Note: At last! This was the most difficult chapter so far (out of the first eleven). It being a roleplay, we incorporated Nell's and Yvonne's reactions into the scene, so it might feel a bit lengthy, but for the sake of the fanfiction version, we've pared down the original dialogue as much as we felt was appropriate, keeping enough to make the scene flow with our additional dialogue/content in a way that we were comfortable with. Thank you for being so patient! We're finally getting into the meat of things. :D

Chapter 8

Darkness Looms
~

As Aragorn and the girls slipped into the parlour, they found the three hobbits stoking the fire in the hearth. With the flames burning low, the majority of the room was cast in significant shadow. The hobbits were so preoccupied with their task that they seemed oblivious to the presence of the newcomers.

Yvonne closed the door behind them, and Aragorn claimed a chair in the same corner. There was a second chair, which Yvonne let Nell take. Yvonne then took the footstool that paired with Nell's chair and sat beside her. The two girls and the Ranger then proceeded to quietly observe the hobbits' tending of the fire. The smaller trio remained absorbed in their work until the flames had become a proper blaze. Then, at last, one of them—the one that was either Merry or Pippin—turned, spotted them, and said, "Hallo! Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I am called Strider," Aragorn replied. "And though he may have forgotten it, your friend promised to have a quiet talk with me."

"And you," said the hobbit, eyeing Nell and Yvonne in confusion. "Are you his companions? Do you also wish to talk with my friend? I did not know Mr. Underhill was so well known in these parts."

"We know a friend of Ar-Strider's," Yvonne said, clearly thinking it best to stick with the name by which the hobbits currently knew him. "And I believe we may all be heading in the same direction. We are simply here so as not to miss out on any important planning."

Aragorn shot her an irritated look, but he didn't object. Elrond's name seemed to carry quite a bit of weight with him indeed.

"Enough," said Frodo. He looked tired. Though he still seemed puzzled by Nell and Yvonne's presence, he scrutinized them for only a second before turning to Aragorn. "You said I might hear something to my advantage, I believe. What have you to say?"

"Several things," Aragorn said. "But of course, I have my price."

Nell listened, slightly taken aback. She hadn't expected the valiant, noble Aragorn, as she knew him, to be one that favored quid-pro-quo pay-offs.

"And what would that be, pray?" Frodo asked, seeming uncomfortable.

"No more than you can afford," Aragorn said, smiling slowly. "Just this: You must take me along with you, until I wish to leave you."

"Oh, indeed!" Frodo replied with obvious surprise and a healthy amount of skepticism. "Even if I wanted more companions, I should not agree to such a thing until I know more about you and your business."

"Excellent!" Aragorn exclaimed, causing Nell to start. She tried to calm her nerves, but they felt like an undercurrent, constantly on edge. Aragorn settled back in his chair and crossed his legs. "You seem to be coming to your senses; that is very good. Until now, you have been too careless." Nell stared at the rugged man, slightly taken aback but impressed. He was testing Frodo . . . She felt her respect for him grow even further. "Very well!" he continued, "I will tell you what I know, and you can decide its worth. After you hear me, you may be glad to grant me what I ask."

"Alright, then; go on!" Frodo prompted, "What do you know?"

"Too much; too many dark things . . . terrible things," the man replied grimly, sending a chill of dread through Nell. "But as for your business—" Suddenly he stood, opened the door quickly, and looked out. He shut it quietly and sat down again, then, lowering his voice, proceeded to explain how he had come upon the four hobbits at the side of the road, while they had been conversing with a man called Tom Bombadil, and how Frodo had stressed that his name—Baggins—must not be mentioned, which had caught Aragorn's attention.

Frodo responded defensively and angrily, challenging Aragorn on why anyone in Bree would have an interest in his name, and asking him to explain his supposedly honest reason for spying and eavesdropping.

"Well answered!" Aragorn laughed. "The explanation is simple: I was searching for a hobbit named Frodo Baggins. And I needed to find him quickly. I had learned that he was carrying out of the Shire . . . a secret. One that concerned me and my friends."

At this, Frodo rose from his seat, and Sam followed suit with a scowl.

