Part 2
As Eomer and his men rode towards Gondor, he couldn't forget his sister's face. She was braver than he. He chose to fight a physical enemy, she chose to stand against an invisible one. Though he knew she burned to take up the sword again as many of their women had, yearned for the chance to prove herself in battle, she remained behind.
Sometimes, he thought, it takes more courage to stay than go. I wonder if she'll ever be able to see that?
They were surprised to meet Boromir and his men escorting a diplomatic party. "Hail, friend. Are you on your way to Edoras?"
"I am afraid not. We are going to a meeting in Rivendell. Surely you've heard of it and are on your way there as well?" Boromir answered, riding to the head of the Rohan men to talk with him.
Eomer's head shook. "I was unaware of any meeting. Uncle has been unwilling, and unable, to participate in the world's affairs and even that of his own country's. I am sorrowful but relieved to say that he has found peace in death."
"My sincerest condolences on your loss. King Theoden was a great man and a wonderful king."
"Thank you." They rode in companionable silence for a while. "We were riding to Gondor to offer and ask for aid but I believe that we might benefit more if we attend this meeting."
Boromir nodded. "You are more than welcome to join us. Truth to tell, it would be nice to have someone along who will understand me and my thoughts."
"I would appreciate that myself. It has been a long time since I have been in the company of good men."
"Excellent. We plan to ride for a bit longer, unless you are to weary to continue?" He paused and looked at the blonde man, who shook his head.
With a laugh, Eomer explained. "We are men of the Riddermark, riding is in our blood. Have no fear for us."
Silence again, save for the sound of the horses movements. They made camp and ate. Relaxing near the flames, the conversation turned again towards the meeting. "Have you ever been to Rivendell?" Eomer asked, leaning back against a rock.
"No. All I know is that the elves consider it their last haven on Middle-Earth. Lord Elrond, who invited us, is the leader of the community. From all I've heard, he is decent and fair if a bit aloof." Boromir tried to keep his worry of the unknown out of his voice and partially succeeded.
"He is an elf." Pause. "Who else is going to be there?"
"Other than the obvious answer of us? I believe that we shall see dwarves and probably elves from their other communities. Gandalf the gray and others of his order will be there as well."
Gandalf, I will need to speak to him first, the blonde man thought. "I wonder if he can tell me about Saurman the White."
Boromir had been watching him, surprised by the pensive look on his face. "Who?"
"Saruman the White. I've never heard of him either. He just showed up one day after uncle's death, offering help. Grima Wormtongue knew him." Eomer elaborated, chewing on a blade of grass.
"I see." There was a wealth of understanding and revulsion in his voice. "How is your sister?"
Sigh. "You know Eowyn. She seems fine, but I can't shake the feeling that she's dying inside. She is fighting against it."
"Well, she is your sister and a shield maid." He pointed out. "Still, I can't believe you left her behind."
"I didn't want to. Eowyn told me to go. And you know what she's like."
Boromir nodded, smiling a little. "I do. Remember her first sword lesson with us?"
"Were she knocked you flat on your butt?" He teased.
Cuffing his ear, the Gondorian laughed. "To be fair if I hadn't written her off as just a girl, it wouldn't have happened."
"I'm sure if you keep telling yourself that, you'll believe it. She's defeated me to, Boromir."
The Gondor man nodded, then looked around. "Whose on first watch?"
"We are." Two men stood up and moved towards him.
"Good. Keep a steady watch and wake me and Eomer..." Questioning glance, answered in the affirmative, "in six hours. Everyone else, get as much rest as you can. But have your sword in easy reach, we are living in uncertain times. We leave early in the morning." He warned.
Quiet ride. Eomer and Boromir spent much of it reminiscing.
Flight to the Ford:
Frodo fought the pull but it was getting stronger. They were calling him and he turned towards them, pale eyed. So inviting and strangely beautiful, but cold and threatening.
"Fight them!" A voice harshly said, shaking him.
He tried. But he was tired, really tired. And they looked so strong, so peaceful. Stinging slap brought his eyes to his benefactor.
