WELCOME to all our newcomers, and WELCOME BACK to those following along.
This chapter was a bit of a struggle for me, deciding how I should lift the haze and what exactly should happen to her. Should she change right away, or should this be a slow progress over time?
I ended up basing my decision on not wanting to steal thunder from the original plot as it's JUST SO DAMN GOOD, and the reason we're all here to begin with. That and the plot would quickly become way too convoluted, and a bitch to read. Too much would be going on!
Anywho enough rambling, read on and find out...
- Torrance Rose -
"I- I'm- I'm so sorry!" Elle stammered, looking up into Aragorn's face and wracking her brain for something intelligent to say. When all that came out was a mess of garbled mumbling, she opted for falling silent.
Smooth, Elle. Real smooth.
"No need to apologise, my Lady." Aragorn assured her in his gentle timbre, "T'was not any hardship on my part."
She continued to stare up at him like a lost puppy, marvelling over how real he looked. The shoulder-length black hair, the roguish stubble, the cleft chin...
Elle mentally shook herself. He was real, Einstein.
She hadn't yet realised she was still just staring at him, his own eyes watching her with one dark brow cocked questioningly and an amused smile tugging at his lips.
"Are you alright?" He asked after a moment, encouraging her to speak up.
"Oh!" Elle scrambled from his hold and straightened her dress demurely, "Yeah, totally. Um, I mean... I am very well sir, thank you."
Whoever said she was lacking in finesse, right?
Okay, so her attempt at speaking proper ended up sounding more like a strangled cat than she'd have liked, but who was she to blame? She had no fucking idea what she was doing, or what was supposed to happen next. Did she introduce herself now, or wait until the hobbits arrive?
As it turned out, Aragorn answered the question for her by offering her a kind smile and continuing on into the inn without a look back, flicking his hood on as he went.
Right.
Okay... So what did Radagast say she do now?
Get a room, eat some food, wash up. On it.
The Prancing Pony smelt vaguely of stale beer and sweat, but Elle kept her head held high as she wandered into the inn, pretending as if her being there was completely normal and that she wasn't totally shook up after meeting the Ranger.
It would have worked a hell of a lot better if she hadn't been the only woman in the room, instead engaging the eyes of far too many leering male patrons.
Fucking hell, it was like throwing a chip to a flock of seagulls.
Elle ducked around one of the burlier men who'd approached to talk to her, acting as though she hadn't noticed as she hurried to the bar without a second glance.
"Excuse me," Elle said breathlessly as she caught the eye of the chubby-faced innkeeper, "I'd like to rent a room for the night, please."
The man looked shocked just to see her here in his tavern, let alone asking for a room for the night, but he was quick to disguise his surprise with a beaming smile. He wasn't one to turn away business.
"Of course, m'Lady! We have lovely rooms for a woman of substance here, complete with your own wash tub and looking-glass. Any preferences?" He answered good-naturedly, his hands folded over his distended pot belly.
"Sure, um, somewhere near the top?"
The innkeeper handed over a key printed with a small number 7 in exchange for three of the silver coins in her purse, a jolly smile on his face as he gestured toward an obscure set of wooden stairs disappearing behind a brick wall.
"I'll send in a maid to bring ye a nice warm meal and t'help ye with ye bath, m'Lady." He told her, hopeful that the presence of a proper Lady might increase his future clientele.
Elle went to refuse the offer, but stopped herself at the last second. It would look strange, a woman refusing the service of a maid in this era. Plus she was dying to have a decent feed and thorough wash.
"Thanks, man." She replied instead with a wave, missing the innkeeper's weird look as she hurried toward the stairs. She had to be the strangest gentry he'd ever met, but she carried herself well and was dressed in fine clothes. That was enough for him.
Elle took the stairs two at a time to make sure no one was following her, glancing back every now and then. She locked the door to her room securely behind her, pocketing the key in her bra as she turned to survey the inn's boudoir.
You never know. Medieval dudes can be creeps, too.
The room was nice and quaint, with tall windows of stained glass and a small, unlit fireplace against one wall. The bed was a double, with a quilted doona and a large wooden headboard. The only other furnishings were the small set of drawers by the door, a basin on the top and a mirror hanging above.
