The Shadow Walker

8. Oops.

I woke up in a warm bed, with a full tummy and sunlight streaming in through the window. Nothing about this room was familiar.

Mordor!

I leaped out of bed, and my foot caught on something. I tripped and fell flat on my face.

"Ow," I whimpered, and pushed myself up. The strap of my satchel had wrapped around my foot. I yanked myself free, then opened it up and looked inside. Everything was still there, including my money. My swords were leaning against the wall by the door. Good. Now, how had I gotten here?

I closed my eyes, replaying the events of the previous evening. Bilbo being kind to me, telling me a story. Me drifting off to sleep. He must've brought me here. Grabbing my things and hastily pulling my boots on, I left the room, went down a narrow hallway, and trotted down a rickety staircase. It led me to the now-empty pub of the Inn at the Prancing Pony. The barkeep was polishing some pint mugs behind the bar.

"Ah, good morning lass."

"Good morning," I replied. "How much do I owe you for the room?"

"Nothing at all, miss. The Hobbit paid for you."

I gave pause. It seems I'd greatly underestimated the kindness of Hobbits - mainly this one.

"Has he left yet?" I asked.

"Yes, miss, about two or three hours ago."

Mordor. "Did he say which way he was headed?"

"No, miss."

"Okay. Thank you." I left the pub and went onto the muddy, overcrowded streets of Bree. After promptly leaving the sad settlement, I hit the road and headed east - toward Rivendell.

Please, Gandalf, be right. Just this once.

I paused only once to strap on my swords, then I broke into a run and chased after Bilbo.

*   *   *

I crossed through Chetwood at a full run and reached the far edge of Midgewater Lake before catching up to Bilbo in the early afternoon. A hot meal and a good night's rest had done a lot for me, but I was spent by the time his short, waddly frame came into view. He was climbing the first of many hills in a massive plain.

You know what? Screw this ridiculous game of cat and mouse. We'd already met; there was no reason I couldn't babysit him under the pretense of a traveling companion. I paused for a short breather, then broke into a run again.

Bilbo was in a valley between two hills by the time I reached three peak of the first. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shouted, "Bilbo! Bilbo!"

He stopped walking and turned to face me. I waved, motioning for him to wait for me. Then began trotting down the hill. Misjudging one foothold in the steep hill, I tripped, and my exhausted legs buckled. I flopped most ungracefully to the bottom of the hill, stopping at Bilbo's hairy feet. Flushing a deep red, I glanced up at him. His expression was concerned, amused, and very, very confused.

I quickly picked myself up off the ground and brushed the dirt off my pants. Clearing my throat, I said, "Um. That's embarrassing."

"What are you doing here?" Bilbo exclaimed.

A little forethought would've been helpful here. I made a show of making sure I had my satchel, and looking up the hill to make sure I hadn't dropped anything. Meanwhile, I was desperately trying to form a story. "I'm, uhh... I woke up right after you left, and I was disappointed that I didn't get to tell you thank you. For the room. Anyway, I'm headed to Rivendell - " I crossed my fingers, " - and and I saw you up ahead, so I thought I'd catch up. Walk with you."

"Oh. Right." He flashed me a smile. "Though, I don't remember telling you my name...?"

Mordor. "You...mentioned it. While you were telling your story."

Bilbo frowned. "I'd forgotten..." Then he shrugged. "But I'm allowed to forget. I'm one-hundred eleven years old!"

We continued walking, and I gasped in fake surprise. "No! I thought, perhaps seventy-five or eighty because of your story, but you don't even look that old."

He chuckled. "So I'm told." He sent me a side-glance. "What is your name, lass?"

"Eda," I replied.

"And you're from Dale," he mused. "You're human, I presume?"

"Yes." I pretended to watch a bird as it flew overhead.

"How old are you?"

I scowled. "Why so many questions?"

Bilbo shrugged. "The road is long, and the time is easier passed with conversation."

I hesitated, trying to decide what I should tell him. Finally, I said, "I'm nineteen years old."

Bilbo looked at me for a long moment. I could've sworn he saw right through the facade. But if he did, he didn't say so. He just murmured, "Remarkable." At length, he said, "So why do you travel to Rivendell? If it's not too much to ask, of course."

I blushed. "Well... my mom told me the king of Rivendell can see the future." There. That should pass me off as a nineteen-year-old.

Bilbo chuckled. "Well, he isn't technically a king, lass, but he can see the future well enough."

And thus we traveled for the rest of the day, finally stopping for the night a few miles east of Weathertop.