Chapter Three
Curiosity and the Cat
She would admit it. She was curious, very curious. While, yes, it was in her nature to want to know the how and why of everything, this had peaked a particular interest for her. To say, she hadn't been this fascinated in anything for a very long while.
After the small incident at the hobbit's house a few weeks ago, she'd let him be while she wandered around like usual. But as time passed, she only grew more inquisitive, her mind rethinking everything down to the last detail.
For one, how on earth had that hobbit managed to find the Ring? And not just any ring, but the Ring. The One Ring of Power that would ultimately decide the fate of there seemingly doomed world. Her father had told her its legend years ago, yet it baffled her to think how a hobbit (of all creatures) had managed to get it in his possession.
While she had not actually gotten a good look at it, she had a feeling deep in the bottom of her gut telling her that the ring she had seen was indeed the Ring.
But as she walked down yet another unbeaten path, a sudden thought occurred to her. If the Ring of Power was still in existence meant that there would be someone looking for it. And that hobbit didn't look like one who had much skill with a blade, if any at all. He would need protecting, she decided, and she'd be the one to do it. So it was then she found herself wandering back in the direction of the Shire, her mind set, the nightscape all ready settling in around her as she silently walked on.
It was late evening by the time she appeared in front of a familiar red door, stopping just outside the little home's gate, wondering just what to do from here. She couldn't simply walk in on him. Goodness knows she'd give him a heart attack.
There was a sudden 'snap' from nearby. Half a second later, she heard a faint whisper of profanity lingering someplace under the one of the small windows. A faint grin cracked its way across her pale blue lips.
It was another hobbit. And by the looks of it, he was spying on the blue-eyed one, who's name, if she recalled correctly, was Frodo. While he was a bit porkier than the other, he'd done a good job thus far remaining undetected by the duo inside. But he was no match for her. Quietly, she crept up towards him, the little gate already open. She stood just behind him for a moment before speaking.
"What're you doing?"
Her soft voice nearly caused the redhead to jump out of his trousers. He'd flipped from his elbows to his rear end, his heart practically jumping out of his throat at her sudden appearance. Bug eyes stared up at her black orbs as he sat in shock. After a sudden gulp, the hobbit regained his ability to speak.
"N-nothing Miss," He paused, cracking a weak smile, "J-just gardening i-is all." His eyes never wavered from hers.
She knew that all he could see of her was her eyes floating ominously in the shadow of her black silhouette. That was where everyone stared when the saw her. But the night was her element. She could not help being able to melt into the darkness.
A quiet giggle left her lips. The hobbit's fear evaporated right into confusion. "What's so funny?" He demanded, sitting up with his brow furrowed.
She laughed again, "And what are you planting at this hour? Moon flowers?" The hobbit suddenly stood, pointing a finger at her in accusation.
"Now you wait just a min—UTE-AHHH!!!"
The half-ling was swiftly hoisted into the hobbit hole by a cloaked arm, surprising the hooded female to some degree. Apparently he hadn't been gardening. She stepped forward a ways, glancing in through the open window.
The old man was back, hovering over the stout one. "Confound it all Samwise Gamgee. Have you been eavesdropping?!" The man's voice boomed loudly out of the small window as he hovered over the poor hobbit. She watched in interest as the hobbit replied from the table he'd been slammed against.
"I haven't dropped no eaves sir, honest. I was just replanting the flowers in the window box there." One of his fingers pointed towards the window as his eyes darted in the same direction. The old man glanced outside as well, his eyes meeting a pair of black orbs peering in through the dead flowers.
She cursed aloud, darting out of the view of his widening eyes. Stupid! How could she have gotten caught again, and so easily?! What was it with this place that she was no longer fly under the radar?
An abrupt spike of power suddenly erupted from inside the house. Her eyes darted around feverishly as she sprinted to hide. He must have been a wizard to unleash such raw power in close to no time at all. She hid just in time to see the old man burst from the red door and out onto the dirt road.
The wizard had his staff in hand, which was currently letting off a very bright white light, illuminating the night with its incandescent glow. It seemed to reach out and devour every piece shadow and darkness that happened to fall under its path. Pressing herself closer to the large tree she was using as cover, she prayed that the light would quickly diminish. However, she was tempted to see what would happen if poked her toe out into the light. But that temptation was squashed by the thought of the consequence. So she stayed put, motionless as the light licked its way around her.
After a moment, the glow faded away. She let out an unknown breath that she'd been holding; that had been close. This time, she didn't steal a glance to make sure they went back inside. Listening, she waited to hear the door to close behind them. Then she stepped out of the trees gloom. However, she remained partially hidden, not willing to risk overexposure again.
