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So Lost, Too Far From Home	By : MLPREBLE Category: BtVS Crossovers > Misc - General Views: 2122 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Three
“Black Riders and Beer”

            The seven travelers entered the village of Bree.
            The village gates were shut behind them.
            The rain poured down, relentless, and feet searched for purchase in the thick mud.
            The four hobbits looked around wide-eyed at this world of giants they suddenly found
themselves in. Men, and horses, and wagons. The hobbits tried their best not to get trampled.
More than once one of them had to scramble quickly as men nearly walked over them, hardly
even noticing the smaller people were there.
            Buffy and Dawn were nearly as wide-eyed. This was so far from home.
            Spike stopped them as they had nearly reached the inn.
            “Frodo,” said Spike quietly, as he kneeled down in front of the small hobbit. “When we
go in here there’s a few things I’d like you to keep in mind. I want you to remember that there
are people looking for you. People wanting to take what you have and sod the world along with
it. From what the gatekeeper said, and what I’ve understood listening to you and your pals these
past few days, four hobbits on the road isn’t bloody on. on. Given the shitty combination of
those two facts chances are there a few people here who already know what you’re up to, and
they’ll be precisely the kind of people we wouldn’t want to know. By all rights we shouldn’t be
here. We should have skirted by this town, keeping as deep in the forest as we could go, and just
kept going. But given that this pub is where Gandalf said he’d meet you that isn’t exactly an
option.”
            Frodo looked up at the vampire with wide eyes from beneath the hood of his cloak. His
damp hair was nearly flattened against his brow and rainwater poured down over is face. One of
Frodo’s hands absently fisted at the front of the cloak high up on his chest.
            Still kneeling, Spike shifted himself slightly. “So before we go on there’s a few things
I’m going to have to insist on. One, forget your name. Sauron is looking is looking for Frodo
Baggins. That may not bloody matter. We’re probably screwed either way, but we’re not gonna
take any chances.”
            “Gandalf told me to travel under the name Underhill,” Frodo told the vampire nervously.
            “Okay then,” Spike said a little less harshly. “Your name is Mister Underhill, and it’s
never been anything else.” Spike let his glare pass over Sam, Merry and Pippin as well. “That
goes for all of you. Be quiet. Be invisible. Say nothing that you don’t have to. And if you do
happen to open your mouth and say something . . . you don’t know any Frodo Baggins. You’ve
never fuckin’ heard of ‘im. Every single word that comes out of your mouths is a risk to our
lives. Remember that. This isn’t a place we wanna be.”
            Buffy was standing just behind Spike. She was damp and hugging herself. She smiled
encouragingly at the obviously frightened hobbits as rain ran down her face and dripped from her
hair. “Spike’s right. Just be careful and you’ll be fine.”

* * * * * * *
    &#       As they entered the Prancing Pony, Frodo pulled back the hood of his cloak. The room
was lit by firelight, torches hanging here and there along the walls. Men, laughing over tankards
of ale. Dark threatening faces cast in shadows. A man brushed by Frodo on his way to the door,
hardly even noticing he was there, masking Frodo feel even smaller.
            Buffy sighed and squeezed the rainwater out of her hair. “Oh, God, is it good to be in out
of the rain!”
            Dawn was beside her, shaking the rainwater from Spike’s coat. “I think there’s goldfish
swimming around in my shoes.”
       㺼&60;   Pippin chuckled to himself and shook his head. Spike gave the two girls an odd look.
            Feeling small, Frodo walked up to the counter. The counter was taller than he was.
“Excuse me?”
            A fat innkeeper at leaned over the counter so he could see Frodo. “Good evening, little
masters! If you’re looking for accommodation we’ve got some nice, cozy, hobbit-sized rooms
available.” Tnnkennkeeper noticed Buffy, Dawn and Spike were standing among the hobbits. “I
believe we also have some rooms available that would suit your friends, Mr. uh . . .”
            “Underhill,” Frodo said almost a little too quickly. “My name’s Underhill.”
            The innkeeper smiled. “Underhill.”
            “We’re friends of Gandalf the Gray. Can you tell him we’ve arrived?”
            “Gandalf?” A perplexed looked crossed the innkeeper’s face. “Gandalf? Ohhh, yes! I
remember, elderly chap, gray beard, big pointy hat.” The innkeeper hesitated and then frowned.
“I haven’t seen him in six months.”
            Shock passed across Frodo’s face that was mirrored on the faces of Sam, Merry and
Pippin as well.
            Dawn leaned a little bit closer to Spike. In a soft voice, “What are we going to do now?”
            Spike shook his head. Quietly, “I don’t know, Bitlet. I just don’t know.”

