing that he was not alone.

Then the mare snorted, and he twisted around to face them. Shyloh gave the mare a scornful look but the horse didn't care that she'd given them up. Relief washed over the nine year olds face as he looked at them and then his shoulders sagged.

"Looks like you found us," she said happily but Estel only frowned. "What's wrong? Was our trail too obvious?"

He shook his head and crossed the grassy area towards her. "I should have thought to look here first."

Understanding dawned on her. When Glorfindel asked her to help with Estel's training lessons that day, his instructions were simple: go get lost in the woods.

So she had.

She'd saddled up and ridden out that morning before breakfast, doing her best to make their trail as complicated as she could for the young ranger so that he could practice his tracking skills. She hadn't planned on ending up in her favorite spot, it just simply ended up that way.

"I should have found somewhere else to park it," she confessed as she looked around the clearing. Tall grass reached up to Estel's fingertips as he brushed his palms over the tips of the stems while he walked. She couldn't get over how much he had grown in the last couple of years.

He shifted his bow and quiver on his back, eyes ever looking down at the trail she made through the clearing as he followed her obvious steps.

"It still took me all day to find you," he said bitterly.

"Well, I did slightly enjoy myself while we were racing through the trees." Shyloh patted the mare's neck with a smile. In truth, she'd ridden in circles for hours, crossing her own trail, trudging through a couple of streams, stretching the mares legs on already worn paths only to veer off into the trees again and circle back.

"You shouldn't have made it so easy."

It was her turn slouch her shoulders. "Easy? I worked hard making that trail!"

A smirk appeared on the corners of his mouth. "It really wasn't that hard."

Pressing her lips together and putting her hands on her hips she huffed. "Well, maybe you can follow my trail back on foot then."

The smirk turned into a wide grin as he accepted her taunt. She seriously considered letting the boy wander home on foot, but then her eyes looked skyward and she reconsidered. Already the sun was starting to wane and their day almost over. Thunder echoed in the distance, gently rumbling through the valley making her mind up for her. The trees had already slowed their sways.

The calm before the storm, she thought.

"Come on half pint," she said, rolling her eyes. "Let's get home before the rain gets here."

She untied the mare's reins from the branch and swung them easily over her delicate ears. After she was settled into the saddle, she stuck her hand out and helped him onto the back of the horse behind her. Swinging into a steady lope, the two of them made for the house.

They reached the stables just as the sky opened up. Glorfindel was already waiting for them under the vaulted roof. He raised his eyebrows as they came to a halt in front of him and Estel swung off the mares back with ease.

"Did you find him, or did he find you?" the tall elf asked.

"He found me," she admitted as her feet hit the stone floor. "But apparently I didn't do a good enough job hiding."

"There's always next time," Estel said with a sly grin.

Shyloh's eyes swept the stable and came to rest on a bay mare in one of the front stalls. The blaze on her face was familiar and she frowned.

"Gandalf has arrived?" she asked, not hearing Glorfindel's response to Estel's remark.

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows at her sudden unwelcomed change of topic, but then his eyes shifted to the mare across the aisle.

"Yes," he said. "He arrived shortly after breakfast." There was something in his tone that made her give him a questioning look but his eyes darted towards Estel, who had already begun unsaddling the mare she was still holding. Taking the hint, she said no more about the wizard but her curiosity grew. The stable master came out just then to take the horse and she passed the mare along to him, but not before giving her the last apple in the sack she'd packed for her midday meal.

The mare only drooled as she munched happily on the apple while being led away. Estel was shouldering his gear before thanking Shyloh one last time for 'helping' him today. Biting back a playful comment, she only nodded and then waited while Estel disappeared down the lane in the rain towards the house before turning to Glorfindel.

The elf seemed to be waiting for the same thing because once Estel was out of hearing range, he linked his hands behind his back just like she'd seen Elrond and Lindir do countless times.

"What did I do now?" she asked warily.

"I believe I said to get lost in the woods," he said calmly as they stood side by side just under the shelter of the stable doors.

"I did!" she exclaimed. When he raised his eyebrows again, she squirmed a little under his gaze. "Well, I kind of did. Mostly I just let Alwil pick her own way. I didn't mean to end up back in the clearing."

He hummed a response before clearing his throat.

"Your movements are predictable. I expect he was hoping you would make the trail difficult for him and end up in a different location so he followed your trail thoroughly, that was the only reason it took him so long."

