The man stood on the landing just outside the door which led, he had guessed, to the room the hobbits had been given by Butterbur. His heavy black cloak settled around him, concealing the long sword that was sheathed at his waist.
The hallway was lit only by lanterns every few feet and they cast flickering shadows across the walls and on the floor. The wooden door was shut and yet, through it, he thought he heard the soft murmur of quiet voices though they had fallen silent just moments before he had stopped. Behind him the sounds of men drinking and singing filtered up the stairs.
Aragorn son of Arathorn, Cheiftan of the Dunedain, adopted son of Lord Elrond of Rivendell and Heir of Islidur was on a mission. His long-time friend and ally, Gandalf the Grey, had asked him to help these hobbits get to Rivendell and so he would despite the burden they carried, his own feelings of weakness and the haunting darkness that searched for not only the Ring of Power, carried by Frodo Baggins, but he, Aragorn.
It had impressed him a little that they had stayed in their room and not come downstairs like he thought they would. Caution, he knew all to well from his time spent patrolling the Shire, was not something found very often among hobbit folk. However, he was still uneasy. He had thought he had seen a dark shadow slip up the stairs behind them and he had almost followed them right then had it not been that the shadow of a small figure had vanished almost instantly after he had noticed it and he doubted his own eyes.
Pushing back the hood of his thick black cloak, he raised a gloved hand and knocked firmly against the door. For a long moment there was no sound and then, without warning, the door opened. Aragorn found himself looking into a pleasant room where four hobbits sat around a table. The remains of their dinner were still before them and they had a stunned and frightened look to them. His eyes fell on the black haired one, Frodo Baggins, and he wondered, as he had when he had first seen them, why there were three more. Surely Gandalf had cautioned the hobbit that it was best to travel silently and with as few companions as possible? Not only that but leading four hobbits through the wilderness was going to be an interesting challenge he was not sure he was ready for.
Stepping inside he opened his mouth to speak a greeting – anything to break the very strange air in the room – but he never got far.
In fact, he froze as the all too familiar feeling of a blade at his throat made him freeze.
It was a cold blade.
A cold blade held by a slim fingered gloved hand that belonged to a slender young woman with cool green eyes. There was an icy look to her. Her face was taut with a discipline he'd never seen in one so young and seemingly delicate. Her face, her eyes, spoke of surety and grim determination that was both terribly unsettling and sad. There was nothing young about this girl, she had the look of someone who had seen all the darkness the world had to offer and battled with it. The way she held the blade, the way she looked at him and the way the cold blade rested against his throat were practiced and preformed with an instinctive ease that spoke of years of such actions. She looked at him with those cool eyes and he felt goose bumps spread across his skin.
Just as Aragorn studied her the Shadowhunter studied him. What she saw hardly made her trust him or want to lower her knife. He had a well-traveled look to him and was definitely mundane or her Sensor, hidden in a pocket, would have let her know. He was also rather handsome in a rugged, mundane sort of way which only made her want to wrinkle her nose in disgust. In fact he smelled like he had never had a bath or if he had it had been far too long ago. The air about him was grim and silent, a warrior's air she recognized. He was also hooded and cloaked. His weapons, from what she could see with a cursory, well used and beautifully crafted.
"Who are you?" she asked coldly. She knew just from her quick observations that he was not someone to just let go and hope they didn't attack. In her weakened state this strange mundane might just over power her and she would not suffer such an indignity.
"I am called Strider," said Aragorn, "and I wish to speak to you and your companions. I bring word from a mutual friend. I have things to say which might be to your advantage." He stood very still and watched the young woman's inscrutable face for any sign that she would either believe his words or decide to end his life. The hobbits were forgotten as they two at the door gazed silently at each other.
Aiedale did not know what to do. So, she broke the staring contest with the man and looked to Frodo. The young hobbit seemed unable to find anything to say and he met her gaze with wide, unsure eyes. He had never seen anyone look like this. He had never looked into someone's eyes and felt as if they were looking through him. His voice seemed to have stopped working. With a cough, Frodo forced himself to ask quietly, "What do you want to say?" He knew he had to speak, if only to make sure that this stranger did not die in the next thirty seconds.
