Chapter Six
Aragorn looked up from the hobbits and Arwen to find the other elfmaid standing quietly at the side. In the darkness he had almost missed her. Noticing confusion in his grey eyes, Mikhaella answered his unspoken question with a gentle, "Estel, it is I, Mikhaella. Do you not remember?"
A shocked pause. "Mikhaella??" Aragorn stepped closer, eyes wide.
After his astonishment passed, recognition dawned in his eyes, and a smile crossed the weary face of the Ranger, "Mae govannen, aranel. It has been too long, too, since I've seen you last. You have grown up." He shook his head in wonderment.
"Mae govannen," Mikhaella stepped forward and gave him a warm hug, remembering their childhood and how he'd been like an older brother to her, "Indeed, it has been too long. I only regret that we meet under such trying times." She looked up at his face and saw the shadows that lay in his eyes. "Do not fear, Aragorn. Everything will be alright." She glanced at Arwen, and her friend smiled wearily back at her.
A choked cry from Frodo tore them away from their momentary reverie and had them kneeling around him. Aragorn bent and took the hobbit in his arms. "Which way?"
Arwen and Mikhaella led him swiftly to where they had left the horses. Crossing to Asfaloth, Aragorn gently deposited the hobbit on the saddle as the other hobbits and the two Elven princesses watched. Frodo swayed weakly, but Mikhaella held him fast.
"We've been looking for you for two days," Arwen spoke as Aragorn secured the injured hobbit, "There are wraiths behind you. They were spotted by a patrol near the Bruinen, and they alarmed my father. How many they are exactly, or where they are now, I do not know."
Aragorn turned to her and spoke quietly in Elvish so that the other hobbits, who were listening to every word that was uttered with obvious interest, would not understand: "Stay with the hobbits. I wil send horses again for you."
Arwen shook her head fiercely, "I will take him; I am the swifter rider." This was true, and Aragorn knew it. Yet he persisted, "The way is deadly."
But the daughter of Elrond would not be daunted. She looked at Frodo, who would already have collapsed if not for the hands of Mikhaella holding him steady, "Frodo is dying. If I get across the river in time, the power of my people will save him." She turned back to her beloved, and in her eyes Aragorn saw her determination. "I do not fear them."
The Ranger glanced at Mikhaella as if expecting her to help him persuade Arwen to change her mind. Mikhaella only nodded. With a sigh, Aragorn consented grudgingly, "As you wish." He knew that Frodo would fare better if he reached Rivendell quicker.
Arwen grasped his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. Trust me.
I do. Aragorn pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. The gesture was done with so much love and tenderness that Mikhaella's heart ached. She turned her head away lest they see the tears in her eyes. She did not want to be pitied.
Aragorn helped Arwen mount Asfaloth with Frodo in front of her. The hobbit's head lolled forward weakly.
Mikhaella mounted Telumendil. Aragorn turned to her but before he could say anything, Mikhaella laid her hand over his and said softly, "Do not worry, Aragorn. She will not come to harm. I swear it."
Aragorn nodded. "Ride hard." he said, "Don't look back."
And then the two were off, their horses two streaks in the night sky, leaving behind one solitary Ranger and three frightened hobbits.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ride back was not like the ride they had before. This time they rode with one clear purpose: to reach Rivendell before the Ringbearer succumbed to the dark forces acting upon his body. This time they rode with fierce desperation, for his life was at stake. And this time, they were fleeing pursuers --- the Nazgul, who had felt the Ring travelling abroad and now stalked it.
At first their presence was like an evil cloud at the back of the elves' minds. Something Mikhaella could sense, but could not see. Ignoring the prickles of foreboding, the two thundered on through the land, following Aragorn's last advise: Don't look back. But by the time dawn broke and cast its light on the land and on their surroundings, the enemy was a malevolent force that made its presence be seen.
Mikhaella turned around on her saddle -- and they were directly behind them. All nine of them --- evil beings cloaked in blackness that seemed to swallow whatever light that touched it, regardless of the dawn breaking in the skies above. They rode on black steeds that did not seem to be of the mortal realm as well --- black demon-horses, pursuing Arwen and her with deadly intent. But what they were really after was the hobbit that was already ailing in Arwen's arms---and the Ring.
"We are being followed," Mikhaella cried out to Arwen.
