Chapter I: Huntress and Strider

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It was already dark when she arrived in Bree. It was raining heavily, making the woman glad that she had her cloak with her. It wouldn't keep her completely dry, but it would spare her a bit and it would ensure that she avoided a cold or a fever.

With quick strides she walked up to the wooden gate. She knocked loudly on it, taking care to make sure she could be heard over the downpour. There was some grumbling on the other side of the gate before a small wooden window was opened, revealing an old man on the other side. He too wore a cloak and he was holding a lamp up to see who the newcomer was. He took note of the hood that obscured the woman's face, along with the bow and the quiver of arrows slung across her back as well as the sword at her hip.

"A ranger? What brings you to Bree? Especially at this time?" he inquired with surprise.

"I wish to stay at the inn. The business that brings me here is my concern alone." the woman replied.

The man nodded before opening the gate for her. He knew better than to argue with a ranger. As she walked through, the woman gave him a nod of gratitude. She then turned away and set off in search of the inn.

She had been to Bree quite often already, so the inn was easy to find. Soon, she was standing outside the door of the Prancing Pony. She proceeded to enter it, having no intention to stay outside in the rain. As she did she noticed a few people turn to look at her. But most of them quickly looked away. At this time, it was normal for strange and shady folk like her to walk through the door. The woman didn't mind. She wasn't looking for any attention either way.

Her eyes swiftly scanned the room, spotting her objective. It was a man sat further in the back smoking his pipe. He was dressed similarly to her, a hood obscuring his face. She made her way to him, gracefully dodging the other clients of the inn, and took a seat next to him.

"You are late." the man said.

"I was delayed. I saw strange figures while on the road. Cloaked in black, barely more than shadows." she replied.

The man stayed silent for a few moments, taking in this information.

"Could you tell if it was them for certain?"

"No. They were always in the distance and night was falling. I never got close enough to be certain."

"Did you get Gandalf's message?"

"I did. I wonder however, why he is so adamant about protecting a hobbit."

"I do not know. He must have his reasons. But he has not led us astray thus far." the man pointed out.

The woman gave a nod of acknowledgment.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of four figures. They were very short and could perhaps have even passed for children. But the rangers knew better. And besides, their bare feet were a clear indicator of what they were: hobbits.

They were wrapped in cloaks, still wet from the rain. One of them had dark hair. Another was slightly pudgier than the others and had lighter hair. The remaining two she could have mistaken for brothers, though one seemed to have slightly lighter hair. The bartender leaned over the counter to be able to look at them as he greeted them.

"Good evening, little masters! What can I do for you? If you're looking for accommodation we've got some nice, cozy, hobbit-sized rooms. Always proud to cater to little folk, mr. uh..."

"Underhill. My name's Underhill." one of the hobbits, the one with dark brown hair, answered.
"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. It seemed that these were the hobbits the wizard had told them about. But she couldn't be completely certain yet. She would have to wait to be sure.

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