Title: The Weeping Wraith, Chapter Eleven

Summary: "What were the Riders trying to do?"  "They tried to pierce your heart with a Morgul-knife which remains in the wound.  If they had succeeded, you would have become like they are, only weaker and under their command.  You would have become a wraith under the dominion of the Dark Lord…" --Frodo and Gandalf at Rivendell

Notes: This is now completely A/U, and has elements of the books and the movies within.  . 

Disclaimer: Some of this story is quoted directly from the trilogy itself.  I will note these excerpts with italics, so pay attention and don't sue me for plagiarism!  I wouldn't dream of such an offense against the great JRR!!

Further notes: My Elvish resources are: the LOTR trilogy, The Silmarillion, The Complete Guide to Middle-earth by Robert Foster, the LOTR movie soundtrack's lyric booklet, and the Ardalambion website. 

Some more name translations:

           

1) Alcarin (Elf of Rivendell, Head of the Guardians of Elrond's eastern border; sent to Lórien after the Company's retreat there, joined the Renewed Fellowship) = this name is a Quenya derivative that means "glorious."  He was named after the bright star Alcarinquë.

2) Míthgilhiri (Elf of Mirkwood, daughter to Thranduil and elder sister to Legolas and Lelemir) = this name is a Sindarin derivative that means "gray-star-lady." 

Replies to reviews:

Treehugger:  Once again, nin mellon, thank you SO much for your quick and extensive reviews!  They are very much appreciated.  And you are so right, Glory does rule!!  :)  Keep 'em coming, and enjoy!

Dan: You are SUCH a punk, pal!  How did Geoffrey Chaucer á la Knight's Tale (the one Markwood hates) put it?  I should "eviscerate you in fiction"!!

Salak: Hee hee, so glad you dance over my humble li'l fic venture.  Keep enjoying (and reviewing)! :)

Raen: Whew!  I was worried when I didn't hear from you for a while!  I'm glad you're back.  Oh, and I had to send the radishes on to Francine…see my note at the end of this chapter for details.  ;)  Anyhoo, thanks for the warm compliments, and I hope you keep reading and enjoying and reviewing!

On to the tale…

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"See there, Master Hobbits, the vale of the Entwash River, which flows down from the forest of Fangorn," Lelemir said, pointing to a shining ribbon of water ahead of the Company.  "And there is the Bridge of Onedlo, which we must cross over soon."

"It seems to me a quiet place," Pippin said, squinting at the far-off River.  "But I cannot see it very well.  Hobbit-eyes are not as keen as those of an Elf, I'm sure!  Is there anything dangerous lurking in our path, Lelemir?"

"Not presently, but travelers who take this road are warned to beware the fog of the Entwash," Lelemir told him.  "It is said to descend thick and without warning.  Wanderers are sure to fall into the River and be swept downstream if they are without guidance."

"Do we have guidance, then?  Sam couldn't swim to save himself in a puddle," Frodo said, poking at his friend's arm in jest.  "He'd likely go spinning like a top, and then sink to the bottom like a stone from the Bilbo's garden!"

"You can certainly laugh, Mr. Frodo," Sam pouted.  "You aren't the one who fell into the well at Old Noakes' place and spent the rest of the week coughing water."

Lelemir's smile was sympathetic.  "I recall a time when I feared the Forest River that runs through the woods of my home, Samwise.  Many years passed before Legolas and our elder sister Míthgilhiri convinced me to learn to swim the currents.  But such activity will not be necessary today, I think, for we are to be led through the mist by Aragorn, and a Ranger is not easily disoriented."

"What if we should become separated?  Pippin and I have to keep our eyes on our feet or we will trip over every knob in our path.  We could easily lose track of where all of you are," Merry said.

"I have a long rope here that you can use to bind yourselves together," Lelemir suggested.  "Then you will not lose contact with one another.  One of you may then give the end of the rope to me, for I will be better able to follow Aragorn and the others, even through the fog."

