Chapter 14 Strike of Weathertop
I am SO sorry that this took so long to post loyal readers, but as I said in my Animoprhs/LOTR fic, my parents took my precious computer away.
Desolate. That was the word for this dreary place. The sun west setting quickly, casting a crimson cloak over the old watchtower. A once proud tower did, at one point, stand there, but all that was left was a crumbling ruin.
Piles of stone and twisted metal lay about the dead hill. Stumbling over the hidden debris of stones and bramble, we made our way the to the entrance of the place. Clinging my cloak to my body, I followed Strider and the Hobbits to a sheltered area. As the Hobbits slumped to the ground, Aragorn took a long, hard look around the bleak landscape.
Following his gaze, I too look around. Celeborn was correct about me reverting back to an elf, for my vision has improved just above its normal standard. Middle-Earth, this place, was so much more enchanting than I imagined it to be. Rocky hilltops, now in shadow of the setting sun, poked from the ground every once in the while, grass was now dead and covered with patches of snow, foretelling the coming of winter; in the west were the trees of an unnamed forest.
I heard the hobbits slump to the ground in relief; smirking I look back at them. It was kind of hard to believe that these four would become heroes, with that drifting on my mind, I now remembered what would happen to all of them; especially Frodo. My smirk fell from my face, replaced by an over-running gloom. Frodo, dear Frodo, I wish that I could tell all that will happen next, the pain and misery you will suffer, everything.
"What is the matter?" asked Sam. I smiled weakly and replied that I was thinking about my home. A twinge of guilt hit me then, I did not want to lie to them, but what was I going to tell them? That Weathertop was where Frodo is to get stabbed by the Morgul blade?
Now feeling the exhaustion I possessed, I proceeded to the quickest resting spot I could; it was next to Pippin. Laying down on the hard ground, my thoughts drifted to future events. "After Frodo gets wounded, we are supposed to make a run for it, Glorfindel should find us and helps get the poisoned Frodo to Rivendell. Glorfindel places Frodo on his horse...then what?" I racked my brain for the answer, but I came up with a blank. Panic swarmed over me. "Why can't I remember what going to happen next!? WHY!?" I scurried my thoughts to the Council, but I drew up a blank there as well. Confusion crashed upon my shores in a ramming beating, but still, with all my rational thinking, the memories of the book I knew so well were fading. It hit me then, the BOOK!
Getting up, I grabbed my pack, thrust my arm into it and searched for the book. upon finding it, I flipped to the pages where the Amon Sul event was to take place...it was a blank. No words covered the pages of this part of the book or anywhere else past this past it. It was like the story was being rewritten. Placing the book back into the pack, I lay down again; with my thoughts plummeting me into the land of dreams.
I awoke to the merry crackling of small fire, lazily getting up, I find Frodo resting only a few feet away, while the other three haflings sat around the fire; Aragorn was nowhere to be seen. Stirring from his sleep, Frodo rolls over , only to find his companion sitting joyfully by a fire.
With a cry, Frodo was up in flash, attempting to put the fire while crying "Put it out you fools! Put it out!". The other three were annoyed by his antics, until they heard the cry that made all our eyes go wide with fear. Looking out into the dark, I saw the approaching figures of the Nazgul; my heart skipped a beat.
"Swords out!" I cry, while I pulled my guns from my fanny pack. With their swords clanging against their sheathes, I then herded them into the very heart of the tower. My heart racing, my muscles quickly beginning to feel like jelly, we reached an open area of the tower, with wizened old men statues surround the outer rim.
Spinning round slowly, my panicked mind kept wondering where Aragorn was. The Hobbits put their backs together while looking out into the fear- stricken night. With my mind playing tricks on me, I began to think the statues were the Nazgul, but that was the way it was until one came slinking in from the shadowy night.
Only a squeak emitted itself from my panicked mouth; it was enough for the Hobbits. All four slowly turned around to look into the face of fear itself, their legs nearly gave out from under them. I brought the security of my guns to mind, I gave a very weak smirk as I aimed and fired.
(Aragorn)
Walking cautiously in the depths of the night, I made my way back to the camp. My mind brooded over the next course of action after Rivendell, but I was quickly brought back to reality by a loud and terrifying blast coming form the old watchtower
Dread came over me, knowing now that the Hobbits and the girl were in mortal danger. With no further prodding, I pulled my sword from its sheath and ran towards Weathertop as fast as my legs could carry me.