If you could call it a mirror, anyway. It was pretty much just a polished slab of metal bolted to the wall.
"I'm in Bree, I just met Aragorn, and now I'm staying at the Prancing Pony..." Elle whispered and stepped forward slowly, as though she were afraid any sudden movement might wake her from this beautiful dream.
"I'm in Bree, I just met Aragorn, and I'm staying at the Prancing Pony!" Elle's voice pitched higher until she ended in an ecstatic scream, jumping forward to throw herself on the bed with a bubbling laugh.
Her happiness was interrupted by a sudden knock against the door, and she sat up with ruffled, messy hair to call out, "Who is it?"
"It's May, m'Lady. I'm here to help you bathe." A small, female voice called back.
Elle trodded to the door, unlocking it and throwing it open for the woman.
Or, girl. Since the maid didn't look to be any older than fifteen.
The girl, May, stepped in with a covered tray in hand and a polite smile as two boys followed with a metal tub behind her. The thing was definitely rustic, like something from a Jane Austen film.
Elle sat on the edge of the bed, picking at the meal May had provided her with as she watched them fill the tub with pitchers of boiled water. The tray consisted mainly of meat, bread and a few sides of vegetables. Being a vegetarian, she ignored most of it.
It took two more trips for them to completely fill it with steaming water, and Elle began to appreciate just how lucky she was to have spent most of her life with an automated shower.
"Thanks guys." Elle said to the two men who turned to leave, handing them each one of the smaller, bronze coins from her purse.
Elle held the door open, waiting for May to leave, too. Who, by the looks of it, didn't understand that that was her queue.
"Um, can I have some privacy?" Elle asked after a moment, indicating with her eyes for the maid to leave.
She looked taken aback.
"Do I displease you?" May asked, her lip trembling under the unintended insult.
Elle's eyes widened, realising her mistake. Well, shit. How was she to remember that in Middle-Earth, women weren't allowed to undress themselves? It was a bit pervy, if you asked her.
"No!" Elle was quick to correct herself, "Sorry, that's not what I meant. I just prefer to wash myself, that's all. You haven't displeased me."
The maid visibly relaxed, though her eyes remained unsure as she took the few steps to the door, "Shall I wait here for you, m'Lady?"
"Uhh, no." Elle wrinkled her nose, "That's so not necessary. And my name is just Elle, not m'Lady."
The maid furrowed her brows in thought, "But you look like a Lady."
"I'm not." Elle's tone was irrefutable, "Trust me."
She left after that, confusion written across her face as Elle handed her a tip as well. Elle didn't care though, her eyes greedily drinking in the bath left by the newly lit fire.
Ah, heaven! She still had two hours before the hobbits arrived.
Two hours of relaxation. And contemplation, too, if her stupid mind had it's way. Which is what it usually did, but oh well.
Elle tugged off her boots first, throwing them against the wall in her rush to be rid of them. It was only when she began scrabbling behind her back for the ties to her dress that she realised having the maid here might not have been such a bad idea. It took her a good ten minutes to finally undress herself, stretching her poor arms to the limit as she unlaced the woven backing.
When she was finally free and under, Elle went to work on her mistreated skin. She scrubbed at the dirt with the bar of soap May had left behind until she was pink and glistening, even managing to clean out under her nails and all.
This was one of those moments that Elle thanked her lucky stars she genetically could not grow body hair, her skin just as baby smooth as the day she'd been born. It would have been a drama and a half if she had to deal with hairy legs on top of everything else.
Next she undid her braid, washing her long hair thoroughly until she was satisfied she'd gotten rid of all the sweat and dirt of travelling. Elle spent the next half hour soaking in the tub, her legs sticking out the end as she laid back with her head almost fully submerged.
The water had been scented with something akin to cinnamon and lavender, and she found herself drifting off sleepily to the sounds of horse-drawn traffic outside.
When Elle next came to, it was to find that nightfall had descended upon Bree and that the tub she was laying in had gone ice cold. Rain was pounding against the windows of the small room, the view of the town obscured by the storm.