Eyes set ahead, she gazed out across the small dirt path. There were faint muffles coming from inside, and after a moment the door swung back open. The two hobbits came out, and she saw the wizard following behind them. Carefully, she slunk back behind the tree. She felt his eyes roving the landscape, certain that she was still looming in one of the nearby shadows.
She was, but she wasn't going to let that old man know it. So she kept tightly pressed against the tree, listening to them pause once before beginning to walk down the road. They moved in a direction where she could partially see them, one of her hands now resting on the trees bark.
The half-lings were now adorned in cloaks and traveling bags, trailing behind the wizard who had retrieved his horse. Her eyes stared at them, watching them make their way down the dirt path. 'Where are they off too?' She wondered idly. A sudden grin crept its way across her pale face.
Taking a step, she began to leave the security of the trees shadow and set off after them. As she pulled her hand away from the bark, she didn't notice the seared black patch her hand had left in its wake. She merely followed after them, curious now more than ever.
--
He was smart, that wizard. Every few seconds or so, he would look back, as if he knew she was following them. Using her stealth, she stuck close to the shadows, keeping just out of the man's gaze. She was always close enough to see them clearly, but far enough to remain undetected by the wizard. So far, she'd managed to remain unnoticed by the wizard. But whether it was luck or skill, she didn't know, but she honestly didn't care.
A few times she'd almost thought he'd seen her, but a second later, he would turn back around, obviously not yet finding her exact location. The night quickly shifted into early morning, and the group and their stalker were now within a small fern groove.
The old man stopped abruptly, looking back in her direction one last time before turning and speaking to the half-ling. From their expressions, she could tell that they seemed confused, even a bit wary of what he was saying. The wizard offered them a soft smile before mounting his horse, turning around, and nearly running her over in the process.
She didn't know why, but her body seemed petrified when the horse began to trot in her direction. Restraining the urge to yell, she ducked behind a fallen log, jumping over it just in time to see the old wizard make his way by. She glared at him through a hole in the fallen tree.
Was he seriously toying with her, or was he merely getting lucky? While, yes, she would give him credit for getting precariously close to finding her, he was always far off enough where she was still questioning his judgment. But as she watched him disappear from sight, she decided to no longer worry about it. He obviously had somewhere else to be, and that made her little adventure much less strenuous, which she preferred.
With caution, she stepped back over the log, checking down the lane one last time to make sure the wizard had indeed gone. He unsoundly had, and so she took a glance back into the little groove.
The hobbits were now making their way along in the opposite direction. Apparently, Frodo had yet to notice her. Perhaps their last encounters were merely accidents. But this idea did not quench her thirst for the truth; had it been luck, or something else? And besides, someone had to look after them. If no one did, then they left the fate of the world to chance. It was that recurring uncertainty that forced her to follow after them, always silent as she slithered through the fading shadows of the early morning.
--
Time had passed, and the two half-lings were now making their way through a cornfield. Seeing as how the wizard had so kindly left their little traveling party, she followed a bit closer behind the two unsuspecting hobbits. She was still unseen through the tall green plants as she walked down one of the narrow rows, avoiding the beaten path, but still very close to the half-lings. Her ears suddenly perked up, catching a growing rustle coming from her left. She stopped, letting the sound get closer.
Not even ten meters in front of her, two more hobbits burst across her path, quickly bolting out onto the larger trail the other two were on. What was stranger about it was the fact that both were carrying huge armfuls of vegetables, obviously in a hurry. Even through the tall leafy stalks she saw the two parties crash into one another head on. She had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing as they tried to right themselves.
They talked for a moment before the boisterous bark of a dog was heard, along with a very angry yell from the farming. The half-lings sudden bolted, the vegetables forgotten on the ground as they high-tailed it through the greenery. Suddenly the party of two had turned into a group of four.
She was quick to follow them, racing through the cornfield just behind them. And as suddenly as the tall green cover was there it was gone. She stopped, suddenly dashing back into the corn to remain hidden. The hobbits, however, kept running. Her eyes widened. They seemed to not notice the large bluff in front of them.
Sure enough, not a second later they were all tumbling down the steep slope. She cursed, leaping out to the bluff's edge. For a moment, they kept rolling, but they soon stopped. Without a second thought, she leapt down the edge, managing to keep her footing as gravity worked its magic on her. Halfway down, she somehow managed to stop behind a tree, her eyes still locked on the half-lings. Peering out from behind the large dogwood, she was happy to see all of them back on their feet. Three of them were huddling around something, but Frodo one was standing motionless, staring off down the road.