Worried face, light surrounded this one too. A different light, no less strong. "Don't yield to them."
Tired.
"Fight. For your friends, for Bilbo." Pleading voice.
Bilbo? A beloved face superceded the one he was looking at. Uncle, loved me.
"For Gandalf."
Gandalf? Friend, wondrous fireworks. Trusted me with this.
"For your hobbit friends."
Sam? Merry? Pippin? Believed in me.
Shaking eased. A sigh of relief. The arms tightened, they crossed the water.
Stopped and turned to them.
Miscalculation.
The rider was hit. Horse leaped into action.
The water swirled, carried the dark away.
Long ride. Frightening. Couldn't see where they were going.
"I was worried about you." A pleasant voice ended on a note of fear.
Orders given.
Separation.
Clinging to the arms.
Frightened again.
Darkness beckoned.
Yielding.
Blissful silence.
Light pierced through his eyes and he opened them, seeing Gandalf sitting beside him. "How do you feel?"
"Gandalf?" He tried to smile and found that he couldn't. "Tired."
"We nearly lost you." He murmured, carefully concealling his worry. "Thanks to the skills of Lord Elrond, you are safe."
"Lord Elrond?"
"Yes, Frodo Baggins." Low, melodious voice from somewhere beyond his line of vision. "Welcome to Rivendell."
Confused. "I heard you, when we arrived." Paled as memory hit him. "The rider, how is he?"
Pain quickly hid. "Don't worry. He got as much attention as you but, as an elf, needs more time to recover from the poison. Though I wish it were otherwise, you probably will not see him before you leave."
"Where am I going?"
Before he could be answered, the door opened and a familiar voice called out gladly. "Master Frodo!"
"Sam." Relieved.
"We were so worried about you and you wouldn't wake for so long. It figures you would when I was out of the room." Lightly reproachful, yet the feel of the strong grip on his hand was reassuring.
"How are the others?" Frodo asked, smiling weakly.
"Don't you worry about them, they are fine. Pippin's enjoying all the fine food they have offered him. And Merry is being himself." It was said with amusement and a hint of disbelief.
Amused, yet sorry eyes turned towards Elrond. "I'm sorry if my friends have been causing you any problems. I know that they have a tendency to be a handful."
"Think nothing of it, Frodo. It has been a long time since unrestrained laughter has been heard in our home. I consider it a gift to have them here. For all my healing abilities, laughter truly is the best healer." Then his voice firmed. "But now, Mr. Baggins, you need to rest."
Barely covering his yawn, he nodded, curling into the covers.
"Will he be all right?" Sam asked, voice hovering on the edge of Frodo's consciousness.
Exchanging a glance with Gandalf, Elrond took a moment to answer. "His wound will never truly recover, the evil penetrated him to deeply. But, yes, he will be all right."
"Thank you, sir."
The elf just nodded. "Gandalf, a moment of your time?"
"I'll be right there." They watched him walk out. "Sam, he doesn't know anything about the one who saved him. Don't tell him."
"I don't know, Mr. Gandalf, I think he needs to know." The hobbit felt out of his depth, this didn't seem right. And he didn't want to keep anything from his friend. Still, Gandalf understood the nature of the wound better and wouldn't ask him to keep quiet for no reason.
"And he will be told-when he is strong enough to bear it. I fear if he is told now, he will feel guilty for it. That he will not fight against the dark touch as he should." Gandalf assured him, knowing what was on Sam's mind.
"Well, I still don't like it." Sam studied his hands for a moment, then met the understanding eyes of the wizard. "But I will do as you say."
He smiled, relieved. "Thank you, Sam. I best see what our host wants." Rising, he went out and shut the door behind him. Please, pull through, Frodo. I will never forgive myself if you don't.
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Author's Note: I don't think Saurman was as well-known as Gandalf because he didn't travel. He seemed to stay at Orthanc and study, was content to be there. Frodo not knowing he was rescued by Arwen-or Glorfindel-I believe he thought that was a vision. He was not all there because of the poison in the king's blade. Does that make sense?
