The Beginnings Of A Fellowship
Heavy rain and thick mist fell upon the town of Bree in the dead of night. Drunkards roamed the flooded streets, slick with mud and whatever else the horses may have left. Singing and cheering erupted from the town’s largest inn, ‘The Prancing Pony’, as many men sought refuge from the pouring wet outside and enjoy some hot food and a pint of ale.
The inn’s interior was entirely made from hard wood, with polished oak tables and chairs. It was surprisingly well looked after seeing as how it was regularly attended by flocks of men on the common stormy nights Bree suffered. Though in the midst of all the commotion four individuals stood out from the usual crowd, however not in the way you would think. Rather than being bold, thick muscled warriors, or ‘Rangers’ from the wild, they were four young hobbits sitting around a table only just short enough for them to reach.
Hobbits were amazing creatures, as one wise man said. They were like men in every way but shorter size and had much bigger feet. And much bigger appetites. And a greater fondness of pipeweed, and a love of growing all things natural, as well as them being accustomed to living in holes in the ground. Not nasty, dirty, wet holes, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet dry, bare, sandy holes with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: they were hobbit-holes, and that means comfort. The doors were perfectly round with shiny brass knobs in the centre, each painted a variety of colours, all different from the next. Comfy furniture, cosy rooms and a meal to be expected whenever daylight shines are only the basics to be found when one ends up visiting a hobbit.
These types of homes are where our four friends live, or at least they did until they set out on their task to meet their friend Gandalf, whom had set out on a different task quite a few days earlier, in that very inn. He however had not returned to The Prancing Pony, and Frodo, one of the hobbits, grew worried.
A dark, cloaked figure sat hunched in a corner watched Frodo intently, his hazel eyes only appearing when the embers of his pipe shone with his every puff. The hobbit knew not whether he should fear this man, or simply deem him a guardian after Barliman Butterbur, the owner of the establishment, told him the man was off an odd sort. “He’s one of them Rangers. Dangerous folk they are, wandering the wilds.” he had said describing the rumours, “What his right name is I’ve never ‘eard but round her he’s known as Strider.”
Frodo Baggins, you could say, was the ringleader of the foursome. And there is no pun intended there for he carried a great burden, a Ring of Power, but we’ll get to that later. Samwise Gamgee was next. Frodo’s gardens would not nearly be as attractive if it were not from Sam. Some hobbits claimed he’s the best gardener in The Shire(the hobbit’s homeland) and they would not be far off. Sam was also a very close friend of Frodo and if it were not for his curiosity for the well-being for Frodo, he would not have been caught eavesdropping by Gandalf, and in turn not been sent on this quest.
Meriadoc Brandybuck, or Merry, sat opposite Sam, admiring his recently bought prize: A pint. As I have said hobbits are nearly half the size of men so keep in mind a pint to them is like a jug to us. Merry was Frodo’s cousin, friend, and the closest person you could call a navigator on their journey. He had a fondness of maps you see. Merry lead the group through The Old Forest, where they met a rather colourful individual and then onto the Buckleberry Ferry so they could cross to Bree and escape their foes, who’ll I’m sure we’ll meet rather soon.
The last of our group, and the youngest, was called Peregrin Took, Pippin for short. Pippin was currently at the bar seeking a pint after becoming jealous at the sight of his friend’s. Pippin was a young hobbit and a little foolish as we’ll see later on, but honest and kind at heart. Merry and Pippin shared perhaps the greatest bonds of friendship in the entire Shire, doing everything together whether it was simple practical jokes or daily chores.
Pippin was also supposed to be keeping Frodo’s identity a secret, calling him ‘Underhill’ rather than ‘Baggins’, however after a couple of drinks and a short talk with one of the many suspiciously curious customers of the bar Pippin announced the name “Baggins!” at the top of his voice and how he was Frodo’s 2nd cousin “twice removed on his mothers side”, enjoying the attention he was getting.
