We travelled swiftly after leaving Bree, making towards Archet before passing through the Chetwood. It brought a little joy to my heart to be in amongst the wood; I was always more at ease when surrounded by trees, and this place had a wholesome air about it. The ever-present fear of the Black Riders seemed to dissipate a little during the time we spent in the Chetwood, lightening the hearts of the hobbits. Our trail would be more difficult to follow through the forest, and Bill Ferny was certainly no match for Aragorn in a place such as this.

The next part of our journey would take us through the Midgewater Marshes. This would allow us to cut out a large loop of the Road, yet the Marshes were not a particularly pleasant place to travel. I myself had been through there only once and did not care to repeat the experience, but it would allow us to remain under more cover than travelling by the Road itself, and could also aid in shortening our journey time. The hobbits were not pleased by the news; Merry and Pippin pulled faces and Sam was not keen at all, but Aragorn had decided on the path we were to take and his would be the directions we would follow.

Two days later we emerged from the Marshes – covered in midge bites, maybe, but in one piece and somewhat closer to our final destination. We were to travel to Weathertop next, in the hope of finding some sign or trace of Gandalf the Grey. From there we would carry on to Rivendell, where we would take counsel with Elrond and decide what should be done about the Ring. I was impatient to get to Imladris. Each day we spent in the open was a day that could allow the Black Riders to find our trail. Aragorn and I could maybe drive away a couple of them, but certainly not the large quota of the Nine that would be searching for us. There was also my selfish wish to be back in the home of my distant kin again.

When we eventually reached Rivendell, I stayed with Sam, Merry and Pippin sorting out as sheltered a place as possible to spend the night whilst Aragorn and Frodo went to look for signs of Gandalf's presence. Aragorn was wary when he returned, and I had mixed feelings about staying here; I would've gladly continued trekking through the night, yet we had the hobbits to think of. We set about building a fire as night was beginning to draw in, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that something was to happen.

I was proved right during the night. Our makeshift shelter was attacked by five of the nine Riders. We armed ourselves with brands of fire, attempting to force them back, when I noticed Frodo undergoing a struggle with himself before he disappeared.

I blinked swiftly, watching the reaction of the Black Riders who seemed to be able to see exactly where Frodo was, even whilst wearing the Ring. I could hear him murmuring something intelligible as the Rider directly in front where I assumed he was raised a large knife. Without thinking, I flung the brand I was carrying aside and threw myself forward, landing over an invisible lump a fraction of a second before the knife was plunged downwards.

A stab of immense pain tore through me as the blade plunged through the patch of skin below my right shoulder, continuing through the other side and then piercing through Frodo's skin too. I faintly registered the knife being removed from me roughly, increasing the size of the wound before the Riders were driven off by Aragorn. Gathering what little strength I had left, I rolled off of Frodo as he slipped the ring off of his finger, breathing shallowly. Aragorn hastened over to inspect our wounds, nodding at me once before bending down to tend to Frodo. I asked the other hobbits to build up the fire as best they could before attempting to deal with my own wound.

It was jagged from the way the blade had been pulled out and passed all the way through the area. Grimancing, I poured a little water into one of Sam's cooking tins and threw some herbs from a pouch on my waist into it before heating it up in the fire as Aragorn went to inspect outside. Daubing the mixture onto the wound, I hissed at the stinging sensation that resulted from the herbs before applying a little to Frodo's wound too. My strength had nearly all dwindled by this point and my vision had become hazy; I would succumb to unconsciousness very soon. Stumbling over to my pack, I pulled out a strip of cloth that would do for a bandage and wrapped it sloppily around my shoulder before slumping to the ground.

I woke to find Pippin's face over mine, looking at me anxiously.

"Aragorn! She is awake," he cried, before running off to fetch the Ranger. Gritting my teeth as I sat upright slowly, I was immediately aware of the throbbing pain in my shoulder that had, if possible, gotten worse since the evening before. Tightening my poor attempt at a bandage, I looked up to find Aragorn approaching.

