The After Years
(Chapter 2)
"Darkness Comes Again"
By: Lady Elaine
(Aka: Meaghan)
The three hobbits sat awkwardly near the fire in the living room watching as Aragorn walked to each of the windows, peered out, then snapped the shutters closed.
Pippin shifted his weight in the chair and cleared his throat as if to speak.
Finally, without relinquishing his gaze out the last of the windows, Aragorn spoke, as if from far away. "What is it Pippin?" he asked, and his voice sounded strained and worried, almost...fearful.
Pippin looked uncomfortable but his voice was determined. "Are you going to tell us what this is all about?" he asked, with an edge in his voice that belied his unease.
The man sighed and turned from the window that was now covered like the others. The only light now came from the fire and it flickered over his features, illuminating the lines of worry and fatigue. He strode across the room and settled himself in a chair opposite the other three.
For a long time Aragorn fixed his eyes upon them, one by one. The younger hobbits fidgeted under his gaze and suddenly found interest in their hands to ease their discomfort. But Sam held his eyes and saw the message in them: be strong, darkness comes.
After a while his eyes rested on Merry again. "To answer your question," he said quietly, "Legolas and Gimli are on their way here from Fangorn Forest. I expect them in three days."
Merry's head snapped up, his eyes were full of confusion and the fear he felt in his heart grew further still. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Ranger held up his hand, "In time, my friends," he said, standing and walking to one of the dark windows. He leaned against the sill, "In time," he said again and the hobbits glanced at each other uncertainly.
This time it was Sam who broke the long silence that followed. "Aragorn," he said, "please, please tell us what is happening. It is not a coincidence that we have all met here like this; I fell as if a shadow has passed over my heart. I feel restless and afraid and I don't know why."
Silence.
"I know why,"
Sam turned to Pippin in surprise and even Aragorn stiffened, Pippin looked to Merry for support but he remained looking at his hands.
"Strider, one of those... those things is still alive," Pippin finished in barely more than a whisper.
Aragorn sighed and bent his head. "Yes, One is still alive," he said.
This time all three hobbits looked up.
The Ranger laughed a sort of harsh laugh and turned to face his companions. "Have any of you realized what the date is today?" he asked crossing the room again and sitting down.
The hobbits stared blankly for a moment, then Merry gasped, as if it should have been obvious from the beginning, followed by Pippin who did the same.
"Why, It's the 25th of March," said Pippin turning to Merry, "It was two years ago today that you stabbed that Dark Rider!"
Merry paled and nodded.
But Aragorn was looking at Sam who was obviously thinking of something completely different. He looked up and held the man's gaze. When he did so he felt that strange, yet familiar, feeling that he had gotten when the Lady Galadriel looked into the hearts of each member of the company those many years ago.
Finally, as if making up his mind, Aragorn turned to Merry and Pippin. "It is also the day the Ring went into the Fire," he said simply, making the other two jump. They looked at Sam, who liked sick, and he nodded.
But Merry was still puzzled, "Strider, what does the day have to do with us meeting here like this?" he asked, his eyes betraying a glimmer of doubt.
For a long time the only sound came from the crackling of the dying fire. The three hobbits sat staring at the man in front of them, as if they expected him to disappear should their eyes stray from him, but Aragorn sat looking at his worn hands.
Finally the King spoke, not in the way a master would speak to his servant, but in a way that told the hobbits that he had not expected this, and he was afraid.
"There are a few things you should know, before I come to the reason why I am here," he said, lifting his head and looking at his friends.
The hobbits nodded uncertainly, urging him to continue, they had never seen their former guide lack is his persistent confidence. Yet he sat in front of them, now, with deepening regret.
"Things have not been going well in the East," he continued, "There have been several... Nazgul sightings throughout the country."
The hobbits stiffened and paled but remained silent.
Aragorn continued, "We have hunted down all that have been seen, but only eight have been accounted for," he paused and sighed as if willing himself to continue. "The ninth had never shown itself and we knew not where to look for it, so we waited.
"A few months latter a messenger arrived from Mirkwood, they had seen the ninth creature. They were unsure whether or not it had a Rider, but were positive it was taking refuge in their forest.
"I went myself, with a few others, to seek it out. When we arrived we found, not only the Nazgul, with its Rider, but also a small company of orcs. They were not many and had no leader but they were enough to give our company a few grievances before we finally defeated them. Only the Nazgul and its Rider escaped, or so we thought at first.
