ESCAPE THE DARKNESS - Part Seven

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

By JULES

Authors Quick Note – This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the RingWraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring. Commences a few days before Bilbo’s Birthday party and before Gandalf returns to the Shire as well.

Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the RingWraiths are sent by the Dark Lord but he is unaware that the legacy of whom is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit.

Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters but I enjoy writing about them and their adventures together.

CHAPTER SEVEN - EXPLANATIONS AND GANDALF'S LEAVING

Strider and Sam had tried unsuccessfully to move Frodo from the kitchen table without disturbing him, hoping his sleep would be deep enough form them to be able to get him back to his bed to rest properly.

Unfortunately this was not to be and they only got as far as the armchair in the living room. Frodo had awoken and he was slowly drifting in and out while Sam hovered worriedly nearby.

Strider offered to make everyone another cup of tea, intending to infuse some more of his secret herb into Frodo’s cup to induce a more restful repose. Frodo was happy enough to sip at the piping hot liquid when it was ready, not really feeling like starting up a conversation, but content enough with for the silent company that the Ranger and Sam were prepared to offer.

By the time the cup was drained, Frodo had his head reclined against the back of the armchair, and he was steadily on his way to sleep again. Carefully moving so as not to wake the drowsy hobbit, Strider took the cup from his sleep limp hand before it had a chance to fall to the floor.

Sam and Strider were both loath to try and move him a second time; he looked content enough where he was for the moment. A warm quilt was draped over him and the fire kept low but burning, giving the whole room a cosy quality to it.

Frodo’s peace and tranquil sleep were about to be rudely interrupted again though as suddenly there was an urgent pounding on the front door of Bag End.

The household was relatively quiet and Strider and Sam pondered whether or not they would be able to get away with just ignoring whoever the unannounced visitor was.

The knocking became persistent now and increased in volume.

“Frodo Baggins! Open up, I know you are in there. Frodo Baggins, I have some things to say to you,” Lobelia Sackville-Baggins demanded.

Strider and Sam both looked over to the slumbering hobbit and were not happy to see Frodo trying to drag his heavy eyelids open at his named being shouted. He gave a feeble effort to rise from the armchair, but then lost all momentum and sank back into the warmth of the quilt.

Sam had crept up to one of the windows and tried peering out without being seen. “Why can’t they just let poor Mr Frodo alone for a time?” the quiet natured hobbit muttered out loud.

“I am going to put a stop to this nonsense,” the Ranger said gruffly, not wanting any more of Frodo’s rest disturbed. The dark-haired hobbit seemed to be just drifting off to sleep again when the knocking recommenced and he started to a half-drowsy state again.

Sam would not have missed this conversation for the world, and he was quickly trailing Strider’s heels and opening the door before any more knocking could wake his master again.

“Good day to you Mistress Lobelia,” Sam said courteously, remembering that she was still a member of Mr Frodo’s family. Maybe not a downright neighbourly one, but a part of the family all the same.

“Get out of my way, Gamgee,” Lobelia scoffed, trying to push the sandy-haired hobbit aside and gain uninvited access to Bag End.

“I’ll thank you to not address Samwise in that tone,” came Strider’s voice as he barred her entrance and stopped her proceeding any further. The Ranger was outraged that people thought they could talk to those considered lower in social status like animals.

“Oh, it’s you again,” Lobelia said, rolling her eyes dramatically and remembering the argument that had taken place between herself and the scruffy-looking Big Person at the party.

“Unfortunately for you, yes,” Strider said, unaffected by her lack of politeness. Samwise had to hold back a giggle at the Ranger’s response.

“I am here to talk to Frodo, not you, now let me pass,” Lobelia said, stating the reason for her unannounced visit. “If you remember correctly, it was upon your instruction last night that I come today.”

“Yes, I do remember telling you that,” Strider said ruefully. He had not thought that the woman would take his advice quite literally, and so much had taken place since their heated words until this moment that he had forgotten about their conversation.

“Sorry, but Frodo has had rather a restless night and he is sleeping right now. I have no intentions of waking him, nor allowing anybody else to do the same,” Strider informed her.

“But what I have to say is important and cannot wait. To think the nerve of Bilbo Baggins, my own kin having the hide to go behind my back and make that scrawny

no good Brandybuck his heir. I have more right to Bilbo’s possessions and Bag End than that young hobbit ever will,” Lobelia said indignantly.

“I afraid that I have no control over whatever decisions Bilbo has made in regards to his home, possessions or his nephew. I have no real interest in such matters, but I do have interest in Frodo’s welfare and well-being. He is very upset over Bilbo’s departure and needs time to adjust to what has happened before being ambushed by anyone.”

Samwise nodded his head in agreement to the Ranger’s words, but didn’t have the courage to voice his own opinions. He wanted Lobelia to leave and never come back. He shrank back from the scowl he received from her.

“So, the old coot has truly gone then,” Lobelia said, thinking out loud for a second. Her manner seemed to change momentarily as she considered what this meant for her and Otho. She had to admit that she hadn’t though the old hobbit was up to something so drastic.

“This isn’t over by a long shot,” Lobelia said and walked away from the smial in a huff, but with a look on her face that suggested she thought this turn of events would work to her advantage.

“Boy, am I glad that’s over,” Sam said, letting out the breath he had been holding. As soon as Strider closed the door to Bag End, he could no longer hide the laugh he felt or the smile on his face as he recalled what the Ranger had said.

“Are all the members of that family so obnoxious?” Strider asked, thinking that he had not had the misfortune of meeting such an unappealing group of individuals in all his travels.

“Yes, I am sad to say,” Sam admitted, but then added to the simple reply, “Except Mr Frodo, of course. He is related to them and Master Bilbo.

“Let’s go check on your master, shall we?” Strider said, smiling as Sam had once again come to the rescue of Frodo’s honour.

While they had talked just inside the front door, Frodo had awoken to the sound of Lobelia’s voice. He had no desire to talk to her, but now stole himself down the hallway, unseen by Strider or Sam. He walked past his own bedroom door and continued down the corridor.

Strider and Sam looked at each other again in shock, as they entered the living room and saw the armchair where Frodo had been sleeping now vacant. The quilt was in an untidy heap on the floor, where it had fallen, but there was no sign of the fair hobbit.

Sam couldn’t help but feel that is was all a little too much like the night before, when Frodo had disappeared when they left him alone for a few minutes. “He is gone again,” he blurted out, stating the obvious.

Neither one of them had heard him walk about when they had been addressing Lobelia at the front door. Had Frodo overheard any of the conversation or the nasty comments directed at him? They sincerely hoped not.

Sam started heading to Frodo’s bedroom, ahead of Strider’s suggested first place to look. Both of them grew concerned when the room was empty and the bed still neatly made.

He wasn’t in there, so where could he be?

“I wonder if………,” Sam said, swallowing a little when he thought of the next logical place to look. He was trying to put himself in Frodo’s shoes and think of the place where he would seek peace and quiet if he was upset and missing Bilbo.

Sam didn’t bother to knock on the door. It was already slightly ajar, signalling that his assumptions had been correct. He nudged it open very softly, praying that the old wooden door didn’t creak in its hinges.

Strider had trusted Sam’s knowledge of Frodo’s habits, and followed him to the doorway, where he was able to see over the top of the much shorter hobbit.

“Bilbo’s room,” Strider whispered, guessing to whom the bedroom had previously belonged. Sam nodded before walking in as quietly as he could. Not wanting the slightest footstep to be heard by his master.