As Eomer and his men rode towards Gondor, he couldn't forget his sister's face. She was braver than he. He chose to fight a physical enemy, she chose to stand against an invisible one. Though he knew she burned to take up the sword again as many of their women had, yearned for the chance to prove herself in battle, she remained behind.
Sometimes, he thought, it takes more courage to stay than go. I wonder if she'll ever be able to see that?
They were surprised to meet Boromir and his men escorting a diplomatic party. "Hail, friend. Are you on your way to Edoras?"
"I am afraid not. We are going to a meeting in Rivendell. Surely you've heard of it and are on your way there as well?" Boromir answered, riding to the head of the Rohan men to talk with him.
Eomer's head shook. "I was unaware of any meeting. Uncle has been unwilling, and unable, to participate in the world's affairs and even that of his own country's. I am sorrowful but relieved to say that he has found peace in death."
"My sincerest condolences on your loss. King Theoden was a great man and a wonderful king."
"Thank you." They rode in companionable silence for a while. "We were riding to Gondor to offer and ask for aid but I believe that we might benefit more if we attend this meeting."
Boromir nodded. "You are more than welcome to join us. Truth to tell, it would be nice to have someone along who will understand me and my thoughts."
"I would appreciate that myself. It has been a long time since I have been in the company of good men."
"Excellent. We plan to ride for a bit longer, unless you are to weary to continue?" He paused and looked at the blonde man, who shook his head.
With a laugh, Eomer explained. "We are men of the Riddermark, riding is in our blood. Have no fear for us."
Silence again, save for the sound of the horses movements. They made camp and ate. Relaxing near the flames, the conversation turned again towards the meeting. "Have you ever been to Rivendell?" Eomer asked, leaning back against a rock.
"No. All I know is that the elves consider it their last haven on Middle-Earth. Lord Elrond, who invited us, is the leader of the community. From all I've heard, he is decent and fair if a bit aloof." Boromir tried to keep his worry of the unknown out of his voice and partially succeeded.
"He is an elf." Pause. "Who else is going to be there?"
"Other than the obvious answer of us? I believe that we shall see dwarves and probably elves from their other communities. Gandalf the gray and others of his order will be there as well."
Gandalf, I will need to speak to him first, the blonde man thought. "I wonder if he can tell me about Saurman the White."
Boromir had been watching him, surprised by the pensive look on his face. "Who?"
"Saruman the White. I've never heard of him either. He just showed up one day after uncle's death, offering help. Grima Wormtongue knew him." Eomer elaborated, chewing on a blade of grass.
"I see." There was a wealth of understanding and revulsion in his voice. "How is your sister?"
Sigh. "You know Eowyn. She seems fine, but I can't shake the feeling that she's dying inside. She is fighting against it."
"Well, she is your sister and a shield maid." He pointed out. "Still, I can't believe you left her behind."
"I didn't want to. Eowyn told me to go. And you know what she's like."
Boromir nodded, smiling a little. "I do. Remember her first sword lesson with us?"
"Were she knocked you flat on your butt?" He teased.
Cuffing his ear, the Gondorian laughed. "To be fair if I hadn't written her off as just a girl, it wouldn't have happened."
"I'm sure if you keep telling yourself that, you'll believe it. She's defeated me to, Boromir."
The Gondor man nodded, then looked around. "Whose on first watch?"
"We are." Two men stood up and moved towards him.
"Good. Keep a steady watch and wake me and Eomer..." Questioning glance, answered in the affirmative, "in six hours. Everyone else, get as much rest as you can. But have your sword in easy reach, we are living in uncertain times. We leave early in the morning." He warned.
Quiet ride. Eomer and Boromir spent much of it reminiscing.
Flight to the Ford:
Frodo fought the pull but it was getting stronger. They were calling him and he turned towards them, pale eyed. So inviting and strangely beautiful, but cold and threatening.
"Fight them!" A voice harshly said, shaking him.
He tried. But he was tired, really tired. And they looked so strong, so peaceful. Stinging slap brought his eyes to his benefactor.
