Edges of the Night

by punkneeter

When Severus closed his eyes for the last time in the Shrieking Shack, he had thought that he would finally be allowed to rest in peace through death. Yet, it seemed that fate had other plans for Severus when he wakes up alone in an unknown forest. It isn't long before he finds himself at the Shire and meets Frodo and Gandalf.

12. Chapter 12: Fire

Severus sent Frodo another sharp look once the man had left them alone. He wasn't looking forward to all these meetings this night, but any information was valuable at the moment. And so, Severus swiftly made his way back to their rooms with Frodo following him silently.

When they had entered, both Pippin and Sam were already seated by the fire looking grim at the turn of the events. They offered them a light greeting but not much else.

Looking around the room, Severus didn't see any signs that Merry had returned from his night stroll. Merry was not a complete an idiot and he knew that he would not stray far from Severus's shields, but worry still filled him.

However, before anyone can comment on Merry's absence, there was a knock on the door. Severus swiftly made his way back to the door, already knowing who it might be.

When he opened the door, Strider nodded his head slightly before Severus bit back a sigh and allowed the man in. The other hobbits watched the man enter with curious eyes before Pippin greeted him politely, but curiously.

"Hello," he said. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Severus rolled his eyes at Pippin's rather less than fine manners and closed the door.

"I am called Strider," the man answered," and though they may have forgotten, your friends have promised to have a talk with me."

"It was not forgotten," spoke Severus as he returned to his place beside Frodo. His arms were crossed as he gazed at the man in front of him. Severus knew that he would not hurt them, especially if he was a friend of Gandalf's. But years of being a spy still made him cautious. Even friends could turn against you if you aren't careful. People can often be led astray when you least expect it. And while he may be a friend to Gandalf, he was no friend of theirs. If danger was seeking them this desperately, what's to say that there isn't a reward for their capture? Greed is a very powerful thing. Yet, Severus humored the man nonetheless.

"You said that you had some information to our 'advantage.' So what is it that you have to say?"

"Many things," answered Strider, too cryptic for Severus's liking." But, I have a price."

"And what is it that you want," questioned Severus sharply, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Severus couldn't be on the nose so suddenly? Surely the man had more strategy than that? The man had demanded a meeting and he dares ask for a reward? He wasn't pleased and his eyes only seem to darken at the man's words. But if the information that he had was indeed valuable, then they would need to hear his words, especially since he seemed to have spoken to Gandalf last. Yet, that didn't mean that they would abide by his rules. Severus was sure he could make the man talk if it came down to it.

While mulling over his thoughts, the other hobbits remained silent, shuffling fearfully at the stranger in front of them. They shared a few looks with each other and decided that Severus was probably the best representative for them. It was not unusual for men to take advantage of Hobbits since they were a lot smaller and were often overlooked by other folks. Had they been alone, this talk would be a lot more dangerous and fearful. However, while Severus may be a bit shorter than the man, he was still quite tall and fearless. It eased their tension, especially when Sam and Pippin took notice that Severus held his wand firmly in his hand.

The man seemed to notice the change in the air at his words. It was never good to play games with Severus. Offering a tight smile, the man quickly tried to fix whatever damage he had unintentionally done.

"I will give you valuable information and some good advice, but this reward is nothing more than you can afford, I assure you. I want one thing: for you take me along with you until I wish to leave you."

Severus stared at the man in confusion. But the displeasure he had for the man only seems to rise at the man making more demands than he should. What had Gandalf told him that he didn't tell Frodo or himself? However, before he could question the man- threaten more likey- Frodo spoke, stopping him.

"Even if we wanted another companion, we will not agree to anything until we know more about you and your business."

The man smirked and Severus scowled at him."You finally seem to be coming back to your senses. You have been careless so far, but I will tell you everything and you may decide to keep me or not "

Severus frowned at the jab towards them but remained silent. Even knowing that this man was here to help them did not make it any easier to talk with him. Strider was making it difficult for him to like him. These word games he played were annoying. Had he come a just a tad bit a later, Severus would have been able to talk to Frodo of his findings about the man, but time seemed to be against him.

"I know many things, dark thing," said Strider grimly. "But as for your business-" He walked towards the door and opened it quickly and looked out. He then shut the door and sat down again. As he was about to continue, Severus took out his wand and muttered a silencing charm around them. Whatever information the man had was best left to their ears only. The man briefly looked surprised at Severus but did not say anything about what he had done. He just continued where he left off.

"I just so happened to be at the hedge this evening on the Road west of Bree when four hobbits and man came out of the Downloads. And there was one thing that interested me. 'Please remember,' said one of them,' that the name Baggins must not be mentioned. I am Mr. Underhill if any name must be given.' Of course, your business is your own, but there must be an honest answer as to why Mr. Baggins has left his name behind and I must advise that he and his friends must be more careful.

"I don't see how Mr. Underhill's name has any interest to anyone, least of all to you," began Severus tightly. "I am sure that Mr. Stider has an honest answer as to why he was spying and eavesdropping, and so I must advise for him to explain it."

While Severus's wand was not pointed at anyone, the warning was still up in the air. Yet, that didn't seem to deter Strider in the least.

"It is simple. I was looking for a Hobbit called Frodo Baggins. I wanted to find him quickly. I had learned that he was carrying out of the Shire, well, a secret that concerned me and my friends."

Almost immediately, the Hobbits stood up in fright as Severus placed his wand at the man's throat. Strider swallowed thickly at the action but quickly rose his hands in a surrendering manner upon realizing he had gone too far with his words and games this time.

"Do not mistake me!" he said. "I shall take more care of the secret than you do. And care is needed. Black horsemen have passed through Bree. On Monday one came down the Greenway, they say; and another appeared later, coming up the Greenway from the south."

There was a beat of silence before Frodo walked forward and gently pushed at Severus's arm. Severus sent him a look and bit his tongue as he placed his wand down.

"Have they always been so close? I knew that these horsemen were after me, but now, at any rate, they seemed to have missed me and have gone away."

"Do not believe so," said Strider. "They will return and they will come back with more. There are others. I know their number and these riders. There are folks here in Bree who are not to be trusted."

As if he was drawing himself to be a trusting individual, thought Severus.

" Your incident earlier will make things much more difficult and dangerous they already were," continued Strider. "These riders will return and there are men that will gladly inform them of your whereabouts for any price. It matters not your name since the damage of your action is telling enough. However, I know these lands between the Shire and the Misty Mountains. I have traveled them for years. I may provide you with some use. You can leave in the morrow or now, but know that you won't go far without me."

"We can protect ourselves just fine on our own," replied Severus hotly.

"I am sure you can. But you cannot protect all of them at all times. You do not know these lands. These riders are relentless. They will continue until they find you. I am sure your journey here was not an easy feat. Surely, you can understand the disadvantages you have. I am offering you a better escape. Something that you cannot offer them."

Severus glared at the man, but he did not deny him. Severus knows of his strengths and his limitations. The man is correct. He knows nothing of these riders and as of now, he doesn't know how well he will fare against one of them, let alone if there is more than the three that they have seen. Even now, given the incident earlier that night, it will not be easy to escape without someone noticing something. Even if he were to place a notice-me-not spell on them, their location has already been founded out. It would not take the riders long to follow them.

Understandably, at any other time, Severus would never trust the man and would rather trust himself and his magic to protect the hobbits, the only thing that keeps stopping him from hexing the man was the memories he saw from before. As cryptic as the man is with his words, Severus knew that he meant no ill. But still, it seemed rather sudden. Yet, it was not up to him to decide. And while he waited patiently for Frodo to speak up, Sam was the one to break the silence.

"With your leave, Mr. Frodo, I'd say no! This Strider here, he warns and he says take care; and I say yes to that, and let's begin with him. He comes out of the Wild, and I never heard any good of such folk. He knows something, that's plain and more than I like; but it's no reason why we should let him go leading us out into some dark place far from help, as he puts it."

Severus mentally applauded Sam for his bravery and sense. Pippin, on the other hand, was fidgeting and looked uncomfortable. Strider did not reply to Sam but turned his keen eyes on Frodo. Frodo caught his glance and looked away and kept his eyes on Severus. He seemed to ask him something, but Severus didn't get a chance to pick up on it before Frodo finally spoke.

"No," Frodo said slowly. "I don't agree. But Sam is right in this: I don't see why you should warn us to take care, and yet ask us to take you on trust. Why the disguise? Who are you? What do you really know about - about my business; and how do you know it?"

However, before either Severus or Strider could provide an answer, there was a knock at the door. Immediately, Strider hid in the shadows beside the fireplace just as Mr. Butterbur came in with candles, followed by Nob with cans of hot water.

"I've come to bid you good night," said the landlord, putting the candles on the table. "Nob! Take the water to the rooms!" He came in and shut the door.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," he began, hesitating and looking troubled. "If I've done any harm, I'm sorry indeed. But one thing drives out another, as you'll admit; and I'm a busy man. But first one thing and then another this week have jogged my memory, as the saying goes; and not too late I hope. You see, I was asked to look out for hobbits of the Shire, and for one by the name of Baggins in particular."

"And what has that got to do with me?" asked Frodo.

"Ah! you know best," said the landlord, knowingly. "I won't give you away; but I was told that this Baggins would be going by the name of Underhill, and I was given a description that fits you well enough, if I may say so."

"Description?" asked Severus. Surely not everyone knew of Frodo's identity. They must not have been that careless if a man like picked up on it.

"Yes. He said 'a stout little fellow with red cheeks,'" said Butterbur. Pippin chuckled in the back, but no one paid him any mind. "'but that won't help you much; it goes for most hobbits, but one is taller than some and fairer than most, and he has a cleft in his chin: perky chap with a bright eye.' Beg your pardon, but he said it, not me."

"Who said it?" questioned Severus.

"Ah! Well, it was Gandalf, if you know whom I mean. A wizard they say he is, but he's a good friend of mine, but he may have more than a few words to share with me for what I've done."

