Note: Personally, it feels sacrilegious to alter Tolkien's dialogue, because, unlike scene description, dialogue feels like part of the characters and helps to establish them as people in my mind. However, it has been decided that we will paraphrase the dialogue as much (and as little) as possible, in order to avoid potential copyright issues. We will be including as much as we feel is necessary for the story, and glossing over what we can, for the sake of brevity. We want this to feel immersive and not assume that everyone who reads it will already know the intricacies of every scene.
This was a serious labor (translating it from a private roleplay to a public fanfiction is quite the process), and we hope that it will be easier moving forward.
Bear with us! The action will be coming soon~
Chapter 7
Anticipating Hobbits
~
The warmth of the inn was more than welcome after the cold and the wet. Nell hoped that she wouldn't catch anything after having taxed herself in such conditions. A decent bed and some hearty food, for however long they would be here, would be a big help.
Now, as long as she and Yvonne could get through their interactions with Havarr, all would be well.
But to her surprise and relief, instead of the intimidating Havarr, a robust and smiling man bustled over to them. "Good evening, ladies! What can I help you with tonight?"
Yvonne answered with a question: "Mr. Butterbur?"
"That's right! At your service. We've got rooms, though not many, and warm food if you're hungry. Will you be staying?"
"We plan to, for at least a couple nights," Yvonne replied.
"Is it just the two of you?" he asked, his kind eyes crinkling as he looked them over. They were in relatively good shape, despite having been on the road for over a week, and his concern was only mild. Maybe they were actually beginning to fit in.
"Just us," Yvonne confirmed. "We don't need anything fancy, just a safe place to sleep."
"Aye, I've got just the room, if you don't mind sharing. There are two beds, though they're small, and there's a lock on the door, not that I expect you'll need it here. It's only three silver a night, four if you want breakfast included for the two of you."
Nell was surprised by how much more comfortable she felt in the tavern this time. Perhaps it was partially due to how tired she was, and how warm the interior glowed, and the aroma of stew and fresh bread certainly didn't hurt. But she had a sense that she owed her comfort primarily to this kind man. Where had he been before? She supposed that they might not have met Lorthon and Boren if they hadn't been treated so badly by Havarr, so it was all for the best, but this was such an unexpected change, and she was now feeling an even greater sense of hope for their time here.
"That sounds perfect," Yvonne said after a quick glance of confirmation with Nell. It would definitely behoove them to save money and share a room—especially after they had already paid two coins to stable their horses—and Nell would feel more comfortable doing so anyway. After all, this wasn't Rivendell. Though cozy, the inn didn't feel nearly as secure.
"Nob!" the innkeeper called out suddenly. "Oi, get over here. Take these two up to the attic room and give 'em the key for it. You'll be wanting dinner when you come back down, I'm guessin'?" he added, once again addressing the young women.
They nodded just as a cheery-looking hobbit scurried out from behind the bar. Yvonne handed the four coins over to Mr. Butterbur, plus another silver for their meal, then they followed the hobbit as he led them through the warm, busy room to the staircase.
As Nell followed Yvonne and the hobbit up the creaky old stairs, she realized that this was the oldest building that she had ever been in. Or, rather, the building that seemed the oldest, for she was sure that Rivendell was much, much older. She tried not to worry about the state of their accommodations. Nob unlocked the door at the very top of the stairs and let them in.
The room was incredibly dark, barely any moonlight seeping in through the windows. Nob went directly to a small table, and moments later, the glow of a lantern cast its warm light about the space. The ceiling sloped low on either side, as attic ceilings commonly did, but the beds did not feel cramped, and the windows were a decent size. What pleased Nell the most, however, was that the room seemed to be well kept: the floor swept and the beds neatly made.
She smiled at Nob. "Thank you very much."
He returned her smile with grin of his own. "If you young misses require anything more, you just need to ask!"
As soon as Nob had gone, Nell and Yvonne went straight to their beds. Nell dropped her pack onto the floor, while Yvonne set hers down on her own bed, testing the mattress as she did so. Nell took a seat on hers, the padding rather rudimentary—and immensely inferior to the beds in Rivendell—but she didn't mind in the least. Being closer to what she was used to in her own world, it held a certain measure of emotional comfort as well as physical. Quite happy with its newfound cushion, her aching muscles were already starting to be put at ease.
A moment later, Yvonne spoke. "Do you want to go back down? I'm pretty hungry, but if you want to take a few minutes to relax or try to make plans or something, we can do that."
"Let's eat first," Nell replied. Though the bed was a strong draw, they hadn't had any rations since their mid-afternoon break. "We'll think more clearly and be more relaxed with some hearty food in our stomachs.
"Perfect."
They stepped out of the room, Nell with her Elven bag slung across her shoulder. It made her feel a bit more prepared, more secure. Yvonne locked the door, then shoved the key deep into her pocket. Back downstairs, Nob spotted them and waved them over to the fireplace. Next to it, there was a small table with a bench along one side, to which Nob gestured.
"Go on and sit, young misses. I'll be right back with your food. Rabbit stew with fresh bread tonight; Mr. Butterbur's young cousin shot the rabbits hisself. An' will it be ale or cider to drink?"
"Cider, please," Yvonne said.
"And cider for me, too, thank you," Nell requested as she took a seat at the table. Though the bench was wood, it felt good to sit on something other than a saddle or the cold ground. And she hadn't felt this warm in ages. The fire had heated the room to a very pleasant, even cozy temperature. In the current atmosphere, the fatigue from the day—or even from the last week—was catching up with her more quickly, and she hoped that once she had food in her, she wouldn't feel too sleepy to talk with Yvonne.
As they waited for Nob to bring their meal, Nell's eyes drifted around the room absently. The crowd of both somewhat raucous and more relaxed patrons filled most of the tables.
Nob came back over a few minutes later, carrying a tray that was nearly as big as he was. On it were balanced two steins of cider and two large bowls filled with stew, each bowl accompanied by a torn hunk of bread. He placed their fare down on the table, then grinned at them. "Anything else, just call out for Nob."
