A thick fog hung in the air and drizzle fell to the ground as Eredhel stood in the shadows outside the gate of Bree. Moonlight shone on the thatched rooftops and candles flickered from windows. She had set out for the town almost a week ago, staying on the shoulder of the road in hopes of cutting off a Wraith or meeting Gandalf who usually traveled by the East West Road when roaming the Shire. The last time Eredhel had seen him had been months ago.
They had met at the Prancing Pony after Eredhel returned from her travels to the East. Gandalf had been troubled and muttered to himself while tugging on his long white beard. He had confirmed her strong suspicions that Sauron was once again gaining power and told that the Dark Lord knew the Ring was in the possession of a Baggins. Under Gandalf's instructions, Frodo would set out for Rivendell in the fall, leaving his name behind. Until then the Rangers would continue to guard the borders of the Shire closely. The wizard had asked her to watch over the Ring Bearer and keep watch for any servants of the Enemy as Aragorn had gone off on some other errand. She had agreed without hesitation and suggested she meet him at the Prancing Pony then accompany them to the hidden valley. Gandalf had seemed relieved by her offer but she had been able to tell there was something else growing on his mind. He would say nothing of it and told her he was planning on consulting with Saruman the White, chief of the Istari. They had said farewell and went their separate ways. There had not been word from him since.
Eredhel sighed and headed for a tree to her right, mud squelching beneath her leather boots. She crouched then jumped, her arms wrapping around the lowest branch, the bark slick from the rain. Pulling herself up, she settled against the thick trunk as her eyes scanned the road below. She heard the squeal of a horse then a scream and pulled out her blade as she tried to locate where it came from. A quarter of an hour later she saw four hobbits arrive at the gate and listened as the gate keeper questioned them. Their leader gave his name as "Underhill" and Eredhel realized that this was Frodo and his companions. One of them cast an uneasy glance her way but could not make out her shape from the shadows of the leaves. They were allowed passage and quickly scurried through the gate's door, eager to leave the road. Once the gatekeeper's back was turned Eredhel ran out onto the farthest reaching branch then dropped to the ground on the inside of the high wall.
Rain poured from the sky but did nothing to hinder the steady flow of travelers that came and went through the ancient crossroads. She silently slipped in and out of lamplight as she passed several drunken men and cut across the cobbled street towards the familiar inn. The hobbits had climbed the steps moments ago and she adjusted her hood as she strode into the dimly lit tavern. Wayfarers of all sorts gathered in the pub. Men from the South, a few Rangers and even two dwarves were seated to her right. They were far outnumbered however by the men of Bree. They called brashly for more ale and whistled at the bar maid as she served drinks around. A merry crowd was gathered around the central fireplace and a few of the foreigners were being called upon for tales from the East and South. Eredhel nodded to the Rangers as she approached the counter and a young bartender turned to her. "Can I get you a pint sir?" he offered, mistaking her for a man.
She did not bother to correct him and shook her head but pointed to a bundle of thickly packed leaf. The man nodded, unsettled by her silence, his eyes lingering on the powerful bow in her grip. He removed the weed from the shelf behind him and accepted the coins she dropped from her cold fingers. "Old Toby" they called it and even though the plant was not native to the Shire it had been the hobbits of Bree who had first thought to use it in pipes. The Prancing Pony was known for being the home of the art and the tradition had spread as travelers from all over came and went through the town. Eredhel had no use for it but she knew Gandalf had a passion for the leaf and even more for the smoke rings he produced with it.
Tucking it into a pocket on her belt, she looked around the room. Her eyes found a familiar figure smoking his pipe in the corner. She smiled to herself and went to take a seat next to him. She was halfway across the room when a drunk man stumbled into her. "My apologies," she said softly though it was clearly his fault. The man had a scraggly beard with bushy eyebrows. Eredhel could smell the alcohol off him and she hoped he had enough sense left in him not to start something. A few of his drinking companions had turned their heads in interest and were looking over in anticipation. Their friend regained his balance and his eyes narrowed as he sized her up.
