Almost the October entry
With the most kindly indulgence of our gracious mods, I am posting the second chapter of News from Bree, which does not contain my ROTK quote as I once thought it would. The third chapter, however, which will be up in a few days, will. *pinky-swears*
Title: New from Bree, Chapter Two
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: Baggins/Gamgee
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 5669
Summary: Our travelers arrive in Bree, and a certain hobbit manages to disgrace himself. Part of the 221B Bag End AU.
It was a frigid morning when we left Bridgeton. It was not snowing at the moment, but the sky was thick and white, and we could easily see the clouds our breath made in the air, so I had no doubt that the snow was only holding off for the moment. The small booth that was intended to shelter the guard was empty, and Jem indicated the lit window of a nearby inn with a wry laugh. “First and second breakfast must be running together,” he noted dryly. “No real need to watch the Road every moment, now, is there?” Thus we made our way without notice through the great gate that separated the Shire from the lands beyond, and I was startled to see the ancient stone Wall, stretching away to the south out of sight, for somehow I had always thought its existence merely a myth.
I mentioned as much to Baggins, but he gave his head a slight shake, and murmured, “It’s real enough to the inhabitants on the far side of West Farthing, I assure you, Gamgee. They keep it in good repair, and would never consider for an instant finding themselves on the other side of it. Still, I think that what concerns us at the moment may be found more to the north, and most especially, to the east.”
Reedborn nodded at that assessment. “Not that whatever’s amiss might not be tied up with those bad sorts to the south, but there is the Wild Forest in between. And what with Rangers being involved, I suspect our problems are from the north, likewise.”
“What is your personal opinion of Rangers, Reedborn, if I may ask?” Baggins quietly inquired, as we walked along side of him. He had the lead rope of one pony in his hand, and Bobbin was right behind us leading the other. Both ponies, we had earlier decided, were best put to use bearing supplies rather than ourselves, so the four of us walked at their sides.
“I think they do more than most think,” Reedborn stated emphatically, after only a moment’s pause. “So many times it’s them as says the least as does the most, and I think this is one of those cases. Why they do, I haven’t the least idea, for they certainly don’t get much in the way of thanks for it, but that’s the feeling I alus had, on the few occasions that I saw one o’them up close.”
“I have the greatest of confidence in your judgment,” Baggins said thoughtfully, after only a moment’s pause. “And I’m rather inclined to agree with you. However, that is a matter to consider once we find ourselves in their company, in Bree, I suppose. But there is a good deal of country to be covered before we find ourselves there.”
Not having much to contribute to the subject of Rangers, I kept silent, and gave an occasional glance backwards, watching the Wall recede behind us, now nearly lost from sight through the stately and ancient trees that lined the sides of the Road. My limited experiences with Men had not been particularly pleasant, thus far, but I was quite willing to believe that they were not all like the villains whom I had encountered in the recent year or so. I would have hated to think that somewhere Men were judging us hobbits on the basis of the likes of Lotho Pimple.
&&&&&
The day’s journey was uneventful, but tedious once the snow inevitably began again. Stunted pine now grew to each side, and further than that could not be seen in the white half-light. Puddles of ice had collected in the hollows of the road which had, beyond dispute, fallen into decay and disrepair. We trudged onward for the most part in silence. I kept my eye open, as afternoon wore on, for a suitable site in which to camp for the night, and fortunately found one just as the early dusk was beginning to fall. Touching Baggins’ arm, I pointed it out to him, and he rewarded me with a quick glint of a smile.
“Excellent, Gamgee,” he murmured. “I think that will do nicely, indeed.”
Neither Reedborn, nor Bobbin, who had fallen uncharacteristically silent, were loathe to disagree, so we spent the rest of the waning evening in situating ourselves for the night. A small campfire was a necessity on such a frosty night, and the impromptu stew that Bobbin and I managed to concoct, not to mention a nicely scalding pot of strong tea, warmed all of our stomachs quite nicely and made the prospect of the cold night to come far less fearsome. Savoring the last bits on my bowl, I surveyed our company, and gave a thought to sleeping arrangements. There was no doubt but that the warmth of a companionable body could be considered an advantage on a night such as this, but our necessarily close quarters did impose some limitations that one small corner of my mind was loathe to accept. A quick glance over at Baggins, whose eyes sparkled in the firelight as he met my gaze with a quirk of a smile, confirmed that he felt the same.
“No need of a guard tonight, I would imagine,” he announced suddenly, standing up with an elaborate stretch and yawn. “We are not carrying anything of import, and I doubt very much if anyone is expecting us to pass this way. How many more days would you say the journey to Bree is, Reedborn?
Reedborn, who had been gazing into the night beyond the small circle of light in which we sat, gave a bit of a start, but stood up and stretched as well. “About two more days in good weather,” he answered dryly, “but this certainly ain’t that. Four days, I suppose. We’ve supplies enough for more than that, if needs be.”
Baggins nodded. “That was my estimate as well. The ponies ought to be settling down for the night soon enough, and we may as well divide ourselves up next to each of them. They will do very nicely as a wind-break.”
I had very little familiarity with the animals myself, so when they soon did what Baggins had predicted, I was rather nervous as I laid thick blankets down on the frozen ground next to Bottle, as Bobbin had unaccountably named him. The other pony had been given the name of Barrel, which was at least understandable, since he was certainly as round as one. “I thought they slept standing up,” I mentioned tentatively. “Are you sure they won’t roll over on us, Frodo?”
He gave a short chuckle. “Not a bit of it, my dear,” he murmured, since the other two had also settled down for the night and were out of hearing range. “Ponies are very companionable animals, you know, and understand a great deal. I’m quite sure that Bottle will not mind having a warm body or two at his side at all.”
“If you say so, then.” I still could not help but be a bit skeptical, but it was Baggins, after all, who was to lie between me and the pony, so I kept my doubts to myself.
But of course, as always, he knew what I was thinking, and as we lay down and wrapped ourselves in our woolen winter cloaks, tucking a spare one about our feet, he laughed quietly again and gave me a quick kiss on the nose, to my delight. “I sense misgivings still, Samwise. But don’t forget, I grew up in Brandy Hall. The stable was one of my favorite places to be, as was indeed anywhere out of the Hall. I learned a great deal about ponies there, and I promise you that they really are invaluable creatures. Between you and Bottle, I am confident that I could not be better situated, if we must be out on a night such as this. And rest assured, Sam my dear, that tomorrow night, it will be your turn to be in this very comfortable position.”
