Hello again!
So, I think Chapter On went well, no? A little bit of Stella, a little bit of everyone's favorite Ranger, and a little bit of Gandalf (more like a lottle bit, really).
Okay, let's get down to business...to defeat the Huns.
Just kidding. For real, though, I would once again like to thank Jo for reading this and telling me I have to keep writing because she wants to know what happens. And telling me I'm wrong most times. That helps a lot.
Also, thank you to Fantasy1602 for being my first reviewer. That means a lot man :)
ON WITH THE STORY
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in or pertaining to 'The Hobbit' or 'The Lord of The Rings'.
3 years later
Mud stuck to the bottom of Estella's tall boots as she trudged through Bree, hood concealing her face and hand hooked on her sword. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of unwashed men and horse feces. Stella still did not understand Gandalf's reasoning of sending her and Aragorn to this sloppy town with even sloppier weather.
As she reached 'The Prancing Pony', her nimble feet allowed her to maneuver her way through the drunks and curious stares to where her partner sat against the wall, smoking his pip with a cup next to his elbow. To any other person in the room, he may have looked like he did not care what business went on in the tavern, but to her, he looked like he was ready for a fight.
Stella slid into her seat across from him and spoke to him in Sindarin. "He has not arrived yet."
Aragon set his pipe down on the sticky wooden table, rubbing his chin. "I cannot seem to understand why the wizard would tell us to meet, and not show up."
"He must have his reasons," Stella said, waving her hand at the tavern keeper to order a cup of ale. The older man set her mug on the table and left without a word. Stella smirked at this, for she knew that everyone there was wary of her and her partner. "We just need to wait, mellon."
Aragorn hummed in response and puffed out a cloud of smoke with a watchful eye on everyone in the tavern. He looked as if he was calculating every little thing in the room, from the too-loud inhabitants to the ale itself. Stella had seen this look plenty of times before, and did not worry in the slightest. If he saw something unusual, he would alert her calmly before beginning a further investigation.
Stealing a chunk of bread off of Aragorn's plate, Stella's ears perked up at every little noise. Her elvish hearing was quite handy at making her alert in times of need, however, when she laid to rest at night, even the slightest noise could keep her from getting any sleep. Stella wiped her fingers on her leather riding pants and sipped the stale drink, peering at each person carefully.
Over her cup, Stella's eyes widened as she caught something that was by far the most unusual thing she has seen yet.
"Aragorn," she hissed, wondering if he just saw what she did. A small man, probably a halfling, was boisterously waving his drink and talking loudly.
"Baggins! Frodo Baggins! Why he's my friend over there," the young blonde hobbit pointed behind him to a darker haired hobbit, who scrambled out of his seat. However, the man didn't get far, for when he tried to pull his drunken friend away, he tripped over his large feet and collapsed, disappearing into thin air.
Or so everyone thought.
The Ranger and the young elvish woman sprang from their seats. Aragorn rushed forward just as the dark haired hobbit reappeared. Snatching the front of the small man's cloak, Aragorn growled.
"You draw too much attention to yourself," hissed the Ranger. "Especially with that object you carry."
The dark haired hobbit stuttered what sounded like an apology, but Aragorn turned away, hands still clutched in the Ring-bearer's cloak. He gave a slight incline of his head to his companion, a silent message to snatch up the other halflings.
With one swift motion, Stella clutched the hoods of each halfling's cloaks and dragged them up the stairs after Aragorn and into the empty inn room the Ranger and the elf purchased for the night.
"Oi, you! Let us go!" the drunken blonde hobbit with a narrow face snapped, trying desperately to bat Stella's hands away.
Stella rolled her eyes. "Oh please. We are not the people attempting to bring harm upon you or your friends."
"Then who are you?" the chubbier blonde one asked skeptically.
Over the hobbit's heads, Stella and Aragorn glanced at each other in uncertainty. Before either one could answer, however, the Ring-bearer spoke cautiously.
"You're Strider and Chaos," the hobbit shifted his big, hairy feet nervously and cleared his throat.
"I—I asked the tavern keeper."
Stella peeled her hood away from her face and gave the hobbit a warm smile. "Very good, young Master Hobbit."
"Frodo Baggins, ah, Miss Chaos," Frodo said, giving a little bow in her direction. She inclined her head in return.
"But—but," one of the blonde hobbits stuttered. "You're a—a woman!"
"Indeed," Stella said, repressing the urge to laugh at his bewilderedness.
The narrow faced hobbit stepped forward and bowed lowly. "Pippin Took, at your service, miss."
Stella smiled as Pippin elbowed his shocked friend and hissed. "Show the lady some respect Merry."
"Ah, right," Merry said, composing himself, and bowing just like his friend did. "Merry Brandybuck, miss. And that's Samwise. But we just call him Sam."
Merry pointed to the chubbier hobbit who was whispering intently to Frodo. His face was stoic an completely unaware his name had been mentioned.
"It is a pleasure, Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck," Stella bowed in return, moving away from the four small men and over to her companion who stood by the window with his watchful eye.