"Feawen, have you any injuries? I did not think it was prudent to move you last night, yet you must be in pain." His eyes assessed my form quickly, focussing on the bandage on my shoulder. "How severe is this wound?"

With a great effort, I managed to keep nearly all traces of pain out of my voice as I answered.

"It is nothing, merely a scratch. I bathed it last night. How is Frodo?" I glanced over to the remains of the fire to see him stood, leaning slightly on Sam. "Did you find any part of the knife?"

"Frodo is wounded, yet not to the point where he cannot walk. It is imperative we reach Rivendell as soon as possible – the weapon that caused the wound was a Morgul knife. I was only able to find the handle of it, which I shall give to Elrond as soon as we reach his house." He frowned at my shoulder, as if trying to ascertain whether there really was just a scratch beneath the bandage. "Are you fit to walk?"

Nodding, I got up as swiftly as I dared, so as not to draw attention to the fact that the pain seemed to be getting steadily worse. Taking a small bit of refreshment, I closed my pack and swung it onto my left shoulder before easing it slightly more carefully onto my right, screwing up my face as the pressure was applied to the wound. Straightening out my facial expression and taking a deep breath to ensure I could continue the journey, I turned around to the others who were waiting for me.

"I am ready – let us go forth! We must now travel as swiftly as we may." My statement was met by nods from the others and so we set off.

Frodo's condition became visibly worse by the day. He complained that his shoulder was cold, and he seemed to be becoming more wraithlike as the days drew on. I was faring no better, though I went to great pains to conceal how bad my wound was. Aragorn was already over troubled, what with Frodo's deterioration and the lack of time to get to Imladris; adding my injury to his thoughts would merely make things more difficult for him. I had hoped that the wound would get better if bathed in the herb water every evening, yet it was of the same quality of Frodo's wound – increasingly cold and painful. I still shouldered my pack every day, marching on with the others although I barely took in the details of the surrounding area. My willpower to keep going was fading, and I became frailer by the day; I could only hope that we would reach Rivendell soon.

I had long since lost count of the number of days that had passed since the ambush at Weathertop. Pain was the clearest memory of those days, and I began to think that we would never make it to Rivendell. The pain seemed deeper now, and I could vaguely recall Frodo saying the same thing to Aragorn. The statement worried him, that much was obvious. He too was beginning to think that the journey was in vain when we could hear hoof beats approaching from the road ahead.

Warily I placed my hand onto my sword, praying that no one had noticed how it had shook as I moved it. The hobbits had also put their hands to their swords, but swiftly removed them as Aragorn exclaimed in delight at our visitor. My pain subsided for a second for me to realise that the being dismounting from the horse in front of me was Glorfindel, an Elf Lord who resided in Rivendell. Relief washed through me at the sight of him. We had a chance of making it there after all.

Glorfindel informed us that we were not far from our destination, and that the Ford of Brunien lay ahead. Sam, Merry and Pippin were visibly relieved at this information; Frodo would be at the fair house of Elrond soon, and then he would be safe. Aragorn was also pleased with this information.

"Your coming could not have been at a better time – we have great need to take Frodo to Elrond. There is no one else, save Gandalf perhaps, who would be able to save him from this wound." He showed Glorfindel the hilt of the knife before tucking it back into his pack; Glorfindel's face became troubled.

The journey to the Ford of Brunien passed by in a blur. I had no concept of time anymore, and my strength was very nearly diminished. The sound of the rushing water was music to my ears. I had thought that reaching the Ford would mean the possible danger had passed, yet I soon realised how very wrong I was.

In seemingly the very instant that we reached the Ford, the Black Riders sprang from where they had been waiting. All nine of them were assembled. Frodo was placed on Glorfindel's horse and, with words from his master, set out across the Ford. The steed outran the pursuing Riders and made it to the other side of the Brunien as a giant wave began to bear down on the pursuers. I dimly noticed that horses could be seen charging with the wave, which swept away the Riders.