I briefly gave a thought as to how much of Baggins’ past was unfamiliar to me, but left that conversation for another time. For now, I was beginning to feel warmth in every limb that had been chilled, and my hand had found his as we lay side-by-side and gazed up into the dark sky above. The night sky had cleared, and the stars shone above us with that remarkably intense dazzle they tend to have on an icy night in the absence of the moon. It was not our feather bed at Bag End, to be sure (and how delectable were those three words, I fleetingly thought), but we were together and when he turned on his side to embrace me, I felt no lack at all, as I tucked myself gratefully into his arms. “We are out of the Shire, Frodo,” I murmured, apropos to nothing. And of course, he understood me completely.
“Not exactly, my dearest,” I could feel his breath, warm against my ear. “I have the Shire itself in my arms. At least all of it that really matters to me.”
“Oh, Frodo,” I could not help but sigh, raising my face to his. He met my mouth in a long and sustained kiss, tender and ardent, all in one, and I felt my body quicken against his.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until Bree for that,” came the amused and yet regretful whisper in my ear, as I felt him respond in kind. “But I assure you I mean to find us some privacy there, you may rest easy on that matter.”
“I will hold you to that, Frodo my beloved,” I replied with great firmness, molding myself to him in a manner that had already become so very familiar. “I will follow you to the end of the sun, and to the other side of the moon, but there are certain matters upon which I must insist.”
“I certainly hope you do, Samwise dearest,” I heard his caressing voice as I began to drift off into slumber, held as securely and tenderly as I was. “I cannot tell you how devastated I would be if you did not.”
&&&&&
Reedborn stopped short, on the next day of our journey in the late morning, and looked about us with a bit of uncertainty. “I believe that this is the place where we found the ponies,” he mentioned tentatively, “but there’s really no telling with all this snow about.”
Baggins surveyed the area with an expression of disappointment. “So much that could have been told to us lost, certainly for now, and most likely for good.” He gave the snow drifts an irritated glance. “Was it here that you buried them, Reedborn?”
Reedborn nodded. “I believe so, in this cleared area, not far from the road.”
Baggins nodded, and stood in silence, looking to all sides of us. The other two watched him with some bewilderment, but I, who was more familiar with his chain of thought, saw that he was examining the path of approach to this area, from all directions. “Definitely from the north,” he murmured at last. “As we thought, Gamgee.”
“See to the south?” he explained, turning to our two comrades. “The approach is flat for miles in that direction. But to the north is a different matter. Just past the clearing, the trees are tall and thick, and there is that ridge of stone that blocks any view through them. For the time being, I am under the impression that the Ranger must have been surprised. Certainly his comrades were. Tell me, Reedborn, were there any wounds on the Ranger’s body? Any indication as to how he had been killed?”
Reedborn shook his head. “No more than were on the ponies,” he stated flatly. “But his eyes were closed, so he looked more peaceful than they did.”
Baggins glanced to the north again. “Indeed,” he murmured thoughtfully.
Bobbin piped up at that point with the question that I must confess was in my mind as well. “Tell us, Mr. Baggins, do you think they will come for us likewise?” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with fright.
“No, I do not,” Baggins answered immediately, his voice reassuringly certain. “These attacks have thus far been connected with shipments of kingsfoil, of which we have none. And we are four unremarkable hobbits, unconnected, at this point, with any parties in Bree. I have no doubts, however, but that we are being watched.”
I gave an involuntary shiver at that statement, and saw by the faces of my comrades that they were as dismayed as was I at that pronouncement.
Baggins’ smile quirked up at our reaction. “Not all observation is an evil,” he mentioned mildly. “I have no doubts at all that the Rangers know we are here. Other parties may as well, but who they might be, I as of yet have no evidence.”
That was somewhat reassuring, but the rest of the day was an uneasy one as we continued our journey.
&&&&&
By late morning on the fourth day, just as Reedborn had predicted, there were signs of habitation not far from the road. Smoke could be seen rising from smials in the snow-covered hills, and the occasional low building and shed was to be seen as well. My heart skipped a beat when I first realized that they were higher and larger than any habitation with which I was familiar. They were the homes of Men.
Baggins made a motion to stop us, and indicated a sheltered cluster of pine nearby. We followed him, curious, and Bobbin swept away some of the snow to allow the ponies to forage a bit while we paused.
“The time has come to consider our strategy in Bree,” Baggins began without preamble, a cloud arising into the frigid air from his breath as he spoke. “I propose that we split into two parties, and give out that we met together by chance in Bridgeton, and decided to journey together here. We will all be staying at the same inn, the Prancing Pony; is that what you said the name was, Reedborn? We must be quite cautious, and it is imperative that we stay in contact with each other.”
“You’ve been here before, Reedborn, so it would not be out of the ordinary to be here on reasons of business. You may insinuate that trade has been slow, and you wish to re-introduce more regular dealings between Bree and the Shire, or any other reason that you see fit to use. For the time being, make no mention of kingsfoil, but if someone approaches you on that matter, remain noncommittal. Bobbin, of course, will accompany you, and the ponies are naturally yours.”
“Gamgee and I will present ourselves as mere wanderers, travelers with an interest in local lore, especially in the matter of healing herbs. Information in regards to remedies not known within the Shire will be what intrigues us the most, I believe. That may lead us in the right direction, to those who know more. Whether or not they wish to reveal what they know is an entirely different matter, of course.”
“Then how will we meet, to exchange what we discover?” Reedborn asked, his weathered face indicating approval of this plan. “The tavern of the inn would be reasonable place, but ‘tis a crowded and noisy room, at least the last time I was here.”
Baggins thought for a moment. “If either of us has information to share with the others, we will invite each other to stop by our room and share a pipe. And if there is danger, mention that the book either you or I have been looking for has been found. And in the worst case, my friends, if something should happen to Gamgee and I, you must return to the Shire as quickly as possible and tell all you know to Saradoc Brandybuck. He will know what must be done at that point.”
Reedborn nodded, as did a somber-looking Bobbin, and stamped his feet to shake some of the snow off. Blowing into his cupped hands, he rubbed them briskly to warm them. “Well then, let us be off,” he announced with determination. “Be prepared to give your names at the gate, gentlehobbits, and I will lead you to the Prancing Pony. Whatever may await us there may be far less foreboding after we have had a chance to warm ourselves before a good crackling fire. I heartily recommend the local brew, but be aware, my friends, it is a potent drink.”
“Excellent,” Baggins gave us a brief smile. “Here’s to successful hunting, my good hobbits, and a safe return to the Shire.”