This sounded good to the hobbits, and when the Company reached the fringes of the dale they did as Lelemir had proposed.  Merry and Pippin tied their belts together, allowing some slack between them, then Sam tied Pippin's end to his own belt, and lastly was Frodo attached.  Lelemir took the rope's very end but did not tie it to her person, for she wished to remain able to move quickly in the event of an attack.  "Should you for some reason become divided from me, do not move a step in any direction," Lelemir cautioned her four charges.  "Call out to me so that I can recover you, but do not attempt to find me, or you may find yourselves walking directly into the River's eddies."

"I shall be the rearguard for this portion of the journey, so have no fear of falling too far behind for rescue," Alcarin told them.  "But do not linger overlong, for haste is imperative."

The hobbits nodded solemnly.  They imagined they could see the first hazy wisps drifting across the near to fore Entwash, although that was likely a trick on the part of their weary eyes.  The Sun was climbing to its pinnacle in the sky, and the River sparkled with deceptive merriment, as though enticing any weary traveler to dare its perilous banks.  The Bridge of Onedlo was a dark strip across the gleaming band of water.  As the Renewed Fellowship neared the River the ground became increasingly sodden, and the grasses grew long and tangled in the mud.  A puff of warmth rose up with each step they took, as the muck released the heat that lay trapped beneath the emerald and saffron grass.       

"This is worse than the Brandywine," Merry was heard to mutter, and Frodo had to agree.  The vale of the Entwash was considerably marshier than the banks of the golden-brown river that ran east of Hobbiton in the Shire. 

Frodo felt a pang of homesickness; his stomach twisted itself into knots as he considered how far he was from home, and how lean his prospects were of ever seeing Bag End again.  The Ring burned ever more urgently at Frodo's neck, calling his attention back to his Quest.  He could not allow his longing for home to distract him or interfere with his task.  He concentrated on the figures of his guides and protectors, drawing upon their steadfastness to calm his own heart.  Aragorn was at the head, his stride rapid and confident despite the tangled vegetation and the fen sucking at his boots.  Boromir walked directly behind Aragorn; and then Lelemir, who stepped lightly atop the mud in Elvish fashion, her shoes making only slight impressions in the muck.  It was a strangely familiar sight, for Legolas had trod as nimbly upon the snow of Caradhras.  Frodo glanced behind him, and saw that Alcarin's step was likewise delicate, a striking contrast with his daunting stature.

"I suppose it would be better if we all had Elf-feet," Pippin said.  "Then we could run across this plain without sinking down into the slough like we are."

"Ah, but hobbit-feet are far hardier than those of the Elves," Alcarin said from behind them, his tone light with amusement.  "You tread upon rough ground with hardly a care, but such terrain would tear an Elf's foot to shreds."

"Maybe it's better that we all keep the feet we have," Sam mumbled.

"So you say now, Samwise Gamgee, but if you fall into the River you'll be wanting fins in place of your feet!" Merry chuckled.

They pressed ahead toward the Entwash, grateful that the air was yet clear.  The hobbits were soon covered in grime from the dell, however, and their muscles smarted with the effort of dragging their feet and cloaks through the mire.  Frodo began to wonder if even falling into the River would be enough to drive the mud from their clothes and hair.  He couldn't recall a time when he had felt so filthy before.  The heat moreover was oppressive, and after a time only the Elves retained their merry spirits.  Aragorn's shoulders were bowed with weariness, but he toiled on determinedly.  So too did Boromir, whose strong frame also reflected fatigue.  Frodo lifted his drowsy gaze to Lelemir, and he felt curiously encouraged at the sight of the Elf princess' serene face and spun golden hair.  Her clothing was mud-stained as well, but her height was such that the dirt had not reached her fair tresses.  She caught Frodo's glance and gave him such a bright smile that he could not help but reply in kind.

The fog descended so swiftly then that Frodo and the others were hardly aware of its presence, until they looked toward their fellows and found they could see only a thick, obscuring whiteness.  Merry and Pippin gave a cry of dismay, but Lelemir's voice rang out ahead.  "Hold tightly to each other, Master Hobbits, for the mist of the Entwash is upon us!  We must move more cautiously now."

Sam's hand found Frodo's, and the two clung forcefully together.  Sam took Pippin's hand, and Pippin Merry's, so that they were all huddled in a knot.  They stumbled along through the fog, unable to see much more than their own feet and those fellows walking directly next to them.  Frodo gripped the rope so tightly that his knuckles turned white, for it was their only connection to Lelemir and the guidance of Aragorn.  Although Alcarin remained a reassuring presence to the rear of the Company, Frodo had no wish to slow the group by losing touch and forcing Lelemir to turn back and find them once more.

