Disclaimer: Okay, I haven't put one of these up for a while, so forgive me. I don't own Lord of the Rings, or anything, for that matter. Darn. Anyway, on with the show!!
Frodo stopped running, hiding behind a tree. Putting his hands on his knees, he tried catching his breath, but failed. Still panting, he looked up into the branches of the tree he stood under, not caring if the raindrops got in his eyes. He closed them, and sighed, letting the rain wash over his skin. He shivered, and that brought him back to his predicament. Clutching his wet shirt, he opened his eyes. Frodo looked around him, and then looked down at himself. "I must look pathetic," he said to himself as he looked at his short brown pants, a bit tattered at the edges from running through bramble bushes; his slightly ripped, muddy shirt, not so white anymore; and his dirty, drenched raven black hair that hung in front of his eyes. Shivering again, he jumped when he heard a dark, indistinguishable voice whisper flatly,
"Yes, you do."
"Who are you?" Frodo asked into the darkness, reaching to draw Sting, but realizing with a pang of regret that he had left it with his belt at Bag End, along with his cloak, in his haste. The pitch-black night around him suddenly seemed a lot smaller, knowing that someone was with him, even if they are neither hostile nor friendly. "Who are you?" Frodo repeated, impatience underlying his tone. The shadow in the trees spoke again in the same dark voice,
"You may call me Raven." The being stepped out from the trees, and walked over to Frodo, their hand on the black hilt of their small sword. A dark cloak, impossible in the darkness to tell what color it was, hung about their shoulders, the hood pulled up against the driving rain. Once they reached the half-shelter of the large tree, however, they reached up and flung the hood back, revealing a young man, obviously a hobbit, as he looked straight at the level of one. Light wavy brown hair, drenched darker by the rain, reached to his shoulders and looked extremely dirty. His skin was as pale as of one that is taken by death, but his eyes were different. Deep blue, silver flecks seemed to dance in them, but not with joy; but of a different emotion, maybe sadness, or loneliness, of what Frodo couldn't tell, darkness seemed to shadow them. Underneath his cloak he wore a dark brown jacket, covering a light chestnut-colored shirt. His hands, almost as pale as his face, had on them dark forest green fingerless gloves, and his right hand still gripped his sword hilt. Seeing Frodo had no sword, nor weapon whatsoever, he eased up a bit, releasing his hand from his blade. "I see you have nothing to protect you. What horror has befallen you, that you should run out into the thick of a rainstorm without sword nor cloak to aid you?" Frodo sighed, glancing behind him, then back to Raven.
"I was running from someone. They were chasing me once they knew who I was." Frodo paused, and Raven asked,
"And who are you?" The other hobbit hesitated, wondering if he could trust this... 'Raven'; he decided he could take a chance. He finally whispered,
"Frodo."
"Well then, Frodo, I think you should need this." He reached up and unclipped his cloak, handing it to Frodo, who tensed and faltered for half a moment before accepting it. Slipping it about his shoulders, he shivered and pulled it around him tightly.
"Thank you...Raven." He nodded.
"Do you need a place to sleep tonight? I know of an inn nearby." Frodo shook his head.
"No, I can hopefully go home now," he said, looking at Raven, whose silvery-blue eyes awed him; how they seemed to glisten with tears, yet at the same time dared the world to come after him. Raven shook his head, staring straight into Frodo's eyes.
"My name's not Raven," he said with an undertone of bitterness. "It's...Rayne."
"I need to go home," Frodo said quietly, beginning to take off the cloak, but Rayne stopped him.
"Keep it," he whispered, gently taking Frodo's hands from his cloak and placing them at the hobbit's sides. He smiled, Frodo weakly returned it, and Rayne stepped back. "I'll let you be on your way, Frodo. Take care on your way back." Frodo nodded, and Rayne turned back the way he had come.
