Not All Legends Are True

When we reached land, it was pouring rain, but we had reached the gates of Bree.
“What do you want?” asked the gate keeper.
“We would like to stay at the Inn of the Prancing Pony.” I said.
The gate keeper opened the door and looked at us. “An Elf and four Hobbits! What business brings you to Bree?”
“We wish to stay at the inn,” said Frodo.
“Please, sir. Our business is our own. We would just like a place to stay for the night.” I said.
“All right, Madam. I meant no offense. It’s my job to ask questions after nightfall,” the man said as he let us through. “There’s talk of strange folk abroad. Can’t be too careful.”
I herded the Hobbits near me and nodded to the man a thank you. I kept Sam and Frodo at my sides and Merry and Pippin on either side of them. We quickly walked through the streets of Bree and to the Inn with the sign that read “The Prancing Pony.” I quickly ushered the hobbits inside. I took another look around and then followed in after them.
Frodo went up to the bar, “Excuse me.”
The bar tender and inn keeper, I assumed, walked over to the edge and peered down at them, “Good evening, little masters.” He glanced at me, “and my good lady.” I nodded at the man’s kindness. “If you’re seeking accommodation, we got some cozy Hobbit-sized rooms available as well as one for you my dear. Mister….?”
“Underhill,” said Frodo, “My name’s Underhill”
The man nodded, “Underhill, yes.”
“We’re friends of Gandalf the Grey,” I spoke up. The man turned and looked at me. I pulled the hobbits closer. “Can you tell him we’ve arrived?”
“Gandalf?” asked the man. “Gandalf,” he said again trying to remember. “Oh, yes. I remember. Elderly chap. Big grey beard, pointy hat.” I nodded. “Not seen him for six months.”
I frowned and turned to the Hobbits.
“What do we do now?” asked Sam.
“Get rooms I guess.” Frodo frowned.
“He’ll be here. We just need to wait,” I said and turned back to the man. “Do you have any rooms that can accommodate both Hobbits and an Elf?”
“It can be arranged, my lady,” smiled the man.
“Would you please then?” I said handing him some money.
He nodded and went to one of his staff. I then took the Hobbits to an empty table and took a seat. In twos they went up to get something to drink.
“Do you want anything, Ireth?” Asked Frodo.
“No, I’m fine.” I smiled at him. But I kept my ears in tune with the surroundings. Most of the talks were just drunken babble of the guests. None of it was worth worrying over.
“Sam, he’ll be here. He’ll come,” Frodo said to the worried looking Sam.
Merry took his seat next to Pippin with a rather large jug of ale. “What’s that?” Pippin questioned.
“This, my friend, is a pint.” Smiled Merry.
“It comes in pints?” asked Pippin and Merry nodded. “I’m getting one,” Pippin said jumping up.
“You got a whole half already!” complained Sam but Pippin didn’t listen.
“Just leave him be, Sam.” I said patting his back.
“That fellow’s done nothing but stare at you and Ireth since we arrived,” Sam said to Frodo. I turned and looked at a man seated in the corner of the pub, smoking a pipe. His hood was up, like mine, to the point where it hid his face in the shadows.
“Excuse me,” Frodo said to the bar tender. “That man in the corner. Who is he?”
He took a look and then quickly looked back, “He’s one of them Rangers. They’re dangerous folk, wandering the Wilds. What his right name is, I’ve never heard, but around here, he’s known as Strider.” And at that the bar tender quickly left to go back to his duties.
“Strider,” whispered Frodo.
We were quiet for a few moments. I listened to the babble of the people but when I heard Pippin’s voice I went into a panic.
“Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins.” He said to some of the men. “He’s over there. Frodo Baggins. He’s my second cousin, once removed on his mother’s side, and my third cousin, twice removed…” Pippins voice then dissolved into the crowed. Frodo had jumped up and was running at Pippin. I was going to follow after him when I saw Strider watching him closely.
“Pippin,” cried Frodo.
“Steady on, Frodo,” Pippin said as he spilt the pint on himself.
