Halflings

Chapter Twelve

~ Chapter Twelve: The Prancing Pony ~

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          Frodo, Esmeralda, Sam, Merry and Pippin hid behind a bush, as they look up and down the road.

"Come on." Frodo whispers, as the four Hobbits follow him across the road.

They all wore their hoods, for it was pouring down with rain. They made it to a large gate, right before Frodo gave a loud knock. A moment later, a gatekeeper opened a latch to look at them.

"What do you want?" He asks harshly.

"We are headed towards the Prancing Pony." Frodo answers.

The gatekeeper swings his lantern over the group, bathing them in an uncomfortable spotlight.

"Hobbits!" He exclaims, "Five Hobbits! And what's more, out of the Shire by your talk. Tell me, what business brings you to Bree?"

"We wish to stay at the inn. Our business is our own."

To Frodo's relief, the man opens the gate.

They all step inside, as the gatekeeper says, "All right young sir; I meant no offense. Tis my job to ask questions after nightfall. There's talk of strange folk abroad, can't be to careful."

They all gave a polite nod, before making their way through the town. They could all feel unfriendly eyes on them, as they walked through the narrow streets. Esmeralda became nervous, as she noticed the tall men, staring at her.

Suddenly, they all come across the Inn of the Prancing Pony.

They quickly rushed inside, with the sound of rain and thunder, replaced by laughter and loud voices. They took down their hoods, to get a better look at the place. There were many Big-Folk, along with a couple of Hobbits and some Dwarves.

"Excuse me." Frodo stated, getting the innkeeper's attention.

"Good evening, little masters! If you're looking for accommodation, we've got some nice, Hobbit sized rooms available, Mister, uh...."

"Underhill." Frodo answered, after a quick moment of hesitation.

"Underhill...." The innkeeper mumbled to himself, rolling the name off his tongue.

"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?"

"Gandalf?" He said, a little confused. "Gandalf, Gandalf. Oh, now I remember! Elderly chap, long grey beard, pointy hat?"

Frodo smiled a little and nodded.

"Haven't seen him for six months." Frodo's smile dropped, as he turned around to his friends.

"What do we do now?" Esmeralda asks.

Frodo thought for a moment, before saying, "We shall stay at the inn for now, Gandalf must be late."

They nodded, not wanting to go back outside. They walk through the crowd, as the Big-Folk look down at them, especially Esmeralda. She tried to hide in the middle of the group, but that didn't help due to their height. She looked down, as Frodo, Sam and Pippin grab an ale. They found a table at the end of the room, then sat down. Esmeralda stared nervously at Frodo's mug of brandy (which was still untouched), trying to ignore the stares from the men. She put her hands on the table, then started to fiddle with her fingers.

"Esmeralda? Are you alright?" Frodo asked suddenly.

She looked from her hands to his piercing blue eyes. She thought about lying, and saying she was fine, but these men were freaking her out, and needed to tell someone. She leaned in closer to his face, and he did the same.