"Thanks, Nob," Yvonne said, smiling at him in return before reaching first for her bread.
Nell had eaten half of the stew and most of the bread and drunk a good portion of the cider before she even realized it. When she did realize it, she slowed a bit, not wanting to fill her stomach too full too quickly. At least the rest of the room seemed too interested in other things to take notice of a young woman stuffing herself more gluttonously than she had intended.
She and Yvonne both finished at about the same time, and, after swigging down the rest of her cider—which she had found more refreshing than the ale—she got to her feet, not knowing what to do about the dirty dishes, but not wanting to leave them there. Yvonne joined her just as Nob came by.
"All good, young misses?" he called out, carrying another tray of drinks. "One of us'll get the bowls."
"It was great," Yvonne replied. "Thank you." Nell concurred wholeheartedly.
He waved, hurrying away to tend to one of the rowdier tables that seemed to be waiting for the drinks. Yvonne, meanwhile, left one of the smaller coins from her pocket on the table next to her bowl, then turned to Nell. "Ready to head up?"
"Definitely."
They stepped out of the bench seat, and as Nell made her way around the table, she discreetly tucked the coin under the edge of the bowl and out of direct sight. Having known more than one kid in the foster system who was prone to thievery, she thought it safer to not leave coinage too out in the open amid the inn's crowd.
The girls returned to their room and its dim, cozy glow, and Nell unslung the Elven bag from her shoulder and set it on the floor beside her bed, then took a grateful seat on the mattress. She pulled off her boots, and the relief was immense. She had done so a handful of times over the course of the week, and only briefly, due to the cold.
Yvonne walked over to the window, peering out. A few moments later, she turned back to Nell and smiled. "I'm beat," she said. "But we should probably talk. We didn't really get a chance, with Glorfindel around. Not that I'm not glad he escorted us, because I am, but Elves aren't great for privacy."
"Yeah," Nell agreed. "Now you can tell me why you were so adamant that he gets back to Rivendell. Because it seemed like you were."
Yvonne went to the door to check the lock, which was secure, then sat down on her bed cross-legged, facing Nell. "Yeah." She took a deep breath. "I'm not positive, but I think the hobbits—Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin—are going to start their journey soon. On their way to Rivendell, one of the Nazgûl—the Ringwraiths—stabs Frodo. They fight them off, but Frodo is in pretty bad shape, and the only reason he lives is because Glorfindel finds them. He's the reason Frodo gets to Rivendell in time for Elrond to save him and heal his wound. I'm worried—what if Glorfindel doesn't get back in time to do that, because he was escorting us? For all I know, the hobbits already left. Frodo could be dying right now, with Glorfindel days away, and it would be our fault. If he dies, I don't know what will happen. Sauron might win."
Nell's chest tightened as she imagined being responsible for such a devastating outcome. Then her mind scrambled for reassurance, to think things through. "Okay, but—we didn't see anyone, right? I mean . . . if they would be on their way to Rivendell, wouldn't we have seen them?"
Yvonne shrugged. "I mean . . . maybe? But I don't remember how long they followed the road for. All I know is that they camped at Weathertop for a night, which is where the Nazgûl attacked. We could have passed them, if we took even a slightly different path. I hope you're right, though. I hope they haven't left yet, and Glorfindel is in the right place to save them."
"Right . . . we didn't stick to the main road the whole time . . ." The days had started to blur together for a while, and sometimes she had grown so lost in thought during the journey that she wasn't even sure that she could retrace their exact route.
Suddenly, Yvonne's eyes widened. "I've been so worried about that, I almost forgot—the Nazgûl follow the hobbits here, to Bree. I can't remember what happens in the book, but in the movie, they knock down the gate, and I think they even enter the inn."
Nell was first struck with fear at the prospect of being in a place where they might be sighted—then she remembered the dream that she had had at Weathertop.
She was about to mention it when a thought occurred to her. She voiced it. "Wait— If those things had entered Bree recently, especially the inn, wouldn't there be a sign? The innkeeper didn't seem shaken up, and he didn't give a warning or say anything about it . . . same with Nob. I would think they would have . . ."
Yvonne's tense expression eased slightly. "You're right. They mustn't have gone through yet. That's a huge weight off my shoulders. Thank you, I feel like an idiot for not thinking of that sooner."
"No, it's okay," Nell replied, feeling a little more at ease herself. "It must be kind of overwhelming to know everything that's going to happen but not know what has or hasn't happened yet." Even though it meant being in the dark most of the time, she was glad that her own thoughts weren't swarming with so much information.
"I just wish I knew more," Yvonne groaned, flopping back onto her bed. "I wish I had the books with me, or something. I really don't want to mess anything up."
"Yeah . . ." Nell mumbled, her gaze falling to the old, worn floorboards. Then, she connected a couple of dots in her mind, and a new flame of hope lit inside of her. "But hey! If this place is so significant, and Elrond said that we were meant to be here for a reason . . . it probably has something to do with Frodo and . . . that whole thing . . ." She didn't even want to think about the Ringwraiths, but she suddenly felt a chill, like one of them could be lurking in the corner of their room.
Yvonne propped herself up on her elbows. "But they don't need us. Neither of us exactly have useful skills for this world. I know Elrond thinks we were brought here on purpose, but . . . I just don't see what that purpose could be. I'd never say it around the Elves, but . . . I think Elrond was wrong."
Nell pondered this for a few long seconds. "So . . . do you think that we're supposed to change something? Maybe prevent something from happening? I mean, from what I know about Tolkien's books and the movies, it seems like things happen for a reason, but . . . maybe in this version of the world—if it's different at all—there's something that we can do."
Yvonne sat up straighter, tense yet again. "I really hope it's not different. How would we know what to change, if that is why we're here? Wouldn't it make more sense for this being of power to give someone like Galadriel a vision so she can fix whatever it is that needs to be changed?" She sighed. "I don't want the responsibility that Elrond seems to think we have, Nell. I've never been responsible for anything in my life. Not anything important, anyway."
