Chapter Four: The Nine
Nieriel slid her blade into its scabbard before reaching a slender, calloused hand for the other. The slow sching of it into the fine leather holding heated her blood, made her nerve endings stand on end in anticipation. Night had fallen and she and Arwen were going to take to the East-West road for a bit of scouting, and her heart was drumming, her adrenaline already high as she readied herself. She was on razor's edge, because just yesterday, after three days of uneventful and unsuccessful searching for Frodo, the twins had returned to Rivendell with nothing more than what they had left with. The notion had not set well with Elrond, but Nieriel liked it even less; she could almost feel that something was about to become harrowingly amiss. And the fact that the Ring-bearer remained just out of grasp was beyond anyone, even the elf-lord himself.
A simple hobbit! Although I am sure if things had turned in favor of the Shadow we would know by now, Nieriel thought, caressing a hand down her second blade with a scrutinizing eye. Double blades were her weapon of choice and this pair happened to be a gift from Glorfindel. Each knife was the length of her fingertips to the crook of her elbow, shining silver-white and sharpened by her own hand just this afternoon. The blades were curved along the edge and light, and they sung her favorite song: vengeance. The hilts were simple leather with little adornment, however inscribed along one blade were the Elvish words: know thy light, thy song; along the other were the words: this is the end. The letters gleamed up at her, asking to be soaked with the blood of her enemies this night. Nieriel stared down at the words, her heart rate climbing; she could only hope she would not disappoint.
With a nimbleness that came from years of practice, she sheathed the blade in its holding with a fluid flash and a flick of her wrist. The scabbards were attached to leather queues made into loose straps that looped around each shoulder, so the blades rested crisscrossed over her spine. She situated them so she was comfortable and then used the leather queues to tighten them as she would a belt so the hilts peeked out over each shoulder, at the ready for her willing hand. She took her other two smaller blades and sheathed them along her calves inside her tall brown boots, before sliding another pair of smaller knives along the sheaths on her forearms. She was not as adept with a longsword as Arwen and the bow had never come easy to her as it did Elladan and Elrohir. She was skilled in her art of blades, had excelled in it enough to make her enemies tremble in fear of her name.
But mayhap no news is not good news, Nieriel thought, drawing her long, brown hair back into a ponytail, catching any stray wisps clear of her face. She was dressed in brown leather breeches and a small tunic of blue with a leather belt around her waist, and her cloak lay waiting for her draped over her bed. I like not the threat of losing peace.
She walked the short length of her chambers to retrieve the steel-colored garment and threw it about her shoulders, taking in the confines of her room as she pinned the sapphire brooch beneath her throat. Her chambers were small yet comfortable, and adjoined Arwen's in the east wing. With windows that boasted a view of Bruinen and arching doorways, it was a quiet place with little furnishing, which spoke much of the woman who lived there. Nieriel had never been overly flaunting and did not like a lot of embellishment; she was a simple woman. There was a small hearth against one wall and only one tapestry which lay above the bed, depicting a scene of horses running along a river. There was a quaint writing table by the hearth and a slender bookshelf by the sleigh bed, which was neatly and meticulously made by her own hand with the finest navy linens. A wardrobe centered the two windows and there was a rug with a beautiful, swirling pattern of leaves of silver and blue that blanketed the stone floor. It was her place of peace.
She bent to blow out the single candle on the end table that rested by her bed, piled high with books she had yet to read, before embarking from her room through the door that connected her with Arwen's chambers. Her boots were soft against the stone floor as she stepped over the threshold, and Arwen looked up in the midst of pulling on her riding gloves.
"It is to be a clear night," she remarked, reaching for her own matching cloak next. "How is your leg?"
Nieriel glanced down at her thigh, the one that had been accosted those days ago when they had happened upon the orcs. Elrond had looked at it and given her a poultice to use for the first day, and the wound had sealed nicely thereafter. "I am fine." She waved off Arwen's concern, thankful for it but not needing it. "Think you we will come across anything?" she asked, pulling on her own gloves. She glanced through one of the windows and indeed Imladris was dark under the shadow of night, though the air was clear and there was not one cloud in the sky. Arwen had one of her windows propped open as she always did, and the rushing of the Bruinen could be heard singing softly and sweetly as it wound its way through the city. The Main House was quiet this time of night, for it was swiftly approaching the midnight hour, and the city slumbered. Waterfalls trickled their lullaby in the distance, and as Nieriel turned from the window to follow Arwen from her room, she was pleased to find the night so accommodating for scouting.
