In the shadows, the hobbits finally arrived at the gate of Bree. The rain poured on them, weighing them down in pure strength and heart. Frodo led the way, followed by his hobbit friends Meriadoc Brandybuck (Merry), Peregrin Took (Pippin), and Samwise Gamgee.
"Come on!" Frodo said, his face and hair soaked from the rain. They followed the him to the door which led them into the heart of Bree, where their destination lay: The Inn of the Prancing Pony.
Knocking on the door, Frodo waited for an answer. Immediatly, a rough-looking man opened a small, wooden, window at the top of the door. Seeing nothing, he closed it back. But soon after, he opened another window that met the hobbits' eyes.
"What do you want?" the gatekeeper said roughly and cynical, trying to meet their eye.
"We're heading for the Prancing Pony." Frodo said, sounding as if in distress.
There was a pause between them until the gatekeeper spoke again.
"Hobbits!" he boomed. "Four hobbits! What business brings you to Bree?" he asked curiously, opening the door now to stare.
"We wish to stay at the inn. Our business is our own." Frodo said wearily, wanting more than anything to get out of the depressing rain and to see the bright face of Gandalf the Grey.
"Alright, young sir. I meant no offense." the gatekeeper replied innocently, letting the hobbits' through. "'Tis my job to ask questions after nightfall. There's talk of strange folk abroad. Can't be too careful!" But Frodo and the rest did not hear him. They were too preoccupied with trying to get around without being tripped over or stepped upon by the Big Folk. Coming up the cobble stone path, they looked round them with wonder and fear. Frodo just expected to see one of those black riders staring out of one of the windows of the buildings, following his every move. Finally, they made their way to the door of the Prancing Pony. As they entered a shadow crawled over the gate.
Coming in, they were all glad to finally be out of the pouring rain. As soon as they entered, they were surrounded by loud noise, talk and laughter of the Big People filled their small ears. Making their way to the front desk, Frodo looked for the keeper of the inn.
"Excuse me?" Frodo said, trying to be loud so he could be heard oevr the many voices.
Leaning over the desk came a cheery-eyed, rather weary-looking and fat, man. Nothing though, struck Frodo with any queer feeling about the innkeeper.
"Good evening, little masters!" he happily greeted to them. "I am the innkeeper of the Prancing Pony and am known as Barliman Butterbur. If you're seeking accomadation, we've got some nice, cozy, hobbit-sized rooms available, Mr. uh-"
Frodo paused for a moment, remember the warning of Gandalf.
* * * * * * * *
"You'll have to leave the name of Baggins behind you. That name is not safe, outside the Shire."
* * * * * * * *
But that was not the only reason he paused. He felt as if someone was studying him, watching him. He shook his head of the thought.
"Underhill. My name is Underhill."
"Underhill." Butterbur replied, pondering the name for a moment.
"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?"
"Gandalf? Gandalf?" Butterbur thought intensly for a minute, but then it came to him. "Ohhhh yes!" he said slowly. "I remember, elderly chap, big gray beard, pointy hat." he paused and the happy expression on his face became a puzzled one. "Not seen him for six months."
Worry and shocked was immediately sketched into the hobbits' faces.
"What do we do now?" Sam asked quietly, his breath now quickened.
* * * * * * * *
The hobbits sat at a table, waiting and watching for their friend. Or at least Frodo and Sam were. Merry and Pippin were enjoying good, deep mugs of beer. Merry was up at the bar and Pippin sat with Frodo and Sam. Sam sat there, staring empty at his drink. Frodo looked at his friend adn tried his best to cheer him.
"Sam. He'll be here. He'll come." Frodo said quietly.
Right then, Merry came back through the crowd; getting in the way in many men, causing many curses to be said.
Merry sat down with the the hobbits, bringing with him a rather large mug. Smiling, he showed it in the face of Pippin.
"What's that?" Pippin said, staring at the drink, amazed.
"This my friend, is a pint." Merry replied, smiling big.
"It comes in pints? I'm getting one!" And Pippin got up and rushed off to the bar, slightly drunk.
"You've had all half already!" Sam yelled, though it was no use. Pippin had already made it to the bar.
Sam notices a man sitting in the corner, watching them.
"That fellow's done nothin' but starin' at us since we've arrived." Sam whispered to Frodo, watching the stranger.
Frodo looked up, now noticing the stranger who was, indeed, staring at them. He was clothed in a dark, green cloak, his black boots, caked with mud, where worn in. His hood covered all his face and only his smoking pipe provided light to show only his keen, grey eyes.
Frodo pulled Barliman aside.
"Excuse me? That man in the corner. Who is he?"
Barliman looked over, but quickly turned away.
"He's one of them rangers. Dangerous folk they are. And if I'm not mistaken, I think it's just my luck that two of 'em are here. I don't know where the other is, but he's one 'em. What his right name is, I've never heard. But round here, he's known as Strider."
