Rain poured down Merry’s face as he dashed up to the big wooden gate leading into Bree.  “Hurry!” he shouted to his companions, knocking on the small door of the gate keeper.  The door swung open to reveal a disgruntled pair of aggravated-looking eyes squinting into the young hobbits’. 

“Whaddya here for?” the gate keeper grunted with a nasty tone obviously unhappy to be out in the storm.

“We’re travelers just passing through,” Frodo shouted above the roaring of the winds. “We need to get to the Prancing Pony Inn!”

“All right,” the gate keeper replied and the gate rolled slowly open revealing the glinting cobblestone path going into the center of the small town.  The hobbits rushed between the slimy wooden gates and trudged their way down the street to the warmth of the Prancing Pony.

A commotion greeted them as the four companions trudged into the glow of the pub.  As Pippin’s face brightened at the familiar tones of the small bar and restaurant. It had only been a couple weeks since the hobbits returned from their long journey and it was the first time in a while that the four hobbits got a chance to relax together. 

The attitude of the group had changed.  After such experiences the young hobbits no longer had their former carefree manner. 

As the company picked a table in the center of the action Merry headed to the bar to get the group a couple of pints.  

The conversation was solemn and surprisingly hard to carry on.  The hobbits sat in silence until Merry returned with the ale.

“Ahhh,” Pippin sighed. “I missed the size of the drinks served here.”

Merry snickered and stuck his lips into the top of his foamy ale.  He drank heavily before putting down his mug and grinning at his fellow half-lings. “You know,” he started, “if we are going to enjoy each other’s company at all we’re going to half to relax and loosen-up.”

“I’m sorry,” Frodo stated sullenly, “it just… well, it’s different.”

“Yeah, but we aren’t different people. We’re the same best friends that we always have been,” Sam smiled and took a sip of ale.

“So how many nights are we staying here?” Pippin looked at Merry.

“What, you think I’m the organized one?” Merry nodded to Frodo who looked down at the paper receipt he had in his lap. 

“Well, we have three nights, but I am sure that if we want to stay longer we can get another night or two.” Frodo looked up to the group.

“No, I have to get back home,” Sam said before continuing. “I think three nights are enough.”

Okay, well I’m going up to make sure they took our luggage up to the hobbit suite,” Merry drained his ale and pushed his chair back. “Is anyone going to come?”

“Yeah, sure,” Frodo stood up too. “I have to bring up this bag anyway.”  Frodo bent to pick up a small duffel bag and hurried after Merry who had already started towards the passage leading down to the suite.

Sam and Pippin were left in the noisy pub to clear the table and catch up with Merry and Frodo back in the room.  Pippin glanced around.  The busy inn had the usual group but two people caught his attention.  One wiry hobbit with a splash of grayish hair pulled up into a loose ponytail sat at the back glaring through half closed eyelids; she gave him the heebie-jeebies. Her pale sea-colored eyes stared unblinking around the pub.  Her face seemed to light up when she noticed Pippin and Sam, and with sudden quickness she stood and awkwardly moved to the stairs, her skinny form snapping around tables to leave the bar. 

The other mystery figure that had caught Pippin’s interest was sitting at the back table shrouded in dark shadow.  Peering out from under a dark cloak two navy eyes watched him.  Something clicked in his memory and for a second he was sure he’d seen that face before.  At noticing Pippin’s gaze he also got up slowly and moved towards the stairs.  With a last glance over to the table where both Sam and Pippin sat the stranger disappeared around the corner. 

Sam and Pippin looked at each other realizing that they had both seen the same thing.  They hurried to take the empty mugs back to the bar before rushing down the hall to the hobbit suite.

Ì                      

Ch2.

“Frodo… Merry, are you here?” the puzzled hobbits pushed open the door and called for their friends.

“Yeah, we’re back here… we are unpacking,” Frodo called to Pippin and Sam.

Frodo and Merry stood above open suitcases in the one bedroom of the large suite. Merry was tugging at the worn corner of a pillow, trying to get it out from under three layers of folded clothes. “Gahh, I need a bigger suitcase,” he struggled with his pillow for another second before ripping through the clothing and pulling it out of the bottom.

Frodo looked up as his companions walked through the small kitchen into the back of the suite, where the beds were lined up in a neat row shadowed by highly placed windows that showed only a little sunlight, giving the room a dim glow.

“What’s up?” Frodo asked at the slightly crazed expressions that Sam and Pippin were obviously trying to hide.

“Oh, nothing…” Sam started only to be interrupted by Pippin who launched into explaining the entire ordeal.