Frodo was indeed inside, sprawled across the large bed on the far side. He was asleep, his head resting on an impossible number of pillows accumulated at the top of the bed. Their friend looked the most relaxed they had seen him since early yesterday. No doubt the room still contained his uncle’s scent and it was that sense of security that allowed Frodo to fall into repose.

Sam fussed about the blankets for a second, not wanting to wake Frodo, but feeling a little sad that Frodo had sought his uncle’s room. The grief was still too near and no doubt it would be quite a while until his master would be ready to heal.

For the next three hours, Bag End was mostly quiet, Strider and Sam left quietly to talk to each other while Frodo slept and everyone else was still to return from clearing away the party.

Merry and Pippin returned with Gandalf shortly before lunch, announcing that they were famished. Both were informed about Frodo sleeping in Bilbo’s bedroom and warned of the dire consequences if he should be unnecessarily awoken. They were all a little annoyed at Lobelia Sackville-Bagginses trying to throw her weight around and insulting

Frodo. The younger cousins had snickered at Sam’s description of how Strider had turned the unwanted guest away. Everything was moving rather too slowly for Merry and Pippin later that afternoon. To ease their boredom, they had declared that they were going to spend the evening at the Green Dragon and throw down a few ales and sing a few songs. They enquired if Frodo might like to come with them, hoping to cheer him up a little.

Whilst their good intentions were appreciated, Gandalf stepped in on Frodo’s behalf and told the cousins that it maybe a little too early yet to expect Frodo wanting to be part of a noisy crowd after such a shock. The two cousins then informed everyone not to be concerned if they stayed out rather late and decided to acquire alternative accommodations for the night. Both promised to spend some quality time with Frodo over the next few days before they were due to return to their own homes and families.

Frodo awoke just after lunch, appearing in the living room where Gandalf, Sam and Strider were currently keeping company with each other.

“Mr Frodo,” Sam declared, happy to see his master awake at last, but a little concerned about how tired he still looked.

“Frodo, my lad, how are you feeling?” Gandalf asked.

“A little better, thank you,” Frodo said quietly, taking a seat in an armchair. “Is there any tea left?” he enquired.

“Right you are, Mr Frodo, I will be right back. I will make a fresh pot if there is not,” Sam said and hurried off to the kitchen.

Sam soon returned with a fresh pot of tea and some clean cups and saucers, enough for everyone in the room. Frodo might enjoy his tea more with someone to drink with him.

Along with the tea, he had prepared a small late lunch for his master, hoping that Frodo wouldn’t balk at the small serving. He really hadn’t eaten very much today.

“Thank you, Sam,” Frodo said and took the offered cup. He also took the plate of food, and looking back at his friend’s hopeful expression, he couldn’t rightly refuse to at least try and force something down his throat.

After some quiet conversation, Frodo decided to try and take his mind off his troubles and use what remained of the afternoon to try and get some quiet reading done. He selected a small book of poetry, avoiding any of Bilbo’s favourite for fear of being overcome with memories and emotions. He settled back in the chair with a second cup of tea and tried to focus his attention to the words on the page and not to the voices in his head.

Gandalf and Strider left the hobbit to his reading and took up on a bench outside, quietly smoking their pipes and talking, but within hearing distance if they were required.

Sam, too, felt as though he was hovering too much and decided to busy himself with preparing dinner for the household.

At one point, Sam went back to his own home and told his Gaffer about Master Bilbo’s departure from the Shire. Hamfast Gamgee was shocked, to say the least, but he had respected the old hobbit’s decision and didn’t question it in any way. It wasn’t their place to weigh up if what Bilbo had done was the right thing or not, he reminded Samwise.

He also assured his son that they would continue to tend the gardens of Bag End no matter who happened to be the current resident. The fact that Frodo had been made Master Bilbo’s heir just made the task much more satisfying and rewarding, rather than having to do it for a stranger or for the Sackville-Bagginses.

Hamfast knew that Mr Frodo considered his son more than just someone to help out in the garden. He equally knew how much Sam had come to adore Mr Frodo and cherish the friendship that had blossomed over a number of years. “You just make sure you look after Mr Frodo right proper, Samwise,” the Gaffer said, knowing that his son would do no less anyway.

Sam had been overjoyed at his Gaffer’s acceptance of his friendship with Mr Frodo.

He knew that his father had seen his own position with Master Bilbo more as employer and employee, rather than friends. In the end, neither of them would have been able to deny that there was more than just an employment relationship. Friends like Master Bilbo and Mr Frodo didn’t come along but once in a lifetime.

In the short time that Sam was out of Bag End and Frodo was left alone in the living room, reading by the warm fireplace, something was about to happen that would forever etch itself in Frodo’s mind as the beginning of the evil that would plague him. In years to come, if he was asked to pinpoint the clearest start to the chaos, death and madness that would ensue, this would be it.

If somebody had walked into the room, at first they have been completely unaware that anything was out of place at all. Frodo was still seated in the armchair with a quilt draped over his legs and a book being held limply in his hand. His thoughts had drifted somewhat from the words on the page and he was staring into the low burning fire as if trying to recall the past.

Sam was just approaching the front gate to Bag End, greeting Gandalf and Strider upon his return when all three of them stopped dead in their tracks at the awful scream of terror that they heard being emitted from the living room. There could be only one explanation as to whom the scream belonged to. Frodo had been sitting in there on his own.

Pulling themselves from their paralysed states, all three dashed into the room, expecting to see some sort of evidence of an accident or attack involving Frodo. The hobbit was standing in the middle of the room, trembling slightly, and his eyes were locked on the flames that burned in the fireplace.

“Frodo?” Gandalf said, placing a gentle hand on Frodo’s shoulder, not wanting to startle the frightened boy any further. When Frodo turned to face them, the fear was so naked on his face that it took their breath away. His eyes were as wide as saucers and every bit of emotion was mirrored back to the trio in those impossibly blue eyes.

“What is it Mr Frodo? What has happened to you?” Sam asked, never remembering such a sound coming from his master before. Frodo struggled to find his voice, his breath coming in raspy pants as he tried to calm down enough to take longer and deeper breaths. “Come sit down a minute,” Gandalf suggested, leading the boy by his shirt sleeve and forcing him to sit on a chair.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Strider asked, waiting patiently until Frodo was ready to speak for himself. Frodo’s hands still trembled and he held onto Gandalf with a tighter grip then the wizard admitted.

“I-I …….. I really don’t k-know myself,” Frodo said, his voice barely audible. Sam quickly got a glass of water for his friend and received a smile in return as Frodo sipped at it gratefully.

“Something must have frightened you quite badly, my lad, for you to make such a scream,” Gandalf said, not wanting to back Frodo into a corner where he refused to speak of his fear.

“I was just thinking, staring at the flames in the fireplace there,” Frodo began, still unsure of how to describe what he had experienced. Strider nodded, acknowledging what Frodo was saying and by the same token, trying to encourage him to tell the story some more.

“The flames just seemed to get bigger. Bigger and Bigger in my head until they were like a raging inferno,” Frodo explained, shuddering a little at the thought of fire so ravenous in its intent to burn. “Then there was screaming and yelling. Not from the fire, but sounding very far away. I couldn’t really hear anything they were saying, but I could feel the desperation and the urgency in their voices.”

“What happened after that?” Gandalf urged.

