CHAPTER 2 – TO BREE
It was several hours later, and the Arbiter was pacing the room. It was now occupied by Frodo and Sam. Frodo was Bilbo's nephew, and Sam was his gardener. The Arbiter had been explaining to Frodo everything that he knew about the Prophet of Truth and the index, when Sam had been caught eavesdropping beneath the window.
"Confounded Samwise. You always did have a habit of eavesdropping," declared the Arbiter in a manner that clearly conveyed the fact that he was not happy.
"Me no drop eaves! Me cutting grass."
"It's a little late to be doing that, wouldn't you think?"
"What you going to do to me?"
"You shall accompany Frodo on a highly dangerous mission."
"Wait," Frodo protested, "Me no good at dangerous things."
"You have plasma pistols. Use them," the Arbiter replied.
"Why no you protect us?" Frodo asked, fear quite present in his voice.
"I must see the head of my order. He is both wise and powerful. He will know what to do." The Arbiter turned to leave.
"Wait!" cried Sam, "Where we going again?"
"The village of Bree," replied the Arbiter. He left the room, and both of the frightened grunts watched as his Ghost flew at top speed down the road.
"What now?" asked Sam.
"We go to Bree," replied Frodo.
Thus, they backed their supplies and began their journey. Their trek lead them across the Shire, and they eventually came near the southern border. They were making their way through a cornfield when Sam lost sight of Frodo. He began wildly calling, until Frodo came back in sight.
"What wrong?" asked Frodo.
"Me think me lost you."
"We still in Shire. What could happen?"
No sooner had Frodo said this than did Merry and Pippin, two grunts who were extraordinarily good at causing trouble, burst forth from the corn, knocking Frodo and Sam over.
"What going on?" Sam asked, obviously annoyed.
"Hold this!" Pippin said as he hastily began loading all manner of vegetables into Sam's arms.
"You been in farmer's crop!"
Suddenly, the sound of an angry grunt running through the corn toward them was heard by all four of the company. Dropping everything, they ran for their lives. Of course, being grunts they were not too bright, and so they did not see the sheer drop ahead of them. Consequently, they all tumbled down right after the other onto the road below.
"Me think you both idiots!" Sam exclaimed with fury.
The four grunts got up and dusted themselves off. Frodo, being the only one with his motion tracker on, detected something coming up the road toward them. Something big.
"Get off road! Quick!"
The other grunts, still in a light mood from their recent tumble, did as he asked but didn't really take anything seriously. As they hid underneath a fallen log, they heard the sound of an approaching ghost. There was something odd about the sound though. It sounded… evil somehow. Looking through a hole above his head, Frodo saw the ghost was black. Suddenly, an iron clad foot came down right in front of the hole. Turning around, he looked at the others. They were suddenly more alert than they had been a minute ago. They also looked frightened.
They all sat there for a few minutes, hearing a sniffing sound above them, as if that thing was searching for them through its sense of smell. Not able to bear it any longer, Merry ignited a plasma grenade and through it off into the woods. The explosion immediately drew the attention of the black rider and gave the grunts their means of escape.
Without wasting any time, they ran as fast and as far as their grunt legs would carry them. Finally, stopping to catch their breath, Pippin asked Frodo, "What was that?"
"Me don't know. Sam and I going to Bree."
"You take Bucklebury ferry. It much safer."
With all due haste they made their way to the ferry, which was little more than a floating piece of wood. As soon as they were away, several black ghosts came into view. They began to fire upon the raft, but it was out of their range. Turning around, the ghosts fled.
"Where is closest bridge?" Frodo asked.
"Brandywine. Twenty miles," replied Merry. He knew that twenty miles would make little difference to a group of nine cloaked figures riding black ghosts.
Meanwhile, the Arbiter was still on his ghost, boosting at top speed. The road had become relatively flat, allowing him to boost without consequence. Ahead of him, Isengard was drawing steadily closer. Orthanc, the tower in the middle, rose up. It was one of those towers that the Valar (or Forerunners) had built as a communication array long before the first beings had inhabited the ring. Every day, it would shoot a beacon of blue light into the sky.
As the Arbiter passed through the gates, he slowed to a halt in front of this revered structure. As he disembarked from his vehicle, he saw the head of his order, Tartarus, walking down the long ramp that led up into the structure.
It was not long before the Arbiter revealed to Tartarus everything that he had learned within the past few days. Tartarus proceeded to take him inside.
"There is still time to counter the Prophet of Truth if we act quickly," stated the Arbiter.
"What time do you think we have?" said Tartarus, more to make a point than ask a question. "The index has more power than you realize. It took what you call the Prophet of Truth, and transformed him into his true self. The Gravemind. He has sent the Nazgul out to find the index."
"The Nazgul!" asked the Arbiter, suddenly alarmed.
"They crossed the river Isen on midsummer's eve, disguised as ghost riders in black. They will find the index and kill the one who carries it."
"Frodo!"
That was all the Arbiter needed to know. He had to get back to Frodo and offer him protection. Perhaps Sam had been right. As he turned to leave, all of the doors locked shut. Looking back, he saw Tartarus with an evil smile upon his face.
"We must join Gravemind. Against the power of the flood there can be no victory."
"You have gone mad!"
Tartarus, having a short temper, immediately took his Brute hammer and used its antigravity capabilities to fling the Arbiter against the high ceiling of the chamber, knocking him out.
Back at Bree, the grunts had even more on their minds to worry about. They had checked in to the inn of the Berserking Brute, only to find that the Arbiter was not present. So they did the only thing left to do: drink ale.
Frodo looked around. The atmosphere was much different from any inn in the shire. Marines walked about, many of them slurring and uttering fowl language. At one point there was even a bar fight between ten marines and an ODST. The ODST won. Feeling small and helpless, Sam began looking around for a way to avoid any more trouble, when he noticed one particularly mean looking ODST staring right at Frodo. The strange thing about this ODST, however, was that he was wearing olive drab armor instead of the normal ODST black, and his visor was a reflective gold color. Maybe he wasn't an ODST. He turned to Frodo.
"Big scary ODST staring at you," he remarked.
Frodo turned to look. Indeed, there was a big scary human who looked like an ODST looking right at him. At least that's what it seemed like. You could never really tell where their eyes were pointed when they had their helmets on. Frodo was, needless to say, deeply afraid. He felt as though those things that were following them, the ODST who had a strange interest in them, and many other things were conspiring to kill him. His only comfort was… the index.
He could hear a deep, evil voice whispering his name. Baggins…
He suddenly heard the word out loud. Baggins. He turned around to see Pippin freely conversing with some marines. Frodo had told everyone to say his last name was Underhill. Although he himself was a grunt, he was embarrassed by the general stupidity of grunts, because it always got him into trouble somehow. He ran over trying to stop Pippin, but tripped. The index flew from his hand.
As the other grunts at the table noticed, the green ODST suddenly sat up, his senses obviously heightened.
As the index began to fall back toward Frodo, he grabbed it in such a manner that his finger pushed the button for active camouflage. To everyone's total surprise, he disappeared from the face of the earth. Consequentially, everyone was still staring at the spot where he had disappeared when he reappeared on the other end of the room. No one noticed. No one, save the olive drab ODST.