DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
NOTE: okay, listen, I know there are books, and yes I have read them, but I just happen to be going by the movie since I know that a lot of people have seen it and because of the fact that it's been awhile since I've read the books. It's a fanfic, okay? I can't stress that enough with you people! It's just a made up spin-off of the LotR. Just deal with it! And if you can't stand any fanfics that don't go by the books, then don't read this one. And if you have a problem with that, go write your own fanfic and see if it turns out with any good reviews! (I might do the 'Scouring of the Shire' chapter, but now I'm not sure since a lot of people have been bitching about my fanfic).
But for any of you who are enjoying my story, I thank you ever so much, and please continue reading—and if you can—please review too (it would be nice to get a little nicer review next time)
:: The Ranger from the North::
Rain pelted mercilessly against our cloaks. The five of us waited under the shelter of the trees. Cautiously, we peered down either end of the road. Only a few steps and we would be within the safety of Bree . . . but was it even safe?
When the coast was clear, we quickly crossed the path and knocked on the giant gate.
There was a bit of shuffling before the door opened slightly and a light shone through.
"Hobbits," said the old man with the lantern, "Four hobbits!" he looked at me standing in the back, "And a young maiden! What brings you all to Bree?"
"My companions and I seek a room in the inn of the prancing pony;" Frodo answered, "Our business is our own."
"Alright, young sir," the man shook his head and opened the door for us, "I meant no offense; there's some strange folk abroad; on can't be too careful . . ."
And so we entered the village of Bree; the only haven for us for the time being, until, that is, we met up with Gandalf.
The hobbits dodged nimbly the heavy footfalls of the shadowed humans. Rugged-looking men traveled the streets; most eyed the five of us suspiciously as we made our way deeper into the village.
Then, a dim light lit up a single sign in the road: one that labeled the inn of the Prancing Pony.
Wearily, we pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the dry warmth of the pub. Tankards clanked together and the sound of men's voices filled the room. The smell of pipeweed hovered in the air as men around the bar smoked and mumbled to one another—no doubt about us.
Frodo walked up to the bar and tapped the counter, "Excuse me—."
The bartender bent over and stared at the hobbit, "Why hello my young master hobbit—may I interest you in some accommodations for you and your friends, Mr.—uh?"
"Underhill," Frodo stammered quickly, "We're friends of Gandalf the Grey, can you tell him we've arrived?"
"Gandalf?" he repeated as he cleaned a mug, "Gandalf . . . oh yeah . . . tall fellow, big gray beard?"
We nodded.
"Not seen him for six months," the man shook his head apologetically.
We stared at one another, each one filled with silent shock.
"What are we going to do now?" we thought desperately.
-------
"He'll come, Sam," Frodo reassured the hobbit, "I'm positive."
I wasn't paying any attention, though. Where could Gandalf be? He was supposed to meet us here. Hadn't he gone to see Saruman? I shook my head. The elves of Rivendell had always grown silent at the sound of his name 'He's not to be trusted,' they would say. But Saruman was the head of the Council . . . he would not betray us, especially Gandalf . . .
But something didn't feel right about it.
Something didn't feel right here, either. As if someone was watching my every move. I nervously twisted the ring through the cloth around my hand. I knew of the Eye in Mordor, but it did not seem like an evil presence . . . only a presence of a stranger.
I looked around the pub discretely. There were indeed those who watched us, but only for a moment.
Suddenly, my eyes darted to the very corner of the room . . .
Where a lone figure sat.
The embers of his pipe were not enough to distinguish his features beneath the folds of his hood. His feet were propped up against the table in front of him. The man drew his cloak around his middle and watched us from his placed against the wall.
"That man's done nothing but stare at us since the moment we've arrived," Sam told me, noticing where I was staring.
"Excuse me," Frodo stopped the bartender walking down the aisle, "That man in the corner, who is he?"
The bartender paled slightly as he caught sight of the hooded man, "Him? Oh he's one of them ranger folk from the north . . . but around here . . . they call him Strider . . ."
"Strider?" I repeated in shock.
He nodded and left.