* * * * * * *
            Merry and Pippin sat with Dawn at a table in one corner of the torch-lit pub. They were
laughing. Small glasses full of amber liquid sat in front of each of them.
            A short distance away, Buffy and Spike sat at another table with Frodo and Sam.
            Dawn was smiling, but as she looked across the table at Merry and Pippin a hint of worry
crept across her face. “What do we do if your wizard friend doesn’t show up?”
            Merry frowned at the question. “If Gandalf said he was going to be here he’ll be here.”

* * * * * * *
            Buffy frowned, “I just don’t think Dawn should be drinking.”
            “Buffy,” Spike was shaking his head, “this isn’t exactly the kinda place where you could
expect to find anything else . . . and I wouldn’t trust it with Dawn if they had. A few drinks ain’t
gonna hurt her, as long as we don’t let her go overboard.”
            Buffy sighed. “I kno82218221; She ran her fingers back through her damp hair and looked
down into the glass in her small hands. “I just worry about her is all. I know I shouldn’t.” She
looked at the other table, cocking her head slightly. Firelight reflected off dark, shiny eyes and a
faint smile. “She’s remarkable. But she’s still my little sister,” she said, just a little sadly. “Still
the little girl who cried in my arms after my mom died. Still the girl who stole all the clothes, so
Barbie and Ken had to go to their wedding naked. And she’s still the same girl that I’d find
sleeping in your crypt sometimes, ‘cause it was the one place in the world she felt safe.
    0;�       She lowered her eyes briefly, “Even if she’ll never be that again . . .”

* * * * * * *

            Merry sat back down at the table. He was holding a huge stein of beer, which he sat
down on the table and looked at reverently.
            Pippin’s eyes widened, “What’s that?”
            “This, my friend, is a pint.”
            Amazed, “It comes in pints?” Pippin nearly jumped up from his seat, “I’m getting one.”
            “You had a whole half already,” Sam called as Pippin ran past the other table.
            As Pippin ran off Merry and Dawn shared a silenok aok and suddenly Dawn was
consumed by a fit of uncontrolled giggling. Merry started to look concerned when nearly thirty
seconds later she was still going. “I’m . . . sorry . . . I . . .” Dawn was trying to talk around her
giggling. “I think . . . I think I had too much.” She was giggling so bad she bent over and nearly
fell off her chair. Her forehead hit the table with a loud thud. “Ow!”
            Dawn finally sat up. “No more beer for Summers,” gesturing with one hand. “I’m cutting
myself off.” She giggled at herself briefly. “Oh my God,” said Dawn, still laughing and wiping
at the tears running down her cheeks, “I make Buffy look like a heavyweight.”