"Now, don't misunderstand!" Aragorn cried. "I shall take more care in protecting the secret than you do. And it needs care indeed!" Here he leaned forward, and the tension in the room seemed to increase, a gravity hanging in the air. "Watch every shadow," he said, his voice low once again, and that creeping sense of dread returned. "Black horsemen have passed through Bree. They say that one came down the Greenway on Monday; and another appeared later, coming up the Greenway from the south."

Nell's blood ran cold, and she felt numb. The black riders had been there? She had already come so close to them?

A silence followed Aragorn's statement, then the hobbits and Aragorn began talking again. Nell and Yvonne kept quiet, listening intently. Nell, for her part, was finding herself struck all over again by the fact that they were witnessing these characters conversing in such a way—though they were very much less character-like at this point. Once again, she could only imagine how much more intense the surreality of his was for her friend.

When Aragorn mentioned something about leaving, Nell practically felt Yvonne become more alert. "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!"

Something in his voice and expression made the air in the room seem to grow grim, the shadows darken. Nell suddenly had the urge to remain right where they were, in this very pleasant and reliable inn, regardless of how long she and Yvonne had been waiting for their journey to truly begin. Was setting out and finding whatever purpose was meant for them really worth an encounter with the terrifying Ringwraiths on the road? She had had enough of them in her visions, and those were terrible enough without being tangible.

After a long moment, Aragorn straightened, wiping his brow, and asked if the hobbits would accept his company. Frodo didn't answer right away, and Nell waited, sensing that Yvonne's nerves were just as taut as her own.

Sam was the one who spoke, and his words were a firm denial. "With your leave, Mr. Frodo, I'd say no!' He pointed out that Aragorn—Strider—had warned them to take care, and so they should use the Ranger himself as an example of what to take care against. Being a man of the wild, he apparently could not easily be trusted, and although Nell understood Sam's point of view, it pained her to hear him so dead set against Aragorn's presence when she knew his true character and what an important part of the Fellowship he would be. "He knows something, that's plain, and more than I like," Sam continued, "but it's no reason to let him go leading us out into some dark place far from help, as he puts it." Then, his gaze turned to Yvonne and Nell. "And the women! They claim to be some acquaintance of his, or of a friend of his, and intend to join with us as well. But what manner of man would lead two fair women to dark and lonely places? They may be gentlewomen, but they are strange to us, and strange to Breeland as well. They will slow us on our journey, and even if they do not, seven are easier to find in the wild than four."

Nell's heart sank, and an uncomfortable silence descended in the room. Sam made many valid points, and Nell hoped that Aragorn would see fit to defend them, for she had no idea what to say to convince the hobbit of their trustworthiness.

But rather than answering Sam, Aragorn turned his eyes to Frodo. Frodo looked away. Then, he said slowly, "No . . . I disagree." Nell's hopes lifted, but she listened with bated breath in the tense atmosphere. "I think," Frodo continued, "you are not really as you appear. At first, you talked to me like the Bree-folk, but now your voice is different. Still, Sam has a point: Why would you warn us to take care, and yet ask us to trust you with only your word?" Nell's hope diminished again, but she understood his point completely. "Why disguise yourself? Who are you? What do you know about—about my business; and how have you come to know it?"

Hardly daring to move, Nell turned her focus to the Ranger.

With a grim smile, he congratulated Frodo on his understanding the importance of caution, but then warned him, "You will never reach Rivendell now on your own. Your only chance is to trust me."

Rivendell. That name alone was enough to dispel a good portion of Nell's anxiety. But then her gut twisted. If Aragorn and the hobbits didn't allow her and Yvonne to come with them, they would be stuck in Bree and would probably never make it back to Rivendell—

"You must decide," Aragorn continued. "If it will help you to do so, I will answer some of your questions. But if you do not trust me already, why should you believe what I tell you? Still, here it is—"

Suddenly there came a knock at the door. Nell started, but it was only Mr. Butterbur, bearing candles, and behind him, Nob entered with cans of hot water. Silent and stealthy as a shadow, Aragorn withdrew into the dark corner. Instinctively, her eyes followed him, but she quickly turned her attention to the landlord. Aragorn had his reasons for wanting to remain discreet. She only hoped that it wouldn't seem too suspicious to those whom he was trying to convince to trust him.

