Chapter Eleven: I' Ddainme e' i' Dome (The Woman in the Night)
Night. The time when your cold fear becomes furious nightmares. The time when the shadows' poison makes you want to stay inside them forever. The time when light seems the brightest as well as the darkest. The time when you begin to question your very identity. Perhaps even as a human.
Only minutes ago, I discovered something about myself. I can control fire. The Witch King, a dark and immortal figure, told me that I'm a FireDancer, but I've never heard of a FireDancer in my life. This new ability seems frightening and amazing at the same time, like when you watch a horror movie with a beautiful romance hidden inside. But this is different; a movie is only fiction. This is real. I believe that now that I've discovered this, I'm more powerful than a lot of people here in this world, perhaps even Strider or the Ringwraiths. As far as I know, I'm the only one on the planet that can tame angry tongues of fire. Is this ability known throughout Middle-earth? Is it dreaded by everyone?
Am I an outcast now?
I don't know, but this is no time to be worrying about that. Frodo could be dying.
Strider jogs through the underbrush, carrying Frodo on his back. The young hobbit groans and opens his eyes only to reveal them rolled back. His mind is trapped in a weird twilight world and I don't know if he's able to come out. The other three hobbits are running behind me to keep up, and they carry small torches for protection and guiding.
"Hurry!" Strider says urgently. I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders as an ominous chill fills the air. Night often does so. Even worse, night can often play with your mind. I begin to believe that now that the Ringwraiths know that I can control fire, they might either avoid me to the utmost of their ability, or they might try to destroy me.
"We are six days from Rivendell," says Sam. Frodo groans again. "He'll never make it!"
Suddenly I can hear Frodo's fevered calls. "Gandalf... Gandalf?" His eyes flicker open again, clouded and red-rimmed. His entire face is soaked in perspiration, and his breathing is getting dangerously shallow. I bite my lower lip as I realize that he might never breathe again after tonight.
"Is he going to die?" asks Pippin to no one in particular. Strider looks out into the darkness as if the silent shadows themselves have a sort of danger inside.
"No," says Strider, and I breathe a sigh of relief, but only too soon. "He is passing into the shadow world. He will soon become a wraith like them."
I bring a hand to my mouth in shock as the smallest traces of tears begin to form in my eyes. I can hardly imagine Frodo with blood red eyes and a hiss in his voice as he tries to plunge his small sword in my heart. So corrupted, so dark, so nightmarish.
"Oh, my god," I whisper almost inaudibly. The tears in my eyes begin to overflow. If I had only been faster to drive away the Witch King and his minions, Frodo would be all right. If only I was stronger, if only I had more knowledge of my newfound power, if only I hadn't woken up in this world that's made of nothing but nightmares...
Oh god, somebody make me wake up!
"Strider, I... it's my fault that this happened," I say in a light whisper, trying to whip away the tears that have already begun to stream down my face. "I didn't get the Ringwraiths away fast enough! I should have been stronger! I'll never be anything except a useless little girl that can control fire..."
Suddenly, Strider looks up in surprise. There is fear in his eyes. "What did you say?"
"I said I can control fire. It can't burn me, and I can make my own flames that are very destructive." I pause to sniff and try once more to dry my eyes with my sleeve. "I could have done it... I could have saved Frodo, and you guys wouldn't have been pinned down. Even with fire I'm not strong enough!" A sob escapes from my lips. I look away and cover my face with my hands as the tears come uncontrollably. The only thing that keeps me from bursting away in a mad run is that Frodo needs me. If I leave now than there will be only Strider to protect him. All Frodo needs is his friends next to him. But we're here, and we have to find something to heal him.
Suddenly the angry cry of a Ringwraith, very distant but getting closer, is carried through the air by the wind. A chill runs down my spine, and I clutch my left wrist with my right hand. If they come, I'll be prepared.
"They're close..." Merry says nervously, glancing around. Frodo gasps suddenly in pain, as if the very presence of the Ringwraiths hurts him.
Strider bites down on his lower lip, thinking hard. "Sam," he says, "do you know the Athelas plant?" Sam looks blank for a moment.
"Athelas?" he echoes.
"Kingsfoil," says Strider, using a different name.
"Kingsfoil. Aye. It's a weed."
"It may help to slow the poison," Strider says urgently. "Hurry!"
"I'll go with you!" I exclaim suddenly. Strider turns to me and nods.
Merely a few seconds later, I'm running with Strider and Sam on a darkened forest floor for that little plant that will save Frodo's life. I hear Strider muttering something about a small, white flowered plant. He stops suddenly, dropping to one knee, and I notice that he's found it. He is about to carefully pull it from the ground when I see the tip of a blade touch his neck. My eyes widen, and I freeze.
"What's this?" a deep female voice says from beneath a dark hood, just like when I first saw Strider. "A Ranger caught off his guard?"
"What's the big idea, huh? Scaring me out of my insanity like that," I say suddenly, staring at the figure in front of me.
"You need not be afraid of me, young one," the figure says, removing her hood to reveal a beautiful woman. She has dark brown hair and dark brown eyes with long eyelashes, but her skin is pale and flawless. My jaw nearly drops to the ground when I see that her ears are pointed.
God almighty. This woman is an elf!
Not a minute later, we come back to the clearing where Frodo and the others are waiting for us. The elf-woman, whose name, as I discover, is Arwen Undomiel, kneels beside Frodo and dabs his wound with three fingers. He gasps in pain.
"Who is she?" Pippin asks to no one in particular, as those hobbits often do.
I turn to Merry and Pippin. "She's Arwen, and she's an elf. She's going to help Frodo."
Arwen looks up to Strider with an urgent concern in her eyes. "He's fading. He's not going to last. We must get him to my father," she says, and Strider quickly lifts Frodo and places him on Arwen's white horse. "I have been looking for you for two days," Arwen continues.
"Where are you taking him?" Pippin asks her. She turns to look at him and says,
"There are five Wraiths behind you," she soothes. "Where the other four are, I do not know."
Strider suddenly begins to speak in a language I cannot understand, and Arwen responds, her tone grazed with fear. For a few more moments, they continue to talk to each other in that same language. Perhaps it's Elvish, but I'm not entirely sure.
"What are they saying?" Pippin asks, but I shush him. Arwen suddenly reaches for Strider's hand, looking deep into his eyes. I can suddenly tell that they have been friends for a long time, and... well, I don't know. Maybe they want to be more than friends...
"I do not fear them," she says darkly. Strider opens his mouth to speak, but not a sound comes out. I suddenly realize that it is hard for him to let her go. She must be trying to get Frodo to her father, who is probably a healer of some sort. I can't understand any of this...
Arwen suddenly mounts her horse, clutching the ailing Frodo around his torso.
"Arwen... ride hard, don't look back," Strider whispers to her, and she looks down at him, then whispers something in that same language to her horse, and it dashes off.
"Arwen, wait!" I suddenly shriek, running towards them. "Those Wraiths are still out there! You're going to get yourself killed-"
But she's gone.
Here you are; the next chapter! I hope you like it. Please review! 3
