- Chapter Twelve: The Long Journey Begins
- Written by Carithawen
Night soon grew, and the hobbits lay in bed, quietly asleep… Completely oblivious to the group of black riders, who have stealthily entered the hobbits' room. One rider moved to the side of each of the beds, and in unison, they raised their long, jagged swords above them. Suddenly, they thrust their swords into the beds, butchering them several times. When they believed that they had killed each hobbit, they tossed aside each of the blankets—and gave a loud shriek. They had butchered measly feathers! A trap! They turned over the beds in a fit of rage, and staggered off into the darkness.
Strider sat by the window, Elfindel standing behind him. They were both watching the reflections of the dark riders through the window of the hobbits' room, their faces showing no emotion. The piercing shriek awoke the hobbits, and they sat up quickly in the large bed.
"What are they?" Frodo breathed.
"They were once Men… Great kings of Men…" Strider began. "Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question; one by one, falling to darkness… Now they are slaves to his will…" He turned to Frodo. "They are the Nazgul… Ringwraiths… Neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring. Drawn to the Power of the One… They will never stop hunting you."
* * *
The next morning, Strider and Elfindel made their way through the countryside, with the Hobbits following them, along with a small pony.
"Where are you taking us?" Frodo asked Strider.
"Into the Wild," he replied simply.
Merry looked at Frodo. "How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?" he whispered.
"We have no choice but to trust him," Frodo responded. "And Elfindel, who we should trust more than anything on this journey, seems to know him as well…"
"But where is he leading us?" Sam asked urgently.
"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee," Strider answered him, "to the House of Elrond."
Sam beamed with happiness. He was going to see more Elves! "Did you hear that? Rivendell! We're going to see the Elves!"
* * *
They continued walking on for quite some time. At one point, Strider slowed, hearing the hobbits whispering behind him, and realized that they have stopped. He turned around, and so did Elfindel.
"Gentlemen," he called. "We do not stop 'till nightfall."
Pippin looked up towards him. "What about breakfast?"
Strider furrowed his brow slightly. "You've already had it."
"We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?"
A confused Strider turned towards Elfindel, who was smirking, laughing inside. Strider continued on.
Merry turned to Pippin. "I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip…" He started to follow Strider's lead, but Pippin stayed close behind him.
"What about elevenses?" he asked urgently. "Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper?! He knows about them… doesn't he?"
Merry turned to him once more. "I wouldn't count on it."
At that moment, Strider threw an apple back, Merry catching it. He looked at it, then handed it to Pippin, patting him on the back. Then Strider threw another apple, towards Pippin, who didn't see it coming. It hit him on the head, bouncing off. Pippin looked up, and around him, bewildered. What was that??
"Pippin!" Merry called to him, frustrated.
* * *
At sunset, the travelers reached a large open plain, hills occasionally protruding out of the ground. Strider cast his gaze upon one of them, to observe the ruins of a massive dwelling. "This was the great watchtower of Amon Sul," he spoke. "We shall rest here tonight…"