"Well, this is a marvelous stew we find ourselves in," Boromir remarked from somewhere ahead.  "Aragorn, are you entirely certain of where we are going?"

"Yes," came the Ranger's answer.  He sounded further away than Boromir had.  "Do not lose trace of me, Boromir, for the others follow you now!  We must pass through the vale before night falls again!" 

"Land's sakes, Mr. Frodo, this fog is going to swallow us all up for sure!" Sam said anxiously.

"Only if we get separated in it," Frodo replied.  "And we can't do that, since we're all tied together like this." 

"Are you sure you know which direction we're taking?" Pippin asked Frodo.  "What if we walk a little to the right or left of Lelemir, and so tip over into the River?"

Frodo had no answer.  He was seized by a sudden fear that they would fall in, and that the currents would drag them all under to their deaths ere the others could save them.  He felt Sam's hand tighten on his own, and knew that his friend's terror was at least double that of anyone else's.  "We are going to be just fine," Frodo declared loudly for Sam's benefit. 

"Well said, Master Perian," said Lelemir as she appeared quite suddenly from within the roiling white mist.  "I heard Pippin's concern from ahead, and I daresay it is valid.  Take my hand, Frodo, and I will guide you thus from now on."

Frodo did as she said, and was grateful for her delicate yet strong fingers clasped with his stout hobbitish ones.  Lelemir led them with greater surety, calling out occasionally to Boromir to make certain that they were indeed following the Man and not a phantom of the haze and sunlight.  The hobbits were glad when they felt the rough wood of the Bridge beneath their feet, for it meant they were no longer in danger of walking off a sloping bank and into the Entwash. 

"See now, Sam," Frodo panted, "we're almost halfway done!  At least now you can't trip and fall into the River."

Sam sounded just as tired, but his relief was evident.  "That's good to know, Mr. Frodo, I'm sure."

"I'll be glad when we get out of this fog," Merry said from somewhere to the left.  "Then maybe we can light a fire and dry off, like Strider said.  Although it is a pity to be so dirty when we go into the capital of this land." 

Frodo almost laughed aloud.  Aragorn had told them of their destination, Edoras, the principal city of Rohan and the home of King Théoden.  "I am sure we will be able to clean up when we get there, Merry.  You Brandybucks are surely the most conscious of manners out of all the Hobbits of the Shire!"

"It never hurts to be clean when meeting with royalty," Merry replied. 

At that, Lelemir laughed cheerfully above their heads.  "I daresay, Meriadoc Perianion, you would be a favorite at my father's court!  Perhaps you shall meet him ere you return to your home."

"It would be an honor, Lady Lelemir," Merry answered shyly, for he had quite forgotten that the Elf maiden was royalty herself. 

The Company continued on in such manner, with the hobbits growing ever more exhausted.  The heat began to make Frodo dizzy, and he was glad for the support of Sam and Lelemir at his arms.  He in turn kept Sam walking upright, and so on down the line.   Alcarin appeared to them once, and then only to speak a few concerned words to Lelemir in their own tongue. 

Though he did not understand the Elvish language, Sam pulled Merry up straight, for the other hobbit was listing to the side, and said, "We'll make it, Lord Alcarin, even if Mr. Frodo and I have to carry these other two all the way to the other side of the dell."

The Elf smiled gently and answered, "I believe you will, Samwise.  Do not despair; I sense the end of this present trial is nigh."

As he had said, the fog was soon lifted from their eyes, and the ground grew firmer under their feet, until they had passed beyond the dale of the Entwash.  Here there were some small trees which had found sufficient nourishment so near the River, but many of them were dead, uprooted by passing Orc companies.  The Sun was sinking low in the sky, and the cool of night was approaching, but it was a welcome chill to the hobbits, who dropped to the ground at the instant they saw Aragorn stop and turn to walk back towards them.  He and Boromir approached with concerned looks, and the former knelt by Frodo's side and spoke to them all, saying, "Rest now, little masters.  We will walk no more tonight, I think, for you are in much need of respite and refreshment.  Here, I filled my water skin at the Entwash; and its drink is said to be cool and sweet, good for reviving thirsty travelers."