Acknowledging the sight of Glorfindel's horse continuing on to Rivendell with a seemingly unconscious Frodo on his back, I felt the last of my strength leave me and fell to my knees, futilely attempting to remove my pack from my right shoulder as the world around me dimmed. Aragorn's face, etched with worry, was the last thing I was fully aware of before I descended into a state of semi-consciousness. I was vaguely aware of someone removing my pack and unravelling the now grubby, bloodstained bandage before exhaling sharply at the sight. The pain from the wound overwhelmed me and I soon slipped into darkness.

When I next opened my eyes, I found I was looking up at a somewhat familiar ceiling. So, we had made it to Rivendell after all! My relief at being safe at last was soon quelled however by a stabbing pain from my shoulder. Gingerly touching the area, I realised that the wound was not, as I had hoped, healed; the pain was diminished, but still there, and becoming clearer with every passing minute.

I had a sudden, overpowering desire to take a walk through the gardens of Elrond. It had been many years since I had walked through them last and, in spite of the returning pain in my shoulder I felt strengthened and refreshed. I was sure I was supposed to stay in my bed, yet the thought of lying in sloth as the pain continued to return was unappealing.

My mind was made. I rose from the bed swiftly, pulling on a light gown that had been slung across the back of a chair and covering that with a thin mantle that was folded on the seat before making my way out of the room and along a corridor until I reached a door that would lead me outside. Stepping out into the cool air, I breathed in deeply, letting it invigorate me. It was impossible not to feel at peace here. The air was wholesome, and one immediately felt calm after stepping out into the gardens.

After taking one more deep breath, I made my way through the gardens to a particular spot that I loved. I meant to stop there for a few minutes – long enough to assess what exactly was wrong with my shoulder and to attempt to put some order to the last few days of travelling. Then I would go back and find what had happened to the others, to see if Frodo was okay. A wave of guilt washed over me at not thinking of them before now, which seemed to increase the pain I was feeling.

Eager now to reach my place of solitude, I increased my pace until I was nearly running over the ground. I had hoped that the exertion would take my mind away from the pain, yet it did not; it was still increasing and I began to wonder whether this trip had been a good idea or not. It was almost too late to turn back now. I was very nearly there, so I began to concentrate more on attempting to not feel the pain radiating through my shoulder as I slowed my pace, stopping before a tree I had sat in many a time. Preparing to swing myself up onto a low bough, I raised my hand before stopping suddenly. The bough was already occupied.

"Feawen?" My breathing sped up as I recognised the quiet voice that had said my name. "Feawen, could that really be you? I had heard that you would be abed for days yet."

The colour drained from my face as I backed away from the tree, watching the lithe figure that jumped down carefully. He had not changed over the years since I had last seen him, though that was unsurprising; he was of the race of Elves, after all.

"Why are you here?" I asked quietly, attempting to keep the pain from my voice. "I do not wish to see you, and it pains me that you have now spoiled this place for me..." I trailed off, avoiding looking into his eyes as he walked towards me slowly. "Please, do not come any closer," I whispered, my voice shaking slightly. The pain was almost unbearable again, and coupled with seeing him again, it was all I could do to remain conscious.

"Feawen, you are in pain." He paused after this statement, before continuing more quietly, "I am sorry, so very sorry for what I put you through. I can only hope you can bear to listen to my excuse, and maybe one day be able to forgive me..."

"No, Legolas." I could barely stand to say his name, and began shaking from the effort it was costing me to remain upright. "I cannot do this, not now." I turned, intending to return to the house, but my knees gave way beneath me as another stab of pain shot through me. I whimpered as I fell, barely registering gentle hands catching me and being careful of my injury as they lifted me up and pressed me to them. The last thing I noticed was the familiar scent of him washing over me as I slowly lost consciousness again.


A/N: So, any comments/crits on that last chapter? They'd be greatly appreciated!