Disclaimer: I am not rich, therefore I cannot own LotR. Though I wouldn't
mind owning a certain actor who plays a certain hot elf.
A/N: I have not read the books, but I have read a lot of fanfics. That's how I know a few things that happen in the books that were not used in the movie. Like the delay in leaving Bree. And I have the extended version of the film. I will also be adding scenes of my own. I hope that doesn't bother anyone.
Also, I would like to recommend a couple of stories. One is called "Rangers and Pirates" by Psycho Elf. It's a LotR/PotC crossover. It's very amusing. Another is "Pirates in the Fellowship", also by Psycho Elf, the sequal to "Rangers and Pirates." And "Broken Alliance" by Mirrordance. Very good story.
To those of you who have reviewed, thank you so much. To those of you who have read, but not reviewed, I hope you are at least enjoying the story.
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When they reached the wooden gates of Bree, it was raining. They had all pulled their hoods up, but were soaked to the bone. Frodo looked uneasily down the road in both directions. "Come on," he said. They all rushed across the road. Valora was in the very back so she could watch for danger from behind and warn the others. Frodo knocked on the gate.
A grumpy looking man opened the small window and looked out. Seeing only a girl he demanded, "What do you want?"
"We're heading for the Prancing Pony," she answered.
The man shut the window and opened a door in the gate. Holding up his lantern, he looked over them all. "Hobbits. Four Hobbits. What business brings you to Bree?"
"We wish to stay at the inn. Our business is our own," answered Frodo.
"Alright, young sir, I meant no offence," he said, moving aside and gesturing for them to hurry in. "It's my job to ask questions after dark. There's talk of strange folk abroad." He slammed the door shut behind them. "Can't be too careful."
The streets of Bree were rather unpleasant. They were quite relieved when they found the inn. They hurried inside.
"Excuse me." said Frodo, looking up at the bar near the door.
A man came over and looked down. "Good evening, little masters and Miss. What can I do for you? If you're looking for accommodations, we've got some nice, cozy Hobbit-sized rooms available. Always proud to cater to the little folk, Mr..."
"Underhill," said Frodo after a moment. "My name is Underhill."
The innkeeper nodded. "Underhill," he repeated.
"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?"
"Gandalf?" asked the innkeeper. "Gandalf," he repeated thoughtfully. "Oh, yes, I remember. Elderly chap. Big, grey beard, pointy hat."
Frodo nodded.
"I've not seen him for six months."
"Are you sure?" asked Valora.
The innkeeper nodded firmly.
Alarm passed through the five companions. Six months? But Gandalf had told them he would meet them here. Where could he be? Worriedly, they huddled close together.
"What do we do now?" asked Sam.
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They had decided to wait. Gandalf had said he would be here, and he would. They all sat at a table and nervously ate cheese and bread after they had gotten a room for the night and put their bags there. They drank ale. Even Valora had ordered a half-pint of ale to calm her nerves. It wasn't working very well. It had been well over an hour. Where the hell was Gandalf?
Merry sat down from a trip to the bar with a rather large tankard. Pippin did a double-take. "What's that?" he asked.
"This, my friend, is a pint." He began to drink.
"It comes in pints? I'm getting one." He got up and went quickly to the bar, ignoring Sam's protest that he'd already had a whole half.
"That fellow's done nothing but stare at you since we arrived," Sam said to Frodo, gesturing at someone.
"Sam, don't point," said Valora. "He might see you." She had noticed the man in the corner as well. He was one of the few Men who hadn't leered at her at some point tonight. She had tried to reason that he might not be staring at them. They couldn't see his eyes, as his hood shadowed his face. He could be looking anywhere. But she could feel his gaze. It was disconcerting. She hadn't said anything to Frodo about it because he had enough to worry about and she hadn't wanted to alarm him or the others. Besides, it could have been her imagination.
Frodo nervously, glanced at the corner Sam had pointed to. He saw the cloaked man at a small table by himself. He was smoking a pipe and did, indeed, seem to be staring at him. When the innkeeper passed by, Frodo stopped him. "Excuse me." The innkeeper bent down next to the table. "That man in the corner. Who is he?"
The innkeeper glanced over, looking a bit nervous himself. Turning back to Frodo, he said, "He's one of them Rangers. Dangerous folk, they are, wandering the wilds. What his right name is, I've never heard, but around here, he's known as Strider." He left them.
