Chapter Four – Flight to Rivendell
I awoke before dawn, feeling slightly more rested. Rising, I saw that Strider and Walker were standing at the mouth of the cave, waiting for the first rays of sun to penetrate the inky darkness. Yawning widely, I stretched and made my way so that I was standing to the left of Strider.
"Good morning," I muttered to each of them, bowing my head slightly. The tall Ranger turned to me, a soft smile on his face, which seemed to have less lines of weariness.
"Good morning," he returned, "How do you feel?"
I shrugged a little, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Well, thank-you." I paused, frowning and turning to look at the sleeping forms of the Hobbits toward the back of the cave. "It's Frodo I am worried about."
Walker met my eyes. "As are we."
"I did not think it prudent to leave in haste last night, when the little folk were so weary, but now I question my judgement. Time is now our enemy." Strider said, exhaling heavily.
I shook my head, "I believe your judgement is sound, Strider. We would have made no progress stumbling with weariness in the dark."
"Indeed," Walker agreed quietly, and my eyes flashed to the horizon where I saw the first crimson beginnings of the coming sun.
"Ah, there she is," Strider breathed, and then he turned to me. "Wake them up, Amir, for now is the time we must fly."
When the Hobbits had been roused out of their slumber, the task soon came to lifting Frodo onto Bill, who had been happily munching the grass outside of the cave. Once this was done and the Ringbearer's comfort was ensured, we set off, the Hobbits strangely quiet, a fact which made me feel uneasy. They were usually so happy and lighthearted, with ever a good tale to spin and a bit of wisdom at the ready. Now, with the silence, I wished more than ever to lift their heavy hearts, but I knew there was nothing I could do. As Strider had spoken that morning, time was indeed our enemy, but it also, if we made haste, could be our salvation.
The days after Weathertop were long, harsh, and filled with uneasy silence. Shrieks came periodically from the forest surrounding us, but the Ringwraiths did not make their presence known. We ran for hours at a time, and the Hobbits struggled to keep up, their short legs making the task more difficult. Each took turns riding on Bill, a kind of horse that clearly did not travel very often, if at all. Despite this, the pony trotted along next to us with its small rider of that moment, seemingly happy and carefree, unlike the rest of the Company...
I suppose the rain that fell did not improve things much, either. Or the lack of food, which caused us to dig up roots and chew random leaves as we went along. The Hobbits initially grumbled amongst each other about this, but soon even they became quiet, hardly voicing anything at all as they continued to run. Their endurance was impressive. When daylight faded into night, the cold descended, causing the Hobbits to huddle together for warmth. Even for me, since my clothes were constantly wet or damp, it was cold. Yet still we kept on, running for hours at a time in a silence that was intermittently broken by the distant shrieks of the Ringwraiths.
The tension that followed from the cave continued on into the forest, as Strider turned around every so often to round up the stumbling Hobbits.
"Hurry! We must make haste!" he would cry, and Pippin, Merry, and Sam would quicken their footsteps for a little while, only to slow down again as more weariness descended on them. I felt terrible for their weariness, but it was necessary if the Ringbearer was to live.
"We're days from Rivendell. He'll never make it!" Sam yelled up to Strider, after being coaxed into walking faster once again.
"Such thoughts will never aid him," Walker said, having been walking next to him, "Do not hold such darkness in your heart! It may be that Frodo's strength keeps him from the embrace of death,"
"Walker is right," I commented, and Sam's eyes met mine. "There is still hope. I understand now that Hobbits are strong folk." He nodded, and the Hobbits lengthened their strides, a new determination lighting up their previously grim faces.
I checked periodically on Frodo, who was slumped forward on the horse, his face growing whiter as the day progressed. I wondered if the horse's movement was aggravating the wound and causing him increased pain, but there was no better mode of transport that I could offer him.
When we stopped briefly to catch our breath, I spoke softly in the Ringbearer's ear, rousing him out of his pained doze. "Frodo...do not fall into the Shadow! You have a strong soul, Ringbearer. Take some of my strength and defend against the Shadow." Touching his forehead, I transferred energy through to him. His back straightened slightly, his face losing some of its deathly pallor.
"Thank-you Lady Amir," he mumbled, calling me by a non-existent title once again, as he continued to do.
I shook my head, smiling a little and moving my hand from his forehead as we resumed walking again. My own pain from the Morgul blade had been subdued slightly, but whenever I stumbled, it reared again like an angry horse. I did my best to put this out of my mind, for Frodo's wound was far more serious and dire.
