Chapter Three
Estela had been walking for hours (refusing to get on the pony because she thought the pony was looking tired enough without her added weight) and she was just beginning to get tired. This puzzled her greatly but she put no further thought to the matter.
She looked at the navy blue backpack that she had lugged around all day, seeming to have gained weight as the day went on. "What in the world does she carry in here?" said Estela. She decided not to take a look until they reached somewhere that had a roof over it.
They came at last to Greenway-crossing and drew near the village.
They came to the West-gate and found it shut, but at the door of the lodge beyond it, there was a man sitting.
Estela took notice of his long greasy brown hair with disgust and his squinting eyes as he hobbled over to the gate.
"What do you want and where do you come from?" He asked gruffly.
"We are making for the inn here," answered Frodo. "We are journeying east and cannot go further tonight."
"Hobbits! Four hobbits! And a woman! And what's more, out of the Shire by their talk," said the gatekeeper, which Estela had dubbed "Scrunge", softly, as if speaking to himself. He stared at them darkly for a moment, and then slowly opened the gate and let them ride through.
"We don't often see Shire-folk riding on the Road at night," Scrunge went on, as they halted a moment by his door. "You'll pardon my wondering what business takes you east of Bree! What may your names be, might I ask?"
"Our names and our business are our own, and this does not seem a good place to discuss them," said Frodo.
"Woo-hoo, score one for Frodo," said Estela softly.
Scrunge gave her an odd look then said to Frodo, "Your business is your own, no doubt, but it's my business to ask questions after night-fall."
"We are hobbits from Buckland, and we have a fancy to travel and stay at the inn here," Merry put in. "I am Mr. Brandybuck . Is that enough for you? The Bree-folk used to be fair-spoken to travelers, or so I had heard."
"Score *two* for Merry," said Estela. "Sorry, but you're going to have to catch up if you ever want to win, Mr. Riding-a-white-horse," she finished, smiling sweetly, remembering that Frodo's name was not to be spoken.
Frodo smiled at her then turned back toward Scrunge.
"Alright, alright!" said Scrunge. " I meant no offence. But you'll find that maybe more folk than old Harry at the gate will be asking you questions. There's queer folk about. If you go to The Pony, you'll find that you're not the only guests." Scrunge wished them goodnight, and they said no more.
They left the man and were headed toward The Pony when Estela suddenly turned around and yelled, "Use shampoo!"
"Estela!" exclaimed Sam.
"Three points for me," she said happily.
"Why do you get three points?" asked Pippin.
"Because I'm a woman, and because I invented the game."
"Those aren't very good reasons."
"Fine. I'll make it five."
"What? That's not fair either! How will we catch up to you? *How* do we catch up with you? What award do you get if you win? Why do you get five?"
"Fine!" said Estela, throwing her hands up in the air. "We *all* get five!"
"Well, what about Frodo and Merry? Do they get five added to the ones that they have already earned? Because that is not fair either."
"Ahh! Leave me alone, you pesky hobbit!"
Merry, Frodo, and Sam laughed at the two. Their hearts had lifted and were filled with joy and a strange new hope ever since the coming of the woman. Yes, they were still wary of the Black Riders, the gatekeeper, and everybody else, but the long road to Rivendell didn't seem so frightful anymore.
"What are you laughing at?" demanded Estela.
"You always seem to get in some kind of trouble," said Sam.
"What? It's all *his* fault! He doesn't understand me!"
"I don't think any of us do, Estela," smiled Frodo.
Estela gasped dramatically. "Oh, no! What am I to do?"
"Well, it would be a good thing if you stopped yelling, seeing as there are many people staring at us," Sam suggested.
"I agree," said Estela.
"Will you be staying with us in The Prancing Pony, Estela?" asked Merry.
"I suppose," replied Estela, thoughtfully. "That it is all I *can* do, for I know no one here."
They approached the inn. It had a sign hanging from a small pole over the doorway that read The Prancing Pony by Barliman Butterbur.
"We surely aren't going to stay here for the night, are we, sir?" exclaimed Sam. "If there are hobbit-folk in these parts, why don't we look for some that would be willing to take us in?"
