Chapter One: Assignment

“Apparently, I’m the wise one here,” Vanessa muttered, draining her glass. “You know what? That’s just sad.” She drew back, concealing her hand beneath her dark, hooded cloak, so that the only part of her visible was a pair of knee-high brown boots.

“I think I liked you better when you were a child,” her companion replied, pushing his black hair behind his ears. His emerald eyes studied Vanessa for a moment. Unlike her, his appearance was not hidden. His gaunt face was pale near to fading, and his simple black and white garb seemed to hide nothing. It was fittingly ironic that of them two of them, she had the most to conceal.

“And why is that?” questioned Vanessa, signaling the bartender for another drink.

“You were much more flammable then,” he answered with a laugh. “Well, any questions before we get down to business?”

“Yes, I do have one,” Vanessa said dryly. “Would you mind telling me why we’re in a strange pub in the middle off nowhere, surrounded by people who are three feet tall?” She looked directly at him, sipping from a mug.

“Would you mind telling me why you’re in disguise?” he shot back. “And the locals are called hobbits.”

“I don’t care what they’re called, they’re still annoying midgets as far as I’m concerned.”

“Still as sarcastic as ever, Vanessa?”

“But not as flammable, apparently,” Vanessa retorted. “What do you mean by that?”

“I never told you that story? Ah, well, there’s too little time to explain it to you now, but I’ll tell it some other time.”

“You’re getting off topic again,” she pointed out. “At this rate, we’ll never be done.”

“I was explaining why we’re here, correct? I’m here under the name Tovin. I’m supposedly an entertainer, and I performed at a well-known hobbit’s birthday party a few years back, in preparation.”

“You’ve been planning this for years?” Vanessa glanced up in surprise. “That’s a bit odd.”

“Now you’re off-topic, Vanessa. And it’s not half so odd as your mission. It concerns two local and very well respected hobbits. My employer wasn’t too specific, but I do know that very soon now, they will be leaving the Shire.”

“So that’s what this country is called,” remarked Vanessa. “Does this have anything to do with Gandalf’s return?”

He nodded, slowly and grimly. “Precisely. Your mission is to follow them, no longer how long or how far, until I give you authorization to strike.”

“I’m an assassin, man, not the sort who integrates themselves into the victim’s inner circle. That takes time, time I can’t afford to waste. It leaves witnesses, whom I would have to kill as well. That in turn leaves more blood on my hands than I would like. Assassins strike swiftly and cleanly, take a precise number of lives, and then vanish. You have the wrong woman.”

“Will this change your mind?” He hefted a large sack of money onto the table. “This is your incentive, to make sure you take the job. I’ll send small amounts along the way, and you’ll get the final payment once you finish.”

“Money won’t work,” Vanessa said firmly. “It’s risky. Far too risky to undertake.”

“You can remain hidden. Watch from the shadows. Keep changing your appearance so you leave no impression. I don’t care what tricks you use, but the fact is that I need you on this job. You’re the best there is.”

“Very flattering, but my answer is still no. No one alive and well trained would take such a dangerous assignment. There’s too much chance of meeting my untimely death.” With that, Vanessa rose from her seat.

“Fine, but I’m telling you, a person could build a reputation on this alone.” In a whisper, he added, “How would you feel knowing that you took out Sauron’s personal enemy?”

“What did you say?” Vanessa asked sharply, turning around and sinking back into her chair. Sauron, leader of all dark forces in Middle-Earth, and the one every respectable criminal dreamed of working for? This was the job of a lifetime. Lowering her voice, she intoned, “Sauron’s personal enemy? This is big.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Sauron’s messenger hired me to find someone for this assassination. The Nazgul can only do so much.”

Vanessa shuddered at the mention of the Ringwraiths’ name. They scared even the most powerful of underworld figures. “So this is a ‘kill him and take his belongings’ kind of deal?”

“Precisely. But wait for my signal. My orders come straight from the top, meaning that if you make one wrong move, you’re dead. Will you take on the task, Vanessa?”

“It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever done. But heck, I’m an assassin. I already live on the edge. I’ll take it.” Vanessa reached out across the table and drew the pouch of money towards her. She plunged it into the folds of her cloak, and then leveled her gaze on him. “What do I need to do?”

He quickly produced a slip of paper and handed it to her. “This the address where you’ll find both of them, as well as their names. Keep close watch on them, and inspect the house if you like. But keep your guard up, because if anyone can detect you, it’s Gandalf. Follow them at all costs. Understood?”