"We camped that night in the clearing where we had discovered them. Valimar was on watch when he was attacked. His yells woke the rest of us but by the time we reached him, whatever had attacked him was gone, leaving our Watch nearly dead. The creature had no weapon in hand that we know of, but it apparently had very strong hands, for Valimar's neck was bruised and bleeding from being strangled. When he was able, he told us what the thing looked like..." Aragorn stopped, went to one of the dark windows and opened the shutters. He leaned against the sill and looked out, his mind seemed far away and the three hobbits knew that he was no longer in the room with them when he spoke again.
"'Large, pale eyes like moons,' he said, '...lit up the night like lamps,'" he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "If only I had pieced the clues together just a moment sooner: hobbit sized, goblin-like skin... hissing."
The poor hobbits blanched as white as sheets when this was mentioned, but they were too eager to hear more to say anything.
Sam looked nothing less than horrified.
Aragorn continued, "By the time I put it all together it was too late, the killing had begun... and Gollum was skipping at the heels of his new master."
There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and two tiny gasped of shock. Aragorn turned to find Merry and Pippin sitting with a hand clapped over each of their mouths in terror, and Sam standing in front of his upturned chair looking sick.
"Him!?" he almost screamed, "H-how can that...that vile thing live through something like that!"
Aragorn shrugged, trying to remain calm, for Sam's sake, "Call it the unfair forces of nature, if you like," he said, giving a meaningful look to the younger hobbits, who immediately stood and went to try to calm Sam down a bit, "or one last trick of the Ring, but he lived while the Ring perished, and now he seeks revenge."
Sam succumbed to the shaking hands of his friends as they pulled him gently into his chair.
When Sam was calm again, Pippin spoke, "But Strider, what does this have to do with us?"
Despite himself, the Ranger almost smiled, "If you have a patient bone in your body, Mr. Took," he said, "I suggest you bring it forth now, I was just about to get to that."
Pippin turned pink and sat silent.
"As I was saying," said Aragorn, crossing the room and sitting down again, "The killings had begun. They were done gradually, not all at once, but the people still took notice. The first ones to go were strong, healthy fighting men. Then the weaker ones, but still very skilled, began to become targets. By the time we found a pattern the killings had stopped, and eight lay dead.
"I was lost, my skills and knowledge were no use in this mystery; I nearly gave up hope. But then, I remembered a gift that I had received from Elrond before he set sail for the elf Havens. He had given me a box, tightly locked, and with it a message: 'Open this only in a time of great need; when all paths seem blocked by mystery and defeat. Only when there are no other options should this chest be unlocked.'
"I opened it of course, I had no choice, and somehow I had a feeling that Elrond had foreseen a part of this somehow," the Ranger got up and crossed the room to where his pack lay on the floor. He stooped over it, opened the top flap and pulled out a large, flat box. Holding it out in front of him, he strode back to the fire and sat down.
The hobbits stared; Elrond's gift was unmistakably elven made, and, like all other elven things, it was beautiful. The color was a bright, mahogany brown, and the picturesque runes etched into the wood around the sides were stained deep green.
Aragorn reached into his shirt and pulled out a golden key that hung from a chain around his neck.
The hobbits stared in open-mouthed awe at both box and key, as Aragorn fitted the latter into the lock.
The click as the key turned was almost deafening in the silent room. The hobbits leaned closer, unaware that they were doing so, as Aragorn slowly lifted the lid.
What lay inside was not, in it's turn, as beautiful as the box which held it. In fact, it was quite ugly. The book, for it was indeed a book, put off a stench of molded and decaying parchment. Its plain leather cover was torn and tattered, and looked as though it might crumble at the slightest touch.
Expecting some grand elven work of art to meet their eager eyes, the hobbits looked up at the bearer of this strange gift with puzzled and searching eyes.
But Aragorn noticed none of this; his eyes were locked on the book as he lifted it carefully from its resting place.
"This book," he began, setting the item on the table in front of them, "has shown me a part of history that was lost to most mortals centuries ago, and that I and my kinsmen have regarded as merely legend." At this Aragorn reached out and opened the book to a page which showed a drawing of a Nazgul.
Not in the least surprised, the hobbits looked down at the book in silence as Aragorn continued.
"It was what was here," he rested his hand on the book, "in these pages, that brought me here so unexpectedly and with such urgency."
They waited.