Frodo took another sip of water before reliving the next part, perhaps the most chilling part of the whole episode. “Then there was this other voice…….” He paused, looking at his friends, hoping that they understood just how hard it was to speak about it.

“Like the ones that were screaming?” Strider asked, but somehow knowing in the back of his mind that Frodo thought this voice to be entirely different.

“No, not like the others at all,” Frodo said, agreeing with Strider’s unspoken assumption.

“This voice was different. No less frightening, but it didn’t sound like it was trying to warn me at all.”

“What did it say?” Sam asked, feeling his own fear growing about hearing voices and the like. Most unusual he must admit.

“It sounded strange, like a foreign language or something. But the tone of the voice was as if it was trying to……….” he stopped again, not sure if the others would believe his version of how it sounded.

“Go on……,” Gandalf said, seeing in the hobbit’s eyes that he didn’t want to continue.

“C-call out to me,” Frodo said, lowering his gaze a little, afraid to look Strider and Gandalf. “Telling me that I needed to do something,” he added.

It was Frodo’s and Sam’s turn now to see expressions of concern and dread written across the faces of the Ranger and the wizard. No words were exchanged between them, but suddenly the air in the room had become incredibly tense and claustrophobic.

Strider and Gandalf held a conversation of their own now in Elvish, Frodo and Sam watched the exchange, but understood none of it. “It is time to tell him Gandalf.

We cannot delay it any further. Danger is coming and it draws nearer to here everyday,” Strider stressed.

“I am not sure he is ready to hear the truth, Strider. He has already been put through enough over Bilbo,” Gandalf said, knowing that what the Ranger said was true but wanting to shield Frodo from the evil that was clearly growing.

“We have to be ready to leave in haste if it comes to the Shire,” Strider warned. “We cannot wait any longer, Gandalf. Frodo has the right to know, ready or not to accept it.”

“Gandalf, what is going on?” Frodo said, at first his voice sounding a little harsh that he and Sam where being treated like children that shouldn’t be hearing of certain things.

“Please, I need to understand what I just saw, because it has me terribly frightened,” he added in a more pleading tone.

Gandalf’s face softened as he looked into the eyes of innocence. Strider was right. Frodo needed to be told. The cost of learning the truth might be high and come at a price, but he doubted they could ill afford the alternative if they ignored the threat that was enclosing around them.

“Alright, Frodo, I will explain what I know,” he said. “Samwise, make a fresh pot of tea please, and we will adjourn to the kitchen in a moment. Firstly though, Frodo, do you still have the ring that Bilbo left you?” he asked, looking more at Strider as he asked the question.

“You already suspect don’t you?” Strider commented, unable to hide the implications for himself and others should Gandalf’s hunch turn out to be correct.

Frodo frowned slightly but rose from his chair and went to the chest of maps that he had concealed the envelope in. “I put it in a place that I thought would be safe,” he explained, reaching in the chest with his hands and searching for the small fold of parchment. “I didn’t think anybody would look in one of Bilbo’s old trunks.”

“Aha,” Frodo exclaimed and held up the elusive envelope containing Bilbo’s ring. Gandalf quickly snatched it away and tore it open, spilling the contents into his open hand.

Frodo and Sam saw Strider take a noticeable step away from the small golden band, turning his face away for an instant as if to tell himself that it wasn’t true. The two hobbits were becoming more confused by the minute, not having seen Gandalf or Strider so concerned before.

Gandalf now baffled Frodo and Sam even more by tossing the ring into the fireplace. “There is only one true test to find out,” he said, meaning the statement more for the Ranger than for the two hobbits.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, startled that the wizard would first ask for a treasured possession of Master Bilbo’s that had been left to his master, to then grab it roughly and toss it into the fire to be destroyed. That defied all rationality in his eyes.

The wizard now used a pair of ordinary looking metal tongs to retrieve the ring from the flames. Both hobbits had expected the gold to have melted slightly or at least the fire to have disfigured the shape of the band. To their surprise, though, it looked remarkably unchanged in shape, colour and size. There was no marring that they could notice.

“Hold out your hand, Frodo,” Gandalf requested, pointing the tongs towards Frodo who stood but a few feet away.

Frodo looked at the wizard with a startled expression, thinking of the temperature of the ring after being immersed in the flames. Aragorn seemed to recoil again as the ring came closer to him, not wanting to allow himself any clear view of it.

“It’s quite cool,” Gandalf said with a wan smile.

“What can you see?” he asked. Sam didn’t move any closer, but he looked as intently as he could at the ring. Frodo turned it over and over in his hand, trying to figure out the mystery that Gandalf was expecting to be present.

“Nothing……. there’s nothing,” Frodo said, the band still remaining unchanged to his careful inspection.

Sam looked at the wizard and the Ranger to see both of them give a small sigh of relief. There was something strange here that he didn’t understand in the least and he doubted that Mr Frodo did, either.

“Wait,” Frodo said, as he turned the ring over a few more times. This time as he looked, there was something more visible beginning to appear.

“There are markings…….. it’s in some form of Elvish…… I can’t read it,” Frodo now said, holding the ring up slightly so that the etchings released by the fire could be clearly seen.

Sam was amazed that his master recognized the symbols as an Elvish language. It just looked like a series of squiggles and curvy lines to the untrained eye of a simple hobbit like him. They had heard Gandalf and Strider speaking Elvish to each other a few minutes earlier. Maybe they could translate what was written on the band.

“There are few who can. The words are written in the tongue of Mordor which I will not utter here in the Shire,” Gandalf said.

“Black Speech,” Strider said disdainfully under his breath, but loud enough for the two hobbits to hear.


“In common tongue it says: "One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them." Gandalf translated.


The words sounded ominous even in common tongue, but Frodo at least recognized the place name that Gandalf had indicated. “Mordor?” he repeated, knowing that it was not a place that good folk were familiar with talking about. There of course were legends and myths aplenty, but none of them were to be uttered within the borders of the Shire.


Frodo knew of the place from his Uncle Bilbo. He doubted if Sam had heard of such a place, even with his teachings from Bilbo. It would not have been a story that Bilbo would have enjoyed sharing or telling to those who didn’t need to know of Middle-earth’s somewhat darker times.

The four of them now moved into the kitchen and gathered around the table to talk in more detail about what such a ring meant. Strider seemed to sit as far away from the ring itself without making it obvious. Gandalf had placed the ring near the edge of the table, so that its true origins could be explained.

Sam poured the tea into mugs as they sat and looked upon the simple looking trinket before them. He had yet to understand what all of the concern was about. He didn’t like the idea of Frodo being frightened of anything, but it was plain to him that there were others apart from his master that held fears for its purpose.

“This is the One Ring…….. forged by the Dark Lord Sauron himself in the fires of Mount Doom,” Gandalf said, leaving the sentence to sink in for a few moments. He could no longer deny the truth, no matter how much he wanted to conceal it from Aragorn and Frodo, and indeed, himself.

“Sauron was destroyed,” Frodo said in confusion, trying to keep it as simple as possible for Sam to understand as they progressed. From what he understood of the brief history he had been told, the Dark Lord had been destroyed during the Last Alliance of Elves and Men.

“No, Frodo. The Dark Lord was only defeated, and only for a time. This ring was made by his own hand. It was conceived by him and embodies all of the hatred, malice and cruelty he has felt for those in Middle-earth,” Gandalf explained.