Arwen's face was pale against the glow of the morning sky, "We must not let them get to us," she shouted, "Head for the River!"
"No!" Mikhaella drew alongside Arwen's steed, her hair flying all around her, "I'll lead them away. You make for the ford. I'll head east along the Bruinen..."
"We cannot split up!" Arwen protested, "We'll become more vulnerable ---"
"Trust me!" Mikhaella slapped Asfaloth's flank, and the gently-bred elf- horse reared and bounded away. Arwen twisted around and stared at her in horror and dismay. Mikhaella looked after her, breathing hard. She reined Telumendil in and hastily bundled up her cloak to make it look like she was the one who was cradling the hobbit that the Ringwraiths were desperate to find. Then she looked back at their pursuers.
The Nine were meters away, but they had slowed down. Clearly they were at a loss, not knowing which Elf to follow. Arwen was a white speck in the distance by now. If anything, Mikhaella had bought her precious time.
"I am the one you want!" Mikhaella shouted, rearing up Telumendil, "If you want the Ringbearer, come and get him!"
Her ploy worked. With shrill shrieks that echoed in the ground and in the sky, the Nine set out after her.
Heart racing, she wheeled Telumendil around and rode east at a full gallop. She'd done it! She'd drawn them off Arwen's tail! Now the Ringbearer would have a chance...
Telumendil was panting heavily. She was clearly exhausted from the previous night's ride, and Mikhaella was making her gallop at break-neck speed...
"Noro lim," Mikhaella whispered, urging her horse onwards. Their lives --- and the Ringbearer's -- depended on her and Telumendil's last ride. She did not dare think of what would happen in the event that they DID get caught by the Ringwraiths...what was important was that Arwen make it to Rivendell.
Telumendil obeyed, exerting all the remaining strength she had in her reserves, and sprang forward with a new burst of speed. The Nazgul thundered behind her, their demon-horses panting heavily but not showing any signs of slowing down. The Nine themselves were fully intent on their quarry. They would NOT lose her.
They raced across the forest trail --- the elf-princess and the Ringwraiths --- coming at last to a section of the Bruinen, with its rippling waters and grey rapids.
Mikhaella let out a sigh of relief. If the Bruinen was this close, then Arwen would most certainly have made it across. Now she had to deal with the Nazgul whose shrieks of wrath announced that they were drawing ever- closer. The dull thud of their horses' hooves grew in volume, making Telumendil put forth a burst of speed with strength born of terror. The elf- horse skittered down the river bank and gave a mighty leap---and plunged into the icy water, fighting for footing against the strong current.
Mikhaella gasped as she was momentarily submerged, for the water was cold and deep, even with her on top of the gallant Telumendil. When the horse surfaced she was able to gasp out, "Noro, Telumendil!"
The horse gave several mighty kicks, and managed to draw nearer to the other side of the river bank.
Mikhaella, soaked and exhausted, heard several splashes behind her. Whirling, she saw that five of the nine Nazgul had followed her into the icy waters of the Bruinen. Dismay flooded through her. She'd counted on the river stopping them from pursuing her, thinking that the Nazgul, like the goblins and the other lesser creatures the Dark Lord had under his thrall, would detest having to go through pure, running water. Evidently the Nazgul suffered no qualms about that particular detail, or they were stronger than she realized...
A shout. Then, a zing of some fast object that was hurled from the other side of the river bank. Something whizzed by her ear and struck the foremost of the Black Riders. Through dazed eyes Mikhaella saw that it was an arrow. Someone was shooting at the Nazgul! She jerked her gaze to the riverbank just as another arrow flew by her and struck the next Rider, who shrieked loudly, more out of rage than pain, for ordinary arrows were not lethal to them.
An Elf dressed in green and brown sat on top of his steed, long bow drawn. Mikhaella stared at him, amazed at her good fortune. A rescuer! At last!
The strange Elf raised his hand and waved at her. "Tolo, nin brennil!"* he shouted, notching another arrow into his bow. With obvious skill he levelled the arrow in the direction of the Riders and fired yet again. His shot was true. The injured Nazgul gave a harsh screech and halted. Now they were floundering in the icy rapids of the Bruinen.
Mikhaella, meanwhile, had managed to reach the other side of the Bruinen in safety. Carefully guiding Telumendil up the few remaining slippery feet, she looked up and beheld her rescuer up close for the first time, and her breath caught in her throat.
