Chapter 4: The Prancing Pony
Disclaimer: This place is not mine…*sobs again, but harder this time* end disclaimer
Kit is not a slut at all! It's complicated, but it is possible to love two people at the same time. You'll see what I'm talking about later.
I'm basing as much of this story off the movie as I can. Lots and lots of dialogue and actions from it. I'm doing this cuz I saw the movie before reading the book, and I was inspired.
Alright, I think I might stop the account thing sooner or later, cuz it's getting kinda annoying, but not for now.
Account of Frodo
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It was raining, but we hardly noticed as we ran across the road to the gate into Bree. I knocked and a surly looking man opened a peek hole to look at us. He then opened the door, holding a lantern.
" 'Obbits…four 'obbits. Well, what d'you want?"
I heard Sam shift nervously behind me. "We're heading for the Prancing Pony. Our business is our own."
"Alright, sir, I meant no 'arm. But it's m'job to ask questions after nightfall. There's talk of strange folk abroad." and he let us pass through before closing the door.
The people in Bree were tough, by the look of them. A huge cart, drawn by the biggest horse I have ever seen, rolled past us, the hind wheel so high, I couldn't have touched the top had I stood on my toes. But then relief flooded through me as the sign of "The Prancing Pony" came into view. We nearly ran to the door.
As we entered and Sam closed the heavy door, I stepped up to the counter that was almost vertically above us. "Excuse me," I said.
A man appeared above us, holding two mugs. He seemed surprised. "Oh, good evening, little masters. I have some nice hobbit sized rooms, if it's accommodations you're seeking, Mr.…"
"Underhill…" I said. "My name's Underhill."
"Underhill…." murmured the innkeeper.
"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?" The innkeeper hesitated. "Gandalf?" He seemed to be thinking. "Gandalf….oh yes! Tall fellow. Long grey beard, pointy hat." I nodded, relieved. "Not seen him for six months." I nodded and turned to find a table, motioning to Sam, Merry, and Pippin to follow.
Pippin, Sam, and I sat with our drinks and supper, uneasy with all these rowdy people about. Sam motioned with his bread to a corner across the room. "Those two have done nothing but stare at you since we arrived." I ventured to look over.
There sat the surprising pair my eyes have ever seen.
A man was draped in black with the hood of his cloak covering his eyes. Beside him was a red haired woman, her silver cloak wrapped around her. The gaze from those deep blue eyes, flecked with fuchsia, was sharp and piercing and I felt as if my very soul was being searched. She leaned over and whispered something to the man next to her. He took the pipe he was holding out of his mouth and nodded before taking it back into his mouth. He breathed it in, and the slight light from the glowing pipeweed lit up his face only slightly.
The woman rolled her eyes and her gaze turned back to me. She tucked back her long red hair behind her ear and I saw that they were pointed. She was an elf…a strikingly beautiful elven maiden. But then I heard a hiss inside my mind: "Look away…now…" Fangs grew from the inside of the maiden's mouth.
It was an order and I obeyed. But he couldn't help but think that that voice had been so feminine, so smooth and flowing that it was like silk.
The innkeeper was walking by when I caught his attention. "Excuse me. Who are that man and woman in the corner?" He looked over and quickly looked back. "Oh….them. They're two of those Rangers. Dangerous folk they are. Now I don't know the elf's name. Don't call her nothing, neither. I don't know the man's right name, but round 'ere, 'is name's Strider." He hurriedly walked off.
Merry came back, carrying a huge pint. Pippin was amazed. "What's that?" "This, my friend, is a pint!" Merry said with pride, setting it down on the table. Pippin gaped. "It comes in pints? I'm getting one." he declared and went off to get his pint. "But you've had half a liter already!" protested Sam.
I started to finger the Ring, almost against my will. My eyes closed. I heard another voice inside my head, but it was deeper, more dangerous. "Baggins….Baggins….Baggins…." I awoke from my trance as I heard Pippin say my last name. "Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins. Frodo Baggins. He's over there." and he waved. "Oh no…" I thought as I made my way over to where Pippin stood. "He's my cousin, twice removed on his mother's side…" I heard him say. I grabbed his arm and said his name. "Steady on!" he exclaimed as he pushed me away. I fell and the Ring in my hand flew up into the air.