"I've come to bid you goodnight," said Mr. Butterbur as he placed the candles on the table. "Nob! Take that water to the rooms!" The hobbit moved on, and the proprietor closed the door, then stood there, looking troubled. A sense of foreboding came over Nell. What bad news awaited them now?

"It's like this," the man said hesitantly. "If I've done any harm, I'm truly sorry." Nell's stomach dropped. He began to explain how circumstances had caused him to forget something important, and he had, at last, remembered to say something. Nell waited with bated breath—as did the rest of the room—for him to get to the point. "You see, I was asked to look out for hobbits from the Shire. In particular, one by the name of Baggins."

Hope. Once again, hope.

"And what does that have to do with me?" Frodo replied, still in denial of his true name. Nell wished that she could tell him that he could trust these people—but, of course, she wasn't entirely sure about the landlord, though he seemed kind and decent, so even if Frodo would have taken her word for it, she knew that it would be wise to keep silent.

"Ah! You're being careful," Butterbur replied, understanding Frodo's reluctance. "I won't give you away; but I was told that this Baggins would be going by the name of Underhill, and, I dare say, the description I was given fits you well enough."

"Does it now! Well, then, let's have it!" Frodo interrupted, almost challengingly.

Mr. Butterbur obliged, his tone solemn. "'A stout little fellow with red cheeks.'" The hobbit who was either Merry or Pippin chuckled, but Sam seemed rather affronted. With a glance at the one who had laughed, the landlord continued, "'That won't help you much; it goes for most hobbits, Barley,' he says to me. '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.' His words, not mine, you understand," he felt the need to clarify.

Frodo seemed to have dropped a good deal of apprehension when he replied. "His words? And who was he?"

"Ah! That would be Gandalf, if you know who I mean. He's a wizard, they say, but he's a good friend of mine, regardless. But now . . . I don't know what he'll say to me, if I see him again. Maybe he'll turn all my ale sour, or me into a block of wood. He can be a bit hasty. Still, what's done is done."

Gandalf. At last, a proper anchor for trust! Surely this would assuage Frodo's wariness. But . . . perhaps not, for Butterbur was feeling guilty over something, and with the situation what it was, it couldn't be insignificant.

"Well, what is it that you've done?" asked Frodo impatiently.

"Where was I?" The landlord paused in thought, then snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes! Old Gandalf. Three months ago, he walked right into my room, without even knocking." Mr. Butterbur proceeded to explain how Gandalf had asked him to send someone trustworthy to deliver a message to the Shire, and that it was supposed to have been done the following day.

Then, Butterbur reached into his pocket and withdrew what Nell could only assume was the letter—unsent. Oh no . . .

"The address is clear enough," he said, and he held out the paper in the dim light and read the address with an air of importance. "Mr. Frodo Baggins, Bag End, Hobbiton in the Shire."

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

"Ah! Then you really are this Baggins?"

But the time for secrecy was over. "I am," Frodo replied, "and you had better give that to me at once, and explain why it was never sent. That's what you've come to tell me, I suppose, though it's taken you a fearfully long time to do so."

"You're quite right, master," Mr. Butterbur admitted, looking very anxious (Despite his failing, Nell felt quite sorry for him), "and I beg your pardon. And I'm mortal afraid of what Gandalf will say, if my forgetfulness causes harm. But my keeping the letter wasn't intentional." He insisted that he had kept it safe, and explained that he had been unable to find anyone to deliver the letter, and gradually he had forgotten the matter. "I'll do what I can to set it right, and if I can offer any help, just name it. The letter aside, I promised Gandalf no less," he added, as if to assure Frodo of his loyalty. He then reiterated what Gandalf had said about what to expect regarding Frodo—that he would be going by "Underhill," that he would have one companion, and that if the wizard was not with him, he may be in trouble. "'Do whatever you can for him, and I'll be grateful,' he says. And here you are, and it seems trouble is not far off."

"What do you mean?" asked Frodo.

