<The Hobbits arrive at the gates of Bree, soaking wet due to the pouring rain. They pause, uncertain how to declare themselves.>
<<Frodo: Come on.>>
<He knocks on the gates. A small peep hole opens high above them, then slams shut. Another opens, nearer their eye level. A wizened face peers out against the downpour.>
<<Gatekeeper (irascibly): What do you want?>>
<<Frodo: We’re heading for the Prancing Pony.>>
<<Gatekeeper: Hobbits! Four hobbits! What business brings you to Bree?>>
<He opens the gate and stoops down to throw his lantern light over them.>
<<Frodo: We wish to stay at the inn. Our business is our own.>>
<<Gatekeeper: Alright young sir, I meant no offence. ‘Tis my job to ask question after nightfall. There’s talk of strange folk abroad. Can’t be too careful.>>
<He ushers them inside. The Hobbits make their way up the cobbled path, through the motley crowd which jostles and bumps them. One man, a particularly ugly customer holding a carrot, belches contemptuously over them.>
<<Men of Bree: Out of the way! Watch where you’re walking, young masters!>>
<Frodo looks up and spots the sign of the Prancing Pony. The four Hobbits enter the Inn. Inside, it is crowded, noisy and poorly-lit, but less so than the dark of the village outside. They pull back their hoods, glad to be out of the wet. Merry and Pippin breathe sighs of relief. Frodo steps up to the bar, which rises far above his head.>
<<Frodo: Excuse me?>>
<<Buffer (leaning down over the bar): Good evening, little masters! If you’re looking for accommodation we’ve got some nice, cozy, hobbit-sized rooms available. Mr. uh-->>
<<Frodo: --Underhill, my name’s Underhill.>>
<<Buffer: Underhill. Yes . . .>>
<<Frodo: We’re friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we’ve arrived?>>
<<Buffer: Gandalf? Gandalf? Ohhh yes! I remember, elderly chap, big gray beard, pointy hat. . . (Pauses) . . . Not seen him for 6 months.>>
<The hobbits are shocked. Worry crosses their faces.>
<<Sam: What do we do now?>>
<The hobbits are seated at a table in the tap room of the Prancing Pony. The air is dark and smoke-filled. Drunken men laugh raucously. Several glance suspiciously at the hobbits. Frodo looks worried, as does Sam.>
<<Frodo: Sam. He’ll be here. He’ll come.>>
<<Man: <to Merry coming from the bar> Get, get out of my way.>>
<Merry sits down at the table. He is holding a huge stein of beer, which he sets down reverently.>
<<Pippin: What’s that?>>
<<Merry: <gazing at it in rapt admiration> This my friend, is a pint.>>
<<Pippin: It comes in pints? I’m getting one.>>
<Pippin rushes to the bar. The Men of Bree, amused, make way for him and he makes himself comfortable in their company.>
<<Sam: You had a whole half already!>>
<Sam turns back to his mug. After a moment, he nudges Frodo and gestures to the corner of the room. A dark cloaked figure sits alone regarding them. His face is invisible inside his hood.>
<<Sam: That fellow’s done nothin’ but stare at you since we arrived.>>
<<Frodo: <takes the buffer aside> Excuse me, that man in the corner, who is he?>>
<<Buffer: He’s one of them rangers. Dangerous folk they are -- wandering the wilds. What his right name is I’ve never heard, but around here, he’s known as Strider.>>
<<Frodo: Strider.. .>>
<Strider lights his pipe. Only the gleam of his eyes can be discerned above the glow of the burning tobacco. Frodo starts to play with the Ring. It starts to whisper, tempting him.>
<<The Ring: Baggins. Baggins. Baggins. Baggins! Baggins!…>>
<<Pippin: Baggins!>>
<Frodo snaps out of his reverie>
<<Pippin: <at the bar with his newfound friends> Sure I know a Baggins. He’s over there, Frodo Baggins. He's my second cousin once removed on his mother's side <listeners laugh, "It works for him!" yells one> and my third cousin twice removed on his father's side, if you follow me.>>
<Strider sits up, his attention fairly caught. Frodo rushes towards the bar to stop Pippin from babbling further.>
<<Frodo: Pippin!>> <grabs him>
<<Pippin: Steady on, Frodo!>>
<Frodo slips on someone’s boot and falls back, tossing the Ring into the air. As he catches it, the Ring slips onto Frodo’s finger. He disappears. Bree folks gasp in surprise. Strider is alarmed. Outside the village, the Black Riders are alerted and turn around, making for Bree. Frodo, now in the shadow world, looks around bewildered. He then sees an immense singular orb, a lidless eye, wreathed in flame. The Eye of Sauron stares down at him>
<<Voice of Sauron: You cannot hide! I see you! There is no life in the void, only death!>>
<Frodo backs away, terrified. He gropes for the Ring, unable to tear his gaze from the hideous Eye. Finally he wrenches the Ring off, reappearing with a relieved sigh, beside Strider’s table.>
<<Frodo: Ah!>>
<Strider grabs him from behind.>
<<Strider: You draw far too much attention to yourself Mr. "Underhill"!>>
<Strider tosses him up the stairs, flings open the door of his room, throws Frodo in and shuts the door behind them. Frodo stumbles, falls to his knees, and stands up quickly, putting his back to the wall.>
<<Frodo: What do you want?>>
<<Strider: A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry.>>
<<Frodo: I carry nothing!>>
<<Strider: Indeed.>>
<He walks over to the window, puts out the candles.>
<<Strider: I can avoid being seen if I wish. But to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift.>>
<<Frodo: Who are you?>>
<<Strider: Are you frightened?>>
<<Frodo: Yes.>>
<<Strider: Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you.>>
<The door bursts open. Strider draws his sword. Sam, Merry and Pippin rush in, Sam with fists clenched and ready to fight.>
<<Sam: Let him go! Or I’ll have you Longshanks! >>
<<Strider (sheaths his sword): You have a stout heart little hobbit, but that will not save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard Frodo. They’re coming.>>
<Inside the gatehouse of Bree, the wizened gatekeeper hears a horse snorting. He gets up to investigate and opens the window in the gate. Suddenly the Black Riders crash through the gate, crushing the gatekeeper underneath it, and gallop to the Prancing Pony. Screeches are heard. The Riders enter the Inn, swords drawn. The innkeeper hides behind the door, terrified. Inside, the Hobbits are soundly asleep. The Riders make for the hobbits' room. Silently, they raise their swords high above them to plunge into the sleeping bodies. The swords descend, stabbing at the still forms as the Hobbits suddenly awake. The Riders pull back the covers and realise they have been attacking bedclothes and pillows. They scream in anguish and frustration. Strider watches from the window in his room as the Riders remount their dark horses. Frodo, gravely concerned at the attack, sits at the foot of the bed. The rest of the sleeping hobbits, awakened by the Riders' cries, lean wide-eyed against the headboard.>
<<Frodo: What are they?>>
<<Strider: 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 into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring. Drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you.>>
<The following morning, Strider leads the four hobbits and a newly acquired pony away from the village of Bree.>
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