Vanessa gave him a mock salute with her gloved hand. “Yes, sir!” she exclaimed, her voice heavy with sarcasm. Rolling her eyes, she watched him rise and swiftly exit, gone in the blink of an eye. “Good to see you again, old friend.” Curious, Vanessa scanned the paper. The address read:
The Shire, Hobbiton
Bag End
Then she frowned, reading the two printed names:
Samwise Gamgee
Frodo Baggins
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Chapter Two: Investigation

Vanessa strode down the road towards Bag End, thoroughly embarrassed but full of resolve nonetheless. Why this disguise? she wondered. She looked to be about the farthest thing from an assassin at the moment, and that had been her original intent. Her long hair had been dyed blonde with the help of a few odds and ends, and she had made it into tight curls. Painted glass lenses gave her blue eyes, and her complexion had been carefully reddened. Dressed simply but elegantly in a green dress and riding boots, she seemed to be an innocent traveler of some noble blood.

Approaching the house, she did not go to the idyllic, round door, but rather around the side. Vanessa had learned that this Samwise Gamgee was the gardener at Bag End, a well-known hobbit. It had not been hard to gather information about him. She was going first in search of the gardens, where Samwise was sure to be found.

Kneeling down, trimming a hedge, was a very small, rather stout young man. He was humming to himself as he went about his work carefully. He fit the impression Vanessa had formed of hobbits perfectly. They seemed to be a very sheltered people, enjoying life, and, in particular, food, more than most. She could not imagine eating six meals a day.

“Are you Samwise Gamgee?” Vanessa asked softly, so as not to startle him. Looking up, he nearly jumped. He stood up, dropping the shears in a great hurry. Nervously, he swept into a bow.

“Sorry, Miss,” he said hastily. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting. I love my work, and so I was quite absorbed in it.” He looked down at his feet.

Seeking to allay his fears, Vanessa said, “Not at all. In fact, the fault should be mine. I shouldn’t have crept up on you like that.” She smiled gently. “Don’t be nervous. I don’t bite, honest.” This was far kinder than Vanessa was used to being, but she chided herself. Keep your mind focused on your work. Keep the mask on. Hobbits looked like children, and seemed to be just as sensitive, so Vanessa would treat this Samwise like a child.

He relaxed visibly. “Just Sam will do fine, Miss. I don’t know why you should have sought me out, but I’m at your service.”

“Well, then, Sam it is. Now tell me, Sam, you seem to work like a great gardener, and I’ve heard that you are from many. Would you mind showing me a few things? Hobbits are notorious for their love of life, so I thought I could learn from the best.” Vanessa took a step forward and looked at him expectantly.

“Where exactly are you from?” Sam asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

“Bree,” said Vanessa, adding a note of pride to the word as if it explained everything. A blonde woman from Bree? And so delicate-looking? (Note delicate-looking, not delicate.) There was quite a bit to wonder about in that statement, but Vanessa hoped the hobbit didn’t pick up on it. “My name is Estella Gracewell. I’m sorry to be so rude. I should have introduced myself.” Belatedly, she remembered to extend a white-gloved hand. “Where are my manners?”

Luckily, he didn’t seem to spot the flaw in her statement. “No, no, it’s my fault, Miss Gracewell. Gandalf has Mr. Frodo and me suspicious of every passing dust-speck. And I’m a bit busy at the moment, but if you come back in a few days, I’ll be free. Oh, and you’d better ask Mr. Frodo if that’s all right. I work for him, you see.”

Vanessa held back a laugh. In a couple of days, both hobbits would be fleeing, and she, free of this disguise and cloaked once more, would be following them. Banishing the thought, she inquired, “Do I need to give him some kind of warning? Or may I just enter?”

“No, he’s not as excitable as I. Just go on in, Miss. Have a nice day.” He bowed once more before kneeling down again, picking up the shears, and resuming his work. The sound of his humming reached her ears as she turned and headed for the front door.

She hesitated as she reached for the doorknob. This was almost too much of a risk for her. It was like walking into the lion’s den. And who was this mysterious hobbit, this Frodo Baggins? Vanessa suddenly realized that she hadn’t the faintest idea. Sam was one thing; he seemed harmless enough, with all of his naïveté. But what of his master, who was somehow the personal enemy of Sauron? What would he be like, the one who consorted with wizards, and Gandalf, no less? Vanessa found herself suddenly afraid, even though he was just a stupid hobbit.

“For the last time, Lobelia, get out!” The door was flung open, and Vanessa jumped back as an elderly hobbit-woman stumbled out, anger twisting her face. Her features were sharp, and the overall effect was that she looked very much like an enraged fox. “You shan’t have Bag End until I decide to leave it! We’ll discuss this later. Go on, leave!”

The one doing the shouting was a hobbit, who looked about the same age as Sam, and quite a bit thinner. Bright-eyed and thoughtful-looking, he was on the whole intimidating yet friendly all the same. The woman he had called Lobelia sneered at him and darted off down the road, thoroughly disgruntled.

“You shan’t see it until then, either!” he called after her, before turning and spotting Vanessa. A look of surprise crossed his face. “Who are you?

