- Chapter Eleven: At the Sign of the Prancing Pony
- Written by Carithawen
- Writer's notes: A mixture of movie scenarios along with my own again. : )
Darkness still clung to the sky as the gate of Bree drew near. The firm pitter-patter of hard rain was all that was on the minds of the hobbits as they approached the gate, the Elf following close behind. Their hooded cloaks were drenched as Frodo Baggins reached forward, knocking on the gate. The gatekeeper that stood behind the immense gate opened a shutter, but it was too high up to see the hobbits, and, therefore, he opened a lower one. "What do you want?" the old gatekeeper shot at them.
"We're heading for the Prancing Pony," Frodo answered him.
The gatekeeper, still skeptical, opened the gate fully, his eyes resting on the hobbits as he shone his lamplight on their soaked forms. "Hobbits. Four Hobbits! What business brings you to Bree?"
"We wish to stay at the inn," Frodo replied. "Our business is our own."
The gatekeeper nodded once. "All right, young sir, I meant no offence. It's my job to ask questions after nightfall. There's talk of strange folk abroad. Can't be too careful." He let them pass through the gate, and jumped back when he saw a much taller cloaked individual following them; he didn't notice the concealed elf before.
The puddled roads Bree were full of Men, or 'big folk,' as the hobbits called them, and it had the aura of being a very rough area. Eventually, the group found the rustic inn of the Prancing Pony, and entered it with caution.
Frodo looked around at the tenants in the bar before walking up to the front desk. "Excuse me..."
A heavy-set innkeeper by the name of Barliman Butterbur, with a trimmed, bushy moustache and beard, peered over the counter at the hooded Elf, thinking it was her who spoke. Without saying a word, Elfindel pointed to the floor, and Barliman followed her finger, and was surprised to see four hobbits standing there. "Oh…! Good evening, little masters… If you're seeking accommodation, we've got some nice cozy, hobbit-sized rooms available... Mr... eh…?"
"Underhill," Frodo quickly responded. "My name's Underhill."
Barliman nodded once, but slowly. "Underhill..."
"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey," Frodo added. "Can you tell him we've arrived?"
"Gandalf? Gandalf..." There was a moment of silence before Barliman spoke again. "Oh... yes! I remember… Elderly chap. Big grey beard, and pointy hat."
Frodo smiled faintly and nodded in response.
"Not seen him for 6 months."
Shadowed from those in front of her, Elfindel's face turned white, and was stained with immense worry. Frodo felt the same way as he turned around to face the Elf, Sam, Merry, and Pippin.
"What do we do now?" Sam whispered.
Time past, and the hobbits had settled into sitting at a round table at a far corner of the pub. Elfindel, who still had her hood on, shadowing her face, not wanting to stir up anything by showing who she really was, sat at the table with them. She noticed Sam looking rather solemn, and she leaned forward. "He will be here, Sam," she spoke at a near whisper. "He will come."
Merry made his way through the sea of towering Men, making for the table, with a large mug. He finally made it over, sitting down next to Elfindel, a satisfied grin on his face.
Pippin, who was sitting on the opposite side of him, looked at him with wonder. "What's that?"
Merry's eyes remained on the large mug. "This, my friend, is a pint."
Pippin gasped slightly. "It comes in pints?" He looked over at Frodo. "I'm getting one!" He seemingly flew out of his chair, heading for the bar.
"You've got a whole half already!!" Sam called after him, and when Pippin didn't turn back, he sighed. He looked over at Elfindel, who had her hooded head turned away from the hobbits, as if she was looking at something. Sam followed her suspicious-looking gaze to another cloaked individual across the room, his hooded face glancing in their direction. Sam turned slowly to Frodo. "…That fellow's done nothing but stare at you since we arrived."
Frodo glanced across the room to that hooded figure, observing him before catching sight of Barliman walking past. "Excuse me... That man in the corner. Who is he?"
Barliman looked over at the hooded Man. "…He's one of them Rangers. Dangerous folk, they are, wandering in the Wilds… What his right name is, I've never heard, but around here, he's known as 'Strider'." He walked off to deliver his drinks.
Elfindel's eyes remained on the Man, of whom she could not see his face. 'Strider'…? Why did that name have a sense of familiarity to it?
