Hello my readers Nuin Griffondor here, so i have been putting a large amount of effort into this next chapter, the beginning of the fellowship of the ring.

I would like to thank my followers favoriters, and reviewers, you guys are my inspiration to write.

15 years later

I walk with Aragorn towards Bree, we are both known in the village, but not by our actual names, Aragorn is known as Strider, I am known as Shadow. We head towards Bree because Gandalf asked us to stay near it, because a Hobbit, who has found my real father's ring, will be coming to Bree and that he will be going by Underhill, and that his real name is Frodo Baggins. We arrive at a wall and hearing the clip clop of hooves, hide behind it. We hear the sounds of Hobbit voices,

"-But I won't deny I'll be glad to see this Prancing Pony he spoke of. I hope it'll be like Th e Green Dragon away back home! What sort of folk are they in Bree?'

"There are hobbits in Bree,' said another, 'as well as Big Folk. I daresay it will be homelike enough. The Pony is a good inn by all accounts. My people ride out there now and again."

"It may be all we could wish,' says one; 'but it is outside the Shire all the same. Don't make yourselves too much at home! Please remember – all of you – that the name of Baggins must not be mentioned. I am Mr. Underhill, if any name must be given."

Aragorn looks at me and make a sign to me that says we follow them. I nod as we follow them at a distance that they cannot see us, but we can see them, I could make out four figures, riding ponies. As they neared the gates of Bree, we went to the brush near the gate. As the hobbits came to the gate the gatewatcher jumped up.

"What do you want, and where do you come from?" he asked gruffly.

"We are making for the inn here," answered Frodo. "We are journeying east and cannot go further tonight."

"Hobbits! Four hobbits! And what's more, out of the Shire by their talk," says the gatekeeper, softly as if speaking to himself. He stared at them darkly for a moment, and then slowly opened the gate and let them ride through.

"Our names and our business are our own, and this does not seem a good place to discuss them," says Frodo, not liking the look of the man or the tone of his voice.

"Your business is your own, no doubt," says the man; "but it's my business to ask questions after nightfall."

"We are hobbits from Buckland, and we have a fancy to travel and to stay at the inn here," put in one. "I am Mr. Brandybuck. Is that enough for you? The Bree-folk used to be fair-spoken to travellers, or so I had heard."

"All right, all right!" says the man. "I meant no offence. But you'll find maybe that more folk than old Harry at the gate will be asking you questions. There's queer folk about. If you go on to The Pony, you'll find you're not the only guests."

He let them through and as he turned around to go back to his cabin thing, Aragorn and me slipped past him. As we were in a town I pulled my cowl over my face, as did Aragorn, after following the hobbits to the prancing pony and went into the inn right after the hobbits and took a table near the back. Butterbur notices us in the back , comes over and we both order ale, Aragorn then inquires about the hobbits who came in, and asks to see them.

Butterbur refuses and then after bringing us our ale he leaves to go see to some dwarves. I take out my pipe and start smoking it. Three of the hobbits come into the room and are given welcomes, I hear the names Underhill, Took, and Gamgee. Butterbur then introduces nearly everyone in the room to them. The hobbits of bree started conversing with them. Two of them seemed to make themselves quite at home and talked merrily with them people of the room. Mr. 'Underhill' seemed quite uncomfortable with the people.

He looked over at us and then asked Butterbur "Who are they?" Frodo asked, when he got a chance to whisper, thinking that we couldn't hear him, to Mr. Butterbur. "I don't think you introduced them?"

"Them?" says the landlord in an answering whisper, "I don't rightly know. They are some of the wandering folk – Rangers we call them. They seldom talk: not but what he can tell a rare tale when he has the mind. They disappears for a month, or a year, and then they pop up again. They were in and out pretty often last spring; but I haven't seen him about lately. What their right names are I've never heard: but he's known round here as Strider and she's known around here as Wraith. He goes about at a great pace on his long shanks; though he don't tell nobody what cause he has to hurry. She seems to appear and disappear seems and she never takes off her hood. But there's no accounting for East and West, as we say in Bree, meaning the Rangers and the Shire-folk, begging your pardon. Funny you should ask about him." But at that moment Mr. Butterbur was called away by a demand for more ale and his last remark remained unexplained to the poor hobbit.