The wizard looked over at the Ranger, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, but he knew that Strider would not want to relive any of this history if it could be avoided. He was not about to tell the hobbits how he fitted into this huge puzzle. That time would be decided by Strider himself, if he ever was of a mind to share his true heritage and background.

“Whilst the ring still exists, Middle-earth is not free from the threat of Sauron’s return.

The ring and he are one. Like body and soul, they are one. He needs only this ring to cover the world in a second darkness, Frodo,” Gandalf said, hoping that the true implications of what he was saying was getting through to the hobbits.

There was a part of the story, though, that Frodo found he could contribute to. He had a little knowledge about how Bilbo had come into possession of the ring itself, though the old hobbit had chosen to leave that story out of his adventurous tales.

“Bilbo found it in Gollum’s cave,” Frodo said, remembering the version of events that his uncle had given. He knew very little about the creature the name of whom he spoke.

He knew very little about how Bilbo’s possession of the ring had mirrored Gollum’s lustful ownership.

“Gollum!” Strider spat, almost as though it were a curse word upon his lips.

“Frodo,” Gandalf said, making sure that he had the hobbit’s full attention before he continued. He couldn’t stress his next advice strongly enough for any currently seated at the table. “He must never find it…..”

“Alright, then, we hide it away like before. We never speak of it again,” Frodo said determinedly, getting up from the table and grabbing the ring. He went into the next room and looked about expectantly for a more secure hiding spot.

“Frodo, you don’t understand,” Gandalf said, following him, knowing that the hobbit only had the best intentions.

“We shan’t speak of it ever again, will we, Sam?” Frodo asked, knowing that he had his friend’s full support in whatever his decision might be about the fate of the ring.

“Not if you say so, Mr Frodo,” Sam voiced, but not being able to help but feel that he was getting left further and further behind with all this talk about Dark Lords and evil coming to Middle-earth.

“Nobody knows it’s here, do they, Gandalf?” Frodo stated confidently, but then paused halfway through that though, turning back to the wizard. “Do they, Gandalf?” This time he said it with a little hesitation clearly present.

At this point Strider weighed into the conversation, knowing that there was news about the creature that the wizard may yet have to learn of. “I have rather anxious news from those of Mirkwood Forest, Gandalf,” he admitted.

The wizard turned his face to the Ranger, awaiting for confirmation of what he already feared to be true. “They were supposed to be guarding him in a prison, but somehow he escaped.

“There was one other that knew that Bilbo had the ring,” Gandalf said, not knowing of any other way of telling the awful truth. “I looked everywhere for the creature Gollum,” he said, knowing that his best efforts in the end had been insufficient.

Gandalf had clearly already known about the creature’s unexpected evasion of confinement from the Woodland realm, but he had more recent information than Strider about Gollum’s fate after his escape.

“The enemy tortured him for days,” Gandalf informed them all, “Eventually he uttered two words which they could decipher enough for them to be of great harm to this region: ‘Shire, Baggins’, he said, giving the words that would betray the one who had found the ring.

“Shire, Baggins, but that will lead them here!” Frodo said, realising what that meant for not only him, but also for his beloved homeland and those whom he cared for. He looked over at Sam and couldn’t help the fear knotting up inside of him at the possibility that his friend could well be threatened because he had possession of such an evil thing.

“Take it, Gandalf, take it!” Frodo said, desperately holding out the accursed ring to the one he knew to be more powerful than hobbits or men. “You must take it,” he repeated, with a little more urgency, when it seemed that Gandalf was reluctant to hold onto it for any reason.

“Frodo, you cannot offer me this ring,” Gandalf said, stepping back away from the temptation. “Understand, Frodo: I would like to take this ring to do good. But through me it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.”

Frodo was quickly running out of candidates who might take up the sword on behalf of those who needed protecting, like his fellow hobbits of the Shire. “Strider, maybe you can take it then,” he said, holding it out towards the Ranger.

If it were possible, the Ranger recoiled even further away from the temptation than the wizard. For him, even the mere thought of temptation was too much to contemplate. Strider found it almost too much to be in the same room with something so horribly devastating in power, but so innocent looking in appearance.

“No, Frodo, he cannot. For reasons which will not be explained here tonight, Strider must never have possession of the ring, either,” Gandalf said on Strider’s behalf. The Ranger gave a nod of thanks for Gandalf stepping in, but he could see a slight bit of hurt reflected in Frodo’s eyes about being treated like a child once again.

“But it cannot stay in the Shire!” Frodo shouted, pointing out the obvious.

“No, no it can’t,” Gandalf agreed, seeing that Frodo understood some of what he had been told.

Then like a lightning bolt, struck the truth of what the task should be and who should be the one to carry it out. For a brief second, Frodo looked over at Sam. He looked at who and what Sam represented and meant to him. If the ring stayed and evil did come, he might be putting at risk all that he loved and cherished about his homeland.

With a half apologetic smile to his friend, who still yet had to realise what his master was about to offer, he turned back to the Ranger and the wizard. “What must I do?”

Sam’s eyebrows just about disappeared into his hairline as he gaped at the question that his master asked Gandalf. What was Mr Frodo doing? Surely he couldn’t be offering to be doing something about all of this evil that was being spoken of.

Frodo didn’t have a fighting bone in his body. He was a gentlehobbit, one who looked at nothing but the good in others, even when he was laughed at or called unsavoury names.

There must be another way of defeating whoever this Dark Lord was without asking his dear friend to put himself at risk of being hurt or worse.

Gandalf knew that what he was about to tell Frodo would almost be like another stab to his already hurting chest. “I will leave tonight. Strider, you must be packed and prepared to leave at a minutes’ notice.”

“Leave? But you only just got here! There must be another way, Gandalf,” Frodo said, his voice full of emotion at the thought of losing a most important ally at their most desperate hour.

“If what we have spoken of tonight does become our reality, then I must find out some things. There are questions to be asked. Answers to be sought,” Gandalf said, knowing that his timing for leaving couldn’t have been worse.

“Where will I go?” Frodo asked, thinking at this point in time that his journey was to be alone.

“Strider will take you on a safe passage to the village of Bree. You must trust in what he says, he knows the roads better than any other to aid you on your travels,” Gandalf advised.

“What will happen when Strider and I get to Bree, where will you be? Will the ring be safe there?” Frodo asked, his head feeling like it was finding it hard to keep up with the flow of information and the endless questions that were forming in his mind.

“I don’t have any answers Frodo, I must see the head of my order. He is both wise and powerful, he will know what to do,” Gandalf replied. “I will be waiting for you at the inn called the Prancing Pony.”

“You will have to leave the name of Baggins behind you, for once on the road, that name will not be safe outside of the Shire. Strider travel only by day if you can, and keep off the roads,” Gandalf advised.


“Mr Frodo’s not going anywhere without me,” Sam declared rather forcefully for such a gentle-natured hobbit. He didn’t know exactly where his master was heading off to, but he wasn’t about to let his friend walk off alone into dangers unknown.

“Of course not, Sam, I wouldn’t think of letting you stay. You may not be safe here, either, if it becomes known that you are friends with Frodo,” the wizard said, seeing the stout hobbit pale considerably at such a notion.

“We shouldn’t be seen leaving the Shire together, either,” Gandalf now said, knowing that there could well be spies watching their movements. “I will leave now and find out what information I can.”

“All of this is happening too fast, Gandalf,” Frodo said in frustration as thoughts swirled in and around him, out of control. That, coupled with the idea that Sam could very well be in danger being associated with him, caused him even more distress and anxiety.