Later, we stopped again, walking slowly into a small clearing, which held large forms in the hazy forest light. I drew my sword, as did Strider, but a rare laugh came from his mouth once he saw what the forms were: stone trolls! Recalling Gandalf's stories of Bilbo Baggin's adventure with the Dwarves, I smiled, as did Walker, at the sight.
"Look, Frodo. It's Mr. Bilbo's trolls," Sam said, hovering over the ever weakening Hobbit. Frodo lurched up and gasped, his pale eyes widening as he surfaced from whatever nightmare he had fallen into.
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam touched his face, and then turned to me quickly in fright. "He's going cold!"
Moving toward the Hobbit, I saw that Sam was right: Frodo's strength was waning, and I did not know if I could afford to give him more of mine when I was feeling so weak. Strider, clearly reading the thoughts on my face, gripped my shoulder.
"There is nothing more you can do, Amir." There was a warning in his tone, and I sighed wearily, stepping back from the fading Hobbit. Sadness swept over me.
"Is he going to die?" Pippin asked, his voice trembling slightly, coming up next to me.
"No," I whispered to them, not certain if this were truth or not, "but he is passing into the world between the living and dead."
"He'll soon become a Wraith like the Nazgûl," Strider finished.
Walker's eyes narrowed, and from where I was, I saw her body tense. My warrior senses exploded a moment before the shrieks sounded from the forest around us, sending horrible chills down my spine.
At the same time, our swords were drawn. Our eyes met.
"They are here!" she hissed, and Strider's expression turned grim as he drew his own sword as well, although slowly.
"What are we going to do?" Merry asked, terror evident on his face as he gripped the hilt of his sword.
Strider ignored his question, straightening his shoulders as he turned to me. "Amir, do you know the Athelas plant?" I nodded, familiar with its properties. "Sam, follow Amir and help her gather this plant. It will slow the poison. Hurry!"
Once I had briskly introduced the healing plant to Sam, we began to gather what we could find. Sam, being a gardener, had a good eye and he compiled the majority of the plant as the spine chilling screeches came nearer. We returned hastily to the small clearing. I was about to call out to Strider, when I saw that he, Walker, and an Elven man were kneeling around Frodo, who had been lain on the grass. The Elf's golden hair glimmered slightly, but I could not see his face well. Where had he come from? Was he perhaps an Elf from the House of Elrond?
"Strider?" I called quietly, my hand on the hilt of my sword as I neared the three.
He looked up, relief showing on his face when he saw it was me. "Amir. Come, help us."
Kneeling down and catching a glimpse of the Elf's noble face, I saw that Frodo's wound had once again been split open. The wound itself was a terrible dark blue colour, as it had been before.
"He is fading," the Elven man said softly, "He will not last."
I tucked a strand of escaping hair behind my ear. I was about to place my hand over his wound to heal it when Walker's hand caught my arm in a steadfast grip.
"No..." she said, looking into my confused face, "Keep your strength. Let the Athelas do what it can."
Frowning slightly, I nodded wearily. Together, Strider and I chewed the plant into a paste, placing it carefully over Frodo's wound. He hissed, whimpering in pain as we did so. To my surprise, he did not cry out or scream like most Men I had seen with wounds as dire as his on the battlefield.
"I have been searching for you for two days," the Elf continued, "There are five Wraiths behind you, but where the other four are, I cannot say."
"Glorfindel," Strider began, addressing the Elf, "We-"
He broke off abruptly, for suddenly there was the sound of thundering hooves in the distance.
The Elf, Glorfindel, stood. "They are upon us!" he whisper-cried and Strider pulled Frodo so that he was standing. The Hobbit swayed but caught himself, and I touched his shoulder, sending a small spark of energy through his body. Reaching out, Glorfindel lifted him onto the white horse standing nearby, the hooves bearing the Nazgûl coming nearer and nearer with every passing second.
"Asfaloth will know the way across River Bruinen, Frodo. Ride hard!" the Elf ensured, handing the dazed Hobbit his reigns. A new light came into Frodo's eyes as Glorfindel turned the horse around, and just moments before the Nazgûl broke into the clearing, he rode out of sight on the speeding Elven horse.
Sam's voice cut through my jumbled thoughts.
"They are upon us!" he cried, drawing his sword simultaneously with Merry and Pippin. Not five, but the entire Nine Riders crashed through the underbrush, thundering toward us. To my surprise, no longer were they cloaked and hooded in black, but they now rode in white and grey. With the absence of the black attire, they were more frightful and raging than ever...