Frodo then fell to the floor and disappeared. I quickly stood up and watched the ground. I watched as the dust moved on its own and I followed to where Frodo had crawled to making sure no one else noticed him reappear. I watched as Strider grabbed Frodo and pulled him up the stairs. I quickly followed after them. I unsheathed my sword and quietly opened the door. The man called Strider took no notice.
“Are you frightened?” he asked Frodo.
“Yes.”
“Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you.”
“Then what hunts us,” I whispered placing my sword at the base of his neck.
The man jumped. “No one has ever been able to sneak up on me before. No Man at least.” He said stealing a glance at me. “Why don’t you show yourself, my lady.” I smirked and pulled down my hood. “An Elf,” he smiled, “I should have known.”
“You know your creatures well, Mr. Strider.” I smiled circling around him. “Something tells me you’ve lived with Elves before.” He nodded. “Hum.”
“And something tells me you’ve never seen another Elf in your life.”
“How…,” I began but just then Sam, Pippin, and Merry all busted through the door.
“Let them go! Or I’ll have you, Longshanks.”
Strider chuckled. “You have a stout heart, little Hobbit. But that will not save you.”
I lowered my sword slightly. “Tell me, Strider. Can we trust you?”
“Yes.” He said strongly.
I nodded lowering my sword and placing it back in its sheath. “One wrong move, Strider, and you’ll regret it.”
He turned to Frodo, “You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They’re coming.” He turned back to the rest of us, “Get your things together. We need to go to a different Inn. Now.”
The Hobbits grabbed their bags and quickly picked up my pack. Strider stuffed pillows into our beds to make it look like there were sleeping Hobbits in the beds. We then followed Strider out into the night and into a new Inn across the street.
Soon the Black Riders arrived and invaded the Prancing Pony. Strider sat near the window watching. Frodo had never fallen asleep, like me, but as soon as the Riders could be heard the other three woke.
“What are they?” asked Frodo.
“They were once men. 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. Now they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgul. Ringwraiths. 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.”
I frowned and looked at the Hobbits. “Sleep,” I said standing up and pulled back the covers of the bed. Frodo took of his coat and laid down next to Sam in the bed. I then pulled the covers over them and blew out the light. Not too long after the tired Hobbits were fast sleep.
“You are like a mother figure to them, aren’t you?”
“No,” I said shaking my head. “I am a friend. A protector.” I turned and looked at Strider. “If their blood is shed it will be on my head. I am responsible for them.”
Strider nodded. “You have known them all your life.”
“Yes.” I paused. “Tell me. How do you know I have never seen another Elf?”
Strider chuckled. “I know who you are, Ireth Elensar. I know more than you do,” he said standing up.
“How?”
He smiled. “I have heard stories.” He turned back to the window. “You are more important than you think, Ireth.” Strider was quiet.
“Why was I abandoned then?”
“Your hair,” he whispered. I stared at him. “Your hair is different than any other Elven hair. Your hair is black. The darkest any Elf’s hair get is brown. They were scared. You’re mother was scared. They knew nothing of you. They had old horror stories about an Elf with black hair. She was evil and in alliance with Sauron. You’re birth scared the Elves. But your mother would not let them kill you. So she took you to the only place in the world that she knew was full of peace.”
“The Shire,” I whispered.
Strider nodded. “Yes. The Shire. She had heard about the Hobbits from Gandalf. She knew if you were raised there, you could never have the heart to be evil.”
“So you know my mother?” I asked, hopeful.
Strider frowned. “I did.” He turned to me. “She died. She was coming back from taking you to the Shire and an Orc Archer struck her in the heart.” I looked away. “But your father is still alive and well.” He smiled. “And so is your sister.”
My head snapped up, “I have a sister.”
He chuckled. “Yes. Her name is Arwen. She and your father, Elrond, live in Rivendell. Which is where we will start for tomorrow.” He turned to me, “Get some sleep, Ireth.”
I nodded and laid down at the foot of the bed. I closed my eyes and let myself fall asleep thinking of my family that I had never known existed.