The hobbit looked over at us again and Aragorn nodded and motioned him to join us, while i blew a few smoke rings in the air.

"I am called Strider," Aragorn says in a low voice. "I am very pleased to meet you, Master – Underhill, if old Butterbur got your name right."

"He did," says Frodo stiffly. He looked uncomfortable under the stare of Aragorn's keen eyes.

"Well, Master Underhill," Aragorn tells him, "if I were you, I should stop your young friends from talking too much. Drink, fire, and chance-meeting are pleasant enough, but, well – this isn't the Shire. There are queer folk about. Though I say it as shouldn't, you may think," he added with a wry smile, seeing Frodo's glance. "And there have been even stranger travellers through Bree lately," he went on, watching Frodo's face.

I began to feel a cold dread tingle down my spine, which was strange for there was no reason for me to feel this, and it wouldn't go away.

Suddenly Frodo jumped onto a table and started giving a speech, while fingering something in his pocket, there is a loud call for a song, to which Frodo, that insane little hobbit, agrees to, he sings it then sings it again jumps at a part of it then lands with a crash and vanishes. My eyes widen, because I know he just put on the ring, which means that the Nazgûl would be coming this way, and if we were really unlucky, my father's gaze sweeping right towards us. I notice many people leaving the bar and I look towards Aragorn, who was looking at the young master Baggins, who had materialize right next to us.

"Well?" I say to him, when he reappeared. "Why did you do that you idiot? Worse than anything your friends could have says! You have put your foot in it! Or should I say your finger through it?"

"I don't know what you mean," Frodo tells me, looking alarmed.

"Oh yes, you do,"Aragorn tells him; "but we had better wait until the uproar has died down. Then, if you please, Mr. Baggins, we should like a quiet word with you."

"What about?" asked Frodo, ignoring the sudden use of his proper name.

"A matter of some importance – to all of us," answered Aragorn, looking Frodo in the eye. "You may hear something to your advantage."

"Very well," says Frodo, trying to appear unconcerned. "I'll talk to you later."

Aragorn left some coins on the table for our drinks the he and I left the room heading to where the hobbits were staying.

"Why did he do that, by the Valar, we're going to be lucky if we survive the night, much less get it, the hobbit and us to Rivendell safely." I hiss to him very annoyed.

"Well there is nothing we can do about it tonight, let us see what the hobbits accommodations look like before we jump to conclusions about our chances." He chuckles before we let ourselves into the hobbit's rooms. Aragorn takes a chair and sits down on it in the middle of the room, I sit down on the table and continue to smoke my pipe. We didn't have to wait long, the Hobbits way back to their parlour. There was no light because the fire had burned low. It was not until they had puffed up the embers into a blaze and thrown on a couple of faggots that they discovered Aragorn and I were in the room.

"Hallo!" the young Took "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I am called Strider," Aragorn answered

"I am called Wraith" I tell him

"and though he may have forgotten it, your friend promised to have a quiet talk with us."

"You said I might hear something to my advantage, I believe," says Frodo. "What have you to say?"

"Well," I say getting up and making sure the door is closed, "I want a little more caution from you that is no trinket you carry."

"I carry nothing," Frodo says almost calmly.

"Indeed," Aragorn says in a tone that begets disbelief

Took and Gamgee two hobbits move themselves closer to Frodo. They all take a seat at the table.

"We can remain unseen if we wish, but to completely vanish, well either you are a wizard, of you have something that we all know you have." I say looking at them

"Now, we were behind the hedge this evening on the Road west of Bree, when four hobbits came out of the Downlands. I need not repeat all that they said to old Bombadil or to one another; but one thing interested me. Please remember, said one of them, that the name Baggins must not be mentioned. I am Mr. Underhill, if any name must be given. That interested us so much that we followed them here. We slipped over the gate just behind them. Maybe Mr. Baggins has an honest reason for leaving his name behind; but if so, I should advise him and his friends to be more careful." Aragorn put in.

