Frodo Lives

by Laiquendi

The door of the Pony suddenly swings open, rattling against the wall as it is buffeted by the howling gale outside. Rain comes flooding in from the semi-darkness, soaking the entrance and causing the goo there to slowly mingle and dribble out in mini-rainbows of sludge.

As the lightning flashes a figure can be be made out in the doorway, but only for a moment, as when the lightning strikes again it is gone.

The figure was short, as if a child, but wrapped in a dark cloak that was blown about by the winds. In it's now vacant place, large footprints, larger than you would expect from a child, could be seen in the ever-mingling watery goo. If one listened carefully enough, you could almost make out the light squelching sounds coming from the corner of the Pony, as if something was wading through the goo, but this was drowned out by the deafening howls from outside.

The small figure reached the far wall, where it rested, as if waiting for it to be discovered. After several long heartbeats, the figure seemed to relax as if a feeling of safety was slowly descending upon it.

A small hand emerged from the cloak, and the head turned briefly towards the nearby unoccupied tables. For a second the features of the mysterious figure were illuminated in the dim candlelight, that of a young face face, but one that had seen many more years than a child should have, sharp, piercing blue eyes, and short locks of brown hair that curled around the edge of the hood.

In the darkness the figure's hand touched the goo-stained floor, then reached up to the wall and slowly moved across the wall, as if tracing a long pattern of strokes. Only once more did the hand touch the floor again, and then continued on its path along the wall.

As the figure reached the end of its pattern, the hood turned quickly to the left and right, then in a hurry, it pulled the hood tighter over it's head, turned and made as if to retreat along the wall. Only for the cloaked figure to fade from sight into the darkness. Light footsteps were heard in the corner, when another lightning bolt stuck, and the figure dissappeared round the edge of the door into the rain.

One of the patrons noticed this slight movement, then turned and looked around, finally noticing the far wall.

In large blue letters of dripping goo was written:

FRODO LIVES