Aragorn lifted the book into his lap and flipped a few pages. "'The Nine Riders, the protectors and guardians of the One Ring, are immortal,'" he read. "'They were wrought from the same Fires that forged the deadly Rings of Power, as were their steeds; the Nazguls. And only by those Fires can they be destroyed if the creator so wishes it. However, if ever that creators powers should fail him, or he should be destroyed, The Nine will be stripped of their power and be vulnerable to death. But, should one survive, the one source that should have been its bane could bring it power enough to rejuvenate it's fallen comrades. But first the sole survivor must restore it's own energy. This could take years, but once it has recovered, it must find vessels in which the others must inhabit. This is done by seeking out those men who are most worthy to serve this purpose, and sucking out their still living souls. These souls are then taken to the dark threshold of Sammath Naur, where brew the Fires of Mordor, and made into immortal Ringwraiths once again.
"'In turn, the Nazguls are brought into being by the new-found energy that the Riders now posses, Unlike the Riders, their steeds do not need a living vessel, they will rise out of the very Fires that wrought their Master.'"
Seeing an opportunity, Pippin interrupted, "So that explains why only eight men were killed," he said with enthusiasm.
"That's right," Aragorn replied, "well done Peregrin." He looked up at his companions and indicated the book as he spoke again. "This goes on to tell about the forging of the Rings and how Sauron came to be, which is not useful to us at the moment." Aragorn directed his gaze back to the book and turned several pages, he stopped and rested a hand on the page he was on, "This will tell you what your part in it is, my friends, listen:
"'Though immortal, there is still said to be one way in which the Nine can be wholly destroyed. Though this has never been proven, the theory goes as follows: The Ringwraiths that are born twice through the Flames can only be destroyed by the hands that brought the downfall of their Forger. Those who began the War must now finish it....'"
Aragorn closed the book gently and looked up into the faces of his friends; he nodded, seeing their expressions, "Yes, I see you understand me; we started this together and now we must end it with those of us that are left."
There was a long silence as the three sat weighing the ton of information that was now whirling around in their heads.
Finally Merry asked the question that was on all their minds, "How long do we have until the Nine are whole again?"
Aragorn looked grave as he spoke, "That I do not know; even now they could be reforming themselves. But when we will have to meet, I cannot say." He suddenly looked very sad as he looked on them, "I deeply regret having to bring you into this, my friends, I know it is the last thing you would have wanted after your experience in the South. I will understand if you do not wish to be a part of it."
There was a short silence as the hobbits looked at each other uneasily, then Sam stood up, "It is not a question of whether we wish it or not," he said, looking to his friends for support, "we began this together and not we must finish it. We will not turn our backs on our companions after all we have been through, we must see it though to the end," he turned back to Aragorn, "And as you said, we have no choice."
The others nodded and Aragorn smiled, "Thank you, Sam," he said, "Frodo would have been proud."
Sam blushed and sat down again, giving pippin a chance to pose a question, "Strider," he said, "if the original Fellowship must destroy the Nazguls, how can we hope to do that with only six of us, will we not need nine?"
"That is a question I have asked myself many times," he replied. "Yes, we will need three others to form the fellowship, let us hope that we will not need the three we lost,"
"But who will be willing to come?" this from Merry.
"We need not worry of that until Legolas and Gimli arrive, we will talk of it then." He stood up, "Now, it is getting late, I'm sure your wife is wondering where you have gotten to Sam."
Sam gave a little start and looked to one of the windows, the light shining through the shutters was dim; it was indeed later than he had guessed. He jumped to his feet, "Oh my, yes, she must be worried; I should be getting home-"
Aragorn raised a hand and shook his head, "No, Sam, I'm sorry, you cannot go home tonight, nor you Pippin. I only meant for you to send word to her, it is dangerous, now, to go wandering about alone," at this he glanced around to the window, "we will stay here tonight, with your leave Merry, and I will accompany you back to Hobbiton tomorrow."
Sam looked frightened, "Strider," he said uncertainly, "this danger, it's not-"
Yes, Sam, I'm afraid it is, Gollum knows of our meeting here," he sighed, "I would not have allowed him to follow me this far, but in my haste I overlooked the signs of pursuit."
Sam nodded, as did Merry and Pippin; they did not altogether understand what was going to happen, but they recognized the gravity of the situation. Once again, they had somehow stumbled into the middle of yet another great adventure.
