Strider

Strider in Prancing Pony

The ranger lounged. The inn at Bree
Had seen few stranger folk than he.
In a dark corner of the inn
He surveyed all the comers-in
And watched them with a practiced eye
As into separate groups they ply
Fresh ale with friends. No friends had he –
The ranger visiting at Bree.

The ranger rests. He’d traveled far
By day, by night, by wandering star
Through tundra in the frozen north
He’d been, where cold winds sweeping forth
Freeze bones to ice. In lands far south –
South past the Anduin’s river mouth
He’d been deep into far Harad
And many adventures there he’d had.
Through myriad dangers this man came –
Yet none in Bree even knew his name.

The ranger’s alert glance then saw
Four hobbits enter by the door
And debouch to the common room.
He watched them carefully through the gloom.
These were the ones! He shakes his head.
Without his help they’d soon be dead!
Did not these fools Black Riders see
Hot on their tracks? And that in Bree
Would no protection from such find?
The ranger searched his cunning mind
To think what stratagem were best
To save his four unwitting guests.

The hobbits laughed, told tales and sang
With gusto! On the tables clang
The cutlery. The folk at Bree
Join in their mirth delightedly
At Pippin’s antics. That young fool!
Then Frodo clambered up a stool
To take his turn, and sang and leapt
Until misjudging, down he slipped
And disappeared! Bill Ferny stood,
Upon his features drew his hood
To hide his spiteful, ugly face
Making quick shift to leave the place.

The patrons gasp as round they stare.
Frodo the hobbit is not there!
Across the room he reappears.
He’s a magician! Patrons’ fears
Raise murmurs loud. The ranger sighs.
Why did he that? All patron’s eyes
Grew wary, hard. The ranger paid.
‘Tis time to lend hobbits his aid.

The ranger close to Frodo hied
And spoke to him this short aside:
“You’ve done enough, dear Underhill.
Your friends should leave this room until
Tomorrow. And to you some words
I wish to speak you afterwards.”
A dismayed Frodo left. Behind
All patrons loudly speak their mind
Decrying magic tricks! Not strange –
The men of Bree will never change.
The ranger muses as he stands
To carry out Gandalf’s commands:
To rescue Frodo from all strife,
To guide him through dangers to life
And bring him straight to Rivendell
Where Elrond and the wood-elves dwell.
As long as life lasts, while draws breath
These hobbits ward unto the death!


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