Chapter 2: the Ring and Black Riders

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What is even happening?! I thought. The ring had been missing for 3060 years. How did it come to the hands of a simple Hobbit from the Shire? It was in Gollum's possesion before! Gandalf never spoke of this before, I thought. Whenever Gandalf comes back, I will personally chew him out.

When Frodo pulled the Ring off his finger, he seemed pretty relieved about something. But Aragorn grabbed the front of his shirt and said quietly, "You shouldn't draw too much attention to yourself, Mr 'Underhill'." He pulled Frodo into the stairwell and took him upstairs, me following close behind. Aragorn opened a random door and pushed Frodo inside. After I entered the small room, he shut the door.

"What do you want?" Frodo asked, a hint of fright creeping into his voice. "A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry." "I carry nothing," Frodo said quickly. "Indeed. I can avoid being seen if I wish," Aragorn said as he put out the candles in the window. He pulled off his hood when he said, "But to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift." I now could tell that he was a ranger from the North. "Who are you both?" Frodo asked him. Aragorn looked at him and said, "Are you frightened?" "Yes." "Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you." Casting an wary glance at the door, he moved toward Frodo. Somebody knocked and then opened the door. Both me and Aragorn drew our swords. The tip of Orcrist rested on Merry's nose. Sam yelled, "Let him go! Or I'll have you, Longshanks!" Aragorn shook his head, both him and I sheathing our swords. "You have a stout heart, little hobbit. But that will not save you." He leaned toward Frodo, saying, "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."

***

While Aragorn and Elena came up with a plan to keep the Hobbits safe, across town, the gate was being knocked on. The gatekeeper opened the little door in front of his face. He was shocked to see several riders in black. They trampled the gate, with him under it, and rode to the Prancing Pony. The door swung open in front of them. They knew the Ring was close now.

***

Across the street, Aragorn sat at the window. I sat across from him and the four Hobbits lay in bed, asleep. I was trying to think about a lot of things that were worse than being chased by Sauron's riders. But nothing came to mind. I ran my hand along the sword, wondering what Thorin would do if he were in the same situation. Just thinking about the company was slightly painful.

I remembered the Lonely Mountain and the sight of Erebor. We knew the dragon as well as Gandalf and Thorin. I remembered the fire that burned Lake Town when Smaug descended. The battle that raged after, so much death, the defeat of Azog the Defiler, Thorin's death, I remembered it all like it happened just yesterday.

I heard the shriek of the riders across from us. The Hobbits were awake now, and Frodo asked, "What are they?" Aragorn looked away from the window and looked at Frodo. "They were once Men. Great kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deciever gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question. One by one falling into darkness. Now, they are servants to his will. They are the Nazgûl. Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. They always feel it, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."

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