Chapter One

By Shire reckoning, the day was September 27th, year 3018 of the Third Age, when Kaylen received word that the One Ring of Power, which was used by the Dark Lord Sauron to nearly take over Middle Earth in the days of old, had been once again found, and was in the hands of a hobbit by the name of Frodo Baggins. He was the nephew of Bilbo Baggins, the small fellow who'd found the Ring deep in the Misty Mountains. And now Frodo was setting out for Rivendell, carrying this most evil trinket.

A day later she decided to ride out for Bree, where their first night out of the Shire would most likely be spent. It was the most sensible place for people on their way east, and was close enough to the Shire that they would not become overly tired. However, Kaylen did not mount her horse until shortly after sunrise on the following morning. Had she mounted any other steed then her own, the ride would have taken two days, perhaps three. But she rode Gilgwath, in whose veins pumped nearly the same amount of purity as Shadowfax, the lord of horses. A rather strange fact, because the color of Gilgwath's coat was as black as the heart of Sauron the Deciever. However, in Kaylen's eyes he was the most beautiful, faithful steed an elf could be gifted with.

As she rode, a glimmer of silver sparkled through the air high above her. She saw this and smiled, for the silver was the wingtip coloring of her animal companion, Jaden, a hunting falcon. The rest of his body was black as raven's feathers, and small as he was, he had no trouble avoiding others' gaze at most times. He was a gift from Elbereth, so that she would never be lonely. And yet the desired effect did not happen all of the time, he did remind her that she was not alone.

This day she rode in the garb of a ranger, her dark golden tresses hidden under a darkened hood. The town of Bree did not question the purpose of a ranger's visit, which kept the secrecy of her journey intact. Truth be told, she did not fear anyone's telling of her arrival anyway, since most of the inhabitants had either the intelligence of an ant, or was drunk so much of the time that you could hardly tell a difference between the two types. Occasionally, there was someone who fit in both.

It took seven hours for Gilgwath to carry Kaylen to the town of Bree, and after she had passed through the gate, another two minutes or so before she reached the town inn/tavern, called the Prancing Pony. She knew this place well; she had been here on many occasions, whether for a drink or for information. And the place knew her as well, as Blade, the ranger who occasionally beat people to the floor when they offended her. The corner that she sat in was kept vacant at all times now, for fear of exactly that happening. When she turned to the left, just inside the doorway, Barliman Butterbur was leaning on the wall of his booth, smiling pleasantly at her.

"And good evenin' to you, Blade! What business have you got in my little tavern 'n board here?" His tone was as pleasant and merry as the smile on his face.

"That is not entirely your concern," Kaylen replied, her true voice hidden under a slightly more whispery and grinding one, "but the parts that are I shall tell. Have you rooms available?"

"Sure do. The usual place, I'll take it."

"Indeed. The usual place." She referred to a room above and to the left of the stables. She did not like to leave her horse unguarded without a clear view of the entrance to the place where he was tethered. He was a fine beast, the sort any kind of thief would like to steal.

"Good to know. And now," Barliman said, and he asked the same question he asked every person that set so much as a single toe into his tavern. "would you care for an ale?"

"Yes, I would."

"Pint or Half Pint?"

"You're speaking to a Ranger, Barliman. What do you think?"

"Full pint it is then."

He served up a flagon of ale, and Kaylen took it, along with the rest of her, to her chair in the corner, where she kept watch for the hobbits. However, after actually looking at the people in the bar, she found herself to be one of two who were waiting for the Halflings. In the corner opposite her, another ranger slumped, his face, like hers, covered by a deep hood, and only revealed in the split seconds that the coals in his pipe weed glowed. However, Kaylen did not have to concentrated that hard to recognize this man. She had known him before he was man, and knew his mother before she was with child. This was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, a Ranger of the North, and still more. He was the heir to the throne of Gondor, though the Rangers have gone to great pains to see that his right to the throne is kept secret. He had grown up in Rivendell, and Kaylen had been there when he was a babe, to a boy, and now a tall, well-spoken man with dark hair and stubble, as well as fairly gray eyes. But here he was not Aragorn. Here he was Strider, the frightening Ranger, a haunting threat to these people, who let him alone for fear of his wrath.

It was much the same here with Kaylen, though in her case her real name was never used. In Rivendell she was Gkaian Feaelen, a wise advisor to the Lady Arwen Undomiel, and while she was known for having an excellent sword hand, in Rivendell she was respected for wisdom and intelligence. In Bree, however, she was Blade, a Ranger whose face no one had ever seen even so much as a part of. Even during her fights, her hood was down, and to this day it had not done her any harm. Barliman had recognized her stance and her voice, but he knew nothing else about her. Most of the time she came, she sat in the corner, and she left.