"Strider," repeated both Frodo and Valora quietly.
Frodo absentmindedly toyed with the Ring. The voice began to speak inside his head again. Frodo began to feel strange again. "Baggins," whispered the Ring, over and over again.
"Baggins?"
Frodo came back to his senses as he heard Pippin's voice.
"Sure, I know a Baggins," he was telling a group of men at the bar. "He's over there." He pointed to their table. "Frodo Baggins." He waved to Frodo and proceeded to explain to the men how he and Frodo were related.
The others blanched. What was wrong with that Hobbit? Frodo got up and ran through the crowd. "Pippin!" he cried, reaching the bar. He grabbed Pippin's shoulder and turned him around.
"Steady on," said Pippin, turning quickly and trying not to spill his drink.
Frodo slipped and fell onto his back. The Ring flew up into the air. Frodo reached up and tried to catch it. To his horror, it slipped onto one of his outstretched fingers. And he vanished.
The men around him were immediately in an uproar. How had he done that? Pippin turned quickly away from the spot Frodo had just been in. Merry, Sam and Valora exchanged shocked and fearful glances.
"Never put it on, for the agents of the Dark Lord will be drawn to its power," Gandalf had said.
Valora felt every last drop of blood drain from her face. "Oh, shit!" she whispered.
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Frodo yanked the Ring off of his finger. He wasn't sure exactly what it was he had seen during the moments he had worn the Ring, but he could feel its evil. He looked around himself, relieved that whatever it was seemed to be gone.
His relief evaporated when he felt someone grab him by the front of his shirt.
Strider pushed him against a wall. "You draw far too much attention to yourself, "Mr. Underhill."" He then picked Frodo up and shoved him up the stairs. Once upstairs, Strider pushed him into a room and closed the door.
"What do you want?" asked Frodo after he had gotten up. He had fallen when Strider pushed him.
"A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry."
"I carry nothing," said Frodo nervously.
"Indeed. I can avoid being seen if I wish," he said as he extinguished the candles in the room, "but to disappear entirely," he pulled down his hood, "that is a rare gift."
There was a short silence. "Who are you?" Frodo finally asked.
"Are you frightened?"
"Yes."
"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you." He slowly approached Frodo.
There were rushed footsteps outside the room. In one swift motion, Strider turned and drew his sword just as the door burst open. "Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!" cried Sam, holding up his fists. The others were right behind him. Merry held a candelabra and Pippin held a stool to use as a weapon. Valora held nothing, but was fully prepared to scream for help if need be.
Strider sheathed his sword. "You have a stout heart, little Hobbit," he said, a hint of admiration in his voice, "but that will not save you." He turned back to Frodo. "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."
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The angry screeches of the Black Riders woke the three Hobbits from their sleep. Strider had watched from the window of his own room as the Black Riders entered. Now, they had found the dummies he and the girl had hastily made of the Hobbits in the room they had rented for the night.
"What are they?" asked Frodo. He hadn't been awoken by the screeching because he hadn't been asleep. Neither had Valora. They were much too tense to sleep.
Strider looked over at the bed, where all the Hobbits now sat up. They were all looking at him, obviously wanting an answer. As was the girl, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, where she had been watching over the Hobbits. "They were once Men. Great kings of Men. Then, Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now, they are slaves to his will." He watched as the Black Riders mounted their horses and left. He turned back to the group on the bed. "They are the Nazgul. Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times, they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."
On that cheerful note, they all tried to get some sleep. Except for Strider, who stayed up and watched over them.
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Strider wasn't in the best of moods. He had hoped to leave as early in the morning as possible, but had had to make preparations and arrangements, which had taken more time than he would have liked. He had left the Hobbits and the girl in the relative safety of the inn to purchase a pony to carry their supplies and to buy weapons for them, just in case. He had hesitated to buy a small sword for the girl, as he had bought for the Hobbits, not sure if she could handle a sword at all, but knew it was better than nothing. When he had returned to the inn, he had found them eating breakfast. He had been amazed at the amount of food the Hobbits had eaten. Even the girl had eaten more than he would have guessed she could, but it was nothing compared to the Hobbits.