Nell's brow furrowed as she stared at the floor. "Maybe . . . maybe something needs to happen like it does in the books." Then a light dawned in her mind, and she raised her head to look at Yvonne with a sense of urgency. "Maybe a character is going to die who isn't supposed to die . . . maybe something is going to go wrong here . . ."
"And we'll save them?" Yvonne asked quietly. "I'm no hero, Nell. Maybe you are. But as much as I love this story . . . this world . . . I'm not prepared to die for it. And if we're supposed to save someone, that means we have to actually be there to save them. We'd have to go on the journey, at least partway. And if we do that, we're probably going to die."
Nell understood that wholeheartedly. And the thought of dying at all scared her out of her mind, let alone possibly in the weeks to come, and violently at that. But what else could they do but follow the path presented to them?
"I know, but . . . I don't know what other options there are but to follow the story, or however much we can when we finally get to that point—assuming that we're going to. If we were chosen for this, I also have to assume that we're capable of whatever's required of us. Or at least we will be. It would be pointless otherwise. I mean, I'd never ridden a horse or camped before, but I did both of those things in just a day—and I'm sure it's worse than camping in our world—and I survived. I never thought I'd be able to adapt that easily. I'd rather not have to fight anything off, but if it comes to that . . . I'm sure I'll manage by then. I've been having the dreams about the Ringwraiths for a while, and that means something. I'm not going to just ignore that, not now that I have proof that they're more than just dreams. And not when they're still happening." She took a breath. "I had another one at Weathertop."
Yvonne gave her a look, somewhat taken aback, somewhat anxious. "You had another dream?" She paused, very briefly, then, "Tell me about it."
"It was pretty much the same . . . the rider was chasing me . . . But—" Nell wracked her brain, the images and feelings from the nightmare washing over her. After waking up, only the base feelings of fear and urgency and dread had clung to her, and of course, she always pictured the hooded rider and the equally black horse with the red eyes. But now . . . "There was something else . . . like a . . . flash of silver . . . like a weapon. I wasn't just afraid for myself." Her eyes widened. "Do you think it had something to do with what happens to Frodo?"
"Maybe," Yvonne said, her eyes also widening. "That's where he gets stabbed—it almost makes sense. Sort of like a reverse ghost, an image of something horrible that will happen in the future. Do you think we're supposed to prevent that?"
"Maybe, but . . . it's not like he dies, right? He ends up being fine . . . unless the wound is worse here . . ." She kneaded her forehead in frustration and exhaustion. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see, but since I had that dream, and we're here right now, apparently before Frodo, I have a feeling that we'll end up at Weathertop again."
"So we'll have to keep an eye out for Frodo, and . . . what? Introduce ourselves to him and invite ourselves along?" Yvonne threw herself back on the bed again. "We're either going to come across as insane or super shady. Plus, Aragorn will be here, and he'll be even more suspicious of us. How is this even going to work?"
"I don't know," Nell said, trying not to sound annoyed in her state of fatigue. "Can you figure out something to say that would make us seem trustworthy? Maybe reference something in the books?"
"If someone came up to you and mentioned something in your life that they should have no way of knowing, I think you'd find it the opposite of trustworthy," Yvonne replied. She sighed a second later. "I'm sorry. I'm tired, and this is just . . . a lot. Let's just try telling them an edited version of the truth—that Elrond sent us here to find Gandalf, and if Gandalf wasn't here we were supposed to find a Ranger to take us back to Rivendell. Aragorn trusts Elrond, and they're going to Rivendell anyway, so that might be enough to convince him to take us."
"That sounds good enough to me," Nell replied, relieved. "And we wouldn't even have to lie about a backstory for ourselves to make something credible." She got up wearily, pulled back the covers on her bed, and settled under them. Her body relaxed quickly, and she was glad that she hadn't lain down until now, for she surely would have had difficulty staying awake.
"That's settled then," Yvonne said with a yawn. She rose to blow out the lantern, then climbed back into bed, properly this time. "Goodnight, Nell."
"Goodnight . . ."
Nell closed her eyes in the darkness, feeling sleep coming quickly. But in those moments before it fully descended, she couldn't help but wonder what horrible things might be waiting for her in her dreams . . . or when she woke up.
Nell slept longer than she had since Rivendell, the sun and the chill of nature not waking her so readily. Though the attic wasn't as warm as the common room down below, it was still nicely cozy, even with the pale morning light instead of the orange glow of the lantern. Yvonne was awoke shortly after.
Nell didn't want to leave the snug bed, but it wasn't too long before she and Yvonne agreed that it was time for something to eat. They tidied themselves up, made a regrettable trip to the outhouse, then found themselves a table. There was hardly anyone else in the tavern this early, and the quiet seemed almost unnatural after the previously raucous atmosphere that Nell had experienced.
Nob came to their table with a bright "Mornin', misses!" and it wasn't long before the table was laden with breakfast: greasy sausages, buttery, pan-fried potatoes, and a chunk of day-old bread that was good for sopping up the butter and grease. Nell took a sip of her cider to prepare her stomach, wishing desperately for some water. The fare was heavier than what she would usually eat for breakfast at home, and after having eaten so lightly on the road, she wasn't sure how her system would handle such foods so early in the morning. But, as it turned out, her stomach seemed to be glad for it, after having been so deprived. She ate more than she had expected, and the cider was a decent replacement for orange juice, the sugars helping to wake her up.
Neither of the girls spoke whilst eating, but as soon as they were through, Yvonne asked, "What should we do all day? Do you think it would be safe to explore the town a bit?"
Nell put down her cup of cider and swallowed. "I don't know . . . what do you think there is to do here? I wouldn't mind staying in the room, though it might get old after a while. But if there's a chance we're going to have to spend another week traveling again . . ." Being lazy for at least a day didn't sound like the worst thing at the moment. "Some recovery time might be nice."
"I wish there was a library or something," Yvonne said. "It would be nice to spend the day reading." She seemed to lapse into thought.