Having sheathed her sword, Walker loosened an arrow at the Witch King. He wrenched his head to the side, the arrow missing his helm by a finger-width. Strider swept the Hobbits out of the way, and I dove to the side, narrowly escaping being beheaded by the Witch King's broad blade.
Rolling upright, I swung at a passing Ringwraith's leg. He screeched in agony, rounding his horse and bearing down on me. I dodged out of the way, jarring my shoulder rather hard against a nearby tree. Dropping my sword, I grabbed my bow, firing a hasty arrow. Catching it in the mouth, the creature howled. Grabbing at its face, it flopped over like a dead fish onto the ground, where Pippin neatly cut off one of its arms. At the corner of my eye, I could see Aragorn, Merry, and Sam fighting two undead warriors while Glorfindel and Walker shot arrows at the retreating backs of the remaining six Wraiths.
"Ayah!" Strider shouted, dodging one Wraith's sword and clashing with another. Picking up my sword, I was about to strike out against the fallen Rider when I heard Walker's warning cry.
"Amir!" she called, and I turned just in time to see the second Wraith throw his black spear in my direction. Twisting away and slipping on a grouping of rocks, I felt the spear graze my thigh. A choked cry came from my throat, but I remained standing. The Wraith must have smelled the blood on my aggravated side and thigh, for he swung his blade tirelessly at me, sensing my weakness. The putrid smell that rose from the undead body was nearly crippling, but I kept on. Pippin charged the Wraith, distracting it, and I glanced quickly over to the others.
Dashing across the clearing, I saved Walker from being impaled by the one-armed Wraith's second spear. Glancing at me briefly, she then turned back to parry a blow from the first Wraith, who seemed intent on destroying her.
"Strider!" Sam hollered in desperation, having been backed against a tree. Jumping forward, Strider twisted the second Wraith's sword and, flinging it in the air, I distantly heard it land with a thump somewhere in the forest nearby. Glorfindel shot an arrow at the Wraith, sinking deeply into the undead warrior's shoulder.
"Make for the Ford!" he cried, and I watched as the third Wraith backed away from Pippin's blade. It screeched to its companions, and together they began to retreat. Mounting their horses, they swept past us, their bodies emitting an eerie glow.
Strider passed by, shouting something I could not make out. Grasping Pippin's shoulder, we broke into a run after the others, joining them ahead of us. Leaping over underbrush and dodging trees, we followed the lead of Glorfindel through the dense forest. Branches whipped at my face as I pushed onward, stumbling once and awhile on rocks and pits in the forest floor.
Leading us onto a narrow earth road, the Elf beckoned us to hurry. "They are nearing the River!" he called. I squinted ahead to where the blurry grey figures rode, cursing my non-Elven eye sight for the thousandth time.
Breaking toward the crest of hill before the river bank, we all came to an abrupt halt when we saw what was to transpire below. There was a distant surging sound, like the rumbling of faraway thunder as the Witch King advanced across the Ford to Frodo, who sat courageously tall on Asfaloth and held his sword high.
"You will have neither Ring or me!" he called, and the Witch King threw back his shaggy head and laughed. Urging his horse forward once more, for the beast was clearly not comfortable with the waters, the Rider advanced a few feet. The three Wraiths had rejoined the others from behind, but they stalled at the River's edge, perhaps awaiting their leader's direction. Dark words flew from the Witch King's mouth, and I watched in horror as Frodo's sword shattered into several slivers. Asfaloth reared.
I stepped forward, glancing in fear at the others, but Strider stayed me from action by laying a hand on my shoulder. He pointed wordlessly to Glorfindel, who was gazing down the far end of River Bruinen, seemingly awaiting something. Merry, Pippin, and Sam were tense as bow stings next to me, but it seemed as though none of us could speak; the Witch King's curse had not only broken Frodo's sword, but it had cleaved our tongues to the roof of our mouths and locked our muscles in place.
My heart fell when four Wraiths stepped into the River after their leader, watching as Frodo sat completely still on the Elven steed. Suddenly, the distant surging sound grew to a roar, and to my left, I saw a rising mountain of water moving like the wind toward the Nazgûl. The Witch King shrieked in anger as he sighted the river water riding toward them. Glorfindel let out a triumphant cry as Strider jumped forward, shouting: "Run!"