By now, Gandalf had gathered what little possessions he had brought with him, ready to leave in the night for roads unknown. He had spoken of leaving his cart in the Gamgee’s barn until he had a chance to return to claim it. His passage would be swifter just on horseback.

Frodo and Sam now stood beside Gandalf as he prepared to mount his horse and gallop off out of Hobbiton. Strider stood at the gateway, able to hear everything that was being said and seeing what was transpiring, but allowing the wizard to explain his need to depart so quickly to the two hobbits.

The Ranger deemed that he would only add to the confusion, frustration and emotion of the moment should he weigh into the conversation and try to convince Frodo that this was a necessary journey to be taken. One of but many that surely would soon be upon them.

“Remember, Frodo, the Ring is trying to get back to its Master. It wants to be found. Never put it on, for the forces of the Dark Lord will be drawn to its power,” Gandalf said as an addition to his parting words.

Gandalf could see the mix of emotions playing out on Frodo’s face. Just like the fear and anxiety though, he could also plainly see anger and frustration beginning to emerge in the normally timid hobbit. Frodo was about to be thrown into a world he knew very little of or had experience of and he felt like everyone was talking about him and not directly to him. The wizard knew that there was very little chance of being able to explain sufficiently the need for haste in his journey and the urgency of the information that he sought.

“Look after Frodo, Samwise, and keep safe, both of you,” Gandalf said, briefly embracing both hobbits. “We will see each other again soon, you can be certain of that,” he added, trying to give them a little confidence in the task that Frodo had placed upon himself.

Frodo stood on the crest of the hill outside Bag End, watching the figure of Gandalf run at full gallop away from him. Somehow things were just going too fast and he didn’t have time to stop and think through everything that had been discussed. He could feel all the emotions that had spent forth after Bilbo’s departure well up inside of him again. Frodo felt as though he was on the outside, looking in.

Sam had yet to say anything, knowing that Gandalf’s departure, even though witnessed, was just adding to his master’s heartache and sense of abandonment. The sandy-haired hobbit stood near Strider, waiting for Frodo to indicate when he was ready to go back inside Bag End. Once inside maybe they could make better sense of what had been said.

Frodo was forcing back the tears of frustration that threatened to spill down his pale cheeks. With only a limited amount of sleep earlier that day, fatigue was beginning to creep back into his small body once again. The emotional tug of war going on within him caused his energy levels to wan even further.

“Frodo?” Strider asked, looking with a frown on his face as the hobbit appeared to sway on his feet a little. Both Sam and Strider watched in alarm as their friend sank to his knees, appearing to let the tide of feelings overtake him.

Frodo’s frustration seemed to overflow even more when he let out an animalistic cry of anger, raising his clenched fists towards the sky in gesture. “Why……. I just want to know why!” he said, bowing his head towards the ground and letting his tears wet the ground in front of him.

“Mr Frodo,” Sam said, barely above a whisper, not really knowing what he could do to help ease his master’s suffering. He placed a gentle hand on the trembling shoulder, hoping that so simple as touch would offer some comfort.

“Are you alright Frodo?” Strider asked, trying to pull the exhausted hobbit to his feet. He was completely unprepared for the reaction that he would invoke.

“How much of this did you know in advance?” Frodo said, jumping to his feet and stepping back from the Ranger while he hurled accusations. He purposefully strode to Bag End and stood in front of the fireplace, waiting for Strider’s answer.

The surge of frustration seemed to give the hobbit renewed energy as he paced back and forth, finding it difficult to control the scathing words that were on his tongue.

“I didn’t know anything about Gandalf leaving tonight Frodo,” Strider responded. From the look on Frodo’s face it was clear that he was merely looking for someone to take his emotion and frustration out on rather than just point the finger of blame. If he was to be that person, Strider was willing to bear the brunt of harsh words.

“Don’t lie to me,” Frodo said, tersely slapping away Sam’s hand trying to prevent him getting angrier. “You knew about Bilbo’s leaving. That’s why you came here to Bag End in the first place, isn’t it?”

Sam looked surprised at the betrayal evident on Frodo’s face. He didn’t know exactly what Frodo was upset about, but his tears had all but dried up, now to be replaced by demanding questions and hostility. One glance at the Ranger, and Sam could see that Frodo had been correct, although he didn’t want to believe it.

“Frodo………,” Strider said, trying to explain, but he quickly saw that the hobbit was in no mood for explanations and resigned himself to his fate. “Yes, I knew about your uncle’s intentions to leave.”

Sam was the one most shocked. Frodo had suspected it at least. Sam now stood with his mouth agape for a minute, trying to fathom what the Ranger was saying. Then his face turned a little more grim and he stood beside Frodo, unhappy at this admission.

“I heard you, that first night you arrived,” Frodo said. “I didn’t know your name then, but I could hear you and Bilbo talking in the living room. You told him that he would have to leave soon. Bilbo said he knew this.” It was about this time that any frustration and anger drained out of Frodo and his features softened as fatigue and sadness began to take over.

“I am just looking for answers, Strider. Is that too much to ask?” Frodo voiced, sounding a little choked with tears as his shoulders slumped in posture.

Strider walked over to the hobbit and knelt down in front of him, to make sure that what he had to say would not be misunderstood. “I am sorry that you had to find out that way Frodo. If I or indeed your uncle had known of your presence, those conversations would not have taken place that night. Despite what I knew then, I doubt even I would have been able to prevent Bilbo leaving when he did.”

“You do not have to stay any longer if don’t wish to Strider,” Frodo said. “Bilbo is gone and I don’t know when or if he will be coming back,” giving a slight smile with his words of release.

“Frodo, understand that I have been a protector of the Shire and all who dwell within her borders for a long time. I will not waver from that duty, especially when the risk of danger comes closer to your door. I swore to protect your Uncle Bilbo and see him on a safe path because of the evil ring that he had possession of,” Strider explained.

Wrapping Frodo’s small hands within his much larger ones, and determined to keep eye contact with the lad, he said, “I came here to protect a Baggins from the evil that is beginning to grow. The fact that Bilbo has left doesn’t change that pledge. If you are to be that Baggins that I protect whilst carrying the ring, so be it.”

“I apologize, Strider, for taking out my anger on you,” Frodo said, truly ashamed of the manner in which he had addressed the Ranger. Some of these events were completely out of his control and knowledge. Others not. That was still no excuse for harsh criticism or unkind accusations. “Forgive me, I am sorry,” he added.

“You have no need to be sorry, Frodo. I understand that all of this information is too much to take in all at once. I have a hard time myself believing that such dangers lurk just outside the Shire. But lurk they do, and it is my solemn vow that your race and many others of Middle-earth will not fall under Sauron’s dominant will or malicious actions.

Sam sighed audibly in relief, happy that there was no more tension in the room. He didn’t want to offend Strider, but it also pained him to see Frodo angry or upset as he had been. “How about a nice cup of tea?” he asked, trying his best to clear the air.

“That would be lovely, Sam,” Frodo said, the tiredness becoming more oppressive by the minute. He longed just to sit in a comfortable chair with a hot cup of tea and think about nothing at all.

“I agree, but, Frodo,” Strider said, pre-warning of their need to be vigilant, “We must make preparations to leave as Gandalf says. I will make a list of the things we need. I believe your well stocked pantry should suit our purposes enough until we can reach Bree and gather fresh supplies.”