"It is hard to say; it has been quiet as of late." Arwen replied as the two walked the short stone hall to the entry of the House.
"I do not know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. I feel an uneasiness in the air." Nieriel murmured softly, as to not make too much noise. Torches in their sconces drenched their frames with orange light as they moved down the hall, whispering their own silent caution as the women stepped into the main foyer.
"This council cannot happen soon enough. I will feel better when we have a plan." Arwen replied gently, looking through the dim light to her friend. "You are ready, then?"
"I sent word to the stables to have Stormwind and Moonglow readied." Nieriel nodded her acquiescence. "I am ready if you are."
"You did not tell me you were riding out."
Nieriel and Arwen both startled, and turned to find Elrond bleeding from the shadows of the west wing. He was draped in a robe of navy splendor and regarded the two women with concern hard on his brow, his hands clasped before him.
"Did we not mention so at supper?" Arwen asked, and Elrond negated her question with a solemn shake of his head. "I apologize father, it was not our intention to be devious."
"We are just going to scout along the East-West road." Nieriel supplied, and Elrond turned his wise, grey gaze to her then, his brow furrowing further. "We shall not be long."
"What are you doing awake, father? The hour is late." Arwen asked, her face creasing with lines of worry. She reached out to him then, and they shared a look of affection for one another. Nieriel saw worry in Elrond's ancient eyes, the corners creased with it, and she knew he was more concerned for Arwen then he let on; Celebrían's assault still weighed heavily upon his conscience, and his only daughter was very dear to him. He pined for his wife, mourned her loss as though she had parted from this world, but it was only for reasons unto Elrond why the elf-lord stayed behind in Middle Earth without her.
"I was in the library. Sleep is eluding me this night." Elrond replied, laying a hand atop his daughters. "It seems as though I will remain a victim of that suffering."
Arwen smiled gently up at her father. "Worry not for us father."
"That is like asking the stars not to shine." Elrond said softly, and Nieriel watched as he gave his daughter's hand a gentle squeeze. She felt her heart clench at the love they shared, a love between father and daughter that she would never know.
Do not think of it. You cannot be afflicted with such musings before riding out.
"This night is quiet, Lord Elrond. We will be lucky if we sight an owl." Nieriel interjected to help quell his worries. "Besides, I can think of no better pair than Arwen and myself."
Elrond released his daughter's hand and smiled at Nieriel, raising a brow at her boastful words. "Pride, Nieriel? Another one of your more endearing traits."
"I merely speak the truth, my lord." Nieriel replied, causing Elrond to emit a small chuckle.
"Very well, Nieriel." Elrond looked at her, his brow softening out of its strong bow. "I only ask that you remain safe and return with the dawn."
Nieriel's heart swelled, recognizing a gentle fondness in his grey orbs. She knew Elrond loved her as much as he could a daughter, and although it was not the same type of love he shared with Arwen, she cherished it. She dipped her head in a semblance of a small bow and said, "Of course."
"Galu; a na lû e-govaned vîn." Elrond replied, dipping his head in return.
"Posto vae, ada." Arwen said, before she and Nieriel slipped across the foyer and into the night.
There was a chill in the air, and Nieriel was thankful for her cloak as a breeze whipped about her legs. The night was indeed clear though, and on it the scent of water from the falls and the foliage that surrounded them. As she and Arwen crossed the courtyard and under the walkway that led to the Main House from the Entrance Halls, she inhaled deeply of the soothing sensations around her to calm the fire in her soul bent on blood. An owl hooted its content from the trees in the distance and the city below the Main House was silent, standing vigil to their nighttime excursion.
Nieriel was eager to mount Stormwind and take the night, lend some of her tension and aggression on those who dared to ask for it. By encroaching on my homeland, she thought vehemently, her eyes narrowing through the darkness as they approached the stables. For daring to think they can overcome us.