A sudden prickle began to trail its way down her spine as a cold wind blew past. She heard Frodo yell, "Get off the road!" Before all of them disappeared, now safely hidden beneath a large overhanging tree root. She watched, now heavily immersed in their actions. All was still for a moment.
And then it arrived.
It was a Black Rider, or an agent of the Dark Lord. It was cloaked in ragged black cloth, metal gloves holding the reigns onto an even more portentous looking beast of a horse. To say, it was nothing comforting. She watched the scene play out, still unmoving as she stared hungrily at the scenario before her.
The Rider suddenly dismounted its ride, walking over toward the side of the road. It kneeled over, hand resting on the top of the over hang. Even at the distance, she could practically smell the fear radiating off the hobbits. It leaned forward, set on checking underneath the overhang. They were going to get caught. The Ring was going to be found.
Without warning, something snapped within her. It was in that same instant that a once faded ability resurfaced with full vigor.
It was in that instant she chose to scream.
But to all of those subject to this shriek would not call it that. To the half-lings and the Black Rider, it was an ear-piercing screech, rocking them at the very core of their beings all while sending a painful chill down each of their spines. The Rider suddenly bolted, remounting its horse before sprinting off down the road, clearly set on getting out of there as fast as possible.
And as quickly as it came, it stopped, the air hanging silent once again as the echoes of her wail faded away into the mid-morning sky. She suddenly fell to the base of the now dead tree, her hands desperately clutching the bark to keep from falling. She was panting heavily, eyes twisted shut, therefore not noticing the familiar pair of sharp blue eyes once again finding a mysterious lock on her location.
His eyes widened, but before the little half-ling could do anything, his comrades called after him. Not wanting to be left behind, the hobbit ran after them, not looking back. It was then, she choose to open her tinted black eyes, finally making a move to follow them. She stumbled down the slope, her mobility suddenly impaired.
As she came to solid ground, she clutched her head. What the hell had she just done? Never mind what, how had she even done that and where in the world had it come from? She had essentially called off the Black Rider!
For a moment she stood, eyes tightly screwed shut again and she tried to force away the oncoming migraine she felt. After a few minutes, she slowly opened her fading black eyes, finally noticing that the half-lings had long since fled the scene. Cursing again, she ran off after them.
If it happened once, it was bound to happen again. Lucky for the hobbits, she was right.
--
It hadn't taken her long to find them again. However, this time she kept at a much closer distance. The sun had long since set, and while she had no trouble seeing perfectly through the darkness (it was yet another one of the many "gifts" she had, as her brother's had called them), she remained much nearer to the little half-lings.
Using the darkness as an advantage, she stayed more out in the open, keeping them in full view at all times. But even with perfect clarity, what she was suddenly witnessing left her wondering if what she saw was real.
It was strange to say the least. Three hobbits were scrambling through the trees surrounding her, obviously in a panic. An unruly whinny averted her attention from the half lings. Looking up the hillside, she saw a familiar large black horse and its ominous rider quickly scaling down the slope after the little ones.
Without warning, an abrupt force crashed into her, knocking the hooded female onto the ground. Quickly righting herself, she stood, looking down. Apparently she'd counted wrong. A familiar head of curly chocolate brown hair and sharp blue eyes looked panicked up at her. Her now black-white eyes also noted an ember ring hanging from a chain on Frodo's neck.
The pulse suddenly returned, echoing loudly throughout her mind. She found herself locked in a stupor, staring at the ring that was dangling from the neck of the befuddled half-ling. The heavy trudging of the black horse faintly knocked her from her thoughts as she blankly glanced towards their pursuer. He was closing in fast.
A sudden fury erupted within her at the thought of Frodo getting caught. Without really thinking much about it, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him upright. "Run!" She yelled. Before the word had even left her mouth he was already sprinting full out down the slope.
Now she wasn't going to just leave his fate in the hands of lady luck, so she trailed behind him once more. He must have had a serious adrenaline rush, because there was now a fairly adequate distance between them and their pursuer. Looking ahead, she saw the other three half-lings on a small raft, encouraging their friend along as he ran.
With his sudden burst of energy helping him along, Frodo leapt over the fence with unnatural ease, continuing in his fast sprint. She easily flew over the wooden spokes as well, slowing only to make sure he kept going. Tailing after the half-ling until he was on the dock, she turned about, stopping on the grass just before wooden pier. Her cloak flew around her, whipping the night air as she came to an abrupt stop. She only looked back to make sure Frodo was safely on the raft, which he was. Turning her attention back around, she stood tall in front of her opponent.
