For seven days Authiel traveled the terrain looking for signs of Aragorn and his charges. While she had been riding out of Bree and through Chetwood she thought about the path her Chieftain would have taken. If she knew him as well as she liked to think, she determined he would have taken the old paths the Rangers used and headed to Weathertop. From there he would have a vantage point in all directions before continuing his journey and guiding the Hobbits safely through the wilds. So that is the way she went. Pushing Nimrodel into a hard gallop when the ground was hard and easy to navigate, but then leading the mare through the soft and damp ground of the Midgewater Marshes. The land began to harden again as she and her horse reached the foot of the Weathered Hills. Finally, after their long 106 mile journey through the days and parts of the night, horse and mistress were looking up at the ruined watchtower of Amon Sûl or Weathertop, as the sun began to sink behind the horizon.
Deciding to take advantage of what light was left in a sky, Authiel commanded Nimrodel to remain where she was. The Ranger then climbed the old and forgotten path that would lead up to the top of the of the tower.
On the way, she passed a small outcropping that look recently disturbed. Upon closer examination she saw the remains of a fire, the burned wood scattered across the ground in an odd way, as though it had been hastily put out. Around the area there were flat footprints which could only belong to a Hobbit, and they headed up, so Authiel followed the trail. She had been pleased that her assumptions had been right. Aragorn had taken the path she would have chosen for herself and that gave her some comfort that she was going the right way.
At the top of the watch tower, the Half-Elf took a quick glance around the surrounding area in the distance. Satisfied she saw no sign of a threat she looked around the area for signs of Aragorn and these Hobbits he was guiding.
A quick scan showed that only days before there had been some sort of altercation or fight. The dirt was scraped up and pieces of frayed black cloth were strewn on the ground. Various footprints were scattered around. Most seemed to be made with heavy booted feet and whoever stood against them wore a softer lighter boot. Authiel felt fear creep into her mind, as she knew in her heart that it was Aragorn who fought against the Nazgûl in this spot. Examining the area once more, she was drawn to a large rock. From where she was standing in the fading light she could make out a white Elvish 'G' Rune. Authiel furrowed her brows knowing that was how Gandalf would identify himself to others, but looking around, it didn't seem like the Wizard had stood against the Nine with Aragorn. The Ranger moved closer to the rock and knelt to examine the marking. What hope that she had that there was a slim chance Aragorn had aid vanished as she determined the rune was older than her fellow Ranger's footprints.
Casually letting her eyes fall to the ground, she saw hidden in the shadows the hilt of a knife. She reached for it and as soon as her fingertips touched it she felt dread enter her heart. Pushing the feeling away she brought it closer to examine in the fading light and saw that it was a Morgul knife, but the blade had completely vanished. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when she saw traces of dried blood on the metal.
Authiel dropped it immediately and took off running from the top of the tower and down to Nimrodel. The thought that either Aragorn or one of the Hobbits had been injured by that foul weapon ran through her mind. And with the blade gone, it was a possibility that there was a piece of the weapon in the wound which, in her mind, would cause a fate worse than death to the victim.
Leaping on Nimrodel the horse took off sensing that her mistress was in distress and needed to reach whatever destination Authiel desired. Through the nights and days Authiel rode through the wilds from Weathertop. Searching for any sign of her quarry. The valley and woods passing her by as she either rode Nimrodel or walked beside the horse to give the mare a rest and recover what strength she could. At night, the Half-Elf only camped so that the horse wouldn't tire and collapse, because she might be needed if Authiel ever came upon Aragorn and the Hobbits. The woman herself would find little sleep herself as worry ate at her mind and heart.
After days of travel and many miles, Authiel was near the land of the Trollshaws. She had taken a wide route to avoid the high ridge mountains that would have blocked her in and made traveling harder for her and Nimrodel. About two days ride and she would be where the Trolls that had captured Thorin and his company, were still standing, frozen in stone, stooped and bent over amongst the trees.
It was dark now and Authiel was walking Nimrodel through the forests as she searched for a place to camp for a few hours. It was raining, hard enough to soak everything and for once Authiel was not happy about the weather. Flashes of lightning lit up the area at times and the rumbles of thunder sounded overhead. The ground was muddy and made traversing the woods on horseback near impossible. She would not risk any harm to Nimrodel, especially since the beast had pushed herself so hard to get them as far as they had come so quickly.
Authiel stopped in her tracks as a high piercing scream cut through the air. She would know the sound anywhere now; the Nazgûl were near. She felt dread enter her heart and how Nimrodel stamped the ground nervously at the sound. Authiel tried to soothe the horse, but nothing seemed to calm her.