"And what have you done?"

Nervously, Mr. Butterburg continued his story. "Well, three months back, Gandalf walked right into my room without a knock and said 'Barley, I'm off in the morning. Will you do something for me?'- and of course I agreed- 'I am in a hurry,' said Gandalf,' and I've no time myself, but I want a message took to the Shire.' And I told him that I would send as soon as I could."

By now, Mr. Buttebur produced a letter from his pocket and presented it to Frodo.

Mr. FRODO BAGGINS, BAG END, HOBBITON in the SHIRE.

"I suppose this is why you wished to discuss something with us," said Severus."You best be telling us why you never sent it."

Poor Mr. Butterbur looked troubled. "You're right, master," he said, "and I beg your pardon. And I'm afraid of what Gandalf will say if harm comes of it. But I didn't keep it back on purpose! I put it away until I could send it! But then I couldn't find anybody willing to go to the Shire next day, nor the day after, and none of my own folk were to spare; and then one thing after another drove it out of my mind. I'm a busy man. I'll do what I can to set matters right, and if there's any help I can give, you've only to name it.

" Leaving the letter aside, I promised Gandalf no less. 'Barley', he says to me, 'this friend of mine from the Shire, he may be coming out this way before long, him and two others. He'll be calling himself Underhill. Mind that! But you need to ask no questions. And if I'm not with him, he may be in trouble, and he may need help. Do whatever you can for him, and I'll be grateful,' he says. And here you are, and trouble is not far off, seemingly."

"What do you mean?" asked Frodo.

"These black men," said the landlord lowering his voice. "They're looking for Baggins, and if they mean well, then I'm a hobbit! It was on Monday, and all the dogs were yammering and the geese screaming. Uncanny, I called it. Nob, he came and told me that two black men were at the door asking for a hobbit called Baggins. Nob's hair was all stood on end. I bid the black fellows be off, and slammed the door on them; but they've been asking the same question all the way to Archet, I hear. And that Ranger, Strider, he's been asking questions, too. Tried to get in here to see you, before you'd had bite or sup, he did."

"He did!" said Strider suddenly, coming forward into the light. "And much trouble would have been saved, if you had let him in, Barliman."

The landlord and Pippin jumped with surprise at the sudden action. "You!" he cried. "You're always popping up. What do you want now?"

"He's here with my leave," said Frodo. "He came to offer me his help."

"Well, you know your own business, maybe," said Mr. Butterbur, looking suspiciously at Strider. "But if I was in your plight, I wouldn't take up with a Ranger."

"Then who would you take up with?" asked Strider. "A fat innkeeper who only remembers his own name because people shout it at him all day? They cannot stay in The Pony forever, and they cannot go home. They have a long road before them. Will you go with them and keep the black men off?"

"Me? Leave Bree! I wouldn't do that for any money," said Mr. Butterbur, looking really scared and off-put. "But why can't you stay here quiet for a bit, Mr. Underhill? What are all these queer goings-on? What are these black men after, and where do they come from, I'd like to know?"

"I'm sorry I can't explain it all," answered Frodo. "I am tired and very worried, and it's a long tale. But if you mean to help me, I ought to warn you that you will be in danger as long as I am in your house. These Black Riders: I am not sure, but I think, I fear they come from-"

"They come from Mordor," interrupted Strider in a low voice. "From Mordor, Barliman, if that means anything to you."

"Save us!" cried Mr. Butterbur turning pale; the name evidently was known to him. "That is the worst news that has come to Bree in my time."

"It is," agreed Frodo. "Are you still willing to help me?"

"I am," said Mr. Butterbur. "More than ever. Though I don't know what the likes of me can do against, against-" he faltered.

"Against the Shadow in the East," said Strider quietly. "Not much, Barliman, but every little helps. You can let Mr. Underhill stay here tonight, as Mr. Underhill, and you can forget the name of Baggins, till he is far away."

"I'll do that," said Butterbur. "But they'll find out he's here without help from me, I'm afraid. It's a pity Mr. Baggins drew attention to himself this evening, to say no more. The story of that Mr. Bilbo's going off has been heard before tonight in Bree. Even our Nob has been doing some guessing in his slow pate: and there are others in Bree quicker in the uptake than he is."

"Well, we can only hope the Riders won't come back yet," said Frodo.

"I hope not, indeed," said Butterbur. "But spooks or no spooks, they won't get in The Pony so easy. Don't you worry till the morning. Nob'll say no word. No black man shall pass my doors, while I can stand on my legs. Me and my folk'll keep watch tonight, but you had best get some sleep if you can."

"In any case, we must be called at dawn," said Severus. 'We must get off as early as possible. Breakfast at six-thirty, if you please."

"Right! I'll see to the orders," said the landlord. "Good night, Mr. Baggins - Underhill, I should say! Good night - now, bless me! Where's your Mr. Brandybuck?"

"I don't know," said Frodo with sudden anxiety. They had forgotten all about Merry, and it was getting late. "I am afraid he is out. He said something about going for a breath of air."

"Well, you do want looking after and no mistake: your party might be on a holiday!" said Butterbur. "I must go and bar the doors quick, but I'll see your friend is let in when he comes. I'd better send Nob to look for him. Good night to you all!"

At last Mr. Butterbur went out, with another doubtful look at Strider and a shake of his head. His footsteps retreated down the passage.

"Well?" said Strider. "When are you going to open that letter?"

Frodo looked carefully at the seal before he broke it. It seemed certainly to be Gandalf's. Inside, written in the wizard's strong but graceful script, was the following message:

THE PRANCING PONY, BREE. Midyear's Day, Shire Year, 1418.

Dear Frodo,

Bad news has reached me here. I must go off at once. You had better leave Bag End soon, and get out of the Shire before the end of July at the latest. I will return as soon as I can; and I will follow you, if I find that you are gone. Leave a message for me here, if you pass through Bree. You can trust the landlord (Butterbur). You may meet a friend of mine on the Road: a Man, lean, dark, tall, by some called Strider. He knows our business and will help you. Make for Rivendell. There I hope we may meet again. If I do not come, Elrond will advise you.

Yours in haste, GANDALF.

PS. Do NOT use It again, not for any reason whatever! Do not travel by night!

PPS. Make sure that it is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn.

(Severus snorted silently at the additional notes as he read over Frodo's shoulders.)

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

PPPS. I hope Butterbur sends this promptly. A worthy man, but his memory is like a lumber-roam: thing wanted always buried. If he forgets, I shall roast him.

Fare Well!

Frodo read the letter to himself, and then passed it to Pippin and Sam.

"Really old Butterbur has made a mess of things!" he said. "He deserves roasting. If I had got this at once, we might all have been safe in Rivendell by now. But what can have happened to Gandalf? He writes as if he was going into great danger."

"He has been doing that for many years," said Strider.

Frodo turned and looked at him thoughtfully, wondering about Gandalf's second postscript. "Why didn't you tell me that you were Gandalf's friend at once?" he asked the question that's been plaguing Severus's mind. "It would have saved time."

"Would it? Would any of you have believed me till now?" said Strider. "I knew nothing of this letter. For all I knew, I had to persuade you to trust me without proof if I was to help you. In any case, I did not intend to tell you all about myself at once. I had to study you first, and make sure it was you. The Enemy has set traps for me before now. As soon as I had made up my mind, I was ready to tell you whatever you asked. But I must admit," he added with a queer laugh, "that I hoped you would take to me for my own sake. A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship. But there, I believe my looks are against me."

"They are - at first sight at any rate," laughed Pippin with sudden relief after reading Gandalf's letter. "But handsome is as handsome does, as we say in the Shire; and I daresay we shall all look much the same after lying for days in hedges and ditches."

"It would take more than a few days, or weeks, or years, of wandering in the Wild to make you look like Strider," he answered. "And you would die first unless you are made of sterner stuff than you look to be."

Pippin subsided, but Sam was not daunted, and he still eyed Strider dubiously. "How do we know you are the Strider that Gandalf speaks about?" he demanded. "You never mentioned Gandalf, till this letter came out. You might be a play-acting spy, for all I can see, trying to get us to go with you. You might have done in the real Strider and took his clothes. What have you to say to that?"

"That you are a stout fellow," answered Strider; "but I am afraid my only answer to you, Sam Gamgee, is this. If I had killed the real Strider, I could kill you. And I should have killed you already without so much talk. If I was after the Ring, I could have it - NOW!"

He stood up and seemed suddenly to grow taller. In his eyes gleamed a light, keen and commanding. Throwing back his cloak, he laid his hand on the hilt of a sword that had hung concealed by his side. They did not dare to move. Sam sat wide-mouthed staring at him dumbly.

"'But I am the real Strider, fortunately," he said, looking down at them with his face softened by a sudden smile. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn; and if by life or death I can save you, I will."

Yet despite his words, Sam looked for shaken up than he did relieved. And while his little show was amusing, Severus thought it was a little in ill taste.

"Do not fret, Sam" spoke Severus to the little Hobbit. "He is whom he claims to be. I have known about all of this since the moment I've seen him. He's been at this inn with Gandalf before he disappeared. He told him to look out for us and show us the way should Gandalf be unable to do so. However, he could have gone in a better direction at telling us so as to not make him appear so suspicious."

Strider looked surprised at the sudden reveal and while Sam seemed to deflate at Severus's words, Frodo, on the other hand, looked surprised as Strider.

"How do you know that?" asked Frodo.

Deciding whether or not to reveal another side to his powers, Severus simply played with his wand, twirling it lightly between his fingers.

Not completely understanding, Frodo nodded before speaking towards Aragorn again.

"I believed that you were a friend before the letter came," he said, "or at least I wished to. You have frightened me several times tonight, but never in the way that servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine. I think one of his spies would - well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand."

"I see," laughed Strider. "I look foul and feel fair. Is that it? All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost."

