Chapter 2 Of Fireworks and Singed Birds
The figure in the corner of the room stared intently at the sleeping Ringbearer. He sighed.
Two of this Hobbit's companions seemed completely oblivious to the dangerous situation he could be in. They were talking merrily to each other and anyone who came their way. The fourth was sprawled by the fire, an odd grey thing in his arms. He was cradling it like a baby. There couldn't have been a more unlikely bunch, especially for what Strider suspected soon awaited the group.
Sam raised his head, suddenly aware that he was being watched. He turned to throw a suspicious look at the dark hooded man in the corner. Sam had noticed that his gaze rarely left Frodo's sleeping form 'I'd better get him to a room where at least he'll be safe.' Sam thought, and, sticking the fluffy, grey, bundle into his vest, he strolled over to Frodo.
"Sorry to wake you, Mr. Frodo, but wouldn't it be better for you to sleep in a bed?" Frodo lifted his head up, sleep still heavy in his eyes.
"You're right, Sam," Frodo agreed and would have continued, but he was interrupted by the flapping of wings. The grey parrot had managed to escape Sam's vest and was now circling Frodo's head.
"Easy, easy," Sam tried to comfort it, attempting to catch the flying thing. His struggle, however, only caused the parrot to fly higher. Then sparks began to emerge from its feet. All eyes turned to the grey bird flying above their heads. The room was lit in the flash of several colors, reflecting off the eyes of every being in the room. The stranger in the corner rose and grasped the parrot in his hand, but as he did another firework came and spread its flame across both the bird and the Ranger's hand, causing the parrot to drop to the ground. Sam rushed to its aid. The Ranger knelt down and rubbed something over its body, showing no sign of pain from his singed hand. Sam was amazed at this.
"He'll be all right," the human assured Sam. The young Hobbit was surprised. The man did not sound gruff and harsh, but rather gentle and wise, yet almost sad. The parrot too seemed to like his voice, for he climbed to the man's shoulder, pressing his beak against the hood that shielded his face. He whispered something to the bird in Elvish and his dirty hands caressed its head.
"Mithwë," he whispered.
"That's Elvish," Sam whispered in wonder, an amazed twinkling light in his eyes. He glanced in awe at Frodo, who met his gaze, knowingly.
"Appearances can be deceiving, Sam," he whispered. At the sound of the Ringbearer's voice, the bird painfully stepped over Sam's shoulders and onto Frodo's.
"Is everything all right over here, gentlemen?" Barliman Butterbur asked, approaching the group. He glanced suspiciously at the Ranger.
"Everything is fine, Mr. Butterbur," Pippin replied, "but my cousin and I could use some more ale." He gestured at Merry who smiled and waved drunkenly at Butterbur. The parrot on Frodo's shoulder seemed to shake its head in fearful protest.
"Be quiet, you," Pippin rebuked the bird. He promptly got another drink and climbed up on a table as he and Merry began to dance to a traditional Shire song. Seeing his two cousins were occupied, Frodo grabbed Sam and slunk toward the inn door, his feathered friend still perched on his shoulder. The Hobbits slowly made their way through the crown, the majority of which were observing the two dancing Hobbits trip over each other's feet and kick several bystanders. As the Ringbearer opened the inn door, a crisp autumn breeze hit both Hobbits. The bird ruffled his singed feathers and the door closed behind them. Frodo sat down on the damp step. On the streets of Bree, only a few people still remained in the form of an occasional passerby, but even that was too much for Frodo's liking. He decided that there was, however, nothing he could do about it. Rain dripped from the rooftop and onto the Hobbits' heads. For a few moments, the two Halfling and the bird sat in silence; the only sound was the pitter patter of the rain. Then Frodo slammed his fist on his knee.
"Where is Gandalf?!" he cried, his voice strained in frustration and concern. The parrot on his shoulder snuggled up against his face. As he stroked its head, tears formed in his eyes.
"We'll be safe here for the night, Mr. Frodo. I'm sure he'll be here by morning." The bird cooed its encouragement.
"Yes, you will be safe," said a voice behind them. "I can promise you that