The sound of hoofbeats could be heard by the Ranger. She started glancing around looking for any signs of the Nazgûl through the dark forest and rain, but it was hard to see anything. The hoofbeats grew louder and Authiel began to turn in circles, trying to discern the direction they were coming from, but it seemed to be all around. There was certainly more than one Nazgûl nearby.
The Ranger drew her sword and released Nimrodel's reins. She trusted the mare enough to flee from danger, but not to stray so far if Authiel would need her.
A deafening scream sounded and before Authiel could react two Nazgûl burst through the trees on her right. Nimrodel reared up and bolted from the area. Authiel nearly screamed herself, but she leapt out of the way of the Black Riders' horses and rolled onto the wet and muddy ground.
The Half-Elf jumped to her feet and went to dodge a sword swipe aimed at her as another rider entered the area. Caught by surprise, the Nazgûl made contact and Authiel felt a blade slice across her left side. She cried out a little, but pushed aside the pain and parried the next attack aimed at her. It was difficult with the Nazgûl on horseback and her fighting from the ground. She found an opportunity to retreat and she took it, but her path was cut off as a fourth and fifth rider cut of her escape. Authiel backed up quickly and ducked as another Black Rider swung at her from the side. Panic started to seize hold of her, but then she leapt between two of the horses, hitting the ground, rolling to her feet and took of running in the woods with a hand pressed to her bleeding side.
The Ranger could hear the pursuit behind her, but it was slow because of the trees and mud. Authiel let out a whistle that sounded like a bird, calling for Nimrodel to return to her. A minute or two of her running the horse appeared through the trees. Authiel sprung up into the saddle and kicked her into a run, praying that the horse wouldn't stumble in the dark, rain and mud as they were pursued by the Nazgûl.
For what seemed like an eternity Authiel could hear the hoofbeats behind her, but then only the sound of falling rain finally entered her ears. Continuing a little bit further through the woods and valley she found a small stream to stop by. She dismounted Nimrodel, falling to her knees beside the water as her legs gave out from under her. The adrenaline coursing through her veins had dissipated and now her body was shaking. Nimrodel pushed her snout gently into Authiel's head, showing her concern.
Reaching into the stream she splashed some cold water on her face, before peeling the fabric away on her tabard and tunic to inspect her cut. It was a few inches long and relatively deep; it would need stitches. It had bled quite a bit but had ceased for now. She cupped some water in her hand and washed the blood away on her skin the best she could. Using Nimrodel's neck to steady herself, Authiel pulled herself up and started looking through her saddles for some bandages, thread and needle. The Half-Elf found some linen bandages, but then cursed as she remembered she had used the last of her thread patching up Halbarad after the attack on Sarn Ford.
With nothing else to do for her wound, she just lifted her tunic and tabard and wrapped the bandages around her torso. She would just have to keep it clean and covered until she reached Aragorn or Rivendell. When finished, she climbed back into the saddle and started walking Nimrodel in an Eastern direction.
Authiel's heart was heavy. Five Nazgûl were in the area, somewhere behind her. The other four could be anywhere. The only comfort that she took in their presence was that it must have meant that she was still heading in the right direction and that Aragorn and the Hobbits were closer than she originally thought. With that in mind, she continued her journey.
Authiel didn't stop for the rest of the night, the fear of the Nazgûl finding her again kept her going, but they did not turn up. Occasionally their screams could be heard over the rain in the distance somewhere and the Ranger would stop and listen.
Not until morning came did she give Nimrodel a break. The storm passed and in the light Authiel was better able to examine, clean, and redress her wound. The rain had washed away most of the mud on her clothes, but there was still quite a bit of blood stained on her tabard and her tunic was ruined. Only a few hours later and she was traveling once more. She stopped to rest herself and the horse one more time, but then night fell and the Nazgûl could be heard again.
The Half-Elf was nearing the Stone Trolls and thought about taking cover for the rest of the night in that clearing. Making her way through the woods, she stopped suddenly. Up ahead where the Trolls were she saw a light. A few torches moving about the clearing. Authiel quietly slid of Nimrodel and whispered to her to remain quiet. Pulling her hood and scarf up, Authiel crept forward with sword drawn. She was hoping and praying that it was Aragorn and the Hobbits, but she was not taking the chance.
She was near enough that she could now see who was in the clearing. A pony was standing to one side, while two small figures were holding torches as they spoke in whispers to one another. They were standing over a similar figure laid out on the ground. All three had curly hair and were dressed for traveling. Cloaks about their shoulders and bags on their backs.
There was no sign of Aragorn.
Taking a breath, Authiel stepped into the clearing with her sword brandished at the two Hobbits. They jumped in surprise at her sudden appearance and drew their short swords. But then one shouted, and that one word brought joy and relief to her heart.
"STRIDER!"