"They are not safe here, Stella," Aragorn spoke softly in Sindarin. "The Nazgûl are after Frodo. We must move quickly."
Stella nodded, her warm smile gone and a solemn look in it's place. "We need a diversion. Something to get them out of here."
"And go where?" the Ranger questioned, not prying his eyes from the window.
"Somewhere where they will be safe," Stella murmured. 'Somewhere where they can be taken care of' she thought.
"Rivendell."
Aragorn's eyes flicked from the window and onto her face. "It is nearly a two day journey."
"Then we ride fast," Stella said, determined. "Think about it mellon. We cannot take them anywhere else. And they have come too far to turn back now."
Her friend stared at her hardened face with it's high cheekbones, lightly freckled nose, and stormy cerulean eyes set with dark rings. She had become much more than his friend over the year they had been traveling together, more like a sister he never had, but solely wished he did. He cared for her as any older brother would, reprimanding her if she hurt herself by doing things he told her not to and sending menacing glares at the men who would dare lay a slimy finger on her. He would go to great lengths to make sure is this elven girl was safe.
"To Rivendell it is," he complied while her face split into a grin. He suspected that, no matter how big her heart was, helping the young hobbits was not all the reason she wanted to ride to Rivendell. The Ranger knew she was restless for her birthplace, so she may discover more about her family and consult with Lord Elrond about the matter. But he did not question her motives, for he knew even if she has her personal ideas, she would protect these hobbits with her life anyway.
Stella squeezed Aragorn's hand in a silent 'thank you' before turning back to the now sleepy hobbits.
"You all must be tired," the young woman said, smiling down at them. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. My companion and I will take care of everything. You will be safe tonight."
Pippin let out a large yawn. "Thank you, Miss Chaos. I don't suppose a short nap would hurt."
As Pippin and Merry stretched out on one of the beds, Sam narrowed his eyes up at the elvish lady. "Aren't you going to sleep?"
"I am afraid not tonight, Master Samwise. You see, I have an awful habit of talking in my sleep," Stella smirked, patting his shoulder lightly.
Sam gave her one last scrutinizing glance before turning and settling in the bed next to Pippin and Merry.
Frodo looked wide-eyed up at her. "Do you really?"
"Perhaps," she shot him a little wink Gandalf would sometimes give her when he shares one of his little secrets, such as his favoring of walnut bread and bumbleberry jam. Frodo smiled happily up at her.
"Ah. Goodnight then, Miss Chaos," Frodo said, sliding into bed with his friends. Stella's smile lingered until she was certain he could not see her, and her face dropped.
"Mellon," she whispered in Sindarin to her friend by the window. "We need a plan. Now."
The Nazgûl's earth-shattering shrieks rang through Bree, echoing off the walls.
The hobbits shot up in their beds, alarmed by the sudden noise. Stella, who was in a soft conversation in elvish with Aragorn, froze, her blood running cold.
"They have found the trap," Aragorn muttered. "We need to move. Now."
The elf girl nodded, crossing to the ends of the beds in two long strides. Pressing her index finger on her lips as a signal to keep quiet, she took the cloaks hanging on the bedposts and tossed them at the half-awake hobbits.
"Come with me," Stella whispered, moving carefully over the creaky floor and to the door. She flicked up her hood and peered out into the halls of the inn. The only light was the candles along the walls, dimly casting elongated shadows on the rough carpets.
With a flick of her wrist, she pulled out her bow and arrows she had securely stored in a nook under the wardrobe as soon as she and Aragorn had reached the inn. Stella stepped first, observing the halls before taking another careful step. With a nod of her head, the hobbits followed her lead, wary of where they placed their feet to prevent any sound emitting from the old wooden floors. The four hobbits and the elf slipped down the stairwell quietly and turned down the other hall to where the back door was placed.
"Ah," Pippin whispered. "Miss Chaos?"
"Please Pippin, just call me Stella. I have a feeling we will be around each other for a very long time, so there is no use for formalities," Stella replied softly, her eyes peering around every nook and cranny until the reached the door.
"Oh, ah, right. Miss Stella, where are we going exactly?" Pippin questioned a little too loudly, earning a few glares and one annoyed "shhhh!" from a companion behind him.
"Somewhere where you all will be safe from the Nazgûl," Stella answered, pushing open the door to the back alley with the side of her shoulder. "Come. We must get to Weathertop."
Lead by the hooded elf woman, the four hobbits trekked through the mud and woods, hiding in shadows of large trees. Frodo, who was directly behind Stella, admired how nimble she was on her feet. It was like the ground was never there at all, like she was walking on thin air. He wondered if all elves were like this.
He so very much wanted to find out.
A few hours later, when the noon sun shone overhead, the companions wandered upon a clearing with little brush and some wildflowers. There, under the shadow of a tall pine, was Aragorn and two horses. As they approached, he uncovered his face and finished tying the reins to the tree, rushing to his elvish partner.
"You made it," he said, breathing a sight of relief.
"You sound worried, mellon," Stella grinned, causing the man to roll his eyes.