All five of them were wary of him, and it showed. At least the girl was trying to be friendly. She and Frodo seemed to be the only ones willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The others had obviously only agreed to stay with him because they didn't have much of a choice. None of the Hobbits had thanked him for giving them the use of his bed last night. Nor had they thanked him for staying awake and watching over them all night. He didn't mind so much, really, especially not with Frodo, who had more than enough to worry about as it was. But the girl, Valora she had said her name was, had thanked him for both, though it had been a bit shyly. She had even, sheepishly, explained why she had eaten so much when she had caught him giving her an odd look about it. She wasn't sure when she would get another decent meal, or a meal in general, especially not with the Ringwraiths out there. This told him she was smart.
They had finally left the inn well after dawn. Strider kept a good pace and led them into the woods.
"Where are you taking us?" asked Frodo.
"Into the wild."
Strider paused every now and then to sniff the air and to let the others catch up a little. He was used to traveling alone. His charges were practically running to keep up at times. He tried to slow his pace a little, but knew that they couldn't delay. He needed to get them to safety. Behind him, he heard them talking.
"How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?" Merry asked in a hushed tone.
"I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer and feel fouler," answered Frodo in the same hushed tone.
"He's foul enough," remarked Merry.
"Merry!" hissed Valora disapprovingly. "Could you guys keep your voices down? He might hear you, you know."
"We have no choice but to trust him," said Frodo.
"But where is he leading us?" asked Sam. He sounded a little anxious.
"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee."
They all looked up at Strider in surprise.
"To the house of Elrond," he continued.
"You hear that?" asked Sam, sounding somewhat excited. "Rivendell. We're going to see the Elves!"
"I told you he could hear you," mumbled Valora.
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They had been traveling for about three hours. Strider stopped and sniffed the air again. So far, no one was tracking them or lying in wait for them. He had been counting on that when he had led them into the wilderness. He turned to look at the others when he heard them beginning to unpack some things. He saw that the Hobbits were preparing to build a cooking fire. Valora was standing closer to him and didn't seem the least bit interested in eating again right now. But he did notice that she looked a little tired. That wasn't surprising. He knew she hadn't gotten much sleep last night.
He addressed the Hobbits. "Gentlemen," he said, "we do not stop until nightfall." "What about breakfast?" asked Pippin.
"You've already had it." They can't still be hungry, he thought. It was only nine or ten in the morning and they had eaten enough for about a dozen people at breakfast.
"We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?"
Both Strider and Valora tossed him dark looks. Strider then turned and continued on.
"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip," said Merry as they began to repack everything.
Pippin looked a little panicked. "What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them doesn't he?" he asked desperately.
"I wouldn't count on it." Just then, an apple came flying back at them. Merry caught it and handed it to Pippin, patting him on the shoulder. He started forward.
Another apple hit Pippin in the head. Right between the eyes. He looked up at the sky in bewilderment.
"Pippin!" said Merry in exasperation.
Valora giggled and ran to catch up with Strider. Still smiling she asked him, "You do know you just hit the stupid Hobbit in the head with an apple, right?"
He smirked slightly, but said nothing.
"Listen, I want to apologize for what Merry said earlier. After everything that's happened, you can't really blame him for being reluctant to trust anyone. And, if it makes any difference, I don't find you all that foul."
"Think nothing of it. It matters not to me. But I thank you, Mistress Caley."
"Valora, please. I get enough of that formal stuff from Sam."
"As you wish."
"Um, if you don't mind my asking, what is your real name?"
Strider looked at her. His face took on a closed expression as he turned his head forward again.
Okay, thought Valora. Apparently, I've hit a touchy subject. Now that he didn't seem to want to talk to her, she slowed her pace until she was walking with the Hobbits again. She didn't make conversation though. They would need their breath to keep up with Strider.
Besides, she had other things on her mind. She was really beginning to get worried. Especially since she had seen an image of the Black Riders and it turned out they actually existed. What if something terrible had happened to Gandalf? Shaking her head, she tried to forget that thought. She didn't want to think about that. Valora decided it would be best not to tell the others about it. First off, they would think she was nuts. Second, and more importantly, she didn't want to worry them unnecessarily. It was probably nothing anyway, she told herself. At least, she hoped it was nothing.
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They kept moving all day. The really fun part was the swamp. Ahead of them, even Strider was fighting to keep his balance. They were all being eaten alive by insects.
"What do they eat when they can't get Hobbit?" asked Merry, slapping away a few insects on his face.
