The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Sitting on the back of his faithful pony Strider, Frodo gazed up at the sky, at the road ahead, and wondered at how he'd come to once more be on this path. He hadn't expected to set out on another adventure so shortly after his long, harrying walk had ended, and yet here he was, on the Road again. This time, however, it was just to go visit friends, and he had friends around him who were more wise and strong than when they had left, and whatever perils might lay ahead of him, there were none breathing down their necks from behind.
Also, there was the little matter of that most burdensome burden... his hand lifted to touch the chain that hung about his throat, the soft white gem that rested against his chest in the stead of the Ring that had caused so much heartache. Yes, this journey would be much easier without such a thing to weigh him down.
Excited by the prospect of seeing Aragorn and Boromir again, the hobbits had left as soon as they could muster enough supplies, spending an evening at the Prancing Pony in Bree before heading straightaway down the Greenway, the same path they had taken from Minas Tirith to the Shire after Aragorn had been crowned. Despite the shadows that lurked on their own accord in the corners of Frodo's mind, he wasn't worried about the journey, felt no shadow of threat about being on the road. Still, he was more sombre than seemed right for any hobbit, and spent long hours staring at the sky as if he was searching for something, or waiting for something else.
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