A movement caught her eye, and Nieriel drew to a sudden halt and flung a hand out to capture Arwen's own to do the same. Arwen faltered, and together they watched from the low light of the stables as Stormwind and Moonglow appeared, drawn by the steady hands of none other than Elladan and Elrohir.
"What are you doing?" Nieriel asked, letting out a measured breath to slow her racing heart. It was not often she was taken by surprise, but the twins were learned warriors and could move as such if they so pleased.
"What does it look like?" Elrohir asked, and it was then Nieriel noticed their own mounts brought to saddle as well. "We are accompanying you."
"You cannot have all of the fun, Nee." Elladan insisted, causing Nieriel to roll her eyes and snatch the reins of Stormwind from his grasp. The horse bucked his head at the movement and snorted his distaste at having been woken, and Nieriel lifted a handle to soothe him as she glanced at Arwen.
"If you can keep up," Arwen replied, taking the reins to Moonglow with a smirk. "You are more than welcome, brothers."
And so they all mounted and took off into the night.
They followed the path of the East-West road by the light of the waning moon, speaking little but ever vigilant. They had ridden along the Bruinen for a time, but had taken back to the road when that had proved uneventful. Now, the trees looked black against the silhouette of night, standing tall and still in their looming vigil. The stars twinkled but their light was muted, as if they too were silent. In the hours the group had been out they saw not one hide nor hair, with only the breeze quivering through the dead leaves of autumn for sound.
Night did not bother Nieriel, in fact she felt calmed from the stillness of it, but this night was different. Something was not right. Not even the added presence of the twins trailing behind she and Arwen on their own destriers could settle the unease in her belly. They watched with vigilant eyes the Trollshaws to the right, while Nieriel tracked the forest to the left, the Bruinen behind her and the Hoarwell in the distance, and Arwen surveyed the trail ahead.
It is too quiet, Nieriel thought, sending a look to Arwen. Too still. Her companion looked to her then and they shared a gaze of knowing before Arwen raised her hand and the small company came to a stop.
"What is it?" Elladan asked, coming to a stop next to Nieriel. He looked from Nieriel to his sister as Elrohir rode up on his opposite side, his own brow furrowed.
"I do not like this quiet." Arwen replied, her voice nothing more than a murmur. "There is something out there."
"We should split up." Nieriel said, and she saw the instant rebuke of Elladan as he tensed to argue. "Whatever it is will not expect us to do so."
"Safety outweighs surprise; we need to stay together." Elladan did, in fact, argue.
"We can cover more ground." Nieriel retorted, and Elladan sliced his head in repudiation, his brow falling stern to mask his features in shadow; the look was unlike his usual one and Nieriel thought it made him look much like his father in this moment.
"You do not know what this foe could be."
"I think we are all perfectly capable of handling our own, Elladan." Nieriel said, and he narrowed his eyes at her through the darkness, his grey eyes swirling their unease.
"What if it is another olog-hai? Or two? Or a troop of orcs? One hundred against one are sour odds, Nieriel."
"We will not stray far from one another; Nee is right." Arwen interjected, and Elrohir scowled his disdain. "You two take the Trollshaws and we will stay on the road. We will meet at the Last Bridge. If there is any disturbance we will know."
The brothers were silent, and Nieriel lifted a brow as Elladan shifted his jaw left, and then right. His eyes never left hers, wordlessly speaking his discomfort for the situation, before Elrohir drew their gazes with a hefty sigh.
"Very well. Be swift." he said, jerking his mount's reins toward the forest.
Elladan lingered a moment longer, never once breaking his regard of Nieriel. She frowned, growing restless under his gaze. Why does he stare? She gripped the reins tightly and made to send Stormwind into movement, however as she turned, Elladan's voice rang clear as he said, "Be safe, Nee."
She paused and looked over a slim shoulder at him, nodding once before digging her heels into Stormwind. That was a little strange. The beast took off in a slow trot with Moonglow at his side, her white head tossing with her eagerness to be off.
She and Arwen remained silent as they rode, stopping every once in a while to inspect the road for tracks or material left behind from a being. They rode for about an hour like this, listening intently for any sign of strife from the twins, but the night proceeded to be as uneventful as it had. The forest remained quiet, too eerily quiet, but the breeze had picked up, and Nieriel tipped her head back to scent the wind for anything ill or unpleasant.