"Now wha' exactly do ya think yer doin'?" he demanded angrily, his voice slurred. She tried to side step him but he blocked her way. "Ye outsiders, always so rude. Someone oughtta teach you some manners." He suddenly made a swing at her head but she avoided it easily. Their exchange drew the attention of more patrons and they began to cheer on her opponent as he regained his balance, starting towards her menacingly. He made a jab at her ribs but Eredhel caught his hand and gave him an elbow to the head. The man swore and swung at her again but her elven reflexes worked to her advantage. She dodged the blow and he stumbled forwards. Eredhel grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him in the stomach. The onlookers gasped as he dropped to the floor, clutching his side. She spun away from him and continued toward her friend, ignoring the stares as the crowd parted easily for her.
The dark haired man looked up as she reached his table and took in the elf before him. She was tall and lithe, much like Lord Elrond in both appearance and character. Calloused fingers betrayed years of experience with a bow and arms curved with muscle indicated capability with a sword. She moved with an ease and strength inherited from the Maiar, a race the earth had now all but forgotten. Though her face was hidden from view he knew she was watching him with steely grey eyes. "Eredhel?" he said, his eyes widening.
"Hello mellon," she replied. She laid her bow on her knees as she sat down with her back to the wall.
"Well you made quite the entrance, didn't exactly go easy on the poor fellow."
"Unfortunately, no. He didn't give me any other choice, I don't have the patience for drunken fools tonight." She scowled.
"You never do. But here," he said as he slid a half full glass of the local brew, Barliman's Best towards her. "You seem a bit on edge." She considered the cup and then took a sip, her eyes scanning the room.
"The Wraiths are close, I could hear them from the Gate," she explained.
"Ah, so we are here for the same purpose. I thought Gandalf simply wanted you as an extra pair of eyes to watch over the Shire."
"Yes we are. I met Mithrandir here a few months ago and he informed me of the plan. I've been popping in and out of the Shire ever since. It's been damned near impossible to keep the Riders off the Hobbits' trail. Has Gandalf arrived?" she asked, casting a look towards the door as if expecting the wizard to walk in at any moment.
"I should have known, nothing escapes your watchful eyes and keen ears. As for Gandalf, I've not seen or heard word of him," he explained. "But if we were both to come here then we needn't have parted ways after we left Mirkwood."
"Indeed. Yet now we meet again, hopefully this time our company will be of a more pleasant nature," she said. The company she referred to was the creature Gollum. After years of searching they had finally caught up to him in the Dead Marshes. From there they had brought him to Mirkwood, to be held by King Thranduil. The three had journeyed all through the winter and the weather had been harsh and cold. It had been a relief to hand the miserable wretch over to the Wood Elves.
"Hobbits are a gentle folk. Are you aware that Gandalf managed to get the story out of Gollum?" he asked and took a long draw from his pipe.
"Yes, though I have not the slightest idea how he did it. Gandalf told Lord Thranduil that there is hope for him to be cured but I do not see it," she sighed, "The Ring has all but destroyed his mind." At that point the innkeeper came by their table and Strider asked if there had been any word of the wizard.
"You are not the first to inquire about the old man but I have not seen him in over six months now," he replied then turned to Eredhel. "I see you've met Tom Appledore, he's usually a good chap when he doesn't have the ale in him." The innkeeper chuckled nervously but when she remained silent he continued on. "I would ask however that you not get into any more scuffles, bad for business you know. Anyways, can I get either of you anything?"
"I do not know how long we'll be sitting here, I wouldn't mind a plate of something hot," answered Aragorn.
"And I'll have a cup of melomel," added Eredhel.