"Did the verses apply to you then?" asked Frodo. "I could not make out what they were about. But how did you know that they were in Gandalf's letter if you have never seen it?"

"'I did not know," he answered. "But I am Aragorn, and those verses go with that name." He drew out his sword, and they saw that the blade was indeed broken a foot below the hilt.

"Not much use is it, Sam?" said Strider. "But the time is near when it shall be forged anew."

Sam said nothing.

"Well," said Strider, "with Sam's permission we will call that settled. Strider shall be your guide. We shall have a rough road tomorrow. Even if we are allowed to leave Bree unhindered, we can hardly hope now to leave it unnoticed. But I shall try to get lost as soon as possible. I know one or two ways out of Bree-land other than the main road. If once we shake off the pursuit, I shall make for Weathertop."

"Weathertop?" said Sam. "What's that?"

"It is a hill, just to the north of the Road, about halfway from here to Rivendell. It commands a wide view all around, and there we shall have a chance to look about us. Gandalf will make for that point if he follows us. After Weathertop our journey will become more difficult, and we shall have to choose between various dangers."

"When did you last see Gandalf?" asked Frodo. "Do you know where he is, or what he is doing?"

Strider looked grave. "I do not know," he said. "I came west with him in the spring. I have often kept watch on the borders of the Shire in the last few years when he was busy elsewhere. He seldom left it unguarded. We last met on the first of May at this here inn- as your friend had mentioned. He told me that his business with you had gone well and that you would be starting for Rivendell in the last week of September. As I knew he was at your side, I went away on a journey of my own. And that has proved ill; for plainly some news reached him, and I was not at hand to help.

"I am troubled, for the first time since I have known him. We should have had messages, even if he could not come himself. When I returned, many days ago, I heard the ill news. The tidings had gone far and wide that Gandalf was missing and the horsemen had been seen. It was the Elven-folk of Gildor that told me this, and later they told me that you had left your home, but there was no news of your leaving Buckland. I have been watching the East Road anxiously."

"Do you think the Black Riders have anything to do with it - with Gandalf's absence, I mean?" asked Frodo.

"I do not know of anything else that could have hindered him, except the Enemy himself," said Strider. "But do not give up hope! Gandalf is greater than you Shire-folk know - as a rule, you can only see his jokes and toys. But this business of ours will be his greatest task."

Pippin yawned. "I am sorry," he said, "but I am dead tired. In spite of all the danger and worry I must go to bed, or sleep where I sit. Where is that silly fellow, Merry? It would be the last straw if we had to go out in the dark to look for him."

At that moment they heard a door slam; then feet came running along the passage. Merry came in with a rush followed by Nob. He shut the door hastily and leaned against it. He was out of breath. They stared at him in alarm for a moment before he gasped: "I have seen them, Frodo! I have seen them! Black Riders!"

Immediately, everyone tensed and Severus searched frantically over Mery's body for any sign of harm. When he found none, he sent a worry glance to Aragorn who's focus was on Merry.

"Black Riders!" cried Frodo. "Where?"

"Here. In the village. I had come back after my stroll and was standing just outside the light of the lamp looking at the stars. Suddenly I shivered and felt that something horrible was creeping near: there was a son of deeper shade among the shadows across the road, just beyond the edge of the lamplight. It slid away at once into the dark without a sound. There was no horse."

"Which way did it go?" asked Strider, suddenly and sharply. Merry started, noticing the stranger for the first time.

"Go on!" said Frodo. "This is a friend of Gandalf's. I will explain later."

"It seemed to make off up the Road, eastward," continued Merry. "I tried to follow. Of course, it vanished almost at once; I dare not pass the shields that Severus placed over the inn."

"Did it go near the inn at all?"

"No," said Merry shaking his head. "I don't think it was able to pass it all."

Severus nodded his head, thoughts flying in his head. If they weren't able to pass it then his shields must be able to work against them. He did not know how long they will last and he was willing to test it out at the moment.

Strider looked at both Severus and Merry with wonder. "You have a stout heart," he said; "but it was foolish."

"I don't know," said Merry. "Neither brave nor silly, I think. I could hardly help myself. I seemed to be drawn somehow. Anyway, I went as far as I could, and suddenly I heard voices by the hedge. One was muttering, and the other was whispering or hissing. I couldn't hear a word that was said. I did not creep any closer, because I began to tremble all over. Then I felt terrified, and I turned back and was just going to bolt inside when something came behind me and I... I fell over."

"I found him, sir," put in Nob. "Mr. Butterbur sent me out with a lantern. I went down and I thought I could see something on the Road. I couldn't swear to it, but it looked to me as if two men was stooping over something, lilting it. I gave a shout, but where I got up to the spot there were no signs of them, and only Mr. Brandybuck lying by the roadside. He seemed to be asleep. 'I thought I had fallen into deep water,' he says to me when I shook him. Very queer he was, and as soon as I had roused him, he got up and ran back here like a hare."

"I am afraid that's true," said Merry, "though I don't know what I said. I had an ugly dream, which I can't remember. I went to pieces. I don't know what came over me"'

"I do," said Strider. "The Black Breath. The Riders must have left their horses outside, and passed back through the South-gate in secret. They will know all the news now. Something may happen in the night before we leave Bree."

"What will happen?" said Merry, fearfully. "Will they attack the inn?"

"No, I think not," said Strider. "They are not all here yet and if your friend is right, then they can't seem to pass through your 'shields," he said looking at Severus. " And in any case, that is not their way. In dark and loneliness, they are strongest; they will not openly attack a house where there are lights and many people -not until they are desperate, not while all the long leagues of Eriador still lie before us. But their power is in terror, and already some in Bree are in their clutch. They will drive these wretches to some evil work: some of the strangers, and, maybe, the gatekeeper too. They had words with Harry at West-gate on Monday. I was watching them. He was white and shaking when they left him."

"We seem to have enemies all around," said Frodo. "What are we to do?"

"Stay here, and do not go to your rooms! They are sure to have found out which those are. The hobbit-rooms have windows looking north and close to the ground. We will all remain together and bar this window and the door. But first Nob and I will fetch your luggage.'

While Strider was gone, Frodo gave Merry a rapid account of all that had happened since supper. Merry was still reading and pondering Gandalf's letter when Strider and Nob returned.

"Well Masters," said Nob, "I've ruffled up the clothes and put in a bolster down the middle of each bed. And I made a nice imitation of your head with a brown woolen mat, Mr. Bag - Underhill, sir," he added with a grin.

Pippin laughed. "Very life-like!" he said. "But what will happen when they have penetrated the disguise?"

"We shall see," said Strider. "Let us hope to hold the fort till morning."

"Good night to you," said Nob, and went off to take his part in the watch on the doors.

Their bags and gear they piled on the parlor floor. They pushed a low chair against the door and shut the window. Severus added more shields to the doors for protection. Peering out, Frodo saw that the night was still clear. The Sickle was swinging bright above the shoulders of Bree-hill. He then closed and barred the heavy inside shutters and drew the curtains together. Strider built up the fire and blew out all the candles.

The hobbits lay down on their blankets with their feet towards the hearth, but Strider settled himself in the chair against the door. They talked for a little, for Merry still had several questions to ask.

"Jumped over the Moon!" chuckled Merry as he rolled himself in his blanket. "Very ridiculous of you, Frodo! But I wish I had been there to see. The worthies of Bree will be discussing it a hundred years hence."

"I hope so," said Strider. Then they all fell silent, and one by one the hobbits dropped off to sleep.

Severus sat next to them, watching the fire's light gleam over them. Now that the enemy was near, he could not find it in himself to rest. Focusing on Frodo, Severus didn't notice the looks that Aragorn sent his way.

Before long, Aragorn's finally spoke.

"I had not revealed anything to you for you to know that I was with Gandalf before."

There was no question said, but it hung in the air anyways. Severus spared him a side eye glance before focusing on the Hobbits one more time. Debating what to tell him, Severus remained silent for a small moment

"I have unique abilities that are far beyond your imagination. One of them allows me to enter your mind to not only breeze through your outer thoughts but to glimpse at your deepest secrets and cherished memories. I can even plant memories and thoughts that were never there; I can even destroy your state of mind easily."

Somewhat startled and frighten, Aragorn continued. "And your shields? How do they fare?"

"Magical, far stronger than anything a mere muggle- ahem, man can wield or fight. But I do not know the full extent of my powers and their limitations just yet. I have rarely needed to use them for anything other than house chores and the like. It is very different than any magic that you are used to here in Middle Earth. I highly doubt that there is anyone else in this world with magic quite like mine. Nonetheless, I am not all that sure of what kind of creatures these Black Riders are. As of now, it is safe to assume that we will be fine this night"

Nodding, Aragorn remained silent after he deemed the information sufficient. Severus continued to watch Frodo, brushing against his brown, curly locks.

Severus kept to himself the rest of the night, thinking deeply about the journey ahead.

Absentmindedly, Severus rubbed at his chest picking at his necklace hidden in his shirt. He had a terrible feeling that something was going to happen soon.

Looking at Frodo, he could only wonder what it may be.

Luckily, through the night, it remained to be silent and there was no ruckus. Frodo did wake up once, almost startled, but after a quick glance at himself and Strider, who was still sitting alert in his chair, he was pulled back to sleep. There were deep lines on his face and he looked like he was almost in pain.

Another nightmare thought Severus. But before Severus could wake him up, a tingling feeling was felt in the back of his mind.

Aragorn looked his way before a loud noise ranged from outside. The sounds of galloping hoofs and loud horn started them both, causing Frodo to wake up just as Aragorn peered outside the window, drawing the curtains. There was cold air coming through the window.

Quickly, Severus gently sturred the other Hobbits to wake up. Severus order them to remain hidden and alert before him and Strider went to investigate the noise.

Inside their old rooms, the windows had been forced open and were swinging, the curtains flapping in the wind; the beds were tossed about and the bolsters slashed and flung upon the floor; the brown mats were torn to pieces.

