A/N: Okay, so the response on the last chapter sucked, so PrincessEvenstar and Obelia medusa get special cookies for reviewing. I know that it's a busy time of year, but being the Christmas season is even more reason to be generous with reviews.
PrincessEvenstar: thanks for you reviews and support. Keep it coming!
Obelia medusa: I am especially grateful to you. Your support has been essential to the creation and continuation of this story. My sister has a b-day on the 29th. Yay December b-day babies!!!
~Presents Princess and medusa with virtual Christmas cookies~
Now on with the story~
Chapter 13: Battle for Survival
Anya stood steadily beside her brother, sword drawn, facing some…thing; Nazgul Strider had called them. Sam and her cousins were scattered about the ruins and the Ringwraiths were closing in on the twins. One of the Ringwraiths made a motion towards Anya, and suddenly she was on the ground under a statue, about twenty feet from where she had just been standing. A cry broke through night air; a cry that froze Anya's heart. It was a voice that she knew as well as her own; a voice that she had heard every day since the day she was born. And to hear it now chilled the depths of her soul.
Anya awoke with a frightened gasp, the memories of her dream still lingering in her mind. Looking around her, she saw that everyone was getting up and about, packing up camp and preparing for the day's journey.
"Anni?" Anya turned to see Frodo staring at her, concern in his eyes. She shook her head slightly to clear it, and realized that he had already called her name at least twice already.
"Yes?" she asked.
Frodo just stared at her for a moment. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she answered quickly. He looked unconvinced. "Just a dream." Frodo nodded and helped her up.
"We're almost ready to go."
The small group traveled all day through woods and the wilds of the country. As the sun was setting, they came upon towering ruins set on a mushroom shaped hill.
"This was the great watchtower of Amon Sul," Strider said softly. He turned to face the hobbits. "We shall rest here tonight."
A few hours later, Strider set off to take a look around, leaving the hobbits with their new weapons. The twins had gone to sleep soon after, thinking that their cousins would follow. Instead Frodo found himself being awoken some time later by the smell of cooking sausage and tomatoes.
"What are you doing?" he exclaimed, finding his kinsmen sitting around a small fire eating. Anya still slept at his side.
"Tomatoes, sausages, nice crispy bacon," Merry answered. Frodo rushed over to them, nearly tripping over Anya and waking her up in his rush.
"Put it out, you fools. Put it out!" he exclaimed, quickly stomping and throwing dirt over the small campfire.
"That's nice! Ash on my tomatoes!" Pippin exclaimed.
"What's going on?" Anya asked groggily, rubbing her eyes free from sleep. Before Frodo could answer, the cry of the Ringwraiths sounded from beneath them. Hurrying to the edge of the embankment, the hobbits looked down to see five of the Nazgul making their way up the hillside.
Frodo quickly pulled his sword from its sheath. "Go!" he exclaimed, hurrying his kin up into the watchtower. The others drew their swords as well and hurried up the stairs into the main circle of the crumbling tower.
Anya felt a strange flash of de ja vu sweep over her as they stumbled around the tower. Everything about the place felt somewhat familiar, as did their situation. The howls of the Nazgul felled the air around them, and the hobbits circled about, trying to determine from where the enemy would attack.
The first Ringwraith appeared over the edge of one of the ruins, its companions following. The half surrounded the hobbits, facing them with swords drawn and pointed at them. The hobbits clustered tightly together, as if by standing as one they could somehow defeat the enemy towering over them.
Anya watched in horror as Sam charged one of the Nazgul, only to be thrown aside. Merry and Pippin stood together, only to receive the same treatment as Sam. The Ringwraiths continued to advance on the twins and Anya stood steady at Frodo's side. Suddenly she was being hurled through the air, and crashed headfirst into one of the crumbling statues that surrounded the ruins. She lay there for a moment, stunned, before slipping briefly into unconsciousness.
