The Moon Druid of Arcedia; And the One Ring to Rule Them All

~Chapter Two~

~The Ring Bearer, the Loyal Friend, and the Puckish Pair~

It was a short fight, it only lasted a few minutes before Ahshala showed her dominance and the barkeep intervened. Food had been thrown, hair ripped out, and Ahshala's head had been hit with a full tankard of beer which would give her a sizable bruise the following morning. Her lip had split where she bit it after being hit by a chair, and her knuckles were dusted with blood most of which was not her own. Still, she was relatively unharmed compared to the men around her. A victim of her vicious fist had a broken nose and a bruised jaw, she had flung a metal tankard at another nailing him in the throat, and the poor chap who ripped out a chunk of her amber locks was missing a few teeth and was curled up bruised in both his pride and his sides.

With a new vigor in her stride, Ahshala entered the dark room of the tavern she and Strider had shared.

It was the young Frodo Baggins that caught her eye first. His arctic eyes were pale and cold, he was frightened, and Ahshala assumed that Strider had told him of the Black Riders and their power. The two other hobbits all wore a similar gloom to their cherub-like faces which tore an ache through Ahshala's heart.

"What did you do?" Strider questioned her, gesturing a hand to her bloodied fist and soaked blouse. He knew already, she could tell by the disapproving downturn of his eyes and the tightlipped frown on his now uncovered and candle-lit face.

"Bar fight." She shrugged, removing her hood which she had put up after the fight, and let loose the mangled marmalade mane many would call hair. Her gaze turned to Frodo who recognized the she-elf before him. His worried brow unfurled, rising high like the joyous cry that echoed from his rosy lips.

"Auntie Ahsha!" he cried in a soft sweet tone, running to the green-clad woman and encasing her in a hobbit-sized hug.

Many would think that due to a hobbit's size, their hugs would be rather dainty and sweet. They would be wrong. If Frodo had been any heavier he would have tackled the redhead with the might of a bear.

Regardless she squeezed him tight lifting his massive feet off the floor and placed her right cheek against his in a typical Esenatain greeting before she set him down and moved her grip to his slim shoulder.

"Just like a Baggins," she exclaimed ruffling his earthy curls, "to find himself on an unexpected adventure."

Frodo smiled grimly before he turned towards his fellow hobbits and gestured to each other respectively as he gave her their names.

"That's Samwise Gamgee, I believe you might have met him before," she nodded, after all, he did look familiar, her gaze shifted along with Frodo's arm to the two troublesome hobbits. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, or Merry, is off somewhere," she assumed Merry was the thinner hobbit who, like Sam, had curly strawberry locks and a cheeky smile plastered on his lips. She briefly wondered where he was. "and this is Peregrin Took,"

Frodo had intended to continue but the sandy-haired boy interjected, sticking out his hand for her to shake.

"Hallo, you can just call me Pippin!" He carried a light and bubbly northern accent that blended his 'you' with a 'ye' just like Ahshala. "It's good to meet you! I've never met an elf before!"

The she-elf was surprised with his immediate friendly introduction but she didn't mind. He reminded her of an old friend from the coast and she couldn't help but run a finger briefly over the topaz hoop in her ear.

Hobbits tended to be very shy and reserved around strangers, although they could throw some wild parties. Ahshala was there for Bilbo Baggin's Hundred and Eleventy first birthday party. Cooked meat and malt beer was served in abundance, gifts were given to every hobbit in and around the shire, there was loud music and dancing, and fireworks. The whole ordeal put some royal regalia to shame.