Prologue- Frodo Gamgee lie on top of a rock, wounded. Blood trickled like rain over his face. He wished his father, Samwise, were here. Samwise had survived many amazing things, far worse than what he had just gone through. King Elessar's men were patrolling the outskirts of the Shire and were bound to find him. Frodo had been trying to run away from the Shire, for his sister, Rosie, was forcing him to marry her husband's cousin. There was a pack of men searching for him, including two of the best men of Gondor and Rohan. It would only take for him to get to Bree for the troops to retreat back to their renewed fortress at Weathertop. He was three miles past the Brandywine Bridge, but something had gone horribly wrong.
Two shadowy figures riding on two black steeds rode towards Frodo. Frodo struggled to yell for help, but he only let out the faint sound of 'Heh.' The men, even though his cry was faint in the wind, they spurred their horses towards the hobbit.
One hopped off and the other followed. One swore under his breath and searched his pockets for something, most likely something that would help the little master. The other one threw back his hood and took a shot at comforting the hobbit.
"Boy, are you lucky," he said, pushing back his long blond hair, "My friend, Eldarion, would help you. Just stay still. Oh, yes, and if you can tell me what did this to you, that'll help." Frodo tried to speak, but instead of words, blood came from his mouth. "Okay, then. Don't worry my good friend. As I said before, you're pretty damn lucky. Just one arrow would kill you in a snap." And just like that, an arrow whirred by the man's head and the hobbit was slain. But by what?