A cry in the dark shocked Anya back into wakefulness. It was a cry that froze her heart from fear. It was a voice that she had heard every day from the time she was born, and it chilled her soul to hear it now. She opened her eyes to see the Nazgul standing over something… Anya's brow crinkled in confusion. She could have sworn that Frodo's cry had come from that direction, only she couldn't see him. She stood slowly, holding on to the statue to steady her, and craned her neck to get a better look. Her eyes widened as the realization hit her. Oh no, she thought. He wouldn't. He didn't. As Strider attacked the Nazgul from the side, Anya caught a glimpse of an empty space right before a Ringwraith who held a dagger in his claw-shaped hand. Seconds later, her brother popped into view, crying out in pain.
Without a thought, Anya bounded over to where he lay. "Frodo!" she cried, dodging her way around the battle, falling at his side.
"Anni," he gasped. She knelt by his head, caressing his forehead gently. She looked him over, finally spotting a wound in his left shoulder. She didn't notice as Sam and her cousins fall at her side. She barely heard Sam crying out for Strider, seeing and hearing only what was in front of her. All of her attention remained on her brother until Strider leaned over at swept him up.
"This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine," Strider said, leading them quickly down the hill and into the woods.
"We're six days from Rivendell. He'll never make it!" Sam protested. Hold on, Frodo, Anya prayed silently. Even as they ran through the forest, her eyes never left her brother, bouncing about like a rag doll from the back of Strider's shoulder. Just hold on.
It seemed like both an eternity and no time at all had passed when they stopped in a small clearing. Strider gently laid Frodo on the ground under the great stone trolls that surrounded the clearing. Anya spared a few seconds to glance around their surroundings, and noticed the trolls as well as a shelter that lay in ruins not far off.
"Look Frodo," she said softly, kneeling at his side and taking his hand in her own. "It's Uncle Bilbo's trolls. From his old story." She brushed her free hand over his forehead, gently brushing his hair from his eyes. "Frodo?" she called softly, staring into his glazed over eyes.
"He's getting cold!" she cried to Strider, anxiety and panic filling her voice.
"Is he going to die?" Pippin asked fearfully, finally giving voice to the question they had all feared to ask.
"He's passing into the Shadow World. He'll soon become a Wraith like them," Strider answered. Suddenly, the howls of the Ringwraiths sounded from nearby, and Frodo's pained gasps almost sounded like a reply.
"They're close," Merry commented. Strider called Sam off to the side, asking him about a weed that he claimed might slow the poisoning. Sending him off, Strider knelt by Anya's side.
"He must by kept warm," he told her. Anya nodded briskly as Strider hurried off to assist Sam's search.
"Merry," she called. Her cousin quickly stepped to her side, stopping his aimless wandering. "There's an extra blanket in my pack. Get it." He nodded once and hurried off to his task, eager for something to do. "Pip." Her younger cousin looked to her anxiously. "Get some water. Try to heat some rags with the torch, but be careful." He took off to do as she said. He had never seen his cousin so authoritative before. It would have been kind of funny if not for the gravity of the situation.
A few moments later, Frodo was wrapped up in the blanket and Anya used the warm rags and water to cleanse his wound as much as possible.
Moments later, a great horse came riding up, a tall woman its rider. Anya recognized her almost instantly as an elf. The woman locked eyes with Frodo, calling his name. Frodo's blue eyes widened at the sight of her, and Anya wondered what her brother saw when he looked at the elf maiden. The woman began to speak gracefully in her native tongue, though Anya picked up on most of it with little effort, all of Bilbo's old lessons coming back to her.
I am Arwen-I've come to help you. Hear my voice. Come back to the light.
Frodo seemed to respond to her somewhat, but then his eyes closed and his breath came more rapidly than before. Anya stayed by his side, making shushing noises softly as Arwen and Strider knelt on his other side. Strider began to place some of the kingsfoil he had gathered on Frodo's wound.
"He's fading," the elf said. "He's not going to last." Frodo gasped as the weed entered her wound. Anya could only look at the mysterious elf, a range of emotion flashing through her eyes. She was torn between crying out in anger and denial or weeping, but for the moment she simply pushed the emotions deep and tried to ignore them as she tried to calm her brother.
"We must get him to my father." At Arwen's words, Strider picked him up, jerking him out of Anya's grasp, and walked over to the elf's horse.
