Disclaimer - I don't own these characters. They all belong to J. R. R. Tolkein, even though Barliman Butterbur is amazingly underused.
Fortifying the Fear
Never before had such a sight been seen. At least not to the confused Hobbits crowding the doors of the rooms that Mr. Butterbur had given them the day before.
The bed sheets were sliced into pieces, the beds overturned and ruined, the brown rug that had been on the floor was equally as wrecked.
The Black Riders had been there to kill them! Broken through the room windows and hacked at the beds until nothing was left. Luckily the straw, watermelons and logs that had been placed under the sheets had looked realistic enough that the Ringwraiths hadn't looked in other rooms for them.
They would never stop until they were dead.
This had been told to them the night before, but neither Pippin nor Merry truly believed it was so. But here was the undeniable truth. They were being hunted, their pursuers stopping at nothing to get what they want.
The One Ring.
Peregrin Took glanced at the bed he would have slept in the night before. It had been tipped over and the soggy contents strewn about the room. It was then that the young Hobbit felt fear.
Looking over to Merry, he saw the same expression mirrored on his face. Sam was standing off to one side of the other room, a determined look upon his face. He had been tasked with keeping Frodo safe and was taking his role very seriously no doubt.
Frodo.
Frodo was glancing into the room he would have shared with Samwise, a resigned look about him.
Pippin turned to Strider then, the Man talking to the propietor about the rooms. Poor Mr. Butterbur was undoubtedly upset at the loss of two of his fine Hobbit-sized rooms.
"How did they know which rooms were ours?" He asked, voicing a question that was on all their minds.
"My guess, Master Hobbit, would be that they had inside help. Someone who had listened to which rooms were given to you last night."
All four Hobbits and the two Men looked at each other, the name Bill Ferny on all their lips.
They had to leave today, Pippin knew, so as to get rid of any spies about the town.
Gathering together their belongings, the five went off to get their mounts, only to be told that all horses and ponies had been set loose the night before.
Pippin's heart sank low in his chest. How were they supposed to make a long journey shorter now? Surely those Ringwraiths would catch them before they got far.
A sudden shudder crept up his spine, leaving him gasping for breath and a loss of five minute's memory. Merry looked at him with wide eyes, while Sam held him up off the ground. Frodo was talking to Aragorn, something about fright and attacks of some sort.
As he was helped back onto his feet, knowing he didn't faint but feeling embarrassed nonetheless, he thanked Sam.
He knew with a certainty what had happened. He had panicked. Attacks, while rare, were known to happen to him only when something he truly fears happens. He truly feared these creatures that were neither dead, nor alive.
With a clarity he didn't know he possessed, he knew he would end up on a battlefield with the Nazgul. He wouldn't be weak then, no, he would be strong.
Who knew what would happen to them now? Maybe Ringwraiths wouldn't be the only great evil they faced. There was bound to be worse things in the world.
Who knew how many of these frightening creatures they would come across? Maybe they were destined to face off with Sauron himself.
Who knew?
A/N - Hmmm, every time I try to write about fear, the story seems to distort a bit, but sometimes it builds character with the story. I have no idea if this is one of those stories.
Any and all mistakes are mine, there are bound to be a few things wrong running around, and I apologise for that.
This is based off of the plot bunny about the Hobbits and when the fear of what was chasing them seemed to sink in. It is supposed to be bookverse. It takes place in the chapter A Knife in the Dark, during their stay at the Prancing Pony.
