A/N: Right, right. Onward and upward! The Fellowship must continue on their journey; we don't want the ponies' muscles to get cold. (Geez, now I'm scaring myself!) Anyway, now I have to say thanks to all the people who reviewed. Alynna Lis Eachann, Aguachica, Kat Heiman, and Black-as-Knight14, thank you all. I'm so glad that people like this fic!!!
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Disclaimer: Um, let's see. I own all the horses except Bill and Asfaloth. I also own the horse plot, but I don't own all the stuff that you all know that I don't own. You know?
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This is for Kristy, as it always is. You are such an inspiration to me, and I hope we can be friends forever!
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Many days of traveling passed, and the Hobbits, though grateful for the Man's help and leadership, were still wary of the Ranger. He kept the group moving at a grueling pace, only stopping for food at dawn and dusk. The four Tibboh Seinop had to adjust quickly to keep up with Bill and Imiriepio, who carried on day after day with almost unnatural speed and stamina.
The group cleared a small ridge and came upon a large flat plain. Sam looked up and gasped, reaching over and tapping Frodo's shoulder. "Look at that!" he exclaimed to his friend softly.
Frodo looked up as well and suffered the same reaction. High above the horizon, a dark shape was framed in the failing light. It was shaped like a large stone disk placed atop a small plateau. At the top of the disk were many stone pinnacles or spikes, stretching into the heavens.
"This was the great watchtower of Amon Sûl," Strider explained. "We shall rest here tonight."
The evening continued to darken as the group neared the great watchtower. When they reached the base of the great stone structure, the five travelers secured their horses on six gnarled trees. Once sure that their mounts were safe, they found the winding stone stairs and began to climb them to the top of the tower.
Glad that their journey was over for the day, the Hobbits set their packs down and collapsed on Weathertop's cold stone floor. Strider, who didn't seem at all exhausted, rummaged through his pack and pulled out a rolled bundle of cloth. Motioning for the Hobbits to come closer, he unrolled it, revealing four short swords. "These are for you," he explained as he handed them out. "Keep them close. I'm going to have a look around. Stay here."
Confused as to why the Man was leaving, the four halflings looked after him as he descended from the tower and mounted Imiriepio. Their gazes followed him until he was swallowed up by the night and could no longer be seen.
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Frodo woke with a start. After Strider left, the Hobbits had pulled out some blankets and, using their packs as pillows, turned in for the night. Now, the dark-haired halfling heard voices and movement. Looking to his left, he saw that his three friends were no longer beside him.
Seeing light, Frodo quickly looked right and saw Sam, Merry, and Pippin huddled around a small fire. They seemed to be cooking something. "What are you doing?!" Frodo questioned loudly.
"Tomatoes, sausages, nice crispy bacon," Merry said, as if that explained anything.
"We saved some for you, Mr. Frodo," Sam mentioned helpfully.
"Put it out you fools!" Frodo exclaimed as he stamped the fire out with his foot. "Put it out!"
"Oh that's nice!" Pippin yelled in annoyance. "Ash on my tomatoes!"
The young Hobbit's anger quickly turned to fright when a Nazgûl cry floated out from somewhere in the plain below. The four halflings walked to the edge of the watchtower and gazed down into the twilight. There they could see five dark shapes closing in on Amon Sûl. "Wraiths," Frodo whispered. He turned and motioned toward the stairs leading to the top of the structure. "Go!"
"But what about the horses?" Sam asked. Merry and Pippin nodded their agreement. "We can't just leave them!"
Thinking quickly, Frodo revised his plan. "Alright then, we'll have to try to outrun them. Gather your things quickly."
"But Strider told us to stay here!" Merry protested as the others began stuffing the blankets into their packs.
"I know," Frodo responded. "But we have no choice. We'll have to hope that he will realize what we've done and catch up with us."
Finished packing, the four Hobbits grabbed their things and fled down the steep stairs. The Nazgûl cries were coming ever closer, and they seemed to be almost at Weathertop when the friends reached the trees where their ponies were tied. They hurriedly untied the knots that bound their horses, and, trying to make as little noise as possible, tied the packs to the saddles and mounted.
"Follow me," Frodo whispered as he motioned to the others. He turned Escandil to the East and urged him forward into a quick-paced trot. The others followed suit, the small hooves of their Hobbit ponies barely making a sound on the hard ground of the plains.
The Hobbits heard the Nazgûl reach the base of Amon Sûl; they also heard their distress when they discovered that the halflings and their ponies were missing. Afraid of being tracked, Frodo urged his mount into a quicker trot. The Ring grew heavy in his pocket, dragging him forward and down in the saddle, urging him to turn around. Its callings became stronger, and he slipped into unconsciousness. Baggins... the Ring whispered. Baggins...