Nell softly hummed in agreement. A book would be nice. She had been too wrapped up in other things to pine for her creature comforts too much, but, thinking about it now, holing up in their room with something to read would be a wonderful thing. Reading a fantasy novel at an inn in a fantasy world . . . She chuckled inwardly and steered her mind elsewhere.
"Yeah, we can just head back up," Yvonne continued. "Maybe I'll reorganize my bags, and go through my purse again. I've barely used any of the stuff I had with me when we came here, since it's all so different."
"Sounds good to me."
They returned to their room, passing Nob on the way, who waved them on with a cheerful smile, and as soon as Nell reached her bed, she lay back down, appreciating the feeling of having a full stomach after the second meal in a row.
Yvonne, meanwhile, stood at the window, gazing out upon the streets of Bree, and a comfortable silence enveloped the room, Nell's thoughts wandering back to their previous discussion.
Eventually, Yvonne also took to her bed, flopping down restlessly onto the mattress. With the rest of the day stretching on ahead of her, Nell decided that now was a good time for a personal conversation with Yvonne. What with traveling with others and being distracted by just being in Rivendell, they hadn't really had an opportunity to get to know each other on a fundamental level.
Despite the quiet privacy of the room, she spoke in a subdued tone. "So, we don't actually know much of anything about each other—aside from our experience with horses and the outdoors." She chuckled softly. "What were things like at home? If you want to talk about it."
Yvonne sat up and shrugged. "It's weird, I miss a lot of the amenities, but I don't really miss home, you know? My life was kind of boring, I guess. I had a boring job, a boring little apartment, and only ever managed to stick with one or two hobbies. I'm not particularly close to my parents—they probably don't even realize I'm gone yet—and didn't have a boyfriend or anything. No pets, thank goodness." Nell caught a ghost of concern cross Yvonne's face as she more than likely thought about what would have become of a pet after she had found herself in another world. "I was looking for a change even before I left—maybe that's one reason I'm not more freaked out than I am. I can't imagine living the rest of my life in a medieval village, don't get me wrong, but this has been interesting, at least. I still want to go home, but as long as we aren't starving and nothing's trying to kill us, I'm actually kind of okay with staying here for a while. I just want to be able to play tourist, though. Saving the world is more than I signed up for." She gave a dry laugh. "It seems like we don't get much say in that, though. How about you? Any loved ones left behind?"
Nell soaked in her words, a bit lost in her own thoughts. It sounded like the two of them were rather similar, despite their differences. At Yvonne's question, however, she gave a very slight, wry smile. "No. I basically grew up in foster care. Different families, different places. Now I live with a couple of roommates, but we're not that close. Nothing interesting ever happened, except for the parties they liked to throw, but that wasn't my thing." She paused for a moment, staring at the bedcover. "I had actually escaped one of them the night I came here." In an even softer voice, she added, "Sometimes I still can't believe this is happening."
"Me either," Yvonne replied. "Sometimes I wonder if it's just a very vivid dream. There's stuff here that I grew up believing was impossible. I'm pretty sure Glorfindel caught me staring at him an embarrassing number of times, but it's just so insane that people like him actually exist. He's thousands of years old, Nell. It definitely doesn't feel real. Sometimes I still wonder if I'm in a coma or something."
"Yeah," Nell laughed, thinking of how stunned she had been by the Elf at first sight. "I'm with you. It's hard not to stare. I wonder if he gets that a lot." But thousands of years old? She couldn't say that she was surprised, but it was kind of hard to wrap her mind around. "I really hope this is real," she murmured. "Depending on how things go, moving forward . . . I may actually prefer this to home."
"Really?" Yvonne was clearly a bit taken aback. "As long as we survive this and don't, like, destroy the world, I'm definitely going to be glad I had this experience. If I went home tomorrow, I think I'd wish I could have stayed longer, despite everything. But . . . never living somewhere with hot showers again, or coffee makers, or cars, or fast food, or just . . . safety and security when you go outside at night?" She bit her lip. "I don't know if that's something I'd want to do. I don't like being scared and uncomfortable all the time. Rivendell is the only place I felt truly safe since we got here. If I had the chance to stay there, then maybe . . . but they're going to leave soon." She looked down at her mattress as she said the last.
"Yeah . . . there are things I'd miss," Nell acknowledged. "I don't know. I guess it's a good thing that we don't have to think about it." She didn't know the reason behind the Elves leaving, but at the moment, she didn't want to. The thought of Rivendell being abandoned was too painful. She had only just discovered it, and already it felt like it was being lost to her. At least if it remained, she could fantasize about returning . . .
Her throat tightened, and she was glad that Yvonne said nothing more, for she would have been unable to respond.
After the two of them grew silent, Nell lay down, her thoughts inevitably drifted to everything else: this land, their current situation, their previous two journeys, and the one yet to come. She tried to remain focused on one subject at a time, so as to not be overwhelmed, and after tumbling through every horrifying possibility that lay in their immediate future—Ringwraiths, orcs, battles, death—her mind, mercifully, settled on Rivendell. In spite of what Yvonne had said, it was still her sanctuary. Golden sunlight, the scent of rushing water and delicate flowers, the comforting yet invigorating flavors of the simple Elven meal, the most comfortable bed that she had ever known . . .
She didn't realize that she had fallen asleep until she was waking up. She stretched and suppressed a yawn, noting vaguely that the sunlight had diminished, then looked over to Yvonne's bed. She seemed to be sleeping. Nell was in no hurry to get up at the moment (What was there to do, anyhow?), so she simply closed her eyes once more and listened to the distant, muffled noises from the street down below. Such a different sound from that of her home, but, strangely, not disconcerting. It was actually quite pleasant.
A short time later, she heard movement from Yvonne's bed and glanced over to see her stirring. Soon, she was sitting up.
"Nell, we should probably head downstairs soon," she said, after taking a moment to stretch. "The hobbits arrive sometime in the evening. I think it was after dark, but who knows how accurate the story is."
The bed was still comfortable, but Nell had been in it for most of the day, and the prospect of possibly meeting the hobbits was a good motivator. She eagerly agreed with Yvonne and got up.