Valora reached down to the bottom of the swamp and pulled up a handful of mud, which she smeared on her face and the rest of her exposed skin. She had advised the Hobbits to do the same, but they had just looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
As soon as they had gotten a bit away from the swamp, Valora had scraped the mud off of her skin. Her clothes couldn't be helped. She felt sorry for her poor blue jeans. The day she had been sent to Middle Earth had been the first time she had worn them. She vowed to give them, and the rest of her clothes, a good washing the first chance she got. Which would probably be when they got to Rivendell.
By now, the Hobbits were sorely wishing they had followed her, albeit unusual, advice. She had gotten almost no insect bites after smearing the mud all over herself. Next time, they would know better.
They were all exhausted by the time they made camp for the night. Strider left them, telling them to wait here for him. They didn't question him. They were too tired to go anywhere, anyway. Valora used the opportunity to scrape off any mud that she had missed earlier. Strider came back shortly. On his shoulder, he carried a stag. Only then did the others realize that he had left them to hunt for their dinner.
After they had eaten, Strider had suggested they get some rest. He had received no arguments. Merry, Pippin and Sam were out like lights within minutes.
Valora, on the other hand, found that sleep was yet again eluding her. She frowned as she glanced over at Strider, who was sitting on a rock with his back to them. Didn't that guy ever sleep?
After a time, Strider began to sing quietly to himself. He thought the others were asleep.
"Who is she?"
Strider immediately stopped singing and turned to look at Frodo. He suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Just how loud had he been singing?
"This woman you sing of."
""Tis the Lady of Luthien," said Strider softly. "The Elf-maiden who gave her love to Beren, a mortal."
"What happened to her?"
"She died," he said softly. He looked at the Hobbit. "Get some sleep, Frodo."
A sad love story, thought Valora. There was a big surprise. For it had been her experience that, no matter what the storybooks said, love was often a painful thing.
For the next quarter of an hour, there was only the sound of crickets around the group. Strider yawned. He wished he could sleep, but he couldn't leave them completely unguarded.
"You have a nice voice."
Strider almost jumped. He had thought she was sleeping. He turned to look at Valora. "You should be asleep."
"Sleep," she repeated, getting up and walking carefully towards him. She let out a tiny, mirthless laugh. "I'm so tired, I *can't* sleep." She sat down next to him on the rock. "That song you were singing earlier. It was in Elvish, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"It's pretty."
"Have you never heard Elvish before?"
She shook her head. "Not really. Only once. When we first left Frodo's house, we came across some Wood-elves. Frodo and Sam said they were leaving Middle-Earth."
"'Tis true," he told her. "Many Elves are leaving these shores. Soon, they will all be gone." There was a hint of deep sadness in his voice.
"Why are they leaving?" she asked softly. "This place, well, most of it, is so beautiful. I've never seen anything like it. Why would they want to leave?" Strider gave her a strange look and she mentally kicked herself. She had just given away more information than she had intended to. "I'm not from around here," she told him before he could ask. He seemed to accept that and didn't ask any questions. She gave a mental sigh of relief.
"That trick you used, using the mud to keep the insects off. It's very clever. Where did you learn it?" he asked.
"It's an old trick. A long time ago, the people who are native to my land used to use it. It's mostly for camofloge when hunting or in wars. But it can also be used to keep the sun from burning your skin or keeping off bugs. It also disguises your scent and body heat, so it's harder for enemies to detect you. Most people don't remember it now. And, as an added bonus, it makes your skin soft."
He nodded, smiling slightly. "You should really get some rest, Valora," said Strider. "You will need your strength. Rivendell is still a week away."
Trying not to groan, she nodded. "Good night, Strider."
"Good night."
She went back to her blankets and laid down. A whole week of this, huh? Oh, goody. She wasn't too sore just yet, but she knew that, by morning, her muscles wouldn't be too happy with her. When it had been just her, Frodo and Sam, it had been tiring, but not like this. But then, they'd had frequent stops back then. Was that really only about a week ago? So much was happening that it seemed like ages.
It happened again. She felt dizzy and saw an image flash before her eyes. This time, she saw the wizard again. And any number of foul looking creatures. She wasn't sure what they were. They were ripping down trees. Very old trees. And she saw Gandalf again. He was on top of what appeared to be a tower. All alone and cold. It was raining. Then the images faded.
She wasn't sure how long it took her, but Valora eventually managed to fall asleep.
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The trick that Valora did with the mud is actually a real thing. It's a Native American trick that I remember reading about when I was a preteen. God, that was a long time ago. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Please R&R!
