The Sign of the Prancing Pony by Uvatha the Horseman

The Nazgul Escape

It took longer than expected to hit the ground. Khamul landed on hands and knees, but was up in an instant. He took off running. He’d catch up with Adunaphel on the road, or find her outside the Hedge where they’d left the horses.

But under the tavern sign, he collided with a ladder that hadn’t been there earlier and went sprawling. It teetered and fell, leaving a hobbit dangling from the bracket, kicking his feet like a hanged man. Another hobbit lay pinned beneath the fallen ladder like a bug.

“Sorry,” said Khamul.

The sounds of pursuit echoed in the archway. He ran for all he was worth. The road led straight to the South Gate. The West Gate was closer, but the South Gate was where they’d left the horses. Khamul thought he could make it, if a loose cobblestone didn’t send him sprawling flat on his face.

Adunaphel reached the gate first. Khamul saw her stop in front of the heavy timbers, then turn around and walk back, looking dejected.

Khamul slowed to a stop. He put his hands on his knees, drawing deep breaths. There was a tickle in his throat and he tried not to cough. Adunaphel walked up to him. “The gate is barred, and they’ve set a watch on it. Do we take it by force?”

“I’d rather go out through the Hedge,” said Khamul.

Down the street, torches fanned out, showing where their pursuers were searching the side roads and alleys. “I thought they’d have run us to ground by now, but they’re acting like they’ve lost the scent,” said Khamul.

“I cast a confusion spell,” said Adunaphel.

The mouth of the alley was right beside them, the one where the woman had been hanging laundry. They ducked into it and raced along its length. The shouts of men grew louder, and the light from their torches showed between the houses.

They reached the end of the alley and scrambled up the narrow gully. At the top, they burst from between withy fences and sprinted for the Hedge.

“Go!” Khamul barked. Adunaphel hit the ground and belly-crawled into the thorny crawlway.

Khamul risked a last glance over his shoulder. Along the length of hobbit row, there were no torches, no pursuers.

He hit the ground and crawled after Adunaphel, her boots almost in his face. Thorns scratched his arms and drew blood. And if anyone came back to look for evidence they’d passed through here, they might find a few scraps of black fabric hanging from the thorns.

Khamul emerged on the far side of the Hedge, not far from where they’d left the horses. He straightened up and dusted himself off. For the first time in hours, he began to relax. “Well, that went all right.”

Adunaphel looked at him. “I don’t want to spoil your day, but the Hedge is surrounded by a deep ditch, and there’s a little creek running through it.”

Running water. And just when I thought this day couldn’t get any better.