A path had been cut through the wheat field, not wide, just enough to show a person had entered. Rosie followed the path of broken stems to what at first glance was a bundle of clothes. She took her walking cane and gave it a gentle poke. In a flash...
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Sam looked sick; Pippin instantly sobered, realizing his folly; the brooding stranger frowned and the Inn erupted into excited babble. Velasa and Sam searched around hurridly for Frodo and spied the brooding stranger disappearing upstairs, dragging the Hobbit with him.
The door to the bedroom burst open and Sam, Merry, Velasa and Pippin appeared in the doorway. Sam, squared off with his fists, Merry brandishing three candlesticks and Pippin a chair. Velasa towered above them, a butcher's knife in hand. "Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!" Sam yelled, face red with anger. The brooding stranger, Strider, sheaths his sword, a slight smile playing on his lips."You have a stout heart, little Hobbit, but that alone won't save you." His voice was thick and rough. "You can no longer wait for the Wizard, Frodo. They're coming." He explained to the brown-haired Hobbit.
The gatekeeper came out of his Lodgings with his lantern, a look of fear on his face. He approached the closed gate with great apprehension; he peered out of the peephole and the gate crashed down on him as the four Black Riders galloped into Bree; the four Black Riders fly down the empty streets like horsemen of the apocalypse. The door of the Prancing Pony flew open and the four monstrous figures rushed into the Inn with wicked swords drawn; the Innkeeper hide behind the bar, trembling and sweating in terror.
Merry snored softly into his pillow and Pippin stirred slightly before settling back to sleep. The door creaked open and the four Black Riders silently slide into the Hobbit's room. They loomed above each bed, raising their shining swords above the sleeping Hobbits; Sam's eyes open wide and in unison, the hooded figures stab at the Hobbits in a slashing, hacking frenzy. Strider listened grimly to the sounds from his room. The Black Riders stepped back from the slashed beds in triumph; a hacked blanket is pulled back to reveal nothing but a shredded pillow is revealed; the creatures shriek in rage and Frodo and Velasa woke with a start.
The four Hobbits lay asleep in Strider's bed as Velasa stood next to the Ranger, peering out of the window nervously as the Black Riders screeching echoed across the courtyard. "What are they?" She asked.
Strider glanced quickly at the brown-haired woman before looking away. "They were once men." He spoke quietly. "Great Kings of men. 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 and now they are slaves to his will." Strider looked from the window as the Black Riders galloped down the Bree streets. He turned to look at the sleeping Hobbits; his handsome face lit faintly by the glowing ember of the fire. "They are the Nazgul, Ringwraiths, neither living or dead; at all times they feel the presence of the ring, drawn to the power of the one." He looked at Frodo's sleeping face. "They will never stop hunting him." Velasa's brown eyes flickered between Frodo's sleeping form and Strider's illuminated face.
The group marched through the gloomy and overgrown forest. Sam followed at the rear leading, Bill, a scrawny pony, who was laden with supplies. "Where are you taking us?" Frodo asked Strider; the Ranger replied without turning back to face the Hobbit. "Into the wild."
Velasa watched uneasily as Strider moved off into the cover of the trees. "How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?" Merry whispered off to the side.
"We have no choice but to trust him." Frodo sighed.
"But where is he leading us?" Sam asked. Up ahead Strider stopped, casting a glance back at Sam. "To Rivendell, Master Gamgee, to the house of Elrond." Sam turned to Bill, speaking excitingly. "Did you hear that Bill? Rivendell! We're going to see the elves!" Strider continued to lead Velasa and the Hobbits through the gloom of the forest and across the windswept moors.
The Hobbits suddenly stopped and began to unstrap their knapsacks. "Gentlemen, we do not stop until nightfall," Strider said, turning back to look at the Hobbits who had begun to set up pots and pans in the middle of a small grassy field. "What about breakfast?" Pippin asked.
"You've already had it," was Strider's reply.
"We've had one, yes." Pippin said, "but what about second breakfast?" Strider stared at Pippin blankly before turning away, shaking his head.
"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip," Merry commented.
"What about Elevenses, Luncheon, Afternoon Tea, Dinner... he knows about them doesn't he?" The small Hobbit worried.
"I wouldn't count on it," Velasa patted her cousin's shoulder as she moved past him to keep up with the other human. An apple is thrown at Merry, who deftly catches it; another aimed at Pippin catches him on the forehead. "Pippin!" Merry called back to his friend exasperated as Velasa laughed, catching the apple aimed at her with ease before almost slipping over a wet unearthed root.