The knife was still very much at his neck and Aragorn almost, not quite, but almost, fumbled his next words. It was a mistake he was certain later may have ended the conversation with his death. "I have been looking for a hobbit called Frodo Baggins. I wanted to find him quickly for I had learned from Gandalf the Grey that he was in need of assistance carrying a secret that not only concerns me but those you carry it to. You match the description that was given to me and I take care of the secrets given to me. The shadows are haunted by enemies and Black horseman ride openly. They search for you and your burden."
Frodo was gazing at them and a quick glance showed that the young woman showed no sign of lowering her blade. Finally the hobbit spoke, "How do I know you are friend? And why did Gandalf send you?"
At the moment there was the sound of heavy footsteps and breaths coming from the hall. Aiedale looked at the ranger and then she made a decision. Removing her knife from his throat she hit him hard without warning across the back and sent him stumbling forward and towards a chair left by the fire. "Sit," she snapped at him and it was an order delivered with a wave of her blade. Meanwhile the glamour she had removed was quickly drawn on like a pair of favorite gloves and she slunk back into the shadows of the door which she slipped shut as the footsteps grew closer.
Aragorn understood her plan and so, his back to the door and hidden by the back of the chair, he was left vulnerable and yet also hidden just in case. He felt distinctly uncomfortable not being able to see who was coming but he had to trust not only the hobbits but the odd little girl.
A knock came at the door. Mr. Butterbur had arrived with candles, and behind him was Nob who swiftly removed the plates from the table and vanished as silently as he had come with only a small smile in the hobbit's direction. "I've come to bid you good night," said the landlord, putting the candles on the table. "And to apologize because I'm a busy man and sometimes things slip my mind. You see, I was asked to look out for hobbits of the Shire, and for one by the name of Baggins in particular." The man looked at him hard and asked hopefully, "Your name wouldn't happen to be Baggins would it?"
Frodo started a little at the sound of his name and warily said, "Why were you asked to look for me?"
A look of relief crossed Butterbur's thick face and he smiled a little as if a great weight – that he had forgotten was there – had just been lifted. "Gandalf left a letter for you in my care. A wizard they say he is, but he's a good friend of mine, whether or no. He's a bit hasty but he left for you a letter and I was supposed to post it the very next day but," the man paused and wrung his hands nervously before finding his voice. "I forgot. One thing after another drove it from my mind and I never managed to find anyone to take it either. However, if there's any help I can give, you've to name it." The man paused again and then continued in his breathy, mile-a-minute voice.
"Leaving the letter aside he did tell me that you would be going by the name Underhill and I was not to ask any questions. And if I'm not with him, he may be in trouble, and he may need help. Do whatever you can for him. And here you are, but trouble seems to have left you alone." Then, he drew in a deep breath and said a touch slower and in a very low voice, "But the Black Riders have been by and they have been looking for a 'Baggins.' They've been asking the same question all the way to Archet I hear. And that Ranger, Strider he's been asking questions too. Trouble may not be far behind you now."
"Thank you," said Frodo with a small smile that made the land lord relax a little in the face of hobbit manners. "May I have the letter? We shall be leaving early tomorrow and I beg of you to forget the name Baggins."
"I can do that," said the land lord, "Me and my folk'll keep watch tonight; but you had best get some sleep if you can." At last Mr. Butterbur went out and never did he notice the ranger in the chair by the fire or the shadow of a girl in the dark corner. He went out and never realized just how close he had come to fate and something that eclipsed his little inn in its little town surrounded by wilderness.
Aiedale waited until the door was closed to slip over to Frodo. The glamour fell away from her as she left the shadows and, with one eye on the silent ranger who watched them, she asked, "What does it say?"
Frodo looked carefully at the seal before he broke it. It certainly seemed to be Gandalf's and it was written in the wizard's strong but graceful script.
Frodo read it silently with Aiedale looking over his shoulder, and then he passed it to Pippen and Sam who read it with Merry. "Butterbur really does deserves Gandalf's roasting," said Frodo. "Yet Gandalf writes as if he going into great danger."
"He has been doing that for many years," said Strider.
"He mentions you," said Frodo candidly. "If you are who Gandalf's says you might be then you can be trusted."
"I know more of your pursuers then you do," said the ranger from the chair he was sitting in. "I can get you to Rivendell safely by paths that are seldom trodden. Tomorrow you must make your escape but you will not get far. They will come on you in the wild and there will be no one to save you." The hobbits looked at him and saw that his face was drawn as if with pain, and his hands clenched the arms of his chair. The light seemed to have dimmed and his eyes seemed to walking in distant memory or as if he was listening to sounds of the night far away.