Somewhat started, Severus watched as Aragorn investigated the room before he went to fetch the landlord. The man looked sleepy and frightened

"Never has such a thing happened in my time," he cried, raising his hands in horror. "Guest are unable to sleep in their beds, and good bolsters ruined and all! What are we coming to?"

Severus rolled his eyes at the man's woes.

"Dark times," obviously replied Severus. It reminded him briefly of how the shop owners at Diagon Alley reacted at the beginning of the first war. They didn't really think of the real dangers that lied ahead or the troubles that they then faced. It was only when more people began to die did they start to rethink their values.

"But worry not," continued Aragorn. "You will be left in peace once we are gone. We will leave now."

Nodding in understanding, Severus returned to the Hobbits and magic their belongings away.

Aragorn followed him soon after and informed them that the ponies were gone. Severus frowned in response. It was dangerous to run from enemies by foot.

As if reading his mind, Aragorn spoke again.

"Ponies and horses would not help us escape the horsemen. We should not go much slower on foot, not on the roads that I mean to take. I was going to walk in any case. It is the food and stores that trouble me. We cannot count on getting anything to eat between here and Rivendell, except what we take with us; and we ought to take plenty to spare; for we may be delayed, or forced to go round-about, far out of the direct way. How much are you prepared to carry on your backs?"

"As much as we could possibly need," answered Severus. "I have charmed their bags to be weightless and my own personal storage is bottomless. We can store a whole bed in it if needed. There is no limit to what we can put in it. We will be fine."

Nodding, Aragorn stared amazed at the small bag that Severus carried. He was almost doubtful, but he trusted Severus nonetheless. The other Hobbits didn't seem to be surprised by this, so he assumed that Severus was mostly in charge of their supplies since their packs seem to hold their sleeping beds rather than food and other things.

Thankfully, it was still dark out and they were able to sneak away with their bags filled with supplies.

They had thanked and said their farewells to Nob and Mr. Butterbur.

"I hope we shall meet again someday when things are merry once more," said Frodo. "I should like nothing better than to stay in your house in peace for a while."

As they made their way, the sun was rising and they rushed into the hidden trails only known by Aragorn. Soon they made their way to a narrow track that led towards the North.

"This way," directed Aragorn expertly.

"Not a 'short cut', I hope," said Pippin. "Our last short cut through woods nearly ended in disaster."

"Ah, but you had not got me with you then," laughed Strider. "My cuts, short or long, don't go wrong." He took a look up and down the Road. No one was in sight, and he led the way quickly down towards the wooded valley.

His plan, as far as they could understand it without knowing the country, was to go towards Archet at first but to bear right and pass it on the east and then to steer as straight as he could over the wild lands to Weathertop Hill. In that way they would, if all went well, cut off a great loop of the Road, which further on bent southwards to avoid the Midgewater Marshes. But, of course, they would have to pass through the marshes themselves, and Strider's description of them was not encouraging.

However, in the meanwhile, walking was not unpleasant. Indeed, if it had not been for the disturbing events of the night before, they would have enjoyed this pan of the journey better than any up to that time. The sun was shining, clear but not too hot. The woods in the valley were still leafy and full of color and seemed peaceful and wholesome. Strider guided them confidently among the many crossing paths, although left to themselves they would soon have been at a loss. He was taking a wandering course with many turns and doublings, to put off any pursuit.

Whether because of Strider's skill or for some other reason, they saw no sign and heard no sound of any other living thing all that day: neither two-footed, except birds; nor four-footed, except one fox and a few squirrels. The next day they began to steer a steady course eastwards, and still, all was quiet and peaceful. On the third day out from Bree, they came out of the Chetwood. The land had been falling steadily, ever since they turned aside from the Road, and they now entered a wide flat expanse of country, much more difficult to manage. They were far beyond the borders of the Bree-land, out in the pathless wilderness, and drawing near to the Midge-water Marshes.

The ground now became damp, and in places boggy and here and there they came upon pools and wide stretches of reeds and rushes filled with the warbling of little-hidden birds. They had to pick their way carefully to keep both dry-footed and on their proper course. At first, they made fan-progress, but as they went on, their passage became slower and more dangerous. The marshes were bewildering and treacherous, and there was no permanent trail even for Rangers to find through their shifting quagmires. The flies began to torment them, and the air was full of clouds of tiny midges that crept up their sleeves and breeches and into their hair. It was only when it became particularly nasty did Severus offered all of them liquid lavender to keep the bugs away. It was very strong and quite pleasant and made the journey more tolerable, but still miserable in this unpleasant country.

The next day, the fourth was a little better, and the night almost as comfortless. As Frodo lay, tired but unable to close his eyes, it seemed to him that far away there came a light in the eastern sky: it flashed and faded many times. It was not the dawn, for that was still some hours off.

"What is the light?" he said to Strider, who had risen, and was standing, gazing ahead into the night.

"I do not know," Strider answered. "It is too distant to make out. It is like lightning that leaps up from the hill-tops."

Frodo lay down again, but for a long while Severus could still see the white flashes, and against them, the tall dark figure of Strider, standing silent and watchful.

Frodo seemed to be troubled about something and he did not tell Severus what it was, though he suspected that it had to deal with a long lost wizard. To ease his worries, Severus began a conversation with him about nothing in particular to distract him. The other hobbits joined in too, remembering peaceful and comforting times. At last, Frodo and the rest had passed into sleep.

Soon, it had reached the fifth day and they had luckily left the pools and marshes behind. The land before them began to steadily rise again. Away in the distance eastward, they could now see a line of hills. The highest of them was at the right of the line and a little separated from the others. it had a conical top, slightly flattened at the summit.

Severus looked at the structure and found it more depressing than he thought.

"That is Weathertop," said Strider. "The Old Road, which we have left far away on our right, runs to the south of it and passes not far from its foot. We might reach it by noon tomorrow if we go straight towards it. I suppose we had better do so."

"What do you mean?" asked Frodo.

"I mean: when we do get there, it is not certain what we shall find. It is close to the Road."

"But surely we were hoping to find Gandalf there?"

"Yes; but the hope is faint. If he comes this way at all, he may not pass through Bree, and so he may not know what we are doing. And anyway, unless by luck we arrive almost together, we shall miss one another; it will not be safe for him or for us to wait there long. If the Riders fail to find us in the wilderness, they are likely to make for Weathertop themselves. It commands a wide view all around. Indeed, there are many birds and beasts in this country that could see us, as we stand here, from that hill-top. Not all the birds are to be trusted, and there are other spies more evil than they are."

"If it is so dangerous, then why would we venture there at all? Surely, the chances of crossing paths with Gandalf are slim, should we not take our chances away from the dangers that seek us?" questioned Severus. To him, it seemed to risky to vernture there.

The hobbits looked anxiously at the distant hills. Sam looked up into the pale sky, fearing to see hawks or eagles hovering over them with bright unfriendly eyes.

"Even so, we have no other leads," replied Strider, but Severus could trace some uncertainty at his words. Before he could argue, Frodo interrupted him.

"What do you advise us to do?" asked Frodo.

"I think"' answered Strider slowly as if he was not quite sure, "I think the best thing is to go as straight eastward from here as we can, to make for the line of hills, not for Weathertop. There we can strike a path I know that runs at their feet; it will bring us to Weathertop from the north and less openly. Then we shall see what we shall see."

All that day they plodded along until the cold and early evening came down. The whole time that they were traveling, Severus argued with Frodo in the back. The Hobbits sent them worried glance since Frodo and Severus rarely disagreed with anything. It was troubling. Even Aragorn, who led the group, would glance back at them occasionally.

Yet, no matter how much Severus reasoned that this was a bad idea (not to mention he couldn't seem to fight off the dread that filled him), Frodo refused to back down and firmly set to stick to the plan made by Strider.

Of course, Aragorn knew best since he knows these lands and these riders better than the whole lot of them, but Severus knew the reason why they were both set on the Weathertop. They both believed that Gandalf was waiting for them, but Severus knew that the chances were more than unlikely. It would be a chance at best and rarely would his gut be wrong. It had saved him too many times to be easily dismissed. But nothing he did or said seemed to stop them and the land became drier and more barren, but mists and vapors lay behind them on the marshes as they continued on. A few melancholy birds were piping and wailing until the round red sun sank slowly into the western shadows; then an empty silence fell and while Severus never cared for divination, he took it as a bad omen.

At the day's end, they came to a stream that wandered down from the hills to lose itself in the stagnant marshland, and they went up along its banks while the light lasted. It was already night when at last they halted and made their camp under some stunted alder-trees by the shores of the stream. Ahead there loomed now against the dusky sky the bleak and treeless backs of the hills. That night they set a watch, and Strider, it seemed, did not sleep at all. The moon was waxing, and in the early night-hours, a cold grey light lay on the land.

Next morning they set out again soon after sunrise. There was a frost in the air, and the sky was a pale clear blue. The hobbits felt refreshed as if they had had a night of unbroken sleep. Already they were getting used to much walking on short commons - shorter at any rate than what in the Shire they would have thought barely enough to keep them on their legs. Pippin declared that Frodo was looking twice the hobbit that he had been.

"Very odd," said Frodo, tightening his belt, "considering that there is actually a good deal less of me. I hope the thinning process will not go on indefinitely, or I shall become a wraith."

"Do not speak of such things"' said Strider quickly from the front, and with surprising earnestness.

The hills drew nearer. They made an undulating ridge, often rising almost to a thousand feet, and here and there falling again to low clefts or passes leading into the eastern land beyond. Along the crest of the ridge the hobbits could see what looked to be the remains of green-grown walls and dikes, and in the clefts, there still stood the ruins of old works of stone. By night they had reached the feet of the westward slopes, and there they camped. It was the night of the fifth of October, and they were six days out from Bree.

