Prancing Pony Inn

I am small and helpless.
Standing in everyone else's shadows,
I go unnoticed.
I can look no one in the eye.

My feet dangle inches above the floor
As I sit at the table.
The most I get is a glance, a murmur,
An uninterested shrug of a shoulder.

I am just another odd traveler passing
Through the tavern, looming high in this
Sleepy hollow on a stormy night.

My friends mingle, yet I stay put, sipping
My drink in quiet contemplation.
None of the company's attention focuses
On my small figure, tucked in the corner.

That's how I want it.

There is too much attention lavished on
Me already, from a much darker place?
But I didn't ask for it. It just came to me.

I lean forward, and I feel it?
Cold, hard, round, smooth, it jabs me
From my pocket as though taunting me,
Daring me. I tremble at its touch.

How could such a small thing be so evil,
So horrible, so terrifying?
And why is it here?with me?

A burst of laughter jolts me out of my
Daydream, half-closed eyelids flying open.
Pippin, grinning, is chattering again?
Anything to get an audience, I sigh.

Wait?anything to get an audience?
What if he mentions?

I glance around. Still no eyes on me.
Distraction, I decide, is the only way.
I'm the unassuming one here.
No one expects much out of me anyway.

Jumping onto the rough-hewn tabletop,
I knock my mug over, and with a
Clattering, clashing, banging, it tumbles to
The ground. Every hushed conversation
Ceases with an abrupt silence.

Even the Fool of a Took, the life of our
Strange little party, is quiet.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling odd.
I've always looked up?
I've never looked down on anyone else
Before now.

My tongue goes dry and sticks to
The roof of my mouth.
Any words I had there have died.

I cry out in silent agony, hating all the
Eyes staring, ominous, at my
Small figure, isolated on this
Impromptu stage.

Thoroughly startled and unprepared,
I curse myself under my breath.
Wonderful?you've shut him up now?
But now you can make a fool of yourself.

I had no idea how true that would be.

Suddenly, I am saved from my desperation.
An unknown voice calls out "A song!"
It soon becomes a chant, my friends
Joining in with the throng.
"A song! Give us a song!"

Unbeknownst to myself, I just begin to
Sing, a meaningless little ditty about
An inn and a cow jumping over the moon.
A mindless song for the simple minds of
Drunkards and children alike.
It seemed harmless.

Clapping vibrates into life, and soon I
Dance, to the delight of my audience.
But I am only acting on instinct.
My mind is elsewhere?

Then it happens. As I cavort,
I stumble and fall?

All time grinds to an abrupt standstill.

My hand thrusts out, to break my fall,
But as it plunges downward it hits
The frayed edge of my pocket.
And I feel it, its cold smoothness
Rubbing silkily against my hand.

My vision blurs and distorts, everything
Hazy and foggy as though seen though a
Shattered wall of ice. Yet my feelings
Become as sharp as those of any wary
Animal, sensing danger.
I now feel like the hunted?

A wave of chills hits me like the icy hands
Of death. The hands of evil, hungrily
Clutching for me in this misty world
Of confusion and fear.

I land heavily, painfully, onto the chilly
Flagstone floor, slick with mud and dirty
Rainwater and tasting of spoiled beer.
Shivering, I pull myself up?but no one
Looks at me?no one notices me.

But it's not because I'm unassuming.
It's because I'm not there.

My insides writhe with distress and dread,
As I twitch my finger and feel, to my
Panic, its glossy circumference.
It holds me in its clutches.

Frantic babbling surrounds me like a wall,
Making my head reel with chagrin.
Everyone swims before my eyes as
Though in pitch-black water.

"Merry! Sam!" I yell out, hoping that one
Will discern my voice and understand
The seriousness of my situation. But my
Voice vanishes in the sea of prattling.

Slowly, warily, I creep to the corner,
Bathed in flickering orange firelight.
My eyes smart and squint at its usually
Welcoming, friendly brightness.
It does nothing to warm my frigid bones.

It burns?it hurts?I must get back into
The dankness, the shadows, the dark?

No! That is it speaking! It is not you!
Take it off?Take it off now! Screams a
Tiny voice from the shadowy recesses
Of my mind.

A reluctant hand reaches up and, with
Several jolting movements, slides it
Off my finger. With dizzying speed,
The inn whirls into focus.

I have failed already. I cannot resist it even
Now, while it is still weak and I am still
Strong. And his black shadow further
Shrouds any trace of remaining hope.

I cannot do it?I cannot carry it.
How can this be my destiny?

And then I realize it. This was no mere
Accident, an unexpected slip, a sleight of
Hands. It was supposed to happen.

It did it to me. It placed itself upon my
Finger. It alerted him of my presence.

It is wiser than I am.
I am a witless halfling, nothing more.
Its evil spirit has tricked me.

My conscience slowly awakens to its
Sheer power and darkness.

Still nobody sees me. I'm still too small,
Too average, too uninteresting?
Never mind that I simply vanished
And reappeared, without a trace.

No one takes heed of me?
No one except him?the Dark Lord?
Tracking all of my moves.
I will never see anything the same way
Again. I will never look at it the same
Way again. It now commands respect?
Respect of the most revered kind,
Held in awe, fear, hatred.

I retreat into the shadows, the havens
Of insecurity and cowardice.
I don't want anybody to see me.

And the Prancing Pony Inn swirls by me
In all its shades of dirt and firelight.