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Chapter One: Playing Ringbearers
"Our stay at the Prancing Pony won't be very nice without Gandalf," grumbled Frodo, sitting at the table.
"It's so dreadful to be left alone!" sighed Merry, looking down at his pint of ale.
"I don't think it's fair for some hobbits to have plenty of ale, and other hobbits nothing at all," added little Pippin, with an injured sniff.
"We've got Bilbo and Gandalf and each other," said Sam contentedly from his corner.
The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, but darkened again as Frodo said sadly:
"We haven't got Bilbo, and shall not have him for a long time." He didn't say "perhaps never," but each silently added it, thinking of Bilbo far away, where the elves were.
Nobody spoke for a minute; then Merry said in an altered tone:
"You know the reason Gandalf proposed meeting us here in Bree was because Frodo had to get out of the Shire, and he thinks we ought not to complain because we're alone in a strange place with a ring that everyone seems to be looking for. We can't do much, being hobbits, but we can make our little sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly. But I am afraid I don't"; and Merry shook his head as he thought regretfully of all the nice meals he was missing in his hole back in the Shire.
"But I don't think the little we could do would do any good. I'm scared, and I've got my ring, and I think I'll put it on." Frodo immediately sat up, put his hands in his pockets, and began fumbling for the ring.
"Don't, Frodo; it's so strange when you disappear!"
"That's why I do it."
"I detest rude, unhobbitlike hobbits!"
"I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!"
"'Birds in their little nests agree,'"sang Sam, the peacemaker, with such a funny face that both sharp voices softened to a laugh, and the "pecking" ended for that time.
"Really, my friends, you are both to be blamed," said Merry, beginning to lecture in his elderly-hobbitly fashion. "You are old enough to leave off such tricks and behave better, Frodo Baggins. It didn't matter so much when you were safe in the Shire; but now we're in Bree, and we're alone, and you should remember that you must keep the ring secret."
"I don't want to! And if disappearing makes me unhobbitlike, I'll do it again and again until I disappear altogether," cried Frodo, stuffing his ring back into his pocket.
"As for you, Pippin," continued Merry, "you are altogether too foolish and silly. Your ways are funny now; but you'll get yourself into a world of trouble someday if you don't take care."
"If Frodo is rude and Pippin a fool, what am I, please?" asked Sam, ready to share the lecture.
"You're a dear, and nothing else," answered Merry warmly.
"Glad to find you so merry, my hobbits," said a rough, sarcastic voice behind them, and the hobbits turned to see a tall, disheveled man, with a "I'd-soon-kill-you-as-look-at-you" look about him which was truly frightening. He was not elegantly dressed, but a noble-looking man for all that, and the hobbits thought the black cloak and unfashionable attire covered the most fearsome individual in all Middle Earth.
"I am called Strider, and you must come with me. You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill," he rasped, looking pointedly at Frodo. "I bear a message from Gandalf."
A quick, bright smile went round like a streak of sunshine. Sam clapped his hands, regardless of the biscuit he held, and Frodo tossed up his ring, crying, "A message! a message! Three cheers for Gandalf!"
"Yes, a short message. He is delayed, and he wishes you to come with me to Rivendell. Put that back in your pocket, Frodo!"
"Hurry and get packed! Don't stop to drink your last pint, Pippin! We're going to see the elves!" cried Frodo, choking on his ale, and dropping his bread, butter side down, on the floor, in his haste to be gone.