"Oh, shit!" Elle stood in one swift movement, spraying the wooden floor with water as she snatched up what she supposed was the Middle-Earth version of a towel. It was a dressing robe, much like her one at home. Though this one was white, thicker, and made from a woven fabric similar to a towel.
Fuck, how long had she been asleep?! She hadn't missed the hobbits, had she?! Fuckity, fuck, fuck!
Elle hastened to dry herself off, thankful for the crackling fire lending her that much needed warmth. She had to get down to the tavern and see what had transpired since she'd fallen asleep, pronto.
She paused halfway through her frenzied ministrations, realising she couldn't see properly. Everything was blurred and misshapen, but she was wearing her glasses. Elle doubled checked, just to make sure, before taking them off to clean the lenses. Obviously they'd just gotten fogged up, or something.
The second she removed them, her eyes focused instantly and perfectly on every detail in the room.
She could see.
And not just see, but even make out the tiny detailing of the wainscotting along the walls, the mould growing in one corner by the basin, and each and every splinter of wood within the burning flames.
Elle looked out in shock, able to easily count each tile of the opposite buildings roof, and the one after that, and the one after that, despite the distance and the heavy thrum of near-impenetrable rain.
What the fuck...?
And then the smells hit, assaulting her nose unrelentingly. The earthy pull of the rain, the musky odour of the quilt... It was all too much.
Elle's breathing hitched up in panic, her wet feet padding backwards across the floorboards until her naked back hit the wall. She felt cornered, and terrified, and... strong.
A desperate whine passed her lips, and Elle clamped her hand over her mouth.
Oh, my god. That was not human.
She was... Fuck.
She was a monster.
Everything Radagast had told her to do flew out the window, and Elle began hyperventilating like nothing before. Her hand clutched frantically at her throat, desperate for air as the room filled with the warning sounds of a deep and panicked growl.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Elle repeated the mantra in her head, her desperation growing as she fought to stay calm.
She bristled suddenly, running to the mirror to view her reflection. The hysterical girl staring back looked wild, albeit relatively the same.
Except for her eyes. They were somehow brighter, a feral glint to their violet depths.
Elle felt her body roll, from her toes to her fingers, and bared her normally straight, white teeth just in time to watch her canines elongate into pointed fangs.
She snarled, disgusted with herself as she swiped a hand across the drawer top and tossed the basin and ewer against the wall like they were nothing. They shattered into pieces with Elle none the wiser, tears streaking down her face in frustration and fear.
Rip, bite, kill...
They were her thoughts, but they weren't her thoughts. Elle felt like she was being dragged in two entirely different directions, sure she was about to split in two at any second.
She clamped a hand to each side of her head, fighting against the sudden onslaught of cravings. It was like one irresistible compulsion, egging her on.
Hungry, so hungry...
Elle could smell the man one room over.
She could practically hear his heart beating to a steady rhythm within his chest, fresh blood pulsing tantalisingly through his veins. And gods, all she wanted to do was kill him, and bask, glorified, in his death.
She breathed in deeply, a moan rolling off her tongue. He smelt strong, youthful, perfect...
Elle stepped forward, her manicured nails lengthening into sharpened claws as she laid a hand on the brass doorknob. She twisted her neck, shaking her head in confusion. She was so hungry... And the human smelt so good...
Wait, when did they become human and she did not?!
Repulsed by those thoughts and disgusted with herself, Elle tore herself away from the door.
"No!" She roared out in one inhuman snarl, gritting her teeth until the pointed ends drew blood from her tongue, the sharp sting of pain increasing her dwindling awareness, "I will NOT!"
And just like that, it was over.
That one command, and those feelings retreated like a scolded kitten to the inner workings of her mind. Sure, they were still there. She could feel them lurking in the back of her head, but they were subdued.
She would not be evil. She would not kill.
She was good...
Elle steadied herself by the bed, taking a deep breath in.
She was good.
Her chest hadn't stopped heaving, her heart fluttering rapidly within like a caged bird. On the one hand she was terrified, coming apart at the seams. The other... She felt better than she had ever felt before.