"I don't see what interest my name has for anyone in Bree," says Frodo angrily, "and I have still to learn why it interests you. Mr. Strider may have an honest reason for spying and eavesdropping; but if so, I should advise him to explain it."

"Well answered!" Aragorn laughed. "But the explanation is simple: We were looking for a Hobbit called Frodo Baggins. I wanted to find him quickly. I had learned that he was carrying out of the Shire, well, a secret that concerned me and my friends."

"Now, don't mistake us!" he cried, as Frodo rose from his seat, and gamgee jumped up with a scowl. "I shall take more care of the secret than you do. And care is needed!' He leaned forward and looked at them. "Watch every shadow!" he says in a low voice. 'Black horsemen have passed through Bree. On Monday one came down the Greenway, they say; and another appeared later, coming up the Greenway from the south."

There was a silence. At last Frodo spoke to Pippin and Sam: "I ought to have guessed it from the way the gatekeeper greeted us," he says. "And the landlord seems to have heard something. Why did he press us to join the company? And why on earth did we behave so foolishly: we ought to have stayed quiet in here."

'It would have been better," I tell them as I empty out the extinguished contents of my pipe.

"We would have stopped your going into the common-room, if we could; but the innkeeper would not let us in to see you, or take a message."

"Do you think he—" began Frodo.

"No, I don't think any harm of old Butterbur. Only he does not altogether like mysterious vagabond's of our sort." Frodo gave him a puzzled look. "Well, we have rather a rascally look, have we not?" Aragorn tells him

I pretend to take offence to this, "Well some of us don't dress in forest drag all the time, now I have my suspicions that Butterbur believes me to be an assassin of sorts."

"Now, about that little prank—"

"It was sheer accident!" interrupted Frodo.

"I wonder," Aragorn asks precociously. "Accident, then. That accident has made your position dangerous."

"Hardly more than it was already," says Frodo. "I knew these horsemen were pursuing me; but now at any rate they seem to have missed me and to have gone away."

"They will return. And more are coming. There are others. We know their number. We know these Riders." He paused, and his eyes were cold and hard. "And there are some folk in Bree who are not to be trusted," he went on.

"Bill Ferny, for instance. He has an evil name in the Bree-land, and queer folk call at his house. You must have noticed him among the company: a swarthy sneering fellow. He was very close with one of the Southern strangers, and they slipped out together just after your "accident". Not all of those Southerners mean well; and as for Ferny, he would sell anything to anybody; or make mischief for amusement." I put in

'What will Ferny sell, and what has my accident got to do with him?" asks Frodo, rather slowly, still not taking the hint

"News of you, of course," answered Strider. "An account of your performance would be very interesting to certain people. After that they would hardly need to be told your real name. It seems to me only too likely that they will hear of it before this night is over. Is that enough? You can do as you like about my reward: take us as a guide or not. But I may say that we know all the lands between the Shire and the Misty Mountains, for we have wandered over them for many years. I am older than I look, and she is far older than she appears. We might prove useful. You will have to leave the open road after tonight; for the horsemen will watch it night and day. You may escape from Bree, and be allowed to go forward while the Sun is up; but you won't go far. They will come on you in the wild, in some dark place where there is no help. Do you wish them to find you? They are terrible!" He finishes and looks at me, both of us remembering the event from 13 years ago.

*Flashback*

Aragorn and me were going through the woods with a couple other rangers, hunting an orc pack that had been terrorizing small northern towns and killing farmers. We found the orc pack in the cave and slew them, taking only minor injuries. We were about to leave the cave when a chill when down my back. From the entrance of the cave an unearthly shriek came from the entrance of the cave. The four of us spin round to see five figures cloaked in black. I feel an aura of terror start to consume the four of us.

"What are you," I ask the figures.

One figure makes a hissing sound, which I realized was one of the things laughing.

In a low hissing voice the one in the front tells me, "Ones beyond your power to kill rangers, We are the Nazgûl," I stiffen in shock as do the other three, "We have been sent by our master to end you, heir of Elendil."

I draw my bow and let an arrow loose at the creatures, The arrow hits the creature, but does no damage to it, a high cold laughter erupts from the five.

"Any ideas?" I ask the other three.

"Stall till I think up a plan," Aragorn says unhelpfully.

