May 4th T.A. 3018
Lanterns burned brightly and smells of spices and cooking wafted through alleyways as Gandalf slowly made his way towards the Prancing Pony. Once he had passed a cart being pulled by a lethargic pony, he was able to quicken his pace. He soon saw the sign marking the inn's entrance at the other end of the street. As Gandalf neared the inn, faint strains of drunken song could be heard from inside, and it became evident that as always, the tavern was quite full.
Upon entering the dimly lit room he was greeted by Barliman Butturbur. "Well hello Mr. Gandalf! What brings you here on such a fine spring evening?" he inquired warmly.
"Just a bit of business, Barliman. You're busy as usual I see."
"Yes, yes. We've got quite a few visitors tonight, almost as many foreigners as there are locals if you can believe it!" Barliman chuckled
"Good for business I am sure. I think I will find a quieter seat near the back. I'm looking for a friend, Varyor she's known as, is she here?" asked Gandalf. Barliman's eyes flicked to the far corner of the room then quickly found the floor.
"Ah, yes, yes," he answered, his eyes dark.
"Well then I think I shall join her. I wouldn't mind a plate of supper if you get a moment," said Gandalf.
"Of course!" answered Butturbur, stepping aside. Gandalf strode down an aisle lined with tables on either side before pausing by the bar and casting a look around the room. There were several men and hobbits of Bree to his left, chatting merrily and listening to one of their companions sing a drinking song. The main group of patrons were gathered in the center of the room. Tables had been pushed back so that they sat in a circle, exchanging news and rumors. Gandalf was listening to their talk of the growing darkness when his eyes found the one for whom he had been searching. The cloaked figure was seated in the far, shadowy corner of the room. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she watched the men in the middle of the tavern grimly. Gandalf picked his way through the crowd to where she was sitting.
"I was told I would find you here," said Gandalf as he took a seat on the other side of the table.
"You must have spoken with the Rangers. You're lucky to have caught me. I have not been back long and plan on leaving again quite soon," said the woman, her eyes on the opposite side of the room.
"Yes, well your traveling habits make you rather difficult to find when needed. But why so soon?"
"Ah but I always know when I am needed." She smirked before continuing. "The war goes ill to the South, the enemy's reach is ever lengthening. The people here speak of the Dark Lord and the years of battle as if they were a thing of the past. I think it has been many a long year since the lands truly had peace. The birds and beasts whisper of the fear and darkness that seep from Mordor."
"Indeed. It places the world in even greater peril when there are those who wish to remain blind to it," agreed Gandalf. "However, I think I may be able to convince you to stay a while," he added, studying her thoughtfully. She reached a hand up to push back her hood and cocked an eyebrow at him skeptically.
"Really? And to what do you owe such confidence?" Gandalf chuckled at her words and a kind smile spread across his weathered face.
"Because Eredhel, I am quite aware of your hatred of all that spawns from Mordor as well as your desire for a purpose." Now it was her turn to laugh as she shook her head at him.
"You have quite the way with words master wizard. We both know my grim purpose, but please dear friend do tell me what I have to owe to this visit? What can I do for you?"
"That which we have greatly feared has come to pass. IT has been found," Gandalf cast a quick look about him and Eredhel's face darkened. "Do you remember our friend the burglar and that which he found in the caves of the Misty Mountains?" Eredhel nodded, understanding his coded questions. He was talking about Bilbo Baggins and a magic ring which he had found on his quest with the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.
"Then it is the One. Did he bring it to Imladris with him when he, ah, departed from the Shire?" asked Eredhel tentatively.
"Yes, it is. And no, he passed it on to his heir, though not without a great deal of effort on my part." Eredhel thought back to her watches over the Shire. It had been many years ago when Gandalf had advised her and the Rangers to keep a watchful eye over the green hills and meadows so dearly beloved by the halflings. She remembered a dark haired hobbit, with inquisitive blue eyes and a fair face. Bilbo's nephew, Frodo, who loved to walk among the valleys and streams, looking for news of the outside world and speaking eagerly to travelers when they passed him by.
"I'm guessing you would not be seeking my help if we were the only ones who know where it is. Does he know where it is hidden?" She leaned forward earnestly, her eyes intent on the wizard across from her. Gandalf opened his mouth to answer when he was interrupted by Barliman bringing his meal to the table. The innkeeper nodded tentatively in Eredhel's direction before excusing himself and returning to the chaos of the rest of the bar. Eredhel reached for her friend's empty cup and filled it with wine from her bottle on the table. She watched silently as he rearranged his plate of stew and mashed potatoes before tearing a strip of bread from the roll and dipping it in the stew. Gandalf laced his fingers together as he chewed thoughtfully before continuing.
"I have reason to believe that yes, he does know that a hobbit possesses it. And he will send his servants after it."
"The Nine, the Ring will call to them. They have not been seen in hundreds of years," said Eredhel, her eyes hardening.
"I am afraid they would be the only ones he would trust with such a task. I wanted to speak with you of this matter because although you and the Rangers have been watching over these lands I must take greater precautions in case enemies come prying while I am away," explained Gandalf.