Her limbs thrummed with barely concealed power, her gaze sharp and discerning and ears trained on every tiny movement and sound. She felt... entirely complete. Like nothing was amiss with the world, that she hadn't a care at all. She was exactly where she was always meant to be.
But how could something so wrong feel so damn right?
This is what had been missing all her life, and she just hadn't even noticed. And now that it was unleashed, she felt wild and free and in control for once in her life.
She felt like she could do anything.
Had this been some kind of test, or something? Is that why the sudden urges had died? Was it a show of dominance, or something more...?
A trick, to let her guard down? She honestly didn't know, and was too exhausted and drained to think about it now. The one thing that mattered was that the wolf had backed off, for now, and that she needed to find the hobbits before it was too late.
The thought brought her back to the present, and Elle jumped straight into the task ahead. One thing at a time.
So many questions whirled inside her mind as she bent to pick up her discarded clothing. Elle flexed a hand, watching as her painted blue nails slunk back to their former state.
She should be scared. Hell, she should be terrified. But all she really found at this point was an idle sense of calm. She was relieved.
But was that her, or was that the she-wolf?
Elle shook her head. She had to stop calling it that. It was... It was her now. They were no longer separated. Just as Radagast said, they were one. And gods, how she wished the eccentric wizard were here right now to console her, and tell her everything she was feeling was normal and okay.
Her human mindset told her that she should be frightened, but no matter how much she tried she couldn't bring herself to be. She felt too good. Something she would never in a million years have expected.
Warily she ran her tongue over her teeth, the fangs already having disappeared, and wondered what it would feel like to change. To really change, fully and completely, into the wolf.
Would she be strong? Would she be big? Elle promised that one day soon, away from causing harm, she would find out.
At that very moment however, she had more important fish to fry. Namely, finding the elusive hobbits before they left her behind in an unknown town with absolutely no means of getting to Rivendell.
Please don't tell me I missed them, Elle begged silently as she pulled on the burnished kirtle over her tunic. It was even harder lacing it up than it was undoing it. She finally managed however, after a few minutes of watching her fingers from the reflection of the mirror. With her attuned sight it was a lot easier than it would normally have been.
Thank fuck for small favours.
Elle combed a hand through damp hair, with not enough time to re-braid it out of the way. She bent reflexively to put on her glasses, before realising once more that she no longer needed them.
Leaving them behind on the bed, Elle made sure to lock the door as she hurried out of the room, the curling ends of her hair dripping against her lower back as she ventured down to the bar. She didn't even bother glancing in the direction of the room across from hers, fearful of how close she'd come to ending that stranger's life.
The place was in full swing now. A roaring fire held it's own in one of the far corners, loud boisterous voices filling the air. The patrons had near doubled, the tavern far more crowded than when she'd got here.
Their drunken cat-calls were all that could be heard, as pitchers of ale slammed together to bouts of decidedly obnoxious, male laughter.
She flinched more than once. The sudden invasion of so many different sights, smells and sounds offensive to her delicate new senses. Every clink of ale, every raucous laugh, and every boorish shout scraped against her ear-drums like a knife.
Elle scanned the large inn, candlelight bouncing off the stone walls and casting a soft glow over the large wooden tables and intoxicated men. It was disconcerting to say the least, as she still wasn't in the slightest used to this newfound talent.
Even with her honed sense of sight, she only spotted them after the second try. They were so small that her frantic eyes had simply passed over them. Elle exhaled in unabashed relief, her thumping heart slowing as she made a beeline for their table.
But jeez, they were small! Like, teeny tiny small. No bigger than a seven year old, she'd say.
She was sure they hadn't been this small in the film! Or had they? Argh, she couldn't remember.
In any case, she could recognise those cherub-like faces, wild curly hair and pointed ears anywhere. It was Merry and Sam sitting together at one of the smaller wooden tables, a pint of ale sitting before the hobbit's eager brown eyes.
Just as she was about to approach the table, a commotion by the bar caught her attention. Pippin was sitting on a stool, surrounded by a group of dirty, rough-looking men who were all gaping openly in shock at a bare patch of stone flooring.
