The Shadow Hunter

Chapter 13: Of Brandybuck and Took

Sam watched the fire beneath the pan flickering as it cooked their dinner. Sam smiled in satisfaction as the meat of the sausages turned brown-red. He inhaled his weed as he turned the food over skilfully, humming a tune Varilerin had never heard before. He glanced at Frodo, who was sitting not far beneath a tree, and at Varilerin who was standing not far with arms folding. She was looking far into the horizon, observing the setting sun as silent as she had ever been in the journey. Sam couldn’t understand the third member of the company, so quiet and yet when speaking, all would be forced to follow. Not that he was suspicious about Varilerin or anything, but he couldn’t help the feeling of anxiety whenever the ranger was close to him.

Frodo jolted upright when he heard an ethereal music coming from a distance. Varilerin, to his relief, didn’t sheathe her bow like when they encountered some flocks of bats the night before. Frodo searched for the source of the music and found some lights glowing among the trees not far.

“It’s the Elves,” Varilerin whispered to them, stepping back closer to the fire. Sam stopped cooking and joined Frodo in observing the lines of Elves. Varilerin lowered her body to the Hobbits’ height and hid beneath the grass, watching her kin passing elegantly.

“Wood Elves, aren’t they?” Frodo deduced. “I think they’re going to the harbour beyond the white shores, towards the Grey Havens.” Frodo turned to Varilerin and she in turn raised her brows. Varilerin instantly knew that Bilbo must had told Frodo as well that she had Elf blood flowing in her veins.

“Yes, they’re leaving Middle Earth,” Varilerin answered his curiosity. “Towards the Undying Lands where there is no pain or death. They will never return,” she continued without any slight interest, much to Frodo’s surprise.

“I’ve heard you’re an Elf, from Bilbo,” Frodo said. “Why are you not leaving then?” Varilerin stayed silent, pondering for a suitable, or existing answer. When she chose to be an Elf, she was in turn given the chance to sail with her people from Middle Earth, but an exile remained an exile. How could she leave Middle Earth when she had so much to be atoned for? She would never forgive herself if she dared to cross the seas and leave all her debts behind.

“I still have things to do here,” Varilerin answered shortly. “Which includes guiding you to safety. Now, let us eat. Or you prefer sleeping without having dinner at all? I can suffice eating such a large meal.”

Frodo and Sam shook their heads at the same time and returned to the campfire, where apparently their meals had started burning. They ate their dinner silently, whilst Varilerin took her share and left to watch the surrounding area. When she returned she discovered the Hobbits had taken their sleep, covering themselves with still-comfortable blankets. Varilerin sighed, knowing that she would not be able to take a rest as long as they were still in the wild. Back when she was still a ranger, she had Ellain and Ruindoldir covering her watch. Now they were no longer there, and travelling together with other people seemed nostalgic for her. She scanned the surrounding forests repeatedly, not wanting the same tragedy to happen to these two Hobbits.

“Don’t Elves get sleep?” Sam whispered suddenly, apparently not sleeping. Sam was, not surprisingly, not used to sleeping in the wild, much like Frodo beside him. “Or are you not comfortable with sleeping outside? I am, in fact, and so is Mr. Frodo.”

“We Elves have high degree of strength, Master Gamgee. We need less sleep than you do, but I should tell you that hundreds of years of travelling can cause a mere Man to become stronger than Elves. To tell you the truth, I am in fact not a pure Elf, so part of my endurance is a result of my long travels.”

“Sleep, Sam,” Frodo groaned without looking at him. “Just shut your eyes and imagine you’re back in your own bed, with a soft mattress and a lovely feather pillow…”

“Which places you have travelled to, Daefaroth?” Sam asked again, ignoring Frodo’s pleas. Frodo rolled away from Sam and pulled his sheets tighter, clearly disturbed by Sam’s curiosity. Varilerin smirked when she saw this, but decided to answer Sam’s question.

“Almost every corner Middle Earth, Master Gamgee,” she said.

“Which places do you like the most then?” Sam asked again. This time it took her a moment to think. She had deemed all places the same throughout the years: full of dangers and evil that always liked her presence. However, there was a particular engraved place in her mind.

Rivendell, she mused. However terrifying her memories were in the past, she had longed to return to the heavenly village. She, nevertheless, realized that it was not possible, not now. Returning to her home would only bring pain to her heart, and to those she cared about. She could not return when the world around it threatened its safety and people, but she hadn’t thought about returning once Middle Earth found peace either. She didn’t think that the Undying Lands would be suitable either.