(To be continued)
Chapter three coming soon
(Chapter 2)
"Darkness Comes Again"
By: Lady Elaine
(Aka: Meaghan)
The three hobbits sat awkwardly near the fire in the living room watching as Aragorn walked to each of the windows, peered out, then snapped the shutters closed.
Pippin shifted his weight in the chair and cleared his throat as if to speak.
Finally, without relinquishing his gaze out the last of the windows, Aragorn spoke, as if from far away. "What is it Pippin?" he asked, and his voice sounded strained and worried, almost...fearful.
Pippin looked uncomfortable but his voice was determined. "Are you going to tell us what this is all about?" he asked, with an edge in his voice that belied his unease.
The man sighed and turned from the window that was now covered like the others. The only light now came from the fire and it flickered over his features, illuminating the lines of worry and fatigue. He strode across the room and settled himself in a chair opposite the other three.
For a long time Aragorn fixed his eyes upon them, one by one. The younger hobbits fidgeted under his gaze and suddenly found interest in their hands to ease their discomfort. But Sam held his eyes and saw the message in them: be strong, darkness comes.
After a while his eyes rested on Merry again. "To answer your question," he said quietly, "Legolas and Gimli are on their way here from Fangorn Forest. I expect them in three days."
Merry's head snapped up, his eyes were full of confusion and the fear he felt in his heart grew further still. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Ranger held up his hand, "In time, my friends," he said, standing and walking to one of the dark windows. He leaned against the sill, "In time," he said again and the hobbits glanced at each other uncertainly.
This time it was Sam who broke the long silence that followed. "Aragorn," he said, "please, please tell us what is happening. It is not a coincidence that we have all met here like this; I fell as if a shadow has passed over my heart. I feel restless and afraid and I don't know why."
Silence.
"I know why,"
Sam turned to Pippin in surprise and even Aragorn stiffened, Pippin looked to Merry for support but he remained looking at his hands.
"Strider, one of those... those things is still alive," Pippin finished in barely more than a whisper.
Aragorn sighed and bent his head. "Yes, One is still alive," he said.
This time all three hobbits looked up.
The Ranger laughed a sort of harsh laugh and turned to face his companions. "Have any of you realized what the date is today?" he asked crossing the room again and sitting down.
The hobbits stared blankly for a moment, then Merry gasped, as if it should have been obvious from the beginning, followed by Pippin who did the same.
"Why, It's the 25th of March," said Pippin turning to Merry, "It was two years ago today that you stabbed that Dark Rider!"
Merry paled and nodded.
But Aragorn was looking at Sam who was obviously thinking of something completely different. He looked up and held the man's gaze. When he did so he felt that strange, yet familiar, feeling that he had gotten when the Lady Galadriel looked into the hearts of each member of the company those many years ago.
Finally, as if making up his mind, Aragorn turned to Merry and Pippin. "It is also the day the Ring went into the Fire," he said simply, making the other two jump. They looked at Sam, who liked sick, and he nodded.
But Merry was still puzzled, "Strider, what does the day have to do with us meeting here like this?" he asked, his eyes betraying a glimmer of doubt.
For a long time the only sound came from the crackling of the dying fire. The three hobbits sat staring at the man in front of them, as if they expected him to disappear should their eyes stray from him, but Aragorn sat looking at his worn hands.
Finally the King spoke, not in the way a master would speak to his servant, but in a way that told the hobbits that he had not expected this, and he was afraid.
"There are a few things you should know, before I come to the reason why I am here," he said, lifting his head and looking at his friends.
The hobbits nodded uncertainly, urging him to continue, they had never seen their former guide lack is his persistent confidence. Yet he sat in front of them, now, with deepening regret.
"Things have not been going well in the East," he continued, "There have been several... Nazgul sightings throughout the country."
The hobbits stiffened and paled but remained silent.
Aragorn continued, "We have hunted down all that have been seen, but only eight have been accounted for," he paused and sighed as if willing himself to continue. "The ninth had never shown itself and we knew not where to look for it, so we waited.
"A few months latter a messenger arrived from Mirkwood, they had seen the ninth creature. They were unsure whether or not it had a Rider, but were positive it was taking refuge in their forest.
"I went myself, with a few others, to seek it out. When we arrived we found, not only the Nazgul, with its Rider, but also a small company of orcs. They were not many and had no leader but they were enough to give our company a few grievances before we finally defeated them. Only the Nazgul and its Rider escaped, or so we thought at first.