The Nazgûl get off their horses and draw long blades from within their robes and the fighting began all of our blades weaving around in a beautiful yet deadly dance of death. The other two rangers we had be with had been slain then i remembered, Magic. I notice that a Nazgûl is coming up behind Aragorn. I spin towards it "Náré!" I shout and fire bursts across the back of the Nazgûl, causing it to panic and run into another of the Nazgûl. I smile but then a pain erupts down my back as i fall to the ground the Nazgûl I had been fighting slashed my back. I fell to the ground as Aragorn took a torch that he had used one of the flaming Nazgûl to light it and thrown it at the one behind me, hitting it in the face.

*Flashback ends*

The hobbits looked at us, seeing to their surprise with surprise that both of our faces are drawn as if with pain, Aragorn's hands clenched the arms of his chair and me reaching back to feel the long scar running down my back.. The room was very quiet and still, and the light seemed to have grown dim.

"There!" he cried after a moment, drawing his hand across his brow. "Perhaps we know more about these pursuers than you do. You fear them, but you do not fear them enough, yet. Tomorrow you will have to escape, if you can. Strider can take you by paths that are seldom trodden. Will you have him?"

There was a heavy silence. Frodo made no answer; his mind was confused with doubt and fear. Sam frowned, and looked at his master; and at last he broke out:

"With your leave, Mr. Frodo, I'd say no! This Strider here, he warns and he says take care; and I say yes to that, and let's begin with him. He comes out of the Wild, and I never heard no good of such folk. He knows something, that's plain, and more than I like; but it's no reason why we should let him go leading us out into some dark place far from help, as he puts it."

Pippin fidgeted and looked uncomfortable. Strider did not reply to Sam, but turned his keen eyes on Frodo. Frodo caught his glance and looked away. "No," he says slowly. "I don't agree. I think, I think you are not really as you choose to look. You began to talk to me like the Bree-folk, but your voice has changed. Still Sam seems right in this: I don't see why you should warn us to take care, and yet ask us to take you on trust. Why the disguise? Who are you? What do you really know about – about my business; and how do you know it?"

"The lesson in caution has been well learned," I say with a grim smile. "But caution is one thing and wavering is another. You will never get to Rivendell now on your own, and to trust us is your only chance. You must make up your mind. I will answer some of your questions, if that will help you to do so. But why should you believe my story, if you do not trust me already? Still here it is—"

At that moment there came a knock at the door. Butterbur had arrived with candles, and behind him was Nob with cans of hot water. Aragorn withdrew into a dark corner and i retreated to the shadows next to the fire pit.

"I've come to bid you goodnight," says the landlord, putting the candles on the table. "Nob! Take the water to the rooms!" He came in and shut the door.

"It's like this," he began, hesitating and looking troubled. "If I've done any harm, I'm sorry indeed. But one thing drives out another, as you'll admit; and I'm a busy man. But first one thing and then another this week have jogged my memory, as the saying goes; and not too late I hope. You see, I was asked to look out for hobbits of the Shire, and for one by the name of Baggins in particular."

"And what has that got to do with me?" asked Frodo.

"Ah! you know best," says the landlord, knowingly. "I won't give you away; but I was told that this Baggins would be going by the name of Underhill, and I was given a description that fits you well enough, if I may say so."

"Indeed! Let's have it then!" says Frodo, unwisely interrupting.

"A stout little fellow with red cheeks," says Mr. Butterbur solemnly. Pippin chuckled, but Sam looked indignant. "That won't help you much; it goes for most hobbits, Barley, he says to me," continued Mr. Butterbur with a glance at Pippin. "But this one is taller than some and fairer than most, and he has a cleft in his chin: perky chap with a bright eye. Begging your pardon, but he says it, not me."

"He said it? And who was he?" asked Frodo eagerly.

"Ah! That was Gandalf, if you know who I mean. A wizard they say he is, but he's a good friend of mine, whether or no. But now I don't know what he'll have to say to me, if I see him again: turn all my ale sour or me into a block of wood, I shouldn't wonder. He's a bit hasty. Still what's done can't be undone."

"Well, what have you done?" says Frodo, getting impatient.

