Chapter Two. Run to the Shadows
Gimli cursed, torn between his desire to strike and his fear of being dropped. The foul beast smelled of death and decay, the wraiths presence bore down on him. In stunned silence he watched the rider slide from the saddle and, carefully, crawl to where the arrow tore the creature's thigh. He seemed to regard it in silence, then, pulled it free. The beast shrieked, but did not change its course, the rider still held the reigns. "Foul beast!! Lower than ork filth!! Place me down! That we may fight in earnest!! Afraid to face me dark one?! Hoho!! To much for you eh!!" The Nazgul looked into his eyes, and the dwarf felt his blood freeze. "....búbhoshglob..." Gimli shuddered, he knew not what had been said, but he knew the dark tongue when he heard it.
The wraith held his eyes a moment more, frost coated the arrow in its hand, and then it dismissed him and pulled back into the shadows. Gimli felt when the creature reclaimed the saddle, for the beast put on speed, dropping closer to the ground, then to his horror, another shadow joined them, the rider let out an ear piercing wail, and the Dwarf cried out in pain. The rider above him echoed the shriek, and then in the distance came another sound, three Fellbeast dirtied the air, their rider's voices pierced the night. Gimli closed his eyes, five… they now were dealing with five… oh yes, this was about as bad as it could get.
A peal of thunder echoed from above, the wind blowing to them a storm. Slowly, the rain began to fall. Somewhere inside Gimli a small spot called hope deflated. Alright, now, it was worse.
Frodo watched the buds, it seemed they were trembling, shaking though there was no wind. And Samwise watched him. Both were silent, sitting on the bench before the tree. "…I don't know Mr. Frodo… I feel we aught to be doing somthin… instead of sitting so quiet here…" Frodo did not respond, he had closed his eyes, slumping with sleep. Sam nodded, taking of his cloak and laying it over the other hobbits form. "I know you're worried about them to Mr. Frodo… but Gandalf is with them now, so they should be better. It will all be over soon…" Another branch fell from the tree with a dead snapping sound, Frodo jolted, watched it fall… "…Oh Sam…" he let his tears come, dripping full down his thin cheeks, Samwise pulled the sobbing hobbit against him, "Shh…. I know Mr. Frodo…. I know… its alright… it will all be good soon."
The sunlight faded as clouds from the north rolled in, cloaking the white city in grey. A drizzle began to fall, and silently the hobbits stayed, they stayed by the tree as the thunder rumbled… and lightning flashed. They knew, in their hearts, that their place was beside the tree. The tree that stood for hope.