The Fellowship of the Novel Characters: Chapter Five

Hello everyone! Welcome back to my fanfiction! I don’t have too much to say here except a quick writing announcement: I have decided what to do! Anyone remember the fantasy apocalypse story? With Sierra the dryad, Beck the elf, and Heaven and Nevaeh, twin mermaids? Well, I decided to combine the two stories. Stella (renamed Morgan) has taken Sierra’s place, Tristan (renamed Tyler) is now Beck, and Esha and Thea (renamed Erin and Trinity) are Heaven and Nevaeh.

Warning: Lord of the Rings is rated PG-13, and while my writing will not be excessively gory, it will reflect the darkness and death that the Fellowship had to face. Also, spoilers.

Summary: Last time, we met Merry and Pippin, found mushrooms, and don’t know what Nazgul are.

Table of Contents:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Night had fallen, and we moved quietly through trees and brambles. The Black Rider appeared on the horizon, horse braying, and we ducked behind trees. Frodo snuck forward, to a tree a few feet away, and took a good look around. “Anything?” asked Sam.

“Nothing,” replied Frodo.

“What’s even going on?” asked Pippin.

“That Black Rider was looking for something,” said Merry, stepping away from the tree and walking towards Frodo. “Or someone. Frodo?”

Candace’s eyes darted away, and she gasped. “Get down!”

We dropped to our bellies and watched a Rider gallop away from the top of a nearby hill.

“I have to leave the Shire,” Frodo whispered. “Sam, Candace, Stella and I must get to Bree.”

“Right.” Merry nodded. “Buckleberry Ferry. Follow me.”

We emerged from out hiding spots and began to run after Merry. My insides froze as a Black Rider broke out of some bushes, horse rearing and snorting. Luke, who’d been sleeping in Candace’s pack, woke and started to bark. “Shut Luke up!” I screamed as we ran for the ferry.

Candace shoved him back down into her backpack. “Run!” shouted Pippin. “Follow me! Run!”

He didn’t have to repeat himself; we were already running as fast as we dared. Candace and I could run faster–she used to be a track champion at school–but the hobbits had shorter legs than us and we didn’t know the way. Ahead we could see the dock and the ferry tied to a post. I cleared the small dock in a single bound, landing on the ferry and rocking it from side to side. Candace and the hobbits were right behind me. Candace and I scrabbled at the rope, but she pushed my hand away. “I can do this.”

“Right.” In a moment she’d untied it and pulled the rope onto the ferry.

Frodo appeared. The Black Rider was right on his tail. “Frodo!” called Sam. The rider was getting close; I reached out and pushed the ferry away from the dock. We couldn’t risk it getting us. “Jump, Frodo!”

Frodo leapt. The rider had been just about to run him down, and I dragged him onto the boat. The horse slipped at the very edge of the dock, just barely regaining his balance. I smirked at the Black Rider as it turned and rode off.

“How far to the nearest crossing?” asked Frodo, panting.

“Brandywine Bridge, twenty miles,” said Merry.

Candace sighed and pulled Luke, out of her bag squirming and whining. She used as a pillow, with enough space for both of us. She patted the pack and I rested my head on it.

***

Bree wasn’t impressive. I’d imagined a neat town with cobblestone streets and pretty cottages, or even a castle. In reality, Bree was little more than a settlement surrounded by a wall of spiked logs. Frodo knocked on the gate, and a panel at the top slid aside. An old man with stringy hair and a squint peered at me. “What do ya want?” he asked.

“We’re going to the…uh…” Candace glanced down at Frodo. “What’s it called?”

“The Prancing Pony.”

“Right. We’re here to stay at the Prancing Pony.”

The gatekeeper glanced down, shut the panel and opened one nearer to the ground, looking the hobbits over. “Hobbits, eh? What are such like ye doin’ here in Bree?”

“We wish to stay at the inn,” said Frodo. “Our business is our own.”

“Alright, little master, I meant no offense. It’s my job to ask questions after nightfall. Can’t be too careful, what with talk of strange folk about.” He opened the gate for us and we walked through.

For a rickety settlement, Bree was busy. As soon as we walked in, we were nearly run over by a cart. “Watch it!” called a man.

“Sorry,” I said, but he wasn’t paying attention. We made our way to the Prancing Pony. It was warm. Men chatted and laughed, drinking and eating. Most of them seemed harmless, but a few–such as a hooded man in the corner smoking a pipe–were quite intimidating.

“Excuse me?” said Candace to the man behind the bar. He looked out, glancing down to catch a glimpse of the hobbits.

“Good evening, younguns! If you’re looking for rooms, we have some cozy accommodations for such as yourself, uh…” he looked at us expectantly.

“Underhill,” Frodo said. “My name’s Underhill.”

“Ah, Underhill. Yes.” The barkeep began to polish a mug.

“We’re friends of Gandalf the Gray. Can you please tell him we’ve arrived?”

“Gandalf?” The barkeep thought for a moment. “Oh, Gandalf! Elderly chap. Big grey beard, pointy hat. Haven’t seen him for six months or so.”

We exchanged looks. “Let’s sit somewhere,” said Candace, ever practical. “Maybe get something to eat.”

“Right.” Frodo bought drinks and food and we toted it to a table near the back of the room. We were silent. Sam was looking around nervously, and Frodo touched his arm. “Sam, he’ll be here. He’ll come.”

Merry, who’d downed his drink and gone back to the bar, returned with a foaming mug. He sat down and placed it in front of him satisfactorily, licking his lips. “What’s that?” asked Pippin.

“This, my friend, is a pint.”

“It comes in pints?” Pippin smiled. “I’m getting one.” He pushed his way through the men to get to the bar.

“You’ve had a whole half already!” called Sam.

Pippin paid no heed, and Sam sighed. He turned back to Frodo and glanced to the corner. “That’s fellow’s been doing nothin’ but stare at us since we came in.”

I subtly turned to see what Sam meant. The hooded man was, indeed, looking at us.

The barkeep walked past, and Frodo stopped him. “That man in the corner. Who is he?”

The barkeep glanced over. “He’s one of them rangers. Real dangerous folk who wander the wild. I don’t know his right name, but everyone calls him Strider.” He walked off.

“Strider,” murmured Frodo. He pulled out the ring and began to rub it. His gaze dimmed.

“Frodo?” asked Candace, but he didn’t answer.

I tried to shake him, but no dice. He snapped out of it at the sound of Pippin exclaiming, “Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins. Frodo Baggins, right over there.”

“Pippin!” Panicked, Frodo bolted for Pippin. As he neared the bar, he slipped on the wet floor and landed on his back. The Ring flew up and Frodo reached for it. I didn’t see what happened before Frodo disappeared.

The bar was thrown into chaos. Everyone was shouting. Sam, Merry, Candace, and I shared worried looks. What happened if Frodo put the Ring on, other than obviously going invisible?

Frodo reappeared a little ways away from the bar, and I sighed. “There he is,” I said.

“I’ll get him,” said Candace, depositing Luke into my lap and jogging towards him.

She never did. The cloaked man pushed past her, grabbing Frodo’s arm and yanking him away. “Hey!” said Candace, darting after him. I ran to help her, but he’d already pushed her against the wall and disappeared up the stairs.

“Merry! Sam! Hurry!” They grabbed a candelabra and a stool, and we rushed after him.

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