"What is wrong with the inn?" asked Frodo. "Tom Bombadil recommended it. I expect it's homelike enough inside."
"Tom Armadillo?" asked Estela, confused.
"*Bombadil*," Pippin corrected. "Very nice lad."
They hesitated outside on the steps wondering whether or not they should go in when a loud merry song started, and many cheerful voices joined loudly in the chorus.
They listened to this encouraging sound for a moment then dismounted their ponies.
The song ended and there was a burst of laughter and clapping.
They led their ponies into the yard, and leaving them there climbed the stairs.
Frodo went forward and nearly bumped into a short fat man with a bald head and a red face. His what-used-to-be white apron was smeared with food and some other unidentifiable stains and he nearly dropped his tray of mugs that he carried.
"Ahh!" Estela yelped, stumbling backwards.
"Can we---" Frodo started.
"Half a minute, if you please!" The man shouted over his shoulder, and vanished into a babble of voices and a cloud of smoke.
"How rude some people can be!" muttered Estela. "Nearly running over someone then not even apologizing before running off again! Some nerve."
In a moment he was out again, wiping his hands on his apron, leaving two more brownish smears on it.
"Good evening, little master!" The man, who, like Scrunge, Estela had dubbed Dirt-man, said, bending down to Frodo. "What may you be wanting?"
"We 'may' be wanting an apology!" said Estela before Frodo could open his mouth.
"Beds for five," said Frodo quickly, sending a glare toward Estela.
Estela ignored him and sent a glare of her own toward Dirt-man.
"And stabling for five ponies, if that can be managed," Frodo continued. "Are you Mr. Butterbur?"
"That's right!" said Dirt-man. "Barliman is my name."
"Whoop-de-do," Estela muttered.
"Barliman Butterbur at your service!" said Barliman, obviously not hearing Estela. "You're from the Shire, eh? And who's this?" Barliman turned to Estela. "Where do you come from, missy? You've got mighty strange clothes, I see."
"Llie n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina," said Estela, smiling innocently.
Barliman looked at her oddly, as did all people she had met so far.
He clapped his hand to his forehead suddenly, as if trying to remember something. "Hobbits!" He cried. "Now what does that remind me of?"
"Turkey?" Estela suggested.
"No...might I ask your names, sir?"
"Mr. Took and Mr. Brandybuck," said Frodo. "And this is Sam Gamgee and Estela Autumn. I'm Mr. Underhill."
"There now!" said Barliman, snapping his fingers. "It's gone again!"
"What is?" asked Estela. "Your brain?"
"But it'll come back, when I have had time to think," continued Barliman. "I'm run off my feet; but I'll see what I can do for you. We don't often get a party out of the Shire nowadays, and I should be sorry not to make you welcome. But there is such a crowd already in the house tonight as there hasn't been for long enough. It never rains but it pours, we say in Bree. Hi! Nob!" He shouted. "Where are you, you wooly-footed slowcoach? Nob!"
"Frodo," said Estela, nudging the hobbit in the ribs. "I think I agree with Sam: this place is weird."
"Maybe if you stop being so sarcastic it wouldn't be," replied Frodo with a small smile.
"I'm offended," stated Estela, falling silent.
"Coming, sir! Coming!" A cheery-looking hobbit bobbed out of a door, and seeing the travelers, stopped short and stared at them with great interest.
"Where's Bob?" asked the landlord. "You don't know? Well find him! Double sharp! I haven't got six legs, nor six eyes neither! Tell Bob there's five ponies that have to be stabled. He must find room somehow."
Nob trotted off, giving a wink and grinning.
"Yep," Estela muttered, staring at the hobbit. "Weird."
"Well, now, what was I going to say?" said Barliman, tapping a finger to his forehead.
"You were about to say something about dancing in a 'frilly pink dress'," said Estela, holding up her index finger.
Frodo nudged her in the side.
"Ow! Stop it!"
"One thing drives out another, so I say."
'Like food and your brain?' thought Estela. She felt incredibly guilty for making fun of the man but he was really starting to get on her nerves. 'Rooms. We want rooms. PLEASE!'