After straightening her hair, she grabbed her cloak and followed her friend downstairs, then proceeded to the outhouse while Yvonne went to claim a table. Nell wasn't too keen on venturing anywhere outside alone, but she ended up feeling safe enough.
She made short work of the outhouse, both to escape the cold and to not keep Yvonne waiting. She was glad to find her apparently unharmed at their old table by the fireplace, drinking from a mug. Another beverage sat waiting for Nell, who slid into place beside Yvonne and reached for the drink eagerly. "Thanks," she said before taking a refreshing swig. She still missed water dearly, but this was better than nothing when you were thirsty.
"We'll probably have to order quite a few of these while we wait," Yvonne said, sipping from her own mug. "It could be hours until they get here—if they even come tonight. They should be easy to spot, at least; there are a few hobbits here, but I can't imagine too many of them will be coming in in groups of four. Oh, and Frodo introduces himself as 'Mr. Underhill,' so if you hear that, it's probably one if them."
Nell prepared herself for a long evening, and hoped that the two of them wouldn't seem suspicious sitting there, vaguely watching the entrance and trying not to stare at anyone.
They remained silent for a while after that. Over the course of the next few hours, they spoke about various things, always mindful of potential eavesdroppers, but there was only so much that they could talk about. Yvonne kept looking at the door every time opened, and Nell soon developed the same habit, constantly anticipating the arrival of Frodo and his friends. Eventually, it became difficult to sit on the hard wooden bench, and Nell found herself shifting around, trying to find a more comfortable position. Finally, the tavern started to empty, and Nob and the other server began clearing the tables. The hobbits hadn't shown up. It seemed time to call it a night. When Nob came by their table, Yvonne made sure that they were paid up for tomorrow, thanked him, then turned to Nell.
"Ready to head upstairs? I don't think they're coming tonight."
"Might as well." Despite her relief at getting another decent night of sleep, Nell couldn't help the disappointment that had come over her. After being thrown into so many new experiences in such a short time, she suddenly felt too complacent, like they should be doing something. But this was all that they could do at the moment, and she knew that when she no longer had a proper bed to sleep in—for that time was surely to come—she would wish that she were right back here, with nothing to do but wait and enjoy a good meal and rest.
The two of them retired to their room once again, where Yvonne surprised Nell with a sizable handful of coins, reasoning that they shouldn't keep them all in one place, with which Nell agreed. They proceeded to their beds, and despite the afternoon nap, it wasn't long before Nell dozed off, accompanied by her new friend and the pale moonlight filtering through the attic windows.
They passed the next day in a similar fashion, the monotonous routine growing old rather quickly for Nell. Yvonne seemed to be of the same opinion. Night fell with still no sign of the first four members of the Fellowship, and the day after was no different.
On the evening of their fourth day there, they were both growing fairly concerned. Had they missed them, after all?
"How long do we wait here?" Yvonne muttered to Nell as they went down to the common area. They were slowly becoming fixtures here; the other regulars were beginning to recognize them, and Nob and some of the other servers looked out for them. There was a middle-aged woman who worked there a few nights a week, who had drawn them baths the day before, and who had offered to introduce them to her nephew, who was looking for a wife. Yvonne had politely declined, and had managed to wait until the woman walked away before bursting into a fit of giggles. At least they weren't quite viewed as total outsiders, but she was a bit far off from accepting a marriage proposal from some barmaid's nephew.
"Hopefully not much longer," Nell replied, keeping her voice down, so as not to offend anyone who might otherwise have overheard. "I don't think I can keep drinking cider every day." On more than one occasion, she had found herself longing for river water boiled over an open fire.
Finding their favorite table empty, she and Yvonne took a seat, and were soon brought their usual fare. Nell's mind returned to the Elven bread as she bit off a hunk of the rustic slice before her now, and the glorious fresh fruits on the platter in her room in Rivendell as she took a bite of stew. She almost wished that she were as ignorant of such delicacies as the other people of Bree. Almost.
After a minute or so, Yvonne spoke. "I think that, when those Rangers come, we should go back to Rivendell, even if we haven't seen the hobbits yet. We'll run out of money eventually, and frankly, even if we get a job washing clothes or something, I don't think we'd be able to afford to stay here and eat here every day without the generosity of the Elves. Glorfindel said the coin should last until the Rangers pass through again, but who knows how much longer it will last after that?" She took a deep breath. "I know Elrond thought we should be here, but even if we miss the hobbits in Bree, we can catch them when they come through Rivendell. There's only a few ways something could go wrong for them between here and there—and with Glorfindel most of the way back by now, it should be okay."
Nell considered this. She still has a troubling feeling that something might happen differently here than in the books or movies, and that by leaving before meeting Frodo, they could be unable to prevent a disaster. But if the hobbits still hadn't arrived by the time the Rangers came, then it did seem like their best bet would be to go back to Rivendell.
"Yeah . . . okay. I'm still worried about something going wrong here in this world, but, like you said, we won't have much of a choice if the hobbits don't show up soon."
They turned their attention back to the room and their food, and Nell couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement that they would be returning to Rivendell, no matter how things worked out here. At the moment, she didn't even find the thought of the journey back daunting.
They ate in silence for a while, then the door opened to let in a bedraggled man, and Yvonne murmured, "It's raining." It had barely been drizzling before, but now it was really coming down.
The rain tapped against the window panes, bringing Nell back to rainy days at home. She had always loved a nice storm, and she almost wanted to go back to their room early, for she had never experienced a good rainfall in an attic. She just hoped it didn't leak.
The rain continued, the inn filling up more quickly than usual as villagers sought a reprieve from the weather and a nice beverage and a hot meal. Suddenly, Nell was overcome with a creeping anxiety. She glanced around the room in confusion, wondering whether she was feeling hemmed in, but that made no sense; she had been fine every other night, and she had grown accustomed to the place over the last few days. Then, the anxiety turned into into a sense of dread. Urgency.
Fear.
Black night. Cold rain.
Hurry! Faster!
Her eyes widened.