"Where was I?" says the landlord, pausing and snapping his fingers. "Ah, yes! Old Gandalf. Three months back he walked right into my room without a knock. Barley, he says, I'm off in the morning. Will you do something for me? You've only to name it, I said. I'm in a hurry, said he, and I've no time myself, but I want a message took to the Shire. Have you anyone you can send, and trust to go? I can find someone, I said, tomorrow, maybe, or the day after. Make it tomorrow, he says, and then he gave me a letter.

"It's addressed plain enough," says Butterbur, producing a letter from his pocket, and reading out the address slowly and proudly (he valued his reputation as a lettered man):

Mr. FRODO BAGGINS, BAG END, HOBBITON in the SHIRE.

"A letter for me from Gandalf!" cried Frodo.

"Ah!" says Butterbur. "Then your right name is Baggins?"

"It is," says Frodo, "and you had better give me that letter at once, and explain why you never sent it. That's what you came to tell me, I suppose, though you've taken a long time to come to the point."

Butterbur looked troubled. "You're right, master," he says, "and I beg your pardon. And I'm mortal afraid of what Gandalf will say, if harm comes of it. But I didn't keep it back a-purpose. I put it by safe. Then I couldn't find nobody willing to go to the Shire next day, nor the day after, and none of my own folk were to spare; and then one thing after another drove it out of my mind. I'm a busy man. I'll do what I can to set matters right, and if there's any help I can give, you've only to name it.

"Leaving the letter aside, I promised Gandalf no less. Barley, he says to me, this friend of mine from the Shire, he may be coming out this way before long, him and another. He'll be calling himself Underhill. Mind that! But you need ask no questions. And if I'm not with him, he may be in trouble, and he may need help. Do whatever you can for him, and I'll be grateful, he says. And here you are, and trouble is not far off, seemingly."

"What do you mean?" asked Frodo.

"These black men," says the landlord lowering his voice. "They're looking for Baggins, and if they mean well, then I'm a hobbit. It was on Monday, and all the dogs were yammering and the geese screaming. Uncanny, I called it. Nob, he came and told me that two black men were at the door asking for a hobbit named Baggins. Nob's hair was all stood on end. I bid the black fellows be off, and slammed the door on them; but they've been asking the same question all the way to Archet, I hear. And those Rangers, Strider and Wraith, they've been asking questions, too. Tried to get in here to see you, before you'd had bite or sup, they did."

"We did!" Aragorn says suddenly, coming forward into the light. "And much trouble would have been saved, if you had let them in, Barliman."

"Indeed, now we will be very fortunate to last the night," I say coolly stepping out of the shadows

The landlord jumped with surprise. "You!" he cried. "The both of you are always popping up. What do you want now?"

"They're here with my leave," says Frodo. "They came to offer me their help."

"Well, you know your own business, maybe," said Butterbur, looking suspiciously at Strider. 'But if I was in your plight, I wouldn't take up with Rangers."

"Then who would you take up with?" Aragorn asks "A fat innkeeper who only remembers his own name because people shout it at him all day? They cannot stay in The Pony for ever, and they cannot go home. They have a long road before them. Will you go with them and keep the black men off?"

"Me? Leave Bree! I wouldn't do that for any money," says Butterbur, looking really scared. "But why can't you stay here quiet for a bit, Mr. Underhill? What are all these queer goings on? What are these black men after, and where do they come from, I'd like to know?"

"I'm sorry I can't explain it all," answered Frodo. "I am tired and very worried, and it's a long tale. But if you mean to help me, I ought to warn you that you will be in danger as long as I am in your house. These Black Riders: I am not sure, but I think, I fear they come from—"

"They come from Mordor," I say hoarsely in a low voice. "From Mordor, Butterbur, they are direct servants of he who sits in the dark tower, chew on that for a while."

'Save us!' cried Butterbur paleing; the name and title I gave evidently was known and feared by him. "That is the worst news that has come to Bree in my time."

"It is,' says Frodo. 'Are you still willing to help me?"

"I am," says Mr. Butterbur. "More than ever. Though I don't know what the likes of me can do against, against—" he faltered.