Aragorn looked up from the hobbits and Arwen to find the other elfmaid standing quietly at the side. In the darkness he had almost missed her. Noticing confusion in his grey eyes, Mikhaella answered his unspoken question with a gentle, "Estel, it is I, Mikhaella. Do you not remember?"
A shocked pause. "Mikhaella??" Aragorn stepped closer, eyes wide.
After his astonishment passed, recognition dawned in his eyes, and a smile crossed the weary face of the Ranger, "Mae govannen, aranel. It has been too long, too, since I've seen you last. You have grown up." He shook his head in wonderment.
"Mae govannen," Mikhaella stepped forward and gave him a warm hug, remembering their childhood and how he'd been like an older brother to her, "Indeed, it has been too long. I only regret that we meet under such trying times." She looked up at his face and saw the shadows that lay in his eyes. "Do not fear, Aragorn. Everything will be alright." She glanced at Arwen, and her friend smiled wearily back at her.
A choked cry from Frodo tore them away from their momentary reverie and had them kneeling around him. Aragorn bent and took the hobbit in his arms. "Which way?"
Arwen and Mikhaella led him swiftly to where they had left the horses. Crossing to Asfaloth, Aragorn gently deposited the hobbit on the saddle as the other hobbits and the two Elven princesses watched. Frodo swayed weakly, but Mikhaella held him fast.
"We've been looking for you for two days," Arwen spoke as Aragorn secured the injured hobbit, "There are wraiths behind you. They were spotted by a patrol near the Bruinen, and they alarmed my father. How many they are exactly, or where they are now, I do not know."
Aragorn turned to her and spoke quietly in Elvish so that the other hobbits, who were listening to every word that was uttered with obvious interest, would not understand: "Stay with the hobbits. I wil send horses again for you."
Arwen shook her head fiercely, "I will take him; I am the swifter rider." This was true, and Aragorn knew it. Yet he persisted, "The way is deadly."
But the daughter of Elrond would not be daunted. She looked at Frodo, who would already have collapsed if not for the hands of Mikhaella holding him steady, "Frodo is dying. If I get across the river in time, the power of my people will save him." She turned back to her beloved, and in her eyes Aragorn saw her determination. "I do not fear them."
The Ranger glanced at Mikhaella as if expecting her to help him persuade Arwen to change her mind. Mikhaella only nodded. With a sigh, Aragorn consented grudgingly, "As you wish." He knew that Frodo would fare better if he reached Rivendell quicker.
Arwen grasped his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. Trust me.
I do. Aragorn pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. The gesture was done with so much love and tenderness that Mikhaella's heart ached. She turned her head away lest they see the tears in her eyes. She did not want to be pitied.
Aragorn helped Arwen mount Asfaloth with Frodo in front of her. The hobbit's head lolled forward weakly.
Mikhaella mounted Telumendil. Aragorn turned to her but before he could say anything, Mikhaella laid her hand over his and said softly, "Do not worry, Aragorn. She will not come to harm. I swear it."
Aragorn nodded. "Ride hard." he said, "Don't look back."
And then the two were off, their horses two streaks in the night sky, leaving behind one solitary Ranger and three frightened hobbits.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ride back was not like the ride they had before. This time they rode with one clear purpose: to reach Rivendell before the Ringbearer succumbed to the dark forces acting upon his body. This time they rode with fierce desperation, for his life was at stake. And this time, they were fleeing pursuers --- the Nazgul, who had felt the Ring travelling abroad and now stalked it.
At first their presence was like an evil cloud at the back of the elves' minds. Something Mikhaella could sense, but could not see. Ignoring the prickles of foreboding, the two thundered on through the land, following Aragorn's last advise: Don't look back. But by the time dawn broke and cast its light on the land and on their surroundings, the enemy was a malevolent force that made its presence be seen.
Mikhaella turned around on her saddle -- and they were directly behind them. All nine of them --- evil beings cloaked in blackness that seemed to swallow whatever light that touched it, regardless of the dawn breaking in the skies above. They rode on black steeds that did not seem to be of the mortal realm as well --- black demon-horses, pursuing Arwen and her with deadly intent. But what they were really after was the hobbit that was already ailing in Arwen's arms---and the Ring.
"We are being followed," Mikhaella cried out to Arwen.