"Yvonne!" she hissed, gripping her friend's arm and barely remembering to keep her voice down. "Something's wrong! I think—" The only thing that she could connect with that sense of dread was the black riders. But this was different. They weren't pursuing her. "I think—someone's running from the black riders . . . and they're close!"
"Shit. It must be tonight." Nell could see the urgency of Yvonne's thoughts as they turned over in her mind. "Should we warn them before we leave?" she whispered, looking around at the patrons, all enjoying themselves and completely unaware of the possible danger.
"I—" Nell stared at Yvonne, mind reeling, then released her arm. "I don't know—wouldn't that cause a panic? And how would we explain that we know? I mean . . . I don't even know if it's really true . . . I've felt like I've been chased by them before, and it wasn't actually happening . . ." She started to feel silly for having had such a strong reaction.
"If you think something's happening tonight, I trust you," Yvonne said. "Tonight must be the night. Maybe . . . maybe we can warn someone when we leave. We don't have to be specific—we could just say there are bandits making their way toward Bree or something. One of us should go up and pack, though. I don't know how quickly we'll have to leave. The other can stay down here and keep watch."
Nell had no time to think about the logistics of how to warn people, for the thought of finally coming into contact with those horrifying creatures that, thus far, hadn't been able to do her any real harm, kicked her into gear. She wove her way through the tables, avoiding one of the servers laden with mugs of ale, and as she was nearing the stairs, the front door opened. She turned to look, startled, and as the scent of mud and rain wafted in, her eyes fell upon two soaking-wet cloaked figures. Two very short figures.
Her eyes dropped lower.
With bare feet.
They filed inside . . . and were followed closely by two more.
Nell's eyes widened.
They were wet and bedraggled from the rain, and clearly relieved to be out of it. The one in front—most definitely Frodo—took the time to cast his eyes about the room, searching.
Then Nob came over and led the small group away through a door off to one side. A bit dumbstruck, Nell watched as they disappeared, her eyes following the dark curly hair of Frodo Baggins, and then the reddish curls of Samwise Gamgee. She may not be as familiar with this world as Yvonne, but she sure knew the famous hobbits when she saw them. Even Pippin and Merry were names of a high caliber—though she couldn't tell which was which in this situation. She now understood more deeply what Yvonne must have felt when meeting Elrond and Glorfindel. For despite having heard of Elrond in passing, it came nowhere close to laying eyes on Frodo and his party.
She suddenly whipped around, searching for Yvonne, and found her already looking at her. Clearly, she had seen the hobbits, too. Yvonne burst into a grin, which Nell returned, feeling as if she had just entered a new dream.
Spurred on by the knowledge that they were indeed likely to leave soon, Nell hurried upstairs to ensure that their belongings were all in place. They hadn't strewn things about their room, having been conscious of the need to be ready to depart again, but she suddenly felt as if they might leave something behind.
She spent the next few minutes making sure that things were in their respective bags, laying out their cloaks, then checking and double-checking everything, all the while filled with a sense of urgency, as if she were missing something important downstairs.
As soon as she was satisfied that everything was ready to go at a moment's notice, she went back downstairs, her eyes immediately searching for the four diminutive figures. But they were nowhere to be found, and the door to the private room was still closed. She almost sighed in relief, a very small part of her relaxing just a bit, and made her way back to Yvonne to enjoy the small amount of breathing room—possibly the last that they would have in a while.
"Thanks for doing that," Yvonne said when Nell sat down. "I know I'm freaking out a little. This is somehow both exciting and terrifying." She slid a fresh mug of cider over to Nell, then subtly nodded toward a nearby corner of the room. She kept her voice low when she spoke. "The last person we were waiting for is here. He's a bit more observant than the hobbits, though, so don't make it obvious when you look."
Nell took a peek at the man. At first glance, she almost thought that he could be Boren or Lorthon. Though she knew that he was neither, he could definitely be a Ranger. He sat in the corner, the hood of his dark-green cloak obscuring most of his face, his high leather boots grubby from apparent travel. He was smoking a long-stemmed pipe—the like of which Nell had never seen before, at least not in person—and looked unconcerned with his surroundings. Something about him struck a chord with her, but she couldn't quite place it . . .
Then, she thought of Frodo and the other hobbits . . . the Fellowship . . . and there was only one man who came to mind.
Strider. Aragorn.
Her stomach dropped, and her chest tightened. She stared at the table in front of her, filled with a new level of shock. This was all really happening . . . it was real . . .
And suddenly she felt a measure of intimidation, for Aragorn was one of the most prominent characters in the story—an incredibly impressive man—and he was sitting just a few tables away.
"Do you think we should talk to him first?" Yvonne whispered. "Without the hobbits? Or should we wait until they're all together?"
Nell's eyes widened. "Right now?" she whispered back. "What would we say?" They were two complete strangers, and who knew how the man would take it? But truthfully, she just suddenly didn't feel as ready for this next step in their journey as she had thought.
"I don't know," Yvonne hissed back. "We've got to say something, though, either to him or to the Hobbits. Either that, or we just pretend we don't know them and wait for the next Rangers to take us back to Rivendell."
With a sigh, Nell braced her elbow on the table and rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes as she wracked her brain for the appropriate next step. The only thing that she could think of was the only thing that might gain the trust of someone like Aragorn.
She looked at Yvonne once again. "Should we tell him that we met with Elrond?"
Yvonne nodded slowly. "Elrond raised him, so if we can make it sound like he wanted us to accompany him back to Rivendell, he might listen." She bit her lip. "Let's go together?"
A modicum of relief washed over Nell. There was a chance that this wouldn't be as difficult as she had feared. She nodded minutely. "Yeah . . . let's go."
They both stood, and Nell waited for her friend to take the lead. She followed closely as Yvonne started across the room toward Aragorn. At first, he didn't seem to realize that he was their destination, but as he watched them approach, a flash of confusion seemed to cross his face. He shifted slightly.
"How can I help you, ladies?" he asked, once they had drawn near enough to their table to give them a modicum of privacy when they talked. He seemed wary, and for good reason, Nell was sure. Her anxiety wouldn't stop churning in her stomach.