The scent of smoke, telling of a fire long put out, she thought, looking across the Hoarwell through the scattering of trees to her left. The fields of Cardolan and Rhudaur lay sprawled before them in their vast glory, and in the far off distance Nieriel could see Weathertop towering over the rest of Weather Hills. Although it was a clear night she could make out nothing more than its proud silhouette, though the scent of the fire seemed to be coming from that direction.
A camp atop Amon Sûl? She glanced at Arwen, and indeed she had thought the same thing, for her brow was drawn down in a frown. That place has been deserted since—
The shriek of a nazgûl sliced the peace and quiet of the night, and both Nieriel and Arwen drew up short. It was not a sound that was close, but it was too near for them not to be concerned.
"Take to the trees." Arwen said, spurring Moonglow to do just that. They were far past the Trollshaws at this point, and so took to the copse of trees that lined the road. Stormwind leapt as Nieriel dug her heels into his sides, and it wasn't a moment that they were under cover before the screech of the enemy rang out again, this time noticeably closer.
"A nazgûl? Here?" Nieriel's heart thumped in her chest, yet her eyes were bright with the prospect of battle.
"So close to Rivendell…"
"Think you that was the camp we scented on Weather Hills?" Nieriel whispered as Stormwind shifted restlessly beneath her.
"They do not make camp." Arwen replied, her eyes turned toward the canopy of the forest as she searched for a sign of anything. "We should investigate."
"What about Elladan and Elrohir? We said we would meet them at the bridge." Nieriel pulled Stormwind to a halt to keep the creature from sidling, and he tossed his head to express his disobedience.
"And we will; we did not say we would not go past it." Arwen replied, and before Nieriel could argue that fact she kicked Moonglow into a gallop. Nieriel gritted her teeth but followed all the same, more vigilant than she had been before.
They rode hard and swift for countless moments, bent low on their horses and barely daring to breathe. They assumed the nazgûl flew on their fell beasts, but the enemy of old was known to travel by horseback as well. The women were on high alert for anything and everything, but the creatures that ruled the forest were wise and had taken cover, did not go searching for it like the women did.
That is why it is so quiet. Because they are wiser than we.
Arwen held out a hand then and Nieriel pulled Stormwind to a rearing stop, the warhorse stomping and snorting his aggression. She laid a hand on his neck to soothe him while Arwen looked this way and that, and Nieriel watched her; Arwen was the better tracker of the two, and Nieriel trusted her explicitly when it came to this.
Arwen jumped down from Moonglow and dropped her reins, and Nieriel did the same with Stormwind. She knew better than to open her mouth to break Arwen's concentration, but her blood was too hot to keep still. She shifted restlessly, trying to stay mute over the dry earth, turning her eyes to the trees that loomed around her.
Arwen cut her a look then, her eyes darting to the left. There. Something is to the west.
What is it? Nieriel asked wordlessly, and Arwen shook her head but once.
I cannot decipher. Come. Arwen began her trek on foot and Nieriel grabbed the nearest branch before foisting herself into a tree. She followed her companion aboveground, deftly and nimbly from limb to limb, tree to tree, as silently as Arwen traversed the earth.
They moved like this for innumerable heartbeats of rigid anticipation. Nieriel's entire body was drawn tight with tension while her heart beat rampantly in her throat and her nerve endings crackled in wild eagerness. It had been a while since she had last faced a nazgûl and it was a time she had not forgotten, because Glorfindel never let her do so.
But that is a story for a different day, she thought sourly, the lord's face clear and bright and laughing in her mind.
Yes, I owe my enemy much.
Arwen paused and Nieriel did as well, balanced precariously between two branches on the same tree. She glanced down at Arwen but it was a second later that her attention was drawn to a bit of frantic scurrying in the underbrush not twenty paces to her left. Arwen withdrew her blade slowly, quietly, gently from its scabbard, and Nieriel swiveled her fingers which itched to latch onto her blades. Not yet, she thought, eyes narrowed through the darkness. There was a lone figure up ahead, scrounging the foliage with its back to them. Beast or man? Nieriel lifted her nose to the breeze but it moved in the opposite direction, so she could not interpret much else from the strange creature huddled in the bushes.