&&&&&&
I made no attempt to hide my astonishment as we entered into Bree, and I could tell by Bobbin’s face, at least, that he felt the same. And I knew that even Baggins, impassive though he seemingly remained at my side, had never seen the like. The great wooden wall surrounding the town gave the first indication that Bree was as much fortress as town, and once we passed the guard’s close scrutiny and entered, it was as unlike any peaceful Shire village as could possibly be.
Great buildings, as much as three stories high, loomed up in the grey and sleety afternoon, timbered and ancient. The streets were clamorous, filled with dogs, ponies and carts, and both hobbits and men, as well as some other beings who I was instantly certain must be dwarves. All were going their own ways, heads down and bundled well against the chill gusts. The streets themselves were muddy and foul, with treacherous patches of ice in every hollowed rut. There were lights in the shop windows, but I had no thought to look into them, as all my attention was focused on the difficult task of trying to avoid man, hobbit, and beast, and retain my footing on the perilous thoroughfare. I glanced over at Reedborn, and with a hint of amusement, he inclined his head to the right. Not far ahead, to the side of the street, I saw with great relief the swinging sign announcing where the Prancing Pony was to be found. There was nothing, well, nearly nothing, I desired more at the moment than the shelter of a warm room and a decent fire, and my spirits immediately brightened.
Dodging a great creaking cart, pulled by two stamping black ponies and driven by a pair of well-bundled hobbits, we crossed the street as quickly as possible and reached the impressively barred door just as a flurry of snow began to drift down upon us. “Excellent timing,” I heard Baggins murmur at my side, “and I must confess that no matter what we may find within, I am more than grateful to reach some shelter at last. As far as being desirable traveling weather, these last few days have been sorely lacking.”
“Then you might be willing to put up with a different sort of inn than the Plucked Dove,” Reedborn chucked, mentioning Bridgeton’s finest. “Prepare yourselves, my good hobbits.” And with that warning, he gave the doors of the Prancing Pony a hearty tug open.
Smoke was my first impression, an almost noxious mixture of pipeweed and burning logs that had merged into a veritable fog of fumes. I coughed at the unexpected onslaught, and blinked, and did my best to make out the scene within. At each side of us, as we entered, were dark hallways and doors, but directly ahead was a wide entryway, and the sound of voices and rough laughter and the clink of metal made in immediately clear that the center of the inn was located there. Bobbin remained outside with the ponies and a wistful look, and Reedborn hastily reassured him that he would not be long.
Making our way to a tall counter immediately within the entryway, we were promptly greeted by a tall man with quite a rosy beaked nose. “Good day to you, Barleycorn,” Reedborn responded with alacrity and a confident grin. “Would you be remembering me, then?”
Barleycorn gave him a penetrating stare, and then a slow smile broke across the fierce face. “Reedborn, innit?” his gruff voice was clearly amused. “Bridgeton-way. Been in few years, now, I’d say. ‘Tis foul weather to be out and about in, but no doubt but it’s good to see you again. And your friends?’’ He turned his gaze to Baggins and myself, his sharp eyes obviously committing our faces to memory.
“A pair of fellow travelers,” Reedborn responded coolly. “We ended up sharing the perils of the road. Gamgee, that was the name wasn’t it? And. . .” he nonchalantly motioned to Baggins to continue.
“Frodo Baggins,” Baggins responded crisply. “And my friend would be Samwise Gamgee. We are desirous of a suitable room, and would be most grateful for a hot bath to be brought immediately in. This journey has not been the most pleasant, I regret to say.”
“I am not surprised in the least,” Barleycorn responded wryly. “Those taken in early winter so seldom are. What business brings you to our isolated town?” he added curiously, flicking a brass bell on the counter as he did so.
“Research,” Baggins responded mildly, thrusting both hands in his pockets, his eyes idly roaming the room. “Herblore, that sort of thing. I expect we might be here for a bit.”
“Indeed,” was Barleycorn’s only comment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, here is Ned,” he added, as a tall hobbit scurried in from a side door. “Room 27, I think, Ned, and be sure to have a copper tub and hot water delivered promptly.”
Baggins gave a polite bow, and turning to Reedborn, murmured, “Thank you for the pleasure of your company on the road. Do stop by our room after dinner, if you and your assistant would care for a smoke.”
Reedborn returned the bow and nodded. “It would be our pleasure, Mr. Baggins.”
&&&&&
We followed Ned through the maze of tunnels in what was obviously the section of the inn devoted to hobbit visitors, as unlikely as that prospect seemed to me at the present. The tunnels wound into the side of the hill, the walls earthen, but seemingly coated with some sort of preservative, or perhaps it was simply the effect of age. Our way was lit with flickering candles held in sconces, and on occasion, we crossed the paths of other hobbits, most of whom appeared to be prosperous gentlefarmers, giving us curious glances. But at last we found ourselves before a brightly painted yellow door at the end of a tunnel, and Ned bowed and opened the door with a flourish.
With a dexterous use of his tinderbox, he promptly lit the candles within, and immediately saw to starting the fire, logs and tinder for which had been laid out in the fireplace in advance. We gratefully dropped our modest packs on the ground, and held our hands out to the burgeoning flames as four more hobbits appeared out of seemingly nowhere, toting heavy copper pails of steaming water. They disappeared into what was apparently a small alcove which obviously held a tub, and poured the water within, then vanishing down the hallway almost instantly and without a word. Ned gave another brief nod, and proclaimed dinner to be available for the next couple of hours, and vanished likewise. We were at last alone.
I cannot tell you how desperately I had been awaiting this chance, the opportunity to catch Baggins fiercely up in my embrace without the impediment of the company of others, however well-intentioned they might have been. And there was no doubt that Frodo had felt the same, as he eagerly swept me up and greedily returned my kiss measure for measure. It was probably some several moments, but then time, as usual, was only the vaguest of concepts when I was in his arms, before I realized the our wet garments were beginning to steam about us as we lingered, standing before the fire.
But no sooner than I had begun to reluctantly pull away, than Baggins broke his mouth from mine and gave an amused chuckle. “We can’t let the effort of those good hobbits be in vain, now, can we, Samwise, my dear? There is a hot bath awaiting us, and that is exactly where we should take ourselves.”
There was something about a shared bath that always brought out the most impishly amorous streak in Frodo, a fact I never quite understood, but gloried in nevertheless. The tub we found, quite fortunately, to be a spacious one, but it really would have not mattered in the least if it had not been so. Our clothing was shed as quickly as possible, and we found ourselves in the deliciously hot water in no time at all.
And then. It had been far too long in my opinion, and obviously Frodo’s as well, since we had had the gift of privacy and time, and whatever the reasons we were here, whatever the dangers and trials that awaited us, none of it was of any consequence at all at this moment. What mattered was simply the bliss of the touch of his hands, the gift of his mouth on mine, the sheer and utter joy of connection, of a heated and breathtaking passion that was beyond all logic, beyond all barriers, and that merged us, in that one perfect moment, into sheer rapture.