"We camped that night in the clearing where we had discovered them. Valimar was on watch when he was attacked. His yells woke the rest of us but by the time we reached him, whatever had attacked him was gone, leaving our Watch nearly dead. The creature had no weapon in hand that we know of, but it apparently had very strong hands, for Valimar's neck was bruised and bleeding from being strangled. When he was able, he told us what the thing looked like..." Aragorn stopped, went to one of the dark windows and opened the shutters. He leaned against the sill and looked out, his mind seemed far away and the three hobbits knew that he was no longer in the room with them when he spoke again.
"'Large, pale eyes like moons,' he said, '...lit up the night like lamps,'" he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "If only I had pieced the clues together just a moment sooner: hobbit sized, goblin-like skin... hissing."
The poor hobbits blanched as white as sheets when this was mentioned, but they were too eager to hear more to say anything.
Sam looked nothing less than horrified.
Aragorn continued, "By the time I put it all together it was too late, the killing had begun... and Gollum was skipping at the heels of his new master."
There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and two tiny gasped of shock. Aragorn turned to find Merry and Pippin sitting with a hand clapped over each of their mouths in terror, and Sam standing in front of his upturned chair looking sick.
"Him!?" he almost screamed, "H-how can that...that vile thing live through something like that!"
Aragorn shrugged, trying to remain calm, for Sam's sake, "Call it the unfair forces of nature, if you like," he said, giving a meaningful look to the younger hobbits, who immediately stood and went to try to calm Sam down a bit, "or one last trick of the Ring, but he lived while the Ring perished, and now he seeks revenge."
Sam succumbed to the shaking hands of his friends as they pulled him gently into his chair.
When Sam was calm again, Pippin spoke, "But Strider, what does this have to do with us?"
Despite himself, the Ranger almost smiled, "If you have a patient bone in your body, Mr. Took," he said, "I suggest you bring it forth now, I was just about to get to that."
Pippin turned pink and sat silent.
"As I was saying," said Aragorn, crossing the room and sitting down again, "The killings had begun. They were done gradually, not all at once, but the people still took notice. The first ones to go were strong, healthy fighting men. Then the weaker ones, but still very skilled, began to become targets. By the time we found a pattern the killings had stopped, and eight lay dead.
"I was lost, my skills and knowledge were no use in this mystery; I nearly gave up hope. But then, I remembered a gift that I had received from Elrond before he set sail for the elf Havens. He had given me a box, tightly locked, and with it a message: 'Open this only in a time of great need; when all paths seem blocked by mystery and defeat. Only when there are no other options should this chest be unlocked.'
"I opened it of course, I had no choice, and somehow I had a feeling that Elrond had foreseen a part of this somehow," the Ranger got up and crossed the room to where his pack lay on the floor. He stooped over it, opened the top flap and pulled out a large, flat box. Holding it out in front of him, he strode back to the fire and sat down.
The hobbits stared; Elrond's gift was unmistakably elven made, and, like all other elven things, it was beautiful. The color was a bright, mahogany brown, and the picturesque runes etched into the wood around the sides were stained deep green.
Aragorn reached into his shirt and pulled out a golden key that hung from a chain around his neck.
The hobbits stared in open-mouthed awe at both box and key, as Aragorn fitted the latter into the lock.
The click as the key turned was almost deafening in the silent room. The hobbits leaned closer, unaware that they were doing so, as Aragorn slowly lifted the lid.
What lay inside was not, in it's turn, as beautiful as the box which held it. In fact, it was quite ugly. The book, for it was indeed a book, put off a stench of molded and decaying parchment. Its plain leather cover was torn and tattered, and looked as though it might crumble at the slightest touch.
Expecting some grand elven work of art to meet their eager eyes, the hobbits looked up at the bearer of this strange gift with puzzled and searching eyes.
But Aragorn noticed none of this; his eyes were locked on the book as he lifted it carefully from its resting place.
"This book," he began, setting the item on the table in front of them, "has shown me a part of history that was lost to most mortals centuries ago, and that I and my kinsmen have regarded as merely legend." At this Aragorn reached out and opened the book to a page which showed a drawing of a Nazgul.
Not in the least surprised, the hobbits looked down at the book in silence as Aragorn continued.
"It was what was here," he rested his hand on the book, "in these pages, that brought me here so unexpectedly and with such urgency."
They waited.