It wasn't until Pippin turned in fright that Elle recalled the scene. Frodo had fallen backwards in his bid to stop Pippin's loud-mouth, only to have the ring land perfectly on his finger and swallow him into the shadow world.
He was there, but invisible.
Elle's mind reeled, feeling strangely faint to see the familiar scene acted out before her very eyes like it was a bad case of dejavu. Except this time, it was really happening.
Elle followed with her eyes the path Frodo would make, crawling back until he removed the ring at the base of the nearest table. And just like that, the little hobbit appeared unscathed, but looking thoroughly shaken up.
Poor little dude, Elle sympathised. I feel for ya.
Before she could even really register what was happening, the Ranger appeared out of nowhere beside Frodo. He whispered something unheard to him, before whirling them both around and disappearing up the stairs Elle had just come down from.
She knew now what came next. Eyes flashing with fear, the memories of this night tumbled down into the forefront.
The Ringwraiths.
Elle watched as Sam, Merry and Pippin each jumped up in shock and rushed off to rescue their friend. Pippin followed Merry's suit and grabbed the nearest thing as they went, holding out the household items like they were weapons.
Elle followed behind in haste, lifting her skirts as she rushed up the stairs a few paces behind only to burst into the first room they saw.
"Let him go, or I'll have you Longshanks!" The golden-haired one, clearly Sam, roared as they barged in with his fists raised for a fight.
Being a hobbit, and backed up by Merry clutching a candlestick and Pippin with a stool almost as large as himself, they weren't exactly a frightening picture. But the fury was there, and the courage, and that was enough to find the trio a formidable force to be reckoned with.
Unless, of course, you were Aragorn, who only slung his raised sword back into it's scabbard upon their entrance with a relieved look.
"You have a stout heart, hobbit. But that will not save you." The Ranger said before turning back to Frodo, his face deathly serious, "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."
All four hobbits gaped openly up at the human, slowly lowering their makeshift weapons after noting he was obviously no immediate threat. Elle continued to watch on from the hall, none of them having noticed her yet.
"Who are you?" Sam questioned suspiciously, his tone distrustful and reluctant.
"My name is Strider in these parts." Aragorn answered elusively, "But we have naught time for pleasantries, master hobbit. We must depart to safer quarters."
It was now that Aragorn noticed Elle standing back awkwardly, her eyes shifting over the entire scene in absolute awe. It was like literally being inside the film, that's how perfectly the events rolled out before her.
Well, I suppose in some ways I am, She corrected herself, before she felt the itch of someone watching her and looked up to catch Aragorn's suspicious green eyes.
"I remember you." Aragorn strode forward with a look of rage as he bore down upon her, "You were here earlier. Are you a spy, wench?"
Elle stumbled backward, her lips hanging open as she fumbled for something to say. To be under the Ranger's furious gaze was more than she could handle, he was far more imposing in person than he'd ever been on paper.
More then that, however, was the sudden burning need in her core to rip the man's throat out. To plunder, to feed, to protect herself.
She had to visibly steady herself, drawing in a ragged breath as she tried to ignore the tantalising, wet thump of his pulse. Fucking hell, it was all too much.
Elle was dimly aware that her eyelids had fluttered shut. She leaned in to listen to his breath easing in and out, in and out, in perfectly controlled synchrony. How quick and painless it would be to end that sound forever, to watch the Ranger's life flicker from his eyes in death...
Elle wrenched herself back until her head hit the wall once more, the crack of pain at the back of her skull ripping her back into consciousness as sparks flashed before her eyes.
"Speak!" Aragorn demanded in a harsh whisper, unaware of all that had transpired. The Ranger was more concerned with the possibility of drawing attention to their impromptu meeting, than anything else.
"I- I'm not a spy!" Elle suddenly found her voice, pressed against the wall with the Ranger closing in. She had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. He was much taller than she'd pictured.
"Then who are you?"
"I'm just..." Elle faltered, gulping as she prepared herself for the lie, "I was sent by Gandalf."
