CHAPTER TWO: The dawn of a new adventure

* * *

It was settled: at the rise of the sun, after a good hearty breakfast, the three of them would be off to search for their kidnapped (or rather, hobbit-napped) friend.  Though they did not know where exactly to start, they figured that there had to be witnesses who saw the hobbit-napper and its escape route.  After all, it wasn't hard to miss a giant red dragon even if one was blind and dumb.

It wasn't in their plan, but it was well after noon before they were ready to set off.  Sam insisted on continuously running back into his house to rummage for various objects, claiming that it was absolutely necessary for their voyage (Frodo drew the line when Sam came back with a utensil he called a spork in his hand).  By the time they were ready, their stomachs insisted that they have second and third breakfast, as well as lunch before their departure.  Of course, being hobbits, they were more than happy to oblige.

When they finally left the comfort of their home, they managed to avoid most of the questions of suspicious hobbits as they traveled down the twisted dirt road.  Merry was a true artist when it came to lying, or distorting the truth, as he called it.  Every hobbit that asked received a reply that the three were headed towards the other end of Hobbiton to visit a friend, though they didn't mention whom.  It wasn't entirely a lie; they were indeed headed towards the other end of the town, though they planned on traveling further and beyond that.

Many other questions followed that, but Merry handled them very well by pointing towards the sky, screaming, "Oh my stars, what is that?!"  When the curious questioner turned, the three would bolt off as quickly as they were allowed.  It worked rather well; Frodo was surprised that every single one of them fell for the oldest trick in the book.

Finally, after it seemed like forever, they arrived at the ever-so famous Brandywine Bridge.  Stopping for a short break before continuing on, they unpacked their gear and Sam began immediately preparing a meal.  "All this walking is making me hungry," he explained.

"Then at this rate, we'll run out of food even before we leave the Shire," Frodo pointed out as he sat down.

"But, as the old Gaffer would say to me, 'it is never healthy to journey with a tight belt,' " Sam replied.

"But we'll–"

Merry snapped at Frodo before he had a chance to finish his reply.  "Why are you arguing against food?"

Frodo thought for a moment, and realized the logic in Merry's sentence.  He smiled.  "Forget what I said, Sam."

And so, after a heartily eaten dinner, followed briefly by supper, the three hobbits decided to rest for the night and continue their search tomorrow.  After all, once they exit the Shire, they were positive that they would not have the chance to be so relaxed and casual.  It was best to take advantage of the peace while they could.

* * *

Pippin awoke with a throbbing headache, and was unable to remember what had happened.  Everything before him was consumed by darkness.  A foul stench plagued the air so awful he almost gagged.  Slowly and blindly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, careful not to do anything to intensify his pounding headache.

Where am I? he asked himself, blinking rapidly in attempt to adjust his eyes to the complete darkness, with no such luck. Patting his pockets for something that could be of use, he sighed in relief as his fingers ran over the two familiar stones.  What a coincidence it was, that he always kept some flint handy for lighting his pipe!  Instinctively, he reached in his other pocket for his pipe, but unfortunately it was nowhere to be found.

What's a flint with no pipe?  A hobbit with no feet, an elf with no hair, a horse with two legs, he sighed sadly, sulking.  But he decided to light something anyway.  At least it would provide him some light that would allow him to see where he was.  Placing some crumpled paper he found in his pocket, he proceeded to light it on fire with his flint and tinder.  He was successful; the small piece of paper caught on fire immediately from the sparks.  The warm but tiny fire dimly illuminated his surroundings as he gingerly picked the lit paper with his hand.

Pippin frowned when he saw that he was in a rather large cave, and wondered how he got there in the first place.  He turned around to examine his situation further, when what he saw almost made him drop his only source of light.  Directly behind him lay skeleton and bones as far as his light allowed him to see, some with their rusty armor hanging off the dusty limbs, others with rotting flesh still attached.

He stifled a scream that he felt rise from his throat.  There was no way that he could have accidentally wandered into this tomb.  It must have been a trick, or a sick prank of some sort.  "Merry, if you are here, the joke's over!" he yelled on top of his lungs.

The only answer was the sound of his echo mocking his voice scornfully.  Pippin spun around nervously, and began to doubt everything in his mind.  "Merry?  Frodo?  Anyone?" he asked uncertainly. 

His voice echoed throughout the cave again, but this time fainter.  The hobbit jumped at a sudden rattling noise, which much to his relief was merely a skeleton falling over to its side. 

He panicked.  What did I do this time to deserve this?!

Straining his ears for any sound other than himself, he suddenly felt a sharp sting on the tip of his fingers.  Immediately releasing the burnt-out piece of paper from his hand, it fell to the floor and died, a small stream of smoke slithering from the burnt parchment.  Pippin was once again devoured by the shadow.

Sighing, he realized there was nothing to do but wait, and perhaps pray for a savior though the chance of that seemed minuscule.  He flopped onto the dusty floor of the cave, and sighed deeply.

Our hobbit was completely unaware of the two giant glowing eyes watching him from the back.