"Against the Shadow in the East," Aragorn says quietly. "Not much, Barliman, but every little helps. You can let Mr. Underhill stay here tonight, as Mr. Underhill; and you can forget the name of Baggins, till he is far away."

"I'll do that," says Butterbur. "But they'll find out he's here without help from me, I'm afraid. It's a pity Mr. Baggins drew attention to himself this evening, to say no more. The story of that Mr. Bilbo's going off has been heard before tonight in Bree. Even our Nob has been doing some guessing in his slow pate; and there are others in Bree quicker in the uptake than he is."

"Well, we can only hope the Riders won't come back yet," Frodo hopefully says.

"Fat chance of that, they will be here soon," I think but don't say aloud

"I hope not, indeed," says Butterbur. "But spooks or no spooks, they won't get in The Pony so easy. Don't you worry till the morning. Nob'll say no word. No black man shall pass my doors, while I can stand on my legs. Me and my folk'll keep watch tonight; but you had best get some sleep, if you can."

"In any case we must be called at dawn," says Frodo. "We must get off as early as possible. Breakfast at six-thirty, please."

"Right! I'll see to the orders," says the landlord. "Good night, Mr. Baggins – Underhill, I should say! Good night – now, bless me! Where's your Mr. Brandybuck?"

"I don't know," says Frodo with sudden anxiety. "I am afraid he is out. He says something about going for a breath of air."

"Well, you do want looking after and no mistake: your party might be on a holiday!" said Butterbur. "I must go and bar the doors quick, but I'll see your friend is let in when he comes. I'd better send Nob to look for him. Good night to you all!" At last Mr. Butterbur went out, with another doubtful look at me and Aragron and a shake of his head. His footsteps retreated down the passage.

"Well?" Aragorn asks "When are you going to open that letter?" Frodo looked carefully at the seal before he broke it.

Frodo read the letter to himself, and then passed it to Pippin and Sam. "Really old Butterbur has made a mess of things!" he said. "He deserves roasting. If I had got this at once, we might all have been safe in Rivendell by now. But what can have happened to Gandalf? He writes as if he was going into great danger."

"He has been doing that for many years," Aragorn says looking to me.

"Don't look at me, he has been doing it longer than I have known him." I say smiling

Frodo turned and looked at us thoughtfully, "Why didn't you tell me that you were Gandalf's friends at once?" he asked. "It would have saved time."

"Would it? Would any of you have believed me till now?" Aragorn asks. "I knew nothing of this letter. For all I knew I had to persuade you to trust me without proofs, if I was to help you. In any case, I did not intend to tell you all about myself at once. I had to study you first, and make sure of you. The Enemy has set traps for me before now. As soon as I had made up my mind, I was ready to tell you whatever you asked. But I must admit," he added with a queer laugh, "that I hoped you would take to me for my own sake. A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship. But there, I believe my looks are against me."

"They are – at first sight at any rate," laughed Pippin with sudden relief after reading Gandalf's letter. "But handsome is as handsome does, as we say in the Shire; and I daresay we shall all look much the same after lying for days in hedges and ditches."

"It would take more than a few days, or weeks, or years, of wandering in the Wild to make you look like Strider," he answered.

"Or a raith And you would die first, unless you are made of sterner stuff than you look to be."

Pippin subsided; but Sam was not daunted, and he still eyed Strider dubiously. "How do we know you are the Strider and Wraith that Gandalf speaks about?" he demanded. "You never mentioned Gandalf, till this letter came out. You might be a play-acting spy, for all I can see, trying to get us to go with you. You might have done in the real Strider and took his clothes. What have you to say to that?"

"That you are a stout fellow," Aragorn answers; "but I am afraid my only answer to you, Sam Gamgee, is this. If we had killed the real Strider and Wraith, we could kill you. And I should have killed you already without so much talk. If I was after the Ring, I could have it – now!"

Catching onto what he was doing I stood up and threw back my cloak putting my hand on my blade.

He stood up, and seemed suddenly to grow taller. In his eyes gleamed a light, keen and commanding. Throwing back his cloak, he laid his hand on the hilt of a sword that had hung concealed by his side. They did not dare to move. Sam sat wide-mouthed staring at him dumbly.