Well, it wasn't a total lie. Radagast had informed Gandalf that she'd be meeting them here, and he'd been sure that the wizard wouldn't mind her using his name.
Aragorn stared hard down at the trembling girl, his eyes stony and unforgiving as he mulled over the information. Why would the wizard send a petite little woman to protect the hobbits? She couldn't be more than five and a half feet tall, with no weapons that could be seen whatsoever on her person. It didn't make any sense.
"G- Gandalf," Elle continued on bravely, "told me to... to ensure that Frodo would be kept under a watchful eye until his return. I was not meant to approach them, he did not mean for them to start the journey without him. They were to wait until he arrived. But he has been... delayed. I think you'd be correct, Ar- uh, Ranger, in saying we must move on."
It was hard work not to start rambling incessantly, or to begin screaming obscenities at the poor man. Elle just had to keep reminding herself that he was their only hope of arriving at Rivendell on time, not to mention keeping them alive until then.
He was right to be suspicious of her, anyway. After all, she wasn't exactly what she appeared to be. Aragorn didn't look to be too convinced as he grabbed her by the upper arm, his large hand squeezing in warning, "And how do we know your tongue is not laced with lies, wench?"
"Leave her alone!" Came Frodo's voice from somewhere behind the Ranger.
Elle glanced to the hobbit in shock, surprised he was standing up for her against the wild-looking man. Frodo wasn't watching her, however. His blue eyes were trained on Aragorn, fuming to protect the helpless woman.
"Y-yeah!" Sam suddenly spoke up from beside his friend, "She's just a girl! She's done no wrong here!"
Pippin and Merry nodded their heads fervently in agreement from behind the Ranger's shoulders.
Elle however, despite their good intentions, couldn't stop the words from blurting past her lips as she said in outrage, "Just a girl? I'll have you boys know, where I'm from women are just as strong and capable as men! More so, in some cases!"
Oh, my god Elle. Just shut up.
Aragorn's eyes hadn't left her face, though they flickered with amusement at her outburst. In contrast the hobbits were fairly speechless.
"Are they now?" Aragorn pondered, "And where, pray, do you hail from?"
"I'm... Far from here, in a village called Sydney. I highly doubt you know of it, it's hidden and obscure to the goings-on of men. We like our privacy." Elle replied easily, amazed at how the lie just rolled off her tongue.
Well, damn. Looked like high school Drama improv had finally paid off.
Aragorn clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, scrutinising her every movement. Elle made sure to keep eye contact, refusing to blink under his penetrating gaze. She knew that to make a lie believable, she had to pretend like she had nothing to hide. Which she didn't. Except, you know, the whole raised in another realm, evil werewolf thing...
After a few more deliberating seconds, Elle's neck pricking uncomfortably as sweat beaded between her breasts from nerves, Aragorn finally acquiesced.
He let go of her and stepped back apologetically, "I am sorry, my Lady. One can never be too careful under such dire straits."
Elle raised both brows and replied, "Oh, so now it's 'my Lady' again?"
All four hobbits stared at her like she'd just sprouted wings, or something. Which she might as well have done, since men bearing pointy swords weren't exactly used to being talked back to from a woman.
Aragorn however only nodded in acknowledgement, "Aye, it is. I'd rather be safe than be sorry."
Elle sighed, calming her hurricane of thoughts.
Of course he was right, she just couldn't resist the little jab. So much had happened in the past 24 hours, she could hardly be expected to remain level-headed.
"Yeah, I know. We should get going though dude, the Nazgûl will be on their way." She missed his odd stare as she ran her hands down the front of her dress, straightening her crumpled skirts, "I just gotta grab my shit, and then we can motor."
"Pardon me, my Lady?" Aragorn's tone had morphed to something of bewilderment.
Elle looked up, eyeing their confusion.
"Erm, I mean, I'll go and collect my belongings and then we may... depart?" Her voice ended on a nervous squeak, offering Aragorn a disarming smile.
It was quick work shouldering her pack and swinging her cloak protectively over her shoulders, and after Aragorn had set up the four decoy beds the group left the familiar wing of the Prancing Pony for safer grounds.