“This is all happening too fast,” Frodo said as he sagged into an armchair, letting his hands fall limply in his lap. He put a hand to his forehead and tried to sort out what they needed to do next. His eyes began to drift close from weariness no matter how much he demanded himself to stay awake.

“Let him sleep for a while, Samwise,” Strider said in a quiet voice. “I could use your help, though, if don’t mind. We will only be in the next room and should hear Frodo if he needs anything,” seeing the stout hobbit torn between wanting to stay with his master and his sense of duty of helping the Ranger. Sam nodded his head in agreement, hoping that Frodo would get some rest.

For the next two hours, while Frodo slept undisturbed in the living room, Sam and Strider went about gathering the things they would need to take with them on their journey.

Sam took care of his master’s few changes of clothes and his own belongings, whilst Strider rummaged through the food stores in the cellar and deemed which long-lasting foodstuffs they could carry between the three of them.

The Ranger was a little unfamiliar with the foods that hobbits liked in abundance and he asked Sam for his advice on what he and Frodo would deem worthy. Sam suggested fruit, especially apples, because they were easy to carry and required no cooking, and most of all they were a favourite of Mr Frodo’s. He suggested many others and as he prepared his own pack, he placed inside a few intricately carved boxes that held herbs and spices for cooking. Even if there wasn’t much game to find on their journey, at least he deemed their pickings could be made more flavoursome.

Sam made sure that his backpack was loaded with the more essential but heavier items like cooking pots and pans. He left the lighter and less restrictive stuff for Frodo’s smaller pack, hoping that there would be no argument to the contrary about who would be carrying what. He had already deemed that his master had enough to carry, and that included his thoughts and the threats that Gandalf had warned them about.

Just as he was closing Frodo’s pack, Sam remembered something that was missing. It was very light and wouldn’t take up much room and he knew that his master would be loath to leave them behind. He carefully searched them in Frodo’s bedside table and found the small wood carving tools, wrapped in the cloth Frodo had displayed when giving the figurines. He slipped them into a small pouch on the side of Frodo’s pack and then closed the laces at the top, declaring that they would be ready to leave when it became necessary.

Strider was once again seated outside the door of Bag End, slowly smoking his pipe whilst he was deep in thought. Sam was inside the kitchen preparing a light supper for all when Frodo appeared in the room, rubbing tiredly at this eyes and taking a seat at the table.

“Hello, Mr Frodo, just in time to enjoy a cup of tea,” Sam announced, placing a steaming cup in front of his friend. From looking at this master, he could plainly see that the day’s reign of broken sleep was making Frodo more tired. The dark-haired hobbit saw none of the concern on Sam’s face as he kept his gaze focused off into the distance, staring into the flames of the fire once more.

“Sam, there are some things that I need to discuss with you,” Frodo said, not wavering in concentration. “Things that I need to talk to about that are most important and cannot wait,” he added, not wanting to unduly scare the younger hobbit.

“Alright then, Mr Frodo,” Sam said, pouring himself a cup of tea and seating himself directly across from his friend, waiting to hear what was troubling his master.

Frodo pulled his attention away from the flames, but when he looked at Sam’s warm hazel eyes, he wasn’t quite sure of how to approach the subject. “Sam, I know that you have been my friend for a very long time……,” he began.

Sam frowned a little, trying to think of a reason why Mr Frodo would be wanting to talk about their friendship. To him, their friendship was an intangible thing. Like the sun rising and setting each day. You didn’t have to think about it. Things like that just happened. “And shall always be, Mr Frodo……..,” he replied, hoping that his master would take some comfort in that proclamation.

“I know Sam, that is why it is so difficult for me to say this,” Frodo said, clearly unhappy about having to talk about this at all. Sam didn’t deserve any of this, but it was for the very reason that they were friends that he felt compelled to do this.

“You don’t have to come with me….,” Frodo said, leaving the sentence unfinished, hoping that it was enough for Sam to realise what he was asking.

“Surely you don’t mean for me to…….,” Sam said, almost on his feet and ready to give his master a dozen different reasons why he shouldn’t be left behind. Frodo held his hand up though, stopping him from uttering anything further for a moment.

“Hear me out, please, Sam,” Frodo pleaded. “Please, I don’t ask that you stay here in the Shire because I don’t want you with me on this journey. Nothing would make me happier than to take you everywhere with me. But please consider what you would be

giving up if you left here. Your brothers and sisters, your Gaffer. I hate to even think of what he would say if he knew that I was leading you off on some wild adventure,” he said with a laugh. The laughter, however, was very fake and didn’t even sound like it came from his lips.

“Now you hear me out, Mr Frodo, Sir, and don’t be thinking that I haven’t already thought through such things. I don’t mean to go against what you say, but I have thought through going with you. It has been the only thing on my mind from the minute you told Mr Gandalf that you would take the ring out of the Shire,” Sam said in his own defence.

“I don’t claim to know much about a lot of things, Mr Frodo. You are the educated one here, and I am just a plain old gardener from Hobbiton and a Gamgee at that,” Sam continued. He took Frodo’s thin, smooth hands in his much rougher ones, “But what I do know is that in times of trouble, like what your about to face, friends stick by one another.”

“What about the things you will have to sacrifice for the sake of our journey Sam? A nice comfortable bed every night and warm blankets. Good food and all the other comforts that we will surely leave behind us for the road ahead.”

“Think about all of the things we will see along the way, Mr Frodo, and the people we will meet and learn about. That’s got to be better than staying behind here in Hobbiton and closing our minds to the rest of the world that is just beyond the borders. Your tales have always led me to believe that there is a marvellous world out there to explore. And I can think of nobody better than you to do it with, if you take my meaning,” Sam stated.

“Sam, I can’t even tell you where we are headed, except for the parts about Bree that you already heard about. I don’t know how long our journey will take or which path we will need to head down before it is over,” Frodo said, trying to open Sam’s mind fully to the uncertainty and naivety that he was plagued with.

“Then we shall go down those paths together, Mr Frodo, make no mistake. I will not let you go off on your own into such danger. I will be there to walk every step with you and remind you of what we have to come home to when we are finished,” Sam promised.

“And what about those you leave behind, Sam?” Frodo asked again, knowing that he was free of relatives to worry about him when he left the Shire. Sam however had his family and others who would surely miss him a great deal. “Rosie,” he whispered, knowing of Sam’s heart and its desires.

Sam looked to the bottom of his cup before responding, not able to lie to his master about that particular subject. “It’s true and I cannot deny it, Mr Frodo. I do care for Rosie Cotton. I guess I always will, even if our love is only to be fleeting glances from afar.”

Then trying his best to lessen the awkwardness that hung in the air, he added, “We don’t how long we will be gone anyway, Mr Frodo. We might be only gone a week or two and our adventures will be over and we can return home and pick up where we left off,” Sam said in jest. Somehow feeling, though, that what he said wasn’t to be the case at all.

Frodo’s face turned downcast even further, as he tried to bring himself to utter the solemn sentiment on his lips. ‘If we ever make it home.’ He never let those words reach Sam’s ears. He drank the last of his tea and got up from the table, feeling as though not everything had been said that needed to be.

**********************************

Later that evening, Frodo found himself alone once again. Not out of his own choice this time around, but Strider and Sam were getting some much needed sleep of their own. It had been deemed that they would prepare to depart sometime the next day and all would need to be well-rested before the journey.