(Navalle).
The lead Nazgul screamed in rage when he was hit by the bullet, this caused the others to hesitate; but not for long. Drawing out their pale and ghastly swords, they slunk forward together slowly, forming a semi circle around us.
Raising the gun again, I fired another round into a rider. As the gun bucked back into my hand, the shot Rider screamed a heart-stopping scream. Two broke off from the group and proceeded towards me. Backing away from the approaching Nazgul, I fired another round into one; this only provided more screaming.
Backing up even more, I saw Sam get flung out of the way by the lead Nazgul. Merry and Pippin went shoulder to shoulder in hopes of defending Frodo. Raising their small swords at the Nazgul leader; he did not hesitate flinging the valiant Hobbits out of the way.
Looking back, I saw that two Nazgul who had been approaching me with intimidating slowness now had all of their attention on the small Frodo. Firing yet another round into the body of one, I had hoped it would distract them for a moment, but now, they didn't even let a scream; every bit of their attention was focused on the frightened Hobbit.
(Frodo)
With my heart racing, I backed away from the horrid creatures, stumbling and falling in the process . The ring, the ring was now so heavy and I was trying with all my will to resist the temptation to put it on; the temptation won out.
Slipping on the ring, the darkness of Weathertop disappeared in shadowy flame. If I thought the Nazgul were Horrid to look at before, it was nothing to what I saw now. Nine ghostly men stood about me, with skin pulled tight over their once proud features. With black pits for eyes, remnants of crowns upon their heads, and flaming black cloaks about them, they were the very essence of fear.
The Nazgul nearest to me reached out with his skeletal hand towards the ring on my hand, whilst my hand involuntarily traveled upward. a wicked smile came over the creatures face, for it saw its success near. I struggled with the ring's will, but I won, barely.
Pulling my hand to my chest, I stared the Nazgul with a frightened defiance. His lips curling into a snarl, the nearest brought his blade, pulled it back and rammed it into my left shoulder. The ice cold steel pierced my skin, muscle and notched the bone. A scream of pain flung from my throat and echoed into the shadows of the ring's realm.
"FRODO!" a voice called, but all I saw was a flame. A flame so bright, so...clear, that this gave me the will to pull of the ring and melt back into the world I knew.
I am SO sorry that this took so long to post loyal readers, but as I said in my Animoprhs/LOTR fic, my parents took my precious computer away.
Desolate. That was the word for this dreary place. The sun west setting quickly, casting a crimson cloak over the old watchtower. A once proud tower did, at one point, stand there, but all that was left was a crumbling ruin.
Piles of stone and twisted metal lay about the dead hill. Stumbling over the hidden debris of stones and bramble, we made our way the to the entrance of the place. Clinging my cloak to my body, I followed Strider and the Hobbits to a sheltered area. As the Hobbits slumped to the ground, Aragorn took a long, hard look around the bleak landscape.
Following his gaze, I too look around. Celeborn was correct about me reverting back to an elf, for my vision has improved just above its normal standard. Middle-Earth, this place, was so much more enchanting than I imagined it to be. Rocky hilltops, now in shadow of the setting sun, poked from the ground every once in the while, grass was now dead and covered with patches of snow, foretelling the coming of winter; in the west were the trees of an unnamed forest.
I heard the hobbits slump to the ground in relief; smirking I look back at them. It was kind of hard to believe that these four would become heroes, with that drifting on my mind, I now remembered what would happen to all of them; especially Frodo. My smirk fell from my face, replaced by an over-running gloom. Frodo, dear Frodo, I wish that I could tell all that will happen next, the pain and misery you will suffer, everything.
"What is the matter?" asked Sam. I smiled weakly and replied that I was thinking about my home. A twinge of guilt hit me then, I did not want to lie to them, but what was I going to tell them? That Weathertop was where Frodo is to get stabbed by the Morgul blade?
Now feeling the exhaustion I possessed, I proceeded to the quickest resting spot I could; it was next to Pippin. Laying down on the hard ground, my thoughts drifted to future events. "After Frodo gets wounded, we are supposed to make a run for it, Glorfindel should find us and helps get the poisoned Frodo to Rivendell. Glorfindel places Frodo on his horse...then what?" I racked my brain for the answer, but I came up with a blank. Panic swarmed over me. "Why can't I remember what going to happen next!? WHY!?" I scurried my thoughts to the Council, but I drew up a blank there as well. Confusion crashed upon my shores in a ramming beating, but still, with all my rational thinking, the memories of the book I knew so well were fading. It hit me then, the BOOK!