Arwen ducked low through the shadows of the trees and moved toward the thing. Nieriel loped through the trees as lightly as her kind allowed, moving through the branches and their dead leaven counterparts with ease and agility. As they grew closer to the creature, Nieriel thought he looked much like a man; he seemed large, had a long blade on his hip, and was ransacking the brushwood of the forest as though his life depended on it.
In that, he heard not their approach.
With a sharp glance up at her from her perch in the trees, Arwen hesitated a moment before she struck her prey. She mouthed a single word to Nieriel, and the elven woman smiled, almost laughed at their luck. She watched with mirth glimmering in her eyes as Arwen slipped behind her quarry, her blade poised at his throat.
"What is this?" Arwen intoned gently, her blade sparkling under the light of the moon. Nieriel's smile grew as Arwen's own blossomed, and she watched as the figure slowly unfurled to his full height beneath her hiding place, his stance stiff.
"A ranger caught off his guard?" Arwen tilted her blade to scrape the unshaven hair on his neck, and Nieriel jumped down before Strider with a grin on her face to rival the light of the stars, her hands on her hips.
"Who knew they were so easy to trap?" she said to Arwen, as Aragorn looked in annoyance first at her, before his eyes flickered to where Arwen stood behind him.
"Any less diligent and you would be lacking a very important appendage." Arwen teased, removing her blade from Aragorn's throat. The ranger visibly relaxed, though Nieriel noticed the handsome lines of his face did not smooth, and indeed worry was potent on his features.
"What is it?" she asked immediately, her smile faltering, as Arwen moved to stand next to her beloved. She too frowned at Aragorn, laying a hand to his forearm in her concern.
"I have in my keeping the Ring-bearer." Aragorn supplied. "But he has been wounded gravely and I fear for his life. He needs aid."
Nieriel noticed that he had a bundling of the weed athelas clutched in one bloodied hand, and she said, "Take us to him and tell us what has happened."
Aragorn took off to the west, through the thick forest adjoined to the Trollshaws. Nieriel and Arwen followed in his wake, their cloaks billowing as they kept up with his long stride.
"We were attacked on Weathertop by Ringwraiths. They are on horseback, all nine of them, and are tracking us even now. Frodo was stabbed by a Morgul Blade in the attack." Strider told them, his footfalls heavy through the forest.
As if to accentuate his words, the shriek of a nazgûl tore through the night, and the trio faltered in their haste. Arwen and Aragorn shared a look of angst before Strider took off with renewed vigor, clutching the weed tightly in his hand.
"I have three other hobbits in my keeping. We were heading for Rivendell." he explained, and an instant later they broke through the tree line and into a clearing where indeed, four hobbits resided. The roundest one stood from his kneel with a sword shaking in his hand, though his countenance was fierce as he stood guard over one lying on the ground.
"Who are you!" he yelled, and Nieriel almost laughed at his bravado. Stout of heart he might be, but the hobbit would not reach her waist if she stood side by side with him. He looked at her with all the ill-contempt he could muster while the other two, very similar in visage, cowered next to the fallen hobbit on the ground.
"Stay back!" The round one called again, though Arwen ignored him as she rushed forward and fell to her knees beside who Nieriel could only assume was Frodo.
"Frodo, Im Arwen. Telin let thaed." Nieriel stood next to Aragorn who knelt on Frodo's other side, was chewing kingsfoil to place in his blackened wound as Arwen cradled him in her lap. "Lasto Beth nin, tolo Dan na ngalad."
"What is she saying?" The round one demanded.
"Who is she?" One of the other, more frightened hobbits asked, looking up at Nieriel.
"She is Arwen; she has come to help him." she supplied, and the round hobbit seemed to lose some of his bluster. "She is asking him to come back to the light."
For indeed, he looks much unwell. Nieriel knew little of Morgul blades, but enough to know that a wound by one was fatal. She winced, watching as Strider took the athelas and placed it in the sword bite, and Frodo began to gasp and writhe, his body twisting grotesquely as he foamed at the mouth.