Strider suddenly leaned forward as Frodo sprinted from his chair to shut Pippin up who was endangering the whole mission. Frodo pulled his cousin’s arm however a soggy leather boot tripped him and he fell backwards, flinging a golden ring of pure evil into the air. This was The One Ring, a ring that could bend the wills of elves, men and dwarves alike to the malice of the Dark Lord Sauron whom lingered in a black, dead place named Mordor. As it flipped through the air every patron turned to see the disturbance, and shock filled their faces. For when the Ring fell back down Frodo had caught it on his finger, causing him to wear it, and the dark power resulted in the hobbit completely vanishing out of all sight!
Everyone, including Strider and the other hobbits, were stirred by this event. They looked for a while but before long they returned to their drinks, posing it as a drunken vision. Samwise searched for his friend after Frodo had not returned but could not find any trail of him, until he realised Strider was missing too. Sam rushed through the Prancing Pony’s corridors pursued by Merry and Pippin, following faint footprints of mud leading into a secluded room towards the back end of the establishment. Picking up anything that was hard enough to hurt the big folk the three burst into the room and found their friend.
“Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!” Shouted Sam as he threatened to fight the Ranger’s sword with his bare fists.
Strider grinned at the small folk’s bravery and sheathed his sword. “You have a stout heart, little Hobbit, but that alone won't save you.” He said to Sam, and then added “You can no longer wait for the Wizard, Frodo. They're coming.”
Frodo knew of what Strider spoke off. Nazgul, Ringwraiths, the servants of the Dark Lord whom were neither living nor dead. They had encountered them earlier in their journeys, in the wild, and had narrowly escaped them.
Hard thumps of feet sounded from the other side of the door. Frodo feared the enemy was nearer than they first thought and Strider was ready to defend them from whatever foe he was to face, though he couldn’t hide the doubt in his eyes. He knew to that this enemy was too powerful to fight alone, but the stubborn bravery within him forced him to stand his ground.
The steps grew closer, and to Frodo’s surprised they sounded more like hooves than the hard, steel cracks of Sauron’s servants. Within seconds the door flew open, smashing against the pale wall with a hard crash. Rather than a deathly creature hooded in black there stood a pony of which the hobbits had never seen before. From its features they figured she was a mare however what really surprised them was the rainbow coloured mane and tail growing out of her cyan coat.
Strider sheathed his sword once again and crouched to meet the pony’s height.
“What are you doing here? Have you been seen?” Strider asked in an outburst of worried questions.
The mare stood proud and rather… smug you could say, but not in a bad way. She was clearly not as concerned as she should have been, but her news bore great dread.
“I’m fine.” she said, gently pushing Striders muddy, smelly leather outfit away from her. Not that she was afraid of a bit of dirt; she just avoided it if she could. “All of us are, it’s just… well…” The blue pony seemed a bit embarrassed and reluctant to share her news, but Strider soon got it out of her.
“The black riders saw Pinkie.” She said gravely, scratching her head with a hoof. Then out of nowhere her face shone again. “If it wasn’t for my awesome speed we wouldn’t have gotten away! You should have seen it! I was flying all around the riders, dodging their sharp thingies and totally confusing them! It’s safe to say if I saved my friends, once again!”
Strider shook his head at the pony’s boasting, tired of her tale. “Then why the grave news Dash?” He said sharply, hoping to escape more stories of her exploits.
In the meantime Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin stood in the background completely bewildered at the sight of a talking pony. They had no time or breath for questions however, as the next bit of news was indeed unnerving. It turned out that even though the others had escaped, thanks to Dash’s quick thinking, they had pursued Dash through the forest, somehow keeping up with her speed. “I was followed” she had said, and Frodo’s eyes widened with absolute fear.
“Quick!” Strider yelled, flinging his soaking hood back onto his long, brown hair “They will come sooner and with greater haste! Follow me!”