Arwen's face was pale against the glow of the morning sky, "We must not let them get to us," she shouted, "Head for the River!"
"No!" Mikhaella drew alongside Arwen's steed, her hair flying all around her, "I'll lead them away. You make for the ford. I'll head east along the Bruinen..."
"We cannot split up!" Arwen protested, "We'll become more vulnerable ---"
"Trust me!" Mikhaella slapped Asfaloth's flank, and the gently-bred elf- horse reared and bounded away. Arwen twisted around and stared at her in horror and dismay. Mikhaella looked after her, breathing hard. She reined Telumendil in and hastily bundled up her cloak to make it look like she was the one who was cradling the hobbit that the Ringwraiths were desperate to find. Then she looked back at their pursuers.
The Nine were meters away, but they had slowed down. Clearly they were at a loss, not knowing which Elf to follow. Arwen was a white speck in the distance by now. If anything, Mikhaella had bought her precious time.
"I am the one you want!" Mikhaella shouted, rearing up Telumendil, "If you want the Ringbearer, come and get him!"
Her ploy worked. With shrill shrieks that echoed in the ground and in the sky, the Nine set out after her.
Heart racing, she wheeled Telumendil around and rode east at a full gallop. She'd done it! She'd drawn them off Arwen's tail! Now the Ringbearer would have a chance...
Telumendil was panting heavily. She was clearly exhausted from the previous night's ride, and Mikhaella was making her gallop at break-neck speed...
"Noro lim," Mikhaella whispered, urging her horse onwards. Their lives --- and the Ringbearer's -- depended on her and Telumendil's last ride. She did not dare think of what would happen in the event that they DID get caught by the Ringwraiths...what was important was that Arwen make it to Rivendell.
Telumendil obeyed, exerting all the remaining strength she had in her reserves, and sprang forward with a new burst of speed. The Nazgul thundered behind her, their demon-horses panting heavily but not showing any signs of slowing down. The Nine themselves were fully intent on their quarry. They would NOT lose her.
They raced across the forest trail --- the elf-princess and the Ringwraiths --- coming at last to a section of the Bruinen, with its rippling waters and grey rapids.
Mikhaella let out a sigh of relief. If the Bruinen was this close, then Arwen would most certainly have made it across. Now she had to deal with the Nazgul whose shrieks of wrath announced that they were drawing ever- closer. The dull thud of their horses' hooves grew in volume, making Telumendil put forth a burst of speed with strength born of terror. The elf- horse skittered down the river bank and gave a mighty leap---and plunged into the icy water, fighting for footing against the strong current.
Mikhaella gasped as she was momentarily submerged, for the water was cold and deep, even with her on top of the gallant Telumendil. When the horse surfaced she was able to gasp out, "Noro, Telumendil!"
The horse gave several mighty kicks, and managed to draw nearer to the other side of the river bank.
Mikhaella, soaked and exhausted, heard several splashes behind her. Whirling, she saw that five of the nine Nazgul had followed her into the icy waters of the Bruinen. Dismay flooded through her. She'd counted on the river stopping them from pursuing her, thinking that the Nazgul, like the goblins and the other lesser creatures the Dark Lord had under his thrall, would detest having to go through pure, running water. Evidently the Nazgul suffered no qualms about that particular detail, or they were stronger than she realized...
A shout. Then, a zing of some fast object that was hurled from the other side of the river bank. Something whizzed by her ear and struck the foremost of the Black Riders. Through dazed eyes Mikhaella saw that it was an arrow. Someone was shooting at the Nazgul! She jerked her gaze to the riverbank just as another arrow flew by her and struck the next Rider, who shrieked loudly, more out of rage than pain, for ordinary arrows were not lethal to them.
An Elf dressed in green and brown sat on top of his steed, long bow drawn. Mikhaella stared at him, amazed at her good fortune. A rescuer! At last!
The strange Elf raised his hand and waved at her. "Tolo, nin brennil!"* he shouted, notching another arrow into his bow. With obvious skill he levelled the arrow in the direction of the Riders and fired yet again. His shot was true. The injured Nazgul gave a harsh screech and halted. Now they were floundering in the icy rapids of the Bruinen.
Mikhaella, meanwhile, had managed to reach the other side of the Bruinen in safety. Carefully guiding Telumendil up the few remaining slippery feet, she looked up and beheld her rescuer up close for the first time, and her breath caught in her throat.