Aiedale slipped past unnoticed by the old gate keeper and trailed behind the hobbits. They walked up a gentle slope, passing a few detached houses, and then drew up outside what seemed to be the only inn in the small town. The houses that she past were small and gloomy looking places. For all the effort that had clearly gone into maintaining them they still, thought Aiedale, looked depressingly gloomy and for the inn, well Aiedale was hardly impressed by it either. It had a front on the Road, and two wings running back on land partly cut out of the lower slopes of the hill. Its windows sent out light onto the street. The hobbits thought it rather welcoming and were eager to go in and find a comfortable place to put their feet up while they discussed what to do. Yet, to Aiedale, it was merely a hive of drunken mundane men and she knew, for she had long hunted among crowds, how dangerous such places could be.

Once, long ago, this town had been a great meeting place when these lands had been more populated. Men and other folk of various sorts had all traveled by this place as they traveled from all directions, and when the Shire-hobbits had been more adventurous. Those had been the days when the North Road was a well traveled and safe route, before the fall of Northern kingdom. It was because of that – those days of busy travel to and fro – that the inn had been built and been built to last. It had been a place of many meetings and many farewells. It had been called the same thing all through its life: THE PRANCING PONY. The current owner was Barliman Butterbur.

Aiedale watched as the hobbits entered and, steeling her nerves and consoling herself with the knowledge she was safely hidden by a strong glamour, followed behind Merry. The inside was, if anything, worse than what Aiedale imagined it would be. Smoke and cheerful voices joined loudly in a song that never seemed to end while heavy mugs of ale were slammed down onto tables. She was surrounded by big, drunk, smelly and rowdy men. For a moment, a brief panicky moment, she could not see the hobbits and then, with a small sigh of relief, she spotted them. They were speaking to a round, sweaty faced man with a spotless white apron tied around his vast middle. His head was bald and his face so red he resembled a tomato. The man gestured at some stairs in a corner and began to lead the hobbits toward them. During this he never seemed to stop moving his mouth and every few seconds he would use a rag to wipe his shiny bald head.

Aiedale moved to follow, weaving her way around and through the men who did not even notice the invisible presence that passed by them. They did not notice her and that was the way she wanted it.

As Aiedale began to climb the stairs on silent feet she sensed a gaze. Turning her head ever so slightly she saw a dark shape of a man – or what looked to be a man – smoking a foul smelling pipe in a far corner. He was spread out on a chair but his posture, while relaxed, seemed all to ready to move like a cat might stretch out only to leap after a mouse a second later. His gaze was fixed firmly on her but she could not see his face for it was hidden by a thick black cloak. She felt the weight of his eyes and it made her uneasy.

He can see you, hissed a warning. Move.

With no way to confirm it and not wishing to test her luck in a place she knew nothing of against something that may nor not be human, Aiedale took the steps two at a time. She could do nothing about it right then but she could stay close to the hobbits and watch them just in case. She pressed herself against the wall and slipped forward as the fat man bustled past, nothing more than a faint movement he brushed off as a draft.

The hobbits had been given a small room – the last one available – at the far corner of the north wing of the inn. Following their faint voices, Aiedale pushed the door open and quickly closed it behind her. She found herself in a small and cozy room. There was a bit of a bright fire burning on the hearth and, in front of it, was a round table already spread with a white cloth. The four hobbits emerged from a door that, from what Aiedale could see led to a small bedroom with four neatly made beds

Instinct made her look to the windows and she confirmed that they were not only well latched but that there was no way to climb up to them. Below was the stable yard but, as much as she could tell, it was deserted. Meeting the wide-eyed stares of the hobbits she smiled ever so slightly and said, "This is alright."

"Yes," said Merry and he glanced around as though he found it homey enough to. Sam had been arguing, since entering Bree, to find a proper hobbit bed for the night with one of the hobbit families that lived on the hillside not far away. However, Frodo had refused on the grounds that Tom Bombadil, their host in the Old Forest, had told them The Prancing Pony was a neat little place that would be homey enough even for hobbits. Besides, he argued it would be at the Prancing Pony that he would find out where Gandalf might be. It was a busy hub and surely, he hoped, the wizard would have left sign for them.

As Merry fell silent, Pippen piped up with the question that all four hobbits wanted to ask but three of them weren't quite brave enough to. They had all been stealing their nerves to ask but only Pippen had the naïve innocence to actually do it. Perhaps he also guessed that she would less likely to snap at him because of his childish charm:"Why can't they see you?"

Aiedale sighed and pulled out one of the small chairs. She sank down into it and it seemed to her that each of her battle scars was making themselves known. Her head ached and she half-wondered if she needed another healing iratze or just sleep. Then there was the shadowed man downstairs that gave her warning tingles.

Meeting the gaze of the hobbits, she gestured at the chairs and said quietly, "You should sit down. For I have questions for you to and we need to speak of this now."

The hobbits settled into their chairs and looked at her expectantly. They were, thought the young warrior, so different from anything she had ever met before. Not in a bad way and she was sure if she hadn't been forced to travel with them in such trying circumstances she might have enjoyed their company. As it was they merely made her already strained nerves come close to the breaking point. It was not something they did on purpose.