Getting up, I grabbed my pack, thrust my arm into it and searched for the book. upon finding it, I flipped to the pages where the Amon Sul event was to take place...it was a blank. No words covered the pages of this part of the book or anywhere else past this past it. It was like the story was being rewritten. Placing the book back into the pack, I lay down again; with my thoughts plummeting me into the land of dreams.
I awoke to the merry crackling of small fire, lazily getting up, I find Frodo resting only a few feet away, while the other three haflings sat around the fire; Aragorn was nowhere to be seen. Stirring from his sleep, Frodo rolls over , only to find his companion sitting joyfully by a fire.
With a cry, Frodo was up in flash, attempting to put the fire while crying "Put it out you fools! Put it out!". The other three were annoyed by his antics, until they heard the cry that made all our eyes go wide with fear. Looking out into the dark, I saw the approaching figures of the Nazgul; my heart skipped a beat.
"Swords out!" I cry, while I pulled my guns from my fanny pack. With their swords clanging against their sheathes, I then herded them into the very heart of the tower. My heart racing, my muscles quickly beginning to feel like jelly, we reached an open area of the tower, with wizened old men statues surround the outer rim.
Spinning round slowly, my panicked mind kept wondering where Aragorn was. The Hobbits put their backs together while looking out into the fear- stricken night. With my mind playing tricks on me, I began to think the statues were the Nazgul, but that was the way it was until one came slinking in from the shadowy night.
Only a squeak emitted itself from my panicked mouth; it was enough for the Hobbits. All four slowly turned around to look into the face of fear itself, their legs nearly gave out from under them. I brought the security of my guns to mind, I gave a very weak smirk as I aimed and fired.
(Aragorn)
Walking cautiously in the depths of the night, I made my way back to the camp. My mind brooded over the next course of action after Rivendell, but I was quickly brought back to reality by a loud and terrifying blast coming form the old watchtower
Dread came over me, knowing now that the Hobbits and the girl were in mortal danger. With no further prodding, I pulled my sword from its sheath and ran towards Weathertop as fast as my legs could carry me.
(Navalle).
The lead Nazgul screamed in rage when he was hit by the bullet, this caused the others to hesitate; but not for long. Drawing out their pale and ghastly swords, they slunk forward together slowly, forming a semi circle around us.
Raising the gun again, I fired another round into a rider. As the gun bucked back into my hand, the shot Rider screamed a heart-stopping scream. Two broke off from the group and proceeded towards me. Backing away from the approaching Nazgul, I fired another round into one; this only provided more screaming.
Backing up even more, I saw Sam get flung out of the way by the lead Nazgul. Merry and Pippin went shoulder to shoulder in hopes of defending Frodo. Raising their small swords at the Nazgul leader; he did not hesitate flinging the valiant Hobbits out of the way.
Looking back, I saw that two Nazgul who had been approaching me with intimidating slowness now had all of their attention on the small Frodo. Firing yet another round into the body of one, I had hoped it would distract them for a moment, but now, they didn't even let a scream; every bit of their attention was focused on the frightened Hobbit.
(Frodo)
With my heart racing, I backed away from the horrid creatures, stumbling and falling in the process . The ring, the ring was now so heavy and I was trying with all my will to resist the temptation to put it on; the temptation won out.
Slipping on the ring, the darkness of Weathertop disappeared in shadowy flame. If I thought the Nazgul were Horrid to look at before, it was nothing to what I saw now. Nine ghostly men stood about me, with skin pulled tight over their once proud features. With black pits for eyes, remnants of crowns upon their heads, and flaming black cloaks about them, they were the very essence of fear.
The Nazgul nearest to me reached out with his skeletal hand towards the ring on my hand, whilst my hand involuntarily traveled upward. a wicked smile came over the creatures face, for it saw its success near. I struggled with the ring's will, but I won, barely.
Pulling my hand to my chest, I stared the Nazgul with a frightened defiance. His lips curling into a snarl, the nearest brought his blade, pulled it back and rammed it into my left shoulder. The ice cold steel pierced my skin, muscle and notched the bone. A scream of pain flung from my throat and echoed into the shadows of the ring's realm.
"FRODO!" a voice called, but all I saw was a flame. A flame so bright, so...clear, that this gave me the will to pull of the ring and melt back into the world I knew.