Butterbur lowered his voice, his words sending a new chill of dread through Nell. "These black men—they're looking for Baggins, and if they mean him no harm, then I must be a hobbit." He went on to explain how, on Monday, Nob had informed him that two of the men had come to the inn, asking after a hobbit named Baggins. Fortunately, Nob hadn't let them inside, and Butterbur had sent them on their way, slamming the door behind them. But that hadn't dissuaded the Riders, for they had continued to inquire after Frodo all the way to Archet. Nell wondered at the fact that the landlord hadn't been attacked for such a forceful denial of the terrifying figures. "And that Ranger—Strider—he's been asking questions, too," Butterbur continued. "Tried to get in here to see you, when you'd barely sat down to eat, he did."

"He did!"

Nell jumped as the tension was suddenly broken by Aragorn, who emerged from the shadows, into the room's dim light, revealing himself to the landlord, who had been even more startled than Nell.

"And it would have saved us all much trouble if you had let me in, Barliman."

"You!" Butterbur cried. "Popping up again! What is it you want now?"

"It's alright; he's here with my leave," said Frodo. "He came to offer his help."

Relieved to hear that Frodo may at last be accepting of the Ranger, she realized a little late that the landlord's eyes were now focused on her and Yvonne, as if only just noticing their presence. It was very possible that that was exactly the case.

"And what are you two doing here?" he asked, clearly suspicious. "Is this any of your business?"

Being suddenly put on the spot, Nell's mind went blank. Yvonne also remained silent, so, despite feeling completely lost, Nell opened her mouth, as if to attempt to say something, but before she could make a fool of herself, Aragorn's deep voice answered in her stead. "It may well be. There is much to discuss on the matter."

Nerves tumbled in Nell's stomach—relief, anxiety, hope, suspense. There was still a chance for them yet.

Butterbur cast a disapproving look at Aragorn, then said to Frodo, "Well, you might know your own business. But if I was you, I wouldn't be taking up with a Ranger."

Aragorn immediately challenged that notion, asking whether Butterbur would rather take up with a forgetful innkeeper like himself. "They cannot stay in The Pony forever, and neither can they go home. They have a long road before them. Will you go with them and fend off the black horsemen?"

Mr. Butterbur was clearly aghast and quite frightened at the thought, and informed them that he would not leave Bree, not for any money. "But why can't you stay here a while, Mr. Underhill? What are all these queer goings on? What exactly are these black horsemen after, and where do they come from?"

"I can't explain it all, not right now," Frodo answered. "I'm tired and worried, and it's a long tale. I'm putting you in danger every second I am a guest in your house. As to where the Riders come from, I am not sure, but I fear—"

"They come from Mordor," Aragorn interrupted, his voice low and intense. "If that means anything to you, Barliman."

It did indeed seem to mean something to the innkeeper, because he exclaimed in fear and turned pale, clutching a hand to his chest. "Bree has not gotten worse news in my lifetime."

"Do you still wish to help me?" Frodo asked.

"I do. More than ever. Though I don't know what the likes of me can do against . . ." He seemed unable or unwilling to name the fearful Riders and the darkness in the East.

Aragorn named it for him, his voice quiet. A chill seemed to permeate the room.

"Every little bit helps," Aragorn told the innkeeper. "Let him stay here tonight as Mr. Underhill, and forget the name of Baggins."

"I will do that," Butterbur said. "But they'll find out he's here anyway. I'm afraid he drew attention to himself this evening, and the story of Mr. Bilbo's vanishing has spread even here. Nob has been doing some guessing, and there are others in Bree quicker on the uptake than he is."

"We'll have to hope the Riders won't come back so soon," Frodo said.

"Even if they do, they won't get in The Pony so easy. Rest well until morning. Nob will say nothing, and no Black Rider will pass my doors whilst I am still standing. We'll keep watch tonight, but you had best get some sleep while you can."

"We must be off as soon as possible, in any case," Frodo said. "Bring us breakfast with the dawn, please."

"I'll see to it," the innkeeper promised. "Goodnight, Mr. Baggins—or Underhill, I should say. Goodnight—bless me, where is your Mr. Brandybuck?"