The Rider didn't slow as the horse easily jumped the fence. Her eyes suddenly turned fierce. "You will not touch them!" She yelled, standing firm. However, the Rider didn't slow down.
Without warning, she screamed bloody murder again.
Just as before, she didn't know why, she just did. But she once again did not see the hobbits cover their ears in pain nor did she notice the light crackle of black energy sprout lightly around her. Her fists were balled at her sides and her eyes tightly closed. It lasted maybe ten seconds, but that was more than enough time. As soon as she stopped, the Rider squealed before hastily turning around and riding off into the night yet again. Within the short time, all was quiet, save for the constant gurgle from the river.
Her head hurt again. She slid one of her hands up into her hair, pressing it against her skull. She then decided to not try that again; whatever it was. Sighing, she turned around, her head still pounding quietly as her hand fell back to her side.
Looking up, she saw four sets of wide eyes locked on her cloaked form. She laughed quietly, waving to them before turning around and walking back into the forest, trying her best to ignore the growing headache she was about to have.
As she left, a sudden yell came from one of the hobbits, "We are headed for Bree!" Stopping, she turned back to see Frodo with his hands cupped over his mouth. "Please, meet us there!" He hollered again. The other three seemed aghast, obviously wondering why he'd told her that and to meet them there.
They began whispering to one another. Frodo spoke to them, but she could not, for whatever reason, hear his words. She laughed quietly again, nodding towards the group before once again melting into the shadow of the forest, all but disappearing from their view.
--
At the rate they were going, they'd get to Bree in an hour or so. It hadn't taken her that much time to arrive on foot, and she didn't mind waiting. What she did mind was the torrent of rain that was now pouring down on her as she stood just outside the town's entrance gate. Grumbling under her breath, she silently slipped into the village behind a small cart, hiding in its shadow. As soon as the cart was inside, she trailed off again, making her way along the muddied streets, already soaked to the bone.
If there was one good thing about the rain, it was that no one looked at her. In this weather, most people were cloaked, looking the same with their dark attire to prevent the rain from penetrating onto their skin. At the moment, she was just another drenched soul making her way along the road.
She walked alongside the road, her eyes quickly spotting the inn. Hastening her steps, she arrived at the front door, stepping inside.
It was a loud with people all bustling past one another and such. A drunken man was being shoved out the door, and she was quick to more out of the way. She then fluidly walked towards a table in the far off corner, seating herself. She was thankful that the place was rather dimly lit, almost completely covering up the eerie glow of her eyes. A shadow was also draping the dark corner, making her feel a bit more comfortable in the midst of the bars commotion.
Not to her surprise, people were staring at her. Rolling her eyes, she watched a plump bartender approach her. He stood motionless in front of her for a moment, obviously nervous. A hush came over the crowd of people as they watched the scene play out.
Moistening his lips, he spoke. "What'd ya like to drink Miss?" There was a pause. "We just got a specialty ale in, so…" He trailed off, sweating. It seemed that the entire bar was holding their breath for the man.
"Wine." They breathed. "Red, please." She said coolly. Face now exceptionally flush, the bartender nodded, hastily running back to the bar. Well, these people obviously knew who she was despite the darkness and attempted cover-ups. Suppressing a sigh, a hint of a frown made its way across her pale lips, which was still downed in the hoods shadow. She couldn't take off her cloak, even though she was thoroughly soaked. The last thing she needed was more people gaping at her.
The female glanced up to see a glass of wine being placed in front of her. She reached into one of her pockets, pulling a few coins out. Setting them on the table, she watched the bartender take them before nodding once and then scuttling away again. A pale hand came out, taking hold of the glass. Lifting the glass to her lips, she took a sip, her headache already fading.
Old Winyard. Twelve ninety-six. She couldn't help but smile to herself a bit, once again getting lost in a chain of memories. She may well remember that she and her brothers had once (or perhaps even a few times) had a drinking contest. To say, she'd wiped the floor with them on all accounts and she hadn't even gotten tipsy. Her hand absent-mindedly returned the glass to the table.
A quiet murmur had come back to the other folk accommodating the bar, losing interest in the strange female after a while. A half hour passed. Soon the prior roar came back up to par and everyone was once again immersed in his or her own conversations. Her wine glass was still almost completely full when the door opened again.
Once again, the vociferous conversation quieted to nothing more than whispers when another cloaked character entered the bar. Quietly making his way towards her, all eyes were once again dancing between her and this new shifty figure. She caught a man whispering to one of his friends, "She's in his seat."