It was Aiedale who broke it, "They will have me." Her voice cracked like a whip through the air and it seemed then that she changed to. She seemed taller, stronger and more dangerous then ever before. She turned her gaze on the ranger, "They will have me and I do not fear the shadows." There was a cold determination in that voice that shook the ranger from his thoughts and made him gaze at her with something close to wonder at her brave words.
"You cannot stand alone against them," said Aragorn firmly. "No one can."
Aiedale raised a slanted eyebrow and resisted the urge to say, firstly, that he was mundane so of course he couldn't and that, secondly, she had stood alone against much fouler things. No. She would wait and surprise him, decided the young warrior with an almost gleeful leap of her heart. There was something rather fun in concealing it all and then surprising this irritating man.
Sam was not daunted by the words or the air that floated with unknowable power, "How do we know you are not a different person though? You might be play-acting!" The little hobbit stuck out his chin a little and tried to look determined but managed, in Aiedale's opinion, just to look foolish. That was not how one went about pulling the truth out of people, unless she decided, one was a hobbit.
"Let me tell you this Sam Gamgee," answered Aragorn, "if I had killed the real Strider, I could kill you. I would have already killed you. If I was after the Ring, I could have it now!" He stood up, allowing them to see him unmasked as he truly was. Despite the keen and noble light that suddenly glittered around him as well as the long black sword at his side, Aiedale let out a small laugh.
"Really?" she asked and she found the surprise in the man's eyes to be incredibly satisfying. "That is the best you can do?" Her own gaze sharpened and one hand fell back to the hilt of her kindjal that was just visible against the black of her gear.
There was a long silence. Neither Aragorn nor the hobbits knew what to say but Frodo was determined, if not to prevent someone from being killed, then to at least move along in the conversation from threats and accusations. "So you wish to come with us?"
"Yes," said Aragorn with a quick glance at Aiedale who was watching him intently. "I am Aragorn. All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost."
"So those verses apply to you," said Frodo with a quick glance at the letter and then he met the Ranger's gaze. "When did you last see Gandalf?"
"Too long ago," said Aragorn and he felt the worry he had been smothering for his friend leap forward again. "I met with him in May and he told me of your journey but I was off on business of my own. It was only recently that I heard from the Elven-folk of Gildor that you had left your home but horsemen rode abroad and Gandalf was missing." Looking to the window briefly Argorn continued on another subject. "Tomorrow we will leave early. It is a long way to Rivendell and the Enemies are relentless in their search."
"I'm sorry," said Pippen, "but I am dead tired." He smiled apologetically and glanced towards the bedroom where a comfortable mattress was calling.
He might have gone to bed and the others would have followed had it not been for Aiedale's Sensor. The little device buzzed lightly against her side and sent an immediate warning jolt through her. One hand flew to the hidden device but she did not need to look at it know that it was warning her of demonic action. Walking to the window she glanced out and, with eyesight made keen by runes, saw what not even a mortal such as Aragorn would have been able to see.
A black shadow – vaguely human in shape – was creeping along on the street below heading towards the gate. She drew back a little as it glanced upwards and then continued to slink away. There was nothing human about it at all. Aiedale barely contained her soft curse and, instead, settled for a small hiss. Aragorn drew up beside her and asked quietly, "What did you see?"
Aiedale did not say anything. She was looking down at the shadows and then she glanced towards the sky. A thunderstorm had skirted around them and the occasional distant flash of lightning illuminated the sky but did little to ease the thick shadows around the buildings. "There is something out there," murmured Aiedale. "Something that does not want to be seen."
"The Riders," breathed out the Aragorn as fear stirred in his heart. "We must leave this place."
"For where?" demanded Merry from his place. "Surely they would not attack the inn!"
"My room," said Aragorn. "Quickly now. For they may not attack a house where there are lights and many people but their power is in terror and already some in Bree are in their clutch." Turning swiftly on one heel he looked to the silent Shadowhunter who had not moved from her place at the window and then back to the hobbits. "Gather your things and let us be gone from this place."