Moving swiftly down the small hillside, I heard the remaining Ringwraiths screech when they realized they had been left with no escape. Their black steeds ran toward the River in fear as we descended toward them, the roar of the oncoming water advancing with incredible speed. The five Wraiths in the middle of the River turned back to the shore, but they were far too slow. The crest of water, mounted by shimmering forms of white horses, would crash within mere moments.
But then time turned slow as it happened, drawing out the moment into eternity.
A Wraith still on the shore struck out at me in desperation as it passed by, and I ducked, avoiding being beheaded once again. Reaching down with its bony hand, it grabbed the back of my tunic, dragging me along with it. Terror struck me then, and I dropped my sword, struggling against the Rider's grip. There were shouts from behind, but all I could feel was the terrible darkness transferring from the Wraith to me. I felt the river rocks bruise my legs as the Rider entered the water, and I managed to pull out my dagger. In a last, desperate move, I buried the blade into the Rider's steadfast hand. Dropping immediately, I fell into the River, staggering to my feet on the rocks.
This was when the surging water crashed onto the trapped Nazgûl, hitting me on my wounded side…
I felt myself being swept downstream in the torrent of water, unable to discern up or down. Something jabbed my leg, and when I passed by, I closed my fingers around it. Pulling my head up, I broke the surface, gasping for air. I looked around wildly. I realized I had grabbed onto a tree root, and the bulk of the root system itself was saving me from being swept away again as the water surged past. Dragging myself to the shore, I knelt for a moment on the grass to catch my breath and regain touch with my surroundings.
Glancing across the River, I could see the others stepping into the water, rushing toward the opposite shore. The noble Elf, Glorfindel, reached my side first.
"My Lady, are you alright?" he asked, crouching next to me, his aqua eyes radiating concern.
I coughed, realizing I had been trembling. "Yes, my Lord, thank-you," I answered as well as I could, pushing away the lock of hair that had plastered to my cheek.
"Amir!" I looked up, noticing the advancing Walker. "Are you hurt?"
Shaking my head, I touched my scabbard, noting with horror that my sword was missing. An acute memory of dropping it on the River's edge came back to me suddenly, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Strider and the Hobbits had stepped forward.
"How did you get away? We thought the Wraith had got you!" Merry exclaimed.
"You're awfully lucky you weren't swept away like the Wraiths were," Sam said. I smiled waveringly at him as I stood, feeling my clothes cling to my body like a second skin.
At the corner of my eye, I could see that Walker had narrowed her eyes at me; looking me over for injury. Strider spoke from behind her.
"It was a narrow escape, and I do believe we must thank Lord Elrond when we arrive at his gate," he said, moving toward me. "Can you walk?"
I nodded, straightening my back slightly. "Yes," I ground out.
Strider smiled, "And I believe you dropped this." He held out my sword, which he must have retrieved before crossing the River Bruinen. My inner horror evaporated, although later I would note that my one dagger had also been dropped in the desperation of the moment...
"Thank-you," I said, taking the sword and sheathing it smoothly.
"Come then," Glorfindel intoned, "we have a long walk yet to the gates of Rivendell."
Sam took my hand, tugging me forward as he led Bill onward after the others. I sighed, forcing my legs into walking, although it was the last thing I felt like doing at that moment...
It was much past nightfall by the time we arrived in Rivendell, and I could hear the beautiful voices of the Elves raised in singing, a sound that lifted my heavy heart. The moon illuminated the awe-inspiring forest, which soon humbled before a large, ornate wooden bridge. Upon it stood cloaked figures.
Walker increased her speed, as did Strider, and I had to force myself to catch up.
As I neared the bridge, I could see a tall, finely dressed Elf, whose features spoke of his high rank and blood. My mind clearing, I supposed, in a rush of excitement, that this might be Lord Elrond; the one Gandalf had spoken so highly of! Seeing Strider and Walker at the other end of the bridge, he walked slowly toward them, his arms wide.
"I welcome you all into Rivendell," he began, his voice deep and warm. "You have indeed travelled long and hard. Now you may rest peacefully..."
Walker bowed toward him, a wide smile on her face. "Mae govannem, Lord Elrond. It has been too long!"
"Indeed, since when I last saw you, you promised you would return within a week," Lord Elrond said, trying to hide his smile. So Walker knew Lord Elrond! "Ah, but I knew you yearned for the wilds from whence you came, the great mountains and valleys in which you were born! I could not hold you back, my dear, though good sense made me concerned for you."