One of her eyebrows rose beneath her hood. Now this was interesting. Apparently he was just as "renowned" as she was. Just who was he? Her eyes bore out at him, watching him as he approached.
He stopped right in front of the table, his face as masked like hers. Faint stubble darkened his chin and a definite frown marred his lips. She couldn't help but smile. 'Let's make things a bit more interesting.' She thought coyly.
Lifting her glass back up into her fingers, taking another small drink. She'd mess with him a little, "Is there something you need?" Her only answer was silence. Someone coughed. Snickering, she swirled the red liquid around for a moment. "What?" She was grinning, "Cat got your tongue?"
Even beneath the cloak, she could tell that he was rolling his eyes at her. Perhaps it was the expression he momentarily flashed that gave it way. Either way, he knew she wasn't moving. Pulling a chair back, he sat down causing another wave of whispers to sprout across the room. He pulled out a pipe, stuffing some smoke into it before lighting it.
"So what brings you here on this fine evening?" She inquired, taking another large drink from her goblet. Through the light of the burning weed, she saw him raise an eyebrow towards her. She laughed quietly, "I have an unparalleled tolerance for alcohol, so no, that's not the wine talking."
Removing the wooden pipe from his mouth, he spoke. His voice was slightly gruff, but soft. "No reason."
"You're lying." Came her immediate response. His eyes narrowed. "No one travels out in this kind of weather without reason. I would know." She finished, gesturing out the window nearby. A crack of lighting illuminated the dark sky, lighting up both of their faces with the spontaneous eruption of brightness.
As if on cue, both of their eyes widened. "Lle!" (You!) She whispered harshly, letting her tongue flip to Elvin. She knew he understood her.
"Mani naa lle umien sinome?!" (What are you doing here?!) He snorted, speaking humanely for the first time. Although, she would hardly say it was civilized.
"Atya' ten' lle." (I could ask you the same.) He was irritated now, his pipe forgotten on the table. Venom and disgust were dripping from his words. "Mani tuloa lle a' sina yamen? (What brings you to this place?)
His voice still retained it's potency as the volume in his words dropped to a harsh whisper. "Man poika gwaith lle lema sinome a' ndengina?" (Which innocent people did you come here to kill?)
Rage was rapidly beginning to bubble up within her. He new nothing of what she did. Nothing! Nonetheless, she forced herself to keep from lashing out at him. Grasping the glass, she downed the rest of her wine. Setting the now emptied goblet back on the table, she gave her retort. "Mankoi lle gorga vanwa sen, taur'ohtar?" (Why do you worry over them, ranger?) A bittersweet smile cracked its way across her lips as she leaned across the table, her words coming off as a sick hiss.
"Lle n'uma tua sen." (It's not like you can save them.)She suddenly stood, pushing her chair back to leave. "Goodbye Strider." She'd had enough of him all ready, and right now was not the time for her to be dealing with him.
"You did not answer my question, Drifter." She was now standing, frozen. He could tell she was using every ounce of will power she had to keep from strangling him. He could see her clenched fists shaking in her efforts.
After a moment, she spoke, although through clenched teeth. "Have you ever heard the phrase, curiosity killed the cat?" His prying cat performance was getting to her. At the moment, she wanted to kill him for it. She was surprised, however, to see a faint smirk etch its way across the ranger's face.
"And satisfaction brought it back." Her eyes widened, locking with his. He was just toying with her now. She did not care to be messed with. He only smiled devilishly, knowing he had won.
There was a sudden crash sounding throughout the bar. Everyone in the room jumped, looked directly towards the cause of the sound. Drifter's white fist had slammed into the forgotten wine glass, instantly shattering it. Blood was trickling from her hand, shards of glass lying across the table.
She pulled down, hissing at him. "It would be in your best interest, Strider," she stressed his name angrily, "If you finished your questioning." She paused, a sick grin lining her lips once again.
"Actually, I dare you to continue. But then you might find yourself with a second shadow." Her words were promising, a smirk dancing across her lips at the irony of her words. She then pulled back, walking out of the small corner. A hand suddenly grasped her wrist, preventing her from leaving.
"Tessa no'." (Hold on.)He ordered. She twitched. Now he decided to keep their conversation private? "Lle cam." (Your hand.) His words were surprisingly quiet. Drifter came back, standing in front of him.
Looking blankly at the wound, she saw numerous chunks of glass protruding from the side of her hand, one even pinning the end of her cloaks sleeve to her flesh. Grabbing a particularly large piece, she pulled, ripping it clean from her white skin, tearing the end of her cloak. She continued this six or seven times until all of the larger shards had been removed, dropping them all onto the table. Not once did she flinch. Nor did her expression change from the cold dead stare it harbored.