"Hello, Aragorn," Yvonne said quietly. "My name is Yvonne, and this is Nell. Elrond sent us."
Even beneath his hood, Aragorn's eyes seemed to sharpen at the mention of his name. And though he appeared, at a glance, to remain relaxed, Nell could practically feel him tense. "Elrond? Lord Elrond sent you? For what purpose do you claim to have been sent by the Lord of Rivendell?"
Yvonne was also exuding a good deal of nervous tension, but she replied, more confidently than Nell felt that she herself would have been able to muster. "Something happened that he thought Gandalf might be able to help us with. He thought the wizard would be here, but he's not. Failing that, he believed there was an important event we may be able to help with." She took a deep breath. "We know about the hobbits, and I think maybe we're supposed to go with the five of you back to Rivendell."
The man's dark eyes narrowed as he scrutinized them, removing the pipe from his mouth. Nell's heart rate began to pick up as the seconds stretched on with still no answer, and she felt an uncomfortable tension building inside of her, accompanied by an anxious prickling sensation on her skin. But then, she could have sworn that something changed in his eyes. It was so subtle that she assumed it to be nothing more than the ambient firelight. When he spoke, it was with a touch less suspicion than she had expected. "What do you know about hobbits?"
"I know what they carry. What one of them carries," Yvonne whispered. "We need to go with you. Please. We need to talk to Gandalf and . . ." She hesitated. "Maybe we can help. Elrond . . . Lord Elrond, he seems to think we can, and I guess he probably knows what he's talking about."
The man was silent for a few moments. His eyes were the only things that moved as he studied the two girls. "Help indeed," he muttered. Then, he brought the end of his pipe back to his lips. "As you are strangers to me, and seem to know a great deal, I might be served well to refuse you. But you have invoked the names of Elrond and Gandalf—though the latter has never made mention of you to me." His gaze seemed to pierce Nell's soul. She had a feeling that this man would not hesitate to kill them if he decided that they were a threat. Seconds dragged on, during which he seemed to be making certain considerations, then he continued. "Perhaps it would serve me better to keep you close . . ."
Nell's heart filled with a combination of hope and trepidation. Of course, they wouldn't be so easily trusted, and in a world such as this, that was reasonable. But the thought of traveling with a potentially dangerous man who was suspicious of them would only make sleeping in the wilderness all the more difficult.
"So you'll take us with you?"
Before he could respond, Yvonne suddenly turned to look across the common room, and Nell followed her gaze. The door to the side room had opened. One by one, three of the four hobbits emerged. (One of the two whom she had assumed to be Pippin and Merry was not among them.) Her heart rate picked up again, and she suddenly felt more lost than she had in a while, as if the footing that she had gained over the course of her time there was being destabilized. Until now, she had been content with being unfamiliar with this world's story. Now, faced with actual concrete events, she felt like she was riding blind.
As the hobbits made their way into the common room, they received a hearty welcome from the patrons, and Butterbur proceeded to introduce many of the locals to them. Nell moved closer to Yvonne, feeling rather overwhelmed.
"Sit," Aragorn said, nudging one of the rough wooden chairs back with his foot. "Watch, for now, but do not draw attention to them. Even here, agents of the Enemy may lurk."
With that comforting thought in mind, Nell waited for Yvonne to take the seat opposite Aragorn, then slid into the chair beside her. She observed the scene, paying particular attention to Frodo without making it obvious.
The hobbits seemed to be in good spirits, and before long, it became clear that they would not need to fear anyone drawing attention to them; they were doing a marvelous job with that themselves. The member of Frodo's party who was either Merry or Pippin began to entertain a larger crowd, telling a story that seemed to be amusing, though it was difficult to make out in full with the general noise of the room.
As Nell observed, it dawned on her just how . . . not-terrified the hobbits looked. Now that her shock had passed, she thought back to when they had first arrived. They hadn't looked like they had just been escaping a Nazgûl. Had that awful feeling that had come over her been just another vision like the others? But it had felt so different . . .
Suddenly, she realized that Frodo kept glancing in their direction. Nerves fluttered in her stomach at the possibility of him coming over to speak to them. She averted her eyes, but kept him in her line of sight. Then, Mr. Butterbur walked past, and Frodo got his attention. The man leaned down, so that Frodo could say something privately. The proprietor glanced toward the corner in which they were seated—toward Aragorn, specifically, it seemed—then bent down again, to speak to Frodo. Nell watched anxiously.
Mr. Butterbur strode off, and suddenly, Frodo was approached their corner, his attention focused on Aragorn. Nell tensed with anticipation, excitement, and an underlying bundle of anxiety. This must be a significant event, and as Aragorn threw off his hood to greet Frodo, revealing shaggy dark hair and a full view of his rugged countenance, she felt much as she would if she had been witnessing an important moment in her own world's history.
She barely breathed as Aragorn introduced himself to Frodo, keeping his voice low. "I am known as Strider. I am quite glad to meet you, Master—Underhill, if old Butterbur got your name right."
"He did," Frodo replied, a bit stiffly, as if slightly uncomfortable. Nell understood fully, for she had also been subjected to the older man's intense gaze.
"Well, Master Underhill," said Aragorn, "your young friends talk too much. You ought to put a stop to that. The inn is pleasant enough, but this isn't the Shire. Breefolk are a rougher sort," he added, smiling wryly. "And even stranger travelers have been passing through Bree lately."
Nell felt self-conscious at his last, wondering whether he was including herself and Yvonne in that statement.
Frodo didn't reply. Instead, his gaze turned questioningly to Nell and Yvonne. Before he could say anything, a name caught Nell's attention—and it seemed to catch Yvonne's and Aragorn's attention as well.
Bilbo Baggins.
She and Yvonne turned in their seats to see Merry-or-Pippin entertaining the crowd with a story, his voice growing louder as he got more comfortable with the attention. Nell was fascinated by the tale, which she soon realized involved a very significant event in this world's history. And as she noticed Aragorn's reaction, she quickly understood that it was not the best thing to be broadcasting. The man leaned forward and whispered sharply to Frodo, "You had better do something quick!"