Frodo remained silent for a small while, thinking. "Strider..." He began to move the Ring around between his fingers, his eyes closing slowly as dark whispers began to sound from it: Baggins. Baggins. Baggins... Baggins—
"Baggins?" came Pippin's high-pitched voice, breaking Frodo's concentration on the Ring. "Sure I know a Baggins! He's over there—" Pippin was talking to some Men, and pointed over to Frodo. "Frodo Baggins… He's my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side and my third cousin, twice removed…" The voices of the other people in the room drowned out his voice, as Frodo anxiously made his way towards Pippin to stop him.
"Pippin!" He grabbed him, causing Pippin to spill some of his drink.
"Steady on Frodo!" he responded.
Suddenly, Frodo tripped on the foot of one of the Men, loosing his footing, falling backwards. As he hit the ground, the Ring flew upwards. The cloaked Man, Strider, straightened in alert, quickly looking over at him. The Ring fell back down onto his finger, causing Frodo to disappear. Frodo eyes suddenly beheld the world in darkness. There were many uneasy shadows, and he heard dark whispers, much like that coming from the Ring a few moments ago: You cannot hide. I see you. There is no life in the void. Only death. Suddenly, a great menacing red eye, wreathed in flame, made itself visible before Frodo, growing larger by the second. In a race of panic, Frodo quickly pulled the Ring off his finger. His view of the world returned to normal, and he closed his eyes, breathing slowly in relief.
Just as he was recovering, he found a hand on his shoulder, gripping it, pulling him up. It was Strider, and he shoved Frodo up the stairs into the room he was residing in. Elfindel, who had just realized that Frodo was missing, stood up quickly. She looked towards the stairs, and saw that a door had just closed. Moving through the wave of Men, she made her way towards the door, followed by the other hobbits. In Strider's room, Frodo nearly fell to the ground, as he turned to face the Man, who had shut the door. "You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill." He said in a low voice.
Frodo kept his eyes on him. "What do you want?"
"A little more caution from you… that is no trinket you carry."
"I carry nothing!"
"Indeed…" He walked past Frodo to the window, pinching out the candles in the room as he continued to speak. "I can avoid being seen if I wish… But to disappear entirely--" He removed his hood, turning to Frodo, "--That is a rare gift."
Frodo observed the rather young-looking Man, with a faint goatee on his rustic face, which looked as if he had no time to keep his face because of immense travelling of some sort. "Who are you…?"
"Are you frightened?" Strider responded.
"Yes..."
"Not nearly frightened enough… I know what hunts you." He started to walk towards Frodo, when suddenly, the door was forced opened, and Strider drew his sword, turning to face it. Three other hobbits were standing in the doorway, one of them with a larger candleholder in his grip, another with his clenched fists held forward. The fighter spoke first, firmly. "Let him go, or I'll have you, Longshanks!"
"You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that will not save you…" Strider answered with no intentions of anger.
He began to place his sword back into its scabbard, when another form appeared in the doorway, a cloaked human, moving into the room, drawing its gleaming sword, ringing as it was pulled out of its scabbard. Pippin and Merry jumped out of the way just as the figure moved forward, the ends of its cloak flying about it in the action. Strider quickly drew his sword again, intercepting the other sword as it came down firmly. Their swords created a loud clang, almost sparking as they intercepted.
The figure was about to make another strike, when it stopped, its sword lowering slowly. "Elessar…?" a female voice sounded from the shadows of the figure's hood. Strider blinked, lowering his own sword. "Carithawen…?"
The figure reached up, pulling the hood of its face, revealing the comely face of the Elf maiden.
Strider's firm face subsided as his eyes beheld her face, and he grinned faintly, but warmly nonetheless. A warm grin formed on Elfindel's face as well, and they both gripped each other's arms in welcome. "Vendui, Carithawen," Strider greeted her with a small head bow of courtesy. "Mae govannen na Bree, mellon nin."
"Diolla lle, mellon mani nin a fedhin," she replied with a head bow of her own.
They delved into a slightly-lengthy conversation in Sindarin, while the hobbits looked on. Sam moved close to Frodo, whispering. "She knows this character?"
Pippin and Merry observed them also. "What are they talking about?" Merry asked to the other hobbits.
After a moment, Strider turned to Frodo, the light of his face vanishing. "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They are coming."
-*~*~*~*-
Translator: Vendui, Carithawen. ["Hello, Carithawen"]; Mae govannen na Bree, mellon nin. [Welcome to Bree, my friend"] Diolla lle, mellon mani nin a fedhin. ["Thank you, my good friend and ally"]