* * * * * * *
            Sam looked down into his mug. He looked back up briefly and nudged Frodo beneath the
table and gestured quietly at the far corner of the room. There was a figure in the dark there,
nearly hidden in the corner where the torchlight didn’t quite reach. The man was wearing a dark
cloak. He was smoking a pipe, and his face was nearly invisible beneath the hood. He took a
draw off the pipe, the cinders brightening almost enough to reveal the shape of his face.
            Sam, “That fellow’s done nothing but stare at us since we arrived.”
            Spike sighed. “There isn’t much that can be done about it. All we can do is watch
ourselves and be careful.”
            Buffy turned and looked as well, her drying blonde hair shifting freely as she turned her
head.
            Frodo stopped the innkeeper as he was walking by. “Excuse me,” he said. “That man in
the corner . . . who is he?”
            The innkeeper swallowed. “He’s one of them rangers. Dangerous folk they are . . .
wandering the wilds. What his right name is I’ve never heard, but ‘round here . . . the people call
‘im Strider.”
            “Strider,” Frodo repeated to himself.
            Buffy grinned and nudged the man sitting beside her. “Isn’t much better than Spike, is
it?!”
            Spike smiled at her briefly. “Shut up.”
            Frodo was absently playing with the ring beneath the table, touching it, rolling it between
his fingers. The air suddenly began to feel heavy around him.
            Baggins. Baggins. Baggins. Baggins. A soft voice whispered the name over and over in
his mind.
            Spike stopped and looked at Frodo sharply. “Put that away! I don’t want to see that
bloody thing out in public again.”
            Frodo’s fist tightened around the ring.
            Spike turned away, bring one hand up against his forehead, elbow on the table. His
thumb was rubbing at his brow as if in the hope of warding off a headache. The room suddenly
seemed way too loud. Deep breaths came in and out of him.
        #160#160;  “Baggins,” Spike suddenly looked up sharply as his sharp ears caught a name spoken
aloud over at the bar. Pippin stood there over beside the bar among a group of men who were
looking down at the small hobbit expectantly. Spike grit his teeth.
            “I’ve heard the name, of course,” Pippin told the men as he reached up and lifted his stein
from the bar. “I don’t know any Baggins personally. There’s some that live up in Hobbiton . . .
but I’ve never met them. The Sackville-Baggins are another story, and I wish I could be so
fortunate . . .”
            Frodo’s eyes were on the bar as well. He started to get up. Spike gripped the hobbit by
the shoulder. “Pippin did as well as he bloody could. Better than I would have expected. No use
drawing attention to yourself now. It’s already bad enough.”
            “And a good evening to you, sirs.” Pippin finally said as he left the bar and made his way
back toward his table. He stopped beside Spike and Buffy. A quiet voice,as nas not to be
overheard, “Some of the men were asking after Frodo at the bar.”
            Spike nodded. “I heard. I think it’s time enough we went back to our rooms and figure
out what we’re gonna do from there.”
            “Whatever it is we better think of it quick,” Buffy said as she got up, her scythe held in
one hand at her side. “Spike was right, what he said outside. This isn’t a place we want to be.”
            When Spike looked at the corner of the room a few moments later he saw that the man
Frodo and Sam had been watching earlier was gone.

* * * * * * *
            Frodo pushed the door open as he walked into the room and threw his cloak aside. The
room was dim with flickering torchlight. A noise escaped him as someone stepped out from
behind the door and grabbed him from behind.
            “You were careful,” a harsh voice said in his ear. The man released him and pushed him
further into the room. “But you still draw far too much attention, Mr. Underhill!”
            Frodo quickly found his feet and looked up at the man. Strider stood between Frodo and
the door.
            “What do you want?”
            “A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry.”
            “I carry nothing!”
            “Indeed,” Strider raised an eyebrow. “That is not what some of the men down in the
tavern are saying. Travelers have been coming in and out of this town the few few days, looking
for hobbits strange enough to be out on the road. There are people looking for you.”
            Frodo stared up at the man. “Who are you?”
            “Are you frightened?”
            Frodo answered breathlessly, “Yes.”
            “Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you.”
            Suddenly Strider was grabbed from behind and thrown against the wall. One of Spike’s
arms was pressed against his throat.
            Buffy was looking at the man over Spike’s shoulder, her scythe held carelessly in her
hands. “Let him go, Spike,” she said quietly.
            Pressing Strider back against the wall, Spike’s eyes began to turn an amber color.
Strider’s eyes widened the moment before Spike tossed him to the floor. Strider looked up at
Frodo. “You let this fell creature close to the ring. Are you mad?”
            Frodo looked up at the vampire quietly before looking back at the man as he was getting
to his feet. “Spike is bound to me. He and Buffy saved us from a Black Rider that fell upon me
and my kinsmen as we left the Shire. It is only because of him that the ring is still in my hands.
They killed it and saved our lives.”
            Strider shook his head. “No man can kill a Nazgûl. It’s not possible.”
            Frodo frowned briefly. “Perhaps not. Maybe Buffy didn’t kill it. I felt something go past
me as it died. I don’t know what it was. It was cold. Bitter.” Frodo swallowed. His eyes were
distant. “Like the memory a nightmare when you first wake up. And maybe like a bad dream it
will eventually rise up in a different form. I don’t know much about such things. Perhaps it’s
possible. But make no mistake, she did strike it down.”
            Strider looked at Spike and Buffy. Spike looking silently hostile. Buffy was a small girl
standing quietly beside him, still carelessly holding her scythe. Back near the door to the room
Dawn was there, back against the wall, trying to stay out of the way, with Sam, Merry and Pippin
beside her. His eyes finally came back to Frodo. “You have strong companions, little hobbit,
and a stout heart, but even that may not save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo.
They’re coming.”
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So Lost, Too Far From Home