"I'm that busy tonight," said Barliman, "my head is going around. There's a party that came up the Greenway from down South last night--and that was strange enough to begin with. Then there's a traveling company of dwarves going West come in this evening. And now there's you."
'Yes, there's us. Poor, unfortunate, standing-here-waiting-to-go-to-bed us. Rooms, dear man, rooms!'
"If you weren't hobbits, I doubt we could house you. But we've got a room or two in the north wing that were made special for hobbits, when this place was built. On the ground floor as they usually prefer; round windows and all as they like. Though, there isn't a room for the girl here."
"That's fine," said Estela. "I can sleep outside with the dogs."
Barliman looked somewhat distressed and Pippin, understanding her intentions, quickly said, "No, no, no, Estela! You can't do that!"
"Why not?" said Estela, putting a fake 'poor girl' expression on, "I had to do it when I was a child, and I suppose I will have to do it now, too."
"Well, I won't have it!" Sam, who *obviously* didn't get it, exclaimed, making a few heads turn toward them, including a hooded figure in a weather stained cloak that Estela had noticed was eyeing them earlier when she had stupidly spoken Sindarian. "You will stay in our room...that is, if it's okay with, eh, Mr. Underhill."
Frodo smiled and shook his head, fully aware of what Estela had been doing. "Yes, she may stay in our room."
"Oh, alright," she sighed happily. "Thank you, dear friends."
"Yes, eh, okay," said Barliman, slightly embarrassed. "I hope you'll be comfortable. You'll be wanting supper, I don't doubt. As soon as may be. Come now!"
Barliman led them a short way down a passage, and opened a door. "Here is a nice little parlour!" He said. "I hope it will suit. I'm, eh, sorry about not having a room for you, miss," said Barliman, looking down at the floor. "I truly am."
'Ugh! Please don't act nice and like something worth pitying! I'll feel horrible!'
"Excuse me now," he continued. "I must be trotting. It's hard work for two legs, but I don't get thinner. I'll look in again later. If you want anything, ring the hand-bell, and Nob will come. I he don't come, ring and shout!"
He left them alone at last, closing the door as he went out.
Estela turned to look at the room. It four small beds, a brown oval rug covering a part of the floor, a small fire burning on the hearth, a few chairs sitting in front of the fire, a small oval shaped table spread with a white table cloth with a large hand bell sitting on top of it, and a few rounded windows facing the street that had thick brown curtains hanging down in front of them, slightly parted in the middle.
"Nice," Estela said. "I just wish it had a TV."
"A what?" Merry asked.
"A thing that...never mind."
"Okay."
Estela looked at the backpack, deciding at last to look in it later, set it down on the floor next to the door then sat down on the brown carpet and looked around, thoughtfully.
"Estela?" said Sam
"What, Sam?" said Estela, looking at the hobbit that was sitting across the room.
"Did you really have to sleep on the streets as a girl?"
Estela started laughing and Pippin and Frodo watched her with smiles on their faces. "No, Sam!" Estela choked. "I was trying to see if he had and extra room that he wasn't telling us about!"
"Oh." Sam looked down at the floor, blushing.
"It's okay, Sam, you did wonderful."
"I did?"
"Yep."
Sam smiled contentedly and they sat silently, Frodo resting comfortably in one of the chairs by the fire, Sam in another, Pippin sitting on a small wooden chair next to the table, Merry sitting on a chair across from Pippin, and Estela sitting on the floor.
She jumped when the door burst open and Nob came bustling in, bringing candles and a tray full of plates.
"Will you be wanting anything to drink, masters?" He asked. "And shall I show you the bedrooms while your supper is got ready?"
Frodo and Nob discussed this while Estela slipped off to the bathroom to wash up.
She opened the small wooden door, ducking as she came in because the door was rather low, took the small pitcher of water, and poured a little into her hands and rubbed some on her face. While she was in the bathroom she heard a loud *thud*! and Nob's cry of surprise and realized that Nob had tripped over Adrian's backpack and started laughing so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks. She quickly calmed herself, though, and washed her face again.
When she got out the hobbits took turns getting washed up then sat down at the table, drinking beer.