As the hobbits settled down and fell easily to sleep in the single, man-sized bed that was tucked away in a small, back room in the Bree inn, darkness began to spread. A mist strayed along and things fell unnaturally silent. A brooding threat that chilled the living things of the world and sent Aiedale Darklighter on edge despite exhaustion and the confused events of her life. She stood at the side of the window and watched the world with the quiet patience of a Shadowhunter as they ready themselves to fight. Beside her, unwelcome company, was the Ranger who sat alert and ready in a chair.
As she watched the night, he split his time between watching the world outside and the strange young woman who stood, so still, almost statute like, beside the window.
The night deepened. The cold hours coming closer towards midnight where the moon is only just beginning to send out its cold light.
The sound of hooves came from the street below. Aiedale tensed and Strider stood beside her. They both looked down and saw, coming up the street, nine riders on nine black horses. The muffled sound of the hooves echoing faintly in the fog that seemed to follow the Nazgul. At an invisible signal the horses came to a stop and the Riders dismounted. A faint gleam of moonlight fell across unsheathed blades but then the figures vanished into the shadows of the now silent inn.
Aiedale had to restrain her impulse to sneak down to that part of the inn and find out exactly what the strange creatures were up to. She was protected by runes and had a natural curiosity to learn more about these obviously foul creatures. To her they were threats that needed to be eliminated not the terrifying beasts that most normal mundanes thought of them as. Instead, she turned to the Ranger and asked, "What are they?"
Before the mundane could answer her she heard the most awful noise. It was a high, shrill cry. A cry as unbearable as nails being raked down a blackboard. Aiedale felt chilled fear try to settle inside of her as she recalled every bad moment, every bit of defeat and grief she had ever experienced. It was as if all of those memories, those horrific instances of despair and terror were caught up in one terrible cry. She had never heard such a thing before. Aiedale kept herself still by shear force of will and, instead of cowering, dug her fingers into the wood of the window sill. Frodo had sat up in the bed, his face white with fear. Beside him the other hobbits were gripping each other tightly.
Below the shadow shapes remounted their black horses and galloped away as quietly as they had come. Their blades held high in armoured hands.
"They were once men," said Aragorn as he pulled out the pipe he kept on himself at all times. Remembering the story of the Nine never failed to bring darkness and his own worries to the front of his mind. "Great Kings of Men, then Sauron the Deceiver gave them the Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed they took them and fell into shadow. Now they serve him and ever do they search for the One Ring." He stopped and lit the pipe before continuing, "They are tireless in their search."
Aiedale rolled her eyes for, despite being shaken by the cry of the creatures, she was not going to be intimidated by all this talk of Kings and shadow. "What do they fear?"
Aragorn started slightly at the question and turned to look at the girl. "They fear fire and light," he said as he puffed a little on the pipe. "They fear love and laughter, the things that struggle to survive when darkness covers the land."
Aiedale could not stop the slight smirk that twisted across her face. She had been right then in her first assumption that, if she did encounter them, she would either need fire. Aiedale did not pay attention as the hobbits settled back into their bed nor did she look again at the Ranger who was now filling the air with his foul pipe smoke. Instead she looked around and found that the only chair was conveniently placed in a corner and well away from both the Ranger and the door. With a small sigh she settled into the silence and began to think, for the first time, of all that had happened to her.
It was past midnight and yet Aiedale could not bring herself to trust the Ranger enough to sleep in his presence and nor would her thoughts have let her even if she had tried.
The street outside was dark and there was no sign of the Black Riders since their last appearance. The silence lay heavy on the town and some might have found it stifling but not Aiedale. She liked the silence, it was space between her thoughts and the events of the past few hours. To her silence was a good thing and even if it was the cold silence left by the Black Riders it was better then the noise which mundanes like to fill the day and night with.
She wanted to cry but her pride would not let her when the Ranger was sitting so close and she knew that his hearing was sharp enough to catch even the slightest sniffle. Had she been alone or less furious with herself and the world it would have been easier to release the emotions. Such experiences – even one as unheard of as this one – were part of her life.
Expect the unexpected, lectured her inner voice of reason.
But she was lost here with no immediate return to her comrades and, most importantly, her brother. It seemed so unfair. She, who had upheld the mantle of being not only a Nephilim but a Darklighter as well, was somehow in another dimension that was not her own. For a moment, a brief moment, she felt hot tears prick her eyes as it all suddenly became too much. It was so unfair.
A second later she pulled back. She had allowed the anguish, the anger and the longing to know, if not how, then why she had ended up here to consume her. Those few seconds her entire body had seem to be frozen with the power of those emotions and her own exhaustion did not help.