"I've been looking for you for two days," Arwen said. Neither Man nor Elf noticed Anya walking right behind them. "There are five Wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know." Strider placed Frodo atop the horse, one hand on him to steady him.
Strider began to talk rapidly in Elvish. He and the lady Elf argued for a moment, and even Anya could only follow bits of their conversation.
"What are they saying?" Pippin asked, only to be shushed with a wave of Anya's hand.
"I do not fear them," Arwen said, finally reverting to Common Tongue. Aragorn lowered his head in defeat, and he squeezed her hand before stepping out of her way. Arwen mounted her horse as gracefully as she had come off of it, holding on to Frodo in front of her.
Strider stepped back, but now Anya stood next to the horse, one hand on Frodo's leg. Arwen looked down on the girl, and their eyes met. Radiant blue eyes met fiery green ones, and something passed between the two females that none could decipher. After a moment, Anya broke their contact, and stood on her tiptoes to reach her brother. Frodo was bent over enough so that his head was near hers.
"You hold on for me, Frodo Baggins," Anya whispered fiercely, tears welling up in her throat. "Just hold on for me." With that, she turned away from them, walking over to where her friends stood, tears trickling down he face.
"Arwen," Strider called. "Ride hard. Don't look back." Arwen nodded to him, cast one final look towards Anya, and then commanded her horse forward in Elvish. In an instant, they were gone.
"What are you doing?" Sam cried furiously. "Those Wraiths are still out there." As if to confirm his statement, the Nazgul's howls sounded from nearby. Strider didn't answer, but Anya took a step forward and placed a hand on Sam's should.
"It'll be alright," she said softly. Sam looked at her and saw a quiet trust lurking behind her emerald green eyes. Sam lowered his head, somewhat embarrassed by his outburst. If Anya could trust Frodo's safety to the elf maiden, then he should too.
Anya moved to begin packing up their things, and her cousins went to help her. Strider, however, waved them down.
"I know that you're eager to follow," he said. "But we all need a bit of rest first, and here is as good of a place as any. The sun'll be rising in a few hours. We'll leave then." The hobbits nodded, not speaking, and laid out their mats to get some sleep.
Anya stood off to the side for a moment, staring in the direction that Frodo and Arwen had ridden in. While the other hobbits were busy with their things, Strider came and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"They'll be alright," he assured her. Anya looked up at him, the palest of smiles on her lips.
"I know," she answered turning to stare out into the forest again. Strider watched her for a moment; something just didn't feel right to him. Suddenly he remembered something that he had seen earlier, and he knelt by Anya's side.
"Anyanka?" he said, a question in his voice. As she turned ad looked at him, he gently cupped her chin, tilting her head up so that he could see better. "You're bleeding." Sure enough, a gash running just beneath her hairline was trickling blood down her face. Strider pulled a rag from his pocket and pressed it firmly against the wound.
"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.
Anya looked off to the side for a moment, thinking, and took the rag from him, holding it in place herself. "Frodo needed our help," she answered simply, raising her eyes to meet his.
Strider could only stare at her, somewhat shocked. Then something akin to respect filled his eyes. This kind of selflessness came so naturally to the Halflings…he supposed that maybe that was one of the reasons that he had sworn to protect them.
"Still," he started. "That is no reason to keep quiet of such things." He stood to his full height, using Anya's shoulder to brace himself. "In the future, you must tell me if you're hurt, Anyanka. Otherwise I can't help you." He turned to go back to camp.
"Anya." A quiet voice said behind him. He turned to see her staring at him. "My friends call me Anya," she added with a smile. "I suggest that you do the same." With that, she walked past him to set up her own things. Strider smiled, turning to follow her.
Friends.
A/N: Okay guys, time to see who the real Tolkien champs are. I need to know about how long it took Strider and the other hobbits to reach Rivendell after Frodo arrived. I haven't been able to find a date on their arrival, so any information would be greatly appreciated. Anyone who can give me something useful gets a prized golden rubber chicken. Plus, we're looking for our 50th review with this chapter, so everybody review so that I can stay happy!