Frodo should have been sleeping himself and he bemused himself about Sam’s words if his friend knew of his wakefulness that this hour. Such as it was, though, Frodo found that he had too many thoughts plaguing his mind for him to unwind enough and find peaceful slumber.

It was shortly after midnight that the hobbit found himself wandering into Bilbo’s study, surveying the various relics on the bookshelves and eyeing the endless piles of manuscripts and maps that littered the floor. In the back of his mind, he was telling himself that he should tidy up a bit and find a home for all the misplaced items. But on pondering that, he refrained from doing just that, lightly playing with the curled edge of a map by the fire instead.

The clutter and the disorder were traits that had followed his uncle since the very first day he had stepped inside the large smial. Bilbo had always said he knew where everything was, but Frodo hadn’t really believe that. To pack up everything in this room and remove the dust would somehow be admitting finally that Bilbo was no longer a part of Bag End.

As Frodo’s thoughts drifted even further back to the good times he had spent with Bilbo, he was suddenly reminded of the fact that Bilbo had made him heir and successor to Bag End. And now, he was making plans to leave his uncle’s luxurious home with no idea of knowing when he would return and no real plans for what would become of his uncle’s worldly possessions whilst he was away.

Frodo had no family apart from Bilbo to leave Bag End to. Suddenly an idea struck him as to what he could do to solve the problem. He certainly didn’t want Bilbo’s treasured possessions and money falling into the hands of the Sackville-Bagginses, nor could he take any of it with him. He had to find an alternative solution. Frodo knew he didn’t have anybody that he could name as his own heir to Bag End…… or did he?.

In the dead of night while Strider and Sam slept soundly, Frodo worked furiously at his desk, writing until his fingers felt numb from trying to get it all down so quickly.

When he was finished, he held up the final document and inspected it carefully. He smiled to himself, knowing that he had definitely made the right decision.

Carefully and quietly, the young hobbit snuck out of Bag End in the darkness and crept up to Number Three Bag Shot Row. He hated to wake Sam’s father so late at night, but didn’t have much choice as they were due to depart very soon.

“Mr Frodo!” Hamfast Gamgee exclaimed, and then looked cautiously out the door to make sure that he had not spoken the young master’s name too loudly. “What brings you here this time of night? Is something the matter with Sam?”

“Oh, no, Mr Gamgee, and I do apologize so much for disturbing you at such a late hour,” Frodo said. “It’s just that I am planning to leave early tomorrow and need something done urgently for me after I have left,” he explained.

“Leave Mr Frodo?” the Gaffer questioned in puzzlement. “Now where would a young gentlehobbit be off to at such a short notice?” he asked not wanting to pry, but feeling the nervousness that radiated from the lad. “Ye aren’t in any trouble now?” he added, thinking that it would be something quite dire to make Frodo leave so suddenly.

“I am sorry, Mr Gamgee, but where I am going to must remain secret. Inside that envelope there is a smaller one, addressed to a place known to me. It is most urgent that it get there soon. I was hoping that you would agree to post it for me tomorrow morning. I have placed enough money inside to cover the cost. I cannot tell you how long I will be gone, but would you do me the courtesy of looking after Bag End until I return?” Frodo asked. “I am sorry I could not have let you know sooner of my intentions.”

“Surely I will, Mr Frodo, and you can be sure that I will tell no one of your goings,” the Gaffer promised. “Be mindful as you go now and keep safe. Make sure that Sam does what he is told, too,” he smiled, already guessing that his son would be following his master.

Frodo stared in astonishment at the Gaffer as he smiled, nodding his head that the Gaffer had already guessed Sam’s inclusion in this journey. It was almost as if Hamfast was giving his blessing to Sam’s go. Maybe he didn’t understand why, but he didn’t need to.

“No doubt I would have to tie him up in a sack to stop him going with you, Mr Frodo. And if I let him out tomorrow, he would surely try and follow after you anyways,” the Gaffer surmised. “Let him fill his head and heart with songs and tales, and then he can return home where he belongs.”

Frodo smiled in reply to the Gaffer’s comments, knowing them to be all too true. “I will bring him back safely to you,” he vowed.

Frodo bid the Gaffer goodnight and farewell, secretly hoping that the Gaffer would be able to keep the solemn promise he had made. He opened the back door to Bag End, confident that Strider and Sam were still asleep inside and that his midnight stroll had gone unnoticed.

“A little late to be outside, Frodo,” Strider whispered from the darkened kitchen. The Ranger was seated at the table, steam rising from the hot tea sitting before him.

“W-what, who……,” Frodo said as he startled at the voice addressing him. He only caught himself when he remembered that Sam was sleeping and would come running if he heard Frodo’s yelp of surprise. “Sorry, Strider, I didn’t realise you were awake,” he added, going back in his mind, certain that the man had seemed asleep when he had left.

Strider could not help but be amused at the look on Frodo’s face as he came through the door. Like a small child being caught with their hand in the sweet jar before meal time.

“Sam would have been worried about you.”

“You won’t tell him, will you?” Frodo responded, making the Ranger smile once again at having the hobbit on the back foot. Strider was sure that it wasn’t often that Frodo was caught out like this. He doubted that the midnight stroll was a regular occurrence.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Strider assured Frodo, seeing the hobbit visibly relax upon hearing this. “You need to try and get some sleep, Frodo. I do not know how much longer we can delay leaving here.”

“Thank you, I will,” Frodo said and headed to his bedroom to do just that. He sat on the bed, still fully dressed, too tired to bother changing into a nightshirt.

Strider had also returned to his bed, hoping that he too could fall back to sleep before they needed to start the journey. He hoped that Frodo and Sam were up to the arduous terrain that would be their road.

It was about half an hour later that true evil began to creep into the sanctuary of the Shire. Frodo had been asleep for less than half of that time, finding his mind too preoccupied with thoughts about what task lay before him. It felt like he had barely closed his eyes when they snapped open again at the sound of something at his window.

At first, Frodo lay in his bed, still trying to work out if he had heard anything at all. Maybe it was just the wind blowing a branch of a tree against the window pane outside. He might have been able to convince himself of that if it wasn’t for the gnawing feeling of dread tightening his stomach into knots of fear.

With hindsight, it might have been more prudent just to call out to Strider, but Frodo felt rather silly about having to do that, particularly since he didn’t even know what was making the noise in the first place. He got up off the bed to investigate.

The window was the one situated over his writing desk. He pressed his face up close to the glass and tried to see out into the night. At first there was nothing and he was just about to turn away and go back to bed, berating himself for being so childish.

Just as he turned, though, he saw something out of the corner of his eye moving against the ebony backdrop. He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat, forcing himself to remain as calm as possible and not to panic.

As that thought came to mind, a hooded figure made its presence known to him by peering back at him through the window, almost like Merry and Pippin had done the day they arrived. This time, though, there was no mirth or foolishness involved. Only macabre horror and indescribable terror.

Frodo couldn’t find the voice to scream out against what he saw. His lungs seemed paralysed by his fear as his eyes were forced to watch the figure look back at him. The room felt incredibly cold and closed in, his breaths coming in short pants.

The figure was cloaked by night itself, there seeming to be no differentiation between where the darkness of the night began and the shadowy figure ended. It was only that the fabric of its tattered robes rustled against the wind that made it possible to perceive it.

Then, just as Frodo thought his heart could know no greater fear, the figure disappeared from the window. It was swallowed up by the night. The terror was not over yet. Perhaps it was moving about outside Bag End , waiting for the correct time to strike out at the occupants.

