𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐇: 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ( lotr. )

Chapter One - The Prancing Pony

"What do you want?" Frodo asked.

"A little more caution from you, that is no trinket you carry", the ranger answered looking at Frodo from under his hood, striding across the room toward the candles at the window.

"I carry nothing."

"Indeed. I can avoid being seen if I wish", he said, putting out the candles, "but to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift." He pulled back his hood, revealing a slightly weatherworn face with a dark, short beard and blue eyes. His wavy raven black hair was falling down in strands, showing that he hadn't had the privilege of cleaning himself up in a while. Typical.

"Who are you?" Frodo asked, sounding scared.

"Are you frightened?" Aragorn mocked.

"Yes."

"Not nearly frightened enough. We know what hunts you."

Aragorn was approaching him when they heard someone hurrying up the stairs. Arina stepped away from the wall to face the door. The ranger drew his sword and she quickly pulled out a dagger from the quiver on her back, spinning it so she was holding it reverse grip. They turned around, her a little right and before the ranger, facing the rest of the hobbits as the door flew open and she slid into a defensive stance. Two of them were carrying pieces of furniture, a candelabra and a three-legged stool while the slightly plump hobbit with golden locks was using his bare fists.

"Let him go, or I'll have you, Longshanks!" The hobbit with golden-brown hair threatened with a shaky voice, holding his fists in front of him, ready to strike.

"You have a stout heart, little hobbit, but that will not save you."

Aragorn sheathed his sword. She glanced at him before relaxing, still keeping the dagger in her grip.

"You can no longer wait for the Wizard, Frodo. They are coming", she whispered. "We need to make them believe that you are sleeping in your beds. They will know which room; all of the hobbit-suited rooms are on one part of the inn. We shall need cushions and blankets. You will spend the night here."

She noticed Aragorn looking at her strangely, and she knew very well why. But she wasn't as young as he thought she was. She raised an eyebrow at him, questioning him. Come on, why don't we get this done so you can marvel at your daughter's ability to come up with a plan in peace? After a few short moments, he opened the door and waited. Arina strolled over to him and followed him out, not before instructing the hobbits to stay.

Quickly, they brought all the hobbits' backpacks into Aragorn's room, and she left to ask Nob, one of the innkeeper's helpers for cushions. After he had brought her a dozen of those, she thanked him and left to lay out cushions on the beds the hobbits would've slept in, forming the shape of their bodies and covering them with blankets. Arina looked at the beds, hoping that the vague shapes and "heads" under the blankets would fool the Nazgûl. They would realise the moment they pulled their swords out of the cushions, maybe even already when they stabbed the cushions. Feathers felt different from flesh. Shaking her head with a sigh, she left the room and pulled the door shut behind her.

Back in Aragorn's room, she found that the ranger had talked to the innkeeper going by the name of Butterbur. Four small beds with blankets and cushions had been brought in for the hobbits, all of them already occupied. She noticed that he had only asked for four beds, not five. Though she knew she wouldn't have slept anyway, she couldn't help but wonder what the meaning of this was. To keep herself from thinking or feeling too much at this, Arina helped Aragorn barricade the door with the scarce furniture in the room, then pulled up two chairs to the window. They sat down with their eyes scanning the yard below; their watch began. Only moments later, the four hobbits were asleep.