“I might ask the same of you,” she retorted, a bit more sharply than she had meant to. Her act had fallen for just a moment in her astonishment.

“Frodo Baggins,” he answered, looking at her coolly. “I’ve had enough people vex me today. What do you want of me?”

So this was Frodo. Vanessa caught her breath, glancing at him. “Estella Gracewell at your service, sir,” she said, humbling herself for disguise’s sake. “I came hoping that your gardener, Sam, could give me a few lessons, but he said I should seek your permission to return in a few days.”

“You must be the only person within twenty miles who doesn’t know, then. Miss Gracewell, in a few days’ time, I shall be moving to a house at Crickhollow, just beyond Bucklebury. I’m sorry to tell you that both of us will no longer be here. Sam has been absent-minded again.”

“Are you taking Sam along, then? I am sorry to hear that you shall be gone. What was Lobelia’s business here, if I may be so bold?”

“Lobelia is a Sackville-Baggins, in case you knew not. I’ve sold Bag End to her, and she keeps pestering me to leave. And yes, Sam will be accompanying me.”

“I did not mean to pry. I apologize, Master Baggins. I hail from Bree, and so I know little of Hobbiton.”

“Wait just a moment,” said Frodo, as she turned to leave. “A delicate, blonde maiden from Bree? The men of Bree are coarse, dark-haired people. What are you concealing from me?” He looked at her, expecting an answer.

Vanessa had to think quickly. Of course this hobbit would be more astute than Sam. Frodo Baggins had been marked down by Sauron, did he not? Either he stood in the Dark Lord’s way, or he knew too much. What to say to appease his harsh gaze? Vanessa’s mind was racing.

“My mother was from Rohan, sir. ‘Tis not common knowledge, and since I grew up in Bree, I did not stop to think about my own story.” She looked down, making her face into a sorrowful expression, as if she was near tears. “Besides, my mother died when I was but five, sir…” she trailed off and let out a sob.

His expression had melted into one of sympathy. And then, Vanessa remembered what the locals had told her. This Frodo was an orphan. Perfect. All the better for her disguise to fool him. She would be able to play with this, if ever she needed to again. For all she knew, he might be headed for Bree.

Carefully, slowly, as if afraid to offend her, he said, “I apologize, Miss. I had no idea. I can understand that perfectly, myself. I’m sorry to have held you up. You must be in a hurry.”

“Thank you. Good day, sir!” With a cheerful smile and a wave, Vanessa turned and left.

Resisting the urge to run, she did not look back. The hobbits would suspect nothing if ever they saw her again. In fact, they would be worried, since there would be holes in their own stories. Calculating that they would flee soon and at night, Vanessa headed back towards Bywater, where she was staying. The game had now begun.

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Chapter Three: From the Shire

Vanessa watched from a very well placed tree as the two hobbits exited Bag End, accompanied by a third. A third hobbit? This in itself was very confusing. They moved swiftly over a hedge, as Sam departed and began to go in a different direction, a key in his hand. What was going on? She had not been told that there was a third member of their party, yet he was obviously traveling with Frodo, being laden with supplies. Vanessa clambered down and slipped into the brush, keeping a silent pace behind them until they stopped at the bottom of the hill.

Sam met them there, and they moved on a strange course, first west of the road and then into the fields. Vanessa had never had to be so quiet in her life. After all, hobbits were much smaller and so made less noise than a human. But now, with the three of them deliberately trying to be quiet, Vanessa found it to be almost a competition to remain unnoticed in the night, her keen eyesight picking them out.

“Oh no, not this…” mumbled Vanessa. The hobbits had come to a bridge. It would be impossible to cross directly after them, for they would see her, and she would make even more noise if she swam across. Undecided, she stopped to calculate. “They’ll go west, most likely, and across the Brandywine Bridge. But where after then?” And then, it hit her. “I’ll follow their trail,” she decided, as the hobbits moved across the bridge not far from her. They might not be wearing shoes, but hobbits had distinctive tracks, and these particular hobbits were being careless.

Vanessa cut swiftly across-country, following their tracks with ease. She had given them a head-start of half an hour, so as not to come upon them suddenly. An assassin’s work was best done at a distance.

At first, she feared that she would not catch them, but then reminded herself that she was stronger and longer-legged. This was, for the moment, one of her easiest assignments. No freeing comrades from chandeliers or worrying that the person you’re protecting has gone through a window. At last, away from civilization, with only three idiots to worry about, she relaxed. This was her element. She might still be in the heart of the Shire, but this was the wilderness. This was home.

The scent of pine assaulted her nostrils as she came upon their camp. They had set no precautions, which made her discovery of them all the easier. They had lit a fire, and were curled up round it, fast asleep, without even bothering to set up a watch. They were either very naïve, or were complete fools. Vanessa decided it was the former. Settling herself down a ways away, she waited for tomorrow and drifted off.