Suddenly, a great crack broke the silence of the night. Jerked out of his reverie, Frodo pulled Escandil to a halt. Turning the dark pony around, he saw Merry and Sam, eyes wide with fear, turn to look at Pippin, who had fallen to the back. The young Hobbit, a shocked and ashamed look on his face, glanced down at the ground by his pony's feet. There, by Kelandri's small hoof, was a thick branch, broken in two by the step of a horse.
"Pippin," Merry began, but was cut off by a shrill cry coming from directly behind him. Looking, all four Hobbits saw the five Nazgûl turn their black steeds and charge toward them. Forgetting everything but escape, the friends turned their ponies to the East once more and set off at a gallop away from the Wraiths and into the night.
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They didn't get far before the Nazgûl overtook them. The speed and stamina of the Tibboh Seinop were no match for the long strides of the black horses. In one last attempt to evade the riders, Frodo turned Escandil sharply to the right, into an area of tall grass and brush. The Wraith at the lead predicted this move and turned his mount as well, cutting off the small pony. Frodo became unseated and landed on the ground, almost hidden in the brush.
Seeing this, Sam motioned to Merry and Pippin, and the three spurred their mounts toward their fallen friend. But the Nazgûl were once again quicker. Two appeared out of the twilight, one on each side of Frodo, to cut Merry and Pippin off. Sam reached his master's side, but was knocked off his pony as well by a third Wraith.
Now all alone, Frodo lay in the grass, too frightened to move as the Black Riders closed in around him. The calling of the Ring became stronger, and in a sudden loss of control, the Hobbit put the small gold band on.
Frodo found himself in a world that was similar to that which he had visited when he had worn the Ring in the Prancing Pony. Colors swirled before his eyes, and the only things that were clear were the five shapes in front of him, the Nazgûl in their true forms. Old, wrinkled faces of Men stared down at him, dark eyes unseeing, ancient crowns forgotten on their heads.
The Witch King reached out his hand, calling for the Ring. In horror, Frodo felt his hand being pulled toward the evil being. With all his available strength, he managed to pull his arm away just as the Wraith was about to take the Ring from his finger. Enraged, the Witch King drew his sword and stabbed the Hobbit in the shoulder.
Vision clouded by pain, Frodo removed the Ring and cried out it agony. Sam, getting up from where he had landed in the grass, heard this and rushed over to his friend's side. "It'll be okay, Mr. Frodo," he said softly. "It's okay."
Suddenly, Strider galloped in on Imiriepio, a torch in one hand, his sword in the other. He made quick work of the Nazgûl, either setting them ablaze or causing other harm. The Man fought with great ease, not tiring until five Wraiths had fled.
Merry and Pippin had joined Sam around Frodo, and all three were extremely worried. "Strider!" Sam called out. "Help him, Strider!"
The Man dismounted and quickly reached the Hobbits. He took one look at Frodo and sighed, averting his eyes and searching the ground. After a few moments he found what he was looking for, and held it up. "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," Strider said flatly as the blade in his hand dissolved in the wind. "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine."
Realizing the severity of the situation, the three Hobbits turned and set out into the night to catch the loose Tibboh Seinop. Strider stayed with Frodo, pulling cloaks and blankets out of his pack to ensure that the Hobbit was warm. The Man silently cursed the halflings for leaving the protection of Amon Sûl, where he could have arrived sooner and prevented this from happening.
Merry and Sam returned leading Rovirdil, Nrimalar, and Escandil. The dark pony broke free of Sam's hold and trotted over to Frodo, nudging the Hobbit's hand and side. The Ringbearer lifted his head slightly to acknowledge his pony's presence, but didn't have the strength to do anything more. "Gandalf..." he whispered, barely audible.
Pippin returned on Kelandri, leading Bill behind him by a rope. Strider collected his pony, set Frodo in the saddle, and set off at a quick canter. Sam, holding Escandil's reins as well as his own, followed next, and was in turn followed by Merry and Pippin. The group of travelers were on their way once more, spurred on by the urgent matter at hand and the ever-present cries of the Nazgûl.
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After riding for most of the night, Strider halted the group at the Trollshaws. The Hobbits dismounted and helped Frodo down from his pony. They lay him on the ground underneath a tree, where he becomes delerious. "Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked slowly. He then turned to Strider. "He's goin' cold!"
"Is he going to die?" Pippin asked fearfully.