Frodo and the others accepted the water appreciatively, and they drank their fill of it, for Alcarin had also dipped his vessel into the River's currents.  As they passed the water amongst themselves, Aragorn continued speaking.  "We have entered the plains of Eastfold, the southeasternmost portion of Rohan.  From here it is a two-day journey to Edoras, and there we will find truer rest than any to be had at present."

"Right now I feel as though I could sleep on a pile of rocks, with all of the Brandybucks, Tooks, Bagginses, and Gamgees dancing on my head and singing one of Bilbo's more raucous creations," Merry yawned.  His fellow hobbits were inclined to agree with him.  After they had drunk, they fell back upon the grass and closed their eyes in relief.  They heard Aragorn and Boromir kindling a fire nearby, and soon the scent of burning wood and grass filled their nostrils.

"Are you so tired that you will not accept supper if we prepare it?" Boromir asked, his voice suddenly close above them.

Frodo opened his eyes and sat up quickly, unsettled by the Man looming over them.  "Yes, I think we could all do with something to eat," he answered, trying to pass off his nerves with a weak smile.  Boromir seemed not to notice; he nodded and returned to Aragorn's side.

Pippin yawned and stretched.  "I think I shall move closer to the fire and dry my legs off," he said, hauling himself off the ground.

"Nonsense, Pip, you just want to be nearer the food," Merry groaned, following his friend.

"All the same, I'm moving," Pippin replied.

"Do you want to go dry off with the others, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked.

In truth, Frodo much wanted to avoid Boromir, who crouched near the fire with Aragorn and the other two hobbits.  The man of Gondor laughed jovially with Merry and Pippin, with whom he had gotten along quite well from the beginning.  But Frodo still could not shake his uneasiness regarding Boromir.  Then he looked at Sam, and saw that his friend was shivering slightly.  "Why, Samwise Gamgee, bless your heart, you'll catch a cold like that!  Why didn't you tell me to get up and move us closer to the fire so you could dry out?" Frodo chided, dragging Sam up with him and guiding the other hobbit over to the cheery warmth of the blaze.

The two Elves stood guard a short distance from the fire, and Pippin was the first who thought to call out to them.  "Won't you come and join us?  The sausages are getting hot, and I know even you two must be hungry by now!" 

Lelemir came swiftly and silently, her expression more severe than Frodo had ever seen it before.  "Aragorn, we cannot tarry here for long," she said quietly, kneeling gracefully beside the Dúnadan.  "Alcarin is certain that the chase is near, and my heart agrees with him."

"We can go no further tonight, lest Frodo and the others collapse from exhaustion," Aragorn replied.  "And what good will we be to him if we also are staggering with lack of rest?"

Lelemir's gray eyes glinted like polished steel in the glistening light of the flames.  "It is dangerous to remain in the open with the pursuit so close at hand."

Aragorn did not waver.  "And it would be unwise to attempt to outrun our pursuers with the Sun so low in its course.  Here we have fire to ward off the enemy should such measures be necessary; and would it not prove easier for our foes to single us out for destruction if we are spread out, fleeing in the dark?  Nay, it is better to remain as we are, gathered together and aided by the flame." 

Lelemir held Aragorn's gaze, her countenance troubled.  Nevertheless, she answered, "Then we shall stay.  Yet my heart cries warning ever more clearly with every passing moment."

"Princess, I would ask that you do not misinterpret my disagreement as careless dismissal," Aragorn said softly.  "I have been raised to value the foreknowledge of the Elves, and indeed I do.  Legolas demonstrated his skills in that discipline many a time while he traveled with the Company from Rivendell.  Yet I have faith that we shall be better able to defend those we have sworn to protect if we linger in our present manner.  Do you trust me in this?"

The Elf maiden paused for a long moment, then gave one measured nod.  "Yes, son of Arathorn, I do."

"As do I," said Alcarin, approaching the group gathered round the fire.  "Aragorn's counsel is sound.  Each one here should have a fiery bough at the ready, however, should the need arise for a shield of flame.  Lelemir and I will keep watch tonight, but attack may come swiftly on the heels of our warning, so take heed quickly!"