"It would be best if we stayed nearby. Near enough to keep an eye on the arrival of the Nine." Aragorn murmured as he ushered them through the rain toward a nondescript motel across the road and a few buildings down.
The streets were slick with mud and bare of activity, abandoned during the storm. Thunder clapped above their heads and Elle pulled her hood closer over her face protectively as they hurried.
Sheltered now within the inn, she assessed the frightened hobbits as they waited for Aragorn to book a room. Their small faces were pinched with worry as they whispered amongst themselves, shaking their cloaks out from the rain.
She refrained from pulling the tiny boys into a comforting hug, knowing that in spite of their appearance they were actually men. Not children. With their rosy cheeks, innocent eyes and curling hair, who could blame her?
Together they trundled up the stairs, Aragorn in the lead. He was still watching her tensely, her movements calculated from the corner of his eyes. She knew she'd be under watch for some time to come, at least until she'd won his trust.
In the meantime she opted for keeping her mouth shut as much as possible.
The hobbits on the other hand had certainly warmed up to her fairly quickly. They were sticking a lot closer to her than they were to the dark and dangerous Ranger, which left her feeling awfully smug.
Sure, it was probably because she was less of a risk to their well-being, seeing as how she was just a girl. But whatever, it felt good to be welcome.
Welcomed by the Fellowship. It was a strange thought to entertain.
The board room was small but would do well enough. There was one large bed against the back wall, a decent-sized fireplace and one large window looking out into the street below.
Before, Elle might not have been able to make out the swinging sign of the Prancing Pony from this distance, what with the storm and all. Now she didn't even have to press her face to the window to spy it just a couple doors up from where they were staying.
She was marvelling over her newfound sight, absently fingering the spectacles in her hands when Aragorn broke the silence.
"Sleep, gentlemen. We have an early start tomorrow." He encouraged the hobbits as he crouched to tend to the dying embers of the fire.
The boys crawled reluctantly up into the large bed, Pippin falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Elle couldn't hide her smile as she watched him, so trustful to pass out so effortlessly in a room full of strangers.
Merry on the other hand was watching her apprehensively, his fingers clutching at the blanket as though he meant to speak, but wasn't sure where to start.
Elle sat on the end of the bed, laying her pack by her feet as she took off her cloak and freed her hair from beneath, pretending not to notice the hobbit's curious stare.
"What is your name, my Lady?" Merry finally spoke up, his voice a soft whisper against the harsh crackle of the burning flames.
Elle noted as Aragorn tensed, imperceptible to the naked eye. She would have definitely missed it, had she still been completely human.
The thought made her cringe. She was human. Just... with a little extra kick to her now.
"It's Elle." She answered the hobbit, lifting her lips into a friendly smile.
Merry's eyes softened slightly, "I'm Meriadoc. But you can call me Merry, everyone does."
"It's nice to meet you, Merry." Elle said, flattered by the introduction. Oh, how a million people would happily trade places with her right now.
"This here is Pippin, Sam and Frodo... But you already knew that, didn't you?" Merry finished, his head cocked to one side.
"Um, yeah... I did. Gandalf told me." Elle said, going along with Radagast's plan. Guilt threatened to swallow her whole, but she pushed it back for now.
"Why was Gandalf delayed?" Frodo interrupted. He was the only one of the hobbits not in bed, preferring to sit beside Sam over the covers.
"My thoughts exactly." Aragorn stood, walking to lean against the wall.
"He... needed information. The task was far more tedious than he'd ever suspected." Elle offered by way of explanation, silently praying she sounded believable.
"And why are you here again?" Sam mumbled sleepily, rolling over beside the unconscious Pippin.
"To watch over you." Elle answered, though this didn't feel like a lie. Inside, she felt like this was exactly what she was meant to be doing.
Aragorn crossed to the window and took a seat as he looked out into the streets, his expression guarded and shrewd.
They sat shrouded in darkness for a while, the rain pattering endlessly against the diamond-shaped panes. Soon all three hobbits were fast asleep. Only Aragorn, Frodo and Elle remained alert and wired to the lurking shadows of the night.
