River of Stars

Chapter One

     "You look... Unapproachable," Abis muttered as he sat next to Strider. He knew the rangers name now, but after so long felt more comfortable with the sort of nickname.
     Strider was leaning on the table with his hood over his eyes and pipe in his mouth, looking much like the kind of person you do not want to share a street with after dark.
     "That's the point," he responded simply. Abis rolled his eyes and pulled his own hood on, resting his shield beside his chair and crossing his arms on the table.
     They sat there for what felt like hours. People of all sorts came in and out of the inn while they waited. The sun set, slowly, and candles and fires were lit. 
     "How much longer can they possibly be?" He groaned, burying his face in his still folded arms.
     "You're impatient. Their hobbits, they have short legs and little survival skills. Give them time."
     "But it all feels so close! Adventure, recognition! Helping people! It's like I've been waiting my whole life for it," Abis sighed, propping his head up to look at Strider, who he just saw raise an eyebrow as he looked down at the auburn haired boy sprawled unceremoniously across the table.
     "Sit up like a big boy Abis. I know you can do it, come on."
     "Don't antagonize me."
     "You're acting like a child."
     Abis slumped back in his chair, sliding more towards the floor as he waited.
     Abis was still a young man, only twenty four, and he looked no older, with shoulder length, wavy auburn hair. He had high and pronounced cheekbones which made a diamond shaped face, with soft amber eyes but a sharp nose, and freckles across his cheeks.
     Under his heavy cloak, lined with fur and feathers, (Abis felt strongly about using every part of the animals he killed, so they did not have to die for nothing), he wore tight but thick pants and a loose shirt, trapped down with three belts. He had justified the three belts to Strider by using one for his pants, one for his blades, and one for his coin purse and waterski
     The only personal item Abis let himself keep on his person was a necklace, with a thin chain and little moon charm, which had used to be his mother's. He had left when she died, genuinely feeling he was better off without his father, but you did stupid things when you were younger.
     So now he sat. Waiting. Fidgeting with one of the smaller blades on his belt, when four hobbits came into the inn.
     He kicked Strider not all too discreetly under the table.
     "I see them," the ranger growled at him. Noting Strider's decided lack of action, Abis came to the very clever conclusion that they were still waiting.
     And again he waited. And waited. And waited, for a second eternity. Accidentally cutting the tip of his thumb with the small blade, and resorting to tending to it rather than playing with sharp objects.
     There was no doubt in his mind that he was undermining Strider's otherwise ominous presence, and that if he had begun acting up before the hobbits had gotten there Strider would have already sent him to their room.
     But like every good guardian, Strider did not parent in front of strangers except for in emergencies. As far as anyone in the inn was concerned, the two were perfectly balanced, not mentor and mentee. Though Abis was playing the role of child much better than usual in his excitement.
     The hobbit all sat down and began drinking. Finally one of the hobbits, the one with softer features and curly blond hair, pointed at Abis and Strider while whispering what seemed to be a warning to the hobbit next to him, who was slighter and had more wavy dark brown hair.
     Abis liked the hobbits already.
     The brown haired hobbit waved someone else over, possibly the owner of the inn but Abis had never been good with faces. Or names. Or people in general. They were loud and awkward and generally not to his liking.
     Only minutes had passed before one of the hobbits was so drunk off his ass that he had collected a crowd. It wouldn't have been much to be concerned over, even amusing, but that's when he began shouting.
     "BAGGINS? Sure, I know a Baggins!" The young hobbit kept talking, but Abis was already out of his seat with his shield in hand, and pulling him away from the gathering of patrons. "Heeey get your grubby hands off me you-"
     Abis clamped a firm hand over the hobbits mouth, but the attention had already been called.
     "Pippin-" the brown haired hobbit called, just before he slipped on the less than pristine floor of The Prancing Pony.
     A little sliver of metal flew into the air, then back down onto the hobbits reaching fingers. Then he was gone.
     All around them people gasped, gaping at the spot the hobbit had laid. He looked up to see Strider coming towards them, and just as soon as he had disappeared the young hobbit was back again, gasping on the floor of the inn.
     He was quickly forgotten by the drunken men around them, but not so soon by Strider. As soon as he was back Strider scooped the hobbit up and pushed him against a wall.
     "You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mister 'Underhill'," Strider snapped, shoving the young hobbit none to gently up the stairs.
     Abis hoisted his own drunken, but no longer protesting, hobbit over his shoulder and carried him after.
     "Be gentle with him Strider, he is only a little hobbit for goodness sake."
     "He's big enough to know better, Dodger." Abis cringed slightly at the field name he had picked for himself. It had been after his cat, Dodge, from when he was a child, but he later came to regret the name as he realized how stupid it sounded.
     "Low blow," he hissed back.
     Strider ignored him, pushing open his door and shoving the hobbit inside.
     "What do you want?" The hobbit demanded shakily. He was obviously frightened, and Abis couldn't blame him. Strider was a rather menacing presence if you did not know him well.
     "A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry," Strider responded easily, entering the room himself and closing the door behind Abis.
     "I carry nothing," the hobbit insisted.
     "Indeed," Strider scoffed. "I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely? That is a rare gift."
     As he spoke Strider put out the candles in the room, before finally pulling the hood off of his, of course sweaty, face. He motioned for Abis to do the same, and the young man did so thankfully. 'Ah clear air, how I missed you.'
     "Who are you?"
     "Are you frightened?"
     "Yes." Abis gained another amount of respect for the hobbits in that moment. Especially this one.
     "Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you." Strider loomed over the small hobbit, and Abis put down his own to push the ranger away from him.
     "Strider, we do not punish bravery. You can scare him well enough a few feet away." Abis had associated respect and familiarity with space his entire life. You did not need to be standing over someone to have a conversation with them. Similarly, he always gave Strider his space, as a show of his own respect and understanding of their boundaries.
     Suddenly the door burst open and two more hobbits ran in. The one in front with his fists raised was the stouter one he had seen pointing out him and Strider earlier, and he was followed closely by another who looked similar to the hobbit Abis had carried up the stairs, who was holding a candlestick.
     "Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!" The one in front cried. Strider spun around, pulling his sword out before realizing it was only the other hobbits.
     Strider sighed, pulling away with the slightest smile on his face.
     "You have a stout heart, little hobbit," he sheathed his sword again at his side, turning back to Frodo. "But that will not save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."