Pippin had asked her if she might like a mug but she declined and sat down in one of the chairs by the fire.
Barliman and Nob soon came in again, bring with them food.
The set the table so quickly that it took a moment for her to register that it had even happened.
There was hot soup, cold meats, a blackberry tart, new loaves of bread, slabs of butter, and half a ripe cheese.
Estela looked up and watched the hobbits stare at the food, greedily, their mouths practically watering.
Barliman stood there for a while, looking at them happily while they ate, and then prepared to leave.
"I don't know whether you would care to join the company, when you have supped," he said. "Perhaps you would rather go to your beds. Still the company would be very pleased to welcome you, if you had a mind. We don't get Outsiders--travelers from the Shire, I should say, begging your pardon--often; and we like to hear a bit of news, or any story or song you may have in mind. But if you please! Ring the bell, if you lack anything!"
"I will come," said Frodo, smiling.
"As will I," said Sam.
"Alright," said Pippin, shoving another piece of cheese in his mouth.
"I shall sit here quietly by the fire for a bit," Merry said, "and perhaps go out later for a sniff of the air. Mind your Ps and Qs, and don't forget that you are supposed to be escaping in secret, and are still on the high-road and not very far from the Shire!"
"Alright," Pippin replied. "Mind yourself! Don't get lost, and don't forget that it is safer indoors!"
Frodo turned to Estela. "Are you coming?" He asked.
Estela thought for a moment before saying that she would and stood up and walked with them down the passage and into the common-room of the inn.
As soon as they entered they were greeted with a chorus of welcome from the Bree-landers.
Barliman introduced the hobbits and Estela to the Bree-folk, but did it so quickly that they hardly caught any names that were said, and when they did catch one or two they weren't sure as to which person they belonged to.
Estela sat down in a chair in a corner and watched Frodo, Sam, and Pippin. She laughed when a group of hobbits with the name "Underhill" started treating Frodo like a long-lost cousin because they couldn't imagine sharing the same name and not be related.
She watched Pippin sit down, talking with some hobbits and Bree-folk, and drinking some ale and Sam follow Frodo wherever he went.
She soon grew accustomed to the thick smoke and the thickness that had seemed to choke her when she had first come down and sat back, letting her mind wander.
'How did I get here? Why am I stuck in this dream? Is this a real place?' She soon began to doubt that this was a dream and was starting to wonder if she really was in a different world.
'If it is real, then what part do I have to play? And why the heck does that guy keep staring at Frodo?'
Her gaze had wandered to the hooded man that had watched them earlier. His hood hung low, covering his face, so that he could see you but you couldn't see him, and, from the way his head was faced, it looked like he was watching Frodo intently.
She turned her eyes toward Frodo who was talking to Barliman, then slowly started walking toward the man. He stopped when he was standing before him and Estela, though she was all the way across the room, could hear them clearly.
"I am called Strider," the man said, throwing back his hood and revealing a head of shaggy brown hair that had strands of grey scattered around in it, and keen grey eyes that silently studied Frodo. "I am very pleased to meet you Mr.--Underhill, if old Butterbur got your name right."
"He did," Frodo replied stiffly.
"Well, Master Underhill," Strider said, "If I were you, I should stop your young friends from talking to much. Drink, fire, and chance-meeting are pleasant enough, but, well--this isn't the Shire. There are queer folk about. Though I say it as shouldn't, you may think," he said with a wry smile. "And there have been even stranger travelers through Bree lately."
Strider fell silent, watching the hobbit closely. Estela followed his gaze as it soon left Frodo and rested on Pippin, and his face registered alarm as he watched the young hobbit.
Pippin was talking to a stout hobbit and some of the Bree-folk about a party of some kind and a hobbit named Bilbo.
"You better do something quick!" She heard Strider whisper to Frodo.
Chapter three is up! Woo-Hoo! I get *ten* points! _clears throat_ Excuse me... Thank you Midnight for my first review! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Yeah! And guess what? This I'm posting another chapter today too! Oh, and what Estela said to Barliman was: "You're ugly and your mother dresses you funny."
Tenna' ento lye omenta Until next we meet, Lúthien Arnatuilë.