After a moment, she stopped, her eyes analyzing the wound. Drifter then let her hand fall back to her side, turning around and stalking away. Strider was confused; that was it?
"Ier il lle autaien a' fallani' ta?" (Aren't you going to heal it?) He asked, silently amazed with her lack of reaction. She glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes set in a lifeless stare.
"Amin il cuela a'." (I have no need to.) Drifter circled back, the torn sleeve allowing Strider a glimpse of her hand. His eyes turned large once more.
The wound was completely healed. There was no sign of injury anywhere save for the faint blood that still clung to her skin. But he couldn't tell if it was her miraculous healing abilities or her blood that left him breathless. While he had never seen such a fast process of healing, her blood was something else.
Unlike anything he'd ever seen before.
It was black. Like raw tar, but more fluid, alive in its own way. Amongst the pile of glass, her blood stuck, sending a quiet chill down the man's spine as it dripped onto the table. His eyes trailed after Drifter as she sauntered across the large room, eyes once again locked on her. He would nearly go so far as to say that there was a black crackle of air following her as she walked off.
The Drifter was, however, too furious to really care about any of these possible tribulations at this point. Sitting down at another table, she glared heatedly at him across the room. Her eyes only averted from him when the door opened again, another half hour later.
Glancing up she saw four soaked hobbits walk in, talking quietly to the bartender. She stood, but after a moment sat back down, her eyes locked on Frodo. Deciding to test a theory she had come up with, she set her eyes set in a dead stare as she moved forward with the test.
Sure enough, after a few seconds the hobbit's blue eyes were dancing there way around the bar, trying to find which pair of eyes were boring holes through him. After another five seconds, he found her.
Eyes widening in what she guessed would be surprise, Frodo turned back to his friends, whispering to them. They all followed his gaze and soon four sets of eyes were looking at her. One of them said something, but over the roar of the crowd Drifter could not hear. The place had filled up over the past half hour and at the moment she was just trying to block it all out. However, she ignored the boisterous crowd and kept her eyes on the half-lings. The other three nodded before all of them began to make their way across the bar towards her.
It took them a moment, but soon the little group was standing in front of her, all dripping wet from being outside. Three of them were clearly weary of her, but Frodo was quick to speak to her.
"Thank you for meeting us here." He said earnestly. Sitting down beside her, he removed his soaked cloaked. After seating himself, he gestured to his companions, "I'm Frodo. These are my friends; Sam, Pippin and Merry." He sat down beside her; not knowing the looks was he receiving from the other occupants in the bar.
The others glanced to one another before doing the same. The stout one, who if she recalled was Sam, sat to the other side of Frodo, with Merry and Pippin, who looked eerily alike, on the bench opposite the trio.
As the two across from her were sitting down, Drifter spoke. "Why did you request to meet me here little one?" The other three looked startled that she had spoken. "From the looks on your companion's faces I would say did not think it wise of you to ask such a thing."
They were even more surprised when Frodo calmly replied. "I wanted to ask you something things." She looked down at him, waiting for him to continue. His blue eyes bore into hers. "What were you doing at my uncle's party that night? And why did you follow me up to his house afterwards?" So he had found her. But oh no, this little hobbit had more to ask. "And why have you been following us all this time?" Interesting. The others exchanged confused glances.
A soft smile graced her lips. "Curiosity I suppose." She laughed a little, their befuddled expressions humoring her. "Not many people can catch me off guard like you did Frodo, and I was wondering if it was luck, or something else that allowed you to see me."
The round one spoke, "What do you mean? Cannot everyone see you?" He suddenly paled. "Are you some kind of ghost?" She laughed again.
"I can assure you Sam, I am no a ghost. But if I do not wish to be seen, you will not see me." She gestured towards Frodo. "But your friend here managed to catch me off guard countless times, when even most rangers," her eyes glanced back across the room. Strider was smoking again, staring at them intently. She smirked, "have difficulty tracking me."
"Not to be nosey or anything, but why would you have rangers tracking you?" Pippin said, his round features extending his show of curiosity.
"That is a story for another time. For now, enjoy yourselves. If what happened earlier this evening is to ever repeat itself, you may not find another chance to do so." She said, offering him a smile. Pippin seemed to accept this answer before standing up.
"Frodo, Sam; would you like anything?" The two nodded. Merry looked towards her, "And would you like something to drink Miss, um—"
"Drifter," she said, "and no thank you, I had some wine while I was waiting for you to arrive." He responded with a small 'oh' before getting up with his friend and walking up to the bar. Frodo, unrelenting in his questioning, turned towards her again.