"Strider . . ." Frodo whispered thoughtfully.
Strider? It couldn't be . . . I watched the man once more. Not Strider? It had been so long . . . so many years ago . . . but this couldn't be Strider . . . not Elessar!
"—I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins!"
All four of us jumped as Pippin—from the bar—began talking loudly with all the men around him . . . unfortunately about Frodo. Together we raced towards the hobbit quickly.
I dodged between tow drunken men, trying to reach him before he blew the rest of our cover. We should have never let him have that second pint of ale!
But Frodo reached him first.
"Pippin!!" he tried to tug on his sleeve to get him to be silent, but the Took pushed him aside, causing Frodo to slip and fall to the stone floor. Something from his hand flew up into the air. And as if in slow motion, I watched as the One Ring plunged towards the hobbit's outstretched hand. Oh, gods, don't fall on his finger!
But I had spoken too soon.
I tried to endure the thumping pain in my chest as my friend disappeared from view. There was a loud gasp from those in the pub and a bustle of confusions. But the pain was still there . . . along with something else.
I could see the Eye; Sauron's Eye glaring at me with its fiery malice. Ripping through my soul and increasing the pain. I head him speak . . . oh, his horrid voice! What he was saying, I did not know, but I did know that he could see me . . .
And Frodo too.
I tried to scream, to release any of the pain that tore through my blood. Oh, gods, why did he have to put on that ring?! I trembled as my skin and flesh ran cold . . . Please Frodo! Take it off!
Suddenly, I felt someone guiding me away from the crowd; away from all of the noises and shouts. My vision was blurred by the pain, but I just barely made out the staircase drawing closer. Where was I going?
Then, I could no longer feel the Eye watching me or speaking to me . . . Frodo must have taken the Ring off . . . but where was Frodo?! The pain was still inside of me; pulsing through my chest. Why wasn't it gone?!
Up the stairs I went with a firm hand to guide me. I could smell the scent of pipeweed and a mixture of the damp forest floor. A sword clanked against a sheath, oh gods, this man was armed, please let him be a friend!
A door was being opened. I heard something being tossed inside, and I soon followed. I blinked back the pain and tears and brushed away the hair from my face. I was in a nearly empty room, with only a single chair, tiny bed, and fireplace. There were heavy footsteps and I gazed up into the dark face of a man, only his eyes were still shielded by his cloak.
Frodo stood beside me, watching the man in horror.
"What do you want?" Frodo asked; his voice shaking.
"A little question from you and the trinket you carry . . ." the man said roughly and made his way towards the nearby window.
"I carry nothing," the hobbit insisted.
"Indeed," the stranger had now stepped beside a flaming candle, "I can avoid being seen if I wish . . . but to disappear entirely . . ." he pinched out the flame and lifted his hood, "That is a rare gift."
"Who are you?" Frodo asked as he began to tremble.
"Are you frightened?" the man inquired, ignoring his question.
"Yes . . ." he said quietly.
"This fear is nothing than what lurks in the darkness," he quickly glanced in my direction, "I know what hunts you . . ."
------
I stared at the man from across the window. I drew my cloak close around me and rubbed my hands around the warm mug of brandy. I either could or would not believe that this man was Strider; the Elessar I knew so long ago; the Elessar that stole the heart of the Lady Arwen.
He had informed us that Gandalf wasn't coming . . .
Then where was he?
From the bed next to me, Pippin gave off a loud snort and I jumped, causing several droplets of my scalding drink to splatter on my hand. I hissed in pain and sucked on my fingers gingerly, I could already feel several blisters forming.
"You okay?" Strider asked gently.
"Yeah," I mumbled without looking at him and returned my attention to the window.
. . . I will always remember you . . .
I swallowed hard. Those had been Elessar's final words to me as I left with Gandalf to the safety of the Shore. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes; when I returned to Rivendell I was heartbroken to find that he wasn't there. He had merely disappeared according to Elrond, but what was I to make of that?
