Frodo was scared. He had been grabbed by a stranger after accidentally donning the ring in the middle of the Prancing Pony. Sam and the others had come to rescue him, but he wasn't sure they would be much help against the weathered ranger, who had introduced himself as Strider. They now stood inside one of the rooms, Hobbits on one side, Strider on the other, both parties tense and unsure of what to do. There was a terrible screech from the street and the Hobbits recoiled, the sound had been shrill but sharper than any bird Frodo had ever heard. Strider broke the stillness and quickly busied himself with checking his bags and began moving towards the door.
"We cannot wait for Gandalf, we must leave now."
Merry was the first to speak up. "What was that!?"
"A Ringwraith, a servant of the Enemy."
He turned and pointed at Frodo,
"They will hunt what you carry until the ocean's turn to dust and the sun darkens. They have only one purpose, to return the ring to its master. Now come quickly."
Minutes later, the motley group watched as the terrifying figures tore an empty room apart, then fled out of the inn in a rage. Strider released a breath and the group hurried onto the trail following Strider's path.
/
Morning had soon come and they were making headway, Sam and Frodo were following closer to Strider while Merry and Pippin took up the rear.
"We must be careful, one slip and the Nine will be back on our trail."
"Where are we going now?"
"To Rivendell, Master Hobbit, and the House of Elrond"
"You hear that Mister Frodo? We're going to see the El-"
His sentence was cut short as Strider tackled the two into a nearby bush. Their cries of surprise muffled by Strider's hand over their mouths. Merry and Pippin were engrossed in the food they had snuck out of the Prancing Pony before they left and took no notice of their missing guide.
In the undergrowth Frodo and Sam looked to Strider who whispered, "Someone approaches we must be sure the Black Riders have not caught up with us."
The trio could still hear the mutterings of Merry and Pippin until a loud number of bird calls filled the air. The two hobbits shouted and Strider burst from the bush sword drawn and expertly placed at the back of their assailant.
Standing over the two Hobbits was a man with a shock of black raven hair that dipped to his shoulder, he had young face with brilliant green eyes. His clothes didn't betray much, he had a black cloak with dark feathers laced into the hem. His coat doubled over his breast and was held in place by two emerald buttons and he wore simple breeches and boots. At his waist was a small blade of some kind along with a number of small pouches. He held a long staff of dark brown smooth wood, with a carving of a raven's head taking the place of the top; the eyes of which glinted with pitch black stones.
Seemingly unperturbed by the blade pointed at his spine, the stranger turned around and gave Strider a smirk. "Estel, what do you think you're doing pointing a blade at your elder? Don't you know it's rude?"
Strider resembled a fresh caught fish; mouth agape he quickly sheathed his sword and embraced the new comer in a tight hold. "Moriond! Haha!"
Strider (or Estel?) pulled back and shook his friend's shoulders, "Why are you here? Last I remember hearing, you had made your way to Lothlorien."
The newly named Moriond chuckled, "I was making my way down to the Gap of Rohan when I received word from some of my eyes that Black Riders were scouring the land, and that they do so this close to Rivendell is worrying, so I decided to investigate. Imagine my surprise, when my familiars tell me my favourite ranger is making his way through the ruff accompanying four Hobbits. I just had to investigate!"
Moriond turned back to Merry and Pippin and helped them stand, the duo had fallen in fright when Moriond had appeared.
"My apologies, I meant to give Estel a good shock but got you two instead." Moriond patted the two on the shoulders apologetically.
"No trouble," Merry lifted his chin, "if you had given us a few more seconds you would have received an unpleasant surprise."
Moriond smirked, "I'm sure I would," he turned to Strider forgoing his teasing smirk for a serious expression, "what's going on? I haven't heard from Gandalf in months. I received a message to make for Rivendell and then nothing."
Strider had seemingly calmed down, he quickly looked to the horizon, judging the hours left of daylight. "Come we make for Rivendell ourselves and your company would be a welcome sight."