It was as if Nell had been snapped out of a sort of trance. She had been so absorbed in the conversation and the thought of the terrifying Riders being so close that the abrupt change of subject was jarring. But she immediately began to worry about Merry. (She now knew that it was he who was absent, recalling the sing-songy cadence of the name Meriadoc Brandybuck.) Frodo seemed to be similarly troubled. "I don't know," he replied, clearly anxious. "He said something about going for a breath of air. Perhaps he is still out."

"Well, your party does need looking after," Butterbur said. "I must bar the doors, but I'll see to it that he's let in when he returns. I'll send Nob out to look for him. Goodnight to you all." His gaze lingered on Aragorn, and longer on Yvonne and Nell, but he questioned them no more. Shaking his head, he left the room.

No sooner had the innkeeper left did Aragorn speak. "Well? Are you going to open that letter?"

Frodo looked down at the letter in his hands, as if momentarily contemplating his answer. In response, he broke the seal and unfolded the paper.

Nell almost expected him to read it aloud, but of course, the room was quiet as he read its contents privately. She caught herself staring, her curiosity getting the best of her, then redirected her gaze elsewhere. The room was cozy and rustic, and her eyes ambled over the simple furnishings until they encountered the gaze of Sam, pinned right on her. As soon as their eyes met, he shifted his focus to Yvonne, and Nell looked to the floor. The distrust in the hobbit's eyes filled her with a sense of shame, despite there being nothing to be ashamed of. She had always hated for people to have the wrong impression of her.

Frodo moved then, looking up from the letter and passing it on to his two friends. Sam and Pippin read it together, bowing their hands close in the low light.

Frodo's voice finally broke the silence. "Old Butterbur really has messed things up! He should be roasted. If he had given this to me at once, we might have all been safe in Rivendell by now. But Gandalf—what might have happened to him? In the letter he makes it sound as if he was going into great danger."

"He has been doing so for many years," Aragorn replied, his low timbre reverberating in the shadows.

Frodo looked at him as if pondering something. "Why did you not tell me that you were Gandalf's friend from the start? It would have saved time."

"Would it?" Aragorn replied. "I doubt any of you would have believed me." He shot a glance at Nell and Yvonne. "'Tis easy to claim acquaintance to a well-known name. I knew nothing of this letter, and wished to be sure of you first. You are not the only one the enemy seeks. Besides," he added with a laugh. "I had hoped you would trust me for my own sake. I am weary of distrust. But I believe my looks are against me."

"At first sight, they are," Pippin said with sudden good cheer. "But handsome is as handsome does, as we say in the Shire. We shall all look the same after a few days of travel."

Sam was the only one who did not seem completely relieved by Gandalf's letter. He eyed Aragorn dubiously, then turned the same look on Nell and Yvonne. "Well, you may be the Strider Gandalf speaks about, and you may not be, but nowhere in the letter did he mention two strange women. You play the part of simple travelers, yet you did not seem surprised nor overly dismayed to hear talk of Black Riders and dark forces. You have overheard much, yet I was given to believe this was a matter demanding secrecy. What is your true purpose here?"

"We—" Yvonne began, but Aragorn cut her off.

"They are travelers, but not simple ones. I do not know if Gandalf yet knows of their presence, but their path takes them to Rivendell and to the wizard, and I believe it would do us ill to leave them behind. I will speak no more of it, not until we reach Rivendell. If you need it, you have my word that they will do you no harm."

"Your word?" Sam said doubtfully. "You never mentioned Gandalf until old Butterbur gave Mister Frodo the letter. How are we to know you are the Strider he mentioned? For all we can see, you might be a spy who killed him and took his clothes."

Nell couldn't deny the validity of this point.

"A stout observation, Sam Gamgee," Aragorn replied, "and my answer is this: If I had killed the real Strider, I could kill you. And I would have done so already without all of this talk. If I wanted the Ring, I could have it—NOW!"

Suddenly he stood, unfolding to his full impressive height. The firelight caught in his eyes, but there was something more there . . . Then, he threw back his cloak to reveal a sword that Nell hadn't noticed until now. Though she knew that this man would never hurt anyone in the room, the sight of his hardened, shadowy form as he laid a hand on the glinting hilt was undeniably formidable. She could only imagine how the hobbits must feel before such a presence. She chanced a look at Sam, and his stunned, almost petrified expression gave her her answer.