"Are we in a lot of danger, or just a little?" Pippin asked quaveringly.

Merry elbowed his younger friend.  "Weren't you listening earlier, Pip?  It's those nasty Black Riders again.  That means a lot of danger, wouldn't you think?"

"Do not give up your courage to terror, young periannath," Alcarin charged them.  "Your valor has carried you through dread akin to this, and so it shall now if you permit it."

Frodo felt a surge of defiant bravery.  He jumped up and placed one hand on the hilt of his short sword.  "Let them come, and may they find an unexpected and ferocious welcome!" he declared.

Aragorn's weathered features creased in a grim smile.  "I have seen far larger creatures quail at the mere mention of the Nine," he murmured.  "You four are a credit to your people, indeed."  He sighed and rose to his feet.  "I do not expect that anyone will be able to sleep well, but you hobbits should at least try, for you are less able to withstand the combined stresses of hard exertion and lack of sleep.  The rest of us will stand guard through the night."

With that, Alcarin and Lelemir returned to their previous stances, and Aragorn and Boromir took up opposing positions, so that the four of them created a constricted sort of diamond.  Anor's blazing disc sank below the horizon with only a cool breeze to herald its departure, and the world was reduced to shades of deep azure and deeper ebony.  The grass of the plain of Eastfold glinted with silvery gray hues much like those that once again wreathed the features of Alcarin and Lelemir.  The white circlet of Ithil rose to its height amid the gleaming spray of stars, and the fire snapped with deceptive boldness at the night air.  As Aragorn had said, neither Frodo nor any of the others thought they could properly settle their nerves enough to sleep; but they did lie down near the fire's warmth, each within easy grasp of a branch that could be set to flame, as Alcarin had advised. 

"Sam, Frodo, do you think the Riders will come tonight, what with the fire and all?" Pippin whispered presently.

"I can't see as how they'll care much what we have near at hand, just so long as Mr. Frodo has that Ring they're after," Sam answered. 

"You're a real comfort, Gamgee," Merry muttered.  "The Gaffer must have told you too many frightening stories when you were a lad, I think."

"I'm just tellin' it like it is," Sam protested.  "Aren't I right, Mr. Frodo?"

But to their surprise, there was no reply.  Beyond any likelihood, Frodo had fallen asleep, his hand clutched around the long bough beside him.

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            Frodo woke with the sounds of shrill screams in his ears.  His eyes popped open in alarm, and he saw Sam hunched over him, shaking his shoulders forcefully.  "Wake up, Mr. Frodo, wake up!" the hobbit whispered loudly.

            "I'm awake, Sam," Frodo answered, sitting up and looking around wildly.  The fire had dwindled to a few glowing embers, and the darkness was rife with tension and clamor.  "What is happening?"

            "It's them, sir, the Black Riders," Sam whispered, as if afraid to voice the words aloud.  His voice shook with horror.  "They're above us in the sky, flying around on big black winged things.  Alcarin and Lelemir are going to shoot them down so they—"  He was interrupted by a piercing howl from overhead, and a dull thud sounded some distance from the fire, which was dwindling to a few glowing embers. 

Sam gave a low moan of terror, and Merry and Pippin scrambled over to join the two of them.  "Here!" Merry said, thrusting the cool end of a burning branch into Frodo's hand.  Pippin gave one to Sam, and the four of them huddled together, with their backs pressed together and the fiery limbs turned outwards.

"Why are Alcarin and Lelemir felling the Wraiths?" Frodo asked fearfully.  "Won't that bring them nearer to us?"

"Aragorn told us it'll be much easier to defend against enemies on foot than enemies swooping down out of the air," Merry replied breathlessly.  "Plus they can't very well snatch one of us up into the sky if they haven't any flying things to ride."

There were two more shrieks and accompanying thumps, and Boromir appeared out of the darkness, his naked sword gleaming in his hand.  "There were only five of the Nine above us, and now they are two, thanks to the unerring aim of the Elves," he said grimly.  "I am sent to stand guard over you while the others see to the Wraiths."

