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

~02 The Ring Bearer, the Loyal Friend, and the Puckish Pair~

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

As Ashala ascended the stairs with adrenaline-fueled vigor, she examined her pale knuckles. They were dusted with blood, most of which was not her own. Ahshlala didn't mean to injure anyone too badly but in her longing for the feeling of a pounding heart and focused mind she had gotten carried away

Unfortunately, It was a short fight, that lasted mere minutes before Butterbur intervened before anyone had truly won. Unlike most establishments farther south, The Prancing Pony was not accustomed to violent patrons throwing food and ripping out hair.

Ahshala cracked a smile as she recalled the bruised rib she had given a short, fat, man who had attempted to smack her with a plate. Quickly she pulled her lips back as a small sting spread across a tenderspot on her bottom lip. Gently she raised a finger and gingerly touched the sore spot. The cut wasn't bleeding heavily, having been split by her teeth after a chair leg whacked her on the head. Not only had a wooden leg walloped her but a metal tankard had been lobed at her forehead while she was distracted by the hobbits sneaking up the stairs.

Ahshala didn't mind the slight throb of her hit head nor the stinging of her split knuckles. The pain was a reminder that she was alive.

Despite her disheveled appearance, she was relatively unharmed compared to other men downstairs. 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.

Having reached the dark wooden door of her room, Ashala entered without knocking, letting the creak of the old hinges be a testimony to her arrival.

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,"