GREY PILGRIM

A figure came to stand at the library window, the dark flow of grey robes outlined against the light . . . Mithrandir. Elrond smiled. It would be him. Doubtless he would be trying to discover some way forward for their problem.

The healer turned away from the window, returning to his vigil at Frodo's bedside. It was difficult to tell by the light of candle but Elrond thought he could detect a hint of colour returning to the cracked lips. He lifted down a tiny pot from the table and dipped his fingertip in its contents, smoothing the salve gently across Frodo's lips. This little hobbit was a fighter. It was easy to see why the wizard was so fond of these people. They had an indomitable spirit.

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The tall horse skidded to a stop on the cobbles before the porch as Elrond hurried through the doors onto the top step. Mithrandir, hair dishevelled and robes spattered with mud, climbed gasping from its back and Elrohir rushed forward to support him as his knees gave way. The white horse sashayed sideways behind him and Gandalf grabbed the mane gratefully for support with his other hand while Elrohir held him about the waist and draped the wizard's arm over his shoulder.

"Frodo . . . is he here?" Mithrandir's voice was barely more than a cracked whisper.

Elrond glided quickly down the steps, taking the wizard's face in his hands and brushing the tangle of wiry grey hair out of his eyes.

"Not yet. But I have riders out looking for him."

Gandalf's skin was cold and slick with perspiration and his eyes showed the red rims of many days without sleep. The elf could hardly bring himself to consider what had caused such exhaustion in the istari and he uncurled Mithrandir's fingers from the horses mane, draping the arm across his shoulders to help his son walk the wizard up the steps and into the house.

Having delivered his precious cargo the horse whinnied once and turned, to canter out of the courtyard, neatly side-stepping an elf who tried to capture it.

Within minutes Gandalf was ensconced in one of the large armchairs by the fire in Elrond's private study, a rug over his knees and a mug of mulled wine in his hands. The Lord of Imladris settled in the opposite chair and waited patiently for the old wizard to catch his breath and gather his thoughts.

He had sensed the wizard's wild determination as he crossed the Bruinen and fire, rug and drink had all been waiting when Gandalf arrived. Mithrandir leaned back in the chair at last, letting out a deep breath and Elrond took that as his cue.

"I was hoping that Frodo and Aragorn would be with you. How did you become separated?"

"We have a problem that I had not foreseen," Mithrandir replied cryptically.

Whilst wizards had a tendency to be close mouthed about their business elves had a tendency to patience and Elrond merely waited, one brow raised in query. Despite the gravity of the situation Gandalf chuckled.

"There is no out waiting you, is there?"

The elf's reply was accompanied by a gentle curve of his lips. "After six and a half thousand years, patience is a gift that I do not have to work hard at. Although at this moment I confess that I am finding it a little difficult to maintain."

Gandalf's face grew serious. "Saruman has learned of the finding of the One Ring and seeks to wrest it for himself. He has held me captive in Orthanc for two months, trying to gain knowledge of its hiding place."

For the first time in many years Gandalf saw surprise and fear cross the face of Lord Elrond of Rivendell but the elf quickly schooled his features to calm. "Saruman the White has risen against us? That is evil news indeed, although not wholly unexpected. I have sensed something wrong there ever since the White Council. I had not realised that matters had turned about that far, however. I take it he was unsuccessful."

"In the gaining of knowledge . . . yes. But I fear for Frodo without my protection. I returned to the Shire, only to find that he had recently left and that the Nine dogged his footsteps. He escaped their clutches again in Bree and Butterburr told me that he had taken up with Aragorn. That much at least was good news."

When Elrond merely nodded at what the wizard thought would be revelation Gandalf's eyes narrowed, but he continued his narrative. "Aragorn and I have a long standing arrangement to meet at Weathertop if either is in difficulty so I raced ahead, hoping to find him there with Frodo. I arrived on the night of the third of October but I could find no sign of him and decided to wait, in case he had come by a more circuitous route than the road. Our enemy had also decided to wait there however, and I was attacked, barely escaping with my life." He sighed.

"Not knowing whether Frodo was behind or before me I made for Rivendell to seek your aid. And now I find that you have already given it."

