The Apple and The Ring

"Danger is ahead, but friendship is nearby"

The road from the Shire was no longer a stroll, but a flight. The wind, gentle yesterday, now whipped at their cheeks as if urging them on. Every step echoed in their temples: "Too slow." Frodo knew the Nazgûl could scent the Ring like hounds scent a trail. He glanced back: Melinora was the last, pale but determined. Her eyes said, "I won't fall behind." Sam trudged behind, dragging his feet. The path seemed to twist and turn with every step, though it was only a tiny distance. Baggins understood he hadn't strayed this far from his little home before. From the tall, swaying grass came a faint sound, as if someone was there whom they definitely couldn't see. The three hobbits froze almost simultaneously. Within each of them, different spectra of emotions varied: Melinora's curiosity, Sam's bewilderment, and Frodo's wariness. The grass rustled again... A sly giggle was heard... Before the hobbits could even blink, two more hobbits tumbled from the bushes, bursting into loud laughter and embracing the group. "Pippin! Merry!" Baggins exclaimed, stunned. "What are you doing here?!" The two cousins exchanged a look and a smile, then their mischievous eyes settled on Frodo. "I heard about your plans to run, Frodo!" Meriadoc replied excitedly, while his cousin nodded vigorously, his chestnut curls bouncing amusingly. "And I'm coming with you!" "Me too!" Peregrin stated firmly. Frodo blinked, trying to process everything that was happening, his thoughts having drifted quite far. "Frodo," Melinora called to him, smiling, remembering how, before their journey, he had brought her back to her senses, reminding her not to let the apple pie get cold. He came to his senses, looking at the two cousins. He knew for sure that a refusal wouldn't work; they were persistent. Taking a deep breath and exhaling heavily, he managed a weak smile. "Alright," he agreed, after a slight pause. "But stay close." Pippin and Merry nodded in unison, almost synchronously, sporting huge grins that made Melinora giggle at the expressions on their faces. The two hobbits finally noticed the others: Sam and Melinora. Brandybuck narrowed his already keen eyes, scrutinizing the young hobbitess. "Frodo," he whispered. "Who is this?" "Melinora Farrow," Melinora answered instead of Baggins. "Meli... What?" "Melinora." Melinora's eyes stared directly at the hobbit, as if daring him to say something else. Merry simply remained silent, deciding to hold his tongue for now. "Melin," Peregrin said unexpectedly, smiling at the young hobbitess, "That's a very lovely name. I'm Peregrin Took, or just Pippin. And this is..." He gestured vaguely towards the sulking Meriadoc. "...Meriadoc Brandybuck. Merry. He's my cousin and my best friend." Melinora beamed, hearing the new names. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, extending her hand for a handshake. Merry cast a sly glance at Farrow's hand but immediately received a smack on the back of the head from the younger hobbit. Grimacing dramatically, he nonetheless shook Melinora's hand. Peregrin did the same. Sam, meanwhile, stood awkwardly beside them, his hands clasped. "Guys?" Gamgee timidly called out to the hobbits. "Perhaps we should continue on our way?" Frodo looked at Sam, nodded, and replied, "It's time to go."