“Shire, I think. It’s very pleasant there,” she partially lied to the Hobbit. It was not a true lie, because for years she had found peace and comfort in the land. She and Bilbo had formed a strong friendship and companionship, causing her to feel home whenever she visited his doorsteps. Such home was now gone, for the next years to come, or for forever.

Sam smiled at her answer and wriggled himself to sleep, as if he had heard a pleasant bedtime story. Varilerin looked emptily at the campfire, pondering over the future that would be awaiting them soon. The night seemed tranquil and undisturbed, but Varilerin knew that in the land far away, evil was brewing and getting stronger.

The Hobbits managed to sleep through the night and wake in the morning by Varilerin’s insistence. She woke them in the break of dawn, ignoring their pleas for sleeping longer. She threw them some ‘breakfast’ she found in the forest last night and ordered them to eat quickly. They did so reluctantly, having never eaten an unseasoned grilled pheasant before. Once they had finished and packed their belongings, Varilerin led them to a maize field. It was the shortest way to Bree, as far as she had known, and apparently the safest.

“Don’t get separated. Despite this being Shire, you can still lose your way,” she told them, walking into the vast yellow fields beyond. She walked quickly, almost causing the Hobbit to lose her among the crops.

“Have you lost your way before, Daefaroth?” Frodo asked with short breaths.

“We rangers have a special way of not getting lost, Master Baggins. Speaking of which, you don’t, so stop asking questions for now and follow me-“ Varilerin stopped pacing and gestured the Hobbits to step back. Sam and Frodo glanced at each other in confusion, whilst Varilerin lifted her hand towards one of her swords. “I heard something,” she told the Hobbits.

Before she could draw her sword, two Hobbits suddenly emerged from the fields. They rushed onto the Hobbits behind her, pushing them to the ground. In response she drew both of her swords and pointed them at the two intruder’s heads. “Who are you?” she demanded, but the Hobbits didn’t pay heed to her question and instead observed the bodies they had taken down.

“Frodo! Merry! It’s Frodo Baggins!” Pippin said.

“Hello Frodo!” Merry greeted. “Well, what are you doing here? Stealing some crops, aren’t you?”

“Get off him!” Sam ordered, pushing them away from Frodo. Merry and Pippin merely laughed at his reaction, dusting their coats away with their soiled hands. “For Fool’s sake, don’t you two realize swords pointing at you?”

“Oh!” the two exclaimed when they lifted her heads. Varilerin raised her brows, surprised at how carefree the Hobbits were. “What’s the meaning of this?” she asked the two. “A Took and Brandybuck. I have heard both of you from Gandalf, or should I say, see you making trouble?” Pippin and Merry were taken aback, remembering the night of Bilbo’s birthday as clear as the sky.

“Because they are troublemakers indeed! And now you’ve been into Farmer Maggot’s crop, aren’t you?” Sam said angrily. Merry and Pippin ignored Sam’s accusations and instead picked up the vegetables they had been carrying. Pippin gave some carrots to the confused Sam, and added a pumpkin to his luggage. “What are you-“

“Got to go now!” Merry said when dog barks came from not far. The group immediately looked over the somehow moving plants. Pippin and Merry chuckled, seemingly delightful of Maggot’s imminent arrival. “Hoi! You get back here! Wait till I get this through you!” another voice came from across the field. “Get out of my fields! You’ll know the devil if I catch up with you!”

“Run!” Frodo told them and soon the Hobbits were already running away from Varilerin. She was still utterly confused at what’s happening, particularly how come they came across two most wanted Hobbits. She sighed and put her blades back, before chasing the Hobbits with her light feet. The Hobbits seemed to gain lightning speeds at the current situation, forcing her to study the markings left on the soil to gain their directions.

However, when she was away from the fields, she found no sign of the Hobbits. She stopped before a sharp hill with traces of pulled grasses and several dropped carrots. She sighed and slid down the hill, finding the Hobbits bickering at the bottom of it.

“Trust a Brandybuck and a TOOK!” Sam exclaimed, throwing the carrots back to Pippin. Pippin received his carrot gratefully, muttering a ‘thank you’ to Sam.

“It was just a detour, A shortcut,” Merry retorted, picking up some onions. “A shortcut to mushrooms!” Before Varilerin could stop him, Merry had run towards several growing stools. To her confusion, Sam and Pippin jumped to Merry and brawled over the small mushrooms. Frodo shared the same look as her, watching the Hobbits bickering with themselves.