Estela had been walking for hours (refusing to get on the pony because she thought the pony was looking tired enough without her added weight) and she was just beginning to get tired. This puzzled her greatly but she put no further thought to the matter.
She looked at the navy blue backpack that she had lugged around all day, seeming to have gained weight as the day went on. "What in the world does she carry in here?" said Estela. She decided not to take a look until they reached somewhere that had a roof over it.
They came at last to Greenway-crossing and drew near the village.
They came to the West-gate and found it shut, but at the door of the lodge beyond it, there was a man sitting.
Estela took notice of his long greasy brown hair with disgust and his squinting eyes as he hobbled over to the gate.
"What do you want and where do you come from?" He asked gruffly.
"We are making for the inn here," answered Frodo. "We are journeying east and cannot go further tonight."
"Hobbits! Four hobbits! And a woman! And what's more, out of the Shire by their talk," said the gatekeeper, which Estela had dubbed "Scrunge", softly, as if speaking to himself. He stared at them darkly for a moment, and then slowly opened the gate and let them ride through.
"We don't often see Shire-folk riding on the Road at night," Scrunge went on, as they halted a moment by his door. "You'll pardon my wondering what business takes you east of Bree! What may your names be, might I ask?"
"Our names and our business are our own, and this does not seem a good place to discuss them," said Frodo.
"Woo-hoo, score one for Frodo," said Estela softly.
Scrunge gave her an odd look then said to Frodo, "Your business is your own, no doubt, but it's my business to ask questions after night-fall."
"We are hobbits from Buckland, and we have a fancy to travel and stay at the inn here," Merry put in. "I am Mr. Brandybuck . Is that enough for you? The Bree-folk used to be fair-spoken to travelers, or so I had heard."
"Score *two* for Merry," said Estela. "Sorry, but you're going to have to catch up if you ever want to win, Mr. Riding-a-white-horse," she finished, smiling sweetly, remembering that Frodo's name was not to be spoken.
Frodo smiled at her then turned back toward Scrunge.
"Alright, alright!" said Scrunge. " I meant no offence. But you'll find that maybe more folk than old Harry at the gate will be asking you questions. There's queer folk about. If you go to The Pony, you'll find that you're not the only guests." Scrunge wished them goodnight, and they said no more.
They left the man and were headed toward The Pony when Estela suddenly turned around and yelled, "Use shampoo!"
"Estela!" exclaimed Sam.
"Three points for me," she said happily.
"Why do you get three points?" asked Pippin.
"Because I'm a woman, and because I invented the game."
"Those aren't very good reasons."
"Fine. I'll make it five."
"What? That's not fair either! How will we catch up to you? *How* do we catch up with you? What award do you get if you win? Why do you get five?"
"Fine!" said Estela, throwing her hands up in the air. "We *all* get five!"
"Well, what about Frodo and Merry? Do they get five added to the ones that they have already earned? Because that is not fair either."
"Ahh! Leave me alone, you pesky hobbit!"
Merry, Frodo, and Sam laughed at the two. Their hearts had lifted and were filled with joy and a strange new hope ever since the coming of the woman. Yes, they were still wary of the Black Riders, the gatekeeper, and everybody else, but the long road to Rivendell didn't seem so frightful anymore.
"What are you laughing at?" demanded Estela.
"You always seem to get in some kind of trouble," said Sam.
"What? It's all *his* fault! He doesn't understand me!"
"I don't think any of us do, Estela," smiled Frodo.
Estela gasped dramatically. "Oh, no! What am I to do?"
"Well, it would be a good thing if you stopped yelling, seeing as there are many people staring at us," Sam suggested.
"I agree," said Estela.
"Will you be staying with us in The Prancing Pony, Estela?" asked Merry.
"I suppose," replied Estela, thoughtfully. "That it is all I *can* do, for I know no one here."
They approached the inn. It had a sign hanging from a small pole over the doorway that read The Prancing Pony by Barliman Butterbur.
"We surely aren't going to stay here for the night, are we, sir?" exclaimed Sam. "If there are hobbit-folk in these parts, why don't we look for some that would be willing to take us in?"
