Sword and Arrow

Chapter 1

SIXTY-SEVEN YEARS LATER

A hooded figure pushed open the door of the Prancing Pony, taking shelter from the torrential rain outside. She scanned the room, then pushed back the hood, showing a head full of messy brown hair cut short about her shoulders like a man's.

"Ah, Wildcat!" the man behind the counter greeted her.

"Butterbur," she responded in a low voice.

"What can I do for you today?" Butterbur continued in an amiable voice, setting down the tray of beers. "Will you be staying for the night?"

"Afraid not, Butterbur," she said, looking cautiously around the room. "Have you seen Ara- Strider lately?"

"Strider! Of course!" the man exclaimed. "Left last morning." Wildcat cursed and turned to go. Just as she was about to open the door, she turned back.

"Was he alone, or was there anyone with him?" she asked.

"Four hobbits, there were!" Butterbur happily said. Suddenly interested, Wildcat walked back to the counter.

"Do you know their names?" she urgently demanded. Butterbur hesitated.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell, you know," he admitted.

"This is urgent business, Butterbur," she said leaning closer. "Ranger business." The fat man sighed.

"One was a Brandybuck, I believe; right delightful folk! Haven't seen one on this side of the Brandywine for ages now. And there was a Took with them, fine hobbits, they are. And, let me see, one was their servant, didn't quite catch his name, but Bob and Nob would know, probably. Oh, and Underhill! Underhill, that was the fourth." Wildcat raised an eyebrow. Butterbur sighed. "Baggins, if you must know."

"Which way did they go?" Wildcat interrogated. "East?"

"Yeh- yes!" he said, surprised. "East. To Rivendell, Strider said."

"Thank you," she said to Butterbur, reaching for her belt. "You've been most helpful." She slid a gold coin across the table and turned to go.

"Wildcat?" Butterbur asked. She partially turned. "Will the- the Black Riders come again?"

"No," she said with finality. "They won't."  Then she pushed open the door, pulling her hood back up. A dark elf-horse was tied to the post just outside. She mounted up and rode off into the night, heading east.

**********

Galloping as fast as her horse could go, Wildcat finally approached Weathertop. "Amon Sul..." she breathed. Surely Aragorn and the hobbits had taken shelter here. It was, by the broadest definition, defendable.

Wildcat, or, to use her proper name, Beruthiel, urged her tired horse up the steep path to the top of the watchtower. Once there, she slid off and inspected her surroundings. It looked deserted, but her Ranger's eyes made out what looked like the remnants of a fire.

Beruthiel hurried over to kneel by the dead fire. She let a pinch of ashes run between her fingers. They were stone cold, whoever had made this fire was long gone. She had no doubt that it wasn't Aragorn, she knew the man well and he would never risk a fire.

However, she saw dried liquid near the fire, with seeds nearby. Tomatoes? She shook her head. Hobbits, then. Aragorn left for a while and hobbits managed to start a fire. Beruthiel cast a quick glance around. The setting sun illuminated a patch of black on the stones. She picked it up, then immediately dropped it.

It was a fragment of cloth, cut jaggedly. The thick material told her that it once belonged to a cloak. Beruthiel knew that Aragorn wore a green-brown Ranger's cloak. Hobbits being hobbits, they had probably not thought to bring any of their own. "Nazgul..." she whispered. She was on the right track. Another day of hard riding would bring her to the small company, given that they had not been ridden down by Nazgul. She had departed Rivendell with Lord Glorfindel to search for said hobbits and Ranger, but they had split up past the Fords of the Bruinen, agreeing that they could seach twice as fast separately. Glorfindel, as far as Beruthiel knew, was still combing the wilds, while she had ridden to Bree: she knew for a fact that Aragorn often visited the town.

Beruthiel faintly smiled at the memory of the elf-lord as she mounted her horse. He had been taller and more handsome than she could fathom, and she worked with Aragorn every day, being his deputy. She had been so nervous around Glorfindel, so awed by the warrior she had heard so many tales about. But then he had smiled, and had been so kind to her for the two days they had taken to reach the Bruinen. No use in daydreaming, she told herself sternly. You are a Ranger, and you have a job to do.

The Ranger kicked her horses' side, urging him on to what she hoped to be the final leg of their journey before they found Aragorn and the four hobbits.

A/N: Another chapter done. Yay. So I've tried writing a shorter chapter than I usually do, is this better? Or should I make them shorter/longer? I have a hard time concentrating on longer chapters, but I'm pretty long-winded when it comes to writing, so please tell me what is better.
One a side note, yes, I changed her name, because there will be criticism (from Boromir, of course) later on. For those of you that don't know, Beruthiel was the most infamous queen of Gondor. She's referenced in the books when Aragorn tell the hobbits that Gandalf is surer of finding his way that "the cats of Queen Beruthiel" (In Moria). Here's a link for more on Queen Beruthiel: http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Ber%C3%BAthiel
May the Force be with you, and stay safe!