A/N: I have not read the books, but I have read a lot of fanfics. That's how I know a few things that happen in the books that were not used in the movie. Like the delay in leaving Bree. And I have the extended version of the film. I will also be adding scenes of my own. I hope that doesn't bother anyone.
Also, I would like to recommend a couple of stories. One is called "Rangers and Pirates" by Psycho Elf. It's a LotR/PotC crossover. It's very amusing. Another is "Pirates in the Fellowship", also by Psycho Elf, the sequal to "Rangers and Pirates." And "Broken Alliance" by Mirrordance. Very good story.
To those of you who have reviewed, thank you so much. To those of you who have read, but not reviewed, I hope you are at least enjoying the story.
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When they reached the wooden gates of Bree, it was raining. They had all pulled their hoods up, but were soaked to the bone. Frodo looked uneasily down the road in both directions. "Come on," he said. They all rushed across the road. Valora was in the very back so she could watch for danger from behind and warn the others. Frodo knocked on the gate.
A grumpy looking man opened the small window and looked out. Seeing only a girl he demanded, "What do you want?"
"We're heading for the Prancing Pony," she answered.
The man shut the window and opened a door in the gate. Holding up his lantern, he looked over them all. "Hobbits. Four Hobbits. What business brings you to Bree?"
"We wish to stay at the inn. Our business is our own," answered Frodo.
"Alright, young sir, I meant no offence," he said, moving aside and gesturing for them to hurry in. "It's my job to ask questions after dark. There's talk of strange folk abroad." He slammed the door shut behind them. "Can't be too careful."
The streets of Bree were rather unpleasant. They were quite relieved when they found the inn. They hurried inside.
"Excuse me." said Frodo, looking up at the bar near the door.
A man came over and looked down. "Good evening, little masters and Miss. What can I do for you? If you're looking for accommodations, we've got some nice, cozy Hobbit-sized rooms available. Always proud to cater to the little folk, Mr..."
"Underhill," said Frodo after a moment. "My name is Underhill."
The innkeeper nodded. "Underhill," he repeated.
"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?"
"Gandalf?" asked the innkeeper. "Gandalf," he repeated thoughtfully. "Oh, yes, I remember. Elderly chap. Big, grey beard, pointy hat."
Frodo nodded.
"I've not seen him for six months."
"Are you sure?" asked Valora.
The innkeeper nodded firmly.
Alarm passed through the five companions. Six months? But Gandalf had told them he would meet them here. Where could he be? Worriedly, they huddled close together.
"What do we do now?" asked Sam.
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They had decided to wait. Gandalf had said he would be here, and he would. They all sat at a table and nervously ate cheese and bread after they had gotten a room for the night and put their bags there. They drank ale. Even Valora had ordered a half-pint of ale to calm her nerves. It wasn't working very well. It had been well over an hour. Where the hell was Gandalf?
Merry sat down from a trip to the bar with a rather large tankard. Pippin did a double-take. "What's that?" he asked.
"This, my friend, is a pint." He began to drink.
"It comes in pints? I'm getting one." He got up and went quickly to the bar, ignoring Sam's protest that he'd already had a whole half.
"That fellow's done nothing but stare at you since we arrived," Sam said to Frodo, gesturing at someone.
"Sam, don't point," said Valora. "He might see you." She had noticed the man in the corner as well. He was one of the few Men who hadn't leered at her at some point tonight. She had tried to reason that he might not be staring at them. They couldn't see his eyes, as his hood shadowed his face. He could be looking anywhere. But she could feel his gaze. It was disconcerting. She hadn't said anything to Frodo about it because he had enough to worry about and she hadn't wanted to alarm him or the others. Besides, it could have been her imagination.
Frodo nervously, glanced at the corner Sam had pointed to. He saw the cloaked man at a small table by himself. He was smoking a pipe and did, indeed, seem to be staring at him. When the innkeeper passed by, Frodo stopped him. "Excuse me." The innkeeper bent down next to the table. "That man in the corner. Who is he?"
The innkeeper glanced over, looking a bit nervous himself. Turning back to Frodo, he said, "He's one of them Rangers. Dangerous folk, they are, wandering the wilds. What his right name is, I've never heard, but around here, he's known as Strider." He left them.
"Strider," repeated both Frodo and Valora quietly.