I do not know how long we spent in the cooling water, curled comfortably together, before I gave a guilty start, and murmured into his ear, conveniently situated next to my mouth, that our companions must be waiting for us.
He gave a reluctant sigh in response, which of course delighted me beyond measure, and nodded. “I suppose you are right, Sam my love, but I must confess to feeling entirely irresponsible at the moment. You have an alarming influence over me, dearest, an inclination that no doubt I’ll regret it someday, but at the moment I must admit that my chief consideration is how we could possibly have more hot water delivered without the annoyance of having someone bring it here.”
“Not likely, Frodo love, but perhaps it can be arranged before we return from dinner,” I laughed as I stood up in the tub and bent down to grasp his hands in order to pull him up. “We still have all the night ahead of us, me dearie, and I must admit that I am quite curious as to what Bree has to offer in the way of dinner. And of course, the strong brew that Reedborn mentioned would be worth some investigation as well.”
“Always eminently practical, Sam dear,” he gave a mock frown, the effect of which was entirely spoiled by the sudden kiss to my throat, “but then that is why I love you so. Eternally the voice of good hobbit common sense. Very well, my dearest of Gamgees, let us venture out into the high society of Bree, and see what may be learned from the local populace.”
&&&&&
The central room of the Prancing Pony seemed to have become, impossibly enough, smokier in our absence, not to mention far more clamorous. It was difficult to determine who was within, so it was a relief when Bobbin suddenly materialized at our side, as we stood in the entrance, and with a wide grin announced, “Well, if it ain’t the pair o’you again. Care for a pint together w’the master and me?”
Of course, we immediately assented, and followed him, with a certain amount of difficulty, to a small table tucked away on the side of the hall, under a multi-paned window revealing nothing but the dark night outside. Reedborn sat there, with a plate of something that looked, and smelled, quite delicious, and what I assumed to be a pint clutched firmly in his hand. “Find some food for our company, there’s a good lad, Bobbin,” he directed his young companion, handing over a piece of gold, and Bobbin promptly disappeared on his mission.
“So then, gents, what would you be thinkin’ o’the Prancing Pony? Naught like the Shire, innit?” he took a deep sip, and I must admit that my throat ached for a bit of the same. I seemed to have worked up a bit of a thirst.
“Truer words,” I took it upon myself to answer for the pair of us, as I noticed that Baggins was carefully studying our surroundings and paying little attention to us. “That is the strong brew that you mentioned, Reedborn?”
“Indeed it is,” he answered, with a slight smack and a happy grin as he took another deep sip. “And luckily for you good sirs, it seems as if the lad has his priorities straight, as he’s brought the drink afore the food.”
And so he had, as Bobbin laid the two immense, heavy mugs down on the table with a resounding thump. “And now for sommat to eat,” he grunted, and vanished again.
Baggins eyed the large mug with a raised eyebrow, but Reedborn seemed to answer his obvious question. “Don’t come in nothing smaller,” he shook his head in amusement, “but after a sip or two, you won’t be mindin’ that a bit.”
Reedborn may have been occasionally foggy about some of his memories of Bree, but on the matter of its brew, he was absolutely point on. It was indeed delicious, with a bite that rather snuck up on one, and caused an unexpected gasp. I was quite glad when Bobbin returned with our dinners, for I could feel the warmth glowing in my empty stomach, and my fingers were beginning to become noticeably tingly.
Baggins, however, had only taken a quick sip, and had set it aside. “Don’t you like it, Frodo?” I asked him, with a barely stifled hiccough.
He glanced at me, amused, and replied, “Indeed, it is delicious, Gamgee, but it is essential that we remain aware of our surroundings, and those about us. This isn’t the Green Dragon, it would be well to remember.”
“I know,” I sighed, feeling a bit silly, “but it was such a long trip, you know, and I’m not entirely sure that my toes have thawed out yet.”
His smile deepened at that remark, and he mildly responded, “Is that so? I’ve heard that a hot bath does wonders in curing that sort of thing. Perhaps you should look into having one tonight.”
Well, that did it for me. I covered my burning face up with my mug, and it was, in my mind, quite awhile before I dared to set it down again. Fortunately, Reedborn and Bobbin had been applying themselves with gusto to their dinner, and had not apparently noticed my reaction, but I shot Baggins a warning glance all the same, to which he replied with a smile of serene satisfaction. I leaned back against the wall and began to contemplate possible retaliations once we had returned to our room.
The array of the strange and odd folk of Bree was hard to ignore for long however, and I soon found my gaze following the laughing dark-headed hobbit lass in the corner entertaining a couple of dwarves with merry tales and a coquettish bat of her eyes, a pair of tall roughly dressed men having a rather loud dispute over the respective virtues of their favorite pet dogs, although it might have been their wives, I wasn’t entirely sure which. A group of the local hobbits, their feet propped comfortably up on benches, were smoking pipes with remarkably long stems and grunting an occasional word or two to each other. They gave us a few initially curious glances, but showed no signs of wishing to seek our company.
Reedborn and Baggins were conversing quietly at my side, Reedborn pointing out as many of the notables as he could remember and recognize in the crowded hall, and Bobbin on the other side of me was unmistakably nodding off over his dinner, so I busied myself with finishing my own, and returned to taking care of my pint. The brew had become, to my taste, positively ambrosial, and I was beginning to idly contemplate attempting to persuade Reedborn into setting up something in the way of an import business, to ensure a continued supply of this delightful beverage, when I suddenly noticed that Frodo was rising to his feet at my side, and making his farewells to our companions. It was obviously time to be heading back to our room for the evening.
Well, I certainly had no issues with that, so I rose as well, and began to follow Baggins from the room. But there had unexpectedly developed certain difficulties in attempting what should have been a very ordinary endeavor. The floor was suddenly oddly far away, and my head was swimming in a most alarming manner. My legs were moving far more slowly than they should have, and all noises, all voices, seemed to come, abruptly, from somewhere very far away. I might have said something to Frodo, or more likely I made some sort of improbable sound, for I saw him quickly turn around ahead of me, his expression instantly changing to one of dismay, and immediately turn back toward me, but it was too late.
I have been a fool many times in my life, there is no doubt on that score, and my dear father has been entirely in the right of it when he has, in exasperation, declared me to be a veritable ninnyhammer. But I don’t think I have ever felt as foolish as the night that I tripped and fell, distinctly swozzled, at the feet of a Ranger.
