Chapter 4
Undomiel
Carangerial froze, tensing, then quickly slipped off the road, fading silently behind a tree. She'd heard many hooves approaching, and was in no mood to talk to or be seen by whoever was riding the animals. Still, she didn't' mind spying on them, and watched the road intently for them to ride by.
The first to pass her tree was a tall, fine-looking human male with black hair and green-grey eyes, mounted on a big grey horse. He wore a long cloak whose brooch was a great emerald. Carangerial's eyes narrowed slightly. That stone looked Elvish…
She was slightly startled by the appearance of the next rider, a lady. Her black hair was very long and thick; here eyes were a deep shade of blue. She rode a white palfrey and wore a white dress. Her ears were large and pointed; she was an elf. An elf! A Rivendell elf. Carangerial didn't know much about elves, but she did know enough to know that only Rivendell elves had black hair, just like she knew the only white- furred wolves were those deepest in the Misty Mountains, by Caradhras. She sighed, thinking of the wolves, then stepped out from behind the tree. She didn't' feel any more talkative now than she did before, but still she needed a bit of help in finding Rivendell.
"Will you tell me the way to Imladris, lady?" Carangerial said in an almost challenging voice, tossing a lock of long silver hair out of her face. For a long moment the beautiful black-haired elf looked down at her, while the human shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, then the lady said;
"The way to Rivendell is not easily given, but if you would go there you may follow us."
"How do you know I'm not some fell creature sent to spy on you?"
The elf laughed musically. "You have naught of evil about you. May I ask your name?"
"You may, but you probably won't get an answer!"
The dark-haired elf smiled patiently, shaking her head.
"I am Arwen, Arwen Undomiel…"
"And I am Aragorn Elassar, King of Gondor."
Morandir yanked backward on the rein, struggling for some semblance of control as Mornie bucked and spunk in a circle. He felt his cloak fly back, revealing black armor, fifteen silver elven-daggers, and a great broken battle-horn. Transferring the reins to his left hand only, Morandir slashed again and again at the wraiths, parrying their cold Morgul-swords. For a moment, as lightning flashed, he got a glimpse under the hood of one of them, at a towering spiked crown set atop an invisible head, flaming orange eyes. Those orange eyes stared into his, and he stared just as hard back, though every moment was agony. It felt as if the Lord of the Nazgul's eyes were ice-cold daggers stabbing into his heart.
He barely shifted in time as one of the other eight charged. The tip of the silver sword cut his long cloak and the wraith slashed back immediately. Morandir leaned back as far as he could, til Mornie reared. He saw the blade scratch the stallion's shoulder; Mornie shrieked in terror as the blade gashed him, rearing higher, higher, huge feathered forehooves reaching for the clouded eyes. His rider fought to stay on, and his eyes bulged and rolled wildly, showing white.
Morandir couldn't get the horse down, couldn't control him at all now, and then, with a lurch of momentary fear, he felt the mighty horse overbalance, start to go over backward. Swiftly, he kicked his booted feet out of the stirrups, leapt off sideways in time to avoid being totally crushed by Mornie.
He'd barely landed, Mornie crashing down on his lower body, before he had to dodge a dagger aimed at his head. Then the pain hit, stabbing up his left leg, as Mornie rolled off. The horse reared again then wheeled and bolted as Morandir rolled to his knees, still holding his sword and stabbing at a charging wraith's horse. as another came from the side, Morandir hurled himself backwards, then staggered to his feet, crossing swords with the Captain of the Nazgul. The blow sent Morandir tumbling to the ground again and nearly knocked the wraith from its saddle.
The wraith lunged down and forward at the Dark Wanderer, sword extended. Morandir didn't' feel it at first as the wraith's cold blade pierced his shoulder, emerging from the other side of his body, and swung his sword forward, up at the Nazgul. He saw the silver tip go through the wraith's cloak in very nearly the same place as the creature had stabbed him before his world exploded in coldness and agony. Through the pain and confusion, he heard a Nazgul's cold voice speaking to – or at – him: "We'll leave you for our friends, Dark Wanderer. You've heard them. You know."
"Rivendell, at last!" Pippin breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at the sight of Elrond Half-Elven's mansion. Merry, too, smiled, feeling the springlike breeze of Rivendell blow on his face. The next moment he cried out in joy and bounded forward; two very familiar figures had appeared from beside the road.
"Elrond! Legolas! WE'RE BACK!" With that, the hobbits made a mad dash for the elves, who caught them in mid-air.
"So we see," said Elrond, laughing softly.
"Indeed," said a grinning Legolas, " with that kind of racket, it's a wonder we didn't' hear you coming!"
"That's because we were quiet because Pippin said we had to be because of the Dark Rider."
The elves sobered instantly, not even bothering to comment on the unheard of occurrence of Pippin telling someone to be quiet.
"Dark Rider?"
"Morandir…in Bree…"
"He knew our names…"
"Cloaked all in black with a silver sword, on a black stallion…"
"It was so cold in the woods…"
"Slow down, both of you. Come inside, and tell us your story," a voice broke in. Merry and Pippin spun about to find themselves face to face with none other than the wizard Gandalf.