Frodo absentmindedly toyed with the Ring. The voice began to speak inside his head again. Frodo began to feel strange again. "Baggins," whispered the Ring, over and over again.
"Baggins?"
Frodo came back to his senses as he heard Pippin's voice.
"Sure, I know a Baggins," he was telling a group of men at the bar. "He's over there." He pointed to their table. "Frodo Baggins." He waved to Frodo and proceeded to explain to the men how he and Frodo were related.
The others blanched. What was wrong with that Hobbit? Frodo got up and ran through the crowd. "Pippin!" he cried, reaching the bar. He grabbed Pippin's shoulder and turned him around.
"Steady on," said Pippin, turning quickly and trying not to spill his drink.
Frodo slipped and fell onto his back. The Ring flew up into the air. Frodo reached up and tried to catch it. To his horror, it slipped onto one of his outstretched fingers. And he vanished.
The men around him were immediately in an uproar. How had he done that? Pippin turned quickly away from the spot Frodo had just been in. Merry, Sam and Valora exchanged shocked and fearful glances.
"Never put it on, for the agents of the Dark Lord will be drawn to its power," Gandalf had said.
Valora felt every last drop of blood drain from her face. "Oh, shit!" she whispered.
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Frodo yanked the Ring off of his finger. He wasn't sure exactly what it was he had seen during the moments he had worn the Ring, but he could feel its evil. He looked around himself, relieved that whatever it was seemed to be gone.
His relief evaporated when he felt someone grab him by the front of his shirt.
Strider pushed him against a wall. "You draw far too much attention to yourself, "Mr. Underhill."" He then picked Frodo up and shoved him up the stairs. Once upstairs, Strider pushed him into a room and closed the door.
"What do you want?" asked Frodo after he had gotten up. He had fallen when Strider pushed him.
"A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry."
"I carry nothing," said Frodo nervously.
"Indeed. I can avoid being seen if I wish," he said as he extinguished the candles in the room, "but to disappear entirely," he pulled down his hood, "that is a rare gift."
There was a short silence. "Who are you?" Frodo finally asked.
"Are you frightened?"
"Yes."
"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you." He slowly approached Frodo.
There were rushed footsteps outside the room. In one swift motion, Strider turned and drew his sword just as the door burst open. "Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!" cried Sam, holding up his fists. The others were right behind him. Merry held a candelabra and Pippin held a stool to use as a weapon. Valora held nothing, but was fully prepared to scream for help if need be.
Strider sheathed his sword. "You have a stout heart, little Hobbit," he said, a hint of admiration in his voice, "but that will not save you." He turned back to Frodo. "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."
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The angry screeches of the Black Riders woke the three Hobbits from their sleep. Strider had watched from the window of his own room as the Black Riders entered. Now, they had found the dummies he and the girl had hastily made of the Hobbits in the room they had rented for the night.
"What are they?" asked Frodo. He hadn't been awoken by the screeching because he hadn't been asleep. Neither had Valora. They were much too tense to sleep.
Strider looked over at the bed, where all the Hobbits now sat up. They were all looking at him, obviously wanting an answer. As was the girl, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, where she had been watching over the Hobbits. "They were once Men. Great kings of Men. Then, Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now, they are slaves to his will." He watched as the Black Riders mounted their horses and left. He turned back to the group on the bed. "They are the Nazgul. Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times, they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."
On that cheerful note, they all tried to get some sleep. Except for Strider, who stayed up and watched over them.
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Strider wasn't in the best of moods. He had hoped to leave as early in the morning as possible, but had had to make preparations and arrangements, which had taken more time than he would have liked. He had left the Hobbits and the girl in the relative safety of the inn to purchase a pony to carry their supplies and to buy weapons for them, just in case. He had hesitated to buy a small sword for the girl, as he had bought for the Hobbits, not sure if she could handle a sword at all, but knew it was better than nothing. When he had returned to the inn, he had found them eating breakfast. He had been amazed at the amount of food the Hobbits had eaten. Even the girl had eaten more than he would have guessed she could, but it was nothing compared to the Hobbits.
