The Moon Goddess of Middle Earth

The high-pitched screams of the Nazgul is what drew me from the road to the Shire, to Bree. I nudged my beautiful black and white horse into a gallop down the riverbank. My long black hair whipped behind me, my black cloak flaying in the wind.
“Faster, Amras,” I hissed into my horses ear. “I fear there is something after Frodo.”
Amras kicked up his hooves into an even faster gallop. The rain began to pour harder, the faster we went. The moon was bright against the clouds. I watched as my hands began to glow from the moons touch. I looked away from my hands and saw I was nearing Bree. Four little figures ran out onto the road and then quickly jumped back into the bushes they had just come from. I pulled Amras to a halt and jumped down.
I peered into the bushes. “Frodo?” I hissed. “Sam, Merry, Pippin? Is that you?”
“Nikita?” Frodo asked as he emerged from the bushes.
I smiled nodding, “Yes, silly. Of course it is me.”
“Nikita!” Pippin shouted jumping into my arms followed by the other Hobbits.
I giggled, “I missed you too, Pippin. I missed all of you.” I stepped away from the Hobbits. “Now come. Let’s get out of the rain, shall we?”
I herded the Hobbits over to the gates of Bree, pulling Amras behind me. I quickly knocked on the door and a man opened the peep hole to look out at us.
“What do you want?” He asked in a rather high voice.
“We’re heading for the Prancing Pony,” spoke Frodo.
The man jumped and then opened the door to see it was not just me standing there. He stepped out with a lantern and glanced at us; then looked at the Hobbits. “Hobbits. Four Hobbits!” he looked at me, “And a woman. What business brings you to Bree?”
“We wish to stay at the inn,” Frodo said quickly. “Our business is our own.”
The man nodded. “All right, young sir. I meant no offense.” He stepped out of the way and let us in. “It’s my job to ask questions after nightfall. There’s talk of strange folk abroad. Can’t be too careful.”
I let the Hobbits through first and then came through with Amras. “Stay by me, boys,” I hissed to the Hobbits. “We don’t need you being run over.” The Hobbits crowed my legs as we walked through the streets of Bree. We first stopped by a stable so I could put Amras out of the rain and then headed for the Prancing Pony.
The Inn was loud with the sounds of drunken men. I herded the boys up to the front desk and waited for the inn keeper to see us. He walked over to the edge of the bar with a cup and rag. He smiled at the five of us. “Good evening, little masters and young lady. If you’re seeking accommodation, we got some cozy Hobbit-sized rooms and normal sized rooms available,” he looked at Frodo, “Mister…?”
Frodo paused then stuttered, “Underhill. My name’s Underhill.”
I frowned now knowing that the reason they were here was much worse than I had thought. The inn keeper looked at me and asked for my name. “Faithful,” I smiled at him. He nodded.
“We’re friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we’ve arrived?” asked Frodo.
“Gandalf?” questioned the man. “Gandalf. Oh, yes, I remember. Elderly chap. Big grey beard, pointy hat.” Frodo nodded. “Not seen him for six months.”
Frodo turned back to the other Hobbits, sadly.
“What do we do now?” asked Sam.
I turned to the inn keeper. “Excuse me sir. But would it be alright if we were all to share a room?”
He seemed taken aback by the question, “Yes. Yes, that can be arranged.”
I smiled and handed him some money, “Then we will take one room with four Hobbit beds and a normal bed please.”
He took the money and wrote our names down. He told me the room number and the Hobbits and I went to go sit down and enjoy a few beers.
“Sam,” Frodo spoke as Sam had turned to look at the door once again, “he’ll be here. He’ll come.”
Frowning I looked at the two Hobbits. “Could you please explain to me why Gandalf has sent me here to protect you two?”
“Gandalf sent you?” asked Sam.
“Yes. Rather unexpectedly at that.”
Frodo frowned, “So you don’t know why you’re here?” I shook my head. “I’ll explain later. Here isn’t the best time to be speaking about it.”
Merry then plopped down next to me, with a pint in his hands. Pippin looked over to Merry and gawked at the large pitcher of beer. Well, it was large for Hobbits anyway.
“What’s that?” asked Pippin.
“This, my friend, is a pint.” Merry replied greedily.
“It comes in pints!” He asked, disbelieving. Merry nodded and Pippin turned to the rest of us, “I’m getting one.” He then jumped up and made a bee-line for the bar.