Its descent seemed so very slow. I strove to catch it and it just barely slipped onto my finger. Suddenly, I was transported into a windy realm without form. And then something horrifying something came into view: a great eye wreathed in flame, absolutely lidless. "You cannot hide…I see you!…" I slipped off the Ring and came back into the real world. I sighed in relief.
Then a hand grabbed me and pulled me out of the chair.
The person, the man that had been sitting in the corner, pushed me up against the wall. "You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill!" and with that, he shoved me up the stairs.
Soon, we reached a room, and the man roughly pushed me in. The maiden stood there, her face expressionless, and yet the muscles along her jaw line were tensed, her arms crossed over her chest. And now I noticed: a rapier stood ready in its sheath. She was a warrior. Strange, yes, but stranger yet was the fact the she wore a dress of her ice blue crushed velvet along with it. But my attentions were drawn to her companion.
"What do you want from me?"
"A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry." he said as turned away.
"I carry nothing." "Indeed…" One by one, he pinched out the candles.
"We can avoid being seen if we wish, but to disappear entirely…" He moved his hand up to his head and pulled back his hood, revealing a bronzed face with gray eyes, dark hair framing his intense gaze.
"Now that is a rare gift."
There were noises at the door, and both elf and man drew their weapons, ready. In came Sam, Merry and Pippin. Sam turned out to be bolder than I had ever seen him. "Call down, or I'll 'ave you , longshanks!" he cried. The maiden growled softly within her throat and set her rapier in its sheath again, turning away. Following suit, the man set his sword back in its proper storage and with a small bow of the head, said: "You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that will not save you."
Soon enough, we were asleep by the fire, covered gently with blankets. The maiden, whom Strider had called Kit, had draped them across me with a caring tenderness that she had not shown for any of my friends, however her change in emotion was very slight.
Screams came from across the road. We awoke with a start, and found that Kit and Strider sat by the window side by side.
"Who are they?" I asked with caution.
"Murderers." murmured Kit, a fire alighting in her deep blue eyes. Strider took her hand and turned to us. "They were once great kings of old. Sauron the Deceiver offered them nine rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question. One by one, they fell into darkness. They are the Nazgul, Ringwraiths, and are neither living nor dead."
He turned to face back out of the window.
"They are always drawn to the presence of the One. They will never stop hunting you."
Sam shivered with a scowl near me.
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Morning dawned bright and warm. Strider told us to pack up our things quickly and we did so. Kit was nowhere to be found. Strider told us she was readying her horse and our pack pony. We were the first into the main room. The innkeeper was frying bacon and the warm smell awoke me greatly. I heard Pippin's stomach growl behind me and could barely hide a grin. Half way through our breakfast, Kit came in impatiently. This morning she was dressed in a green velvet shirt, and tan cotton breeches. She was beautiful, yet ever so strange.
"Let's go. I want to reach Rivendell in a week at the most."
Sam glared at her and she returned his gaze coldly. After a bit, he blushed and turned back to his breakfast. Kit took away one slice of Strider's bacon and he tried to grab it back from her, but she bit into it and stepped out of his reach. With a heavy sigh, he drank down his water, and gave the last slice to Kit. She took it gratefully with a word in Elvish and wolfed it down.
"No breakfast this morning," she said, shaking her head. She stepped out, Strider after her. I rose, clearing my throat, and Sam stood as well, followed by Merry and finally, Pippin. We followed them.
Out in the small courtyard, Strider stood holding the reins of an enormous chestnut mare. We stared. Kit suddenly mounted from the other side and noticed our goggling. Her voice was cold, and yet filled with pride. "This is Free." She patted her mare's neck, and suddenly, her voice went icy again. "She trusts very few, Strider and I being among them. No one is to touch her save in a dire emergency." She motioned to the good sized chestnut pony we would be using for our travels. On his back were four saddle bags, strapped tightly around his girth. He was a lovely chestnut color, his mane and tail great flowing waves of flaxen. Sam decided to be the one to lead him. Kit nudged her mare with her heels and we started off…off into the unknown…