"Strider." Frodo said, drifting off into his own thoughts. But he then continued. "And the other? Can you tell me his name?" Frodo asked, quite interested now.
"The other one everyone knows as Aniron." Butterbur said nervously.
"Isn't that Elvish? That name; what does it mean?" Frodo asked inquisitively.
"Yes, it is Elvish, Master Underhill. And if I'm right again, it means desire. The men of Bree nicknamed the ranger Aniron. Why an Elvish name? That one I haven't a-" But Butterbur didn't finish because he was beckoned at another table.
"Half a moment, if you will!" he said to Frodo, then was quickly off.
Frodo slowly drifted back into his thoughts. In his fingers, he twirled the Ring. Shutting his eyes, his thoughts became dense, foggy, and thick in his mind. It seemed he was now in a world all to himself. He was alone, but for one voice, calling to him.
"Baggins." the voice whispered to Frodo. He did not realize it, but the Ring was calling to him, tempting him to put it on. "Baggins. Baggins. Baggins! Baggins!"
"Baggins?" Pippin's voice rang out from the bar. At the sound of his name, Frodo awoke, alerted now. He looked round, trying to find the foolish, and drunk, hobbit. His eyes now layed upon Pippin at the bar, mingling with the Big People.
"Sure I know Baggins. He's over there." Pippin pointed to Frodo, who now was alert and frightened. "Frodo Baggins." he said booming, obviously enjoying the much attention he was getting. "He's my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side. and my third cousin twice removed on his father's side, if you follow me!"
Frodo jumped quickly from the table and ran over to the bar where Pippin sat, talking as if they still were in the Shire, at Bag End.
"Pippin!" he yelled, as he reached out for his friend. Suddenly, as he grabbed the hobbit's arm, he tripped over one of the men's boot, up at the bar.
"Steady on!" Pippin says, watching Frodo fall to the floor. But as he fell, he forgot the Ring was still in his hands. Up it flew, and all Frodo could do was watch and wait for its coming down. As he catched it, it somehow slipped upon his finger, bringing him into the shadow world. Before everyone's eyes at the Prancing Pony, Frodo disappeared. Strider leaned up, now interested on the event. At that moment, a cloaked stranger walked in. They looked round, and just like Strider, nothing of them could be seen except their eyes. In the dimly lit drinking room, their light brown eyes followed the empty space at which all gawked at. As they looked up, Strider was now set back, unnocticed. The cloaked stranger began walking slowly to the ranger, keeping their eyes upon the empty space.
The next chapter is coming VERY SOON! So, please look for it! Also, PLEASE REVIEW SINCE THIS IS A NEW STORY! Thank you! ^_^
"Come on!" Frodo said, his face and hair soaked from the rain. They followed the him to the door which led them into the heart of Bree, where their destination lay: The Inn of the Prancing Pony.
Knocking on the door, Frodo waited for an answer. Immediatly, a rough-looking man opened a small, wooden, window at the top of the door. Seeing nothing, he closed it back. But soon after, he opened another window that met the hobbits' eyes.
"What do you want?" the gatekeeper said roughly and cynical, trying to meet their eye.
"We're heading for the Prancing Pony." Frodo said, sounding as if in distress.
There was a pause between them until the gatekeeper spoke again.
"Hobbits!" he boomed. "Four hobbits! What business brings you to Bree?" he asked curiously, opening the door now to stare.
"We wish to stay at the inn. Our business is our own." Frodo said wearily, wanting more than anything to get out of the depressing rain and to see the bright face of Gandalf the Grey.
"Alright, young sir. I meant no offense." the gatekeeper replied innocently, letting the hobbits' through. "'Tis my job to ask questions after nightfall. There's talk of strange folk abroad. Can't be too careful!" But Frodo and the rest did not hear him. They were too preoccupied with trying to get around without being tripped over or stepped upon by the Big Folk. Coming up the cobble stone path, they looked round them with wonder and fear. Frodo just expected to see one of those black riders staring out of one of the windows of the buildings, following his every move. Finally, they made their way to the door of the Prancing Pony. As they entered a shadow crawled over the gate.
Coming in, they were all glad to finally be out of the pouring rain. As soon as they entered, they were surrounded by loud noise, talk and laughter of the Big People filled their small ears. Making their way to the front desk, Frodo looked for the keeper of the inn.
"Excuse me?" Frodo said, trying to be loud so he could be heard oevr the many voices.
Leaning over the desk came a cheery-eyed, rather weary-looking and fat, man. Nothing though, struck Frodo with any queer feeling about the innkeeper.
"Good evening, little masters!" he happily greeted to them. "I am the innkeeper of the Prancing Pony and am known as Barliman Butterbur. If you're seeking accomadation, we've got some nice, cozy, hobbit-sized rooms available, Mr. uh-"
Frodo paused for a moment, remember the warning of Gandalf.
* * * * * * * *
"You'll have to leave the name of Baggins behind you. That name is not safe, outside the Shire."