She glanced around, finding a way out of the uncomfortable place. Her eyes suddenly stopped at the road beyond, empty, but somehow strange. A wind blew past her, howling like a ghost, and she shuddered. There were whispers coming from the road, and darkness. She had felt it before, back when the black riders approached Bag End. Frodo approached Varilerin, looking at the road as well. He could feel it, she knew, and with the Ring it seemed the whispers grew louder.

“Get off the road! Hide!” she ordered, pushing the Hobbits away from the road’s vicinity. “What is happening?” Merry asked, only to be pushed beneath a tree root. Varilerin received their questioning glances, but she didn’t answer, and instead leapt to the tree above them. She could hear the shrieks of the black riders getting closer and closer, and the light among the trees disappearing as the shadows approached them.

She climbed the tree trunks lightly and perched on the stronger branch of the tree. She instructed the Hobbits below to stay quiet, whilst her eyes observed the road. Not long after, black riders passed the road. They were wearing black cloaks like her, but their faces were completely hidden in the shadows. They whispered to each other in shrieks as they passed. One of them stopped and unmounted its black horse, and knelt close to the hiding place of the Hobbits. Her heart felt again the darkness of the Ring, and silently prayed for Frodo to not wear it. Fear once more grasped her heart, of losing someone she had sworn to protect because of her inadequate actions.

But the black rider didn’t continue further and instead, switched its gaze suddenly to the road. A sudden sound from the road distracted its attention, reverting it back to its path. It released a hiss and mounted its horse once more, leaving the road and joining his comrades. Varilerin heard the Hobbits sighing in relief as they emerged from their hiding place. Varilerin leapt from the branches and landed lightly beside them, cautiously scouting the road if the riders dared to return.

“What was that?” Merry asked Varilerin. “Ringwraiths. They are hunting us. Servants of Sauron searching for Frodo. He has what the Dark Lord wants,” Varilerin explained quickly. The Hobbits immediately looked at Frodo, demanding further explanations, for apparently their distant cousins owned something that had almost caused their deaths. “They will return if we stay here. We need to go to Bree as soon as possible,” Varilerin added again to defend Frodo from his siblings’ gaze.

“We can go to Buckleberry Ferry,” Merry suggested after a while. “I’ll show you where!” Varilerin nodded in agreement and let Merry lead the way. The day was darkening and the sun began to disappear behind the trees. With the fear of the riders, their feet paced fast like the wind, pushing through trees and trailing narrow roads. They were now running towards a lake not far, but their journey was not undisturbed. The black riders chased after them on their ominous horses, screeching menacingly as they raised their swords at them.

“Faster!” Varilerin urged the Hobbits, who tried to quicken the pace of their little legs. Varilerin could feel the riders closing in behind them without looking back. She knew she couldn’t kill them, but she was ready to fight for the Hobbits if she must. Frodo looked more tired than the others, almost stumbling to the ground, but Varilerin managed to catch him and pushed him forwards to follow the others. She readied her bow as they approached the lake, whilst the riders behind got closer and closer as the seconds passed by.

They finally reached the lake, reflecting the light of the moon under the starry sky. A wooden ferry was tugged at one of the wooden posts of the port. “Go!” she ordered the Hobbits. Merry proceeded first, jumping to the ferry lightly and took the oar. Pippin and Sam followed next, whilst they pulled Frodo into the ferry. Varilerin stopped at the edge of the lake, letting the Hobbits leap onto the ferry first as she notched her arrow. Her eyes caught movements in the dark, shadowy figures that whispered to her in a language she despised, yet understood.

“Give the Halfling,” she heard one of them whispering.

“Never,” she replied in Elvish. They hissed as they quickened their pace, but ultimately they didn’t manage to catch Varilerin, who leapt immediately after their short conversation. After flipping in the air, she landed lightly on the escaping ferry and looked back at the riders. They hunters watched their prey escaping their grasp, but they would never stop chasing them, she knew. The black riders immediately pulled their horses away and took another path away from them.

“They are still chasing us, taking the way around. Their horses are fast and for that we must hurry. How far to the nearest crossing?” Varilerin said.

“The Brandywine Bridge, twenty miles,” Merry informed, rowing the boat away slowly.

“Let me take the oar, it will be faster,” Varilerin told the Hobbit, who implied as quickly as she had said the instructions. “Lead the way, Meriadoc,” she told him again once she had received the control over the ferry. Using any strength she had left, she rowed the ferry towards their destination, hoping that Gandalf would be waiting for them in the inn, and for her strength to last until the Hobbits were safe.