"What is wrong with the inn?" asked Frodo. "Tom Bombadil recommended it. I expect it's homelike enough inside."
"Tom Armadillo?" asked Estela, confused.
"*Bombadil*," Pippin corrected. "Very nice lad."
They hesitated outside on the steps wondering whether or not they should go in when a loud merry song started, and many cheerful voices joined loudly in the chorus.
They listened to this encouraging sound for a moment then dismounted their ponies.
The song ended and there was a burst of laughter and clapping.
They led their ponies into the yard, and leaving them there climbed the stairs.
Frodo went forward and nearly bumped into a short fat man with a bald head and a red face. His what-used-to-be white apron was smeared with food and some other unidentifiable stains and he nearly dropped his tray of mugs that he carried.
"Ahh!" Estela yelped, stumbling backwards.
"Can we---" Frodo started.
"Half a minute, if you please!" The man shouted over his shoulder, and vanished into a babble of voices and a cloud of smoke.
"How rude some people can be!" muttered Estela. "Nearly running over someone then not even apologizing before running off again! Some nerve."
In a moment he was out again, wiping his hands on his apron, leaving two more brownish smears on it.
"Good evening, little master!" The man, who, like Scrunge, Estela had dubbed Dirt-man, said, bending down to Frodo. "What may you be wanting?"
"We 'may' be wanting an apology!" said Estela before Frodo could open his mouth.
"Beds for five," said Frodo quickly, sending a glare toward Estela.
Estela ignored him and sent a glare of her own toward Dirt-man.
"And stabling for five ponies, if that can be managed," Frodo continued. "Are you Mr. Butterbur?"
"That's right!" said Dirt-man. "Barliman is my name."
"Whoop-de-do," Estela muttered.
"Barliman Butterbur at your service!" said Barliman, obviously not hearing Estela. "You're from the Shire, eh? And who's this?" Barliman turned to Estela. "Where do you come from, missy? You've got mighty strange clothes, I see."
"Llie n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina," said Estela, smiling innocently.
Barliman looked at her oddly, as did all people she had met so far.
He clapped his hand to his forehead suddenly, as if trying to remember something. "Hobbits!" He cried. "Now what does that remind me of?"
"Turkey?" Estela suggested.
"No...might I ask your names, sir?"
"Mr. Took and Mr. Brandybuck," said Frodo. "And this is Sam Gamgee and Estela Autumn. I'm Mr. Underhill."
"There now!" said Barliman, snapping his fingers. "It's gone again!"
"What is?" asked Estela. "Your brain?"
"But it'll come back, when I have had time to think," continued Barliman. "I'm run off my feet; but I'll see what I can do for you. We don't often get a party out of the Shire nowadays, and I should be sorry not to make you welcome. But there is such a crowd already in the house tonight as there hasn't been for long enough. It never rains but it pours, we say in Bree. Hi! Nob!" He shouted. "Where are you, you wooly-footed slowcoach? Nob!"
"Frodo," said Estela, nudging the hobbit in the ribs. "I think I agree with Sam: this place is weird."
"Maybe if you stop being so sarcastic it wouldn't be," replied Frodo with a small smile.
"I'm offended," stated Estela, falling silent.
"Coming, sir! Coming!" A cheery-looking hobbit bobbed out of a door, and seeing the travelers, stopped short and stared at them with great interest.
"Where's Bob?" asked the landlord. "You don't know? Well find him! Double sharp! I haven't got six legs, nor six eyes neither! Tell Bob there's five ponies that have to be stabled. He must find room somehow."
Nob trotted off, giving a wink and grinning.
"Yep," Estela muttered, staring at the hobbit. "Weird."
"Well, now, what was I going to say?" said Barliman, tapping a finger to his forehead.
"You were about to say something about dancing in a 'frilly pink dress'," said Estela, holding up her index finger.
Frodo nudged her in the side.
"Ow! Stop it!"
"One thing drives out another, so I say."
'Like food and your brain?' thought Estela. She felt incredibly guilty for making fun of the man but he was really starting to get on her nerves. 'Rooms. We want rooms. PLEASE!'