"Good-bye, Rayne. I hope we meet again," Frodo murmured. Rayne lowered his head as he walked, and whispered,
"Farewell, Frodo. I hope we do too."
Frodo stopped running, hiding behind a tree. Putting his hands on his knees, he tried catching his breath, but failed. Still panting, he looked up into the branches of the tree he stood under, not caring if the raindrops got in his eyes. He closed them, and sighed, letting the rain wash over his skin. He shivered, and that brought him back to his predicament. Clutching his wet shirt, he opened his eyes. Frodo looked around him, and then looked down at himself. "I must look pathetic," he said to himself as he looked at his short brown pants, a bit tattered at the edges from running through bramble bushes; his slightly ripped, muddy shirt, not so white anymore; and his dirty, drenched raven black hair that hung in front of his eyes. Shivering again, he jumped when he heard a dark, indistinguishable voice whisper flatly,
"Yes, you do."
"Who are you?" Frodo asked into the darkness, reaching to draw Sting, but realizing with a pang of regret that he had left it with his belt at Bag End, along with his cloak, in his haste. The pitch-black night around him suddenly seemed a lot smaller, knowing that someone was with him, even if they are neither hostile nor friendly. "Who are you?" Frodo repeated, impatience underlying his tone. The shadow in the trees spoke again in the same dark voice,
"You may call me Raven." The being stepped out from the trees, and walked over to Frodo, their hand on the black hilt of their small sword. A dark cloak, impossible in the darkness to tell what color it was, hung about their shoulders, the hood pulled up against the driving rain. Once they reached the half-shelter of the large tree, however, they reached up and flung the hood back, revealing a young man, obviously a hobbit, as he looked straight at the level of one. Light wavy brown hair, drenched darker by the rain, reached to his shoulders and looked extremely dirty. His skin was as pale as of one that is taken by death, but his eyes were different. Deep blue, silver flecks seemed to dance in them, but not with joy; but of a different emotion, maybe sadness, or loneliness, of what Frodo couldn't tell, darkness seemed to shadow them. Underneath his cloak he wore a dark brown jacket, covering a light chestnut-colored shirt. His hands, almost as pale as his face, had on them dark forest green fingerless gloves, and his right hand still gripped his sword hilt. Seeing Frodo had no sword, nor weapon whatsoever, he eased up a bit, releasing his hand from his blade. "I see you have nothing to protect you. What horror has befallen you, that you should run out into the thick of a rainstorm without sword nor cloak to aid you?" Frodo sighed, glancing behind him, then back to Raven.
"I was running from someone. They were chasing me once they knew who I was." Frodo paused, and Raven asked,
"And who are you?" The other hobbit hesitated, wondering if he could trust this... 'Raven'; he decided he could take a chance. He finally whispered,
"Frodo."
"Well then, Frodo, I think you should need this." He reached up and unclipped his cloak, handing it to Frodo, who tensed and faltered for half a moment before accepting it. Slipping it about his shoulders, he shivered and pulled it around him tightly.
"Thank you...Raven." He nodded.
"Do you need a place to sleep tonight? I know of an inn nearby." Frodo shook his head.
"No, I can hopefully go home now," he said, looking at Raven, whose silvery-blue eyes awed him; how they seemed to glisten with tears, yet at the same time dared the world to come after him. Raven shook his head, staring straight into Frodo's eyes.
"My name's not Raven," he said with an undertone of bitterness. "It's...Rayne."
"I need to go home," Frodo said quietly, beginning to take off the cloak, but Rayne stopped him.
"Keep it," he whispered, gently taking Frodo's hands from his cloak and placing them at the hobbit's sides. He smiled, Frodo weakly returned it, and Rayne stepped back. "I'll let you be on your way, Frodo. Take care on your way back." Frodo nodded, and Rayne turned back the way he had come.
"Good-bye, Rayne. I hope we meet again," Frodo murmured. Rayne lowered his head as he walked, and whispered,
"Farewell, Frodo. I hope we do too."