Then, the Ranger's hard, rugged features softened into a smile. "Fortunately, I am the real Strider. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn; and if by life or death I can save you, I will."

These words sent a chill through Nell, not merely due to the solemnity and sincerity with which they were spoken, but also their implication. This man was fully prepared to die for Frodo's mission. Nell recalled, with a sickening feeling, what Yvonne had stressed to her: If they were to go on this journey, they would probably die. Was she as willing to sacrifice herself as Aragorn? In answer, guilt plunged her stomach into further knots. She didn't want to think about it—not yet.

Frodo assured Aragorn that he thought he was a friend even before the letter, and although the man had frightened him several times thus far, Frodo was sure that it wasn't the same way that servants of the Enemy would have done. "One of his spies would—well, seem fairer and feel fouler, I imagine."

Aragorn laughed. "So, I look foul and feel fair? All that is gold does not glitter, not all those that wander are lost."

The phrase sent chills through Nell. She may not have been thoroughly familiar with Tolkien's works, but those words seemed vaguely familiar, and they held an undeniable, significant weight.

Frodo seemed to be slightly awed himself, and he asked whether a set of verses, which had apparently been included in Gandalf's letter, applied to Aragorn, but then wondered how he had known that they were in the letter if he hadn't seen it.

"I did not know," the Ranger replied. "But I am Aragorn, and those verses go with that name." He drew his sword then, showing it to be broken about a foot below the hilt. Nell stared, a bit shocked. "Not much use is it, Sam?" he asked. "But the time draws near when it shall be forged anew."

Sam made no reply, and Aragorn moved the conversation on as he resheathed his blade. "Well, we shall call that settled. I shall be your guide, and now, I think it is time you get what rest you can—all of you," he added, looking at Yvonne and Nell. "We shall have a rough road tomorrow; we may leave Bree unhindered, but we won't leave it unnoticed. Once we escape from under prying eyes, we'll make for Weathertop."

Nell caught Yvonne flinching out of the corner of her eye, and apparently the others had noticed as well. Nell saw that her friend's gaze seemed to linger on Frodo, and she knew what must be going through her mind: the Ringwraiths' attack and Frodo's wound.

Aragorn's eyebrows raised. "Are you familiar with the place?"

Yvonne replied a little too quickly and as if she were on edge. "We stayed there on our journey here from Rivendell, with Glorfindel. It was unsettling."

Aragorn looked taken aback. "The Lord of the Golden Flower was your companion?" He turned to the hobbits. "If you need any further proof that these two women are to be trusted, you have it. Glorfindel is a hero among Elves, and none that is evil or dark would travel long in his presence, nor he in theirs. I trust all who he trusts, and so should you." He frowned. "Though if a dark presence lingers at Weathertop even with his company, perhaps we should find a different way."

"No," Yvonne said with haste. "It was just the atmosphere, I'm sure. It was the first rainy day of the trip, and we could hear wolves howling, far in the distance. I'm sure it's perfectly safe."

Aragorn looked skeptical, but before Nell could worry too much about any doubt that he was experiencing, Sam distracted him by asking what Weathertop was. Yvonne and Nell shared an anxious look. Returning to Amon Sûl would not be a pleasant aspect of their journey back to Rivendell, and even less so if Frodo was to be wounded, as Yvonne had said.

Conversation continued to wash over Nell, regarding Gandalf's absence and when Aragorn had last seen him, while her mind took her back to the ruins and what this next leg of the journey might bring. It was sure to be the most daunting yet.

"The news that Gandalf was missing had spread far, as had word that the horsemen had been seen," Aragorn was saying, catching Nell's attention with that simple mention of the Riders. "I was told this by Elven-folk of Gildor; and later they informed me that you had left your home, but there was no word of your having left Buckland. I have been keeping close watch on the East Road anxiously."

Nell was momentarily hung up on the new Elven name, wondering what Gildor might be—until Frodo asked, "Do you think the Black Riders have something to do with Gandalf's absence?"