Gesturing at herself, she began: "I come from a very distant place and I do not know how I came here. Where I come from I am a warrior – someone who fights against darkness. I found myself in this…Middle Earth and not long after I met you." So far they seemed to be following her words and the meaning they contained. "I have no idea how to return or why I ended up here." Looking down at her gloved hands she continued in a soft voice that would be difficult to overhear, "Where I come from we have ways of hiding ourselves using 'glamours.' You know I am there so you can see me but others do not as so they think I am just a bit of empty air or something ordinary."

"Ah," said Frodo and it was clear that he and the others were struggling to accept what they were hearing. "I suppose you would like to know about Middle Earth then?"

Aiedale could have hugged him for being so quick on the uptake and reading both her and her situation so well. Maybe she had been incorrect in thinking that hobbits were completely oblivious to the outside world. This one certainly had understood and seen what she had been attempting to control. As it was Frodo had always had that skill about him and he saw the deep longing for information that she could not quite hide.

He condensed a summary of Middle Earth and its peoples to a lecture of ten minutes – a feat few could ever hope to manage. Aiedale was silent through this brief introduction to elves, which to her sound like fairies, the men and the dwarves as well as the foul monsters – namely orcs – that haunted some of the wild places. Then, after that, he informed her of his own mission to take the Ring, though he did not show her the small band, to Rivendell, home of the elf lord Elrond, and how Gandalf, a wizard, was supposed to help him.

After this brief and yet highly informative talk, a sudden idea struck Frodo. "Maybe Gandalf can help you," said Frodo thoughtfully. "He is a wizard and would know of such things." Sam nodded his head and both Merry and Pippen seemed to agree for, they to, nodded.

"A wizard?" asked Aiedale doubtfully.

She had a Shadowhunter's view of magic in which was it was dark and dangerous. It was no transformation of rubber ducks to swans or flashing sparks but something to be respected and, sometimes, feared even by her. But maybe, just maybe, magic was different here and maybe wizards were a little like warlocks. She had and could deal with prickly warlocks. Maybe, with some luck, she could deal with a wizard to.

"Yes," said Frodo, "he can perform magic and would be your best chance of returning home." The hobbit looked at the grim young woman and said, "But Butterbur said he was not here and that he has not been here for months. Without him I cannot reach Rivendell and complete my journey." His hand reflexively gripped the front of his jack where the ring lay underneath and he felt the same chill that the Black Riders inspired in him come back. The fear he felt – the idea that Gandalf was not here – was overwhelming and he wished that he had never come. He wished with all his heart that the Ring had stayed far away from him and Bilbo.

"You cannot stay here long though," said Aiedale carefully. "If you are hunted then you must continue on and do your best with or without this Gandalf." She looked down at her hands and felt as if the weight of all of this was slowly pushing her down and breaking her. It would seem she didn't have a choice anymore. "I will go with you regardless."

Angel only knew, thought the warrior, it had not been her plan. But now, counselled an inner voice that sounded an awful lot like her first weapons instructor, she would have to keep going with them and hope that this Gandalf person knew how to send her home. She could try a portal but how would a portal take her home if her home lay through dimensions? It was a stupid, dangerous risk to take until she had explored this other option. The only way to explore it was to follow the hobbits. Simple. Easy. So not going to be any fun at all.

The hobbits looked at her with shocked faces and it was Sam who spoke, "Forgive me Miss but why?" A little color stained his cheeks but he continued determinedly, "You do not seem like the kind of person who would want to get wrapped up in this."

Aiedale looked at him. She considered what she had seen in him and decided that, in some respects, she rather liked him. He was loyal and loyalty was counted as one of the greatest attributes a soldier could have. So she smiled ever so slightly at him and said quietly, "Because I am a Shadowhunter and you need my help. It will help me get to this Gandalf and I can rest easy knowing I did not abandon you." She ran a hand over the perfectly white table cloth and suddenly she wanted a bath. To remove the dried blood, the dirt and sweat would be the sweetest of joys right then and it might help ease the soreness in her muscles.

The hobbits did not know what to say to these words and so rather awkwardly Merry said, "I will ask for some dinner to be brought here. I don't relish the idea of eating downstairs."

"Nor should you," counselled Aiedale, "you must stay quiet and leave just as quietly." Rising from the small table that came to just below her waist, the young woman made her way to the small attached bedroom while Merry went off to ask for dinner and the other three busied themselves with their packs.

There was, to her relief, a wash basin with some lukewarm water, a bar of strange smelling soap and some relatively soft towels. Making sure the door was closed she let herself consider how it might feel to be sort of clean. With the nimble fingers she loosened her auburn hair from its crusted braid before removing her weapons and then her black gear. Once she was down to the thin blue shirt she wore underneath and her bra she took a moment to examine herself critically in the mirror that hung above the wash basin. What she saw was hardly reassuring.

The face that looked back at her was very pale and the exhaustion was plain in it. Her hair was filthy and smudges of dirt stood out against her pale complexion like bruises. Her shirt was stained with blood and it stuck to her in the most unpleasant of ways. Pushing the locks of thick hair back she pulled her shirt off and examined her ribs but found them mostly healed as well as most of the bruises. Her body still ached but that would fade soon enough.