"Ah, I see. Have you spoken with Strider?"
"Yes, just a few days past. He is leaving shortly on an errand to the South. The Rangers will continue to keep guard over the road but my mind is still not at ease. I need someone not only to watch the land but the hobbit as well."
"Let it be at peace, I will stay and guard both of them for the time being. The Nine will not lay a hand to him," said Eredhel and he once again smiled with relief. "Now what is your plan?"
"It will be brought to Imladris, which will be the safest place for now. We will have to decide where it goes from there. The bearer will leave the Shire quietly, without any attention at all, if it can be done. He will depart in the autumn, late September hopefully. I will meet him here at the Prancing Pony if all with my errand goes well."
"It seems that you have given this a great deal of thought so I will not argue with you. But it seems to me that it would be wiser for him to leave sooner, before there is a need for haste and secrecy."
"Ah, but hobbits are fond of their homes and simple life. You find it easy to move from place to place and have always found more comfort under the stars than a warm roof. They could never imagine doing such a thing. I am asking him to leave behind his home and soft bed to head into peril. I am not eager to force him out his door before he is ready for I do not know when he will see it again," said Gandalf gravely.
"Well then, I will say no more about it. I will watch the roads and listen to the news of the wild things for word of the Riders. I will also offer to meet you here when the time comes." Eredhel took a deep drink from the cup next to her as Gandalf studied her slowly.
"My dear friend, even after hundreds of years of an old man's antics you still manage to aid me in every way possible. To say I owe you a few skins of Dorwinion would be an understatement." He chuckled merrily.
"And I am expecting full payment," replied Eredhel with a grin.
July 21st T.A 3018.
The sinking sun cast its golden light into the study of Lord Elrond. A sweet summer breeze whispered in the trees as he stood behind his desk with several messengers before him. His head was bowed in thought as he scrutinized the worn, patterned wood. His eyes traced the swirling grain before he looked up and spoke. "You will each go to your assigned destinations," he instructed. "Bring word of the Council and request representatives for their people. Those chosen will travel here to decide the fate of all Middle Earth. I would like you to set out by tomorrow morning."
The messengers filed out of the room and Elrond was left alone. He turned and strode through the wide door into the open hallway then took a left to lead him deeper down a long corridor, his hand skimming the waist high railing. Balconies wrapped around every level of the house and no matter where you were it was possible to look out over the deep cloven valley. The walls held no real windows, only large curved openings so that wind blew through freely. Leaves of all shapes, sizes and colors were scattered around the floor, muffling the footsteps of those who wandered through the peaceful halls.
Finally he reached his family's chambers. The short corridor had four rooms, one for each of his children. The walls held intricately wrought candle holders and at the far end was a long mahogany table upon which a vase of fresh wild flowers stood. Lord Elrond's eyes took in the two doors to his left. These belonged to his sons, Elladan and Elrohir. Both doors were closed and their rooms vacant as they had been on an urgent errand for over a week now and he did not know how soon they would return. They had never forgotten the torment their mother faced at the hands of orcs and rode out often when scouts brought news of a troop nearby. Lord Elrond was deep in thought when another elf came up behind him. She had long dark hair, grey eyes and wore a flowing dress of white. "Ah Adar, I just met Faervel with the other messengers. He said they are riding out tomorrow morning to deliver word of the Council."
"Yes Arwen. Lady Galadriel's predictions were right, the Ring has been found. The Council members will decide what course of action will be taken. The decision belongs to all the Free Peoples of Middle Earth, its fate is in their hands now," said Elrond.
"Her visions almost always are. But do you know precisely where the Ring is?" Arwen asked.
"It is close. Gandalf stopped briefly here on his way to Isengard, assuring me that it will be brought to Imladris. He should return in the autumn."
"What of Eredhel, did you send word to her? I'm sure she would aid the decision," she said gently. Elrond stared at the last door to his right sadly. It stood ajar and dust motes floated down in a beam of sunlight from within. The room had not been permanently used for centuries now. His eldest child roamed Middle Earth freely. She wandered both near and far and was one of Rivendell's strongest fighters. Growing up, she had often stayed up late into the night honing her skills. Just as her sister bore the title of Evenstar, Eredhel was known as Varyor, Guardian. Elrond often worried about how far she was willing to go to protect those she cared about from harm, though that number had decreased in the past thousand years. Eredhel's noble lineage and portion of Maiar blood filled her with strength and wisdom but she allowed little room for sentiment. Like all elves she felt things quite deeply but had grown skilled at keeping her emotions hidden. She had always accompanied her brothers and the Dúnedain on orc hunts before leaving to journey the lands in solitude. Now she seldom returned to the valley. She would show up unexpectedly for only a few weeks, sometimes mere days at time before slipping away once more.
