The Last Othellan

The Prancing Pony

We entered the inn and Strider told me to sit down, and to keep my hood up. I slid into a booth at the back of the main room and sat in the corner, the simple brown hood pulled over my face. Strider came and sat next to me, and handed me an ale. With a word of thanks, I took a tentative sip. To my surprise, the flavour was quite pleasant.

We had barely waited ten minutes when four hobbits entered the inn, soaked to their skins in sodden cloaks. I immediately sensed something strange about the first hobbit. His face was clear and his curly black hair dripping. His eyes, however, were his most remarkable feature. They were bright blue and wide, innocent looking and yet there was something behind them which betrayed worry and burden.

"The Halfling with the wide eyes and black hair" I muttered to Strider. "There is something dark about him, I can feel it" Strider nodded silently and took out his pipe, lighting it and casually watching as the hobbits made their way to the bar.

"Gandalf hasn't been seen for weeks" Strider muttered back, still casually smoking so as to not raise suspicions. Worry settled on my heart. If Gandalf was missing, we would have to carry on without him. We could not wait for the Wizard. Wherever he was, I hoped he was alive.

The hobbits sat down with their drinks. I watched the men around them suspiciously, as some of them gave sideways glances to the newcomers. A sandy haired hobbit sitting next to another muttered something. The blue eyed hobbit called over the barman and pointed in Strider's direction. The barman seemed to tell him something of Strider, and the hobbit looked warily back. This didn't worry me. Rangers, despite their largely good intentions, were usually treated with mistrust.

We observed a while longer in silence while I took occasional sips of ale. The blue eyed hobbit closed his eyes, and I heard something, in a strange language. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I realised what it was – the black speech of Mordor. I made to stand, but Strider grabbed my wrist and gave me a warning look. Annoyed, and having no choice but to trust the ranger, I relaxed.

I wondered for a second why I had chosen to accompany him, out of all the people who had offered me companionship over the long years of my travels. Perhaps it was because he treated me like an equal. Being female and out in the wild had made me look vulnerable to some, so I had learned not to trust anyone except myself. I did not need help. Strider, however, seemed to know this. He was not helping me, he had merely been given the same task, and it seemed to be Gandalf's plan for us to accompany each other. Not that he had told me this, but, then again, he never told me anything.

"Baggins?" exclaimed the youngest of the hobbits suddenly, sitting at the bar with a pint of ale in his hand and jerking me out of my thoughts. "Sure I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins! He's my second cousin, twice removed-"

I remained as impassive as Strider, but alert to the danger Frodo was now in. Frodo jumped up from the table and ran over to the younger hobbit, grabbing his coat desperately. He tripped, fell backwards and something slipped out of his hand. It had the appearance of a simple gold ring, but I instantly knew what it was. The Nazgúl, the darkness surrounding Frodo, all fitted into place as I realised what I had been brought here to do. The one ring was found.

Both Strider and I sat up, amazed, as the ring slipped onto Frodo's finger, and he vanished. There were cries of surprise from the inn and Frodo's friends looked around wildly. "Come" Strider urged, grabbing my wrist again and starting forward.

Frodo reappeared suddenly, looking relieved, but almost instantly Strider grabbed his shoulder and pushed him into a wall. "You draw far too much attention to yourself Mr Underhill", he hissed, dragging Frodo up the stairs. I trooped silently after them and followed them into Strider's room. 

"What do you want?" Frodo asked, glancing at me before his eyes trained back on Strider. I closed the door and moved into the shadows.

"A little more caution from you" answered Strider "that is no trinket you carry"

"I carry nothing" answered Frodo warily.

"Indeed" mused Strider, snuffing out the candles with his fingers. "I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely? That is a rare gift", he continued, throwing his hood back.

"Who are you?" Frodo asked, his eyes again glancing to me. I kept my hood over my face. Mortals could be wary of the elves, and we needed Frodo to trust us. The one ring was in his keeping, but he couldn't fight off the nine alone.

Strider ignored his question, instead choosing to parry it with one of his own. "Are you frightened?" he questioned.

"Yes" Frodo answered honestly. I appreciated it – this was not the time for bravery, all we needed was speed.

"Not nearly frightened enough" answered Strider blankly "I know what hunts you". I nodded, moving forward slightly and standing in front of Frodo.

"They will stop at nothing to get the – object – you carry" I said slowly, weighing every word. "You cannot do this alone, Frodo". The hobbit stared confusedly at me for a second, but at that moment there was a clatter from outside the door. I stood slightly in front of the hobbit and drew my sword from my back, as the door burst open.

"Let him go or I'll have you", shouted a voice from below my eye level. I looked down in mild surprise and relief, and put my sword back behind my quiver, as Strider sheathed his, too.

"You have a stout heart young Hobbit" Strider said quietly "But that will not save you. You can no longer await the wizard Frodo. They're coming".

All four of the hobbits looked afraid now, and gently sat down on the edge of the bed. After an awkward silence, I encouraged them to get some sleep.

***

The night passed slowly, and the hobbits slept together in Strider's bedroom. He sat by the window, watching the main street of the town, while I stood by the door. My hand hovered over one sheathed dagger, and I kept a careful eye on the sleeping hobbits as I strained my ears, always listening for the nine.

After some hours, I felt them. Strider looked around as I stiffened, my hand automatically unsheathing a dagger. "Aúthiel?" he questioned quietly, as I looked towards the window, my hand curling tightly around my weapon.

"I can sense them" I breathed, trying not to wake the hobbits, who would only make unnecessary noise. "They're here". Strider nodded, looking out of the window as there was a yell and a crash from below. The east gate of the town had crashed down, crushing a man underneath.

The sandy haired hobbit, who I had learned was called Sam, woke with a start as the sound of swords came from nearby. My mouth was the only thing exposed from under my hood, and I put a finger to my lips as he looked around, panicked. A terrible screech came from close by. Clearly, the wraiths had discovered that the hobbits were safe.

"What are they?" asked Frodo quietly, sitting up and looking with wide eyes at Strider.

"They were once men" He answered grimly. "Great kings of men. But then Sauron the deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgúl, the ring wraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the ring, drawn to the power of the one. They will never stop hunting you".