Every sudden noise outside, each scratch against the roof or thud down in the street, had them all stilled and bracing for an attack. Unperturbed, the storm went on.
Elle felt awkward and uncomfortable, sensing that her presence was unwanted by the Ranger as she sat leaning against the window panes looking out into the storm. Aragorn hadn't moved since he'd sat down, staring fixedly at the Prancing Pony. She could feel him watching her, too. Constantly on guard, like the soldier he was.
If she concentrated, she could locate each ba-bump of their hearts beating in the silence. She could smell the mud crusted on the hobbits bare feet, the steel of Aragorn's sword. It was eerie, yet strangely exciting to feel so powerful.
In the silence, Elle pondered the changes she'd incurred in such a short span of time. She was practically a different person already, and those changes would only grow as time passed. That is, if what Radagast had said was true. That this was really only the beginning, and even now she was not yet fully merged with the wolf.
Ah, so many questions. Her brain felt ready to implode with the pressure, finding it far easier to ignore most things and concentrate on the little stuff for now.
"How do I know I can trust you, Lady Elle?" Aragorn spoke so softly, she probably would have missed it if she wasn't peeled for the slightest sound.
Elle looked to him, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. His eyes were hooked on hers, his expression withdrawn.
Elle thought for a moment before replying carefully.
"How do any of us know we can trust you, Strider?"
Aragorn was momentarily stilled, before he bobbed his head in understanding and turned back to the window.
"There is more to you than we've been made aware," He began after a moment, "but I dare not insult Gandalf with your dismissal. I will deign to trust you for the time being."
Elle snorted to herself, resisting the damning urge to retort. It would only create trouble, and she was lucky as is to be allowed in on the journey. Even if she was unwanted.
Aragorn stilled abruptly, pulling her attention to the drizzling streets outside. For a moment, there was nothing but darkness. And then she saw them.
They had come.
In all her life, Elle had never felt fear such as this. Her entire body was gripped in ice-cold terror, frozen to the spot. Her breath clogged in her throat.
Four Black Rider's cantered through the street, mud spraying as they skidded to a stop at the door to the Prancing Pony and leapt fluidly from their black steeds.
Fear licked at her spine, crawling like poison beneath her skin.
The stallions pawed aggressively at the ground, mouths foaming and eyes rolling madly in the gloom, but they were nothing compared to the Ringwraiths that rode them. All four wore dark steel armour, their bodies draped in black, wispy cloaks. The fabric clung unnaturally to their sunken, invisible faces as they turned and glided swiftly into the inn.
Elle's heart pounded rapidly in her ears, breath quickening as she watched the tavern for any sign of life.
On edge.
Waiting...
It felt like hours, but was probably no more than mere minutes, when the shrieking started.
The sound was unearthly, bone chilling and sickening to the soul. Elle felt like she was drowning in dread, her fingers clenched on the arms to her chair until they'd gone white.
"What are they?" Frodo whispered as he stepped forward, frightened.
Elle was grateful for the distraction, dragging her stinging eyes away from the inn and blinking rapidly. How long had she been holding them open?
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as the screams and cries of the Nazgûl continued on into the night.
"They were once men." Aragorn began softly as the other three hobbits sat up in fear, woken by the ghastly shrieks, "Great Kings of men... Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question. One by one, falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will."
All six of them watched, too scared to speak, as the Ringwraiths fled in fury, sweeping up onto their hell-spawned horses and riding off into the darkness.
"They are the Nazgûl. Ringwraiths. Neither living, nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."
Elle clenched her jaw tightly, fighting to remember what happened next. Her memories of the film seemed to come back just as they happened, making them utterly useless when trying to plan ahead.
Honestly, she couldn't even remember who was in the Fellowship anymore, her mind an impenetrable fortress when it came to that sort of information. She looked to all five of the men in turn, wondering futilely if any of them died during this plight.
Was this supposed to help her assimilate into this world, or something? They might as well have just wiped her goddamn memories clean, if that were the case.
"Fuck..." Elle rubbed her temples against the oncoming headache, "Then we'll leave at first light. We have to get to Rivendell before they find us."
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