"I know of nothing that could have hindered him but the Enemy himself." When the mood in the room sank, Aragorn hastened to encourage them all to not give up hope. He assured them that Gandalf was greater than they knew, and that this mission would surely be his greatest task yet.

Nell watched the rugged man, and saw in his eyes something deeper than what he had said. Something grave. As if by instinct, she could almost hear his unspoken words: "Perhaps the greatest task to which he will ever commit himself."

Suddenly, Pippin cracked a yawn. "I am sorry, but I am dead tired. In spite of all the danger and worry, I must go to bed, or I may just sleep right here. Where is that silly fellow, Merry? Wouldn't it just top off everything, if we had to go out and look for him in the dark?"

As if on cue, a door slammed somewhere nearby, then more than one pair of footsteps hurried down the hall. All eyes were on the parlour door as Merry burst in, with Nob close behind. Merry closed the door and pressed his back to it, his chest heaving. His panicked expression sent waves of alarm through the room. Nell sat forward, as if at any moment she would need to leap up. Then, Merry gasped, "I have seen them, Frodo! I have seen them! Black Riders!"

Ice washed over Nell's entire body. No . . . they couldn't be here . . . not now . . . she wasn't prepared . . .

"Where?" Frodo asked, suddenly looking wide awake.

"In Bree," Merry said. "I stayed in here for an hour, but you did not come back, so I went outside for a stroll. When I finished with it, I returned to the Prancing Pony and stood just outside the light of the lamp, looking at the stars. A horrible, creeping feeling came over me, and across the road I saw a dark shade moving among the shadows of the buildings. It must have seen me looking, for it slid away without a sound."

"Which way did it go?" Aragorn asked sharply.

Merry gave a little jump, seeming to notice Aragorn and then the girls for the first time. He seemed much more concerned with the Ranger than with them. Frodo urged him to go on, promising to explain later.

"It seemed to go toward the east," Merry said. "I tried to follow, but it vanished almost at once. I went as far at the last house on the road."

Aragorn gave Merry a somewhat awed look. "I do not know whether you are more stout or foolish."

"Neither, I think," Merry said. "I couldn't help myself. It was as if it drew me, somehow. Anyway, when I stopped, I heard voices by the hedge, muttering and whispering. I couldn't hear what they said. Whatever drew me on must have faded, because I began to feel terrified. I was about to run back to the inn, when someone came up behind me and I . . ." He looked embarrassed. "I fell over."

"I found him," Nob said. "Mr. Butterbur sent me out, and I looked all over. I was nearly at Bill Ferny's house when I thought I saw something in the road. It was Mr. Brandybuck, and he seemed to be asleep. I shook him, and when he woke he said, 'I thought I had fallen into deep water.' As soon as he said that, he ran back here like a hare. It was very queer."

"I'm afraid that's true, though I don't remember what I said," Merry told them. "I had a frightful dream, but remember nothing from it, though it left me terrified. I don't know what came over me."

"I do," came Aragorn's dark tone. "The Black Breath." Nell's insides went cold at those words, whatever they meant. The Ranger did not elaborate. "The Riders must have left their horses outside, then passed secretly back through the South-gate. They surely know all the news now, thanks to Bill Ferny. And that Southerner was probably also a spy. It is possible that something may happen in the night, before we leave Bree."

Oh, please, no . . . Nell looked to Yvonne, who caught her eye but offered no reassurance that there was nothing to worry about.

"What is going to happen?" Merry asked, clearly as anxious as Nell. "Will they attack the inn?"

"I think it's unlikely," Aragorn replied, to Nell's relief, though the relief was somewhat shallow. "As of yet, only a few of them are here. In any case, that is not their way. In dark and loneliness they are strongest; they will not openly attack a house that has much light and many people—unless they are desperate, and not with all the long leagues of Eriador still before us."

Nell considered this, and realized that he meant that the Riders must intend to use the long journey to ambush them. Once again, she thought of Amon Sûl, and her hands clenched on her lap. None of this was looking good.

"But their power lies in terror," the Ranger continued, "and some in Bree are already in their clutches. These wretches will be driven to some evil work: Ferny and some of the strangers, and maybe even the gatekeeper. They spoke with Harry at Westgate on Monday. I was watching them. He was pale and shaking when they left him."