She nodded slightly to Strider, but did not want to alarm anyone more than she already had, so she walked immediately to her corner and sat, taking sips of her ale and waiting for those who had strayed out of the Shire with a terrible curse laid upon them. They carried the One Ring.

And not long it was until the door opened and closed (though those who opened and closed it were short enough that she could not see them), and eventually, four scared, nervous, dripping wet half-lings came into view. At this point it was obvious who led this party. The darkest-haired one led, though he looked as though he was about to wet himself. Kaylen didn't blame him. Carrying something that important into a place you've never been before could very easily cause that much fear to rise up within you. Eventually the four hobbits all got their half-pints of ale (save for one, who had braved asking for a full-pint) and sat at their table, speaking in low voices to one another. From what Kaylen could hear (which was quite a lot, considering that Eldar hearing is much better than mortal man's), these were the halflings that she sent herself to find, and they had been awaiting Gandalf the Grey (A Maia, like herself, though how much older she could only begin to speculate. He was often welcomed into Elrond's household). Judging by the nervousness of a couple of them, he had been expected to be here several days ago.

Kaylen's expression became one of confusion. Gandalf was occasionally late, but this late? There must be another reason, as he would not have prolonged this journey any more than he had to. Gandalf knew the evil that these little men were carrying, and Kaylen could hardly believe that he would have strayed from this place when so much depended on his arrival. Nonetheless, the wizard was no where to be found, and another trouble was added onto the tower that built up in her mind.

She had little time to begin to knock the tower down, however, for a dangerous situation was placed before her very eyes. The hobbit who had managed to acquire a pint had accidentally inspired another (who had already finished off a half-pint) to seek one out. And unlike the first Halfling, this one could not hold his tongue so well when it was loosened by the effects of ale. Not only this, but as they conversed, the one that Kaylen assumed was Frodo had seemed to go into a trance, removing the ring from his pocket and twirling it around in his fingers. This alone was enough to concern the elvish ranger sitting in the corner, and with a quick glance, it was obvious that the mortal one in the opposite corner was now paying close attention to these small men's actions.

As the hobbit twirled the most powerful weapon of Sauron in his hands, the Ring began to whisper to the ears of its prey. In a voice that was overpowering even as a whisper, the Ring spoke to Frodo Baggins' ears alone, though what it was doing was guessed by both observers.

"Baggins...Baggins...Baggins." It whispered, placing its target under a spell with its words.

Somehow, the very same name had been spoken of outside the Halfling's mind, though by whom no one quite knew, and it did not especially matter. However, what mattered was that it was heard by the ears of the most intoxicated of the three others, a brunette, green-eyed hobbit whose name, it would be discovered, was Peregrin Took. Not only that, but a reply came from its mention.

"Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins!" With an arm, he gestured to the Halfling that held the Ring. "Frodo Baggins! He's my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side..."

But before he could finish his sentence, the one labeled Frodo had ran to his side, and tried to pull him away. His resistance, which came quickly and rudely, caused Frodo to be pushed back, where he slipped on another man's boot, and fell to the floor, flinging into the air the One Ring. He reached up to grab it out of the air, but the Ring had plans of its own, and instead changed its path ever-so-slightly to land itself onto Frodo's small index finger. Frodo disappeared from all but Kaylen's sight immediately. He was now invisible to most eyes in the room, but what mattered most was that now the Nazgul, the devout servants of the Dark Lord, knew where the Ring was.

The first shock of seeing the Ring fall onto Frodo's finger (not to mention the knowledge that the Nazgul would not take long to arrive) took some time to wear off of Kaylen, and by the time she had risen up to walk swiftly to the hobbit who only seconds ago had removed the Ring from his finger, her associate, Strider, had beaten her to it. He had been the first to notice when the ring had been taken off, and had located the table under which Frodo was hiding. From what Kaylen saw, he had roughly picked the small man up by his collar, and had physically forced him quickly up the stairs.

Kaylen sighed slightly at her defeat, feeling somewhat deflated that she had been beaten by a mortal man, and a dark half-smile spread across her lips as she silently walked up the stairs and to the door that separated her from the Halfling and Strider. She would not lose this time, she thought, and agilely strode to the back of the other Ranger, quickly removing her plain longsword from it's sheath, and sliding it up until it only just touched Strider's throat. This time she had been faster than him, and he raised his hands in defeat.

Her voice was low and mocking as she spoke to his ear.

"Dunedan, you simply MUST learn to act faster."

--Ok, folks, I know well that this chapter has been a bit dry. In fact, every time I write this chapter it sounds a little...boring. Then again, there isn't much in the way of action here. I hope you like it anyway, and if you have suggestions, don't hesitate to state them in a review or something of the sort. Now, on to the next chapter. For those few of you waiting for it to come, it might take as much as a week, but most likely no more than that.--