Chapter One may be found here: http://community.livejournal.com/waymeet/125895.html#cutid1
Title: New from Bree, Chapter Two
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: Baggins/Gamgee
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 5669
Summary: Our travelers arrive in Bree, and a certain hobbit manages to disgrace himself. Part of the 221B Bag End AU.
It was a frigid morning when we left Bridgeton. It was not snowing at the moment, but the sky was thick and white, and we could easily see the clouds our breath made in the air, so I had no doubt that the snow was only holding off for the moment. The small booth that was intended to shelter the guard was empty, and Jem indicated the lit window of a nearby inn with a wry laugh. “First and second breakfast must be running together,” he noted dryly. “No real need to watch the Road every moment, now, is there?” Thus we made our way without notice through the great gate that separated the Shire from the lands beyond, and I was startled to see the ancient stone Wall, stretching away to the south out of sight, for somehow I had always thought its existence merely a myth.
I mentioned as much to Baggins, but he gave his head a slight shake, and murmured, “It’s real enough to the inhabitants on the far side of West Farthing, I assure you, Gamgee. They keep it in good repair, and would never consider for an instant finding themselves on the other side of it. Still, I think that what concerns us at the moment may be found more to the north, and most especially, to the east.”
Reedborn nodded at that assessment. “Not that whatever’s amiss might not be tied up with those bad sorts to the south, but there is the Wild Forest in between. And what with Rangers being involved, I suspect our problems are from the north, likewise.”
“What is your personal opinion of Rangers, Reedborn, if I may ask?” Baggins quietly inquired, as we walked along side of him. He had the lead rope of one pony in his hand, and Bobbin was right behind us leading the other. Both ponies, we had earlier decided, were best put to use bearing supplies rather than ourselves, so the four of us walked at their sides.
“I think they do more than most think,” Reedborn stated emphatically, after only a moment’s pause. “So many times it’s them as says the least as does the most, and I think this is one of those cases. Why they do, I haven’t the least idea, for they certainly don’t get much in the way of thanks for it, but that’s the feeling I alus had, on the few occasions that I saw one o’them up close.”
“I have the greatest of confidence in your judgment,” Baggins said thoughtfully, after only a moment’s pause. “And I’m rather inclined to agree with you. However, that is a matter to consider once we find ourselves in their company, in Bree, I suppose. But there is a good deal of country to be covered before we find ourselves there.”
Not having much to contribute to the subject of Rangers, I kept silent, and gave an occasional glance backwards, watching the Wall recede behind us, now nearly lost from sight through the stately and ancient trees that lined the sides of the Road. My limited experiences with Men had not been particularly pleasant, thus far, but I was quite willing to believe that they were not all like the villains whom I had encountered in the recent year or so. I would have hated to think that somewhere Men were judging us hobbits on the basis of the likes of Lotho Pimple.
&&&&&
The day’s journey was uneventful, but tedious once the snow inevitably began again. Stunted pine now grew to each side, and further than that could not be seen in the white half-light. Puddles of ice had collected in the hollows of the road which had, beyond dispute, fallen into decay and disrepair. We trudged onward for the most part in silence. I kept my eye open, as afternoon wore on, for a suitable site in which to camp for the night, and fortunately found one just as the early dusk was beginning to fall. Touching Baggins’ arm, I pointed it out to him, and he rewarded me with a quick glint of a smile.
“Excellent, Gamgee,” he murmured. “I think that will do nicely, indeed.”
Neither Reedborn, nor Bobbin, who had fallen uncharacteristically silent, were loathe to disagree, so we spent the rest of the waning evening in situating ourselves for the night. A small campfire was a necessity on such a frosty night, and the impromptu stew that Bobbin and I managed to concoct, not to mention a nicely scalding pot of strong tea, warmed all of our stomachs quite nicely and made the prospect of the cold night to come far less fearsome. Savoring the last bits on my bowl, I surveyed our company, and gave a thought to sleeping arrangements. There was no doubt but that the warmth of a companionable body could be considered an advantage on a night such as this, but our necessarily close quarters did impose some limitations that one small corner of my mind was loathe to accept. A quick glance over at Baggins, whose eyes sparkled in the firelight as he met my gaze with a quirk of a smile, confirmed that he felt the same.
“No need of a guard tonight, I would imagine,” he announced suddenly, standing up with an elaborate stretch and yawn. “We are not carrying anything of import, and I doubt very much if anyone is expecting us to pass this way. How many more days would you say the journey to Bree is, Reedborn?
Reedborn, who had been gazing into the night beyond the small circle of light in which we sat, gave a bit of a start, but stood up and stretched as well. “About two more days in good weather,” he answered dryly, “but this certainly ain’t that. Four days, I suppose. We’ve supplies enough for more than that, if needs be.”
Baggins nodded. “That was my estimate as well. The ponies ought to be settling down for the night soon enough, and we may as well divide ourselves up next to each of them. They will do very nicely as a wind-break.”
I had very little familiarity with the animals myself, so when they soon did what Baggins had predicted, I was rather nervous as I laid thick blankets down on the frozen ground next to Bottle, as Bobbin had unaccountably named him. The other pony had been given the name of Barrel, which was at least understandable, since he was certainly as round as one. “I thought they slept standing up,” I mentioned tentatively. “Are you sure they won’t roll over on us, Frodo?”
He gave a short chuckle. “Not a bit of it, my dear,” he murmured, since the other two had also settled down for the night and were out of hearing range. “Ponies are very companionable animals, you know, and understand a great deal. I’m quite sure that Bottle will not mind having a warm body or two at his side at all.”
“If you say so, then.” I still could not help but be a bit skeptical, but it was Baggins, after all, who was to lie between me and the pony, so I kept my doubts to myself.
But of course, as always, he knew what I was thinking, and as we lay down and wrapped ourselves in our woolen winter cloaks, tucking a spare one about our feet, he laughed quietly again and gave me a quick kiss on the nose, to my delight. “I sense misgivings still, Samwise. But don’t forget, I grew up in Brandy Hall. The stable was one of my favorite places to be, as was indeed anywhere out of the Hall. I learned a great deal about ponies there, and I promise you that they really are invaluable creatures. Between you and Bottle, I am confident that I could not be better situated, if we must be out on a night such as this. And rest assured, Sam my dear, that tomorrow night, it will be your turn to be in this very comfortable position.”