"I'm that busy tonight," said Barliman, "my head is going around. There's a party that came up the Greenway from down South last night--and that was strange enough to begin with. Then there's a traveling company of dwarves going West come in this evening. And now there's you."
'Yes, there's us. Poor, unfortunate, standing-here-waiting-to-go-to-bed us. Rooms, dear man, rooms!'
"If you weren't hobbits, I doubt we could house you. But we've got a room or two in the north wing that were made special for hobbits, when this place was built. On the ground floor as they usually prefer; round windows and all as they like. Though, there isn't a room for the girl here."
"That's fine," said Estela. "I can sleep outside with the dogs."
Barliman looked somewhat distressed and Pippin, understanding her intentions, quickly said, "No, no, no, Estela! You can't do that!"
"Why not?" said Estela, putting a fake 'poor girl' expression on, "I had to do it when I was a child, and I suppose I will have to do it now, too."
"Well, I won't have it!" Sam, who *obviously* didn't get it, exclaimed, making a few heads turn toward them, including a hooded figure in a weather stained cloak that Estela had noticed was eyeing them earlier when she had stupidly spoken Sindarian. "You will stay in our room...that is, if it's okay with, eh, Mr. Underhill."
Frodo smiled and shook his head, fully aware of what Estela had been doing. "Yes, she may stay in our room."
"Oh, alright," she sighed happily. "Thank you, dear friends."
"Yes, eh, okay," said Barliman, slightly embarrassed. "I hope you'll be comfortable. You'll be wanting supper, I don't doubt. As soon as may be. Come now!"
Barliman led them a short way down a passage, and opened a door. "Here is a nice little parlour!" He said. "I hope it will suit. I'm, eh, sorry about not having a room for you, miss," said Barliman, looking down at the floor. "I truly am."
'Ugh! Please don't act nice and like something worth pitying! I'll feel horrible!'
"Excuse me now," he continued. "I must be trotting. It's hard work for two legs, but I don't get thinner. I'll look in again later. If you want anything, ring the hand-bell, and Nob will come. I he don't come, ring and shout!"
He left them alone at last, closing the door as he went out.
Estela turned to look at the room. It four small beds, a brown oval rug covering a part of the floor, a small fire burning on the hearth, a few chairs sitting in front of the fire, a small oval shaped table spread with a white table cloth with a large hand bell sitting on top of it, and a few rounded windows facing the street that had thick brown curtains hanging down in front of them, slightly parted in the middle.
"Nice," Estela said. "I just wish it had a TV."
"A what?" Merry asked.
"A thing that...never mind."
"Okay."
Estela looked at the backpack, deciding at last to look in it later, set it down on the floor next to the door then sat down on the brown carpet and looked around, thoughtfully.
"Estela?" said Sam
"What, Sam?" said Estela, looking at the hobbit that was sitting across the room.
"Did you really have to sleep on the streets as a girl?"
Estela started laughing and Pippin and Frodo watched her with smiles on their faces. "No, Sam!" Estela choked. "I was trying to see if he had and extra room that he wasn't telling us about!"
"Oh." Sam looked down at the floor, blushing.
"It's okay, Sam, you did wonderful."
"I did?"
"Yep."
Sam smiled contentedly and they sat silently, Frodo resting comfortably in one of the chairs by the fire, Sam in another, Pippin sitting on a small wooden chair next to the table, Merry sitting on a chair across from Pippin, and Estela sitting on the floor.
She jumped when the door burst open and Nob came bustling in, bringing candles and a tray full of plates.
"Will you be wanting anything to drink, masters?" He asked. "And shall I show you the bedrooms while your supper is got ready?"
Frodo and Nob discussed this while Estela slipped off to the bathroom to wash up.
She opened the small wooden door, ducking as she came in because the door was rather low, took the small pitcher of water, and poured a little into her hands and rubbed some on her face. While she was in the bathroom she heard a loud *thud*! and Nob's cry of surprise and realized that Nob had tripped over Adrian's backpack and started laughing so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks. She quickly calmed herself, though, and washed her face again.
When she got out the hobbits took turns getting washed up then sat down at the table, drinking beer.