Worried face, light surrounded this one too. A different light, no less strong. "Don't yield to them."
Tired.
"Fight. For your friends, for Bilbo." Pleading voice.
Bilbo? A beloved face superceded the one he was looking at. Uncle, loved me.
"For Gandalf."
Gandalf? Friend, wondrous fireworks. Trusted me with this.
"For your hobbit friends."
Sam? Merry? Pippin? Believed in me.
Shaking eased. A sigh of relief. The arms tightened, they crossed the water.
Stopped and turned to them.
Miscalculation.
The rider was hit. Horse leaped into action.
The water swirled, carried the dark away.
Long ride. Frightening. Couldn't see where they were going.
"I was worried about you." A pleasant voice ended on a note of fear.
Orders given.
Separation.
Clinging to the arms.
Frightened again.
Darkness beckoned.
Yielding.
Blissful silence.
Light pierced through his eyes and he opened them, seeing Gandalf sitting beside him. "How do you feel?"
"Gandalf?" He tried to smile and found that he couldn't. "Tired."
"We nearly lost you." He murmured, carefully concealling his worry. "Thanks to the skills of Lord Elrond, you are safe."
"Lord Elrond?"
"Yes, Frodo Baggins." Low, melodious voice from somewhere beyond his line of vision. "Welcome to Rivendell."
Confused. "I heard you, when we arrived." Paled as memory hit him. "The rider, how is he?"
Pain quickly hid. "Don't worry. He got as much attention as you but, as an elf, needs more time to recover from the poison. Though I wish it were otherwise, you probably will not see him before you leave."
"Where am I going?"
Before he could be answered, the door opened and a familiar voice called out gladly. "Master Frodo!"
"Sam." Relieved.
"We were so worried about you and you wouldn't wake for so long. It figures you would when I was out of the room." Lightly reproachful, yet the feel of the strong grip on his hand was reassuring.
"How are the others?" Frodo asked, smiling weakly.
"Don't you worry about them, they are fine. Pippin's enjoying all the fine food they have offered him. And Merry is being himself." It was said with amusement and a hint of disbelief.
Amused, yet sorry eyes turned towards Elrond. "I'm sorry if my friends have been causing you any problems. I know that they have a tendency to be a handful."
"Think nothing of it, Frodo. It has been a long time since unrestrained laughter has been heard in our home. I consider it a gift to have them here. For all my healing abilities, laughter truly is the best healer." Then his voice firmed. "But now, Mr. Baggins, you need to rest."
Barely covering his yawn, he nodded, curling into the covers.
"Will he be all right?" Sam asked, voice hovering on the edge of Frodo's consciousness.
Exchanging a glance with Gandalf, Elrond took a moment to answer. "His wound will never truly recover, the evil penetrated him to deeply. But, yes, he will be all right."
"Thank you, sir."
The elf just nodded. "Gandalf, a moment of your time?"
"I'll be right there." They watched him walk out. "Sam, he doesn't know anything about the one who saved him. Don't tell him."
"I don't know, Mr. Gandalf, I think he needs to know." The hobbit felt out of his depth, this didn't seem right. And he didn't want to keep anything from his friend. Still, Gandalf understood the nature of the wound better and wouldn't ask him to keep quiet for no reason.
"And he will be told-when he is strong enough to bear it. I fear if he is told now, he will feel guilty for it. That he will not fight against the dark touch as he should." Gandalf assured him, knowing what was on Sam's mind.
"Well, I still don't like it." Sam studied his hands for a moment, then met the understanding eyes of the wizard. "But I will do as you say."
He smiled, relieved. "Thank you, Sam. I best see what our host wants." Rising, he went out and shut the door behind him. Please, pull through, Frodo. I will never forgive myself if you don't.
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Author's Note: I don't think Saurman was as well-known as Gandalf because he didn't travel. He seemed to stay at Orthanc and study, was content to be there. Frodo not knowing he was rescued by Arwen-or Glorfindel-I believe he thought that was a vision. He was not all there because of the poison in the king's blade. Does that make sense?