Frodo sat staring at the fire at the edge of the bed. His large blue eyes were glazed over with though as he watched the dancing flames. What had he seen when he put on the Ring? Had it frightened him this much so he wouldn't talk to us? Or was he frightened of Strider?
Suddenly, the clock tolled one and from outside, came the galloping of many steeds on the road. I glanced down and drew in a sharp breath. Five Black Riders had now settled in front of the Prancing Pony across the street; each on clad in death and the shadow of their master's hand. Without taking a glance towards us, they entered the pub and up the steps into the rooms above. Oh, how I hoped that our plan had worked! That the Riders would be deceived!
And sure enough, a few moments later, an unearthly screech echoed through the town of Bree; sending a chill of fear into the hearts of those peacefully sleeping.
Sam, Merry, and Pippin jolted upright from their slumber. Their horrified faces matched those of Frodo staring out the window.
"Who are they?" the hobbit asked.
Strider turned to him before switching his attention to the window, "They are the Nazgul; Black Riders—they are neither living nor dead. Once great kings of men, they fell to the power of Sauron's ring . . . they are now slaves to their master's will . . . always will they search for It . . .
"They will never stop hunting you . . ."
------
Night fell on the bleak swampy marsh as we settled down for the day. All four of the hobbits slept soundly; wearied by the day's march towards Rivendell; away from Bree and the Nazgul.
Strider and I were the only ones awake at the moment, only because I refused to sleep.
If this was Elessar; Aragorn, heir of Isildur . . . then he had truly left the elves to become one of the Rangers of the north . . . he had truly left me . . .
. . .I will always be with you . . .
Where was he when my mother died? Where was he when I was given the Burden of Narulin?
He was with the other Rangers, that's where.
I stifled a sniff of sorrow. At times he was like a brother to me . . . telling me the tales of Tinuviel and Beren; of the kings of old. What happened to the Elessar I knew as a child; the Aragorn that was to become king?
"Why did you leave, Elessar?" I murmured sadly and tucked my knees into my chin, "Why did you leave Rivendell?"
He turned towards me and studied my face for a moment, "It was a choice that I made," he said bluntly; obviously giving me the shorter answer, "I did not wish to continue living under the safety of the elves . . ."
"So you became a Ranger," I finished as tears grew in my eyes.
Elessar nodded sadly and stared into the fire.
"I needed you then more than ever, Aragorn," I whispered, "And you weren't there . . . you left me for so long I though . . . I though you had forgotten your promise . . ."
The ranger turned to me, "I did not forget, Kaye," he prodded the flames thoughtfully, "I told you that I would never leave you, and I didn't le; I've been with you all the time. The other rangers and I have been protecting the Shire from the world of men and evil," he sighed, "We were not able to hold off the Nazgul, however . . . the others were driven back into the north, and that is when I had to come out and reveal myself to you and the hobbits."
"But you would not have shown yourself otherwise?" I asked.
Aragorn shook his head, "Not unless I needed to . . . it didn't seem to me that you needed me until now; you seemed happy, I didn't want to ruin that for you.
I didn't reply to this statement. It was true, I had been happy, but that didn't mean that I didn't miss him.
"A lot has changed since I last saw you, Elessar," I murmured while beginning to unwrap the covering around my hand, "I-I'm not that same as I used to be . . ."
The cloth drifted to the ground to reveal Narulin gleaming dully in the moonlight. The crystal petals and pistils folded gracefully on the tip. Sapphire accents flowed in streams along the pearl band. Opal leaves wrapped around the ring as if it were a vine.
"Gwin ten othel Narulin!" he whispered in awe while leaning over to get a better look at the ring, "You are its heir?"
I nodded, "Elrond gave it to me when I was a child . . . when you left . . ." Tears began to flow down my cheek, "And since then, it has become my burden . . ." I twisted it nervously, "Even if it is the Ring of Light."
"Kaye, I did not know . . ."
"I know you didn't," I whispered and rolled onto my back, "Goodnight, Strider . . ."
-------
okay, well let's hope that some of you enjoyed this chappie for once, and I promise soon, that they'll get to Rivendell and you'll learn more about Kaye. Gomen! Ja'ne!