I briefly gave a thought as to how much of Baggins’ past was unfamiliar to me, but left that conversation for another time. For now, I was beginning to feel warmth in every limb that had been chilled, and my hand had found his as we lay side-by-side and gazed up into the dark sky above. The night sky had cleared, and the stars shone above us with that remarkably intense dazzle they tend to have on an icy night in the absence of the moon. It was not our feather bed at Bag End, to be sure (and how delectable were those three words, I fleetingly thought), but we were together and when he turned on his side to embrace me, I felt no lack at all, as I tucked myself gratefully into his arms. “We are out of the Shire, Frodo,” I murmured, apropos to nothing. And of course, he understood me completely.
“Not exactly, my dearest,” I could feel his breath, warm against my ear. “I have the Shire itself in my arms. At least all of it that really matters to me.”
“Oh, Frodo,” I could not help but sigh, raising my face to his. He met my mouth in a long and sustained kiss, tender and ardent, all in one, and I felt my body quicken against his.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until Bree for that,” came the amused and yet regretful whisper in my ear, as I felt him respond in kind. “But I assure you I mean to find us some privacy there, you may rest easy on that matter.”
“I will hold you to that, Frodo my beloved,” I replied with great firmness, molding myself to him in a manner that had already become so very familiar. “I will follow you to the end of the sun, and to the other side of the moon, but there are certain matters upon which I must insist.”
“I certainly hope you do, Samwise dearest,” I heard his caressing voice as I began to drift off into slumber, held as securely and tenderly as I was. “I cannot tell you how devastated I would be if you did not.”
&&&&&
Reedborn stopped short, on the next day of our journey in the late morning, and looked about us with a bit of uncertainty. “I believe that this is the place where we found the ponies,” he mentioned tentatively, “but there’s really no telling with all this snow about.”
Baggins surveyed the area with an expression of disappointment. “So much that could have been told to us lost, certainly for now, and most likely for good.” He gave the snow drifts an irritated glance. “Was it here that you buried them, Reedborn?”
Reedborn nodded. “I believe so, in this cleared area, not far from the road.”
Baggins nodded, and stood in silence, looking to all sides of us. The other two watched him with some bewilderment, but I, who was more familiar with his chain of thought, saw that he was examining the path of approach to this area, from all directions. “Definitely from the north,” he murmured at last. “As we thought, Gamgee.”
“See to the south?” he explained, turning to our two comrades. “The approach is flat for miles in that direction. But to the north is a different matter. Just past the clearing, the trees are tall and thick, and there is that ridge of stone that blocks any view through them. For the time being, I am under the impression that the Ranger must have been surprised. Certainly his comrades were. Tell me, Reedborn, were there any wounds on the Ranger’s body? Any indication as to how he had been killed?”
Reedborn shook his head. “No more than were on the ponies,” he stated flatly. “But his eyes were closed, so he looked more peaceful than they did.”
Baggins glanced to the north again. “Indeed,” he murmured thoughtfully.
Bobbin piped up at that point with the question that I must confess was in my mind as well. “Tell us, Mr. Baggins, do you think they will come for us likewise?” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with fright.
“No, I do not,” Baggins answered immediately, his voice reassuringly certain. “These attacks have thus far been connected with shipments of kingsfoil, of which we have none. And we are four unremarkable hobbits, unconnected, at this point, with any parties in Bree. I have no doubts, however, but that we are being watched.”
I gave an involuntary shiver at that statement, and saw by the faces of my comrades that they were as dismayed as was I at that pronouncement.
Baggins’ smile quirked up at our reaction. “Not all observation is an evil,” he mentioned mildly. “I have no doubts at all that the Rangers know we are here. Other parties may as well, but who they might be, I as of yet have no evidence.”
That was somewhat reassuring, but the rest of the day was an uneasy one as we continued our journey.
&&&&&
By late morning on the fourth day, just as Reedborn had predicted, there were signs of habitation not far from the road. Smoke could be seen rising from smials in the snow-covered hills, and the occasional low building and shed was to be seen as well. My heart skipped a beat when I first realized that they were higher and larger than any habitation with which I was familiar. They were the homes of Men.
Baggins made a motion to stop us, and indicated a sheltered cluster of pine nearby. We followed him, curious, and Bobbin swept away some of the snow to allow the ponies to forage a bit while we paused.
“The time has come to consider our strategy in Bree,” Baggins began without preamble, a cloud arising into the frigid air from his breath as he spoke. “I propose that we split into two parties, and give out that we met together by chance in Bridgeton, and decided to journey together here. We will all be staying at the same inn, the Prancing Pony; is that what you said the name was, Reedborn? We must be quite cautious, and it is imperative that we stay in contact with each other.”
“You’ve been here before, Reedborn, so it would not be out of the ordinary to be here on reasons of business. You may insinuate that trade has been slow, and you wish to re-introduce more regular dealings between Bree and the Shire, or any other reason that you see fit to use. For the time being, make no mention of kingsfoil, but if someone approaches you on that matter, remain noncommittal. Bobbin, of course, will accompany you, and the ponies are naturally yours.”
“Gamgee and I will present ourselves as mere wanderers, travelers with an interest in local lore, especially in the matter of healing herbs. Information in regards to remedies not known within the Shire will be what intrigues us the most, I believe. That may lead us in the right direction, to those who know more. Whether or not they wish to reveal what they know is an entirely different matter, of course.”
“Then how will we meet, to exchange what we discover?” Reedborn asked, his weathered face indicating approval of this plan. “The tavern of the inn would be reasonable place, but ‘tis a crowded and noisy room, at least the last time I was here.”
Baggins thought for a moment. “If either of us has information to share with the others, we will invite each other to stop by our room and share a pipe. And if there is danger, mention that the book either you or I have been looking for has been found. And in the worst case, my friends, if something should happen to Gamgee and I, you must return to the Shire as quickly as possible and tell all you know to Saradoc Brandybuck. He will know what must be done at that point.”
Reedborn nodded, as did a somber-looking Bobbin, and stamped his feet to shake some of the snow off. Blowing into his cupped hands, he rubbed them briskly to warm them. “Well then, let us be off,” he announced with determination. “Be prepared to give your names at the gate, gentlehobbits, and I will lead you to the Prancing Pony. Whatever may await us there may be far less foreboding after we have had a chance to warm ourselves before a good crackling fire. I heartily recommend the local brew, but be aware, my friends, it is a potent drink.”
“Excellent,” Baggins gave us a brief smile. “Here’s to successful hunting, my good hobbits, and a safe return to the Shire.”
&&&&&&
I made no attempt to hide my astonishment as we entered into Bree, and I could tell by Bobbin’s face, at least, that he felt the same. And I knew that even Baggins, impassive though he seemingly remained at my side, had never seen the like. The great wooden wall surrounding the town gave the first indication that Bree was as much fortress as town, and once we passed the guard’s close scrutiny and entered, it was as unlike any peaceful Shire village as could possibly be.