In the morning they found, for the first time since they had left the Chetwood, a track plain to see. They turned right and followed it southwards. It ran cunningly, taking a line that seemed chosen so as to keep as much hidden as possible from the view, both of the hill-tops above and of the flats to the west. It dived into dells and hugged steep banks, and where it passed over flatter and more open ground on either side of it there were lines of large boulders and hewn stones that screened the travelers almost like a hedge.

"I wonder who made this path, and what for"' said Merry, as they walked along one of these avenues, where the stones were unusually large and closely set. "I am not sure that I like it: it has a - well, rather a barrow-wightish look. Is there any barrow on Weathertop?"

"No. There is no barrow on Weathertop, nor on any of these hills," answered Strider. "The Men of the West did not live here; though in their latter days they defended the hills for a while against the evil that came out of Angmar. This path was made to serve the forts along the walls. But long before, in the first days of the North Kingdom, they built a great watch-tower on Weathertop, Amon Sûl they called it. It was burned and broken, and nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crown on the old hill's head. Yet once it was tall and fair. It is told that Elendil stood there watching for the coming of Gil-galad out of the West, in the days of the Last Alliance.'

The hobbits gazed at Strider with wonder at his vast knowledge of old lore, as well as in the ways of the wild. Severus rolled his eyes, still bitter from before.

"Who was Gil-galad?" asked Merry, but Strider did not answer and seemed to be lost in thought and the question remained unanswered. Severus remembers faintly of a story or two written in one of the books left by Bilbo, but not much else.

It was already mid-day when they drew near the southern end of the path, and saw before them, in the pale clear light of the October sun, a grey-green bank, leading up like a bridge on to the northward slope of the hill. They decided to make for the top at once, while the daylight was broad Concealment was no longer possible, and they could only hope that no enemy or spy was observing them. Nothing was to be seen moving on the hill. If Gandalf was anywhere about, there was no sign of him and Severus bit his tongue to hide his anger and bitterness.

On the western flank of Weathertop, they found a sheltered hollow, at the bottom of which there was a bowl-shaped dell with grassy sides. There they left Sam and Pippin with their packs and luggage. The other four went on, but not before Severus placed some charms around them for protection. After half an hour's plodding climb Strider reached the crown of the hill; Frodo and Merry followed, tired and breathless. Severus was tired as well, but he refused to show any signs of wear. The last slope had been steep and rocky and more difficult than the ones before.

On the top they found, as Strider had said, a wide ring of ancient stonework, now crumbling or covered with age-long grass. There was nothing impressive about it, but Severus was sure that the splendor that it once had must have been marvelous. In the center, there were broken stones piled on top of each other. They were blackened as if with fire. About them, the turf was burned to the roots and all within the ring the grass was scorched and shriveled as if flames had swept the hill-top, but there was no sign of any living thing.

Standing upon the rim of the ruined circle, they saw all round below them a wide prospect, for the most pan of lands empty and featureless, except for patches of woodland away to the south, beyond which they caught here and there the glint of distant water. Beneath them on this southern side there ran like a ribbon the Old Road, coming out of the West and winding up and down, until it faded behind a ridge of dark land to the east. Nothing was moving on it. Following its line eastward with their eyes, they saw the Mountains: the nearer foothills were brown and somber; behind them stood taller shapes of grey, and behind those again were high white peaks glimmering among the clouds.

"Well, here we are!" said Merry. "And very cheerless and uninviting it looks! There is no water and no shelter. And no sign of Gandalf. But I don't blame him for not waiting - if he ever came here."

"I wonder," said Strider, looking around thoughtfully. "Even if he was a day or two behind us at Bree, he could have arrived here first. He can ride very swiftly when need presses."

They remained silent as they scouted the area for signs of Gandalf or anything really. AS Severus moved forward, he felt drawn to the center and gently touched the rocks and boulders. For a moment there was nothing, but a sudden chill passed and Severus closed his eyes as a wave of emotions washed over him. For a second, he thought he had simply blinked, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself lost in time.

There were people bustling about around him, dressed in armor and carrying weapons. The once-crumbling rocks had been restored and Severus stared amazed at the beauty of the fortress that was lost.

Then the ground shook violently and screams were heard. Severus watched as people ran around him, fighting creatures he's never seen before. It moved almost like a blur, as years and years seem to pass by in seconds. It kept going until there was nothing but a wasteland that now remains. But, he was no longer alone. In front of him stood a rider who rose his sword high.

Before Severus could do anything, he felt a burning sensation course through him as he was stabbed with the sword. He tried to scream but nothing came out. Severus laid on the floor, breathless but alive. Then, it all faded to black. When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing still, his hand still resting on top of the stones. The Hobbits and Strider stared at him worriedly, but before they could say anything, Aragorn made his way towards one of the boulders.

Suddenly he stooped and looked at the stone on the top of the cairn; it was flatter than the others and whiter as if it had escaped the fire. He picked it up and examined it, turning it in his fingers. "This has been handled recently," he said. "What do you think of these marks?"

On the flat under-side, Frodo saw some scratches: "There seems to be a stroke, a dot, and three more strokes," he said.

"The stroke on the left might be a G-rune with thin branches," said Strider. "It might be a sign left by Gandalf, though one cannot be sure. The scratches are fine, and they certainly look fresh. But the marks might mean something quite different and have nothing to do with us. Rangers use runes, and they come here sometimes."

"So we came here for nothing," said Severus, but everyone ignored his words.

"What could they mean, even if Gandalf made them?" asked Merry

"I should say," answered Strider, "that they stood for G3, and were a sign that Gandalf was here on October the third: that is three days ago now. It would also show that he was in a hurry and danger was at hand, so that he had no time or did not dare to write anything longer or plainer. If that is so, we must be wary."

"I wish we could feel sure that he made the marks, whatever they may mean," said Frodo "It would be a great comfort to know that he was on the way, in front of us or behind us."

"Perhaps," said Strider. "For myself, I believe that he was here, and was in danger. There have been scorching flames here, and now the light that we saw three nights ago in the eastern sky comes back to my mind. I guess that he was attacked on this hill-top, but with what result I cannot tell. He is here no longer, and we must now look after ourselves and make our own way to Rivendell, as best we can "

"How far is Rivendell?" asked Merry, gazing round wearily. The world looked wild and wide from Weathertop.

"I don't know if the Road has ever been measured in miles beyond the Forsaken Inn, a day's journey east of Bree," answered Strider. "Some say it is so far, and some say otherwise. It is a strange road, and folk is glad to reach their journey's end, whether the time is long or short. But I know how long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no ill fortune twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen, where the Road crosses the Loudwater that runs out of Rivendell. We have at least a fortnight's journey before us, for I do not think we shall be able to use the Road."

"A fortnight!" said Frodo. "A lot may happen in that time."

"It may," said Strider.

They stood for a while silent on the hill-top, near its southward edge. Frodo was staring far out towards the direction that that once came, a path that eventually leads to the Shire. Severus stood next to him, watching him. Despite not finding Gandalf, it was somewhat reassuring that he was indeed here, but it did not help that he was no longer here. Especially if what Aragorn said was true, then he was fighting someone or something here. It spoke of dangers, yet none of his companions seemed to mind it which he thought was quite dumb.

Lost in though, he felt a sudden jerk to his arm and stared at Frodo who looked scared as he pointed North. Suddenly he was aware that two black specks were moving slowly along it, going westward; and looking again he saw that three others were creeping eastward to meet them.

"Look," whispered Frodo, pointing downwards. At once, Strider pulled Frodo and Merry down with him, Severus following after Frodo, his arm still clutched by Frodo.

Slowly they crawled up to the edge of the ring again and peered through a cleft between two jagged stones. The light was no longer bright, for the clear morning had faded, and clouds creeping out of the East had now overtaken the sun, as it began to go down. They could all see the black specks, but neither Frodo nor Merry could make out their shapes for certain; yet something told them that there, far below, were Black Riders assembling on the Road beyond the foot of the hill.

"Yes," said Strider, whose keener sight left him in no doubt. "The enemy is here!"

Hastily, they crept away and slipped down the north side of the hill to find their companions.

Sam and Peregrin had not been idle. They had explored the small dell and the surrounding slopes. Not far away they found a spring of clear water in the hillside and near it footprints not more than a day or two old. In the dell itself, they found recent traces of fire and other signs of a hasty camp. There were some fallen rocks on the edge of the dell nearest to the hill. Behind them, Sam came upon a small store of firewood neatly stacked.

"I wonder if old Gandalf has been here," he said to Pippin. "Whomever it was put this stuff here meant to come back it seems."

Strider was greatly interested in these discoveries. "I wish I had waited and explored the ground down here myself," he said, hurrying off to the spring to examine the footprints.

"It is just as I feared," he said when he came back. "Sam and Pippin have trampled the soft ground, and the marks are spoilt or confused. Rangers have been here lately. It is they who left the firewood behind. But there are also several newer tracks that were not made by Rangers. At least one set was made, only a day or two ago, by heavy boots. At least one. I cannot now be certain, but I think there were many booted feet." He paused and stood in anxious thought.

Immediately, everyone's thoughts return to the vision of cloaked and booted Riders. If the horsemen had already found the dell, the sooner Strider led them somewhere else the better. Sam viewed the hollow with great dislike, now that he had heard news of their enemies on the Road, only a few miles away.

"Hadn't we better clear out quick, Mr. Strider?" he asked impatiently. "It is getting late, and I don't like this hole: it makes my heart sink somehow."

"Yes, we certainly must decide what to do at once," answered Strider, looking up and considering the time and the weather. "Well, Sam," he said at last, "I do not like this place either, but I cannot think of anywhere better than we could reach before nightfall. At least we are out of sight for the moment, and if we moved we should be much more likely to be seen by spies. All we could do would be to go right out of our way back north on this side of the line of hills, where the land is all much the same as it is here. The Road is watched, but we should have to cross it if we tried to take cover in the thickets away to the south. On the north side of the Road beyond the hills, the country is bare and flat for miles."