All five of them were wary of him, and it showed. At least the girl was trying to be friendly. She and Frodo seemed to be the only ones willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The others had obviously only agreed to stay with him because they didn't have much of a choice. None of the Hobbits had thanked him for giving them the use of his bed last night. Nor had they thanked him for staying awake and watching over them all night. He didn't mind so much, really, especially not with Frodo, who had more than enough to worry about as it was. But the girl, Valora she had said her name was, had thanked him for both, though it had been a bit shyly. She had even, sheepishly, explained why she had eaten so much when she had caught him giving her an odd look about it. She wasn't sure when she would get another decent meal, or a meal in general, especially not with the Ringwraiths out there. This told him she was smart.
They had finally left the inn well after dawn. Strider kept a good pace and led them into the woods.
"Where are you taking us?" asked Frodo.
"Into the wild."
Strider paused every now and then to sniff the air and to let the others catch up a little. He was used to traveling alone. His charges were practically running to keep up at times. He tried to slow his pace a little, but knew that they couldn't delay. He needed to get them to safety. Behind him, he heard them talking.
"How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?" Merry asked in a hushed tone.
"I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer and feel fouler," answered Frodo in the same hushed tone.
"He's foul enough," remarked Merry.
"Merry!" hissed Valora disapprovingly. "Could you guys keep your voices down? He might hear you, you know."
"We have no choice but to trust him," said Frodo.
"But where is he leading us?" asked Sam. He sounded a little anxious.
"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee."
They all looked up at Strider in surprise.
"To the house of Elrond," he continued.
"You hear that?" asked Sam, sounding somewhat excited. "Rivendell. We're going to see the Elves!"
"I told you he could hear you," mumbled Valora.
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They had been traveling for about three hours. Strider stopped and sniffed the air again. So far, no one was tracking them or lying in wait for them. He had been counting on that when he had led them into the wilderness. He turned to look at the others when he heard them beginning to unpack some things. He saw that the Hobbits were preparing to build a cooking fire. Valora was standing closer to him and didn't seem the least bit interested in eating again right now. But he did notice that she looked a little tired. That wasn't surprising. He knew she hadn't gotten much sleep last night.
He addressed the Hobbits. "Gentlemen," he said, "we do not stop until nightfall." "What about breakfast?" asked Pippin.
"You've already had it." They can't still be hungry, he thought. It was only nine or ten in the morning and they had eaten enough for about a dozen people at breakfast.
"We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?"
Both Strider and Valora tossed him dark looks. Strider then turned and continued on.
"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip," said Merry as they began to repack everything.
Pippin looked a little panicked. "What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them doesn't he?" he asked desperately.
"I wouldn't count on it." Just then, an apple came flying back at them. Merry caught it and handed it to Pippin, patting him on the shoulder. He started forward.
Another apple hit Pippin in the head. Right between the eyes. He looked up at the sky in bewilderment.
"Pippin!" said Merry in exasperation.
Valora giggled and ran to catch up with Strider. Still smiling she asked him, "You do know you just hit the stupid Hobbit in the head with an apple, right?"
He smirked slightly, but said nothing.
"Listen, I want to apologize for what Merry said earlier. After everything that's happened, you can't really blame him for being reluctant to trust anyone. And, if it makes any difference, I don't find you all that foul."
"Think nothing of it. It matters not to me. But I thank you, Mistress Caley."
"Valora, please. I get enough of that formal stuff from Sam."
"As you wish."
"Um, if you don't mind my asking, what is your real name?"
Strider looked at her. His face took on a closed expression as he turned his head forward again.
Okay, thought Valora. Apparently, I've hit a touchy subject. Now that he didn't seem to want to talk to her, she slowed her pace until she was walking with the Hobbits again. She didn't make conversation though. They would need their breath to keep up with Strider.
Besides, she had other things on her mind. She was really beginning to get worried. Especially since she had seen an image of the Black Riders and it turned out they actually existed. What if something terrible had happened to Gandalf? Shaking her head, she tried to forget that thought. She didn't want to think about that. Valora decided it would be best not to tell the others about it. First off, they would think she was nuts. Second, and more importantly, she didn't want to worry them unnecessarily. It was probably nothing anyway, she told herself. At least, she hoped it was nothing.
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They kept moving all day. The really fun part was the swamp. Ahead of them, even Strider was fighting to keep his balance. They were all being eaten alive by insects.
"What do they eat when they can't get Hobbit?" asked Merry, slapping away a few insects on his face.