Shoulders sagging a little, she couldn't help but feel disappointed.

"Ah, well, I'll do a better job getting lost next time."

Slowly nodding, he accepted the offer for her help again. "In the mean time, to answer your question from earlier, yes, Mithrandir has arrived and he wants to see you."

"Me?" she squeaked, taken by surprise. She hadn't seen the wizard since her first arrival in Rivendell almost four years ago. "What does he want with me?"

"That is a question for him I would imagine," Glorfindel said vaguely. Without another word, the elf turned back towards the inside of the stable and left her standing at the doorway alone with heavy thoughts weighing on her mind. Drawing her hood, she stepped out into the rain feeling apprehensive. Why did she suddenly feel as if she might not want to seek out the wizard?

Two weeks later...

"I thought we were going to the Shire." Shyloh's voice was faint against the roaring of the rain that pounded down on the already soggy earth. Her eyes were full of disdain as she glared at the wizard who had insisted they keep riding through the weather instead of finding shelter.

Ever since Gandalf announced to her that she would be joining him on a trip to the Shire, he'd avoided her questions about the real reason behind her coming. Even Elrond was vague with his answers on why the wizard wanted her company on this trip. She'd been given only a few short days to prepare for her journey, which she grumbled, had not been much of a notice. Despite feeling a little left in the dark about the wizard's unknown motives, she was looking forward to seeing the Shire, not having left the protection of the borders of Imladris since her arrival in Arda well over four years ago.

She was beginning to think the wizard was becoming even more unusually quiet and cryptic especially over the first few days of their journey, and she wondered if it had to do with the strange looking men they'd ran into. He called them 'unsavory characters,' and Shyloh had to agree. The rough looking men stopped the riders and demanded they empty their saddlebags. The leader, a greasy haired filthy looking man, had eyed Shyloh up like she was a candy bar. She would have knocked an arrow to her bow if Gandalf hadn't beaten her to the punch already, brandishing his staff and knocking them out like he was Kung Fu Panda. Then he proceeded to check their pockets as if looking for something.

Pulling a dirty rag type of parchment out of the leaders inside pocket, the wizard examined it carefully but refused to tell her about it so she sat there apprehensively and waited for him to mount up before the three men woke. She hoped to be long gone by then, not overly relishing the idea of having to take one out with her bow or sword.

This trip wasn't turning out at all how she imagined. Aside from the strange men they met earlier, she was soaked to the bone, cold, and miserable and her horse wasn't much better. Mud splattered up the mare's legs and flanks despite the rain pelting down. Shyloh's aching body had fallen into a numb sort of state, all the aches and pains from their trip melting into one constant throbbing sensation. Never before had she spent so many hours in the saddle and even though she was ready to call it a day, the wizard had other ideas.

She eyed the town of Bree wearily from their perch on the hill but Gandalf seemed confident in his decision.

"A quick stop for a hot meal and drink will do us both good. Plus, the horses could use a rest." They originally planned to ride straight through the town of Men but suddenly, for whatever reason, that had changed and now Shyloh felt her insides tense. Bree didn't have the best reputation for welcoming outsiders and this Prancing Pony Inn he told her about seemed sketchy. She might not have done a lot of traveling but she had ears and occasionally outsiders would travel to Rivendell and she could hear their stories easily enough.

"If you're sure..." Her voice trailed off into the night and her eyes flickered back to the lantern lit roads that blinked dimly in the darkness.

"It will do us both good," he insisted, so she didn't argue. "When we get there, keep your hood up, they are wary of elves. And I think it best if you leave the talking to me. And simply go by your first name, no formalities here. And stick close to me."

She shot him a look that he missed completely but she did her best to burn a hole in the back of his pointy hat as he nudged his horse forwards, expecting her to follow obediently. She did, and tugged her hood farther over her head, tucking stray strands of her white hair out of her face. Pulling her cloak around herself more, she hunched her shoulders as the wind picked up from behind them as if it were encouraging their arrival at the strange town.

They had a mile to go yet before they reached the South gate of Bree and she hoped that Gandalf would reconsider staying in the town.

He didn't.

Tall, wooden gates loomed above them, the spiked ends of the beams pointing upwards into the darkened sky as if the town itself was a fortress of its own making. Two guards lingered above them in the dark, peering over the top of the wall with narrowed eyes as if Shyloh and Gandalf were trespassers in a sacred kingdom. Dark rimmed bloodshot eyes glared out at the riders through a peephole in the right side gate, making Shyloh shudder.