Undomiel
Carangerial froze, tensing, then quickly slipped off the road, fading silently behind a tree. She'd heard many hooves approaching, and was in no mood to talk to or be seen by whoever was riding the animals. Still, she didn't' mind spying on them, and watched the road intently for them to ride by.
The first to pass her tree was a tall, fine-looking human male with black hair and green-grey eyes, mounted on a big grey horse. He wore a long cloak whose brooch was a great emerald. Carangerial's eyes narrowed slightly. That stone looked Elvish…
She was slightly startled by the appearance of the next rider, a lady. Her black hair was very long and thick; here eyes were a deep shade of blue. She rode a white palfrey and wore a white dress. Her ears were large and pointed; she was an elf. An elf! A Rivendell elf. Carangerial didn't know much about elves, but she did know enough to know that only Rivendell elves had black hair, just like she knew the only white- furred wolves were those deepest in the Misty Mountains, by Caradhras. She sighed, thinking of the wolves, then stepped out from behind the tree. She didn't' feel any more talkative now than she did before, but still she needed a bit of help in finding Rivendell.
"Will you tell me the way to Imladris, lady?" Carangerial said in an almost challenging voice, tossing a lock of long silver hair out of her face. For a long moment the beautiful black-haired elf looked down at her, while the human shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, then the lady said;
"The way to Rivendell is not easily given, but if you would go there you may follow us."
"How do you know I'm not some fell creature sent to spy on you?"
The elf laughed musically. "You have naught of evil about you. May I ask your name?"
"You may, but you probably won't get an answer!"
The dark-haired elf smiled patiently, shaking her head.
"I am Arwen, Arwen Undomiel…"
"And I am Aragorn Elassar, King of Gondor."
Morandir yanked backward on the rein, struggling for some semblance of control as Mornie bucked and spunk in a circle. He felt his cloak fly back, revealing black armor, fifteen silver elven-daggers, and a great broken battle-horn. Transferring the reins to his left hand only, Morandir slashed again and again at the wraiths, parrying their cold Morgul-swords. For a moment, as lightning flashed, he got a glimpse under the hood of one of them, at a towering spiked crown set atop an invisible head, flaming orange eyes. Those orange eyes stared into his, and he stared just as hard back, though every moment was agony. It felt as if the Lord of the Nazgul's eyes were ice-cold daggers stabbing into his heart.
He barely shifted in time as one of the other eight charged. The tip of the silver sword cut his long cloak and the wraith slashed back immediately. Morandir leaned back as far as he could, til Mornie reared. He saw the blade scratch the stallion's shoulder; Mornie shrieked in terror as the blade gashed him, rearing higher, higher, huge feathered forehooves reaching for the clouded eyes. His rider fought to stay on, and his eyes bulged and rolled wildly, showing white.
Morandir couldn't get the horse down, couldn't control him at all now, and then, with a lurch of momentary fear, he felt the mighty horse overbalance, start to go over backward. Swiftly, he kicked his booted feet out of the stirrups, leapt off sideways in time to avoid being totally crushed by Mornie.
He'd barely landed, Mornie crashing down on his lower body, before he had to dodge a dagger aimed at his head. Then the pain hit, stabbing up his left leg, as Mornie rolled off. The horse reared again then wheeled and bolted as Morandir rolled to his knees, still holding his sword and stabbing at a charging wraith's horse. as another came from the side, Morandir hurled himself backwards, then staggered to his feet, crossing swords with the Captain of the Nazgul. The blow sent Morandir tumbling to the ground again and nearly knocked the wraith from its saddle.
The wraith lunged down and forward at the Dark Wanderer, sword extended. Morandir didn't' feel it at first as the wraith's cold blade pierced his shoulder, emerging from the other side of his body, and swung his sword forward, up at the Nazgul. He saw the silver tip go through the wraith's cloak in very nearly the same place as the creature had stabbed him before his world exploded in coldness and agony. Through the pain and confusion, he heard a Nazgul's cold voice speaking to – or at – him: "We'll leave you for our friends, Dark Wanderer. You've heard them. You know."
"Rivendell, at last!" Pippin breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at the sight of Elrond Half-Elven's mansion. Merry, too, smiled, feeling the springlike breeze of Rivendell blow on his face. The next moment he cried out in joy and bounded forward; two very familiar figures had appeared from beside the road.
"Elrond! Legolas! WE'RE BACK!" With that, the hobbits made a mad dash for the elves, who caught them in mid-air.
"So we see," said Elrond, laughing softly.
"Indeed," said a grinning Legolas, " with that kind of racket, it's a wonder we didn't' hear you coming!"
"That's because we were quiet because Pippin said we had to be because of the Dark Rider."
The elves sobered instantly, not even bothering to comment on the unheard of occurrence of Pippin telling someone to be quiet.
"Dark Rider?"
"Morandir…in Bree…"
"He knew our names…"
"Cloaked all in black with a silver sword, on a black stallion…"
"It was so cold in the woods…"
"Slow down, both of you. Come inside, and tell us your story," a voice broke in. Merry and Pippin spun about to find themselves face to face with none other than the wizard Gandalf.