Valora reached down to the bottom of the swamp and pulled up a handful of mud, which she smeared on her face and the rest of her exposed skin. She had advised the Hobbits to do the same, but they had just looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
As soon as they had gotten a bit away from the swamp, Valora had scraped the mud off of her skin. Her clothes couldn't be helped. She felt sorry for her poor blue jeans. The day she had been sent to Middle Earth had been the first time she had worn them. She vowed to give them, and the rest of her clothes, a good washing the first chance she got. Which would probably be when they got to Rivendell.
By now, the Hobbits were sorely wishing they had followed her, albeit unusual, advice. She had gotten almost no insect bites after smearing the mud all over herself. Next time, they would know better.
They were all exhausted by the time they made camp for the night. Strider left them, telling them to wait here for him. They didn't question him. They were too tired to go anywhere, anyway. Valora used the opportunity to scrape off any mud that she had missed earlier. Strider came back shortly. On his shoulder, he carried a stag. Only then did the others realize that he had left them to hunt for their dinner.
After they had eaten, Strider had suggested they get some rest. He had received no arguments. Merry, Pippin and Sam were out like lights within minutes.
Valora, on the other hand, found that sleep was yet again eluding her. She frowned as she glanced over at Strider, who was sitting on a rock with his back to them. Didn't that guy ever sleep?
After a time, Strider began to sing quietly to himself. He thought the others were asleep.
"Who is she?"
Strider immediately stopped singing and turned to look at Frodo. He suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Just how loud had he been singing?
"This woman you sing of."
""Tis the Lady of Luthien," said Strider softly. "The Elf-maiden who gave her love to Beren, a mortal."
"What happened to her?"
"She died," he said softly. He looked at the Hobbit. "Get some sleep, Frodo."
A sad love story, thought Valora. There was a big surprise. For it had been her experience that, no matter what the storybooks said, love was often a painful thing.
For the next quarter of an hour, there was only the sound of crickets around the group. Strider yawned. He wished he could sleep, but he couldn't leave them completely unguarded.
"You have a nice voice."
Strider almost jumped. He had thought she was sleeping. He turned to look at Valora. "You should be asleep."
"Sleep," she repeated, getting up and walking carefully towards him. She let out a tiny, mirthless laugh. "I'm so tired, I *can't* sleep." She sat down next to him on the rock. "That song you were singing earlier. It was in Elvish, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"It's pretty."
"Have you never heard Elvish before?"
She shook her head. "Not really. Only once. When we first left Frodo's house, we came across some Wood-elves. Frodo and Sam said they were leaving Middle-Earth."
"'Tis true," he told her. "Many Elves are leaving these shores. Soon, they will all be gone." There was a hint of deep sadness in his voice.
"Why are they leaving?" she asked softly. "This place, well, most of it, is so beautiful. I've never seen anything like it. Why would they want to leave?" Strider gave her a strange look and she mentally kicked herself. She had just given away more information than she had intended to. "I'm not from around here," she told him before he could ask. He seemed to accept that and didn't ask any questions. She gave a mental sigh of relief.
"That trick you used, using the mud to keep the insects off. It's very clever. Where did you learn it?" he asked.
"It's an old trick. A long time ago, the people who are native to my land used to use it. It's mostly for camofloge when hunting or in wars. But it can also be used to keep the sun from burning your skin or keeping off bugs. It also disguises your scent and body heat, so it's harder for enemies to detect you. Most people don't remember it now. And, as an added bonus, it makes your skin soft."
He nodded, smiling slightly. "You should really get some rest, Valora," said Strider. "You will need your strength. Rivendell is still a week away."
Trying not to groan, she nodded. "Good night, Strider."
"Good night."
She went back to her blankets and laid down. A whole week of this, huh? Oh, goody. She wasn't too sore just yet, but she knew that, by morning, her muscles wouldn't be too happy with her. When it had been just her, Frodo and Sam, it had been tiring, but not like this. But then, they'd had frequent stops back then. Was that really only about a week ago? So much was happening that it seemed like ages.
It happened again. She felt dizzy and saw an image flash before her eyes. This time, she saw the wizard again. And any number of foul looking creatures. She wasn't sure what they were. They were ripping down trees. Very old trees. And she saw Gandalf again. He was on top of what appeared to be a tower. All alone and cold. It was raining. Then the images faded.
She wasn't sure how long it took her, but Valora eventually managed to fall asleep.
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The trick that Valora did with the mud is actually a real thing. It's a Native American trick that I remember reading about when I was a preteen. God, that was a long time ago. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Please R&R!