The four hobbits and the pony all rushed away with Strider into the dark alleyways of Bree, on the other end of town from The Prancing Pony. He had covered Rainbow Dash, a fitting name for her appearance, with a damp brown cloak conceal her from standing out in the darkness. Strider knew the area around Bree like the back of his hand, so finding the closest exit to Bree was no hard task, but getting out unseen was.
“Sauron and his riders have many spies.” whispered Strider after halting the group at the end of the alleyway. He scanned the rooftops around them and said “We cross the open street two at a time, with speed. I and Dash first.” Without another word he held the pony in one arm and sped across the open road managing to evade any evil eyes. The ranger was no higher than six feet; however the pony’s height, like the rest of her, was not like any other normal equine, barely surpassing Strider’s waist.
Next came Merry and Pippin. They had just about reached the alley before Pippin slipped on the mud and fell face first into a stream, soaking him to the bone in sludge. Merry rushed back to his best friend and dragged him through more sludge order to quickly reach their concealment as Pippin tried to pick himself up however the ground was far too slippery.
A terrifying screech rattled throughout Bree, sending its populace into complete hiding. The front gate crashed down, crushing the gate-master, and in rode five Ringwraiths on their cursed, black steeds. Merry and Pippin had only just reached Strider before the riders galloped down the main road towards The Prancing Pony, the rest of the group watching as they passed by at the end of the street. The remaining hobbits took this chance to run across and re-join their companions, thinking the riders had missed them. This was not the case. Sam had pushed Frodo forward into Merry’s arms, however this meant Sam was now alone in the street. He had just about made it when a similar screech occurred from his left, and when he look dread filled his body.
The figure of a rider in black loomed at the street’s end, searching for the noise he had heard. Sam’s bags were clinging and clanging from the pots and pans he carried for the hobbits many meals as he ran, and that was a sound they could do without. The Nazgul had not seen the group yet, but that did not stray his search.
Strider drew his sword silently and gathered the group behind him as he did earlier in the inn. They slowly crept backwards, Rainbow Dash acting as lookout for when they reach the end. The hobbits’ hearts beat like the fierce thump of a war drum, longing to escape. The alley was dark enough for Strider to hide his sword behind his back and not be revealed by its glint, so that if the rider was to inspect the alley they would have a greater chance of being looked over.
“We’re near the gate.” Dash said quietly “What now?”
Strider made the group wait for a couple of minutes to be sure they were safe. Once he had deemed them free from harm after the rider failed to pass by he turned and scanned the gate Rainbow Dash spoke of. Nothing but the silent air lingered around the rotten doorway for the rain had stopped and left an even thicker layer of grey mist to ensnare the terrified town.
Just as he stepped out to make for the exit the shrill scream sounded a third time. This time the source was The Prancing Pony behind them, and not soon after the sound of hard hooves fled the town, leaving its inhabitants to dwell in terror and confusion.
Frodo sighed in relief, then stood near Strider and asked “What are they?”
“Ghosts!” Replied Rainbow Dash unneeded, even if she was half serious.
“They are not mere ghosts.” Strider said with a grave look. He crouched down, leant against a wall and said “They were once men. Great kings of men. Then Sauron the deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed they took them without question, one by one falling to darkness. Now they are slaves to his will.” Everyone grew uncomfortable at the thought. “They are the Nazgul,” he continued “Ringwraiths; neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One.” Strider now stared at Frodo with raised eyebrows and concern. “They will never stop hunting you.”
“Now there’s a sight I thought I’d never see!” Said Sam, absolutely bemused. “Six coloured, talking ponies!”
About twenty five miles north-east of Bree the party entered Chetwood, a fair forest outlying the dank Midgewater Marshes. Not many men lived within the forest for dark creatures made their homes within hidden caves or deep holes in the sea of leaves. Here Strider had rested the group for breakfast, which in the end left the hobbits unsatisfied and craving another meal. Although before they could pack again a group of friends, even Strider hadn’t expected to see so soon, appeared from behind the thin trees of Chetwood.
