Gleina na Agar: LOTR story (Reader)

The Prancing Pony

It had been a little over a day since your first encounter with the black rider, and a decent rest! None of you wanted to stop long enough in fear of the unknown evil that haunted your every step. The whole trek was much more difficult for you, being the tallest and the only one in a skirt. You were desperate for a good pair of leggings or even jeans if you could get your hands on some, but neither really existed in this world. That skirt always got caught in thorn bushes, tree bark and your own boots when you tried to get low. Right now, the woman in you was frustrated to no end! Your feet hurt, your stomach was growling like a thunderstorm, and you were just plain exhausted; not to mention very moody.

Night had fallen, but the usual sound of midnight life had disappeared, leaving an eerie silence wherever you went. Your instinct told you that rider was still out there and very close, so when you stopped for a bit to catch your breath, your senses were on full alert.

Sam whispered harshly to you as you peered ahead, "Anything?"

You shook your head, "Nothing."

"What is going on?" Pippin asked a bit louder than you would have appreciated in the moment. You weren't quite sure how exactly to answer a question like that. You weren't even sure yourself, but it wasn't fair to leave the two of them in the dark.

Merry shuffled quietly over to Frodo, whispering so silently you almost couldn't hear, "That black rider was looking for something, or someone..." Your eyes never caught the glance thrown towards you.

Your (e/c) eyes caught the sight of some swift movement in the trees to your left, and you signaled the rest of them as you slid behind a trunk, "Get down!"

After a few intense moments of anticipating the worst, Frodo turned to Merry, "I have to leave the Shire. ___ and I must get to Bree."

He nodded in return, knowing the situation was desperate, "Right. Buckleberry ferry. Follow me!"

You decidedly took the rear of the small group, your heart pounding in your chest at the thought of something sinister leaping out from the bushes behind you. A shrill screech came the woods in front of you as a black form barred your path, it's steed rearing high above your head. Panic driven actions fueled your response as you tumbled to the side, desperately trying to avoid it's swinging blade. You just managed to roll into the strong legs of yet another black steed, almost getting kicked in the head by heavy hooves. You could hear Frodo call your name over the deafening noises of the riders, but couldn't find where the hobbits had run off to!

Only by sheer luck did you manage to catch their figures out of the corner of your eye down near the river. Scrambling to your feet your fear gave you wings as you sprinted down towards the small wooden ferry where the hobbits gathered. Nothing in your entire life had made you this terrified as you raced towards the river with the hot breath of the riders on your neck. You could feel their hooves thundering under the dirt every time your feet made contact with the ground.

In their own separate ways, each hobbit screamed and yelled at you to hasten, "Run, ____! ____ come on, jump!"

The fear of being left behind at the mercy of the rider was so strong your sore feet paced faster than ever before as the little wooden ferry pushed away from the dock. In one giant leap, you soared over the water to tumble into Frodo and Sam. Turning to face the docks, you had never been so happy to see that the riders seemed to fear the water, and turned to race up the river bank with a cry that sent shivers down your spine.

Frodo tried to catch his breath, as he turned to his cousin, "How far to the nearest crossing!?"

The expert of the waterways directed the ferry along the swiftest part of the river, "Brandywine Bridge. Twenty miles!"