Pippin had asked her if she might like a mug but she declined and sat down in one of the chairs by the fire.
Barliman and Nob soon came in again, bring with them food.
The set the table so quickly that it took a moment for her to register that it had even happened.
There was hot soup, cold meats, a blackberry tart, new loaves of bread, slabs of butter, and half a ripe cheese.
Estela looked up and watched the hobbits stare at the food, greedily, their mouths practically watering.
Barliman stood there for a while, looking at them happily while they ate, and then prepared to leave.
"I don't know whether you would care to join the company, when you have supped," he said. "Perhaps you would rather go to your beds. Still the company would be very pleased to welcome you, if you had a mind. We don't get Outsiders--travelers from the Shire, I should say, begging your pardon--often; and we like to hear a bit of news, or any story or song you may have in mind. But if you please! Ring the bell, if you lack anything!"
"I will come," said Frodo, smiling.
"As will I," said Sam.
"Alright," said Pippin, shoving another piece of cheese in his mouth.
"I shall sit here quietly by the fire for a bit," Merry said, "and perhaps go out later for a sniff of the air. Mind your Ps and Qs, and don't forget that you are supposed to be escaping in secret, and are still on the high-road and not very far from the Shire!"
"Alright," Pippin replied. "Mind yourself! Don't get lost, and don't forget that it is safer indoors!"
Frodo turned to Estela. "Are you coming?" He asked.
Estela thought for a moment before saying that she would and stood up and walked with them down the passage and into the common-room of the inn.
As soon as they entered they were greeted with a chorus of welcome from the Bree-landers.
Barliman introduced the hobbits and Estela to the Bree-folk, but did it so quickly that they hardly caught any names that were said, and when they did catch one or two they weren't sure as to which person they belonged to.
Estela sat down in a chair in a corner and watched Frodo, Sam, and Pippin. She laughed when a group of hobbits with the name "Underhill" started treating Frodo like a long-lost cousin because they couldn't imagine sharing the same name and not be related.
She watched Pippin sit down, talking with some hobbits and Bree-folk, and drinking some ale and Sam follow Frodo wherever he went.
She soon grew accustomed to the thick smoke and the thickness that had seemed to choke her when she had first come down and sat back, letting her mind wander.
'How did I get here? Why am I stuck in this dream? Is this a real place?' She soon began to doubt that this was a dream and was starting to wonder if she really was in a different world.
'If it is real, then what part do I have to play? And why the heck does that guy keep staring at Frodo?'
Her gaze had wandered to the hooded man that had watched them earlier. His hood hung low, covering his face, so that he could see you but you couldn't see him, and, from the way his head was faced, it looked like he was watching Frodo intently.
She turned her eyes toward Frodo who was talking to Barliman, then slowly started walking toward the man. He stopped when he was standing before him and Estela, though she was all the way across the room, could hear them clearly.
"I am called Strider," the man said, throwing back his hood and revealing a head of shaggy brown hair that had strands of grey scattered around in it, and keen grey eyes that silently studied Frodo. "I am very pleased to meet you Mr.--Underhill, if old Butterbur got your name right."
"He did," Frodo replied stiffly.
"Well, Master Underhill," Strider said, "If I were you, I should stop your young friends from talking to much. Drink, fire, and chance-meeting are pleasant enough, but, well--this isn't the Shire. There are queer folk about. Though I say it as shouldn't, you may think," he said with a wry smile. "And there have been even stranger travelers through Bree lately."
Strider fell silent, watching the hobbit closely. Estela followed his gaze as it soon left Frodo and rested on Pippin, and his face registered alarm as he watched the young hobbit.
Pippin was talking to a stout hobbit and some of the Bree-folk about a party of some kind and a hobbit named Bilbo.
"You better do something quick!" She heard Strider whisper to Frodo.
Chapter three is up! Woo-Hoo! I get *ten* points! _clears throat_ Excuse me... Thank you Midnight for my first review! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Yeah! And guess what? This I'm posting another chapter today too! Oh, and what Estela said to Barliman was: "You're ugly and your mother dresses you funny."
Tenna' ento lye omenta Until next we meet, Lúthien Arnatuilë.