"Arwen? Lady of Rivendell?" The other frightened hobbit asked, his wide eyes bright. "Then you must be—"
"He is fading. He is not going to last." Arwen said curtly, and Strider grabbed Frodo from the ground as Arwen called for Moonglow. Nieriel whistled for Stormwind and a moment later the pair came prancing from the woods, tossing their heads and stamping in their unease.
They knew danger was close.
The hobbits drew back in their terror, though the round one looked like he wanted to argue as Strider placed Frodo atop Moonglow. Arwen grabbed the reins to her mount as Nieriel did the same, swinging herself up onto the saddle.
"Elladan and Elrohir have been searching for you for three days. Glorfindel too." Arwen paused next to Aragorn, catching his eye as she spoke. "I did not know what became of you."
Aragorn hesitated, holding Frodo up with a single hand as he looked at Arwen with affection evident in his gaze. "I am sorry. It was not my intention to worry you." He spoke softly, and Nieriel turned her gaze to the surrounding forest to watch for any sign of their foe, giving the two a moment of privacy she knew Arwen so desperately wanted. Aragorn lifted a hand then and clasped Arwen's own, blue eyes gentle as he said in Elvish, "Stay with the hobbits. I will send horses for you."
"No." Arwen said immediately, responding in kind. "I am the faster rider."
"The road is too dangerous." Aragorn replied, and the round one, having had enough of a language he did not understand, interjected, "What is going on? Where are you taking him?"
"If I can reach the Ford, the power of my people will protect him." Arwen replied, and Nieriel jerked her head to the south, thinking she heard the crush of underbrush in the distance.
"We have to move."
Arwen squeezed Strider's hand and smiled a smile just for him. "I do not fear them." she whispered in Elvish,
Nieriel glanced down at Strider; it was evident he did not want to let her go, but he knew she was right. To soften the danger of the situation she offered, "I will take him. I am faster than you."
"You need to warn Elladan and Elrohir. I will take Frodo and meet you at the Ford." Arwen said, and Nieriel watched as she mounted Moonglow.
"You will have nine Ringwraiths riding after you, Arwen." Nieriel said firmly, her brow stern. "I can outrun them."
"The more we sit here talking about it the more nullified the matter becomes." Arwen said, causing Nieriel to glare at her companion. However, she knew she was right.
"Hopefully they will not know who to follow: you or I." Arwen said to her, and Nieriel could only wish to agree. "We will draw them away from you. Stay hidden." Arwen then said to Aragorn, and the ranger nodded. He placed a hand on Moonglow's rump, preparing to set the horse loose.
"Ride hard. Do not look back."
Arwen nodded. She glanced at Nieriel then and her tone was dim as she said, "Noro lim."
Strider backed away and yelled, "Hey yah!" slapping Moonglow on her hind. The horse leapt from the clearing and back toward the east, toward Rivendell, and Nieriel shared a look with Aragorn, her reign tight on Stormwind.
"I will see her safe." she promised him, before taking off slightly more north, for the Trollshaws.
Branches whipped at her frame, tore at her cloak as underbrush and mud splattered her boots and breeches. Stormwind was snorting in his ferocity, galloping with all the vigor that he was bred with, as dawn lightened the horizon above. That, however, did not stay the nazgûl. Nieriel knew there were at least three on her tail, maybe four, and she prayed with every ounce of holiness in her that Strider and the hobbits were safe. They cannot fend for themselves such as I can. And they are on foot.
Up ahead Nieriel could see a clearing, knew that the Last Bridge was close. So far she was outrunning the nazgûl by a good length, but Stormwind was just as tired as she was, whereas the nazgûl had relentless strength and were tireless in their pursuit.
And Arwen… An angry screech of defiance pierced the early morning air, and Nieriel bent lower over Stormwind, urged him faster yet. I hope that she has made it to the Ford by now.
Nieriel broke through the clearing drawing up dust and debris, and up ahead she could see Elladan and Elrohir waiting restlessly by the mouth of the bridge. Both had dismounted, however as Stormwind came to a sliding stop before them they grabbed their mounts' reins, eyes alight with worry.
"What is it?"
"Where is Arwen?"
