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The hot ashes dropping from my pipe jerked me back to
alertness and I swore quietly to avoid waking the Hobbits
sharing the room with me. One of them, I think it was
the one they called Merry, stirred but settled back
down. Good. They had questions that I hadn’t thought
of answers for yet.
Puffing my pipe back into life, I silently crossed the
room and snuck a peek out of the window at the Prancing
Pony across the street. It peeked back at me, looking
like every other tavern in every other town in which
men had settled across Middle Earth. I watched carefully
for a bit. No one saw me of course. I could hve walked
down the street in broad daylight and not attract much
attention if I wanted to so keeping out of sight at
night in the pouring rain which was now sweeping through
Bree was a piece of cake.
It suddenly struck me that every time something of import
was about to occur it was always night time and raining.
I supposed there was some correlation but there was
enough else on my mind this evening to keep me from
trying to figure it out.
I turned from the window and examined the one named
Frodo. He stirred fitfully in his sleep, and his hand
gripped something tightly through the fabric of his
shirt.
Oh yes. I had more than enough on my mind.
---
It was all Gandalf’s fault, really. I was in the forests
north of Rivendell preparing to stew some rabbits that
had been careless enough to wander into my snares. It
was beginning to rain and I was struggling to get a
fire started when I heard a stealthy step behind me.
Casually, I picked up another stick and took a step
forward as if to toss it into my small fire then suddenly
spun with my sword out and ready.
"Very good, Aragorn!" said the bearded figure leaning
on his staff at the edge of the small clearing. "But,
shouldn’t you give the courtesy of finding out who your
visitor is before attempting to run them through?"
"Gandalf!" I cried, sheathing my sword and stepping
forward to clasp his offered hand. "It is good to see
you! How did you know where to find me?"
"Elrond said you had gone hunting for a few days. I
knew this glade was one of your favorite haunts so it
was an obvious place to look."
"Elrond." I said with some bitterness as I turned back
to my fire. "He probably hopes a visit from an old friend
will delay my return for a few days." I tossed a handful
of damp twigs onto the fire and watched them smolder
ineffectually. "He doesn’t have to worry; I’ll keep
my distance from there for a while."
"Arwen again?" he asked, walking around and squatting
opposite the fire from me. "All fathers feel the same
way about their daughters, whether they are 15 or 15
hundred years old. No man is ever good enough for their
daughter."
I swore briefly in Elvish then added a few words of
Dwarvish for effect. "That’s the problem." I said. "No
man will ever be good enough for his daughter.
Least of all me."
Gandalf smiled, taking out his pipe. "You do not give
yourself enoughcredit, my friend." he said. "You could
be king, you know."
I stared at him as he said that. I call Gandalf my friend
and Illuvitor knows there are few enough that I call
by that term; too many of which I have helped bury.
But he also knows of my heritage and of why I do not
speak of it so it rankled me to have him bring it up.
"I am no king." I said, turning my attention back to
the fire.
Gandalf smiled again and, taking a draw from his pipe,
blew the smoke upon the fire. Instantly it blazed up,
nearly singing my eyebrows as I lept back. Neat trick,
that. I had forgotten how much he liked playing with
fire.
"You didn’t come out here to talk about my romance problems."
I said, pulling out my own pipe and accepting the pouch
of pipe-weed he offered. "What brings Gandalf to the
edge of the Misty Mountains on an evening such as this?"
"I have found the Ring." he said, simply.
I didn't have a reply for that, so I finished packing
my pipe and lit it from the fire. Old Toby, I noticed.
Apparently he had been visiting the Shire again. I took
a deep pull from my pipe and held the smoke for a moment,
looking at him, before releasing it in a long stream.
Though part of me wanted to deny it, another knew what
he was trying to say. Plus, it was nighttime and raining,
so something of import must be about to happen.
"What ring." I asked, perhaps too casually.
"The Ring." he said, much more seriously. "The
One Ring. Isuldur’s Bane."
I swore again, this time throwing in some more Dwarvish
and adding an Orcish phrase or two as well. Great blasphemers,
those Orcs.
"Where?" I asked, and he told me of his discoveries
in the Shire. How a simple Hobbit named Bilbo had found
the Ring years ago and how it was now in the posession
of his nephew, Frodo.
I sighed. "So you want me to avoid the Shire too? Don’t
worry. Maybe I’ll just head over to Mirkwood for a while.
Say a decade or two."
"Oh no!" he said, startled. "I need your help. Frodo
and his companion, Samwise Gamgee, will be arriving
at the Prancing Pony in Bree in a few days. I need you
to meet them there and escort them to Rivendell. I have
business at Isengard and may not be able to make it
back before they get there."
I stared at him for several seconds, certain that I
had not heard him correctly. "Let me get this straight."
I said. "You want me, the descendant of Isuldur, to
escort someone carrying the One Ring to Rivendell, the
ruler of which is already angry with me for what he
considers to be an inappropriate relationship with his
daughter? What next? Should I take a brief stroll through
Mordor while I’m at it?"
"It may come to that." he said. "The reason the Ring
needs an escort is that the ruler of Mordor is also
aware of its whereabouts. Even now the Nine are abroad
and searching for it."
I started to swear again and suddenly realized that
I was out of curses. Apparently it was time to start
studying Orcish again. I had a feeling I was going to
need to expand my vocabulary soon.