"How long were you waiting?" He asked.
She shrugged, "About an hour. Nothing to terrible." She mentally snorted. Terrible no, frustrating yes. Time to change the topic. "But how was it coming here? With this weather it must have been tough."
The half-ling nodded, speaking in a hushed tone. "It was. We had to be careful to make sure the Black Riders weren't following us."
"Not to mention the rain. It was probably the biggest hindrance. Couldn't see ten feet in front of you." Sam commented. "All you need was some soap and you'd be set to take a bath out there." His words got a laugh from her. Both looked at her quizzically.
"What's so funny?" Frodo asked.
"Your words sparked a fond memory is all." Her features suddenly turned soft. "Of my brothers." A frown suddenly was presented to them. "Whom I have not seen them in a very long time." Now that she thought about it, when was the last time she had gone home? How long had she been away?
"Well, when was the last time you saw them?" Sam inquired.
"About four years I would say." She laughed quietly to herself. "Goodness knows what they think happened to me. They're probably worried sick about me by now."
"They're family." Frodo said, catching her eye. "It's their job to worry about you." She smiled down at him, and he returned the gesture. They both looked up to see a plate of food and four beers being set on the table.
Merry grabbed a mug, quickly sitting down and picking up a drumstick. In between bites, he spoke, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm hungry." The others laughed quietly, soon joining in on the meal. The Hobbits made small talk with one another while Drifter merely sat, enjoying the peaceful scene. However, it was Merry seemed to notice her lack of participation.
"Aren't you going to eat anything?" He asked, finishing off his beer. Now all of them were looking at her. She put a hand up in defense.
"It is your food, not mine."
"Eat something." Sam said, taking a large gulp from his mug. "I'd feel like a pig if you didn't." She laughed once more.
"Alright." Agreeing, she grabbed a piece of bread, eating it slowly. They all seemed satisfied with this. Merry suddenly stood up, quickly having all of their eyes upon him.
"Well, I'm going to get another ale." He looked to them. "Anyone else want anything?" They all shook their heads and he bounced off. They all chuckled as they watched him go.
Drifter suddenly arose from her seat, the half-lings eyes following her. She would see how much they needed her. "Well, Frodo, if that was all you wanted to ask of me, I will take my leave. It was nice meeting you." Much to her silent delight, a hand grasped the fabric of her cloak.
"Wait!" Frodo proclaimed, his hand latched on to her cloak. She looked down at him. "Please, don't leave. At least not yet." Sam and Pippin exchanged glances again. "Our friend was supposed to meet us here, but he has yet to arrive." She felt another pair of eyes on here. These were boring fiery holes into her back. Drifter ignored them for the moment.
"Alright Frodo, I will stay for now." She then reseated herself, earning a soft smile from the half-ling. He replied with a thank you. She nodded once before trailing her eyes back over to the dim corner.
Strider was still there, staring at them, or more, her. And much to her delight, he looked absolutely livid. Snickering to herself she wondered what was irking him so much about her being with the half-lings.
It wasn't like she was going to botch them. If anything, she wanted to help them with their little quest. Besides, they had done nothing to her. Therefore she had no reason to harm them. Although she doubted they could do anything even if they tried. Merry suddenly returned, a very large mug in hand. Pippin looked amazed.
"What's that?" He asked, eyes wide.
"This, my friend, is a pint." Merry then took a large sip from the mug, taking off the top foam.
"It comes in pints?" Pippen questioned, aghast. But before anyone could reply, he stood; mind set, "I'm getting one." He was already halfway to the bar when Sam spoke.
"But you've already had a whole half!" He bellowed, but his words fell on deaf ears. Frodo chuckled at him. Sam shook his head, his eyes turning over to stare at the second shrouded figure the bar had. He nudged Frodo, "That fellow's done nothing but stare at us since we've arrived." Both of them were surprised when their new female acquaintance spoke almost immediately after the comment was made.
"He's a ranger. They're dangerous, always wandering the wilds and such." Her voice was deadly calm. "I've never heard him called by his real name, but most people know him as Strider." During this, her eyes locked with ranger's, glaring. She would've gladly kept up the staring match, but a sudden laugh from the bar caught her attention.
"Baggins?" It was Pippin, drunk and talking to some other men at the bar. "Sure I know a Baggins. He's over there, Frodo Baggins." Said hobbit stood, quickly making his way over to Pippin to shut him up. "He's my second cousin, once removed on my mother's side. And my third cousin twice removed on my father's side, if you follow me. " Frodo was dodging around people in his attempts to shut his friend up.
