*****Chapter 4*****
Sam was most annoyed, to say the least. Not only had he been kept waiting by an incompetent author, but an elf, a being
he'd really wanted to see, turned up and ignored him, giving almost all her attention to Frodo. Ok, so he was dying, but he'd
seen elves tonnes of times before, and Sam hadn't. That hobbit seemed to be getting loads of attention since he got that
stupid ring. Then, to cap it all, Strider and the elf (he gathered her name was Arwen) started talking amongst themselves in
a language he didn't understand (he couldn't see the subtitles), which was probably elvish. Sam thought this to be very
inconsiderate. But, on the plus side, they might meet the Jolly Ringwraith again, and they could make him see that he should
defy Sauron... nope, it would be almost impossible to make that ringwraith see sense.
Once Arwen had inevitably whisked Frodo off, Sam turned to Strider to vent some of his frustration on him, then thought that
Strider might not be as sympathetic about some of Sam's sentiments as he would have liked. But he had to say something.
'What are you doing?! Those ringwraiths are still out there!'
'Ah, yes,' added Pippin, 'but so is the Jolly Ringwraith. He might help.'
Sam could have exploded. That was HIS thought!
-----Meanwhile...-----
Frodo was struggling to keep consciousness, as it was probably easier to stay on the horse that way. He was no longer able to
yell, he could only gasp for air dramatically, which didn't have the same effect. He had just about managed to gather that an
elf was doing the taking-him-safely-to-Rivendell, and he got a vague impression of Sam being annoyed but he couldn't think
why. Surely he wanted his wonderful master to live and recover? Of course he did. His wonderful master, who is brave. Strong.
Kind. Intelligent. Compassionate. Modest. So, Frodo had to survive, really, it was in Middle-Earth's best interest. Who better
to take on a difficult and dangerous task than him, Frodo?
If Frodo had been in good health, he would have sat up, startled, for he heard a familiar voice. For a while, he thought he
could have been hallucinating, but he heard it again, floating above the still air. He definitely recognized the voice... who
was it? Oh yeah, the Jolly Ringwraith! (Frodo's, um, astounding intelligence was impaired by his awful wound)
'Keep formation, now chaps', came the voice. 'Steady on now, that's the ticket. Jolly good!'
No mistaking who that could be.
Too late, it struck Frodo what this meant, and just to state the obvious, it meant that something worse than a very awful thing
that had just upset a load of people was about to happen. Through clouded vision, he saw all nine wraiths closing in on him.
A black gloved hand reached out towards him.
Sam was most annoyed, to say the least. Not only had he been kept waiting by an incompetent author, but an elf, a being
he'd really wanted to see, turned up and ignored him, giving almost all her attention to Frodo. Ok, so he was dying, but he'd
seen elves tonnes of times before, and Sam hadn't. That hobbit seemed to be getting loads of attention since he got that
stupid ring. Then, to cap it all, Strider and the elf (he gathered her name was Arwen) started talking amongst themselves in
a language he didn't understand (he couldn't see the subtitles), which was probably elvish. Sam thought this to be very
inconsiderate. But, on the plus side, they might meet the Jolly Ringwraith again, and they could make him see that he should
defy Sauron... nope, it would be almost impossible to make that ringwraith see sense.
Once Arwen had inevitably whisked Frodo off, Sam turned to Strider to vent some of his frustration on him, then thought that
Strider might not be as sympathetic about some of Sam's sentiments as he would have liked. But he had to say something.
'What are you doing?! Those ringwraiths are still out there!'
'Ah, yes,' added Pippin, 'but so is the Jolly Ringwraith. He might help.'
Sam could have exploded. That was HIS thought!
-----Meanwhile...-----
Frodo was struggling to keep consciousness, as it was probably easier to stay on the horse that way. He was no longer able to
yell, he could only gasp for air dramatically, which didn't have the same effect. He had just about managed to gather that an
elf was doing the taking-him-safely-to-Rivendell, and he got a vague impression of Sam being annoyed but he couldn't think
why. Surely he wanted his wonderful master to live and recover? Of course he did. His wonderful master, who is brave. Strong.
Kind. Intelligent. Compassionate. Modest. So, Frodo had to survive, really, it was in Middle-Earth's best interest. Who better
to take on a difficult and dangerous task than him, Frodo?
If Frodo had been in good health, he would have sat up, startled, for he heard a familiar voice. For a while, he thought he
could have been hallucinating, but he heard it again, floating above the still air. He definitely recognized the voice... who
was it? Oh yeah, the Jolly Ringwraith! (Frodo's, um, astounding intelligence was impaired by his awful wound)
'Keep formation, now chaps', came the voice. 'Steady on now, that's the ticket. Jolly good!'
No mistaking who that could be.
Too late, it struck Frodo what this meant, and just to state the obvious, it meant that something worse than a very awful thing
that had just upset a load of people was about to happen. Through clouded vision, he saw all nine wraiths closing in on him.
A black gloved hand reached out towards him.