"Ah yes, so dinner and mead. I'll have someone bring it by within a few moments," he said then quickly dismissed himself. They made him uneasy. Rangers were considered dangerous by most folk in the Shire but there was something about these two that made him shudder. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder as he made his way back to the bar. Their hooded faces displayed no emotion and their solemn dispositions did not waver. The innkeeper shook himself and returned his thoughts to pouring several pints of ale.
Back in the corner the pair sat in silence for a moment, each with their gaze fixed upon the four halflings across the room. Eredhel leaned lazily back in her chair, her elven ears picking up several conversations from around the room. It seemed they were not the only ones who had taken an interest in the travelers from the Shire, she overheard two men at the counter discussing the visitors. Eredhel mentioned this to Strider and he stared at the men intently before returning his eyes to the hobbits.
Shortly after, a barmaid brought their food and drink. Aragorn smiled at the roast and steaming vegetables. A fresh baked bun was placed beside the utensils and he eagerly began to cut the meat. Eredhel chuckled at him as she sipped the honey wine, the mead bringing warmth to her tongue. At the hobbits' table, Frodo glanced uneasily at the two travelers out of the corner of his eye. Eredhel saw him tap the owner on the arm and nod in their direction, she focused on their conversation. "Excuse me, that pair over in the corner with the hoods, who are they?" asked Frodo.
"They're a couple of those Rangers. The one on the left is known around here as Strider, and his companion doesn't come as often but is called Varyor. I would stay away from them Master Underhill, they're dangerous folk that spend all their time in the Wild." Eredhel rolled her eyes and nudged Strider as the owner continued to tell Frodo what he knew about the two of them. He raised his eyebrows questioningly and she indicated to the hobbits.
"Barliman has just informed Mr. Underhill that we are dangerous folk and that you come and go often," Eredhel explained.
"Ah I see. What did he say about you?"
"Apparently I am not often seen and hear more than any man should." She smirked.
"Well that, along with your little spectacle, will make our task of getting the hobbits to trust us so much easier," he said sarcastically and Eredhel chuckled. It was only a moment after this that Frodo gave a great cry and ran over to one of his companions at the counter. Immediately Eredhel rose to her feet, having overheard Frodo's friend at the bar.
"His drunken friend has just given them away!" She swore and Strider tensed. They watched as Frodo was pushed back and fell to the floor, the Ring flying from his hand and then landing upon his finger. He vanished just as the two ran over to him. Eredhel was shoving several people back when he reappeared under a bar stool. The men gasped as Strider grabbed the short fellow and dragged him up the stairs with Eredhel following behind. She glanced behind them to ensure they weren't followed. Some of the men were staring at her, as if debating whether or not to go to the hobbit's aid. But they knew better than to interfere with the dealings of the mysterious wanderers and soon returned to their pints.
Once upstairs, Strider threw the hobbit into his room and slammed the door. Frodo regained his balance and looked at them with terror in his bright blue eyes. "What do you want?" he asked.
"A little more caution and common sense from you, that is no mere trinket you carry," said Strider.
"I carry nothing, if you leave us alone you can have what money we have," insisted Frodo.
"Ah, so you take us for thieves then?" snapped Strider as Eredhel extinguished candles. "We can avoid being seen if we wish, blend into shadow, hide from our enemies' eyes. But to be able to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift."
"Who are you?" Frodo demanded.
"Are you frightened?" asked the man sharply.
"Yes," he replied, backing away and trying to keep his eyes on both of them at once.
"Not nearly frightened enough. A powerful evil hunts you," said Strider darkly and Eredhel grabbed his arm.
"Mennir trî i annon! (They have come through the gate)" she hissed and suddenly the door burst open. Strider drew his sword and Eredhel nocked an arrow at the intruders. They lowered their weapons however when they saw that it was only the other hobbits, one brandishing an iron candlestick.
"Let him go or I'll have you long shanks!" growled the leader.