"But I am the real Strider, fortunately," he said, looking down at them with his face softened by a sudden smile. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn; and if by life or death I can save you, I will."

"And I am Arindil Leonáré, and I will also protect you even if it would cost me my life." I say kneeling down to Frodo's level.

There was a long silence. At last Frodo spoke with hesitation. "I believed that you were friends before the letter came," he said, "or at least I wished to. You have frightened me several times tonight, but never in the way that servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine. I think one of his spies would – well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand."

"I see," laughed Strider. "We look foul and feel fair. Is that it? All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost."

"Did the verses apply to you then?" asked Frodo. "I could not make out what they were about. But how did you know that they were in Gandalf's letter, if you have never seen it?"

"I did not know," he answered. "But I am Aragorn, and those verses go with that name." He drew out his sword, and they saw that the blade was indeed broken a foot below the hilt. "Not much use is it, Sam?" said Strider. "But the time is near when it shall be forged anew."

Sam said nothing.

"Well," said Strider, "with Sam's permission we will call that settled. Strider shall be your guide. And now I think it is time you went to bed and took what rest you can. We shall have a rough road tomorrow. Even if we are allowed to leave Bree unhindered, we can hardly hope now to leave it unnoticed. But I shall try to get lost as soon as possible. I know one or two ways out of Bree-land other than the main road. If once we shake off the pursuit, I shall make for Weathertop."

"Weathertop?" said Sam. "What's that?"

"It is a hill, just to the north of the Road, about half way from here to Rivendell. It commands a wide view all round; and there we shall have a chance to look about us. Gandalf will make for that point, if he follows us. After Weathertop our journey will become more difficult, and we shall have to choose between various dangers."

"When did you last see Gandalf?" asked Frodo. "Do you know where he is, or what he is doing?"

Strider looked grave. "I do not know," he said. "I came west with him in the spring. I have often kept watch on the borders of the Shire in the last few years, when he was busy elsewhere. He seldom left it unguarded. We last met on the first of May: at Sarn Ford down the Brandywine. He told me that his business with you had gone well, and that you would be starting for Rivendell in the last week of September. As I knew he was at your side, I went away on a journey of my own. And that has proved ill; for plainly some news reached him, and I was not at hand to help.

"I am troubled, for the first time since I have known him. We should have had messages, even if he could not come himself. When I returned, many days ago, I heard the ill news. The tidings had gone far and wide that Gandalf was missing and the horsemen had been seen. It was the Elven-folk of Gildor that told me this; and later they told me that you had left your home; but there was no news of your leaving Buckland. I have been watching the East Road anxiously."

Do you think the Black Riders have anything to do with it – with Gandalf 's absence, I mean?" asked Frodo.

"I do not know of anything else that could have hindered him, except the Enemy himself," said Strider. "But do not give up hope! Gandalf is greater than you Shire-folk know – as a rule you can only see his jokes and toys. But this business of ours will be his greatest task."

Pippin then turns to me, " Do you ever take your hood off, I would like to know your face lest someone try and deceive us."

"I am sure you would little Hobbit, but, I only rarely take my hood off, for people tend to stare or become uncomfortable and I do not wish that.

Pippin yawns. "I am sorry," he says, "but I am dead tired. In spite of all the danger and worry I must go to bed, or sleep where I sit. Where is that silly fellow, Merry? It would be the last straw, if we had to go out in the dark to look for him."

At that moment they heard a door slam; then feet came running along the passage. Merry came in with a rush followed by Nob. He shut the door hastily, and leaned against it. He was out of breath. They stared at him in alarm for a moment before he gasped: "I have seen them, Frodo! I have seen them! Black Riders!"

"Black Riders!" cries Frodo. "Where?"

"Here. In the village. I stayed indoors for an hour. Then as you did not come back, I went out for a stroll. I had come back again and was standing just outside the light of the lamp looking at the stars. Suddenly I shivered and felt that something horrible was creeping near: there was a sort of deeper shade among the shadows across the road, just beyond the edge of the lamplight. It slid away at once into the dark without a sound. There was no horse."

"Which way did it go?" Aragorn asks, suddenly and sharply.