"Pippin!" Frodo exclaimed, grabbing his friend by the shoulder. His eyes danced through the crowd, now weary.
The other hobbit wobbled in his seat a bit. "Steady on Frodo." Without warning, Frodo tumbled backwards. Drifter watched as a faint glimmer of the Ring few up into the air as Frodo reached out to grab for it. Her mind had but an instant to understand just what ring he possessed before it slipped onto his finger, his image disappearing from view all while entering a paralleled world.
People gasped, mumbling to themselves as to what had just transpired. The other hobbit's now realized their mistake, eyes wide in concern. Across the bar, Strider stood, slinking across the bar.
But for Drifter, a much different scenario played. Her eyes were beginning to bleed black from the pupil outwards, further staining the whites of her eye. Her tainted orbs seemed to follow an invisible figure as it walked its way across the bar. He had it! He had the One Ring! She stood, following after the unseen figure, the crowd parting for her as she passed. Her head didn't hurt this time. In fact, what she felt was far from pain.
It was euphoria. This feeling was like an addictive drug, asking for more. And she couldn't help but want to comply just to keep the feeling there for a bit longer. But just as she was upon the figure, the feeling stopped, and she let out a dry gasp, the room suddenly a rushed blur. Her hands instantly made a reach for something, anything stable to keep her from falling. Luckily, a chair was near and she grabbed its back, only falling to one knee. She sat panting for a moment, her eyes reverting to the normal state as she tried to regain her composure.
Faint drops of sweat were trickling their way down her face as she peered back across the room. Eyes were once again on her, but she stood stiffly, partially glaring at the rude onlookers. Her white-black orbs danced across the room, noticing three hobbits hastily make their way over to her. They stood in front of her, looking pale.
"Where is Frodo?" She asked. Even to herself her voice sounded hoarse. She swallowed, listening to Sam speak.
"That Strider man took him upstairs." He said. Without a second thought she turned on heel, walking over to the narrow stairway, the three remaining half-lings trailing close behind her.
She took it three steps at a time. She was livid. First, he shows up, ruining her peaceful evening, pissing her off, making her hurt herself in the process and now making off with one of the half-lings. And the unique one who has possession of the Ring nonetheless! Growling, she grasped the brass doorknob, letting the door fly open.
None of them knew how she did it, but when they next blinked, Drifter had flown across the room. A sleek blade suddenly appeared from underneath her cloak and was now tightly pressed against the opposing ranger's throat. Her eyes were two blazing infernos, aimed directly at the ranger.
His hood was down, giving them a view of his worn features. His damp brown hair waved softly down to the top of his shoulders, his persistent brown eyes locked with the white-black orbs that were now glaring heatedly at him in a fury.
Her words were low and drenched in pure anger. "Back off filth." Those three words hung in the air as a dangerous threat. All of their eyes were wide. "You have no business with us." There was a pause. "Leave."
The ranger showed no fear. "I know what hunts you." Her eyes narrowed.
"And what, do you want to help us?" He nodded, trying to ignore the sharp blade that was currently pressed against his jugular. She snorted, "Why?"
"Because you know nothing of their true power. If you continue on as you are, you will eventually fall to their corruption. Let me help you." Their eyes blared against one another before she growled again, sheathing her sword. The hobbits all let out a breath, thankful there had been no bloodshed. But that didn't stop her from holding a grudge.
"Fine." She spat, still glaring at him. Taking a step, she stood beside him. "Lead the way." She gestured towards the stairs. Strider eyed her wearily before making his way down the narrow passage. The half-lings followed behind him, Drifter follow close behind as the ranger led them away.
Standard Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha or Lord of the Rings.
"But then you might find yourself with a second shadow."
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Important Note #1: This entire story takes place after the InuYasha quest comes to a close, which has already happened in Japan. For those of you who already know that, then you're fine. But for those of you who are out of the loop with that, I will warn you now, there may be a few spoilers in the future. I'm not promising anything; I just wanted to warn you.
Important Note #2: From now on, Elvin will be seen on and off within this story. While some phrases are direct word-for-word translations, others aren't and are derivatives of root words and/or the main ideas of what I'm trying to have the characters say. I will try to get them as up to par as I can so please bare with me even though they're not perfect.
I told you it would be longer, but there was a price to pay for the length; time. Sorry it took so long to update and if you find it just a filler chapter, sorry there too. And thank you to those who reviewed. You all refueled my urge to get this posted after an almost two month hiatus! But now that we're actually starting to get to the good part, hopefully things won't take as long.
Until later