Frodo could feel himself trembling slightly from the fear, his legs feeling like jelly and threatening to betray him at any time. Suddenly the door to his bedroom burst open, Strider rushing inside, sword drawn. How the Ranger had sensed that danger was close, Frodo didn’t know, but he sagged in relief, collapsing to the floor in a heap and curling up, trying to fathom what he had just seen.

“Frodo!” Strider said in alarm, noting the dishevelled and frightened look upon the hobbit’s face.

“Mr Frodo, Sir!” Sam cried out, rushing into the room not a second behind the Ranger and immediately going to the crumpled form of his master, still seated on the floor.

Strider knew that there was no time to check on Frodo’s mental or physical state, though. They were under threat, and they needed to get away now. “Sam, get Frodo and prepare to leave.”

“We are leaving now?” Sam frowned, not wanting to disobey the Ranger’s instructions, but noting the poor condition of Frodo and that it was still very dark outside.

“We cannot linger any longer,” Strider said, gently coaxing Frodo to his feet and helping the disorientated hobbit towards the front door of the smial. Sam quickly gathered their packs, still keeping a worried look on his master as much as he could.

Frodo seemed to regain a little composure, but he still had a frightened expression on his face, and he kept wondering if what he had seen was lurking about.

“Do you have the ring, Frodo?” Strider asked in a whisper. The Ranger had a strong assumption about what might have caused so much fear in the gentle hobbit, but he was not willing to wait around and try and explain it at this moment.

Frodo nodded, not willing to trust his voice yet. He was trying to put on a brave face for Sam, who was genuinely concerned for his master and thinking that he was looking altogether too pale.

“How much sleep have you had, Frodo?” Strider asked, knowing about his midnight walk and assuming that it could not have been much more than an hour’s rest. It was evident from Frodo’s wan smile and that it had been considerably less than that.

“You have had naught all day, Mr Frodo,” Sam said worriedly, hoping that Strider would take his words seriously. His master needed rest if they were to continue afar. Proper sleep, too; comfortable, warm and undisturbed.

Strider smiled at Sam’s subtle hints on his master’s behalf, already knowing that he had no intention of pushing the hobbits beyond their limits at this early stage of their journey.

He needed to get them to safety first, out of the Shire. They could make their way further from there.

“We will travel for about an hour, then there is a series of sheltered caves where we can rest for a while. It looks like it might storm later tonight, and I want us to be dry before that happens,” Strider informed them.

Frodo couldn’t have cared if they just kept going that night, so long as they didn’t have to face what he had just witnessed. The further away the better, but he noted the storm clouds that Strider noted and didn’t wish for any of them to be forced to walk through the thunder and rain.

“Lead on, Strider, and we will follow,” Frodo announced, shouldering his backpack and trying to straighten himself up a little, ready to begin.

True to his word, about an hour after they had left Bag End, they found the series of sheltered caves that Strider had spoken of. They were large enough for them to use to keep dry and warm. Sam had begun to boil some tea, and he had gone about setting out a blanket for his master to sit upon rather than the hard rocky cave floor.

The Ranger had collected some wood and allowed them a small fire, hoping that they could enjoy a few more comforts this close to Hobbiton that may have to be forsaken later in the journey to ensure a safe passage.

“I’ll have a nice hot cup of tea ready for you in a minute, Mr Frodo,” Sam said, his back turned to his master, unable to see him. He was concentrating on the boiling pot of water over the fire, and tending to the pot of tea he was promising.

“Shhhh, Sam, I don’t think you need to worry about any for your master,” Strider whispered. He was a little concerned that Frodo had remained silent on the first leg of their journey and had made no mention of what had scared him so much back at Bag End.

Frodo was probably trying to avoid the subject he surmised, or at least tell himself that it wasn’t real.

“Well, bless me,” Sam said, keeping is voice to a minimum as he turned and spied Frodo. The dark-haired hobbit was leaning against the wall of the cave, his eyes closed and his face lined with fatigue. “You are tired, aren’t you my dear,” he said to his sleeping master.

Sam then proceeded to gently lay Frodo down on the blanket he had already laid out. He used his own cloak as a crude pillow and covered his master with another blanket for warmth. The rain outside had just begun to fall and the thunder had started rolling across the night’s sky. Thankfully though, Frodo paid no heed to it and slept on oblivious to the weather outside.

It was about four hours later that Frodo awoke to a cloud clap of thunder overhead. He looked about, a little confused as to where he was at first. Then it all came flooding back to him. He grimaced a little at his stiff body, throwing the blanket off and looking about the cave. Sam and Strider were asleep.

There was still an hour or so before dawn, and the trees outside the cave were still shrouded in soft hues of morning. The rain had slowed to barely a drizzle, and the leaves of the trees were sodden from the heavy downpour the night before.

The fire had burnt down to mere embers. Frodo assigned himself the task of trying to find some dry wood. He didn’t think he would need to wander very far, hence there was no sense in waking Sam or Strider. If he was to be on this journey, he needed to pull his own weight.

Pulling on his dark green cloak, Frodo left the security of the cave and began scouting for some dry wood for the fire. It was almost fifteen minutes later that he found himself in a more wooded part of the forest. The trees were larger there, and their trunks were covered by a greenish moss. They reached up into the sky as far as the eye could see and probably further.

Frodo found himself pausing often to let his eyes adjust to the variations of light. Some parts were lighter where the canopy was less dense, and he could see the sunlight beginning to shine through. Then he would walk a short distance and the canopy would become thicker and the sunlight had yet to penetrate and allow him to see more easily.

On one such occasion, Frodo made the mistake of spotting a lighter area of the forest, unaware of the danger that lay at his feet. He had only just begun to walk across a pile of rust coloured leaves that covered the forest floor. Without warning the ground beneath his feet gave way, leaving him no time to try and escape.

Frodo gave a startled cry as he felt himself falling downwards. He tried to keep himself as upright as possible, not knowing when he would hit the bottom. The hole proved not to be very deep, but his fall was abruptly stopped by his feet landing awkwardly. He felt a great pain in one foot and cried out a second time before falling face down into a muddy puddle.

The hobbit had struck his head on a rock that lay partially submerged in the murky water. He was badly dazed and lay there briefly, trying to summon enough energy to call out for help. When he lifted his head, the world above and the trees overhead began to spin, making him dizzy. On his next attempt, he barely opened his eyes when he fell unconscious. The light rain continued to fall onto his already sodden body, plastering his damp hair to his pale face.

TO BE CONTINUED……………

Hi folks, I deliberately left out Bill the Pony when they left Bag End, sorry for all those horse lovers out there.

I deliberately left out Strider telling Frodo and Sam what the dark hooded figures were – he will tell them later. Yes I know that they have only gone a short way out of Hobbiton – but they are on their way – things can only get darker and more riskier from here. Lots of angst and hurt/comfort to come as well as some cute fluffy stuff.

The letter Frodo left the Gaffer will also be explained later in the story – much later. And Strider’s story will also be told at a different place. I have certain places where I want things explained, and not much of it will happen while their in the forests and being hunted.

Sometimes this story seems like I am telling it after it has happened, particularly where Frodo is thinking about what might happen – that is deliberate in a sense – most people know what is going to happen – to a certain degree – so having Frodo think about leaving and that maybe they won’t come back are in that category.

Please read and review. Thanks for all those who have so far. I really appreciate your time and comments.

JULES