"How many were there?" I ask right after him

Merry started, noticing us for the first time. "Go on!" said Frodo. "These are friends of Gandalf's. I will explain later."

"It seemed to make off up the Road, eastward," continued Merry. "I tried to follow. Of course, it vanished almost at once; but I went round the corner and on as far as the last house on the Road."

Strider looked at Merry with wonder. "You have a stout heart," he said; "but it was foolish."

"It was idiotic, are all hobbits this foolhardy," I ask rubbing my forehead.

"I don't know," said Merry. "Neither brave nor silly, I think. I could hardly help myself. I seemed to be drawn somehow. Anyway, I went, and suddenly I heard voices by the hedge. One was muttering; and the other was whispering, or hissing. I couldn't hear a word that was said. I did not creep any closer, because I began to tremble all over. Then I felt terrified, and I turned back, and was just going to bolt home, when something came behind me and I . . . I fell over."

"I found him, sir," put in Nob. "Mr. Butterbur sent me out with a lantern. I went down to West-gate, and then back up towards South-gate. Just nigh Bill Ferny's house I thought I could see something in the Road. I couldn't swear to it, but it looked to me as if two men was stooping over something, lifting it. I gave a shout, but when I got up to the spot there was no signs of them, and only Mr. Brandybuck lying by the roadside. He seemed to be asleep. "I thought I had fallen into deep water," he says to me, when I shook him. Very queer he was, and as soon as I had roused him, he got up and ran back here like a hare."

"I am afraid that's true," said Merry, "though I don't know what I said. I had an ugly dream, which I can't remember. I went to pieces. I don't know what came over me."

"I do," I say looking at Aragorn who proceeds to speak. "The Black Breath. The Riders must have left their horses outside, and passed back through the South-gate in secret. They will know all the news now, for they have visited Bill Ferny; probably that Southerner was a spy as well. Something may happen in the night, before we leave Bree."

"What will happen?" Merry questions. "Will they attack the inn?"

"No, I think not," Aragorn tells them "They are not all here yet. And in any case that is not their way. In dark and loneliness they are strongest; they will not openly attack a house where there are lights and many people – not until they are desperate, not while all the long leagues of Eriador still lie before us. But their power is in terror, and already some in Bree are in their clutch. They will drive these wretches to some evil work: Ferny, and some of the strangers, and, maybe, the gatekeeper too. They had words with Harry at West-gate on Monday. I was watching them. He was white and shaking when they left him."

'We seem to have enemies all round,' said Frodo. 'What are we to do?'

"Stay here, and do not go to your rooms! They are sure to have found out which those are. The hobbit-rooms have windows looking north and close to the ground. We will all remain together and bar this window and the door. But first Nob and I will fetch your luggage." He turns to me, "Stay with them, start doing what you can to secure this place.

While Aragorn was gone, Frodo gave Merry a rapid account of all that had happened since supper. I made myself busy by putting locking and closing spells on the windows. Merry was still reading and pondering Gandalf 's letter when Strider and Nob returned.

'Well Masters,' said Nob, 'I've ruffled up the clothes and put in a bolster down the middle of each bed. And I made a nice imitation of your head with a brown woollen mat, Mr. Bag – Underhill, sir,' he added with a grin.

Pippin laughed. 'Very life-like!' he said. 'But what will happen when they have penetrated the disguise?'

"Out of my way boys, for if they do get through these disguises i will have a magical quagmire ready for them." I say an evil grin on my face, I then set several magical traps traps of fire, wind, and burning light. I then close the door and begin laying spells of closing and locking on the door. When I finish I turn around drained and notice that Nob has left and the hobbits are preparing for bed.

Aragorn built up the fire and blew out all the candles.

The hobbits lay down on their blankets with their feet towards the hearth; but Strider settled himself in the chair against the door. They talked for a little, for Merry still had several questions to ask.

"Are you a wizard?" he asks me and i laugh a bit.

"No, I am not a wizard, I was trained in the uses of magic by Gandalf, but in a fight i prefer to uses my weapons, now get some sleep." I say as I sit back down, refill my pipe, light it with my finger and prepare for a long night.