"There are nazgûl on my tail. Arwen has the Ring-bearer, is making for Rivendell. She will meet us at the Ford." Nieriel rushed out, as breathless as she was wind-torn. "Make haste! They are not far behind!"
Elladan and Elrohir leapt into their saddles, jerking their horses toward the east. "Are there nazgûl following Arwen as well?" Elrohir asked.
"I do not doubt it. Last I saw there were three trailing me. Strider is out there as well, with three more hobbits in his keeping." Nieriel heaved, her limbs shaking from her weariness. Sunlight began to pierce the Trollshaws, though its awakening did not bring forth the birds as it did every other morning. No, the creatures knew the peril that was afoot, stayed hidden for the sake of their own lives.
"We will ride for Aragorn. You meet Arwen at the Ford." Elrohir said, and Nieriel nodded her consent.
"He was going to follow the road heading east, but stay out of sight. He did not want to risk it. Even though the nazgûl are after the Ring, they will not heed anyone that stands in their way." Nieriel told the twins, and Elladan nodded. They wasted no more time with discourse and flew to their own paths, adrenaline surging through their veins.
The sun had barely topped the trees and painted the sky a buttery yellow with tinges of orange, but the atmosphere was anything as beautiful or serene. Stormwind had lost the greatest of his stamina no matter how hard Nieriel pushed him, and although she sensed the nazgûl were no longer behind her, she kept up the pace. She knew they rode horses because their foul fell beasts did not darken the sky; and surely, she would've been caught by now if they had been.
At least, I hope… She was slick with sweat, and Stormwind panted through his exertion, foam around his mouth as his own flesh slickened with perspiration. She was low over his neck and urged him with encouraging words, but he was weary, was beginning to stumble over the foliage. She had pushed him much harder this night than ever before, and the heavy pace without respite was catching up to him.
"A little further, Stormwind…" she whispered to him as the roaring of the Bruinen grew louder. She had crossed the great river a while back, had gone through the Trollshaws instead of around, had not taken to the road as to not draw attention to herself, and came from the north now, on the side of the river that was Rivendell. "We are almost there!"
An unholy shriek of anger shattered the solitude of early morning, and Stormwind tossed his head in anxiousness and whinnied his reply. The nazgûl were close, yes, but Nieriel knew they were not in pursuit of her anymore.
They had found their target.
Arwen.
Nieriel dug her heels into Stormwind and he bolted for the sound, his eyes wild. Nieriel leapt into a clearing from the forest and ahead of her saw Arwen with Hadhafang raised high, Moonglow sidling nervously in a low spot of rushing water in the middle of the Bruinen facing all nine of the Ringwraiths on the opposite shore, who hesitated to cross the churning waters into the powerful hands of Rivendell.
"Give up the halfling, she-elf!"
Nieriel kicked at Stormwind to drive him faster, and Arwen looked at her briefly as she drew to a splashing halt next to her. The nazgûl fettered nervously at the arrival of the newcomer, their mounts rearing and snorting, though the relief Nieriel felt at seeing Arwen safe and sound was immense and she spared her enemy not a glance.
"My lady." Nieriel said breathlessly. Arwen looked just as worse for wear as she did, her hair in tangles and her clothes mud-splattered and torn. Nieriel glanced at Frodo seated before the lady and saw him pale and withered, though he breathed, however rapidly and coarsely.
He will not last much longer.
Arwen nodded her appreciation at the impeccable timing, though the Witch-king of Angmar himself would not be stayed. His horse reared and he seethed his disproval by saying, "Two to feel our wrath now; the she-elf and her bloodless kin!"
"Remember us, do you?" Another asked, causing Nieriel to grind her teeth together as she blocked out the memory.
"Not so mighty were you then, she-elf."
The nazgûl behind him screeched their eagerness, and Stormwind tossed his head and jostled back a step. Nieriel held firm, glaring down her foe without fear or remorse.
"If you want the hobbit," Arwen called, Hadhafang glistening in the early morning light. "Come and claim him!"
The Witch-king kicked his steed into stride, breaking from the tree line and traversing down the bank and into the Bruinen. The other Ringwraiths followed in his wake, their black horses tossing their heads in their dismay at crossing the threshold into Rivendell.