"You have a stout heart but that will not save you," said Strider exasperatedly. "You can no longer wait for the wizard Frodo. As my friend has just said, they are coming." He looked over at Eredhel and sensing his intentions, she nodded. Strider turned and swept from the room. The hobbits went to follow him but Eredhel blocked the door.
"It would be wise for you to stay here," she advised.
"Where has he gone?" asked the youngest hobbit timidly.
"To ensure that we are not disturbed," was her answer and the four of them went to stand by the window. After several moments there came a soft knock and the man returned.
"I have just stuffed your beds, you will remain here tonight and we'll set off first thing tomorrow. I suggest you get some rest." The words were barely out of his mouth when another knock sounded on the door and they all turned in surprise. Strider took a few steps towards it as Eredhel raised her bow and backed into the shadows. He pulled the door open a few inches before opening it all the way to allow Barliman into the room. The innkeeper was red in the face and slightly out of breath. He surveyed the room nervously.
"Well Mr. Underhill you've caused quite the commotion downstairs! I reckon they'll be talking about this one for years to come. Half the men have left the tavern because of your little vanishing act," he huffed.
"I am sorry, I did not mean to lose you any business. It was an accident and one that could have been avoided if we had met our friend," apologized Frodo.
"Yes that's why I'm here. I was cleaning up downstairs when I remembered something Gandalf told me when he last visited. He told me to keep an eye out for a hobbit by the name of Underhill fitting your description and to help him in any way I could. Being that the wizard is good friend I agreed. Several days later he left in quite a hurry but before he did he gave me a letter. I was supposed to send it along to the Shire but in the following week I couldn't find anyone who was willing to go so eventually I completely forgot about it! I'm terribly sorry and I daresay that Gandalf won't be pleased if word ever does get back to him," the innkeeper explained and handed Frodo an envelope with the wizard's seal on the back.
"I suppose there's nothing to be done about it now. I very much appreciate your help," said Frodo.
"If there's anything you need, anything at all, just holler and I'll see that's it done," promised Barliman. Eredhel stepped from the shadows, her weapon lowered. Barliman gulped and took a step away from her, backing against the wall. His fingers twitched at his side uneasily. "And what are the two of you doing in here?" He turned to Frodo, "Little Master, it's unwise for one in your position to take up with Rangers."
Eredhel snorted, "It's the wisest decision he's made since arriving here. Now I'm going to step outside for a while. When I get back you will bar the door and let no one in. The Black Riders have already made it past the gate and are probably hiding until the right moment. If anyone asks for Mr. Underhill you will tell them he has retired to his room. Do you understand?" The man had only just nodded his head when she swept from the room, her cloak billowing behind her. He stared nervously after her for a moment then exited as well and Strider locked the door behind him. Frodo examined the wax seal before tearing open the letter and scanning down through the elegant script. His eyes widened as he continued to read. When he was finished he rolled up the parchment and turned to face Strider, a determined frown set on his face.
"Who are you and why should we trust you?" he demanded boldly.
"You do not have much choice," said Strider. "But allow me to properly introduce myself, I'm sure you've been given the wrong impression by Barliman. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, better known as Strider in these parts. I am a Ranger of the North."
"And who is your friend?"
"One who's help you should be very grateful to have as she is known as a guardian among her people. You know her as Varyor, but to a few she is Eredhel of Rivendell and an old friend of Gandalf's."
"Yes he mentioned you both in his letter. Varyor, what does it translate to in Westron?"
"It means protector. Elves are often given more than one name," Aragorn explained.
"With a name like that why do so many fear her?" asked one of the others.
"They do not know the true meaning and have heard only the dark rumors of her. Folk around here often fear that which is strange or foreign," he answered.
"Very well. I have more questions but I will wait until Eredhel returns," said Frodo. "What is she gone off doing?"
"Looking for answers." Aragorn went to look out the window.
"How does she expect to get them?" asked Frodo, slightly confused.
"It would be best just to say that she can be quite persuasive when she wants to be," said Aragorn and a sly grin spread over the Ranger's face.