"Who goes there? What business have you in Bree at this late hour?" the owner of the eyes asked, his voice husky and jagged.

"Simple weary travelers, that's who, looking to find food and rest at the Prancing Pony." Gandalf's reply was steady but she had been with him long enough to hear the edge of his tone.

"Late to be traveling on the road isn't it?" the man asked and Shyloh's eyes narrowed.

They had only been standing at the closed gate for a full minute but she was already ready to move on. She had no idea if the man behind the gate would let them pass, and he seemed to be taking his sweet time making up his mind, but she hoped he'd give them an answer soon. Gandalf hadn't been joking when he said the townsfolk were wary of travelers. The burly men continued to stare down at them from their perches, like a hunter would its prey.

"We pushed ahead to seek the comforts of warm fires," Gandalf answered. "Will you let us pass or shall we make camp right here until you make up your mind?" Gandalf's tone changed from polite to pushy in an instant.

"What of your partner? Why does he hide himself behind you?" The eyes strained to see around Gandalf to get a glimpse of the other rider.

Shyloh's face flamed at the sudden address, despite the fact her cheeks were cold to the touch. Was Gandalf's request to be allowed entry so difficult to appease? The wizard then reined his horse to the side so the eyes could get a good look at her. Though her face was mostly shadowed by her hood and the darkness, her pale skin shown against the torchlight fair and bright, and the eyes blinked back at her.

"A women, eh? Well why didn't you say so? Come in, come in," the voice said, and Shyloh didn't like the way it shifted to sounding so polite. His little door snapped shut and with a heave, the gate opened to the inside, allowing them passage at long last.

Gandalf gave her a warning look, silently telling her to be on her guard as he nudged his horse forward through the gate. She followed apprehensively, not liking the strange tone or glint that came into the gatekeeper's voice and eyes at the sight of her. She shifted just the slightest in the saddle, feeling the weight of the bow and long knives she carried across her back.

The heavy hinges creaked as the door swung closed behind them, shutting with a deep clang as if it was sealing away their fates, never to leave the clutches of the dreadful looking town again.

Rain continued to pelt down upon them as they rode north through the town, winding their way slowly through the dimly lit streets. She was surprised to see so many folk still shuffling about, and they cast the riders gloomy and dark looks as they trudged by. They went left at the first fork in the road, following the path up a steady climbing hill, passing shabby looking houses that sat clustered together.

Shades were pulled to keep prying eyes out, or houses were all together dark and eerie, as if no one longer inhabited them. The road forked again and for the second time Gandalf steered them to the left, continuing north down the muddy street. Shyloh shivered, an eerie feeling of being watched creeping up her spine as they walked on.

Of course they were being watched, she decided. They made a strange looking pair the two of them. The road eventually came to a crossroads and they took a left. The difference in atmosphere was immediate. Where there had been some folk milling about in the gloomy streets behind them, the street ahead of them was even busier. Carts pulled by soaked horses or mules passed them by. Men shuffled to and fro across their pathways, muttering under their breaths as they went. This was obviously where most of the business in the town took place because she noticed the shops immediately. They walked for a short ways before coming to a stop in front of a tall, multi story building that looked like it had seen better days.

A carved, wooden white horse dancing hung above the door, swayed as the weather steadily worsened. The words "The Prancing Pony Inn" were carved beneath the dancing figure, its paint chipped and faded with time.

Shyloh's knees almost buckled underneath her as she slid to her feet, her boots squelching in the muddy road beneath her soles. Grimacing, she followed Gandalf's lead and tied her mare to the thick wooden hitching post just outside of the door to the inn. Grabbing her packs off the saddle, she shouldered them and followed him through the heavy polished door.

A blast of warm air met them, smelling heavily of ale and dirty clothes. They went down a short hall and came to stand in front of a high bar. The place was packed. Men sat along the bar, tankards in hand, voices raised so they could be heard above the noise in the room. Short, rectangular tables and stools packed the floor. Barmaids hustled back and forth, ignoring the taunts and jeers from the drunken crowd as they went, bringing food and refreshments to those that had ordered it.