NOTE: okay, listen, I know there are books, and yes I have read them, but I just happen to be going by the movie since I know that a lot of people have seen it and because of the fact that it's been awhile since I've read the books. It's a fanfic, okay? I can't stress that enough with you people! It's just a made up spin-off of the LotR. Just deal with it! And if you can't stand any fanfics that don't go by the books, then don't read this one. And if you have a problem with that, go write your own fanfic and see if it turns out with any good reviews! (I might do the 'Scouring of the Shire' chapter, but now I'm not sure since a lot of people have been bitching about my fanfic).
But for any of you who are enjoying my story, I thank you ever so much, and please continue reading—and if you can—please review too (it would be nice to get a little nicer review next time)
:: The Ranger from the North::
Rain pelted mercilessly against our cloaks. The five of us waited under the shelter of the trees. Cautiously, we peered down either end of the road. Only a few steps and we would be within the safety of Bree . . . but was it even safe?
When the coast was clear, we quickly crossed the path and knocked on the giant gate.
There was a bit of shuffling before the door opened slightly and a light shone through.
"Hobbits," said the old man with the lantern, "Four hobbits!" he looked at me standing in the back, "And a young maiden! What brings you all to Bree?"
"My companions and I seek a room in the inn of the prancing pony;" Frodo answered, "Our business is our own."
"Alright, young sir," the man shook his head and opened the door for us, "I meant no offense; there's some strange folk abroad; on can't be too careful . . ."
And so we entered the village of Bree; the only haven for us for the time being, until, that is, we met up with Gandalf.
The hobbits dodged nimbly the heavy footfalls of the shadowed humans. Rugged-looking men traveled the streets; most eyed the five of us suspiciously as we made our way deeper into the village.
Then, a dim light lit up a single sign in the road: one that labeled the inn of the Prancing Pony.
Wearily, we pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the dry warmth of the pub. Tankards clanked together and the sound of men's voices filled the room. The smell of pipeweed hovered in the air as men around the bar smoked and mumbled to one another—no doubt about us.
Frodo walked up to the bar and tapped the counter, "Excuse me—."
The bartender bent over and stared at the hobbit, "Why hello my young master hobbit—may I interest you in some accommodations for you and your friends, Mr.—uh?"
"Underhill," Frodo stammered quickly, "We're friends of Gandalf the Grey, can you tell him we've arrived?"
"Gandalf?" he repeated as he cleaned a mug, "Gandalf . . . oh yeah . . . tall fellow, big gray beard?"
We nodded.
"Not seen him for six months," the man shook his head apologetically.
We stared at one another, each one filled with silent shock.
"What are we going to do now?" we thought desperately.
-------
"He'll come, Sam," Frodo reassured the hobbit, "I'm positive."
I wasn't paying any attention, though. Where could Gandalf be? He was supposed to meet us here. Hadn't he gone to see Saruman? I shook my head. The elves of Rivendell had always grown silent at the sound of his name 'He's not to be trusted,' they would say. But Saruman was the head of the Council . . . he would not betray us, especially Gandalf . . .
But something didn't feel right about it.
Something didn't feel right here, either. As if someone was watching my every move. I nervously twisted the ring through the cloth around my hand. I knew of the Eye in Mordor, but it did not seem like an evil presence . . . only a presence of a stranger.
I looked around the pub discretely. There were indeed those who watched us, but only for a moment.
Suddenly, my eyes darted to the very corner of the room . . .
Where a lone figure sat.
The embers of his pipe were not enough to distinguish his features beneath the folds of his hood. His feet were propped up against the table in front of him. The man drew his cloak around his middle and watched us from his placed against the wall.
"That man's done nothing but stare at us since the moment we've arrived," Sam told me, noticing where I was staring.
"Excuse me," Frodo stopped the bartender walking down the aisle, "That man in the corner, who is he?"
The bartender paled slightly as he caught sight of the hooded man, "Him? Oh he's one of them ranger folk from the north . . . but around here . . . they call him Strider . . ."
"Strider?" I repeated in shock.
He nodded and left.
