Ch3
“Oh my goodness!” cried Merry, suddenly sitting up. “I completely forgot! Sam and Pippin, where are they?” He jumped off the bed and ran to get his jacket. He glance at the wall clock as he ran past and with mounting horror realized it had been over two hours since he had last spoken to Pippin and Sam.
“Oh no! Why aren’t they back? Do you think they got lost looking for a place to get something for Pippin’s headache?” Frodo stood, too. “I mean, nothing could’ve happened, could it?” He rushed after Merry as they turned around the corner. Frodo quickly turned and closed the door behind him locking it with a snap.
“Sam, maybe we should just head back,” wondered Pippin.
“No,” Sam replied. “I want to find something for your aches. We haven’t been out that long yet.”
They had been unfortunate enough to begin their search at the closing time of most of the shops in the small town. The friends had been wandering around the cobblestone pathways for sometime now looking for a place that could satisfy Pippin’s needs.
“Anyway,” Sam continued matter-of-factly, “I was going to pick up a few vegetable snacks for tomorrow.” He turned around yet another corner and hurried up to a shop owner as he was reaching for the sign hung in the door.
“Excuse us, sir,” Sam called as he rushed over to the hunched old man standing in the frame leading into a dank shop that was dimly lit. “You wouldn’t happen to have a remedy for…”
“No,” rasped the old form, “I’m closing up.” Without another word he slammed the door in the surprised hobbits faces, hitting the lights in the window as he hurried to the back of the run-down mystery shop.
Sam reached for Pippin’s arm to pull him to the next block but Pippin pulled away and steadied himself against the frame of the now-abandoned store.
“Wait, was that…” Pippin mumbled as he stood to face Sam. He looked for a moment over his companion’s shoulder before speaking. “No, Sam, I can wait. If I still have a headache tomorrow we can look more then.” He lifted his eyes to gaze up into the sky. The clouds had returned as evening approached and he knew that they should return to the safety of the inn before darkness crept above the roofs and chimneys of the little village of Bree.
“Okay, we should be heading back anyway,” Sam spoke and jolted Pippin from his examination of the blackening sky.
They turned to head back to the inn, and were hit over the head with something hard. Pain cracked into the back of his skull. Over the ringing in his ears Pippin heard a cackle and as the blackness edged into his mind he thought he saw the bobbing gray hair of the hobbit from the inn. He closed his eyes and with great relief melted into darkness.
“We have to find them before it gets dark,” a frightened Merry said to Frodo who was following his hurried footsteps back into the commotion of the pub.
“You’re very right,” came the startling voice of a stranger as he hurried up to meet the hobbits as the rushed to the exit. He stepped up to block their escape and Merry noticed in awe that the man held a striking resemblance to the unfamiliar person whom Pippin had described.
“And who may you be?” Frodo asked suspiciously, trying to hide the fear that sparkled in his eyes.
“I am Haldamor,” the stranger replied, “and from the looks of it, you may need some help.”
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