Without delay, Frodo leapt up on a neighboring table, drawing the attention of the crowd away from his friend as he began to speak nervously. Nell watched with cautious curiosity, cringing internally in discomfort for Frodo.
The patrons were soon enthusiastically urging him to sing them a song—one that they had yet to hear—and for a moment, the poor hobbit looked a bit lost. Then, though Nell suspected that he really would rather not, he sportingly obliged, launching into a song that, as it went on, proved to be rather ridiculous, albeit entertaining. Even more so when Nell recognized it as an unexpected version of Hey Diddle Diddle.
The song ended, and the room exploded with applause, raucous cheers, and cries for "Barley" to come and hear it. As someone ushered Mr. Butterbur into the room, she guessed that Barley must be an affectionate nickname for him. Before she knew it, Frodo had begun the song anew, with much more vigor and seemingly less nerves than before.
This time, he began to dance around, until a reckless leap sent him rolling off the table. Nell flinched in alarm, then, as he hit the floor—he vanished. Nell, having begun to rise from her chair, stopped herself and stared, eyes wide, not sure what had just happened. The rowdy crowd hushed instantly as her eyes searched briefly under various tables and around certain patrons' legs for any sign of him. She vaguely recalled something about invisibility . . . and something terrifying happening to Frodo while he was invisible . . .
Moments later, the patrons began muttering and drawing away, a heavy pall of suspicion falling over the room.
Then, the hobbit suddenly appeared in the chair opposite her, and she started, her nerves already on edge enough. She couldn't help but stare at him, getting her first good, close look, but her attention was drawn to Aragorn as he addressed Frodo in a low voice.
"And why did you do that? Anything your friends could have said would have been better! You really have put your foot in it! Or, perhaps . . . your finger?"
"What ever are you talking about?!" Frodo said defensively, seeming a little irritated by the older man's accusation, but also rather alarmed, as though he was aware that he had done something wrong.
"You know what I speak of," Aragorn replied; "I would like a private word with you, Mr. Baggins, when fewer eyes are on us."
"What about?" If the use of his true name had surprised him, it hardly showed.
"A matter of some importance—to us both." He looked Frodo in the eye, then his gaze transferred momentarily to Nell and Yvonne. "You may hear something to your advantage."
"Very well," Frodo replied, as though trying to appear nonchalant. "I'll talk to you later."
Nell felt a chill under the significance of Aragorn's glance, and hoped that it meant that he would be including herself and Yvonne in his talk with Frodo.
Across the room, some of the other patrons seemed to be muttering to each other. Mr. Butterbur was with them, hopefully diffusing things. Still seeming a bit flustered, Frodo glanced at Nell and Yvonne. He was obviously puzzled by their presence, but seemed unsure if he should say anything. Aragorn was simply puffing on his pipe, watching them.
Yvonne was the one who spoke. "Hello, F—Mr. Baggins. I'm Yvonne Linden. My companion and I are travelers. It's nice to meet you."
Frodo's skeptical eyes turned from the girls to Aragorn, as if in question. When Aragorn said nothing, Frodo spoke, albeit with a touch of apprehension. "I suppose it is a pleasure for me as well. Erm . . . who, may I ask, might you be?"
Before either of the girls could respond, a nearby conversation grew louder, seemingly more of an argument than a simple conversation, in which a patron—a hobbit—was insisting to Mr. Butterbur that he had seen Frodo vanish, and the landlord was downplaying the entire scenario, denying that such a thing had happened.
"Well, I know what I saw and what I didn't," the hobbit insisted.
"And I say there's some mistake," defended Mr. Butterbur as he cleaned up the pieces of some crockery that Frodo had caused to shatter in the midst of his antics.
Frodo took this opportunity to leap up and defend himself. "Of course there's a mistake! I haven't gone anywhere—I'm right here! I've been speaking with Strider and his companions in the corner."
Nell suddenly felt exposed, as if every eye in the room would now give attention to both her and Yvonne for just being seated near the rugged older man. But no one paid them any mind. Rather, they were focused on Frodo and staying as far away from him as possible. Hobbits and Men alike backed away, many giving Frodo dark looks before departing the inn altogether. Others did not seem as put off, taking the time to thank Butterbur before leaving. In no time, the only patrons that remained in the common room were Nell and Yvonne, Aragorn, and the three hobbits.
Mr. Butterbur didn't seem to mind that his inn had just cleared out. Rather, he turned to Frodo and began to reprimand him (addressing him as "Mr. Underhill") for his behavior and the broken crockery, to which Frodo apologized and insisted that it was not intentional. After Mr. Butterbur made sure to inform him just how little Bree folk appreciate spontaneous outlandish behavior—and would prefer a warning—Frodo assured him that he wouldn't be doing anything of the sort again. He then added, "It's time for me to be getting to bed. We will make an early start. Will you see that our ponies are ready by eight o'clock?"
"Of course! But before you go, Mr. Underhill, I would like a word with you in private. I've just remembered something I need to share with you. If you're willing, I'll come to your room shortly. I must see to a thing or two first."
"Certainly!" Frodo replied, though Nell thought that he seemed a bit apprehensive at the prospect.
Mr. Butterbur set to work finishing tidying the room, and as the three hobbits started in the direction of the back room, Sam and the third eyed Nell and Yvonne. The one who wasn't Sam murmured to the others, "Who are they then?"
Frodo gave the girls a quick glance before the three made their way across the room to the side door.
Suddenly, Aragorn got to his feet and followed them, his boots treading more quietly than Nell would have expected, as if his cloaked form were a mere shadow bathed in firelight as he strode through the dim room.
Nell watched him go, unsure of what to do, then felt Yvonne stand abruptly. She looked up at her, and their eyes met. In silent understanding, Nell followed Yvonne's lead, and both girls set off in Aragorn's wake.
Note: This is the longest chapter that I've ever produced for anything (10,285 words). x_x Thank you for making it to the end!. :p