Shyloh looked at the bar scornfully, immediately disliking the atmosphere. She'd been in plenty of bars before, but this was the first time she'd been to a pub in Middle-earth. While the drinking was obvious, these men were not at all like she was used to. The elves of Rivendell refreshed themselves with wine it seemed, almost every night, but it wasn't hard to tell that elves had a much, much higher tolerance for alcohol than the race of men. These men were big and burly with dark eyes and scraggly beards. Suddenly, she felt a small push against her side and someone squeaked an 'excuse me,' but when she turned to look there was no one there. Looking down, she saw a small, child like person dive between the standing men off to her right and disappear into the crowd. She hardly felt this was a place for children, and scoffed at the idea someone would be so irresponsible.

Upon their arrival, although the noise didn't decrease by much, heads turned to catch sight of the weary travelers and Shyloh felt herself shift uncomfortably in her wet boots. She might have still been wearing her hood to cover herself with, but the stares were persistent.

Gandalf sidled up to the barkeeper, a middle aged man with scraggly reddish gray side burns and mustache. His dull gray eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn't slept properly for years. Wrinkles adorned the corners of his eyes but he welcomed the travelers with interest and polite words.

"Shyloh, this is Master Barliman Butterbur," Gandalf said, twisting to the side so she could join him at the counter. "He's the owner of this fine establishment."

"Pleased to meet you Miss," the barkeep said and she gave him a weary smile. "Just the one room Mister Gandalf?" Barliman asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Aye, just the one for the Lady," the wizard replied, his tone lowering. "I am afraid I have business to attend to so I will be in and out."

Shyloh's eyes darted to Gandalf but he looked away before she could catch his eye. Her suspicions were steadily growing. Food and warmth was what she had been expecting, but not a room. Then again, the thought of going back outside in this dreary weather made her shiver so she wasn't going to argue. Gandalf, on the other hand, lowered his voice even more and leaned in closer to the barkeeper, who nodded as the wizard spoke in his ear. Barliman's eyes darted to her a couple of times, and even though she had keen hearing, his voice was almost inaudible over the noise of the room.

Finally, he stepped back and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her away from the bar.

"Where exactly are you going now?" she hissed and he gave a quick sigh.

"Something has come to my attention that I must deal with. Not to worry, I will be here by morning to fetch you and will not be leaving Bree. I must ask though, that you stay in your room. The crowd in here is even more unruly than usual and there's no need to tell you that drunken men can be dangerous men."

"I'm not five Gandalf, and in case you forgot I can defend myself," she said, feeling slightly angered now.

He smiled knowingly then eyed her weapons on her back. "Keep them close and don't let anyone in. One of the barmaids will see to you and bring supper. I'll be in and out as I must."

"And the horses?"

"Already being taken care of by the stable master. Be cautious of Butterbur, too. He's a decent enough fellow but not always the sharpest."

"What kind of business has suddenly come up?"

"Afraid you will find out soon but for now take some rest. We still have many miles to travel and you wont be finding comforts like this until we reach our destination."

With those final words, Gandalf gave her a quick and pointed look, telling her to behave herself before he swept from the Inn. She was just about to turn back to the bar when a hand touched her arm, making her jump. She came face to face with an anxious looking woman with curly blond hair pulled back in a tie, her apron slightly crooked on her front.

"Miss, I'm to show you to your room," she said quickly, shooting Shyloh an irritated and hurried look as if the guest had rudely interrupted her busy schedule. Her eyes scanned Shyloh's ragged appearance and soaked clothes with judging grey eyes before motioning for her to follow along. They walked through the middle of the crowded bar, squeezing their way through the many tables and chairs that blocked their way before turning down a hall and walking up a flight of steps.

"Master Barliman said to give you the nicest room," she said, huffing slightly as they reached the second story landing. "It's just down this way a little."

Shyloh couldn't help but hear the irritated tone in her voice as she walked quickly down the long hall, the noise of the bar below slowly fading the further they went.

A slightly aged hand unlocked the door they stopped at and she stepped aside to allow Shyloh to enter. The room was decent sized, with a large four poster bed in the center of the opposite wall between two large rectangular windows. Drawing her hood back, she took a good look around the room but the woman's sudden gasp made her turn back towards the door.

"You're an elf!" the woman said, her eyes growing wide and blinking in shock at the sight of Shyloh's soaked white hair and pointy ears.

Feeling the heat rush to her face, Shyloh gave the woman a reproachful look.

"Yes, I am," Shyloh said slowly as she stared at the other woman.

Blinking furiously the woman then seemed to fumble. "My apologies my Lady, I had no idea. We don't get many of your kind that pass through these parts anymore." The woman suddenly looked hesitant as her fingers lingered on the door knob.

