Authors note: Thanks a bunch for all my very nice reviewers. Are you people waiting for these chapters? I just ask, cause every time I uploaded a new one, I get more reviews than usual. Thanks for That, especially to my most loyal reviewer Ele!! The discription of Glorfindel is dedicated to you! *g* And Aldarwen: never mind, it´s nice of you to give me tips. I note them all and will work on that at times, so tell me, when you find stuff again. *g* Disclaimer: Oh yes, all those guys are JRRT´s *sigh*
Chapter 12 Swift hoofs

His small life soon grew weaker and hope soon grew small

When the ranger did suddenly hear a fair call.

When they fled through the forest, the Ringbearer ´s life

was then already weak, stabbed by the Morgulknife.

But the traveler comming along through the trees

was not one of those Ringwraiths, which everyone flees.

He came on a white steed and his voice sounded fair

He was dressed like an elf and golden was his hair.

And then Aragorn called for the stranger in joy

Called a greeting in elventongue. He as a boy

had well know this elf, who was a lord in the West

And who dwelleth in Rivendell, where once did rest

the one heir of Isildur before he walked away

And now this elf´s arival brought joy for the day.

For so great was the need with the enemy so near

That the fellows were followed than more than just fear.

And Glorfindel came there and he climbed off his steed

"Get up now Ringbearer. With uttermost speed

Asfaloth will now bear you, whereever you will.

With his most careful hoofs, for you are much too ill.

He will take you to Rivendell, there you´ll be fine.

So get up for I lend you this horse which is mine!"

With the last of his power he climbed on the back

Of the white elvenhorse, but again they were tracked

Again near were the hoofs of the blackarmoured men.

And Glorfindel cried elvish and Asfaloth ran.

Over hills and through forrests and Frodo felt pain

For the wound on his shoulder was aching again.

And his sword by the side he rode on and away.

And the day became night and the night again day.

And still far was the road to the last homely house

When the Nazgúl most terrible calls then arouse.

And the elvenhorse sprang over treetrunks and grass.

But they soon reached a ford which the horse had to pass.

And the servants of Mordor drew close, and the will

of the weakened Ringbearer suddenly stood still

when he looked to the shore and the Riders stood there.

And he felt on his neck the burden he did bear.

And a terrible voice full of terror and wrath

yielded at the small hobbit, who close to the death

drove his blade from the scabbard and faced his foe

And he felt that his voice like with magic did grow

when he looked at their hoods which were dark, without life

he forgot for a moment the pain of that knife.

"Give the Ring! Give the Ring! Give up Halfling! Don´t flee!"

cried the Riders. "I will not give the Ring to thee!

By the beauty of Elbereth and Lúthien the Fair.

You shall not have the Ring nor me. Stand were you were!"

But the elvenhorse stumbled and shrieked full of fear

But suddenly there was a strange thing there to hear.

For the wafes came to life and the Wraths on the shore

were thrown down from their horses and the waters bore

those nine servants of Mordor away from our friend

But the poor hobbit feared it had come to his end.

For the pain now was heavy, he fell and lay still

You want to know what happened? Be patient! You will!