Great buildings, as much as three stories high, loomed up in the grey and sleety afternoon, timbered and ancient. The streets were clamorous, filled with dogs, ponies and carts, and both hobbits and men, as well as some other beings who I was instantly certain must be dwarves. All were going their own ways, heads down and bundled well against the chill gusts. The streets themselves were muddy and foul, with treacherous patches of ice in every hollowed rut. There were lights in the shop windows, but I had no thought to look into them, as all my attention was focused on the difficult task of trying to avoid man, hobbit, and beast, and retain my footing on the perilous thoroughfare. I glanced over at Reedborn, and with a hint of amusement, he inclined his head to the right. Not far ahead, to the side of the street, I saw with great relief the swinging sign announcing where the Prancing Pony was to be found. There was nothing, well, nearly nothing, I desired more at the moment than the shelter of a warm room and a decent fire, and my spirits immediately brightened.
Dodging a great creaking cart, pulled by two stamping black ponies and driven by a pair of well-bundled hobbits, we crossed the street as quickly as possible and reached the impressively barred door just as a flurry of snow began to drift down upon us. “Excellent timing,” I heard Baggins murmur at my side, “and I must confess that no matter what we may find within, I am more than grateful to reach some shelter at last. As far as being desirable traveling weather, these last few days have been sorely lacking.”
“Then you might be willing to put up with a different sort of inn than the Plucked Dove,” Reedborn chucked, mentioning Bridgeton’s finest. “Prepare yourselves, my good hobbits.” And with that warning, he gave the doors of the Prancing Pony a hearty tug open.
Smoke was my first impression, an almost noxious mixture of pipeweed and burning logs that had merged into a veritable fog of fumes. I coughed at the unexpected onslaught, and blinked, and did my best to make out the scene within. At each side of us, as we entered, were dark hallways and doors, but directly ahead was a wide entryway, and the sound of voices and rough laughter and the clink of metal made in immediately clear that the center of the inn was located there. Bobbin remained outside with the ponies and a wistful look, and Reedborn hastily reassured him that he would not be long.
Making our way to a tall counter immediately within the entryway, we were promptly greeted by a tall man with quite a rosy beaked nose. “Good day to you, Barleycorn,” Reedborn responded with alacrity and a confident grin. “Would you be remembering me, then?”
Barleycorn gave him a penetrating stare, and then a slow smile broke across the fierce face. “Reedborn, innit?” his gruff voice was clearly amused. “Bridgeton-way. Been in few years, now, I’d say. ‘Tis foul weather to be out and about in, but no doubt but it’s good to see you again. And your friends?’’ He turned his gaze to Baggins and myself, his sharp eyes obviously committing our faces to memory.
“A pair of fellow travelers,” Reedborn responded coolly. “We ended up sharing the perils of the road. Gamgee, that was the name wasn’t it? And. . .” he nonchalantly motioned to Baggins to continue.
“Frodo Baggins,” Baggins responded crisply. “And my friend would be Samwise Gamgee. We are desirous of a suitable room, and would be most grateful for a hot bath to be brought immediately in. This journey has not been the most pleasant, I regret to say.”
“I am not surprised in the least,” Barleycorn responded wryly. “Those taken in early winter so seldom are. What business brings you to our isolated town?” he added curiously, flicking a brass bell on the counter as he did so.
“Research,” Baggins responded mildly, thrusting both hands in his pockets, his eyes idly roaming the room. “Herblore, that sort of thing. I expect we might be here for a bit.”
“Indeed,” was Barleycorn’s only comment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, here is Ned,” he added, as a tall hobbit scurried in from a side door. “Room 27, I think, Ned, and be sure to have a copper tub and hot water delivered promptly.”
Baggins gave a polite bow, and turning to Reedborn, murmured, “Thank you for the pleasure of your company on the road. Do stop by our room after dinner, if you and your assistant would care for a smoke.”
Reedborn returned the bow and nodded. “It would be our pleasure, Mr. Baggins.”
&&&&&
We followed Ned through the maze of tunnels in what was obviously the section of the inn devoted to hobbit visitors, as unlikely as that prospect seemed to me at the present. The tunnels wound into the side of the hill, the walls earthen, but seemingly coated with some sort of preservative, or perhaps it was simply the effect of age. Our way was lit with flickering candles held in sconces, and on occasion, we crossed the paths of other hobbits, most of whom appeared to be prosperous gentlefarmers, giving us curious glances. But at last we found ourselves before a brightly painted yellow door at the end of a tunnel, and Ned bowed and opened the door with a flourish.
With a dexterous use of his tinderbox, he promptly lit the candles within, and immediately saw to starting the fire, logs and tinder for which had been laid out in the fireplace in advance. We gratefully dropped our modest packs on the ground, and held our hands out to the burgeoning flames as four more hobbits appeared out of seemingly nowhere, toting heavy copper pails of steaming water. They disappeared into what was apparently a small alcove which obviously held a tub, and poured the water within, then vanishing down the hallway almost instantly and without a word. Ned gave another brief nod, and proclaimed dinner to be available for the next couple of hours, and vanished likewise. We were at last alone.
I cannot tell you how desperately I had been awaiting this chance, the opportunity to catch Baggins fiercely up in my embrace without the impediment of the company of others, however well-intentioned they might have been. And there was no doubt that Frodo had felt the same, as he eagerly swept me up and greedily returned my kiss measure for measure. It was probably some several moments, but then time, as usual, was only the vaguest of concepts when I was in his arms, before I realized the our wet garments were beginning to steam about us as we lingered, standing before the fire.
But no sooner than I had begun to reluctantly pull away, than Baggins broke his mouth from mine and gave an amused chuckle. “We can’t let the effort of those good hobbits be in vain, now, can we, Samwise, my dear? There is a hot bath awaiting us, and that is exactly where we should take ourselves.”
There was something about a shared bath that always brought out the most impishly amorous streak in Frodo, a fact I never quite understood, but gloried in nevertheless. The tub we found, quite fortunately, to be a spacious one, but it really would have not mattered in the least if it had not been so. Our clothing was shed as quickly as possible, and we found ourselves in the deliciously hot water in no time at all.
And then. It had been far too long in my opinion, and obviously Frodo’s as well, since we had had the gift of privacy and time, and whatever the reasons we were here, whatever the dangers and trials that awaited us, none of it was of any consequence at all at this moment. What mattered was simply the bliss of the touch of his hands, the gift of his mouth on mine, the sheer and utter joy of connection, of a heated and breathtaking passion that was beyond all logic, beyond all barriers, and that merged us, in that one perfect moment, into sheer rapture.