For a moment, the gravity of the situation hung heavily in the firelit room. Then, Frodo spoke.

"We seem to have enemies all around. What are we to do?"

"Stay here; do not go to your rooms!" Aragorn stressed, explaining that the Riders were sure to have learned exactly where they were staying, seeing as there were specific rooms designed for hobbits. "We will all stay together and bar this window and the door. But first, Nob and I shall retrieve your luggage."

Aragorn and the inn's helpful hobbit left to do just that, and after a somewhat cautious glance at Nell and Yvonne, Frodo began to fill Merry in on everything that he had missed.

It dug at Nell that the hobbits were so distrusting of them. Neither Frodo, Sam, nor Pippin had pushed back against Aragorn when he had vouched for the girls, but it seemed that they still needed to warm to them. And as for Aragorn's approval, Nell would accept it without question, but she would be lying if she said that she wasn't curious about the reason behind it.

While Frodo and Merry spoke, Nell turned to her friend. "Should we . . . should we go and get our things?" she asked, keeping her voice down. "Are we going to be staying here, too?"

"I think we should," Yvonne said, biting her lip. "The Ringwraiths have no reason to seek us out, but I know I wouldn't be able to relax for an instant if we were alone in our room tonight, knowing they're out there." Nell couldn't agree more. Yvonne continued, keeping her voice low, "I think we should go get our things as quickly as we can, and get set up in here before anyone thinks to question us."

Without delay, the two of them slipped from the room and rushed up the stairs. Somehow the shadows felt heavier than usual, as if they were closing in around them. Despite this and the darkness of the room, which was barely cut by the scant moonlight filtering in through the rain, they didn't bother with the lantern, instead simply retrieving their things from where Nell had arranged them, before hurrying back downstairs. Nell couldn't help but wonder whether they would find the parlour door locked when they returned, but they were able to rejoin the hobbits.

Very shortly after, Aragorn returned with Nob. The latter informed Frodo and his friends that he had disguised their beds to appear as if they were being slept in, and although this seemed like a good idea, there was a shared concern that the ruse would not hold, and then what would the Ringwraiths do? Of course, it might not come to that—Nell could only hope.

Nob bid them goodnight and departed, and Nell and Yvonne laid out their bedrolls, on the side of the room near the door, while the hobbits lay down on their blankets, their feet toward the fire. Aragorn, meanwhile, settled in his chair, against the door, a shadowy guard against any that may attempt entry.

The hobbits talked amongst themselves for a little while, Merry asking questions and the others catching him up on the rest of the night, particularly Frodo's entertaining song, which amused him greatly.

Nell listened absently, hoping to be able to fall asleep with so much in her head, so many concerns, so many fears. She glanced discreetly at Aragorn. His head was bowed, his eyes apparently closed, but whether he was sleeping, she could not say.

"Jumped over the moon!" Merry chuckled, recalling the lyrics of the song. "Quite ridiculous of you, Frodo! But I wish that I could have seen it. The worthies of Bree are bound to speak of it for ages to come."

"I hope so," came the soft, low reply from the Man in the chair.

The room fell silent after that, and despite the concerns of the night, the lurking danger, and the journey ahead, Nell was soon asleep.

Nell awoke with a gasp, heart pounding. She stared into the darkness, eyes adjusting to the firelight—but all that she could see were the three cloaked figures moving through the night with a menace so deeply chilling that she knew that it was no dream. She sat up, searching the room with panic, as if the Nazgûl were lurking in every corner. But her eyes quickly fell upon Aragorn, still in his chair against the closed door. Only, his head was no longer bowed, his eyes no longer closed. He was alert, perched forward on the seat, as though ready to leap up at any moment. And his dark eyes were trained on Nell.

For a moment, she felt intimidated under his gaze, but then she recognized the concern, and knew that he was not poised to strike her. He, too, sensed that something was wrong . . . something was coming. That fact alone helped to steady her nerves—though not to calm them.

A second later, movement disturbed Frodo's bedding, and Nell turned to see that he, too, had awoken. His eyes also found Aragorn, then turned to Nell. None of them exchanged words, but their looks all bore the same wariness, the same concern.