***

It turned out to be quite awkward that after Baggins' words, they had to turn back because of the Nazgûl, who almost caught the five hobbits. Frodo walked quietly with the others, staying close to them. In slight nervousness, he checked his pocket. "The Ring is there," a thought flashed, bringing a sense of relief. And that only lasted for a couple of minutes, after which he repeated it again and again. Because of this, he didn't realize how the surroundings had changed. The forest was thinning... The first houses were visible... And that persistent smell of food and smoke filled his nostrils... "Bree," Baggins said aloud, looking ahead at the new place, populated by people tall for them. Someone was rushing somewhere, someone was doing something... People had a much more limited amount of time. And if Frodo was 33, for humans that was already an advanced age, when a person gradually, slowly transitions into old age. That's why there was such a stark difference: people his age already had such weathered faces, while for hobbits, it was just exiting adolescence. Frodo looked around, noticing a familiar inscription on the sign of an inn. "'The Prancing Pony'?" Melinora squinted at the sign. "Sounds... friendly." Merry next to her snorted. "The main thing is that the beer is good." Pippin nudged Brandybuck, smiling. Sam looked around. "Are you sure this is it, Mr. Baggins?" Frodo merely nodded meekly to Samwise, reaching for the doorknob and opening it carefully. He went in first, followed by the other hobbits. Almost immediately, the gazes of the people present fell upon them, who began to whisper and smirk. Hiding under their cloaks, they approached the counter together (even tightly huddled) and, pressing the bell, Baggins waited for a response. After a couple of seconds, the tall figure of the innkeeper, Barliman Butterbur, appeared. He looked around, at first not noticing the hobbits, then lowered his gaze. He smiled warmly at them. "Young hobbits!" he greeted them amiably, his gaze settling on Frodo. "May I inquire who you are?" "I am..." Frodo paused for a moment. "...Underhill." "Underhill?" Barliman repeated, nodding with interest. "Why have you come here, Mr. Underhill?" "I am a friend of Gandalf the Grey," the hobbit replied immediately. "Do you know him?" Silence fell. Butterbur looked at Frodo as if trying to read his intentions, but in the end, he simply smiled a little wider. "Oh, Gandalf!" he recalled with warmth. "He did leave a letter, didn't he? Said it was for hobbits who would soon arrive." He handed the letter to Frodo, who looked puzzled. "He left a letter," the innkeeper's phrase echoed in Baggins' mind once more. Wasn't he supposed to be expecting them here? Strange. Meanwhile, the other hobbits had taken seats at the tables, chatting casually. Frodo returned to them, sitting down. His gaze accidentally fell on a strange man at a far table. Something about him bothered him... But he didn't know what exactly. Did he seem familiar? Perhaps. The Nazgûl looked almost the same, but he was still different from them. He managed to catch a passing worker, asking who that might be. He was given an unclear answer, calling him Strider... ... Frodo didn't even understand how he managed to do it. He simply revealed the secret that he had the Ring! A shameful situation. The Strider saw this, practically realizing the secret of the Ring, which was in the hobbit's hands. While Frodo's friends started looking for him, puzzled by his disappearance... The Strider stepped in. He caught the fleeing Frodo, quickly dragging him into a room. "Where did you get that Ring?" demanded the ranger from beneath his hood, making Frodo tense up. But then, he threw off his hood, revealing his face to Frodo. However, Baggins decided to remain silent for his own safety. The Strider sighed heavily, softening his tone. "I know Gandalf," he assured the hobbit. "And I know your real name and your purpose. I want to help you reach Rivendell safely." This surprised Frodo, but he decided to trust him. At that very moment, the other hobbits burst in, ready to defend their friend, brandishing everything they could. "Let him go, Strider!" exclaimed Melinora, waving a half-empty mug. "Strider," he repeated, smirking as if amused by the nickname. "I am Aragorn. Pleased to meet you. All of you." This puzzled the other hobbits as well, hearing the ranger's sudden confession... "Aragorn," Frodo repeated, remembering the name from the letter, grabbing the paper and rereading it. Yes. Gandalf had written that he should trust Aragorn, no matter how strange he seemed. The others cautiously lowered their hands, trying to understand what was happening. Baggins looked back at them. "We need to trust him," he said firmly. Melinora was the first to trust Frodo's words. The others, with some skepticism, but still trusted this Strider based on their friend's words.

***

After the Nazgûl's attempt to kill them in their sleep, they tried to fall asleep. Sam, Merry, and Pippin were out almost immediately. However, Melinora and Frodo... Lying quietly in the night's silence, they looked into each other's eyes. The faint moonlight illuminated them, allowing them to study each other's faces with tenderness. Something stirred in their hearts, but they couldn't voice it. Melinora softened her already gentle features, touching his face with her palm. Frodo leaned into the touch. "Frodo," she whispered. "Melinora," he said almost immediately. They simply fell silent. After that, a silly smile played on their faces. In the best possible way. "Frodo," Farrow whispered again. "With you, I'm not so scared. You've done something to me, do you understand?" Frodo just kept smiling, saying softly: "I understand." Melinora gazed into his blue eyes. It was a sea in which she would want to drown, like a gentle pebble striving to become one with the ocean. Just to be there always. She leaned forward, leaving a kiss on his cheek, then hugged him to fall asleep. Frodo froze, then hugged her tightly. Something more ignited in their hearts, especially from that gentle, tingling kiss on the cheek. Meanwhile, Aragorn watched them from the window, smiling faintly at this display of emotion, then returned his keen gaze to the window, watching the angry Nazgûl, who were quickly riding away from Bree on their horses, having failed to find the Ring and especially the culprit who had brazenly taken the ring of their great Maia Sauron.

***

"And only by sinking into a gentle sleep, they prepared for greater trials, hoping that this would not be the last night in each other's arms..."