Bree was not a big town; in fact, Ellie wasn't sure if it could yet classified as a town. Oh, it had one or two inns and quite a few houses, and a variety of tradesmen but it seemed more like a big village than a small town.
Best of all, was a familiar name; 'The Prancing Pony'. Hoping that it would be as cheery for them as it had seemed for the hobbits in the movie, they walked in.
"Hello there," a big man with a warm friendly face greeted. "Is there something I can do for you Ladies?"
"We need a room- I'm not sure how long we'll be staying here in Bree. But I have the money to pay. And a meal wouldn't go astray." Ellie said, trying not to reflect how nervous she was. She and Riesha had argued outside who would do the speaking- Elaírha had lost; somehow.
The man sighed. "I'm afraid the rooms are full this season; don't know why though. But I can serve you a hearty meal- half the price since I can't help you more."
"Thank you," Ellie smiled back.
"Butterbur's the name. Let's see if we can't find you a table," he said, looking around the tavern.
Ellie saw little hope of being able to stay there even for a meal- and it disturbed her that they would have to find some place else where it would be even more unfamiliar.
"Ah, come with me," Butterbur led them to a table with a man in a dark cloak watching the room. "Excuse me, Mr Ranger, sir. But would you mind eating in your room? These Ladies have travelled far, I gather since I don't recognise them from round here and I know most people in Bree, and there's no rooms, but they've agreed to a meal here…but as you can see there's no tables."
Ellie and Riesha shifted uncomfortably.
"I like to watch the people here," the ranger replied, speaking in a smooth deep voice. "It is my right, as is any who come here and pay for lodgings that I be able to sit here undisturbed."
As Butterbur opened his mouth, Elaírha interrupted, "I don't want any trouble. The Ranger is right. It's alright…do you know where else we might be able to find another inn where we won't be cheated?"
Butterbur frowned disappointedly.
"With the Ladies' permission, they may eat their meal here at this table- on the condition they do not pester me." The Ranger replied coolly.
Butterbur turned with a hopeful smile.
"Thank you- Mr Ranger, sir." Elaírha inclined her head.
The Ranger used his feet to push out the two chairs opposite him.
Riesha hung her pack from the back of the chair and sat down. Ellie followed suit. They eyed the present company of the room, trying not to find anyway to annoy the Ranger.
It seemed the Men drinking at the bar were keenly interested in them. Elaírha looked down at the table, uncomfortable with the attention they were attracting.
"Where are you from?" the Ranger asked suddenly.
"What?" Ellie glanced up, at the hooded Man.
"I asked where are you from?" he repeated.
"Why?" Ellie replied warily.
The Ranger was silent again.
Butterbur appeared, with a tray bearing two bowls of hearty stew.
"Thank you," Ellie smiled. "Do you want me to pay now?" She asked, reaching for her the coin pouch from up her sleeve.
"No- not until after," Butterbur smiled warmly. He bent down and whispered in her ear, "Don't let the Ranger spoil your dinner. He's a sneaky sort of Man to be dealing with, but I trust him with you- he's never let any woman who enters here be harmed by the drunkards. Has something against it, I think."
Ellie gave a short nod. "Thank you, I will keep that in mind."
There was quiet at the Ranger's table though the rest of the tavern was quite noisy.
Elaírha wasn't surprised to see hobbits in 'the Prancing Pony', though Riesha was until her sister quietly explained it to her.
"You wear unusual dress for a human," the Ranger stated without warning. "Those styles are more susceptible to hobbit-women."
"You wouldn't believe me if I tried to explain," Ellie replied.
"Try me."
"We come from the Shire," Riesha answered his original question.
"Strange. I had thought the hobbits were rather particular about outsiders being around their home and land."
"We weren't accepted without resistance. I know there are some who would not mind if we didn't return there again- in their lifetime or their descendants'." Ellie commented. "Unfortunately for them, I have every intention of going back. I've never found a more cheerful place to be. They say smiles, laughter and happiness increase a person's life-span. If that's so, I'm living to be live to be over a hundred."
"Then why did you leave?" The Ranger queried slyly.
Ellie caught Riesha's eye, warning her not to say anything. "Restlessness I suppose. Want to see what was out further before we stay there til the end of our days. It's the habit of the young to seek the things they can't have- and a lesson to them that what you want is not always the nicest of things. 'Home always has a welcome mat', or so I've heard." Ellie remarked trying to seem nonchalant.
"If you say so," the Ranger took out his pipe and lit the weed at the end.
Ellie wrinkled her nose. She'd always been allergic to cigarette smoke and the pipe wasn't much better.
"I don't believe what you say your reasons are for leaving such a safe haven, but if you are willing to submit to my protection, then you may stay with me while I am here." The Ranger offered.
"That's kind of you," Riesha said, noncommittal.
"I ask no favours. But I have seen the way the Men hereabouts have been watching you- I would not have them take advantage of your innocence."
"Thank you," Ellie said at last. "We'll pay our share of the lodgings, if that's alright with you."
"As you wish. But might I enquire your names?"
"I'm Ellie and this is Riesha- Rie for short."
The Ranger inclined his head. "Welcome to Bree," the Ranger stated, standing up. "Shall I show you to our room? You can bathe and be asleep- I will return here and stay to study the comings and goings longer before I take my leave."
Elaírha and Riesha woke the next morning to find the Ranger poking the fire.
"Butterbur asked me to inform him when you awoke so that he might bring breakfast up here." The Ranger informed them.
"Sir?" Ellie yawned tiredly. "What should we call you?"
The Ranger turned. His hood lay across his shoulders and for the first time they saw his face clearly. He had dark hair and dark eyes in a face that spoke of aged wisdom in a Man, but there were little signs of aging. "Hereabouts I am simply called 'Ranger'."