Strider, who is rummaging through his pack, turned toward the worried halflings. "He is passing into the shadow world. He will soon become a Wraith like them." As if to confirm this, a Nazgûl cry floats out from somewhere in the surrounding woods. Frodo gasps for air, his breathing quick and ragged.
Strider and Sam depart from the others and venture into the woods, looking for the plant which will help slow the poison. Strider found a small patch of Kingsfoil, and is about to cut it when a sword blade appears at his throat. Another materializes farther down, pressing into his chest. A soft female voice, slightly amused, asks, "What's this? A Ranger caught off his guard?"
The Man, realizing who it is, bowed his head in acknowledgement. The swords return to their sheaths, and Strider stood up to face those behind him. "Arwen," he said to the beautiful female Elf who had spoken. "Glorfindel," he said to the male Elf who stood beside her. "Mani naa llie uma sinome?" *What are you doing here?*
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Strider returned to camp, followed by the two Elves leading their horses. Glorfindel was followed by Asfaloth, a stormy grey stallion with a mane and tail of twilight. Arwen led Maltalkar(Golden Glory), a gilded mare with an ivory mane and tail. They were met with looks of shock and surprise when the group arrived, but neither Elf paid the Hobbits any heed. They both rushed straight to Frodo.
Glorfindel assessed the situation and then returned to Strider, but Arwen stayed, murmuring things to the Hobbit. "Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na ngalad..." *Hear my voice. Come back to the light...*
"He's fading," Glorfindel said to the Man. "He's not going to last. We must get him to Elrond. We've been looking for you for two days. There are five Wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, we do not know."
Strider turned to Arwen, who was standing with Frodo in her arms. Strider placed him on Imiriepio in front of the saddle. "Dartho guin berian. Cora sen a'Rivendell." *Stay with the Hobbits. Lead them to Rivendell.*
Glorfindel stepped in front of the saddle before Strider could mount. "Hon mabathon. Rochon ellint im." *I'm the faster rider. I'll take him.*
Strider had no choice but to agree. Though Imiriepio and Asfaloth were both Elven horses, there was not doubt in anyone's mind that Glorfindel's horse was faster. Frodo was quickly transported to the grey stallion, and the Elf mounted up behind him. "Ae athradon i hir, tur gwaith nin beriatha hon." *If I can get across the river, the power of my people will protect him.*
"Beyest lin," Strider said as Glorfindel turned to leave.
"What are you doing!" Sam called out. "Those Wraiths are still out there!"
Arwen reached out and grabbed Asfaloth's reins before he could go any farther. "The Hobbit is right!" she exclaimed She caught herself and began again in a lowered tone so as not to be heard by the halflings. "Periannath naa forya. Nazgûl nauva soora lle, Glorfindel. Lye illava ta na sana." *The Hobbit is right. The Nazgûl will follow you, Glorfindel. We cannot allow it to be taken.*
"What can we do?" the Elf asked, frustrated at the delay. "We cannot trust any other Man or Hobbit with the Ring. And you dare not take it."
"What if we give it to something that would not be tempted to use it?" Arwen mused. Her eyes strayed to the tree where the Tibboh Seinop were tied. "Something that could not use it?"
"Ah!" Strider exclaimed, understanding the logic behind the plan. He rummaged in his pack until he found a long length of rope. Digging the Ring out of Frodo's pocket, he approached Escandil and tied the band around his neck, hiding the gold band in the pony's thick mane.
The Hobbits were impressed. "The Wraiths will never think to look there!" Merry exclaimed.
"The perfect trick," Pippin agreed.
But Sam was not convinced. "The Wraiths will still follow Frodo. He could still be caught!"
Strider looked at the worrysome Hobbit and then turned back to Glorfindel. "Noro lim, mellon." *Ride hard, friend.*
With Asfaloth's hooves pounding in the distance, the others hurried to repack their things and continue onward. Seeing that Sam was still troubled, Arwen left her golden mare and approached him. "Have faith, loyal Hobbit," she comforted. "Your friend is safe with Glorfindel."
The group was finally packed and ready to continue. Arwen took the lead on Maltalkar, followed by the Hobbits, with Strider and Bill taking the rear. Their pace was hurried, for though Frodo was no longer with them, they still carried an important burden. Every traveler's eyes strayed to the neck of Escandil more than once on the way to Rivendell, but the occasional small glint of gold was the only proof of what was hidden in the dark mane.
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Okay, I hope you liked that. I sure did! I'm so glad that they're finally getting to Rivendell and that this quest is finally moving along. Oh, before I go, I have to say that I got the Elvish for all the phrases that aren't from the movie from The Grey Company's Elvish dictionary. It's really a pretty cool thing. Well, all that said, please read and review!
