The Events that Occur When One Arrives at Bree with Evil in Tow
Are you frightened?
Yes.
Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you.
--Strider
We reached the gate of Bree not later than 9:00 by Shire time, and the gatekeeper reluctantly let us in, though curious as to why five hobbits were leaving the Shire and entering Bree this time of night. Everything in Bree was rain-drenched, lumpy with sparkling drops and huge, as hobbits were, compared to men, half their size (and thus dubbed "Halflings" by the Big People). After much jostling and cursing from the Big People, we reached and shakily entered the Inn of the Prancing Pony. Shouts and cheers sounded around the thick air along with some strange tunes tapped out by drinking men, and our heads just barely touched the top of the desk where the innkeeper caught our eye.
"Good evening Little Masters," he said kindly. His face was jolly and red and my heart kindled for Bree. "If you're looking' for accommodation we've got some nice, cozy, hobbit-sized rooms, available, Mr…uh…"
"Underhill," Frodo said slowly. "My name is Underhill. We're friends of Gandalf the Grey; will you please tell him that we've arrived?"
"Gandalf…haven't seen him in six months," Butterbur replied to an unhappy Frodo.
"What do we do now?" Sam asked, hushed.
Frodo said nothing before buying us all some drinks (I had tea, myself) and getting us a table. Merry excused himself after a moment and returned with a much larger mug of ale, interrupting Pippin and my arm wrestling competition.
"What is that?" Pippin gaped, in awe of Merry's HUGE tankard.
"This, my friend, is a pint," Merry replied, not taking his admiring eye off his treasure.
"It comes in pints?" Pippin said excitedly, before turning to us and saying firmly, "I'm getting one." He rushed off to the bar and climbed on a stool with the big people.
"You've had a whole half already!" Sam yelled after him disapprovingly before shaking his head and nudging Frodo. "That fellow's done nothing but stare at you since we've arrived."
I turned my head in curiosity, thinking Sam was talking about Pippin or possibly Butterbur…But in a corner, I saw, a man sat smoking with a hood covering his face staring right back. I turned away quickly, uncomfortable under his gaze.
"Excuse me," Frodo asked Butterbur, as he was passing by, "Who is that?"
"Oh that? That's one of them rangers from the North, what his right name is I've never heard, but 'round here…he's called Strider. I believe there's something of a set of verses written right about him, or so Gandalf said."
"Strider," Frodo repeated to himself, twirling his ring round his fingers and seeming to doze.
There we sat for several minutes, until Pippin's high voice startled us.
"Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins…he's right over there…he's my second cousin once removed on his mother's side…and my third cousin twice removed on his father's side, if you follow me!"
Frodo jumped to his feet and pushed his way through, grabbing Pippin's arm. "Pippin!" He cried, and Pippin shook him off.
"Steady on, Frodo," he complained as Frodo fell back and his ring flew into the air. He caught it on his finger and immediately disappeared. Pippin gasped, with a face that clearly said, what have I done?
I jumped up, but Sam stopped me, looking wildly around but trying to remain unnoticed. After a minute, we saw Strider jerk Frodo up, speak with him, and then push him up the stairs where the 'accommodations' were. Gathering the other two hobbits, we grabbed weapons of all kinds (a stool, a candle, and our fists) and followed quickly.
Sam kicked open the door, and Sam hollered at Strider, who was brandishing a sword at him.
"Stand off, or I'll have you, Longshanks!"
"Oy he's got a sword!" I cried.
Strider set his sword at his side as a sort of invitation to let us come in. "You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that alone will not save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."
"Who?" I asked, but received no answer.
Anxiously we helped Strider set up decoy hobbits (with pillows) under the covers of the little hobbit-sized beds and then retired to his room. The five of us hobbits shared one man-sized bed, since we were so small compared to it, and as I attempted to sleep, Frodo's restlessness kept me awake.