I do not know how long we spent in the cooling water, curled comfortably together, before I gave a guilty start, and murmured into his ear, conveniently situated next to my mouth, that our companions must be waiting for us.
He gave a reluctant sigh in response, which of course delighted me beyond measure, and nodded. “I suppose you are right, Sam my love, but I must confess to feeling entirely irresponsible at the moment. You have an alarming influence over me, dearest, an inclination that no doubt I’ll regret it someday, but at the moment I must admit that my chief consideration is how we could possibly have more hot water delivered without the annoyance of having someone bring it here.”
“Not likely, Frodo love, but perhaps it can be arranged before we return from dinner,” I laughed as I stood up in the tub and bent down to grasp his hands in order to pull him up. “We still have all the night ahead of us, me dearie, and I must admit that I am quite curious as to what Bree has to offer in the way of dinner. And of course, the strong brew that Reedborn mentioned would be worth some investigation as well.”
“Always eminently practical, Sam dear,” he gave a mock frown, the effect of which was entirely spoiled by the sudden kiss to my throat, “but then that is why I love you so. Eternally the voice of good hobbit common sense. Very well, my dearest of Gamgees, let us venture out into the high society of Bree, and see what may be learned from the local populace.”
&&&&&
The central room of the Prancing Pony seemed to have become, impossibly enough, smokier in our absence, not to mention far more clamorous. It was difficult to determine who was within, so it was a relief when Bobbin suddenly materialized at our side, as we stood in the entrance, and with a wide grin announced, “Well, if it ain’t the pair o’you again. Care for a pint together w’the master and me?”
Of course, we immediately assented, and followed him, with a certain amount of difficulty, to a small table tucked away on the side of the hall, under a multi-paned window revealing nothing but the dark night outside. Reedborn sat there, with a plate of something that looked, and smelled, quite delicious, and what I assumed to be a pint clutched firmly in his hand. “Find some food for our company, there’s a good lad, Bobbin,” he directed his young companion, handing over a piece of gold, and Bobbin promptly disappeared on his mission.
“So then, gents, what would you be thinkin’ o’the Prancing Pony? Naught like the Shire, innit?” he took a deep sip, and I must admit that my throat ached for a bit of the same. I seemed to have worked up a bit of a thirst.
“Truer words,” I took it upon myself to answer for the pair of us, as I noticed that Baggins was carefully studying our surroundings and paying little attention to us. “That is the strong brew that you mentioned, Reedborn?”
“Indeed it is,” he answered, with a slight smack and a happy grin as he took another deep sip. “And luckily for you good sirs, it seems as if the lad has his priorities straight, as he’s brought the drink afore the food.”
And so he had, as Bobbin laid the two immense, heavy mugs down on the table with a resounding thump. “And now for sommat to eat,” he grunted, and vanished again.
Baggins eyed the large mug with a raised eyebrow, but Reedborn seemed to answer his obvious question. “Don’t come in nothing smaller,” he shook his head in amusement, “but after a sip or two, you won’t be mindin’ that a bit.”
Reedborn may have been occasionally foggy about some of his memories of Bree, but on the matter of its brew, he was absolutely point on. It was indeed delicious, with a bite that rather snuck up on one, and caused an unexpected gasp. I was quite glad when Bobbin returned with our dinners, for I could feel the warmth glowing in my empty stomach, and my fingers were beginning to become noticeably tingly.
Baggins, however, had only taken a quick sip, and had set it aside. “Don’t you like it, Frodo?” I asked him, with a barely stifled hiccough.
He glanced at me, amused, and replied, “Indeed, it is delicious, Gamgee, but it is essential that we remain aware of our surroundings, and those about us. This isn’t the Green Dragon, it would be well to remember.”
“I know,” I sighed, feeling a bit silly, “but it was such a long trip, you know, and I’m not entirely sure that my toes have thawed out yet.”
His smile deepened at that remark, and he mildly responded, “Is that so? I’ve heard that a hot bath does wonders in curing that sort of thing. Perhaps you should look into having one tonight.”
Well, that did it for me. I covered my burning face up with my mug, and it was, in my mind, quite awhile before I dared to set it down again. Fortunately, Reedborn and Bobbin had been applying themselves with gusto to their dinner, and had not apparently noticed my reaction, but I shot Baggins a warning glance all the same, to which he replied with a smile of serene satisfaction. I leaned back against the wall and began to contemplate possible retaliations once we had returned to our room.
The array of the strange and odd folk of Bree was hard to ignore for long however, and I soon found my gaze following the laughing dark-headed hobbit lass in the corner entertaining a couple of dwarves with merry tales and a coquettish bat of her eyes, a pair of tall roughly dressed men having a rather loud dispute over the respective virtues of their favorite pet dogs, although it might have been their wives, I wasn’t entirely sure which. A group of the local hobbits, their feet propped comfortably up on benches, were smoking pipes with remarkably long stems and grunting an occasional word or two to each other. They gave us a few initially curious glances, but showed no signs of wishing to seek our company.
Reedborn and Baggins were conversing quietly at my side, Reedborn pointing out as many of the notables as he could remember and recognize in the crowded hall, and Bobbin on the other side of me was unmistakably nodding off over his dinner, so I busied myself with finishing my own, and returned to taking care of my pint. The brew had become, to my taste, positively ambrosial, and I was beginning to idly contemplate attempting to persuade Reedborn into setting up something in the way of an import business, to ensure a continued supply of this delightful beverage, when I suddenly noticed that Frodo was rising to his feet at my side, and making his farewells to our companions. It was obviously time to be heading back to our room for the evening.
Well, I certainly had no issues with that, so I rose as well, and began to follow Baggins from the room. But there had unexpectedly developed certain difficulties in attempting what should have been a very ordinary endeavor. The floor was suddenly oddly far away, and my head was swimming in a most alarming manner. My legs were moving far more slowly than they should have, and all noises, all voices, seemed to come, abruptly, from somewhere very far away. I might have said something to Frodo, or more likely I made some sort of improbable sound, for I saw him quickly turn around ahead of me, his expression instantly changing to one of dismay, and immediately turn back toward me, but it was too late.
I have been a fool many times in my life, there is no doubt on that score, and my dear father has been entirely in the right of it when he has, in exasperation, declared me to be a veritable ninnyhammer. But I don’t think I have ever felt as foolish as the night that I tripped and fell, distinctly swozzled, at the feet of a Ranger.
Chapter One may be found here: http://community.livejournal.com/waymeet/125895.html#cutid1