"Strider . . ." Frodo whispered thoughtfully.
Strider? It couldn't be . . . I watched the man once more. Not Strider? It had been so long . . . so many years ago . . . but this couldn't be Strider . . . not Elessar!
"—I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins!"
All four of us jumped as Pippin—from the bar—began talking loudly with all the men around him . . . unfortunately about Frodo. Together we raced towards the hobbit quickly.
I dodged between tow drunken men, trying to reach him before he blew the rest of our cover. We should have never let him have that second pint of ale!
But Frodo reached him first.
"Pippin!!" he tried to tug on his sleeve to get him to be silent, but the Took pushed him aside, causing Frodo to slip and fall to the stone floor. Something from his hand flew up into the air. And as if in slow motion, I watched as the One Ring plunged towards the hobbit's outstretched hand. Oh, gods, don't fall on his finger!
But I had spoken too soon.
I tried to endure the thumping pain in my chest as my friend disappeared from view. There was a loud gasp from those in the pub and a bustle of confusions. But the pain was still there . . . along with something else.
I could see the Eye; Sauron's Eye glaring at me with its fiery malice. Ripping through my soul and increasing the pain. I head him speak . . . oh, his horrid voice! What he was saying, I did not know, but I did know that he could see me . . .
And Frodo too.
I tried to scream, to release any of the pain that tore through my blood. Oh, gods, why did he have to put on that ring?! I trembled as my skin and flesh ran cold . . . Please Frodo! Take it off!
Suddenly, I felt someone guiding me away from the crowd; away from all of the noises and shouts. My vision was blurred by the pain, but I just barely made out the staircase drawing closer. Where was I going?
Then, I could no longer feel the Eye watching me or speaking to me . . . Frodo must have taken the Ring off . . . but where was Frodo?! The pain was still inside of me; pulsing through my chest. Why wasn't it gone?!
Up the stairs I went with a firm hand to guide me. I could smell the scent of pipeweed and a mixture of the damp forest floor. A sword clanked against a sheath, oh gods, this man was armed, please let him be a friend!
A door was being opened. I heard something being tossed inside, and I soon followed. I blinked back the pain and tears and brushed away the hair from my face. I was in a nearly empty room, with only a single chair, tiny bed, and fireplace. There were heavy footsteps and I gazed up into the dark face of a man, only his eyes were still shielded by his cloak.
Frodo stood beside me, watching the man in horror.
"What do you want?" Frodo asked; his voice shaking.
"A little question from you and the trinket you carry . . ." the man said roughly and made his way towards the nearby window.
"I carry nothing," the hobbit insisted.
"Indeed," the stranger had now stepped beside a flaming candle, "I can avoid being seen if I wish . . . but to disappear entirely . . ." he pinched out the flame and lifted his hood, "That is a rare gift."
"Who are you?" Frodo asked as he began to tremble.
"Are you frightened?" the man inquired, ignoring his question.
"Yes . . ." he said quietly.
"This fear is nothing than what lurks in the darkness," he quickly glanced in my direction, "I know what hunts you . . ."
------
I stared at the man from across the window. I drew my cloak close around me and rubbed my hands around the warm mug of brandy. I either could or would not believe that this man was Strider; the Elessar I knew so long ago; the Elessar that stole the heart of the Lady Arwen.
He had informed us that Gandalf wasn't coming . . .
Then where was he?
From the bed next to me, Pippin gave off a loud snort and I jumped, causing several droplets of my scalding drink to splatter on my hand. I hissed in pain and sucked on my fingers gingerly, I could already feel several blisters forming.
"You okay?" Strider asked gently.
"Yeah," I mumbled without looking at him and returned my attention to the window.
. . . I will always remember you . . .
I swallowed hard. Those had been Elessar's final words to me as I left with Gandalf to the safety of the Shore. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes; when I returned to Rivendell I was heartbroken to find that he wasn't there. He had merely disappeared according to Elrond, but what was I to make of that?