"Can the Riders see?" asked Merry. "I mean, they seem usually to have used their noses rather than their eyes, smelling for us, if smell is the right word, at least in the daylight. But you made us lie down flat when you saw them down below, and now you talk of being seen if we move."

"I was too careless on the hill-top," answered Strider. Severus snorted and Frodo lightly whacked him at the side. Strider looked at him, regret in his eyes. "I was very anxious to find some sign of Gandalf, but it was a mistake for four of us to go up and stand there so long. For the black horses can see, and the Riders can use men and other creatures as spies, as we found at Bree. They themselves do not see the world of light as we do, but our shapes cast shadows in their minds, which only the noon sun destroys; and in the dark, they perceive many signs and forms that are hidden from us: then they are most to be feared. And at all times they smell the blood of living things, desiring and hating it. Senses, too, there are other than sight or smell. We can feel their presence - it troubled our hearts, as soon as we came here, and before we saw them; they feel ours more keenly. Also," he added, and his voice sank to a whisper, "the Ring draws them.'

"Is there no escape then?" said Frodo, looking around wildly. "If I move I shall be seen and hunted! If I stay, I shall draw them to me!"

Strider laid his hand on his shoulder. "There is still hope," he said. "You are not alone. Let us take this wood that is set ready for the fire as a sign. There is little shelter or defense here, but a fire shall serve for both. Sauron can put fire to his evil uses, as he can all things, but these Riders do not love it and fear those who wield it. Fire is our friend in the wilderness."

"Maybe," muttered Sam. "It is also as good a way of saying 'here we are' as I can think of, bar shouting."

"I have to agree with Sam," said Severus. "It is a beacon to our location. I don't think we should draw further attention to us."

"Even so, it is a risk we should take."

"Like coming here was a risk we should have taken" replied Severus nastily.

The Hobbits stood awkwardly as the tension rose between the men. Aragorn nodded his head lightly, completely aware and understanding of Severus's feeling towards the man. It is not entirely his fault, Severus knew, but if he had simply listened, they could have been hidden away by now, far from here.

"For that," Aragorn started finally, "I am sorry. But it is better to have the fire burning now, reachable, rather than trying to start one should we be attacked."
Still, Severus did not agree with the man. He knew that he could easily configure fire with his wand, but they did not possess the same powers that he did. Glancing at the Hobbits, Severus finally noticed that they were scared. The darkness only seems to scare them more as the sky turned to dusk- the darkness surrounding them hungrily. It was still foolish, thought Severus, but he tightly nodded his head and watched as Strider started a fire from the wood collected by Pippin and Sam.

After the awkward moment had passed, the Hobbits began to start a meal. The shades of evening began to fall, and it grew cold. They were suddenly aware of great hunger, for they had not eaten anything since breakfast; but they dared not make more than a frugal supper. The lands ahead were empty of all save birds and beasts, unfriendly places deserted by all the races of the world. Rangers passed at times beyond the hills, but they were few and did not stay. Other wanderers were rare, and of the evil sort: trolls might stray down at times out of the northern valleys of the Misty Mountains. Only on the Road would travelers be found, most often dwarves, hurrying along on business of their own, and with no help and few words to spare for strangers.

"I don't see how our food can be made to last," said Frodo. "We have been careful enough in the last few days, and this supper is no feast, but we have used more than we ought if we have two weeks still to go, and perhaps more."

Severus agreed with Frodo. Despite the amount that they had packed, the Hobbits appetite was rather notorious. Severus usually left the food for Sam to cook and used, but he may have used a little more than he should. It was not his fault, Severus should have taken better notice of their rations. But while there was still plenty left, there was still enough to last a week.

Thinking along the same lines at Strider, Severus pulled a root from his bag. The Hobbits stared at it distastefully.

Jerking his head, Strider focused on the root that Severus held.

"There is food in the wild," said Strider; "berry, root, and herb; and I have some skill as a hunter at need. You need not be afraid of starving before winter comes. But gathering and catching food is long and tiring work, and we need haste. So tighten your belts, and think with hope of the tables of Elrond's house!"

Nonetheless, Severus feared that the journey would pass Elrond's house and that he would not be near the Hobbits always. While Severus would rather have anyone separate him from the Hobbits over his dead body, he could not be certain that he could keep all of them together. There were forces greater than him and they may stray onto different paths. And while Sam's knowledge of roots, berries, and herbs was mediocre at best (despite being a gardener), he did not dismiss the thought that they would mistake something and cause an early death.

Severus couldn't expect to be with them always and he decided that he should teach them how to distinguish which were safe to eat and which ones weren't in the case they are ever to be separated. He did not like the thought, but he knew better than to risk it. If he were to come into some paper and ink, he would even create a handbook for them.

As Severus mentally noted his plans for the book, he became almost unaware of the cold that had increased as darkness came on. Peering out from the edge of the dell they could see nothing but a grey land now vanishing quickly into shadow. The sky above had cleared again and was slowly filled with twinkling stars. Frodo and the rest of the Hobbits huddled around the fire, wrapped in every garment and blanket they possessed; but Strider was content with a single cloak, and sat a little apart, drawing thoughtfully at his pipe. But even as they all seemed to be fine, the fire was not big and it did not provide all the much comfort.

Sighing, Severus raised his wand and placed a heating charm on all of them, including Aragorn who sat somewhat straighter at the strange and sudden feeling. The Hobbits smiled at him at the action.

As night fell and the light of the fire began to shine out brightly, Strider began to tell them tales to keep their minds from fear. He knew many histories and legends of long ago, of Elves and Men and the good and evil deeds of the Elder Days. They wondered how old he was, and where he had learned all this lore, but none dared ask.

Severus assumed that the man was secretive about his past as much as he was. Severus could only imagine what he could be hiding, but other than that time at Bree, he did not dare enter his mind again.

Soon, after many stories, Aragorn has stopped once it was dark. And while Severus was sure that Aragorn knew more stories than he led on, he seemed almost troubled, as if he was being reminded of a past long lost. Severus recognized the hazy look in Aragorn's eyes; he's seen it in himself many times.

Unfortunately, the Hobbits still seemed to be unsatisfied and were still worried despite the many stories that were told. Spontaneously, Merry had asked him for a story. There were not many for him to tell and he was quite sure that Merry wanted more information about his past and his home, but Severus refused to reveal his plight and his regrets to the young hobbits. It was not ideal for them to be fearful of him now. And while Severus hoped that he had successfully repented for his sins, Severus did not think they would say the same. Instead, mulling over the many legends and stories that he's read over the years, Severus told them the story of the Deathly Hallows, a story he knew by heart from months of studying after Dumbledore's death.

"There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at Twilight..." he began. The Hobbits listened intently. Even after years of living in the Shire, Severus rarely, if he ever had, revealed anything of his past. Even Strider, who hid his features well, seemed to be enthralled with the story that was like none that they heard before. Aragorn spoke of places far off and wars lost in time. However, Severus, who simply told a bedtime story, had offered them a different world entirely. Like their stories, rich and entertaining, this one was based on history.

It was almost fearful in many places and the strong theme of death was probably not the best story to tell, but it was the only one he was willing to share.

When it reached the part of the stone, both Frodo and Aragorn seemed particularly perplexed yet wistful at the concept. Severus did not know of what Aragorn was thinking, or whom he was thinking of, but it was no secret of Frodo's. He was sure that he was thinking of his parents whom he longs to meet, but alas, the story ranged true. It is better to leave the dead alone and remain with the living.

Soon, after the story was done, the hobbits moved and stretched.

"Look!" said Merry. "The Moon is rising: it must be getting late."

The others looked up. Even as they did so, they saw on the top of the hill something small and dark against the glimmer of the moonrise. It was perhaps only a large stone or jutting rock shown up by the pale light.

Sam and Merry got up and walked away from the fire. Frodo and Pippin remained seated in silence. Strider was watching the moonlight on the hill intently. All seemed quiet and still, but Severus felt a cold dread once the silence loomed over. Severus watched as Frodo shivered and huddled closer to the fire. He looked pale and his lips almost look blue. It was not cold, but it was almost like he was near death itself. At that moment Sam came running back from the edge of the dell.

"I don't know what it is," he said, "but I suddenly felt afraid. I durstn't go outside this dell for any money; I felt that something was creeping up the slope."

"Did you see anything?" asked Severus, springing to his feet.

"No, sir. I saw nothing, but I didn't stop to look."

"I saw something," said Merry; "or I thought I did - away westwards where the moonlight was falling on the flats beyond the shadow of the hill-tops, I thought there were two or three black shapes. They seemed to be moving this way."

"Keep close to the fire, with your faces outward!" cried, Strider. 'Get some of the longer sticks ready in your hands!"

They moved quickly and Severus had already drawn up his wand. Severus stood side by side Aragorn as they listened for anything out of the ordinary.

For a breathless time, the Hobbits sat there, silent and alert, with their backs turned to the wood-fire, each gazing into the shadows that encircled them. Nothing happened. There was no sound or movement in the night. Frodo stirred, feeling that he must break the silence: he longed to shout out aloud.

"Hush!" whispered Strider. "What's that?" gasped Pippin at the same moment.

Over the lip of the little dell, on the side away from the hill, they felt, rather than saw, a shadow rise, one shadow or more than one. They strained their eyes, and the shadows seemed to grow. Soon there could be no doubt: three or four tall black figures were standing there on the slope, looking down on them. So black were they that they seemed like black holes in the deep shade behind them. Severus thought that he heard a faint hiss as of venomous breath and felt a thin piercing chill. Dread filled him when it reminded him of Nagini, but he stood firmly as the shapes slowly advanced.