"Good sense, indeed," Walker returned with a happy laugh, leaving me wondering the nature of their relationship, "Good sense would have made my life a bore, Lord Elrond. Certainly you expected my departure."
"Mae govannen, Lord Elrond. We are in your and Glorfindel's debt," Strider said, coming up beside Walker to bow to him. The Hobbits bowed as well, having hopped off of Bill quickly.
"Suilad, Aragorn," 'Greetings, Aragorn,' Lord Elrond greeted him with a polite bow of his head.
Walker turned to me as I came up behind them, the smile still on her face. "My Lord, this is the sixth member of the Company, Ranger Amir of the Dunedain."
I bowed slowly and deeply to him, feeling my weariness and pain ebb slightly at being in his presence. "Mae govannen, Lord Elrond. It is an honour to meet you."
Lord Elrond smiled kindly at me, surprising me when he took my hand between his own. "It is an honour and pleasure to have you in Rivendell, young Ranger, though your travels be harsh. Come, let us tend to your injuries..."
With this said, Strider and Walker stepped by my side as we all began walking across the moonlit bridge and into the forest before the gates of Rivendell.
"And what of Frodo?" I heard Strider ask, echoing my own thoughts.
"He is calm, and arrived here in time to be healed by our powers," Lord Elrond answered.
Before we came to the gates, another figure stepped forward into the moonlight.
"Welcome," a musical voice greeted us, and when my blurred vision cleared, I saw a beautiful Elf waiting for us on the road leading to the gates. It was then when I recognized her fully: this was Lord Elrond's daughter, Lady Arwen, the Evenstar of her people! In the stories I had been told and heard, she was said to bear a resemblance to Luthien Tinuviel. Indeed, now that my own eyes saw her, I could only agree: the dark black hair framing the pale, regal face; the soft green eyes that bespoke of her inner strength and beauty; the slender nose and ruby lips leading to the slightly pointed chin; the willowy form beneath her dark green robes.
Strider smiled at the sight of her, the expression transforming his weary face. "We meet again, Arwen."
She shook her head when he bowed to her, "It has been long, Aragorn." Turning to Walker, who bowed also, she said, "It has been long also since you have come to Rivendell..." The Lady trailed off, and the rest of her sentence seemed to be communicated through her eyes. Walker laughed a little, rising from her bow.
"Indeed, I have travelled far, Arwen."
Lord Elrond smiled, his grey eyes lit with kindness. "These travels we would all love to hear, but later..." He turned to me concernedly, "Your companion needs tending."
I stepped forward, bowing deeply to the beautiful Elven Lady. "Evenstar, it is beyond honour to be in your presence," I said quietly, struck by her incredible beauty. I could only imagine how I must have appeared: my face cut by branches, body drenched by the River water, and Ranger clothes bloodied by wounds.
She laughed softly, a sound which soothed my ears. "Ah, young Ranger, you speak far too highly."
I was about to say something in return, but I stopped, feeling a wave of dizziness take over as the black poison from the Morgul blade spread pain throughout my body. I clutched my side, and Strider moved forward to grip my shoulder in support. Walker stepped to my other shoulder, and I leaned against her wearily.
"She has been cut by a Morgul blade," Strider said tersely.
Lady Arwen frowned, stepping forward and cupping my chin so that she could look into my eyes. A power probed at my mind, and I was about to push up a barrier, but I forced myself to halt the automatic reaction. Warmth washed over my body, but as soon as it came, the power retreated and the Lady retracted her hand from my face, leaving me in a daze.
"Come, young Ranger, I will help thee..." she said, trading significant looks with Strider and Walker. She took my hand, and although I struggled at first, she guided me up the inclining road and through the gates.
Inside, she led me up some winding stairs to a room which overlooked the canyon. I was in no state to admire it at that moment, for the icy claws began to steal away my body's warmth as she and an attendant rid me of the bow, quiver, sword, and daggers. I hissed in pain when they very gently helped me lay on the comfortable bed. I closed my eyes when she touched her fingers to my forehead and leaned down to whisper in my ear.
"Ala wilith. You are with us now..."
Her voice echoed in my mind beautifully. I opened my mouth to thank her, but I fell instead into a deep, dreamless sleep...
Thanks again for reading. :) Let me know if I should keep uploading chapters...Please do review, since to me reviews are almost better than being healed by Elves in Rivendell, hehe. If Rivendell was really a place, I would love to visit it. Elves are wonderful creatures, and the places they inhabit always seem to be so serene and beautiful.