“Reciting poetry,” muttered Vanessa, following them again the next day. “Pitiful.” She was referring to what she had overheard while they were eating lunch. “So stupidly jolly. Don’t they realize the danger they’re in?” She was almost tempted to jump out at them and yell something. Such sickening innocence. They hadn’t a care in the world, treating the whole thing like a game. Sauron had marked them down as enemies and sent an assassin after them. The Nazgul hunted them, and still, they felt no fear and exercised no caution. They lolled around like children on a holiday when they should be running for their lives. Didn’t they get it? If this was what each day would bring, then Vanessa felt she would die of boredom.

Darkness struck Vanessa like an overpowering wave. Hoof-beats sounded, coming towards them, and she shuddered. It was the Nazgul. Abandoning all thought of her quarry, she scrambled madly up a tree. The hobbits seemed to think it was Gandalf. The fools. She wanted to shout the truth out at them, that this was no ordinary rider. They knew so little of the world beyond the Shire.

The rider came into view upon a horse of coal-black, cloaked and hooded to hide its true nature. It crouched in the saddle, face hidden, and an aura of shadow around it. Only Frodo seemed to have the courage to look, and there was fear in his eyes as the Rider began trying to smell them out. Then, for some, reason, it did not seem to see them. It turned and rode away.

So the Nazgul were blind. That was an interesting tidbit of information. Vanessa committed it to memory for later use. Listening in as the hobbits rose, she was able to pick up bits of their conversation. They were unnerved, no doubt about that, but had decided to go on. They had also decided to stay off the road. This made it harder for Vanessa, since they could now swerve in her direction at any moment. Luckily, they stayed close to the path, so the close calls were few and far between. With every step, her dislike for the creatures grew, especially since the third hobbit, whom she had now identified as Pippin, had begun to sing. She would feel no remorse for killing them.

The hobbits seemed to have learned form their first encounter with the Ringwraith, for as soon as they heard hooves, they reacted. As Vanessa went for cover, so did they.

A horrible sense of foreboding settled over her as she saw the Wraith dismount. Any other time, she might have thrown something to distract it, but at the moment, that seemed incredibly stupid. What power did she have against the undead? And so, she sat numbly as it led the horse in Frodo’s direction. Frodo was shaking, drawing something from his pocket as the Wraith knelt down and began to crawl towards them, sniffing all the while. At the last moment, Vanessa decided to do something. This was her target; she would get the credit, not some blind minion afraid to show its face.

As she drew an empty flask from her pocket, preparing to throw it with all her strength, a sound broke the air. The rider recoiled, freezing. A mixture of song and laughter drifted to her ears from nearby. Standing once more, the Wraith mounted, vanishing with uncanny silence. The voices became clearer, and Vanessa realized what they were singing. It was a hymn of some sort, and worse, she heard the name of Elbereth. An overpowering feeling over revulsion spread through her at their appearance: elves. Fighting it back, she focused on her quarry again.

A mixture of amusement and anger went through her at the reactions of the hobbits. Pippin seemed eager, Frodo amazed, and Sam… ecstatic. He nearly shone with enthusiasm as the elves called out to them. Vanessa dearly wished to stay where she was, but the hobbits had begun to follow the accursed creatures. Pippin was following, and Sam unable to speak, but Frodo seemed to still have his wits. He was polite, speaking Elvish with ease.

“Now I definitely hate the little runt,” Vanessa decided aloud before following at a generous distance. When they had at last stopped in a general area, she wandered off in search of the nearest convenient tree where she could be free of their songs. This was almost more than she could bear. Elves, three-foot-high, brainless dolts, and Nazgul. What was next? With a sigh, Vanessa settled back to wait sleep.

The one thing, perhaps, that Vanessa was able to perceive during the next few exasperating days, was that Frodo had not yet told the truth to his friends Pippin and Merry. (This annoying addition had been picked up after their encounter with Farmer Maggot.) Sam appeared to be the only one who knew that Frodo’s buying of the house at Crickhollow was a hoax, a ruse to keep all of Hobbiton in the dark. It was the sort of planning Vanessa herself had done in the past, carefully hiding her identity and then disappearing from time to time. She would not have thought a hobbit capable of such foresight.

But this hobbit, this Frodo Baggins, appeared slightly different from his companions. While he still possessed the innocence, the love of life, and the affinity for food, he was a great deal more perceptive. He had nearly seen right through her, and only quick thinking on her part had stopped him. Sam, on the other hand, repulsed her in every way. If ever an elf wanted to harm Frodo, they would find an oblivious ally in him. He reminded Vanessa of a lapdog, nearly drooling on them in his eagerness. All Vanessa would need to do to have him eating out of her hand would be to impersonate a righteous elf. She would bear it in mind, if she ever needed to sink so low. Her hatred of elves went deep. Very deep.