I hope it will not come to fighting nine nazgûl. Nieriel glanced at Arwen to find her eyes closed and her head bent, though her lips moved subtlety in a soft chant.
"Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer! Rimmo nin Bruinen, dan in Ulair!"
Her voice grew louder, and her silver-grey eyes blazed as they opened.
"Waters of the Misty Mountains, listen to the great word! Flow waters of Loudwater, against the Ringwraiths!"
Arwen tipped her head up and Nieriel pulled on Stormwind to have him step back, Arwen doing the same with Moonglow as she continued her chant, the nazgûl drawing closer.
"Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer! Rimmo nin Bruinen, dan in Ulair!"
The ground beneath them began to tremble, and Nieriel joined Arwen in her last verse as the waters began to rise around the nazgûl. Their horses began to falter, stumbled over the rocks and bickering at the sudden change in the atmosphere, but the Ringwraiths pushed them faster, deeper into the waters in their efforts to get to Frodo.
"Waters of the Misty Mountains, listen to the great word! Flow waters of Loudwater, against the Ringwraiths!"
Nieriel and Arwen had reached the bank of the Bruinen and not a heartbeat too soon. A loud, crashing burst of water rounded the bend from whence Nieriel had just come, barreling with all the force of a tidal wave in its wrath. The nazgûl shrieked their dismay, tugged at their horses to get them to retreat, but the mounts were distressed, would not listen. They reared and tossed their great, ugly black heads as the water from the Bruinen cascaded swiftly and disastrously toward them, unfeeling and unmerciful in its fury. Nieriel and Arwen watched safely from the opposite side as the winding waters crashed over the Ringwraiths, swallowing up their howls of terror and ire and carrying them swiftly and surely away.
"Frodo!"
Nieriel looked sharply at Arwen to find her sliding from the saddle, the Ring-bearer in her grasp. Nieriel dropped lightly onto the ground and kneeled next to Arwen, who was cradling the small little hobbit in her lap, her touch light on his pale, sallow face.
"Frodo no! Do not give up! Not now!" she cried, and Nieriel ripped open his already torn shirt to look at his wound. She grimaced at the black, thick secretions that leaked from the laceration, of the mangled and translucent skin that bore blackened veins beneath his flesh.
"I do not have the skill to treat him, and nor do you." Arwen said, and Nieriel looked at her in distress, knowing what she spoke was true.
"It's spreading." Nieriel told Arwen. "He needs Lord Elrond."
"Is there nothing we can give him to stay the poison?" Arwen asked of her, and Nieriel began to shake her head slowly; she knew of nothing if the athelas had not worked.
Arwen looked back down at Frodo, moving her hand from his face to his heart. Nieriel watched as she closed her eyes and murmured softly to him, words of mystic that not even Nieriel could decipher. Frodo gasped and writhed, his brow wet with sweat, though it was evident he was weakened. His limbs shook violently from the effort it took for him to breathe, and his eyes were glassy and vacant as they looked to the sky, unseeing of anything.
He is not going to make it.
Nieriel launched back into Stormwind's saddle and reached down for Frodo. "Give him to me. We must make haste for Rivendell."
Arwen opened her eyes, their depths rich with her despair, and she relinquished her hold of him unto Nieriel. Nieriel wrapped her arms around the hobbit and waited for Arwen to mount Moonglow, before digging her own heels into Stormwind and urging him forth.
Pull through, Frodo, she thought, glancing down at Frodo as Stormwind took up the East-West road, where Rivendell loomed in the distance.
There are many who are counting on you.
AN: I try to update on Fridays/Saturdays (I don't know if I've mentioned that before), so tada! Thank you to all the wonderful beings who've submitted feedback so far; I am utterly elated that you all are enjoying this! I thank each and every one of you for your kind words.
Translations
Galu; a na lû e-govaned vîn: Good luck; until we meet again.
Posto vae, ada: Rest well, father.
Noro lim: Ride swift.
Oh! And one more thing! I'm trying to figure out a way to incorporate the maps I use for Middle Earth and Rivendell into links, so you guys can get a visual on how I lay things out, but I've been sorely unsuccessful. I'll keep at it though! Hopefully I can figure it out soon!
xox - ithilbereth