“Aragorn!” One pony yelled in excitement. A mulberry pony with a sapphire blue mane and tail that had streaks of violet and rose revealed herself as she leapt from behind a blueberry bush, sending a hail of berries towards the hobbits.
Aragorn of course was Strider’s real name, and even an experienced Dúnedain ranger such as himself jumped at the sound of his acquaintance.
“Twilight Sparkle?” he said, though not with much joy. “I told you to remain at Weathertop!”
Twilight’s ears dropped her head fell in shame. “We couldn’t stand the thought of anypony being hurt!” she claimed in defence “So we had to come looking for you!”
Aragorn rolled his eyes and nodded, agreeing with her. “Thank you Twilight, however me and my friends here need no aid on these paths. I know them well.”
“Well?” Said another pony, this one light grey with a much styled indigo mane and three diamond markings on her flank. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Taking a deep breath in annoyance Aragorn announced his companions, pointing to each as he named them. “These hobbits are Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin. The ponies are Tw-”
Suddenly a pink pony with a crazed mane jumped forward and galloped towards Pippin.
“Oohh Pippin’s a funny name! Hiya Pip! Pippipin! Pinippi!” She giggled at herself for making her ridiculous abbreviations. Pippin just stood there wondering where she got the last two from.
“Anywhosles my name’s Pinkie Pie, master of parties and lord of fun!” she said, making fun of the titles in Middle-Earth that she hardly understood.
“H-hello… Pinkie?” Pippin said, taking a glance at Merry who was also quite scared.
Aragorn hushed Pinkie and carried on with his introductions. “These ponies are called Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, and as you already know: Pinkie-” he bit his tongue, then finally said with a sigh “Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash.”
Everyone said hello, though the ponies were much more open than the hobbits. They soon made friends however, notably Pinkie and Applejack with Pippin and Sam. After some talk of pranks Pippin found he had quite a bit in common with the party pony, with their childish personalities. Sam and Applejack on the other hand shared a strong interest of growing things and gardening, to a point. Plus Sam was the closest thing to a cook and farmer out of the group, so he and Applejack got on swimmingly.
The other four found it difficult to get on with the rest since Frodo and Merry were not the most open of hobbits, especially with the burden Frodo bore. Every now and again the Ring would call out to Frodo, trying to persuade him to give himself up to the enemy or simply wear the Ring, all of which Frodo resisted. This gave him reason not to bother with the new acquaintances.
Aragorn had known of this pony-kind for many years now. The Dúnedain and the elves of Lothlorien both knew the ponies well, for in the scattered forests of the elves and men were where the ponies lived, setting up communities and existing in secret ever since they had come from the West through Fangorn Forest. Back in their land, in Equestria, Fangorn Forest was actually named Everfree Forest, a rather contradicting title since you were never free in that forest. It would catch you lost and never let you go, entangling you in the twisted, dead trees. For the few ponies who managed to escape, though few means hundreds in their case, they escaped not back into their homeland but into Middle Earth. It was Sauron’s dark magic which kept them there, and until he was defeated the ponies had no way of returning.
“You will speak of them to no one, understand?” Aragorn warned the hobbits, wishing to keep them as much a secret as he could. “Whether they will be revealed to the rest of Middle Earth is yet to be seen, but for now you mustn’t reveal their existence.”
Frodo stepped forward, watching Twilight as she muttered something to her friends. “You have our word, Aragorn. But do we tell them of our quest?”
The hardened ranger contemplated this question, wondering if the ponies really posed a danger. After some thought he concluded “It is up to you, Mr Baggins.”
Though Frodo was not satisfied he nodded and walked away to help clear up the camp. Twilight watched as the hobbits carried their packs without ease on their backs, so she volunteered her and her friends to bear them. Now Twilight, Applejack, Pinkie and Fluttershy wore the laden packs, while Rarity refused to “become a pack mule” and Rainbow Dash claimed there were four packs for four ponies. The hobbits gave thanks regardless and followed Aragorn into the woods, their minds nearly breaking down, filled with a million thoughts of what happened, where they are and what’s to come.