Even as she rid herself of the worst of the grime, Aiedale did think longingly of her room back at the Institute. She imagined what a shower with steaming hot water, her favorite lavender shampoo and soap would feel like. Then, once she was scrubbed from head to toe, she would like a mundane sized bed with downy soft sheets and be able to sleep for a week with no interruption or glimpse of a hobbit. However, that was unlikely to happen at this point and so, with a irritated sigh and a glowering expression she saw no reason to soften, Aiedale forced her mind to focus on the task at hand.

By the time she was finished the water was black and the towels should probably be thrown out. Pulling her shirt back on and then her gear she carefully replaced her weapons. She felt better after that. More alive and ready to cope even though she knew that, soon, she would probably need to confront just what being here meant and the weighty implications. She could only hope that sorting everything out would not result in her either crying or getting angry enough to break something or, more likely, both.

Leaving the small room she found the hobbits just sitting down to a dinner that had been brought in by Nob, a hobbit who worked at the Inn. The sight of the food – good and hearty food – made her frown lighten ever so slightly despite herself. She had been ignoring just how hungry she actually was and now…well now she was all too eager to tuck into the small feast.

"You will have to use our traveling utensils," said Frodo apologetically. "It sounded strange to ask for a plate for another person when there were only four of us."

"That is fine," said Aiedale as she pulled up a spare chair that was placed beside the crackling fire place. Nothing more was said as both hobbits and Shadowhunter tucked into their dinner. In her brief look outside Aiedale had seen a well cared for vegetable plot and so, she guessed, that the roast potatoes, carrots and onions were from there. It was, she decided, very much like being back in Idris and that, right then, was a comforting thought. It had been home and always would as long as she lived. Both she and her younger brother had a house in the city and a country house not far from the city. These homes were rarely visited now and she thought longingly of the gardens that surrounded the large country home where she had spent most of her early childhood. Thinking of the fair city with its elegant houses and the green countryside that surrounded it was not only comforting but it added to her determination to make her way home.

As the hobbits leaned back satisfied, Aiedale decided it was time to make some sort of plan. She was growing very tired now that her hunger had been eased and the warm fire was sending welcome warmth across her. Forcing her sleepiness away for the moment, the young woman leaned forward ever so slightly and asked the question: "Now what?"

"What do you mean?" asked Frodo. He to was trying to stay awake to and finding it almost impossible.

"What will you do now?" asked Aiedale as she glanced out the window and then back to the door. She was closest to the door and, as she spoke, she watched it just in case someone – namely that black stranger downstairs – was eavesdropping. "Your friend, Gandalf, is not here and you have no way of knowing when he might come here if at all."

Merry leaned forward now, "We could spend a few days." He was thinking of more dinners like this one and it was easier to be brave when the Black Riders were out of sight and a fire was roaring in the grate.

"No," said Aiedale sharply, "you say you are hunted by things that are stronger then you. Wasting time in a village full of humans is one of the stupidest things you could do." She looked to Frodo briefly and said softly, "Who knows? Maybe there are spies for your enemies downstairs or watching the village. The sooner you slip out the better." Aiedale opened her mouth to speak again when a sound stopped her. It was a sound so soft that the hobbits did not hear it and so did not understand her reaction. However, with her sensitive hearing and senses that, despite her sleepiness, were all too ready to sense danger, she caught it.

She heard the sound of someone with very quiet feet walking down the hall outside. The faint vibration in the floorboards made her tense and, before the hobbits could speak, she raised one finger to her lips in the universal gesture for 'be quiet!' Turning her head ever so slightly she looked to the door and saw a flicker in the light that sneaked under the crack – someone had come to a stop outside and she had the feeling it was that man from downstairs. Butterbur could not move so quietly nor could the pleasant servant, Nob, who had brought dinner to the hobbits while she was washing off.

Aiedale stood.

The chair was well made and sturdy; it did not creak nor shift as she did so and that allowed her to move on silent feet to the side of the door. Meanwhile, sitting petrified in their seats, the hobbits watched her. They watched her transformation with wide eyes. One moment relaxed and speaking easily to as tense as drawn bow string with no obvious sign of danger. It was so sudden that they did nothing but sit quietly and waited for her to either relax or tell them why she had gone so warrior-like on them. There was nothing of the girl who had laughed lightly with them over dinner as Merry and Pippen made a few jokes about Butterbur and his inn. Now she resembled the girl in the forest. That was the girl who looked like she could kill a person without a second thought.

A knock – a firm knock – sounded on the wood of the door and the hobbits felt their hearts leap into their mouths at the unexpected noise. They had heard no one approach nor suspected that they might be visited that night and so, frightened, they turned back to Aiedale. Thoughts of Black Riders and knife wielding spies were suddenly at the forefront of their minds. Suddenly they were quite glad that they had Aiedale and that she, it seemed, was more than prepared to deal with whatever threat might pounce through that door the second it was opened.

Aiedale stretched out one hand and then, with one hand resting on the handle od her kindjal, she opened the door.