“You got a whole half already!” Sam shouted after him. I shook my head at the Hobbits. Sam glowered and then pointed acrossed the room. “That fellow’s done nothing but stare at you since we arrived.”
I turned and looked from under the hood of my cloak. The man was alone at his table. His feet were up and his hood was up. Between his lips were a pipe and on the table was a half drunken beer. Frodo stopped the inn keeper as he walked by.
“Excuse me.” The inn keeper knelt down next to Frodo as he spoke. “That Man in the corner. Who is he?”
The inn keeper looked over and gave a small shudder. “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.” The inn keeper the left quickly with the food for another table he had been holding.
“Strider,” whispered Frodo.
I watched as the man’s face slightly lit up from the burning embers from his pipe. Underneath the hood were two blue grey eyes.
“Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins,” Pippin spoke from the bar. Frodo whipped his head around to Pippin. “He’s over there. Frodo Baggins. He’s my second cousin, once removed on his mother’s side and my third cousin, twice removed on his fathers,” Pippin said as Frodo jumped up from the table and ran at him.
“Pippin!” cried Frodo as he pulled him away from the bar.
“Steady on, Frodo,” Pippin said as Frodo stumbled back and fell to the ground and then…disappeared.
I stood up quickly and searched the floor. I felt a great evil had done this. I watched the floor and finally found Frodo up against one of the table legs. Strider walked over to him and grabbed his shirt, hauling him up the steps. I glowered and quickly followed after them, drawing my twin swards from my back.
“You draw far too much attention to yourself, ‘Mr. Underhill.’” Strider hissed to Frodo before shoving him inside one of the rooms. I crept up to the door and listened.
“What do you want?” asked Frodo.
“A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry.”
“I carry nothing,” Frodo said quickly.
“Indeed,” snorted Strider as he walked to the other side of the room. I slowly eased the door open a crack and watched as he put out the candles. “I can avoid being seen if I wish but to disappear entirely,” he turned and pulled down his hood reviling a very handsome looking man with long, shaggy brown hair, “that is a rare gift.”
“Who are you?” asked Frodo.
“Are you frightened,” he teased.
“Yes,” Frodo whispered.
“Not nearly freighted enough. I know what hunts you.” He said walking towards Frodo.
I growled and threw open the door. I swung both of my swords at him and he met them with his own. I glared at him as we began to fight. We spun in circles dodging each other’s swings and stabs. Growing frustrated I maneuvered around him, catching his sword with both of mine and pulling it from my hands. I quickly crossed my swords then and held them around his throat.
“Give me a reason to not cut your throat like a weed,” I hissed.
“Nikita,” Frodo said pulling on my cloak, “Stop. I…I think we can trust him.”
I glared at Strider as I slowly dropped my swords. He slowly reached down and picked up his own sword, not letting his eyes leave me. I backed away and stood near Frodo. Then the door burst open and there stood Sam, with his fists raised, Merry, with a candle stick and lit candles, and Pippin with a stool.
“Let him go! Or I’ll have you, Longshanks,” growled Sam.
Strider put his sword away, “You have a stout heart, little Hobbit. But that will not save you.” He turned to Frodo, “You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They’re coming.” He then turned and stuffed the four little Hobbit beds with pillows.
The Hobbits gathered their stuff and then we all followed Strider out of the Prancing Pony to another inn acrossed the street. We got a room and soon three of the four Hobbits were all tucked into the large bed and fast asleep. Frodo, of course, stayed awake, unsure of what would happen next. I too was wide awake but I was keener on keeping an eye on Strider.
Soon the loud screeches could be heard and four black riders came galloping up the road. The burst into the Prancing Pony and went up into the room of where we were to stay. They screamed in anger when they found that we were not there. Their screams were so loud it woke the Hobbits.
“What are they?” asked Frodo.
“They were once Men,” Strider spoke softly. “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.”
The Hobbits all looked at each other in fear. They climbed back underneath the covers but did not fall asleep for a long while. I put out the lights and waited willingly for Strider to slowly doze off into sleep. When he finally did I pulled down my hood and took off my cloak. I stood in the moon light and soon all that could be seen of my skin was glowing. I sighed softly as I let the power of the moon slowly seep into me and up to my necklace. I breathed deeply as I let my skin absorb the moon light. I looked into the window, seeing my reflection. I lifted my hand up and touched my long scar that went from the top of my cheek bone down to my chin. I frowned and turned my face the other way. The glow of my skin soon began to fade and my eyes became droopy. I grabbed my cloak, pulled the hood up and sat down in a chair acrossed the room. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.