Elrond rose and crossed to look out of the window. The rain that had fallen steadily for the past few days had now stopped and a light breeze was rolling small clumps of damp leaves across the lawn outside.

"Frodo was three days behind you. He reached Weathertop on the sixth of October. He too was attacked but was not as fortunate as you." Elrond's hand reached unconsciously for his left shoulder and he lowered it slowly, pausing to consider the ring upon his finger.

Gandalf pushed aside the rug and joined Elrond at the window. "Is he dead? How do you know this if they have not yet arrived? And what of the other hobbits?"

Elrond looked across at him in confusion. "Other hobbits?"

Wizards were definitely not noted for their patience, although Gandalf evinced more than most of his kind. Even his was wearing thin now. "The other hobbits that were with him. How is it that you know of Frodo's fate . . . and you have still not told me whether or not he lives . . . how can you know this and not know that there were three others in his company?"

"Peace, my friend. Frodo is alive . . . although he has been wounded and I do not know how he fares at the moment. I did not know of the others because they were not within his sight when we . . . were in contact."

Gandalf sighed in exasperation. "In contact? How?"

Elrond held up his hand, dropping for a moment the glamour that he held about the Ring of Air to reveal its blue stone glowing softly upon his finger. "Through this. When he put on the One Ring I felt him through Vilya." He lowered his hand, turning back to the window, and Vilya faded to invisibility once more. "It was most . . . disconcerting."

Now it was Gandalf's turn to show surprise. "I imagine it would be." His pale blue eyes narrowed. "He put on the Ring?"

"Yes. Twice. The first time was in Bree and it alerted the Nine to his presence there. Fortunately Aragorn found him first. The second time was at Weathertop and there they managed to pierce him. He fought however, and they only caught his shoulder, but the blade they used carried the poison of their world and I am not sure how long he will be able to withstand it."

Gandalf turned back to the room. "We ask too much of him. Hobbits are not made for such trials. And you have heard nothing since?"

Elrond shook his head. "Other than word from Gildor confirming that the Nine were abroad and that Frodo was alone on the road. Nine days ago I sent out riders north, south and west to aid them but the area is vast and the numbers of my people who are capable of standing against the Nine are few.

Five days ago those riders that I sent west with Glorfindel returned saying that they had chased some of the Nine from the bridge at Mitheithel and that Glorfindel was going on to search further for them. I sent them out again to search in a wider arc north and south in case Aragorn had to turn far out of his way."

The elf lord laid a gentle hand upon the grey clad shoulder. "And you of all people should know never to under estimate a hobbit. You, yourself, were the one who kept telling me there was more to these people than meets the eye."

The wizard took little comfort from Elrond's words, however. "So now all we can do is sit and wait." He turned back to the fire and settled in the chair once more, staring into the flames. "And Frodo is injured. Have you told Bilbo?"

Elrond too returned to the fire, leaning his hand upon the mantle and joining the wizard in his contemplation of the flames. "He wanted to know why armed elves were being sent out. Under the circumstances I thought it wise not to dissemble. He will be better prepared if the worst happens. Even so, I think if Frodo dies it will be the end of Bilbo too."

"How did he take it? Should I go and see him?"

"He was upset at first . . . wanted to ride out with them until I pointed out that he would only slow them down. Now, like the rest of us, he waits. I think he would welcome your company. Arwen sits with him at present."

Gandalf nodded and rose. "You will send word to me if you hear of his coming?"

"The breeze will bring me news for it blows up the valley from the fords and I will know as soon as he steps into the Bruinen."

At the door, Gandalf stepped aside to allow passage for one of Elrond's advisors. "Elrond. There is a delegation of dwarves outside, seeking council with the Master of Rivendell."

Elrond sighed and brought his mind back to more mundane matters. "Thank you, Erestor. Please show them into the large study. I shall be there directly."

Erestor paused and his lord looked up, questioningly from where he was collecting his formal mantle from the back of a chair.

"They are a little . . . testy," Erestor confessed. "The increased vigilance on our borders caused them some discomfort. It seems dwarven lords do not like being relieved of their weapons and having their hands bound."

Elrond winced and settled the mithril fillet upon his brow. "Very well. I will see if I can smooth out their beards."

More visitors. It would seem that the skein became more tangled with each passing day.

TBC.