"Frodo, go to bed, you'll feel better," I said, but a screech stopped me short as the black riders entered Bree. "They're here," I breathed and clutched my blankets while Strider fixed his gaze on us, emotionless at the prospect of nine black riders suddenly rushing in to kill us all. I decided, with a glare, not to trust Strider, or anyone else associated with black riders. Across the inn, Frodo and I heard upset screeches from the black riders, since they had found our pillow decoys instead of hobbits. At this, Strider leaned towards the window casually, watching the riders remount and speed off into the night. Sam, Pippin, and Merry finally jerked awake.
"What are they?" Frodo whispered.
"They were once men. 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.
"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." Strider fixed a stern and serious eye on Frodo as he finished. "They will never stop hunting you."
Frodo swallowed, pale, and I shivered subtly, pulling my blanket tighter around myself. Sam shook my shoulder comfortingly, but it didn't help, and I never did get to sleep.
Leaving Bree with Two in Our Party who Don't Know about Second Breakfast
An apple a day keeps the doctor away
-Old Proverb
2 October 3018, of the Third Age
11 Winterfilth 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time
The next morning, we left Bree, as we had left the Shire, except this time we had a human, a pack pony, and were fleeing from nine Ringwraiths.
"Where are you taking us?" Frodo asked, easing our questions, plodding quickly along behind Strider.
"Into the wild," Strider replied without so much as an expression change or glance at us, not to mention an 'if you please.' Ha! What I was waiting for was for him to take the cursed ring and let us alone.
I plodded alongside Sam and his pony, Bill. He'd taken a liking to Sam after being abused in Bree.
I wanted to ride, but he was so tied down with luggage that it would be out of question, and I besides that, I knew the others were as weary as I.
From my side Merry asked Frodo, "How do we know this 'Strider' is a friend of Gandalf's?"
"I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer and feel fouler. Besides, we have no choice but to trust him," Frodo replied unhappily, thinking, like me, of the Ringwraiths and what they would have done to us if we had not met Strider in Bree. Look fairer and feel fouler? I increased my pace a step, deep in thought, and deeply troubled.
"But where is he leading us?" Sam asked. I wanted to know the same thing. We were on a journey to a place no one knew where.
"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee," Strider responded after overhearing the question, thank goodness, for I didn't want any more unspecific answers. "To the House of Elrond."
"Did you hear that?" Sam asked excitedly. "We're going to see the elves!"
That startled my curiosity for a while, as Sam began to tell me everything he knew about elves. Soon I was just as excited as he.
The walk continued on for about an hour until we stopped to start a fire for second breakfast, but Strider stopped impatiently to remind us that we did not stop until nightfall. Hearing this, we five jerked up to either glare at Strider or stare in disbelief. I was so hungry I'd already taken a piece from the sausage Sam was planning to cook.
"But…what about breakfast?" Pippin burst out.
"You've already had it," Strider attempted to have the last word and turned again to continue the journey.
"We've had one, yes," Pippin retorted. "But what about second breakfast?"
Strider continued walking away, shaking his head, and Pippin's eyes widened in surprise.
"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip," Merry said unhappily.
Pippin leapt to his feet in alarm and the rest of us followed. My stomach was rumbling itself, and I felt weary from the night before. "What about elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?"
"Wouldn't count on it," I said unhappily as apples flew out from the woods. I caught a few and passed them to Pip and Frodo and Sam, keeping two for myself. Another hit Pippin in the head and he looked around warily, as though something mysterious was sending apples at him.
"Pippin!" Merry called impatiently, and we all hastened our pace.
6 October 3018, of the Third Age
15 Winterfilth 1418, Shire-Reckoning Time
Later that week, after crossing through the Midgewater Marshes, we came to the watchtower of Amon Sûl, a large cloud shaped mound above the ground with a watchtower set up top. Amon Sûl translated to The Windy Hill, a.k.a Weathertop. Strider thrust our packs down and took the pony's reins.
"We shall rest here tonight," he told us, as we collapsed, exhausted, under the stone mound.