"Is there a problem?" Shyloh asked, feeling a little irritated.

"No my Lady it's just, I have never seen one of your kind before. Forgive me for staring, I am being awfully rude. You look like you've had a long journey already without me holding you up anymore. Is there anything I can get for you?"

Shyloh looked around the room, an idea suddenly dawning on her. "Where can I take a bath?"

The woman's eyes softened with understanding and she quickly crossed the threshold of the room and drew a screen back, revealing a tub.

Running water, thank you Lord!

"There are plenty of towels here for you Miss, and soaps if you like," the woman said, suddenly bustling about the small wash area, placing towels on the stool next to the deep tub. She tended to the fireplace next, and within a minute the smoldering embers were alive again, filling the room with warmth.

"May I take your clothes for washing?" the woman asked, "My name is Fern, by the way Miss. I'll have supper brought up for you as well, unless you'd prefer to dine below?" She hesitated when she asked the last question and Shyloh shook her head.

"I'll eat in here if that's alright. And yes, if you could have these washed I would greatly appreciate it."

"Do you need any fresh clothes?"

"I have an extra set, thank you." Shyloh held up the small bag that she carried and the woman bowed.

"I'll be back with your supper and to collect your clothes later. Please don't hesitate to ring if you need anything Miss." Closing the door behind her, Shyloh was finally left alone in her room.

Sighing heavily, the first thing she did was pull her cloak off and hang it up on a peg by the fire to dry. Her boots were next, and she set them near the hearth to dry out as well. Turning to the tub, she cranked on the hot water as hot as she could and let it fill, dumping a bottle of soap in it before locking her door and shutting the curtains. Dropping her weapons onto the bed, she peeled out of her clothes next and then sank into the tub, letting a long sigh escape her lips as she did.

She'd longed for a bath for weeks and felt the dirt from the road wash away as she soaked. Scrubbing her hair twice and making sure she was squeaky clean before the water turned cold and she had to get out. Wrapping herself in the towels, she shook out her clean pair of leggings and fresh blue tunic, enjoying the feel of clean clothes for a change.

She raked her fingers through her hair in front of the mirror above the vanity, not even caring that the ends were already curling. Her white hair stood out bright in the dimly lit room. It was now well to the middle of her back and as she forked her fingers through the thick locks, she suddenly came to realize how much she had grown to like her hair. The only problem was that it always stood out like a sore thumb in a crowd and she was always easy to spot.

Throwing another log on the fire to warm the room up more, she could hear the rain pelting against the glass outside and her thoughts drifted to Gandalf before a knock on the door made her jump. Recognizing Fern's voice, she hurried to unlock the door and let the woman in, her bare feet padding on the wood floor softly.

"Here is supper for you, Miss," Fern said as she set the tray on the table in the corner next to the fireplace. "The wine is compliments of Master Barliman."

The woman's eyes took in the she-elf before her, glancing over the strange but yet gorgeous white hair that flowed in ripples down her back, to the fair face of a young – or maybe not quite so young in elf years, she thought – woman who looked both innocent and yet, not so, because there was something about the way she carried herself that told Fern she would not be a woman to mess with. Either way, she felt a sudden need to take top notch care of the elf and laid it upon herself to make sure she was as comfortable as possible.

"Hot soup, fresh rolls and sweet honey butter for you. I will have Baniel bring more wood for the fire. I am afraid these old buildings are a little drafty. I'll have your clothes cleaned and brought to you by the morrow. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Shyloh gave her a grateful smile, feeling surprised by the woman's hospitality. "Thank you, that should be everything. Oh, there is one thing. My companion, he is Gandalf the Gray, a friend of Master Butterbur's. When he comes back, please see that he's fed. He has traveled a long way without much rest."

Fern bowed. "Of course Miss, I would be happy to pass along the message for when he arrives."

"Thank you, Fern, I greatly appreciate your kindness," Shyloh said in the most elvish way possible, making the woman beam.

Left to her meal, Shyloh pulled a chair in front of the fireplace and wrapped a blanket over her shoulders before setting the tray of food on the wide stool next to her seat. She didn't realize just how hungry she was until she dived into her meal, completely unladylike. Sipping the wine, she scrunched her nose at the bitter taste. It wasn't nearly as fine as the wines of Elrond's house so since she couldn't see herself finishing it, she dumped the bitter drink down the drain, not feeling at all guilty by doing so.