Frodo sat staring at the fire at the edge of the bed. His large blue eyes were glazed over with though as he watched the dancing flames. What had he seen when he put on the Ring? Had it frightened him this much so he wouldn't talk to us? Or was he frightened of Strider?
Suddenly, the clock tolled one and from outside, came the galloping of many steeds on the road. I glanced down and drew in a sharp breath. Five Black Riders had now settled in front of the Prancing Pony across the street; each on clad in death and the shadow of their master's hand. Without taking a glance towards us, they entered the pub and up the steps into the rooms above. Oh, how I hoped that our plan had worked! That the Riders would be deceived!
And sure enough, a few moments later, an unearthly screech echoed through the town of Bree; sending a chill of fear into the hearts of those peacefully sleeping.
Sam, Merry, and Pippin jolted upright from their slumber. Their horrified faces matched those of Frodo staring out the window.
"Who are they?" the hobbit asked.
Strider turned to him before switching his attention to the window, "They are the Nazgul; Black Riders—they are neither living nor dead. Once great kings of men, they fell to the power of Sauron's ring . . . they are now slaves to their master's will . . . always will they search for It . . .
"They will never stop hunting you . . ."
------
Night fell on the bleak swampy marsh as we settled down for the day. All four of the hobbits slept soundly; wearied by the day's march towards Rivendell; away from Bree and the Nazgul.
Strider and I were the only ones awake at the moment, only because I refused to sleep.
If this was Elessar; Aragorn, heir of Isildur . . . then he had truly left the elves to become one of the Rangers of the north . . . he had truly left me . . .
. . .I will always be with you . . .
Where was he when my mother died? Where was he when I was given the Burden of Narulin?
He was with the other Rangers, that's where.
I stifled a sniff of sorrow. At times he was like a brother to me . . . telling me the tales of Tinuviel and Beren; of the kings of old. What happened to the Elessar I knew as a child; the Aragorn that was to become king?
"Why did you leave, Elessar?" I murmured sadly and tucked my knees into my chin, "Why did you leave Rivendell?"
He turned towards me and studied my face for a moment, "It was a choice that I made," he said bluntly; obviously giving me the shorter answer, "I did not wish to continue living under the safety of the elves . . ."
"So you became a Ranger," I finished as tears grew in my eyes.
Elessar nodded sadly and stared into the fire.
"I needed you then more than ever, Aragorn," I whispered, "And you weren't there . . . you left me for so long I though . . . I though you had forgotten your promise . . ."
The ranger turned to me, "I did not forget, Kaye," he prodded the flames thoughtfully, "I told you that I would never leave you, and I didn't le; I've been with you all the time. The other rangers and I have been protecting the Shire from the world of men and evil," he sighed, "We were not able to hold off the Nazgul, however . . . the others were driven back into the north, and that is when I had to come out and reveal myself to you and the hobbits."
"But you would not have shown yourself otherwise?" I asked.
Aragorn shook his head, "Not unless I needed to . . . it didn't seem to me that you needed me until now; you seemed happy, I didn't want to ruin that for you.
I didn't reply to this statement. It was true, I had been happy, but that didn't mean that I didn't miss him.
"A lot has changed since I last saw you, Elessar," I murmured while beginning to unwrap the covering around my hand, "I-I'm not that same as I used to be . . ."
The cloth drifted to the ground to reveal Narulin gleaming dully in the moonlight. The crystal petals and pistils folded gracefully on the tip. Sapphire accents flowed in streams along the pearl band. Opal leaves wrapped around the ring as if it were a vine.
"Gwin ten othel Narulin!" he whispered in awe while leaning over to get a better look at the ring, "You are its heir?"
I nodded, "Elrond gave it to me when I was a child . . . when you left . . ." Tears began to flow down my cheek, "And since then, it has become my burden . . ." I twisted it nervously, "Even if it is the Ring of Light."
"Kaye, I did not know . . ."
"I know you didn't," I whispered and rolled onto my back, "Goodnight, Strider . . ."
-------
okay, well let's hope that some of you enjoyed this chappie for once, and I promise soon, that they'll get to Rivendell and you'll learn more about Kaye. Gomen! Ja'ne!