"I always worry about you." Aragorn teased, smirking in the"older brother knows best" way he tends to do when he knows he's right.
"Oh, pish," Stella waved her hand dismissing the teasing comment. "You hardly ever need to."
Aragorn clasped her shoulders and grinned, knowing he was correct. Stella, although a very good fighter and extremely skilled at maneuvering in high or small places, was somewhat reckless in combat, living up to her given name, "Chaos". This was almost a warning to anyone who crossed her path.
The Ranger released her shoulders, and regained a serious look on his face. "We will reach Rivendell in about a day or two. But for now, we must seek shelter in Weathertop. It will bring us closer, so when we continue our journey tomorrow, we will have enough strength and speed to reach our destination."
Stella nodded in agreement, whistling to her chocolate brown steed, Firverior, with his black leather reins and glossy mane. She pet her horse's nose with one hand, and with the other, she retrieved an apple from her satchel. Aragorn watched in amusement as she fed Firverior, murmuring in words in Sindarin.
"You always spoil him," the Ranger stated, chuckling under his breath.
"I like to think of it as a little motivation for the long road ahead," Stella grinned, turning from her horse to the hobbits, who looked tired but very anxious by the way they were shifting their feet impatiently.
"Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Sam," Stella called, getting their attention in seconds. "Come. You will ride the horses while Aragorn and I will walk along side to ensure your safety."
With there nods of consent, Stella took Merry by his armpits and hoisted him onto Firverior, and then turned to a very reluctant Pippin.
"Verry is a good, trustworthy horse, Pippin. He nor I will let you fall, I promise," Stella reassured, taking Pippin under his arms and propping him in front of Merry. The young hobbit gripped the reins tightly, his face as white as a sheet.
Merry patted his friend's shoulder. "He'll be alright. Just a lil' scared of horses. He does much better on ponies."
Stella smiled warmly, turning to face Aragorn, who had lifted Frodo and Sam onto his own horse. With a subtle nod, the two lead the horses and hobbits through the trees, not quite sure what to expect just yet.
The forest wasn't very thick, but it was enough to conceal the travelers from anyone who may have wanted to harm them. Along the way, Stella would get antsy from walking at the same pace for a long amount of time and Aragorn would just silently move next to her and take the reins. She would glance at him in a silent thanks, and take a running leap to trees, scurrying up swiftly and easily.
"Where is Miss Stella going?" Merry questioned, looking up into the leaves of the trees.
"She is scouting ahead," Aragorn answered simply. He did not mention that Stella's attention span does not last very long without a change in pace, for he was uncertain how much her personal life she was willing to share with their new companions.
"Scouting ahead for what?" Frodo asked quietly.
"For anything that would wish to put you in harm's way," Aragorn said, gripping the reins a little tighter and giving Frodo a slight smile of reassurance. However, as skilled as Aragorn and Stella were, the Ranger couldn't help but worry for their safety, especially after the attack of the Nazgûl in Bree.
The horses and Aragorn continued on further for about another hour or two, until a rustling came from the trees above them. The company stopped abruptly and the Ranger drew his sword, bracing himself for what could come.
The rustling disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Stella popped out of the green leaves, landing on her feet without stumbling forward.
"Weathertop is through here, about four trees over. It is growing dark, and it will be night soon. We should hurry and make camp," she reported, striding over to her horse and retrieving the reins from Aragorn.
The pair continued leading the horses until they reached the outskirts of a large stone setting, almost castle-like in appearance, with crumbling bricks and caved in structures. Stella helped Pippin and Merry off Firverior, while Aragorn lifted Frodo and Sam.
"The four of you set up camp and get some rest in a cavern. No one can see you," Aragorn instructed. "Stella and I will keep watch."
The small beings nodded wearily, trekking up the stoney pathways and to the higher point of the large stone structure. Aragorn turned to Stella, offering her a friendly smile, even though it was laced with concern.
"You were gone longer than usual in those trees," Stella's Ranger friend said, more of a statement than a question.
"Yes," she answered solemnly. "It's becoming darker, mellon. The trees have less light than before."
Aragorn nodded in agreement. "Indeed. We must be more careful. Especially if Frodo is in possession of the Ring."
Stella was about to answer when a yawn cut her reply off entirely. Aragorn's grave seriousness disappeared for a fleeting moment and was replaced with childlike amusement.
"Go and rest," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I will wake you if there is trouble."
"I'll hear trouble before I hear you," Stella muttered, yawning yet again.
Aragorn pushed her shoulder away from him, biting back a grin. "Go. You need your sleep."
She didn't protest as she curled up in a small alcove with a blanket from her pack, completely shielded from the outside world. For a moment, she was just traveling with Aragorn and sleeping under the night sky with no rings or hobbits or the ever so possible chance at sudden death at any waking moment.
That is, until the shriek of the Nazgûl broke through the night like shattered glass.
Thanks for reading!
So...what'dya think will happen, hm?
Will they live, will they die...? The expectancy of spontaneous and extremely painful deaths is quite...imminent in Middle Earth.
Anyway, Read and Review!
Catch ya on the flip side ;)
- Halesie