There was a sound of fierce wailing some distance away, and Frodo could see the dim silhouettes of three combatants engaging in furious battle.  One of the warriors deftly wielded a long silver blade and a flaming bough, and he quickly ceased to be a mere shade in the darkness.  The argent light that shone from his being was that of the Eldarin lords, whose spirits blazed forth when provoked.  Frodo was amazed, for he had briefly witnessed the same brilliance upon Glorfindel when he had confronted the Nazgûl on the banks of the Bruinen.  Now Alcarin seemed to possess the very luster of the stars as he clashed with the two black-shrouded Wraiths, who retreated before the arc of his sword with loud and hideous shrieks of rage.  Their swords met Alcarin's and grated harshly against the Elven-crafted blade as they mounted their defense.

Frodo's attention was dragged from the sight by a second series of Nazgûl howls, which came from the other direction.  Aragorn was caught up in a brutal struggle with two other Ringwraiths, who were not as cowed by the Dúnadan as their fellows were by the Elf-lord.  Aragorn brandished his sword and flame with the same skill that had served to drive the Nazgûl from the dell at Weathertop, but the Wraiths had been caught by surprise then, and were therefore unprepared for his onslaught.  Such, however, was not the case now.  The two Riders that besieged Aragorn advanced without mercy, dodging the sweep of the fiery branch and meeting the Ranger's blows with their own.  Frodo felt a twinge of real fear for Aragorn, who had neither the keen vision nor the inner brightness of the Eldar to aid him.

Then Aragorn's voice rose up in the air, as clearly as a bell on a quiet morn.  "Elbereth Gilthoniel Elentári, ilye tier undulávë lumbulë!  Tintallë lisse, si tiro nin ar aurë entuluva!  Ai, Elbereth!"  Elbereth Star-kindler, Queen of the Stars, all paths are drowned deep in shadow!  Sweet Kindler, look to me now and day shall come again!  O Elbereth!

The Nazgûl flinched and gave a horrible cry at the invocation of the Lady of the Stars.  Aragorn assailed his foes while they staggered from the pain brought on by the name of Elbereth, and for a time they recoiled from his attack; for no creature of the darkness could withstand the power within the mere suggestion of that Lady's name.  Alcarin too called out to Varda, as did Lelemir, who had at last been set upon by the fifth Wraith.

While the others were fairly sure in battle against the Fell Riders, Lelemir struggled to hold at bay the black-cloaked creature she confronted.  She was adept with the blade; and as Alcarin had said, the fire and the name of Elbereth did much to daunt the Nazgûl.  Yet it assailed her ever more viciously, until she was forced to retreat beyond the renewed gleam of the fire.  Frodo cried out wordlessly, seeing in his mind the image of Legolas disappearing into the darkness beneath the hooves of the black Nazgûl steeds. 

"We must help her!" Merry cried, drawing his sword and leaping to his feet. 

"I cannot protect you if you flee in all directions!" Boromir answered, laying a hand on Merry's shoulder in restraint.  "You must stay here by the fire, else a Wraith may snatch you up yet!"

"But we cannot leave Lelemir to be slain by the Riders that took her brother!" Pippin said stoutly, echoing Frodo's thoughts.  "Besides, the Wraiths have no flying things, and so they would have to run across the plain!  Not so hard to catch that way!"

Boromir had no time for reply; at that moment, a sound whistled through the night air not unlike that of a plucked string.  A silvery shaft sped through the darkness, impossibly swift, with infallible aim, piercing through the leaping flames of the stoked fire and lodging with deadly accuracy in the heart of Boromir.  The man of Gondor stood upright and still for a long moment, his eyes wide with disbelief, and his fingers found the arrow that slew him.  He strove to see beyond the flames, to catch a dying glimpse of what foe had struck so truly; and with darkening vision he perceived a Silver Rider mounted upon a glimmering gray steed, hurtling toward him out of the darkness…

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End of Chapter Eleven. 

Note: Thanks to my friend Dangerously Cheezy (here at FF.Net) for Frodo's comment about Sam's swimming ability.  The Cheeze has been heard to apply a similar remark to her own capability in that field.

A further note: I got tired of writing for Francine, so I decided to let her go.  She now lives happily under one of the mallorn-trees of Lorien, being fed grapes by blonde archers…

Please, review!