* * * * * * * *
But that was not the only reason he paused. He felt as if someone was studying him, watching him. He shook his head of the thought.
"Underhill. My name is Underhill."
"Underhill." Butterbur replied, pondering the name for a moment.
"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?"
"Gandalf? Gandalf?" Butterbur thought intensly for a minute, but then it came to him. "Ohhhh yes!" he said slowly. "I remember, elderly chap, big gray beard, pointy hat." he paused and the happy expression on his face became a puzzled one. "Not seen him for six months."
Worry and shocked was immediately sketched into the hobbits' faces.
"What do we do now?" Sam asked quietly, his breath now quickened.
* * * * * * * *
The hobbits sat at a table, waiting and watching for their friend. Or at least Frodo and Sam were. Merry and Pippin were enjoying good, deep mugs of beer. Merry was up at the bar and Pippin sat with Frodo and Sam. Sam sat there, staring empty at his drink. Frodo looked at his friend adn tried his best to cheer him.
"Sam. He'll be here. He'll come." Frodo said quietly.
Right then, Merry came back through the crowd; getting in the way in many men, causing many curses to be said.
Merry sat down with the the hobbits, bringing with him a rather large mug. Smiling, he showed it in the face of Pippin.
"What's that?" Pippin said, staring at the drink, amazed.
"This my friend, is a pint." Merry replied, smiling big.
"It comes in pints? I'm getting one!" And Pippin got up and rushed off to the bar, slightly drunk.
"You've had all half already!" Sam yelled, though it was no use. Pippin had already made it to the bar.
Sam notices a man sitting in the corner, watching them.
"That fellow's done nothin' but starin' at us since we've arrived." Sam whispered to Frodo, watching the stranger.
Frodo looked up, now noticing the stranger who was, indeed, staring at them. He was clothed in a dark, green cloak, his black boots, caked with mud, where worn in. His hood covered all his face and only his smoking pipe provided light to show only his keen, grey eyes.
Frodo pulled Barliman aside.
"Excuse me? That man in the corner. Who is he?"
Barliman looked over, but quickly turned away.
"He's one of them rangers. Dangerous folk they are. And if I'm not mistaken, I think it's just my luck that two of 'em are here. I don't know where the other is, but he's one 'em. What his right name is, I've never heard. But round here, he's known as Strider."
"Strider." Frodo said, drifting off into his own thoughts. But he then continued. "And the other? Can you tell me his name?" Frodo asked, quite interested now.
"The other one everyone knows as Aniron." Butterbur said nervously.
"Isn't that Elvish? That name; what does it mean?" Frodo asked inquisitively.
"Yes, it is Elvish, Master Underhill. And if I'm right again, it means desire. The men of Bree nicknamed the ranger Aniron. Why an Elvish name? That one I haven't a-" But Butterbur didn't finish because he was beckoned at another table.
"Half a moment, if you will!" he said to Frodo, then was quickly off.
Frodo slowly drifted back into his thoughts. In his fingers, he twirled the Ring. Shutting his eyes, his thoughts became dense, foggy, and thick in his mind. It seemed he was now in a world all to himself. He was alone, but for one voice, calling to him.
"Baggins." the voice whispered to Frodo. He did not realize it, but the Ring was calling to him, tempting him to put it on. "Baggins. Baggins. Baggins! Baggins!"
"Baggins?" Pippin's voice rang out from the bar. At the sound of his name, Frodo awoke, alerted now. He looked round, trying to find the foolish, and drunk, hobbit. His eyes now layed upon Pippin at the bar, mingling with the Big People.
"Sure I know Baggins. He's over there." Pippin pointed to Frodo, who now was alert and frightened. "Frodo Baggins." he said booming, obviously enjoying the much attention he was getting. "He's my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side. and my third cousin twice removed on his father's side, if you follow me!"
Frodo jumped quickly from the table and ran over to the bar where Pippin sat, talking as if they still were in the Shire, at Bag End.
"Pippin!" he yelled, as he reached out for his friend. Suddenly, as he grabbed the hobbit's arm, he tripped over one of the men's boot, up at the bar.
"Steady on!" Pippin says, watching Frodo fall to the floor. But as he fell, he forgot the Ring was still in his hands. Up it flew, and all Frodo could do was watch and wait for its coming down. As he catched it, it somehow slipped upon his finger, bringing him into the shadow world. Before everyone's eyes at the Prancing Pony, Frodo disappeared. Strider leaned up, now interested on the event. At that moment, a cloaked stranger walked in. They looked round, and just like Strider, nothing of them could be seen except their eyes. In the dimly lit drinking room, their light brown eyes followed the empty space at which all gawked at. As they looked up, Strider was now set back, unnocticed. The cloaked stranger began walking slowly to the ranger, keeping their eyes upon the empty space.
The next chapter is coming VERY SOON! So, please look for it! Also, PLEASE REVIEW SINCE THIS IS A NEW STORY! Thank you! ^_^