Lord Elrond sighed, "Gandalf said he met with her. He asked her to keep watch over the Shire. The Nine have rode out from Minas Morgul and they search tirelessly for the Ring. I could send a message but it would make no difference, Eredhel most likely knows more than we do about all of this. I expect she will arrive with Gandalf or shortly after. She somehow always turns up when she is needed." Arwen nodded and the two elves remained silent, thinking of how the world would change in the coming months. They stood like statues, noble in stature and fair in appearance. Not once did they stir, not even when the glowing sun dipped beneath the hills, throwing the elven valley in darkness.
September 23rd T.A 3018.
Daeron rose from where he sat against a tree and looked down at the path below him. He and a few other Rangers had been watching this part of the road for several days now. Although they were distrusted by people in the Shire it was through their efforts that the lands were kept free from wandering evils. It had been this way for hundreds of years after their kingdom was lost and there were too few to rebuild the once great city. Daeron thumbed the six pointed star that clasped his cloak and strained his ears against the wind. "Do you hear that?" he asked. The others looked over curiously and Remdor came to stand beside him.
"There is something, approaching from the north but I cannot tell what it is," his companion replied and knelt to the ground. He tucked his light brown hair behind his ear then pressed it to the needle covered forest floor. After a moment he looked up and identified the sound. "Hoof beats, running quite fast from what I can tell. It could be a Rider." The third ranger rose at his words and joined the other two on top of the hill. From here they had an optimum view, they could survey those traveling along the road with little chance of being seen. Soon they could hear the horse getting closer and gripped their weapons tightly. Before they could decide whether to run down to the road a black horse came bolting around the bend.
The Rider was shrouded in black and its face hooded. Its robes were tattered and hung as if there was very little to the body inside. The Nazgul let out a piercing shriek that made the hair on the back of the rangers' necks stand on end. The air grew cold and the Rider hissed as it passed them, lashing the reins against its horse's neck. In seconds it was gone, lost from view in the winding trail. After a moment they relaxed and stared at the direction from which the horse had came. "From what would a Wraith flee so desperately?" wondered Daeron.
"I do not know," answered Talemin. "There is very little which the Nazgul fear. We must be especially vigilant tonight, an enemy of an enemy is not necessarily a friend." The others agreed and each of them found a place to hide amongst the trees. About half an hour later their question was answered when they spotted a lone figure walking down the road. They wore a dark green cloak and had a bow on their back. They kept to the edge of the lane and they surveyed their surroundings cautiously, the blade in their hand ready to strike down any enemy. When Helmar saw the fletchings and skillfully carved weapons he left his hiding place and quickly made his way down the hill.
"Varyor!" he called. The one to whom spoke removed their hood and the Rangers lowered their weapons. They followed their companion and joined him at the edge of the road. The elven traveler was the most trusted friend of their leader, Aragorn. Though she usually traveled widely across Middle Earth for the past few years she had been helping them keep watch over the Shire.
"Well this explains what the Wraith was running from," said Daeron. The Nazgul hated elves, the weapons of the Fair Folk were especially strong and the Black Riders did not have the power to strike fear into their hearts. He then noticed the blood on her hands and the tear in her tunic. "What has happened?"
"Not here," she answered grimly. Daeron nodded and led the way to their campsite. Varyor silently followed them up the slope, long ferns brushing her knees. The crisp, late September air filled her nose with the smell of meadow grass and fallen leaves. The clearing was small with the trees growing close together along the sides. The rangers had placed their bags under giant roots and preparations had been made for a fire. Two of them sat and began to build up the wood and kindling while the other remained standing, leaning his back against a thick trunk. "Laeglin and Celembror are dead," she said bluntly. The Rangers' eyes widened in shock.
"How?" asked Talemin.
"They were guarding Sarn Ford, trying to hold it against the Wraiths, along with some others. Yesterday evening they were attacked by the Riders, most of them managed to escape but Laeglin and Celembror were wounded. I sensed the Riders nearby but arrived too late, they were gone. Laeglin died only moments after my arrival." Several moments of silence followed her words as the Rangers grieved for their lost companions. Finally Daeron spoke, his voice full of venom.
"Those wretched creatures will pay for this. What of the others? Has Strider heard of what happened?"
"They buried the bodies and I told them to keep a careful watch over the road, but to be wary of the Wraiths," replied Varyor. "As for Strider, I do not think he has yet returned from his errand to the South and if he has, no one has seen him. Our enemies are growing bolder." She pulled out her wineskin and splashed some of the water on her hands, cleaning off the blood.
"That which draws them here is powerful," said Remdor.
"Yes it cannot remain hidden in the Shire much longer, it is too dangerous. What other news is there?" asked Varyor. Though the Rangers rarely traveled east of the Misty Mountains rumors from the far off lands had reached their ears. She confirmed much of what they had heard from those they met upon the road. All over Middle Earth things were becoming darker, evil creatures venturing out farther than they had ever since the Watchful Peace began. They listened intently to her tales and soon night was upon them. Tomorrow she would have to start towards the town of Bree, hopefully to meet with Strider and Gandalf. There was always hope that they would bring better news but chances were it would be just as grim as hers. The world had gotten dark. If something was not done then all remaining light could be extinguished and forgotten.