Aragorn lifted the book into his lap and flipped a few pages. "'The Nine Riders, the protectors and guardians of the One Ring, are immortal,'" he read. "'They were wrought from the same Fires that forged the deadly Rings of Power, as were their steeds; the Nazguls. And only by those Fires can they be destroyed if the creator so wishes it. However, if ever that creators powers should fail him, or he should be destroyed, The Nine will be stripped of their power and be vulnerable to death. But, should one survive, the one source that should have been its bane could bring it power enough to rejuvenate it's fallen comrades. But first the sole survivor must restore it's own energy. This could take years, but once it has recovered, it must find vessels in which the others must inhabit. This is done by seeking out those men who are most worthy to serve this purpose, and sucking out their still living souls. These souls are then taken to the dark threshold of Sammath Naur, where brew the Fires of Mordor, and made into immortal Ringwraiths once again.
"'In turn, the Nazguls are brought into being by the new-found energy that the Riders now posses, Unlike the Riders, their steeds do not need a living vessel, they will rise out of the very Fires that wrought their Master.'"
Seeing an opportunity, Pippin interrupted, "So that explains why only eight men were killed," he said with enthusiasm.
"That's right," Aragorn replied, "well done Peregrin." He looked up at his companions and indicated the book as he spoke again. "This goes on to tell about the forging of the Rings and how Sauron came to be, which is not useful to us at the moment." Aragorn directed his gaze back to the book and turned several pages, he stopped and rested a hand on the page he was on, "This will tell you what your part in it is, my friends, listen:
"'Though immortal, there is still said to be one way in which the Nine can be wholly destroyed. Though this has never been proven, the theory goes as follows: The Ringwraiths that are born twice through the Flames can only be destroyed by the hands that brought the downfall of their Forger. Those who began the War must now finish it....'"
Aragorn closed the book gently and looked up into the faces of his friends; he nodded, seeing their expressions, "Yes, I see you understand me; we started this together and now we must end it with those of us that are left."
There was a long silence as the three sat weighing the ton of information that was now whirling around in their heads.
Finally Merry asked the question that was on all their minds, "How long do we have until the Nine are whole again?"
Aragorn looked grave as he spoke, "That I do not know; even now they could be reforming themselves. But when we will have to meet, I cannot say." He suddenly looked very sad as he looked on them, "I deeply regret having to bring you into this, my friends, I know it is the last thing you would have wanted after your experience in the South. I will understand if you do not wish to be a part of it."
There was a short silence as the hobbits looked at each other uneasily, then Sam stood up, "It is not a question of whether we wish it or not," he said, looking to his friends for support, "we began this together and not we must finish it. We will not turn our backs on our companions after all we have been through, we must see it though to the end," he turned back to Aragorn, "And as you said, we have no choice."
The others nodded and Aragorn smiled, "Thank you, Sam," he said, "Frodo would have been proud."
Sam blushed and sat down again, giving pippin a chance to pose a question, "Strider," he said, "if the original Fellowship must destroy the Nazguls, how can we hope to do that with only six of us, will we not need nine?"
"That is a question I have asked myself many times," he replied. "Yes, we will need three others to form the fellowship, let us hope that we will not need the three we lost,"
"But who will be willing to come?" this from Merry.
"We need not worry of that until Legolas and Gimli arrive, we will talk of it then." He stood up, "Now, it is getting late, I'm sure your wife is wondering where you have gotten to Sam."
Sam gave a little start and looked to one of the windows, the light shining through the shutters was dim; it was indeed later than he had guessed. He jumped to his feet, "Oh my, yes, she must be worried; I should be getting home-"
Aragorn raised a hand and shook his head, "No, Sam, I'm sorry, you cannot go home tonight, nor you Pippin. I only meant for you to send word to her, it is dangerous, now, to go wandering about alone," at this he glanced around to the window, "we will stay here tonight, with your leave Merry, and I will accompany you back to Hobbiton tomorrow."
Sam looked frightened, "Strider," he said uncertainly, "this danger, it's not-"
Yes, Sam, I'm afraid it is, Gollum knows of our meeting here," he sighed, "I would not have allowed him to follow me this far, but in my haste I overlooked the signs of pursuit."
Sam nodded, as did Merry and Pippin; they did not altogether understand what was going to happen, but they recognized the gravity of the situation. Once again, they had somehow stumbled into the middle of yet another great adventure.
(To be continued)
Chapter three coming soon