As Pippin told Merry and Frodo about the weird encounter they had in the lower dining room of the inn, the more it seemed like some coincidence. It probably meant nothing. As the four hobbits relaxed in the room, all suspicious thoughts about the previous events melted and were forgotten.

The friends had spent hours chatting about previous encounters during the journey that had taken place only a few weeks before. After what seemed like years of silence after a finished conversation, Pippin got up to leave.

“Where are you going?” said Merry, surprised by the sudden movement of his companion.

“Oh,” said Pippin, “I was heading around the street corner to see if I could get something for my headache.” Pippin looked paler than usual, his skin pulled tight across his brow. He winced as he kicked the end table by the door. “And something for my leg,” he said through clenched teeth. He turned and shuffled through the door muttering something about truly being a fool of a Took.

 With a worried expression on his face Sam stood and followed Pippin. “I’ll go with him,” he said to Merry and Frodo as he turned around into the hallway, “Make sure he’s okay.”

Merry got up as well, but instead of moving towards the exit he headed for his suitcase and pulled out a huge, dusty book from a large pocket that was tearing at the seams from trying to contain the antique.

Frodo stared at the book with an expression of bewilderment. “Umm, what is that for?” he asked Merry.

“Oh, this?” Merry grinned at Frodo’s look of awe. “Just an old book, I thought I’d do a little reading in my spare time. I found it in an old trunk in the attic. It’s really nothing special.”

“What kind of book is it?” Frodo asked still a little taken aback to see his well-known friend curled up on his bed with a book on his pillow. He went over to where Merry lay on his stomach, the book flopped open to a yellowed page smeared with something suspicious looking. 

“Like I said, nothing special,” Merry looked up blushing. Set out before his friend was the biggest most detailed cook book that Frodo had ever seen. Page after page was decorated by odd patterns of leafy vines that bordered the most intricate of recipes.  There were pictures to accompany the instructions as well.

Frodo sat down beside Merry and as the pages slowly turned and the minutes ticked slowly past the two friends barely noticed that Sam and Pippin where still missing.

Ch3

“Oh my goodness!” cried Merry, suddenly sitting up. “I completely forgot! Sam and Pippin, where are they?” He jumped off the bed and ran to get his jacket. He glance at the wall clock as he ran past and with mounting horror realized it had been over two hours since he had last spoken to Pippin and Sam.

“Sam, maybe we should just head back,” wondered Pippin.

“No,” Sam replied. “I want to find something for your aches. We haven’t been out that long yet.”

They had been unfortunate enough to begin their search at the closing time of most of the shops in the small town.  The friends had been wandering around the cobblestone pathways for sometime now looking for a place that could satisfy Pippin’s needs.

“Anyway,” Sam continued matter-of-factly, “I was going to pick up a few vegetable snacks for tomorrow.” He turned around yet another corner and hurried up to a shop owner as he was reaching for the sign hung in the door.

“Excuse us, sir,” Sam called as he rushed over to the hunched old man standing in the frame leading into a dank shop that was dimly lit. “You wouldn’t happen to have a remedy for…”

“No,” rasped the old form, “I’m closing up.” Without another word he slammed the door in the surprised hobbits faces, hitting the lights in the window as he hurried to the back of the run-down mystery shop.

Sam reached for Pippin’s arm to pull him to the next block but Pippin pulled away and steadied himself against the frame of the now-abandoned store.

“Wait, was that…” Pippin mumbled as he stood to face Sam. He looked for a moment over his companion’s shoulder before speaking. “No, Sam, I can wait. If I still have a headache tomorrow we can look more then.” He lifted his eyes to gaze up into the sky. The clouds had returned as evening approached and he knew that they should return to the safety of the inn before darkness crept above the roofs and chimneys of the little village of Bree.

“Okay, we should be heading back anyway,” Sam spoke and jolted Pippin from his examination of the blackening sky.

They turned to head back to the inn, and were hit over the head with something hard. Pain cracked into the back of his skull. Over the ringing in his ears Pippin heard a cackle and as the blackness edged into his mind he thought he saw the bobbing gray hair of the hobbit from the inn. He closed his eyes and with great relief melted into darkness.

“We have to find them before it gets dark,” a frightened Merry said to Frodo who was following his hurried footsteps back into the commotion of the pub.

“You’re very right,” came the startling voice of a stranger as he hurried up to meet the hobbits as the rushed to the exit. He stepped up to block their escape and Merry noticed in awe that the man held a striking resemblance to the unfamiliar person whom Pippin had described.

“And who may you be?” Frodo asked suspiciously, trying to hide the fear that sparkled in his eyes.

“I am Haldamor,” the stranger replied, “and from the looks of it, you may need some help.”

Ì