I was grateful to him for allowing us at last to sleep, and was eager to rest up for the long days ahead.
Strider, holding the pony, bent down and opened a pack which revealed several short swords, which he tossed to us and we caught clumsily. "These are for you. Keep them close. I'm going to have a look around. Stay here."
As if we were small children, he was talking in small words and short sentences right to the point. Clearly he was not used to being around hobbits.
I was hungry; but not so hungry as to wait for Sam and Merry to prepare something. We were all weary, of course, but Frodo being the most aware and most terrified of the five, he wanted some peace and settled down to sleep. I rested my head against the rock and tried to ignore the soreness in my arms and legs. Before I knew it, lulled by Pippin, Merry, and Sam's mumbling together, I was too, asleep.
When I awoke, I was being shaken out of a wonderful dream of the Shire by Frodo, and the shriek of a Ringwraith. Immediately I was wide awake and trembling again, unsheathing my sword and pulling my cloak tightly around myself. I felt Frodo's arm slip to my back and give it a gentle pat before taking my arm and motioning up some stairs.
"Go!" He cried, and I, though reluctant to leave him, ran bravely with the others.
At the top, there was no escape, as Frodo joined us and we circled him, looking around, terrified. I was shivering and Merry, his face full of pallor, nodded to me, telling me not to be afraid…
There was no where to go. We stood on a rounded, stone floor, and around us were the crumbling walls of the watchtower. Ringwraiths approached from all sides and the watchtower was set on a hill that dropped steeply on all sides. The four boys and I backed into each other, shivering, and clutching our swords with fright.
I was trembling uncontrollably as five Ringwraiths ascended slowly onto the watchtower, as though to taunt us, surrounding us and pulling out their long swords. And, in spite all our fears (Pippin was shaking too) we knew it was Frodo they wanted and we had to defend him. Unfortunately, Sam, brandishing a sword ("Back, you Devils!") did not frighten them and the Ringwraiths shoved him out of the way as easily as tossing an apple or something of that sort.
Merry, Pippin, and I stepped together in front of Frodo, whimpering, and the next thing I knew, an iron hand was gripping my cloak and throwing me out of its way. I was unaware of my cries of surprise; I only heard Pippin and Merry yelp as they were tossed aside.
I was flung against a statue and blocked out the shrill screeches of the Ringwraith, hanging in a limbo of being conscious and not. I was only partially aware of Frodo's predicament. He was backing away from the wraiths and all of a sudden, had disappeared. The wraiths were still standing over him. I shook my head and started to get to my feet, still holding my sword, and Sam joined me, as Merry and Pippin were still too dazed. In an instant, the tallest of the five had thrust his knife down, viciously, through the air into something on the ground, and the other four wraiths turned to us, to finish us off. I swallowed my fear and dodged them as Strider leapt with a torch onto the watchtower, chasing the wraiths away.
Frodo had somehow wrenched the Ring off his finger and had reappeared, screaming. I dropped my sword and rushed to his side with Sam.
"Frodo!" We both cried.
"Oh, Sam," He said weakly, and I took his hand in mine, feeling his pale forehead with the other.
"Strider," Sam said, looking around. "We need Strider!"
Merry and Pippin reached Frodo's side with Strider in tow. He picked up a knife from the ground as Frodo continued to cry out with agony.
"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," Strider said grimly, holding the knife's hilt as the blade dissolved with the wind. As if we knew what that was! "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine." He picked Frodo up like a child and we followed, still hearing wraith shrieks in the distance. "Hurry!" He said, urging us along.
"We're six days from Rivendell!" Sam cried angrily to Strider. "He'll never make it!"
My legs hurt and I was still quivering from when I hit my head at Weathertop, and hearing that Frodo might not survive sent my head spinning and my heart hurting.
Strider ignored us. "Hold on, Frodo," he whispered, slowing just a bit.
I reached my hand out to brush some hair out of Frodo's fair face, but he suddenly stirred and cried out.
"Gandalf!"
The call echoed in the dark.