You are a damn Shadowhunter, she snapped at herself, and Shadowhunters do not sob hysterically in dark corners.
Through sheer force of will, Aiedale forced herself to examine what she did know and that was far more then she had known a few hours ago. Aiedale ordered the information with an almost obsessive determination as if, by listing what she did know not only about Middle Earth but its inhabitants and the little quest she was caught up in, she would find some hidden meaning. She had just come to the end of her list and was considering that maybe it might be a good idea to consider possible questions when the Ranger spoke.
"You should sleep," his voice was as soft as a feather floating to the ground and, she realized with a start, he was gazing at her. His eyes, so hard before, had an almost gentle look to them. His attitude was most definitely one of an elder advising a young child. It grated against her and she longed to snap something at him. But, reasoned her conscious, this man had been nothing but mild-mannered and polite with her while she had held a knife to his throat and purposefully insulted him. He had been insistent with the hobbits but so had she.
"So should you," was her brief reply that was spoken in a voice just a fraction degree warmer then her previous frost. He smiled slightly and turned back to the window, silent and still like a watcher of the night.
"Why are you with the hobbits?" he said from his seat by the window. "Gandalf made no mention of you when I spoke with him."
Aiedale was silent. She could say any number of things, but it was clear from not only her accent but her clothes and manners that she was from nowhere close to this place. A lie would be easy to find out and, besides, lying did not sit well with her. So, settling for a half-truth, she said coolly, "They met me and I met them."
Aragorn glanced at her.
"What is your name?" he asked. The hobbits had not said what it was and, as the night dragged on, he found himself wanting to know just who he was sharing these hours with. He watched as she turned her shadowed face a little. He could see very little of her.
"Darklighter," was the unemotional reply spoken by that lilting accent that was foreign to him. Wherever she came from it was far away and he had never been there. "Why don't you tell me yours?"
Aragorn heard a small bit of sarcastic mirth in those words and grimaced slightly beneath his was right, thought the Ranger, why trust him with her name when she knew so little and apparently was so guarded herself?
Looking back down at the empty street he said quietly, "It will be an honor to travel with you Darklighter."
He looked back at her and saw those cool green eyes were studying him. They were strange eyes; old and guarded but also glimmering with curiosity and interest to. She was an oddity. Her slender, fragile build belied the skill with which she had pushed him towards the chair. She was proud but clearly, from what he had seen, ruthlessly practical. Her accent and manner of speech were unlike anything he had ever come across before and he was beginning to suspect she was from nowhere one could reach by normal means. He had thought, as he watched the hobbits take the stairs earlier that evening, that there was something following them but what, at the time, he had not known. Now he half-wondered if it had been this girl.
"I know you do not trust me," he said quietly. "But I urge you to sleep for a little while. I give you my word that no harm will come to you or to the hobbits." He met her gaze with all the earnest sincerity he could muster.
The man's quiet words and honesty, for she could see the honesty in his cool grey eyes, was surprising to Aiedale. For, despite everything, she could not help but be grateful that Strider was there. No longer was it just her keeping the hobbits from harm's way and, while he still might prove to be untrustworthy, he had been honest enough and even informative And she began, for the first time, to feel slightly appreciative for his company. Perhaps, she thought, this was the closest thing to a Shadowhunter she would find in this dimension. She may not make friends with mundanes, but this was as good a time as any to change that.
"Thank you," she said and, with that, she turned her face away from him until her form was completely covered in shadows. A thick silence descended on the room.
The ranger had nothing to say but the new warmth in her chilled tones had given him a little hope that they may be on their way to becoming, if not friends, then allies able to work together. He did not relish the idea of having this strange girl watching his every move critically as he worried she might thrust a knife into his back.
So they sat in silence as the stars turned, the hobbits slumbered on and their enemies moved through the night. The two, a Ranger and a Shadowhunter, watched the silent world together and wondered about the other and why fate had brought them together in such a way.
Well this chapter is for those of you who reviewed and favorited it - thank you! It made me very happy! :)
Dennisthepinkgoldfish: Here is a chapter for you :) I am glad you like the story and I hope you enjoy this new installment.
Meisme2: Thank you :) I am glad you like it - I love writing it!
AnimeVamp1997: Thank you! Here is an update for you...hope you like it!