And elsewhere? Ellie wished she could say, but it would reveal too much.
"If I may intrude, what is it you wish to do in Bree? If you have need of tradesman or otherwise, I can help you," Ranger let them know.
"No, we were just passing through, really," Riesha shrugged. She looked to Ellie with a meaningful glance.
"Then where is it you walk?" Ranger queried. "I have company on the road who will meet me here, before we travel East. Perhaps we can accompany you?"
Ellie glanced at Riesha trying to be certain she had understood correctly. "Perhaps we can meet your company on the road before Bree. We have no specific destination in mind, but to travel. Your offer sounds welcoming. I don't much like having only my sister for companionship." She grinned cheekily at Riesha who stuck her tongue out.
"Then you are welcome to come with us, but I would wait for them, lest I miss them on the Road- it is possible they may travel in the trees." Ranger replied.
"No!" Riesha blurted out.
Ranger turned sharply. "Why's that?"
"I have a bad feeling for whoever travels that Road east in so small a group." Riesha bullshitted as she went along. "Is it a large number of people you shall be meeting?"
"What danger could be met on that Road? I rode it not many a week ago and there was no trouble."
"Orcs." Riesha said, cursing herself for sounding like an idiot.
"It's true- we heard reports of orcs being abroad," Ellie said then realised her mistake, adding, "Well, we think they were orcs. The way the hobbits described them- terrible and horrible they said, ugly and nasty with queer weapons strapped to them- we surmised that they were the evil creatures of Mordor."
Ranger eyed them concernedly. "What you say troubles me, though there is little sense in it. Come, we will travel out, as you say. Hurry this morning, for I would leave long before the Sun is high."
***********************************************************
The sound of running feet; she stumbled. The young boy, no more than eight years old, carried close as possible to her chest, cried out as she fell. She struggled to get up then was off again.
Her breath was laboured, rasping with the effort. "Weathertop," she whispered, as it came into her sight. Exhaustedly, she stumbled again. This time, she waited until her lungs cooled from their fiery pain, listening for any sound of something else coming.
With forced strength she rose again, looking behind her, then to the trees on either side. Nothing. Only the leaves stirred in the early autumn breeze. She had been running like that for many days- she could not remember how long- barely sleeping but for when she fell and exhaustion overwhelmed her body. Her mind she cared not but for it to guide her in her sole purpose; get the boy to Rivendell.
The orcs had already initialised the attack Ranger's wife and child when they had found them. Ranger had fought them back valiantly, but the mother and child bore wounds of the orcs' poisoned blades for which they would assuredly die without help.
Riesha had picked up a stick and joined Ranger in his desperate struggle to free them, leaving Elaírha to make a quick decision before the orcs turned on her. She had no weapons, and her meagre skills in basic self-defence would lack any real potential fight those hideous creatures.
An opening was made in the battle. Elaírha made her decision. Racing in, she grabbed the boy in her arms, roughly kicking an orc out of the way before dashing off down the Road. It might have been wise to leave the Road and continue on that way; but she didn't know the area at all lest of all well, and there was the distinct possibility that there were more orcs just waiting for that kind of opportunity.
The boy was badly wounded, and if each of his cuts were as painful as the gash in her arm, he should be screaming; but he had long ago lost consciousness.
Hoping greatly that no danger would appear now, she headed up to Weathertop more slowly than before.
Laying the boy down, she pushed back his eyes lids; the whites of his eyes were bright red and the irises were cloudy white.
"Not good," she whispered. She put her hands to her mouth, breathing in and clearing her mind as to what to do. "Bandages." She decided; it was a desperate act, for bandages would do very little for him now in his dire condition.
Nevertheless, she tore at the hem of her skirt; feeling the muscles in her arms strain and pull against the hardy fabric. It broke at last and she ripped it into strips, wrapping them around the boy's cuts and wounds as best she could. With the strip leftover, she bandaged her own arm, difficult though it was.
She stood up, watching him for a moment; he didn't move. She wandered over to the edge, looking out into the fading darkness. She couldn't see anything coming, though she really lacked the sight to tell anyway; since mid-teenage-hood she had been established as shortsighted as her father. Her glasses were in her pack, which she still wore unconsciously on her back.
Suddenly remembering it, she took the water-skin off her belt and took several larges gulps before going back to the boy and forcing him to drink some.
The days until she reached the Ford were much the same as when she had first escaped the fight with the boy. She remembered little of them save the same routine of checking to make sure he was alright, running then slowing as her body needed for her to keep going and the constant battle to preserve the little food she had while eating/drinking enough to keep them both alive.
The boy remained unconscious, though he drank the water without choking; which Elaírha looked upon as a blessing.
When she reached the Ford at last, stumbling as she had for so long, her legs shaking as she carried her own weight and the boy in her arms, she dropped down beside it. Relief gave her the energy to sit up again and swim across, the boy's deadweight ever trying to go under.
When she reached the other side, she rested again, giving into fatigue.
She sat bolt upright, knowing someone was there nearby. It was not a sound that awoke her, but what is more commonly known as the sixth sense; the ability to know when someone is close by.
She looked to the boy instantly, where an Elf knelt next to him, checking his vital signs.
"Orcs," Elaírha choked, trying to find moisture in her dry throat.
The Elf turned, looking at her sharply, before taking his own water-skin and helping her to drink it.
"It was orcs," she repeated tiredly. "Somewhere between Bree and Weathertop…I don't know exactly where. Ranger…" She fought for the words as her mind blacked out and she slipped into the same unconsciousness that had overcome Ranger's son.