---

Terror overcame Pippin and Merry, and they threw themselves flat on the ground. Sam shrank to Frodo's side. Frodo was hardly less terrified than his companions; he was quaking as if he was bitter cold, but his terror was swallowed up in a sudden temptation to put on the Ring. The desire to do this laid hold of him and he could think of nothing else. He did not forget the Barrow, nor the message of Gandalf, but something seemed to be compelling him to disregard all warnings, and he longed to yield. Not with the hope of escape, or of doing anything, either good or bad: he simply felt that he must take the Ring and put it on his finger. He could not speak. He felt Sam looking at him as if he knew that his master was in some great trouble, but he could not turn towards him. He shut his eyes and struggled for a while, but resistance became unbearable, and at last, he slowly drew out the chain and slipped the Ring on the forefinger of his left hand.

Immediately, though everything else remained as before, dim and dark, the shapes became terribly clear. He was able to see beneath their black wrappings. There were five tall figures: two standing on the lip of the dell, three advancing. In their white faces burned keen and merciless eyes; under their mantles were long grey robes; upon their grey hairs were helms of silver; in their haggard hands were swords of steel. Their eyes fell on him and pierced him, as they rushed towards him. Desperate, he drew his own sword, and it seemed to him that it flickered red, as if it was a firebrand. Two of the figures halted. The third was taller than the others: his hair was long and gleaming and on his helm was a crown. In one hand he held a long sword, and in the other, a knife; both the knife and the hand that held it glowed with a pale light. He sprang forward and bore down on Frodo.

At that moment Frodo threw himself forward on the ground, and he heard himself crying aloud: O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! At the same time, he struck at the feet of his enemy. A shrill cry rang out in the night, and he felt a pain like a dart of poisoned ice pierce his left shoulder. Even as he swooned he caught, as through a swirling mist, a glimpse of Strider leaping out of the darkness with a flaming brand of wood in either hand. With the last effort Frodo, dropping his sword, slipped the Ring from his finger and closed his right hand tight upon it.

---

Severus had focused solely on the creatures in front of him that he didn't notice the inner turmoil that seemed to overtake Frodo. It was only when something ringed at the back of his mind did he notice something was wrong.

Before he or Sam could stop him, Severus watched horrified as Frodo put on the ring. Instantly, he disappeared and the Black Riders advanced quickly, compelled by the ring to attack and restore it to their master.

Severus finally called the fire from his wand and aimed it the riders, but there was so many. As he continues to deflect them with small balls of fire, Severus swore he heard Frodo scream, as faint as it was. To his right, Severus could see Aragorn fighting his own, swinging a torch feverishly at the riders, pushing them back. But it was too much. They were surrounded.

Almost desperaetly, Severus surveyed for an escape but found none. Then, suddenly, Frodo appeared again. The Hobbits swooped in and regarded him carefully, whispering words that Severus could not hear. Making up his mind, Severus pushed the Hobbits behind him and pulled Aragorn to join them. Moving his wand and muttering an incantation, the fire surrounded them in a circle and then suddenly burst high flames.

The Riders screamed and Severus clenched his teeth at the noise, but he did not stop. He waved his wand towards them, drawing out the fire further and further towards them. Then, as if it was a trick of the light, the riders were gone. Aragorn quickly left and scouted the area to find them while Severus breathed out deeply and stared at Frodo who was still lying as if dead, face downwards on the grass with his sword beneath him. Severus ordered them to pick him up and lay him near the fire, as they waited for Strider's return. That was a while ago.

In the meantime, Severus had already removed Frodo's outer garment and was gazing at the deep gash at his shoulder. It had happened moments before, but it was already black and faintly green. It was nothing that Severus had ever seen, but at a closer inspection, he deduced that it was a poison of sorts or it could be from a cursed object, he wasn't sure.

Rummaging through his bag, Severus pulled out a bezoar. He was not sure what kind of poison that was used if one was indeed used, but Severus hoped that it would help nonetheless. Ordering Sam to move Frodo's head, Severus shoved the bezoar down Frodo's throat. Watching intently, Severus looked at his wound and cleaned it with a spell, but the bezoar seemed to have no effect on the wound.

Severus rummaged through his bag and pulled some herbs that he placed directly on the wound to stop further infection. As Severus continued to check over Frodo, he found that Frodo seemed to only get colder and paler. Using his wand, Severus placed a warm heating charm on him, but it did nothing to stop it. He felt cold as death.

Fear began to overtake him just as Strider returned. Immediately, Strider moved to his side and looked at the damage. By now, his eyes were pale and Frodo was gasping as if there was no air.

Severus listened to Aragorn's findings, but he did not stop his movement. He feared that if he stopped for a second, he would lose Frodo. It if it was not poison, then dark magic was at work, but Severus knew nothing of the cause and he did not know how to reverse the damage.

"I think I understand things better now," he said in a low voice. "There seem only to have been five of the enemy. Why they were not all here, I don't know; but I don't think they expected to be resisted. They have drawn off for the time being. But not far, I fear. They will come again another night if we cannot escape. They are only waiting because they think that their purpose is almost accomplished and that the Ring cannot fly much further. Frodo is in great danger."

At that moment, Aragorn pulled out a hilt of a knife and Severus knew that it was the weapon that hurt Frodo, but he soon put it away and moved towards Severus.

Instantly, Aragorn pulled out a small herb from his small brown pouch. It looked similar to Acanthaceae or possibly basil, but it was not quite it. He then pushed away Severus's hands and placed the new plants on the wound and began to murmur something that Severus didn't understand.

This was, in a way, a level of magical medicine, but Aragorn didn't seem to be that well known in the art.

"These leaves," he said, "I have walked far to find; for this plant does not grow in the bare hills, but in the thickets away south of the Road I found it in the dark by the scent of its leaves."

He crushed a leaf in his fingers, and it gave out a sweet and pungent fragrance. "It is fortunate that I could find it, for it is a healing plant that the Men of the West brought to Middle-earth. Athelas they named it, and it grows now sparsely and only near places where they dwelt or camped of old; and it is not known in the North, except to some of those who wander in the Wild. It has great virtues, but over such a wound as this its healing powers may be small."

He threw the leaves into boiling water and bathed Frodo's shoulder. The fragrance of the steam was refreshing, and those that were unhurt felt their minds calmed and cleared. The herb had also some power over the wound, for Frodo felt the pain and also the sense of frozen cold lessen in his side; but the life did not return to his arm, and he could not raise or use his hand.

With quick words with Strider, both men agreed that they must leave Weathertop as soon as possible. As soon as the daylight was full, they had some hurried food and packed. It was impossible for Frodo to walk, so Severus took it upon himself to levitate him on the way there. It was draining at his powers, but they had no better option.

They started off in a southerly direction. This would mean crossing the Road, but. it was the quickest way to the more wooded country. It was also taken to shorten their journey by cutting across another great loop of the Road: east beyond Weathertop it changed its course and took a wide bend northwards.

They made their way slowly and cautiously round the south-western slopes of the hill, and came in a little while to the edge of the Road. There was no sign of the Riders. But even as they were hurrying across they heard far away two cries: a cold voice calling and a cold voice answering. Trembling they sprang forward, and made for the thickets that lay ahead. The land before them sloped away southwards, but it was wild and pathless; bushes and stunted trees grew in dense patches with wide barren spaces in between. The grass was scanty, coarse, and grey; and the leaves in the thickets were faded and falling. It was a cheerless land, and their journey was slow and gloomy. They spoke little as they trudged along. Frodo's heart was grieved as he watched them walking beside him with their heads down, and their backs bowed under their burdens. Even Strider seemed tired and heavy-hearted.

Before the first day's march was over Frodo's pain began to grow again, but he did not speak of it for a long time. Four days passed, without the ground or the scene changing much, except that behind them Weathertop slowly sank, and before them, the distant mountains loomed a little nearer. Yet since that far cry, they had seen and heard no sign that the enemy had marked their flight or followed them. They dreaded the dark hours, and kept watch in pairs by night, expecting at any time to see black shapes stalking in the grey night, dimly lit by the cloud-veiled moon; but they saw nothing, and heard no sound but the sigh of withered leaves and grass. Not once did they feel the sense of present evil that had assailed them before the attack in the dell. It seemed too much to hope that the Riders had already lost their trail again. Perhaps they were waiting to make some ambush in a narrow place?

At the end of the fifth day, the ground began once more to rise slowly out of the wide shallow valley into which they had descended. Strider now turned their course again north-eastwards, and on the sixth day they reached the top of a long slow-climbing slope and saw far ahead of a huddle of wooded hills. Away below them, they could see the Road sweeping round the feet of the hills; and to their right, a grey river gleamed pale in the thin sunshine. In the distance, they glimpsed yet another river in a stony valley half-veiled in mist.

Next day, early in the morning, they came down again to the borders of the Road. Sam and Strider went forward, but they found no sign of any travelers or riders. Here under the shadow of the hills, there had been some rain. Strider judged that it had fallen two days before, and had washed away all footprints. No horseman had passed since then, as far as he could see.

They hurried along with all the speed they could make, and after a mile or two they saw the Last Bridge ahead, at the bottom of a short steep slope. They dreaded to see black figures waiting there, but they saw none. Strider made them take cover in a thicket at the side of the Road, while he went forward to explore. Severus took this as a time to rest his magic. They have traveled for days and he had already started to feel a strain on his magical core. Rubbing his chest, Severus gazed at Frodo was asleep. He had become weaker as the days continue and no matter what he or Aragorn did seemed to help. However, Aragorn assured him of a healer capable of healing Frodo, they only need to get him to him.

Soon, Aragorn came back with a small green gem, excited that they were close. Yet, it seemed that they had traveled too far and had needed to redirect their path. They passed many things, even meeting the trolls that Bilbo had met decades before.

As they progressed, Severus felt his body weaken more and he noticed that he was becoming more tired than usual. When Severus had almost staggered, nearly dropping Frodo as he did, Aragorn deemed it was time for rest.