The group quickly resumed their travel. Eventually, Samwise couldn't hold his curiosity, he leaned closer to Strider and whispered, "Strider, umm, who exactly is this Moriond character? Can he be trusted?"
Strider blinked, lost for a few moments, before he answered, "You mean you have never heard of Moriond? Perhaps he referred to him as Hadrian?," the hobbits shook their heads, "I thought Gandalf would have at least mentioned him to you Frodo."
Frodo frowned, "Why would he mention him to me?"
"Well because Moriond is a Wizard."
The four Hobbits nearly tripped, Pippin and Merry immediately objected, "WHAT!? - But he's so young! - Are you sure you've not been duped Strider?"
"CAW!"
The entire party looked up to see a huge flock of birds drift and begin to circle overhead. There were crows, jays, songbirds and even a few hawks. Suddenly a grand white owl flew down, the hobbits ducked as the bird swooped over their heads. When they stood up, the bird had landed on Moriond's arm and was greedily eating some treats that Moriond was holding.
"Yes, yes, Hovig. I'm glad to see you" Moriond said to the bird sweetly, stroking its feathers.
The owl looked up and stared deep into Moriond's eyes then hooted quietly. Moriond frowned, then gave the wintery bird a nod and a kiss. It kicked off from his arm, then the entire flock scattered.
Moriond turned back to the group and caught Strider's eye. "We need to keep moving, I've lost sight of the Riders."
Strider nodded and then quickly got the group moving again, with Moriond taking up the rear and engaging Merry and Pippin with questions of the Shire. Frodo cast his eyes to the horizons and shivered as he thought of the coming night.
/
Frodo was scared. His friends, though he loved them each dearly, were a few logs short of a fire. He thought after arriving at the ancient ruin of Weathertop, they would be able to rest safe for the night. The ravenous hunger of his three companions put an end to that. He smothered their cooking fire too late, the Ringwraiths had found them. They had faced the black figures, fearing for their lives. He laid now on the ground clutching his shoulder waiting for the end.
Suddenly, two figures burst into the stone plateau; one wielding a torch and a sword, the other a lit staff and a short sword. They pushed the wraiths back. Once the enemy had been pushed, Moriond thrust his staff forward and a huge owl of white light emerged and charged the wraiths, crashing into them and flinging them from the mesa. Their screams echoed into the night. His vision, which had been slowly fading was suddenly filled with light, the owl had landed on his stomach. The shadows receded and the pain lessened. He could hear the muffled voices of Moriond and Strider speaking as he was lifted and placed on someone's back.
Time passed in a blur, seconds lasted hours, hours ticked by as minutes; Frodo could no longer tell how long they had been moving. He could faintly hear Sam's worried tones and Strider's comforting rumble. Moriond didn't seem to be speaking much at all, his attention was paid to Frodo and little else. Occasionally, Moriond would stop and place Frodo delicately into Strider's arms, then summon the spectral owl again. The owl gave Frodo some lucidity back, enough to roughly communicate with his companions.
They were camped in a secluded grove, the owl was softly hooting from its place beside Frodo. It gave him enough strength to listen as Sam revealed where they were.
"Trolls of stone Mr. Frodo! Just like in Bilbo's old tales! This is where he was almost made into soup." He was trying to hide his worry behind enthusiasm but Samwise Gamgee was no actor.
Frodo could only nod and admire the statues above him. Magic and adventure had been part of his life since childhood. Listening to tales of the Lonely Mountains at Bilbo's knee had given him a grand imagination as a youngster. To actually see the stone trolls face to face normally would have brought him great wonder; the constant pressure on his heart and mind would give him no reprieve to do so.
Strider approached with some water, as he did so the owl dissipated and Frodo's vision quickly became shrouded once more.
Seeing Frodo's state revert once again, Strider cursed the Nine. Hadrian's conjuration could only do so much. He explained that it could not cure or even stop Frodo's condition, it could simply bandage the wound and slow the bleeding. Strider and Sam ventured into the woods in search of athelas, kingsfoil as Samwise knew it.