They were beginning to look out for a place off the Road, where they could camp for the night when they heard a sound that brought sudden fear back into their hearts: the noise of hoofs behind them. They looked back, but they could not see far because of the many windings and rollings of the Road. As quickly as they could they scrambled off the beaten way and up into the deep heather and bilberry brushwood on the slopes above until they came to a small patch of thick-growing hazels. As they peered out from among the bushes, they could see the Road, faint and grey in the failing light, some thirty feel below them. The sound of hoofs drew nearer. They were going fast, with a light clippety-clippely-clip. Then faintly, as if it was blown away from them by the breeze, they seemed to catch a dim ringing, as of small bells tinkling.

"That does not sound like a Black Rider's horse!" said Sam, listening intently. The other hobbits agreed hopefully that it did not, but they all remained full of suspicion. They had been in fear of pursuit for so long that any sound from behind seemed ominous and unfriendly. But Strider was now leaning forward, stooped to the ground, with a hand to his ear, and a look of joy on his face. As tired as he was, Severus still thought he looked crazy.

The light faded, and the leaves on the bushes rustled softly. Clearer and nearer now the bells jingled, and clippety-clip came the quick trotting feet. Suddenly into view below came a white horse, gleaming in the shadows, running swiftly. In the dusk its headstall flickered and flashed, as if it were studded with gems like living stars. The rider's cloak streamed behind him, and his hood was thrown back; his golden hair flowed shimmering in the wind of his speed. To Severus, it appeared that it was like a white light shining through the form and raiment of the rider, as if through a thin veil.

Strider sprang from hiding and dashed down towards the Road, leaping with a cry through the heather; but even before he had moved or called, the rider had reined in his horse and halted, looking up towards the thicket where they stood. When he saw Strider, he dismounted and ran to meet him calling out: "Ai na vedui Dúnadan! Mae govannen!"

His speech and clear ringing voice left no doubt in their hearts: the rider was of the Elven-folk. No others that dwelt in the wide world had voices so fair to hear. But there seemed to be a note of haste or fear in his call, and they saw that he was now speaking quickly and urgently to Strider.

Soon Strider beckoned to them, and the hobbits left the bushes and hurried down to the Road, Severus staying behind to care to Frodo, but was well in the view of everyone, including the elven rider. 'This is Glorfindel, who dwells in the house of Elrond," said Strider.

"Hail, and well met at last!" said the Elf-lord to Frodo and to Severus. "I was sent from Rivendell to look for you. We feared that you were in danger upon the road."

"Then Gandalf has reached Rivendell?" asked Severus.

"No. He had not when I departed, but that was nine days ago," answered Glorfindel. "Elrond received news that troubled him. Some of my kindred, journeying in your land beyond the Baranduin, learned that things were amiss, and sent messages as swiftly as they could. They said that the Nine were abroad, and that you were astray bearing a great burden without guidance, for Gandalf had not returned. There are few even in Rivendell that can ride openly against the Nine; but such as there were, Elrond sent out north, west, and south. It was thought that you might turn far aside to avoid pursuit, and become lost in the Wilderness.

"It was my lot to take the Road, and I came to the Bridge of Mitheithel, and left a token there, nigh on seven days ago. Three of the servants of Sauron were upon the Bridge, but they withdrew and I pursued them westward. I came also upon two others, but they turned away southward. Since then I have searched for your trail. Two days ago I found it and followed it over the Bridge, and today I marked where you descended from the hills again. But come! There is no time for further news. Since you are here we must risk the peril of the Road and go. There are five behind us, and when they find your trail upon the Road they will ride after us like the wind. And they are not all. Where the other four may be, I do not know. I fear that we may find the Ford is already held against us.'

While Glorfindel was speaking the shades of evening deepened. Severus felt a great weariness come over him. Ever since the sun began to sink the mist before his eyes had darkened, and he felt that a shadow was coming between him and the others. There was sinking feeling that filled Severus again and he feared the worst. Now pain assailed him, and he felt cold. He swayed, clutching at his chest, breathing deeply. Just the same, Frodo, who was sitting on a rock moments before, nearly fell forward. However, Glorfindel caught Frodo as he sank to the ground, and taking him gently in his arms he looked in his face with grave anxiety.

Briefly, Strider told of the attack on their camp under Weathertop, and of the deadly knife. He drew out the hilt, which he had kept, and handed it to the Elf. Glorfindel shuddered as he took it, but he looked intently at it.

"There are evil things written on this hilt," he said; "though maybe your eyes cannot see them. Keep it, Aragorn, till we reach the house of Elrond! But be wary, and handle it as little as you may! Alas! the wounds of this weapon are beyond my skill to heal. I will do what I can - but all the more do I urge you now to go on without rest."

He searched the wound on Frodo's shoulder with his fingers, and his face grew graver, as if what he learned disquieted him.

"You shall ride my horse," said Glorfindel. "I will shorten the stirrups up to the saddle-skins, and you must sit as tight as you can. But you need not fear: my horse will not let any rider fall that I command him to bear. His pace is light and smooth; and if danger presses too near, he will bear you away with a speed that even the black steeds of the enemy cannot rival."

"No, he will not!" said Frodo sternly, but weakly. "I shall not ride him, if I am to be carried off to Rivendell or anywhere else, leaving my friends behind in danger."

Glorfindel smiled. "I doubt very much," he said, "if your friends would be in danger if you were not with them! The pursuit would follow you and leave us in peace, I think. It is you, Frodo, and that which you bear that brings us all in peril."

To that Frodo had no answer, and he was persuaded to mount Glorfindel's white horse. The pony was laden instead with a great part of the others' burdens so that they now marched lighter, and for a time made good speed, but the hobbits began to find it hard to keep up with the swift tireless feet of the Elf. On he led them, into the mouth of darkness, and still on under the deep clouded night. There was neither star nor moon. Not until the grey of dawn did he allow them to halt. Pippin, Merry, and Sam were by that time nearly asleep on their stumbling legs; and even Strider and Severus seemed by the sag of their shoulders to be wary. Frodo sat upon the horse in a dark dream.

They cast themselves down in the heather a few yards from the road-side and fell asleep immediately. Glorfindel, who had set himself to watch while they slept, awoke them again. The sun had now climbed far into the morning, and the clouds and mists of the night were gone.

"Drink this!" said Glorfindel to them, pouring for each, in turn, a little liquor from his silver-studded flask of leather. It was clear as spring water and had no taste, and it did not feel either cool or warm in the mouth, but strength and vigor seemed to flow into all their limbs as they drank it. Eaten after that draught the stale bread and dried fruit (which was now all that they had left) seemed to satisfy their hunger better than many a good breakfast in the Shire had done.

They had rested rather less than five hours when they took to the Road again. Glorfindel still urged them on, and only allowed two brief halts during the day's march. In this way they covered almost twenty miles before nightfall and came to a point where the Road bent right and ran down towards the bottom of the valley, now making straight for the Bruinen. So far there had been no sign or sound of pursuit that the hobbits could see or hear; but often Glorfindel would halt and listen for a moment if they lagged behind, and a look of anxiety clouded his face. Once or twice he spoke to Strider in the elf-tongue.

But however anxious their guides might be, it was plain that the hobbits could go no further that night. They were stumbling along dizzy with weariness, and unable to think of anything but their feet and legs. Frodo's pain had redoubled, and during the day things about him faded to shadows of ghostly grey. He almost welcomed the coming of night, for then the world seemed less pale and empty.

The hobbits were still weary when they set out again early the next morning. There were many miles yet to go between them and the Ford, and they hobbled forward at the best pace they could manage.

"Our peril will be greatest just ere we reach the river," said Glorfindel; "for my heart warns me that the pursuit is now swift behind us, and other danger may be waiting by the Ford."

The Road was still running steadily downhill, and there was now in places much grass at either side, in which the hobbits walked when they could, to ease their tired feet. In the late afternoon, they came to a place where the Road went suddenly under the dark shadow of tall pine-trees and then plunged into a deep cutting with steep moist walls of red stone. Echoes ran along as they hurried forward; and there seemed to be a sound of many footfalls following their own. All at once, as if through a gate of light, the Road ran out again from the end of the tunnel into the open. There at the bottom of a sharp incline, they saw before them a long flat mile, and beyond that the Ford of Rivendell. On the further side was a steep brown bank, threaded by a winding path; and behind that the tall mountains climbed, shoulder above the shoulder, and peak beyond peak, into the fading sky.

There was still an echo as of following feet in the cutting behind them; a rushing noise as if a wind were rising and pouring through the branches of the pines. One moment Glorfindel turned and listened, then he sprang forward with a loud cry.

"Fly!" he called. "Fly! The enemy is upon us!"

The white horse leaped forward. The hobbits ran down the slope. Glorfindel, Severus, and Strider followed as rear-guard. They were only halfway across the flat when suddenly there was a noise of horses galloping. Out of the gate in the trees that they had just left rode a Black Rider. He reined his horse in, and halted, swaying in his saddle. Another followed him, and then another; then again two more.

"Ride forward! Ride!" cried Glorfindel to Frodo. "Noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth!"

At once the white horse sprang away and sped like the wind along the last lap of the Road. At the same moment the black horses leaped down the hill in pursuit, and from the Riders came a terrible cry. It was answered, and to the dismay of Severus, he watched horrified as two rode towards Frodo: two galloped madly towards the Ford to cut off his escape.

Fear now filled all of Severus's mind as he watched Frodo disappear, the riders following close behind. But before Severus could utter a word or spell, his vision went black. The last thing he remembered was his name being called out, faint but loud.

---

Author's Note:

Thank you to all that have commented, favorited, and followed this story. I hope this long chapter was to your liking. For those who have noticed, the story does not stray that far from the original text, but it will change completely once Severus heads to Rivendell. And since this was a rather LONG chapter, I probably won't update for a while (give me a couple weeks to regenerate). Anyway, thank you again for those who took the time to read this fic. I hope it is up to your liking.