Merry and Pippin were huddled together by the fire, taking what little comfort they could and quite shaken. Moriond passed them each some bread, smiling reassuringly at them.
"Mr. Moriond, what's going to happen to Frodo?"
"Nothing young ones, Frodo will be just fine, Estel and I will make sure of it."
Feeling lightened by Moriond kind words, Merry couldn't stop himself from making a small jape. "Really, 'young ones'? Mr. Moriond I'll have you know both Pippin and I are 40 years old. We've probably seen as many winters as Strider." He said smugly.
Moriond chuckled and was about to reply when he abruptly drew his sword and twisted, rising to block the hobbits.
"Who goes there!?", he shouted into the darkness.
A warm light filled the grove, driving the shadows away and illuminating Moriond and the hobbits. The hobbits knew they should be afraid, yet under this new light they couldn't help but feel relieved, like a weight was being removed from their shoulders.
Out of the woods came a woman, beautiful and ethereal, with an inhuman grace and features that were simultaneously soft and regal. Merry and Pippin couldn't believe their eyes, staring unblinking until Strider came in behind her, Sam in tow.
The woman now stood in front of Moriond, bearing a small frown. "Moriond… I didn't expect to find you here." There was a frostiness in her tone that didn't have any place coming from her in Sam's opinion.
This was an elf! A real elf! The gaffer back home would never believe it when he told him about this. Even with his enthusiasm about the elf maiden helping to heal Frodo, Sam also didn't like the way she addressed Moriond. The man did seem a tad strange, but that came with being a wizard if Gandalf was anything to go by. Strider trusted him, and the feeling that strange glowing owl gave off reminded Sam of warm days in the garden with his mother back when he was just a wee little hobbit.
"Lady Arwen, it is always a pleasure. I see you've found Estel, of course, you are like a bloodhound when it comes to him aren't you." Moriond smirked as he said bloodhound, and in response, the elf - Lady Arwen - frowned deeper.
"I have no time for your pettiness. I must take the hobbit to my father, he will be able to heal the ringbearer." Lady Arwen's promise made Sam's heart fill with hope, only for it to tempered with worry by Moriond second later.
"And how will one elf on horseback outpace the Nine? I have a better chance of getting him to safety." Moriond's hand was clutching his staff tightly, and his sword was still drawn.
"Once I cross the Ford of Bruinen my father will protect me." Arwen retorted.
"I can protect him the entire way," He turned to Strider, "Let me take the hobbit, you and the Lady Arwen can make sure the rest of them make it safely" he implored.
Strider stopped Moriond with a hand, surprising Sam, he wouldn't have thought a mere Ranger could silence a wizard and an elf.
"Arwen will take Frodo but Moriond will help create a distraction. Whatever happens Frodo must reach Rivendell."
They parted ways after quickly packing up their camp. Merry, Pippin and Sam followed Strider to one of the better known paths while Lady Arwen strapped Frodo to her saddle and left quickly with Moriond hot on her heels. Sam swore he heard Moriond muttering something about "...impertinent elflings" as he sped off behind her.
Sam could only hope he'd see all three of them in Rivendell, safe and sound.
/
ENVOY OF MANWE
Hadrian (Ilmare - Starlight) acts as Gandalf's (Olorin) aide, son/grandson and apprentice. He usually accompanies Gandalf garbed in black, he helps to put others more at ease with Gandalf giving his wisdom even more of a presence.
Refered to as: Moriond (Black Son) by the Elves, Khoatto (Bird Father) by ancient Men, furkhingang (World Walker) to the Dwarves and Hadrian The Black in Westron.
While Gandalf and Harry spent many years together amongst the elves, Harry traveled much more frequently among the people of Eorl, the precursors to Rohan and quickly became a legend and friend to them. He also spent time in the dwarven kingdoms, not so much in the mines but instead among the tall peaks and cliffs.
A common sign of Harry is said to be the flocking of birds. The Dwarves say that the first time Harry came to their halls it was because he was following a majestic eagle and was attempting to climb the blue mountains to find its nest.